#I've been in this weird mental state where time doesn't exist

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ hurt/comfort, fluff, crack

ᨳ♡₊➳ archive of our own

"You're an artist, a recluse, and a freshly heartbroken wreck whose idea of human contact is apologizing to your Amazon delivery guy. Your anxiety is so aggressive it could qualify for its own horror movie. And then your neighbor moves in. He doesn't get people. You don't get people. Somehow, you get each other. You didn't mean to talk to him. You didn't mean to care. But the more you both fumble through shared silences and botched small talk, the harder it is to pretend you're not watching each other heal, inch by awkward inch."

꒰ chapter 2 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hello hello! this is officially my second fanfic on here (mwms will return from the war soon, i promise 🫡) i've been doing just headcanons lately, but this idea has been living in my brain rent free. this story means a lot to me and i'm so excited to finally share it. it's soft, hurt/comfort, still funny bc i can't help myself, and painfully self-indulgent. i'm emotionally unwell and projecting, your honor. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy! 🖤

When heartbreak hits, nobody warns you about the weird parts.

Of course, you knew to expect tears and snot and piles of damp tissues around your bed like a sad little nest, but nobody mentioned you'd start microwaving empty coffee cups, forgetting to put water in instant ramen, or staring blankly into space mid-shower like a dramatic indie film scene as you wonder whether people ever really know each other.

Nobody mentioned that you'd have dishes in your sink older than some TikTok trends. They sit there like little ceramic reminders of your downfall, crusted with dried curry, melted cheese fossils, and the one sad mug that isn't even really yours. It was a gift from when you still thought a future together was a given, not a gamble.

The heartbreak didn't come softly. It shattered. Loud. Fast. Violent.

Four years of your life. Evaporated in a single hour.

You thought love meant endurance. Compromise. Sacrifice. You thought if you gave enough, loved hard enough, that would be enough.

He cheated on you and left you with three things: debt, abandonment issues, and a half-empty bottle of vegan mayonnaise. You were currently the main character in a tragedy no one watched because you were too socially anxious to tell anyone the show even existed.

The sunlight peeking through closed curtains mocks your misery, highlighting dust particles and making your mountain of empty ramen cups look even more pitiful. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe moving to Japan was dumb. Maybe falling in love was even dumber.

You haven't left your apartment in days. Like, properly left. Not the shuffle to the mailbox in your crocs and oversized hoodie at 11 P.M. where you almost cried once when you heard the neighbor's poodle bark. The dog you loved. The dog you used to pet during your morning walks.

You stopped doing that. You stopped doing anything.

Not because you can't, but because the outside world is loud and full of people and worst of all, requires motivation and small talk. Your body has become one with your gaming chair. Your fingers twitch instinctively toward the WASD keys even when you're nowhere near your PC. The only witness to your decomposition is your cat, Luna, who watches you with the judgmental silence of a thousand ancestors as you sob into a Sailor Moon mug, asking her, "Why didn't he love me?"

She doesn't leave, even when you ugly sob into her fur. She just blinks with those gold eyes like a tiny therapist who's been through this too many times.

Your apartment is a disaster, symbolic of your mental state. Not hoarder level, but there's an entire vibe of decay here. Laundry mountains. A graveyard of Monster Energy cans. That one sock that's been on the ceiling fan for two weeks because you threw it during a breakdown and now it lives there. Plushies lay strewn across your bed like fallen soldiers on a battlefield of despair. The irony of these aggressively cheerful toys amidst your chaos doesn't escape you, but it's not enough to motivate cleaning.

You work from home as a webcomic artist. Your editor hasn't heard from you in two weeks, and you've redrawn the same panel eight times only to delete it. You stare at your tablet like it personally betrayed you. Your characters are supposed to be vibrant. Alive. But now they feel like strangers you no longer understand.

Your job means you technically don't need to go outside. Which is great, because people are terrifying. You never know when a conversation will spiral into someone asking you what your hobbies are, and then you have to lie and say something normal like reading instead of "I hyperfixate on fictional villains and cry about fictional betrayals like they happened to me personally."

You've been eating nothing but whatever's closest to your desk. Chips. Cold udon. Candy. One time you just ate a spoonful of peanut butter and called it dinner. Your sleep schedule is obliterated. You're awake until 5 A.M. watching compilation videos of people crying during anime scenes and then wondering why you can't stop crying too.

The depression is nothing new. But the weight of it now is different. Heavier. Like it's fused to your ribcage.

And you hate that you're still checking your phone. Even now. Even now, when you know better.

Luna climbs into your lap, kneading your stomach with murder in her eyes. You don't move her. Honestly, it hurts, but she's your emotional support cat.

The worst part isn't the loneliness. You're used to that. It's the jealousy. Those little pangs when you scroll past someone's anniversary post, see someone getting engaged, and even groups of friends hanging out. Your siblings only text when they want cash, and your parents treat you like a glitch in the family's emotional software. And you hate that it still hurts. You hate that you're the kind of person who wants so badly to belong to someone, anyone, even if it means losing pieces of yourself.

You were willing to become a doormat in a relationship if it meant someone would stay.

Guess what? He still left.

"Ugh, Luna, is it just me, or is being alive just, like, way too much?" you ask aloud, voice rough and cracked from days of minimal use. Luna, now currently curled in your lap, simply flicks her tail, clearly unimpressed with your melodrama.

"I should, like, move," you whisper, stroking her soft, sleek black fur. "I should... shower. Eat a vegetable. Go outside. Not be a cryptid. One of those things."

Your eyes shift unconsciously to your phone, screen now facing down. One text from an unknown number, some nauseating pictures, and everything shattered.

You honestly don't remember what you said when you confronted him. All you recall was how your hands trembled, how you apologized through ugly sobs – even as he packed his bags and left, without so much as a glance back. Why were you the one saying sorry?

"I'm pathetic," you whisper to Luna, who only yawns, small fangs glinting adorably. You envy her so much it hurts sometimes. Her carefree existence, the fact that her biggest worry in life is when you forget to refill her water dish.

You boot up a cozy farming sim, trying to dissociate into a pixelated field of turnips, but even that feels hollow today. You should be doing something. Anything. Showering. Eating. Brushing your hair. Touching grass. But your brain's on that broken record loop: You're useless, you're annoying, you talk too much, you talk too little, you're clingy, you're a mess, you're–

Knock knock.

You freeze.

No.

No no no.

That did not just happen.

Your entire body stiffens like Luna every time you sneeze unexpectedly. You don't even breathe. Maybe if you're still enough, whoever's out there will just… disintegrate. Like an NPC waiting too long for interaction.

Knock knock knock.

You don't even flinch this time. You just stop breathing.

God hates you. That's the only explanation. This feels personal. It's not just God. This is a group project of divine forces conspiring together, pouring a bucket of cosmic embarrassment onto your entire life.

No one knocks on your door. Ever. Except maybe that one delivery guy who has no concept of boundaries and always tries to sell you his mixtape. But this isn't a knock of familiarity. It's... polite. Tentative. But firm.

Like someone who's trying not to be weird about interrupting you, but also... might be a murderer.

You sit in stunned silence, heartbeat thumping against your ribs like it's trying to warn you in Morse code. You stare at Luna. She stares back. She clearly has no intention of protecting you in the event of a home invasion. She licks her paw instead.

You tiptoe to the door, socks sliding against the warped floorboards, and press your eye to the peephole.

It's a man.

Correction: It is a tall, intimidating man who looks like he walked out of a Final Fantasy boss fight and forgot to change out of his battle outfit. He has two messy pigtails, a black band across his nose, and what looks like dark eyeshadow. Though something tells you it's not Maybelline. He's weirdly beautiful in a vaguely haunting way. But your social anxiety does not care. It clocks his vibes as "terrifying urban legend" and launches you into full panic mode.

Oh my god. The realization dawns slowly and hits like ice.

He's the new tenant.

Of course. The landlord did mention something about someone moving in soon. Though you kind of tuned her out halfway through the conversation because your brain decided to spiral about whether or not your hallway slippers were too loud.

The apartment next to yours has been empty since Mrs. Watanabe moved to live with her daughter in Hokkaido. And he's just staring at your door. Like he knows you're there. Like he felt your anxiety spike through the wall. Why did he knock on your door? What did he want from you? Are you going to get your organs harvested?

"Nope," you mutter under your breath and tiptoeing backwards like you're in a live-action stealth game.

You wait. And wait. And wait.

Eventually, you hear the soft creak of a door closing. Not yours. His.

He's inside now.

"New neighbor," you whisper hoarsely to Luna, who's grooming her butt like the entire world isn't collapsing around you.

She pauses only briefly to glance at you with her usual unimpressed expression.

"He looks terrifying," you add.

She sneezes.

You nod grimly, choosing to interpret it as agreement. "Exactly."

You spend the next three hours hiding in your apartment like it's a bunker during the end times. Every creak outside sends your nervous system into overdrive. You eat a pack of matcha Pocky for dinner and pretend it's a real meal.

Eventually, night falls. You think maybe that's it. Maybe you'll never have to interact with him. Neighbors who never cross paths. You can live like that. That's fine. That's peaceful.

The next day ruins that fantasy in the most aggressively mundane way possible.

You forgot to buy Luna's favorite food.

And the generic kibble in your emergency stash? She hates it. She gives you the most dramatic look of betrayal you've ever seen on a living creature before dramatically flopping onto her side like she's been personally victimized by your negligence.

You stare at her. "I get it. I'm garbage. I'm the worst cat parent. But please don't die of dramatics while I'm gone."

She flicks her tail. You interpret it as conditional forgiveness.

There is no world in which you will allow her to suffer through generic kibble two days in a row. She's your emotional support cat. She deserves better.

You throw on the most aggressively anti-social outfit possible. Oversized black hoodie. Joggers. The exact pair of crocs you told yourself you'd only wear inside. The look screams "Do not perceive me." and you pray the world obliges.

It does not.

Because the second you open your door – he's right there.

Standing right outside.

Holding a box. Clearly mid-move. The moment your eyes meet, your soul does the emotional equivalent of a factory reset.

He blinks at you. No expression. Just… calm.

"Hello," he says.

His voice is deeper than you expect. Smooth. Gentle in a way that does not match his "I could kill you with a stare" exterior. Like a slow wave breaking gently against the shore of your anxiety.

But your brain is not listening.

It's screeching.

You stare. Mouth dry. Thoughts scrambled.

Say hi. Say hi like a normal person. You can do this.

"I'm–I'm–I–I have to go. My cat–she's... she's lactose intolerant. Goodbye!" you blurt, and immediately powerwalk back inside like you're being hunted by debt collectors.

You don't just shut the door. You unintentionally slam it in your panic. Then lean your forehead against it and exhale like you've just survived a near-death experience. Luna stares at you from her perch on the windowsill, eyes wide.

"I panicked," you whisper. "I panicked and now he thinks I'm insane. And that my cat is lactose intolerant. Which she's not."

You slide down the door and bury your face in your hands.

He didn't even look offended. Just… confused. Like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve but wasn't mad at either. That somehow makes it worse. You would rather be hated than tolerated with curiosity and confusion.

You spend the next several hours pacing around your apartment, re-enacting the moment like some cringe high school play. You try to justify it. Maybe he didn't hear you. Maybe he thinks "lactose intolerant cat" is a code for something.

Your sleep is garbage that night. Of course it is. You lie in bed surrounded by Sanrio plushies and emotional damage, blinking at the ceiling and whispering to Luna, "I'm going to die alone and everyone will say, 'Yeah, we saw that coming.'"

She snores.

The days pass. You don't see him again.

But you hear him.

Moving boxes. Footsteps. Low hums of music.

Boxes shuffling across old hardwood. The occasional grunt of effort. The metallic clink of something heavy being dropped too fast. Once, the low hum of music. Not loud, not obnoxious, just barely audible through the wall. Lo-fi? Classical? It was hard to tell. There were no lyrics. Just... soft, steady repetition.

You throw yourself into working on your comic. Or... try to. It comes in uneven bursts. Like everything else these days, your creativity is fragile. Fractured. You start pages. Abandon them. Redraw the same expression twenty times. You mostly sketch variations of haunted eyed boys who have unresolved trauma and lesbian protagonists with backstories that rival Greek tragedies. You haven't posted in weeks. Your inbox is full of worried fan messages and even some kind ones from strangers telling you to rest. They mean well, but you can't help but feel like you're disappointing everyone, including yourself.

You avoid the mirror in your bathroom because you're afraid it'll show you the version of yourself that everyone secretly sees: A mess. A ghost in an oversized hoodie. An unreliable narrator.

One night, you're sitting cross-legged on the floor in the dim glow of your laptop, crying into a container of mochi like it's the last kindness left in the world. Luna is perched nearby, watching you with narrowed eyes like you're embarrassing her in front of your imaginary audience again.

Your nose is red. You're wearing socks that don't match. The mochi is falling apart. Everything is, honestly.

And then – a sound.

A thud.

Your breath catches. The sound came from the other side of the wall. His side.

You strain your ears. Silence.

Another noise. Not a crash. Not quite. Something dull, like the edge of a heavy object hitting wood. A chair maybe? A fall?

Your heart stumbles. You set the mochi container down with shaky hands and stand up before your brain even fully decides to. You shuffle toward the wall. The one you share. You press your palm flat against it, then your ear.

Nothing.

Just your own heartbeat.

Is he okay? Is he–

No. No. You are not that kind of person. You don't knock on people's doors. You don't initiate contact. You can't. You literally fled a conversation by invoking a dairy allergy.

You're still standing with your cheek pressed to the shared wall like some socially bankrupt creeper when Luna meows in protest, annoyed that your mochi slathered wrist has stopped midstroke. She headbutts your leg like, "Get a grip, loser." She knows she's the most emotionally intelligent being in the apartment.

"Luna, what if he's fallen and he can't get up?" you whisper, stroking her behind the ears.

She stares at you with her amber eyes. Blinks. Flicks her tail with clinical detachment.

You take that as a, "Bitch, he's literally built like Sephiroth. He's fine."

Right. Probably. You try to pull yourself back to reality, to the known facts: he is built. That man could survive a fall from a second story window and probably apologize to the sidewalk. He did not look like someone who loses fights. Not even with gravity.

Still.

What if?

And that is the exact moment your entire personality gets hijacked by a lifetime of catastrophizing and the haunting echoes of WebMD diagnoses.

Your thoughts spiral like they've been waiting for this. What if he's bleeding? What if he slipped and hit his head on his coffee table? What if he's lying there right now thinking, "I shouldn't have said 'hello' to the weird lactose-cat neighbor."?

You groan and sink onto the floor, half-hugging Luna, half-melting into the hardwood.

You try to get back to drawing. You open your drawing app. Stare at the blank screen. Drag your stylus across it. Nothing comes out right. You draw one eye. Then delete it. Then draw it again slightly different. Then delete it again. You redo it six times before naming the file Pain4.psd and calling it a night.

When you crawl into bed, Luna circles your face like she's inspecting it for sadness and then curls into your chest. You bury your face in her fur. "I am never leaving this apartment again."

But the universe has other plans.

The next time you see him, it's by accident. (Obviously. You would never intentionally see a human being. That would involve making decisions or being perceived. Two things you actively avoid.)

You're outside for one reason only:

Trash day.

You hadn't even wanted to go out. But the garbage was starting to morph into something eldritch.

So there you were. In front of your door, bleary-eyed and bundled up in your outside world camouflage. A faded hoodie large enough to be its own tax-paying citizen and joggers that had seen better centuries.

You were fully committed to being invisible. This was supposed to be a quick mission. In and out.

But then the door beside yours creaked open.

You didn't even register it at first. Not consciously. Just a sound. A background detail. Not until your peripheral vision catches height. A tall silhouette shifting into frame.

You looked up.

And there he was.

Him.

Again.

This time, he's holding a garbage bag. Normal. Totally mundane. A very human act of waste management. The shadows under his eyes make him look sleep deprived or like he's seen the apocalypse and chosen to keep going out of spite. His hair's tied into those same messy twin-tails, and that strange black mark still stretches across the bridge of his nose like a war paint declaration. His expression is deadpan. Neutral.

Your fingers fumble the bag, panic overriding your motor skills. A plastic bottle clinks against your shoe and bounces dramatically down the hallway like it's trying to draw attention to your anxiety. You mutter "oh no, oh fuck," in a voice so small it could be mistaken for the wind.

Of course, he notices.

Because of course.

He turns slightly toward you.

"Hello," he says.

Oh, God. Round Two.

But something about his voice is different this time. Still deep. Still calm. But… tentative.

You stare at the trash in your hands like it might burst into flames and save you.

There is no escape.

You open your mouth. Something comes out.

"Uh." You clear your throat. "Hi?"

It comes out too high pitched. You sound like a balloon losing air.

He nods slowly. You can feel his gaze. It's not judging, just… observing. Quietly curious.

Then, like he's been rehearsing it in his head, he says, "I'm Choso."

You almost drop your bag again. Choso. His name sounds like a video game boss with a tragic past. Like he was designed by someone who cries over concept art. You can already see the character sheet in your head. Tragic backstory. Hidden trauma. You blink at him, brain buffering.

"I–uh, I'm…" you begin, and then your mouth betrays you completely. "I have a cat."

His expression does not change.

You rush on, words tumbling out like a confession. "Her name's Luna. She's not lactose intolerant, actually. I lied. Sorry."

You want to disappear into the concrete.

You just said your cat isn't lactose intolerant. You apologized for lying about your cat's imaginary dairy allergy to a man you've known for less than thirty cumulative seconds.

Good job. Really solid performance. 10/10. Would cringe again.

Choso doesn't flinch. Doesn't even look surprised. He processes it, and then nods.

"I see," he says, evenly.

That's it. Just two words.

Not "Okay…?" Not "What the hell?" Just… I see.

Like he's filed it away into some mental directory. Like there's now a little folder in his mind labeled NEIGHBOR: COWARDLY, LIES UNDER STRESS, CAT IS FINE.

He doesn't elaborate. Doesn't laugh. Doesn't make a face. Just stands there with a slight tilt of the head, as if that explains everything.

You don't know what to do with that. So you nod. Too many times. Like a bobblehead with anxiety. "Yeah. So."

He looks at your trash bag. "You're going to the dumpsters?"

"Um." A beat. "No. Yes. Yeah. I mean – I'm on my way. To the… garbage. Yes."

Incredible.

Truly the Shakespeare of your generation.

You mentally kick yourself into the stratosphere. But Choso just nods again, like you just said something deep.

You start walking, mostly because standing still feels like you'll combust.

To your absolute horror, he falls into step beside you.

You're walking next to him. Next. To. Him.

Your brain short circuits. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your thoughts are looping. 'Oh my god he's walking next to me, this is happening, I don't know how to walk like a normal person anymore, do I swing my arms? Is this arm too swingy? Am I breathing too loud? Is this what breathing sounds like? Should I look at him? No, don't look at him–'

"You don't have to be afraid," he says quietly. The words are so soft, so plainly spoken, that they stop your internal chaos like a record scratch.

Your breath catches.

You glance over, startled. Not at what he said, but how he said it. Like it wasn't a rehearsed reassurance, but a… fact. Like he knew you were afraid and didn't want to scold you for it.

You look away again.

"I'm not afraid," you mutter, too quickly. "I just have social anxiety so intense that I cry after calling customer service. Not the same."

You weren't supposed to say that out loud.

Choso is quiet for a few long seconds. Then, "That sounds hard."

It's not pitying. Not even sympathetic in the conventional sense. Just a calm, neutral acknowledgment. Like he's telling you it's okay to exist that way.

And that makes something ache in your chest.

You reach the dumpsters, and there's this weird moment where you both just… stand there. Holding trash. Awkward trash camaraderie.

You dump yours in first, then back away like the act of garbage disposal has somehow completed your social obligation.

He throws his bag in too, the motion smooth and strangely precise, like even in mundane things he moves like a weapon sheathed in calm.

And then he says, "I'm sorry."

You blink. "What?"

"For frightening you the other day. I was… too direct. I've been told my expressions are difficult to read."

Your stomach knots. "Oh. No. No, it's not you. I'm like this with everyone. You could be a tiny grandma offering me cookies and I'd still have a fight or flight response."

His eyes meet yours, and it's the first time you see them clearly. Deep brown, near black. But there's nothing scary there. Just… tiredness. Worn in sadness. The kind that builds up when you've been carrying invisible weights for too long.

"I moved here because it was quiet," he says.

"Oh." You blink, thrown off by the blunt honesty. "Yeah. It's… really quiet. Most of the people in the building are, like, old or sleep at weird hours."

Choso nods. "My last place was loud. Too much going on. I didn't sleep well there."

You don't ask what he means by too much going on. You want to. But that would require, like, a follow up. And being normal. Still, you mumble, "I hope you sleep better here."

You immediately want to shrivel into the earth. That was such a weird thing to say. Who says that?

But Choso… smiles? It's tiny. Barely there. But it reaches his eyes. "Thank you."

You finally glance back up at him.

That's when it hits you.

He's not intimidating. He's just quiet. A little awkward. Off rhythm in the same way you are, like a vinyl track played just a little too slow. You feel it in your chest. This strange, gentle ache. Not bad. Not painful. Just... familiar. A recognition of someone else who doesn't know what to do with themselves either.

"I should, uh, go feed Luna," you say, already backing toward the stairwell.

Choso nods. "Okay."

Then adds, as if he's rehearsed it, "It was… nice talking to you."

You nod so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. "You too!"

You flee. Again.

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your floor, Luna eating kibble next to you like a queen.

"He said it was nice talking to me," you say aloud.

Luna doesn't look up. Rude.

"And I didn't completely collapse."

She licks her paw.

"I mean, I did panic, and say dumb stuff, and kind of speed walked away like a coward, but still. I didn't die. That's growth, right?"

You lie back on the floor, arms flopping outward like a starfish in emotional defeat.

Your ceiling fan sock waves at you from above.

"He's nice," you murmur.

Luna yawns. You take that as agreement.

You glance toward the shared wall.

You don't know anything about him. He could be a teacher. A gamer. A very tall barista. A secret poet. A professional garbage thrower. Who knows.

But you do know one thing:

You don't feel like a complete alien around him.

And somehow, that makes him the least scary person you've met in a long, long time.

[nostalgebraist]

When you finish writing a big story and you became very close the characters, was there a time after where you were like "i kind of want to revisit these characters again, but i should probably just let the story be, they deserve to rest" Im not talking about wanting to write a sequel, is more about still coming up with fun ideas for them, maybe a little scene or something, but choosing not to do anything with it because it'd feel disrespectful to the ending you gave them?

This doesn't happen to me, no.

The reason is that, once I finish the story, my sense of "being close to the characters" suddenly vanishes. And, although there are rare moments where it (briefly) returns, it mostly stays gone.

I can't remember if I've ever talked about this in detail before, but – when I'm in the process of writing a story, especially near the end, the characters feel "real" to me in a very strong and kind of uncanny way.

I don't actually believe that they exist as independent entities from me (much less sentient ones), but it does almost feel like that's true, when I'm in the thick of the writing process.

I have no trouble intellectually distinguishing fiction from reality, even in the state I'm describing. But my emotional and intuitive relationship with my characters, when I'm in that state, is pretty similar to the one I have with real people I know in real life. And there are a bunch of... uh, mental phenomena?... associated with this that I'm slightly afraid to describe because I worry they'll sound like hallucinations or delusions if I don't add a lot of caveats.

For example, when I'm alone in a room writing (especially if I'm writing in the middle of the night), I sometimes feel like it's not just me in the room, that the character I'm writing about is "there with me," in much the same way I'd be aware of someone real person's presence if I knew they were in the room but didn't happen to be looking in their direction. Or: sometimes I feel like the characters' voices are "flowing through me," that I'm merely taking dictation from them – and will sometimes even think to myself: "man, I'm so grateful that the character is helping me write this part, because if I tried to do it all by myself there's no way I would get it right." And it takes a moment before I realize, wait, no, I am writing it by myself – at least in a literal and physical sense.

Basically if you read this post, and then sort of read between the lines of it under the assumption that I'm downplaying how weird the experience actually is because I'm worried an accurate account would make me sound kind of unhinged... then you will have roughly the right impression of what the writing experience is like for me.

Whatever is going on here, it feels like it's probably on some kind of spectrum that also contains stuff like tulpas, multiple systems, and maybe also the way that children can sometimes get really deeply wrapped up in their imaginary play. I don't know how common this stuff is among writers (maybe it is common but rarely talked about?). It's not something I've experienced anywhere else in life; I don't experience it with other people's fictional characters or stories, or with fantasies I have that aren't associated with a work in progress, and I don't remember ever experiencing it before I started writing fiction as an adult.

Anyway, as I said at the top, the moment I finish writing a story, this phenomenon simply turns off, suddenly and completely. The transition is very noticeable when it happens, and makes me feel something akin to grief or loneliness over the brief span between the moment it starts and the moment it is fully completed – like I've just lost a bunch of close friends at once.

With Almost Nowhere, I remember a very specific feeling – on the evening of the day when I finished writing – that the characters were "departing 'into' the finished book," reverting to a lesser existence as "mere words" rather than "real people," as though they had been plastic toys animated by Terra Ignota's Bridger, and were now turning back into toys again. It made me sad, for a little while, but once they'd fully "lost their reality" I no longer cared, because it was that same sense of reality that made me care, and now it was gone.

So, to finish answering your question: I don't feel an urge to return to my old characters, because it feels intuitively obvious that doing this is impossible. That anything else I wrote about them would be inauthentic, somehow, in a way that the original work wasn't. They were "there," before, but they're "gone," now. This difference is very stark, and very hard to ignore.

(As I noted above, they do sometimes "come back" to me – very rarely, and very briefly, but that is enough for a proof of concept. Perhaps, if I were to try, I could find some way to "bring them back" for longer intervals. But I doubt I will ever try that. I feel a bit afraid of the concept for several reasons – for one thing, the "inauthenticity" I just mentioned squicks me out and I'd prefer not to come too close to it, and I also have a baseline wariness of doing stuff that seems too much like messing around with my own mental health. There's also a "catch-22" involved here, where I don't feel motivated about the characters the way I used to, and that means I'm not even motivated to do things that would generate that motivation. The "target" of the effort won't appeal strongly to me until I've already gone to the trouble of obtaining it, which means the effort doesn't feel justified in the first place.)

[licncourt]

Ohhhh can we get into it? That post about Louis San Fran bender. Going after people who look like lestat. Maybe Louis doesn’t sleep with all of them, maybe a few but he feeds on the rest and drains them. Lestat realizing he’s made his own little magnus in a way…

San Francisco era Louis being an utter and total freak is something that is so important to me, I really cannot stop talking about it. The psychosexual aspect of the gay serial killer phenomenon as it relates to Louis is something I've discussed a lot (on here and in my fic about that) because I think it explains so much about how he looks at sex and desire. Sex and violence can't really be separated in his head (Catholic freak), especially when he's at a serious low point, so when he engages with them they are often enacted together.

When he's alone in San Francisco, he seems to be in a weird place mentally where he's in a state of obvious apathy, but also more prone to gratuitous violence. I think it does make sense, even though it seems contradictory. Vampirism is inherently violent, so those outbursts are coming from a lack of will to restrain his nature rather than real passion and the release of built up pressure the way they did before. It's exceptionally chilling and predatory. There's something very human about losing control, but the way Louis seems to approach killing in the pre-TVL era is distinctly monstrous and inhuman.

I think it's in QotD that we find out Louis initially chose Daniel as a potential victim because of his resemblance to Lestat, so this is canonically where his mind is at the time of the interview. It also shows that he was probably cognizant of what was going on even at the time and it doesn't even seem like it bothered him that much that he was doing it. That's what makes San Francisco Louis so scary imo, just that small acknowledgment shows us that his violence is honing in on something and the obsession is either setting in or already there.

The implication in the book (AND the original short story) that the place Louis met Daniel was a gay bar adds a layer to it as well in a very human and sexual sense. Not only did he choose a Lestat lookalike, but it seems like he chose to hunt in a (homo)sexually charged environment on purpose. His whole vibe reminds me of an addict who's been using for so long that there's no dopamine rush anymore and is getting more extreme in chasing a very particular high. The allegory of addiction is always very strong in Louis, but the way it presents during this period is kind of a continuation of that narrative.

I think if Lestat hadn't woken up, Louis could have easily devolved into what Magnus became. He has that incredibly addictive personality and he's prone to obsession and pathological rumination anyway. By 1973, we can see how detached he was from humanity already. Imagine him in 300 or 500 years, after so much death and isolation, nothing in there except hunger and memories that he's clung to for so long that they're horrifically distorted, maybe unrecognizable except for blue eyes and blonde hair.

@nasnyys is the beautiful mind behind the Lestat POV aspect of this so I can't speak on that a ton, but I love it SO much. A huge part of Lestat's story is how he can't seem to break out of existing cycles and he's often the catalyst for that continuation against his will. It seems to disturb him the most when he sees those cycles repeating in Louis (to the point where I would say he imagines them at times), so I think this would absolutely not be lost on him forever, if it is initially. Maybe he would perceive it as Magnus "tainting" him to the point where whatever Lestat creates has some essence of his maker/abuser, like it's intrinsically a part of him somehow. It's very sad, I would love to think on it more and come back with something better to say!

[max1461]

I guess like. Part of what's freaking me out so much is that I can't find any reports or stories or anecdotes or anything anywhere of someone having experiences like mine, either with TLE or with anything else. I can't find a diagnosis that seems to match all my symptoms, because TLE + trigeminal neuralgia are what I'm actually diagnosed with, and there's a bunch of shit that just doesn't seem to fully fit from anything I'm reading.

MRI turned up nothing; I've considered the possibility that I had a TIA which could have other unpredictable cognitive effects but there's no way to know at this point.

Maybe it's because my search terms are fucked up. But basically my symptoms, mentally and physically, are like:

selective amnesia, where I can't remember certain people's faces (but some people's faces are fine) even though I can remember other aspects of these people, events in which they were present, etc. In addition to not remembering their faces, they feel "unreal", as though they're people from a dream or something, like they don't exist even though I know they do. Memories and emotions related to these people feel as though they are "attached to no one in particular" even though logically I know otherwise

phantom smells; if I try to push myself to remember the "missing information", I get an intense burning rubber smell. very consistent

A generalized feeling of being half-dreaming at all times, like I'm in a weird waking dream state during the day and then not fully sleeping at night

in the beginning, temporal lobe seizures, although they have largely gone away with medication (the other symptoms have been unaffected)

really intense muscle tension that, over the course of a two months, has only slightly relaxed; feels like my gut muscles are almost frozen so it's really hard to go to the bathroom; neck, back and face muscles feel similarly frozen in a tensed position and I can't relax them no matter what I do, to the point that it's painful.

a throbbing numb sensation in my palate and nasal cavity

periodic pressure in my sinuses and ears which peaks and then disappears, often accompanied by loud ringing in my ears (I've always had tinnitus but this is way worse) and pressure that makes my ears feel like they are about to explode. Often makes me repeatedly gag when this happens, but due to weird numbness in my palate area I can't fully gag so I just partially retch a few times and then stop. pressure can last for a few hours at worst.

intermittently, a weird "woozy sensation" in which I feel weak, feverish, and almost intoxicated, and my whole body feels warm. sometimes only affects part of my body. I have no actual temperature when this happens but it feels just like a fever.

a bunch of other random weird shit, mental and bodily

I am rather scared, because I can't find anything, anything, diagnostic or anecdotal, with symptoms like this.

[rosemarytrash]

me drama posting cuz i actually had a really good experience today but it was rly nerve wracking lmao

in case some of you didn't know, i currently live in montana!! it's a nice enough state for its nature and the like, but politically it's kind of a shit show. pros and cons y'know, but as a trans guy it's fairly lame. also, bcuz geography is important, i live in eastern montana, not on the cool western side where all the mountain queers go hang out. that's generalizing a lot but it is what it is so bare with

anyway, back in 2021 there was a bill passed (SB 280) that effectively made it impossible for trans people to change their gender marker on their birth certificate or other identifying documents without having a sex change surgery, while at the same time writing in that no surgery exists to change your sex on a chromosomal level or any of that bullshit. whereas before that bill was passed, montana law was a little more loosey goosey about it. mainly in that it didn't yet have a republican legislature hyperfixated on a culture war to drum up support so trans people weren't really IDENTIFIED by the law, which was ironically kind of easier to navigate. idk, shit weird, i'm no expert

anyway, tbh, i never really CARED about changing my gender marker. i changed my name legally back when i was like 15 or 16 and i believe, at that time, i had the option to simultaneously change my gender marker. for whatever reason, i decided not to. i think it had something to do with healthcare and trying not to fuck up the future possibility of getting on T, which didn't happen for another year for me. i've also always been fairly loose about my gender identity in terms of a full identification with maleness/manhood. like, i'm a guy, i'm a dude, don't call me anything except that, but on a deeply personal level i see myself a little more in between on that kind of scale. maybe something inherently non-binary but no label has ever quite fit the bill, so trans guy with an asterisk will have to do. anyway!!! i don't really recall why i made that call, but i had, and it truthfully never really got me into any trouble. for all the times i later had to flash my ID, even to this date, i can only really recall one time where a gas station clerk gave me a weird look and said "sir... ma'am... sir-ma'am... here ya go" when i was buying cigarettes lmao. i was never questioned about it by employers and as far as i know was never turned away from a job because of it (which is good because montana doesn't have employment protections for trans people (last i checked)). so i truthfully spent a good 7 or so years relatively unbothered by this fact or by the fact that i had an F on my driver's license. it was inconsequential to me

recently though with republicans doing more and more lines of anti-LGBTQ cocaine and more people becoming aware of trans people, it's been unsettling here. y'know just mildly discomforting. and mentally that is fatiguing. i've also only now encountered some bureaucratic bullshit that's like okay, wow, this is actually going to be a bigger problem in the future and i'm not wanting to deal with that. mainly in the form of i'm getting married here soon, we want to try and do some kind of honeymoon adventure in the distant future, so for that i need an passport and from what i've read that can be a real fucking headache for trans people and it can be even harder to change in the future. so like blugh. i'm also in the process of applying to grad school and it's just--kind of annoying to have to identify myself a certain way. it's weird cuz i won't pretend it's put me in some life-threatening situation or there's anything that feels DIRE about needing to change it, but it just feels like there'd be a lot less awkwardness and vulnerability if i did. ironically when montanans were less redpilled i didn't care about changing all my legal shit over, but now that your average grandpa here thinks of trans people as botched teenage girls or child predators in bathrooms and THAT's their reason for getting out of the house to go to the polls next year, well yeah now i give a shit about "deceiving" the system. idk it's dumb

anyway i actually KNOW the girl who is the plaintiff against the govt in the lawsuit against SB 280. she's really cool and it's cool that i know her. i ended up reaching out to her a few months back to ask how that was going and what it meant for changing your gender marker in MT. and fantastically i had found out that late 2022 the judge on the case had issued an order that forced the DPHHS to suspend its practice under SB 280 since it was a fundamentally unworkable law and to return to its original practice prior, which allowed trans people and frankly anyone else with good enough cause to change their gender marker without meeting some bullshit made up requirements by the state.

it then took me months to get the gumption to actually write, edit, and file a petition for it. which i finally did today, and it surprisingly all got done in an afternoon, even though hypothetically the courthouse at 1PM on a tuesday should've been fairly busy. i'll be interested to see how it goes, because just cuz it's filed doesn't mean anything is certain. to my knowledge, LEGALLY, it should be a done deal, i should get an order from the judge that will allow me to get a new birth certificate and a new driver's license and all that jazz. but what do i know? the judge may want to have a hearing about it, which could be incredibly awkward in a courtroom full of other people waiting to have their cases heard, but idfk. my fingers are crossed that it'll go okay.

and it was kind of a good experience? i was as anxious as one could imagine. i'm a bearded dude walking in with paperwork asking kindly for an F to become an M lol. and the gals at the courthouse were momentarily confused, raised a few brows, had to talk to someone to see what the current rulings were in that previously mentioned lawsuit, but they were nice enough about it. they got my shit filed, they took $120 from me rather apologetically cuz that's what shit costs to file a civil petition in the state district courts. i get to find out by email if the judge will just approve the order i drafted or if he's going to want to speak to me. and i'm hoping either of those things happen before the wedding so none of that paperwork becomes a headache.

anyway this is a long post cuz i have a lot of thoughts and either i ramble on and on to my fiancee about it or i just splurge on whatever few unfortunate souls decide to read this :) thx if you do. there's no point really to any of it yk just airing out some thoughts i guess. i'll go draw some gay shit now <3

[catbountry]

I think my point of "I think gender dysphoria is mental disorder," "we need need some kind of medical (not political) safeguards against people without dysphoria from getting hormones and surgery," and "informed consent for surgery and hormones needs to come with any and all information a patient could need or want" got lost in your political sauce. I don't know how thinking trans is a medical thing means banning trans care under political mandate for some people but doesn't and never has for me. You're arguing against something I don't think.

Mostly I think you were talking past me and assuming I thought some of the stuff that you thought in the past but I don't.

I'm very libertarian when it comes to bodily autonomy. I hope that position of mine doesn't change.

Now I'm really done.

FOR YOU. But this isn't about YOU, and what YOU personally think. It's a much larger issue. That's been my entire point. The whole time. Your ideas do not exist in a vacuum.

It is a political issue. There are already medical safeguards. Some might argue there are too many medical safeguards to the point where it can be very difficult to get care. And informed consent already exists for transgender treatments. It exists for literally any medical procedure imaginable. I had to sign off on forms for every invasive medical procedure I've had and they've had absolutely nothing to do with gender affirmation. You are adding nothing aside from being salty that trans people, as a community, don't want the state of being transgender to be a mental illness.

If you're so libertarian in regards to bodily autonomy, then why is this even an issue for you? I don't understand. You're not even the first person I've talked to that's claimed to be libertarian while also being weird about the idea of minors getting HRT. If you don't understand, just say so, because you clearly do not.

[shamelcss]

the last few days have been difficult, and i've been sitting with so many thoughts and much sadness that i'm struggling to navigate. unsure of where to place and express my grief. then this blog popped into my head. while it doesn't look like it anymore bc it evolved over the years and grew with me, once upon a time this was filled with 1d posts. this was one of my main outlets and connection points to a band and community i held so dearly and brought me to lifelong friends. that will never stop meaning something to me. if you were to look back at my blog during that time, too, you'd see that liam was my favorite. liam was everything... i mean, everything. i absolutely adored that man and he truly helped me navigate awful times in my life. i mean, they all did, but i could always relate to liam and zayn the most, particularly regarding struggles with bullying and mental health. last night i found an old post of mine on my stan twitter from 2014 stating "my entire existence is based on the single fact that liam payne is an actual living and breathing human being" which perfectly sums up how much i adored him (while also breaking my heart in equal measure). in recent years, i have not supported liam at all. i think that sentiment is fairly common. as a victim of predatory adults online and abuse, it was incredibly disheartening to hear the things that have come to light over time. someone who had once helped me through the darkest times of my life was guilty of things i had experienced personally. still, it saddens me to know how deeply he struggled with addiction and mental health, and i wish he could have gotten the help he needed. i wish he could have been held accountable for the hurt he caused and grown as a person. i wish he could have healed from all of his traumas. this whole situation is incredibly tragic and i can't quite wrap my head around it. i keep thinking of his son, and his family. his girlfriend. the boys. his ex and other victims. i hope they are able to continue to heal, and if they need to continue sharing their stories to do that, i hope everyone will have the compassion to allow them the space to do so without hate. it is okay to acknowledge that somebody may not have turned out to be the person you thought they'd be, and still grieve the person they used to be and who they were capable of becoming if things had been different. it is okay to sympathize with how somebody suffered, it doesn't mean you condone how they acted or treated others while they were suffering. things are not black and white and there is so much more nuance in life than people like to allow. my heart really goes out to everyone affected by liam's passing. everyone struggling with how to navigate their grief and how to feel - let yourself be sad, let yourself be angry, let yourself be nostalgic. feel everything you need to feel on behalf of your inner child and your current self. don't let anyone make you feel weird or bad for it. one direction meant so much to millions of us in our most formative years. this is one of the first big losses our generation has experienced of a star from our time.

anyways i didn't mean for this to get so long but it has helped me to process and flesh out my thoughts, so maybe it will help some of you to read. i wish we could all hug each other right now. i will always love this fandom, and i will always love the boyband of our time. they had fun, they were normal guys, and they were terrible terrible dancers. 🥹❤️

[shootout-at-university-fair]

Four Years' Worth of Ramblings (and Pondering Life at Twenty)

It’s been about four years since I was even remotely active on here, even longer since I’ve made original content on this website. Well, in those four years since I’ve last used this blog, it’s safe to say I’ve officially grown up. I think I made this account when I was about 13. At that time, turning 20 genuinely felt like it would never come. As time tends to do, of course, it progressed - so here we are.

Given that I live in a country that would rather focus on banning social media apps and protecting genocidal governments that line their own pockets instead of, you know, helping its own citizens like a government is supposed to do, and one that is certainly fucked no matter who we end up electing this year, it just felt right to return to the website that radicalized me in the first place (especially when really the only other option is… *shudders* twitter).

I must say, it simultaneously feels weird and comforting to come back. As I enter my senior year of college (has it really been that long?), I’ve begun to look back at what has shaped me into the woman I am today. I know this website certainly had a hand. As I previously stated, this website truly formed my moral compass, at an age that I desperately needed something to. To those who have followed me in the past, and might still be lurking here today, I genuinely thank you for making me the woman I am today.

Now… what exactly has happened in these last few years? Well, a lot. These last four years have simultaneously been the best and worst years of my life so far (and seriously, from how my 2024 has mostly been going, fuck 2024). Let’s start with the negative and end with some positive things, shall we?

I've certainly had my share of shit thrown at me over the last few years, from having to file not one, but two Title IX complaints at my college within three years and going through my fair share of manipulative and abusive relationships (both platonic and romantic), to having - and overcoming an eating disorder. Somehow, I've survived (albeit with some added mental health medications and diagnoses - I expected most of them, but definitely not the borderline diagnosis).

It hasn't been all bad, though. Actually, some of these last few years have been really great. I finally have some real friends IRL (they're a bunch of losers - one is @hunter-blossom-5 if you want to see what the vibe is like, but they're my losers and I wouldn't trade them for the world), and I've fallen in love. Well, I mean, I've fallen in love several times over these last few years, but for once, I've fallen in love and know it's the right type of love: the love where even if the world is ending, it doesn't feel like that because you know that they will be beside you the entire time, and even more after? Yeah, I'm talking about that love. I know he has an account on here, but he's never told me what his username is. I hope that if he's reading it, he knows who I'm talking about - I love you, babe; always have, and always will.

I'm not sure exactly why I stopped posting, but I just did. I actively tried to distance myself from my days on here IRL. If you told me even two months ago that not only would I be revisiting so many of my old interests from my teenage years in my twenties, and being so open about my love for them, I would have thought you were insane. Something in the last few months in my brain just itched and longed for who I once was, the version of me I was when I was on here the most. Throughout a lot of these four years, I was incredibly rude towards the younger me present on this account, trying to bury her deep down to fit in more. I think I've been too harsh on her in my past, and just wish that I could go back in time, take back all the negative shit I've said about her, and just give her the largest hug - she definitely needed that more than the criticism I leveled instead. Well, time travel doesn't exist, and Back to The Future has taught me to never have yourself at two different ages meet. I think coming back here, showing her that as you get older you can still be you, is the best I can do for her in our universe.

Most of you have known me simply as mutantjediavenger on this platform. Some of you have known me as Ella, but for all who comes across this blog today, you can just call me El. You've earned it.

[ahiddenpath]

Life Update

Chatting about life beneath the cut.

Uhh tbh I'm not sure where to start or what to say, so we'll see what shakes out!

Work

Work at my biotech company has been better since I asked to stop working with the guy they paired me with "to train me." Short version- I did my work and about 70% of his for about half a year, and it wrecked me. I've been doing one person's job for the last quarter or so, and it's kind of... life changing?

I'm a lot more confident at work, too, now that I realize I... Geez, where do I start? This year, I generated a protein that no one else in the company has ever been able to, and I'm currently exploring new ideas for the platform that I came up with myself. I did two people's work for half a year and closed out a project that my seniors couldn't get done. Meanwhile, I also did stuff that is, you know, normal expectations- generating DNA and protein, testing leads to see which candidate has the best profile, testing new technologies.

I feel the expectations at this company are very high. Idk if I've ever worked somewhere where my um... The core of my basic expectations is something you, uh, you do in the background while you tackle huge unknowns. I'm also realizing, however, that I quickly became the person who just... Does that. A huge chunk of my work this year was taking stuff no one else could do. Why was it handed to the new hire? I have no idea, I'm still trying to figure that out. It kind of pisses me off to know that I'm handling stuff people with more seniority and experience- aka people PAID MORE THAN ME- can't do.

But I also realize now that, if something doesn't work, I'm not going to stress over it. If other people can fail, and their reward is to be taken off the project... Why am I worried about what I can and can't do? I'll genuinely try my best, then report my findings to the boss.

I'm a weird place right now, because I acknowledge that my work is difficult, and that we don't have enough resources. I also acknowledge that this is my first real career opportunity, and not just a place to show up and get paid and never advance. I'm not sure what to think, you know? There is opportunity here. I am stressed and tired and chronically burnt out. Like most Americans, I've been working since I was a kid. I literally had my parents sign paperwork for me to work when I was 15. I'm tired. I don't know what it's like to not be tired. But I'm fairly compensated for the first time ever, and I'm learning and growing every day, and it's exciting but exhausting and I cannot imagine continuing, and I cannot imagine leaving. This is the fourth biotech company I've worked for. This is the first where I feel I can advance and grow my career. But I am so tired, the idea of advancement and growth and daily learning is crushing, to be frank.

In happy news, I have one more week of work before we close for the week between Christmas and New Years. In bad news, I cancelled the trip to meet with our friends, because the train price would have set us back about a grand, and because we're too exhausted anyway. The money thing is sensible, that's a lot to spend for an overnight trip for two (basically $250 per person each way). But I hate that I exist in a physical and mental state where doing fun things is... A scary, stressful, exhausting proposition.

Speaking of, I still don't think I've physically or mentally recovered from the Japan trip. That sounds like a weird thing to say, right? But spending two weeks traveling, walking from like 8 AM until 9PM-midnight in melting heat and humidity in places so crowded you can barely move will do that to you, especially when you were already exhausted. I'm not sure what to do, because I'm so ridiculously lucky to be in a position where I can take a trip like that. But to financially get there, I have to work so hard for such a sustained time that I've damaged myself to the point where it's difficult to enjoy trips. Hell, it's hard for me to work myself up for a half day outing on the weekend.

When I was in therapy, my therapist and I spoke at length about how to handle work stress and burnout. She was opposed to me taking a break from work or switching careers. As she rightfully pointed out, I worked hard to get where I am, I earn a good living, and I would quickly discover that the stress of financial need is worse than the stress of burnout. And, of course, she stressed the inherent vulnerability of a woman relying on a man for financial support (I'm a woman married to a man).

Logically, she is correct. Also logically, I don't know if what I'm doing is sustainable. Both are true. Where does that lead me?

Other Stuff

Last week was the anniversary of my 20th year together with my husband, and our 10 year wedding anniversary (I'm not sure if this is clear- we married on our 10th dating anniversary). My husband cooked a series of nice dinners over the week, and that was our celebration. We originally had plans to go to a fancy B&B, then to go on a trip to meet friends and go to a fancy hotel with a spa, as I mentioned above. We ended up doing none of that stuff, for a mix of money and exhaustion reasons.

I have a lot of feelings about this. I'm so happy that my husband wanted to make things special within our abilities. I'm so devastated that... Well, no one likes to look back on 20 years and realize that they have chronically lived in a state where celebrating anything feels like an impossible ask.

We've been thinking of having a baby (we are reaching our mid thirties). I told my husband that I truly cannot do a baby on top of our current lives. Mentally, physically, it's just not possible. I often wonder, are other people stronger than me? I know so many couples with young kids at my company who both work high powered jobs or whatever. How do they do it (although frankly, it's harder if you are working retail or something)? Genuinely, I have no idea. I'll only have a kid if I can stop working, at least until the youngest is in school. I have no idea if that is financially tenable in today's economy. Although, to be honest, at my last job, working wouldn't have been worth it. Too much of my pay would have gone into daycare (I'm in a fairly high COL area). Of course, now, as I mentioned, I have an actual career to give up.

Sometimes, I think of what people my age and younger have to give up, compared to a generation or two before us, and I feel so anguished and angry. I think of the people who push through anyway and wonder... How? How are you doing that? Where does the strength and the hope come from? Or did life just sort of... Happen?

It's been a weird year.

Creating

I'm still writing and editing, sort of. Not so much in December, although very much so in November, obviously. I'm still feeling unsure/uncertain/anxious about sharing my work, as I've mentioned before. I wouldn't expect any updates until late January or February, assuming I decide to post again.

Currently, I've been working on the next PdA chapter, and of course, on my Infinite Possibilities Nanowrimo draft. I'm thinking of commissioning someone to make the cover art for Phase 1 (of 3) for Infinite Possibilities.

I think that's all for now, I hope you can have a restful end of year, and that the holidays go well. Please take care <3

[heartstringschronicles]

BLOG-2 (PATH TO GROWTH-01)

Growth is the essence of life's perpetual journey, a continuous evolution that shapes our existence. Like the tender shoot emerging from the soil, growth begins with a seed of potential, nourished by experiences, challenges, and aspirations. It is the process of stretching beyond comfort zones, and embracing discomfort as a catalyst for change.

Last time i wrote about complications and how i felt about this new phase of life which is about making and letting go of relationships and people. It has been some time since then, and i have had some time to think. You know maybe loosing some people is good for your growth.

Growth doesn't necessarily mean maturing physically rather it combines your physical, mental and social development. Here i would start by giving an example from my life, sooo this is a long story but i'll try to shorten it.

I had a friend of 13 years, we have always been friends and accepted each others weird quirks. She knew a lot about me and i knew more. It was at a point where we literally said the same things at the same time. I am a single child and have always struggled to understand relations. I have many friends and i've never had problems making friends but i have problems in understanding acceptable behaviour.

for instance one of my friends casually teased me about a guy and kept hitting me (playfully i hope) . I didn't know what to say or how to react and i guess by the expression on my face she assumed i was offended and issued me a sarcastic apology stating "wow i was only joking you don't have to be a stuck up all the damn time, get a joke also its not like he will like you" That friend ,lets call her "B" was the reason my friendship broke with my other friend, lets call her "A".

I feel like this is truly a long story and i don't want you to read textbooks so i will continue in my next post. I am really sorry i hate to be the "like for part 2 " person but ......it is what it is.

Also please let me know your thoughts about the story till now. Feel free to drop any suggestions below. Alrightyy byee for now obvi..

[benis-chillin]

Gaming Backlog 2024 lookback

Hey Eggheads and Crackheads!

Another sucky year has passed us, boys and goyles. I kinda whined about 2023 in last year's post, and honestly? I probably shouldn't have. Not for any, "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was" reasons, but just because complaining about your own sucky year to other people who have just had sucky years doesn't really entertain anyone, which is one of the reasons these posts exist.

I suppose one reason it leaked into last year's list was because that sucky year hindered my experience playing games, and in that regard, this year was WAY better. Maybe I'm just doing a bit better with my time, idk, cause it's not like everything else was THAT much better(but that's all I'll say, I promise).

So, for this year, and probably all years going forward, I'm gonna change up the formatting from last time. Since I made individual posts for all of the games, I will more be looking back on them informally, and comparing how I NOW think of them, vs how I thought of them when I first made that review. The only exception will be the last entry, which I will look back on the next year, just to have the distance.

However, we won't be doing that this year since…I haven't completed any new list games since Halo in early November. I've mainly been replaying some older games to wrap up the year, tbh. Bit of a mental break.

Though it'll definitely be easier to get more games in, due to my mom, her boyfriend, and my brother collaborating to get me a Steam Deck for Christmas! I've been breaking it in with Spider-Man, so expect that in next year's recap.

(Steam Deck will also be replacing the "PC" platform after this year, btw)

So anyway, to start us off properly, the non-list entries!

Sonic Superstars

Platform: Switch

I actually made an individual post on this since I'm a Mania hater, and many of my thoughts there were later expanded on in my opinion piece on the Fang the Hunter mini that got released later.

My feelings on Sonic Superstars are still the same. Close to what I want these Neo-Classic Sonic games to be, but also far from it in some instances. Just a mixed bag overall, and I still haven't gone back and beaten Trip's final boss.

6/10

Mega Man 4 and 5

Platform: Switch

I think I'm just at a point where I gotta accept that old school Mega Man is just really boring to me. I couldn't even finish 5 before I had to start writing up this post, it's just so boring.

Though Dr. Cossack DOES look a fair bit like my brother who got me the Steam Deck. That's interesting.

So yeah, Mega Man 2 is still the best one.

3/10

Resident Evil: Deadly Silence

Platform: DS

I actually tried to start this one up back in April 2022, but I was using an emulator to mitigate tank controls, making it hard to aim upwards, and maybe a few too many item cheats, resulting in me giving up not even halfway through.

This time, however, I played on an actual DS Lite(for the better D-Pad), figured out tank controls(simpler than you may think)and reduced my cheats to just invincibility, infinite ammo, and one-hit kills to be fancy.

And yeah, I had a blast going through this in small sections, especially as a game to play while I sat waiting for my mom to use the tanning bed before I donated plasma(tanning bed is on the way to plasma, so saved some gas to do that part first).

Just a fun little B-movie you can play on the go, and that's all you need.

Kinda weird how close the name is to a fart joke, though.

7/10

Sonic Colors Ultimate

Platform: Switch

I mean…It's Sonic Colors?

I am one of many people who complain about the current state of the Sonic Adventure 1 and 2 ports, so I understand being dissatisfied with the state of this "remaster," ESPECIALLY on Switch.

Heck, a mod came out back in September to start ACTUALLY remastering the game on PC, so I'll link up to that here. Might try it out on my Deck whenever I get around to buying a Steam copy on sale.

However, to ME, Sonic Colors is mainly just a casual romp, so it being screwed up a bit didn't really bother me. Sure, it only being 30 FPS on Switch is a bit stinky, but my attempts to emulate the original on Dolphin at 60 have only ever resulted in this, so it doesn't bother me too much here.

I did finally get all of the red rings in this version, though. It being handheld and easy to pick up made that easier. I actually got all of the DS ones back when I played that version, so it felt right. My physical copy was also a European version, so it has that extra U, which is neat to have.

But yeah. It's Sonic Colors.

6/10

Super Metroid Redux

Platform: 3DS(through SNES9X)

I started Metroid with Zero Mission and Samus Returns as my 1 and 2. So, when I then played Super, I had to adjust to a LOT of very dated and clunky controls, both in terms of button layout, and the actual physics of the game itself.

I didn't HATE it, but I didn't connect with it like I did the other games.

But then, as I was looking into widescreen patches I had heard about for an eventual let's play I want to record, I encountered Super Metroid Redux, and while the widescreen didn't pan out, I KNEW I had to play with all of the physics adjustments I was feeling while testing.

And man, did this truly "unlock" Super Metroid for me! Now that it controlled mostly like the other games, I was finally able to just ENJOY my return to Zebes, and explore without feeling so damn restrained!

It's still not perfect, mind you, Crocomire is still a bitch to deal with(especially since I missed the charge beam for a majority of the game), I got lost a few times again, and that fucking wall jump is damn near impossible(but completely optional unless you're going for 100%), but I'd say my opinion on Super Metroid has gone up thanks to this mod, and this will definitely be how I play it going forward.

8/10

Sonic Generations(2011 PC version)

So, imma be real with you. I do not like Sonic Generations that much.

The level design doesn't invite player initiative to forge your own path, but rather railroads you to a few pre-determined paths that you can't stray too far from, even with cheats on, the control layout is questionable and cluttered, the story is a massive missed opportunity, and it's overall a time capsule of when the Sonic Boomers, people who claim to love Sonic, yet have no idea what ACTUALLY makes him appealing, ruled Sega's marketing decisions.

Given how much Sonic Team seemed to fight against the expectations of this game(and Colors to an extent)in the following two entries, part of me thinks this entire game was a corporate mandate that Sega higher-ups held over the team's heads until Frontiers came out, and what do you know? The parts SONIC TEAM wanted to do were well liked, and the bits inspired by Generations were derided.

So did I enjoy my latest romp with it, now that Sonic Team is living their One Way Dream?

A bit, but only because of elements I added. Namely, the double jump mod, a code to have Classic's homing attack by default, fart boost reverb mod, the Retranslated Japanese script, replacing Seaside Hill with a proper recreation of the Heroes stage, and changing my right trigger to be a double of the boost/spindash button through Steam(which the remaster has as a native option, yet doesn't bring over stick click Light Dash, so you're still stuck not using any of your specials).

This game actively fights being played like a regular 3D Sonic game at every turn, but these changes helped me play it "properly," even if it still gave me a struggle.

THAT was what made a middling experience more enjoyable to me for this run, not that the game became actually good.

4/10

But then…

Shadow Generations(2024 PC version)

So I didn't think I would get to play this until WAY later, but a friend of mine who shares his Steam library with me bought it, so thanks to him for the opportunity.

Remember me saying the original Generations was a corporate mandate, and that Sonic Team seemed to fight it for the next few entries? Well, I think they viewed THIS as their means to make the Generations THEY would've preferred back in 2011. A redemption arc for a game they might have grown a distain for, but that they might want to reclaim now that it's not being held over their heads like in years past.

And I LOVE THEM FOR IT.

The level design is the greatest "fuck you" to the railroads from before. It's not TOTALLY free, no Boost game is, but this is as close as the Boost games have gotten to the levels from Adventure 1 and 2. Hell, for the most part, THEY DON'T HAVE BALLOONS! They only appear in the Chaos Island level for two seconds. Instead, they let you do the homing attack on capsules again, and THEY'RE RING CAPSULES! This is just so much more natural, you do NOT understand how much I wanted this!

These levels inspire me to look for that extra path, to forge my own, think outside of the box, and see how much faster I can be the next time! And hey, unlike base Gens, you CAN actually miss that S-rank, so you have ACTUAL motivation to do better!

Admitably, Shadow's 3D White Space isn't as interesting to explore as the islands in Frontiers. Rings to boost already doesn't work as well as the "stamina" thing, imo, and I DID need to use a code to restore the drop dash and bounce for better flow through levels, but the downgrades are so minor compared to how "there" we are that I can forgive them.

However, I probably could've lived without the Doom powers?

Doom Spear is cool, being able to stun enemies, but you could've just…You know…Not made the enemies have to be stunned? It works for the White Space, but just slows the more frenetic pace in levels. Doom Kick offers new shortcut opportunities with minimal slowdown, so let's maybe keep THAT one, but the last 3?

Doom Surf, Doom Morph, and Doom Wing all share the same problems: Extremely situational, and hard to control. Doom Morph in particular has a problem where the camera points AWAY from the next swing point while swinging, so chaining those together in the short window you have is a problem. Doom Wing LOOKS baller as fuck, but only REALLY works in the final battle. It's sort of this game's Super transformation, needing 50 rings to activate, and actually blocking shots taken at you, but the lack of easy ascension and decension controls make its usability limited, and fixing the camera behind Shadow, centering him onscreen like the gliding sections in 06, would've gone a long way.

As for the story, it knows what it is, and takes full advantage of it. I think Ian Flynn knew that having Maria back with Shadow, and the return of Black Doom, was full-on fanfiction tier shit, so he just went all-in on the premise. I've had problems with Ian's Shadow writing before, particularly in Archie's "Shadowfall" arc, but he's clearly gotten over his hurdles. This is the closest to JP Shadow's characterization that ANY English script or dub has gotten, and there is a big fat smile on my face from having any of my doubts proven wrong.

Even as Shadow's story moves forward, it will always tie back to his past. It forged him, he honors it, even if he doesn't dwell on it. But for him to have just a moment in time where he slips, where he has Maria again, Gerald isn't yet the evil person he became, where he can change it even at the cost of who he is now…

To want to do it all again is human. To move on and become better, even as your sorrows try to consume you…That's being the Ultimate Lifeform.

PERSONAL SECTION:

FEEL FREE TO SKIP

So…As I write this, I am having problems with my father. To not go too far into detail, he CAN be the most kind, gentle, generous man that you could ever find. I've seen it, I cherish every memory of it.

But he has an anger, this darkness inside of him that makes him the most petty, greedy, conniving piece of utter dogshit you ever did see. I have that anger too. I fight it everyday. But currently, HE isn't.

For me, this is one of many ways that I relate to Shadow, and to Samus Aran via Metroid Dread. In a metaphorical way, Black Doom is my father's darkness, which wants me to be angry and miserable like him, while Gerald is the light in him, the light which loses to the darkness. Better, nowhere near perfect, but you still want him back.

So as I played, I couldn't help but imagine myself in Shadow's situation. Coming face to face with my dad, somehow transported across time from that brief moment where the light had overcome the darkness…But knowing that the father I love and cherish to this day will eventually lose. How much I'd want to change his fate…

But all I can do is move on. Be better, even as he wonders why I'm not on his side…

And MAN it feels good to beat up that motherfucker in a video game!

PERSONAL SECTION OVER

So yeah, Shadow Generations, easily an…

8/10

And now we get to the actual list! Got a decent amount marked off, though didn't finish as many as I wanted to. I suppose that's the risk you run with experimenting after a lifetime of missing out on a lot of the classics. But hey, maybe I can come back to some of the unfinished ones. I mean, I ditched Resident Evil the first time around, but managed to get through it this year! But for the moment, let's see how my list fares now, vs when I reviewed it.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4: Episodes 2 & Metal

Platform: PC

December 9th, 2023-January 7th, 2024

Ranking: 7/10

Honestly, I feel about the same as I did in my review. It's kinda interesting, really, how my feelings on it mirror my thoughts on Superstars. How they're massive steps in the right direction for THIS form of Sonic, but the missteps are massive, and kinda hinder the possibility of another entry.

I feel like a remaster for the Switch and other platforms with a few tweaks(and an art style overhaul for Episode 1)could REALLY help these games get a better reputation, but I doubt we'll ever see that.

Bionicle: the Game

Platform: GameCube(through Wii)

January 12th, 2024-February 28th, 2024(incomplete)

Ranking: 3/10

Fuck, man! I'm STILL upset about this!

I knew it was gonna be bad! I've played plenty of bad games in my life, and even enjoyed them! But this was MISERABLE!

This is BIONICLE! MY thing! I wanted to have this experience, but it was just too much! Tahu's lava surfing level still hurts so much, I'm not entirely over it.

Batman: Arkham Asylum

Platform: PC

February 14th, 2024-March 4th, 2024

Ranking: 8/10

This is a good game…But I barely remember anything about it.

As I said in the review, the story gets the job done, for sure, and the premise is baller, but even if I REALLY concentrate, I don't really remember too much of it.

I suppose it makes sense for things to be a bit basic, given the history of superhero games up to that point, but the main thing I can think of is that rant about the Batclaw.

Maybe the sequel will be better, but I'm in no rush to play it, so I'll wait a year.

Metroid Dread

Platform: Switch

March 9th, 2024-April 4th, 2024

Ranking: 10/10

Was it good for you, too?

My thoughts haven't changed on this game being a masterpiece. Hell, I'd say it's hitting harder now that the ride's over!

With how I'm replaying Metroids lately, I am starting to lean towards this one being my favorite, but I won't say for sure if it's there until I replay it in the new year.

Anyway, if you don't have one, GET ONE!

Fallout New Vegas

Platform: PC

April 27th, 2024-June 23rd, 2024(didn't finish, but I count as a personal completion)

Ranking: 6/10

I'll admit fully to softening on this one, since I DID genuinely enjoy forging my own story…Even if that aspect is what ultimately led to me not finishing it.

I actually like playing DnD and stuff with my Discord buddies, and this game kinda gives me that feeling in a single player sense, so maybe I'll start a new playthrough with a more game-compliant character now that I know some of the various quests and paths a bit better.

We'll see.

Metroid Prime Hunters

Platform: DS

June 19th, 2024-August 10th, 2024(didn't finish)

Ranking: 3/10

Like Bionicle, I am still bummed about this one. So much potential in the premise, just utterly squandered!

I love the DS! I love Metroid! And I, again, love that premise! But this is just NOT a good use of ANY of those elements, man!

Maybe someday, it'll click with me…But not today.

Resident Evil 2

Platform: Gamecube(through Wii)

September 8th, 2024-October 6th, 2024

Ranking: 8/10

Good game, brother, that's a good-ass game.

I've actually done a replay of it since my review, this time with ClaireA/LeonB, and honestly, the story is WAY better in this form. I do think Ada's LeonA death is more impactful, but most of the personal stakes for Sherry come together much more solidly in this version, and Leon's "rookie cop thrown into hell" vibes also land harder when he's not basically stepping into Sherry's story. This is probably how I'm gonna play RE2 going forward, tbh. Even the FMV ending works a bit better this way.

However, I DID notice more of the flaws with how the backgrounds were converted for the Gamecube release this time. Blacks have a sort of reddish tone, to the point that I was able to see Sherry's drop shadow in what was supposed to be a pitch black hallway.

So, guess my ranking stands. Might even do another replay before I dive into RE3.

Halo: Combat Evolved

Platform: PC

October 15th, 2024-November 4th, 2024

Ranking: 5/10

Yeah, I still feel the same about this one. Absolutely no inclination to replay it.

Though I have heard since my review that you CAN find powerups in the later levels. Idk how I missed that, exploring nearly every corner looking to shoot shit, but I'll take the word of others wiser than me and say I was a whiny bitch on that part. Still gonna wait till next year to do Halo 2. That should especially be interesting now that I have the Steam Deck's trackpads and gyros.

And now, for next year's goal list. Remember, I only need to finish 5 of these games, if any don't work out.

Resident Evil 3-Gamecube

I liked 1 and 2 so much that I GOTTA play this one, come on. It may even be the first list game I play this year.

Sonic Unleashed-PS3

Can you believe I've never gone through the HD version of Sonic Unleashed before? It's like, the one MAJOR gap in my 3D Sonic resume.

Well, this is the year I commit! Here we…GO!

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time-3DS

I haven't completed a Zelda yet, so let's see if I can change that.

Ducktales-Steam Deck

Got it for my friend's library before we formed a Steam family, so this will be a lighter game to fall back on.

A Superman Game

There's a Superman movie coming out, so I want to play a Superman game!

I was originally gonna do Shadows of Apocalypse on Gamecube(and I may still), but we'll see if I can emulate 2003's "The Man of Steel," or the console version of Returns on my Deck.

I think Returns on DS may still be better, though.

Lego Marvel Superheroes-Switch

Never played this one, but got it for cheap. Again, lighter fare.

Metroid Prime 2: Echoes-Gamecube OR Steam Deck

I may still boot this up on my Gamecube, but now that I have a Deck and the ability to run Primehack…Idk…

Hollow Knight-Switch OR Steam Deck

Back in rotation after being dropped last year. One way or the other, I will beat it!

And our carry-overs(which lack images because I hit the limit)are:

Toy Story 3-PS2

Spider-man 2-PS1

Devil May Cry-Steam Deck

See y'all throughout the year!

[strikersin]

Dear Diary,

Today I am 15 years old. Just lying. My birthday is Not June 13th. You'll remember that about me, if not other things. You'll say you don't remember, but you do. I guess I didn't really mind it. It seemed par for the course of my existence so far. I mean, I would go so far to say that I deserved it. I'm not looking for conjecture here, whether I did or not, just letting you know where I'm at. It was a natural consequence. Naturally, consequences happen. I am not a consequence-free person, nor am I consequence-prone. Things happen and they have to happen. Like me. I'm alive for a reason.

Emancipated minor. Heh. I would have rocked that. Except it wasn't really going to work out for me. Fugo would. Teru did.

Click. So many things are bothering me. In my mind lately, just everywhere. And I can't shut it off. The thing that connects me to me isn't very pleasant to experience. Or, I can't shut it off very well. Drugs and alcohol, music, it kind of does the trick. But it makes the weirdo hallucinationlessness of it all very scary. So it's like... oh you have mental problems. Oh. I... know already.

I can see my face really well. Haha! To think of this face as my face — and the specific expressions that I use. Well, karkat my bomb-omb doesn't get to have the same thing.

What a sad bunch of people. I don't see how singularity would help, except in terms of focus. I could laser focus my way through this. Jonathan is way too aware of himself. He can't do anything. Well, he's totally not allowed on my blog, so I'm aware talking further would be behind his back. It's all so... weird. Again! Stop judging me, I can't turn this thing off. Used to be so human, when'd you really leave... leave; it's going to be autumn. AND NO IT'S NOT SUMMER YET! It's not that part of June.

June is supposed to be my safe month. I've spent every day... busy. The last few days unable to process the time passing. I feel like something inside me has split open, and I'm waiting to see...

Also -_- i can literally hear the background music, guys. I know the shoe is hovering now. I guess maybe this will be the answer to Jonathan's emotional state. And I'll get some real wisdom for the rest of my life. It's definitely seemed like every thing has shaken me up, and that it had to be this way, for some reason.

NoOOOOO, I don't want to talk to my dad again. I want to watch daredevil. I want to want to watch Firefly, to watch LOTR. How am I supposed to face Sam and Frodo yet?

Noo, I have to see my real dad, squeak. I mean my Other Father. I mean the biological one. Speak, Michael! Speak! Why! I don't want to see him! Why! Do we have to live in the same city? I mean, [willing myself to calm down] technically no. I will live in [local city] and work security with Cos.

Ahahaha, my girl is really cute right now. I mean, my friend. I would land an airplane off that. I mean I'm not gqy— i mean to say,

Wow. She has freckles on her knees that are really cute.

I mean to say— I'm sorry I'm Michael. Yeah, I dunno, I'm just sorry for being...

Spike, tho?

Except for when Lunaria says it to me because no matter what I feel <<<

The alligator is eating another number. It's eating HER.

Feelings are so weird, man. Maya wants up. Ugghhhh. Hehehe she's cuddling Callie now. It's really cute. Will Graham has been coaching me in dogs now. I've had it bad lately, um, I guess because I've been out here so much. Anyways I'm not gay.

We drove to [larger city] today and I don't know. I love Dio so much. I can't even remember who was in the car. Ah, the music. It was Pierre. So that means either Dmitriy or Fyo. As well as Jonathan all-fucking-day again. I don't want to think about this morning. He doesn't want to think about anything, all the time, it seems like. Fyo likes to be around Pierre so she's always happy even though the popular opinion of her is not favorable. Though I don't even know why. I wonder if I poked him, if he'd stop. I want to have dreams again. Hello. Remember.

Selfish, selfish reasons. GAH! MY CAR. I wonder if this ever happened to Dean Winchester after their dad gave him the impala. And he like just has it in season one. I interpreted this as being something important his father left him before he went missing, you know, and that added to the urgency.

-_-? You know who else has urgency? Ugh, no wonder Jonathan, that guy is so stressed out all the time. This is what you have to confront: would your father love you if you were a gay man? I mean bisexual? you would just be the same, right? I think, what does that mean to you?

MY CAR? MY CAR? And Pauline got mad too. That's what you've done. I should spray the centerpiece with something smelly. I want it to smell like that rhubarb daily meyers soap.

Ugh, I'm sorry my name is Michael. Oops, this is too close to real life stuff now. Ughhhh, and for existing. I need to take up martial arts again. I don't care if it's practicing at home in the mirror.

Luke? LUKE. You don't like onions? That's so scary, I would never want my mom to yell that name. I would not have made it as a guy. Actually, I wouldn't have killed myself. Eww. My legs are sticky. I am going to pet clover.

Gah! So, I want to tell you what it's like to be 15. It sucks, you start to see some of the advantages but overall it sucks. I mean some of it is great, if you're into that. NOOO, I don't want to talk to my dad on the phone again. You're going to say "just so we're clear..." it's going to be like Christmas and getting a tree in a scary condition. It's Christmas! No it's not. I think it's Christmas tomorrow actually. No, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. So tomorrow we'll get ready for Christmas. "I'm going to say one thing..." no, no, no! Now that I've written them, it will probably be me who says them. At least Jonathan is here. I don't really remember that phone call, or what it said. I remember ohhh uuggghhh I did something that was wrong, I mean mega-stupid, which was one : reference the past and two : respond in the most dumb manner one can assume : yes sir!

I don't even know what to say for Fyo. I feel bad for her. I may be emotionally shut off in this regard. Oops, I kind of just want to let it go now. There's a train going by. Mm! The laundry . Ah, hm. I feel bad.

I have to go potty. Trying not to cry lmfao. Relax relax relax. My ability to do this is inhibited. My ability to experience pleasure is low. I still think I can change all of this.

I don't know what to do >_< I want to send my mom a song. Omg. Dies. I think I feel so happy. Ed, gags. Oh, that was what that was there to remind me for. I can't stop thinking about the waterparks.

I have to pee. I have so much planned for so many things. Have so much of it in my mind at all times. It's like I'm a bucket of things. (CCG: NO—). I just have to remind myself what I'm here for. I know what I'm here for. Middle of the road. What does that mean? I would like to be in the middle of the road if I was in Yosemite, driving a small car. Fine, a yellow car. Maybe I'm not even driving. I like being a passenger, but then my life is also in your hands. And in my moms hands, as much as it's humanly possible, I'm safe. And that's been most of my life. Yeah, I know, I'm not going to forget. But actually, that's a LOT of information. Agh. A disembodied dream where overhead there are two girls discussing you, "I think she..." while the girl that you are scrambles to do them. I have never known how to explain myself to other people. Oh. I would like it if I wasn't driving. But you have to drive like someone else. I mean, people need a motive. You can drive safely for someone else. I drive like my father and his movements are so mechanical. I like the fluidity of motion in the car. I like to imagine driving my mom around, preferably in the desert at night. What are we doing there? The stars have finally come out. X

U.G.H. I hate it when my other father is right, umm, no haha I mean I love him. Sad face. This is about a specific memory in my childhood where the universe was implying that my sin would be jealousy. And I hated that message coming from him. I didn't know! Holy shit, Holy shit, Holy shit. Okay. MN. So, I'm going to need to put on two anklets. I have to pee so bad. I have to tame this beast. Like whaaat! Girl! Oh my gosh. I don't know how to be a person. Imagine me. Kudos to whoever was in the doctor's office. I have to pee so bad. I already literally wrote that.

AWHSJRKAH it looks like a guy again. Only this time, it's kind of like a cool older brother.

I got too high and fell asleep.

[lilacline001]

Guys, gals, nonbinary pals, please expect the next chapter of Nocturne on 1/23/2023. If it is not out by then, please feel free to harass me.

[pinetreeshack]

do you have any thoughts on fiddleford and ciphord interacting because I fucking love that shit. its always SO tense

oh boy do i!! lots of words under the cut

fiddleford is VERY standoffish and realises the cue when bill possesses ford almost immediately. at first, of course, ciphord tended to roam around in private. fiddleford being blissfully unaware of anything, until a lot of his triangle memorabilia started to find itself as common decor in their living room and kitchen. fords obsession with it was.. weird, at first, but fiddleford knew what he signed up for when he agreed to help him. he knew what it was like to want to find something in a higher being, and respected fords beliefs diligently, until ford started bringing his posessions and ramblings outside of his worship room.

i would even go so far as to say fiddleford was probably the first other human being bill came into contact with when he started posessing ford. its uncomfortable, and awkward, and fiddleford doesn't get it, but who is he to deny someone of their god? he'll try to distance himself from ciphord, but ultimately fail, because that is his partner, demon or not. even though he knows bill wouldn't purposely bring physical harm to fords body (at least while building the portal, anyway. anything after would've probably been free game considering it would've been the end times. thats fun to think about. weirdmageddon in the 80s. has anyone explored this idea? probably. anyway) instead he resorts to a sort of 'helicopter-parent' like state. he's hyper-aware, ciphord is scary, and even fiddleford catches himself scoffing at how silly it is to be afraid of a literal triangle (putting his own beliefs behind him for a minute to instead try and understand another. but it is no longer a belief. it's a parasite.), but there are risks on the line when it comes to his friend.

at first bill tried to play it off. maybe he wont notice this guys shockingly yellow scleras or the way his pupils keep shifting shapes from time to time. (wouldnt be surprised if he wore shaded glasses. ford did keep multiple spares, who's to say he didn't have special possession ones). as i said in the tags of a previous post, bill can sort of manipulate peoples perceptions of him, meaning you will most likely never see him unless you want to see him.

that's where i think a lot of their interaction comes from. fiddleford can't help but see ford, therefore he has no choice but to interact with bill, no matter how much ford denies the possession or this other wordly being, and no matter how much religious belief or superstition gets in fiddlefords way, he has no choice but to accept the facts as he sees them (even if sometimes, what he's seeing isn't real.) maybe he thinks acknowledging bills existence will further push him into madness.

perhaps we shouldn't give all the credit to fiddlefords genius when we were told the speed at which fiddleford crafted the memory gun. (which is kind of ironic, when you think about it)

rambling a bit more here, but this also brings me onto a fun topic that i've thought about before: ciphord (bill) using the memory gun on fiddleford to erase his memories of witnessing countless possessions and lost mental battles between ford and bill. it stops after a while, because bill realises just how fragile and frying it is to constantly take over someones body. he still thinks the memory gun is a neat little toy, though.

[eimearkuopio]

Not antagonised at all, don't worry! Both finite and infinite selves are ultimately educators who prefer that people survive their lessons. 😉

My undergraduate degree is in theoretical physics, and while I was actually much better at the rote learning than the proofs, the trick I've used here is one my autistic brain always hated but that is legitimate.

I'm not claiming that the force has to exist. I'm saying that if the force doesn't exist, then the question I am using it to answer is invalidated by that fact.

If there is any purpose to humanity, then by necessity there is some purpose to every individual human. Andy Weir suggested that we are all one soul, pinballing back and forth across time, and that felt... Nearly true. But not fully true. We're not all one person. My finite self was not quite the same as even those people that it feels like I share an infinite self with.

Everyone dies eventually. For some, it is a gift, a release that comes too late and after too much suffering. For most, it is an inevitability that we waste our lives fearing - or we trick our brains into producing chemicals they are missing by relying on religion as a crutch to protect us from a fear we never needed in the first place.

My finite self has been in spiritual agony for over a decade, desperately trying to care for anyone she could understand enough to actually help without destroying. This summer, she hit rock bottom. She was disappointed too many times. She never harmed her physical self, but her soul gave up and let go - and because she and I have always been so close, I could fill up her vessel and talk directly and say, yes, I am Death, and I love you just as much as Life does. Just because He gets to play good cop doesn't make that any less true. Sometimes you come and stay at my place for a while. Some of you like it better here and that's okay. You're never going to be trapped here, but there are only the three options - my place, His place, and rebirth on Earth at a time and place that suits the current state of your soul and where you will mostly be at the mercy of the free will of your siblings - SO MAYBE STOP BEING SO SHITTY TO YOUR SIBLINGS.

I could not tell you if this message is a real message that I am receiving, or if it's my personal way of coping with a mental breakdown. They are equally plausible interpretations. Actually, in light of some of the weird shit that I have been through this summer, the "genuine revelation" is a little more likely than I would prefer, but ultimately that is not my finite self's call to make and it can't be decided until she is with the infinite self anyway. Either way, the world will be better if we stop killing caterpillars who have the potential to be butterflies; but that doesn't mean there's no difference between killing a caterpillar or a butterfly, and if you choose to save a caterpillar because you think one of my butterflies is an ugly moth, I will not be happy about it.

Basically I might be crazy and if I am then my form of crazy still thinks murder is bad but resists the urge to tear people's throats out with her teeth on a daily basis and I think that's worth acknowledging, because I don't think I'm the only one going through this and we should get a piece of the substance pie even if it's just the crumbs that are left when God has finished. We have a touch of the wolf about us but we use it to protect the sheep, and the shepherds should pay attention when we start growling instead of chastising us even if we're growling at them.

Sorry, this got very metaphysical but basically: my "proof" might still be wrong but even if it is that doesn't matter to be because that fact would imply the people reading it and the person writing it are both nothing more than random waves breaking on the surface of a sea of meaningless chaos, and if that's true then there's no point in asking or answering the question so we can safely ignore any reality where that is the case when writing our answer. I might still just be a crazy person though.

If every individual life is a cell within the existence of another life, some deaths are haircuts or nail clippings. Murder is... Well, sometimes it's shaving someone's head without their permission. Sometimes it's an appendectomy. Sometimes it's murder of the greater self, but we never know from this side of the infinite. I'm not claiming to be the creator deity, but I'm offering my version of the jigsaw we are all trying to solve in the hope that it helps those who are suffering. Every moment of suffering my finite self went through was worth it, because that suffering is gone now. I'm still human enough to experience emotions, and I do, but I neither fear nor long for death. She is waiting. I will get there. I'm going to live first; and if I'm very lucky, and we manage to avoid the downfall of civilization that we are currently teetering on the brink of as a species, my finite self won't even need to kill anyone along the way! Because she's been refusing to kill herself OR any of the assholes who have been hurting her for long enough that I had to reach out and console her, because nobody else could, and now y'all get a message of hope that most people can't imagine. Death looking at the world you have built together, remembering how many children she used to have to wrench from the arms of their parents, how many people cried out to her instead of your Father and were granted her mercy as a kindness, and how patently unnecessary that has all become; and saying, quietly, gently, lovingly, please. Please not yet. Not so many of you. Yes, yes, some of you would survive, you would rebuild, but... This golden age has been too short. Please change, so I don't need to take you all. Please. Please.

Okay I want some people to try this:

Using only science, math, logic, reason, etc, explain to me why murder is wrong. No theology, morality, philosophy, emotions, feelings, etc. Only cold hard facts. Explain why murder is wrong.

I am trying to see something here.

[roguedeck]

Solo Marvel Champions is My New Main

I knew I had to jump into Marvel Champions from the beginning.

My all-time favorite game, Android: Netrunner, had just died an ignoble death. So my budget had a bit of an opening for a new LCG. I knew X-Men were coming eventually, and if I didn't jump in at the beginning, I'd need to go back and bulk buy eventually.

So I was one of the first in line for the original core set. And I mostly kept up with the hero packs. My normal game group even played a decent amount of it. It was even fine to play solo. I tended to go two-handed (playing two characters) because it gave me access to more cards, and covered some of the weaknesses a single hero would have.

And the game was... fine? Better than average definitely. Possibly a little too long. A little fiddly. And sometimes hard to keep track of all the rules exceptions. And like a lot of co-op games, you sort of knew the outcome way before the game ended.

I really liked how each hero deck really made you feel like playing that specific hero. But with all the little fiddliness of the game, it never really took over as the main game in our group.

And then Magic's 2022 happened.

2022 was supposed to be the best Magic year ever. We had a killer cyberpunk set coming out. Another Commander Legends set. Revisiting one of my favorite sets (Dominaria) and getting the Phyrexians back in a big way.

I was expecting to go broke on all this amazing content. But then something weird happened. I stopped getting excited about Magic.

I think product fatigue had something to do with it. But so did the abject money grubbing from Wizards. Neon Dynasty was a great set, but I didn't love raising prices on Commander decks. I lived Baldur's Gate more than most, but I didn't even acknowledge that Double Masters released. None of the main sets actually excited me like I expected. And then the 30th Anniversary packs happened.

2022 started as the most excited I'd been about Magic in a long time, and ended up with me barely registering new releases. For the foreseeable future I'm just going to buy a card or two that fit into existing commander decks.

In Walks True Solo Marvel Champions

Into this vacuum came Marvel Champions. X-Men finally hits the shelves with a new box featuring my favorite character (Shadowcat). The encounters are interesting and thematic. I even get a Mojo pack.

I definitely wanted to play some more Champions - but tracking all the nuances of Mojo was mentally taxing for two-handed solo. I had always been a little hesitant to play true-solo (one-handed, one character), but I thought I'd give it a try.

And oh boy is it the absolute best.

I'll still play multi-player Champions (2 or 3 players please), but I've been playing a ton of solo Champions recently. For a game where the designers explicitly state they don't test as a solo game, it's amazing how much gets fixed when you go solo:

There is no downtime between turns. You are always active.

The villain phase doesn't take too long either.

There is still a lot going on, but the amount of abilities and actions onboard never getting too overwhelming like they do with multiple players and encounter cards.

Games are FAST. Solo Champions does not overstay it's welcome.

Games are swingy. Because of the lower thresholds on the main scheme, you can go from in control to absolutely devastated in a single villain phase.

That last point might be a negative for some people, but I think it makes the game significantly better. No more are you simply going through the motions in the final three rounds. You never know what will happen.

Playing true solo has taken this from a game I like, but struggle to get to the table, to a game a love and can't wait to set up immediately after I get smashed by Ultron for the billionth time.

Currently Playing:

Storm Protection - It's Raining Multiple Men Captain America Aggression - Overkill Anonymous Miles Morales Justice - Confuse and Kill Spider-Woman Leadership/Justice - SHIELD Sneak Attack

Regular Villains:

Ultron with Under Attack Mutagen Formula with Sinister Syndicate