#Theres some JUICY little foreshadowing in here

[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength- Chapter 2

Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!

Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)

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Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2160

CW: Adult language

Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills. 

Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea. 

Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways? 

As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged. 

Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.

And again.

And again.

And- 

The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.

Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-

“Rose!”

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.

“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”

Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs. 

“Think he’s McLovin it?”

“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression. 

“Filled out by Monday, got it?” 

Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.

“Don't lose it.” 

In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.

“Yes, Mom.”  Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…

It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...

With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.

With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure. 

Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-

A scream.

Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source-  a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag. 

“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock. 

“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies,  “Just, uh, papercut.”

Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.

There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.

Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations? 

There's a tiny man in my bag.

They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning?  Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?

Rose blinked.

There's still a tiny man in my bag.

In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright. 

Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.

“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”

_   _   _

Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground. 

A plan- he needed a plan. Anything- 

Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.

She’s running. 

Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness. 

He’d been caught. 

That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.

No. Not yet. 

White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut.  If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.

In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole. 

A lock clicked. 

The sound slicing through him-  an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.  

No, no, no- not yet! 

The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact- 

No.

The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.

Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;

Get to the rip.

In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers. 

Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.

That gargantuan fucking idiot. 

The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar face.  

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.

But Tamius The Bestoyed,  was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better. 

He’d been caught. 

Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do. 

He begged. 

“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go. 

Her brow furrows. 

“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him. 

Gray. 

Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like- 

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought. 

“... Why are you crying?” 

Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.

What?

As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet. 

Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!  

Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand. 

He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.

Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-   

“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?” 

Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating. 

Too close- too much. 

Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.

“How did you get so small?”

What? Get? 

His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him. 

This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk… 

If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait. 

People.

She thinks I’m human.

His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

What an idiot.

[freakinator]

Freakinator freakinator freakinator. I'm shaking you. I'm really interested in your opinion on Wemmbu's video when you're done watching it.

hiii im finally done watching the vid so heres my Honest Review™

im sure a lot of ppl hate the length but i personally dont mind it cause pacing is really important to me (too slow i get bored and antsy, too fast i get bored and overwhelmed) and with the kind of storytelling wemmbu does i think it works pretty well, can it be divided into less intimidating time chunks? yes and honestly he probs should do that ngl lol like theres some downtime moments where cutting it would be acceptable imo and its not like unstable where you risk having the overall story flow break if you cut a vid in half, will i mind if it stays this way tho? not really and i could always come back to it later if i had to stop watching for whatever reason

also the latter half of the vid was more interesting imo cause of the fact that his pov is a lot more unique there which i think wemmbu was aware of considering he put less cuts and narration for the later days vs the earlier ones ---- tho it could have also just been because the more interesting parts of the earlier half are more spaced out and context-dependent compared to the latter

i think most of the seeds for how wemmbu became the menace that he is today were planted After his hiatus so i wasnt surprised at there not being a lot of ✨foreshadowing✨ shown in the video, but the few that Were there were really juicy such as wemmbus zambook-related shenanigans, wemmbu referring to the wemmbu head above the frat house as a parasitic infection seeping into the roof which pangi notes as being like him living rent free in their heads, and wemmbu saying that revenge has consumed him already after zam said not to let it consume him

i said it in one of my liveblogs but i think its fascinating how trusting wemmbu is, like youd expect him not to be considering the kind of person he is and the kinds of things he likes to do but he it seems he just. wholeheartedly believes the other lsers wouldnt make his life miserable if they could which is interesting considering even at that point he was considered as one of the serverwide opps, he also extends that trust onto their skill level ie trusting other ppls decisions before his own and thinking that other ppl are more skilled than they are

i think its interesting how his tussle with the empire was a little less... direct??? for lack of a better word compared to his teammates, like they fought sure but he has yet to have a 1 on 1 problem with any of them with the exception of jepexx who his problem with is just that he combatlogged and even then that conflict was resolved really quickly ---- wait nvm i just remembered the daycare fight lmao, but even then that was less an empires moment and more a loserduo moment tbh, otherwise all his conflict with the empire has been pretty team-based rather than individual-based

im a big fan of how he kept coming across zam considering theyve got basically nothing to do with each other at this point and yet hes still one of the more consistent presences in wemmbus vid which is something of note considering all the other consistent presences in his life are either his teammates or his enemies (mainly mapicc), not even pangi is a consistent presence despite the fact hes also a spawn camper (could just be a timezone thing tho)

im also a big fan of the wemmflower, shoutout wemmbus inclination towards tulips lol. im curious how its doing rn tho, like i doubt any player touched it cause its quite the niche area but at the same time it Is located in an unlit cave full of mobs such as creepers so it getting destroyed is a non-zero chance (hoping it stays safe forever tho)

overall i gotta say im a big fan and also that was p much what i expected out of a wemmbu lifesteal vid lol, granted the fact it was 3 hours long was a lil unexpected but also that explains why it took him like 2-3 months to edit it

[maskofenigma]

another fallen london essay ramble whoo boy (i dont plan these btw) (spoilers for firmament and light fingers in particular plus general spoilers)

ok so do yall remember that one line in Firmament Chapter three where Summer drinks moon milk and looks directly at the player character and nothing happens? if not i get it, that section was pretty hard to follow and it was ultimately inconsequential and also optional so here it is

(from the fallen london wiki - Suggest Summer do it instead)

anyone whos played Light Fingers or is familiar with that plotline knows that this makes zero sense. even normal moon milk has extreme effect if ingested. and unless we're going to have some kind of toxic romance arc with Summer (which would be great but given the lack of foreshadowing and other aforementioned reasons is highly unlikely) we can chalk this up to sloppy writing and unfamiliarity with that ambition on whoever wrote this. such frustration seems to be the consensus on this chapter, at least on here

But! ive been following some liveblogging of early Light Fingers, reminiscing etc etc, when i remembered one other odd tie in to moon milk, in the cave of the nadir. now analyzing the nadir is similarly difficult to zenith because its very vauge and theres a lot of disconnected elements in there all in service of making a place thats confusing and dangerous and unknowable and whatever so take this with a grain of zalt. im sure theres some juicy deeplore in there but what i want to focus on is this

(from the fallen london wiki - "It was the milk... it was the milk, wasn't it?")

this is a weird callout, right? afaik thats one of the very few connections to an ambition in the nadir, alongside whatever the frost moth does in nemesis (havent gotten there yet). so like what gives? its not an especially rewarding action, and it doesnt progress the ambition or anything. its possible, given this comes after the orphanage section, that these two are like escapees of the orphanage after the fire / riot, but it could also be some disconnected memory its all very difficult to discern. and even if that is the case it doesnt really tell us much except maybe foreshadowing for Hephesta's situation. the best i can say is that, taken in context with the other options on that card, maybe its a parallel to Clarabelle's situation, with the references to eggs? there has to be some reason behind this reference, and if there isnt one, than at least let me headcanon this

i think the two instances above tell us very little on their own, but taken in together have fascinating implications. irrigo and violant are thematically opposed colors, forgetting vs remembering, and zenith / the nadir are explicitly connected both textually and in their names (zenith means the highest point of a space or object, nadir means the lowest), so that they both reference moon milk is interesting to say the least. I think this could be telling us that moon milk has different effects when under these two neathbow colors. Moon milk induced obsession seems to be resistant to the psyche destroying affects of the nadir, persisting for the two people in a place where memory is actively unravelled. the woman, even as she tells her companion to forget her, still clearly recalls the affect of the moon milk and her newfound obsessions. maybe this is somehow due to the milk's affect of overwhelming the victims previous life, in essence forcing them to forget what was previously important to them. or maybe, given irrigo's connection with lack of perception and drawing inward, the idea is that when the victim has nothing else to cling to in the nadir, the love instilled by the moon milk persists as a sort of internal source of comfort. in zenith, the violant light seems to dull or entirely nullify the milk's effects if that moment with Summer is to be believed. its stated that the violant forces the player character to be aware of every detail at once, able to perceive even distant objects with total clarity, splitting your attention everywhere at once. the way moon milk works is just an extreme version of a classic love potion: a victim falls deeply in love specifically with the first thing they see. maybe, because one perceives everything at the same time, the moon milk cannot properly take effect. or maybe the violant is just too oppressive, preventing the milk from occupying a victims thoughts as they are overwhelmed by the light.

whatever the case may be this is a very odd pairing. for a section so filled with moon misers, firmament has very little by way of references to Light Fingers, odd given thats one of the main places one would encounter a moon miser. no comment. and that moment in the nadir has always struck me as peculiar, if only for it being seemingly out of nowhere and disconnected to everything else. but moon misers are linked to apocyanic light with some degree of regularity, so i dont think its too great a stretch to connect them to other neathbow colors as well. one wonders how everyones favorite roof beetles might be affected by the other colors of the neath. even if im totally off base and disproven by some text in the high sancta or sunless skies or whatever there has to be something here im sure of it. or maybe ive lost it who knows certainly not me okay bye