#a little edgy I know but

[herebecritters]

First of all, let me start by saying, Geshtu is absolutely, completely, and irrevocably insane.

Of the three, he is the least sane. Now this isn’t me saying “HAHA HES COOKOO HAHA WOW WHAT A MANIAC” No it’s not like that at all. You see, the thing about Geshtu is that he doesn’t seem “insane” at all, in fact, compared to Nergal and Dumuzi he comes across as perfectly put together.

The thing about Geshtu is that he is completely convinced by his own delusions. And he has convinced himself so fully of these delusions that he has not only sold them to himself but also to others. The voices he hears, to him, are completely real. He believes so wholeheartedly that he is a vessel for Theias voice that he puts on this complete and divine demeanor. He seems more sane than the others because he carries himself that way.

Dumuzi knows she has problems and she hides from them. Nergal definitely knows he has some screws loose but he embraces it. Geshtu, meanwhile, instead of pushing down his insanity like Dumuzi or embracing it like Nergal, he strides side by side with his.

Now let’s go back to the late Cretaceous where Geshtu grew up. Small groups of family camps were common throughout the Mesozoic, even moreso than villages such as where Cro, Dumuzi, and Nergal were raised. These groups would travel to trade with other family camps, exchanging information, intermingling, ect. But afterwards they’d return to their own family burrow to live their lives. They were foragers and hunters. Geshtus family in particular specialized in fishing and insect hunting.

Geshtu was still Geshtu. He was always a little more quiet and methodical than his other siblings, traits he’s kept with him.

So I’ve mentioned on the backstory posts before how most mammals during the Mesozoic lived nocturnally for their own safety. The large reptilian predators at the time were mostly diurnal so there was less risk of being ripped apart and eaten at night. But there are always exceptions.

One night, as the family was waking to begin their evening routines, there was a scratching above the burrow. And then the ceiling fell through.

A pack of stenonychosaurus, a species of Troodontid, had dug their way into the burrow. They had been invaded. The Stenonychosaurus pack flooded into the burrow and made short work of maiming and devouring the entire family.

Geshtu got hurt, not horribly but enough to cause him to fall and become temporarily disoriented. He would be next if he did not find a place to hide. As he frantically looked around, he noticed a beam of moonlight breaking through the torn overhead of his families burrow. The light washed over a bundle of rocks and debris that had fallen from the ceiling and there was a small gap between them. Small enough for him to fit.

While the troodons were preoccupied with their current meals, Geshtu managed to crawl over to the small opening and discreetly push himself inside it undetected. And he hid there, unable to do anything but watch and wait as his family was torn apart in front of him.

Eventually the troodons finished feeding, were filled, and left. Not much was left behind, save for a few bodies still intact. Geshtu cautiously creeped out of his hiding spot after the coast was clear and went to check on what bodies he could, hoping to find survivors. He found one body that seemed fairly intact, he dragged it out of the pile of death and tried to lift it up into a sitting position. It fell back over with a heavy thud. Blood was everywhere, his tail dragged in it, it coated his hands. No one but him was left alive among the wreckage.

Realizing the hopelessness of his endeavor he backed up against the burrow wall. He covered his eyes with his hands, hoping that by not being able to see the wreckage anymore, it would disappear. Maybe when he removed his hands it would have turned out to all be a nightmare. But when he did, everything was still as it had been.

The moonlight shone down on him from the burrows exit. Its guidance had saved him from the slaughter, so he decided to follow it again. He limped out of the burrow into the open night and made his way to the family creek that sat just outside to wash the blood off his hands. It was then that he caught his reflection in the water. The blood from his hands had marked his face and he could see it now. And, reflected above his head in the water, he saw the moon. Full and bright and comforting. He took this as a sign that the moon had marked him, and he was reborn under it. So he ceased washing it away, stood up, stared at the moon, and began to follow it.

And so Geshtu walked. And walked. And walked. Staring up at the moon the entire time. He needed to understand. He needed to know why this happened and why it had saved him. He walked for a long time. And when the moon dipped below the atmosphere and the sun rose, he’d slink into whatever shelter he could find to rest. But when the moon arose again, he’d come out, and continue his pilgrimage, always staring directly at the moon, resulting in him moonblinking himself.

The more he walked, the more the pain faded. He grew more at peace the longer he walked and stared. Like the moon herself was taking away all the hurt for him. His circumstance began to feel less like a tragedy and more like fate. Eventually, he could hear her singing. First just a light humming, but eventually he began to hear words along with it. Crisp and clear and ringing throughout him. She spoke her name, Theia.

He walked for a very long time. Probably a few years. Just him and the moon. He traveled far, restaining his markings whenever he had the opportunity. He was born in blood and would be forever stained by it. On his journey, he’d occasionally run into passerby’s and other burrows, but these meetings were short and fleeting.

One night though, the moon led him into a small village. And when Geshtu entered, he knew he heard Theia say, “Here.”

At first the villagers were unsure of him but helping other mammals traveling through was not unheard of for him. And Geshtu looked rough. He was a strange foreign vagabond with even stranger markings. But he showed them no hostility and they took him in and fed him. He was quiet but otherwise was grateful and polite.

Eventually he started murmuring prophesies to the people there. Little ones like “theia says the ridge to the west has the best seed gatherings” or “Theia warns not to go near the badlands on this night, there’s something malicious there…” and, by complete chance, almost all of these ended up true.

So now people were convinced that he really could hear the moon speaking to him and that the Theia was their friend. She was looking out for the little creatures of the night, who lived hiding in fear of the monsters of the daylight. And so Geshtu became trusted as the Villages Shaman, sent by Theia herself. He was the one people went to for divine advice

And that’s how he found his place there. He was convinced that his family HAD to die for this greater purpose. It was all supposed to happen. He was meant to come here and he was meant to save these people. The voices guide him to protect these creatures of the night, he is simply an agent of Theia. He believes wholeheartedly in everything Theia tells him. And…they say if you believe something hard enough the energy can manifest itself into reality. And so they eventually would. He, Dumuzi, and Nergal would eventually will themselves into godhood and bring forth a horror unlike any other.

[ruushes]

not dead not alive but a secret third thing

[egophiliac]

swipes everything else off of the table to yell about diasomnia flower bookmarks

(I gave Silver one too :D)

[bread-that-draws]

Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you

[zxmbigirlfriend]

wgat kinda fucked up pineapple is that

[lieu-rey]

omg official Rockstar Games(tm) art of inez valenzuela who's totally a real character in the hit game Red Dead Redemption 2(tm)??!?!?!?!1

[autisticaradiamegido]

thoughts on dave and aradia (<>)?

day 356

BIG fan tbh. in this house we love and respect timerails

truly yall read this log and tell me theyre not cute

[razmerry]

this is a genuinely vulnerable, touching, and emotionally powerful moment of seeking out connection from jason to dick until you remember that being "all back to normal" refers to when jason got digested by an alien, trapped in a goo egg, and then turned into a tentacle monster that ate people

[starrysharks]

yours is not to ask why; yours is to do and die

[mercuryferns]

So, my Czech friend was telling me something really interesting about Kaz’s name. Apparently in Czech, “kaz” means a flaw, a defect, if you make an adjective of it, it means "rotten". As he said, it suits the “dirtyhands” persona perfectly.

However, this also made me reflect on the more “Dutch inspired” names of the book, and specifically Wylan van Eck. I speak Afrikaans (a Dutch creole). Dutch people can sound off in the comments if it’s different for them, but these languages are obviously mutually intelligible so I’m going to assume what applies to us applies to Dutch too.

Wylan’s name was an issue for me for a huge reason: It’s spelling is aggressively American English, while the character himself is tentatively “Dutch-coded”:

1.) “W” doesn’t exist as a sound in Afrikaans. The letter represents a “v” sound.

2.) “Y” also doesn’t really exist in the same way as it does in English. In English it seemingly means whatever you want it to be in the given moment. But in Afrikaans, it’s “ay”. As in the word “ray”.

3.) “a” never means “ih”. Depending on accent it’s usually either “ah” or “uh”.

This may seem inconsequential, but let me tell you my surprise when my partner told me that his name is actually “WHY-lin”. WHATTTT??? I’ve been saying “VAY-lahn” this whole time????

(Not to mention his surname also means “of me”, which is clever, but to be honest it reads a bit stupidly to someone who speaks the language being imitated. She succeeded in other ways though!)

[fauvester]

I love love loooooooooove the little bit of extra fat under garak's chin. kiss landing pad

[theology101]

I know this is a joke in Adventuring Party and probably isn’t canon but this is like… the best?

Fabian LOVES Honey and Bees, he’s just a spoiled fucker used to Fallinel Willow-Rose nectar honey or whatever - Solace stuff doesn’t compare tbh. He’s showing up, he’s attending meetings, having conversations about Honey.

Also, Step-Sibling solidarity between Fig and Fabian. Always a classic

[leier-coyol]

Dark angels

Went for an autumn look due to their color palette

[wis-art]

and she's happy about it

[13eyond13]

Please tell me about art and media you know of that accurately captures the weirdness of dream logic and atmosphere and emotions... books and movies and video games and art and comics and YouTube stuff, whatever you want... you know, where it only makes sense on an intuitive level and falls apart when you try to explain it...

[front-facing-pokemon]