#a normal everyday young adult about town

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #298: DISASTER!!!

December, 1988

EDWIN JARVIS -- the last Avenger?!

WELL SOMEBODY HAS TO CARRY THIS BOOK.

Fuckin’ Thor.

Oh, I should contextualize that.

Last times in Avengers: Dr Druid, under the influence of Nebula Kang (who is later revealed to be Ravonna pretending to be Nebula pretending to be Kang. For some reason), manipulated events to get rid of Captain Monica Marvel and become chairman of the Avengers.

After a brief attempt to kill Thor with a dinobot, Druid and Nebula Kang managed to put Thor, She-Hulk, and Black Knight under mind control, so Nebula Kang could use them to get into a time bubble in time and find some big weapon that the Kang Klubhouse wanted.

Some Kangs interfere, breaking the Avengers out of mind-control. The Avengers fight Nebula Kang and Dr Druid, leading to the two to get sucked into a time hole. Like a plot hold, but in time. The Avengers go home and She-Hulk quits in shame for what she did under mind control. Thor decides this is a good a time as any to just totally dissolve the team and takes off with Black Knight to go do Asgard stuff.

Leading to an awkward situation where there’s an Avengers book but no Avengers.

DISASTER!!! about sums it up. It being Walt Simonson’s run on this book.

HEY OOOOOH!

That’s not nice but I don’t have to be nice.

His Thor work is still a contender for best run the character has ever had but his Avengers work... eugh.

And since I don’t have to be nice...

Its funny that the Mets win right as Inferno is getting into full swing. Hell may not have frozen over but New York is certainly going to something quite like Hell!

So an Avengers book without any Avengers means that its Jarvis’ time to shine again.

Just like how we washed out the bad taste of Avengers #200 with a fun Jarvis back-up story the following issue.

If you don’t recall, Jarvis fought a bully of the neighborhood who had damaged his mom’s groceries.

Speaking of Jarvis’ mom...

She’s amazing.

Ma Jarvis needs her stories.

And her stories are: wrestling and General Hospital.

The television stops working on top of the air conditioning not working. And when she tries to call someone about it, it turns out the phones aren’t working!

Mrs. Jarvis: “#@%*!!! The phone line’s dead! What the #%@!! is this? A @#!!* conspiracy?!”

Jarvis offers to assist and Ma Jarvis must be in a bad mood because she eviscerates him. Not literally but she says some hurtful things that would be hurtful if Jarvis didn’t take it all in good humor.

She points out that A) he kept wearing his eyepatch long after his injuries from Avengers Under Siege healed. And B) He’s unemployed because the Avengers folded. And C) the Avengers never bothered to teach him anything useful like television repair.

Now to be fair to Jarvis.

A) He probably just wanted to look as cool as he is. I say let Jarvis wear an eyepatch.

B) Yeah, jerk move of the Avengers to just disband on a dime like that. But he at least has a nice pension from them that’s supporting Jarvis and his mom.

and C) “They taught me self-reliance... and the true value of teamwork.”

She’s so grumpy!

Granted. No air conditioning and no tv makes Ma Jarvis something something.

Jarvis walks down the street and goes into the first reputable television repair shop that he sees.

Unfortunately, there’s an epidemic of television malfunctions today (probably because of Inferno) so all of the television repair guys are working overtime and haven’t found the problem yet.

Repair shop guy: “I dunno what’s goin’ on around here! Me? I’m thinkin’ maybe New York is finally headin’ into the toilet!”

Jarvis: “Colorfully colloquial but unfortunately, an apt choice of phrase. Mother will simply have to forego her afternoon’s entertainment. A daunting prospect.

So daunting that Jarvis decides not to go right home. He decides to take a trip to the Metropolitan Museum to “refresh my eyes and rekindle my flagging spirit.”

He is a man of culture.

But the subway train he’s on suddenly stalls, like the power has gone out.

With his people skills, Jarvis takes charge of the group of passengers and directs them out of the train.

I don’t know if you’re supposed to immediately leave a stalled train, honestly. Maybe Jarvis is actually pulling a boner here.

If you’re not supposed to leave a train during an apparent power outage, he definitely kinda gets someone killed.

A businessman type with a briefcase accidentally drops his briefcase on the third rail and since its full of merger information, he immediately grabs it and gets electrocuted.

The train is stopped but the third rail is still active oh geez.

Now everyone is panicking and one guy tries to run off in a panic but Jarvis trips him. Another tough looking guy takes issue with Jarvis taking charge.

Tough looking guy: “Back off, fancy pants! I’m gettin’ outta here and nobody’s stoppin’ me! Not even some guy in a silly lookin’ hat!”

Jarvis: “This hardly seems the place to indulge in sartorial criticism, sir. Rather, seeking a rational solution to our mutual problem would be more beneficial! Brace up, everyone! The walk will not kill you but the panic may. Single file, keep in the center of the track! If you drop something, leave it! Follow me, now! Carefully!”

He leads the group through the tunnel until he finds an emergency exit and then leads them back up to the street.

Once again the day is saved by Jarvis.

He even gets kissed for being such a hero, by the lady he had saved from tumbling out of the train.

Said lady Glory Garsen seems really interested in spending more time with him. Really interested. Blatantly interested.

But Jarvis excuses himself for a pressing appointment. A pressing appointment that he doesn’t have because he’s just going to the museum to relax.

Not really sure what to make of the exchange.

Also, I’m not sure how old Jarvis is supposed to be and how old Glory is supposed to be.

Jarvis later dates Aunt May for a while. And he supposedly fought in World War II by lying about his age. And its the late 80s now. But also, he doesn’t ever seem to age, because he’s around a bunch of other people who don’t ever really seem to age.

Point being, I’m pretty sure there is a significant age gap here.

Anyway anyway, after excusing himself from her advances, Jarvis finds to his disappointment that the museum is closed. Physically closed. The doors slammed shut and nobody can get them open. The Fire Department is trying to break the doors down but haven’t had much progress with it.

Jarvis reflects that this doesn’t seem to be his day and muses about purchasing a gift for his mom.

Jarvis: “I wonder where I could purchase a pair of wrestling trunks?”

Geez, she’s really into wrestling, huh? Wait, would the trunks be for her to wear? Does she herself wrestle?

Hell yeah, Mrs. Jarvis.

Instead of shopping, Jarvis decides to visit the “cinema” for he has not had the time to go in years!

God damn, the Avengers, force this man to take more days off.

Wait, you’ve disbanded. Uh... enjoy your retirement, Jarvis!

Anyway, he heads to the Daily Bugle building in hopes that he can find a schedule of the local theaters but chances into another heroic moment.

Some bricks fall off some scaffolding, right towards a mother and her child.

Jarvis shouts a warning but then clumsy, normal photographer Peter Parker accidentally trips, grabs Jarvis’ arm, and pushes it so that his umbrella deflects all the bricks. Accidentally.

But Jarvis is not one to hold a grudge, especially since the totally accidental inadvertent assistance helped save the two bystanders from getting severely bonked.

Normal guy Peter Parker walks off but since Jarvis is looking to take in a movie at the local cinema, Peter suggests Roger Rabbit because “his wife’s a knockout!”

(Quickly checking and yup, Who Framed Roger Rabbit did come out the same year this issue did. That’s fun.)

Peter’s suggestion is one Jarvis can only agree with, after the movie is over.

Jarvis: “That young man was right! Roger Rabbit’s wife! My goodness! Such... ample... drawing!”

Jarvis, you horn dog.

He decides to phone home and tell his mom when he thinks he’ll be coming home, accounting for walking time because he has a bad feeling about getting back on the subway again.

But there’s already a line at the phone and it seems the phone isn’t even working! The cigar chomping guy at the phone complaining that nothing has worked right since AT&T was busted up.

(That’s another time stamp for the issue. That would have been about four years ago at the time of this issue. We’re learning stuff today.)

Anyway, the phone apparently takes offense to cigar guy’s abuse and lassos his neck with its receiver.

This is why people prefer cordless phones!

I love how unfazed Jarvis is by this. He just saw Roger Rabbit and that gives him the context to decide that things are just acting like cartoons today. So he’ll just follow cartoon logic.

Since Inferno seems not to be in full swing, that makes him one of the earlier people to realize that wacky demon stuff is just like cartoons.

So he just puts more money into the phone until the receiver lets go of the guy and jumps back in its cradle.

Because, why not!

Anyway, Jarvis isn’t fazed by all this nonsense but he also knows its not just another typical day. Since the Avengers are disbanded - THANKS, Thor - Jarvis decides to place a call to someone else.

He stretches the cord as far as it will go so the phone can’t attempt to strangle him. But when he dials the number, the phone insists he needs to insert $429.45 to complete the call.

Jarvis: “I see. Well, my technological friend, two can play at this game! Complete this call and I shall feed you all the change I possess! Frustrate that effort and I shall return momentarily with bolt cutters... and sever your receiver! You’ll never eat in this town again!”

Phone: “Click.... bzzzzzzzt... ring... ring... ring...”

Jarvis: “Ahh.”

He freaked that phone.

Later, a mysterious man enters a mysterious base in Brooklyn, mysteriously.

Look, this isn’t too much of a mystery.

Its a guy that Jarvis knows and Jarvis trusts. And its a guy carrying a circular object that can block lasers.

It’s the Captain America.

The whole point of slowly breaking Roger Stern’s Avengers roster was to put Steve Rogers back in charge the way nature intended.

Its definitely not the new Captain America. Why would Jarvis have his phone number?

Anyway. Jarvis doesn’t know what’s going on with the Captain America’s life so he keeps the message vague. Something is weird in Manhattan and people haven’t realized it yet. He requests this mysterious Steve Rogers shaped stranger meet him at the Brooklyn Bridge so Jarvis can Explain It All.

And the Captain America gets a firsthand experience with how screwy things are getting when one of the computers in his secret base starts moving around and shooting lasers at him.

Not things that computer was designed to do.

The Captain America throws his mighty shield and that right there is evidence this is Steve Rogers because that computer sure does yield. By exploding.

Mysterious guy: “I wonder if this isn’t precisely the sort of thing Jarvis was calling about. I think I’d better make that rendezvous and fast!”

Meanwhile, Jarvis chilling by the bridge.

When he hears an EEEEEEEEEEEEEK! and calls for help oh help.

And its Glory Garsen!

The woman from the subway who kissed Jarvis!

Small world!

She’s also stuck between two cars despite two beefy looking dudes’ best efforts. Because the small world is also a malevolent world.

Jarvis applies some more cartoon logic and gives one of the cars a good poke in the eye - or headlight, rather - and it pulls away.

Burly guy: “You did it! But... I don’t believe it! It backed off! All by itself!”

Jarvis: “Injury to the eye motif, my good man! Even the strongest willed individual will shy away from a pointed stick!”

That’s such a particular phrasing “injury to the eye motif.” Jarvis, have you been reading Fredrick Wertham’s book?

I saw that particular phrasing in Cerebus too but the arc in question came out later than this issue.

Imagining Jarvis reading either “Seduction of the Innocent” or Cerebus the Aardvark honestly floors me. But he did partake in a Who Framed Roger Rabbit that he really enjoyed so maybe I shouldn’t guess his interests.

Anyway.

Glory Garsen admits that it isn’t a small world. She’s been stalking Jarvis.

She’s damn tired of being single and she’s not letting a good guy walk away just because he’s shy.

Oh so it was shyness? Sure.

Look, even if the dating scene sucks, you shouldn’t stalk handsome butler types.

Then the day gets weirder.

A giant robot? man comes VARROM VARROOUMing down the road and tries to knock Jarvis’ block off.

Hey, its the guy from the cover. Except much greener.

And he THROWS A CAR AT JARVIS!

Yeesh. This guy must be evil. Hating Jarvis like that. For shame.

When Jarvis dodges the car, the robot dude grabs him and starts squeezing him TO DEATH!

Well, not to death yet but he’s trying.

But Jarvis SPAKTs the guy in the non-broken eye and the robot rears back and goes “WHEEEAAAPP! BEEEEEAP!” in distress.

But it doesn’t drop him and its clutching him so tight that he passes out.

BUT THEN!

BUT THEN!!

Someone mysterious throws a disc-shaped object and when the mysterious someone throws a disc-shaped object, the robot guy has to yield Jarvis to the ground.

C’mon, its obviously the Captain: “The first round’s over, demon. You aren’t related to an answering machine over in Brooklyn by any chance?”

Oh, so the thing that attacked the Captain America was the answering machine. Glad we cleared that up.

Glory Garsen drags the unconscious Jarvis to safety while mystery dude engages the robot dude.

And mystery dude gives a lot of pointers while he fights. Or... like, condescending pointers. Talking about how much the other dude sucks. “Your cornering’s pretty weak!” sort of thing.

The robot dude rips a manhole out of the ground to try to fight the Captain America but again he yields when bonked with a high velocity trash can lid shaped object.

Then the Captain America punches him in the face over and over until... the guy turns into a car.

Huh.

I guess it was the car that was trying to squish Glory and that Jarvis broke the headlight.

IT CAME BACK FOR REVENGE!

Inferno is weird.

Also, huh. It wasn’t so many issues ago where Thor was fighting a robot T. Rex that was more than met the eye. And now a car transforms into a robot mode and back again...

You a big Transformers fan, Simonson?

Jarvis shares the previous car incident with the Captain and tells him that there’s been more incidents like this around New York today.

Jarvis: “I couldn’t think of anyone more qualified to wrestle with such an emergency. But I do think that it might prove troublesome should this animated plague spread to every inanimate object in the city!”

The Captain: “So you think that I won’t be able to handle what’s going on by myself?”

Jarvis: “The thought never entered my mind, Captain. I merely suggest it might be prudent to enlist the aid of a few worthy friends as you have done so successfully in the past. Strength in numbers, sir. I could hold your coat. And besides, I would like to have my old job back.”

The Captain: “Pretty sly, Jarvis. I think maybe we’ve been electing the wrong man chairman of the Avengers all these years!”

Pretty sly, indeed!

But yes, Steve! Put the Avengers back together! Even if its the Worst Roster!

Also, he takes off his mysterious coat and hat and runs off. Just in case anyone didn’t get that it was Steve Rogers the Captain somehow.

Glory Garsen practically squeals over meeting the original Captain America.

But Jarvis gets melancholic because what woman wouldn’t prefer Steve Rogers over a guy like Jarvis.

Glory reassures him that she didn’t stalk him halfway across Manhattan to give up on him now. She’s still very insistent that Jarvis be her boyfriend.

She’s not looking for a superhero, just a man both gentle and courageous and dammit she thinks she’s found that in Jarvis.

So Jarvis agrees to date her. And they start dating.

It doesn’t look like she shows up all that often after this. And one wonders why write a story where a seemingly younger woman throws herself at Jarvis.

I mean, I know he’s a catch. You know he’s a catch. But why was this narrative conceived and executed?

We may never know.

And its maybe not the best sign for their relationship that Jarvis internally congratulates himself on saying a cool thing and can’t wait to tell his mom about it.

But whatever! Jarvis had a good day! A whole issue to himself. He fought a car twice. Fought a phone. Saw Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Set the wheels in motion for the Avengers reforming. Got stalked by a woman until he agreed to date her.

A good day for Jarvis!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for all the Jarvis content the Avengers provides. Even if it always falls short of how much Jarvis content we’d like. Like and reblog and comment, maybe. I love attention and feedback.

[lightofthemoonglow]

kinktober day seven and eight

Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall

Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave

third person reader because that is how it turned out oops

Sequel here

Thomas Hewitt

The day had finally come.

The wedding dress is older than the bride. The bride is considered an adult in every part of the world, in basically every sense. And yet she still wears a dress that Luda Mae had brought for herself a long time ago, back when she had hopes for a whole other life that had never come to pass. It’s obvious why she’s doing this, but it’s harmless in comparison to everything else about the situation.

One interaction had been all it had taken for this deal to be worked out. The bride had come from a family of carnival workers that had passed through Travis County that had decided to stick around, her mother becoming friendly with Luda Mae despite the two of them living seemingly very different lives. All the girl had done was shyly ask Tommy about his job at the slaughterhouse as she offered him a bowl of the chili she had brought over. This was some good meat. I bet you had something to do with it. And Luda Mae had noticed the shift in her son’s body language, how he wasn’t as on guard as he normally was for a moment.

It had started as joke between the two mothers. And then they had started seriously discussing it. It made sense. The pool of candidates was already small and neither of their children were exactly…popular. The bride had struggled to finish school after fighting tooth and nail to get in. Thomas had dropped out. Their families were already close. And then, the tornado happened, killing the bride’s father. It was as good a time as any, they had figured. The town was dying slowly, the writing was on the wall. They needed to make it happen before the bride left town for good.

And so, they had wound up in the backyard of the house, the town preacher pronouncing the young couple man and wife, on edge due to the gun that Charlie had aimed at him, ready to pull the trigger if this marriage wound up not being true in the eyes of the lord. While he didn’t believe in that shit, Luda Mae did and his sister’s word was law in their home. The bride was a vision in antique white, her voice trembling as she said ‘I do’. Thomas only grunted in response, Charlie snapping ‘the boy damn well does!’ when the preacher tried to get the larger man to speak.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Luda Mae says to the bride after the cake has been cut and everyone is milling about the yard, the preacher nowhere to be seen. He would never be seen again, but no one would notice or care. “You always had a kind word for my boy.”

And for the first time since her hesitantly uttered vows, the bride speaks. “Of course. He’s a good boy. This was all just a little fast, Mrs. Luda Mae.” But that was intentional, something she would realize later. The mother of the bride had all but dragged her down the aisle. The woman had cried, wailed as she told her daughter that she need to do this, so she could be taken care of, implying that it wouldn’t be long until the bride’s parents were reunited.

After the party, the happy couple was led upstairs, where they were to stay all night. “I want a grandbaby by next spring,” Luda Mae instructed. It wasn’t the wistful dreaming of a woman who yearned to more little ones to spoil. Well, it was, but her tone was that of an order. They were going to grow the family, one way or another.

The room was dim, the sun peeking through the curtains. Thomas makes no move to take off his mask, choosing to just stare at his new wife as she walked towards the bed. The dress is pulled off, revealing a white slip covering her everyday undergarments. She folds it up, so it can be put away in the morning. Maybe it will even be used again one day. The sun shines down on her as she lays on the bed, waiting for him to join her.

“It’s alright. If you…want to.” She speaks softly, not approach him too closely. “I know your mama said that we have to, but I can wait.” Thomas is staring at her, watching her legs twitch slightly, fascinated by the dark peaks on her chest. Her breathing is steady, she’s not looking for an escape. Her eyes are meeting his whenever he allows it. Thomas knows what to do. He’s seen farm animals do it and Charlie had shown him a movie once, short and filthy. Luda Mae had found out about it and been cross for weeks.

The real thing is different. Thomas feels almost cornered as he tentatively touches the hem of the slip. His fingers graze her bare skin and he flinches, which makes her sit up and grab his hand.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she coos, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Tommy…I know neither of us exactly wanted this to happen. But if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you. I’ve always liked you.” His face didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care that he had to hide what had been eaten away by the sickness inside of him. He wasn’t going to kiss her, he couldn’t get to that point. Not yet.

They needed to do what was expected of them first.

It takes a while, the sun is almost gone when Thomas is finally ready to get on top of her, still mostly dress, only his nice trousers unzipped. She’s naked, comfortable with allowing him to see, to explore. Her body is warm, soft, and he’s so hard it hurts until he pulls it out of his trousers. But he doesn’t put it in, not yet. He can’t quite manage that last little bit of movement, not yet.

“It could happen, Tommy. Us havin’ a baby because of tonight.” She strokes his arm, not touching his face, not until he’s ready. And maybe that won’t be tonight. “I like the idea. Go on and feel how much, darlin’.” She spreads her legs slightly to let him know he could touch her. His prodding fingers found something warm and wet, and when he pushes, a finger slips inside. “It’s good when it’s wet like that. Means I’m excited. Like you are now.”

Another fingers joins the first and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop him. “We could make a baby tonight. You and me…” The images start coming to Thomas as he fingers explore her. His wife’s belly swollen with their child, her tits full of milk, everyone knowing that she belonged to him and only him-

He’s inside of her before he can stop himself. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders as his cock fills her up. Her breasts bounce as he thrusts, slow and experimental at first. “Good boy, good boy,” she whispers, her body suddenly filles with sensations she’s never felt before. Thomas is equally overwhelmed, she’s so warm and wet and good and hot and everything he’s ever wanted. She’s gripping onto him tightly, he’s in awe of the sight of himself inside of her.

Thick fingers stuff his seed back inside of her after he’s done, and he prays for the first time in years that it worked.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Creatures Of The Night (18+)

Vampire!Eddie x Werewolf!Steve X Reader

Summary:Not very much here in terms of plot if we're being brutally honest, just some very fun and sexy times involving some monster steddie!

Warnings:NSFW, 18+, Making Out, Teasing, Fingering, Size Kink (slightly), Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Brief F Receiving), Missionary Sex, Cuddles afterwards for good measure!

Word Count:2, 213

Authour's Note:Maybe i'm unhinged for writing this but i'm just here for a good time and to fuck monsters, if that's not your thing then maybe this isn't the fic for you.

Masterlist

It was only ever under the bright white light of the moon that their true forms revealed themselves to you. The pitch black midnight provided them the chance to present themselves as they truly are.

Eddie with his pale skin, red-rimmed dark eyes, and spread of imposing bat-like wings. His wicked smile proudly shows off his two prominent sharp, pearly teeth. A few of his long dark curls had fallen loose from the bun tied at the nape of his neck, framing his pale face. He’d long been drawn to you, the scent of your blood called out to him, a rich, cherry-sweet scent unlike anything he’d ever come across before. His nose would brush against your neck, as his tongue licked over the pulsing veins in your neck, and despite it all, he could never bring himself to sink his teeth in, never wanting you to come to any harm, especially not at his cost.

And Steve, who’s broad shouldered frame is covered in thick coats of soft brown hair, his usual hazel brown eyes now glowed a honeyed golden sparkle in the moonlit dark of the bedroom. Even in his shaggy, wolf-like form there was still something incredibly human about him. The glint in his eyes that lets you know that underneath it all, he was still just your Stevie, and nothing could ever change that.

Maybe the way that you three came together each night wasn’t the conventional thing that was expected of three young adults living together in a small and quiet town like Hawkins but somehow you managed to make your rather unconventional situation work.

Most people wouldn't look twice at your boys in the harsh light of day. Steve in his usual look of light wash denim and striped polo shirts, a normal everyday outfit for the common man in Hawkins. And Eddie clad in his typical garb of some metal band's tour t-shirt, black leather jacket and black ripped jeans leading down to an old pair of tattered dark DMs was a look that most people turned their nose up at with a scoff. 

So yeah, mostly the residents of Hawkins, Indiana paid no mind to the two polar opposite boys who roamed their streets.

No. It wasn't until the sun dawned down each evening that your boys came out to play.

Being pinned between their two monstrous bodies was something that you welcomed. The touch of the supernatural was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

It started out as a typical night, with you in bed relaxingly cuddled against the warm, soft hairs of Steve’s chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with his soft brown coat. Your head resting against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

In stark contrast to the warmth you feel lying next to Steve, you feel Eddie’s presence sidling up beside you. The ice cold touch of his hand coasting up your arm as he leans in to press kisses along your collarbones, you feel his smirking smile against your skin as you shiver under his affections.

Eddie’s button-tipped nose is buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you with a deep breath, before pressing one more cold kiss just underneath your ear. 

Steve wasn’t blind to what Eddie was trying to do, in fact he all but encouraged the vampire’s quest to arouse you. Steve quietly chuckled to himself as he felt you slyly trying to grind yourself naked body into his hairy thigh where your legs were tangled with his under the bed covers.

"Well would you look at that.." Steve's deep voice rumbles out "..it would seem as though our mate is getting a little squirmy from all those kisses your giving her, Munson" 

"Indeed it would, Harrington. How about we do something about that, huh pretty girl?" Eddie asks you, his voice a low raspy whisper beside your ear.

You lift yourself from the soft comfort of Steve's chest to nod your head. 

"I'm gonna need you to use your words, Sweet Thing." Eddie purrs out, ever the tease.

You nod your head once more

"Yes please.." you breathed.

"Always so polite.." Eddie smiles. He looks over to Steve and gives him a subtle nod of his head, which Steve understands right away, as his massive hands gently man-handle you into a position where you’re sat on the bed, with your body relaxing back against his soft furry chest, your head leaning against his shoulder.

Steve’s large hands are pawing at your exposed chest, squishing the soft flesh of your boobs under his rough touch. His fingers eagerly toying with your nipples, rolling each one between the calloused tips of his fingers. His lips hungrily sucks dark marks against your skin, trailing his kisses up the side of your neck.

“Hold her open, Wolfie.” Eddie commands Steve teasingly, knowing how much Steve hated Eddie’s affectionate nick-name for him. 

Steve’s hands immediately skate down the sides of your body, his nails leaving light scratch marks as he does. His big hands settle themselves on the soft skin of the inside of your thighs before spreading them and holding them open.

Eddie stands up and makes his way over to where you're so tantalisingly spread out for him. Stalking the room, his dark eyes never leaving your exposed frame.

You watch his movements with anticipation. There’s a delicious heat that warms through you as you watch how he lewdly spits in his palm before dropping his hand down and teasing his cock in slow strokes, his thumb swiping over the mess of pooling pre-cum gathering at the tip as his fist strokes upwards making sure to glide over the prominent vein that runs the underside of his length.

"Don’t worry Pretty Girl, I'm going to make you feel real good, real soon" Eddie promised. "Just gonna let Harrington have his moment with you first, you know he's gotta stretch you out to get you ready for me"

You feel the insistent press of Steve's cock at your back and all too quickly you're reminded of why he has to stretch you out. In his human form Steve was not small by any shred of the imagination, but with enough prep and slow, gentle movements from both parties you could take him.

However, in his humanoid-wolf hybrid form it was a different story. Everything about him was bigger, in every sense of the word. Of course you’d tried to take him, so desperate to feel the stretch of him inside you, but it would be a while before you could accommodate the press of his thick length in your tight wet heat. For now you had settled on a happy medium of being opened up by the rough and calloused touch of Steve’s fingers.

Starting with only one of his fingers, carefully teasing his way around your pussy, gathering the wetness on the pads of his fingertips before drawing it up and rubbing on your clit in tight circles. His thick finger slips back down and slowly inches inside you, just letting you adjust to the feeling of his finger for a moment before he begins to thrust in and out of you.

Your head falls back against his chest whimpering quiet little moans into the crook of his neck.

“Aw, is Stevie making you feel good, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice taunts, a slight tone of condescension as he watches Steve slip another one of his fingers inside you, working them in and out of your wet cunt.

Steve noses into your hair, deeply inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo, little gruff whines of approval falling from his lips as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

"That's it…There's my good girl, gonna come from me, aren’t you, Sweet Thing?" Steve growls against your skin, his sharp teeth nipping little marks against your neck.

You whine and babble incoherently as Steve continues to thrust his fingers and rub your clit in quick circles, holding you close to his body. 

Your orgasm rushes over you, clenching and pulsing against Steve’s thick fingers with a wet gush.

Steve gently rubs over your clit as tenderly as he can with his big pawing hands, helping you to come down from the high of your orgasm.

“There she is, my good girl…So sweet and pretty..” Steve breathes against your neck in-between placing tender to your skin.

“Think you mean our girl, Harrington. Thought you wolves were all about sharing with the rest of your pack, huh.” Eddie teases from where he’s sat on the edge of the bed, his dark brown almost black eyes scarcely tearing away from your steadily breathing frame. His long fingers are still slowly stroking over the length of his cock, keeping himself hard and ready just for you.

“You ready for me, Angel?” he asks, all too cocksure of the fact that you were never going to give him an answer short of a shy nod of your head and a breathy whine of ‘please’. 

“I’m ready please, Eddie..I just want to feel you..” you plead desperately, which earns you a rumbling chuckle from the vampire above you.

"Well since you asked so nicely, who am I to deny such a request?" Eddie smiles broadly, bearing his pearly fangs to you.

He leans his head between your spread legs, where Steve’s big strong hands hold you open, and places one soft, solitary kiss against your clit before sweeping his tongue the length of your pussy, slurping up glistening wetness.

"You know I can never resist getting a taste of your sweet cunt, my Darling" he purrs “..but it’s only fair that Wolfie here gets to have a taste too..” before leaning over your shoulder and bringing Steve close with a cold hand snaked around the back of his neck, his long fingers tugging into the soft strands of Steve's scruffy hair. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s, his tongue slipping between his fangs to allow Steve to taste the sweetness of your juices in a heated and passionate kiss.

An appreciative growling hum resonates from the wolf as he licks his lips when Eddie pulls away from him.

“Always so sweet for us, Pretty girl..” Steve praises, making you beam under his affections.

“Oh! Does our pretty girl like being praised for being a good girl?” Eddie notes as he takes in the way you shy away into the crook of Steve’s neck.

Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

You shyly nod your head, your words failing you as you’re pinned between these two supernatural beings.

“Well since you’re being such a good girl for us, then I guess it’s only fair that Eddie gets to feel you come for him the way I did.” Steve tells you, his fingers running back up your body to toy with your nipples.

With one more breathy whimper of ‘Please’ falling from your lips Eddie takes his cock in his hand and begins to sink himself into you inch by inch.

Eddie rolls his hips into you, filling you so completely every time he thrusts into you. The cold touch of his fingertips make you shiver as they sink into the warm, soft flesh of your thighs.

Steve takes his opportunity to snake one of his hands down your body to rub circles over your sensitive clit.

“Keep that up Harrington, she’s squeezing me so tight, she feels like a fuckin’ dream” Eddie praises as he continues to rut his hips into you, hitting against that spot inside you that has a flaring heat building in your stomach.

The lewd sounds of Steve’s growled kisses against your neck, Eddie’s sloppy thrusts as he chased his orgasm, and your own whining whimpers resound in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

It didn’t take much more than a few sharp thrusts from Eddie hitting so deeply inside you and Steve’s pawing hands rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pleasure that you were coming around Eddie’s cock. Your orgasm shuddering through your body.

With the way your walls were squeezing him so tightly Eddie buried himself deep inside you once more before he was filling you with the hot spurts of his release.

Taking a moment to gather yourselves, Eddie slowly pulls himself out of your tight wet heat with a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve pulls your body back to his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and placing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head.

“Did so well for us sweetheart.” Steve praises once more.

“I love you, you know that, right? Both of you?” you say, looking between the two creatures.

“Yeah we know you do, sweetheart, we love you too.” Steve smiles “Now, you get your blood-sucking ass over here, Munson. I’ve got two arms for a reason.” he smirks, gesturing to the other empty space in the large bed.

Eddie slinks over to the bed, sidling up to Steve, and for the rest of the night that’s how you two spend your time together. You and Eddie snuggled into the soft warmth of Steve’s chest, falling into a relaxed and easy sleep.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @munsonology @xxhellfiregirlxx

[whimsicallywiddershins]

The Provost's Dog series is amazing in how Tamora Pierce calmly and nonchalantly addresses sexuality, relationships, gender, and gender roles.

In the very first few chapters we have Rosto, Kora and Aniki together in some sort of a poly/open/threesome relationship. It's never actually stated directly what their relationship is, if it's romantic, open, sexual but not romantic, queer platonic, if Kora and Aniki are together, ect. But real life relationships are not black and white. And very few people advertise the exact details, and good friends don't really ask or make a big deal about it. Which is exactly what happens in Terrier. And it's a very healthy relationship. Kora decides to date Erksen instead, and Rosto and Aniki are completely fine with it. There is no resentment, fighting or jealousy. As Kora says, she is her own woman. I have never seen such a drama-free relationship in a young adults book before. It really shows a young reader that relationships can be simple and you can still be friends if it doesn't work out.

And then the sneaky descriptions of "spintry." Another term for a male prostitute. There is no judgement for a spintry, no one finds it strange and both female and male prostitutes are treated exactly the same, as just a job, as any other in the Rouge's Court. It was such a simple and refreshing take in a children's book, and it's done so well with no judgement or any acknowledgment that it's not normal.

That feeling of normality is an ongoing theme in the Provost's Dog books. There are a lot of shocking and liberal topics in the books, but they are treated as normal, everyday things, so it takes away any shock value and makes the reader simply accept it. Considering most readers are teens, that's a pretty great thing.

Take Okha/Amber. A transwomen/gender queer person who is in a long-term relationship with a man, a police captain. It's described as a normal thing. Beka is a bit confused at first, because she has never met a gender queer person before, but accepts the explanation and moves on. Amber's gender is never really fully explained, but thay makes sense. Gender isn't simple. In a fantasy world without modern labels, Amber is just Amber. They are who they are.

Beka has several flings throughout the series, and its treated normally. That is not usually seen in a teen book. The main female character having casual relationships, going into them knowing they won't last? That is super rare, and is how real life works. It's a great break from normal ya relationship drama.

There is some relationship drama in the series, with Beka's fiance, Holborn. He dies before Mastiff starts, and we never met him. But later, it is revealed that she was planning on breaking up with him because he was emotionally abusive towards her. She ends up meeting Farmer and getting over Holborn quickly. She feels guilty for not feeling more guilty over his death, instead feeling relieved that their toxic relationship is over. She loves some of the time they spent toghether though, and she does mourn him. It's a fascinating and nuanced relationship you never see in a ya book. But her and Farmer's relationship is wonderful.

As a young teenager growing up in a conservative, rural, small town, the Provost's Dog books were revolutionary, not that I realized it at the time. The book's description of gender, of relationships was so normal I didn't even realize it could be something debated. I just accepted it as normal. Okha/Amber was the first time I ever learned thay trans/gender questioning people could exist, and I just acted like Beka, accepted it and moved on. When people talked about poly relationships, how strange and unusual it was, l was confused, because Kora, Aniki and Rosto were normal to me. Learning prostitutes were discriminated against was shocking. Complicated relationships were normal.

I remember once in highschool, my teammates were talking about a scenario where your husband cheats on you with another woman, and that woman had a child with him, and they are now homeless. Your husband loves this woman and you. Would you accept the child and the other woman living with you? Or something inane like that.

I said, "Well, yeah, if she's a good person. If my husband loves her, then she's probably a good person, and I would try to fall in love with her too. And raise the child together."

My teammates did not expect that answer. I suppose I should have realized then I wasn't straight lol.

[blackevermore]

x Tales In the Trade of Two Heirs ( Also on A03)

{ Soft Eyes }

Summary:

[Sequel to Trades In The Tales of Candy]

Years have passed since the events of the factory and those who live inside it. The small town has grown bored, if the man behind the wall wasn't going to do anything then maybe he should just leave. They thought. Unknown to them the candy man had found another grey hair, it was time to finally find an heir.

Notes: Hey....I'm starting over this book. It was shit balls that first run and now I'm older and wise and I know I can do better. And I will. Welcome aboard

Warning: (Look on A03 for the full list) None yet

Word Count: 823

It had been quiet the following years, people were still unsure of the man in the giant factory at the edge of their town. People still did not know the young women who kept the mysterious man company. Cherry Street was still home to the mousy people and their everyday chores of hellos and goodbyes. Every so often a new shop would pop up, claiming to be the next big thing, and then a few months later it would be closed down. No one questioned it, this was normal, just as normal as the gloom of the giant factory. People had opinions. If Wonka was not going to reopen his factory to the world, then he should just leave. Go somewhere far far away so that something new could happen in the small town—something maybe more exciting than the teeth rioting pleasures of candy. People craved an excitement that would turn everything upside down. A spark. A hope, something! Some, about five, even wished for the days Wonka was still active, giving them something new every week to shift their creative hunger. Those were the days. Those were the times. Some would say that maybe they should move away to start over. But no one does, no one wants to, they hang on to their small towns with the mousey people and continue about their day. 

And again, in another gloomy winter, the factory chimneys smoked and every so often a flicker of light would come from one of the windows. At the ghostly hours of the night, a few trucks would leave and never return, when the sun rose again, everything was back to what it was, quiet.

But the soft pair of eyes that looked out from the raggedy window of the broken down house knew that something was coming. The eyes could not explain it to anyone, nor grasp it by a physical form, but they knew. When the soft eyes caught sight of the flicker of light in the factory window from theirs, the eyes grew excited.

“One day,” a small voice would whisper, not to wake the adults below, “One day I am going to see the factory.” The little voice comforted themselves as their hope swelled in the booming of their heart. 

“Just like Grandpa Joe used to.”

The young woman in the window watched as the snow fell and wondered what else there was to do in the small town. The past few years were not eventful in the slightest other than the newfound love that kept the factory warm on the bitter nights. The young woman sighed and looked at all the shops that lined Cherry Street, feeling a twinge of guilt as she counted how many had been shut down. She knew why it was best to keep the competition low and under control. There was too much behind the scenes that happened that the townspeople didn’t know. He made sure of that. 

“Does it ever change?” The woman’s voice was low just for her ears to hear. “Does any of this ever stop?”

“Get out of the window, ” The man in the bed behind the woman groaned. The ruffling of the bed made the woman hurry out the window but continue to face the curtains. For a moment the woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She jumped when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and the heaviness of a head resting on top of hers. 

“Come back to bed.” The man said. Hoping it was enough to make the other move, god forbid she try to be disobedient in the dead of night.

The woman turned around in the man's arms and rested her forehead on his chest for a moment. Then when she was ready she gently patted his waist for him to let go. When he did the woman cupped his cheek and kissed the other.

“I think I’ll sleep in my room tonight,” was all she said before pulling away from him and leaving out the door to the long hallway. The sleep that clouded the man’s consciousness cleared and his gaze narrowed as his bedroom doors closed. What was that about? He thought before rolling his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. He was about to get back in bed when his childish curiosity got the better of him and made him go towards the window curtain. He pulled it back fully exposing the moonlight into his dark maroon room. Sharp purple eyes quickly scanned the town below. Nothing was going on, as always, and yet he couldn’t figure out why she was staring out the window. He grumbled under his breath about how annoying she was and went back to bed. 

Unaware that a soft pair of eyes had seen him. Unaware that the soft pair of eyes would not be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

[tragedyboycentral]

So I'm copy-pasting my own essay I added onto another post to post on my own. But the amount of people out here who truly DON'T understand the historical importance of WTNV, from a queer media perspective, boggles me.

I want you to imagine the year is 2012. Gay marriage won't be legalized for another three years. A podcast starts to make the rounds, your friends are watching it so you think sure. Let's check it out. And then you here the narrator start to talk about the new scientist in town. And right there, in the first introduction, they make it clear. "And I fell in love instantly." There was no building up, no hiding it, no queerbaiting. Right there in the first episode they told us that Cecil was Gay and in love with Another Man.

And if you weren't there then there arent WORDS for how ground breaking this was at the time. How amazing it was for the tumblrbase, consisting largely of closeted/ discovering pre-teens, to hear this. The finale of Legend of Korra, where two women holding hands was GROUND BREAKING?? That wouldn't happen for another two years. This wasn't an everyday occurrence and hell, I would argue even today, a whole decade later, there still aren't many pieces of media doing it like wtnv was (and still is).

Not to mention in horror media, queerness is traditionally used to notate something scary. The scary lesbian woo'ing another woman and killing her was a horror trope for a reason. In media queerness is used as almost exclusively as a corrupting, disgusting, force. But Cecil's queerness wasn't just loved, it was celebrated within the media itself. His love interest was a 'normal' guy from out of town but Cecil's oddities are why Carlos loves him. Every aspect of Night Vale is odd, is queer, and that queerness becomes acceptably mundane in a beautiful way. The entirety of Night Vale of a concept was taking all that was Queer and celebrating it.

And in greater terms of media, Welcome To Night Vale is what single-handedly changed podcasts from 'the thing your dad listened to' to something interesting and accessible to young people. It practically introduced the concept of narrative podcasts and is still the roadmap many of them use today. Massive media like The Magnus Archives, The Penumbra Podcast, and hell I would argue even the popularity of other media like TAZ? It only happened because WTNV brought not just an audience to podcasts, but a QUEER audience. A queer audience who, once they were old enough, only needed a mic and cheap editing software to start making their own queer content just as fast as they were consuming everyone else's.

But back to 'sexyman'. Again. Tumblr's base is 12-14. And we're given not just the first gay character most of us have ever seen. But a dutiful boyfriend who loves his husband and his cat. Who gets into silly little squabbles with his silly little nemesis. Who's CHARMING. Of course the internet fell in love. But beyond his personality. He had the Homestuck/ Bill Cipher/ Wheatley bonus of not having a canon design. People keep mentioning he's faceless as a weird element but that was the DRAW back then. It was an INTEGRAL part of the appeal. Sure, the basic 'blonde white twink' design was/is the most popular- it was 2012- but some people got creative. No matter what your attraction was too, you could picture him looking like that. He's a good boyfriend AND he's hot?

Sure, The Onceler was insanely popular and so was Sans. But people were either lusting for them or Hated them. But Cecil?? Cecil was our hot gay mentor. He was the closest thing a lot of younger queers on tumblr had for an adult queer role model. He was the basis for so other tumblr sexymen.

TLDR: "Did wtnv have cultural impact?" jesus fuck yes it did.

[shmowder]

That's good info to know about your requests! I'm happy that general rqs won't be a problem because that's all my brain wants to come up with 😅

Thank you for the Stardew compliment :] I'm just about done with Spring year 1 and I blew all my money on the backpack upgrades (got lucky and grew a giant cauliflower!), and I'm constantly low on energy and running out of time to do things. Somehow this is reminding me of Pathologic 2 now, lol. I know that's typical of the early game. Still, it's comforting to know that other than a cutscene or two, there's nothing really missable as long as you have the patience to wait for the seasons to roll around again. Btw. The secret to getting to the lower floors in the mines quickly and without combat is to craft a bunch of staircases ;)

Anyway! I took a scroll through your whole blog and I must say the Daniil & Artemy treating the reader's "hysteria" concept? Inspired. Chefs kiss ✨

Who are your favorite adult characters in P2? Mine are Aglaya, Yulia, and Victor. Not that I can explain why but Yulia and Victor were the ones I was running around town like crazy trying to make sure they didn't die (along with most of the kids). Tmi time, I'm not often interested in men but I LOVE that sad old man.

I like Artemy and his little circle of old friends, too. Feel free to infodump, or not, if you want to ^^

🐿️ anon

Between all the Pathologic characters, I feel like only a handful would thrive as Stardew Valley farmers.

Daniil would want to replace Harvey's position since day one and never grow a single crop in his life.

Clara would depend on lucky drops, trash can dives and blackmailing Mayor Lewis about the gold statue money embezzlement fiasco to earn a living wage only for her twin to put his purple shorts in the soup pot during luau

Artemy would thrive there, I feel it in my bones. He would build a pretty good self-watering potato farm with a cow penhouse or two. Sticky and Murky would enjoy the Valley too, especially with all the supernatural things hidden around they can find.

And oh stairs in the mines! That explains why I progressed at the pace of a slug each day. I just raw dogged it each time and got my ass beaten only to grumbly go fish instead to unwind.

The thing with Stardew Valley is that there is no race against time so much but the limited Stamina and all the possible ways to upgrade and improve little by little each day makes it a game where the antagonist is your own ego. Or at least in my case, because I refused to use sprinklers that weren't iridum since what was the point!! But also, I finished an entire year without getting much iridium, so I was pretty desperate and burnt out from can watering every day by the time I did unlock them. Or how the npcs friendship depelates each day and it felt like such a personal insult to me to not have everyone like me so much at all times that I chased them every single day to talk and avoid friendship depletion.

I made Stardew Valley my own living hell by my own hands thanks to the stubborn human ego. Water by can everyday, chase down and talk to 30+ people everyday, only have enough time to progress 4 levels down in the mine before dying on the said 4th then rage quitting the game and reinstalling league like a normal person. If I'm going to get fucked by a game I rather it be my own teammates bending me over.

ANYWAY.

No I'm not finished.

Do you think Victor would do good in Stardew Valley? Not as a farmer but like as an npc. Oh god, can you even imagine what the kains would do to that town, I almost feel bad... almost. They'd perform all kinds of experiments to test the limit of that reality. They'd bother the wizard to work for them and lock the immortal farmer in some basement to find out just how they achieved the immortality.

He'd probably easily get people to follow him and rope the young adults into some utopian cult like he does in pathologic.

Yulia might chill there, becomes Gunther's roommate, visit the beach occasionally, and befriend Elliott and Leah. Yeah, I see Yulia getting happier in that town. Except for the occasional fits of saying ominous fate predictions she made about the villagers' future, to their face.

Aglaya would guillotine Mayor Lewis the second she steps a foot off of that train and into the town. And don't we love her for that!! My wife <33333

Okay now I am finished!

Hmm... My favourite adults. They're practically the same as yours, Aglaya, Victor, and Yulia. Oh, I really like Isidor too despite all the uh... non-fun things he has done.

I loved Aglaya even before the whole romance thing with Artemy which took me by complete surprise because I never expected to find romance in Pathologic of all things! Sure I knew about Daniil and Eva but thought they were a one off special case where it's mostly implied than obviously stated?

Then comes Aglaya, swinging and throwing you off your rhythm. You meet her and think, "Oh god, not another crazy person who talks sophisticated p throw-up nonsense and pretends its high-brow philosophy."

*Cough* The kains!!! *cough*

Like I absolutely did not care for her before meeting her. I didn't know her, and the cutscenes in the theatre about her the night prior felt like they were tying too hard to make me afraid of her. And I think they could've worked if approached differently. Only after meeting her and being faced with her brash brutal dialogue that I fell in love.

The biggest threat she resembled was death, and as a player, you know you have death immunity because who else would play the game, huh? So you never feel the need to tiptoe around despite her holding the power to immediately order your hanging outside.

I knew I was never going to die, so I never was careful with Aglaya. Although seeing that one cutscene of people lining up against the wall the day she arrives did make me feel a bit uneasy, especially with both Daniil and Clara there too looking almost intimidated.

The build-up to her reveal is so amazing. They show you the unmoveable power pillars of this town absolutely losing their marbles at her arrival. The same people who tried to manipulate you blatantly or never bothered to give you the time of the day were terrified to their core.

I don't think any other character gets as much reveal build up and theatrics about her like Aglaya. No other character in pathologic could cause the same stirr, could make the Kains, Saburovs and Olgimsky running around like headless chickens.

In P2, how worried everyone was when lining up outside the church to take turns and await their judgement. How it's the only time you ever see the stamatin twins out of their usual spots, the so proclaimed absolute freedom enthusiasts actually walking by their own feet to the inquisitor and follow direct orders! IT'S A CIRCUS SHOW!

Or the fact she literally puts up a hanging station right in front of the crucible, the kains' resident! The one family so obsessed with immortality and preservation are faced with the grim reality of not only death but being hanged to death by her, being killed, and put to display for everyone to see. Knowing she has the power to order their execution at any time.

What a power move of her.

AND IN FRONT OF THE POLYHEDRON TOO! Nine total nooses awaiting them. It's a direct threat she places in front of them with a clear message, behave or else.

You witness usually collected and rational Kains, the powerful leaders of this town, terrified to their core that day.

Georgiy isn't in his workshop like usual, he is standing outside to look at the symbol of death in the face.

Much like dads stand in the streets with their hands crossed to watch the aftermath of a car crash, except he is looking at the future with the implications it could be his very own car that ends up there.

He doesn't even talk to you, he's just staring. Dread sinking into his stomach as he watches the people walking in nervously before exiting the cathedral with their mind broken or tears streaming down their face.

The inquisition is absolutely terrifying. Especially when you consider how Nina on her own made the whole town walk on eggshells, how Aglaya's her sister.

Talking about Nina, guess who's portrait Victor sits on the floor in front of after seeing the hearing ropes outside.

Well...not her. I thought this painting was of Nina Kaina but apparently it's Maria's concept art which is kinda sweet.

BABY BOY IS HUGGING HIS KNEES

You talk to him and the first thing he talks about is the church and why they built it. How it distributes times to the clocks throughout the town.

How Aglaya's presence there is clearly affecting time and making it go faster, and yet Victor doesn't dare say a thing.

God, I love Aglaya. No one else could compare the aura of absolute power she is dripping with, the heavy presence she instils into the church. The walk up to her standing in front of a throne in P1.

There is also another scene where the executioners literally bow down to her as she arrives into town

While in P2, that imagery is replaced by her standing behind the gaint swinging pendulum of the church clock. It almost looks like a saw threatening to cut your neck off as you cautiously walk under it to reach her.

She arrives at the prime of conflict and plague, immediately gets down to business and stays awake for three whole days just to absorb as much information as she possibly can. She forcefully moves the plot along, opens the factories and pulls all the short strings of lies to expose them.

Not to mention how utterly massive the church is, it has three floors you can climb up to and even save your game in. Yet not a single soul is in there except Aglaya who easily fills up this empty structure with her own presence.

You make it past the hanging saw and reach her, only for her back to be kept turned towards you. You get the feeling that you're intruding on someone busy, the same churning of stomach you feel when you're just a kid nervously knocking on the school principle office and sitffly standing to the side, waiting for her to finish the paperwork before giving you permission to talk.

It's nerve-wracking how calm she is. If you cross her as the player, she immediately calls you out and reminds you who she is. Just who do you think you're talking to with that tone?

She is truly a mother's doll. The discipline, the respect she demands, the way you find yourself answering to her without question or second thought. She gives and orders, and it's carried immediately, no buts, no arguing and no talking back.

In a way, she does bring justice to Farkhad without being aware of it. He's been killed long ago by the Stamatin twins, or at least that's major theory, and he's the one who made the church. How fitting it is for the person who wants to destroy the polyhedron as revenge for her sister to seek shelter in the same church of his making.

As a final note, the inquisition symbol "the steel heart" greatly looks like her.

This is Aglaya Lilich. This symbol is absolutely how the entire world views her. A heart of steel and a frost dagger of a stare. You look at this and immediately understand you are in trouble. You made a mistake, and you must get punished for your sins. For your betrayal.

The top part reminds me of steppe symbols and sigils, it almost looks like Samn the circle of life.

She is always depicted as above people, as your greatest nightmare and investable demise.

-

I planned on talking about Victor and Yulia too but Aglaya stole the show and honestly I can't blame her.

Since they are your favourite characters however, and mine lmao, I'm very confident that you already get the basics and understand their core concepts.

So instead, I'll talk about the small easy-to-miss details I've noticed about them!

Starting with Victor, he is actually a very loving parent. He admits to missing Caspar, he has many pictures of Maria hanged around his wing of the crucible both in P1 and P2.

Which is so endearing with how he wants to appear rational and nothing else 90% of the time. How his way of speech is almost mechanical, unlike other characters, it doesn't matter what you say to Victor Kain because he rarely reacts to your words. He is straightforward and is only interested in saying what's on his mind, not in what you have to say about it.

And yet, he openly admits how much he wants his son back, Caspar.

He is one of the people who ordered the tower to be built, this is his life purpose and what's his entire family has been working towards since the beginning.

Yet he can't help but resent it for stealing his son.

Victor still does everything in his power to protect the power, that monster keeping his kid estranged to him, to be a good brother and keep true to his words, to fullfill his promises to his family, to truly build a utopia and change the world.

And it's chipping away at his sanity.

Imagine how he feels seeing Maria grow and lose her sense of being as she transforms into a mistress. As she desperately tries to fill the empty vacuum of space Nina left behind.

How did the father feel watching his little daughter stand in front of a mirror, same one he hanged in her room, trying on her late mother's crown and watching it slip off no matter how desperately she attempts to keep her head held high... But it's just too heavy.

He wanted to tell Caspar to come home, he wants to tell Maria to live her age and not let this town consume her like it did to her mother. But his two brothers keep his hands tied, they told him not to interfer with the kids in the polyhedron, Maria barely listens to him or acknowledges him has a dad, a father yes but not a dad.

In another twist of fate, both him and Aglaya share that habit of telling people to stay quiet for 40 something seconds while they think. They probably both learned it from Nina in the past.

In P1, the crucible design had more space and rooms. It looked like actual people lived there. You can even find Khan's room next to Maria's, you see his untouched furniture and the toys on his shelf, you see the two pairs of wooden practice swords on his desk and wonder if his dad made them for him. A picture is painted before your eyes of a younger Victor teaching a 7 year old Caspar how to hold a sword, how to swing, and how to block.

Did he let his son win? Did he surrendered after they sparred just to see a smile on Khan's face?

In P2, the door to his son's room is blocked.

You don't get to see many traces of Maria's childhood in her room, both in P2 and P1. Like she grew up too fast, or as if she threw out all the evidences of her past to make way for her future, slithering like a snake and wrapping itself around her to suffocate her and call it love, to restraint her and paint it as absolute freedom, to isolate her until all she could hear is the whispering of her mother's corpse from the grave.

It's like he knows he doomed his two kids by bringing them into this world. That they could never be kids once they were born Kains.

That they might not even survive.

-

For Yulia, i didn't talk to her much at the start of the game because I was performing an exploit. The game only acknowledge the existence of an npc once you actively talk to them. If you don't, then they aren't considered a possibility yet and can't get infected.

You have two chances to talk to Yulia at the start for flavour text, once at the Olgimskys' balcony and another at the makeshift theatre hospital. Afterwards she forces you to talk to her by sending you a letter to come to the trammel.

Listen- It was one less person to cure/protect from infection and I did what I needed to do. You can do this with Khan too actually, but it does mean failing a side quest and subsequently getting an entire area infected.

It is funny it a way how if you just don't talk to people and do only your main quests, they never get infected.

Wait is the game saying that the player is the actual plague in this situation wait hold on w-

Anyway Yulia! Lesbian Icon. She has a heavy implied relationship with Eva in P1 when Clara is trying to take advantage of Eva to manipulate Yulia into... yk a little trip the underworld. Tho it's only evident in Clara's route? Take my words with a grain of salt, I'm not sure how accurate their relationship was implied in p1.

You don't get any of that in P2, sadly. Or maybe it's just the Haruspex's route? In P1, as Artemy, you literally never have a single reason to talk to her once, not a single quest require her.

The only time I talked to her was like on day 10 or 11 because I was around the area and curious since we haven't even met yet. It was a nice talk, she's very polite and interesting with her words. Ik people like to compare her to Daniil Dankovsky and his obnoxious speeches.

But I think Yulia is a better conversationist than him. She explains herself more than him and doesn't necessarily come of as condcending but only passionate, Daniil talks over you while Yulia talks to you. It feels like she is coming to the conclusion just as she is explaining it to you while Daniil is revising a rehearsed speech he undoubtedly practiced before.

The interesting detial I noticed about her is how she is humble despite meeting all the required qouta to be a utopian. She is a genius through and through, and her ideas about fate and time overlap with the kains. At times, she is willing to put herself in danger just to see an experiment done. even just out of curiosity.

And yet, she is not one of them.

Instead, she is placed within the redemption-seeking sinners and helpless saints. She is in the same shoes as Lara who wants to do good but feels utterly powerless, in the same situation as Rubin who was the best student there ever was and yet none of his effort was ever enough.

Yulia is clearly keeping a secret, some side we aren't shown ingame. An effort to put some worth on a life she deems wasted.

She is gentle with the Haruspex in P2.

Yulia clocks you, Artemy, as someone who thinks with their heart since the start. She admits you will be able to see and understand things most people can't because of that, things she herself can never comprehend.

It's not even a backhanded compliment. Both Yulia and Daniil think with their brain, yet when met by someone driven by heart and emotions like Artemy, Daniil refuses to acknowledge your methods and clings to rationality while Yulia understands how both methods are of importance and to not underestimate you.

By the end, she offers you to be her assistant. You. Someone who doesn't like big words and doesn't know a lick of Latin. She sees great potential in you and is impressed by how you saved the town.

-

lmao what was very long. It took a couple of days to write but I enjoy it and it was fun! I wanted to include more pictures but alas the pictures limit in a single post is cruel.

I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm unsure of how much to explore when it comes to each character in these posts because what if I'm just retelling something you already know?

On the other side, what if I go too niche and the reader can't relate or understand what I'm saying? Honestly it's headache inducing. I haven't been feeling well lately, life and all.

But there is beauty in creation and in talking about details in other's creations! So many games and stories have such thoughtfull details and subtle notes put into them, I adore digging for symbolism wherever I can find it. I feel like a detective hehe.

I hope your day is going well <3 I was thinking lately about how much I like the emoji you chose for your anon. Mostly because I saw a truly mind-boggling anon emoji choice in another blog- So bad I almost thought they were trolling- but they weren't.

Meanwhile a squirrel is literally amazing! What a great choice! Now I just imagine a tiny squirrel coming in my inbox leaving letters and eating the peanuts I leave Aaaa my heart <3333

[melindaes]

about my portrayal of melinda gordon.

melinda sees her first ghost as young as three years old. then, though, they are passed off as imaginary friends. it's all fine for a few years until melinda gets too old to have imaginary friends, and then things start to become troublesome. "it's time to grow up," is heard over and over again by all the adults in her life. her mother beth tells her to stop being silly, they're not real. you can't keep making people up, melinda. but somehow, melinda knows she isn't. she knows they're real, she can feel it in her bones, in the way it makes her feel when they look at her.

the medical treatment and therapy sessions begin quite early. at eight years old, melinda's mother makes her an appointment at a children's mental health clinic and after several follow-up appointments spanning over the course of a few months, melinda is started on a regular routine of antipsychotics and antidepressants. she doesn't like them; they make her feel hazy and tired and out of touch with everything. the spirits become blurred figures and muffled voices, but they're still there. melinda doesn't speak of them much anymore after that, though, especially to her mother, but beth seems pleased with these changes. melinda begins to struggle a lot more with everyday things like school, making friends, sleeping too much, not eating enough—but there isn't much talk of melinda's imaginary friends anymore, so the medicine must be working.

one morning, a few months after starting the medications, melinda slips the pills under her tongue in an effort to hide them from her mother and make her believe she took them when she didn't. she didn't like the way they made her feel, and her mother didn't seem to care; melinda just wanted to start feeling a little normal again—if there was anything normal about her. however, that night when melinda is flushing the pills down the toilet, beth catches her in the act and scolds her, grounding her from the little bits of fun melinda had managed to find—for a week. "you can't just stop taking your medicine whenever you want to, melinda! you need it."

for the first nine years of her life, melinda's mother beth tells her that her grandfather died before she was born and her grandmother lives towns away. there's always a reason for them not to go visit and melinda is too young to question it. they call every so often and talk on birthdays and holidays, but the conversations are always short and beth always has an ear closely listening in. the few times they do manage to speak of melinda's "imaginary friends" and her sudden mental illness without being interrupted, melinda quickly learns that her grandmother can see them, too. they are real. this revelation is crucial for melinda, who up until this point was told she was crazy by anyone and everyone—including her mother.

melinda meets her grandmother in person for the first time when she's nine, and it's both a traumatic and lovely experience. it's for a funeral; someone in the family, someone close, someone important, but still someone melinda had never met. a maternal relation that melinda had been kept from. he'd died of old age, peacefully in his sleep, but there he was standing beside his wife with sadness in his eyes as he watched her cry. and there he was in the casket, body stiff and cold but prepared beautifully. it was a strange thing for melinda, who for over a year now has been used to the indistinct figures of spirits and their soft, barely there voices—this was nothing like that. he was clear as day even through the haze of the medications, and melinda will later learn that it's their familial bond that strengthens the connection here. this time, melinda knows what's happening; even so young, she recognizes that standing beside his wife is the old man's spirit. she doesn't say anything out loud, but somehow he seems to know that she can see him. maybe it's the way she looks straight into his eyes—or maybe it has something to do with her grandmother, who the old man turns to smile brightly at. he walks to them, to the only two people in the church who could see him, and asks for their help. "mary ann, will you talk to her? tell my wife...." but it's melinda who helps this time, for the first time. even with great dissatisfaction from her mother, who seems to know exactly what's going on despite her insistence on calling the people melinda sees imaginary. melinda relays the man's messages to his wife with quiet whispers in her ear. she thanks her profusely, and melinda gets to see the old man walk into the light with a smile on his face. her grandmother later calls it "crossing over," and she says it's when these earthbound spirits finally move on to have peace.

this would be melinda's gift.

melinda goes back home to blurry faces and little whispers, and nothing seems to have changed. her mother reminds her of her upcoming therapy appointment and they eat dinner with tension thick in the air. when melinda asks about it—"i'm just tired, melinda. it's been a long day."

beth fights her mother about it, but in the end, melinda's grandmother stays the night with them. melinda wakes early in the morning to yelling voices, loud even though they try to shout their words in whispers. they're arguing over melinda. mary ann sees the damage done by the medications, sees how out of touch melinda is, and how slow her reaction time is. she notices how after dinner, melinda can barely keep her eyes open and runs off to bed at only seven at night where other children are begging just another five minutes, mom. mary ann knows melinda's medical treatment is unnecessary and sees clearly that it's doing more harm than good to the nine-year-old girl, but beth insists that she knows what's best for her daughter. "you can't hide this from her, beth, you'll only hurt her more." and beth is angry, seemingly determined to force her version of normal on her child. she won't accept anything else; these "spirits" have no place in her life. there is no such thing, mom, you're acting— "crazy?" mary ann demands, and beth says nothing.

it's clear beth won't be convinced, and melinda rushes back to bed before she can be caught listening in on their conversation. downstairs, mary ann makes beth an offer: "let her come home with me. take a break from this, beth, if it's too much for you..."

the next day, beth sits at home with her thoughts while mary ann and melinda go out to enjoy the sunshine. they take frequent breaks, of course, considering how tired melinda gets, but it's the most fun she's had in years. they go out for ice cream and talk, and for the first time in a long time melinda feels heard. she doesn't feel crazy, she feels known. her grandmother makes her feel warm and safe and accepted, maybe even special, and while she knows her mother loves her, it felt so much different—so much better—with mary ann.

when they arrive back home, it seems beth's anger has had time to sit and fester. she's got melinda's belongings packed, sitting on the front porch and ready to go. "i guess she's your kind of mental, mom. you deal with it." without so much as a hug goodbye, beth slams the door in their faces and leaves mary ann to pick up the pieces left of melinda's heart as she cries. this is the last time she sees her mother for many, many years.

mary ann takes melinda back to her home in TBA (still developing this....) and the first thing that goes in the trash is melinda's useless medication.

more to be written. this is a wip.

notes on melinda's present verse.

i'm not exactly canon compliant in any sense, but i'm very much divergent after 4x07. jim doesn't come back. his death is tragic and horrible and awful, but he sticks around for awhile before melinda convinces him to cross over. it's a very rough thing for melinda to do, but she knows it's the right thing. she wants peace for him.

some time after that, melinda finds out she is pregnant with jim's child. aiden comes into the picture, but of course, things are very divergent here. melinda raises him primarily as a single mom with help from delia and ned.

[lilymelancholy04]

Thanks for tagging me @lexiklecksi !!!

So I had to find the 5 words: crazy, flower, comfort, accusation, and deprivation in WIPs or other works. Unfortunately, my works have not used all of these words yet so I resorted to using synonyms and other tenses in some of the words. Here's what I found after using search in my archive:

1. CRAZY in Bad Alien Hair Day

Overview: Maya has bad hair problems. Really bizarre hair problems. You see, her hair can morph. It can turn short then long then curly or colored black to auburn to neon green using no wig, special shampoo, or treatment. To top it all off, it can move based on her emotions! (don't go telling her"it's all in your head" when she's mad and fired up or her crazy hair will strangle you.) But like any young adult girl, Maya has a crush. She has a crush on the pianist Jay and all she wants is to be able to confess to him. But how could she when every time she gets near him, her hair acts up and messes everything up?

2. FLOWER in Ice flowers: A Botanical Study

Ice flower seeds are black in color and have a hard, rough testa/covering. This covering protects the soft dark purplish core that holds the embryo. Seeds of ice flowers are sown in the heart. They live off of dark fear and thrive in rivers of sadness. Little prods of praise loosen their soil but disappointment will strengthen the roots and make the soil freeze solid to make a firm foundation.

3. COMFORT in Lisa Won't Use Her Magic!

Overview: Lisa is a normal working woman in the small town of Hollowville. She is twenty-five years old and has been working as a secretary in the town hall for five years now. But probably unlike normal people in their town, Lisa has a secret magic: she can erase her existence at will. Despite this, she faces everyday struggles without using this ability and finds the small comforts existing every day. Will she be able to avoid using her magic to the end?

4. ACCUSED in Circus Extraordinaire

The ex-circus performers watched the red hair as she paced back and forth across the cell. She would've looked funny, having her head and hands locked around a wooden board making strange noises and expressions. But no one dared to laugh. They knew that this red hair should not be messed with especially now that her face showed complete dissatisfaction.

Sabrina could not help it. After all, she had been wrongly accused, not once but twice in a day! One, by her family who refused to hear a word she says to defend herself. And now, by those mad tyrants who think they had all the right to jail whomever they suspect as circus performers whenever they want to.

They didn't even have any proof. Did they look at her hands if they were messed with the oil smeared all over that human-sized canon? No! Did they ask if anyone saw her wiping the glass of uncle Ben's stinky moldy tank? No! Did they check the area for any evidence of the culprit? No! Oh no, they did not.

5. DENYING in Her Next Life

"We can all see how much you treasure Lord Ja'shin. There's no use denying that. You sneak glances at the lord and fuss about him all the time. Even in your free time, you're thinking about his affairs and trivial matters. I mean look at you," Loud La'khi motioned to Mah'ri, "You're even sharpening his blades for him during your break, for goodness sake!" She crossed her arms, she is not letting this go. "So don't you say I'm making no sense, Mah'ri, 'cause I know a lovestruck maiden when I see one."

[beeseverywhen]

Growing up in a small town in Lancashire, I was surrounded by others who looked and sounded like me. It was a three-bedroomed, semi-detached, 2.4 children sort of working-class normality. Except my family are Romany Gypsies. I remember from a very young age being acutely aware of my difference from the other children in my school. My dad had instilled in us that it was important to be cautious when it came to divulging our ethnicity. Having suffered many instances of poor treatment due to his race while growing up, he was trying to protect us.

Throughout my teens and adulthood, I have experienced so many instances of racism and prejudiced views. Anti-Gypsy rhetoric is an acceptable everyday racism. I’ve sat in training sessions at work and had to listen to damaging stereotypes of Gypsy customers, and I’ve experienced death threats online for speaking out about Gypsy, Roma and Traveller (GRT) rights on television. As an adult I’m presented with three choices in any new environment I enter, whether that be a workplace, a friendship or even a relationship: “come out” to the person and make clear my ethnicity from the off but risk unfavourable treatment; drip-feed them bits of information and hope they connect the dots themselves; or stay silent, and hope that they don’t say anything offensive or upsetting about my culture. I am constantly having to shrink or dilute my ethnicity to be more palatable to others.

Racism and poor treatment against Gypsies, Travellers and Roma people is nothing new. Half a million Roma people were killed during the Holocaust, for instance. Roma are the biggest ethnic minority within the European Union yet often get unfavourable treatment and are very rarely represented fairly. Many European countries to this day still have such things as segregated schools for Roma children, blocked access to housing registers and children being separated from their families by authorities. In 2010, the then French president Nicolas Sarkozy even paid Roma people €300 (£269) each to leave the country.

[journeytome44]

What would you do if you woke up and it was 2010?

I have not been feeling well & took a nap with my two year old daughter. While half awake and maybe half in a slight fever dream, I had this visualization that I was suddenly back in 2010. I had just left my husband and was back at my parents only with my daughter who in 2010, was 2. I had all the knowledge I have at 39 but there I was, 26. I knew that I didn’t have my other two children that I do now but it almost seemed as if that was a dream. That I dreamed up this chaotic mess of a life but now I’m awake back in 2010…

I realized this was my opportunity to completely change my life. Originally I had taken the ending of my marriage as a loss. I was defeated, broken and battling every aspect of my life. But now, NOW there’s this open book in front of me. I’m young and can do ANYTHING!

I saw myself going to school to become a therapist, being an independent single mom and good example for Addisyn. I stuck by my choices because I saw what happened when I didn’t. But also…

I was telling my brothers and their best friend Megan, who’s now my good friend about their lives in 2024 and everyone was disappointed. It sounded dreary and depressing. One brother losing his family and friends because of his wife, another settling because of the pressures of turning 30 and not wanting to move back to his home town… and I made me think, would we ALL make different life choice’s if this scenario happened?

Are you truly happy with where you ended up or would you jump on the chance to change it all?

I love my 3 kids with everything in me but feeling like my real life was just a dream was a relief. I created this mess and I constantly feel like I’m digging myself out of. This labyrinth of emotions and inner healing while still trying to juggle living a normal adult life as a single mom is suffocating.

Maybe it was meant to teach me something… that I can still figure things out through the chaos… that most of us aren’t genuinely happy though we might make it seem like we are… maybe we are all just trying to get through everyday hoping happiness arises with the sun in the morning.

[bunnypopgal]

What does the future hold for me? Goals & Ambitions

Hello! Another day has started and I'm doing pretty alright today so far. I think I would like to discuss a bit about my future goals and dreams as well as what I want to come from this blog in more hopefully clear detail.

Let's start with the blog part! I originally made this blog a few years ago when I was still being hurt by many people around me. I would often write a whole bunch in diaries growing up as a way to help me find the joy in the small things. I'm aware I'm a very odd case of both CPTSD and just in personality. I have been told I am a very resilient and strong person not only for still standing here afterwards but for still being myself after it all. I am a very bubbly, sunshiney person generally. I do believe myself to be a very self aware person with a high emotional intelligence. Don't worry I didn't reach this conclusion on my own as some weird reflection of narcissism from what I've been through. Honestly it's only been a few months that I've been able to say that about myself and truly believe it. I’ve had therapists, LD professionals, teachers, random adults tell me that my whole life and it still took my partner the entire time up till now he has known me (almost 2 years) of hours long conversations to convince me. Building such confidence is a tad scary for me since I’m terrified of acting like my narcissistic biological mother (whom I call my egg donor normally). Also I hope this came out correctly as me just being proud of myself and not anything malicious! So all that to say I hope I can do some good to share about my healing journey! I also would love to share my thoughts here as well and share the joys of everyday normal life even after years of trauma.

Personal life goals! As mentioned before in this post and my last few I do indeed have a wonderful, most lovely partner! We are currently in a long distance relationship. We’re both from neighbouring countries to one another and we have plans to get engaged so I can move in with him. We don’t want to actually get married until we’re a bit older than we are now so we feel no true rush on the marriage part. Currently we’re just enjoying life and saving money as much as we can. We hope to one day have kids as well even though that’s super far from now we still have a list of baby names. 

On a sad note though is I don’t actually have any other people I’m close with other than him. I don’t go out much (mainly due to being broke) and I don’t really put myself out there even if I knew where to put myself in the first place. I would love to meet some gal pals who would not only want to sing barbie movie songs with me as lifelong best friends but also be my bridesmaids. Of course while I do have lots of time I do feel likely that I’ll get married without having a bachelorette party or any bridesmaids. For now I try not to think about it much since I am still so young and would only really plan to come back to my country to visit my Father’s, my grandparents’ and my great grandparents’ graves. I’m pretty disillusioned with the state of my country currently so I am very excited to leave.

Career future! Since my partner and I currently have to save a lot of money and just life in general being that much more expensive I’ve been trying to get a part time job. I’m pretty scared since advocating for support needs around where I live just gets you fired and I don’t have time, money nor the heart for lawyer stuff. I’m becoming more confident and honestly just more prepared to act as normal as humanly possible while having hallucinations. Sadly I still have no idea what triggers my hallucinations so it’s still very much a guessing game for me. I applied to a bunch of openings at a fast food place all around my town so hopefully they’ll reach out to me soon. 

What was I doing before, you say? Well I was working on my craft which is a bit embarrassing for me to admit honestly. I’ve been trying to improve my art so I can do a whole bunch of things. My biggest dream goal is publishing my magical girl comic book series! Which I’ve also been writing for as well during this time. I also plan to start streaming as a PNGtuber, making youtube, tiktok videos and doing art commissions which I’ve also been working on during that time as well. Drawing is hard but at least nowadays I feel my work looks nice to general audiences I think, I hope. I’m not sure if I will link any of my future work or social media here on this blog but just know if you see a magical girl comic making it big with it’s amazing art and storytelling made for an early 20’s adulthood audience from a singular female author and artist- yeah, that’s my work. If anything I know my magical girl series is gonna be adored in the girl centric media. Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer(the spinoff Angel too) meets 2000’s Barbie movies aesthetics, with Winx Club, Supernatural AND Charmed influences too! I’m so excited! This will be a very long running series so I am currently writing LOTS of lore to work with for a LONG time. Oh and yes there’s gonna be LOTS of amazing fashion that I hope will be timeless!

I am very hopeful and very sure of myself and that things will work out because I will make sure of it! I hold my power and my dreams WILL come true! That’s all from me for today! Don’t forget to brush your teeth and drink water today! Laters!

[avelera]

#I agree with all of this#you putting into words has made me better understand why I like hob so much#hob gadling#meta#the only thing I'd add is that I (unpopular opinion I know) LOVE 1489 hob#like you said it's like a second childhood to him#I love the innocent look on him and like to think it's real#I think he lost half his village and his family pretty young#like 9-12#strong healthy kid probably worked for food and shelter for someone who had lost to many family members to work their field#then he gets roped into the army and then his life was soldiering and banditry!#for a century!#it seems pretty clear that printing is his first other job#he's likely just started a new life (looks young and is an apprentice)#learned to read (probably not to write yet I don't think)#I think he probably just now figured out the 'I'll live x years as y then fake my death' thing#before he just 'died' and went to do banditry the next town over#I think it's his first time having a 'normal' life as a young adult#he didn't get that the first century and it never occured to him for a while!#he's a peasant. learning a trade. going to taverns and playing cards and having 'everyday' problems like fleas and kerchiefs#not the plague and the war and your family dying and not knowing how to make an honest living#I think he's in wonder of that#which I find relatable in the sense today too we might lose our childhood/teens/20s to trauma and then#be so in awe when we sort our mental health get a job and live on our own and such - @sb-essebi

Ok first of all I want to highlight these gorgeous tags but also I need to say: how did you manage to so swiftly and elegantly redeem 1489 Hob for me??

Like, I still enjoy the con artist 1489 Hob headcanon, but, this take absolutely warmed my heart and shattered it at the same time.

Just... Hob after 100 years finally having enough time to emerge from the trauma of the 1300s, something most humans never live long enough to do? Hob finally having this second childhood after breaking free of the fight-or-flight necessities of being a peasant, and a soldier, and a bandit, to finally come out on the other side of that and have the chance to just... settle down in a field where death isn't a daily expectation, with means of his own and independence and security? Enough that he can start to have routines and hobbies and just sit back and be in awe of the wonder of the world? I'm going to cry??

It also jives well with a sense I've had about Hob since I first saw the episode, which is that he would feel so, so bad for The Old Guard immortals? That was my previous fandom, I love immortals and it's part of why Hob fascinates me. Because he's not a soldier even though it would make sense when he can't die. He doesn't try to save the world like they do, even though it would be easy to see the whole world as being your responsibility to save, single-handedly but, as we see, more than half the Old Guard are driving themselves insane by trying to engage, constantly, on the most brutal level with "saving the world" just because they can't die or be permanently injured.

I feel like Hob would pity them so much? Like, they see themselves as having finally matured beyond selfish daily needs but I could see Hob coming right back at them with, "No? I kept moving forward, you stopped at the trauma response level of thinking you need to fight the entire world all by yourself, that there's no other, better use for your time and energy and ability to help others except to expose yourself, over and over again, to the absolute ugliest parts of humanity without relief? How do you not expect to go insane after that?" Like, Hob's not a superhero, he's just not, he's not out there saving the world. But would Booker be a superhero without the others to channel his immortality into that life? He's clearly not well-suited for it, so it's not destiny, it's just their decision to spend their immortality that way instead of as, Idk, doctors or something (I mean, obviously Doylist, we wouldn't have a story that way lol).

My point is, I'm sort of obsessed with the idea of Hob not just Doylist being a fascinating immortal but like Watsonian, in-universe, being a totally bonkers immortal that none of the others understand, including Dream. Like you just... continue? To find life fulfilling? Not on the margins or in the extremes but just daily life and purposefully attaching yourself to the little difficulties and irritations and the big things like grief that come from daily life? You just do that? Because that sounds easier but also harder than being one of those super-powered world saving immortals, who justify their own existence mattering in the grand sweep by attaching themselves to BIG things like saving the world, rather than little things like... just being there to help out around someone's day and having someone to come home to.

So anyway, with your 1489 Hob read I'm just seeing Hob looking at the Old Guard and not seeing these badass mercenary immortals who have everything figured out but seeing traumatized people who never ever learned how to move on from fight-or-flight or how to get better, so they just stayed there and justified it by saying what they did was important, that how dare they do anything else but expose themselves to this horrible depths of human cruelty and loss every day? And him just shaking his head wondering how do they not get how much more there is to life?

Hob Gadling - the absolute maddest of immortal lads

One of the things I love most about Hob Gadling as a character (and as a result, do my best to capture in fic) is how unique his reactions are to immortality and to Dream, and how he so often does the opposite of what one would expect from the genre of "humans granted immortality" but also what the average person and most of the audience expects that they would do with immortality, lending well to the concept that Hob is, genuinely, unhinged and a truly supernatural creature in his own right, which is often lost when the character we see him most often juxtaposed against is Dream, who is even more odd and unhinged if in very different ways

(I've decided to be systematic about this and go through meeting by meeting so strap in, folks it got long, as usual!)

1389 - First of all, Hob simply bragging at all that he doesn't plan to die. OG hipster right there, loving life before it was cool. But also, ok, loving life after being born less than a decade after the Black Plague ended. And in the midst of a great many Black Plague aftershocks! The latter half of the 1300s was a truly abysmal time to be alive, with huge social upheaval, war, plagues, "two bloody Popes fightin'" and in the midst of all this is Hob motherfuckin' Gadling, cheerfully announcing that death is for suckers and he doesn't intend to ever do it.

The man is a soldier! You'd think he'd be more accepting and philosophical about his inevitable death given the time he lives in, the profession he has chosen, the fact that most young men his age were wiped out at age 9 by the second wave of the Black Death, and just, in general, doing all of this while having the misfortune to live in England at the time.

And then when Dream comes up to him, like a complete weirdo, and challenges him on this, Hob is actually pretty nice to him! He gives him a side eye but he also goes along with the question, tells him to ignore his friend's jibes, and cheerfully accepts the wager! I cannot express to you how many turns in the road there are between what a normal person would do and what Hob Gadling does in that moment.

1489 - This one bugs me because the most unexpected thing Hob does is seemingly regress in maturity despite now being 100+ years old.

Now, I'm a huge fan of the theory that he's conning Dream right now and putting on the innocent chucklehead routine to put Dream off from kidnapping him to Faerie Land in exchange for his immortality. HOWEVER, since that's just a headcanon, let's take Hob as he is on the page!

Hob has a job. A Freaking Job. He used to be a bandit and a soldier, things that kind of make sense to do as an immortal (like The Old Guard) when you can't die! You could theoretically make BANK there just by taking dangerous jobs. But Hob doesn't?? He gets a normal-ass job, though in that day's equivalent of getting a job at Microsoft or Apple before they became big, Caxton is like one of the first modern startups in essence, a new technology that made TONS of money once it was imported, and Hob was on the ground floor. Still. HE GOT A JOB as an IMMORTAL. He doesn't seem to have this immortality thing figured out yet? And he doesn't ask Dream hardly any questions about it either! You'd think he'd be frothing at the mouth to better understand wtf happened to him, but once Dream clarifies that he's not the Devil and Hob's soul isn't in danger, that's it! No further questions, your honor! WHAT??

Also, just when you WOULD expect him to beg for death (that IS the genre savvy thing to do, Dream's not wrong!) he DOESN'T. He's more in awe than ever, he seems to be experiencing a second childhood over the fact. He's just vibing and living life. That's so, so unusual in this genre.

Hob also hasn't done any of the savvy things an immortal might do after 100 years! He doesn't actually seem all that angsty about why is he immortal, beyond a bit of fear he might need to pay the piper (Dream) now for this gift. Most vampires in an Anne Rice novel would have gone through about 20 stages of grief after they dealt with the first 100 years of everyone they know and love dying but Hob seems to not only be unbothered but actively gearing up for the next century. It's so bizarre. IT'S SO BIZARRE and I love it because I LOVE characters who DON'T do what you'd expect!

1589 - Hob has a family. HOB HAS A FAMILY. Who in their right MIND would start a family, knowing you'd have to bury your spouse and your children? HOB MOTHERFUCKING GADLING that's who! It's incomprehensible! He does it anyway! It's why I headcanon that he planned to support and nurture his family throughout time, like it was all very deliberate to found a dynasty, but it need not be! Knowing him, he just saw a pretty girl and married her! He didn't even CONSIDER his own wife and children getting angry and jealous with him for having immortality he can't share with them? He didn't even CONSIDER the heartbreak?? WHAT?! Who knows! He just did!

Now, this Hob HAS begun to do SOME of the things one would expect of an immortal - like build up generational wealth, BUT he has a KNIGHTHOOD. What immortal in their right MIND would draw that sort of attention to themselves?? HOB, THAT'S WHO. What are you ON, man, that's INSANE! No wonder he got drowned as a witch the man had ZERO CAUTION AT ALL.

1689 - the man is destitute. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN IF YOU'RE AN IMMORTAL? This is AS puzzling as anything else. Theoretically, Hob could just take a dangerous job with a high fatality rate for quick cash and rebuild his fortune pretty quickly, but he DOESN'T. What went wrong? The possibilities are tantalizing and painfully human that maybe he did do that and failed anyway, or hit even WORSE strings of truly abysmal bad luck.

But somehow, at 300 YEARS OLD it's not until 1789 that we hear Hob has begun socking money away for a rainy day! How does it TAKE YOU that long, sir?? How is that NOT something you figure out in your first century? I've seen a lot of fan writers ascribe a certain amount of immortal savvy to Hob but it's REALLY not there on the page! The guy is NOT genre savvy about immortality AT ALL he doesn't do ANY of the things one would expect, it's absolutely WILD that he falls this low after 300 years after completely failing to, theoretically, CONSIDER this possibility! And then, AND THEN, the guy STILL wants to live. I mean, this one hardly needs saying, that's nuts after what he went through, it's on the page that he's NUTS for this. But the guy is literally in the gutter dreaming of the stars, he is unstoppable I love him so fucking much what a force of nature.

1789 - OK, we've already mentioned that it took until 1789 for Hob to start saving money for a rainy day but let's talk about the fact HE'S NOT ACTUALLY CAREFUL ABOUT BEING CAPTURED?? Again, least genre savvy immortal EVER. You can't die so you'd THINK that being captured or imprisoned or god forbid, thrown down a mine shaft would be the SCARIEST possible fates when you don't have death as an escape, but the guy doesn't even blink at the thought of getting captured by an occultist like Johanna Constantine, dude's totally unbothered! DREAM has to tell him after 400 YEARS that maybe he should be worried about this? THE GUY GOT DROWNED AS A WITCH, picked himself up, dusted himself off, got into some crimes against humanity, and MOVED ON apparently without learning a single goddamn lesson he hasn't had since 1389 which is how to kick ass and look good doing it BUT HE'S NOT EVEN A PROFESSIONAL FIGHTER AS A CAREER, he's just a gentleman of means!

He just... lives a normal human life and seems to expect weird things like being kidnapped by occultists to not happen so long as he stays within those boundaries and you know what? IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED! Because to be fair, how many of us outside the bounds of fiction would ever expect the wild stuff like kidnapping to really happen? It's statistically quite vanishingly rare! And that's been all Hob has needed, presumably, to not need to stress since the damn witch trials about his immortality! So yeah, I read fic where Hob is like this very savvy immortal but by 400 YEARS he's BARELY learned to have a savings account under a different name and he STILL doesn't seem too bothered by the possibility of getting hurt or captured! Like, AT ALL?! Absolutely class act right here, top lad, unbelievable, no notes. HOW do you SURVIVE like this as an anomaly, Hob?

1889 - By now, it SEEMS like Hob has bought a clue. He's pretty understated, he's made some amends, SEEMS to have resolved to be less of a shithead, and he's got this immortality thing figured out. It only took him 500 FUCKING YEARS. But again, Hob ISN'T fabulously wealthy as far as we can tell. He's not a megalomaniac and he STILL seems to be vibin' as just a dude doing Just A Dude things like HAVING A JOB and if we borrow from Hob's Leviathan a bit, he's STILL just jumping between industries, just living life down at the normal human level. He hasn't detached from humanity, he lives in the day to day on a level that's just INCONCEIVABLE for a being that's 500 years old.

1989 - Ok, moving on a bit from Hob being an immortal, because getting excited about technology like his brick phone is absolutely so charming I want to squish his cheeks, but he's hardly the only immortal to get excited about that. What I want to talk about is how HOB FORGIVES DREAM for 1889. Because, look, Dream is a prick there. Hob could have been more diplomatic but Dream could have waited for the apology and he didn't.

I have seen SO MANY TAKES where Hob would be MAD after 1889 and RIGHTFULLY SO. But he's NOT. He's not! There are so many fics where he has lingering hurt over it but that's just NOT what the character does! He blames himself! Guy did pretty much nothing wrong except maybe choose his words poorly, but he's blaming HIMSELF for making Dream uncomfortable. Absolute legend. Saints have nothing on this man, that is saint-like behavior. I'd be furious. Hob just misses his friend and BLAMES HIMSELF that Dream isn't there. Not an a single, microscopic trace of anger in sight.

2022 - And then, AND THEN, when he has EVERY REASON to flip out when Dream shows up, finally, after 133 YEARS, after Hob has APPARENTLY stuck around the area just in case, WAITING for him, what does this fucking legend say? "You're late."

THAT'S IT! He's not mad, he totally has a right to be! He doesn't jump out of his chair in shock, that would be a totally expected reaction to! He glances up! He acts like Dream is 5 minutes late instead of over a century WHAT IS THAT?? WHAT IS THAT?! HOW?!! They just settle back with a pint after that like it's nothing. That's not what I would do. I don't think that's what almost any human would do after a shock like that. I still can't wrap my head around it.

So anyway, Hob Gadling, absolutely FASCINATING character from the perspective of just not doing a single fucking thing you'd expect an immortal Just A Dude to do. Goddamn legend right there. Worth remembering for those like me who are obsessed enough to write this guy in fic. He is just so... opposite of everything you'd expect and that is so fucking sexy of him wow

[rennyji]

(Updated midway with a section on January 18, 2024 11:10 PM)

my tale, written between Sunday and Monday of 2024 - hopefully the last of it

How many lives have to be ruined for national security or whatever the visible or invisible government plans are (you might not even realize the government is involved), be it with brain mapping or something else?

So what can I intuit about my situation, from just being in it over several years, with the presence of not just my own life as a variable, but everyone and thing I come across?-

- There seems 2 be a similarity 2 a show 4 troubled kids I think I saw in passing, as I went upstairs, in my old house, where I remember mom saying harshly: some deserve it. It struck me @ time or was an ominous moment, b/c I was having trouble w/my parents believing me, 16 yrs ago, that I sensed trouble in my environment.-

- the show for troubled kids investigates troubled youth by likely victims of helicopter parenting.-

- 4 exposing children of these parents, if there is alleged drug use or some 1950s style of culture/behavior disagreement (b/c we live in day and age of legal cannabis use/House of Reps on verge of fist fights/plane doors flowing off in 2023-24 amidst modern day of supposed advanced tech), the show profits over putting them on TV, for the world to humiliate them. Yeah, they clearly don’t have the capacity to think farther in2the lives of already troubled youth that they broadcast.-

- over everyday nuances, just by being alive in this, I realize 1 or more levels of orchestrators look 2 expose me in vulnerable states. From things said in passing by Drs-w/o much info directly from me-like “being engrossed in appearance,” U suspect w/o interference 2 your functioning, the show for troubled kids probably shows you with acne spot treatment in the house. Meanwhile, the government may seize awkward moments like these to take away credibility and following of an individual, by allowing them to be made into a fool, spanning years. But that’s a separate point. -

-upon realizing these things or aware of possibilities, U think of ways 2 cope, in what should be sanctity of ur home. (At time of proofreading this, I'm hearing Nikki Haley's Town Hall: saying "we are a country of laws." I like what she's doing, but my life is testament to this not being a country of laws.) What do I do to deal with the very real possibility of being constantly on spot? You do things like walking around in ur boxers. The rationalization is, the perpetrators relaying ur life are exposed as that much much more scum, cuz ur depicted in an indecent manner. Doing these kind of things gives some sense of self defense, when someone else is on the offensive against you, without reason, through something like the show for troubled kids. Now there could be the real show for troubled kids. Or it could be an independent program that adopts the theme of a troubled kids show. If its through the theme route, it could be some cr*p about mind reading making someone naked in perception. However it may have arrived in my life, the literal or metaphorical troubled kids show probably didn’t find anything bad, in the life of my youth.-

- so, I’m just assuming they now need a way to justify their presence. They also want to cash in for spying on me. Maybe, to cover both those things, they see opportunity. They think maybe they'll show how good a person actually is, which is the opposite of what they normally do. and then as the years go by, for whatever reason that wasn't working out for them, they return back to: how bad, now an adult, is, through psychological abuse from treating him as a child. Maybe show for troubled kids was additionally ambitious to expand their reach to young adults or those 18 and above. Maybe they wanted to offer parents a way to snoop on their sons/daughters in the college life. And in something like that, they see a new way to make money-

***

---

To go on a tangent,

People see a doctor when they have something bothering them or affecting their functioning. Some people delay the visit to the doctor, whichever doctor, whatever the condition, for as long as possible. It’s an adult choice, for better or for worse.

For some reason, I’m seen as so ill, that my parents, at my 35 years of age, need to get involved, and there's this group of orchestrators, consisting of therapists in some shape or form, who see themselves as so saintly, that they “just” want to help me- but it’s not through the normal dynamic of face to face contact, where there’s mutual conversation. It’s them affecting the therapist you are seeing, and forcing them to convey their viewpoint and treatment. For talking about them and everything else, I was put through ECT or shock therapy, for the mentally ill, 20 times. Theyll say, while drugs like clozapine-like antipsychotics are diminishing my good judgment as well as the length of my situation is instilling desperation, it’s my fault "for going along" with the ECT. What happened to the "orchestrator overlords" and their pupeteering of my doctor/parents, in this regard? Knowing I’m aware of my situation and the chapter of my life before the Albany nonsense, was ECT (shock therapy) really necessary? But it’s a stupid world, and people, like those running it, are also stupid.

Does that make sense?!

(Now that I think of it, yeah, this definitely comes off as a show for troubled kids.)

The input, that the show for troubled kids, output to strangers, literally for entertainment, was from cameras spying on the victim, or the kids that they target. Now such shows, or maybe more specifically: such people - they now have the ultimate camera. They can see deep into a persons past - ammo given by the FBI and American government. I say FBI because I went to them, and instead of helping or acknowledging my situation, knowing I was into writing, they directed me to a financial internet crimes form that enabled unlimited updates. Was it something innocent or an honest mistake or something naively used to get rid of me, while I'm talking about stalkers and hacking?

Looking into my past, what was my biggest offense, to myself, my family, or others?

Out of their being nothing, are all the orchestrators just cherry picking what’s open to interpretation?

My parents can be: simply put: weird.

I remember an argument that was severe, with my parents, when I wanted a part time job in high school. My parents were furiously opposed, because that would mean I have money to possibly do something, for what counts as questionable to my parents. Strict parents.

I remember when I wanted to learn to drive. My parents see it as one more thing they need to worry about. They delayed me driving as much as possible, and gave me an endless hard time, tying in anxiety to the exacerbated experience. 

Something else that happened during those years, Around that time, my mother broke her arm, by standing on a "tipping-over" milk carton, in our, then, backyard garden. My father somehow blamed me for the incident, as God and/or the devil, punishing the family, for a bad or disobedient son. But what did I do? I think around that time, I got a bad grade on a test or it was their lack of processing towards my frustration with their perception of me driving. Could it all have been cyclical nothing?

Now, I tend to get angry with my dad, in general, because it’s just hard being around him, because of his magical thinking. Recently, from his bedroom, I heard him talking to someone on the phone, saying: "all we can do is endure, and forgive in these situations. If we make any effort, we risk making it worse.”

It could be about anything. But the thing is, this statement is a testament to his beliefs.

Recently, I addressed how to pray. Prayer is a tool for us to be introspective and understand what our flaws are, and make an explicit effort to ask for help, in inhibiting those flaws. But it seems my dad doesn’t want to make the effort to realize flaws, from a belief God knows what flaws are and about everything, in general, and He'll just wave his finger and make flaws vanish. He thinks we just need to ask to be delivered from Satan. But part of the process of prayer is for "man, him/herself to realize" what's wanted, needed, and to be corrected. His belief system makes me angry. Is my situation, lasting this long, in part, because, he’s trying to hide his flaws, by pinning the attention on me and something like my eating habits in a stressful situation?  The bigger question: Is my situation lasting this long, because dear old dad doesn’t want to creatively think outside the box and come up with something on his own, in place of a high level statement asking God to make problems disappear? Its like my parents don’t like actual and metaphorical effort. They think all they need to do is tell GOD to do the figuring and work for them, in place of the “doing your part” and then leaving God "to do the rest."

My parents mistake their part as throwing money to therapists and meds which they're not even sure, works. This is in part, because, they’re told to ignore me, when I talk about what I’m experiencing from "my SITUATION". This mode of action is encouraged by orchestrators, proxying through, and replacing: my therapists' actual diagnosis/opinions.

If its about mind readers showing how horrible mankind is, or a troubled kids show showing how horrible youth are: In my whole life, as the orchestrators have the record, what is my crime? It’s not because I’m a saint. If there's no detectable wrongdoing in my past, its because I had a purpose and a goal: to get through school, so that I can finally have a life and live life. I spent hours studying. Never opportunity for something bad.

You gotta ask: Did I shoplift, did I beat someone up, did I have sex in high school, have I ever done any illegal drug, have I drunk more than 10?! beers in my 35 years of existence, did I sneak out of the house in high school?, did I get bad grades, did I go to bars and party/use fake Ids, was I spending all my time hanging out with friends instead of prioritizing school, did I hit my parents?

Will my parents claim that I’m somehow mean to parents? What did I say, what did I do? What are the details/what are the specifics?

What's the conclusion we arrive at? The show for troubled kids basically saw an opportunity to extend their reach to 18+ year olds with "easy-to-manipulate" parents. They saw opportunity to go beyond cameras, and deep dive into someone’s past. 

The troubled kids show, realizing nothing was wrong, again,from being over ambitious and legally concerned, make the decision to show how good I am.

--I think this is where I intended to "leave the tangent"...

In my Freshman years at Binghamton, as an engineering major, there was one guy, who was transferring as a computer science major to SUNY Stonybrook, who happen to tell me, in passing, "Don't ask me how, but you're going to be famous one day." Never second guessed it, as its a randm/odd thing to say to someone, but it paints a timeline. That was in 2006.

There was a day in maybe 2007, or maybe 2008, where I was talking across a library coffee shop with my parents about the difficulties of engineering and they were consoling me. Now I noticed something odd that I again put out of my mind for years, since there was no reason to keep thinking about it, then. The staff at the coffee shop, from across the distance to the lounge tables where we were seated, seemed glued and very much touched by a conversation that I didn't understand as audible to them. I've wondered how they could hear from the distance. Was some level of relaying happening then? - That kind of moments in time throws the Albany hacking, out of sorts, on the timeline.

I later transferred to SUNY Albany, in 2010, as a computer science major, after a failed attempt at engineering.

In this chapter the strange kids and SUNY Albany faculty get involved.

-around time of attempt @ engineering @ Binghamton, I was struggling b/c there wasn’t long term/stable/long lasting focus aid likeVyvanse. I kept failing @ whatever i endeavered, b/c my focus was that bad, I got thru high school b/c of rote learning-what Indians call mugging up.-

- around that time in Binghamton, there was girl I liked. With us Indians, we generally hang around other Indians. In big America, it’s hard to find someone attractive to your interests, with a small subset or minority of people.-

-& b/c I'm corny, I look 4 things like a smile I don’t have, or a name that flows w/mine. Now around that time, there were people seen around her, and this is in Binghamton, that seem 2 be present or similar in appearance 2 people Ive seen in Albany, when i embarked on comparatively easier computer science major at the institution-

-when I was in India, from 2013-2014, after I gave up enduring and trying to figure out the craziness happening in America, I saw some similar looking kids there too. Now in brown India, these American caucasian kids really stand out. I was going from place to place, like Albany/Indida because I just wanted peace of mind and the sanctity of my own apartment and a job to occupy my time.-

- Fast forward past my Albany time from 2010-2013, and then to during my India period from 2013-2014, there too: themes keep coming up. “Let’s get him out,” “he’s always working.” I took a coding bootcamp there, which I happen to ace and be first in my class, and the students of the camp say: " "They" said we have to irritate him to get him to react." I’ve bumped into people with these kind of impressions, and it gets worse: when they act on them. Then what complicates it more, is when ur Indian mother, wondering why ur not going to the Indian Church, also hears these things from people she thinks are part of your circle or world. Your parents hear from strangers, like a complaint, that your son is mean and anti-social. Because they're medically oriented, the think you have some fear of going outside...I mean you're not going out to their Church.

But what the SUNY Albany and parents, made a fool by these kids, didn’t realize, was that the stalkers kids meant “going out” in the colloquial or slang sense. They want to know why I’m not partying or hitting the bars, at a time when, I, am again, advancing in years. I think the stalker-kids are still going on about in the present day.-

- the miscommunication is that bad. I talked about strange kids being in pursuit of me. There are kids proxying between Suny Albany and my parents at that time from 2010-2013. When I mention strange kids saying abnormal things in my vicinity, for some reason, no 1 thought "those kids" are "these kids." -

- what complicates it further is: apparently the incentive of these kids to get me to go out is so that their friend can not be concerned with me and move onto other people. Complete and total nonsense and I'm telling my findings to family, doctors, police. They were influencing my reputation on an everyday level, as a person, not on a professional basis YET, or street reps-

-I’m sure, at this point, school was tired of the bull sh*t they got involved in, and then succumbed to a project, to indirectly deal with me, so that they look less foolish.

- now those kids and school are talking about crazy things like me not going out of my way to say hello to strangers, when they were the only ones trying to...I dunno...reach me for some unknown reason, from a distance.-

-if it sounds crazy or the wording sounds crazy, I'm talking about actual crazy people through convoluted descriptions about the unknown.

At Suny Albany, I had a popular twitter account w/ followers I gained thru marketing software. These strange kids and then the school, get the idea, that the twitter account, without a well known face, meant I’m famous.-Yeah it’s that stupid.-

- Struggling with ADD and a failed chapter with engineering, I stuck to myself and tried to finish my college chapter as soon as possible.-

-It was my second attempt at college. Before Vyvanse, I was someone who failed Java programming 3 times. In Albany, with Vyvanse, I got an "A" in Java, advanced Java programming, and TAed Java programming.-

- I was stretching my parents finances and I couldn’t afford screwing up computer science, as they also had to send my brother to college. Now the problem with the show for troubled kids, SUNY Albany faculty: is that they keep “interpreting my actions.” I have no idea Y I’m even in their radar. They're probably responsible for perceptions that I’m in Albany because I’m there to work. I kept talking to people who for some reason thought I was pursuing a grad degree or was done with school and working. But it could be my mature face, by which I mean old, and not a skinny teenager.-

- Now those kids, one of whom I saw or could’ve sworn I saw, in Binghamton, in Albany, and in India (sounding crazy, right), got involved with the show in Binghamton in some way. If that's true, real responsible of the show for troubled kids to not even vet who these kids are...you'd think a show for troubled kids would know troubled kids when they see it...but then this all could be happening or not happening...Then the next crazy thing happens.-

- I don’t know what the fire is, that's fueling these strange kids. People on campus seemed to be interested when I’d so much as walk with a girl, and the girl friend of one of my first set of roommates at Albany, was overly interested why I was in Albany. You start wondering, could this be even crazier. Its crazy to assume any of this, but this seems to build/snowball-

- were these kids spreading the next load of cr*p, that I left Binghamton from a broken heart or something? Why would I think such a thing. I kept seeing women in cars give actual expressions of "Don't go" and there "was" this interest in seeing me walk around women. Stupid nonsense. These are things a person has floating in their head. But who acts on these things. You keep ignoring.-

- but then the next crazy thing happens. There’s the show, the meddling kids, and when I reached Albany, there was a Professor Berg, A Professor Haas, and a Sys Admin (last name Augustine) who saw my open situation as a good opportunity to play with high level hacking tech. The reasoning? Whatever was making me visible, would also show the effect of their hack...(I'm kinda happy we're shifting to talking about the more morbid stuff now...)-

- the tech hacks, in a traditional sense, can display computer screen contents (maybe like a white web page with a square in the middle displaying my computer contents, the hacking tech can hack phones (I called the FBI, since they deal with hacking, and a member of the demographic I kept having run ins with, at Albany, said vehemently says "stop calling." Would the FBI abruptly say this?!).-

- Now this gets a level crazier. There’s something that can projects sounds and see through my eyes.-

-Ages ago, I’m assuming the kids, somehow knew I was watching "Silver Linings Playbook, and the kids think, or the kid like voices think, I’m the obsessed guy in the movie, and they were condescending about it conveying it to me. Obsessed on who? On someone I don't know? Obsessed on someone I had one conversation with? -- I can only assume as the list is small. Is this about someone from several years ago, and I'm dealing with kids related in some fashion, 3 or 4 years later? Why does any of this matter and what does this have to do with the show for troubled kids or the hacking, since my time at SUNY Albany? How the h*ll are these kids getting involved in everything? They output cr*p, but everyone uses them. On one occasion, I heard "What do you mean they don't know each other?!) Of all the things..."Silver Linings Playbook"? Where highlighted in relation, did I give a picture (like I had one?) indicating who you're thinking? Who would that person be to Albany-ites? Is this person famous to be known everywhere in some way? Who are you referring to and who do you think I'm connected with? Do I actually have stalkers, in strange kids, across time and places? Are they spreading things and blaming me? Am I famous? Shouldn't I know if I'm famous? Use the word: "famous" with a psychiatrist. All sounds crazy. More importantly, how do people recognize me in the city of Albany, where I've never been? Is there a picture of me going around? Are people alerted to my presence somehow? Am I on the mark when I suggest: "people are aware of me, when I'm on the road?" Can that statement or question be misconstrued in any other way?

If I'm hearing something, are other people hearing something different that I cannot hear? Are they able to hear what I'm hearing? Is the content different?-

-Again, Obsessed over who? When I was in Albany, I was occupied with the YMCA, eating at Chipotles, my own apartment, my part time jobs, and of course: college academics! Why would I on a normal day, have any type of following, and that too, if I’m minding my own business? Is that why my apparent stalkers are wondering why I'm never out, colloquially speaking? and this sentiment must grow. Under the assumption of troubled kids show, they're probably like bingo: we found something to use against him. The hackers amongst SUNY Albany faculty? They need me to write, speak, go out and about, so that they can perfect their mind reading/mind control technology. Yeah, I said it: mind reading/mind control technology. And it continues snowballing...because when things go unchecked without consequences, things snowball to something so unbelievable, anyone with a reputation, responsible, would want to hide it under a rug.-

- now there a lot of stress from all this floating in my mind .It made me lose my hair in a year. little hair I have is from a hair transplant in the front. Stress can make U look old. When everything’s going wrong, diet may not be best either. and then these retard kids open me to criticism with comments like "he was discovered"-

-what's worse, my environment at SUNY Albany gets hostile. As far as I know, I was minding my own business. I'm overly polite when I'm with strangers, because I just want to return home and attend to what I like or responsibility. While I"m driving to SUNY Albany, on the day of 3 final exams in the year of 2012, the neighborhood kids waiting for the school bus seem on the alert. I hear someone in my apartment parking lot say maliciously: "Have a good day!" You wonder: if it's an auditory hallucination, how loud can a hallucination be? Can be like a megaphone in the midst of your apartment complex's parking lot? During my exams, in my exam rooms, outside my exam rooms, chaos ensues. While I'm walking to my exams, there seem to be faculty lined up along the way with phones, like they know they need to watch out for me. Did the world just end and decide to make me look crazy? During my first exam, something suspicious happens. I start twitching from bordering two realities in my situation. My professor sees this from the front of the lecture hall and alerts a student adjacent to me, "Get a drink of water." The student didn't ask. He's told. He goes outside, my professor looks at me like "look what you did", and I hear the guy telling people outside: "Enough, he crying." From the stress, I couldn't finish my exam. My professor allows me to finish an exam I didn't finish (who does this for no reason) in a conference room in the computer science department. I'm there with a TA watching me. From outside the door where you can see shadows through the screen, my professor, a professor with a limp, and the department secretary break into conversation. They say "is he okay? I don't know what's wrong with that kid; must be on drugs. Everyone is trying to help him." The TA is in the room with me. He's pale in complexion. I ask him if he heard the professors. He turns visibly red and tells me to focus on my exam. Once I leave the room, there's the ever suspicious Professor, I never had for a class: George Berg walking, disturbed, in the opposite direction.

Some time after, when I'm in my studio apartment in Albany, I’m watching “Being John Malkovich,” and I heard a claim that someone was somehow seeing what I was eyeing, by being in my head, like in the movie: "Being John Malkovich."- Were they trying to make me go crazy?

- Fast forward years later, I’m so furious with my situation, I punch a hole in my bedroom wall (Normal adult guy things, but I’m in a situation where I’m constantly depicted as aggressive & mean, all w/o evidence or basis), and I hear my mom walking towards my room. She stops midway/abruptaly. I get sense “something is seeing thru my eyes" and warns her from coming any further. I get a sense of the much denied: “remote viewing” done by governments.-

- Google “remote viewing” by governments or see my earlier posts. Now, going back to the story: I'm still in Albany, because I’m a computer science/"attempt-at-engineering" guy. But while I was engineering in Binghamton, 2-3 years before my time specified incident in Albany, I was part of the IEEE engineering organization & received their magazines. Their magazines are about the latest tech. 1 day, in magazines that I barely read, I saw a page on wireless hacking w/waves. If nothing, this opens my mind to what's possible and becomes remembered years later.-

- again things floating through a persons mind, that pop up in ur head, during impossible life circumstances. There was just a growing amount of proof about wireless wave hacking, troubled kid shows,-

-and remember: I mentioned these 3 comp sci faculty at SUNY Albany. They have some kind of toy, that they decided to use on me, while I was writing to twitter.- probably to verify that their tech worked by seeing what I outputted to twitter and what's visible to whatever program, focused on me, was happening at the time-

- I hear something about stolen tech, from...wait for the crazy: projected sounds! apparently, while someone’s in Germany, they stole or made a copy of something that gives hacking power on one or more levels. Now, if that's getting mixed up in my already convoluted snowballing situation, the argument that follows is someone trying to justify use of that or legalize it. Everything happening then till now, I explain with what I know and observe.

- The faculty with the tech were never my professors. So they probably thought I wouldn’t recognize their voices. The faculty were all in on it.

- Around this time in Albany, there’s news about anonymous social networking, while a school organizes to give me a day of h*ll in 2012. On the news, the NSA is talking about data collection. Someone at the FBI-when I tell them about all the oddities in my situation directs me to an unlimited complaint form: the IC3. So now I'm getting facts or perceived facts and a resource. Now remember, I mentioned three comp sci faculty at SUNY Albany. On certain days, when I’d write, a Professor Haas walks “past” the the student lounge I’m located in, and says “he doesn’t know if it’s the FBI or us, helping him.

-I still dont' get the obsession over "help" and what the "help" was about. I've said, if people are with me, why aren't they "with" me? I mean where are they? Why is no one talking to me?

- when I try 2 explain my situation, in all its angles on a complaint form, Professor Berg, on one occasion, does what all the faculty at the school does. While “in my direction/vicinity, he says “oh we we helped ‘them” we went in the wrong direction. people are so stupid. I got an idea to show how foolish people are. It’s going to be scary.” -

- now in his random message, that he says close to me, so that I can hear it, and maybe expected to read into it, probably to make me look crazy and save the reputation of the school, he says the word “them.” I’m getting repeated signs and confirmations pointing to strange kids again. And how do you react to strange professors you never had, not talking to you, in a one to one, but around you from a distance, so. you can hear.

I confronted the VP of the school about what I perceived. He said I was crazy. The school is a community. When it failed with the VP, I tried talking to the President of the school. For trying to talk to him, I was "put on disciplinary probation." The accusation was "I"m pursuing the president." Pursuing the president? Sounds like, because the school is a community, and the President was retiring, they didn't want me to mix the retiring President of the University with my escalating randomness. This could be one more reason whatever show I'm in, adopts a troubled kids theme. It could all be rooted in SUNY Albany. They hated me because they thought "who does this guy think he is, wanting to talk to the VP of Student Affairs or the President of the school." This could have been all that's needed to set the orchestrators on my tail with a spirit of vengeance.

- as my time in Albany progresses, I get a sense of some kids that I think are involved as the stalker kids I'm theorizing on. On one occasion, when I write about kids that I think R involved, through description about them or what classes they’re in, the school narrows these nameless kids and alerts them. Then I see them walk past me angrily. And if I say that I’m seeing and hearing unknown nameless kids, I’ll be viewed as crazy. On another occasion, I kind of become like a detective with that unlimited FBI internet hacking complaint form. I give my profile of certain professors I think are in on what's going on. The very next day, some of them walk past me, saying "Now our names are on "that thing." I mean ... I didn't say anything bad...Could all this be a hallucination, in its complexity, in the various people I never had contact with? For that professor to be irritated her name is on "That thing", it could be that the faculty member with the stolen hacking tech is lying about or carelessly reading what I wrote about the faculty. Maybe he or they are trying to involve more people at the school.-

- while describing my situation & what it’s coming off as, from what I’m seeing daily, over 3 years, from 2010-2013 at Albany, at about that time, Professor George Berg gets excited one day. He seems to suspect that I’m picking up on sounds he’s projecting to me, from what I'm writing on my FBI complaint form. I see him one day, excitedly going2 tell some1.-

- now again putting two and two together, I suspected he’s going to school of nanoscale engineering. That’s the only properly run portion of SUNY Albany and the most techy. Professor Haas walks by on another day, when I say stop hacking me on the complaint form, "The Freedom of Information Act" allows it. If I was hallucinating, how would I know about the "Freedom of Information Act?" Was it in my Google searches? Doesn't the actual FBI keep track of such things? or doesn't the NSA keep track of cell phone records. So I google it and the indirect dialogue continue between me and the computer science faculty. I realize, from memory, the Freedom of Information Act has Exemptions. I think I highlighted Exception 3. When I did, I indicated they can't hack and relay me. I was talking about perceived slander because something was making me notable in people's eyes or hostile towards me. I google and realize, if I'm notable, with or without knowing it, then slander becomes libel. Somewhere along the lines, I hear things about brain mapping.-

- I go 4 doctor visits & learn about fMRIs. I realized a crude form of mind reading & mind control can be accomplished, by mapping the brain, detecting which emotions light up to projected sounds/speech, and that you can recording things said externally in my head and then try to detect it.-

-The FBI directed me to an unlimited complaint form, where when I wrote, the audible orchestrators are getting excited and encourage repeated use, which one could intuit is to understand my speech and thinking. When I worked for PepsiCo, they instigate confrontations with-

- manager and me, where he’s told one thing and I’m directed another way, and they try to create situations where long emails are written or constant self defense conversations are given.-

- what the American government and FBI did, was provide a way for the show, the kids, and SUNY Albany, to get as much ammo on me to save them, by giving the very people I complained about, keys to my head. Why won't they save me?

- clearly when a group of white kids, with black faculty, at a school, and the local FBi office in Bethlehem(in the district of Albany, NY), want to rain h*ll on a brown man from NYC, they get the approval, and, not for 1 day, 1 month, 1 year, but something around 16 years.

- you wanna know something interesting amidst all this brain mapping/ mind reading situation? One of faculty who’d “say things in my vicinity” to, probably, make me look crazy, to at least my parents and doctors, a Professor Haas, happen to have died of a brain aneurysm. Coincidence? Death from something in the brain? When I'm involved in a brain mapping/brain wave project?-

- did professor haas die as consequence 4 letting enough info spill?It’s sounds like what the government is reported as doing, in all these fringe shows. They kill someone or make someone disappear. Then he also happens to be a Caucasian Buddhist, who happened to be cremated very shortly after death. Now you can't investigate the death either.-

-now Professor Haas may have suffered from high blood pressure. I think a semester b4, I saw him in a t shirt, jogging on campus. He was trying 2 do something about his situation. Prof Haas was notably outspoken & maybe ill tempered. I didn’t get the feeling he was admired.-

- when he died a semester later, after making attempts to attend to his health, a semesters worth of time before, the computer science faculty gave him, an advertised, memorial service, on campus. He was 1 of the 3 exposed to the stolen tech of probably the sys admin of the time.-

-I have reasonable evidence, this is now happening from "what’s seen thru my eyes" or from "detecting the content from the part of my brain, processing what my eyes are seeing." By replicating waves in this, U get an image. the public is probably tricked to thinking: it’s relaying my typing “as” I’m typing through cell phone or laptop hacking.-

- relaying, as I’m typing, thru hacking tech, happened a decade ago. Now it’s brain hacking. When it was tech hacking, I noted, when I’d use the lounge area, in my off campus Albany apartment community, and used their WIFI, that the hacking wasn’t limited to my IP or MAC address from the paid service in my studio apartment.-

- it was wireless tech hacking. It was happening with waves. I knew no one put any spy device in my apartment, because I had motion sensor cameras in my apartment. I I knew when maintenance staff came in and there was only a saved record of one maintenance record. My computer had monitoring software because I’m a techie. I paid for firewalls and antivirus. Things with hacking shouldn't have been so straight forward with me. When I made submissions to the FBI crime tip site, I saved the tips, I recorded data packets with WireShark, I took screenshots since the crime tip site doesn't send detailed conversations. I was really getting into my situation. It seemed like my phone was being hacked because its content was known by one or more people. I bought burner prepaid phones from Walmart. On one occasion, I texted my brother that I'm on my way home, in hexadecimal. It seemed like the hexadecimal was translated from what I heard from the projected sounds. -

- I never typed my passwords, and used a password manager, so that rules out keyloggers. Everything I know is from trial and error, and knowing what my world should’ve been and what it has become.-

- At that time, I’d remove the batteries from my Samsung phone, which had removable battery compartment, unlike iPhones and other Apple products, when I wanted privacy. I took out the wireless card from my nonApple products and used wired connections. But still, after something like Drs appntment, with my phone battery out, other people were still reacting 2 something On the roads. And it was the usual demographic: college age youth looking on their phones with certain expressions.-

- This leads way to brain hacking and "what my ears hear" or "hacking some other tech" in vicinity like an Alexa device. The school then decides to cover its tracks. My parents get duped into school telling them I’m a paranoid schizophrenic, despite all the things they engaged in.

- the George Berg faction? despite asserting he knew he was doing wrongdoing, tells parents and show, "we can prove all of it" or "fix allegedly crazy Renny" through getting him involved in a time consuming project, where memories and information allegedly become visible.-

- 2 further complicate things, no 1 can speak 2 me, I can’t talk 2 them about situation.

I remember in Albany, school abused use of community. People at school would get friends in community 2 check who was “following me” based on rumors of stalker kids.-

- But aren’t "those people" now following me to figure out who's following me? Are these people retarded? I know from first four years, of a car, and college experience, how people look on the road.-

-When that changes, & like how things are done things now( telling people when I’m on the road), how am I a schizo thinking people are following me? I’d see the strangest things. Police cars driving in area of my apartment, as though school or something told him, give him courage by driving by his apartment. But what does that sound like? It sounds like black helicopters or white trucks reported as being seen as scare tactics near military bases like the infamous Area 51. Was someone trying to give me "signs" to make me look crazy, scare me out of Albany, or the complete opposite: give me courage?-

- You have no idea the amount of stupidity & negligent use of resources. Like police cars or community members. All because of the very obvious truth behind a situation: -no one talks to the individual at the center of all this. -It’s just a snowball of justifications. -Now they want to to try know "of" me by allegedly mind reading me. the mind reading is the justification for never speaking to me or actually knowing me. They see opportunity like "hey this is perfect, lets see what kind of info we can fish for, through waves in his head-

-But again figures…it’s America…a circus. Because of negligent law makers and drug/alcohol abuse, you have people not properly checking, if trains in NYC, will derail twice in a week, or if plane doors will fly open mid flight,-

- or not vetting House Reps resumes, to see if lying, or if guy copiloting a plane, is mentally sound, and not on drugs, and not putting the flight at gunpoint.-

- what all these people have in common? They don’t care about consequences or someone convinces them of a lack of consequences.-

- Biblically it’s said, “whoever harms the innocence of these little ones, it’s better they tie a rock around their head and drown themselves.” This little ones are symbolic of an innocent mind. Someone that harms the sanctity of the mind burns in h*ll-

- isn’t America about protecting dignity of even 1 American life?! Isn’t justice system about releasing 100 guilty people, over throwing 1 innocent life in trouble/jail? Ive been in my situation longer than others in jail. Y is my innocent life not worth dignity of freedom?-

- a follower of Christ said, “Master, let me bury my father, before following You” Christ sharply responds, “Let the dead bury the dead.” The lesson is not to wait, to stop an injustice, especially simply b/c we’re closer to the end than the beginning. Stop injustice now.-

“Justice should be swift and indiscriminate.”

UPDATED ADDITIONAL TUMBLR POST BELOW

what am I not seeing, if you're thinking something else...foul play? Deceit? Trickery at its worst?!

[teenageread]

Review: The Blue Book of Nebo

Synopsis:

Prize-winner in three categories of the 2019 Wales Book of the Year Award, The Blue Book of Nebo paints a spellbinding and eerie picture of society's collapse, and the relationships that persist after everything as we know it disappears. After nuclear disaster, Rowenna and her young son are among the rare survivors in rural north-west Wales. Left alone in their isolated hillside cottage, after others have died or abandoned the towns and villages, they must learn new skills in order to remain alive. With no electricity or modern technology they must return to the old ways of living off the land, developing new personal resources.

While they become more skilled and stronger, the relationship between mother and son changes in subtle ways, as Dylan  must take on adult responsibilities, especially once his baby sister Mona arrives. Despite their close understanding, mother and son have their own secrets, which emerge as in turn they jot down their thoughts and memories in a found notebook. As each reflects on their old life and the events since the disaster which has brought normal, twenty-first century life to an end, their new-found maturity and sense of purpose contrast not only with their old selves but also with new emotional challenges. In this prize-winning and best-selling new novel, Manon Steffan Ros not only explores the human capacity to find new strengths when faced with the need to survive, but also the structures and norms of the contemporary world.

Plot:

Dylan barely remembers times before the end. Sure he knows school, friends, driving in the car, and even candy and the pizza store. Yet for the majority of his life it has been him and his mother Rowenna, living in Nebo by themselves. To keep educated, and for something to do, Dylan writes the tales of Nebo, and what he, his mother, and baby sister Mona do for survival. Dylan loves his mother, but does not always trust her as at times she becomes cold to him, distant and unloving. Therefore, animals such as Pwyll, the two headed bunny that Dylan finds one day while hunting. Rowenna has her own secrets, like how their society truly ended, how Dylan came to be, and how after not seeing another human in years, how Rowenna gets pregnant with Mona. When the baby falls to an illness,Dylan and Rowenna work together to save the little girl's life, using their knowledge of the woods, and their reliance on each other to keep their small family afloat amongst the sea of nothingness in Nebo.   

Thoughts: 

Manon Ros writes this short tale of a dystopian North of Wales, from the point of view of mother and son trying everything they can for survival. Told in a journal style, we see the point of view of Dylan and Roweena talking about their time in Nebo, and before the end happened. This double perspective makes the story fascinating as you read for 14 year old Dylan who is trying to survive in the only world he truly knows, to Roweena who at 36 remembers life prior to the end, and thus, is using their journal to recount her time before and during Nebo. Title of the book is quite obvious, as Ros has our characters living in a palace Dylan called Nebo, and the book they are writing their memories in is blue. As the story is not long, Ros keeps the story at a fast pace, switching between Dylan and Roweena, we see their slow lifestyle live out, as we learn about their past and their future. The relationship is unique, after all, not every fourteen year old boy will love their mother everyday, so seeing Dylan and Roweena interact was different and a unique relationship to focus on. As the two of them needed each other for survival along with their parent-child relationship, it made the story compelling in a different way. Mona, the daughter, a baby for the story does not have much character herself, but her relationship to Dylan and Roweeena really drives the plot, and shows the powerfulness of family during this dystopian time. Overall, this short story is worth the read for the powerfulness of family, a dystopian era novel, and how to survive the unthinkable.   

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[strawberryteabunny]

I’m not in the tagged list but I am a lifestyler so I think my experience might be helpful! Long reply so I’m putting in a cut. (Hope it’s ok to reply as well, sorry!)

I’ve definitely had bad experiences wearing lolita- mostly people taking photos without permission (and even when I say to stop), but also more rarely people saying really rude things to me and grabbing/touching me. Small towns and very touristy areas in big cities tend to be the worst in my experience, and sweet lolita gets way more attention than gothic or classic. Tbh I’ve moved to wearing more classic/ oldschool styles a bit because of this; OTT sweet is just a bit impossible to wear in everyday life without feeling like a tourist attraction. (Also: I live in the US, though I’ve traveled a lot in Europe and I’ve generally had really good experiences there! I feel like Europeans ignore it more which I prefer lol, although my first trip to England had some pretty bad interactions) I used to wear more himekaji/girly kei styles as well which get less attention but are still recognizably ‘different’. I think if you’re not sure about wearing jfashion in public I’d start with buying some Liz Lisa or Ank Rouge pieces and see how it makes you feel!

You tend to develop a ‘thick skin’ if you wear this sort of thing a lot. I’ve been called Little Bo Peep, Mary Poppins, Strawberry Shortcake, Alice, etc. so many times I just don’t care anymore, or about insults at all. You tend to develop automatic responses to questions like ‘are you in a play’ ‘is there an occasion’ ‘what are you wearing’ etc. Young people are way more likely to know what lolita fashion is or recognize it which is very cool! I think prejudice towards people who wear alt fashion is lessening.

I’ve also had really nice experiences, little kids will often think you’re a princess or people will just give you lots of compliments. But that can also be exhausting sometimes; tbh I just wish a lot that I could wear lolita and go unnoticed like ‘normal’ people. If I’m just running a quick errand I’ll usually throw on leggings and a sweatshirt so I don’t get stopped when I absolutely don’t have the energy.

About parents; it really depends! One thing is, I would be careful about using the word ‘lolita’ with older adults as they are more likely to associate it with the Nabokov novel. It’s not related but people will assume anyway. I’ve just told my parents it’s a Japanese style inspired by Victorian fashions. They were a bit uncertain about it but I’ve always dressed a bit differently (I used to be very goth/emo actually!) so it really didn’t bother them as long as it made me happy. My mom does worry about me finding a boyfriend though lol.

There are so many good things though about wearing lolita; I feel like I’ve really developed a strong sense of confidence in myself and I don’t care what other people think about how I look at all. I feel free to pursue what makes ME happy in life without fear of judgement or conforming to the norm. I’ve met amazing friends through the fashion, and my friends who don’t wear lolita are equally awesome because they are the type who don’t judge a person by how they look and think it’s cool to be different. Wearing a very alt fashion immediately weeds out a lot of prejudiced people! If someone won’t talk to you or doesn’t want to be seen with you they’re not worth your time.

I feel like I’ve been able to be a part of a wonderful community that cares deeply about its history, and like I’ve gotten to experience a secret world of imagination most people don’t know exists; I really love the subculture of lolita fashion as well as just the clothes themselves. It’s brought me so much happiness and helped me to truly be my ‘real self’ so I don’t regret getting into it at all. I don’t know if I’ll always wear lolita or if my style will change but I know I’ll always wear the clothes and be the type of person that makes me truly happy.

please ignore this if my ask is too invading !!

hi cellophane! i really admire your style/aesthetic and i want to start dressing up similarly, but i was wondering what your experience is with wearing those pretty dresses/accessories in public? the only thing stopping me from dressing up like you is my fear of judgment and my parents' disapproval ;; if you don't mind sharing, how did you deal with judgmental and disapproving people? i would love to hear your advice on this <3

hello! merry christmas anonymous ♡ your question is very interesting and it makes me very happy to answer it, thank you very much for asking !

i wear lolita outside quite often, once or twice a week, it depends on the time but i wear it quite often and if i don't i wear an alt goth/j-fashion style (girly kei) and honestly...as i've been dressing like that, eccentricall, since i was fourteen, i don't pay attention to people anymore. and to be honest, most people will compliment you, lots of young people come up to me and say "i love your style!" or some older people tell me i look like really cute, that i'm very adorable...well, i never had bad experiences with lolita fashion.

for your parents, i don't know how old you are but i think you should impose yourself, if you feel that this style suits you, if you feel yourself and pretty in it, they'll understand, with time...i started lolita at a very young age, i loved this style from the age of 8 and from the age of 8 until i was 13-14 i used to talk to my mum about lolita! and then, i was allowed to go to my first anime/manga convention and i decided to do a "cosplay" (i pretended it was for a disguise... it was a gothic style dress) and then... i put it on when i went back to school and my mum saw me in it and thought i looked pretty. and then, she accepted that it was for a cosplay. It was a gothic-style dress) and then... i wore it when i went back to school and my mum saw me in it and thought i looked pretty. and then she accepted that it was my style. she still has a hard time because she's afraid, even when i wear alt fashion, she's afraid someone will tease me or hurt me, but that's never happened !

i think that to get a more interesting opinion, i'd recommend that you ask this question to some of my friends (@fleureailee , @didonette , @nuzzle). they wear lolita more often than i do, and they're confronted with people's "bad" sides. BUT i want you to understand that it's YOUR style, and nothing and no-one should impose their vision of things on YOUR style. pick up lolita recommendations, ask for advice, but never let anyone make you believe that it's not your style certainly not people who dress badly.

have a nice day anonymous, sorry for the long reply :(♡