#and acts similar to dementia

[c1trvswurld]

love it when a fic or sany overwatch fanwork gives consequences of cole using deadeye for long periods of time over his life

[sarahlancashire]

too sick to go to work. prayer circle for me to be well enough to go to my acting course on tuesday night

[moredifferentthanusual]

wait im so confused. people in the notes were acting like it was bad for the doctors to discuss your case in the room? its a shared room and thats where the patient is, obviously they discuss it there. do usians not have shared hospital rooms? do their doctors not talk to them about their health? do they drag the patients out of bed to a consultation room? huh?

Thread from Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez on her experience in a hospital in Cuba

[afloweroutofstone]

One 82-year-old woman, who wore pajamas with holes in them because she didn’t want to spend money on new ones, didn’t realize she had given Republicans more than $350,000 while living in a 1,000 square-foot Baltimore condo since 2020. By the time a Taiwanese immigrant from California passed away from lung cancer this year at age 80, she had given away more than $180,000 to Trump’s campaign and a litany of other Republican candidates – writing letters to candidates apologizing for not getting donations to them on time because she was going into heart surgery. She had only $250 in her bank account when she died, leaving her family scrambling to cover the cost of her funeral. And a 78-year-old, a widow who limited showers to save on her water bill and canceled her long-term care insurance, didn’t understand why the retirement savings her husband had left her was dwindling so quickly. After CNN reached out to her family, they learned that the woman gave more than $200,000 in donations to Democratic political groups and candidates. The federal government has gone after non-political companies for similar tactics, such as making false statements in ads or making them seem as if they were written directly to the recipient. But regulators have done little to stop fundraisers from using misleading and deceptive advertisements to target vulnerable donors. And the lawmakers who experts say would need to act to protect consumers at both the state and federal levels are the same ones benefiting from the current fundraising machines.

[dinner-and-a-show]

You know what messes me up the most about the brain eating scene in Hannibal? How, if the realistic consequences of the scene were to happen, it would definitely kill Hannibal.

In the real world, eating a person is, health wise, roughly the same at eating any other animal if prepared correctly. The exception is the brain. Even cooked, there’s a chance of Kuru, a disease similar to mad cow disease, from human brain tissue. Eaten raw, there’s also any diseases from raw meat, although I can’t say if any are fatal.

If Hannibal did eat Will’s brain, there is a possibility he dies from a slow, painful disease. It would wither away his body mentally and physically, there’s tremors, muscle jerks, mood changes, dementia. It’s rare, but it’s very possible. And Hannibal, as both a doctor and cannibal, should know this.

Do you think, when deciding what part of him to eat, Hannibal was so focused on the ~symbolism~ of eating Will’s brain, he didn’t think about the consequences, impulsive to a fault? Too focused on the epic culmination of betrayals and emotions that he disregarded his health for his message.

Or did he know. Did he pick Will’s brain, not just for its message, but because of the higher chance he wouldn’t survive it? They’re blurred, after all, no saying if either would survive separation, so why not kill both of them in the same act. Suicide is the enemy, but Hannibal isn’t killing himself here. He’s in control, it’s his decision, but he doesn’t die from his own hands. It’s Will’s body, Will’s brain, that’s killing him. Of course it is. Who else would it be. Who else would deserve the slow, steady rot of Hannibal’s body. Even when he’s dead, Will Graham is the only one that can kill Hannibal Lecter, the only one who’s allowed to.

[kiragecko]

The Husband is reading Feet of Clay to nq (our eldest) and me. I last read it over a decade ago. What's hitting me this time is how Pratchett likes hammering his point home through multiple channels.

-

This is a book about respectability politics, discrimination, and privilege. The golems are the A-plot, loosely standing in for trafficked people/undocumented immigrants. (They also share some similarities to disabled experiences.)

But the book has SO MANY subplots, all sending the same message!

-

Cheri is constantly kicking down - trying to figure out how to survive as a dwarf in a human-centric city, while badmouthing the undead. It has echoes both of assimilated immigrants turning on newer, less acceptable ones AND 'normal' gays trying to distance themselves from the 'weird' queers.

The key to Vetinari's poisoning is recognizing the classist forces acting on the palace servants/the residents of Cockbill Street. How their desire to stay respectable holds them down, keeps them hungry and meek. How a healthy powerful man can survive, but a poor baby and old woman are vulnerable. And we see how they kick down as well - tormenting William Scuggins, who seems to have been either mentally disabled or mentally ill, for entertainment.

And the royal plot is contrasted with Vimes' mutterings about how the common people suffered under royalty but are still attracted to it. How they seem to WANT someone above them. Sure, some people might suffer, but nobody thinks it will be THEM, so it's fine.

-

Reading it again makes it almost unbelievable that people were trying to suggest Pratchett would be anti-trans. Right after Cheri comes out, Angua takes her to an undead bar, where it's repeatedly mentioned that people who "can't pass" can "be themself." When she chooses her new name, Angua thinks about how most people wouldn't have associated that name with someone with a full beard, but now they're going to have to. It's not subtle.

(There's also a woman with dementia there, in one of the books examples of how NOT to kick down. Pratchett doesn't DIRECTLY focus on disability this book, but there are a lot of little moments. (All the golems use AAC!))

-

I don't know. I'm just struck by how intersectionalist Pratchett's politics were. How this story can have 4 very different plots going on at the same time, but all of them have the same message.

He was a really great writer.

[bandtrees]

this has always been one of my favorite lines in this scene it’s so striking to me. i think debating over callum’s level of lucidity and what can or cannot “fix” him is deeply antithecal to what the story is trying to express with him - but the idea that callum is still there and still a person who does have the capacity to love mingus, just not in a way she can ever comprehend or accept, because she can't comprehend or accept anything outside her narrow worldview, is sooooo good.

there is no way of actually knowing if callum is proud of mingus, much less recognizes her at all - but it's added to by the fact there's only so much of that she would accept even if he could. ultimately, she wants validation and power, his prestige, from him, she wants a supportive parental figure she never had - there's only so much of that callum is able to provide even in a world where her stint to fix his memory actually worked. he's like a hundred. he never even MET her. to say nothing of all he's missed in the past fifty-odd years. to say nothing of how his age may have messed with his mind deteriorating even without the pre-existing brain damage.

and mingus' phrasing here implies he doesn't even look at her when she visits - which brings me to the visit that radicalized her: the one after her surgery, where he was watching gingi out the window.

obviously, callum watching gingi is mostly for the thematics of it all, how similar the two of them are in ways mingus refuses to recognize, but theres also the thought of... callum's been sitting alone in that room for over half his life, barely lucid if at all. of course he's going to be drawn to a brightly-colored thing making noises and knocking stuff over outside. if he can't respond to stimuli of the people around him he's at the very least going to latch onto something more visually interesting than Brown Wall and Brown Figure.

but it's not like mingus can think of it like that, because she's internalized so much about her grandfather and built up such a specific, personalized vision of him - she doesn't see him as an elderly man with (a fictional equivalent to) dementia, she sees him as President Callum Crown™, the man she personally has to please and live up to the legacy of and make proud, disregarding the fact that's not something he has the mental capacity to even do - because she's so obsessed with validation and complete control that the only way she can get it is by either subjugating others and forcing it out of them (what she does with her townsfolk), or just completely projecting on someone who, for her purposes, is basically a blank slate.

which is maddening to her in its own way, see how crazy she drives herself trying to restore callum's memory in the first place - but also, would she be happy even if callum could see her for who she is? post-game, when she's working on herself, that's an irrelevant question as she's pushed past that need, but as we know her? absolutely not.

i love the ch3 standoff between norm and mingus as a show of "Okay guys let’s see who can dehumanize this disabled guy harder (via pedestal-putting) and justify themselves for it better" and why i think it is so important that it’s gingi who reads the postcard and ultimately speaks for callum instead of either of them, or even the narrator. they can’t read, and they struggle to, but they manage to get it right even when people are telling them to stop. and the fact they’re able to do it at all, are given the chance to do so, and are ultimately the one to wind down this conflict shows that the world of dialtown, while not perfect, really is how callum would have wanted it.

both gingi and callum are some of the most altruistic and human characters ever, and the crux of their parallels is that they are denied this by close-minded people because they happen to Behave Strangely. it's why seeing mingus act the way she does hits so hard - she loves her paw-paw, yes, but if she were to see him in a vacuum, a one-limbed man who can hardly think, much less speak for himself: or even his younger self, who was struggling to make ends meet with his odd inventions...

...well, the feeling norm's imagining here would probably be mutual. mingus' relationship with bigotry is a very fascinating one, she's very close-minded but views certain oddities (ie her flesh-head) as having earned their place and thus being fine - she's a freak too, by her own admission, but she's doing it for a just and wider purpose, so it's fine. which is, ironically, the ideology callum forced upon himself.

callum was obsessed with helping people, pushing himself to do more and more, because it was the only way he ever found respect. if he didn't help people and have grand visions for the world and make himself "useful" to society at large, then what would he be, if not a freak?

mingus and her paw-paw are very similar people, from their well-intentioned extremism, to their stubbornness and paranoia, to their inability to view themselves as anything more than a vessel for that grand cause they believe in (callum in the dialup, mingus in restoring her paw-paw's memory) - which is funny, because if mingus was able to view callum, and herself, as a flawed human person, she would come to understand how similar they really are.

:(

[nocturnowlette]

I don't know if this has been said before, but Everywhere at the End of Time is one of the most interesting examples of mass suggestibility and psychological priming that I've ever seen.

Some people seem to think that suggestions are only something that can be done with trance, but it's simply a core part of human communication. If you've ever gone into the comments of a youtube video that you liked and read a bunch of positive comments and left liking the video more after, you've been suggested.

If someone has ever anonymously insulted you and altered the way you saw yourself for a while, you've been suggested. If you've ever been a victim of losing "the game" or told your breathing is now manual, you've been suggested.

Suggesting someone is the mere act of summoning an idea in their mind that alters their behavior or perception. Even for a few particular series of hypnotic files, there seems to be intentional campaigns run to make them seem "dangerous" and "too effective" to plant the idea in the mind of anyone who listens to it.

In a weirdly similar sense, the buzz around Everywhere at the End of Time is essentially a self-sustaining feedback loop of suggestion. I am not saying that the album is not an experience or is without artistic merit or doesn't affect someone in any way, necessarily. However, I would be much more surprised if listening to repeated degrading loops of old music for 6 hours doesn't exhaust someone's brain.

The idea of it simulating dementia, however, is complete nonsense. I don't know where the idea started, but it seems to be in that perfect zone of "a little hard to believe, but easy to find 'proof' of as you listen". The moment someone finds themselves exahausted from hours of this album, find their brain challenged in a way it normally isn't, suddenly that seed of an idea planted in their head starts to sprout. And, as it continues and the concrete effects mix with the person's paranoia about the suggestion, it will eventually become as real as if it genuinely was. Over the course of 6 hours, at least.

And, once this "effect" was observed enough, it was given cultural legitimacy through personal testimony en masse and pseudoscientific "video essayists" trying to find these magical elements that simulate fuckin dementia. It's so fascinating to see happen in real time, and an interesting isolated example of how an idea can affect not just persons, but people.

Luckily for us, suggestions have a tendency to fade. Your breathing went back automatic again, after all.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

whenever talk about level of autism (1/2/3) and support need labels (low/mid/high), see bunch people say how they don’t like levels because can’t be described by single number or single word, and how if someone want know what they need help with, just ask, disabled people know their needs!

by all means, allowed feel this way for self! this post not way say you must like autism levels or support need labels for self.

and yes! ableism & infantization like assume all disabled people not able know self, so it sensitive topic for many, and true that many disabled people do know own self & needs & disability & limits.

but do notice pattern: often, people who say this, more likely comparatively less language & communication struggle, comparatively less intellectual & cognitive struggle, and able be somewhat independent—people who can know and explain their needs in timely manner—which become problem when they go beyond talk about self and try speak for all autistic (or I/DD, or disabled) people. become problem when say “levels/support needs labels useless and gloss over details and ableist, just ask disabled people themselves we can answer for self.”

(human experience complex. no one number/word/phrase/label can perfectly explain all experience. this include levels, support needs, but also diagnoses like autism.)

here only some! reasons why some autistic people cannot explain struggle & what need help with, why need quick short easy remember word like autism level & support needs labels & severity (but other I/DD may feel similar, but wide and am not entire know don’t want generalize. people with dementia and similar may also feel similar) :

1. cannot communicate all

autism impact social communication ability. may not able explain all complex need and how exactly help. may not have language and word for all. may only able say few words. may only able know few words. may not have functional communication. may not have any word communication.

2. cognitive struggle, cannot remember all, cannot understand all

may be too often confused or overwhelm or brain not clear to explain. may not able know what specific need help with, just “need help.” maybe not remember all thing need help with. may not remember need explain. may not able understand need help. may not understand need explain need help.

3. too much, or take too long explain, too private for random internet, but need something

“level 3” “high support need” may not tell you what exactly need, but definitely tell you “will need a LOT more help than most people, need especially watch out for.” because “autism” not specific enough.

mid/high support need, level 2/3, moderate/severe, often struggle with so much and need help on so much, even if able perfect communicate & cognitive, actual explain can take very long, even hours or more and only touch basic. many half joke about name what don’t need help with faster.

during time sensitive emergencies, or “you don’t need all my medical info but you need know” situations, or “no time/space need be short & sweet summary” situations: ambulance, medical ID, lanyard, ER, quick medical intake paperwork, be/about be called police on, be see as suspicious / act “weird.” all no time/space/ability say anything more than few words.

even outside that. it personal medical info. some don’t want name all. for some, say all bring out many emotions and trauma, like embarrassed or ashamed or hopeless.

why do you say autistic instead list all autism symptoms everytime? same reason why many people use & need autism levels and support needs labels.

4. specific for so called “outdated” autism severity: not all able change language. not all want change language. not everywhere have levels. for some, severity most accurate describe how autism symptoms impact.

so, no, not all autistic people, not all disabled people able know & explain self! not all able answer for self! some may only able use quick summary words like autism levels & support needs & severity, some none at all. some need others help explain, some need lanyard or other visual ID for everyone see explanation because we autism visible and everyone already see.

remember us

[bewilderedsblog]

MORE PROOF ON HOW THE POWERPUFF GIRLS COULD BEAT BLACKHAT?

For starters, we all know how quick to anger and destructive Blackhat could be when he’s angry. He throws “tantrums” by transforming into a giant monster or simply destroying anything in sight. This would make his combat very…messy and destructive!

What does have to do with anything? Well…we do see Blackhat physically attack something other than flug ONCE and that was the Christmas episode when his hatbot went on nice mode! In this image you can see how he mindlessly claws at the robot foaming from the mouth like an animal. He clearly isn’t combat capable if fighting makes him act this way! (I’d also like to add this scene is REALLY energetic for Blackhat because we’ve never seen him act so similar to dementia before)

NOW HOW DOES THE POWERPUFF GIRLS FIGHT?

One word and that’s SYNERGY. Whenever they’re fighting the girls work together and practically beat their enemies via team moves or taking turns quickly. If you ever bothered to notice the girls whack their enemies right after getting hit once, this shows that their fighting methods includes punching them mid reaction/recoil to avoid giving their enemy a fair chance to fight back which also includes hitting them in the same place multiple times.(mostly the face which is a very critical place to get hit in repeatedly)

FINAL NOTES:

Summery: unlike the powerpuff girls, who fight professionally and clearly Blackhat fights like a crazed raccoon. This gives the girls yet ANOTHER advantage over him! So in combat they can very likely use many of their overpowered fusion attacks to take him out! (Or heat beat him a bunch)

-his bloodlust over seeing people in pain will likely cause him to try and focus on sending bigger and huge attacks rather than thinking about them.

- He would definitely be taken by surprise over their abilities because it’s clear that black hat is SUPER used to everyone sucking up to him or being weaker.

-bubbles going hardcore would simply be the end of him without a doubt!

-flug and demencia mostly do the hero taking out work while he just…sits in his fancy chair.

[idolbound]

The way that I approach Meredith in either of her redemptive AUs (e.g. Inquisition or Veilguard), is that, after her red lyrium idol sword, Certainty, blows up in her face (and ergo seen as a rejection from the Maker after she called on Him), being exiled serves as an important purpose to helping Meredith realize she was wrong, and understanding that she went too far.

After being exiled out of Kirkwall (think a bloodier, more injured and rushed version of Cersei being walked through King's Landing), for the Inquisition verse, she ventures amidst the outbreak of the mage-templar rebellion, trying to not only heal and recover, but to survive without a direct supply of lyrium. In some ways, she'd have access to supplies here and there for the right amount of coin but as the conflict continues, it becomes harder to get. As the Inquisition forms and moves to Skyhold, and word spreads, she makes the perilous journey there (scarred up, far weaker, and gaunt looking than she once was), and begs the Inquisitor to allow her to join; she is basically a sellsword at this point looking for lyrium supply to stave off the awful effects of withdrawal, but also as a way to try and at least redeem herself and to give herself purpose again. Of course, Culllen and Varric won't be happy she's there, but if accepted, she tends to keep to herself, finding quarters in basically a storage closet, sleeping on bags of feed for the horses and keeps her head down, going where she is demanded to go. She's like a ghost in Skyhold, knowing she failed Kirkwall and failed herself. Over time, with the completion of her personal quest (retrieving personal items from the Gallows/Kirkwall), she finds a new resolve and will survive for about 7-10 years after the Inquisition is over before lyrium dementia will finally set in. (If her personal quest is not completed, she will die serving the Inquisition).

For Veilguard, the tale is spun a little differently. In those 3 years, she still spends time reflecting on herself, but as access to lyrium becomes more difficult, she becomes more desperate and instead, after slowly, horrifically going through withdrawal and looking far worse for wear, she ends up travelling west to enlist with the Wardens as a last resort to save herself from an inevitable end (by, well, choosing another inevitable end). While she has years of experience as a templar, she ends up re-training to serve on the front lines against darkspawn, and eventually, some believe her ability to successfully suppress magic can be useful against certain types of darkspawn, so they secure a supply of lyrium which reinvigorates her strength and capability. But in this time, she is also much of a loner among the Wardens. While they accept nefarious types and criminals, those who know what she did let her know as such, even if it risks having solidarity in the ranks. But in this time, of course, she spends it fighting and giving herself to another cause (all she knows how to do is to serve an institution and something greater). Only after Weisshaupt, can she surface as a possible companion for the Veilguard, should they require her services.

For both verses, though, I think the act of redemption does not necessarily mean that Meredith is suddenly a good person. She's not. But! what it does mean is that she has been removed from the social institution that shaped her personal beliefs and allowed her to oppress mages; it is hard to see the evil when you are inside of it, but once exiled from the Order and Kirkwall more broadly, and spending time alone, she comes to realize that using the idol to gain more power and control was too much, and in a way, it's almost like how mages use blood magic to achieve similar purposes, and that is the very thing she hates the most.

Ultimately, she knows what life she has left to live is an early death sentence; she saw how her adoptive father slowly faded away from lyrium-related dementia, and knows that fate will likely be hers, too. So, Meredith believes that achieving redemption for herself is not to make up for the lives she has hurt and harmed, but to serve and protect others until her dying breath; it is the least she can do because it is all she has ever known.

She still holds prejudice towards mages (and that will always be ingrained in her), but she lacks the power to do anything about their existence now. She cannot let go of her early childhood trauma and general fear of what magic can do, but she has been removed from her station and the means to persecute mages. If the Inquisitor or Rook has mages in their ranks, she accepts it without argument (but she will be avoidant or weary around them, always keeping a watchful eye, just in case).

Also, in this sense, living in exile (despite living under rather unprecedented or... interesting times), is the first time Meredith has ever lived a normal life outside of the Gallows and the Order, and the demands of the Chantry. So this also plays into her redemptive arc by allowing her to experience things she's never gotten to do before, understanding life from a vastly different perspective (even if it is during a time when the world may be ending, and for a very short time compared to her old life).

In the end, redemption for Meredith is not a full 180 degree turn around for her character, but regret weighs heavily upon her; regret for what she did, regret for failing Kirkwall, and regret for never having a life outside of it.

She is haunted by ghosts; she is haunted by herself.

[fleurelinathehybrid]

💛[Chapter 5: Side Effects]💛

As soon as he arrived at his kingdom, Morpheus realized that he had to resolve a bigger lawsuit than those he had pending. Fortunately, he no longer felt any discomfort caused by the indisposition he suffered from those strange chocolates that appeared on his throne. Matter that he had to fix later, but that he would not forget.

Lucienne appeared to tell what happened with that fugitive nightmare; along with Matthew, who said that Constantine was furious about the situation caused and that that creation was kept as a precaution in one of his offices. Immediately, he slipped into the dream of the poor novice who was the victim of such similar torture, in order to entrust a dream with calming her disturbed mind.

He then proceeded to correct the inappropriate behavior of his runaway nightmare. One that was capable of making the dreamer believe that his mind was playing tricks on him or making him see things that were not real. Abuse of that nightmare could lead to what humans often call "dementia." The nightmare was stubborn, but not persistent enough to challenge him and he accepted the proposed punishment for his fault.

Morpheus, immediately remembering what he had put off, goes to his workshop with the purpose of continuing with his new creation. He was nowhere near reaching his workshop.

Until he felt a stab in his belly, strong enough to make him fall to his knees in pain and gag.

As best he could, Dream stood up and took long strides to the bathroom of his palace.

He reached the toilet, on his knees, gasping from exhaustion and pain. He was breathing tiredly, until he retched. Seconds later, he began to vomit. Arch after arch, the Eternal lost strength to lean on the toilet.

"What the hell is happening to me?"

He asked himself terrified, he didn't know how, but I think he knew why.

He had to check it, but now he had to wait until he was physiologically at peace. He may need the help of one of his siblings. He didn't like the idea very much, but he saw it as necessary. He had to call her, the only one of his siblings he could trust.

—Death… —he vomits again, panting heavily. —Please, sister… Help me.

It didn't take long for him to answer the call and appear. The second sister appeared, with her black tank top, jeans, leather boots and her distinguished seal; a silver Ankh hanging from his neck, which greatly highlights his dark complexion and black wavy hair.

As soon as they looked at each other, worry took over her. She got to his level and grabbed his shoulder, scared.

—Dream, I'm here. —She began to speak to him in a soft voice. —What happened? Are you OK?

—Sister, please don't make fun. —He retches again, feeling a gentle massage on his lower back. —But... I think I fell for their jokes again.

The anthropomorphic personification of Death was trying to make his poker face to know exactly what he was referring to, but his concern for his little brother's health was much stronger than that. She had to help him.

—It was Desire again, right? —Questions Death, making Morpheus look at her with teary eyes showing genuine shame for confessing that. —And now what did they did to you?

The Prince of Nightmares sighs, seeking to calm the swirling in his stomach. —I'm going to show you. It's in my chambers.

Without thinking or asking, Death takes Dream's arm to stand him up and lead him out of his bathroom. Already outside, Lucienne appears, worried about her Lord's condition and surprised by the presence of Death. The explanation is quick, making Lucienne understand that she was now in charge of the kingdom while her king rested.

Now they were in Morpheus' room who was sitting on his bed, along with Matthew, who not recently had noticed his lord acting strange (confessing that he was the one who notified Lucienne of his condition).

—Matthew... —he gasped, too tired to even speak. —The box is on the little table over there. —He points to the little table in the corner of the room.

The raven flew to where its boss indicated, took the empty gift box that was there with its claws and flew with it until it left the box on the bed, a few centimeters near Death; and then he withdrew from his king's chambers. The eldest sister was dumbfounded, her eyes square. She noticed a small note taped to the box. She read it.

She closed her eyes, holding her breath. She so badly wanted to hit two of her siblings. The first was Desire, and there was no need to ask why. That rogue beggar was a pain in the butt for many, and to make matters worse they always had fun when they did it. As soon as she managed to figure out what the fuck they had done, she would go to their kingdom and give them a strong pull on the ear until she took them to the Destiny's realm (even if he used their cat ears to mock, she would pull them too).

And the second, he was squeezing his belly with his hands due to the strong pain he was feeling. He deserved a hit and the karma he was receiving at that moment, but she wouldn't be so cruel to him because of the amount of patience she had for him.

—You knew from the beginning it couldn't have been me, right? —Death asks him with a raised eyebrow.

Dream looked at her, tearing up. —I know. And yet I feel like an idiot. —He gritted his teeth because of the pain.

Death smiled defeated. He gave his foolish brother a hug, earning a small sob from him in response. —Now, now. It's already happened.

Dream hid his forehead in his sister's neck, due to the pain and shame that came from his heart, releasing tears because of the pain that was already unbearable.

—Do you want to tell me how it happened? —Dream lifts his head from Death's neck, to look at her with his reddened eyes and a little blushing with shame.

—After solving some problems with my subjects, I found… the box of chocolates on top of my throne. —he confesses nervously. —I saw the note, it said that you had brought them to me. —wipes his tears and blows his nose. —I thought it was you because you're the only one who's always there for me, and I wasn't thinking about anyone else.

That filled Death with joy, he couldn't help but give Dream a hug. This made him smile.

This smile lasts very little. —As soon as I opened the box, I saw them. I took one and ate it. Then another. And another, and another, and another. And when I realized… I had eaten the entire box.

He had said that last thing, all embarrassed and about to cry again, it had been childish and selfish behavior for an endless adult.

—I left the box in my room and prepared to continue with my work in my kingdom. —His voice began to falter. —And I felt the pains, these were easy to bear. Until they increased and I decided to take a break to appease them. I also had a headache.

—Ok, maybe that's your karma because you ate the package of chocolates and didn't save one for me.

—Death! —Morpheus complained.

—Okay, okay! I was just joking. —the brunette laughed.

Dream looks at her reproachfully. —Afterwards, I decided to take a nap, to relieve the headache.

Death, trying to find a hidden point in his brother's story, stood up and looked him in the face.

—How long did your nap last, Dream?

That took him by surprise. —Huh?

—How long did your nap last? —he asked again. —Are you sure you fell asleep and didn't get up again?

That question had left him dismayed. To be honest, what he consciously remembers was that. However, that didn't explain a recent thing.

How the hell had he appeared in Hob Gadling's room? And in his bed, completely naked?

Immediately, everything fell into place. That and more hazy memories of that night came to his mind. And everything started to go to hell.

What the hell was in the chocolates?

Why had he fallen so low?

Why would Desire do this to him?

To see him suffer?

To get revenge?

What would he say to Hob?

What had he done?

—Dream? —Death, confused, takes her younger brother's shoulder.

Dream looks up, with thick tears running down his eyes and his lips trembling. Death worries.

—Sister, I think… I did something damn crazy.

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

Hi! Do you want to rant about space dementia? I always like learning about new songs and their meanings :)

Bye <3

I DO.!!1! Okay so let’s strap in bc this might be a little long. Sorry!!!

First i’ll put the put the song for reference

Okay to understand this analysis, you have to understand what “space dementia” actually is. Space dementia is a type of (fake) sickness that some astronauts will get, that makes them feel lonely/depressed, and that they or anything else doesn’t matter anymore. Basically because they’re in a giant space of literal nothing, it makes them feel so insignificant and also feel like just another nothing floating along in it.

Now, there is 2 separate analyses for this which might make this really long so..sorry. One looks at it through the more direct lense of space dementia, while the other is how Space Dementia can parallel the feelings of a toxic relationship. You can skip one or the other if you want and i’ll label them.

Also throughout this I will be saying him when referring to the person singing due to the person singing Matt Bellamy and I can differentiate what I am talking about.

SPACE DEMENTIA THROUGH A DIRECT LENSE:

“H8 is the one for me

It gives me all I need

And helps me coexist

With the chill, ooh”

Although this part is one of the few confusing bits to me, h8 is often used as hate in chat, which could be saying “hate helps me coexist with the chill” such as being cold and hateful yourself helps you coexist with the chill of space that makes you feel worthless.

“You make me sick

Because I adore you so

I love all the dirty tricks

And twisted games you play on me, ooh”

Okay starting off “you make me sick” is fairly obvious; space dementia is making him sick. “Because I adore you so” is interesting and i love this lyric. Obviously if you didnt love space you wouldnt go and be an astronaut and go into space in the first place. Its saying it exactly as it means: i love you so much that I came to see you for myself, even if im getting sick because of you. “i love all the dirty tricks / and the twisted games you play on me” is basically again saying he doesn’t care what space will do to him, he will still love it as it is.

“Space dementia in my eyes and

Peace will arise

And tear us apart

And make us meaningless again”

“space dementia in my eyes” is literally about how its consuming him and is inside him and how much its affecting him. “peace will arise / and tear us apart / and make us meaningless again” grouping these all together as they basically say the same thing. Saying that everything will eventually stop existing (either the sun consuming earth, black holes consuming space) and make them all meaningless again because everyone, everything will be forgotten, even himself (especially if hes stuck in space).

“You make us wanna die

I'd cut your name in my heart

We'll destroy this world for you

I know you want me to feel your pain, ooh”

“you make us want to die” again, makes the guy want to die bc of how depressed and meaningless its making him feel. “Id cut your name in my heart” he would do anything for space because he loves it so much. Carving your name into my heart is often seen as a metaphorical act of love. “we’ll destory this world for you” not entirely sure on this, but could just be a reaffirmation of literally doing anything. “i know you want me to feel your pain” space is the one inflicting this sickness onto him, making him feel lonely and empty just like space is.

After that is just repeating lyrics but thats Part 1.

-

SPACE DEMENTIA REPRESENTING A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP:

now, this is my favourite/most thought out interpretation, but there are so many different interpretations that follow a similar path of toxic relationship, so that’s what I will explain. If anyone else has thoughts please share though! <3

“H8 is the one for me

It gives me all I need

And helps me coexist

With the chill, ooh”

Hate is the one for me and the rest of this could be like how it helps him coexist in this world even though its not healthy. It could be like he is used to love being hateful possibly from trauma as a kid.

“You make me sick

Because I adore you so

I love all the dirty tricks

And twisted games you play on me, ooh”

Now starting on the actual toxic relationship, I will be talking about space as a person and referring to them as so, so don’t be confused (using she/her for space as well so it doesn’t get more confusing). “you make me sick / Because I adore you so” he loves her so much, so sticking around even though its making him feel horrible about himself. “I love all the dirty tricks / and twisted games you play on me” he loves them all because he loves her so much, even though they’re dirty and twisted. He can’t see past his love for her.

“Space dementia in my eyes and

Peace will arise

And tear us apart

And make us meaningless again”

“space dementia in my dementia” could be referring to how hes blinded by love, and how eventually everything will tear/fall apart and make everything that they had meaningless.

“You make us wanna die

I'd cut your name in my heart

We'll destroy this world for you

I know you want me to feel your pain, ooh”

“you make us want to die” space is making him want to kill himself becuase of her toxic behaviour. “id cut your name into my heart / we’ll destroy this world for you” he would do anything for her basically. “I know you want me to feel your pain” shes making him suffer, possibly disguising it as how shes suffering.

TLDR: or Basically, if that made no sense, this guy is stuck in a toxic relationship and he is too blinded by his lover for him to leave, and shes constantly hurting him, but he sees it as love. He would do anything for her, as he feels like nothing matters except her.

Now for side notes on why else I love the song beside the lyrics. I LOVE Matt Bellamy’s voice in this song specifically. The high notes he manages to pull off are just beautiful. Not only that but the instrumental at the end after the lyrics come to an end just ascends my body every time. It truly feels like you’re floating in space and that everything feels BIG around you, and yet empty. The song feels and sounds so sorrowful too and I think the emotions come through so well through both the vocals and backing track. Something that stuck with me that someone told me was “it sounds like a 70s art studio in the middle of the night” and GOD yeah it really does. Everything about the song is perfect and I hope I never get tired of it from playing it on repeat too much.

thank you for coming to my ted talk on Space Dementia. Sam try not to write a whole essay for every ask about a special interest challenge (IMPOSSIBLE). Im so glad to have this out of my system though and it probably made no sense whatsoever as all my thoughts are usually incoherent written down or said aloud. ^_^ Thanks for the ask and permission to rant and have a great day <3

[estro-gem]

Kinger x Ragatha (Platonic): Misplaced, but present

Author's note:

This is a long awaited duo (at least for me) and I loved figuring them out when I first thought of Oasis. I hope you enjoy these sad saps as much as I enjoyed writing them. Ragatha gets to shine in her role and you get a peek into Kinger's mind.

And you get some of that sweet, sweet ANGST.

Warnings:

Angst

Delusion

Existentialism

Dementia

PTSD

Talks of death

Hurt/Comfort

SUMMARY:

Kinger had seen everything, but he has a hard time telling facts from fiction. Fading in and out of reality, he is suddenly brought into a period of clarity when a good friend came for a visit.

MISPLACED, BUT PRESENT

Kinger loathed the vast, expansive void.

He always felt so lonely, even though he was never alone - cursed with the company of something he couldn't see. Something big and incomprehensible. It - they - they were watching him; he could feel it.

The tingling sensation of eyes burning into him from all directions. It felt like an entire nest of termites chewing their way further and further into him. Little feather-like feet that pitter-pattered all over his wooden shell that he came to know as 'skin,' that left a trailing hot blaze of stinging in their wake.

It didn't matter how much they ate away from him; their hunger never ceased. There was somehow, always, more of him for them to feast on. It burned. It felt like it would never end.

It was his own personal hell.

A hell that blinded him from them who were always watching him. Them, who found the ever-amusing entertainment in his suffering; never ceasing their gaze. Always watching. Ever-consuming. The king was sure that while he couldn't hear them, they were laughing. It was echoing from all around him and yet the silence was as deafening as his claustrophobic void was dark.

A part of the chess-piece's mind was untouched by the madness of his tormented soul, but it did little to lessen the burden of existing. All it could do, was nothing but aid him with empty sympathy.

Sometimes, it was a quiet voice that whispered to him, drowned out by the raging silence that hummed into his skull. He would try his best to answer, but it was like having a conversation with someone behind a thick wall of glass. He usually reverted to speaking about whatever came to mind - be it the works and manners of the digital plain or how the flapping rate of a hummingbird's wings compares to that of a honeybee.

Anything to drown the dreaded, buzzing hum that was the silence within his empty void.

Anything to silence the sound of his own blood rushing through ears.

Then again, there was another corner within his mind that caused hyper-realistic halutionations. Those were his favourite! At first, the experiences were something he dreaded - a bizzare world that his mind conjured from his descent into madness, which farmed the visions, sights and sounds that would have haunted his dreams, were it necessary for him to sleep. The world was vivid, bright and colourful; inhabited by creatures - similar, yet unlike him. They were nothing short of monsters, aliens, and yet they were so human, it scared him.

But soon, he welcomed them - the halusionations. They acted like him. They were just as scared as he was. They were… human. At least, that's what they insisted - and Kinger knew that it all was just a ruse of his mind losing a grip on reality. It wasn't like the king was actually stuck in a Digital Circus.

That would be ridiculous.

But, oh, was it fun to play make-believe! In the void - in reality - he had nothing but darkness and the overwhelming silence pulsating into his ears.

In the Digital Circus, he had friends. Sure, they were friends of his mind's own making, but they were his! And they resembled humans - and that is what he desperately craved the most. It made the long periods in the nothingness all the more worth it when one of his friends just… POPPED into existence. When HE popped into the makings of his deranged mind.

The Circus became a home away from home.

He couldn't wait to see what his mind would conjure up next. WHO it will conjure up next… He dreaded, however, who he would LOSE next.

Yes, as much as he hated it, just as his imaginary friends could come into existence, they could apparently, also permanently leave - destroy themselves. He called it abstraction, because he didn't know what else to call it. To his surprise, his other friends would mourn the ones they lost… and he, too, would suffer the heartache, much to his confusion. Those who abstracted, never came back to him - just as it would be in real life.

They were so human… but they just couldn't be real, could they? Kinger was just slowly growing more insane - that's what it was.

"Kinger?"

The chess piece jumped with a startled yelp. In a blink, the nothingness he so often found himself in - his reality - ripped away from his mind's grasp. He frantically looked into the direction of the voice that chimed so clearly, finding one of his oldest friends standing in his open doorway.

Right! Last time he was in the Circus, he was in his room! He couldn't remember why, though…

"Ragatha!" Kinger said surprised, "You startled me!" The doll cringed in a way that could easily be mistaken for an awkward smile, "Sorry about that. You drifted off again."

"So it seems!" Kinger played along, relaxing into the fantasy that was this Circus, "Did you need anything?"

"A favour, if you wouldn't mind?" She asked, hugging one of her arms to her side, while Kinger shook his head and waved his hands almost annoyed with how she even bothered to ask. Ragatha walked into his space, clumsy and careless, as she took one of his hands and sat at the desk in front of his mirror. The doll looked back, knowing that Kinger would still be standing right where she left him, as his floating hands could be pulled away from his body for an indefinite distance.

He would have blinked if he could, before he maneuvered his way to stand behind her, also looking into the mirror. When the ragdoll let his hand go, he took ownership of it once again, only to place both hands, firmly, onto each of Ragatha's shoulders. He could feel her body melt as she sighed at the feeling of his hands resting on her.

The king piece looked down, expecting her to tilt her head back and lean against him to look back up at him. Instead, he was met with the sight of Ragatha's red locks.

Something just wasn't right with them…

Ah, yes, of course!

"Where's your bow?" the king asked confused.

"Jax was trying to being funny again… It got plucked off." Ragatha scoffed, before asking meekly, "Could you tie it for me?"

Kinger sighed in esperation with an annoyance that didn't mean serious harm, "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy-"

"-you'll thank him for what he does for us?" Ragatha smirked up at Kinger while holding up the blue ribbon for him to take. Instead of doing as she suggested, the king gently cupped both of Ragatha's cheeks, causing her to soften her previously challenging look.

"I don't want him to hurt you." Kinger spoke earnestly, using his thumbs to gently swipe at the area under the doll's eyes, as if he was wiping away tears. Ragatha's heart swelled at his sentiment.

"He doesn't want to hurt me either."

"And yet he does. Over and over." Kinger's grip tightens only slightly, with the intent to make her pay attention, "He doesn't even bother apologizing."

Ragatha sighed, tired, as her body went slack and limp while fully leaning against the large chess piece behind her. They have been over this countless times. It always played of similarly, but it always turned out to be a recurring theme.

"Kinger…" Ragatha took a breath to prepare for the conversation she was about to have, just as she does every few months, "We all do what we have to do."

"At what cost?" he challenged, "Is what we are doing really worth it?"

"I know it's less than ideal, King." Ragatha said, choosing to look at the chess piece's bed in the reflection of the mirror - it's been a while since she could look at the woman that stared back every time she looked into a mirror.

"You don't act like you know that."

"Because it's not how I'm supposed to act if we want this to work." Ragatha said sympathetically, ignoring how deranged she sound to herself. Nothing in the Circus was a choice.

It was a MUST.

"Kinger, this group is the longest we've ever had anyone stay with us." Ragatha spoke, minding her tone, "Isn't the proof in the product, despite the cost? We are all still here. We are all flawed and stressed and human. We combinded our strengths and we focus on the present, don't we? Look at where it brought us now, Kinger! We are still human. Everyone is still here."

Kinger's voice was deathly quiet, adorned with a somber tone, "Not everyone."

Ragatha wanted to counter him, but she couldn't look past the fact that he was right. She slumped forward as the king piece busied his hands to brush the scarlet locks of wool into order. At least as orderly as he could get them. They always had a mind of their own, even when Ragatha herself was the embodiment of the word, 'tame.' The doll sensed her dear friend's distress and jumped into her role to soothe the dangerous itch in his mind that caused Kinger to think too much.

Too far ahead.

Like Kaufmo did.

She reached over her shoulder to grab one of Kinger's hands and idly fiddle with his fingers while holding the hand in her lap. He didn't fight her, allowing her to express the dark depths of herself she could rarely show the others. Kinger had seen the entirety of Ragatha, just as she had seen the entirety of Kinger. Despite her role, the water spring, the sign of life and hope - the soothing cool caress of comfort in the scorching heat of the barren desert of a Circus, Ragatha's concern and fear laid deep beneath her glossy surface.

With Kinger, she could show herself from a different perspective and she knew that he wouldn't shy away or grow concerned. She was their comfort, just as she needed comfort.

He had seen it all, before any of them had seen the truth.

They lost someone.

Someone of value - someone that valued those who surrounded him. A keystone to the oasis. Gone. Ripped from their broken family that had it's faults, but still remained functional. Even if it was just barely.

"I wonder how Gangle is doing now that he is gone." Kinger said, lost in thought. Ragatha placed her blue ribbon into Kinger's hand, before letting it go and allowing him to pull it back. He began to section the wooly locks to tie the ribbon into it.

"I think she's okay for now, but I'm sure she is still in shock. Maybe she feels lost." Ragatha said, keeping her gaze low, not willing to look herself in the eye, "At least the newbie and her shenanigans are distracting her."

"I don't see how this will end well." Kinger said, worry evident in his voice, "I can't imagine what it must be like - knowing that you have a book with the answers of the world in the palm of your hand… but it's written in a language that you don't understand."

"Heh." Ragatha huffed, "He really had a way with his resources, didn't he?"

"What good is a looking glass without a pair of eyes to peer through them?"

"Ok, now you are just saying things to act smart!" Ragatha laughed, feeling the gentle tug of Kinger's hands working to tie the ribbon, completely leave her head. Kinger paused briefly, before he caved to laugh along with his friend.

"Maybe I am... maybe I'm not!"

Ragatha smiled incredulously, looking at his reflection before her, "She'll be ok. We will all be ok. We'll just take things slow and steady - one day at a time. Like we did in the old days."

"Please don't remind me of my age…" Kinger sighed.

"OUR age! I was there too, you know?"

She was there too.

She was there for a very long time. Of all of them, she was there the longest; by his side. She was the only one left since before the oasis began. Their bond never grew beyond friendship, but it was all they needed to remain together.

The king looked at the doll with a warm fondness that ached in his chest, "I know I'm not a good person for saying this… but… I'm so happy it was Kaufmo."

The doll's eyes widened with horror, but before she could even think to say anything, Kinger spoke again; his voice cracked and weary, "I don't want to lose you too."

The words died in Ragatha's throat.

In the blink of an eye, she jumped up and threw her arms around the freakishly tall chess piece. He was quick to reciprocate, but he broke into trembling sobs that were drowned by the plush of Ragatha's shoulder.

"Shhh, shhhh! It's ok. I'm not going anywhere." Ragatha said, trying her best to soothe her oldest friend.

"She promised me!" He said, his words so broken apart by his sobs, that Ragatha could barely understand him.

She promised.

"I know, King. I know." the doll said, numbing herself from the sympathy and empathy she felt, to prevent the tears from rushing down her cheeks too, "I can't make that same promise Queenie made to us."

Ragatha pulled away to hold onto her dear friend's face and look him in the eyes. He saw her's, set ablaze with a spark only she could possess. She was still as she set the world - her reality - aside, only to look him - straight at him.

Ragatha pulled him down, to kiss his forehead, then looked him in he eyes once again; speaking with an even tone she didn't even know that she possessed, "I can only promise you this."

To hell with hallucinations, Kinger thought to himself. He wanted to believe that there really was a woman in front of him. That there really was a friend about to make him a promise unlike the deceit that Queenie subjected him to. He wish he could hate her for leaving him behind, but he was too tired. He was too soft.

I loved her too much.

"What is it?" Kinger asked his friend, dreading the answer.

Ragatha swallowed back a wave of emotion that caused a stinging sensation behind her eyes, before she vowed to him,

"You'll go first, I promise."

Kinger stared down at her, as if challenging her to back out from her promise, but to his surprize, she didn't. She matched his gaze and stood her ground.

He really was a bad person.

Because a wave of relief crashed over him, forcing him to his knees. The chess piece clutched her skirts as he hid his face in her chest, like a child, but the doll stood firmly with her feet rooted to the floor, finally allowing the tears to flow down her cheeks.

Her voice was still and steady as ever;

"I'll be right here with you, until you go first."

Fan art/comic related to this story: (CLICK HERE TO SEE)

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[norbezjones]

Bez Reviews Independent Books 1: Memory Leak

Hey everyone!  I wanna do little reviews/writeups for the independently-published books I find on itch.io, and so, here I am.  I want to review one book every month or two (or quicker, if I’m lucky); it’ll get me reading more, and get authors who often go without feedback some thoughts on their work!  I think it’ll be cool for everyone!

If you want your book reviewed, the only requirement I have is that it’s hosted on itch.io.  Even if itch is just one of many places you can get the book, I want to review books that have a home there at least.  Feel free to get in touch with me with your books—I’m @NaomiNorbez on Twitter (I refuse to call it X), Pillowfort, Threads, and Instagram; I’m @norbezjones on Tumblr; I’m norbez2.0 on Discord.

Looking forward to seeing your books! <3

__________

The first book I’m reviewing Is Memory Leak by @maxkirin !  M. Kirin is a streamer who I happened to follow not long before their book release.  That’s how I heard about it.  Some light spoilers below, but nothing too big is revealed.  Most of the major stuff discussed you can read about right on the book’s itch page.

The plot is basically this: a trouple made a controversial game that won many awards, and also got lots of hate.  Now, they’re trying to make a new project to follow up such a release, but spooky things are happening.  Will they find out why strange events are occurring, or succumb to the haunting?

Everyone’s trans, and I love it.  Adrian’s trans.  Eva’s trans.  Casey’s . . . idk, very queer at least.  She’s also missing for a while, which has turned the game making trio into a duo as they’re trying to finish their new game based on Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.

Most of the book is about blackouts & memory loss, which occur as development goes on.  Reading about those things hurt.  Especially the part where Adrian says, “It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember. He was making something. Something that mattered.” (pg 17-18).  That hit hard, as someone who’s experienced intense periods of memory loss in the past—that was during my pseudo-dementia era (more on that here if you wanna hear the full story).  I had a similar thought to Adrian when I was making A Single Ouroboros Scale while I had pseudo-dementia.  I was desperate to make an impact because I was convinced I would soon forget everything I knew, including how to make games, and everyone would forget me in turn.  It came out as well as you can expect from a very sick, depressed person (which is to say, not good), as I talked about in the postmortem.  I imagine that for our game development trio, the same result occurs.

The hauntings in Memory Leak are rooted in real-life problems in the game development industry, mainly crunch and overworking yourself in order to meet a deadline.  Though in the case of Adrian, Eva, & Casey . . . was a deadline ever specified?  It’s strongly implied, but not overtly stated, as I recall.  Regardless, as a creator in the internet/social media age, you do have to act quickly to release new works, or the public will forget you.  Perhaps that’s why they feel like they need to work as quickly as possible.  There’s some irony in that—the characters’ rush to be remembered, all while they forget more & more.  It’s sad sometimes, the things we sacrifice to be known.

Also, it turns out the famous game the trio made, King Leer, possibly indirectly caused the death of multiple people, and that isn’t mentioned until about halfway through the book?  It’s surprising how that information flies out of nowhere, like a sucker punch.  If one of my games indirectly caused a person to die, I would be haunted by that for the rest of my life.  But the trio seem to have gotten over it, somehow.

My main little nitpick about the writing is that Adrian is referred to as “the young man” quite a bit, and I didn’t like that.  It felt too impersonal, distant.  That’s also something I do in my own writing, referring to the character as anything but their name to avoid saying their name too many times in a row (I blame my OCD [which I literally do have, that is not a figure of speech]).  So maybe it irks me because I see myself in that repeated action. 

As much as I like the writing style, I do have to acknowledge that it keeps us as a distance from the characters.  They’re young men, young women, lost souls.  It’s like we’re also haunting them, a ghost from beyond getting a peek into their lives from the top-down.  The chapter openers reinforce this: in those, you, the reader, are brought into the story, from a second person perspective, and given information about Starling games from YouTube videos, forum posts, messages, etc.  We see them win Game Of The Year, watch as fans deride & praise them, stuff like that.  It’s definitely an interesting way to give us information.

A big issue is that we’re told a lot that these characters love each other, but that bond isn’t quite shown to me. One can argue that it is between Adrian & Eva at least, but Casey?  In the beginning, it seems like she dislikes Adrian & Eva, but then there’s still a scene where she cries while apologizing to Adrian for yelling at him, saying how much she loves him.  I got the sense that she clings to Adrian & Eva because she used to love them, for a long time, and she doesn’t want to let that go.  Because to let that go would be venturing into unknown & very awkward territory.  How do you break up your polycule if you rely on them to earn a living and make games?  Short answer: you don’t, so you pretend instead.  And when you pretend enough, it can become real again.

This is a problem because the love these characters have for each other is a core tenant of the book, especially in the climax.  I wish we could’ve spent more time seeing how they fell in love with each other, back when Starling Games was new.  At least Casey’s love for the others becomes clearer as the book goes on; that’s a good thing.

As for the big twist, I saw the first part of it coming from a mile away.  That’s not a bad thing—a good twist should fit the plot & themes, not be 100% unpredictable, and this twist did.  The second part of the twist is mentioned on the book’s page, but the execution is so interesting you can almost forget that fact.

Last note: I was hoping the book would tell us why the works the trio make are so fucked up, if they’re a reflection of the soul, or just dark spurts of creativity.  The reason is revealed, and it’s fascinating—after all, if we’ve learned anything from The Beginner’s Guide, it’s that art doesn’t always reflect the author.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book.  It was a very interesting story about the struggle of game development, and how our search for a legacy can haunt us.  The characters are interesting, and the story is very well told.  I would recommend it.

If you want to read Memory Leak, you can do so FOR FREE right here!  Give it a look!  Please!  I’m begging you!

Thanks for reading!  The next review will be of To Wield The Darkest Night by Beau Van Dalen.  But I don’t know what I’m doing after that, so please send me your lovely books!

[ruhorih4ra]

╰⁠(⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠ᗜ⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠)⁠➝ Part. 6

I have a feeling I just reused a scene from another of my ffs, that's because my brain it's lazy af JASJAJ please feign dementia for me ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

Get out of my way 🌈

“Hmm! You've to try this, it's delicious!” Beelzebub looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. Was it yearn? affection? Love? A mix of all? “Why are you looking at me like that?” You kept eating the giant dessert.

It was an exuberant one, the demon lord’s castle made of different kinds of ice cream, just for the two of you.

“Here.” Beel lifted your chin and wiped some ice cream from the corner of your lips, he licked it happily. “You're right! It's delicious!” You blushed almost instantly, not a cute soft blush but something more violent and clearly noticeable.

“I must look like a tomato.” Beelzebub laughed and closed his eyes for a brief fraction of time, tilting his head as if trying to see the similarities.

You didn't know how or when, but he was already by your side. Next thing you knew, Beel was kissing you. His lips were soft and sweet against yours. It felt so real, the smell of candy mixed with something sweeter that you couldn’t pinpoint “No. I would say you taste like cherry.”

Sometimes memories come back in the form of dreams. This was the case, you knew it was a dream but it had happened. Your heart ached knowing that your little oasis was ending.

“Mc, let's do this again! I love eating with you, I love you!” He smiled and you felt at peace, you had the ridiculous idea that maybe you could trap this moment in a bottle.

“Promise me we will.” As soon as you tried to control it, the dream began to fade. This wasn't part of what had happened, at that moment, you hadn't had the need for a promise.

“Beelzebub, promise!” The urge you felt to hear those words was absurd, even more since you knew it was a dream. But you needed it, desperately, you wanted to live that false reality.

You didn't want to remember how Beel started going to eat with Sc instead of you. How he would bring you food as a consolation prize.

“Promise me, please!!” You felt tears streaming down your face, were they real? Beelzebub’s face started to blur and his voice sounded far away. “Mc, don't cry, I prom-”

You woke up gasping for air, you felt sweaty and restless. There was a prominent and growing feeling of hunger. You hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, the fight with Lucifer had sent you straight to your room.

Even if they had offered you something before, you couldn't have eaten it. Now things were different, you felt so hungry that it was actually painful.

“It's quite late, they must be asleep by now, Right? You! Go and check!!” “Why me?! I just got here!!” You took the Little D. of Wrath from one of his horns. “Do it, NOW!” The mirror cracked and your eyes glowed with a furious neon green. “At your orders, MC!!”

While the Little D. went to check, the other little demons looked at you from some distance, clearly gossiping about your bad attitude and mood swings. “The coast is clear!” You immediately went to the kitchen, your stomach roaring quite similar to Beelzebub's.

You opened the fridge, taking the first edible thing that caught your eye. “Delicious. Finally, some good fucking food.” “That's just a piece of cheese, human.”

You took a neatly prepared plate, it was protected with plastic and a note that said: "To Mc, we are sorry. Please eat something." You fell to your knees, removing the plastic and eating with your hands.

The need to consume grew with each bite you took. The more you thought about the brothers… “Don't be disgusting, use a fork.” “No.” It was delicious, you recognized the flavors of your favorite dish. It brought tears to your eyes, but also an incredible great feeling of sadness.

“They think they can apologize with a simple act of care.” You sobbed, discarding the plate and taking a pie instead. The pie had a note attached “Property of Satan. Beel, don't eat it or else...” “Screw you, Satan.” You saw a single elegantly decorated pink muffin. It tasted wonderful. “Hmm, fumckium Amsmo!”

Comically, a glowing poison apple appeared in front of you, you could have sworn a choir of angels was heard. “Okay, okay, I get it. Divine punishment, but yeah I can't eat this, it would literally kill me.” “I'll take it.” You shrugged, whatever to piss Lucifer off. “Okay.”

You saw Sc's baked bread, it looked really good but your stomach had already arrived to its limit. “I think I'll pass.” “Give it to me!!” “Finee!” You passed the bread to the Little D. of Gluttony and... wait, what?

You turned to see the Little D. so fast your neck actually ached. The tiny demon was raiding the fridge, whistling happily.

Your jaw was hanging, surprise clearly written on your face. “No, no, no!! The last one arrived just some hours ago! Why are YOU here!?!” “Don't blame us for your sins!!” “No, no, no. This is bad, absolutely bad.”

There were already four of them, the story didn't mention the time but you had a hunch they hadn't shown so soon.

Not even two days had passed since it all started! “Stop!! You're going to empty the fridge!!” “I'm still hungry!!” You bit your lips, panic taking a hold on you. Without much determination and more resignation, you sat on the floor. “What am I going to do now?!?”

A single tear rolled down your face, you were tired, anxious, worried and alone. Your head fell into your hands as you shook it. “God, I took care of your grown up children, please take care of me too!”

“Hahaha, You're so funny, Mc.” Your heart stopped for a moment. That voice, a calming yet alarming voice. Swallowing, very slowly, you lifted your head from your hands. Your eyes following the voice until they landed on a wide smile.

“Hi, a pleasure to finally meet you! Well, we had already met... But now you can actually see me!!” You blinked twice, painfully slow. “Hahaha, oh please forgive me! I'll start again.”

The beautiful lady in front of you smiled and offered you a hand.

“Hello, I'm Lilith!”

Pt. 8! ಠ⁠‿⁠ಠ

Taglist: @yuumaofc @sc4ry4l3x @kodasstar

Thanks for reading! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)