#and those who grow up to be yet another part of the cycle... to become another monster

[pumakaji64]

Every now and then I remember Shuuji Kayama and how his arc is one big metaphor for what it's like to grow up instilled with venomous self-hatred and how it turns you cruel towards others and yourself- how it's about falling victim to the cycle and growing up to become yet another chain in the harm but also how it can consume you and destroy you completely-

BUT there's still hope in his story- hope that he can break free with the right support and guidance- with a wake-up call and a better role-model- and not only learn how to love himself but start the journey on getting better and doing better to those he's hurt along the way- because Lopmon is both his victim and himself and I-

[patricia-taxxon]

synopsizing the movie that plays in my head every time i listen to nascent by alexander panos

this probably isn't as interesting to read as it is for me to imagine in my own head, but i wanted to write it down. maybe u will have fun imagining it too

1. Q Windswept

This is the intro to the album, you pretty much get every flavor of sound that the album has to offer in one short burst. This is the title sequence & opening credits, where all the nonexistent animators & vfx artists would go. I imagine big bunches of text popping into existence with each impact.

2. Cycles

This track is in a weird spot, it's the longest one & it was made much earlier. It sounds like it's in a different world, so I treat it as an establishing montage of the human world. We're introduced to the protagonist, who I'll call Alex for convenience but doesn't necessarily represent the real life producer behind the music, represented by a live action human actor for the time being. The track feels like writer's block, frustration, pounding on a desk, (the domp domp bit) pacing around the room, moments of existential fear in between the doldrums of solitude, the wubs and crashes are a transformation that is barely being held back. Twilight depression montage.

3. Sutter

Sutter begins the purely synthetic "internal" portion of the record. We enter a liminal/metaphorical space. Alex spasms and transforms into a 2D animated dog furry while floating far above a green field with too much synthetic blue in its hue. Huge wide shots of Alex's body flying backwards with the artificial landscape in the background, hitting with those massive manipulated vocal hits. The track ends with him slowing and coming to a gentle rest on the grass.

4. 36523_red/blue

Alex opens his eyes, sees only the pure "blue screen of death" shade of blue in the sky. Abstract glitches and squiggles zap across the screen in time with the music. Alex is beginning to ruminate, represented by him drawing patterns with his paws in the sky as the track begins to pick up a consistent tempo. The glitches and patterns are played with his fingers, building in intensity until the climax shows a vast mirror that fills the entire sky approaching rapidly, and then slowing, the dog boy in the reflection growing until it comes face to face with the viewer, and then a cut to black.

5. reasonsnotto

Lights are out, audio-reactive abstract animations shudder into being with the synthetic voice, warping and pulsing with the track's modulations. In the moments when Alex's real voice pokes through the synthetic mush, his dog form coalesces, still blurry and struggling to become fully contiguous until the very end, where Alex sings the album's thesis directly to the camera, against a pure black background.

6. Dream Extinction

He breaks the mirror here, the impacts are his fists striking the surface and releasing burning waves of fire and electricity. At the end, the part with the consistent bursts, he begins clawing at his reflection, screaming, seizure inducing flashing lights imply that this hurts him too. As the track calms down, the mirror disintegrates.

7. Equinox (Prelude)

This track begins the portion of the album that is trying to claw itself back into reality. He's not there yet, beyond the mirror Alex finds another liminal space, a primordial river, and as the track builds, more concrete images begin to flash into existence before crumbling again. He can't get out, he doesn't want to get out. He shields his eyes, cut to black.

8. Equinox

This is the bit where Alex says a poem to himself and runs back to reality with all his might. Emphasize the "You flake, you human life" line, he says it with gritted canine teeth and his doggy ears lowered, resolved to claw back to his humanity. After that exalted rush of light and color passes, he opens a door, and slams it behind him.

9. catch it

This track is resurfacing, coming back to reality. The synthetic glitches fall back completely, icons of a city street come into existence, populating the white void in time with those guitar chords. Alex isn't visible yet, but the images are revealed to be the view outside his window. The POV shot looks down, and he sees his human hands again.

10. re:Turning

Ok, this part is so cliched & shmaltzy that it makes me embarrassed to write it out, but there's only one conclusion this story can have. The glitches re-emerge, the synthetic elements that were previously contained come back again. It's his fur. The dog re-emerges, Alex transforms again like a magical girl before opening his front door & singing the final hook, walking through a live action environment with shapes and colors from his liminal space following him. The paradox is resolved. He is multitude.

thanks for reading.

[nautls11]

my rambles about the tmk finale (SPOILERS, obviously)

whats up tmk famalam, im sad and im gonna talk about it

I cant even begin to describe how incredible the finale was. The players and the dice both had a story to tell and it created an end that brought me to tears.

The acting.

Genuinely some of the best ive seen in the entire show and I’ve been watching since convergence. Every single person absolutely killed it, Condi especially. Lucia’s moments with Mary, and Milo’s acting during the final scene was absolutely phenomenal

“Humanity’s weakness.” Empathy.

Empathy plays such a vital role throughout this entire story. It’s Lucia’s drive to try and save Everett from becoming her sister. It’s Jin’s drive to save the people who had those horrible fates he experienced when he was young. Everett’s lack of empathy was what pushed him away from his hunting party, seeing it as nothing but weakness.

Everett’s lack of empathy was what isolated him from the rest of the hunters. Yet, it was Everett’s empathy that made him choose to save Trey by turning him into a monster (albeit against Trey’s will), knowing that he wouldn’t survive otherwise. It was Everett’s lack of empathy for humanity that made him join the monsters, yet it was Everett’s humanity that made him spare Jin and Lucia during the monster siege.

Jin couldn’t kill Everett because he desperately wanted to keep alive the last bit of humanity Everett had left in him. Because Everett spared him, Jin only saw the only right thing to do was to spare his life as well, even though it led to the summoning of the Moonbeast.

It was empathy for Pebble’s losses that led Lucia and Jin to trust him, and he was able to prove himself more than capable.

It was Lucia’s empathy at the end that revealed Everett truly did still have a fraction of humanity and empathy left inside him, enough to destroy the heart and give one last goodbye. In the end, humanity’s weakness was also their ultimate power.

Mary’s internal conflict.

Lucia recognizing Mary but Mary not recognizing her, and the instant Mary realized it was her sister, her entire demeanor changed into that of a scared and traumatized child, because she never got to grow up. She was seen as a monster and became a monster. That was all she knew, and when those emotions filled her chest again she knew nothing but panic. She sees empathy as a weakness, just like all the other monsters do. Even to the point where she recoils from her own older sister’s sincerest apologies. Until Lucia has gona through what Mary has gone through, so long as they are different, Mary sees no place for reconciliation. And that id what causes her own downfall.

And the ending. The falling ending.

I think the fact that it ended with them all still falling makes it such a beautiful finale. It’s open-ended, we don’t know what faits await them. Do they fall as the starlight dapples across their skin and fall into the earth, becoming part of the cycle once more? Do they survive the fall, and the three of them live, watching as the moon slowly falls across the horizon and not into the maw of a beast, crying sobs of relief that their world was saved? Does one of them drag themselves out of the ocean to find their companions cold and motionless on the shore? I think the fact that we don’t know gives us so much more to think about, even though the campaign is over.

anyways thank you council + milo for making another incredible campaign and fuck you for adding to my cry counter (/nm ofc it was absolutely incredible)

[sp00kymulderr]

Pairing: Ezra x reader

Warnings: Angst, injury detail, blood mention, vague ending (happy or not is up to you).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: For my Pedrostories Secret Santa giftee @djarinmuse - happy holidays! I hope you don't mind that this is completely un-festive and I took some liberties with prompts, but I'm excited that I got to write my favourite space man in an introspective, angsty situation so thank you! I hope you like the fic! To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist. Header by me. Credit to banner maker.

It is impossible to ignore the abundance of fear in his chest.

The way his heart is beating almost out of it, the abject horror of the reminder that you had been here just moments ago when he sees the empty campsite with a past presence still lingering warm and your scent still in the air. That perfume you’d found on another nameless planet on another forgotten job. His heart suddenly ripping in halves in a way he had never known it could do, because that scent is fading, and you aren’t here.

Your tatty sleeping bag of a bed is empty, no sign of life in the small perimeter you together call a home while you do yet another standard of grunt work for yet another corporation who would never even know your names. 

Ezra had known the place wasn’t safe. Reports from the surface that he’d warily read had told him as much but you’d both agreed the credits were too good to pass up. That you’d keep each other safe.

You’d keep each other safe.

Kevva, what had he done? Why had he felt the need to leave you alone for those few moments that suddenly felt far, far too long.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, prospecting being a famously a dangerous profession but especially now when the sites were drying up, planets dug to their end, the precious aurelac gems becoming rarer and rarer. The last time…Ezra hesitates to think of how he’d seen his partner killed for nothing more than a few meagre stones and Ezra had done nothing to help. 

Nothing but ran and protected the things that were his. He was inherently not a good man.

He should run now. Take the remaining spoils of the dig and find his way to safety like always.

He should run.

Run.

But for you. For this partnership…

The thought of turning away makes his chest tighten – for a man who felt himself slipping from humanity for so much of his life he was now becoming alive with it. In him now he could barely fathom the thought of you being gone - you who has chosen to partner up with him for whatever unknown reason. You who had given him a reality beyond just drifting from place to place, space to space, despite his own nature.

No one had seen anything more in him ever since he was a boy. That was the reality of growing up a rock-hopper, adrift through all his life, but then you came and offered him this partnership and showed him that perhaps there was something else in him.

That perhaps he was a better man than he’d ever thought.

With a determined breath, Ezra pulls himself from the shock of your empty campsite and makes a decision, pushing against his own nature. He will be the man you see him as. No running. Ready to do whatever it takes to make you safe, to make sure that the same fate that had befallen his last partner would never come to you. He had to make sure.

Searching around the area with a trained eye with tracking skills picked up through the cycles of dangerous living, Ezra’s mind wanders to the stories you had shared with him of the places you had been and the people you had met. You were a survivor but more than that. You lived. Your resilience was always the thing that those stories reminded him of the most; your ability to adapt. Of course, you can handle yourself. But every part of him shakes with the need to make sure of your safety, keep you alive…he can’t let you be anything else.

Ezra feels overcome with need to be a better man. The partner you deserve. You had always been more of a partner than he ever deserved.

Grabbing the pistol that had been haphazardly strewn, likely in your struggle though he tries not to think of that, he steels himself to follow the minimal signs of the direction you may have taken. Bravery was in truth never his strong suit. He was never taught to live bravely; his life has always always been about self-preservation and so little else. Growing without family, without a name, he hadn’t thought to care for anyone else – not the way you did. Not the way you softened edges and crawled into small places in people to make them more.

He starts walking slowly, every step sending surges of that cold fear through his veins; the fear of the unknown, the fear of what he might find. He doesn’t want to find what he fears, but he has to. He can’t turn back now. He can’t. As Ezra walks his eyes keep darting back and forth, searching for any sign of life and any sign of you. He keeps his pistol ready, just in case.

---

You're vaguely aware that you've been left to bleed for some gems so small the credits would barely cover a month of ship maintenance let alone a comfortable life. It makes you laugh a little, the absurdity of it. The men had left you badly hurt; no mercy of peace afforded to you but thankfully also no threat of worse than death was made to you.

They must have been watching. They must have been waiting for Ezra to leave, determining that he was the threat. The danger.

People often make that judgment of him.

You sigh a shaky, weak thing that bubbles in pain at the thought of the man, your partner, thrumming in your head. He'd be looking for you. Of course he would. His heart was in the right place always, even when he believed his mind not to be. You'd been prospecting together for enough cycles to know that of him, and more too.

It occurs you might die here, but kevva were you lucky to know more of the starlit man who'd made his home in your life over this time. That would be your biggest regret, never having known him more - never having seen his soul in truly the way it deserved to be seen. Silly as it was you'd fantasised time and again about seeing him safe and warm and happy in ways that you knew Ezra has never been. He deserves a life more than the one he has had to live.

Your only wish now if he doesn't find you, is that he gets that.

Truthfully Ezra had been something unusual for you, a gem in his own way, so much more thrilling than those amber aurelac pieces you'd both made a muddy career of picking. A rarer and more precious thing, all the more because he did not seem to see that in himself. A man with starlight and shine, with wit and verbosity and an unending supply of humanity despite the things he'd seen.

You'd like to see him again, at least once more. The darkening sky and the blood on your suit makes you think that likelihood is minimal. He'd be better off not finding you, perhaps.

Your breath heaves once, twice, a small wheeze as you experiment with moving. A sharp pain interjects your attempt, causing you to gasp out and hold on to the wound on your side. Something in you may be broken.

This wasn't the way to go.

---

The first sign of you after what feels like trudging miles watching the damp forest ground, is the scrap of distinctive material from your suit. It's a concern but also a relief, to see something of you here where all else this place feels so suddenly completely uninhabited.

You must have made some kind of fight here, Ezra notes. There's footprints in the mud and a couple droplets of ruby red he can't acknowledge yet. 

Not yours, not yours.

Ezra knows both sides of this. He's been the one to take unsuspecting explorers and prospectors and drain them for everything they're worth. He's done this to others - left their partners and families to live in pain and regret and he's never thought a lot about who he might have maimed and murdered in the name of survival.

It makes him sick now. Sick at himself and at the world he's always known. You do not deserve this. Maybe they did not deserve what he did either. Maybe he is monstrous in even worse ways than he already knew. Maybe he shouldn't find you, so that he doesn't have to face the reality of what he is through what someone else may have done to you.

He walks silent as possible, careful slip of boots on the ground so as not to disturb anyone or thing that could be close. He makes his way through a thicket of shrubs and rounds a large tree.

And there he stops.. And holds in the breath he was about to let out.

There you are. Crumpled and shivering.

Alive.

Alive, alive, alive.

And yet...you could barely be, the way you were breathing. What was he seeing? What were you clutching at that made you groan and your eyes flutter in pain? He couldn't see it fully until stepping closer.

Broken. Damaged. Drained. Not the you he knew. Not the you he hoped to see. This you is some other.

Ezra murmurs your name. A part of him thinks that this is the time he runs. You won't make it and you shouldn't have to see him when your breath leaves you.

Part of him, a part of him that used to feel natural as the rain but now he hates. He thinks about going after those who did this to you but he cannot decide if that is to exact revenge or to take back to the stolen aurelac and leave for the pod.

"Ezra" you say, voice quieter than he has ever heard it, and the weak tone pulls him from his treacherous thoughts and back to reality. You are alive.

You are alive, and that means he must stay the person you see him as at least until you are no longer with him anymore.

"Ez..." you repeat again, and the pitiful sound springs him back in to action like a shot. The field kit in his pack isn't made for this kind of work, he quickly realises, but he can at least try to patch you up before things get worse for you out here.

"Kevva...you..." He's lost for words, for once in his life.

"Stay awake" is all he mutters as he crouches beside you and pulls out the liquid bandage and antiseptic shot.

"Easier said than done" you murmur back, opening eyes up to him.

Ezra sees it in your eyes. Stardust…your eyes were always like the sparkle of stardust and even dull like now it takes his breath away.

“I…I…” Ezra shakes his head. “If only I’d got here sooner. Should’ve never…”

You hiss as he presses the bandaging to your side, too dizzy from the feeling to tell if the bleeding has dissipated at all yet.

“Knew you’d come” You say in that soft, caring way you always have for him. For some reason he may never know now.

“I didn’t- “ Ezra chokes out. Didn’t know if I’d come. Thought about leaving you. The words ache heavy on his tongue, unable to utter them.

“You’re here” Is all you utter before laying your head back, that sickly swirl of dizziness getting worse suddenly.

He is here. You’re right. He’s here and in your light every instinct he’s ever had to preserve his own livelihood over anything else fades away just like always. A person who makes him a better man was never someone Ezra imagined knowing. A warm soul to help reignite his own that had gone cold long ago. It’s you. 

It’s you and him. 

It’s a string of fate that has tied you two together for longer than you’ve even known each other.

“Yes, stardust” Ezra finally mutters, and leans down to rest his forehead against yours. 

He’s got you. For as long as he can.

“I’m here”

[dittolicous]

part three of raging stealth black!sanji i guess! (part one - part two)

sanji is very aware that he's just a means to an end. that he's being lied to and used and manipulated. he was given a butchered version of his 'life history' to make up for his amnesia, which included the strawhats abandoning him when he proved too weak and got hurt, something which he had no frame of reference to doubt when he first awoke from death

but if vinsmoke judge is anything, its being ridiculously bad at foresight and little details

honestly, how did he really expect to hide the relative truth with the strawhats being such big names? their journey has been documented, and while its clearly got some biases, sanji can read between the lines. little details are his *job*, thats all espionage is!

so, yeah. he knows hes being used to get the strawhat pirates, knows that he and his siblings are nothing but manufactured tools

it just adds another coal to the growing fire pit of rage in his stomach. its really all he can feel these days, this growing red hot anger, so bright that he perpetually, endlessly fights to keep flames from dancing along his form. he cant place it at first, has no reason to dislike his fathers hand on his shoulder the night he finally awakens, yet the weight lights something within him. his skin prickles where the hand had rested. he wants to scratch it off, to remove the tainted section of his body

he says nothing. good children are seen and not heard.... hes good, yes? right? thats... what he wants?

(can he even want? everything is so empty, so quiet... why-why-why-)

his brother's hollow laughter, the smell of bins full of rotting food, the bubble-filled cloning tubes, the taste of his sisters poison in the air as it lays waste to their enemies, the joyous smile on his fathers face...

sanji also knows he shouldn't be able to feel, yet he can very clearly name this white hot feeling taking root deep within him - rage, unabashed and uncontrollable

when hes not dreaming of sea salt, citrus, or distant laughter, he dreams of vinsmoke blood staining the ground, of satisfaction as his heels dig into ribs, of inflicting every wound they ever gave him right back at them (an odd thing, his waking mind supplies, seeing as his family has never hurt him...), of crushing the shells to the sailing snails which house this tyrannical kingdom

he had hoped to exorcize the demons haunting his dream by gathering knowledge, hence why he sought outside information sources (ie where ever judge deemed worth attacking), surely these unbiased sources would clear away this doubt that should never have exsisted!

instead the roots of his vitriol are set. there is no going back to sanji that woke to his family's supposedly loving faces

they are warmongers, destroyers... liars... they take more than they could ever need or desire... he isn't a son or brother, hes nothing more than another plunder of victory. a walking symbol of their prowess

what do these fools even hope to achieve with their senseless grapples for power? kingdoms?? glory of germa66? scientific might?

don't make him laugh

sanji might only be a means to an end, but so are they, not that those arrogent buffoons even realize

(he cannot say how he knows nor does he really care, but the danger of the world government runs deeper than any outsider could ever grasp - the five shadowy beasts of his dreams tell him so with guttural voices and air-tainting bloodlust)

all too soon it becomes clear that life is nothing but pointless suffering, engineered by tyrants just like vinsmoke judge, just like the shadow beasts whos screams having him waking in cold-sweats, there is no end... they are only free from this horrible cycle in the embrace of death. the dead cannot bleed nor starve nor struggling to breath through grief filled lungs. life is children sobbing over the prone form of their parents or hollowed faces taking mouthfuls of poisoned water to quiet aching stomachs...

the vinsmokes take blindly and foolishly, they took everything from him, took his life, his memories, his heart, left him nothing but a tense anger that leaves his muscles aching and fingers twitching to destroy, pride blinding them to the encroaching cliff into hell

if they wish for hell so badly, who is sanji to deny them? he will bring down the flames of hell and rip clean through the earth to deliver them personally. every sensless act of violence, every life taken without a blink of an eye, every drop of blood the fed the ground, sanji shall return tenfold, yet deny them the relief of death just as they stole him from his

he'll go along with their little plan to draw out the strawhat pirates, give them the easy satisfaction they desire, and just when they feel victory by the tips of their fingers.... they will learn what life is truly like by sanji's very own hands

(and if he holds tightly to the fleeting moments of calm like a balm on his burned exoskeleton, brought on by the face of his former captain or flashes of green from the perpetually lost swordsmen, no one has to know

none of it will matter in the end)

[baldurs-gate-official]

[Art by Hamrikaa, reposted with permission. They're an incredible artist, and you can find their accounts on various sites by clicking this link]

I wanted to talk a little about this picture, because there's some very interesting symbolism that gives added meaning.

Before I do, I'm going to give some context for those of you who are unfamiliar with the elvish life cycle. I've made a post talking about this sort of thing before, so I'm not going to go on a huge rant in this one, but the main thing to know is that elves reincarnate when they die.

The Tav in this picture is elvish, just like Astarion. However, Astarion is also vampiric. There's a lot of different lore and theories regarding vampires and souls, but from what I've dug up there's one theory that stands out and seems to be the most accepted. When a vampire becomes a True Vampire™, their soul dies. A large part of them is just gone, and they're no longer the same person they once were.

For spawn, however, it works a bit differently. Once someone becomes a spawn, their soul is trapped within their body, and may even deteriorate over an extremely long period of time. But once a spawn dies? Their soul is no longer trapped. Since Astarion is an elf, this means that once he dies, his soul re-enters the reincarnation cycle.

Now... If we look at this picture, we see Astarion looking at the growing light of dawn, and even though he's crying, there's still a bittersweet smile on his face. This is the symbolism that gets me every time I see this picture, because the dawn is not just a time of day in Faerûn. It's also a symbol of Lathander, the God of dawn, birth, renewal, hope, and new beginnings. Astarion is essentially setting his soul free. For him and Tav, this isn't truly an end, but a new beginning and another chance at life. A rebirth, where they might yet meet again.

[krikeymate]

Role reversal au? Say no more!!

How far does the role reversal go? Does Tara go down the same path that Sam does in canon, struggling under the burden of the secret? Does Sam stay in Woodsboro? Does 13 year old Tara run away instead? Does Tara still get attacked? Eeugh I'm having Thoughts.

God imagine if Tara still gets attacked for the same reasons. Sam thinks it was a random attack, but Tara knows. And she has to keep lying.

Previous.

Sam awkwardly exists between a drunken mother who stares at her whenever she enters the room (and scowls at Tara whenever she does), and her baby sister who barely speaks any more, who barely leaves her room. Sam tries to act normal, puts on a smile at school with her friends, and continues to babysit Wes and the twins, but it wears her down quickly. The way Tara won't look at her, won't speak to her, it hurts so much more than her father's absence or her mother's poor excuse of an existence ever could.

15-year-old Sam begs her mom to listen to the school and put Tara into therapy, after she got into yet another fight. (Sam thinks of the way Tara reacted when she caught Sam watching Stab last month, of the panic attack. Her sister needs help, she just doesn't know what it is she needs help for.) Christina doesn't care.

Her sister stops hanging out with Wes and the twins. She starts hanging out with Amber Freeman, a troublemaker if ever Sam saw one. She thinks she's part of the problem. Sam starts bumming cigarettes off her classmates to deal with the stress of worrying over her sister.

Tara starts skipping school and hanging out with teenagers, Sam catches them offering her a joint and gets into a fight herself (Sam ignores the fact she was skipping too). Tara doesn't look at her once as Sam berates her the entire walk home. Tara goes to slam her bedroom door when Sam catches it with her hand. "I love you and I miss you," she says, hand slipping from the door to let Tara go. She tears up when arms wrap around her waist and Tara whispers I love you back.

Tara lets Sam back in a little, but Sam still has to stand by and watch her sister become someone unrecognisable as the years go by, suffering under a weight she won't let Sam help her carry. (Her father is the key, Sam thinks. It's all his fault everything is falling apart. She wonders what he did... if he hurt Tara. She thinks maybe he must have been an awful man.) Sam doesn't recognise who she is anymore either. If this is a part of growing up, Sam doesn't want it.

Sam's 18 and newly graduated, lying in bed thinking about the acceptance letters in her desk, when Tara creeps into her room to join her on the bed. She's drunk, clearly. Sam idly wonders where she got the alcohol from as she pulls her into her arms and rests her head on her chest. Probably the same place Sam got the bottle she's hiding under the bed, from their mother's unlocked liquor cabinet. Sam wants to get away from Woodsboro, from her mother and the past and all this pain. But then who would look after Tara? Being with her like this hurts, but not nearly as much as being away from her would. Sam knows she can't go to college.

Tara starts to take drugs, and Sam gets angry. They get stuck in a cycle, they'll scream and shout and argue, only to make up days later. The secret of whatever happened all those years ago sits heavy between them. A few weeks before Tara's 16th birthday, Sam comes home to her high little sister beneath some creep on their couch, barely conscious enough to react. Sam nearly kills him. The only thing that stops her is Tara calling out her name and the loser manages to escape out the door. Sam tells Tara they can't go on like this, that things have to change.

On December 14th, Tara runs away. Sam stares at the wrapped gifts on her desk for weeks. She can't bring herself to move it. There's a part of her that wants to throw it away, to scream and cry and destroy. She gave up her future for her little sister, and where is she? Is she even safe? Why won't she answer her calls? ...Please let her be safe. Sam drinks a lot while Tara's away, resenting herself for being just like her mother. Maybe that's why Tara left. Tara's 17th birthday has come and gone when Sam, drunk off her ass, calls her phone once again on Christmas Eve and leaves a voicemail begging her to come home, to call her back, to please don't leave me, I don't want to be alone anymore. When she wakes in the morning (afternoon), Tara is sitting at the end of her bed, watching her.

Sam thinks she must be dead, or her medication has stopped working. She eyes the four wrapped gifts on her desk for a moment before looking back to Tara.

Her sister looks different. Thinner. Paler. Her clothes are too big. Sam wonders what she's been taking, where she's been. She wonders why she had to lose a year of watching her sister grow up. I was with dad, Tara later admits. The confession breaks something inside of Sam. She thought he was the problem, he was what was wrong with Tara, but if that was the case why would she run to him. It's her, right? Sam's the one who's actually the problem, Sam's the reason why Tara's like this.

Sam leaves.

2 and a half years later she gets a call that her sister's been attacked.

[blaecdog]

                                                   shijima  yoru

alias.    shijima  no  yoru  /  silent  night  /  4th  night age.    appears  28 species. shinigami  /  death  spirit ability. invisibility,  possession occupation. demon  slayer,  soul guide, part of the yakuza

yoru's story begins in japan during the edo period where the term "shinigami" and it's myth appeared for the first time. shinigami, also called "death spirits", were described as monsters, helpers, and creatures of darkness. they supposedly appear when a person's life draws to an end, patiently waiting and ready to guide their soul to the afterlife. the tales of the shinigami only surfaced recently in edo, however what people didn't know: these death spirits have been around for a very long time. they often describe themselves as silent observers. never intervening in the cycle of life, even if they could easily prevent someone from dying when fate strikes. of course not all of them follow the same principles and codex. some act like monsters from the legends, devouring human souls to grow stronger, while others carry out fate's will by possessing the living to end their lives. unlike the grim reaper from western culture who acts as a singular deity, the shinigami come in many and they usually work in pairs.

rules exist, as well as consequences. for example, if a shinigami decides to interfere and save someone's life, preventing their fated death, they'll ultimately pay the price with their own existence. a soul for a soul, basically. the shinigami will disappear. another set rule, the death spirits cannot take a soul to the afterlife by force, they have to invite them over. they are also not allowed to seperated the soul from the living if it's not yet their time to die. the one's who stray from this path either stop existing or turn into malicious beings, especially if they consume the souls instead of guiding them. they become demons or malevolent spirits who cause unnatural deaths. this, of course, disrupts the natural balance of life and death, which in turn, adds more work onto the shinigami who have to take responsibility for their own kind. so before things get a chance to worsen, the shinigami end up slaying the demons. those who broke the rules are the very reason why humans eventually found out about the existence of shinigami.

now, yoru is a death spirit who follows the rules and simply observes. however, curiosity soon struck. one day he guided a soul belonging to a peasant to the afterlife. the young man had died because of the cold winter, leaving behind his now soulless body. it was like a hollow shell without an occupant. yoru hesitated, he wouldn't break any rules ... if he borrowed it for a while, right? over the many years, the shinigami was tired of just being an observer. he was aware of emotions, he felt them too, but that's already it. he always wondered what warmth, cold and pain felt like. with this dead body on the ground, he saw a chance. he fell in love with life and he wanted to be part of it. of course he'd still continue his work. it would be like putting on a jacket, the one wearing it would still be a death spirit, it'll be fine. once he made up his mind, he possessed the body. with a new soul inside, the body came back to life, with a beating heart and everything. yoru felt the fabric of clothes brushing against his skin, the cold air on his face, and the hard ground underneath him. he opened his eyes, inhaling deeply. so that's what being alive feels like.

over time the shinigami got accustomed to the human body and would find great joy in little things. he truly appreciated life and came to understand why some souls found it hard to let go. it was around that time that a samurai showed him another, rather honorable, reason why a soul could refuse to move on. he would also become the most stubborn person yoru had ever met. when the samurai died and yoru tried to guide his soul, he refused. in these instances, the shinigami usually tried to help resolve any problem that bound the soul to the mortal realm. in this case however, it seemed impossible. in his lifetime the samurai, daichi, was known to be very loyal and devoted towards his shogun, swearing an oath to protect the bloodline at all cost, which ultimately bound him to earth even after his death. in the end, yoru had no other choice but to stick by his side, trying to help him fulfill his oath. now in modern japan, yoru and daichi ended up with the yakuza. apparently the oyabun of the clan is a direct descendant of daichi's former shogun and the clan has been around for generations, and will continue to do so.

note:  yoru  and  vance  eventually  cross  paths  after  the  latter  joins  up  with  the  yakuza  and  works  as  bounty  hunter.  the  shinigami  notices  van's  red  cross  earring  and  later  tells  him  that  a  piece  of  his  mentor's  soul  is  still  with  him,  bound  to  the  object.  it  was  then  that  the  hellhound  decided  to  quit  and  follow  another  path,  one  that  would  make  dante  proud.

[hearth-and-veil]

I'm coming at this with way too much experience so it's going to sound harsh.

It is not the pagan community's job to heal people's religious trauma.

There needs to be a space for that, but it needs to be completely removed from religious communities.

Neopagans are trying to have our own, sincere, independent religions -not a rebellion against Mormonism or Islam or the SBC or whatever high-control religion people are running away from. And I hate to break it to everyone, but everything people from high-control are running from is still part of neopaganism. We still have structure, scripture, prescribed belief, sin, judgement after death, and, worst of all, fallible humans running the show.

Neopagans who didn't grow up with religious trauma aren't equipped to help those of us who did. Those of us who already worked through it aren't trying to relive it while newcomers try to process it. Oftentimes new neopagans fleeing from high control religion are destructive and disrespectful towards pagan religions -treating them as a hedonistic, lawless free-for-all because that's what their childhood religion said paganism is - and demanding that anything that doesn't suit them is removed.

That leads neopagan communities to becoming closed off and unwelcoming, as they try to preserve their religion. It's very hard to support some ex-Calvinist who wants to take their hatred of the Abrahamic god out on Zeus and their mommy issues out on Hera. And it is unfair to expect a religion to not be a religion just because you have a problem with religion.

Neopaganism (and atheism) is not a rehabilitation center for religious trauma. Deconstruction, healing, and generalized religious education need to take place before jumping both feet in to yet another religion.

I would like to reiterate that I have an unfortunate amount of experience in this department, on literally all sides. I grew up Southern Baptist (though not nearly as high control as most) and when I left that I got sucked into a very extreme situation I can only describe as an evangelical atheist cult. Seriously. Then I dipped my toes into paganism and was exactly the kind of person that leads pagan communities to not liking newbies. Their perceived mistreatment of me led me back to the crazy atheists and "justified" my antitheism.

It wasn't until I actually put in the work towards healing that I broke out of the cycle, calmed down, made my peace with human behavior, found a religion I believed in, and started building my community.

You are going to have to be the one to heal. We can't do it for you.

[jedidryad]

WIP Wednesday: Part 3 Snippet

So, it's going to be awhile before Part 3 of Mara's memoir is anywhere near complete. She disappears from canon for a lot of the time period in question. She does, however, have a somewhat uneven presence in Children of the Jedi, particularly at the end where she has it confirmed once and for all that she was not the only Emperor's Hand (and she is particularly upset to find out who else held the title), helps rescue Luke from the Eye of Palpatine (and is introduced to Callista), and helps Han and Leia track down the smugglers that Irek Ismaren practiced his drug induced "brain twisting" on.

All in all, it's a lot of hits for Mara to take in a short period and I tend to refer to this section as "Mara Jade and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day" - all credit to Judith Viorst.

Here is an excerpt from that day, right after she finds yet another one of Irek's victims and it becomes a bit much:

“Mara?”

The voice was Leia’s, concerned. I could feel myself blink. It was as though I’d returned from somewhere else. Great, now I was blacking out.

She knelt next to me and laid a tentative hand on my shoulder. I fought the instinctive urge to shrug it off and race for the nearest exit.

“Did you know him?” she asked quietly.

I nodded. It was all I could manage at that moment. I realized I was still kneeling next to the stunned smuggler. His mask of unconsciousness was suddenly overlaid with the grinning middle aged rogue who regaled the cantina with his tall tales of getting foodstuffs past Imperial checkpoints, and then I could see how he’d looked in the moment before I’d shot him: skeletal, leathery skin pulled tight across his skull, rage and gnawing hunger on his face. He’d been a husk, hollowed out by Palpatine’s gleeful mind mangling.

No, not Palpatine. He was dead. It had been Irek Ismaren who had done this.

The images cycled again and I felt my stomach turn. I turned and heaved my last meal onto the ground.

“Let’s get you some water.”

Leia helped me to my feet and led me into a little side room. Suddenly there was a cup of water in front of my face. I reached out but my hands were shaking and my vision was blurring.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting down again and she was telling me to breathe.

This did not bode well for my mental stability.

“It’s okay, Mara. You’re with friends.”

My hands steadied and I took the water.

“Kriff, you sound like your brother sometimes,” I muttered.

She chuckled and sighed with obvious relief. 

“I’m not sure why. We didn’t grow up together.”

“Chalk one up for nature over nurture then I guess.” I answered, taking another sip of my water. My stomach seemed to be under control again. Embarrassment and shame were starting up though.

“Finding out we were family was one of very few bright spots in a great deal of darkness.”

I nodded. Skywalker always glowed a bit brighter when his sister was around.

Friends, right.

I clutched the cup in my hands almost tightly enough to leave an indent.

“That could have been me out there.”

Leia nodded.

“The reason it wasn’t… I don’t know...” I trailed off.

We were the same, those husks and I. I’d always thought I was different from the others. I’d thought that if I’d followed his orders closely enough, excelled enough, proven myself, I’d avoid the fate of his victims who were too slow or too evil or too stupid… or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But we were all the same. We were all his pawns. No one of us better than the other.

“In many ways that was you.” Leia’s voice was quiet.

I felt myself swing around to meet her gaze and I felt her startle a bit at whatever she was seeing in my eyes.

“Sorry, I thought you’d appreciate the blunt honesty. I mean that Palpatine’s last command did make you a little mad for awhile there. We all watched you feel it and fight it. Your ability to not give in was pretty impressive. Maybe there’s something that can be done for these guys too.”

“Maybe,” I nodded quietly. I didn’t feel like getting into the fact that sometimes I figured the only thing that got rid of his voice was taking down a spare Skywalker. If that hadn’t happened, I’d probably still be haunted.

Oh Kriff that, I was still haunted. Everything about the first 20 odd years of my life floated around in my brain, ready to flare to life at any given moment and wreck things for me. Sometimes when the hits kept coming like they seemed to be today, I had trouble imagining they would ever stop. 

I nodded and took another sip of my water.

“Rough day.” I said.

Leia burst into laughter. She leaned back against the wall next to me and I realized that despite her regal bearing, she was pretty dishevelled looking. There were dirt stains and singing from poorly aimed blaster bolts on her dress. Hair was escaping her braids at every opportunity.

She had been drugged and chased through hanging gardens, rescued her brother from an exploding dreadnought, and scoured the tunnels that had held her captive for other victims,  and it wasn’t even dinner time.

I wasn’t the only one who was probably seeing awful things when I closed my eyes. 

And the laughter was infectious. Slowly I began to crack up as well.

It felt good to laugh. It felt strange to sit there and laugh with someone else who hurt too. 

[safeheavenproject]

HERE WE GO. How Hell looks in Safe Heaven. Now to get into some (a lot of) lore notes below the cut.

Hell is one large metropolis that's ever-expanding. There's no limit to the size of hell and it grows as it needs to. While most sins are in constant war over territory, Pride's is always large and growing.

Outside of "claimed" territory for the city, sinners can and often do appear. The worse they are in life, the further out they are. Some never make it to the City due to their misdeeds.

The one exception is the most prideful sinners, who appear before Lucifer himself. This isn't a good thing because he usually tears you apart, immolates you, etc, before throwing you out into a random corner of hell to find your way back.

Of course, if Pride is your greatest sin but you aren't prideful enough to appear before Lucifer you just end up in the ring of Pride in the City and get off relatively well, all things considered.

Sloth and Envy are always the smallest portions of the City for one reason or another, often theorized to be because of the way those sins manifest. Similarly, Greed and Gluttony tend to grow and grow.

Sinners on average are the lowest ranked in Hell, tortured and injured. Less so within the city, but they are prime targets for both Angels and Demons.

Angels don't do exterminations like in HH, instead coming down at random in raids to cull demons and sinners as activity becomes too extreme. Princes of Sin and those residing near them are the only ones safe. Sinners are usually the ones to suffer the hardest losses in these random raids.

When the raids aren't happening, territory wars are. The more sinners there are in an area, the more hellborn demons can come to exist. So various sins target each others' sinner populations.

Lucifer considers it a blessing to these sinners to die. If they cannot survive this, they cannot survive hell. They will either come back or reenter the cycle of life and death depending on who kills them, anywa.

Basically, it sucks to be a sinner in hell. Some sinners have found a workaround by becoming the Right and Left Hand of Princes of Sin. These act as the replacements for Overlords.

Sinners are almost always in the role of Right and Left Hand of Sins. Lucifer is the exception, with the dolls he made taking that role.

Directly under that tends to be 4 hellborn demons, giving us a nice 7 for each sin's hierarchy. Once again, Lucifer in the exception with no extra 4 until Eden and Dawn start recruiting for Safe Haven.

On that note, Safe Haven is only allowed to exist because Eden and Dawn were able to convince Lucifer that being smart enough to travel there was a sign of the strength needed to live in Hell in its own right.

Lucifer also maybe sorta wants to see if there's any human actually prideful enough to stand up to him, rather than just default to seeing him as King of Hell, as he grows weary of being seen as such. He checks on Safe Haven once a month, though not much has been done.

Sinners eye colors tend to reflect the sin they were most likely to commit in life. The exception is angels who fall, as their eye color reflects what it was in heaven. Hellborn demons can have any number of colors.

It's expensive but possible for sinners to mask what sin they belong to as well. This can allow them to confuse enemies but also puts them as risk.

Most sinners not trying to hide their sin tend to wear a bit of the colors associated with them. In a twisted way it's a sense of... pride (ha) for them.

Each sin is responsible for some part of the natural population of hell, save Pride and Lucifer (which all sinners fall under to some degree). They of course intermingled and spread with time, but you will find larger populations in their "home sin" more than anything.

For sure Lust = Succubi/Incubi. Gluttony = Hellhounds. Wrath = Imps. Envy will likely be something based around fish. Not sure yet on Sloth or Greed, we'll have to see.

Hierarchy overall goes Lucifer > Dawn and Eden > The rest of the Princes of Sin > The Left and Right Hands of Sin > 4 Hellborn demons under the Left and Right Hands > The rest of the hellborn demon population > Fallen Angels > Regular sinners > Humans turned Fallen Angel

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Link to me going over what I think is important in the tome can be found here ❤

Now here's where I just dump about my own speculations and how it applies to how I write Danny.

I think it's quite obvious from his tome that his dad was a Vietnam war veteran who came back only to be met with mockery which as far as I know from anecdotal stories was pretty common. And his mother being notably absent from being mentioned despite how much he idolizes his father I think it's fair to say she's dead. I would say she's just not in the picture, but I think he would've ranted about it for a good bit especially with how he talks about the nuclear family.

So Danny grew up in a single parent household with a father who whether it be due to some under-specified mental illness or just because he's just a horrible person wanted his son to be exactly like him. To go to war for stories and metals. To kill other people and see the horrors like he had. With the offhanded mention of drills and boot camps becoming too much during a camping trip one time and Danny killing him, I don't think it's a stretch to say he was abused.

Plus the whole throw away line of: "He just wanted the horror to end. He wanted his life back." Shows that there's something more underlying to him listening to those stories. The stories were the only respite he had from the chaos of his life, he's never had a safe space to just exist and be a kid. He's never had a place to process emotions and violence against others is so normalized to him it only makes sense for him to at the very least act out. Yet he takes it to such an extreme extent.

War stories his father wanted him to follow him in making turn into headlines about his own murders. Him channeling his own trauma and abuse unknowingly into his craft to the point where he feels personally insulted if anyone makes fun of it. Three people making a parody paper drags him back to when he killed his dad in the woods due to the chaos of everything coming to a head. A simple parody is enough to bring back emotions he thought he had crushed and buried a long time ago. Pieces of himself he didn't want to see again.

He bottles them back up, but the ugly human parts of him still remain. He knows a part of him knows that what happened to him growing up wasn't normal. Not just the boot camps, the drills, the screaming about how he has to follow his dad's footsteps be a good boot boy and earn medals he can bring home. Repeating the cycle that his father did before him. Just another soldier returning home from war knowingly they'll never feel the same at home again and everyone will point and laugh, because he's just so weak he can't handle it.

Danny still struggles to separate himself from his dad, constantly living in his shadow, doing what he's been told and what's been berated into him. He's lived so many names and lives that it's hard to find himself, not the ghost, just... Danny. And in modern Robin really does give him this safe space to be himself, just the fucked up little pieces he tries to keep bottled up so no one can see and yet even then he never lets him see them fully. His body is the only thing he can control and he's not going to give it up easily.

And I'm not writing this to give sympathy to him. He is a horrible person and he always will be. Taking war stories and twisting them into "Humans are inherently violent" by going across the country murdering innocent people. The "perfect victim that doesn't deserve to die" as he puts it is so horrible. The way he revels in finding the perfect name, how he's so excited the three people that made fun of him have normal sounding names. The entire time he's killing these people he's not viewing them as human, he's viewing them as headlines.

Things that will be seen and forgotten within the next news cycle. Something simple to fall asleep too, because "Well it couldn't happen to me right?" He views what he does as something positive, a therapy or entertainment to break up suburbia and the mundanity of modern life. The boring 9-5 desk job where they come home to turn on the news or open the paper and see the next tragedy. He knows what angles to twist it in to get politicians talking to the attention is off of him.

I also think it's extremely interesting the kind of mask he chose. A weeping ghost. A weeping face to mock his victims that just so happened to fit a perfect outline he has in his head. "A person that doesn't deserve to die." Something that his readers can get hooked in and he can forget about by the next paycheck.

[bearpillowmonster]

Got a new post for you guys that's a continuation of the last few but it's gone off long enough so just know I'm referring to these for context. Honestly, it's gotten worse-

My boss was sent an email to which he had to print out and hand to people, I blurred out any names or indications to locations.

I marked it up before taking a picture because I had so many questions, so that's the red pen but let's go through it. Also, it's obviously got a ton of typos and errors in it but that's this guy's signature.

He refers to two branches that don't close on Saturdays but are too shorthanded to fulfill it (because why, I don't really know but we'll get there.) And they expect the other branches to go over there in rotation to help. (you do one week, another guy does the next, so on and so forth) He says he asked to eliminate Saturdays but this guy is a penny pincher, I wouldn't believe that especially since that's all he elaborates on it.

He goes into detail about how it would work and then continues with the first underlined sentence, something I reread and reread and just couldn't wrap my head around. My manager made it plain though. Basically, this guy is threatening to punish those that don't comply...by opening their own branches on Saturday? And then the rotation would be weekly which is as stupid as it sounds, I know, I couldn't wrap my head around it because it's so beneath me that I couldn't process the reasoning behind it but yes, it's used as a threat. To make Saturdays a thing again and then make EVERY branch short handed and the problem grows and the cycle continues. This isn't our problem, you're just making a bigger mess than initially stated. And this wasn't backed by anybody else but himself, there is no CEO involvement, there is no higher up telling him this stuff, this is all him making bluffs and casting invisible chips that aren't there yet because there's no way that the CEO is going to approve that. An empty threat made on impulse and sent out before given any thought as to the repercussions. HR doesn't like it and if someone higher up hears about it, they probably won't either.

The next sentence just allocates which branch will fill in where but then goes on to explain that "If staff cannot work a Saturday, it is their responsibility to find a replacement and notify whatever manager available." This is also nobody's responsibility, this is a load of BS but this is his way of pushing off the problem. He sent out this memo for a reason and it's already almost over, can you guess why? Because he half bakes ideas, pushes them on other people and forces them to try and make the obvious blunder work, he then wipes his hands of it and blames you for the blunder you've now become "responsible" for. My coworker brought up that his son-in-law works at a prison and should the state mandate him to work on a Saturday then he would be in line to babysit his kids but he wouldn't know that until Friday night so there was no way that he could notify anybody of it or find a replacement.

Now the growing part. "One Manager and One Associate" this was originally going to be between four associates (including myself) but then one of the people already in this rotation brought up "But I'm technically a manager, why am I being singled out?" So this DSM's solution was to include all the managers and inside sales people, growing that measly 4 people that never gave an answer one way or the other into a threat to ALL employees. Well, I say all, I'll also get to that in a moment.

But the manager is needed to run overrides because the credit department doesn't have to work on Saturdays (whoop) and provide whatever's needed, that's the whole "denied or approved" part he could've worded that better. And that's about it with his sloppy name written at the bottom.

Now let's backtrack. ALL employees. This branch will NEED people who belong to this branch, STILL, because you need 1. A keyholder to lock and unlock the place. 2. Warehouse associates to pull and even find the product in the first place. Now wait- If you have all these people already needed, then why are we pulling from other places? My manager brought this up in a call about the warehouse guys and the response was something along the lines of "The warehouse workers there, you don't want to work on Saturdays." THEN WHY ARE THEY THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE? WHY ARE THEY EMPLOYEES? BECAUSE YOU'RE SHORTHANDED? WHY IS THIS ANY DIFFERENT? "Those are exactly the type of people I want there on Saturday because if they're being bad employees then I'm going to report them and-" My next point:

Saturdays are a good day to learn how to run stuff because THEY'RE NOT BUSY. Looking at the Saturday sales for each branch, they don't run it like their supposed to. Putting in orders for Saturday's business and having them pick it up on Monday is both a no-no and a useless effort because that person could've just called and said "I'll pick it up on Monday". That makes up more than half of Saturday sales for all the branches and the rest is kind of pitiful, you're spending more than you're pulling in. Branch...whatever, made -$16 last week. NEGATIVE. That means someone returned more stuff than they bought.

Then there are the people that are left. You see, this grew up to managers and inside sales but this company likes putting more labels on people than one can bear so technically that includes outside sales people and you can't single out them so you have to include them all and who's to stop there? Because there are teams of people in different departments that also fall into this category. If it's all about equal treatment then EVERYONE should be on board, regardless of their position. As long as they know how to operate the system, they qualify. But you know who won't be there? The DSM and the branch manager. Because both of them are complete imbeciles that think they have better to do and place all the work and blame on everyone beneath. Neither of them could last with just one of our customers, despite knowing the system, they'll never help out at the counter.

But this is where something interesting could happen. An uprising, if you will. I want us all to band together. I want us to beat this. But there's also an anniversary of the company coming up and it's before September 1st when this supposed thing starts. The CEO will be there. The DSM will be there. Need I say more? They're visiting all these branches and we can tell them exactly what we all think. That's what this calls for. I'm scared, terrified really because I'm not a confrontational kind of person, especially if I'm the starter, but enough is enough. We all have to do something.

If it doesn't become something then then it will later on down the line when everyone submits their overtime and mileage bill.

[discoknack]

Another idea I've been sitting on is that Charlotte, at the bottom of that ravine, sees the light of a headlamp and looks up hopefully. And the camera cuts to her perspective, half blinded by the headlamp, but under the hat, she can see the dull gleam of goblin tusks. The expression is meant to be ambiguous, kind of dumbfounded, mouth agape. I'm not sure what kind of goblin they should be. I'm thinking one of the medium or large ones.

Anyway, the goblins who find her are just plain old miners or adventurers themselves, and they have to drop everything to carry her out of there. She blacks out at some point, from the pain of her injuries.

I'm not sure how old Gundahar would be. He seems rather old in the games. Is there any chance that he had any interest in her well-being? Somehow I doubt it. Yet he isn't all that disrespectful to her in the first game. Is it the difference of ordering the deaths of faceless villagers vs having a living, breathing human in front of you?

Anyway, Charlotte is cared for by normal people. One of them, whom I have given the temporary name Percy, is one of the miners that found her. It was his idea to rescue her in the first place. In his mind, it was like finding a bird with a broken wing. Nothing more than that. He even calls her 'Pidge', short for Pigeon. But if he had ever intended it to be derogatory, it wasn't for long.

Gundahar might pay a visit, I'm not sure. He'd either be bored of whatever work he's doing and have a bit of off time, or he'd be actively interrogating why they're wasting resources on this human. Charlotte didn't need a whole lot of resources to get better; Gundahar is just a prick. By the time he’s gotten to her room, he has already spent most of his frustrations chewing out the locals.

Charlotte is feeling lively but can't get back on her feet yet. I wonder if she assumes, since the people around her chattered about Gundahar’s arrival, that she was saved according to his good graces.

Not sure what the scenario is. But whatever; she sells herself out. I want to skip to the part where she starts to get better and goes for walks. I'll want to do some worldbuilding from her view.

I think she'd become close friends with Percy. Toward the end of her rehabilitation, he might even inadvertently take her on dates (neither of them know that they're dates). Maybe it's silly but w/e.

But then, of course, nothing good lasts forever, and Gundahar takes her to his ivory tower. I don't think she thinks anything of it; it's a job and a debt. But she doesn't know she'll also be cut off from everyone else, and the guards are cycled out so she can't build relationships with anybody but Gundahar.

*shrug* I dunno if that's how I want to do it; I might come up with something different after the break.

Oh and one more thing; I had the idea that in Gundahar’s region, goblins raise geese. Mainly because a goose can grow up to 30 inches and I want them to terrorize those poor blue guys lmao.

[sustainabledemand]

Lead Gen vs. Demand Gen: Which Drives High-Ticket Growth Faster?

That's the struggle, my friend, especially in the fast-paced world of B2B sales. Sure, generating leads is important, but what if there was a way to make them crave your solution instead of just adding you to their "maybe" pile?

Enter demand generation, the secret sauce to take your sales game from lukewarm to scorching hot. While both lead gen and demand gen are crucial for B2B growth, they play different roles. Buckle up, because this article will break down the key differences and show you why a strong demand gen strategy is the ultimate weapon for growing your high-ticket sales faster than ever.

Why Chasing Random Folks Won't Cut It: The Problem with Just Lead Gen

Let's be honest, chasing a bunch of random leads is about as effective as trying to herd cats. Sure, you might get a few to follow along, but it's a lot of work for not much meow.

Lead gen is all about getting contact information, but it doesn't guarantee those people actually care about what you offer. Imagine this: you spend all this time collecting names and emails, only to find out they're not even interested in what you're selling. Frustrating, right?

Here's the deal: just because someone heard your brand name doesn't mean they're ready to buy. It's like name-dropping at a party – sure, people might recognize you, but it doesn't mean they want to be your best friend (or customer).

Another mistake? Pushing for the sale too soon. For expensive solutions, people take their time deciding. If they don't quite understand the problem you solve or the magic you bring to the table, they're not going to jump in headfirst.

So, what happens when you fill your sales funnel with these unqualified leads? Sales cycles drag on forever, conversion rates plummet, and money flies out the window. Plus, your sales team gets bogged down trying to nurture leads who are never going to be a good fit. It's a recipe for disaster.

How Demand Generation Fuels Sales Growth for Big-Ticket Spenders

Alright, so inbound marketing lead generation alone isn't the answer. But what is? Enter demand generation (demand gen) – the secret weapon to turn window-shoppers into raving fans ready to throw money at your amazing solution.

Demand generation is all about creating a magnetic pull for your high-ticket offerings. Here are three key ingredients you need to cook up a winning demand gen strategy:

1. Content Marketing: From Crickets to Conversations

Think of content marketing as the life of the party at a networking event. Great content sparks conversations, educates people about your expertise, and positions you as the ultimate problem-solver in your industry.

The key? Understanding who your ideal customer is (think: their biggest headaches and deepest desires) and then crafting content that speaks directly to them. Blog posts, ebooks, infographics – the format doesn't matter as much as the value you deliver.

For Example: Imagine a financial advisor creating a series of "get rich quick" (well, maybe not quick but you get the idea) guides for busy professionals. Or a software company showcasing real-life customer stories where their product saved the day (and tons of money!).

2. Lead Nurturing: From Stranger to Superfan

Okay, you've reeled them in with awesome content, but don't let them off the hook just yet! Lead nurturing is like slowly warming someone up to the idea of becoming your BFF (or, in this case, a loyal customer).

Targeted emails, personalized content based on their interests, and helpful resources all play a part in this nurturing dance. The goal? Guide them through the buying journey, address their specific needs, and ultimately, turn them into brand advocates.

Imagine This: A marketing automation company offering free trials and sending email tips on how to master the art of marketing automation (genius, right?). Or a cybersecurity company sharing case studies where their product stopped data breaches dead in their tracks (phew!).

3. Strategic Partnerships: High Fives All Around

Building strong partnerships with other businesses in your field is like having a whole squad to help you spread the word. Think co-creating killer content, hosting joint webinars, or even teaming up on marketing campaigns – the possibilities are endless!

Just make sure you partner with the right people – businesses that complement yours and cater to the same audience (but don't directly compete with you). Think win-win situations where everyone benefits!

For Instance: A CRM software company partnering with a sales training expert for a webinar on sales process optimization (sounds powerful, right?). Imagine a cloud storage provider teaming up with an industry association to create a white paper on data security best practices – talk about authority!

By following these steps, you can build a pipeline overflowing with qualified leads who are ready to invest in your high-value solution. Remember, demand gen is a slow and steady climb, not a quick sprint. The key to success is consistency and providing ongoing value that keeps your audience hooked. Put these tips into action, and watch your high-ticket sales soar!

Uh Oh! Roadblocks on the Road to Demand Gen Success

Even the most brilliant demand gen plan can hit a few bumps in the road. Here are some common roadblocks and how to avoid getting stuck in the mud:

1. Budget Blues: Look, demand gen takes some investment. You gotta create killer content, use fancy marketing tools, and maybe even partner up with other companies to spread the word. But here's the good news: a well-oiled demand gen machine can bring in serious revenue, so think of it as an investment, not an expense!

2. Data Disaster: Imagine having a mountain of data but no clue what it means. That's what happens when your data is all over the place and your marketing and sales teams aren't speaking the same language. Invest in a central hub for your data and get everyone on the same page – it'll make optimizing your campaigns a breeze.

3. Marketing vs. Sales: The Rumble in the Boardroom: Sometimes marketing and sales are like oil and water. Marketing creates amazing content, but sales doesn't quite see the value. The key? Open communication! Talk to each other, figure out what qualifies a good lead, and make sure your messaging is on point throughout the buyer's journey.

Conquering These Challenges:

Show Me the Money! Track the results of your demand gen efforts. See how many qualified leads you're generating, how much your pipeline is growing, and ultimately, how much revenue you're bringing in. This data is your secret weapon when it comes to budget discussions.

Data Like a Boss: Invest in a marketing automation platform. Think of it as your data war room – a central location where you can see everything and make data-driven decisions to improve your campaigns.

Hold Hands and Sing Kumbaya: Break down the silos between marketing and sales! Talk to each other regularly, agree on what a good lead looks like, and make sure your messaging is consistent throughout the entire sales funnel. A united front is a winning front.

Alright, You're Pumped! Unleashing the Demand Gen Beast

So, you're prepped on the lead gen vs. demand gen showdown, and you're ready to leverage demand gen for some serious high-dollar growth. Let's do this! Here's a battle plan to get you started:

Mission #1: Know Your Perfect Client

Before you start creating content like crazy, you gotta understand who your ideal customer is. Think of them as your knight in shining armor – the perfect person to benefit from your amazing solution. What are their biggest challenges? What keeps them up at night? Once you know their story, you can craft content that speaks directly to them.

Mission #2: Content Boot Camp

Take a good look at the content you already have. Is it missing anything? Now's the time to develop a killer content strategy that addresses your ideal customer's needs and uses a variety of formats (think blog posts, ebooks, infographics – the whole arsenal!).

Mission #3: Nurturing Leads Like a Pro

Imagine having a fancy marketing automation tool that helps you separate your leads into different groups and send them personalized messages. This is lead nurturing, and it's key to guiding them through the buyer's journey and turning them into loyal fans.

Mission #4: Find Your Wingman

Partnering up with other businesses in your field can be a game-changer. Think co-creating epic content, hosting webinars together, or teaming up on marketing campaigns. Just make sure you choose the right partner – someone who complements your business and goes after the same audience (but isn't your direct competitor, of course!).

Mission #5: Track, Analyze, Dominate!

Keep a close eye on important metrics like website traffic, how many leads you're generating, and how much your sales pipeline is growing. This data is your treasure map, helping you refine your demand gen efforts and become a total boss.

Remember: Demand gen is a marathon, not a sprint. By following these steps, making data-driven decisions, and continuously optimizing your approach, you'll attract high-value leads, build strong customer relationships, and watch your high-ticket sales soar!

Ditch the Lead Chase, Embrace the Sales Boom

So, we've unpacked the whole lead gen vs. demand gen thing. Lead gen is about getting contact info, but demand gen? That's about making people crave your solution like yesterday's pizza (or insert your audience's favorite irresistible food).

With a killer demand gen strategy, you'll attract high-value leads, build relationships that last, and watch your high-ticket sales skyrocket. Think of it as ditching the treadmill of chasing unqualified leads and hopping on a rocket ship to sales success!

Ready to ditch the dead-end and embrace the awesome power of demand gen? Here's the plan: invest in top-notch content, nurture those leads like precious seedlings, and find some strategic partners to team up with. By doing this, you'll transform your B2B sales funnel into a lead-generating machine and propel your business to never-before-seen heights!

Want to take your demand gen to the next level? Consider partnering with a demand generation agency. These all-stars have the experience and resources to craft a custom plan that fuels your high-ticket growth ambitions.

[ihateoc]

Trauma

(word count: 2,327) (flashback from shadow's childhood)

In the training chamber, a rebellious youth clad in tattered clothing, unkempt black locks, and fiery maroon eyes stands among seasoned mercenaries and a handful of younger boys undergoing instruction. The routine of daily training had become a familiar aspect of his life. 

The young boy watches as his friend, a boy named Leon, tries to spar with an adult mercenary who towers over him. Leon loses the fight prompting his sparring partner to laugh while he beats him, kicking the boy even though he's already down, "You gotta be better than that, idiot! You'll never make it with us." 

The maroon-eyed child bites his bottom lip so hard he draws blood. He shouldn't move. He knows he shouldn't. But he can't stop his body from moving to block Leon. 

He takes on the mercenary, a skilled fighter far stronger than him. But his anger fuels him and he lands a few good blows before being flung back, battered but defiant. 

"I'm not scared of you!" A young Shadow screams out at the man who laughs again. 

"You should be," is all he says before dealing another harsh kick that sends the boy sprawling onto the floor. 

Young Shadow sits on his knees, spitting out blood. He wipes his lips clean with the back of his hand before he argues back, "Just wait until Z hears about this!" 

"You think Z gives a shit about you? You're nothing but another disposable tool to him," The mercenary sneers at him, delivering yet another kick.  

The young boy grimaces in pain and frustration.  

Just then, a harsh voice rings out across the room, "Enough!" 

It's his handler, Z, standing there with his normal cold gaze and damn, does he look pissed. 

The room grows silent as Z stalks up to the child, his heavy boots loud against the concrete floor, "Tool, are you talking back?" Z looms over him with his arms crossed, "You should know better by now. We've been over this a million times over. You belong to us." 

"No, I don't," Young Shadow growls back defiantly. 

His answer only prompts a hearty laugh from Z which bounces off the cold stone walls of their training room. Z bends over to grab the boy by his shirt collar and haul him up into his face. His eyes are filled with an icy rage that manages to send chills down the child's spine despite how hot he was just seconds ago. 

"You're right..." He rumbles out in a dangerous whisper before throwing him onto the ground forcefully as if he were nothing but a bothersome pest, "You belong to me." 

Young Shadow grits his teeth against the pain radiating throughout his body as dread sinks deep within him at those words. However, he doesn't fall silent like usual. 

"Over my dead body." 

"Again? We have to do this again?" Z questions the boy incredulously, seizing him by the shirt collar and pulling him along. He hurls the boy into an empty chamber with a bleak concrete floor with barely any source of light. 

"Enjoy isolation again, brat. Emotions ain't part of the job. Especially not for a tool like you. You'll figure it out soon enough," He moves to close the door before adding, "And no food for talking back," The door slams shut with a thud. 

Isolation. The word echoes ominously in the child's mind as he lies there, alone and bruised on the cold, hard floor of that room.  

Days turn into nights and back into days again, a cycle of loneliness and dulling hunger pain. As much as he tries to keep track of time, it all blurs together eventually. Just like his handler wanted. 

"Guess I'm learning my lesson," A young Shadow croaks out to himself before falling unconscious against the stone-hard ground due to exhaustion and lack of food or water. Burning rage within him would be his only source of energy now. 

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaks open and a tray of bread and water gets slid in front of the child. He scrambles eagerly towards it, long past caring about his dignity at this point, only to have the door slam shut once again with Z's final words echoing around him. 

"Remember… Tools don't need emotions." 

Young Shadow swears he can hear maniacal laughter resonating along with that sentence as he devours his so-called meal, promising himself over each bite, I'll survive! I have to. 

When he was finally freed from isolation, he was no longer the defiant boy he once was, resigned to his fate of being their tool. Maybe this really was all he was good for.  

---------- 

By the age of 14, he had proven himself to be an efficient weapon for Z and his likes, always perfectly following orders without a hint of defiance. His sullen eyes would only hold that fire in them whenever they landed on Leon or the other boys being pushed around. It was hard not to let it show, but he was always able to mask it when needed. 

One fateful day, young Shadow found himself unwillingly dragged by Z to a bar, where he settled quietly at the far end, hoping to remain unnoticed. However, as Z and his companions drank heavily, they began to antagonize him. Despite his efforts to ignore them, their voices only seemed to grow louder. 

"Get a load of this tool! We broke him down good, didn't we?" His handler chuckles heartily as he indulges in his mug of beer, surrounded by fellow mercenaries who join in his amusement. 

The boy's fists clench at the sound of their laughter, his knuckles pale under the taut skin. But he keeps silent, swallowing back any retort that threatens to bubble up.  

"You bet we did!" One of them answers, taking another swig from his own bottle of liquor, "He's our best yet." 

"Well, ain't that something," Z chuckles, leaning back in his chair as if everything was right with the world. 

That night... It finally happens. 

The last straw happens to be a belligerent mercenary's comment, "Even for a tool, you're pretty pathetic. Can't even take a joke." 

Young Shadow's eyes narrow at him, his dark hair casting an ominous shadow over his face as he takes in the room full of men, cruel creatures who had tormented him for years.  

Finally letting all that rage bubble up to surface, he lashes out. 

"Hahaha! everyone look! The tools finally lost it" Someone hollers while others burst into laughter as they gawk at young Shadow trying desperately to assault drunkards twice his size only to get pushed back or shoved down each time. 

Their laughter is short-lived as soon everything plunges into darkness before screams start filling the atmosphere, screeches of pain and sheer terror.  

The dark-haired boy had taken control of their shadows, bending them under his will just like they did with him, using these extended versions of themselves against them. There was no better sight than seeing those monsters squirming helplessly on the ground.  

He saunters around the room, stepping over their writhing bodies with a smirk of pure satisfaction gracing his lips.  

"Please! Stop!" 

The cries are music to his ears. He raises an eyebrow while looking down at Z who was once feared by him, reduced to nothing more than a squealing pig in front of him. 

"Why should I?" His voice is cold and harsh, no longer the voice they remember belonging to their submissive tool anymore, "No one stopped for me," He spits out while looking at each pleading face making sure they see, really see, just what a damn 'tool' could do when pushed too far. 

After swiftly ending them all, he dusts his hands off victoriously. Rivers of red wash over the room, coloring his hands and face with crimson hues. 

His maroon eyes hold a crazed glint in them, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He licks the blood off of his hands, tasting victory. 

The young boy didn't hesitate to approach Gyro's lavish quarters as images of Z and others screaming for mercy echoed in his mind. 

As he burst into the room without bothering to knock, it was clear everyone inside was in shock. But not Gyro… No surprise crossed over that man’s face upon seeing young Shadow standing there bathed with fresh blood. If anything, amusement gleamed within those ruthless orbs on his otherwise poker-face. 

"You impress me, boy," Gyro's deep voice reverberates throughout the room. 

His words momentarily take young Shadow by surprise and he falters, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.  

"Me… A boy?" He questions softly to himself as if not believing those words were actually directed towards him. But then the moment passes, "I'm glad I could be so entertaining," He retorts with an edge of sarcasm in his voice. 

Showing Gyro that he means business, he controls Gyro's guards through their shadows, forcing them to kill each other in a messy blood bath as young Shadow stalks up to his desk indifferently. 

"You're strong," Gyro acknowledges, his face shrouded in shadow from the hood of his coat, "Z may have doubted you but I knew better." 

"Is that supposed to make me feel grateful?" The dark-haired boy retorts, although there's a small part of him, buried deep down inside his hardened exterior, that feels... Flattered? 

He casts Gyro an emotionless look, "You never cared about anything but how useful I was. I'm not here for your approval," He adds with a cocky smirk, the same kind Z used to adorn on his face whenever he made young Shadow bow under his ‘power', "I'm here for your throne." 

"You have my approval whether you want it or not, boy," Gyro declares sternly, "I have no control over how my mercenaries conduct their training." 

He removes his hood from his head, fully revealing his face before leaning forward slightly, "You want my throne? You can have it. But you should know it's a lot of boring politics." A wide grin plays on his lips as he interlaces his fingers together, "I have a more interesting proposition." 

For a long moment, young Shadow stands there just studying the man in front of him. The once feared infamous kingpin, now revealed to be… An ordinary-looking old man. It was almost anticlimactic. 

"Politics, huh?" He muses aloud while flicking a loosened piece of wood from his nail, showing Gyro that unlike him, he wasn't scared of ‘boring politics’, "And what might your so-called 'interesting proposition' involve?" 

As much as he wanted to refuse outright, curiosity had always been his one vice. Even at the cost of walking into a trap willingly. 

"You're a natural born killer. You have a talent. A special one. And I admire that about you, kid," Gyro begins, keeping his tone light and disarming, "I offer to hand over full control of my mercenaries to you. You'd still have to answer me of course, but they're all yours." 

"Hmm, ain't that tempting?" young Shadow drawls out. A predator's grin slowly forms on his face at the thought of having an army right under him, making those who once looked down upon a 'tool' bow before him. 

His gaze darkens, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips, one which clearly shows how little he cares for the man’s admiration or offered control, "And what? Become another Z? Your obedient dog?" 

"No, no of course not. I could never hope to tie down a talent like yours," The older man responds while waving his hand dismissively, "I may pass along assignments but how they're handled would be entirely up to you." 

"I see," The young boy mulls over the proposal. The idea of having full control over his assignments was appealing, and he could use this to his advantage, but... 

His maroon eyes narrow at Gyro suspiciously, "Why do this? What's the catch?" 

He refuses to be used as some pawn again, if Gyro wants him in charge, then there better be a damn good reason! 

"No catch. You're valuable. I admire your talent and respect your methods," Gyro extends his hand for the child to shake, "What's your name, boy?" 

Taken aback by the question, the boy hesitates, an unexpected wave of uncertainty washing over him. He had never been asked such a simple yet significant question before. 

"My name?" He finally mutters softly as if tasting those words for first time, feeling out their shape and weight, "Don't have one. Z only called me tool." 

"No? What a fool he was. How about K?" Gyro puts forth with a knowing grin, "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it, K?" 

K's eyes flicker to Gyro's extended hand before finally accepting it, shaking firmly, "K, huh?" He muses over the suggested name, rolling the letter on his tongue like tasting a new flavor.  

It felt… Right. As if that one letter held all the complexities of the life he was thrown into and molded by. 

"Yeah..." K begins with an arrogant smirk gracing his lips, "I guess I can work with that." 

"You'll do big things, K." 

K can't help but smirk at that, looking back at Gyro with re-found defiance in his maroon eyes, "You bet I will. And there won’t be any puppet strings attached this time." 

---------- 

As a present-day Shadow blinks awake, the soft glow of morning light pours in through a sliver of an opening between the heavy dark curtains. The nightmare, or should he call it a twisted memory, still lingers around him like some mocking ghost. 

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips as reality comes crashing back. How naïve little K was, who thought he had finally broken free only to become another puppet on Gyro’s strings.  

Yet... 

Though painful, these memories also remind him of his journey so far, how far he's come since then. There was no turning back.