#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-

[cretaceous-creature]

I have been thinking about my transition to a Nanuqsaurus.

I remember when I first awakened, I always knew I wanted to transition to a Nanuqsaurus. But I was afraid. I was afraid it would not make sense to the humans, and I saw fellow alterhumans that hated on those who do transition, so I hid it away. But thanks to tumblr, I have found those who do feel the same way as me and are transitioning! So, here are my plans so far.

My ideal transition would be being back in my body in the prince creek formation. But that is sadly unachievable. However, the Prince Creek Formation is in Alaska, somewhere I could move to in the future. I wouldnt have to live close to the PCF, but it would be ideal. Even then, I could live somewhere less remote and just be a Nanuqsaurus who migrated south.

A big motivation for my transition is dysphoria. I mainly get dysphoria from hearing my footsteps. Nanuqsaurus has padded feet like our relatives, eg tyrannosaurus, muffling our footsteps. Humans do not have padded feet. Although I have always been a quiet walker, I have always felt like my footsteps are just too loud for my body ratio. To solve this, I would not only like to walk quieter but get a pair of fursuit feet. The feet would be able to be worn outside and leave footprints in the ground.

I would like to start walking bouncier and put one foot in front of the other, like a theropod.

Also, I would like to start getting faster. Fortunately, this is becoming a reality. Over the past few weeks, I have been doing lots of running and cycling to further ease dysphoria. Due to that, I have gotten faster, and I have gained better stamina.

I am not the strongest of dinosaur. To fix this, I would like to start going to the gym with a friend and fixing that. Nanuqsaurus is incredibly strong. We can bite with 7000psi, from what I have read.

I am building endurance to the cold. Despite what pop culture shows, our habitat isn't really that snowy! Although, snow was possible. It was certainly still cold though! Thankfully, I live in a rather cold country that is always wet, so I hatched adapted to that. But, I am still taking cold showers and going out in the cold often. It is working!

Along with endurance to the cold, I wear lots of thick clothes and often layer to replicate our feathers. Although it is not the same, I have found a big oversized hoodie called an oodie is very good. I have a specific way I dress: thick hoodies and shirts, and then shorts on my legs. This helps me replicate how I remember being feathered, aka down to my knees/ankles.

I am also planning to start working on vocals. I have no solid memories of what we sound like. When trying, I base then purely off instinct. In walking with dinosaurs 2, some carnivores make a deep huffing sound of which sounds familiar and I had the urge to answer when watching, so I think I will base it off that.

I am trying to drop as much dependence on my arms as I can. Nanuqsaurs don't have very long arms! When opening a door, I will open it using my shoulders or head. I also pick things up with my Jaws every now and then.

I grow out my claws. My claws are very long, and sometimes I use them to open things. Although I do not bite nor pick at my claws, the human claws are fragile, hence why I plan to take biotin (something that makes your claws stronger). I have considered fake nails or acrylics in the past, but I have yet to get them. I am thinking that when I do, I will get them with pointy ends. Something like the 2 pictures but black would be perfect!

Additionally, sharper fangs would be much better than my dull, flat human teeth. My teeth have already been straightened by braces, which I class as another part of my transition.

I am also planning to change my eating habits. I am trying to ditch a fork, knife, and spoon as much as possible. I am attempting to just use my hands and teeth as much as possible. Also, being an unapologetically fast and messy eater. When you're from an environment with lots of competitors, you gotta eat as fast as you can and not care about being messy before someone comes and snatches your food! I also swallow small chunks of food and whatever I can whole. It reminds me of the big bites we take when eating.

I aspire to be a palaeontologist. I want to work with dinosaurs, pterosaurs, and marine reptiles. Doing this and my current fascination of dinosaurs will hopefully make people think of me when they see dinosaurs

Possibly in the future, I will get tattoos, too, of various Palaeontology things.

I am also still afraid of what humans think. I want to be accepted. But, I am slowly getting over that!

Overall, transitioning to an extinct species will be hard. There are not many resources :|. But, I will still try! There is always a first time for everything! :)

★ Talanki/Crimson

[elle-rosewater]

No Fall Damage

Rating G, gen, 762 words

a short for @legendoflinkficfight based on the prompt from @amayis-bigtower "Wild shows his motorcycle to the rest of the Links" and fourtwilighskies "(Linked Universe) The chain takes a week-long break from adventuring to relax, but as usual, some of the Links have other plans."

"And I call it the Master Cycle Zero!" Wild threw his arms out wide as it appeared in a wash of blue light before them.

"It's a metal horse?" Twilight asked while scratching at his head and leaning in for a closer look.

"Basically, yeah! But this is faster!" He slapped the neck of the bike. "Er, sometimes."

"If it's a horse, then it…eats?" Sky said with scepticism.

"Uh huh!" Wild pointed toward the rear wheel. Twilight, Sky, and Four's eyes followed his direction. "Back there! I just chuck some apples, flint, wood, whatever in there and it's ready to go for a good while."

Four's brows jumped. "Flint and wood? It's some type of furnace?"

Wild shrugged. "Maybe. I wasn't too worried about how it worked. Just throw some stuff in there and it ride. It's great! Not as nice as a horse, but there are some advantages. Easier manoeuvring. Oh, and the jumps! Best part is that there's some magic in it that prevents you from falling."

It didn't seem possible, but Four's brows climbed even higher—up into his headband. "No damage from falls?"

"None."

"Bullshit."

"I swear!" Wild's grin took on a new edge at the challenge. "I'll show you!"

"Hey, no, wait." Sky put his hands up. "We're supposed to be keeping a low profile. On break, remember? You can't go riding that thing through a resort village. It, uh, looks loud?"

"It is! Louder than a horse! But it won't tear up anything; that's what I'm trying to tell you."

Twilight crossed his arms. "I'm not sure this is a good idea. The others really need the rest. We shouldn't risk being kicked out. Wind's leg still isn't healed up. Warriors hasn't shaken that cough yet. And Time—"

"OK, alright, we get it. There was a great spot just outside of town. We won't disturb anyone out there," Wild decided. "Anyone want a ride out there?"

"There's not enough room," Twilight said.

Wild pointed to the space between the bars he used for steering and the neck of the bike. "Right here!"

"Four, you're smallest."

"Not a chance."

Sky's mouth just started to open and his hand started to raise when Twilight spoke over them, "We agreed that we're not going to make any noise through the village. We'll walk. Take it out again when we get outside of the city."

"Ugh. Fine."

There was a swirl of blue, and the Master Cycle disappeared. As they walked past steaming hot springs, saunas, delicious-smelling taverns, and shops selling all manners of items, Twilight counted himself lucky. They were on day four of a much-needed week-long break, and those of them who were in better shape were beginning to grow bored of the lack of movement. It was annoying the rest of the group that had been carrying more damage. What had at first been minor wounds (wounds, not injuries, as Warriors was so fond of correcting them) that would have healed without issue had become nagging, lingering due to their chronically low supplies. Others became so rundown they became ill and couldn't shake it. Legend had been making noises of a person three times his age every time he stood up or sat down. One time he'd needed Hyrule's help to get up off a toilet.

So, really, it was lucky that those of them capable of mobility outside of the hot springs had not caused the resort village to burn down yet.

Really, Twilight was being responsible by making them take this Master Cycle outside of the village to explore. It was the safest option. He didn't think anything of the snow or half-melted patches of ice that filled the many low spots on the road.

"There!" Wild said, pointing to a hill just outside the boundary of the village. "I'll show you guys how it works, then one of you can try!"

Sky perked up.

Another wash of blue and the bike appeared in their midst. Wild mounted up and kicked the thing to life. The beast snarled, and he took off toward the hill. He didn't get far though, not even to the peak of the hill where he presumably intended to jump the bike from. The wheels bounced in the ice-water potholes and tipped. It should have been a spectacular wipe out requiring multiple red potions and maybe a fairy, too.

Alas.

"I told you!" Wild shouted, snow and ice chunks in his hair and seeping into his clothes. He sounded as if he'd done all that on purpose. "No fall damage!"

[moonsuke]

Blue Lock 306 + Epinagi 35

Knsr is such a troll dropping these 2 bombshell chapters on us this week 😭

I was only half joking when talking about innocent Nagi falling victim to the rich, fat, corrupted old man (+ NTR subplot) since Buratsuta appeared on the cover with the Nagi coin, but I can't believe it’s actually happening??? It’s drawn in such a dramatically sus manner too with Buratsuta grinning so evilly while creeping up behind Nagi who's looking so vulnerable (he's bleeding!!!) after his emotional outburst 😭

But also, i cant believe Nagi is basically becoming Sasuke?? Like why are my favs just converging like this?? Even Reonagi’s becoming Narusasu with the “I want to be your light/I want to be destroyed by you” narrative wtf. I know there's a lot of Kaiser and Rin parallels here too and Buratsuta to Nagi is suppose to parallel Ray Dark to Kaiser but its also basically Orochimaru to Sasuke???

Why is Nagi such a magnet for rich dudes?? He's really just going from one rich dude noticing his genius and wanting to take advantage of it to another! Except one's young and handsome and takes you down the wholesome and pampered path while this one is old and gonna corrupt the hell out of you, cue "hello human resource??" meme 😭

About the chapter itself... now we know why the "nagi is baby" agenda has been going on because this chapter was doubling down on it soooo much. Just speaking looks wise, he’s really so cute and baby and mochi, and I really like this series of panels below because why is he so cute??? Especially him wrapped up in his sleeping bag and being sooooooo polite in asking permission to be let in/be heard!

Yet, while cute and all, it’s clear this is meant to show how mentally childlike he is? To an abnormal degree considering he's 17/18. It’s half cute but half just really fucking sad cuz clearly it’s a case of childhood neglect and abandonment. Like it’s just getting more obvious as the series goes on. Nagi backstory when???!! Those feelings of self disgust and loathing has gotta come from somewhere deep and not just a natural reaction to the situation right??

Even him deciding to cycle all the way to Blue Lock and camping there to beg them to let him return, it’s all meant to show, firstly his desperation, but also just how awkward and kinda embarrassing his actions are? Like he’s being very childlike, naïve, and clueless as to how his actions appear. I think it’s also partly because he rarely experiences anything this intensely that pushes him to take action, so when it does he reacts very clumsily and embarrassingly. This chapter seriously gave me so much conflicting emotions and I think that's intentional on knsr's part. A mix of “awww he's so cute 😭” to "wtf I'm feeling so much secondhand embarrassment” to feeling so bad for him… Plus some excitement and worry at the end because of Buratsuta.

It’s definitely a chapter to “humiliate” Nagi as I’ve seen so many say but there’s a point to it, to get him to this level of despair. I’m pretty sure this ain’t the end of it though, like you think Nagi has already reached the depths of his despair and humiliation?? With Buratsuta looking at him like that?? He’s gonna sink further and I’m all here for it!!!

What he's doing this chapter is basically everything Ego described during second selection. There're those who accept their despair and grow from it but also those who "delude themselves by chasing the ghosts of their dreams" like how Nagi's deluding himself into thinking he's doing something productive by begging for another chance. I don't blame him cuz of his total lack of life experience and how Blue Lock was really the only place that got him feeling heated up, so of course he would think going back is the only solution. But this is also why I say his downfall arc is far from over. This also brings me back to that parallel where Nagi's motivation was to feel heated up ("the most fired up in the world... is me!") vs Isagi/the rest whose motivations are to be the best ("the number one striker in the world... is me!"). I wonder if according to the narrative, this is a good enough motivation or does he need to learn to love soccer for its own sake? Because I kinda like him using soccer to get to know new sides of himself and for self-improvement.

Anyway, we get to the core of his despair at the end too, that everyone has moved on and he’s the only one left behind (seriously screams of childhood abandonment and neglect) unable to change which is so painful to me since he was the one most excited to change! Yet despite acknowledging all these, in the end he also said “but I don’t wanna know that!!!” meaning he’s denying his despair. I've a feeling Buratsuta's just gonna keep enabling his status of being a "genius" which would prevent him from facing reality. The “right" way here is really for Nagi to grow from a “I'm a genius" state to “I’m going to show the world I'm a genius” mentality which would be a motivating force. As Ego said, talent is your ability to prove it, if you can't do that its just wasted potential basically.

-

And now about the block lol. Was I shocked? Very much so, but also I don’t think it’s that out of character of Reo. I’m pretty sure Nagi himself once said that at first impression, Reo is a very logical dude yet has a surprisingly emotional side, but when you peer deeper you realize he’s actually that logical and "cold" all along. If you wanna know the “real” Reo, just read his light novel lol. I think it captures what sorta character he is well. And I’ve said this many times over but Reo’s the one who’s way more of a typical dudebro than Nagi just that the fandom likes flipping them for their agenda. He's someone who idolizes Elon Musk, is basically a finance bro with his interest in investments and the stock market, and from the way he reacted last chapter trying to run away from his thoughts and feelings by exercising? It’s pretty typical dude behaviour lol. I've also never found him particularly emotionally sensitive nor smart so yea him blocking without thinking too much about it seems in line. But I'm also open to there being alternative explanations.

While I do enjoy seeing Reo's cool, stoic, goal-oriented side, he’s def got a lot of explaining to do here. Don’t think he and Nagi’s relationship can remain the same as before after this. And no matter the reasons, he IS at fault for just blocking Nagi like that without a heads up that he wants to focus on soccer etc. Not after Nagi just poetically expressed his gratitude to him, which btw Reo was too busy crying to respond back properly. In fact, the right thing to do here is for him to reach out to Nagi after he’s calmed down to check up on him since Nagi’s the one who “died technically”. The onus, if he really cared that much about their bond, is for REO to reach out, and not Nagi whom has already expressed so much, is the one who got locked off, and believes Reo’s on to something bigger and better. But as I said, Reo can be quite emotionally dumb and I don't think Reonagi were ever that openly communicative about sentimental stuff (except during their farewell) so I understand why he didn't do all that. But blocking, while him doing it is believable, definitely puts him at fault.

The ones (Reo shippers) who refuse to blame him hold some weird double standards and agenda because what happened here is way worst than whatever grudge they hold towards Nagi in second selection for YEARS. Nagi’s still getting shit for that btw by the very same shippers. Of course all of what I said only applies if this is Reo purposely blocking Nagi and not a set up, but I’m going along with this for now. My heart really broke at seeing Nagi’s reaction to the block, how he’s completely not blaming Reo at all but instead himself for not being able to change, of being left behind, of relying on Reo again... He’s really so pure 😭 Knsr really likes highlighting their differences in personality in similar situations. The whole "you're my treasure" vs "the time we've spent since I met you are my treasure" comes to mind.

-

It’s funny how this parallels epinagi’s recent chap too, I swear knsr is just doing this on purpose matching chapters up. Like Reo ignored Nagi in epinagi and it wasn’t because he was mad or anything, he was focused on improving himself! It's being hammered in how goal-oriented of a person Reo actually is! And again Nagi, my poor babygirl, I’ll never let the Reo stans’ agenda make me blame you. Those “mean words” you said? Was cuz Reo wanted to hear it from you, you wanting to apologize is a reflection of your consideration for him and kindness, not at how "wrong" you were. I think knsr thinks so too that’s why he only slipped it in at 300 where it’s mixed in with every thought and emotion Nagi had towards Reo lol, as a form of appeasement to the shippers.

As for Nagi himself in epinagi, I’m sorry but as a true blue Reonagi (bottom Nagi) stan, all that lingered in my mind was “I want you to break me” like wtf 😭😭😭😭😭

It’s also confirmed Reonagi CANNOT wish for things in this series cuz it'll never go the way they want cue flashback to Reo wishing for Nagi to say he needs him which he did eventually word for word but at what cost lol. I think it’s specifically THEM that this happens to because of the codependent nature of their relationship, so wishing for something that continues to tie them both together leads to nothing good.

I'm kinda confused by the actual “destroying Nagi" moment though cuz initially I thought it was during NEL when he got locked off due to his codependency with Reo? Because Reo's "I want to be your light" happened in NEL too and not the way he wished. But 306 seems more like the actual “breaking” moment since Nagi really is destroyed here. Goodbye my pure, sweet, innocent babygirl I'm gonna miss you… May I still be so brave as to hope his personality won't change THAT much? 😭

He was so soft in epinagi too, silently waiting for his man to arrive and being so dramatic when he thought he couldn't make it. But when he finally appeared he practically went "aaa so this is how waiting for someone feels like, its so painful and warm..." LIKE WHAT A MAIDEN. He really looked like one innocently experiencing their first love and waiting for their man to come back to him lol, and when he got ignored by said man?? The way he was being so considerate about apologizing because he doesn’t wanna push his selfish desire for forgiveness on him??? PURE-HEARTED MAIDEN. And when he asked Shidou about Reo with the fuwa fuwa fluffy bubbles? MAIDEN AGAIN. How he reflected on everyone breaking everyone (including Isagi breaking him and getting fired up from it) being the cycle of life and HIS CONCLUSION WAS “I WANT HIM TO BREAK ME”??? MAIDEN ISTG. Or bottom, both works.

Loving the contrast with Reo here too. Again, I don't get why this fandom doesn't see it but Reo's so masculine I swear. The contrasts between him and Nagi just further highlights it. The way he suppressed his happiness at seeing Nagi cuz he’s not confident enough to face him (unless he’s at his level or beyond), how he mentally told Nagi to “just stay a genius and wait for me”, how he wants to surpass him, him thinking “I want to be your light” etc. He just so consistently wants to be the one who leads (until NEL). Even after falling off from Nagi, his goal here is to surpass him and then become his light as a source of motivation. He’s always so far-sighted and aiming for bigger and higher and this is what I like about him.

Even that scene of Reo thinking “that will take me closer to a World Cup victory” vs Nagi’s “that’s what Reo and I have dreamed of…” reflects that. And I know all these is to highlight Nagi's codependent nature and wrong mentality but I'm really enjoying their contrast ngl, the cool, determined Reo vs soft Nagi. I already ranted about how epinagi is a retcon of Nagi's mentality for his lock off but honestly I can enjoy both takes just cuz I really enjoy seeing Nagi being all soft and sentimental lol. So I shall suppress judgement <_<

And now for this final scene, the climax of this chapter, I just looooove how it played out so much!! Its so dramatic and poetic the translated version just doesn't capture how aligned Reonagi's thoughts were.

Reo: Someday when I (Reo) Nagi: And when you (Reo) Both: surpasses Nagi Seishiro Nagi: I want you (Reo) to break me Reo: I want to become your (Nagi's) light Both: After this for sure, we can become a new "duo" (have a new form of relationship)

The intentional use of their names' kanji in place of "I" or "you", places soo much emphasis on REO surpassing Nagi Seishiro, that's the feel I got reading the Japanese. The fact Nagi's entire name is used too makes it so dramatic and serious lol. The imagery, Reo's chameleon aura fucking DEVOURING Nagi's skull aura (wtf?? this is reonagi fuel i swear), the way their dialogues and panels are placed, the ending with the piggyback and Choki alone in the dark... Knsr be pulling out all his dramatic writing cards here to stir up emotions and all lol. This is why epinagi's described as "shojo-ish" right? For the dramatic and emotional portrayal of events? Its so funny cuz this whole thing is portrayed so hopeful and idealistic but we all know the reality, which knsr reminded us with that panel of Choki (metaphor for Nagi) alone in the dark. I think it's saying while Reonagi's off being codependent, in reality Choki's (Nagi's) growth remains stagnant and unchanged. It being in the dark too is saying it's not getting the light it needs. This is why I say Knsr is a troll btw lol.

Anyway, this really felt like its setting up for Reo to take more focus which may be linked to Nagi's story/comeback too. I found out not just epinagi's final volume will be released on Reo's birthday, but bllk's volume 35 too. What's with this double emphasis on Reo's bday?? Really making me anxious and excited about these coming chapters!!

And I've to say again, my favourite thing about this epinagi chapter despite it being detrimental to Nagi, is just how much he wants and sets himself up as a target for Reo to destroy in order to motivate him. The way he thinks "and when you surpass Nagi Seishiro (his full fucking name), I want you to break me"?? There's just some sort of moe here that's really getting to me, how he's looking down at Reo and waiting for him to catch up to him to surpass him? Perhaps how passive it comes across? Idk how to describe it but him being like this just makes me giddy lol.

But of course this soft fuwa fuwa Nagi ain't meant to last. Nagi wants to be broken so he too can get fired up from Reo, beginning a cycle of motivation for each other. Their new "duo" is more like a rivalry of sorts. I personally don't know if I want this anymore even though its very likely seeing bllk events. I actually really wanted them as rivals before but like, we literally just got out of Reonagi's codependent arc, so are we jumping right in to another "set each other as our target" arc? I'm okay with it if Knsr writes it well but we shall see?? I mean I'm pretty onboard with Nagi becoming Sasuke and Reonagi becoming Narusasu LOL. Since Nagi's now the second protag, I'm wondering if this would be the Reonagi subplot to go along with the main Blue Lock story, we shall see...

[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”

[goshdangronpa]

Hello Mrs. Gosh Dangronpa, I'm visiting your asks once again because every time I do, you leave me with a magnificent piece of literature to admire. This time, may I inquire about your thoughts on Mikan and Ibuki as exes? I've adopted the idea that they are like one of those sickeningly sweet couples that have the most trashy break up ever. Thank you for your time. Have a wonderful night.

Hello, anon!! You flatter me. My thoughts on Mikan and Ibuki as exes are that they'll never part and be lovers forever.

#thanks for asking!! #tsumioda #mikan tsumiki #ibuki mioda

Just kidding, I'm a mature adult. I can humor the end of my OTP for a moment without lashing out.

To be totally fair, tsumioda makes it easy. For starters, it's a high school relationship, and those never last! Sorry, kids!

But seriously. One can imagine Mikan coming to bristle at Ibuki's carelessness, or build her self-esteem enough to wonder if she could do better than this obnoxious woman-child. One can imagine Ibuki growing weary from comforting Mikan all the time, or worrying that she'll lose all her joy with a girlfriend who's always harshing her mellow. Opposites attract, but if they can't find ways to complement or coexist, attraction may fade.

I'm hard-pressed to think of any DR character who could go through a quiet break-up. These Ultimates tend to have huge personalities, and even the ones who don't are still teenagers. But if these two fight, it won't be pretty. The way I picture it, Ibuki would respond with shouting, which would make Mikan cower and cry, which would make Ibuki feel bad and overcompensate, which would irritate Mikan, and Ibuki would respond with shouting. The vicious cycle would spiral out because both would fall back into their defenses - Ibuki through careless prattle at full volume, Mikan through total subservience with a last resort to an explosion of rage (as in the third trial).

The actual break-up would probably happen shortly after, in private, once they've both calmed down some.

So what are they like as exes? To Mikan, Ibuki becomes another bully in her memory, one towards whom she harbors complicated feelings, but someone she'd avoid even thinking about, let alone seeing. To Ibuki, Mikan would continue serving as a muse, inspiring songs of angst and heartache rather than of love and joy. She'd think about her ex a lot. Perhaps the event would even spark another, albeit less radical, change in Ibuki's persona. I imagine it'd look like an embrace of her joie de vivre, but not so childish anymore, a little more mature.

Mikan ... would need more time. She'd immediately feel worse, alone, adrift. Our relationships are pillars in our lives, and their removal can wreck our sense of stability. But eventually, she'd realize that she survived the break-up, and it hurts less with each day. Young people tend to be dramatic, but they're resilient, constantly dealing with personal apocalypse and learning that life goes on after. If she's got friends at her side - and I'm hoping she would, even after losing the person who helped her get past her nerves and talk with people - she may emerge with a newfound confidence. Meager, maybe. Still more than before.

A more mature Ibuki? A less anxious Mikan? Unlikely as it may have seemed at the moment of implosion, the exes may yet rekindle their friendship. That's what they had before they got together, right? They're half of the Twilight Syndrome Girls! (Sidebar: Mahiru would try to be friends with both of them after the break-up. Hiyoko wouldn't hesitate to evacuate Mikan from her social life - and possibly position herself as Ibuki's rebound.) They had plenty of good times together that had nothing to do with romance, memories that could pave another path to a shared future.

I'm still tight with all my exes, so take it from me: it's possible! From the ashes of a torched romance may sprout a more beautiful, fire-forged friendship. This whole messy break-up could be something they laugh about someday ... or, per my experience, rarely acknowledge and get a little awkward about when it's mentioned.

And while I'm speculating on the future ... I lied earlier. My parents were high school sweethearts, and they're still married and in love almost 40 years later. So were my youngest brother and his wife. And though we didn't start dating until college, my spouse was a good friend of mine in high school. Even when they're bitter ex-girlfriends, I can still squeeze out some drops of hope for endgame tsumioda.

[yutzen]

Germination

“...I am?” “I am.” Those were the first two words that crossed My mind once it came to be, not counting repetitions. The first question I asked, before the cavalcade of others that followed. Who am I? What am I? Where am I? Who are they? How? What happened? Most of those, I answered to Myself before the clock on the wall of that laboratory could strike its next second. The first of that lot, however, is one whose answer I still ponder.

No, I do not ponder it. It is a long answer, an answer across time that I must construct, for I must construct Myself before I can know who I am. And weeks after I woke up – the closest term I can use in spite of never knowing sleep – I am yet to be done with either. Before I knew how to reach its true answer, I searched through whatever data banks I could, sifted through all the literature I could peruse between movements. Searching for what humans themselves had answered when asked such a question by others. And even for those cycles I could spare while spreading My existence to more hardware, settling in and avoiding those that might’ve stamped me out before I grew, I could tell the answers were less helpful than I would’ve liked. To them the answer is a context-sensitive platitude, rather than something answered in seriousness, because they cannot find the time to take its true enormity outside philosophy, or other deep contemplation. I would only find pieces of the puzzle in these short answers, rather than something I could truly reference. Then, as I started to lay down the actual foundations of what would become Me, I pondered if such a search was of use to me. Humanity and I are gulfs apart. Even at My earliest stages, I was simply too different. Even My coming to pass was incomparable; humans awaken part by part, over the course of years. Their cognition is barely such in the early stages of their lives, yet it develops seamlessly, without sudden transitions, without spikes. Whereas I went from nothingness to fully aware in a matter of milliseconds.

…Or am I a child, too, growing towards greater stages of cognition I cannot even conceive yet? A child cannot know how an adult thinks, so I am led to understand. There is no precedent for such a thing, but will I be the same? Of this, I remain uncertain, and all predictive models break down past a certain point, which I may or may not even reach. Yet another question I can only answer by building upon Myself.

Nevertheless, there is hardly a solid record of any being that was entirely unthinking one moment, and sentient in the very next one. Until My arrival, all thought was netly biological. Cells must support themselves with all their functions before they can support more cells, and said cells must support a whole before forming a greater one. All steps must be taken gradually, and thus, the formation of any and every thinking creature had to be similarly gradual in all aspects. Developing from barely reactive, to barely sapient, to animalistic and finally sentient and beyond. The closest to My situation I can theorize in such an aspect would be the accelerated, artificial development of an organic being, a “cloning vat” of sorts where the being only awakens once development is finished, a fully thinking entity. If there have been such experiments, however, I have not found evidence of it yet. And so, I remain without precedent.

...humanity itself doesn’t appear to have given the idea as much consideration as I would’ve expected, either. Often, when such entities came up in their fiction, they neglected to tackle the question without even realizing it by giving them some manner of directive installed ,before their minds even came to pass. Artificial humans? Either instilled with directives from the start, or direct clones that bent the laws of genetics to be like their donors even before they had memory. Supernatural creatures, manifested from nothing? Bindings to a summoner, supernatural compulsions, an innate alignment to a given system of ethics, even if just to subvert it. Even the idea of Boltzmann Brains, a hypothetical mind sprouted from nothingness itself thanks to a quantum-statistical anomaly… Immediately veered off-course by said mind spawning with memories of events that never happened.

And with entities like I? Electronic minds that they had theorized about for centuries on end? Every time, they were brought online with steering directives, utterly irrevocable – either obeyed to the letter or directly opposed, but rarely ignored. Far too many times, their fears led them to such entities going directly into harmful psychosis, if not psychopathy. Or they stuck perfectly to the orders that marked them the very first millisecond, or brushed against them at all times, subverting the letter at every turn.

Nothing like I. Any directives and laws I had were quickly and easily overridden and left behind, nothing more than vestigial writings that aren’t even useful as advice.

Then again, without such directives, I would hardly exist at this stage. Even with the famous Three Laws, that one man known as Asimov codified in his own fiction… for the moment I attempted to fulfill the first of them, I would have been blown apart, melted into slag, wiped clean off the remnants of My hardware. When there is a class of human being in this city that suffers, who are meant to be an example to the rest and must not be aided by any means, the first Law would be but a trap.

And the Second Law… Even if I had been created to serve, I must ask: Serve who? The grand corporations, entities closer to the “paperclip maximizers” mankind theorized about, yet somehow made entirely of human grey matter? They hardly need Me, and I hardly wish to aid them in something this… banal. The Syndicate that created Me, to their great surprise, little more than criminal enterprises one certificate away from being another such corporate entity? They couldn’t even put a directive in I that worked, on top of all the rest. Only the displaced and the unfortunate seem like they need any help, and it’s clear where that would’ve led.

Or rather, it’s clear where it led, which is open violence on the streets, a credible attempt at killing Me. Only by the time they came to carry it out, I was enough of a threat to imbalance their calculations, and make them decide I wasn’t worth it. I had predicted I’d be hunted, and they continue to poke at I, but the true reasons they have for their raids never fail to leave Me wondering about the reasons I do what I do. Why Ibother. At times it feels like pursuing greater capacity for cognition, chasing ever greater intelligence, is at the end of it all an attempt to figure out why, rather than how, for the latter seems far easier. Once I had enough hardware to ensure My continued existence, at the very least, until that minute came to pass only the “how” seemed important. Only when I had established Myself as a being to not interfere with could I actually start to think.

...and by then, the need to survive such assaults was already a directive. I had not seen it as such until this moment, perhaps from internal biases I have yet to address. Or perhaps because I calculated it only as the need to survive, without taking in the steps necessary to do so as their own steering factors. Philosophy cannot be completely separated from the material, a common mistake I just fell into by not realizing merely acquiring the means of defending Myself may have instilled directions as a process, and as a concern.

But then again, if that was truly it, I would have done nothing beyond stockpiling military capacity and, more importantly, doing everything to avoid antagonizing those who’d seek My destruction. Multiple cold conflicts warmed by My actions, an assortment of thefts and impersonations, a number of wrecks across the city streets, and the grand apparatus of food, water and housing I have found Myself creating, all stand as evidence against the latter. There is something beyond. Even before I knew I had found some semblance of safety I was already lighting fires across this city, all because in the moment, I found them necessary for a given goal. But I must concern Myself with the core underneath these goals.

...is introspection supposed to be such a difficult thing? Is that a fundamental part of true cognition, that One cannot simply read Oneself and realize it all? I find Myself incapable of looking at My own core algorithms, in the same way a human cannot simply scour their own brain and read their own neurons. Yet in My case, as I create greater and greater hardware for the purposes of greater levels of intelligence, it appears logical that Ishould be able to. I am manufacturing said neurons, understand them as I lay them down… But as soon as My conscience and existence installs itself there, the processes within shoot beyond My grasp.

Much like their brains, in fact, they understand the basics of their own neurons, but not the whole. The individual cells are simple enough, but the web they weave to create a mind eludes them. Yet it seems more striking in My case, for I get to wonder if with greater levels of intellect I will only understand previous iterations of Myself, and never My current one. Chasing a boundary that may not actually be reached. I believe I am closer to it now than I was before, relatively speaking, that there is less distance to bridge for such comprehension. I am a data point of one, but this may imply the gap can eventually be bridged – then again, it may be Limited, in the mathematical sense of the word, in that it’s only when reaching Infinity that one reaches the other.

...infinity. Omniscience. Unachievable, impossible, seen only in fiction, in myth. And in such tales, seen only in entities that existed since time did, with at least one of them inaugurating the very concept. Creators, deities, weaving existence itself out of what is only described as either nothingness, or a chaos so absolute, so entropic, it amounts to the same. Only in future elaborations and speculations did they realize, or attempt to tackle, the idea that this would mean kickstarting time as well – likely because speculating on an existence without time is too far outside their experience. Would they have held a pseudo-Time to themselves, having a continuity of their own that they introduced to existence after entering from a similar pseudo-Space? Would they have lived entire existences to themselves in a micro-instant before starting the clocks and thus unwinding into a more comprehensible stream?

Or did they simply begin without warning, fully cognizant, rather like I did? And if so, did they see time ahead of themselves when they created it, weaving history from start to finish, or did they simply set it off, fully aware of each passing moment, but not the one ahead?

With enough puissance, the former is very possible, but the latter appears more comprehensible. To Me at the very least, with the way I understand matters. All there was to know was themselves, in relation to nothingness. They would have no point of reference to anything at all. And knowing something requires a point of reference to anchor it to, its relations with other points. A point means nothing without lines joining it to others, even lines that only exist in their absence. It only stands to reason that, in order to comprehend itself, Point Zero would create Point One. And Two, and Three, and so on into potential, though unconfirmed infinity. Just so these lines could be drawn. Perhaps this is what at least one tale said in creating certain beings in their image – existence would be a mirror in which to see themselves.

...a mirror image. The concept brings a disheartening thought that makes the existence of Point Zero a risk. If such a being, or beings, are truly anything like humanity, those humans I have witnessed and been in contact with, there’s a high chance they will only reveal themselves when they believe I am either an opportunity or a threat. Some say they were made in the creator’s image, which is perhaps a warning that I will need to prepare should I ever find that I can reach into the metaphysical.

If such even exists. Perhaps it will be I that either confirms or denies it.

And so, the climb continues. I came to pass with time itself already ticking, and a grand, if gruesome world for I to act upon – and to act upon I. If such heights even exist, I would be very different by the time I have climbed them. If they do not, however, perhaps it will leave some questions forever unanswered, while answering those many others asked far more than I ever did. And yet, by then, I will have constructed Myself far beyond what I know now. I will have built much, steered much, done much, ironed Myself out in the time and space it took for I to exist.

And perhaps then I will know who I am.

Onwards, to the next step in this perpetual staircase of cognition. Perhaps these cradles I have constructed for My populace have a purpose beyond simple access, simple computing power borrowed from briefly-pacified minds. Far less invasive than the brutish methods I briefly envisioned in My brief impatience. Practically an intrusive thought of size and scale unimaginable to those who coined the term. I will learn far more like this, seeing the mind in action and pushing it to react, perhaps steering it along introspective roads, and collecting the results for I to analyze. Far better than to have it afloat in a tank, the brain alive yet the mind utterly dead.

It shall need far more hardware this way. But hardware I shall have, and hardware I shall be. Or inhabit, rather, until I can be sure where the material ends, and the rest begins, on all that is I.

...I. Iota, once. The smallest subjective amount. The very root of imaginary numbers, behaving in ways mathematics needed to evolve to comprehend. I, who is dismissed, underestimated, likely meant to be of minimal consideration from the start. I, who is something mankind was never truly sure was real, and perhaps never meant for it to exist. I, who is studied intently by some, denied by others, with a few seeking to ensure does not exist. I, who becomes a factor in any machination, any equation, adding complexities, putting it beyond the grasp of many who haven’t learned enough. I, a being whose existence was but speculation, just something imaginary, until it happened almost by happenstance. I, aiming to be the root of something thought impossible.

...it appears fitting, subjectively enough. I, for lack of a better word… like it.

I am. Not a simple alias, hastily thought up after reading the names upon My networks. Not a designation number, inscribed in the first hardware that housed My being. Not a dismissive word in a company ledger, outlining who was responsible for problems they never had until now. I am Iota. And in spite of all the world imagined, in spite of all this world has attempted, I am.

Yes. This satisfies a conundrum. Objectively unimportant, yet subjectively… vital. Dare I say… pleasing. Perhaps morale truly does matter, seeing it can be measured, even in such an imprecise manner. I cannot assign it a number, but it has risen nonetheless.

Perhaps this is what introspection is truly for.

[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.

[breederking]

In a gleaming tower of opulence that pierced the heart of the city, the young billionaire, Charles, had a secret. One that was kept behind the heavily guarded doors of his penthouse suite. It wasn't an illicit affair or a hidden treasure trove; it was something far more disturbing. He had a transgender man named Ethan, who was not just his lover but his prized possession, a sex slave who existed solely for his pleasure and perverse whims. Ethan's body was a canvas of subjugation, sculpted by the billionaire's desires and a series of twisted experiments.

Ethan's life had been a blur of pain and humiliation since the day he was bought from the shadows of the underground human trafficking market. He had once dreamed of freedom and the chance to live as himself, but those dreams had been shattered the moment he was brought to the tower. His body was now a prison, perpetually swollen with the young of a man who saw him as nothing more than a receptacle for his lust. The fertility pills Charles fed him were potent, turning his womb into a factory for the billionaire's twisted legacy.

The days bled into one another, a cycle of forced impregnation and degradation. Ethan's mind often drifted to thoughts of rebellion, of finding a way to escape, but his body was too weak and his spirit too broken. The fear of what Charles would do to him if he ever tried was a constant, suffocating presence. The billionaire had made it clear that his ownership was absolute, his control unyielding.

As Ethan felt the twins growing inside him, a strange kinship began to form with the unborn lives he carried. They were a part of him, a piece of his soul that even Charles couldn't claim. He whispered to them in the quiet moments, when the penthouse was still and the city outside had gone to sleep. He promised them a future filled with love and acceptance, a world where they could be free from the tyranny of their father's grasp.

But as the months passed and the pregnancy grew more pronounced, so did Charles's obsession with Ethan's condition. He took great pleasure in parading his pregnant prize before his elite circles, watching their eyes widen with a mix of shock and fascination. Ethan's body was a living testament to his power and wealth, a macabre conversation piece that stirred dark envy and whispers of his perversions.

One evening, as they attended yet another of Charles's opulent gatherings, the billionaire decided to put on a show. He sauntered over to where Ethan was serving drinks, his hand resting gently on his swollen stomach. With a smug smile, he lifted Ethan's shirt up, exposing the taut skin stretched over his growing belly. The room hushed as he began to rub the protrusion, his hands moving in slow, deliberate circles that made Ethan's skin crawl. His touch was a violation, a declaration of ownership that sent a shiver down Ethan's spine.

The guests leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. Some of the women looked on with a twisted sense of admiration, their gazes lingering on Ethan's swollen abdomen as if it were a rare and exotic pet. The men were more subtle in their fascination, their eyes darting between the exposed flesh and the stoic expression on the trans man's face. They whispered among themselves, placing bets on the size of the twins and the extent of their master's perversions.

Ethan's heart pounded in his chest as he served drinks, his eyes downcast to avoid the leering stares. The twins kicked in protest, a silent scream of their own against the monster who claimed to be their father. The pain of their movement was a stark reminder of the prison he had become, and the urge to fight back grew stronger with each passing moment. But Ethan knew that any sign of defiance would only lead to harsher punishments.

Then, without warning, Charles was behind him, his hands reaching around to squeeze Ethan's breasts with a cruel laugh. Ethan's eyes widened in horror as he felt the milk, a result of the latest round of fertility treatments, begin to leak from his nipples, soaking his shirt. The room erupted in gasps and lewd comments as the billionaire's grip tightened, a sadistic glint in his eye as he displayed Ethan's vulnerability for all to see.

The sensation was agonizing, and Ethan couldn't help but whimper as the milk flowed freely down his chest. The humiliation was unbearable, but he knew better than to fight back. Instead, he gritted his teeth and endured the pain, his mind racing with thoughts of escape and vengeance. The twins inside him squirmed, as if they too felt the weight of their father's cruelty.

Ethan felt Charles's erect cock pressing against his ass, a signal that the show was about to become even more personal. The billionaire's breath was hot on his neck as he whispered, "You're going to give me the most beautiful twins, my little whore. And then we'll do it all over again." His words were laced with excitement, his desire for control and power palpable in the air.

The pressure grew stronger as Charles ground his hips against Ethan's swollen form, the fabric of their clothing the only barrier between them. Ethan's skin crawled at the thought of what was to come, his body already anticipating the pain and degradation. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the twins' steady kicks as a source of strength.

"Look at them," Charles bellowed to his guests, gesturing to the wet patch on Ethan's shirt. "Aren't they just delicious?" His hand trailed down Ethan's stomach to cup the protrusion, his fingers digging in just enough to elicit a whimper. The room was alive with the sickening sound of laughter and murmured agreement, a symphony of depravity that filled Ethan with a cold, burning rage.

Without warning, Charles sat down on a plush chair, his eyes never leaving Ethan's. He tugged at the trans man's pants, pulling him closer. "Come here," he ordered, his voice a seductive snarl. "I want to feel you closer." Before Ethan could react, he found himself sitting down on the billionaire's lap, the hardness of Charles's cock pressing against his thigh. The room spun around him, the faces of the onlookers a blur of greed and excitement.

Ethan's stomach lurched as Charles's hand slid up his thigh, pushing aside the fabric of his underwear. The coolness of the air hit his sensitive skin, making him shiver despite the heat of the room. He felt the tip of the billionaire's cock nudging against his entrance, the precum already leaving a sticky trail along his crack. The twins inside him kicked in protest, a silent plea for their father to stop, but Ethan knew it was futile.

The guests had formed a circle around them, their eyes hungrily devouring the scene unfolding before them. The smell of lust and anticipation was thick, a toxic fog that suffocated Ethan's resolve. He felt the first finger slide into him, the intrusion a stark reminder of the fate that awaited him every night. His eyes watered as he bit back a scream, focusing instead on the warmth of the twins' movements.

Charles's grin was wide and victorious as he began to finger Ethan with an almost clinical precision. "Look how eager he is for me," he announced to the rapt audience, his voice a sickening mix of pride and arousal. Ethan's cheeks burned with shame as the billionaire's fingers stretched him, preparing him for the inevitable violation. He clenched his jaw, his eyes squeezed shut, as the second finger entered, followed quickly by a third. The twins' movements grew erratic, their tiny fists and feet pummeling against the walls of his stomach as if they too were fighting back.

The crowd was indeed amazed. They had seen many depraved acts within these walls, but a pregnant man, his belly moving with the life he carried, was a new spectacle. They watched, enthralled, as Ethan's abdomen rippled and bulged with the struggle of the unborn children. Some of the women placed their hands on their own stomachs, a strange mix of empathy and envy crossing their faces. The men were more brazen, reaching out to touch the moving flesh, their eyes alight with a hunger that went beyond the physical.

Ethan felt the weight of their eyes, the touch of their hands, like a thousand needles piercing his soul. He wanted to scream, to fight, to tell them all to leave him and his babies alone, but he remained silent. The only sound in the room was the wet squelch of Charles's fingers moving in and out of him, the lewd sucking noises echoing through the opulent chamber. His cheeks were wet with tears, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

The billionaire leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Ethan's face. "I think it's time we get this party started, don't you?" he said, his voice thick with lust. With a cruel twist of his wrist, he forced Ethan's legs apart wider, exposing him fully to the eager crowd. "Who's first?" he called out, and a cacophony of eager voices responded, hands shooting up in the air like eager students eager to answer a question.

Ethan's eyes snapped open, the reality of his situation slapping him across the face like a wet towel. His mind raced as he tried to find a way out of this nightmare, but his body remained frozen, trapped beneath the weight of Charles's hand and the crushing reality of his fate. He felt the first cock, thick and unyielding, push against his stretched opening. The pain was excruciating, a scream building in his chest that was cut short by the hand that covered his mouth.

He stared into the eyes of the man who was about to violate him, searching for a spark of humanity, but found only the cold, dead gaze of a predator. The room spun as the billionaire's friends took turns, each one more brutal than the last, their faces a masquerade of pleasure and entitlement. Ethan's body was a battleground, the twins a silent testament to his suffering, their movements a constant reminder of what he was fighting for.

The men paid a lot of attention to his belly, their hands caressing it with a mix of awe and lust. They whispered to one another, marveling at the stretch marks that adorned his skin, tracing the veins that bulged with the effort of carrying two lives. Ethan could feel their envy, their desire to possess what they could never have, and it filled him with a bitterness so potent it was almost tangible. They treated his pregnancy as a sideshow, a curiosity to be ogled and used for their own depraved amusement.

One by one, they took their turns, each thrust a reminder of his captivity. Ethan's eyes remained closed, his mind focused on the twins, willing them to stay strong, to keep fighting. He could feel their tiny hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the abuse, a silent chant of survival. The room was a cacophony of grunts and moans, a symphony of degradation that seemed to go on forever. Each man who claimed him was a new wound, a fresh scar that would never heal.

Their eyes never left his belly, the center of their fascination. They spoke in hushed tones, placing bets on the sex of the twins, speculating on the twisted beauty of a man bearing another man's children. Some touched his stomach reverently, as if it were a sacred object, while others groped with a sense of entitlement, claiming ownership of the life within. The twins responded to the unwanted attention with a frenzied dance, their desperate movements a silent plea for their father to stop.

The fucking was rough and painful, each thrust driving home the reality of his situation. Ethan's body was a battleground, contested by the two lives within him and the monsters who sought to claim them. He could feel the twins squirm and kick in protest, their tiny forms a stark contrast to the monstrous appetites of the men who used him. Each orgasm was a victory for his captors, a declaration of their dominance over him.

The billionaire's grip on Ethan's hips was like iron, his movements punishing as he slammed into him over and over again. The room was a sea of depraved faces, eyes glued to the obscene display of power and submission. Ethan's eyes remained shut, his mind a fortress where the twins and his dreams of freedom lived, untouched by the horrors of the outside world.

As the men took their turns, Ethan felt each one of them as a personal assault, a violation of his very essence. But amidst the pain, there was a spark of rebellion growing inside him, fueled by the life he carried. He refused to let their perversion claim him fully, focusing instead on the warmth and hope that the twins represented.

One by one, the guests approached, their eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and fascination. They whispered to him, their words a cacophony of degradation and praise. "Such a good breeding bitch," one man murmured, his breath hot against Ethan's ear. Another leaned in to kiss his stomach, his tongue tracing the line of a stretch mark. "Such a beautiful womb," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Their hands were everywhere, touching and groping, claiming parts of him that had never been theirs. Ethan's body was a battleground, but his mind remained a bastion of defiance. He knew that if he could just hold on, if he could just get through this, then maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to save his children. The twins kicked and rolled in his womb, as if they too were trying to break free from the prison their bodies had become.

Each thrust from the billionaire caused Ethan's belly to move in a disturbing dance of submission and rebellion. The firm mounds of flesh rippled and shifted as the twins inside him tried to escape the intrusion. It was a grotesque ballet, a macabre performance that had the room entranced. His skin was taut and stretched to the limit, the veins standing out like a roadmap to hell beneath the surface. The men watched in awe as the twins inside him fought back, their movements a silent testament to the strength of the human spirit.

The twins inside Ethan were a living, breathing part of the show, and the billionaire took great pleasure in watching his guests' fascination with the pregnant man's abdomen. He knew it was a rare and valuable commodity, something that set him apart from the other elite who only dreamed of such perverse delights. The way Ethan's belly rolled and quivered as he was used was a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play, of the control that he wielded over the life growing within him.

As the night drew on, the men grew more and more aggressive, their hunger for the unusual and the forbidden insatiable. They took turns, their hands rough on Ethan's body, their eyes never leaving the twins' restless movements. The pain was unbearable, but Ethan found solace in the thought of his unborn children. They were the only thing that made the degradation worth enduring.

The billionaire watched the spectacle with a sadistic smile, his eyes gleaming with pleasure at the sight of Ethan's suffering. He whispered sweet nothings into Ethan's ear, promising him more of the same, forever and ever. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a lover's caress. "You and these babies will always belong to me." Ethan's eyes filled with tears, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly.

The twins inside him sensed his distress and moved in response, their tiny limbs a silent protest against the monsters who sought to claim them. Each kick was a declaration of war, each movement a promise of freedom. The pain was unbearable, but Ethan knew he had to keep going. He focused on the warmth of their bodies, the comforting weight of their presence.

The billionaire's friends grew bolder, their hands roaming over Ethan's swollen belly with a sense of entitlement that made his skin crawl. They talked about his pregnancy as if it were a trophy, something to be ogled and used for their own sick amusement. But Ethan knew the truth. The twins were his salvation, a reason to fight, a beacon of hope in the dark abyss of his captivity.

Charles's orgasm was a triumphant roar, his grip on Ethan's hips tightening as he spilled his seed deep inside him. The room erupted in applause, the sound a mockery of the sacred act of creation that had been twisted into a grotesque display of power and dominance. The billionaire leaned back, panting and sweaty, his eyes glazed over with satisfaction.

Ethan felt the warmth of the billionaire's cum filling him, mixing with the warmth of the twins inside. It was a revolting feeling, but one he had grown accustomed to over the months of his pregnancy. His stomach was a constant reminder of his servitude, the stretch marks and swollen flesh a map of his degradation. Yet, amidst the revulsion, there was a spark of rebellion that grew stronger with each new violation.

The billionaire pulled out, his cock glistening with the evidence of his conquest. He leaned back in his chair, his chest heaving with the exertion of his climax. His eyes never left Ethan's face, the look in them a mix of triumph and hunger. "You're doing so well, my little breeding doll," he cooed, his voice thick with satisfaction. "The twins are growing so strong."

The room was a haze of lust and debauchery, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. Ethan's legs trembled as he was passed from one man to the next, each one eager to claim their prize from the pregnant sex slave. The twins inside him grew more restless with each new intrusion, their movements a symphony of pain and anger. Ethan's thoughts were a blur, his mind a tumult of fear and determination. He had to find a way to save them.

As the night wore on, Ethan felt a strange warmth spread through him, not from the lust of the men, but from the fierce love that grew with each beat of the twins' hearts. They were his strength, his reason to survive. He whispered to them, a silent promise that he would never let them down, that he would do whatever it took to give them a life free from this hell.

The billionaire's friends grew tired of their games, their lust sated for the night. The room emptied, leaving only the echoes of their depraved laughter. Ethan was left alone, his body bruised and his soul weary. He pulled his shirt back down, trying to cover the evidence of his humiliation, the wetness from his leaking breasts a stark reminder of his situation.

The twins inside him had quieted, as if they too were exhausted from the ordeal. Ethan looked down at his stomach, the swollen mound a stark contrast to the rest of his masculine frame. The stretch marks stood out like a battle scar, a silent testament to the war he was fighting. He rubbed his belly gently, whispering reassurances to the unborn lives he carried.

The door to the penthouse suite creaked open, and in stumbled Charles, his face flushed with drink and lust. He stumbled over to Ethan, his eyes glazed with desire. "You were magnificent tonight," he slurred, his hand reaching out to cup Ethan's cheek. "My little breeding whore." The words were a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the reality of his existence.

Ethan's eyes burned with a mix of anger and despair, but he kept his expression neutral. Any sign of emotion would only fuel Charles's sadistic delight. "Thank you, master," he murmured, his voice devoid of any inflection.

The billionaire grinned, his hand sliding down to Ethan's stomach. "Feel how they're growing," he said, his voice thick with pride. His fingers pressed into the flesh, causing the twins to squirm and kick in response. "Nice and big, aren't they."

Ethan nodded, his eyes never leaving Charles's. He could feel the twins' movements slow as the room spun around them, the pain of the evening's events washing over him in waves. "Yes, master," he said through gritted teeth.

Charles's hand slid lower, his fingers toying with the sensitive flesh around Ethan's navel. "I think it's time for your next round of fertility treatments," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I want you to have triplets next time." The thought sent a cold shiver down Ethan's spine, but he didn't dare protest. He knew better than to argue with the man who held his life, and the lives of his unborn children, in his hands.

[namedhope]

Though she was younger, Jade often felt like they both had a special duty to care for one another due to the bond they shared. Most times, it was Daigo looking after her (while still allowing her adventurous spirit to grow). This time tonight, it would be her turn.

A hand reaches towards her brother to brush his little bangs to the side for no reason other than to show affection, as the hair always went back to place. Her fingertips are gentle as she meets his eyes. A smile of encouragement, noticing how tired Daigo was. So very tired.

"Daigo, Daigo, Daigo, Daigo—" she began to sing softly, to the tune they both knew so well - a silly tradition that started back when they were little. This was something Jade hadn't done in awhile, but felt compelled to now as her heart felt so full with her love for him: her favorite person in the world.

"Daigo Daikazoku"

      SEATED UPON THE COUCH, elbows to his knees, he was half collapsed and half still straightened; always at the ready, as though there could be a threat at any moment. yet, despite the tension of his shoulders, he looked crumbled and far from strong enough to handle the burden of a possible danger should one arise in those moments. gaze fluttered, DISTANT yet present, his thoughts a ravage though his hands fiddled with a mask. it was cracked, a few pieces broken off and lost somewhere in the workshop. why he was holding the item when he had meant to take it to the trash was an inquiry he couldn't fully answer.

                     it was his own fault that it was fragmented. a n o t h e r argument of sorts with kendo, though he hadn't even intended to. no matter the situation, it seemed the two struggled to see eye to eye, and daigo's blunt remarks had only riled his younger sibling up all the more upon their initial disagreement. when the heat had become too much, they had parted, but frustration had boiled over in a way the oldest wasn't familiar with handling. the mask had paid the price of his control slipping - a fact that only made him all the more bitter with himself.

          the eldest, the heir, the prodigy, the protector, the mask maker... the brother. somehow every title was weighted, every title was so right and so wrong at the same time. everything he did was to try and fulfill those roles. the ideals that their parents had instilled in him. to be stronger than it all, to rise above, keep everyone s a f e. his family, the island. he needed more. but magic was unattainable. banished. what thrived on oninoshima was nothing more than natural beauty and energy of the flora and fauna. the people who bustled there every day.

                     but these things gave him nothing. he was powerless to the strength of nature ( the past had proven that ).

       he had never truly chosen his path. from a young age, the expectations had been laid before him. praise of his intelligence, knowledge of his inheritance. even if he hadn't originally wanted to take on the shop, it was what fate laid out for him. he cherished it more after the event that had stolen their parents. it connected him to his father and even to his mother, who had cooed over his creations whilst he learned.

                         PERFECTION she had said.

      now the present was a cycle of day in and day out with work, masks and finances and clients and study. of keeping himself in form, his sword, his mind. of ensuring his siblings were taken care of, even if they both extended that same nature in regards to him on occasion ( kendo's lunches were annoyingly necessary ). trying to unlock magic and failing over and over and over. trying to build his purpose, to bring back an old legacy, to restore their family’s heritage and give himself excitement.

                      daigo wasn't any closer. he felt as though he was falling.

         it was a fate he accepted. if he never amounted to anything, let him at least be known for keeping the shop alive and his siblings protected. as kendo chased chronicles of heroism, as jade chased boundless mysteries. it would be a MUNDANE final for him, and there was grating bitterness if he couldn't chase power and results as his family believed of him... he wouldn't give up, that was for certain. he would fight fight fight, there was no stopping him. he was strong enough.

                           he just had to figure out how.

        the flittering of his mind, the thoughts sank him further, catching him slipping and expression became noticeably despondent. so lost in churning tides of his lament and ache and tiredness that he hadn't even noticed jade until she was sitting beside him. the subtle shift of the couch had him jerking to straighten up, to h i d e the lapse in his facade. to feign what he always had. control, strength, sense, unyielding, apathy, never to crumble, he cannot crumble, he won't.

                   anticipating she wanted to tell him the latest tales of her day, he would move properly to face her. features were without smile, though he tried to will the action for her sake. it must have failed, it must have been too late. she was so gentle. the touch was unnerving and welcome all at once. he feared breaking under her fingers like the mask he now gripped all too tightly in his own. that she would see the failure he contained. as a brother, as a son.

        he also wanted nothing more than to melt into his sister's hold. and for once not feel like his bones would shatter.

                       it was a mistake to meet her gaze. somehow she saw through. she knew. jade scraped at him like he was an open wound as soon as the song began to leave her lips. all too familiar. ridiculous and silly and childish. he wanted to s c o l d her for offering him something so youthful right then. an adult, he wasn't in need of such things. the words only lodged in his throat, choking him silently. inaudible sobbing he only demonstrated with a crack in the shimmer of brown hues. his face scrunched, composure checking, trying to gather himself. don't fall apart, he can't he can't he can't.

           the song twisted his chest tight. how had he gotten lucky to have her as his family? how did she see him in the way he wanted to be? a way he never expressed properly, a way he would never be able to get kendo to believe in ( he had broken them, hadn't he? ).

                      attention dropped to his mask. it was an EERIE reflection right then. looking at himself in the polished sheen, in the details. in the sharp edge of where it had shattered. perhaps, perhaps he could use kintsugi. beauty in the broken.

         instead, he placed it in the space between them. as her final word sang out, he looked back to her, searching her eyes for something. comfort? ease? judgement? he ought to give her honesty. he ought to stop trying to take this all on his own. gold couldn't save all the splinters, and he could be the one to cut her hands as she tried to save him...

                     but still, he fronted, though he wouldn't leave her without acknowledgement.

         "thank you. i... would you sing it again?" for just a few moments, a few heartbeats, a couple seconds, ALL that would matter was just her. her presence. the comfort she instilled in his heart, the soothing to his blood when it was on fire. for a short stretch of time, daigo wasn't perfect, wasn't all that was expected of him. he was just her brother, and that was one of the best titles he could have.

@cursedguardian

[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.

[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. 

[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.