#but the dice decided so we honour it

[leviiackrman]

TEAM AVERAGE-JOE: Normality is Good

Hideko Sugawara, The Mascot: “Mum help… I’ve gone over the top again.”

Gigi Olalia, The Mother: “I’m cool because my 3 sons said I was so…”

Kaida Ishimoto, The Goth: “I’m socially awkward.. but still friendly!”

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @jacobseed @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraesh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @hexmaturgy @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @tethrras @viktorgf @d-esmond @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe @fenharel @imogenkol @auricfog

[fluffansmut]

I bring you Hellfire fairy

Eddie x crybaby!fairy!reader is back again

Part one, part two, part three, part four

“You ready to head out baby?” Eddie asked as he finished packing his bag.

You flashed him a nervous smile and nodded.

“Now remember, you’re in charge” Eddie reminded, “and I’ll be there with you the entire time.”

That promise made the anxiety in the pit of your stomach melt a bit.

Eddie had decided to bring you along to hellfire this week, and there was a pleather of reasons to why…

1. You usually threw tantrums at the mention of him leaving, even though you always knew he’d come right back.

2. Eddie missed you just as much.

3. Dustin had practically begged him for weeks.

So it was settled, Eddie headed off to hellfire with you on his shoulder, hidden in his hair.

Eddie set up the table and the DM screen, then he instructed you to hide behind it.

It was supposed to be a prank on the rest of the hellfire members, which was something that got your attention. Pulling pranks was your forte and this one was going to be huge.

You were safely out of view when the rest of them arrived.

Eddie smirked down at you when he took his place on the throne.

Eddie cleared his throat to catch everyones attention, but unfortunately it did nothing to get the chatter to quiet down.

He tried to call out for them a few times, but nothing was breaking through their loud voices.

So Eddie resorted to what he usually did with the group. He slammed his fist onto the table.

The impact not only scared you but it made you almost lose your balance.

Eddie was quick to stabilise you with his hand, and when you were sat on the table he gave you forgiving headpats with his pointer finger.

“Now fellas, lady applejack, are we ready to get this adventure started or are we just chitchatting today?”

It really wasn’t a question.

More of a unique way to tell them all to shut the fuck up. Which they all did not long after.

Eddie smirked knowingly and began the adventure of the week.

You listened intensely, not only because his storytelling was mesmerising but also because you were waiting for your que.

“In the mist forest before you, you seem a shimmering, floating ball of light” Eddie said and you began to flutter your wings, getting ready for your reveal. “When it approaches you closer you see what it really is.”

You made your way over the edge of the DM screen, facing the players.

“A fairy”

There was a collective gasp coming from the group around the table.

You could see Dustin sporting a huge grin on his face, which made you slightly more confident.

You felt the heat in your cheeks as you saw all the eyes on you.

One of the boys whispered a “what the fuck?” at the closer look at you, but he was quickly corrected by Eddie.

“If you want to remain alive by the end of this adventure I suggest you shut it Wheeler”

You put out your tongue in his general direction to help Eddie get his point across.

“This glorious little one will help you on your journey today my friends” Eddie continued. “Don’t be fooled by the size, she’s feisty.”

A mischievous grin spread on your face as you heard Eddie’s words.

“This is cool” you heard one of them mumble under their breath as Eddie got ready to continue.

Dustin flashed you a knowing smile, nonverbal telling you “I told you, you’d be a hit”.

The game continued and you found yourself warming up to the members of hellfire. You floated around the table (to not risk being hit by any thrown dice.) and was welcomed by everyone so you came up to.

Then came the best part of it all.

Whenever they won a battle and a figurine was supposed to be removed from the table you got to do the honours, which more or less ended in you trying to figure out different ways to drop kick them of the table.

When you succeed with your job you got cheers and applauds from everyone round the table, which hade you shining with pride, bathing in the attention.

You thought about the first time you had seen a figurine on Eddie’s desk in the trailer, it had scared you senselessly. It was almost as big as you and looked monster like so of course you got scared. Eddie had explained that they weren’t real and had taught you how to “fight” them, much like you had tonight. But you had to admit, it was even more fun with an audience.

When the game ended you were understandably tired and got to hitch a ride home in the front pocket of Eddie’s dio vest.

The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was Eddie mumbling,

“You did good today baby, so very good”

[thejoyofseax]

Ormthing 2024 Feast

The feast for Ormthing is done, and having that last major SCA obligation for the year out of the way seems to have broken the dam on getting some writing up of stuff done too. Well, that, and being on a ferry for four hours on the way back with little enough to do; I was on the verge of feeling bored for a few minutes there.

The idea for Ormthing (a 4-5 day camping event at Caldicot Castle in South Wales) was to produce a Norman feast. Norman is not one of the cuisines from which I often cook, so a little research was in order first. Magnifica Magdelena Grace Vane helped with that, and indeed would have been my co-cook for the event had circumstances of modern life not gotten in her way. It would appear that there's very little out there about Norman food, though. There's more known about WHAT was eaten than there is about early Irish food, for example, but there aren't recipes or many coherent accounts. What's there is not massively different from the 14th-15th century English and French food I think of as "generic medieval", though it's argued in some places to be simpler, and in some to have more in the way of spices and bold tastes - the latter coming from Norman contact with the Arabic world via Sicily. The best guess at a feast menu would therefore be roast meats in plenty, bread, some strong tasting sauces, and - in August - quite a lot of fruit. I also guessed that fritters of some kind would have been available. So with these parameters, I went about constructing a three course feast.

Of course, account had to be taken of the actual circumstance of the feast (evening, after a day in which there were already two tournaments, including the Principality Coronet Tourney, and would be a third to follow, in the castle courtyard by torchlight) and the diners. So I went for having the "main food" of the feast in the first course, with stronger tastes and sweeter things to follow. I reckoned that five roast meats per course with fish to vary would be too much - and indeed, in the unavilability of things like swan, heron, and porpoise - it might be difficult enough to make it to fifteen different meats.

So the initial plan was:

Course the First: Roast Beast (Venison or Beef) Frumenty Chicken Pottage Vegetables

Course the Second: Fish in Aspic Chicken on Sops White Fish in a Fruit Sauce Vegetables

Course the Third: Roast Duck Baked Orchard Fruit Dates in Compost Cream & Honey Fritters

… with bread for all courses.

This did not entirely survive contact with reality. I have done fish in aspic before - indeed, I once did a beautifully clear aspic with a whole trout suspended in it - and nobody, including myself, would actually touch the thing. Aspic is one of those things which sound weird, and turn out to look alien. So I decided not to do that, and replaced that with little dishes of anchovies, which I reckoned would convey the strong taste, and not offend as many people. I was able to get pickled mussels as well, so they were added in.

The vegetables for the first course were buttered turnips and creamed leeks, and for the second, stewed cabbage and a bean pottage.

Master Richard of Salesberie was able to source excellent meat for me, about two-thirds venison and one-third beef. It did, however, arrive from the farm shop already diced, so the idea of roasting it went by the wayside. Instead, I decided to brown it in a pan, and then bake it "in gobbets".

Due to various happenings of availability and illness, I wasn't able to have any of my usual kitchen crew along, but there were volunteers from the big island: Lady Julian ferch Luned, Lady Milada von Schnecken, The Honourable Lady Amphelise de Wodeham, and Halvar Darylson, all good cooks in the their own right. We had a relaxed kitchen with no particular rush, and indeed we were able to take breaks to go see bits of the tourneys, check in on family, and so forth. Early in the day, I saw my lady, Master Agnes Boncuer, have her champion Master Alexander of Derlington take the Coronet for her, which made the high table rather more familiar in terms of tastes and needs.

The kitchen in Caldicot is a modern one, situated just off the banquet hall. It's not big, and with five people in there, it was full. It also came without pots and pans, and there were no trays that would fit the steam oven. We knew about the pots in advance, so Amphelise - who accompanied me shopping, doing the driving and money-handling - and I picked up some the day before. We discovered the lack of suitable trays about three hours before serving, but the baked fruit went into a (slow) gas oven, and disposable roasting trays were procured at speed from the village - by whom I don't know, but I'm very grateful to them! The gas hob and the steam oven were excellent, though, and there was a dishwasher in a separate room.

The menu looks somewhat deceptively simple; there was a LOT of peeling and chopping of fruit and vegetables. We were able to do quite a lot of that during the day and get things going, so we weren't rushed, but I'm taking note of that for future reference, and might consider either some degree of prepping stuff the day before, or buying pre-chopped ingredients where possible.

We had people eating in three places - in the banqueting hall, in a smaller hall down a corridor and some stairs, and then more outside (and down a steep stairs), under a sunshade in the courtyard. This meant that service pretty much had to be to the tables, rather than my usual preference for a buffet. And we hadn't suitable serving dishes for most of what was there, so it was largely a matter of sending out the pots. Master Robert of Canterbury, Lord Trygg of Eplaheimr, Dominic of Flintheath, Lord Etienne the Younger, Kit of Flintheath, Taliesin Denet, and Sidney of Flintheath did excellent work, coping admirably with heavy loads and much stair-climbing.

Everything seemed to be well received, in general. I heard good things about the venison, the turnips, the chicken pottage, the pickled mussels, the chicken on sops, the sweet-and-sour fruit sauce for the fish (but not necessarily the fish itself, I noted), the duck, the orchard fruits, and the fritters. By the time of the duck and the fritters, the torchlight pas d'armes was under way, so I was able to wander round with the dishes and hand them out to the crowd, which is one of my very favourite things to do. We had more than was necessary of pretty much everything after the first course, so if I'm doing something like this again, I'd cut back on the quantities in the second and third courses.

Almost all the feedback I've had was good (with a couple of comments on the blandness of some dishes, but that's countered by others saying they were grateful for the edibility of those). Overall, I'm happy with how things went, considering the limitations of the kitchen and the service - there are things I'd do differently if I'm cooking there again, but that's always the case for the first use of a kitchen. I'll write up a document for the next person using it, and I can at least say that nobody went hungry!

[kyber-crystal]

MURY CHUMES‼️

in honour of christmas 2023,could u makefestive/holiday obiwan hcs bc hes so silly and i know he'd "deck the halls" (im so funny) (im not)

obi is the type of guy who would cuddle w you by the fireplace n drink hot tea or hot chocolate <3 (and he'd spoil you to death my goodness!) (also sorry if this is wasnt what u meant i didnt know what u meant by send asks HSJSHSJ)

OMG HI THIS IS SO PERFECT I NEED THIS SO BAD so thank you for sending this in <3 ur my new fav person

&& MERRY CHRYSLER :) consider this my gift to you!

"i don't get why we had to be sent away DURING the holiday season. the council couldn't have waited?"

you grumbled some variation of this under your breath for several minutes straight while preparing the flight out to dantooine

and obi agrees

the two of you are being sent on a long-term operative mission. there's no daily wars or hard combat to face—it was more of a stakeout of sorts—but still, you had to stay alert. just in case

you were mainly upset at the fact that you couldn't relax in your quarters or with your family for the holidays

obi-wan, sensing your blues, decides that he's not going to let that ruin the festivities

you're staying in a quaint little home for the next few weeks. it's plainly, but relatively tidy

"there's a life day market in town! we can pick some food up there, and decorations, if you're up for it" obi had suggested, so that's what you end up doing

while at the market, which is bustling with people from all over the galaxy (you later find out that dantooine's life day market is one of the biggest there is), the two of you are mistaken for a married couple

but hey, the status gets you several discounts on fresh fruit

even after you leave the produce booth, he keeps his hand interlocked with yours

(and you like it. though you'd die before admitting it lol)

you haul several giant bags and baskets of supplies back to your place

(correction, obi-wan does most of the heavy lifting. you're only carrying the tree decorations so you look like a tangled bundle of color that has no start or end)

it takes you everything you have not to stare at how his arms flex when he moves things

you didn't realize obi had a creative side to himself, so when you let him take charge of decorating, you didn't know what to expect

but once the two of you finish decorating you're pretty amazed

the tree glitters with woven string lights and ornaments that look like stars plucked straight from the heavens, shining in hues of rose gold and ivory white

"it's so beautiful," you exhaled

"indeed, it is," obi-wan replied, but he wasn't even looking at the light fixtures (he was looking at you instead)

you're about to unpack the groceries and start cooking but he stops you in your tracks, placing his hands on your shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze

"let me handle this, darling. i insist," he says—and you can feel your face growing warm at the term of endearment

so you sit down by the fireplace with a blanket around your shoulders and watch as he carefully cuts up the starfruit and places it in a porcelain bowl, dices the meat and vegetables, and pours hot chocolate (you made a mental note to ask him later which booth that was from) into two mugs

for a moment you get completely lost in the idea of living a peaceful, domestic life with him. one where you wake up every morning to the fresh smell of coffee and berries and are greeted with a tight embrace

but you're brought back to reality with the reminder that technically, you're on a mission right now, and you're both jedi

so no amount of wishing and praying will make any bit of that domestic life come true

:(

"you've been so quiet," he suddenly speaks up

"just...tired," you reply, and it's the truth. the entire flight over, you didn't sleep a wink—you always had trouble falling asleep

he decides not to question you further—he knows what's bothering you; he always does

dinner is amazing as always—you're good at cooking, too, but your skills pale in comparison to what obi has

after you eat, you sit down by the fireplace, wrapped up in several thick blankets with steaming hot chocolate in hand

"how long has it been since you last saw your family?" he asks

"seven years," you say. "we write letters to each other, but you know, given my schedule, it's hard to pay them a visit. i hardly see them anymore..."

"i can be your family, then," he offers with a sad smile

and you feel your heartbeat pick up speed just a little

not because you're secretly in love with him...of course not lmao

but because he's always been here for you and continues to be

you lean against him and close your eyes and just. take him in

like. how does this man smell so good...

it's as if he bathed in every warm and comforting scent you could think of

and you can almost pretend that you're right back home in the arms of the one you love, and not millions of miles away on a foreign moon

(jokes on you, he is your new home)

you're not sure how long you stay cuddled up like that for, but you wouldn't mind if it lasted for the entirety of your mission

"you know i love you," he says quietly after he thinks you've fallen asleep, and he gently kisses your forehead

but you manage to whisper back an "i love you too" before drifting off

obi-wan finally feels at peace

& so do you

(i'm so sorry if this wasn't what you expected hiusahfiuherguheg but hopefully it makes you feel all warm & cozy inside!! hehe merry christmas)

tags (this list hasn't been updated in a while so apologies if it seems off...lol): @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @katelynnwrites @freeshavocadoooo @buckysbeloved @kelieah @kaleidoscope1967eyes @lam-ila @amelia-song-pond @unstablecaffeinatedmind @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @arkofblake @hellotherekenobi

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 09.01

what I think happened in:

Case 09.01, the case of "Dice of Fate" or "Mr. Die and a very bad, horrible, no good roll."

Well well well. If it isn't an honest, good old fashioned statement. Fancy seeing it here. Not much left to puzzle out, we have it all laid out very nicely. The Dice make a comeback. When we've seen them last in nineteenth century, they were sitting pretty in the sack of the Gentleman (the mystery man in the woods, quite preoccupied with luck).

By nineteen-nineties they somehow came to be in possession of a young man named Gary. (Double meaning intended). As is their nature, the dice brought Gary luck when rolled. Good luck with high rolls, bad luck with low rolls.

Gary eventually decided that bouts of good luck were not worth the inevitable dive into misfortunes, which varied from leaky pipes to broken legs. Finding himself incapable of simply NOT rolling, he fell back on time-honoured tradition of making his problem somebody else's problem.

Somebody else, we'll call him SG (short for Statement Giver), has recently been dumped by his boyfriend Carl (CaaAAAaaarl! That hurts people!) and really needed something to cheer him up. So when an old high-school friend called to invite him over for a game night, he made his way to Gary's place in West Didsbury, where he got tricked into taking over as the Dice Bearer. The dice changed hands and SG felt it as the ownership transferred to him.

SG was much smarter about rolling that Gary had been. Just like a certain violinist before him, he figured out that he needn't be the one to pay the price for the fortune his cursed object brought him. And he figured out the system (or so he thought. He should have remembered that the House always wins, in the end). He started passing the bad-luck-rolls to random strangers on the street.

After a time, he started to also let strangers roll high. And then… well, for someone who had the gall to talk shit about D&D, SG turned out to be SUCH a nerd himself. He assembled a whole-ass Grim Dicer costume, grew a goatee, he was even doing the voice! Go you, Mr. Totally-not-a-theatre-kid! Rock that Dice King persona!

He was well on his way to becoming a full blown urban cryptid, when alas, he went too far. By chance (chance?) he run into Gary and made him (made him?) roll one last time. It was the lowest roll yet. Snake eyes. 1+1. You couldn't go lower if you tried.

It seems that the Dice did not appreciate being disposed of, and they disposed of the previous Bearer in return, with extreme prejudice, via runaway truck to the face.

After that, SG lost his nerve and tried to get rid of the Dice which… Buddy. You've just seen how that ends. What did you think would happen?

SG thought he was being smart. He gave the Dice to Magnus Institute, who, as paranormal research facility (or whatever they were known as), were bound to accept them and presumably able to handle them safely.

Too bad he believed that rolling was a matter of choice*. Too bad the Dice were still within reach when the urge hit. Too bad he died right there, at the statement giving table. RIP, statement giver (????-14.10.1998). You could have been great.

So that's that. What more to say? Let's see.

I feel quite confident in saying that SG was actively becoming a supernatural creature. That feeling of increasing disconnect from the world was not just in his head. And the rolls that he took for himself, that kept getting more and more abstract, until he couldn't tell what changed, just that something did? It was you, SG. You were changing. Such a damn shame your rise to power was cut short by your own folly.

I'm equally confident that he was unwittingly creating a brand new urban legend. I bet that at the time there were people in Manchester who'd talk in hushed whisper (or at high volume in a crowded bar) about the Grim Gambler, the Dice Devil, the Lord Luck, the Horrid Hatman. (Coincidentally, for no reason whatsoever I need somebody to draw SG in full Mr. Die costume with Alex J. Newall's face). Some would warn against touching his dice, others would swear up and down that he'd bring luck and prosperity. (Imagine the discourse at cryptid message boards!). I wonder if the legend still lives, even if SG doesn't.

*About rolling the dice, even knowing the odds… It sure as hell wasn't free choice, no sir. What was it then, compulsion, or addiction? Was that need to see the dice clutter over one's future coming from without, or within? Both options are equally appealing to me, to be honest.

The statement and the Dice were given to MI in October 1998. This means two things: a) Arguably, events surrounding death of SG could have been one of the 'weird stuff' that Sam saw with no context as a child, and: b) The Institute burned down little over a year later. Do you think somebody was rolling the Dice bit too much?

'Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment Applicability Assessment'. To me it sounds like: "hey, Catalytics, check if we can use this thing for enrichment." And I'm having a bad thought. They were studying kids, Sam among them, for some purpose, almost certainly related to supernatural stuff. Did they give the kids cursed artefacts to play with, to boost development of their otherworldly skills/trait/whatever? Because if so, so help me… 🔪🔪🔪🔥🔥🔥

Lastly, for completion's sake: viability as subject (none), agent (low), catalyst (medium). I've no idea nor theories what these are about, I'm just leaving them here for future reference.

[thessalian]

Thess vs MCM Comic Con, Day 1

Well, first of all was yesterday, with Marion (one of my D&D players) arriving in London. She settled in nicely, I sat her down in front of Honour Among Thieves and Nimona, and the first few episodes of The Sandman, and we did some basic prep for the upcoming con. Only down sides involved the kitchen sink, which decided to back up on us. That still hasn't been entirely fixed but I'm working on it in stages.

This morning, we got up and headed for the convention, which ironically went a lot easier for me than for Marion - first she forgot to get her ticket verified at the same time as I was getting mine, and then she offered him the wrong confirmation email (she went to a smaller con here a few weeks ago). But we got it sorted out and headed in to see the things.

Good news is that they learned their lesson from the 2018 Critical Role panel and will be streaming it to every stage in the building. Bad news is that they underestimated the popularity of Baldur's Gate 3 and we couldn't even get near the queue for their panel. Apparently they're doing another one tomorrow but honestly, we might not bother. The stream's bound to end up on YouTube at some point anyway.

We wandered. I bought a set of dice (Scanlan-themed, mostly because I like purple), and picked up a lot of business cards. There's some neat stuff that I'll go over when there's not someone trying to sleep in the next room. I also threw axes because ... why not? Apparently my form was perfect and I would have done better than three out of eight if I'd put a bit more power behind my throws. Honestly, given the fibromyalgia, I'm surprised I did as well as I did. There are pictures - another one for later.

Then we went home via the big Sainsbury's, and I picked up drain cleaner (which has not really helped) and eventually put some dinner together. More Sandman and various other bits of fun.

Tomorrow is autograph and picture day. That's mainly what we're both there for, but we're happy to see a few panels if the mood takes us. Having to be a little careful about the spending this time around, though, because apparently my overtime pay has not gone through. Again. So I'm going to have to email Scruffman about that. But being on a budget isn't so bad. Although oddly, one of the three purchases I made today wasn't at the con at all. There was a bin of Squishmallows at the big Sainsbury's and while most of them were green dragons, there was one purple manatee. All by itself. Purple. Manatee. Squishmallow. It was like it was put there just for me.

Right. I'mma go crash. Tomorrow's a big day and I should be well-rested for it.

[deckofcardau]

HELLO EVERYONE, WELCOME TO THE SHOW

It's time to explain the basics of the DECK OF CARD AU, but not the Lore. The Lore is unimportant....for now ;)

This AU is based off the belief that every face card in the deck represents someone historical.

KINGS OF THE DECK

Spades: Ross (Human?)

Hearts: King Dice (Higher Demon)

Diamonds: Peter Hancox (main Mind Demon)

Clubs: Lucifer (The Devil)

QUEENS OF THE DECK

Spades: Pirouletta (Lower Demon)

Hearts: Marienn (Human)

Diamonds: ??? (Mind Demon)

Clubs: Naveigh Lei (Lower Demon)

JACKS OF THE DECK

Spades: Jake Racer (Human)

Hearts: Hailey (Lower Demon)

Diamonds: Mavis Crass (Angel)

Clubs: Dean (Human)

ACES OF THE DECK

Spades: Michael (Archangel)

Hearts: Nero (Lower Demon)

Diamonds: Gabriel (Archangel)

Clubs: SEER (Mind Demon)

Now, except for Kings, the highest deck class (It goes K, Q, A, J), these roles are mild. The Kings have fates similar to those of their card.

CLUBS: Alexander the Great. Very successful, but stubborn asf. His temper will be his downfall.

HEARTS: Charlemagne. Very honoured, but also cunning. You will be missed.

DIAMONDS: Julius Caesar. Very intelligent, but too arrogant. We all know how this one ends.

SPADES: King David. Very heroic, but violent. Is it cold outside..?

Demons are in caste systems. It goes as follows:

Human

Lower Demon

Mind Demon

Higher Demon (Peter may also count here, being the main Mind Demon)

The Devil

The Devils decide generations. So far, there has been 3, and they go into 3 parts: Devil, False Prophet, and Antichrist

Gen 1: Alistair. Kimberly Wyatt (Antichrist), Brutus Dice (False Prophet)

Gen 2: Azazel. Larry Hancox (Antichrist), Alaric Dice (False Prophet)

Gen 3: Lucifer. Peter Hancox (Antichrist), King Dice (False Prophet)

Hey, notice a pattern there? Wyatt's sister started the Hancox name. The Dices have always been the Dices. These 3 names' fates are intertwined.

One thing here is that if you are to work, you have to sign a blood oath. Only once has this been necessary without intention of work, as Peter had his soul sold at birth.

I hope you all enjoy this au! :3

FIC LISTED BELOW.

[construingseacats]

Umireread: Legend of the Golden Witch - Chapter 14: Boiler Room

Sun, Oct 5 1986 - Indeterminate

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

And we’re off… with another Wikipedia section.

I kind of let it slide last time, when they were talking about Maria and childhood development, but I want to take that back now. George lost both his parents in a horrific murder moments ago. There is absolutely no way he would be engaging in intellectual discussion about the specifics of locked room mysteries, in the same way that the trio shouldn’t have been going “this is also interesting from a sociological standpoint!” a couple hours after they saw their parents/love interest mutilated in an abhorrent murder scene. Bad writing.

Gonna be real: this is fairly uncomfortable. It’s played lightheartedly, but hitting Maria several times, even semi-playfully, feels very inappropriate after the scene in the rose garden. None of these characters are acting anything like they should under the current circumstances.

This story is very obviously fictional and fantastical in nature.

And so we get to the big scene. While the first twilight is my personal highlight of Episode 1, I’m pretty sure most people agree that this one is probably the most important.

So, Yasu throws away the title of furniture, and sacrifices the Kanon persona, knowing there is no turning back now - there’s no shortage of analyses for that. What really stood out to me here was the roulette discussion - it’s something that has been brought up quite a few times, as the concept of the Demons’ Roulette is pervasive throughout Umineko, but I haven’t had any major thoughts on it so far. Here, as the focus, I think the roulette is a reflection of the massacre as a whole.

Yasu wants to be stopped - but she, at this point, knows that’s almost certainly not going to happen. The family are too caught up in their own drama, they’re too self centred, their thoughts have turned to staying alive rather than solving the Epitaph. They want to solve the murders, but they’re not on the right wavelength to understand Yasu. Her motive is inscrutable, her methods esoteric. The Ushiromiya family is doomed. The roulette is red or black.

She, however, is the zero on the roulette. Yasu is the green. When Kinzo spoke earlier of the high risk, high reward of the roulette, this is what he meant - either everyone dies, Yasu gets her revenge, we see the likely outcome of red or black. But if someone solves the Epitaph - if someone understands Yasu - if someone discovers her, this extra spot on the roulette, they win. And she wants to be understood. By someone - anyone. She wants them to win.

Beatrice’s game is one where she always wins; she casts a dice and cares not for the result, as she is content with any. If the roulette is red or black, the house wins, she profits. But if the house loses - and the family are rewarded with their 10 ton payout - she still wins. Because she has traded all the gold for an honour that no money could ever buy.

Man, it always feels unfortunate when I have to go directly from making a deep point to a more surface level observation, or comedic note - but I do like the consistent use of “makeup” across the murders. Very funny when it’s quite literal for the faked deaths. But even for the real bodies - earth to earth - it adds this layer of doubt and fantasy to the level which should have none.

Yasu has had little control in her life. She has suffered because of the actions of others, from the moment of her conception to where she is now. The events of October 4 and 5 - presuming the roulette hits red or black - is a final gambit to wrestle control back from the world that denied her. And just as Yasu decides to go out on her own terms, Kanon wrestles the stake from his chest, a final action that gives him the say in his own demise. It is an act of agency - an act of one who is no longer furniture.

Kumasawa, once again, is having WAY too much fun with this. She can’t even hide the smile this time.

I think there’s something to say about the Ushiromiya pride being their downfall here - bodies are dirty. They don’t want to disgrace their own hands with them. They must send for the doctor so that they may make the inspection. If any of them had taken a pulse, checked for themselves, or even tried to rush to assist - the plan would be over. But Yasu knows that these people will fall prey to the fantasy. Why would they help her? No-one ever has. This must have been cathartic to write.

So given the Kinzo situation, this must be the moment that Natsuhi immediately clocks the servants as being culpable. Being aware of what she knows, and aware of what she knows they know, contextualises a lot of her upcoming jitteriness towards them.

You know, we haven’t had Kanon’s death tip yet. I suppose it might be because they’re going with the whole “he could be alive in Nanjo’s office”, but it’s another cute little hint that something’s off here.

Oh we have it again with the characters going off about the history of polydactyly in the family. Umineko is at its best when we are really feeling the human behind these characters. It’s at its worst when they’re listing off facts in a scientific manner right after someone close to them just died.

Oh yeah we get Kinzo’s death tip before Kanon’s. This scene is so suspicious before you even start to really think about it.

So that means Krauss and Shannon are in the clear, right? After all, we saw Krauss with half a face, and Hideyoshi told us that Shannon was there with half a face as well. It’s a good thing that there are no co-conspirators here who would lie to us to preserve the mystery.

Oh, the clock’s getting bigger as we progress through the Epitaph. I like that a lot. Very imposing.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

OKAY IVE HIT SOME BAD NEWS BEARS okay so I’ve been planning on breaking up w my long term partner for a long time but I haven’t seen them face to face in almost a year. I was determined to do this face to face because it’s the honourable thing to do (and I have a lot of shit at their house) I decided I was tired of them back in April for a whole host of reasons but I’ll boil it down to a few:

Poor communication (never used to tell me things until everything boiled over biyearly)

Doesn’t deal with problems head on. If I have a problem I take the bull by the horns and deal with it. They, on the other hand, never had that skill and often took an apathetic approach to things which led to people making decisions for them.

No sense of adventure. I love adventures, I love taking risks, I love rolling the dice to see what Lady Luck has in store for me that day. They never did and would just send me out to go on adventures of my own. I’ve since learned that I want to share my adventures with someone. I want to have some one to yes-and me and vice versa while we get ourselves into trouble.

Unemployed for over 2 years with no real reason. Piggy backing on this, they moved back in with their parents in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t have the will to learn to drive.

No discernible drive to get better at living their life. In fact they repeatedly shot themselves in the foot. Absolutely no fire under their ass and it drove me insane.

Not once did they make an effort to meet any of my friends, not even my day ones.

Our goals no longer align. When we first started dating, I said that I didn’t want to have kids or get married but yeah no now that I’m older and my brain is developed and I know who I am as a person, I really fuckin wanna get married and have kids!!!! Not immediately or anything but god dammit I wanna be with someone who wants what I want long term!!!

Anyway my partner told me they were trans yesterday which I’m very supportive of and I hope being out will maybe help them improve as a person. I can’t imagine the kind of mental turmoil they’ve been going through their whole life with fundamentalist family while being closeted like that. However this didn’t magically fix all of the reasons I’ve wanted to end it with them since fucking April. It didn’t add onto the list or anything, but now I’m worried that if I break up with them they’ll think it’s because they’re trans :( I’m writing them a letter to make sure everything is abundantly clear but I’m not sure it’ll do anything :/// like how long should I wait to break up w them?? I’m really worried that this will hurt them and it’s not my intention we’re just straight up the worst possible match. I guess I never should have waited but we’ve lived 6 hours away from each other for a year and a half and before that we lived 2 hours away from each other for 6 months after we fucking lived together and shared a bed. I really just wanted to give them the decency of a face to face break up instead of just sending them a text or calling them. I was gonna go this Monday to do it like I’m freaking out

[tundraglitch]

The Human Factor, Einstein and the Games at Play in the Universe

If you were asked “Does God play dice with the Universe?”, what would be your answer?

It is well reknown the answer Einstein gave to this question, basing mostly his belief on his theory of relativity: a sound NO, a firm convition that everyhing in the universe is following an already written story.

In fact what is the consequence of saying that time isn’t something equal for everyone, but it depends on the obsever and its relative velocity?

It means that someone who is fast enough is already in the future respect to someone who is stationary.

Maybe while I’m writing this blog post, a super fast flying saucer in a point of the space is looking back at the Earth a hundred of years from now, when everything I’ll do or every stupid I’ll say in my own future, is something that has already happened.

According to Einstein time is a dimension where past, present and future are illusions of the mind: time and space are the same thing, every point in the room where I am right now coexist in a continous space, exactly like yesterday, today and tomorrow coexist in time.

The consequence is that my free will seems something not really relevant: if I’m already in the past for someone else, am I deciding anything in reality?

Again, Einstein would say that yes, free will is another illusion, better than that, he said the following:

“If the moon, in the act of completing its eternal way around the earth, were gifted with self-consciousness, it would feel thoroughly convinced that it was traveling its way of its own accord on the strength of a resolution taken once and for all. So would a Being, endowed with higher insight and more perfect intelligence, watching man and his doings, smile about man's illusion that he was acting according to his own free will. “

But what can I say to console myself about the fact that passing an hour choosing the right font for an article is better than choosing the first one at random, because the universe has already decided that font for me?

Well it can be a small consolation, but when philosopy crosses science everyone can have their saying. So like a detective searching for clues, I’ll search what I can say to save my right to make mistake that are only my fault and not decided by some equation running in the background of the stars, so I’ll point to the fact that in his honoured career Einstein wasn’t always right.

For example for a long time Einstein thaught that the Universe was static, the stars fixed in their place, now and forever: because his equations weren’t predicting a static universe, he added a “cosmological constant” to them so to make the Universe static as he liked. Later many experiments, in particular from Edwin Hubble, demonstrated that the univere was instead expanding, because the light from the stars showed the phenomenon of red-shifting, indicating that the stars were accelerating. In the end Einstein reconsidered his opionions and he admitted his error, defining the cosmological constant his greater blunder. Einsteins remains an icredible genius nonetheless, but what makes his error so precious to me is that when it comes to translating the results of calculations or of experiments to “laws” that govern life, sometimes it is “the human factor”, the totality of dreams, hopes and sometimes prejudice to guide the mind, rather than an incontestable applications of the said laws. Einstein wanted to believe in an ordered universe and he tried to find a way to the universe he liked through calculations: I understand that, I wish I could think everything really make sense as well, but I’d accept a bit of chaos in exchange of my free will. Another clue: Einsten theories cannot explain quantum physics mechanics, so we can say that maybe he didn’t have the full picture at hand, leaving to my free will a space where everything can happen: it’s big like a quantum particle, but is full of expectations. What would I answer about the dice and the universe? Well, I have my own bag of dreams, hopes and maybe prejudice as well, but I would say that judging by what happens, this universe isn’t just a game of dice, it is the full casino.

[tommiematthews]

My Father

The call came, that I always knew would. It was not a cry for help, that phone rang and rang and rang a long time ago and my god it fell on deaf ears. Maybe not deaf ears, but ears of a boy, ears of the ego or ears of the defiant, either way my father did not pick up and it may now cost him. I got a call today, confirming my deepest fears, but the gavel has not yet kissed mahogany, there may still be time. See, my daddy’s heart, it’s no good no’more, could be from overuse, could be from the erratic highs and lows he and consequently our whole family has lived, still live…. Still love. They say with medication he may get 10 more years, that’s two Olympics, three ashes and ten more grand finals. Gee I hope the saints win it before then for him, hah, the slightest joke, the heaviest cries. I’ve seen my father, run a company for 10 years, growing and growing it in hope of his and my mum’s retirement. It was their final roll of the dice, final dash to the finish line, I just wrote finish life, my tears are fogging up the letters, my fingers aren’t touching the keys. The happiest moment of my life was seeing my father see his first grandchild, the second was seeing him see his first granddaughter. Although I may not be wed, or he may not be around for my first child, I want him to see me wed, I want him to see me standing, with the love of my life, completely happy and one more major memory we can share. They say he has an enlarged heart and its deteriorating, more tests tomorrow, the determining of how we all view and see life will be decided on Friday. In honour of the man, I am going to do what he has always done, head down, determined to fight to the final breath. I’m a survivor, his father would say, he too followed these words of a man who fought in World War two and he fought for us, so I will fight, we will fight, for him. Of course, it would be him, to fall before his siblings, it takes five of them to even become a toenail of he. So, as he always has done, he will sacrifice, a life that has been for others, while theirs have been for himself. His father would be proud, I am proud, you took care of them Tid, while I was away, you steered the ship. So let this be be an oath, to learn, to value and to sit and be with you, for the time that I have you. The time I still have with you, the life still to live and the life that will go on, because of you, due to you and in spirit of you. My father.

[absolutepokemontrash]

I come bearing a request! The Brothers with an MC who's really good at cooking and baking? Like, the stuff food blogs dream of. Master-level instagram pastries. Could compete with the chocolate guy if they put their mind to it.

👀 ooooo, I do love me some pastries-

(I know you have an *ahem* distaste for Lucifer, dear moot, so enjoy Lucifer acting like a bit of a dingus in his section!)

Lucifer

Oh, the human can cook. *insert asshole eyeroll here*. Great. Wonderful. Groundbreaking. That’s what’s got all his brothers acting like- what was that word Levi used? Simps? This human has turned six of the seven rulers of hell into a bunch of simps.

Sure, the human has near godlike cooking prowess. Sure, everyone looks forward to their day for cooking. And sure, everyone thinks the human’s pretty great.

Tsk, not him though. He’s a refined demon. Some silly food isn’t going to make him a lovesick fool… did he smell eclairs..?

Lucifer peered into the kitchen to see MC carefully taking a tray of eclairs out of the oven and letting them cool off on the counter. His favourite dessert… right there in front of him…

Due to not being a total moron, MC notices Lucifer and asks him what the hell he’s doing just standing ominously in the doorway. Lucifer makes up some bullshit excuse about reminding MC to do their homework and just leaves. Okay, game plan, he needs those fucking eclairs or he will spontaneously combust.

As he snuck into the kitchen that night, Lucifer took a moment to briefly wonder why he was creeping around his own house. He was the Avatar of Pride for pity’s sake! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased! Oh shit was someone coming- no? Okay, back to sneaking.

Lucifer crept into the kitchen, saw the eclairs, and all logic was thrown out the window. Time to eat!

“BEEL NO! NOT THE- Lucifer..?” “…” “…” “…you’re very talented, MC, do you mind making more of these?”

SOMEONE SNAP A PICTURE! THIS IS THE CLOSEST LUCIFER HAS GOTTEN TO BEGGING IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS!

Mammon

Ugh, stuck babysittin’ some dumb human, how lame…

As Mammon was throwing a “I’m broke and I’m stuck in a pact with a dumb human” pity party, the most heavenly smell entered his nostrils. Cooking… good cooking… was Barbatos visiting or somethin’? Nah, Lucifer woulda made a big fuss about gettin’ ready for Lord Diavolo. Huh, so what was goin’ on in the kitchen?

Huh? The human? The human can cook? Well damn, maybe this whole deal wouldn’t be so bad. Oi! MC! As payment for babysittin’ ‘em, he got to have an extra big share of- OW!

Did- did the human just hit him with a spoon?! Th-they can’t do that!

Apparently they fucking can. Mammon gets told to sit the fuck down and wait for the food like everyone else. He grumbles on the way to the dining room, but he can’t fully hide his excitement to try the food.

The food even looked pretty! How did they do that?! Magic. It had to be!

After everyone’s tastebuds were blessed with the heavenly substance that is MC’s culinary exploits, Mammon decides he needs to get on this human’s good side in order to receive more food! Maybe even find some way to make a profit or somethin’!

After weeks go by of trying to suck up to the human without looking like too much of a chump, Mammon eventually realizes… hey, this human ain’t so bad. They’re nice, they make him feel good about himself, they give him headpats… he’s really hit the jackpot here!

He’ll offer to help MC bake or cook, but beware, he will try and sample the food before it’s done. Don’t let him lick the spoon!!!

Leviathan

First thought? This human ain’t shit. Thought after seeing their food? WOAAAAAAAH! JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME-

He was unceremoniously cut off by Beel asking demanding seconds. Humph, fine, he doesn’t actually care about this dumb normie food anyway.

…well at least until Levi saw a little something something on TV that he just had to ask MC to try and make. He shyly knocked on their door and when they answered, Levi shoved the screenshot in their face and stuttered out a dinner request.

On the day MC was supposed to make dinner, Levi poked his head into the kitchen and tried to make it look like he was just standing in the same room as MC and not checking to see if they were making his dinner request.

Not that he’d blame them for not doing that… who’d wanna make some anime dinner for a yucky Otaku- OMG JAHSHSHABA THEY’RE MAKING IT! *fangirl squeals*

As Levi continues to commit the SIN of being in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, MC eventually just asks him if he’d like to help out.

“Here! Just keep turning the takoyaki.” “R-really? You trust me?” “Yes, Levi. You watched how they made it on your show, right?” “Yes! I won’t mess up! I swear on my honour as an otaku!”

All in all, it was a very cute bonding experience for the two. Now it’s a regular thing. Levi requests something for dinner or dessert, MC makes it, Levi helps out.

Satan

So, the human can cook. That’s nice. At least someone in this literally god forsaken house can.

He makes sure to thank MC every time they cook, then he makes sure to thank whatever deity is watching over him that Solomon wasn’t the human staying with them.

As the months progress, Satan realizes, he should learn how to cook better. I mean, Levi and Mammon were somehow both improving in their cooking endeavours, and if MC could teach those two, then he would be a breeze.

Satan walked into the kitchen and simply asked if MC needed any assistance with what they were doing. MC just slid him some garlic to dice and that’s how this mentor/student relationship was formed.

Satan was a star pupil, but Mammon and Levi weren’t above trying to sabotage Satan’s progress to get him to leave.

Here’s the thing, the sabotage worked, but it only worked once, and the two idiots didn’t stop to think that maybe they shouldn’t sabotage the meal they were going to have to eat later.

Well, cooking lessons continued uninterrupted after the ghost pepper incident…

Even when he’s ‘graduated’ their little cooking class, Satan’s always willing to lend a hand if needed. He also will slyly hand over some recipe books and cute baking supplies that he finds. MC should be prepared for lots of cat related things to come their way.

Asmodeus

The human can cook? Oh frabcious day! He’s saved from a life of his brother’s mediocre cooking! And the human’s so cute too! What a bonus!

Not only is the human cute, but their food is just so… aesthetic??? Pretty???? Omigosh he just has to get a picture for Devilgram!

For the first few months, MC’s relationship with Asmo consists of Asmo not at all subtly asking to take pictures of their food and post it to his Devilgram. Listen MC, his followers would just love it!

Being the saint-sheep they are, MC lets Asmo sit in whenever they’re making anything in the kitchen. And Asmo slowly realizes “hey, this cute human with the awesome food is actually pretty cool too!”

New Mission: Make the human fall madly in love with him so they’ll want to hang out more.

Whether the mission succeeds is up to MC of course. (I mean, I’m already smitten with him sooooooooo-)

MC offers Asmo a lot of the pastries they make, but the Avatar of Lust almost always declines. Listen honey, he’s on a diet- wait, don’t make that sad face! He’ll eat it! Look! It’s- it’s delicious…

Diet cheat day is now every day MC makes dessert. The feeling of bliss Asmo gets when he takes a bite out of anything MC makes is only second of the treats is second only to the joy he feels at seeing MC happy that he likes their food. It’s just so wholesome I can’t-

MC’s food Devilgram has almost surpassed Asmo in terms of followers and honestly- he isn’t even mad.

Beelzebub

Gasp! Lucifer finally got him the pet personal chef he’d always wanted! Thanks big bro! :D he’ll be sure not to eat this human!

On the first night MC was supposed to make dinner, Lucifer needed to hold Beel back from breaking into the kitchen to see what was causing that heavenly smell. It was, difficult… especially because Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days.

When they all sat down to eat, Beel practically inhaled everything and held up his half bitten plate for seconds.

We here at Stupid Headcanons incorporated recommend that MC have as many bodyguards as possible stationed around the kitchen at all times to ward off a hungry Beel. We don’t want him eating the ingredients and half-tempered chocolate.

A cinnamon roll through and through, he’ll eat everything MC gives him with a big ol’ smile on his cute little face. He’s not the best person to go to if MC wants advice or critique because the best thing Beel can usually muster is “it was really good.”

As Luke said in Lesson 5, Beel would make an awful food reporter. But we love him.

Similar to Levi, he’ll give meal requests on what to make for dinner. (At this rate, MC’s going to have to make some kind of list).

He kind of just waits by the door like a sad puppy whenever MC is making anything because he can’t get into the kitchen :(

Belphegor

The smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies wafting through the house did reach the attic and it only fuelled his rage more. How dare the human win everyone over with cookies?!

After the attic incident, Belphie was won over with cookies.

Belphie just stands creepily in the kitchen doorway whenever MC is making anything and just makes shit really uncomfortable. Why’s he doing that, you may be wondering, well, he’s trying to calculate the energy needed to swipe the bowl of cookie dough and sprint to safety.

He never succeeds, mainly because once he gets to the bowl, MC already has the wooden spoon ready to smack him, so he just freezes mid-theft and slowly puts the bowl down.

“Oh my gosh, it says let the bread dough rest overnight? Let’s get a headstart and go to sleep now.” “Belphie what-” “I made a pillow Fort, come in. Let’s sleep.” “In the kitchen????”

How’d he make the pillow Fort without MC noticing? Years of experience. He’s trained in the art of- MC? What do you mean you can’t sleep right now and you need to get a head start on shaping fondant?

…he may have eaten the fondant while MC wasn’t looking… whoops… Beel may have rubbed off on him a little…

[julia-bunncat]

Hey, what’s up? I hope you’re doing well! 💖 I’ve been missing our chats and was wondering if you had anything Danganronpa related you wanted to talk about~ Shinsai or Ougoku headcanons perhaps? No pressure or anything! I just like chatting with you. I hope you have a lovely day, Bunbun~ ✨☺️✨

Hiii, Leeann! 🤗💜 I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking! In fact, I have MANY Danganronpa related plans and topics to talk about… but recently, their implementation has been seriously hampered by the latest tasks before my graduation from the university 😅 Anyway, you made a request the day I have some free time, so I’m happy to spend it by answering ✨

Maybe for a change we should talk a little bit about Ougoku!🐞🎲 The only thing: I’m not sure it’s going to be full-blown headcanons, more like the thoughts that come into my mind..~

To tell you the truth, I’ve been deciding for a VERY long time whether I want to ship Kokichi and Gonta 😅 The problem was… how problematic Ouma is in such matters xD I can’t call myself an expert in his personality, and I haven’t played the game to saying things like "it's undeniable truth"… But I think it’s incredibly difficult to gain his trust in any kind of relationship. Moreover, in the game (as far as I know), Kokichi openly and repeatedly uses Gonta’s physical strength, kindness, and credulity – it can alienate many people; make them think that this relationship would be unhealthy :<

That’s what happened to me until I started looking into their art, fantasizing, and read a little comic ^^ Now I'm strongly believe that Kokichi blamed himself for the Gonta's death and didn't want to proceed with such measures. Their early relationship still seems to me full of drama (or just strained) because it's gonna be hard for Ouma to get over himself anyway… Perhaps he will see Gonta as an "old version of himself" who hates so much (cause' he's clearly not born a pathological liar) or, in principle, will push him away from himself, not understanding why Gonta continues to trust him 😩����

But I’m pretty sure they’re strong enough to overcome all of this 😌After all, their recent DRS events show that they are able to understand each other better than anyone else. Kokichi sees through the Gonta, but he seems very reassured by the fact that Gokuhara always remains as he is 💜 As for Gonta, I really like the hc, that he’s insightful enough to know when Ouma’s lying and when he’s saying at least part of the truth *^* Not to mention his ability to appreciate Kokichi's tricks and foolery, 'cause it’s always fun around him 💚

Idk, it’s like there’s some sort of special bond between them… Of course, it’s possible I feel that way because of the visual contrast 😅 But I really can’t help but think that when Ougoku officially start dating, it’s gonna be an adorably comfortable couple >^< They’re so suited to some platonical interaction: quiet tight hugs before sleep; tangible protection of each other from any dangers; wordless support…

I suppose they wouldn’t advertise their relationship in any way, so for all their classmates (in a universe without a Killing Game or where most of them survived) guessing about it would be a huge shock 😂 Especially for Kaito (yeah, I’ll bring my BROT3 back here again :-P), although a little later he’ll even tease Kokichi about it 😄 Shuichi probably would have been worried about Gonta at first, but then, he would be genuinely pleased that there is a person able to understand and accept Ouma 😊

Also, I have a few more thoughts on Gonta’s meeting the Dice-gang!! It's possible that following old habits, Kokichi will want to make his boyfriend a member of his organization… ^^" But he'll quickly realize that their "activities" not suitable for Gokuhara and decide to help him in his entomological researches in end 🔎 Gonta, in turn, will be very honoured and delighted that Ouma has peoples at his side that can be with him if Gonta suddenly can't 😊

That's all for now! 😋 Thanks again for the question!! Don’t forget to tell me your opinion / experience / thoughts too – I will be very interested to discuss it! I also really hope that you have a wonderful day and that you are well 🥰💕

[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week: Callous Distances

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the second one, for what I randomly role "????" (one of those statements that is a party of Fears!, so I gave WILD CARD) and "Archivist!Sasha" (Eps. 19-24)

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: general weirdness, mentions of Jonah Magnus at some point (hinted but is there)

Also on AO3!

Statement of Elias Bouchard, regarding the expansion of distances after he had left the door of his house open one autumn morning.

Recorded by Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

 I just want to go home and forget about everything that had happened.

Honestly, I don’t even care anymore if my declaration is going to be of any use. However…I made a promise, so now I ought to honour it. I guess; it’s a bit too late to back out, either way. What happened had happened, after all…

In your line of work, I am almost certain that you have heard my family’s name. After all, I almost got to work for your Institute myself. It was a quite tempting job opportunity, I must say. I would have had to do the bare minimum and I would have never been fired; the Bouchard family is one of your greater sponsors, you would never fire someone with their blood, for your own good.

Even if they deserved it and, I can promise you, I would have, eventually. It’s always the same story with me…

…anyways, sorry, I am starting to digress. I guess that edible has started to kick in beforehand. The reason I am here is to speak about the trap my life has been for months uninterrupted until this very morning.

 It all began in one of the most anodyne of mornings. I woke up, checked in my… roommate, still recovering from a night I will not discuss, since I don’t know how your policy is when minor crimes are involved, and went to take off the trash before having breakfast.

Yes, yes, I know. Maybe going into the London rather-chilling-in-the-best-case-scenario streets in your pyjamas without even having drunk a juice glass is not exactly an appealing act. However, the mere fact that people on my birth family loath it is what makes it worth everything. Apart, I was still a bit hangover and I’d rather not throw up in my scrambled eggs; better to settle the stomach with the shortest of walks.

That day, though, it was not going to be that simple.

You see, I made a mistake as honest and simple as forgetting to properly close the door and, when I came back (my partner still sound asleep, blessed be his obliviousness), I would have sworn it was ever so slightly more open than before I had left.

I clenched my hand, the weight of the trash bag I had just dropped outside back on my palm, carrying me to the floor with it.

 There were no major changes after that. Life in our little apartment carried on as usual, that I could afford thank to some not very legal job opportunities, barely changed.

It was that Barely what turned to be even worse than an absolute confirmation of something going terribly wrong. It was little details, like the kitchen feeling a bit colder, not because of the heater wasn’t working properly, but because, if you set yourself in the further corner from the radiator, right next to the door that communicates with the pour excuse of corridor we have, you could literally feel the increased distances between you and the only source of heat in the room.

My roommate mocked me, saying that he didn’t get why now I always walked around the kitchen as if I was moving to be captured by stop-motion technique (he studies cinema, cannot resist that very particular metaphor).

However, it wasn’t that funny for me, since now I had to make extra time-counts when I wanted to cook something I wasn’t sure whether I would be there to observe close during the whole process.

From that moment on, one might even argue I actually got proper exercise done from walking miles and miles just from staying in the kitchen the whole time.

It was about a month into this new… routine when it happened. When the callus started to make their appearance.

 I have always had very beautiful feel, something so delicate I used to hid them from the other boys when we shower after gym practice at high-school. I know the sort of comments I was going to get my way…

…however, even if I hid them for the longest time, they were still my pride and joy. That was why, the moment I noticed the thinnest of layers of dead skin starting to be a bit too rough to be just my dermis getting a bit too dry, I panicked.

It sounds vane but…when a huge part of your life is based on having absolutely no control over your existance, losing it over something that you were rather proud of is even more horrifying that a part of your house changing dimensions.

It didn’t hurt, at first.

However, I had to walk a lot and, after the kitchen, it started to affect the rest of the house; but I was the only one noticing it.

My…screw it, I am not even writing down his name, I would call him what he was (he still is, bless his patience), my boyfriend was not affected, up to the point that, when we were in opposite sides of the room and he started approaching having to cover a much more smaller distance that the one that I got up to him, his figure flickered.

Literally, he became non-existent for a millisecond; time enough for me to worry. What if he was really gone when he passed by one of those extended spaces I was solemnly alone being able to catch a glimpse of?

What if one day he didn’t reappear? What if one day he wouldn’t be able to hold anyone’s hands anymore? What if…?

I am not a religious person but, every time he decided to approach me at home, I prayed for him to be okay, to be there afterwards or, at least, in a place worth of his presence.

 Then, the rest of the world became larger too, every single place suddenly being so far apart no matter how much I walked, it wasn’t until I was so tired I could barely stay on my feet that I arrived to said places.

 Since leaving in my house had become a real pain in the ass (excuse my French), I might have indulged myself a bit more than usual in my green friend (though it is never green when I consume it…never mind, digressing, sorry), so I cannot assure that events happened precisely as I recall them…

However, I do believe my approach is rather accurate. Investigate it afterwards, I guess.

 About two months after I fatally left the door opened, the callus forms on my feet were thick enough to be pinched separately from the rest of the feet; whose toes had also started to present small malformations, weirdly grown nails and calluses of their own. It was almost painful to look at and I found myself weeping and mourning the loss of my former almost Cinderalla-ish feet.

Again, I know it sounds over-the-top to get this dramatic over the state of a part of the human body that tend to be quite unpleasant to look at, but I am certain you also have that apparently insignificant routine/element in your life that brings you the most basic of comforts by knowing it will always remain the same. A same that you rather enjoy.

A safe place.

A place that had been taken from me, all because of the impossibly long and, more and more as time went by, arduous. There are even pebbles now! Managing to hurt my feet as they entered in contact with their soles. Between that and how much time that truly doesn’t exist I have being trapped in…I can almost feel the weight finding my chest as an extremely funny dispositive.

Because that is another thing: callous formations hurt. They hurt and itch half of the time and, before you wonder why I just simply took care of them: they had grown up to the point before they were already growing again every single time I went to sleep after I extracted them.

 Coming here was especially hard, but not as hard as what I went through yesterday. The reason I decided to come in here in the first place.

I don’t even know if it was happening for real, since I hadn’t been sleeping more than three hours on a row and, between that and the weed…well, seeing things wasn’t that strange.

The point is, as I was going to, irony appreciated, to throw away the trash, running towards the containers (I had resolved to always go running, since distances were nothing but constantly increasing and it helped me to pretend things were alright), when I heard a second voice, a female-presenting quite sweet one, saying as clear as day how foolish it had been for her to leave that door opened when she had gone to buy bread.

Then, she grab my hand for just an instance and made me swear I would find help for people like you…like us.

I got excited: I wasn’t alone in my harsh endeavour. Not only that. In that moment, I realise that, somehow, I was cured.

But…even if I suffered no more…if I wasn’t alone…that meant more people could get attacked by this thing, whatever it is. I had to tell the world.

Do the right thing.

Hence, coming to you.

I hope this had been of any use.

  Statement ends.

Well, I don’t want to come out as cynical but…this is one of the most bizarre stories I had found in the Archive and, trust me, I still have nightmares with that trash collector track and what the man end up doing to his co-workers…

…never mind! Apparently, he wants us to do something regarding what happened to him but…well, I am afraid it is not possible.

I will contact him and, perhaps, do a light search on my free time…if Jon leaves me any of that, since he wants me to have The Archive in good conditions rather quickly. What a prick…and think that I used to really like him.

Before he started using those bloody stupid grey contact-lens…

…shit! I guess I will supress this bit before properly digitalising this statement.

Recording ends.

[travoltacustom]

FANTASY SOUL TRADE - Chapter 3: No Matter How Much You Look, It Doesn’t change

We’re moving onto the other pair who’ve swapped - Ramuda and Jakurai! Perhaps this is the strangest change of The Dirty Dawg? Anyways, y’all have been good today, so have another chapter!

For the third chapter, continue to read on! I HIGHLY recommend that you log in to ARB and LISTEN to the voices because it is very much a CURSED event.

SETTING: RAMUDA’s Studio

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Hm… No matter how many times I look, it’s still Ramuda… [ INTERNAL ] It’s possible that in this dream our bodies and minds were swapped for some reason… This really is the most realistic of dreams…

[ JAKUDA tries to lightly slap himself ‘awake’ ]

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) [ INTERNAL ] This doesn’t seem like a dream.. Then, that means our bodies really have swapped… [ INTERNAL ] I can’t believe it, but… I have no choice but to accept it. Hm… This is very interesting…

[ JAKUDA’s stomach rumbles ]

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) … When you’re hungry, your blood sugar will drop. That’ll do no good when trying to think.　Let’s get something to eat for the time being.

[ JAKUDA heads out, ending up at Cafe Hana Kasumi - the cafe that Gentaro frequents ]

WAITER Have you decided on your order?

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Yes. I’ll have the napolitan pasta and a coffee for after.

WAITER Understood.

[ JAKUDA has his meal then the waiter comes with the coffee ]

WAITER Here’s your coffee.

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Thank you [ He takes a sip ] Phew…

[ GENTARO enters the cafe ]

GENTARO ...What’s this? There's someone I wouldn’t expect to see here.

[ GENTARO walks over to RAMUDA ]

GENTARO It’s unusual for Ramuda to be alone in a place like this.

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Hm? … Ah, you must be the novelist, Gentaro Yumeno-kun, aren’t you?

GENTARO …

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) I can’t let you stand while we talk, so please sit.

[ GENTARO pauses before taking a seat ]

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Yumeno-sensei, would you like a coffee?

GENTARO Y-Yes…

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Excuse me… Can he get a coffee too?

WAITER Of course.

GENTARO …

[ GENTARO gets his coffee ]

GENTARO You’re Ramuda… aren’t you?

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) I think that it definitely seems that way…

GENTARO Those are some words with implications…

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) I’m about to say something that sounds crazy, but... is that okay?

GENTARO You’re always saying crazy things.

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Certainly, it may be so with Amemura-kun.

GENTARO So then, what exactly is this crazy thing?

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) The truth is… I’m actually Jakurai Jinguji…

GENTARO I see… Now that you say so, that tone and behaviour is very like Jakurai Jinguji’s.

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) You… believe me?

GENTARO No…

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) … GENTARO It’s not like I don’t believe you. It’s just more realistic to say… that Ramuda’s just acting playfully. However, I don’t see any meaning in such acting. Afterall, Ramuda seems to hate you. That’s why, I’ll take your words seriously.

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) You are in a team with Ramuda afterall… You’re also quite an interesting person.

GENTARO Fufu… I’m honoured by such a compliment

[ DICE enters the cafe ]

DICE You were here all along!

[ He runs over to their table ]

GENTARO And if it isn’t Dice. Did something happen?

DICE Man, I hadn’t eaten for a few days, so I was thinking of getting Ramuda to treat me but he wasn’t at the studio. So, I thought I’d be able to meet Gentaro if I came here.

GENTARO Haa… For goodness sake...

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) You haven’t eaten for days? That won’t do…

DICE Right? So could you please get this poor soul something to eat?

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Alright then… Excuse me.

WAITER Yes?

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) I’d like to order all the food on the menu.

DICE Huh?

WAITER C-Certainly.

[ The waiter comes back with food ]

WAITER S-Sorry for the wait…

[ The food is set on the table ]

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Here, please eat up.

DICE S-So much… [ INTERNAL ] I really can’t eat this much...

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) Don’t be shy! Come on… dig in!

DICE Uuhiii….

GENTARO Dice, people’s kindness should be received directly, right?

DICE I-I’ll eat it all up!

[ DICE starts to chow down ]

RAMUDA (JAKURAI) You’re quite the eater, aren’t you?

GENTARO Is this really true…? Jakurai Jinguji, you’re quite the terrifying person.

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<< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >>

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.