#it's sad but part of owning many short lived animals

[grenade-maid]

Part of why I dragged my feet on ever checking out JJK was the reputation I heard was that it's a BRUTAL grimdark story where ANYONE can DIE in a snap and the author says FUCK you. And after finally catching up with the anime that just... Isn't the tone at all?? Like, Game of Thrones, Gantz, Attack on Titan, etc other cornerstone grimdark reference points, I think one of their defining hallmarks is not just that characters die suddenly and violently, but that human life is nasty, brutish, and meaningless, and it's your own fault for being stupid enough to get attached.

Jujutsu Kaisen on the other hand, I don't know how you can look at one of the most recent casualties circa S2Ep20 of the anime where that character gets a full entire episode reminiscing about their childhood, and the moments and people that meant most to them, and come away thinking the author's intent was to treat life as meaningless. The amount of screen time devoted to the following character who gets badly maimed, the audience gets enthusiastically shoved neck deep into their insane kaleidoscopic passion that is never once undercut or subverted. Both of these characters, far from being callously snuffed out and dumped in the trash, were shown immense love. What we got was not a statement of their life being disposable, but a celebration of life, a reminder of who they are, what they cared about, what made them special, who they loved and who loved them and will remember them in turn.

This is a story about curses born of misery, hatred, and malice. It is also a story deeply concerned with dualism, especially when it comes to attachment and desire. Misery stems from worldly attachments, but it is not weak or foolish to become attached to things in this world. To love something is to set yourself up for the pain or anger of losing it, or sadness of having it denied. But that love is what makes life worth living anyway, and what makes it worth it to keep fighting. We as the audience are sad because we are attached to these characters who have met terrible fates. We see enough of them to be able to clearly picture the whole rich life they could have lived surrounded by friends and feel the sting of that path cut short. It is a story about how it was worthwhile knowing them well enough to be attached anyway, even if it meant unavoidable heartbreak.

This is true of both the human protagonists as well as the curses! Volcano Man and Mahito are ruthless killers who cruelly take lives without a thought. They also have hopes and dreams that they earnestly try to protect and follow through on, and face heartbreaking despair upon defeat. They feel pain just like we do, but must nevertheless be killed. Humans face pain through the very act of living, but nevertheless must live.

In true grimdark fiction there is rarely anything good in life for characters to return to once the battle is over. In Jujutsu Kaisen, on the contrary, there is enough good in life that we see it even amidst the battle. I can see that no other way than an expression of genuine affection. Truly bleak fiction leaves me wondering why everyone involved doesn't just put a gun in their mouth and be done with it. JJK provides an answer--because you'll get to laugh about ruining an expensive shirt, because you'll meet an acquaintance's hot mom, because the next human earthworm movie is coming out, because your favorite idol is doing a meet and greet this weekend, because maybe someday you'll finally go to Malaysia. There are many answers, and none of them are stupid.

[theredcuyo]

Hmm, so today i worked with a bit of horror and this came to me

What if we make the Batman into a cryptid but the cooler kind, the leyend to scare young kids type

Before you write or send a comment, i'm mexican, born and raised, still live there. Thank You.

This came from me thinking about La llorona, a leyend (scary one) here in México and some other parts of latam it seems(?) and it's in short, about a woman whose kids die and she dies from sadness over it, with her eyes drying up from so much crying, becoming a spirit that haunts the world while calling for her children in desperate screams

The reason behind the kids' death changes depending on who you ask, either she killed them or it was an accident, but they die by drowing in all versions, and, as a result of the above, any kid she comes across gets taken away because she mistakes them for her own, they end up dying by her hands too tho (because she thinks they're hers and drowns them, or because she realizes they aren't)

She's also a single mother (the story goes back to the 1500 btw)

And I think Bruce fits this. So. Fucking. Well.

Like, Jason and Dick die, and he becomes this, and then Tim was trying to help him pass from the world but he couldn't and instead became his child too, and the rest followed along, by accident, by choice or not

Can he be a hero here? I don't think so, but, maybe he does care for the children somehow, the ones that he realizes aren't his, that they have parents to go to are the ones he protects

He cares for the people, who are not at fault for his loss, so he protects the city he also haunts

He cares for the nice old man who's never been afraid of him, who gives him a sad smile and who he feels like he knows but all the memories of his life are buried down and forgotten behind his children dying

He might not even want the children he takes to die, it's like the pit rage in canon, it takes over him and they world gets too blurry to think right

And he cares for those kids, he really does, it's not their fault, but there's one he can never remember the name of (Dick) no matter how many times he repeats it

Dick forgave his dad (whatever the reason for their deaths might be) and wanders around him in a nice way, doing his best so all of them can finally pass away

Jason hasn't. He haunts Bruce, most of the episodes where he snatches more kids away are Jason's fault, as he appears and dissapears in front of him, making him believe any kid is his boy, Jason doesn't notice and actually tries to protect other kids.

Steph's 'your not my dad!' call hits harder in this au-

Cass was wandering around town alone, she didn't stand a chance because she couldn't even scream for help. She's like a second shadow to Bruce, always near, always watching, and some who have scaped them swear her eyes never stop looking at you. She might be the only kid who's not mad at him for taking her away

Duke is similar enough, he didn't like the dark, but when there's no other choice is the worst thing that happens.

Damian's tale as a child of his that Bruce originally thought to have died gets worse when he gets taken, reunited but only by death, one that is his dad's fault.

One where Bruce got another one of his kids killed.

||||

Hoenstly, i'd like to work on this au? If that's like fine?

I'll try to make some designs and maybe like some draws, if i get to, a series of one-shots

Oh, and if you non-latam people want to know more about la llorona, well, there's a kids animated movie :D is called "La leyenda de la llorona" pretty sure you can find it with subtitles (always better than dub tbh) it's part of a saga on mexican leyends too, can watch the others if it calls your attention, they're fun

[spacer-case]

...and when the last blood-beast comes to rest unto the Earth, what next will arrive to inherit it?

i drew this sci fi piece for my portfolio, but it also turned loosely into a marcoace au because my brain got zoomies

short version: guy on a joyride (coughs ace) accidentally travels to another world filled with mythological-ish creatures, but they're actually all robots mimicking life with no real sentience of their own - except one lone, lonely consciousness (coughs marco) whose mind was digitally preserved before the rest of organic life got wiped out, and has been waiting a long time for a friend

long nerdy version under the cut:

ace's world is a fun and scrappy sci fi future world, with stuff like his hovercraft that syncs to his body's movements too

he was out riding with deuce and got too caught up in the thrill of flying that he went way out of safe bounds (not pictured: deuce panicking) and got swallowed by a giant sky beast

somehow (i haven't thought that hard about it) he appears in marco's world after this - when i first had this idea i was just thinking of a literal reference to the philosophical concept of animals as other worlds/animal alterity, a la Barbara Noske), plus i like the idea of gateways being where you least expect them

anyway yeah he gets isekai'd

enter: marco's world!! this is a land where organic life once thrived, including sentient beings (i haven't decided if they were also humans), but all organic life has long since died out and given way to a new, constructed "ecology"

it's full of seemingly mythological-ish creatures (phoenix, dragon, etc. but all are also warped from what we would imagine)!! but SIKE they are actually robots; cybernetic constructs!!! each one goes through the motions of life for many years until they steadily break down. their parts get recycled and they are remade to spawn from egg-like structures (like the one in the bottom left corner of the drawing)

and who is remaking them? MARCO! aka the last, lone remaining consciousness from the sentient race that died out. his mind was preserved digitally, but by the time he awoke he only remembers snapshots of his original life. he continuously cares for and builds all the robots, and uploads himself into different bodies whenever he wants, but no matter what he tries he can't recreate anything truly alive with its own free will

so he's lonely and sad

basically the whole thing was an exploration of the concept of a man-made mythos! and the boundaries of what defines life, will, sentience, etc. etc.

but when he meets ace - a real, living breathing organic human - it will change his life! because............because...i haven't thought that far

many questions remain...is ace's world a past version of marco's? will he find a way to restore organic life to marco's world? should he even do that? will he find a way back home? will they kiss? ? will marco get a human body?? will i ever make something bigger from this or even turn it back into ocs instead of op characters??? will they wear wigs???? when will they wear wigs????????? who knows!

but for now it is what it is hehe

i doubt anyone read all that, but if you did, thank you for your time....here i reward you with a secret:

below is an early sketch of this illustration, and underneath that, the composition originally came from A FAILED DRAWING OF MARCO!!!

the brainrot goes deep :')

[dark-frosted-heart]

Aphrodisiac Event - Roger Barel (part 2)

As usual can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

I changed into a simple night dress to join high society and headed to the Weasley mansion with Roger.

Many well-dressed men gathered at the mansion.

At the center of the gathered guests was a stout man.

(That must be the head of the Weasley family)

(That must mean that the three beside him are ladies of the Weasley family)

Weasley Head: Gentlemen gathered here tonight. I’ve assembled you all here for one reason only, to meet our beloved princesses. These days, women live wisely. They observe with their own eyes, gain experience, and hopefully find the best marriage partner. Take liberty tonight! Close your eyes on a few things, wahahaha.

When the head of the family raised his wine glass, everyone cheered.

(At any rate, those three are so lovely)

Although they were different types, the three ladies were fairly attractive.

As evidence, the men in the room were very interested in them.

(I wonder if Roger will only talk to his type, even when looking for a test subject)

Roger: Alright. Let’s eat first.

Kate: Huh?

Roger walked in the opposite direction of the ladies and piled up food from the table on his plate.

And then, without a care about what others thought, sat down and started eating. 

Roger: I’m looking for a test subject, but got hungry. It’s not like anyone will touch this anyway. I don’t like people who waste food. Can’t be helped if you have allergies or some other issue, but unfortunately, I’m in good health.

The sight of Roger enthusiastically eating meat was so “typical” of him that I couldn’t help but smile.

Kate: I completely agree with you on that.

I also stacked food on my plate before it got cold and sat next to Roger.

Roger: Haha, nice. I think a woman who can join in at a time like this is a good woman.

Roger’s a pleasant person to be with.

He’s blunt and voices his thoughts as they are.

Above all, he gets the job done. Though sometimes…he can stand to be more sensitive.

(He must be a popular guy)

(Though come to think of it, Roger’s view on love is a mystery)

Kate: Assuming you find a test subject, does having to sleep with the other person…not bother you?

Roger: That’s a very roundabout way to ask. Are you asking if I can get hard around anyone?

Kate: That’s one way to put it, but yes.

Roger: In short, yes. There’s individual differences, but it’s animal instinct. However, just because you’ve slept with someone once, doesn’t mean you have any sort of feelings for them. As you know, I don’t like trouble.

Kate: Even if you’re like that, isn’t it possible that the other isn’t?

Roger: I pick my partner first. If I’m unconvinced, then I won’t sleep with them and it won’t continue.

Roger’s too rational with his way of thinking.

It’s like a math equation.

However, I don’t think love and affection can be easily separated.

Kate: Roger, have you never been in love?

Roger: Love, huh. To me, love’s something that can’t be proven. That’s why I don’t believe in it at all. What you call love is a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire. That’s my definition of love.

Kate: That’s a very Roger definition.

Roger’s right, love is an unknown thing.

I can understand his way of thinking, but for some reason, it makes my heart ache.

(Huh…?)

(Why do I feel so sad?)

(Ah, I see)

Roger’s teased me, kissed me, and did a lot of other things. 

But I know that none of this is motivated by love.

(I…thought Roger was showing me some kind of affection)

(I feel embarrassed thinking I was someone special…)

Roger: Huh? Where’re you going, little lady?

Kate: Um, to the restroom.

To hide my agitation, I left Roger and let the night breeze cool my head.

After calming down, I headed back to Roger.

Immediately, I saw one of the ladies with her arms around Roger…

Eldest Weasley daughter: You’re wonderful. You’re the only one who didn’t jump on us right away.

Roger: Hmm, so you’re not into someone who’ll obediently wag his tail. That’s some work.

Eldest Weasley daughter: Hehe. Hey…My room’s upstairs. We can head up there if you like.

Seeing Roger’s lips close to her ear made my heart ache.

(Good. Now that he found a test subject, Roger’s research will progress)

(I’ll just head home by myself. That’s it)

(That’s all…And yet…)

I found myself grabbing the hem of Roger’s clothes.

I was like a whiny child whose precious toy just got taken away.

Roger: …O_O

Eldest Weasley daughter: What’s up with that girl?

Kate: Ah, sorry. I…

Roger: Sorry, she’s my woman.

Eldest Weasley daughter and Kate: Eh?

Roger: Not only that, but my fiancee too. Even a open-minded father wouldn’t let you hook up with an engaged man.

Eldest Weasley daughter: W-wha?!

Roger: Thanks for the invite and good luck with finding a groom. Let’s go, Kate.

Eldest Weasley daughter: What? What is this~~!

~~

Kate: Roger, please wait.

Roger suddenly stopped and leaned down a bit to look me in the eye.

Roger: Jeez, I lost out on a fine test subject because you were acting cute, you know?

(It’s really, really frustrating how I didn’t mean to)

(I was glad that Roger chose someone…)

Did I fall for Roger’s scheme to make me glad to take him up on his first suggestion?

Kate: I take full responsibility.

Roger: Hmm. And by that you mean?

Kate: I’ll take the aphrodisiac.

~~

Roger brought me back and we went to a room in the palace.

Kate: Why the palace?

Roger: The palace’s empty in the dead of night, so I thought it’d be the perfect place. No one will bother us and Crown won’t hear you moaning.

Kate: Moaning. I’m not moaning!

Roger: Not yet. Here, Kate.

I was startled when I felt a vial be placed in my hand.

(I wonder what will happen if I drink this)

Roger: Scared? Kate: I’m not. Well, bottoms up.

Premium end

[inquisitor13]

I want to introduce you all to my Arcana OC – Indigo. An elegant, thin and fragile elf. We love this, huh?

It took me about two months to design the character from scratch, create an accurate design for them and draw it all. And I'm happy with what I got in the end (but I still hate drawing hair).

Some facts about Indigo:

– For their race, they possessed some magical potential, but not too powerful, which is why they spent a lot of time and effort studying and practicing magic.

– Indigo is stronger in theory than in practice, but they are working on it.

– They have some complexes about appearance, namely, they are not satisfied with the structure of the eyelids (asian lol).

– Loves makeup, but they don't know how to apply it, which makes them even more upset about the structure of their own eyelids.

– They do not have the best eyesight (Indigo is quite short-sighted), but acute hearing never fails.

– The only weapon they have is a combat fan. They don't know how to handle other weapons besides this one.

– Ectomorph.

– They love fans of different designs and types, but they don't often part with their own, which is especially valuable to them. No one is allowed to touch this object.

– Their childhood years were spent in a small mountain village in the East. Indigo moved to Vesuvia with ambitions and desires to improve their live. They did not have the heart to stay in remote places for a long time. Moving was not easy for them, just like the process of obtaining high-level skills and status. And today, Indigo value their place and work very much.

– Not very long ago, they got to the position of court magician.

– Indigo dreams of having a pet, but they are not sure that they can provide it with a better life, so they postpone this moment over and over again.

– No matter how much they like Vesuvia, they are periodically overcome by longing for their native place, where they have not returned for many years and are not even completely sure if that village still exists.

– They are wary of strangers and try to keep communication with strangers to a minimum, but on their own initiative, Indigo never reject those who want to communicate with them. But they never start a dialogue first.

– They are prone to perfectionism and are often very critical of themselves and everything they say or do.

– Indigo cries when, while reading a book, they comes across a sad moment where someone feels bad/hurt. Often their impressionability makes them cry at the sight of dead birds and animals. This can spread to plants.

– Very harmless. They defend themselves only if the attitude towards them becomes frankly disgusting. Most often, they ignore small "red flags", even if they notice them, because Indigo always believe that everyone is wrong.

– Indigo is very passionate about history, art, philosophy and literature. They admire those who can draw, sing or write poetry, as they consider these to be the highest talents.

– They also admire those who are stronger than them in anything.

– Their anger manifests itself in the fact that they isolate themselves from everyone or specifically from the one who annoys them, so as not to say unpleasant things. It is difficult to determine that Indigo are annoyed by something. They won't show it.

– Indigo loves sweets so much. Any kind. Just give them more and they will be at your feet.

– They don't like tea. And coffee too.

– They get drunk quickly. Therefore, Indigo prefer not to get involved with alcohol.

[rendiggitydog]

So we all know the final part of the Minecraft Poem, with ‘and the universe said’ yknow? But I just read the whole thing again and there’s lots of great lines in the rest of it too! So I’m curious, what’s your favorite line?

Under the cut I’ve pasted the whole poem minus the part we all know, with each line numbered so you can easily share what’s your fav !

1- PLAYERNAME?

2- Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

3- That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

4- I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

5- It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

6- That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

7- Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

8- They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

9- What did this player dream?

10- This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

11- Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

12- It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

13- It cannot read that thought.

14- No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

15- Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

16- Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

17- But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

18- To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

19- Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

20- It reads our thoughts.

21- Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

22- And yet they play the game.

23- But it would be so easy to tell them...

24- Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

25- I will not tell the player how to live.

27- The player is growing restless.

28- I will tell the player a story.

29- But not the truth.

30- No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

31- Give it a body, again.

32- Yes. Player...

33- Use its name.

34- PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

35- Good.

36- Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

37- Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

38- We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

39- Once upon a time, there was a player.

40- The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

41- Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

42- Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

43- Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

44- Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

45- Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

46- Let's go back.

47- The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

48- And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

49- And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

50- You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

51- Let's go further back.

52- The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

53- Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

54- Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

55- Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

56- You are the player, reading words...

57- Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

58- You. You. You are alive.

59- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

60- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

61- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

[nthspecialll]

Cracks open an oyster shell to reveal a slimy half baked fetus esque Dutch van def linde inside

Do you think this sick little freak of nature is neurodivergent… or has any other disorders.. npd… bpd… etc… (no pressure to like. Actually diagnose or anything I’m assuming you aren’t a licensed psychologist, more for character analysis. Thank you so much, love your work!)

Oh he definately has something but yes I am not a psychologist and my experience with ND is limited to autism, ADHD, OCD and dyslexia because those are my family heirlooms, thus I would not feel comfortable diagnosing him but what I can do is present what fits and what does not fit about the most common diagnosises that people put on him as well as pointing out things others with more experience with these diagnosises says.

NPD- Narcissism

Dutch believes himself to be superior to others, which is very visible in many different ways, like his tent being the most luxurious to not allowing Molly, his girl to work. Which is also a big part of his entitlement, he expects others to look up to him, he expects people to treat him well, to cater his every need, and he gets angry when people doesn't.

He lives on admiration, which can be why he leans so heavily over to Micah late game when everyone else pulls their attention away from him, causing him to get angry. This time he is also very unable to handle any critisism thrown his way, reacting aggressively to it rather than listening.

One of the most obvious signs that makes people think narcissism is his willingness to exploit other, from the gang memebers to the native americans, using everything to his own advandage. He even says it himself, he is helping the natives because it helps him.

He created that friendship with Eagle Flies beacuse it boosted his confidence and his image, he lived in Micah's friendship because it fed his confidence and his image.

Narcissists tend to lack empathy and he does state in a camp event with Susan and Arthur "did you hear that Arthur? I am meant to consider feelings now!" and he is also quite arrogant, talking down to Arthur when he tries to come up with a plan in chapter 6.

Now, that said, narcissists cannot form meaning bonds which Dutch has done several times, for example with Hosea and with The Count. They are actually known for being terrible animal owners and are known for being able to fake friendships for a short amount of time while using others, not for thirty years.

Narcissits are also prone to bragging, which we do not hear Dutch nor does he belittle other people's achievements, and while he can seem like he doesn't show feelings and empathy, he does. He is genuiently sorry when Arthur gets kidnapped by O'Driscolls, he is sad when Hosea dies, he listens to John when Jack is kidnapped.

I also would not say he is fishing for compliments, which they are known for, there are also requirements for narcisissm which we don't have enough information on, such as fragile ego and requent self-doubt.

Bipolar

Dutch in the beginning of rdr2 is a very regular dude, he has signs but he seems okay, but as time goes on, especially in chapter 4-6 we see him go up into something that can look like mania.

He does not sleep, he can work without rest. He is easily irritated, his self-esteem is through the roog and he is impulsive. He constantly obesses, he leans over to people who feeds his ego, he is paranoid and he has a lot of grandiosity.

In the first couple of chapters it does also seem like we have some episodes. After settling in Horseshoe Dutch says sorry to Hosea about Blackwater, that he made a fool of himself and doesn't know what happened, similarly with after Arthurs kidnapping.

But then we come to chapter 5-6. What does not fit here however is the fact we don't see a crash, mania cannot go on forever and yet through the months of chap 5-6 there is no crash, he does not return to his regular state. We also see the same things in rdr1, again, no crash and it has been years.

"That said, I've yet to see his crash. The mania, which separates bipolar from major depression, can't just go on forever." which was wisely said by a player diagnosed with bipolar.

Borderline personality disorder

Dutch has a very strong fear of being abanonded, he does not like others leaving him, thus he is willing to leave them first, such as leaving John in jail before allowing him to get out and leave him.

He has a lot of paranoia and looses touch with reality, such as the situation in which he is standing, but also randomly yelling out or talking to himself in chapter 6, similarly he is prone to impulsiveness, doing things that aren't exactly thought through which ends people being harmed.

While he doesn't make threats of self-harm, he did die by suicide, though I would say it was more a powerplay than a fear of abandonment.

He is quickly angered, especially in the later chapters and acts out violently throughout the story

Now we have some other "critiria" like wide moodwings and "Quick changes in how you see yourself," I saw a redditor say this: "Although Dutch sees himself as an anarchistic Robin Hood-type hero during RDR2, he's clearly conflicted by RDR1, presenting himself as both a freedom fighter and a savage who can't fight his own violent nature." And while that is true, it does not fit the critira. It is not a quick change going back and forth but rather a steady but stable decline to that. A lot of people forget that it isn't just a change, but a back and forth we need for this diagnosis, and to me it is more that he is, as said, steadily moving, when he has reached one level of "madness" he doesn't go back.

Then we have a few critera I don't think fits, like unstable relationships, he has a lot of longer, fairly stable relationships such as with Hosea and Arthur and John, those were stable for 30 years before falling apart at the end. Again we are missing the movement back and forth.

End Note

As said, I am not a psycologist and if anything is worded wrongly in a way that may seem offensive, I appologice and please let me know.

[spaceisout]

A desire that was not meant to be.

Pairing: Reiner Braun x F!Reader, Slight Jean Kirstein x F! Reader

Plot: You had put off your meeting due to the conflict with Marley but due to circumstances everything ends up erupting all at once.

Warning(s): cursing, yelling, slight violence

A/n: there might be a few mistakes since it's not fully proofread.

It was a quiet night to say the least, there were no titans in sight. The only sound you could hear were beetles and some animals roaming around at night.

A campfire inside the forest would have seem like a good choice to gather with some friends.

Friends.

Nowadays the people you had known for years were disappearing little by little. You did not know who to trust now. Anyone could have ill intentions that might get you tracked and dragged back to Paradis by the jaegerists.

Your lives were on the line and in return you'd get nothing.

The current group that was at each other's throats years ago were now sitting together sharing a meal.

It was a sight you'd never thought you would see again.

Well see Reiner again.

After parting that day during the invasion all you thought was about seeing the love your life. Waiting to kiss him again one day, but of course it turned out differently.

Now having him front of you brought mixed feelings and no reassurance that your love was as strong as it used to be.

Reiner kept glancing your way from time to time.

There were some instances that you'd both look at each other and let your gaze rest until one of you looked away.

His stare did awaken some of those feelings you'd used to get whenever he was around. But with a current situation it was difficult to tell if it was wrong to still feel something for him.

"Reiner Braun," Yelena said bringing your catching your attention. "You're the one who reached Shiganshina's inner gate. Do you know how many Eldians we're devoured by pure titans because of that?"

Reiner looked away feeling the guilt rushing back to him as he recalled the events.

You could tell how regretful he was. The look on his face said it all.

Yelena looked at Annie, "Annie Leonheart. I heard you killed a few more than survey core members on your time. And that's before we get into all innocents you trampled on and to fight your way out of Stohes."

"But let's not forget the brave liberators of Paradis." She added, "There's Armin the level headed one, who seems far too kind to cause that blood bath he did at Marley. How high do you think you can stack those corpses. And don't forget the civilians there were plenty."

Armin looked down at his lap closing his eyes.

"Not to sell the rest of you too short." She continued, making you feel annoyed by her voice already. "Everyone gave a heroic performance in Liberio. Jean most of all, Little Falco here threw himself in front of you to protect the cart but you didn't let that stop you from firing your thunder spear did you?"

You could feel the air change as her words continued on. Pouring venom into the open and getting everyone riled up to cause a scene. You knew her game play very well. She did not care about saving people. Elena never cared about anyone but herself in this whole situation. She easily bent down to Eren to stay in power even if that meant killing her own friend in return.

"You'd thought you all made it out clean until Gabi gunned down Sasha. What a sweetheart that girl was, even I couldn't help but feel sad for her." She said, "And to you she was family, you went through training together, went through hell together. Losing her must have been more painful than I can imagine.*

You rolled your eyes at her fake sympathy.

"This stew is pretty good Hange." Jean spoke smiling slightly at her, "Got enough for seconds?"

"Oh we've got more than enough so don't be shy." Hange grabbed his bowl and began to pour more stew.

Jean leaned back holding the bottle of liquor in one hand while keeping the other flat on the ground.

"I wanna thank you for this Yelena." He said, "You're baiting us out to air our grudges so we can get it out of our systems and get our heads on straight. Right? You'd have someone to vent to yourself if you hadn't blown out all you friends brains out to keep your fantasy alive."

He took another sip before continuing, "Now all you have a head full of cutting remarks and death wish. So this is actually pretty selfless of you."

"What can you expect?" You spoke leaning back against the large tree trunk. "She's all about getting what she wants but when her life is in danger that's all she actually cares about."

You looked at her as she avoided eye contact, "Isn't that right? You're all talk about everyone else's mistakes but you keep yourself shut on your own. I really hope that if you make it this far someone doesn't come along and take you out for not wanting to deal with your crap anymore."

"Now now we need to all be on the same page, (name)." Hange said, "Let's all take a break yeah?"

A sigh escaped from your lips, "How can I when people like her exist? She's a selfish prick."

Yelena lips started to curve up into a smile but stopped herself.

"Right... almost forgot." She said, "I didn't mention another name, he was already dead by the time we met. But I remember you said you were good friends. What was it, Mar―co."

Both your and Jean's eyes widened hearing his name.

Everyone's eyes were now on Yelena as well.

"As I recall you told me Annie had something to do with his death didn't you? Did you ever ask her for details?" Jean gasped in surprise. "I bet she'll tell you."

You held your breath waiting to hear an answer, an explanation as to why your close friend had to face death that day.

"I stole his odm gear and left him where titans could get to him." Annie admitted avoiding eye contact, "Marco got eaten because of me―"

Was surprised you was how quickly Reiner spoke.

"Annie was only following orders that I was giving her."

Hate started to fall deep in the pit of your stomach. Jean noticed your change in behavior, he placed his hand on top of yours giving it a gentle squeeze.

Of course it did not go unnoticed by Reiner, seeing how close you two were.

"During the fight in Trost, Marco over heard me and Bertholdt discussing something secret. If we let him go he could have exposed us and we decided we had to silence him." He continued but his explanation only angered you more. "I figured nobody would think twice about a scout getting eaten by a Titan. So I tackled him under a roof and I pinned him down and ordered Annie to strip him off his ODM gear. Then we just left him there... Marco was stranded on that rooftop without a way and a Titan got to him."

Silence rested upon the group, no one could grasp what Reiner had admitted. It was devasting seeing how someone could be so selfish about leaving another human being stranded to die.

"So... did Marco say anything before he was killed?" Jean asked.

"He asked why I wasn't willing to talk to him." Reiner answered.

"I think that question applies to everyone, why we haven't been willing to talk. We all just started fighting and assumed it had to be to the death."

"But we can still change that," Hange added. "We were all ready to kill each other. And now here we are talking it's something right? To think we would all be sitting around a campfire, sharing a meal with people we once called enemies."

"I stood and watched as a Titan devoured Marco and then a switch flipped and I couldn't figure out why it was happening."

Hange gasped.

"I just snapped flew into a rage, hell-bent on avenging Marco. I cut down the titan myself―"

"We get it Reiner." Jean interrupted him, "You're saying the guilt of carrying out the mission screwed with your head."

"Don't forgive me... I'm truly worthless."

"I said we get it." He spoke louder as his voice trembled with rage.

"I'm sorry."

It was enough to make you and Jean explode. Tears started to fall down your cheeks as you tried to understand why he was covering for her. Why he decided to go along with those orders.

Jean leaped from his place and threw a punch at him, throwing Reiner back and blood to come out of mouth. In a moment Jean was on top of him without a thought, it was all starting to become too much for you.

As they were killing each other you tried to suppress the sobs that wanted to escape. Armin walked over to you, rubbing your back and trying to calm you down.

"Try to breathe, okay?" Armin softly spoke, "Let's try and get your breathing back to normal."

You weakly nodded but it was impossible seeing how Jean was trying to kill the person who you thought was the love of your life.

Armin then left your side as he and Connie tried to get Jean off of Reiner

You stood up along with Hange and Mikasa to see what was going on.

Gabi then stepped in, but she was hurt in the process by Jean's strong hit. Falco kneeled down beside her worried about her health.

"I'm sorry... we came here," She spoke in pain. "To kill everyone in Paradis... we wanted to stage a massacre not prisoners. We thought the world might forgive us the sins of the Eldian Empire. If we wiped you out, they'd recognize us as good Eldians you see and save them from the Eldian devil's. And now my mom and dad and everyone back in Liberio."

"I'm sorry..." Gabbie got her knees trying to beg for forgiveness. "I understand I have no right to ask anything of you but we can't save our families without your help. So please... please don't let out homes get trampled. I'm beging you."

Falco held Gabbie up, looking everyone. "Help us please, we have to stop the rumbling together."

"We're begging you." She said.

We're begging you." He said.

"Let go." Jean said.

Both Connie and Armin let him go and he walked away.

"Jean." You said jogging behind him.

He stopped, turning to look at you, "I'm sorry― right now I need some space."

"I understand." You mumbled.

Jean gave you a small smile and headed into the woods.

Reiner slowly sat up, his eyes landing on you. They were filled with regret and sorrow.

You looked at him, feeling sorry for him for the way that Jean attacked him but not for what he had done.

Slowly you walked up to Reiner, Mikasa stood beside you as Armin and Connie stood aside.

"I used to think we'd see each other again," you said. "I wished for days upon days to see you... to maybe rekindle what we had."

"(name) I'm so sorry―"

"Don't apologize." You said, "I know for hell that you weren't the one who ordered to kill Marco. Were you?"

"I did I swear I didn't mean―"

"Stop lying!" You exclaimed as tears formed in your eyes. "You're covering for Annie, Reiner. She is the one who decided to kill Marco off not you."

Annie stood up, "I shouldn't have done what I did (name). I know I can't take back what I did―"

"No you can't." You clenched your jaw, "You're the reason Marco is dead! My friend died because of your selfish pathetic reasons. Do you realize how it felt to tell his parents how he died?!"

She looked down as her vision started get blurry.

"You don't get to feel sorry for the way you treated him." Sniffling you continued, "Marco was an innocent person who wanted to get to the ranks and serve the king just like you did. He was the kindest person who did not turn away anyone who needed help. He even helped you for crying out loud and this― this is how you repaid him?!"

"(name) we know what we both did was wrong but you shouldn't take it all out on her―"

"You both disgust me."

Reiner and Annie both stayed quiet.

"To think that I fell in love with you..." you voice cracked, "I―I wanted to spend the rest of my life next to you after this cruel world was over. But I was s fool."

"No that's not true!" Reiner stood up looking at you with broken eyes. "It was never your fault and I meant everything I told you... everything I felt about you was real (name). You have to believe me."

"How can I, huh?" You took a step forward, looking at him eye to eye. "I can only remember the person you were with me... and every time I look at you it's someone else I'm seeing."

"I'm the same person as I was back then." He desperately spoke, "I―I haven't changed! I still love you with all my heart (name)."

"I can't believe you..."

"(name) please," he begged holding both your upper arms in his hands. "I love you (name), I can't loose you... I―I don't want to loose you."

"Let me go, Reiner..." You quietly said as you cried.

"Please don't walk away from us―"

"Reiner."

"(Name) please..." He rested his forehead against yours trying to remember your warmth, your touch that he had craved to feel all these years.

"R―Reiner... please let me go." You let the tears fall, seeing them land on his arms.

"I love you so much..."

"Reiner let her go." Armin spoke.

"I'm not going to let the person I love walk away from me."

"Reiner... you already messed up." Connie said, "Let her go and let this end while she's giving you the chance to do so."

"Reiner, please listen... I don't want you to get hurt." Gabbie pleaded as she pulled on his shirt.

Tears were already rolling down his cheeks as he pulled himself away from you.

You were already missing his warmth. But you knew you couldn't forgive him, not for the way he acted.

"(name) don't blame him for my actions... he doesn't deserve the hate I do." Annie looked at you. "Reiner cares about you―"

"Then you should have thought about that before you did what you did." You said full of hatred, "If it was for me I wouldn't dare help you rescue your father for the crap that you pulled. You killed innocent people, for no reason! I don't even begin to understand why you should be alive instead of my family."

"I know..."

"But I'm not heartless," you explained wiping away your tears. "I wished that I was but unfortunately I'm not. There's innocent people on both sides that shouldn't suffer because of us. They deserve to live no matter what."

"I knew you'd end up doing the right thing." Yelena spoke, "It's what you do."

"Shut up, Yelena." You glared at her, "If it weren't for needing you, I would have left your ass behind to rot in hell. You don't deserve to be here. You're the least person to suggest anything with the ill intentions you have."

"All I did was help like Jean had said." She in innocently said.

"Oh please deep down you enjoy seeing this going down. You don't care about who gets in a fight, all you want is to tear people apart. That's your game, it's what you enjoy because you have nothing else in your pathetic life."

Looking at them one by one you saw what they all all had in common.

"Once we're done with this... I don't want to ever see your faces again." You said looking specifically at Yelena, Annie and Reiner.

You walked away from the group feeling like the air was being sucked out of you. It was getting heavier by the minute as you walked further into the forest.

Once you managed to get far enough away from them you let it all out. Sob after sob escaped from the heaviness of your chest, every emotion that was pent up was coming out.

All you could feel was a giant hole within you.

You had already lost your friends in the past, you'd thought that Reiner would be the one constant person in your life. But you were wrong and it hurt you so much seeing him for what he truly was.

Slowly you slid down against a tree with tightly closed eyes as the feeling of emptiness surrounded you. You wanted to run back into his arms, to have you hold you. Console you, in hopes of that pain going away.

But all you could do was hold yourself and try to get through the pain alone.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, smelling the all too familiar scent.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone to deal with him." Jean said pulling you into his chest.

"I―It's alright... you needed time." You mumbled into his chest.

"What a hell of a life we live huh?" He asked. "I wonder if Marco is waiting to scold us for the way we are."

"I miss him."

"I miss him too but we can't let him down... as much as we're in pain right now Marco wouldn't want us to do this to ourselves."

"I'm sure he would understand," you smiled weakly.

He chuckled lightly, "Knowing him he would drag us out of bed no matter how bad it would be."

"Yeah..."

"You deserve better... Reiner was privileged to have known you." He rubbed your back gently. "You're a badass who will get back on her feet I just know you will."

Your grip on him tighten.

Reiner was out of your life.

He chose what he wanted and now you had to do the same.

That's all you could do.

[as-i-watch]

in my opinion i think the opla did a very good job of trying to emulate the one piece manga and anime, but there’s a part of the anime that they can’t really convey through the live action. like… i think that the cartooniness of one piece, as well as the occasional emotional moments is what makes one piece one piece, but while the opla was able to get some of it, being a live action, it wasn’t able to convey all of it

it’s still wonderful, and i love it, but i like to compare it to the percy jackson movies. good live actions in their own right (still think opla did it WAY better) but compared to the original, it falls short (percy jackson a lot, opla a tiny bit)

i think the main issue for me is the characterisation. inaki did a very good luffy, but you can clearly see how it’s so inaki luffy instead of luffy luffy. still good, but still different

and i think mackenyu did zoro well, but in my opinion, it doesn’t fit him very well. zoro (while i still love him) isn’t as pretty as mackenyu is. mackenyu is too much of a pretty boy

i actually remember hearing in an interview that mackenyu grew up with anime, and of course one piece. i think he emulates zoro extremely well, and he tries his best to make it anime accurate, but he as a person just doesn't fit perfectly, the vibes are kinda off. still absolutely in love with him though

i think that it shouldn't have skipped so many parts of the original, but of course, it completely makes sense why they did

anyways, like i said, i think that if you don't compare them to each other, it's very good, and i do love how they did it (i'm also so happy that so many people loved the live action that they're actually starting to watch the anime!!)

I just finished episode 3 but i totally agree

My biggest fear when the adaptstion was announced was precisely that, bc one piece is so one of a kind, it can make you smile, it can make you sad, you cry tears of joy and of pain, and the anime takes the time to develope the charecters, the stories and the world, so sometimes the emotions are conveyed in such a subtle but effective way bc they took the time to make sure it did. Not to mention the tone and aesthetic. There's a lot that was gonna be difficult to translate to live action

That said, so far i think they did it great! I think they found a certain balance between the cartoonish and the 'real world' lets call it, and they took advantage very cleverly of cgi and practical effects to achive that too.

I agree the thing that perhaps lacks for me too is the charecters and also the pasing imo. But again, it was impossible to fit the storytelling way of the famously 'too long' anime in a 8 episodes per series format.

I too think Luffy feels the most different, i already talked a bit about that and i think it was just the result of it being a western production plus the complex charecter Luffy is. But Iñaki put so much love into his Luffy, you can feel it, its endearing

I dont have a problem with Mackenyu's Zoro funny enough. Sure, i miss how silly anime Zoro can be (but again, the tone thing) and they tried to make it too purposefully imo. Zoro is not edgy. He is badass and a maniac but he doesnt want to wear only black or cares about pressenting an "attitude". But there's a ray of hope for me (i havent finish the show so it might change my mind), the biggest stupid ass smile when he said he'd cut Helmepo's hair. He can be silly and less serious, so i hope i get to see more of that as he feels more comfortable in the crew.

Nami i like, im waiting for the Arlong park arc to make up my mind bc thats where her true colors shine either way. Really liking her dynamic with Luffy so far tho

Havent seen Sanji yet

And Usopp, i just met him and this might sound mean but this Usopp is too cool. Kinda like what you said for Zoro. I think this Usopp has more confidence in himself than anime/manga Usopp did back then and he is not that much of a coward. The coward part is important bc every time he stood up to fight it meant so much more. But again, is early for me to make up my mind this is just first impressions

But like you said, this is just bc of the comparison, on its own i think they are all doing amazing jobs and, so far for me, the writers managed to pull off something that to me was next to impossible and in a great way too.

Im curious to see how someone that hasnt watched the anime reacts to the mixed tone of live action meets silly cartoonish vibes, i hope its not too of context for a first time watcher

[oakpear]

The End Poem

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

By Julian Gough

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Round Two: Changmiania vs Sinocephale

Changmiania liaoningensis

Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Eternal Sleeper from Liaoning

Time: 125.755 million years ago (Barremian stage of the Early Cretaceous) 

Location: Lujiatun Beds, Yixian Formation, Liaoning, China 

Changmiania is a gorgeously preserved ornithopod known from the earliest time of the famed Yixian Formation, adding it to the ranks of amazing fossils known from this unique preservational environment. The multiple specimens of this species are found in sleeping poses, curled up on the ground with their legs and arms tucked up against them. This indicates they had been buried alive, possibly inside their own burrows. Given the depositional environment of Yixian is a sort of prehistoric Pompeii, with many dinosaurs covered very quickly in ash and dust from an exploding volcano, this makes a certain degree of sense - perhaps the two little dinosaurs had scurried into their burrow to escape the oncoming tragedy (sorry if I just made you sad), or had been asleep and unaware of the oncoming danger. At only one meter long and less than half a meter tall, Changmiania would have been easily missed in its environment, hiding among the dense vegetation from potential predators. With robust leg bones, it would have been a fast runner, able to move efficiently through the crowded undergrowth. It had a weirdly short neck for ornithischians, and that combined with its short forearms and hands indicates it was fossorial - ie, a digging animal, hence its burrow home and final resting place. Given they were found together, they were probably social creatures as well, living in small family groups. The Yixian was a dense temperate forest, filled with freshwater lakes and a great diversity of plantlife. Conifers, ferns, cycads, horsetails, and early flowering plants filled the environment and indicated a humid, possibly rainforest environment. Periodic wildfires, noxious lake gasses, and volcanic eruptions all lead to regular moments of rapid burial and amazing preservation in this environment - essentially giving us snapshots of how it changed over the course of many millions of years. In the Lujiatun bed specifically, Changmiania was neighbors with Euhelopus, Jeholosaurus, Liaoceratops, Psittacosaurus, Liaoningornis, Daliansaurus, Graciliraptor, Mei, Sinovenator, Sinusonasus, Dilong, Hexing, Incisivosaurus, Shenzhousaurus, and outside of dinosaurs mammals such as Acristatherium, Gobiconodon, Juchilestes, Maotherium, Meemannodon, and Repenomamus (yes, THAT Repenomamus), and the toad Liaobatrachus. 

Sinocephale bexelli

Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Bexel’s Chinese Head 

Time: 92 million years ago (Cenomanian stage of the Late Cretaceous) 

Location: Ulansuhai Formation, Inner Mongolia, China 

Sinocephale is an interesting case of a previously named dinosaur being renamed - and then given a new one altogether! Though originally discovered in the early 20th century and lumped into Troodon (pachycephalosaurs used to be considered Troodontids, don’t worry about it), and then shoved into Stegoceras when that whole nonsense got fixed. Unfortunately, Sinocephale really doesn’t resemble Stegoceras much at all! Shoved into dubious or not properly named genera for the petter part of multiple decades, it was only recently that it was studied and raised as a holotype for a new genus - Sinocephale! As a pachycephalosaur, it was a small bipedal animal, with a weirdly hyper-stiffened tail, and a dome on its head. Interestingly for Sinocephale, that dome was shaped like a heart (from above)! This is the distinct trait that distinguishes Sinocephale from its relatives. It was not closely related to Stegoceras at all, but closer to Sphaerotholus and the Pachycephalosaurus group. While Sinocephale lived in a somewhat poorly understood geological formation, we do know it lived alongside other dinosaurs such as Shaochilong, Sinornithomimus, and Chilantaisaurus, as well as some turtles.

[annimator]

Hey do you guys ever think about Minecraft’s end poem and how it connects to QSMP (it’s under the cut if ya wanna read it!)

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[bbbellamywrites]

full end poem/story under the cut <3

I see the player you mean.

[PLAYERNAME]?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

[PLAYERNAME]. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, [PLAYERNAME].

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[newtthetranswriter]

Prologue

Word count: 859

Summary: How do soulmates work and who am I? Well that’s what we are here to discuss.

warnings: mentions of death, canon typical violence

A/n: Welcome to the prologue of my Kalecgos soulmate Au. I hope you enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate

Part 1

    You would think in a world as vast and magical as Azeroth, where many different races live and thrive  it would be fairly easy to find one's soulmate. Unfortunately it’s not. In some lucky cases soulmates find each other quickly and live long lives together, like the bond between Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwind who have been together for nearly ten thousand years. Sadly for most it’s the opposite, spending hundreds or even thousands of years without finding their soulmate. With so many varying life spans across the world, there have even been pairs that have seen the birth and death of one half multiple times over, but such is the curse of long life.

   Being a dragon makes it all the more difficult. Having a life span longer than that of most mortal races as it is, the Aspects themselves were once immortal destined to live for eternity watching soulmate after soulmate pass. In a twisted way when they gave up their aspectel powers to defeat Deathwing, they were saved from the fate of having to watch so many soulmates pass, now only having to watch the ones present in this lifetime. They were given the hope of one day getting to spend the rest of their life with a soulmate, whenever that day comes.

    Now you may be wondering how the people of Azeroth find their soulmates when they’re lucky enough to do so. Well each person has a mark that represents their soulmate, these marks can vary in shape but they all function in the same way, they show the person their soulmate's emotions. For example if a person has a face for a mark, be it their soulmate's face or an animal, the face would frown when the other half is sad or smile when their happiness makes sense. Find the person who fits your mark and shares the same emotions as it. As I said before with the races who sometimes outlive their soulmates, their mark will change shape depending on each birth of their soulmate. If in one life their soulmate is a druid they may have an animal and in another life their soulmate may be a warrior who wears a helmet turning their mark into said helmet. 

     Simple enough to understand right, everyone in Azeroth has a soulmate, if you outlive your soulmate long enough for them to be reborn, your mark changes. The dragons and longer lived races got the short end of the stick, having to watch multiple soulmates die over the course of their lifetime, if their soulmate is not of the same race. Well this all leads us into our story or should I say my story.

     I was born, well hatched around two thousand years ago. That’s right I’m one of those lucky dragons who gets to watch their soulmate die over and over again, or at least that’s what was expected. You see while dragons do have soulmates, we don’t typically get to see our marks until we are old enough to take on a mortal visage. This happens at different ages depending on the dragon and their skill level, so it can take anywhere between a year to a hundred for a dragon to know their own soulmark. In my case it was probably about ten years before I was able to take on my mortal visage. 

     When it came time I chose to do something different than most of my kin in the green dragon flight, where most of the green flight prefers to take on the visage of a night elf, I chose a half-elf. When in my mortal visage I look almost human, except for slightly longer ears and colored hair that changes depending on how I’m feeling at the time I shift forms. As for my soulmark I have a small blue dragon wrapped around my wrist, like all marks it shifts and moves to show the emotions of my soulmate. I know what you may think, ‘oh, your mark is a blue dragon so it should be easy just find a blue dragon that matches.’ and well that would be the case but ten thousand years ago during the war of the ancients most of the Blue Dragonflight was wiped out by Neltharion, making it difficult to locate the Blues.

    Another thing about me makes it a little more difficult as well. While I am a green dragon, I also chose to spend my life among mortals living with the Night Elves on Kalimdor and then took on the role of protector of the world tree when they moved their capital to Teldrassil building Darnassus. In my time with the Night Elves, I figured out how to harness my already strong connection to nature magic to become a druid. Me being a druid may have an effect on my soulmate's mark. It could very well be a green dragon, but there is also a chance that the mark takes the shape of one of my animal forms as I do tend to prefer them over my large dragon form. I am stuck waiting until fate allows us to meet.

[xaharadesert]

7 More of My Favourite Horror (Adjacent) Movies and Why You Should Watch Them

(Not in any particular order or subgenre. TW are vague, spoiler free, and from my memory, but you should Google any of these before you watch them. Not all triggers are listed because it’s horror and stuff like death and murder is common)

Part 1 here!

1. Fractured

A man waits in a hospital for his daughter and wife to return from some tests, but they seem to have gone missing.

If you like being sad and also confused (like me), then this is a great film for you! Don’t worry, the end will clear things up, but until then you’ll have a hundred of your own theories developing. Definitely a movie that you have to pay attention to, but it’s not difficult once the mystery begins.

Scary: 1/10

Gore: 2/10

Disturbing: 4/10

Psychological: 9/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: insanity

2. The House

An animated anthology of three short films all centring around the same house.

Gorgeous animation, fast paced, and constantly off-putting. Each of the short films is vastly different, but they’re all very unsettling in their own way. The second was my personal favourite, but I’d say the first was the most disturbing. The third one is a nice way to ease you out of the absolute horror of the first two so you can go about your day without letting the film consume your thoughts.

Scary: 3/10, 3/10, 1/10

Gore: 0/10, 0/10, 0/10

Disturbing: 6/10, 5/10, 2/10

Psychological: 3/10, 4/10, 2/10

Actual genre: horror comedy

3. I Saw The Devil

After a man’s wife is brutally murdered, he puts his life on hold to hunt down the killer and make him suffer.

As far as non-horror movies go, this is by far one of the most disturbing. The murderer is one of the worst you’ll see play an extended part in the movie, which would be awful if it weren’t for the fact that most of the film is the protagonist purposely letting the killer get away just so he can hunt him down and attack him again. The protagonist isn’t an objectively good character either, but there is something very satisfying about watching him take out his extended revenge.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 7/10

Disturbing: 7/10

Psychological: 3/10

Actual genre: action thriller

TW: rape, sexual assault, graphic gore, cannibalism

4. Hard Candy

A 14 year old girl decides to meet up alone with an older man she met on the internet and go to his house.

Elliott Page my beloved. One of his earlier works, but still amazing. I’m not sure if these one really qualifies as horror, as it’s definitely more of a revenge fantasy, but the first 20 or so minutes had me very worried. Definitely an unsettling atmosphere, but after the first little bit it’s absolutely amazing. Would recommend to anyone, but especially to women who are tired of seeing other women and girls victimized by the narrative.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 2/10

Disturbing: 4/10

Psychological: 3/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: pedophilia, surgery, suicide

5. Last Night in Soho

A young girl rents a room while off at college and starts dreaming of the life of the girl who lived there before her in the 60s.

This movie made me cry more than once (but in a good way). I genuinely forgot it was a horror movie for the first 45 minutes or so, and then was very rudely reminded. Gives off the same vibes as Coraline, but in a more adult sense. Absolutely gorgeous cinematography and the character arcs make me feel so many emotions. Also it has Matt Smith, and that immediately sold me on it. Another movie I would recommend especially to women.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 3/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 8/10

Actual genre: psychological horror

TW: rape, prostitution, suicide, insanity

6. As the Gods Will

Every high schooler in Japan is abducted by aliens and made to compete in murder games to determine who is the most worthy.

Absolutely batshit insane movie with some of the weirdest… everything. Genuinely hilarious at times, but also immensely gory and occasionally heart touching. I urge you to go into this with zero expectations. Just have fun. Probably the type of movie to watch with your friends when you’re drunk, or alone at 3am when you’re sleep deprived.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 6/10

Disturbing: 5/10

Psychological: 3/10

Actual genre: supernatural horror

7. Tusk

A podcaster visits an old man’s remotely located home to interview him.

OKAY HEAR ME OUT. I know this made the rounds on TikTok for being awful, but it’s seriously one of my favourite. Also batshit insane, but with a perfect blend of comedy, psychological horror, and really creepy practical effects. There’s no one to root for in this film; everyone is awful. But seriously, a great movie to watch if you have no expectations. I’ve seen it 3 times. Also, oddly specific, but I feel like if you like Angel’s of Death for the psychological aspects, then you’ll like this too.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 2/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 4/10

Actual genre: body horror comedy

[maples-wonderland]

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words.

Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers.

Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it.

They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

MAXWELL WHAT THE BALLS 💔💔💔