#started showing physical side effects to go with the metaphysical ones

[latenightbreezeinheaven]

Predicting my 2023 solar return chart because I couldn’t sleep😴

2023 solar return chart is looking too much scary and crazy for me. My birthday is in June and it’s 2 months ahead but I think the effects have already started to show up in some areas of my life at this moment.

•Scorpio rising at 18 degrees (Virgo deg)

-I think this year, I would be mainly focused on transformations for myself, emotionally and physically.

-I went through a very intense and messy breakup and I found myself reflecting these circumstances a lot lately.

-I’ve been watching videos about self-concept, psychology and manifestation on youtube because I actually want to transform myself and I have a feeling I would succeed.

-I want to transform myself into someone who’s powerful with a lil bit of mysterious aura.🤭

-I started to take interest in occult and metaphysical topics and witchy stuff.

-I bought my first tarot deck about two weeks ago just because my gut told me to do it.

-I started to rely a lot on my intuition and most of them are on point.

-I had some prophetic dreams which came true in real life. (thanks to my natal Neptune and Uranus in 8th house too) IT’S KINDA CRAZY. THAT DREAM HAPPENED EXACTLY IN MY REALITY.🤯

-I notice that I also tend to become more private on social media and I back away from people, even from my best friend who I used to talk with everyday because I feel so drained for literally no reason. (but maybe this solar eclipse and mercury retrograde are the hidden answer😏)

-I’ve been getting lots of compliments too. One of my guy friends told me that I look like a maneater in these days. (I just had leo rising in 2022 SR chart and my attention-seeking ass is enjoying this too much hehe🙊)

-The MAIN reason why I’m scared of scorpio rising in SR chart is because I was bullied at school, got slapped by my mom, sexually harassed and these all happened for the very first time in my life and also my biggest secret got exposed (which was kinda like receiving karma for what I had done) in the year I had scorpio rising.😃

-The rising degree was at 29 degrees and I was slut-shamed publicly. (❗️Tip: if you have 29 degrees on planets or points in your solar return chart, that might indicate the end of a chapter and a new beginning, for better or worse depends on what you have done and the planet shows in which area you’ll encounter these endings).

-All students knew my name but in a notorious way like “oh that girl? Ummm🙄 *shrugs*”. -These events brought major changes into my life. It changed my whole personality.

-I was scared and in the dark for the whole year. But to face my foes, I had to put on that “I’m fucking strong bitches don’t you dare touch me” mask the whole year. No one was on my side. But these events helped me become a girl who I am right now. I used to be a fun, outgoing, optimistic, free, flirty and giggling little girl but right now, I’m not that kind of girl anymore. I’ve become a brave and strong girl who had gone through a lot but still didn’t give up. However, I have never shown my vulnerable side to anyone up to this day since that year. That year is the year that I’ll NEVER forget. And that’s why I’m feeling a bit nervous to go through another year with scorpio rising.😰

-I might receive karma for what I had done. Good or bad.

-I might also attract a lot of unwanted attention from others since I also have Venus conjunct mars and Lilith conjunct MC this year. Main theme is transformation and shocking things might also happen. My secrets could be leaked maybe. Just don’t wanna assume things before anything happens.🥱

•Sun in Gemini in 8th house at 24 degrees (Pisces deg)

-This year is literally screaming “TIME TO TRANSFORM YOU BITCH” at my face lol😂. -My main focus is gonna be healing ofc and transformation I guess.

-I might have to face my shadow side and I think the universe will push me to deal with it to achieve my higher self.

-I also kinda observe things deeply a lot nowadays and it could go on for the whole year.

-I feel like I might go through my ego death or as I said, an old chapter could end and new beginnings would come.

-I’m a bit worried about me and my family’s health. I’ve been feeling ill for quite some time now due to low blood pressure. I’m also worried about my parents especially my dad because idk I just feel something weird but let’s not think about it because I don’t wanna manifest anything bad to him.🥺

-I’m not going to predict further about this because I’ve said enough above as this is quite similar to scorpio rising. My main focus is 8th house and scorpio themed.🖤

•Sun conjunct Juno

-People say this is like “meeting your soulmate” aspect of the year. I hope I would meet someone too whether it’s platonic or romantic because it’s fun to interact with new people.😺

•Sun square Neptune

-My creation skills could be kinda blocked. It’s happening even right now. In the past, when I started to write about something, the words just naturally flew out of my head but right now, I’m a bit stuck and delayed. My thoughts are delayed. I even forget how to structure sentences creatively.

•Moon in Taurus in 7th house at 21 degrees (Sag deg)

-My emotions could be mainly invested in relationships and partnerships.

-I could be thinking a lot about how to get better in relationships and any-ships.

-I just hope I won’t be lost in love again but I’m pretty sure I definitely won’t too.🤡

-Btw, I love having moon at sagittarius degree because it might mean I would feel optimistic and free like a little girl version of me before 2019!

•Moon conjunct Uranus

-Mood swings. URGH. I don’t even need to predict this because they’re already happening. I have daily mood swings but I notice that since about the start of April, I’ve become so much unstable and inconsistent in my emotions. One minute I’m on instagram and another minute, I’m on google. Another minute I’m on tumblr and I just keep jumping from one tab to another A LOT.

-I also feel quite chaotic and confused about some of my relationships. I love my best friend one minute and another minute, I kinda reconsider if she’s really good for me or not. And I just feel exhausted just by existing.😮‍💨

•Mercury in Gemini in 7th house at 6 degrees (Virgo deg)

-Idk how to interpret this. Please HELP kindly if you can. Thank you! Maybe share your experiences?❤️

•Venus in Leo in 9th house at 8 degrees (Scorpio deg)

-I love having Venus in 9th house when it comes to SR charts. I had this placement in 2022 and man, I had 3 trips in one year and all of those were amazing times for me. It’s pleasant and I felt so excited by those adventures.

-Needless to say, I also met my ex in college (actually the first time we ever met was in 2019, at a language school but we met again in college🙄) and somehow most of my relationships were based in college and they’re going to go more for another 7 years so you can say they’re quite significant.

-So, I think I might also get a boyfriend or boyfriendS from college this year. Or else it could be through traveling, education and religious places.

-I might find aesthetics in learning about spirituality and might be focused and might have fixated opinions on my belief system related to religion (as it is in leo).

-I started to become more religious in these days and I also started to stand firm in what I believe instead of being a people-pleaser and saying “oh I also believe that” to every opinion existing.👏🏻

•Venus conjunct mars

-Yayyy people say this is the year I’m getting most attention from both genders. I mean I don’t like attention that much because it’s draining but who doesn’t love being put in a spotlight if it’s for good? (at this point my natal sun in 12th house being indecisive if he likes attention or not)🤦🏻‍♀️

-I love receiving love from people so this is a great placement for me.

-And also, my sexual energy can be highly increased this year.😶

-I might have several options for romantic partners and might come out more charming and alluring than usual.

•Venus opposite Pluto

-Kinda scared again because my SR chart ruler is in hard aspect with SR Venus which is in 9th house.

-I hope communication between peers would go well and relationships won’t be destroyed because of misunderstandings in communication.

-Idk why but I have this gut feeling that I’m going to attract someone or be attracted to someone who’s manipulative, toxic and jealous. Or I might be the one who would be obsessed with someone having all of those plutonic qualities. My relationships could be pluto-themed and transformative I guess.

-Some people say that this is also an indicator of glow-up in SR chart and I find this pretty accurate because I’m going to the gym for the first time in July!🤩

•Venus conjunct vertex

-Fated love? Fated relationships? Can be through 9th house related places and the other person may have leo or taurus qualities. Or the meeting could be leo-themed I guess?

•Mars in Leo in 9th house at 14 degrees (Taurus deg)

-This can mean I would put a lot of effort into college and it can be true because I have my final exams in June and I have to sweat my ass off for that.😵

-I might be rethinking about my belief system and replanning about my education too.

-As I have my natal mars in natal 9th house, I kinda like this placement because it’s friendly to me.

-I might seek for freedom and would cancel anyone who’s blocking me from becoming confident and free.

-I might go under a sexual encounter which may be brief but transformative. Or maybe one-night stand LMAO (jk I don’t like one-night stands personally).

-I’m a virgin so I’m even a bit curious if I’m going to lose my virginity this year because I have a very strong gut feeling about having first sex with someone who’s important for me.😭👀

•Mars conjunct vertex

-Fated sexual encounter maybe. Maybe fated accidents? Lol I’m sorry I don’t wanna manifest accidents for myself haha😂 But personal planets in conjunction with vertex can also mean fated people might be brought to our life to teach us something, both karmic and non-karmic ones, eg like a teacher or a mentor.

•Mars conjunct Lilith

-I have a very strong gut feeling that I’m gonna gain lots of sexual attention or might attract aggressive partners who want to tame me (sorry guys but my Lilith in 1st house won’t let it happen🤗).

-I might become comfortable and have courage enough to express my sexuality.

-May have power struggles with authority figures.

-I notice that I’ve been feeling like “who are you to judge me bastards” towards controlling authority figures.🌝

•Mars conjunct MC

-I might work hard to reach my goals.

-I might also appear assertive, daring and competitive in public.

-This is also special because my natal MC ruler is mars and it is now highlighted in my SR chart.

-I’m going to the gym for the first time in July too so maybe people would see me athletic and confident this year.

•Jupiter in Taurus in 6th house at 6 degrees (Virgo deg)

-Jupiter is about expansion and luck so, I might gain luck and blessings through my health, my routines, my colleagues (but for me, friends).

-I just wish I won’t gain weight because Jupiter sometimes indicates weight gains and 6th house is health and physical house thank god I’m going to the gym.

-My health could become better BUT since both Venus and mars square Jupiter, love and sex might deteriorate my health in some way - idk how to interpret this.🧘🏻‍♀️

•Pluto in Capricorn in 3rd house at 29 degrees (Leo deg)

-Transformations could arise around siblings, neighborhood, education, short trips, knowledge and communication.

-I also have my natal chart ruler in my natal 3rd house so this energy is quite familiar for me but let’s see how Pluto energy would go this year. (i had Pluto in 6th house last year and I had eating disorder LMAO🤧)

•North node in Taurus in 6th house at 3 degrees (Gemini deg)

-My purpose might be to take care of myself- my health mainly as I said that my health is not so good in these days.

-Also it could be showing that I need to reconstruct my daily routines and abandon every bad habit that is no longer serving me. Maybe I might need to balance my studies and my relaxation time.

•Uranus-moon conjunction conjuncts descendant

-There could be unexpected and sudden changes, events occurring in my relationships. -I feel like I might go into a romantic relationship but that won’t be committed or at least, it would be weird and unusual. Not traditional and maybe shocking too. I might be the one who’s not willing to commit because right now, I have zero desire to start another relationship. Tbh, my ex is still in a part of me and I need to cut him off first. I might attract unconventional people too.

•Lilith conjunct MC

-I started to feel a bit outcasted since my breakup and it became worse. My ex has a new girlfriend now but she and her friends are gossiping about me. I heard it through one of my mutual friends and it’s so Lilith-themed in my opinion. They wanna slut-shame me for no reason. I don’t know why but when other girls kiss their boyfriends, they seem pretty normal. When I kiss my boyfriend, I suddenly become like a slut. I also kinda have to put on “Wtf you bitches, seriously!? Sorry but I’m unbothered” mask in college just to defend myself. As a result, I could be seen as someone who’s unapologetic, daring and untamed. Or maybe I might represent Lilith traits unconsciously in this year.🔫

•Part of fortune in libra 11th house at 15 degrees (Gemini deg)

-I might gain luck through friendships, connections with people, humanitarian work, beauty, social media.

•SR ascendant falls into natal 4th house (3 degrees away from 5th house cusp)

-Mainly focused areas - family, past lessons, roots and childhood. Could also be - romance, fun, flings, dates, creativity, children.

•Fixed dominant

-My mind can be fixated and I might stick to one decision only.

•Earth dominant

-I might be a bit stable but Idk how I feel about this one because I also have moon-Uranus conjunction haha

•Taurus stellium

-Love and beauty could be mainly focused? But I love having taurus stellium because I love taurus energy. They look so calm. In my opinion. At least.🌸

•7th house stellium

-Might be “Love is in the air” year for me but I’m closing my nose till my prince charming comes and commits to me fully and gives me princess treatment. Plus, I don’t wanna kiss froggos anymore. Yuck.💀

Anyways, this was a long ass post and I’m so freaking excited for the upcoming year. Afraid, nervous but at the same time, so curious about what might happen because placements in this year’s chart are a bit crazy and intense in my opinion. Also please bear with my grammar mistakes as I’m an ESL student. You can also share your experiences with me if you have had any of these placements in your previous years’ solar return charts. Thank you!❤️

[bigskydreaming]

@hood-ex

Okay but re: the subject of wingfic.....picture this....His Dark Materials style AU where instead of kids having daemons who shapeshift until they settle, kids have wings that are constantly shifting and trying out new forms until they settle.

And maybe Dick’s generation is the first one to have this.....like, the DC multiverse is constantly having these universe-altering Crises, that are all metaphysical and unleash and reshape cosmic and universal creation energies....and early in Dick’s tenure as Robin, let’s say the DC multiverse undergoes a Crisis whose resolution has an unexpected side-effect.....at that point forward, teens begin manifesting their like, soul or whatever, in physical or metaphysical form, in the shape of wings.

They first pop up around when kids start entering puberty, and tend to settle around them kinda ‘finding themselves’ as adults....and we’re not talking just bird-type wings. Wings of any kind, any shape, any material. They’re described as ‘metanatomy’ not in the sense of metas having altered anatomy but more in the sense of how metaphysical relates to physical.....these wings don’t have to prescribe to any biological or anatomical rules because they’re not biological in nature. Kory’s people describe the wings as a child’s ‘over-soul’ - a manifestation of their fundamental, individualized essence that’s overlaid on top of their physical self.

So, many wings are bird-like in nature, physically capable of being touched, damaged, healed, etc....but just as many are batlike or dragon-like, they can be just wing-shaped and made of fire, they can be mechanical appearing or insectoid or pretty much anything. There was a period when Dick was around fourteen when his wings were just wispy wing-shaped stormclouds behind him, lightning constantly flickering up and down their lengths as though it were the wings’ veins.....another period where they were just giant sweeping shadows behind him that he could nevertheless fly with, and while he was Robin, they most consistently manifested as bright, gleaming swaths of luminescence that glowed as though they constantly had spotlights trained on them. 

(Which had Bruce paranoid it would just make Dick an easy target, until they realized that a ‘side-effect’ of Dick’s wings when they looked like this was instead of making it easier for the bad guys to train their weapons on him, even the most hardened villains would find themselves hesitating to pull the trigger. Some kind of pulsating, emotion-laced effect of those wings drawing their attention was it was more like moths drawn to a flame....they were so busy being momentarily entranced or hypnotized by the spectacle of them that they were usually a second too late in actually firing....by which time Dick was in a position to strike them first. Well, at least that’s how it went until the Joker managed a lucky shot anyway. But then, when isn’t that asshole an exception to the rules?)

Some wings had little quirks or fringe effects that went with them taking on a certain form or appearance....though those didn’t tend to stick around when the wings shifted to a different appearance, unless a person’s wings settled in the shape a particular fringe effect was associated with. Like when Roy hit adulthood, his wings settled in the appearance of bright red feathered wings with black accents......his wings are fairly small and not suited for long range flight, or even flight in general, as they tend to be more useful in helping him glide in short, quick spurts. But they also come with a perk unique to him....when Roy uses his own feathers to fletch his arrows, those arrows never ever miss. 

In adulthood, Donna’s wings settle as giant bird-like wings, all black feathers with silver specks of stars scattered all across them, same as her Troia costume. They’re like patches of night sky sliced straight out of the heavens, and when Donna’s in costume she’s impossible to see cutting through the dark. Her huge sweeping wings would cast an easily noticed shadow over the ground if not for the silver specks dotting her feathers, but thanks to those, by the time she’s close enough for you to make out her features, distinct from the night sky, its far too late to do anything but go oh fuck.

Wally’s wings are more of a presence than a visual. Hummingbird type things that match his speed but never manage his stillness. Beating at the air a furious several hundred wingflaps per second, so even when he’s standing still he’s far from motionless....the air around him thrumming with movement, humming with vibrations that make it look like he’s constantly surrounded by shimmering ribbons of heat baking off an asphalt pavement. And again, that’s when he’s just standing still. When he actually gets agitated, they hit the air like a thunderclap. Sparks shooting up from the points of contact as the friction of them is so fast and furious it ionizes the atmosphere around him all on its own.

Garth’s can be a bit unwieldy when on the surface, but in the water they make him glide faster and smoother than any Atlantean before him. Stretching out from torso to underarms like the wings of a manta ray, they’re black and gray and streaked with purple like his eyes and the tattoo around it, just inverted. The material of them thick and coarse enough that when he flings his arms out or wrapped around himself just so, the folds of his wings draped around him create a dense barrier capable of shrugging off any number of projectile impacts.

Vic’s are mechanical marvels, smooth and sleek metallic expanses that aren’t dissimilar to Marvel’s Archangel, but where Warren’s feathers are knife-like flechettes, Vic’s host a variety of sensory arrays and feed him all sorts of data. Gar’s never fully settle....they shift as often as he does, sometimes vast and feathered, sometimes batlike and leathery....always green though, and always there no matter what animal he shifts into. He’s never a snake so much as a feathered serpent, a pegasus instead of a horse, a manticore instead of a mere lion, and well, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Beast Boy take to the streets of Manhattan as a T-Rex with giant pterodactyl wings. Why his wings never fully settle could be due to his shape-shifting or it could just be in his nature.....Gar’s the original Lost Boy who’ll never FULLY grow up.

Raven’s are purple and black on the outside but bone-white on the inside.....like her empathy, they cut both ways. When she pulls her wings tight around her and someone else like a protective shroud, they can shield her and those in her care from prying eyes and scrying magic....when she throws them wide and strikes out with them at enemies on either side, the touch of her feathers is like feeling the cold of the grave. Kory’s are a deeper, royal purple juxtaposed beside Raven’s shadowed inky violets.....but rather than feathered, Kory’s are tall and draconian, imperious and imposing canvases adorned with swirls of red and green like nebulas painted across a cosmic backdrop. Curling emerald flames lick around the edges of them just like her starfire sometimes dances through her hair.....even when ‘ablaze’ her wings are cool to the touch if she invites you to touch them, but touch them uninvited and you’re going to get burned. Badly.

Lilith’s are four enormous feathered wings of green and gold and black spread behind her like the many layered wings of a seraph. They’re decorated in various places with dark concentric circles like those found on peacock feathers....until those circles flare and open wide and you realize you’re staring at dozens of eyes that are all looking back at you.....each a window to your own soul, freezing you in place with a glimpse of your own darkest secrets or possible destiny.

Joey’s are many-hued mosaics, like wings made of stained-glass windows. Hazy and indistinct shafts of rainbow light slanting through his varied ‘feathers’ when he spreads his wings in the air behind him.....like viewing screens or windows they show glimpses, afterimages of everyone he’s ever joined his soul to when riding shotgun in their bodies.....making them forever a part of him, a link he can tap into at will and rendering his power less about possession and more about connection, a forever-door that lets him merge with one of his previously tethered-to teammates, no matter where they are in relation to him. But with the slight change that now what he makes up for in range, he loses in stealth, as his wings show up behind the body of his ‘host’ for as long as he remains merged with them.

And Dick’s wings finally settle in adulthood to sweeping feathered wings of blue and indigo banded with gold.....but where his presence is less attention-commanding than in his younger years, his impact is definitely felt. As his settled wings act as an epicenter for a kind of gravitational bubble around him that’s keyed to his mood.....when he’s lighthearted and in high spirits, everyone around him feels a little bit lighter, purely in a physical sense, gravity within his sphere of influence being a little less heavy, leaving his friends and teammates a little lighter on their feet, quicker in their reactions, etc, etc. When he’s feeling heavy though, his immediate environs feel it with him - though that’s not always the worst result when surrounded by enemies he’s better off having feel overburdened, weighed down, like they’re struggling to get to their feet and the air itself is sitting a little heavier in their lungs every time they take a breath.

[the--sad--hatter]

Punch-Drunk - Chapter One (Loki x Reader)

Pairing - Loki x Reader, But there’s some flirting with other characters

Warnings - Loki, Violence, Magically Altered-Behaviour, Injuries, Blood, Swearing, smut, second-hand embarrassment, some angst, a metric fuckton of chaos.

Summary/Excerpt -

“She took a combined blast of Wanda AND Loki’s magic, straight to the head. It’s left her a little… well, let’s be polite and say ‘discombobulated’.” Sam explained, the fidgety way he was bouncing from foot to foot betraying how uncharacteristically nervous he was.

“Jesus. She took a blast from both of them, and she’s still standing?” Tony hissed, wincing in sympathy.

“Standing is a generous term.” Clint scoffed, striding into the room in time to catch Tony’s question.

“How is she?” Steve asked.

“Bruce is checking her over, but I don’t need his diagnosis to tell you that her brains been scrambled six ways to Sunday.” Clint sighed.

Series Masterlist

Chapter One - Discombobulate

It seemed like no matter how many Hyrdra cells, AIM bases, rouge Inhumans, or corrupt politicians they took down, every day there was a fresh crop of threats to be dealt with. Like it was a never-ending cycle. Thankfully, The Avengers were always ready to tackle the problem, and there were enough of them that they could spilt up into teams when it was necessary. So while Steve, Tony, Bruce, Natasha, Thor, and Vision had been dismantling the corrupt government of a small European country, Sam, Bucky, Clint, Wanda, Loki, and you had been tearing down an AIM base in Northern Canada.

 The first team had returned first, and spent the next day and night waiting for the rest of The Avengers to come home. As soon as he got word that the Quinjet was nearby, Steve was in the Hanger, pacing around like a worried mother waiting for her kids to come back from their first day at school.

 From the second the team disembarked the Quinjet, it was painfully obvious that the mission hadn’t gone to plan. Bucky was the first to come down the ramp, walking so quickly he was all but running, brushing past Steve without meeting his eyes.

 “Buck?”

“M’fine, debrief later.” Bucky muttered, high-tailing it into the compound.

 His instinct was to follow Bucky, but he knew better. His friend wasn’t injured, that much was obvious. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something pertinent, and he needed to see the rest of the team was alright before he went and chased down his oldest friend.

 Sam and Wanda were the next one’s down the ramp, his arm slung across her shoulders as he murmured something to her with a serious expression on his face. The young woman nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath and offering Steve a small smile as she hurried past him.

 “What happened?” Steve asked as Sam came to stand next to him.

 “It’s a long story.” Sam said wearily.

 Loki followed next, uncharacteristically quiet, taking his time as he sauntered over. The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place as the last figure disembarked the Quinjet, Clint stepped onto the ramp, carefully balancing you in his arms.

 “She dozed off. I’m taking her to Bruce.” Clint whispered, cautious not to disturb you.

 Steve swallowed thickly, peering down at your sleeping face. There were no obvious signs of injury, no blood, but that didn’t calm him down. He quickly stepped ahead of Clint to open the hanger doors, Sam and Loki following, Sam diligently, Loki begrudgingly.

 “Sam?” Steve prompted as Clint peeled off from the group, carrying you towards Banner’s lab.

 Sam nodded and stepped into the nearest empty room, a briefing room, where he lowered himself into a chair, face betraying the heavy exhaustion settling in. Loki promptly found a corner and melted into the shadows, close enough to be a part of the team, far enough away to keep his distance. Just like the god had been doing since the day Thor had brought him to the compound and he and Banner had made a case for Loki to begin making amends.

 “What the hell happened, I just saw Clint going into Banner’s lab with Scooby!” Tony demanded, bursting into the room.

 Even when he was worried about you, he just couldn’t drop the canine nicknames. Between your honed tracking skills, loyal disposition, and constant palatable excitement, you were (at least according to Tony) a puppy dog.

 “Mission was a success, we took down the base and disabled that branch of AIM, but there were some complications.” Sam explained.

 “What kind of complications?” Steve asked calmly, cutting across Tony’s worried squawking.

 “Wanda and Loki were working together, using magic to keep the main cluster of guards occupied while the rest of us picked them off, but…” He paused, gathering to his feet and pacing.

 “But?” Tony pressed.

 “She took a combined blast of Wanda AND Loki’s magic, straight to the head. It’s left her a little… well, let’s be polite and say ‘discombobulated’.” Sam explained, the fidgety way he was bouncing from foot to foot betraying how uncharacteristically nervous he was.

 “Jesus. She took a blast from both of them, and she’s still standing?” Tony hissed, wincing in sympathy.

 “Standing is a generous term.” Clint scoffed, striding into the room in time to catch Tony’s question.

 “How is she?” Steve asked.

 “Bruce is checking her over, but I don’t need his diagnosis to tell you that her brains been scrambled six ways to Sunday.” Clint sighed. “Banner’s got her calmed down now, but she wouldn’t let him look her over at first. Thankfully, he figured out a way to get her to comply.”

 “Do we want to know?” The Captain asked nervously.

 Despite the evident worry in his eyes, Clint sniggered. “Depends, do you know how to play Simon Says?”

 “Damn, wish we’d thought of that in the Quinjet.” Sam cursed.

 “What?” Steve frowned.

 “She wouldn’t calm down in the quinjet, had to bribe her with a candy bar. Which she ate, and then cried cause the wrapper was lonely.” Sam explained sagely, shaking his head fondly.

 “The she forgot how her zipper worked, and when Wanda showed her she thought it was the pinnacle of human invention. Ran around showing everybody, accidentally flashed Barnes.” Clint said with great difficulty, nearly bursting with the effort of containing his laughter.

 “You’ve yet to explain how this happened.” Tony reminded, rounding on Loki. “You! Did you do this on purpose?”

 The lanky god looked up at them as if surprised to realise they were still in the room, as if he hadn’t been listening intently to every word said.

 “Be sensible. If I were going to inflict this on one of you tedious mortals, I wouldn’t have chosen her.” Loki drawled, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.

 “It wasn’t his fault Stark. She was pushed into the path of the blasts by a Security Guard.” Sam defended.

 Loki looked taken aback for a brief second before he schooled his featured back into a look of cold disinterest.

 “Well how bad is it? Loki? What’s it doing to her?” Steve asked levelly.

 “I do not know. A blast from one of us can incapacitate someone, but combined? There’s no telling what effects it may have, or how long they will last.” Loki admitted.

 “Bruce’ll be able to tell us more.” Tony hissed, hurrying from the room, the rest of the group following.

 “So Bucky?” Steve murmured, tilting his head so he could whisper to Sam.

 “He’s fine, he just saw more than he bargained for on the Quinjet.” Sam assured, lips twitching.

 Tony burst into the lab without preamble, approaching Bruce who didn’t even bother looking up from the bright hologram he was studying.

 “Where is she?” Steve asked, looking around for you.

 “Next door, I’m scanning her brain.” Bruce explained curtly, nodding to the hologram.

 “Wait, is that her actual brain?” Clint asked, stuck halfway between intrigued and wigged out.

 “Not her actual, actual brain Clint, it’s a 3D scan of her brain. If you look here…” Bruce said, using his pen to point out a particular spot on the hologram, “That’s the limbic system of the brain, it’s where most of our, in this case her, behaviour is decided. Only in this case, it’s not functioning as it should be. There’s some, uh, unusual activity.”

 “Of the magical variety?” Steve guessed.

 “In a way. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I can’t be certain without more tests, but from the information I do have, I hypothesize that Wanda’s powers of mental manipulation are lingering and fluctuating in her brain due to the interference from Loki’s magic. Let’s say on a normal day, Wanda’s abilities are like a dust, settling over the mind. Adding Loki’s abilities into the mix appears to have turned those dust particles into darts. Wanda’s power made a deeper impact, and left some injuries. Except of course, this is metaphysical and not tangible. Her brain is injured, but not physically.”

 “Is she in pain?” Steve asked sharply.

 “No, the damage is contained to the Limbic System, so the side-effects are mostly emotional. She’s a little scared and somewhat confused, but easily distracted from it all. Too easily distracted actually, critical thinking skills are impaired, emotional responses are heightened, short-term memory comes and goes in bursts. It’s almost as if she’s…” He trailed off, frowning at the hologram as it flickered, and the sputtered out of existence.

 “Oh no.”

 “What is it?” Loki demanded, pressing forwards, shouldering Sam and Clint out of the way.

 “Simon said stay still! You’re supposed to stay still!” Bruce called, rushing from the room without answering Loki.

You were upright at least, much to Steve’s relief. Upright and furious. You whirled round as they entered, your eyes zeroing in on Steve with determined purpose.

 “’Teve! Stark pushed me!” You wailed, voice wavering with emotion, eye’s filled with the pain of betrayal.

 “Uh… Friday?” Tony scoffed, watching you with curiosity and wariness in equal measure.

 “I believe she is referring to the incident a few moments ago, where she walked into one of your Iron Suits and rebounded off of it. She’s been arguing with it since, seemingly convinced you were inside it.” Friday elaborated.

 Clint immediately made a swift exit from the room, his face an alarming shade of red. You ignored everyone else in the room and made a beeline for Steve, eyes lit up with determination.

 “Get him!” You demanded, screeching to a halt just before your face made a violent connection with Steve’s body.

 Steve’s eyes followed the direction you were pointing, to a perplexed Tony.

 “Sweetheart, no.” Steve sighed softly, trying to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder, huffing in frustration when you wriggled out of reach.

 “Why are you asking Cap to do it, you’re a superhero, get him yourself.” Sam suggested, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

 You went cross-eyed, trying to make sense of Sam’s words while Steve and Tony levelled him with twin glares of exasperation.

 “Oh yeah! I am, I have GUNS!” You screeched giddily.

 As your hands dived under your shirt, everyone else moved in perfect unison. First there was the widening of the eyes as they realised what you’d said, and then they all dove forward, arm’s outstretched towards you. Somehow, somehow, your discombobulated self managed to evade the grasp of four highly capable superhero’s, and the gun you’d wrangled out of it’s holster came into view.

 “I’ll take that.” Loki sighed, plucking it out of your hand and sending it who knows where in a flash of green light.

 Steve rocked back on his heels, relief coursing through his veins.

 “She was going to shoot me!” Tony gasped, sounding more offended than worried.

 You ignored them all in favour of staring at Loki in absolute awe, eyes lit up from within with a sense of wonder.

 “Magic!” You breathed out, bespelled by the god of mischief.

 “Tony, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Like I said, she has no critical thinking skills. Her emotions are heightened and unpredictable, and she’s reacting instinctively to what she feels.” Bruce reminded, defending you from the appalled pout on Tony’s face by standing between you both.

 “Bruce! Brucie! Did you see that? He did magic!” You screeched, still not taking your eyes off of Loki.

 The blank look on Loki’s face slowly melted into something definitively warmer, and he damn near almost preened at your palatable excitement.

 “It was a simple enough trick, I simply sent it elsewhere.” He shrugged casually, watching you carefully as you grinned up at him.

 “Can you do it again?” You demanded, grabbing the nearest object and handing it to him.

 “Wait!” Tony yelped as Loki took the object from you, but it was gone in a flash. “That was a prototype.” He finished, shoulders slumping. “Bruce, how long will she be like this?”

 “I don’t know yet, or if we can reverse it.” Bruce admitted, peering down at a tablet he’d plucked off of his desk, frowning at it. “But I got enough information from the brief scan to tell one thing.”

 “What is it?” Sam asked, watching you as you skipped through the lab, Loki trailing after you with a rare, genuine smile on his face.

 There were multiple flashes of green as you tossed things at your new best friend, clapping joyfully as he made them disappear. Bruce looked up from the tablet, a grim look on his face.

 “It’s getting worse. She’s getting, for lack of a better term, drunker.”

A/N - This is more of a prologue than a first chapter. The rest of the series will be mostly set from Loki’s POV. 

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[seancekitsch]

Forgetting: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Kinktober fic, Part of the Prize Buck series

warnings: deepthroating, kinda toxic no one has good coping skills, toys, overstimulation, talking about drugs and relapsing but not actually doing it

When Klaus gets home, he finds you on the bed with tears in your eyes, surrounded by papers you shouldn't be reading. Vanya had given him the heads up, that your research team (including your ex-fiance) had published. Not just anything, but your research. With your name carefully left out of the list of authors and contributors. This is what Klaus was rushing home for, to prevent and protect you from ever seeing this, or at the very least to be there and comfort you when you first discovered it. He knows this has to hurt. It's your entire career’s worth of work changing the field you love without bringing you along with it. Bringing the people that abandoned you along for the ride. It's everyone that shunned you flying on the wings of your work. And of course he knows your ex-fiance had a hand in it. The way the guy stared you down at the bar the one time Klaus saw him in person was enough for him to tell what kind of person he could be. That had to be another twist of the knife for you. 

He wants to protect you from it. To be some kind of hero, not like when he was a kid, but a real hero. To save you from the hurt and the pain, though he knows sometimes his protection is futile. He only hopes you know he would shield you from all of this and take the brunt of it if he could.You don't look at him, don't acknowledge his arrival until he begins collecting the nest of papers littered around you. Your eyes are brimmed red with tears and makeup cakes the bags under your eyes, but they're sober eyes. You haven't touched the bottle or the hash in the cabinet, Klaus notices, a decidedly good sign.

“How many years did I work on that?” Holy shit. Your voice is barely over a whisper, sounding not unlike a ghost, and he would know. 

“Don't go there,” he urges, trying to sound as firm as he can while still being gentle with you. Klaus shuffles the papers after they are all collected, straightens them like they are to be organized, then unceremoniously drops them on the floor. They bear nothing on your value and only have harm to contribute, so they don't even deserve the place on the table.

 “How long?” you repeat, looking more through Klaus than at him.

“Jesus, love. Snap out of it!” more emphatically, grabbing your shoulders this time. 

“No,” defiant and destructive, “This is the last thing I had.”

Klaus knows that. The last shreds of who you were before the clinic were gone now. You like your life. The one you have now. You have a little home and a partner that wants what's actually best for you, you have a job that doesn't drive you into the arms of an addiction, you have his family to supplement the one that no longer speaks to you. But the finality of it is like a sword on your neck. Your eyes leave his briefly, darting to the cabinet and back. Anything in there will only make you worse tonight. But instead of moving to get up, you rise to your knees and wrap your hands around his biceps, curling until nails bite crescent moons into his skin.

"Fuck me into the mattress, please I need it,” you beg, and he knows this look. This itch you can't scratch, this fix you can't fix yourself. The look you had when you first met. He knows you need him, and fuck, if you or he have any better options. He concedes, more than willing and happy to be that for you. If he cannot protect you from the things that hurt you, he’ll be the medicine and the treatment that heal you. Another small please dies on your lips as he claims it, swallowing it whole in a kiss. He kisses you further, using the momentum to push your pliant form down onto your back, crawling over you as you go. You're going to let him do whatever he wants to you, you concede. 

You trust him, that's love, you trust him to use you and be the stand in for any drug that could take the hurt and emptiness away from you. A true symbiotic relationship, like those sharks with the fish attached, but maybe you're both the shark and you're both the little fish attached. He suckles at your bottom lip, sure to leave it puffy and sore from kissing, leaning and laying his whole weight upon you in something less than a hug but more than an embrace. You want him to peel you apart, layer by layer, fuck you into nothingness and back again. You want him to use you, your body as an idle plaything for his appetite. A means to an end. Klaus leans himself into you, wanting you to feel yourself pressed into the bed, into him. If he covers you in him, you can't cover yourself in all the metaphysical shit you want to cover yourself in. But he has other plans for you tonight. Something to make your mind wander and put the sadness out of your mind. He strips you bare, piece by piece, hands and tongue racing to cover the newly bare skin. But then he stands up, and you openly and unabashedly whine at the loss of contact. 

But he shoots you a smile, to smooth away the pout, and reaches into one of the drawers. Of course he would go there tonight. Sneaky fucker always has something kinky up his sleeves. He unceremoniously sheds his clothes before returning to your bed, a bright purple, thick vibrator in his hands. The terminator, as you called it. When he returns to the bed he clasps your hands while transferring the terminator to them, placing a kiss on one of your knuckles before withdrawing and circling around to the other side of the bed where your head was. This was different.

“Fuck yourself with it, stuff it against your clit, do it,” he urges, leaning down your body and grabbing your left ankle, then your right. Lifting them into the air, his arms straight out in front of him to keep them parted and away from your body.  You obey, pressing the vibrator to your clit, rubbing it idly on the lowest setting, enough to moan through closed lips and to earn a smile from Klaus above you. 

“That's right, now push it in deep.” you obey again. Pushing the vibrator in as far as it will go, and turning it up to the highest setting. 

Immediately heat floods your body, a shiver wracking your body outright. Its powerful, you find yourself thinking there might be new batteries in the thing, or maybe your nerves are fried from emotional exhaustion. He holds your legs, though you struggle in vain against his hold, your climax rushing already from the sharp vibrations wracking your cunt unmercifully. He stares down at you not unlike a predator stalking its prey, that dark glint in his eye something dangerous and beautiful. He watches as you come undone, shaking and shivering and clenching around the vibrator, almost fascinated by the scene and the way you quietly thank him before sliding the toy out of you.

“Done so soon? I thought you wanted me to make you feel good,” his tone is playful but the intent is anything but. This is less a game, you know he means war. Tonight won’t end until you physically can’t move, and Klaus will make sure of it, you realize. The vibrator slides back into place, and even though you haven’t caught your breath from coming, your moaning and gently rocking your hips as you keep the toy in place.

“Open up for me, lover?” and you turn your head to be met with his hard cock, already leaking for you. Your lips part, welcoming him in as he starts to move, slow shallow thrusts against your lips and ready tongue. Your tongue lavishes his length gently savoring the feel of his soft skin against you as it travels the length within your mouth. Surely, Klaus moans in approval, little hums spurring you on as his thrusts get a little deeper, but staying on the conservative side of your molars. You love to get him off like this. It stirs your second orgasm up, pushing you to the brink with each little moan and thrust he gives as he shows his appreciation for you. When it hits you, the orgasm, the shuddering of your entire body, a moan rips itself from your throat and you moan around him, causing his hips to sputter, head of his cock bouncing against your throat. You turn the vibrator down with shaky hands, feeling the effects start to wear on your body. 

“Shiiiiiit shit oh my god,” he slips his cock from your mouth entirely, and your lips chase after it. “Did I hurt you?”

“Do it again,” your breathy voice, the open waiting mouth, Klaus has no choice to obey, pushing back in and not caring about the gentleness of a shallow thrust. He pushes until you gag a little, letting up only to let you breath, but keeping himself in your mouth as far as possible. 

“No, no sweet thing turn it back up, I wanna feel you moan all the way from the back of your throat,” commanding prophet voice, you recognize, and once again the vibrating onslaught begins. He holds you there, laboring to breathe as the toy wrecks your body, shaking and contorting from the overstimulation. He moans and praises you as his hips thrust, fully fucking your mouth until the tip of his cock bumps at your throat, relishing in the feeling of your warm soft lips wrapped around him and the whimpering, pleading moans from your throat. 

“One more, can you do that?” he checks in, “Can I finish in your mouth tonight?”

The hand not holding the toy in your soaked and aching pussy gives him a thumbs up, and he begins to thrust a little faster, earnestly trying to finish before you do. You almost can't tell where the normal overstimulation ends and your third orgasm begins, but a particularly hard spasm in your leg jerks Klaus’ arm forward, and you think that's probably it. He lets your legs go after that, letting you ease your back and drop the toy on the bed. When he looks down at you, all is lost. 

You look fucking beautiful. A goddess with smeared make up and a cock in your mouth. He’s never kidding when he says he would get people to worship you. If only everyone could see how beautiful you look, but honestly he would never fucking let them. Not after the tent situation. He watches your eyes as he finishes, silent promises and praise as he smiles and watches your throat bob, swallowing every last drop.

 There's an audible pop as he pulls himself from your mouth, your lips chasing to press a last little kiss to the tip before he’s too far away. He runs a hand through your hair, squeezes a breast, and then rounds the other side of the bed to grab the vibrator and put it away so you don’t accidentally lose it in the bed. That’s happened before.

“Remember,” Klaus starts, comforting partner voice, “in every dark cloud there's a purple vibrator.”

“No, that's not the phrase,” you dismiss, but you take his well meaning to heart. He crawls up on the bed, first covering your body with his, then rolling off to the side to snuggle up against you.

“Feeling a little better?” he asks, arms coming around you to squish your form into his bare chest warm and comforting.“How could I not be?” you whisper, kissing his skin and adding a little thank you that he might not even hear.

“Still want me to fuck you into the mattress, you wild thing?” he can feel you shaking from the collective aftershocks, muscles spasming and jolting under his firm hug.

“Save it til the morning, I’ll fall asleep if we try to fuck.”

“That’s not exactly flattering to my sexual prowess, but I’ll make you atone for that in the morning since you’re so tired.”And he kisses your head and you both drift off to sleep, on top of the covers and clinging to one another like life depends on it.

[autumnblogs]

Day 32: Through the Looking Glass

https://homestuck.com/story/4116

So right out of the gate, we learn a few things about the Scratched version of the universe, aside from the obvious fact that the new heroes are the previous guardians. Everyone is a little more mature, and identities are a little more fully-formed.

Jane’s name is already set in stone. Notably, the definition between the audience and Jane is also a little clearer here than usual - the Narration implies a distinction between us and Jane. Could be because we’re not controlling her yet - but as we get into Act 6, we will find a lot of cases where audience participation happens as part of the mechanic of narration, and this distinction will be called to a lot more.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/4117

So let’s unpack Jane’s interests and relation to pre-established parts of the Homestuck Universe, and see if we can’t start making guesses about Jane.

First thing’s first is that while we could read Jane’s affinity for these mustachio’d funnymen as being purely an attraction, she roleplays like John does - as a bit of a prankstress herself, and one who dons a fake mustache for one of her disguises, Jane roleplays as these men immediately suggesting to us that she looks up to them, and wants to be like them, rather than that she’s attracted to them.

(Though she certainly could be.)

Second thing is that Jane’s position as the Heirress parallels her not to John, but to Feferi. Like Feferi, Jane is a sweet girl who is the heir to a position of abominable power, and because she is beholden to the shape of that power, as long as she remains wedded to that shape, she will not only struggle to do anything productive with it, but in the course of the story, be subverted into a villain, at least for a little while, and it’s clear from the way that Crockertier Jane’s situation is communicated to us that she is an accomplice to her own brainwashing, and that the actions she takes in that form are meaningfully hers.

On another note, I think it’s interesting that on this side of the scratch, the Condesce has reimagined her empire as a megacorporation.

https://homestuck.com/story/4120

What do we learn about Jake right out of the gate? He likes movies - adventure movies. Jake, like Tavros, the other page, loves to bluster about subjects that he actually has relatively little affinity for - and in both cases, their lack of affinity can largely be described as performing their culture’s ideal of public personhood - warrior virtue. While Jake has all of the outward signifiers of masculinity, and is actually a pretty brave and technically skillful fighter by the standards of the real world, up until the Hopesplosion, he is outclassed by a lot of his friends, and ultimately, the cases where he most embodies warrior-manhood, Jake is being forced into it by someone who wants to take advantage of him.

We benefit from most of this knowledge with hindsight. It’s not actually there in this opening section, but the main thrust of Jake’s interests is his love of adventure and his love of wrestling, and I’m principally interested in Jake’s physicality in addressing his interests - he’s a very physical kid.

https://homestuck.com/story/4121

We’re hot off the heels of Terezi’s fake choice, and a lot of conversation about free will and fake choices in Act 5 - and here we’re presented with one almost immediately. We can pick either option, but the outcome will be the same whatever we do.

https://homestuck.com/story/4124

I’ve always thought the Condescension’s relationship with Jane is deeply fascinating. There is something about the prospect of cultivating an heiress, someone to take over her legacy, that brings out something tender and maternal in her, I think, even if it only manifests in a twisted way. She’s a bit of an enigma to me.

https://homestuck.com/story/4126

Well, Jane is certainly interested in Foxworthy, so I rescind my earlier comment.

We’ve barely been introduced to her and she pretty much immediately starts showing off her paternalistic disdain for rural and vulgar people through the narrative’s language, and her nostalgia for Problem Sleuth characterizes her enjoyment of its sequel.

Jane has an aristocratic mentality, and conservative leanings in the media she appreciates, and the way that she appreciates it. If Andrew’s commentary that he continued to examine the themes he started with Feferi in Jane, I think what we should take away is that Feferi’s concern for the lowly comes with a heaping helping of...

Wait for it.

Wait for it...

Condescension.

B)

https://homestuck.com/story/4127

Jane’s disdain for the vulgar - low culture, low classes - also shows itself pretty quickly. In stark contrast to the other two leaders - John and Karkat - Jane isn’t much of a movie watcher at all (Jake gets that attribute in his session) and her attitude toward’s Jake’s movies is one of snobbery. Both of the other two movie watchers have a playfully self-deprecating attitude toward their own bad tastes in movies, but they still enjoy those movies sincerely.

Her relationship of passive-aggressive one-upsmanship also distinctly recalls Rose’s relationship with her mother, suggesting that Jane shares some of the underlying pessimism and mild hostility that Rose struggles with.

Also, as a symbol Swanson is a representative of the sort of anti-government animus that characterizes the politics of Trans-Mississippi America outside of the heavily populated West Coast, where the wedding of big business and state planning have created a lot of disaffection toward the distant and disinterested corporate landlords and bureaucratic apparatuses that govern huge tracts of federal land and private property in the west. Pawnee Indiana may not actually be on the other side of the Mississippi from Washington, but having grown up in Montana for at least a part of my childhood, Swanson’s politics are immediately recognizable.

Unfortunately, this anti-state animus has manifested not in the form of a renewed commitment to emancipation, but to the uniquely American, get-off-my-lawn form of Right-Wing populism practiced by the short-lived Tea Party, and smug “It’s just basic economics” Reagan-worshipping conservatives.

What I’m trying to say is, Jane would probably be a Ben Shapiro or Steven Crowder fan in the modern day.

https://homestuck.com/story/4136

Jane’s skepticism prevents her from listening to her friends when they tell her about the extraordinary things that they do, but it’s also not exactly a kind of scientific skepticism, and more of a dogmatic realism - she has a narrow vision of what the world is like, and is dismissive of ideas that are outside of her bubble.

Quick Note that while Jake makes only an off-handed remark about it here, he is sensitive to the hostile, toxic relationship between the AR and Dirk in a way that neither of the girls really is, and while that may seem uncharacteristically emotionally intelligent of Jake, I think he’s a lot more aware of his surroundings than he lets on.

https://homestuck.com/story/4142

Now as long as we’re talking about Right Wing Populism and comparing Jane to John there is an extremely potent assertion.

The USPS, and the idea of privatizing it, is as much a symbol of the war of corporatists and authoritarians against social democracy as anything is, and because of the way John is associated with Mail in general as a Hero of Breath, Jane is almost immediately setting herself up as a foil to John.

https://homestuck.com/story/4144

Calliope is so cheery that it’s easy to take everything she says in stride, and yet, with all the horrors Sburb has to offer, in terms of the way it destroys planets, and traumatizes its players, her optimism toward the game is at least disquieting.

Sure, the Null Session isn’t going to destroy the kids’ session, but her language is contrasted against both Kanaya’s and Karkat’s when they berated Aradia and Jade respectively. Both Karkat and Kanaya rue the effects of the narrative on their lives, but Calliope is a superfan.

https://homestuck.com/story/4156

I know I’m spending a lot of time ragging on her here, but like, as long as I am; Jane is sure openly hostile to her best friend, in a way that comes as kind of surprising even given the precedent that we have to work with.

https://homestuck.com/story/4160

Poirot is from Belgium.

I wonder if Andrew or Jane is the one committing that error?

https://homestuck.com/story/4168

Jake is full of little contradictions like this. Likes Adventure, terrified of monsters. Not even ambivalent about them, certainly not excited by them. It’s like the opposite of how little kids are usually super into Dinosaurs.

https://homestuck.com/story/4171

So what is the deal with Jake and his fascination with Blue Women? Aside from the metaphysical connection with Vriska and Aranea (and to a lesser extent, Jake), like... what’s the meaning of it?

I think a possible answer to the question lies in the process of the initial portraits becoming blue - leaving them out in the sun to fade - and the relationship between that, and the way in which he likes mummies and suits of armor, and so on and so forth - and even his stuffed trophies.

Maybe this suggests that Jake is, on principle, far more comfortable with the idea of a thing, than with the thing itself. Jake’s Blue Women are comfortably static. They have ceased to change a long time ago, and now exist, preserved in perpetuity, without the need to worry about adapting to suit them.

https://homestuck.com/story/4175

While a lot of Jake’s guesses are incorrect, he’s still clearly spending a lot of time pondering over the mysterious time shenanigans - he just hasn’t quite put it all together.

https://homestuck.com/story/4177

The same way that Dirk’s fastidious organization is equated to his complicated and demanding modus, and the way that John being a big impulsive himbo is equated with his inability to manage his fetch modus, constantly getting distracted from his goal by the card on the surface, Jake’s Modus has an enormous capacity, but most of it is preoccupied inefficiently.

https://homestuck.com/story/4184

The Autoresponder continues the conversation that Andrew has with the audience about the distribution of the self - Dirk does this more generally, but the particular thread the AR tugs on is the question of where a person’s self really stops - just as the question lingers in the air because of John’s disposition toward Davesprite, the question of whether the AR is really a separate person from Dirk, or a part of him, is posed continuously just by the fact that it exists.

https://homestuck.com/story/4192

To be fair to Dirk, who I will have a lot of kind-of-sympathetic-antipathy for, I had forgotten that it is, in fact, the Autoresponder who sets up this particular challenge for Dirk.

The parallels between Dirk and English are nevertheless being set up through this conversation nevertheless - by sending him the parts and getting him to assemble the robot, Dirk makes Jake complicit in his own humiliation, even as he attempts to build Jake up into an ideal partner.

https://homestuck.com/story/4196

Already we’re seeing indications that this segment of Homestuck will deal with different themes of growing up than the first half. Which is already kind of obvious, but we’ve moved decisively out of Part 1: Problems, and into Part 2: Feelings. The second half has moved out of the territory of other humans and their emotional situations as somewhat idealized problems (somewhat) and into this situation where everyone is a moving body, complicated and the characters are each others’ biggest obstacles, and their own biggest obstacles. That’s a bit of a reductive way of describing it, but I think it rings true.

https://homestuck.com/story/4256

While I am willing to concede that Dirk is not literally responsible for siccing the Brobot on Jake today, he more or less assents to AR’s sexual harassment and physical abuse of Jake.

In addition to his vicarious physical abuse, Dirk’s persona as the Prince of Heart calls him to suppress the uniqueness of the people who are around him, moulding them like clay into shapes that better resemble him. Jake and Jane need to be more like each other in his eyes - which is to say, they both need to be more like Dirk.

We also get some insight into Dirk’s sense of humor here - it’s not just about the irony. I think there is an extent to which at the base of the thing, Dirk’s sense of humor is about simultaneously denying and affirming a thing’s meaning - making fun of it while cherishing it. Having a thing be incredibly silly - while also being incredibly serious business. He cherishes the absurd.

I wonder if he’d like Kojima’s stuff.

https://homestuck.com/story/4257

The way that Dirk identifies with logic and reason recalls the sort of “enlightened by my own intelligence” New Atheist jerks who were known to prowl the internet in the early half of the decade, and to some extent, still do. Like Libertarians, these folks have often in the present day gotten caught up in Right Wing Populism. Maybe it’s something about the way that Right Wing movements increasingly identify as a part of counter-culture even though they advocate reactionary policies.

https://homestuck.com/story/4273

This is extremely silly, but Jake is in mortal peril all the time, and I expect even at the best of times he might be uncomfortable being touched.

https://homestuck.com/story/4284

Here we shall pause.

Sorry for the late post. Early work was quite busy, and once the rush was over, it was already quite late.

So the first Act of Act 6 has been very informative! Compared to the first Act of Homestuck, we’ve been introduced already to all our Dramatis Personae!

Tune back in tomorrow to here Cam Say,

Some variation on Alive and Not Alone.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chapter One

Ao3,  MasterPost,  Chap.2,  Chap.3

Relationships: Eventual Analogince, implied Moceit

I usually have new stuff up on Wednesdays, Sorry this is late. I hope the length and angst will make up for this slight :) Also, because of how long this fucker is, I did not go in and manually add italics, so you can just. Imagine them there when you need them. 

Warnings: Panic attack (?), overworking oneself, self-hatred and insecurity, Excessive Amounts of Hurt/comfort, eventual friends-to-lovers, slow burn, arguing, crying, angst w/ a happy ending, swearing, creative blocks, mentions of isolating oneself, excessive hugging. 

Word Count: 6,396

What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not? 

Well, if you're Logan Sanders, a metaphysical representation of the logical thinking of one Thomas Sanders (and you are, for the purposes of this story), then you book it down the hall in a desperate effort to find someone more emotionally competent to solve the problem. 

The search is short, lasting just to the bottom of the stairs. As soon as your feet touch down on the living room carpet, your haste brings you slamming into just the side you were looking for. Hands wrap around your middle, narrowly stopping you from stumbling over. 

“Geez, L, what’s the-” Virgil doesn’t finish his sentence, his expression wrinkling in concern when he sees your face. He leans down to your level, his gaze flickering over you to search for injuries. 

You take a step back and shake your head, struggling to explain. 

“Roman- I- He-” you’re supposed to be articulate, intelligent, eloquent- but when it comes to feelings, you never are. You never have been. You try so hard nowadays, but God, do you still need help sometimes. Like these times. These confusing, awful times when you hear dear sweet Creativity sobbing self-deprications loud enough to be heard from well outside of his room, many of which are dramatized repetitions of things that you have said to him.

“Is he okay?!” Virgil, bless him, snaps you out of the oncoming mental panic before it renders you any more useless. 

“Physically, yes- as far as I know- but emotionally, well-” you cut off, terrified of choking up. He seems to catch your meaning, though. 

Virgil doesn’t ask any follow up questions. He grabs your arm and the room blurs. Static hisses against your ears and pricks at your skin, this form of transportation being mostly foreign to you. You don’t even rise up, merely popping into existence right in front of Roman’s door. Virgil throws it open before you have the chance to react. 

Roman doesn’t notice the increased population of his room, which is concerning. His back is to the door as he works fervently at his desk, but evidently not making progress, shaking as he is. He’s muttering under his breath, much quieter than what you’d overheard before, but you can hear distinct utterances like ‘unrealistic… overused… disappointment…’ et cetera, et fucking cetera. 

“Roman, what happened?” Virgil’s voice is distorted, loud and quiet all at once. You barely keep yourself from covering your ears. 

Roman clamps his mouth shut mid-wail, his hands spasming in surprise against his desk. His quill drops to the paper with a soft clatter, a sound that echoes about the walls. Then, the only noise left is his staggering breathing.

Slowly, Roman peers over his shoulder at you, eyes puffy and red with mascara practically dripping down his chin. 

A gasp draws from you, against your will, at the sight. 

Roman makes some strangled throat-clearing sounds before trying to speak. 

“Oh, hey-” 

“Nope, none of that,” Virgil is across the room in two strides, effortlessly taking the lead in this situation. You can’t push yourself any further into the room, but you do shut the door behind you. Probably best not to involve any of the more unpredictable sides in what was sure to be an… emotionally charged discussion. 

Roman looks absolutely mortified, jolting up from his chair and backing into the wall like a cornered animal. With distance between himself and Virgil reestablished, he then buries his face in his hands. He trembles like a leaf caught in the wind of fall, and he’d probably crumble just as easily. 

Many times in your life, you’ve wished that you couldn’t feel. You even had yourself convinced that you couldn’t, for a while there. Now, all you wish is to know how to feel correctly. You’re meant to know things, Logan, aren’t you?

“Alright, so I’ve been having a bit of a rough time,” Roman’s voice cracks and wavers when he speaks, “It’s just writer’s block. Sure, I got a tad bit frustrated- but I’ll be back on track in no time, I promise! You needn’t concern yourself with my momentary lapse, I’ll have a new story for you by Saturday at the latest!” 

He’s looking at you. Virgil is standing right next to him, but he’s looking at you, all the way across the room. He’s trying to… appease you? Reason with you? Give you what he thinks you want?

Say something, Logan.

“You need to take a break, Ro,” Virgil’s voice slips back to normal, “C’mon, you’re overworking yourself,” he tries to be nonchalant, but it’s obvious just how concerned he is. You can hardly blame him. When he reaches his hand out, Roman recoils, showing his face enough to see the guilt written across it. 

You need to say something, goddammit. 

“I can’t just ‘take a break’,” he spits, “I can’t stop now. I need to get this done first- I’ll stop when I finally do this properly. So, maybe never, right?” He laughs, horrible and twisted, and he looks at you because he’s really, truly asking you. Is he really expecting you to agree? Is that the impression you’ve left him with? 

You say something.

“This is all my fault.”

Clearly, neither of them expected that. You press on.

“Your worth as a side-” no, not quite right, “-Your worth as a person is not measured solely by your productivity. I know we’ve talked before about the damages of excessive perfectionism, but I know I may not have been effective in ‘showing not telling’ that your ideas don’t need to be flawless. My harshness. My Coldness. I thought I was doing better, but obviously... I was wrong.” Again. 

Virgil looks half-way to anger, but it’s unclear what he’s directing it towards. You aren’t sure of anything right now, really, except for the general upset tugging at your stomach.

“L, no, if this is anybody’s fault- it’s mine,” he turns to Roman, and what. “I didn’t know how hard you were taking all this. Dude, I had no idea. But I owe you an apology, I have for a while, for making fun of you about your insecurity. Like, kind of a lot. Long after you stopped doing it to me. Honestly, I can’t believe that I didn’t realize how much it was actually getting to you.”

“What? Virgil, I truly appreciate what you are trying to do, but I was clearly the one who pushed Roman too far,” you find the courage to step a little closer as you argue Virgil’s point, spurred on by how ridiculous you find this exchange.

“Well, I mocked his sensitivities. This is my responsibility!”

“But you didn’t know you were doing that- I acted like I didn’t care for him, and now he thinks I don’t! I am doubtlessly the one to blame.”

Virgil looks ready to snap back, and you’d be just as ready to retort, but a quiet sniffle alerts both of your attention to the matter still at hand. Roman, standing back against the wall, growing increasingly bewildered. He’s still crying, a surprisingly open display for a prideful trait such as himself, but you get the impression that he simply can’t hold it back anymore. You can see him squirm under Virgil’s and your gazes.

“It- It’s nice, that you both are attempting to take the blame for my failings, but you don’t have to. I can figure this out for myself. Then, I’ll finally prove myself to you, and no one will need to worry about anything. Which is why I need to keep working.” 

“You have proven yourself to me,” Virgil darts from the desk to Roman. He grabs the trait’s ink-stained arm, gaze fierce and unyielding. 

“Why, then,” Roman mutters, eyes downcast, “doesn’t it feel like I have?”

“I never tried to do right by you. Like you did for me.” 

You watch them sway, awkward, and finally, finally push movement into your legs. You step to Roman’s other side, much slower. It probably appears to be deliberate, but in truth you just feel unsure. You place your hand on his shoulder in a way that is hopefully comforting.

“The same, in a different sense, is true for myself. But if you would allow us to make it up to you…?” you aren’t sure where to go from there. Virgil nods, though, granting you a hint of pride. You don’t quite buy it when he says he’s part of the problem, but you’d rather not start any arguments at this particular moment. 

Roman won’t look at either of you for longer than a second, like he’s not sure if you’re serious. Just so he knows that you are, you gesture to your necktie, giving him the tiniest smile. 

He buckles to the ground immediately, a mess of sobs, the both of you letting yourself be dragged along. He clings to Virgil, and you try to keep an arm around him as well. He needs all the support he can get, really. 

“I-I’m so so-rry, I don’t- I-” 

Virgil shushes him and shoots you a deeply concerned look: This is really bad. I’m not letting him go. You rub Roman’s back as he shakes and return your friend’s gaze with a nod: I’m not either. We’re going to help him. Don’t worry. 

The three of you sit there for what feels like hours as he cries, and cries, and cries. None of you say a word, letting him get it all out. You let him hold onto you- you hold him as well, because you’re nearly as dismayed and unsure as he is. 

But eventually, you need to talk. Once he finally settles, his head resting against your collar and his legs splayed across Virgil’s lap, it’s you who gets the proverbial ball rolling.

“You already know that overworking yourself leads to exhaustion, which in turn leads to an overall drop in productivity and quality of work,” Roman’s eyes fill with guilt, but you’re quick to elaborate, “but that isn’t at all my primary concern. I won’t carry on acting like it is for a moment longer, now that I see how it’s hurting you. Hurting you is something I would never intend. You mean so much to me. There are so many arguments I could use to convince you why you need to give yourself a break, but I’ll settle with this: a hypothetical ‘perfect story’ is not worth your suffering, and it never will be.” 

Roman looks up at you, once more crying, so that was probably a very unhelpful thing to say. But he leans into you and hugs you close, recontextualizing his emotional display. Relief washes over you. 

“Thank you, Logan.”

Virgil clears his throat.

“I know I’m not as, um, articulate as Lo is, but- for what it’s worth- I care about you, too, and all.”

You stretch out the arm that you had around Roman’s back, pulling Virgil into the hug. Roman lets out a shuddering breath from where he’s cradled between the both of you. It’s the deep, relieved breath that means the sobbing is through with, leaving only tired eyes and silence. 

It is at this point of alleviated tension that the uncomfortable nature of the floor begins irking you. Like hell you and Virgil would live Creativity alone like this, so after brief deliberation you stand to move as a unit. An amoeba of facets making their way down the hall, in a manner likely comical (though thankfully no one is around to see). Your room is the optimal place to rest, as it eases emotions and calms overthinking minds, even if it is a little chilly. 

You let your fellow traits drop down onto the couch, passing Roman the TV remote. Yes, whatever you like to watch, you inform him. Yes, really, anything, you confirm, waving your hand to conjure some blankets for them. The smile he gives you, though small, is enough to boost your hopes considerably. 

You really can’t fix everything- at least not immediately. But perhaps, with Virgil to fill in your gaps, you’ll be able to make things right for the Prince. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

So looking after this insecure dumbass is totally your job now. Said dumbass, of course, disagrees strongly; he tells you he’s doing better, and thanks so much for the one afternoon of help, Virgil, but he can totally take it from here. You do not give a single shit about what Roman claims, because he is very obviously lying, because he doesn’t want to be a burden. Yeah, as if. 

You’re taking care of that idiot if it kills you.

Thankfully, Logan is on the same page as you (proverbial page, as he would specify). It almost surprised you that he didn’t make himself scarce as soon as he told you about the situation, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise to have him by your side in this. Roman needs all the help he can get, and you can’t think of anyone better.

The pair of you only begrudgingly leave him alone after a sufficient several hours of Comfort Time, retreating to the hall so he can rest. He looked so fuckin’ tired, face a dull red and eyes puffy, but he was smiling. You count it as a temporary win. 

The first thing that you do, naturally, is slam your back against the wall and let yourself slide down to the floor out of sheer emotional exhaustion. 

Logan sits next to you, much less aggressively. It’s a nice gesture, considering how he absolutely despises sitting on the ground and this is the second time he’s had to do it in one day. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He keeps trying to say something, before clamping back down on it. You bump your shoulder against his, telling him that whatever it is, you’re listening. 

“I feel-” which is already a testament to how serious he’s taking the situation- “horrible.”

“Yeah, same- I mean, big mood- no, that’s worse, fuck-” you take a deep breath, hitting your head back against the wall, “I mean, me too. So, at least there’s that, right?” 

Logan shoots you one of his patented Microscopic Smiles.

“I suppose that counts for something, yes.” 

You manage a laugh, leaning even more against your friend. You’ve got a whole contradictory bundle of feelings coiled up in your chest, and it sucks, but also it’s a relief, but also it’s the worst thing ever. You exhale slowly, your eyes falling shut. 

“I don’t wanna leave him alone, ya know?”

“I know. We’ve done all we can do for now, though.”

“I guess.”

“I’m just glad he let us help at all.”

  “Well, assuming we did help. Who knows, we could’ve made him feel a million times worse by confronting him, and now-”

He cuts off your spiraling immediately. 

“But we didn’t. He clearly needed intervention by that point. Besides, If we’d been making it worse, it’s unlikely he would’ve let us stay for so long. Nor would he have accepted your plan of ‘helping him deal with all this shit from now on, no matter what he says.’”

“Right,” you take another deep breath, “You’re right.”

“I usually am.” 

You elbow Logan in the side, playfully. He smiles again, wider and brighter in a way that most others probably wouldn’t notice. It could, from some angles, in the right lighting, possibly maybe be considered a little bit pretty. Not that you think about things like that, of course, that would just be weird. 

You stop leaning so heavily against Logan, only to find how much your back hurts from sitting in the hall. Come to think of it, the hall might not be the best place to calm down from emotionally charged interactions. The only issue is that your room is literally the exact opposite of a good place to chill out right now, and you’re reluctant to move.

“Hey, uh, would it be okay if I- like, my room isn’t the best for times like this, and I-”

Logan’s  already standing, taking your arm to help you up. 

“Come on. I’ll set up the Planetarium for us.” 

“Thanks,” God, you’re thankful for somebody like him. Such a simple word, when you aren’t crazy about spelling out all of the gratitude and nervous tension that lays behind it, and he picks up on the layers perfectly. He gets it- he gets you. 

Things will be okay. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

Once upon a time (ha), you felt appreciated. Of course you did, else how would you remember it so vividly? How would you long for it so desperately? Yes, you can safely say that you, Roman Sanders, had once been cared for. But that was countless screw-ups ago, before hundreds of your careless insults, your many vicious words followed by weak apologies and unchanging ways. The distant past of a disgraced royal- one far too imperfect, far too cruel to be forgiven without first proving himself time and time again. 

That’s what you’d thought, anyway. When you expressed such beliefs to other sides for the first time, just a few mornings after said sides comforted you in the midst of a breakdown, they told you it was the stupidest thing they’d ever heard. Direct quote from Virgil. 

It was stupid, apparently, because you were forgiven so very long ago, and you are actually considered to be better now than you were then. It shakes you up inside to think about. In a good way, for once. 

They hover around you almost always, offering you plenty more of those somewhat aggressive reassurances whenever you give the vaguest hint of self-deprecation. You were sure they’d brush it under the rug after those first few days, perhaps even tease you about it, but it seemed that was completely false. It’s been a good week. 

They’re with you this very morning, chatting idly while you wait for the kettle to shriek. You let the drone of Logan’s voice wash over you as you finish fixing your tea. You don’t believe all of their reassurances just yet, but God are you trying. You want it to be true- more than you’ve ever wanted anything- when Logan says their care is unconditional, or Virgil says that he likes spending so much time with you. 

You turn around, the mug in your hands warm against your chest, and stare at the sides on the couch. The three of you are in your corner of the Mindscape; they had already invited themselves in when you awoke. You quite like that they do that- you still aren’t sure how to express that you want to be with them, without prompting. You would feel clingy. Greedy.

“Thank you,” you settle down Virgil, smiling groggily. He waves his hand dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it, man. What’s on the agenda for today?” 

That’s another thing. It’s not all crying and hugging, Lord knows how old that would get- but they just end up hanging out with you. Sometimes it’s just Logan, if Virgil’s having an off day, or sometimes it’s the opposite, when Logan’s particularly busy, but you really like it best when it’s the three of you. 

That didn’t used to be unusual; you used to spend all of your time surrounded by all of your family (or most, in light of recent acceptances), laughing and joking and working all together. Then, slowly, you stopped, just as things became more complicated for everyone. Camaraderie was a waste of valuable time, time that could be used coming up with ideas that would finally be good enough. They got the hint easily enough, allowing you to isolate yourself until you were perfect for them. 

No, you aren’t thinking about that right now! It isn’t the time to worry about how this will all have to end eventually. You’ll have to think about it soon, but not now, dammit!

You swing back a sip of scalding cinnamon tea, letting it clear both your throat and your mind. 

“I have a wonderful idea for today!” You puff your chest out and straighten your back. In actuality, you haven’t had a ‘wonderful’ idea in ages, but you hope the confident stance will give you one. 

It doesn’t. Logan notices this. 

“I sincerely hope that this is not yet another attempt to ‘cure’ your writer’s block and attempt to get ‘back on task’?” he chides you. You falter, letting the regal pose fall away. Logan tells you that what you need is rest. You do not want to rest. But you don’t want to get lectured, either.

“I do not have any ideas for today. Or in general,” you grind out, the second part tacked on bitterly. You don’t look at them, even as Virgil knocks your elbow with his. 

“Good, that means you can come play Scrabble with us.”

The hesitance must show on your face, because Logan sighs and adds:

“I will allow you to use your original- completely nonsense, meaningless, irrational- words, if butchering the English language makes the game more fun for you.” 

Now that. That is a tempting offer. You really would be a fool to pass it up. 

You might as well indulge yourself this much, for however longer they’re willing to let you. It’ll be a nice memory to draw from when you do get back to work.

 Good God, your ribs hurt. You can’t breathe.

“I’m just saying, you can’t prove that the earth is round,” Virgil claims, staring mischievously across the table at Logan. Logan fumes. It is fucking hysterical.

“That’s ridiculous! Putting aside the overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary for a moment, you can literally see the curve of the earth on the horizon!” 

“Uhh, it looks pretty flat to me. I’m not buying your government propaganda, Lo,” Virgil’s very clearly trying not to chuckle, and his resolve is impressive. You’ve already been reduced to unintelligible cackling at their interaction. This exchange has brought the progress on the jigsaw puzzle you’d been solving together to a screeching halt, but you couldn’t care less. 

“What do you mean ‘propaganda’?! This is common knowledge!”

Virgil cracks, bursting into raucous laughter. He grabs onto your arm as gravelly chuckles escape him, the both of you scrambling to keep upright. Logan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Unbelievable. Infuriating. Intolerable, the both of you.”

You compose yourself just enough to stick your tongue out at him teasingly, before hunching right back over into your giggle fit.

Then, you notice it as it happens. The aggravated expression etched across Logan’s face shifts, but he keeps staring at you. It’s inscrutable, and also weird. 

“What’re you looking at?” you challenge, voice broken up by subsiding laughter. You turn your head to Virgil, as if to say wow, what a nerd, huh?, only to find him staring at you with much the same expression. 

“Guys? Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Anxiety amends.

“I’m sure we were both just caught off guard, is all,” Logic adds, his attention redirected from you to the carpet hastily.

“In a good way, though. It’s nice to see you smile- ugh, that sounds so weird, I just meant- it’s been a long time since you’ve. Done that.”

You blink, taken aback, only to feel the dull ache in your face. You reach a hand up, pressing a finger to the corner of your upturned lips. It really has been a while since you’ve laughed like this, hasn’t it? 

A selfish, malicious creature that stalks around in your chest tells you to stop smiling. If you’re happy it means that their job is done, then you’ll be all alone again. Is that what you want, Roman? 

You almost listen to it. Before-

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what you said just because Roman laughed, V.”

“Nah, you never forget anything, O keeper of memories,” Virgil flicks a puzzle piece at Logan, smirking just enough to show off his sharp teeth. 

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” he flicks another puzzle piece. Logan’s face twitches in what is either a barely suppressed smile or a grimace, but likely a combination of the two. When Virgil finally aims a piece to hit his face, he snaps, throwing little bits of the jigsaw back at the anxious trait.

“Wow, L, you’re really just throwing away all our progress like that? Tsk, tsk.”

“I will end you,” he lands one smack on Virgil’s nose, earning a hiss. The puzzle continues to be destroyed by their squabble. 

You don’t think you could stop yourself from beaming at them, even if you wanted to. Toothy, confident, amused- oh, how you’ve missed this.

How you’ve all missed this.

 It hits you with the swiftness of a bullet, right when you least expect it. You’re just sitting in the living room, idly sketching as you half-watch TV with Patton beside you on the couch. You offer a laugh when he pipes up with a pun based on whatever’s on screen, but your mind is far elsewhere.

You’ve got an idea. A really good one. 

You’ve filled up a page with mindless doodling while the thought was still forming, for fear of jumping on it too suddenly and losing the inspiration, but you find it solid as you continue to mentally examine it. Perhaps a bit overeager, you flip the page, scrawling excited concept sketches across the thick, rough paper. The details flow and evolve in your mind’s eye, and it becomes something of a struggle to hold back your creative aura from infecting the common area. 

That confident smile, one you’ve been wearing more and more often these past few weeks, graces your face once more. The semi-subconscious expression brings a memory from just nights ago: Logan told you that your face was built to wear such a grin (‘Speaking architecturally, of course,’ he cleared his throat awkwardly, ‘The form that you’ve chosen for yourself is suited to it. Objectively.’). 

You find your smiling widening, just as it had when he first told you. 

So caught up in your art, half-listening to Patton, and also vaguely following along with the show he’s watching- you don’t even glance up when Virgil rises up and seats himself at the arm of the couch. It’s the way he huffs a laugh at something Morality says that first catches your attention, and suddenly he’s got all of it. 

“Virgil!” 

He grimaces at the volume, tilting his head to look at you. 

“Something got you excited, Ro?” 

“I’ve got a story! That is to say, I’ve got a premise, but also characters! Look- it’s- come here, let me show you what I’m drawing, it’s easier than explaining,” you chatter happily, shuffling your way to Virgil’s perch. You hold your sketchbook out to him and jump into explanations.

The drawing is messy, and not nearly finished, but it’s you and it’s good and it’s new. It’s a scene- heavily annotated to explain some of the more abstract concepts in the image- depicting an ent-like creature towering over a young woman, who holds a flower crown up to him. You tell Virgil about the story based around the two, some of the major plot points already planting themselves in your brain. You inform him that it just came to you, and you’ve got so many different ideas for what these two will do, what will happen to them, and how they’ll get out of it all. When you look up from your rambling, all the excitement slips off your face. It’s replaced by awe. 

Virgil is grinning, showing a good deal more of his fangs than he usually likes to, enthusiasm dancing in his eyes. You’ve never seen him emote that much ever, not for any purpose. You would be lying if you said that those huge chompers weren’t at least a little hot. 

“Okay, I totally wanna hear more, but pause for a sec. I gotta get Lo, ’kay?” And with that, he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, pausing only to toss the sketchbook back to you. You twist around, eyes wide with shock, to find Patton smiling softly at you. 

“You saw that, too, right? Or have I gone mad?” you ask him, earning a chuckle.

“I think Virge is proud of you,” he shuts the TV off as he talks, moving to stand, “I am, too! It sounds really cute!”

“Thank you,” Patton arches up to stretch, tossing the remote down on the couch. “-Er, where are you off to?”

“I think I’ll let you three have the living room, to talk all about your story.” 

“I’d hardly mind if you wanted to hear about it!”

His eyes dart to the side, an awkward smile stretching across his face. His noticeably pink face.

“Oh, I- I was planning on spending some time with Jan today. I was about to take off, anyhow.”

“Aah,” you start sketching again, if only to spare Patton your wolfish grin, “Well, if you’ve already got plans.”

He gives you a tiny wave, sinking out immediately. Thus leaving you alone with your thoughts. Fuck. 

It crosses your mind that- now you have an idea to work on, an idea you’re proud of- your slump is over. The creative block has been cured. Logan and Virgil won’t need to coddle you anymore. 

Your hand ghosts over the paper, and for a second you consider tearing it up. Pretending you lost the spark, pretending you need more time and help and companionship. Guilt rises in you at even the thought of being so selfish, the doubts and worries overpowering your former giddiness completely. 

You can’t imagine anything worse than that brilliant smile Virgil gave you turning to disappointment, if you pretended to lose your inspiration. Or the disdain that would surely flash in Logan’s eyes at having his work interrupted for absolutely nothing. Plus, if you did so, what’s to stop them deeming you a lost cause and abandoning you anyway? 

If you’re being honest, you need approval more than anything. And dear God, it is so close. You have to tell them, and hold on to whatever scraps of praise it earns you before the three of you revert back to normal. You’ll fall back into seclusion, as that seems to be one of the few things you’re good at, and they can actually get back to their own existences. 

There’s a whoosh behind you. You spin around, forcing the tension out of your shoulders. 

“Well hello there!”

“I want to hear about your story,” Logan cuts straight to the point. You couldn’t care less about his bland bluntness because he is watching at you in a way so unbearably fond. They both are. You push your reservations down and present him with your sketches, diving into what you’ve come up with so far (plus a few extra points off the top of your head, which isn’t an uncommon method for how you develop plotlines). 

When you’ve finished, not quite as exuberantly as earlier, Logan continues with the theme of surprising the fuck out of you that this day has established. 

He settles a hand on your upper arm, but really he might as well have swept you up in a hug. You blanch, the touch fuzzing up your brain, just like it has been doing so often now and God you don’t want to lose this. 

“I told you so,” he sounds playful.

“What?” you question, vaguely dazed.

“I think that L’s saying we were right about you just needing a break. Seems like the rest cleared up your burnout pretty well,” Virgil loops around to your other side, patting your shoulder awkwardly. 

The euphoria from being touched is broken once you actually manage to process the words.

“Oh! Right, yeah, I'm- I'm so excited to get back to work!”

Logan removes his hand and you burn cold. 

“No, you aren't,” you hear his confusion, like he's trying to unravel why that could possibly be and wow you are not as good an actor as you’d hoped. “What's upsetting you?”

You try to say that it's nothing, but your voice pitches up embarrassingly. You clear your throat, but you can't make yourself maintain eye-contact anymore.

“Dude, you can tell us what's up. Are you just overwhelmed?” Anxiety is worried and caring in a way you didn't know he was capable of and it hurts worse because you don't know how to tell him that you're just selfish. But you knew this was coming- and you aren't going to make these two waste their concerns on you any longer. The problem has been solved, Roman, get that through your skull! 

“I- I suppose I'm just- I’m lamenting the end of this. It’s unimportant.”

“You are upset about the end of your writer's block?” Logan tips his head to the side and gives you a bemused look. Frustration stabs at your skin.

“No! That's a good thing, obviously it's a good thing- I'm saying that I'm going to miss… I mean, I'd gotten used to spending time with you. The both of you,” Virgil's eyebrows shoot up, Logan squints at you, so you backpedal like there's no damn tomorrow.

“See? It was stupid, I know I can't always have all the attention, any-”

“You're right, that is stupid,” Virgil cuts you off with a grumble. You must deflate visibly, though, because his voice softens, “That you think we aren't gonna hang out with you, I mean.”

You feel something. You think it’s hope. It almost feels foreign- unbelievable, even. 

“What?” a murmur, too small and doubting for you to associate with it, though it must be yours. Pathetic.

Logan leans forward, as though he's studying you. Good God, who let him be so tall?

“Were you under the impression that we were going to cease contact with you once you resumed productivity?”

“Wha- I mean- when you say it like that it sounds… bad.”

“It would be bad. It would also be incredibly manipulative; being kind to you only so as to get you back in working order, rather than being kind to you to provide genuine help.”

Virgil nods his agreement.

“Yeah, you aren't getting rid of us that easy, Romano.”

You recall the first Big Conversation you had with the two left-brained sides. They'd insisted to help you, despite your lack of understanding in the beginning why they'd do so. Similarly to that talk, this is filling you with an almost painful fondness, almost too much to bear.

“But, you already helped me, just like you said you would!”

“Why did we help you, Roman?” Logan inquires, in a way that makes you feel like you should know the answer. You do not. 

“Because you were worried about me?”

“Why would we be worried?”

“Because you… felt bad for me?”

He groans, tapping Virgil on the shoulder. The anxious facet rolls his eyes.

“You're our friend and we care about you, stupid.”

You clear your throat, attempting to say that you knew that (even if that isn’t entirely true), but Logan interrupts you. 

“In case it wasn’t clear why, allow us to explain: one, as I’ve stated before and will likely state again, we don’t value you for your ability to create alone.”

“Two,” Virgil cuts in, “You’re, like, fun to be around. Way less stiff than us, and honestly we probably need that.”

“Three, we were never opposed to being around you even before the- this. You claimed to like being alone. And I’ll admit I’m not the best with subtext.” 

Virgil looks ready to add a fourth. You don’t let him, waving your hands wildly. If you verbalized what you meant to convey, you’d definitely start sobbing, and that’s just embarrassing. Thankfully, Anxiety seems to pick up what you’re laying down, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You take a few breaths and try to pretend that you aren’t being watched like a hawk.

Aaaand you’re already crying. That’s probably the point of no return, isn’t it? 

“Ha, and I thought that you two weren’t the sentimental ones,” the effect of your teasing is ruined by how much your voice wavers, “You’re just big softies, aren’t you?”

Logan’s expression is caught somewhere between concern and confusion.

“You are quite literally sobbing? How are we-”

“Shut up,” you retort. The effect is once again ruined when he comfortingly pats your back and you absolutely fall against him. 

“Wow, again? You’re really set on making a habit out of this,” Virgil hovers uncomfortably apart from the set of you, eventually landing on wrapping an arm around you. And it’s so him, that you can’t help the little chuckle that breaks through your crying. You really have been doing this a lot more than you’d like lately. 

“I- I’m okay,” you stammer, “I’m good- this is- just- I’m relieved. Why am I crying? I’m happy!” 

“It’s alright, man.”

“Yes, take as long as you need.”

You tear yourself away from them, scrubbing at your eyes, but grinning all the same. Your skin burns, you’re shivering, but you’re sick of clinging to them and crying and the desperation that tugs at you. You feel so many things, but there’s one that’s overpowering, one thing that’s so familiar and has been so distant. It’s a blur, a mash, but it goes something like this:

The people you care about, that you work so hard for- they aren’t going anywhere. No conditions. Logan repeats it plenty, Virgil shows it to you quietly, but only now-

Now you believe them. You feel looked after. Cared for. If you’re being bold, you could even say loved. 

You feel secure. 

“Thank you,” for being there, staying there, helping you, everything. You can’t thank them enough for everything.

Virgil shrugs. 

“You’re worth it.”

[nicos-oc-hell]

Chapter 2 of the possessed AU now that I’m out of my writers block

This is all in Italian FYI but I’m too lazy to translate the conversation to Italian and put the translations in English also italics is Húlí, bold is Ricardo and bold/italics is thoughts. Also all the kitsune knowledge I got from the teen wolf website

Roland looked at the butlers and maids who looked scared for their lives “What do you mean that Dimitri is in the woods?! He’s not allowed in the woods!” Roland yelled at them “Did you at least try to stop him!?”

One of the butlers stepped forward “Well no, we kinda just shouted that he wasn’t allowed in the woods and he shouldn’t be going there but he just ignored us” the butler immediately stepped back when he saw the angry look on the immortals face

“Go.Find.Him.NOW!” Roland shouted at them and the butlers rushed off, Roland turned to the maids “And where were you when this happened?”

“Upstairs cleaning the interrogation rooms” they said at the same time “We saw him storm into the woods, his hands looked like they were smoking like he had a fire in his clenched fists”

Roland groaned and waved his hand dismissing them “I’m the chef and I’m still doing this bullshit”

{at Dimitri’s hideout}

Dimitri was pacing in his hideout when a white fox walked in “Hey Simora ” the fox yipped and pounced on him “Hey get off of me, Simora! I know I smell like a fox now but don’t violate my stomach!” Dimitri picked him up off of him and set him down next to him (agh too many him)

“Kid, I am serious! Go the hell back! You need to prepare, you little shit!” Húlí yelled at him in his mind “The hell do you not understand that these woods are dangerous?!”

Dimitri pulled a knife out of his pocket “I got this”

Ricardo laughed “Kid this temper tantrum of yours is getting out of hand, you’re letting him win. He wants you to get angry, don’t let him get to you” Ricardo said taking over his body and picking up Simora and walking back towards the house

“Hey wait a minute! You can’t just take over my body like that!” Dimitri yelled in his own mind

“Oh shut up! Now to the house we are going!” Ricardo said shutting him up and petting Simora “Did you name this fox after your 4x great grandfather? I- ” He stopped talking and walked into one of the butlers “Oh, you are the incompetent fool who let him go into the woods?” Ricardo said looking at the butler

“Hey you idiot! You’re in my body! So they don’t even understand what’s happening!” Dimitri yelled in his head

“Oh”

Ricardo walked past the butler and walked out of the woods and let Dimitri have his body back “You are an idiot for letting him win” Then Ricardo stopped talking to him, Dimitri walked upstairs stretching his bones from discomfort he was feeling

“And where were you?” Skylar asked, appearing out of thin air “Roland was worried for you, ya know?”

Dimitri walked past her and set Simora down in his room “I was minding my business, what were you doing? Training to be a proper woman with mother?” He asked sarcastically

“Yes actually, I was. Still got more social etiquette than you” She said looking him up and down “Anyway, Nonno (grandfather) wants you up in his office when you have the chance” She turned and walked away

“Whatever” Dimitri reached into his pocket and pulled out the green box and popped a pill in his mouth for the pain that was coming quickly from his body being taken over “Simora, please don’t escape from my room, I’ll be back in 20 minutes at the most” He closed the door and walked upstairs to his Nonno’s office

{in his Nonno’s office}

Tsuna looked up when he heard a knock on his door “Come in Dimitri!” Dimitri walked in and sat down in a chair “So…how’s your day been?”

“Shit”

“Language, but anyway, have you read that book on possession yet?” Tsuna asked pushing his papers to the side to show his nipote (grandson or nephew but in this case it’s grandson or any other case with Tsuna) that he had his full attention

Dimitri looked at him with a blank expression “Nonno…I was arguing with my father, got mad and stormed into the woods…when the HELL could I have the time to read the damn book!”

“Aren’t you like 7?! Who the hell taught you this type of language?” Tsuna said

“I’m around Italians all day everyday…also uncle Xanxus swears a lot” Dimitri said discreetly trying move the conversation onto something else

“Anyway read the books, try not to kill your father and the results will be here tomorrow for your and Skylar’s flames” Tsuna said “You may go Also you will handle whatever mess that fox of yours messes up”

“I am a very clean fox thank you very much!” Húlí said madly

“Not you, the fox that Dimitri bought home” Tsuna said “You’ve been dismissed, Dimitri, you may leave”

Dimitri got up and ran out of the room and went to his room

{in his room}

Dimitri flopped down on his bed and pulled the red box from underneath his pillow and grabbed the book on kitsune’s ‘ Kitsune are a supernatural species of Japanese fox spirits that are also commonly referred to simply as "foxes." They are creatures who live for many centuries.’ Interesting might as well read this bullshit to get a better grip on it ‘Kitsune possesses a multitude of supernatural abilities, such as enhanced strength, speed, and agility; a natural aptitude for weapons and combat, production of Foxfire; and accelerated healing. However, some of the powers possessed by this species are specific to an individual Kitsune type. Kitsune accumulate tails throughout their lives that increase their powers, and the most powerful Kitsune are said to have nine tails.’ Shit! I wonder if Húlí has nine tails

‘Kitsune are bound by certain metaphysical rules, much like every supernatural species. Known as tricksters, the rules governing Kitsune are rather subtle. These restrictions affect their everyday life as well as their status and talents.

It has been referenced in folklore, myths, and other stories that Foxes and Wolves do not get along, though this is not always demonstrated in practice’ well damn this is starting to get interesting

‘The only reliable way to exorcise a Nogitsune or other Kitsune with the ability to possess humans using kitsune-tsuki is by changing the body of the Kitsune's host. It is unknown what would happen if this happened to a Kitsune in a vessel with an actual human spirit inside of it, but it is possible that it would turn into a Werewolf or other werecreature.’ So not even going to tell me how to get him out of my body ok

‘There are thirteen different types of Kitsune, according to the Argent Bestiary, each with their own set of powers:

Sanda, or Thunder

Tengoku, or Heaven/Celestial

Umi, or Ocean

Chikyu, or Earth

Kukan, or Void, also known as Nogitsune

Kasai, or Fire

Kaze, or Wind

Mori, or Forest

Yama, or Mountain

Ongaku, or Music

Kawa, or River

Jikan, or Time

Seishin, or Spirit

Malevolent fox spirits are known as Yako, and benevolent fox spirits are known as Zenko, though which types of Kitsune are considered dark or light are unknown except for Void Kitsune, which are confirmed to be Yako.’ Well shit, this seems cool! Húlí which kitsune are you? All of these, I happen to be an elemental kitsune Cool

‘Sanda Kitsune, or Thunder Kitsune, are Kitsune with a special affinity for lightning and electricity. It is unknown if Thunder Kitsune are considered yako or zenko.

Thunder Kitsune can absorb, transfer, and produce electricity and lightning which can then be used for various effects.

In addition to the aforementioned powers, Thunder Kitsune also possess enhanced physical attributes such as super strength, speed, agility/reflexes, and accelerated healing, all of which seem to increase in strength as the Kitsune in question gains more age, experience, and tails. It is possible that Thunder Kitsune have even more abilities than those listed.’ I could get used to this information

‘Kukan Kitsune, also known as Void Kitsune or Nogitsune, are a type of yako who feed on chaos, strife, pain, and other negative emotions.

Nogitsune have the ability to possess people, control others by infecting them with flies they produce from their body, and create powerful illusions. They also are immune to the effects of electricity, though the Nogitsune was not shown to produce foxfire, indicating that he may or may not have had the ability to do so like Thunder and Celestial Kitsune.

As the Nogitsune feeds on more and more chaos, strife, and pain, they become even more powerful and are able to use their abilities to an even greater extent. They can also absorb pain through tactile contact in a similar (but more intense) manner to Werewolves in order to gain sustenance and increase their power. However, it is unknown if they can use this tactile ability to also siphon chaos and strife from others as well.

In addition to the aforementioned powers, Nogitsune also have superhuman physical attributes such as super strength, speed, agility/reflexes, and accelerated healing, which, like the rest of their powers, increase with age, experience, number of tails, and the amount of chaos, strife, and/or pain on which they have fed.’ No comment

‘Since Kitsune are frequently referred to and grouped with shapeshifters such as Werewolves and Werecoyotes, it appears to be likely that they can take other forms as well; however, a Kitsune's true form remains unknown (though some speculate it is similar in shape to their aura), as does information regarding other shapes that a Kitsune can take.

All Kitsune have flaming auras that surround their human bodies in the shape of a large fox, which seems to become bigger and more fierce-looking with every tail they gain. These auras can be made visible with flash photography, and supernatural creatures with enhanced vision can see them when they use their glowing eyes. As a result, young Kitsune must learn how to conceal this aura in order to hide it from supernatural beings. Conversely, Kitsune can also make their aura visible to the naked human eye if they will it, or, in some cases, if they lose control over their inner Fox spirit

Though Kitsune have normal human eyes while in human form, they can make their irises glow orange/gold, which, much like with most supernatural creatures, allows them to better access their supernatural abilities. Nogitsune, or Void Kitsune, are also noted for having large chrome fangs and glowing white eyes rather than orange/gold, though they possess the power to conceal both of these physical traits from even supernatural eyes as well, if they wish to do so.’ I should definitely be concerned about where Shamal got this information from this is disturbing very disturbing indeed

‘Personality

Kitsune are trickster spirits, and their mischievous behavior has caused them to gain a reputation for being amoral and even evil in some myths and legends. However, in reality, Kitsune simply have their own unique sense of honor and do not really understand the concepts of "right" and "wrong," nor do they seem to have any interest in learning about it, although Kitsune living in the human world have been shown to demonstrate empathy and consideration for others more so than those who remain outside of it. Because Kitsune have their own code of honor, they can often react very badly if they're offended, especially if they are a yako such as a Nogitsune.

It is said that foxes and wolves do not get along, and this can also be true for Kitsune and Werewolves, though there are exceptions to this rule.

Kitsune can also have very a dark sense of humor, particularly the Nogitsune, who take more pleasure in causing chaos than zenko types of Kitsune. Void Kitsune also are known for feeding upon chaos, strife, and pain (along with other negative emotions like fear, stress, and anger), which gives them more power; as a result, they typically focus solely on creating as much of those emotions in the people around them as they can. It is unknown if there are other types of Kitsune who need to feed on the various emotions of others for sustenance and/or increased power in a similar manner. However, despite some of their more negative characteristics, Kitsune can also be very loyal to the people they care about, and will do serious harm to anyone who tries to hurt their loved ones.’ Well shit

‘Culture

Not much is known about Kitsune culture, nor where those Kitsune who do not reside in the human world live. It has been implied by Noshiko that there is some kind of mystical realm or plane of existence for Kitsune spirits, since she once prayed to her ancestors for kitsune-tsuki, or possession by a fox spirit, in order to imbue her with the power necessary to get revenge on those running the corrupt Oak Creek internment camp in 1943, which suggests that they may at least have some sort of afterlife dimension, if not a realm all their own for living spirits as well.’ That’s it, did Shamal go to an alternate universe where he got all this information (wink)

‘Kitsune tails

Most of a Kitsune's power comes from their tails, though how they specifically gain these tails is unknown; in some Japanese legends, Kitsune gain a tail for every century they are alive, but in others, they gain a tail for each Kitsune ability they master.

it appears that Kitsune gain a tail when they meet certain milestones. For example, Kira Yukimura gained her first tail after she successfully triggered her healing ability to survive what would have otherwise been a fatal stab wound to the heart. The greatest number of tails a Kitsune can achieve is nine, which is how many tails Noshiko Yukimura possessed upon her family's arrival in Beacon Hills.’ Who the fuck are these people?! And what the hell is a beacon hills?! (No teen wolf is not in this series just Shamal went to that universe one time and got that information)

‘Some Kitsune who live in the human world create physical representations of their tails in order to keep them safe on Earth. Noshiko made her nine tails into a set of long, thin, black ceramic knives called kaiken, whereas Kira's first tail is made of a large shard of obsidian that has been shaped by her father Ken into a shuriken, or throwing star. However, since the Nogitsune seemed surprised and confused upon learning that Noshiko had turned her tails into kaiken, it is implied that making physical representations of Kitsune tails is not necessarily a common practice among their species.’ After I finish this I’m going to confront that pervert

‘Tails possess great mystical power which can be used to perform powerful spells (although doing so will often cost the Kitsune the tail that they are using as a power source), and the older a tail is, the more power it contains. For example, Noshiko used at least seven of her nine tails to summon and control Oni demons to kill the Nogitsune; she first used her five most recent tails to summon five Oni, and when three of them were killed, she used three of the next older tails to replace them, which she stated would be more powerful due to the tails being older and possessing more mystical energy. The Nogitsune then took one of her last tails, which was one of the oldest and thus the most powerful, which gave him the power he needed to cast his own spell and take ownership of all five Oni to do his bidding. It is unknown if a Kitsune can regain their tails after they have been lost, stolen, or broken in this manner; it is possible that once their power is used, the tail is lost forever.’ This was one long chapter, well onto the next one

‘Powers and abilities’ sweet! ‘The full range of powers that a Kitsune possesses remain unknown, especially since there is very little known about the majority of the types of Kitsune. However, they all seem to have the same basic powers in addition to other specialized abilities based on the Kitsune's specific type.

Common Powers

These are abilities that have been demonstrated that all Kitsune appear to possess.

Super Strength: Kitsune have been shown to possess superhuman strength, though the strength of most Kitsune is still inferior to that of average werecreatures unless they are especially old and/or powerful. After gaining her first tail and having her powers amplified and unbalanced by the Dread Doctors, Kira demonstrated heightened strength when she was able to slice Noshiko's katana in half with her own during a fight, and the Nogitsune was shown throwing Derek Hale, a then-Beta level Werewolf, across the room with ease. Noshiko was also shown using her sword to cut through a thick chain that was locking the front gates to Camp Oak Creek.

Super Speed: Kitsune are extremely fast creatures; even young Kitsune such as Kira have been shown to run so fast that they're almost a blur, and she far exceeded the speed of Danny Mahealani, the most talented human cross-country runner on the Beacon Hills High School team. Kira was even shown to be slightly faster than Scott, a True Alpha, as he struggled to keep up with her when she first discovered her super speed and began to run through the woods.’ I’m not even going to question who these people are anymore but what the hell is a true alpha? Try reading the werewolf book after this

‘Super Agility/Reflexes: Kitsune are very agile beings who can jump very high and very far, as well as perform extraordinary gymnastic and acrobatic feats without any training. This also helps Kitsune in battle, because they are able to easily dodge, flip, and spin away from incoming attacks. Both Kira and Noshiko demonstrated incredible feats with their agility, including forward layouts, pirouettes, and spinning kicks during battle and sparring sessions.

Accelerated Healing: Kitsune possess an enhanced regenerative healing ability that gives them immunity from any human illness or condition. It also allows them to heal from minor to moderate wounds in moments, and even severe injuries, such as being stabbed in the heart, can be fully healed within hours. However, in certain Kitsune like Kira, who has human heritage on her father's side, the ability to heal wounds must be activated with pain in order to work for the first time. It is likely that their perfect immune systems and accelerated healing ability means that they cannot become intoxicated by alcohol or recreational drugs due to their bodies repairing the damage that causes the intoxication effects too quickly, just like Werewolves, Werecoyotes, and other shapeshifters with enhanced healing abilities.

Longevity: Kitsune are very long-lived creatures who can potentially live for centuries as a result of their advanced healing powers, which keeps them from dying due to most natural causes and slows their aging down tremendously. The oldest two Kitsune on the series are the Nogitsune, a 1,000-year-old Void Kitsune, and Noshiko Yukimura, a 900-year-old Celestial Kitsune. As a Kitsune advances in age, they will also grow in general power as well, making the eldest the most powerful in the species. In fact, the Nogitsune has even shown a potential to be immortal, as he insisted he could not be killed due to his age, and every attempt to kill him has only resulted in the destruction of his human host, which doesn't truly end his life—it simply reverts him to his fly form, which can then be trapped in a mystical container from which he could possibly be released again in the future.’ …what the hell is this bullshit

‘Intuitive Combat and Weaponry Skills: Kitsune possess an innate ability to fight in close-quarters combat, especially with melee weapons. Both Kira and Noshiko have demonstrated a natural ability to fight at an advanced level with katanas with no known previous training. Kira has also demonstrated a proficiency in wielding nunchucks in battle, and was able to use both Allison Argent's mini-crossbow and a long length of chain as weapons without any prior training. Kira has even admitted that her expert ability to fight with katanas “just sort of happened," suggesting that there is some sort of supernatural/biological muscle memory involved in this ability.’ That seems awesome! I guess these people in this book are actually useful! It gives me sources!

‘Foxfire Production: Kitsune possess the ability to create fire or lightning, known as foxfire or kitsune-bi, by rubbing their tails together. The foxfire can then be produced from within the body, though Kira, the only Kitsune shown to use large amounts of foxfire so far, prefers to channel her lightning-esque foxfire through her hands. It has been implied that the form of foxfire produced by a Kitsune varies based on the specific type of Kitsune they are; Kira, as a Thunder Kitsune, produces ice-blue electricity as her foxfire, whereas Noshiko, a Celestial Kitsune, produces reddish-pink sparks from her fingers.

Immunity to Electricity: Because they can create foxfire, Kitsune are immune to the effects of electricity.

Aura Manipulation: All Kitsune have flaming fox auras around them, and, with age and experience, they can learn to both conceal the auras from supernatural eyes or make them visible to even human eyes.

Shapeshifting: Kitsune are often referred to as "shapeshifters" due to their trickster nature, and at one hundred years of age, a Kitsune gains the ability to assume a human form. However, the full range of how this ability works remains unknown; they may be able to take the form of other humans, the form of a true fox, or the shape of other animals, or it may just be an ability specific to a certain kind of Kitsune and not a common power.

Specific Powers

The following are abilities that have been demonstrated that appear to be possessed by specific types of Kitsune. There are likely many more abilities than what is listed below that currently remain unknown, due to the fact that only three different Kitsune have been shown on the series thus far.’ I’m honestly actually liking this whole kitsune thing because of my cool powers? Bullshit our cool powers, thank you very much

‘Electrokinesis: This is an ability possessed by Thunder Kitsune, and it can be considered an advanced form of foxfire production. Thunder Kitsune like Kira can siphon electricity from any source with no ill effect to themselves, can use their own self-generated electricity to turn on electronic devices such as light bulbs, and can create bursts of lightning that have been shown to do anything from stopping a person's heart to repairing a broken katana blade. Kira specifically has even demonstrated the ability to siphon so much electricity that she has caused large-scale blackouts on at least three different occasions. Because she is a Thunder Kitsune, Kira was able to create foxfire before she knew she was a Kitsune, despite the fact that she had no tails to rub together.

Celestial Kitsune

Astral Projection: Noshiko demonstrated the ability to project her spirit to Kira when she was taken hostage by Kate Argent at La Iglesia. With this ability, she was able to assist Kira in learning how to trigger her healing ability so she could survive the stab wound to her chest she sustained from Scott while he was a Berserker. It is unknown if this is an ability specific to Celestial Kitsune, or if this is an ability all Kitsune can use with practice and age.

Void Kitsune

Nogitsune Flies: This is an ability used by Void Kitsune like the Nogitsune to control flies. These flies, once in the Void Kitsune's control, can enter the bodies of others and allow the Kitsune to control them. These flies have been used by the Nogitsune to force William Barrow to kidnap Kira and to try to trigger her foxfire in order to jump-start the Nogitsune's control over Stiles Stilinski, as well as to increase the pre-existing rage in Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, and the twins Ethan and Aiden, causing a fight between them that distracted the pack from what the Nogitsune was doing. It is implied that wild purple reishi mushrooms can counteract this fly possession, as can physical removal of the fly from inside the body of their hosts. When a Nogitsune's vessel is killed, its spirit will remain in the form of a fly, which can then be imprisoned within a magical object such as the Triskelion Box, which was made out of wood from the Nemeton. This fly can also enter the body of another being and possess them, as is what presumably occurred when the Nogitsune possessed Corporal Rhys and Stiles.’ Interesting…this Kira person is very interesting

‘Possession: This is an ability used by Void Kitsune (and possibly other forms of Kitsune) that allows them to possess the body of a human. This ability was used by the Nogitsune to possess Corporal Rhys in 1943 and to possess Stiles Stilinski in 2011. Though it was implied that Nogitsune can possess other Kitsune who have shapeshifted into human bodies (since Noshiko prayed to her ancestors for kitsune-tsuki so that the Nogitsune could possess her and give her the power to heal from her extensive wounds and get back at the corrupt Camp Oak Creek military members), it is unknown if they are capable of possessing other supernatural creatures.

Pain Absorption: This is an ability used by Void Kitsune that allows them to siphon pain from a person through tactile contact, as Void Kitsune feeds off of chaos, strife, and pain. This ability works in the same way as it does for a Werewolf—the Nogitsune places their hands on the body of the person whose pain they're trying to take, and the veins in their hands and arms become black as they transfer the person's pain into themselves. This ability then gives the Nogitsune more power and sustenance.

Illusion Casting: This is an ability used by Void Kitsune (and possibly other types of Kitsune) to create lifelike illusions. In the case of the Nogitsune, he used this ability to create several dreams in which to communicate with his host, Stiles Stilinski, along with several visions to distract Scott McCall and Lydia Martin when they entered Stiles' mind to forcefully give Stiles control over his body again. He also used it to make Scott, Lydia, Stiles, and Kira believe that they were in Ikeda's Japanese garden, complete with falling snow and Oni demons; these illusions were so realistic that Kira and Scott both believed that they had been cut multiple times by Oni swords until they broke through the illusion.

Teleportation (possibly): This is an ability that is potentially possessed by Void Kitsune (and possibly other types of Kitsune) that allows them to travel from one place to another almost instantly without moving in the space in-between. This seemed to be demonstrated by the Nogitsune in De-Void, when he disappeared from Derek's loft in the blink of an eye and then appeared in the basement of Eichen House a short time later.’ Shit! Let me figure out how to do this right quick and fuck with peoples minds……Kid you are 7 you shouldn’t be talking like this……Shut up! No one asked for your opinion

[killerkyara]

Shephard to the Stars

Before —

Quai,

I am undertaking a dangerous mission for my own health. A ritual that will dampen the effects of the void on my mind and body, if successful. It has all gotten worse as of late; I fear that if I don’t do something now, I could end up sharing in Wellson’s fate.

There are risks involved, risks that I have given much thought to. Given recent events, my threshold is already lowered. While I do regret to thrust this burden upon you — in the event that I do not return home, I ask that you take care of Matin in my stead. He loves you more than you know, and I trust you more than anyone on this plane or beyond. 

And if I do return, let it be known, then, that I’d have you as my successor.

My eternal thanks,

Grey.

[Edited rp with @celestare​.]

Thick clouds swarmed the skies starting in the Barrens. The duo progressed into the bowels of a building thunderstorm; by the time they landed, rain had begun to fall, soaking hair and clothes, moisture trapped in the humid atmosphere of the desert. Kyara instructs Aeondra on where to land. Up north, bordering Tanaris, separated only by hills. The oasis was misty, quiet, though the shapes of lumbering crocodiles in the shallow water could be made out with a keen eye. 

After dismounting, Kyara nods once, surveying the scene. "...This is where I most often hid from my father, when I had the chance to run. Camped among the trees." Her gaze followed the tall palms up into the sky, until their trunks disappeared into the fog.

“A solitary oasis.” Aeondra notes, solemn and gentle. She steps to Kyara’s side and holds out her right hand, palm facing up. “The stone, if you would. And prepare to enter the water. I will keep you safe from the reptiles, pay them no mind.”

Kyara nods. She draws out a bracelet from her belt; it was a sterling silver piece, meticulously crafted. Set in the pendant was a brilliant, glowing moonstone, one that shown like a lantern-light in the mist. She pries it from its setting with her bare hands, passes it off, and removes her boots to wade into the water.

Aeondra takes the gem. Her eyes linger on it for a time, before she leads Kyara to the water’s edge. She holds out her left hand, clearly showing her intent before she commits to the action of grabbing Kyara’s wrist. She pulls her further into the water, stopping when Kyara is up to her knees. 

“This may be painful. I am going to attempt to use your arm as the conduit...Keep it raised out toward me.” She takes her hand away, and uses it to fetch a vial of moonwell water. She pours it over the surface of the stone slowly, singing in an ancient hymn; one whose words are lost in any modern translation.

Kyara’s expression was steely, fierce, with droplets running down her face, slipping over her cheekbones and lips. Bangs slicked to her forehead, covered her eyes some. She exhaled a low breath and kept her arms out steady.

The stone resonates on contact with the holy water. The rivulets that pour over it mingle with the surface of the pool. Specks of moonlight trail throughout the oasis, suspended in the clear water. Aeondra continues her hymn, singing it quietly. As she focuses, her eyes shut, and the stone shines brighter. 

Gradually it seems to crumble in Aeondra’s grip, her fingers pushing against and molding it. The stone is soon liquified, coating the Warden’s digits and palms in a sparkling, resplendent light. Her eyes open again, and she reaches out to take Kyara’s extended arm. One hand to the wrist, one to the forearm. The touch would feel strange; power thrums in the Warden’s hands, simultaneously distance, yet deeply personal. 

As though the stars above have come to Azeroth’s surface to interact with Kyara, and Kyara alone.

A gasp-like breath sounded from the rogue, drowned out by the pouring rain. She shudders at the sensation which passed through Aeondra and soaked into her own being. Where the rain touched her flesh now, it felt ice cold, revitalizing. She stares straight ahead, focusing on the Warden's expression, wide-eyed, expectant.

Aeondra meets her gaze, sharing in the contact as she presses her fingers firmer into the agent’s flesh. Her skin would start to become more translucent as the moon’s power courses within, and Aeondra migrates her touch further up the arm. The pouring rain streaks through the Warden’s soaked hair, but she does not seem disrupted by it. Her power pushes on, beyond the physical. It endeavors to find the lingering shade, and ‘wrap’ itself about. A containing effort, but with N’Zoth’s growing influence in the world, variable can prove far less predictable.

The intrusion takes Kyara by surprise; clinging to the taller woman, she forces herself to not give out at the knees, as the ethereal power transcends into flesh. There was not one source, one single mote of corruption within her that could be dealt with, pruned, like a weed; rather, it permeated her, ran in the blood, and reacted violently to being encroached upon. Though Kyara did not move, her flesh did; like worms beneath the skin, darkness skitters, crawls, retreating from their shared touch, darkening her veins a sickly purple.

The silt beneath the Warden’s feet does not move despite this development, the amount of shadow within Kyara proving hostile. She does not pour more energy into it yet, only maintaining the current level. She keeps her eyes locked with Kyara’s, and states, “It is too much to dampen. It is resisting violently.”

Kyara grits her teeth, fighting her way through it, the flopping of her stomach around in her own body, the movement beneath flesh. "Keep going." She orders. "I cannot return, not without something to show of it. Keep going." She nods, meeting eyes with her, fiercely determined.

In that moment, it is made clear that she realized the stakes, planned for them even; either this worked, or she would die trying.

Aeondra keeps her stare level, and states, “If you die from this, I will shepherd you to the stars.” Whether that is meant to comfort is a mystery, but she surges forward, putting both of her hands to Kyara’s head instead of her arm. She focuses, pouring an obscene amount of lunar magic through her palms, smearing Grey’s face in that liquified moonstone. 

Overhead, the clouds roll over each other like waves, gathering atop the pool, trapping the pair of them in air that was somehow both bone-chilling cold, and maddeningly warm. Lightning crackles in these towering columns, close enough that the sound of it was like a godly whip being cast across the sky, a sound that could be felt within the body. Kyara grounds herself against the assault upon her very self, pulling forth the same resolve that allowed her to step on a battlefield, that allowed her to love, brandishing it like a shield. 

The sensation of the void crawling from her flesh, collecting out of her back, was an otherworldly pain, a pain that could not be rightly described or even replicated to the same degree. It was one that prevented a cry, prevented any noise to make her agony known. Eyes rolled back into her head at it, but still she remained standing; it was unclear if this was due to her own accord, or that of something higher.

The cracks of thunder shake the Warden’s spine, but not her resolve. The thrum of the furious sky does not cause her to waver, but instead emboldens her. She pushes more of her weight into the effort; bending Kyara slightly backward as she digs her fingers tightly into the side of her head. The remnants of the moonstone streak down her cheeks, over the front of herself, their cooling wake giving that same distant power to her skin. Aeondra’s grip seems metaphysical; beyond the realm of mortal touch. It seeks to grab the whole of the shade within her, now that it has been disrupted and targets directly. She seeks to peel it straight from Kyara’s body, and launch it back to shore.

The essence is flung to the dunes, and there it coalesces, massing into an humanoid figure; a shade, that stood roughly at Kyara's build, her height, without any distinguishing features. There, it awaits — unmoving, but decidedly real. It was not a shadow, nor something incorporeal, but a wholly physical body.

The power it takes to rip it out is considerate; Aeondra is no stranger to pushing her boundaries, but the lack of sleep and the intensity of this effort leaves her vulnerable and panting. She releases Kyara, and slowly ramps down her magics, hoping that she can at least regain consciousness.

After being released, the rogue stumbles backward, blearily turning to face the darkness. She does not yet understand what she is seeing, but the contest has already begun. 

The shade engages, shimmering forth and slamming it's full weight into her body. She is knocked off her feet, sent several yards backward, landing where the water was deepest. It is a great struggle to lift herself out of it to stand.

The storm and presence of an empowered Aeondra are enough to keep other shadows, and wildlife at a distance, thankfully. Though she is not prepared for the shade’s lunge. She is also thrown back, landing in the water on her back, causing a truly massive splash. She stands, even more sluggish than Kyara. 

“This — this is your fight, Grey.” She manages to utter. “You have been blessed by my hand. Make...use. Of Elune’s power. Strike, and she will follow.”

Kyara is well and panting by now, spitting out brackish water, shaking it from her wet hair in her face, "But, I do not know-" She has no more time to question. The shade lunges across the water, and in a blind fury, Kyara launches a fist for it. Bright light sparkles in her wake; her punch impacts the creature with a loud hiss of something burnt, a crackle of angry thunder. It retreats backward, lingering at the shore a moment, wounded in some right. She gawks.

“Elune is not like any other.” Aeondra speaks only when Kyara succeeds in her strike, watching with a low approval, a hidden smile. “You only need to put yourself in her path. She will be at your back. She does not demand that you sing her name, or bask in her presence...You command yourself, to your best end. She will support you. I have made sure of it.”

Kyara glances to Aeondra, her expression solemn, understanding. Cloaked in light, she moves like a snake for the shore, startled as the shade meets her attack in equal measure; they clash uselessly at the arms, as if cancelling each other out. In the span of a breath, she realizes that if it holds her knowledge, skill, ability, she cannot fight like herself. 

As it swipes for her, she takes on a defensive position, dodging and leading the figure back into the glowing water, where she felt strongest.

Aeondra focuses on getting herself back to a functioning level. She remains in the pool, sitting within it, immersing herself. The portion of moonwell water starts to coalesce around her — as well as Kyara. In time, she would be well again. But for now, she is removed. 

The shadow is drawn into the pool, and wherever it meets contact with the sacred water suspended within, it seethes. Its face is a swirl of blackness, haunting and deep-set, though Kyara could feel herself  within the abyss. It rises from the water and lunges, aiming to spear her with dark clones of her own blades.

Kyara thinks like her own opponent, a daunting task in her state; though, perhaps all those training drills will prove useful. She sidesteps, using her own weight to her advantage, throwing herself over the shade to shove it down into the blessed waters. Her skin bristles where she touches it. Mentally, she battles a strong urge to let it envelop her once more, swallow her into a comforting embrace. Without it she feels naked, bare, but gradually growing in power.

In that moment of weakness, where Kyara only had herself to depend on, a swelling of Elune’s power courses through the places Aeondra touched her — through her face, the sides of her head, the translucent arm. The shadow merely tries to pull her in the water with it, its limbs trying around her own, in an inhuman manner, as though they were really tendrils. 

“Sink with me.” It sings, its voice a perfect replica of Kyara’s.

Kyara is grabbed with a start; the tendrils felt familiar, warm somehow, beckoning to her weary mind. She is pulled down to her knees, barely managing to keep her head and shoulders above water. Her entire face contorts with the strain, the energy it draws out of her.

The form of the being seems to be unraveling at its edges, though that is not seen by Aeondra. The periphery of the shadow becomes less and less refined, blurring and shifting incoherently. Its grip tightens around her limbs, seeking to pull her deeper into the water.

“Come, and drown. Let it all free. Let it all go.”

Kyara falters. As the tendril coils against the flesh of her chest, over the heart, her eyes widen. She doubles over suddenly, as if stabbed between the ribs; years of heartache, guilt, collapse into themselves, as the dark manifestation struck at where she was most vulnerable. It proves to disable her entirely. The void envelops her, sinking back into her flesh, stubbornly claiming it's place — defiant, even, in the face of Elune's celestial interference. 

The clouds, water, all seems to darken, grow cold.

“What my father would think of me now.” She could not help but think.

mentioned: @quai-mason​​, @brian-wellson​​

[mottledscales]

LFRP - Muunokhoi Gloamwarder(Ayol)

The Basics ––– –

Age: Appears mid-to-late 50s

Race: Xaela

Gender: Cisgender Man

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Widower

Server: Mateus

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: White, cropped close

Eyes: Steel grey, white limbal ring. No left eye.

Height: 7′11″

Build: Strongman build. Thickly muscled but not cut definition. Looks healthy...and enormous.

Distinguishing Marks: Various white splashes and dapplings where his scales become starkly white instead of black. Said scales grow prolific and asymmetrical, favoring the left side of his body over his right. Scars and tears, silvery and faded, are numerous throughout his body but similarly, they favor his left side. Muunokhoi’s tail is exceptionally long and has a loose set of scales that sit atop the spine. It, like the rest of him, is mottled. Big sharp teeth.

Common Accessories: Muunokhoi doesn’t seem given to adornments beyond armor or clothing. One may see him with a satchel or heavy pack filled with tools or materials for work orders, but nothing more.

Personal ––– –

Profession: “Handyman” It’s sort of difficult to nail down exactly what Muunokhoi does these days, though best he could explain to you, he fixes things. Tables, bookshelves, walls, tears in the fabric of reality, stools and chairs, floors,  he’ll tackle most projects with diligence and a skillful hand. He tends to prefer working with wood and stone, however.

Hobbies: Furniture craft, carving, storytelling, sparring

Residence: A flat located in Limsa Lominsa.

Birthplace: The Tail Mountains

Religion: Primarily animistic reverence of spirits and ancestors, which ultimately takes a backseat to the worship of Nhaama.

Patron Deity: Nhaama

Fears: Failing to provide and prepare his daughter for the world. An unspecified loss of control. His own mortality. Not seeing an opportunity until it passes him by. Being insufficient. 

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Asato[Husband] - Deceased

Children: Narangawa[Adopted Daughter] - Alive

Parents: -Bayari [Mother] - Alive -Kokegan[Father]-Deceased

Siblings: N/A

Other Relatives: Sarangerel[Aunt] - Alive Numerous other aunts, uncles, and cousins

Pets: Black cat named ‘Cat’ [Catarina Catatonia Catatrix]

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious 

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Themes and More: I’ll be forthright. Muunokhoi’s story started rather basic with the intent of taking a sharp left turn into ‘deep dark’ themes both edgy and sad. Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way... There’s a lot here. I’m talkin’ magic, mysticism, the struggle between tradition and progress, between one’s old life and one’s new. The effects of duty, failure, devotion to family and faith, violence, having some rad bad dreams. That sort of thing. Oh and if it was not entirely obvious, I like exploring monsters and what it means to be one. Muunokhoi happens to be one of my foremost outlets for that.

What I’m Looking For: Long-term story. I get a lot of slice-of-life already, but I do have a story I want to tell with Muunokhoi. And I want to help some folks tell their stories too. Like monstery things? Want to talk about xaela history, magic, faith, and the blurring lines between myth and reality? I’m your guy. Like subtlety but are completely okay with getting hit with a brick sometimes instead? I’m also here for you because I can’t tell the difference.

Must love[tolerate] dad-jokes.

Romance optional [who doesn’t like a good romantic subplot?] but keep in mind this man’s old and he’s not looking. Furthermore, it’s highly unlikely he’s going to be into anyone young. Just, keep that in mind. I don’t really care about slow or fast burn it all depends on character chemistry and interaction.

RP Hooks ––– –

Handyman: Need something fixed? Carpentry happens to be Muunokhoi’s forté, he might be able to help. Especially if it is related to structural or furniture repair. That said, if he can’t fix it, he probably knows someone who can and will point you in the right direction. 

Edge of the Ejinn: About twenty years ago a pale man with mottled scales showed up on the far borders of Ejinn territory, beaten and bloody from conflict. While he was allowed to stay on the condition that he warned the tribe of approaching assaults, he was not allowed close to camp. The strange nature of his scales and pallid skin earned him the name “Chagatai” and a rumor that he might well be cursed. Furthermore, he took into his care a child born ‘marked’ by an eclipse, an omen to join an omen.  Doma, Oh Doma: Thirty-five years ago, in a village along the One River, a raen doctor lived surrounded by a neighborhood that served the Rijin clan. Attending him was a tall xaela, quiet and poor in speech, covered in strange scales. Though apprenticed to a local carpenter, this xaela -known only as ‘Shiro’- was known better for keeping the peace when the lord’s samurai were away. With the coming of the empire of Garlemald both the raen doctor and his xaela shadow disappeared, presumed dead in the wake of the neighborhood’s burning. A Mountain To Break: Ul’dah’s blood sands briefly held a xaela amidst their number in the past five years: a roughly-hewn man known to take intense amounts of punishment with ease. A few remnant gladiators yet have a score to settle with the old bruiser, and others simply never got the chance to face off against him. “Handyman”: They say that Muunokhoi’s talents for repair extend beyond the material, and into the metaphysical. While it is not clear where precisely his talents lie, his very clear awareness of otherworldly energies and void taint seems to suggest he may share some sort of connection. Or at the very least, that he can feel the tears in the world as they are rent. Yet, stranger still is the present ‘wrongness’ about him, a sensation not unlike the prickling of gooseflesh. 

Contact Information/About the player ––– –

Hey. I’m Fishy, or Mister Eyeteeth. Either works well enough. If you’d like to contact me I’m most readily available through tumblr’s messaging system, though ingame @ Muunokhoi Gloamwarder is also applicable. 

My schedule shifts around due to the nature of sleep, health, and various other contributing factors. Suffice to say: I’ll get back to you when I can, so if you’re looking to set something up, give me time! I will thank you for your patience.

I’m pretty big on communication but I can function pretty well with little. The only thing I ask is that you communicate any problems or limits to the story you have. I won’t be upset and I won’t push anything you do not dig. Dig? Also, if there is something you’d like to see in a story, talk to me about that too! I’ll do my best to make it happen.

Finally, I’m not terribly social on my own and don’t like getting confused[and I’m very easily confused]. Be forthright and direct with me, and I’ll give you the same courtesy.

[curseofconsciousness]

Exploring The Crooked Path: Define Yourself

The deeper I seem to travel into LHPism, it seems to be revealing things about myself that I already knew about myself, yet I couldn’t define. Morally I understand the concept of being against labelism, however, magically/mystically/metaphysically it feels a bit different.

I’ve always enjoyed the concept of being “Undefined” persay, just a vortex of a person who could do, say, or act any way at any time. It made me special because it lacked general societal conformity. But the more I still myself and quiet the whispers of the obsidian corners of my mind, I realize one thing: sporadic tendencies is the methodology of someone “in search” of something.

So the obvious question that has to be asked is, “what am I looking for?” Is it love? Vice? Violence? Knowledge? Hate? Debauchery? Magic? Might? Memories? And I think the nature of man states I am looking for all of the above, but in a semblance of harmony that doesn’t crush myself or other people as a side effect. We’ve known since eons that names are power, be it invoking/evoking rites of entities, labeling enemies as such, or the inflection of calling a friend a friend. Family being what it is, a connection via the mind and spirit, never blood.

However, I digress. As I walk down this dark yet illuminated path, I have to ask myself...what am I good at? Be it with creating, harming, initiating peace, or chaos. What is the word for the particular type of magic I am capable of inducing with ease.

What I understand of myself as an adult, is that my tongue...is one of the serpent. Silver-black, and it can be wielded like a jagged serrated knife to slice anyone down to a sobbing hurt mess, ego destroyed, cast into wonderment about why they are such a horrible, weak person. While the same tongue can transmute itself, and reflect the desires of whom it’s placed upon, trace a loving nectar of words around their ego that makes them feel revitalized and full.

The examples go on and on of how I can MANIPULATE, MOLD, and SYNTHESIZE my words into unique words of power for the current adversarial situation. So I simply typed in to Google, “Witch of Words”. I got nothing. So instead I went to my books (always start with books 😂😂), and landed upon a page that “Felt” right. The irony is I thought the whole chapter was boring and had plans to skip it, but nonetheless, Samael is a guiding hand, and Lilith will always cull away your stupidity when you’re absent of instinct. Nothing is to be ignored with purpose.

However I fell on this word “YITLAHASU”; which means “Whisperer of Incantations”. This word makes me feel like me! Not witch, not wizard, not necromancer, sorcerer or anything else that is a general, yet broad term for practictoner of Magic . This word is complicated, the syllables seem broken, like it has no particular flow. It feels like a shattered concept, yet it still works. It speaks to me as someone whose blade is sharpened with words rather than force of physical might. It speaks to me as something that is powered by the spiritual, and pushed thru the physical to manifest my particular result. It is the medium for which I shape worlds (As I’m a writer amongst many other things)!

It creates my spell with every word uttered. It produces results based on what I believe to be true, wish to uphold, or destroy. The black flame may burn in my depths, but through my tongue is where it’s displayed in semblance of the Dragon. This word infuses power with literary mastery and dominance. It mingles on the fringes of emotional and psychological abuse, yet the heroic protagonism that makes people want to become there best self.

Words are my poetry. Either they’re magnetic, and attractive, or they’re repulsive and divisive. Or a mix of both. As a Son of Cain, it is up to me to define myself, but it’s also up to me to HELP define others, for the good or bad, as I am both yet neither, cause neither exist.

As a Son of Cain, I’m chipping away at finding fundamental basis of what is necessary so I can manifest and propagate the things I wish, without incurring the things I do not. And in order to control ones magic, one must first define it within themselves and the practice. I understand I am the Blighted, an Adversary, but I am also wise, timeless, and a Whisperer of Incantations. My words are power, my words are law, because this is my world. I am the I am. Affront me not, as I’m still learning! My control is limited, my patience is little, and I will fuck you mercilessly with my chosen weapon of the Abyss, and never feel bad about it. Be kind, or I will show you the absence of light and what the crushing weight of mental, emotional, and spiritual death feels like.

The Blighted Adversary,

Cain Yitlahasu III

[caithelps]

Trip by Jhene Aiko RP Sentence Starters Part 3: (feel free to change name(s), pronouns, etc as needed) Find part 1 here, part 2 here

Triggers: Drugs/pills, alcohol

Never Call Me ft Kurupt:

“Oh, boy, I'ma have to call them boys on you”

“Awe damn, I'ma have to call that man on you”

“Something, something, something must be really wrong with you”

“Why can't you just tell the fuckin' truth now?”

“Yes your mama did, she raised a fool, wow”

“What the fuck did you learn in that schoolhouse?”

“To chase them thrills"

“Takin' pills in the hills, Slauson Hills, Overhills might get you killed”

“Not welcome 'round them parts no more”

“Do not run your mouth no more”

“I can't protect you no more”

“It's out of my hands for sure”

“You should've called me”

“Why you never call me?”

“Okay, now you wanna say all that I’ve done to ya”

“You knew all along that I wasn't the one for you”

“So let's stop pretending like we were in love”

“We never shared anything but the drugs”

“We were both numb, never had anything real between us”

“We really must be smoking that crazy shit, in my city talkin' crazy shit”

“But you ain't know I'm a crazy bitch”

“And tell your lawyer that I ain't paying shit”

“Maybe you should chill, really in your feels”

“My bros really in the field”

“Neighborhood is really real and they don't play that here”

“You shouldn't say that here”

“You should've made it clear, my dear”

“Now hey sis, I'ma let you know like this”

“Hit me right back, this Kurupt, okay?”

“The 60's, we ain't worried bout none of these muthafuckin' bustas”

“Ya understand me?”

“From the Overhill to the fronts to the back mayne”

“We pushin' this line to d'nine”

“So don't worry 'bout none of this shit"

“Don't worry 'bout him callin' you and all the rest of that shit”

“You know what? It's his lost, ya know what I'm sayin'?”

“I heard the homie, the homie called me and was like”

“I'm like "No, not Jhené"

“Né-né, you hit me I got you, you understand me?”

“You're the one, I love you, make sure you hit me back”

“This is your big brother, you hear me?”

“Aye, call me as soon as you get this, you hear me?”

“Don't make me call your mama now, I'll track you down”

Nobody:

“Attention is expensive to pay”

“I can't get by on minimum wage”

“Been dealing with this venomous rage”

“Since I was under the age I've been under the influence of pain”

“And I never needed nobody”

“Never needed no one”

“No, I don't need nobody"

“I don't need no one, shit, I don't need no one”

“Fucking up my chakras again”

“My father is a doctor, I've been talking to him”

“All the shit I'm taking could've got it from him”

“I don't have no patience, prolly got it from him”

“Just a product of him”

“Pop one, pop two, pop three, four pills”

“These things tell me how life should feel”

“Fuck you, it's my free will”

“Please don't tell me to chill” 

“'Cause I don't need nobody”

“No one ever listened, no one called me pretty”

“Grampy called me ‘Penny’, I think I am worthless”

“I don't have a purpose”

“Who am I enough for?”

“Why we always lose what we work for?”

“Why we hurt more?”

“Why we never see my mother cry?”

“She's so tough for us, poor her”

“Grab my purse with my prescriptions in it”

“Tiny bursts of optimism in them”

“I'm reversing my decision to win”

“Take this take this, take this, take”

“Back to '88 when everything was great”

“Then life had just begun”

“It is '89 now, everything is fine now”

“I am only one”

“Wait for the 2008 summer”

“I'ma be a mother, wow”

"2012 summer, it just got tougher”

“I don't have my brother now”

“Take this, take six, take pics, faces, famous”

“Face it, fake shit, pain is faithless”

“Yes, I am aware I am tripping”

“I'm here in this hell that I don't wanna live in”

“I smoke on my own, I drink on my own”

“I know it's wrong”

“To people I know, they just wanna know what's going on”

“I can't tell a soul, no, I can't tell no one”

“Don't need nothing from no one”

“But you're not alone, you got me”

“Look, I know what'll make you feel better”

“Here, try this 

Overstimulated:

“Is this thing on?”

“Reverse effect”

“Don't get it wrong, don't get it twisted”

“Don't mix it up, gotta get lifted”

“You know I'm young, you know I'm gifted”

“I'm on a roll, I'm on a mission”

“I need your light, I need your guidance”

“Already high, I'll be alright, I wanna try it”

“Crushing the line, cutting the line, crossing the line”

“Bumps in the night got me over here overstimulated”

“Crushing the line, cutting the line, crossing the line”

“Bumps in the night got me, got me over here overstimulated”

“Why you never stay for long? You always go so fast”

“Who's gonna hold my hand when I'm crashing”

“Took it without looking now I'm looking up the side effects”

“Pill identifier says that I should be dying next”

“My regrets, oh my regrets”

“Over here overstimulated”

“Let's get one thing clear bitch, I am the greatest”

“You are not my peer, you are overrated”

“Know you mad I made it, know you hate it”

“But I'm in this bitch like”

“And if my heart goes out right now this goes out to you”

“This goes out to you”

“What the fuck did you give me?”

“Oh, no no Chill chill”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Did you see that?”

“I don't know what you're talking about”

“Relax, relax”

“Get me out of here

“Why would you do this to me?!”

“Someone give her some water”

Bad Trip:

“I'm having an awful time

“You said you would get me high

“But you took me out my mind way down to the other side”

“On a bad trip”

“Like a child in a womb, with no room to grow”

“In a world I didn't know, I'm confused and cold”

“Now you show me all the things I could never see”

“In a new reality, I cannot believe”

“Bad trip”

“I thought you loved me”

“Someone get me some help”

“You told me you loved me”

“You're a liar, I hate you”

“Where am I?”

“Just calm down”

“Don't touch me”

Oblivion (Creation):

“The world's a fucking mess”

“It's gone to shit”

“I am every bit a part of it”

“I may have started it”

“I try to find a brighter sight”

“An elevated, higher sight”

“It's out of sight”

“Oblivion”

“Wish I would go back”

“I could go back to no one”

“Oblivion, wish I would go back”

“I could go back to nothing”

“My life's a fucking trip”

“It makes me sick”

“I am so jaded and I hate it”

“I'm faking it”

“I try to find a greater shade”

“To be the way”

“To lead the way”

“I need to wait”

“I could go back to nothing”

“There's no lovin' without losin'”

“There's no livin' without bruisin'”

“There's no limit, no delusion”

“Sweet oblivion”

“It's out of sight, out of mind”

“Dear brother”

“Am I still asleep?”

“Last night I saw you”

“And you told me there was coin laundry on the moon”

“I met a boy, he wasn't right for me”

“But now that I'm alone I can hear the spirits talking”

“From the metaphysical to the physical”

“From the inside out”

“Let there be no doubt”

“Sage, means sagacity and intelligence that’s why the indigenous people burned it”

“To bring out the wisdom”

“If you talk to your plants, they will talk to you and they will nourish you”

“Nourish you to a greater creation“

Psilocybin (Love in Full Effect):

“Get it poppin' on this Psilocybin”

“Getting rid of inhibition”

“In a sane asylum”

“I can feel it hit the ceiling”

“When it’s in my body”

“An out of body experience”

“A spirit party”

“Won’t let the day get in the way”

“We’re on a plane to inner space”

“Don’t be afraid, give it away”

“We gotta make a great escape”

“I can do all things”

“By the sunlight”

“What a wonderful life”

“We should do mushrooms by the moonlight”

“What a wonderful ride”

“Right mind, right now”

“Right direction”

“By your side”

“You and I, do or die”

“Who am I?”

“Your reflection”

“Got this Psilocybin in my pocket”

“I am a healing prophet”

“Seeds of promise in my garden”

“I need to harvest often”

“Such a lush experience”

“So mysterious”

“In a sweet delirium”

“No need to rush it”

“I am helping you grow”

“Psychedelics, yes”

“A supreme bright other”

“Can't you see my color?”

“I'm the divine mother”

“Please don't blow my cover”

“Take a ride into paradise”

“Let's go on a journey hidden in the sky”

“Come and take a ride into paradise”

“Open up your heart and let me in”

“I will not let you down”

“Don’t trip, I gotcha”

“Open up your mind and you’ll feel it, the healing”

“Go slowly, go slower”

“No need to rush it”

“Love-lovely feel”

“Now, breathe”

“Breathe through it”

“Be still, be here”

“No fear”

“You are here”

“Breathe, love”

“I'm from Sirius”

“8 light-years away”

“15 trillion miles”

“Without the smiles”

“Let me see you smile”

“Give me 5,200 feet of happiness”

“Now let me see you smile”

“Give me 5,080 feet of happiness”

“Are you living?”

“Or are you just surviving?”

“Are you giving?”

“Let me see love”

“Living on valued energy”

“I got life”

“Love is for happiness”

“Love in full effect”

“I'm from the Universe soul”

“We're all from the Universe soul”

“We're all one”

[donnnoir]

Dallas, TX                                                                          June 30, 2019

Well Friend’s, although currently I suspect there are no readers of my crude blog.  Other than those that may have an interest from the Shadow Government’s perspective.  They always keep tabs and monitor my actions and interactions at large or singular.  An annoying fact of Life as me.  So hopefully at some point and time in the future an interested party will have numerous pages to sort through.  I am trying to get all my material under one or two roofs / forums which can and are accessible to everyone.  At least that is my hope and the intention of all this.  Granted it also allows me an outlet to vent some of my frustrations and the various events, occurrences and histories with this and more that I have Lived and experienced throughout my Life.  Now in such a spirit I am posting a electronic log entries after I arrived back in Austin TX, following the events I experienced in Southern California.  Which events culminated in my being shot twice in my left leg and subsequently ran over by an F-350 dually pick-up, running me over from toes to my head being dragged under the dual tires on the driver’s side of the vehicle.  Needless to say it was an interesting evening.  I was run over on East Anaheim St. about one hundred feet from the intersection with North Henry Ford Ave., on the south bound side of East Anaheim heading back toward Long Beach, I believe the location is still in Wilmington. With the location of my being shot some distance from there and that being approximately 325 North Lecouvreur Ave., Wilmington.  These events happened on or around the 5th of March 2018.  I was transported to St Mary’s Hospital at 1050 Linden Ave. Long Beach, CA..

The following are a series of electronic entries to an ad hoc journal at the time.  I Post this ad hoc journal in its raw form, the only editing being for the most part that of correcting some of the major spelling mistakes.  Hopefully I  have retained the jagged nature of my mind set at the time.  I freely admit that upon my return from California for the first time in my life I was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   I still have on occasions bouts associated to this PTSD.  I trust as coming events unfold and I have New Obstacles and Challenges to focus my attention and thereby forestall the elements of the Disorder.  Thus I Post this warts and all.  Without regard to its chronological or content of order. Because of this I will no doubt be covering much of the data, information and stories at a later Posting.  I will also be Posting the images of my hand written journal, as the loose leaf entries that I have adopted as my handwritten format.  Since every log or journal I have started has been stolen repeatedly.  So I now write on whatever loose leaf papers I have before me in the moment.  I hope to Post those as packaged folders Postings in their chronological order.  There is a degree of overlapping entries between this Posting and those of my handwritten entries.  Bear that in mind should you actually elect to read all of these.  Most of the entries some date and location headers.   I hope that in doing this that no seeming contradictions arise, especially since I am the source.  I welcome any inquires from any reader of my material.  Thus I submit the following:

Welcome, seems it has come to this. I am going to attempt to compose my thoughts and histories via electronic medium. My reservations must give way to practical realities. Not to mention the fact that each and every one of my previous logs / journals has been stolen from me. A immensely annoying recurring theme.

Thus I am going to try and make a virtual journal. Presumably I will augment this with the additional paper journal. Which will then be uploaded into a file of images. The hope being the combination will effectively accomplish the task. Towit that of providing a record of my life including events in the extreme. Additionally I wish to leave behind in some convoluted fashion my diverse understanding of things. By far I would consider the latter to be a far greater contribution to the brain wealth of humanity. I would like to think that should any of this writing come to light. It does so some time in the future . When the more fantastic elements can be seen in historical context. Such that what would otherwise be seen as speculative ventures into science fiction writing, will be known as simply fact. Because believe me when I say I truly wish and hope to be / will be wrong, regarding that which is to come. For a change!

Sigh… I must take a break, now. Necessity requires I consider many issues, not the least of which is where to start, and how best to proceed. Besides the fact I have not developed the requisite manual dexterity to type with my thumbs.

Monday July 2, 2018 … Killeen Texas

Sigh… damnit all to hell! I am having one of those rare days when I feel anxious, overwhelmed to the point of feeling trapped. I do not know if it is possibly PTSD related. I suppose I have to accept that as a issue with in me from now till the day I die. Regrettable not to mention humiliating for me. Granted, I suspect that the the cannabis Jade bought had a little something extra in it. So she could anesthesias more effectively giving her a reprieve from the increased infra-sound, ultrasound, microwave along with the entirety of the electromagnetic emissions I am at present enduring. I am concerned for her and her son Joey's well being. Despite her being one of the girls / operatives / victims of our government’s illegal covert initiatives know as MK Ultra. She is a bundle of contradictory issues and personalities. Your typical Golem. Her biological father is Warren Causey. He was George Bush Sr. right hand even prior to Sr becoming head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Causey was Sr's go to man for wet works and deep black bag operations. Especially if the back side had a tail which could be exploited for control of any or all parties involved. Causey is a true satanist and worse. He recently developed a rapid onset of Alzheimer’s. Not quite as sever as my own father and name sake Donald Paul Williams. But the timing of both though separate is suggestively coincidentally to events associated to me and those involved in FOXing me. I suspect brother Magnus of being petty. Grinding and hammering on old grudges. Along with becomingly increasingly punitive in operational objectives concerning breaking me to the point of my “losing” it. At which point and time my only anticipated options would be to appeal to their overview and / or full capitulation to their agendas. Thus far I have successfully thwarted their attempts. Yet it has come at an immense cost to me, across the board. Okay in anticipation that I may never acquire the journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach, California. A long walk beginning by The Queen Mary and which ultimately landed me in Salt Lake City, Utah. It is becoming increasingly incumbent that I reiterate elements I previously wrote down back then. You would think it would be a simple straightforward process. Naturally such is not the case, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which are context and my desire to avoid sounding narcissistic, or worse disillusion. Yet failing to do so will ultimately end in me portraying myself as such, even more so. Besides I really hate repeating myself, sorta a pet peeve of mine.

To the uninitiated this is going to sound ludicrous and insane. However, any comprehensive primer would require volumes of esoteric information, along with accompanying commentary and should include appropriate citations. All from tomes that are closely guarded. That I am denied access to permanently and utterly. Thus it is best to proceed directly into the matter wading through the initial convolution, realizing by degrees it will work out becoming about as clear as mudd. The luciferains according to their Canon refer to me as “The Dark One”. It is an appellation pulled directly from their actual scripture as initially iterated  to Cain from lucifer, himself.

Obviously atheist may take exception to these concepts, especially the language used. There is not much I can say in response to their misgivings. Because their beliefs lack the framework from which to attach this model. Hell most individuals beliefs also in like fashion lack similar mental framework. Yet most have allowances or the tools where with the modular architecture of their minds are able to “build out” an additional wing to the mansion in their minds which houses their understanding of “reality”. At the very least they can entertain the blueprints to an “add-on” to their mansions. Similar to the operations of our minds “cognitive consistency”. Dr Richard Alan Miller is fond of noting “I would never have seen it if I hadn’t believed it”. Or by extended reference the belief that if you have enough information to postulate a coherent question, you already have enough to know the answer. You just have to convince yourself of it. The implications are profound. Stretching into metaphysics and the issues of faith preceding the miracle(s), and even magick! All topics I have and will continue to touch upon in my ramblings. But I go too far afield of my primary focus. Simply, I am The Dark One. This is both metaphoric and literal. For the few people whose sight allows them to to clearly see into the underlying spiritual realm of our world. Because all things that “are” where first created in spirit. Elsewise they would not exist or remain lifeless sterile elemental at best. There are also at worst case possibilities, but we will forego any such dialogue for the moment. Everything we see and interact with has a corresponding spiritual aspect providing impetus to the whole. Usually the spiritual aspect even resembles the physical expression, although at times the proportions differ. A fact that I know I will touch upon in other areas as topically necessitated. Nonetheless if one was to see our spirits they much resemble the physical form of our bodies, though a bit taller (note this is a foreshadowing hint, to a vastly different topic I Will Be Addressing. At times I may interject future foreshadowing hints, though sans the extensive explanations). Depending on the scope of vision applied a person may / can see many other things. For my current model I am going to stick to issues of direct correlation to what we perceive as the physical world.

Okay, yes I do know I tend to take a long round about, seemingly loquacious manner, almost tediously so in my explanations. This is due to the fact that words are nebulous, our ability to effectively communicate was fractured becoming compromised long ago. As a consequence, for clarity's sake I find this too wordy manner necessary to minimize confusion later in the discussion. By degrees we lose our way, or perpetuate our lost condition. Therefore it is by incremental degrees I am trying to more properly realign the various skewed beliefs we all hold. It is simple geometry, trigonometry or if you prefer vector math. If your initial bearing line is off by a few degrees, as you proceed further down its vector, or direction of travel where you end up will be considerably different than you meant to be. I wish to be aptly clear as to this fact early in my shared discourses.

Back to the proximate relationship of the spirit to our physical nature / condition. Also know that our spirits are gender specific. The entirety of humanity in this expressed Creation, the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Have migrated to this plane and place from Our Heavenly Home. That being a higher plane of existence, a organized realm of Love and Light. We, being all of us from Adam, Lilithe, and Eve till the last child of Eve is born, we are they that kept our first estate. Thereby earning both our right and place to be born here in this that by our common assent / consent / agreement we agreed would be real, thus we call it reality, simple. Wherefore, this being real by our mutual assent, means by extension that our actions here shall have real consequence to our station thereby effecting our progression. Those within Our Divine Family that rebelled and failing to reconcile back into the Family are denied participation in the progression of this estate and the subsequent assignments as to which paths we are to be assigned to in our individual journeys to progress back home.  Meaning, i.e. lucifer and the one third that fell (more properly “that were cast down”) with him. At times I will refer to lucifer as lucy or louie a small affectation I have over the years grown fond of as pet names for he who would seek dominion through his lies. Know that for my part I have always viewed our existence as an ongoing extension of the war in Heaven. Even as a toddler this was simply the nature of the world, in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Lucy is playing an end game gambit. As to our day to day offenses he for the most part cares little, seldom choosing to involve himself.  As I try to tell people; we can do bad all on our own, we don’t need the devil or louie's help. Matter of fact regrettably this particular Creation is an aberration. Most Creation’s do not have a Lucifer, who refuses to repent and reconcile, and worse yet becomes Satanish.  In so doing thereby becomes completely nonredeemable. Fit only to be cast out beyond the dark realms / dimensions. So far that not even a god could ever hope to make it back to Our Heavenly Home. Heady fanciful stuff, with a touch of discordance due to conflicting superlatives, I already know. From the presumed position of our understanding as a whole it is the best I can do with our shared mythos. The presumed contradictions fade as our understanding increases. Please accept I know little, next to nothing. What little I may grasp, has been fought hard to obtain over a tumultuous lifetime.

One of the hopeful eventualities concerning our collective situation in this Creation which I try to communicate to those that appear to show potential for understanding the following idea. Is that, Once we “eventually” progress through this Creation. As our then on going progression continues through multiple future Creations we will in all probability never encounter another such circumstance / Creation wherein any of those will again be with the added burden of a Satan / Lucifer persona to add complications to our individual, group, and familial progress. Who would threaten to usurp Creation from G-d and all of us. We can do bad all on our own. We really don’t require an objective excuse or archetype on which to pin our failings. If you are acquainted with the Book of Revelations, in its pages are the clues to understanding Lucy’s actual focus / agenda for our Creation. For we are eternal beings, Children of Divine Parentage. We live through infinite eternities, progressing and striving to Perfect Ourselves unto the Image of Our Heavenly Mother and Father. Now I sound like a some traveling revivalist preacher. Might as roll out the tent and tambourines, hahaha.

Wednesday July 4, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Well happy 4th of July, U S of fucking A. Not to be cynical, but here we are celebrating another Independence Day in the Land of the Free. The irony is inescapable. Sadly too many individuals become distracted and lost in the perpetually shifting landscape of dysinformation. Yes the horrors these people revile against are very real and indefensible. Except in the losing of perspective, failing to see that these innumerable struggles are purposely being generated to engage the population to distraction. Usually these horrid distractions are set cross ways of social and cultural lines. This formulaic tactic is meant to ferment hostilities, hate and conflicts across the associated strata. This has been repeated throughout history to create wars, fracture our social structure, warp our values, and indoctrinate the population en mass with beliefs such as to reshape our view of reality shackling all of us to a diminished image and sense of self along with the entire human race. Once we accept this warped view as the archetypal potentiality of us all. We are guaranteed to sell ourselves and our brethren into slavery. In due course I will be discussing at length the geopolitical history within the framework of our limited knowledge of what we recorded since the flood. Rather what we have been permitted to know of said records. The fact that much as been redacted from the common brain trust passed on to us via academia. Those alabaster halls occupied by self appointed guardians of the approved versions of knowledge and information released to us vulgar unfortunate masses. So burdened, I shall pass this Holiday celebrating the antithesis of its traditions.

Continuing in the same vain as previously began prior to the day’s celebrations, in much the similarly convoluted fashion as before… I, The Dark One of Occultic Lore. I have been told; that I have done things no one in the history of the world has ever done previously. Personally I can only cite one quality as being demonstrative of such high praise. Though in all honesty I am more often than not being chastised for lacking focus, being lazy, acting the fool in the face of my enemies, or being cavalier in my affections, or placing myself at undue risk of life and limb, and the list goes on and on ad nauseaium.  This from the select few who know and understand who and what I am.  Those who may actually care about me, and would see me fulfill that which I have been foreordained to do whilst sojourning here. The totality of our circumstance here, now at this moment, we soon shall enter perhaps the most critical and precarious point of our history and that of this Creation.  I am all too well aware of this along with that which shall soon come to pass shortly.  This awareness, I experience across multiple vectors while being cognizant of a sea of permeations which ultimately stream toward a specific Crux in Our Familial Aggregation (I am trying to develop appropriate nomenclature – wherein I avoid certain more readily common labels or descriptors and/or appellations. Whose usage has been subverted into the double speak practiced by the various satanic and blood occultic families which run the world. Who have ritually (via trauma) conditioned and indoctrinated their acolytes, golems / victims to hear and respond to accordingly, never in a positive manner. Wherefore it is incumbent upon me whenever possible to avoid affirming these, even to the point of reinventing the ascribed nomenclature.) within this Creation. As a consequence I must stumble through idiomatic constructs, ungainly though they be. Believe me if you knew and understood the actualities ascribed to words and the double or multiple meanings applied to them within the Families. The evils, the pain, the denigration of the individuals / victims usually by those nearest them; ultimately by extension it eventually infects and corrupts societies unto the world at large.  You would weep an endless river of tears unto filling the seas, if you could see this in your minds eye properly.  As long as this perniciously malicious spiritual / familial / multi-generational / social / cultural pathogenic practice continues, our struggles will end in naught. Hence into this morass I must seek to keep my appointed task. How best to explain this? I have spent the majority of my life in the haze of denial.  Avoiding my differences.  Putting off my preparations for that which is to come.

Since approximately twenty four plus months prior to Operation Jade Helm our covert Intelligence apparati, including elements of the ruling shadow government began a concerted effort at Foxing me. The on set of Operation Jade Helm and its scope marked an exponential increase in expanded efforts against me.  Now, let me make clear Operation Jade Helm’s purpose was not solely to target me, there where many targets across the greater portion of the United States of America.  Death dealers and various squads of assassins executed / murdered an increasing number of American Citizens, most had been identified for some time to be exterminated.  Impunity seems to have become the operational by word.  The extremes demonstrated continuously since that time defy all reason. Defining the architects of this action as being criminals is almost quaint.  This level of criminal insanity goes beyond the point of being treasonous. With the majority of resource allocation comes from “military Intelligence” which then utilizes other military resources and supplies.  Thus it is that we have been duped into financing our own demise.

For purposes pursuant to their agendas, they have labeled me a domestic terrorist.  Thereby presumably justifying illegal exercises and persecution of my person.  Rationalizing by extension similar acts against my family and anyone I may care about and or Love. Death for them would be preferable to the horrors their personages have been and are being subjected. I know I sound ludicrously paranoid with delusions of grandeur in the extreme. Hahaha….  gosh how I wish, hope and pray such were the case. I make this record in defense of myself and my actions. Naturally I fear all my good intentions with their accompanying actions are for naught. I realize that upon my death as allotted to the sons of man, as to the first part, my character will be maligned in the worst manner possible.  A issue I will address at length later in this on going exposition of myself and my misadventures as they may be.

Thursday July 5, 2018.  Killeen Texas

Despite my misgivings it seems I survived all the pops and bangs of our nosiest of American Holidays. A joyous circumstance to be certain. From now till my last day of my allotted life as unto the children of men, my life hangs in the balance. The ante to live my life as it were.

My current accommodation over the past almost six weeks has been with an old flame and friend Jade Causey – Chamlee, and her 18 year old son Joey, whose given name was Freddie. Bless their souls for extending to my worn out arse a place to stay and recover. Regrettably my physical recovery is taking much longer than I anticipated. I am fully aware my expectations regarding the time necessary for a complete recovery was / were unreasonable. But I need to set the bar high to keep from being complacent. Now had my situation been inclusive of adequate financial resources I would be at least relatively close to my timetable. I would have had access to better medical, dietary, living and therapies. Hell my injuries would have been properly tended to at the hospital in my initial admittance. Instead I continued to be the object of curiosity and experimentation. With little consideration to trying to give me appropriate medical care. I have come to know what to expect, due largely to my younger brother's general attitude. Wherein he rationalizing what him and others do to me, as simply a matter of effect associated to the who and what I am. It is rationalized that if  I, Donn am this special chosen person than he/I should be able to survive everything, whatever it may be.  Because if he/I don’t than obviously he/I am not that special and thus not protected from on High.  Horrific logic used to rationalizing a growing list of atrocities committed against my person. A ugly fact of my reality, one I anticipated. What issues make this whole fucked up process unacceptable, malicious, acutely painful and unforgivingly egress is the manner by which they have targeted and used others. Especially my younger brother, father, son, Tiffany, Revaka, Heather, Angie and numerous others. They have been tortured, abused and treated as disposable commodities. All are scared and precious, some are very unique with abilities reaching into arenas not generally accepted or understood in today’s world view. Yet these individuals are denigrated, abused in some of the most deviantly sordid manners. Most are ultimately destroyed, first robbing them of their minds, bodies and in some final insult of their very souls. As it appears that they are being harvested for physical vehicles to have demons placed in their bodies. Yeah, I suppose I could say it in some sort of more politically correct parlance as “aliens” from a lower resonating dimensional reality / realm. Somehow I find that by doing so it fails to communicate the malicious evil inherent in the process. I find the old nomenclature to communicate the Truer meaning. Though some eras of our past carry their own obvious failings magnified exponentially by ignorance while fueled by misguided zealotry. They were not called the Dark Ages for nothing. Similarly different cultures, societies, periods, places and times have fallen to various abysses of Darkness. We have this false mental image of life on Our Earth proceeding in some linar fashion from primitive man (including Adam, for those of a theological inclination) struggling out of caves. Fighting against their own primitive brain / mind which was trapped in a diminished brain pan capacity from questing for fire against ignorance and superstitions. With us being the cumulative beneficiaries of this on going process. Peoples of those ancient times could not have been as intelligent as those today. Therefore they could not have grasped the concepts we do. Some of the most ridiculous fallacies of logic ever presumed to rationalizing and justify conduct or beliefs. Matter of fact the inverse is actually True. But what the fuck could I possibly know!

Sadly my frustrations are rearing their collective heads as it were in my writing. I wish I had been more diligent in securing my journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach towards Utah. I was more focused recording relavent issues in a contemporaneous fashion. Not to mention a considerable investment in explanations dealing with a variety of associated topics. Grrrrr… all I did then was walk and write. I may soon be in a recurrence of such, shortly. I can no longer abide where I am. All the more so under these conditions. Deep in my mind I am aware of happenings which require my attention. Not to mention my friend’s household is not psychologically conducive to my state of being. At least not in a healthy way, good intentions not with standing. My largest obstacle to my leaving believe it or not, is my need for acceptable footwear. Flip-flops aren’t going to cut it. Hell they are wholly inadequate to even walk just up the street a block or two. I must admit the sidewalks and streets of California were well suited for walking.

Monday July 9, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

As Pooh would be apt to say, “Oh bother”. I feel for the most part Tigger. Bouncing all about spinning, twisting, flipping… as well on my head as my tail. I am most acutely wanting to find my focus once again. My communication skills seem heavily compromised. Not that I was ever able to write as effectively as the great Nobel Laureates. Generally speaking I could at least maintain some linear cohesion in my writing.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally I am shaken.  Much as if my being was trapped in the tremors of advance Parkinson’s. In similar fashion my expressed thoughts and experiences lack focus, my abilities at lucidly articulating my larger life occurrences is choppy at best. Failure is NOT an option! No matter how I feel or how events are or may effect me, I must regain my composure and find my center. While reacquiring my skills of teaching and sharing what I have learned.  Please excuse me if I don’t edit the foregoing entries. As convoluted and murky as they may be, their relevance contemporaneously can not be diminished. Hopefully they will in due course provide a benchmark to juxtaposition future writings and notes thereby effecting a glimpse into my state of being at the time of writing.  Grrrrr…….

They have done a very good job of isolating me. All the more so, as I try to come to terms with the potential cost to those I would seek commerce with across all levels of our socioeconomic strata.  If what I endured while being the object of a Foxing protocol by our shadow government’s covert intelligence community are any indication. Anyone who associates with me, either at mine or their initiation is subject to become targeted for retribution as punishment to me. Too high a cost to blindly impart with out consideration to finding possible means of mitigation. Or at the very least terms whereby I am ultra selective with whom I interact. Along with the rationale for said interactions. Soon enough our social dependency will require I abandon all such pretext or attempts at shielding anyone from consequence. I fear that time shall be upon us/me far too soon. Perhaps I am again being exceedingly naive. My efforts are most probably for naught. An on the at large canvas of the bigger picture my presumption at damage control will only result in a larger area and impact of effect upon our society as a whole. Not that I am some savior or prophet, far from it actually. In the grander scale of things, I might best be referred to as a “wild card”.  Meaning that in any analysis of the interaction of variables, one may with a degree of certainty predict the outcome of any issue, contest, conflict even war. However should certain individuals or a very small dynamic group of individuals enter the forum. Suddenly the landscape of the matter shifts radically to the point that the original outcome no longer applies or is meaningful. We have numerous examples of such occurrences throughout our histories. Of salient import to us here in America is The Battle of Thermopylae, and the 300 Spartans. We all learned about continents in school. Did you ever notice that Europe and Asia were counted as separate despite being one land mass. The reason is that Western Culture and Asian (Oriental) Cultures being vastly different it was traditionally ascribed to them being two separate continents. We may naively presume to ridicule such a blatant indulgence as arrogance. Yet there are fundamental reasons for this error being valid. We as the heirs of Western Culture, need to understand the mythical / legendary impact of these distinctions upon our mameic memory, especially those of us of the West. From Greece to Rome, then following our Angelo – Dutch (Iberian) roots it is transmitted to us. The importance and permanent impact of the actions and sacrifice of Leonidas and 300 Free Spartans against over a 1,000,000 servile basically slaves to a potentate deemed quasi divine, carved out a legacy of Freedom which stands even today. An Epic “wild card”. There are many others, most are lost to us today. With the occasional exception that survives in our Epics, our Mythologies, our Legends. Most such stories are the blending of factual events with older religious or semi religious traditions. Which aliteration was a common and accepted means of teaching the lessons of both convanents in a factual and metaphoric means. Much the way Jesus Christ taught using parables, allegories composed to have layers of meaning dependent upon the degree of understanding had by the student. So a natural continuation of this is to be inclusive of many historical events, along with the trans literal substitution of the individuals to those of prophecy or the the Divine or Angelic intercession of some ancient history. These depending on circumstance would be iterated and reiterated in verbal traditions to be celebrated in the retelling, usually in association to particular annual festivals. Such as the case with the Saga of the Norse Kings. A subject I hope to have the opportunity to entertain at length later in my writings, scribblings. The vast majority of my ideas, concepts, models and histories can generally be attributed to greater minds than mine. As has been said before, the reason I / we can see so far is that we stand on the shoulders of giants, those that have come before us. Yes I paraphrase taking a degree of liberty. More particularly to hopefully retain its original meaning.

Funny I have been much as I am, the entirety of my life. Before I commence an in-depth sharing of many of the somewhat unique occurrences and events that have brought me to this proposition in time. I wish to clarify and reiterate some postulates. Elsewise a portion of my own records and logs may well be used against me. Principally by interests who would wish to call my lucidity and grasp of reality into question, in the hopes of indicting or coloring my character via my words. No doubt they shall do so nonetheless. I only wish that my original is sufficiently vetted in the sane understanding of reality has to be a defense to my honor and mental facilities. Thus, again – I am No prophet! Nor am I an Alien. Hahaha… Nor am I some savior! As far as religion – I will say as was told to me by what would be termed alien contactees, or more specifically those that I felt and believed we’re genuine. Of the many I personally met back in the 1970s. According to these individuals as to the subject of religion and the Bible when broached to the various aliens these contactees interacted. All the aliens responded that yes the Bible was more or less correct and that it was wholly applicable to us, our Creation, and Our G-d. I know not at all what they say on the popular shows in the media today. Hmmm,…. As to my personal religious beliefs and inclinations, I am Mormon by conversation and have been excommunicated for many more years than I care to mention. By the way my excommunication was due wholly to personal moral matters not issues of doctrine or beliefs of Faith. So if somewhere in my upfront acknowledgements, you find me wanting of naïve. Fine, do or do Not as is in you, or as is your want. I make no apologies, nor seek to compromise in some misguided attempt to achieve an accord or consensus. Rather quite to the contrary, I share, present, seeking dialogue broader than an account of the happenings surrounding my life. Simply because I am appalled by the amount of lies and disinformation being used to indoctrinate the populace. Add to this the lack of corrected and broader views from the dreadfully homogenous perspective droning from damn near every sector. The present modalities disgust me, breaking my heart such that I would to weep day and night for Our collective Family. Yet better spent are my efforts in defense of the Truth and an improved accounting of our histories and circumstances. In pursuit of same I find I must submit my private life and experiences to general scrutiny. The majority of which I have never shared with anyone prior to the last six to eight years. I have desired to live a rather conventional life, for the most part. Realizing that soon enough I will forever be denied the Joy of such.

To this end and the accompanying process I submit some of the earliest memories and events of my life and childhood. One of my earliest, if not the earliest is being in my crib prior to the age of two. My father was working for numerous government and governmental contractors at the time. Naturally I don’t recall those details. Our family had just moved to Southern California. We were living with my mother’s sister somewhere in East Los Angeles. Their home was the typical Spanish Colonial. Anyone familiar with the style and form of such. Know that hallways usually converge into a common room, you cross to the hallway leading to the room you have as your destination. In this pass through common room is where my crib was stationed. Probably the best location for it and me. So the various women could occupy my attention should I become fussy. An many times this common room was an area where the women would congregate as my recollection is. Well across this room was a pantry closet, with selves and full of the sundry items found in such for the time. In the coming and goings of my family and relatives there were numerous occasions that would find me unattended, alone in my crib. It was during one such interlude that the commencement of a reoccurring vision / dream began. I having been left alone to my own devices (parenting back in the day). When the door to the aforementioned pantry slowly opened wide. A beautiful female Golem, her physique had the appearance of red bricks. Yet the contours of her form were singularly female. Rather she had distinct curves with aquiline sculptured features. Most hauntingly she had these striking blue eyes. She never spoke a word, her eyes spoke volumes to my initially shocked mind. As the sounds of returning relatives approached, she gracefully returned from whence she came. On the first couple of occasions I witnessed this I raised a bit of a commotion. I was not yet verbal, and in all honesty I was a late talker. Well the relatives thought I might have seen a rat. So they dutifully opened the pantry to inspection. The pantry was then as it always was, with neither a rat or exquisite Lady Golem. This parade continued off and on for the majority of the our short time residing at my aunt’s house. Usually the Lady Golem had those blue blue eyes, though green and grey versions are among the visits. Each and every time she would come to the side of my crib, moving her head, or tilting (cocking) it just so. Always her eyes full of questions and disbelief. Her eyes seemed to express; You? You are the one sent? Hmmm… You don’t look like much! Look more like a little wet rodent, but who knows?. This was more or less the sentiment expressed in her eyes. Following my first encounters I became accustomed to her visits and would actually miss her on the rare occasions of absence. Needless to say from early childhood I saw the “world” differently than others around me. I also learned to accept this altered perception without fear, understanding its validity within the accepted context of what is “actual” or the “concrete” reality of our existence.

If you may recall back in the haze of school days. During various lectures the teacher's would sometimes use what is commonly referred to as an over head projector. Depending on what was being taught, it was also common practice to layer over lays. These would either complete the image or at times super impose other images as needed. Sometimes even as multiple layers of over laid transparencies. Some of you more contemporaneously educated individuals may never have seen such primitive presentations, having known only power point. For those so blessed what I describe next may be Greek to you. For the dinosaur amongst us most should have some recollection. This model is the closest I can use to illustrate how the world appeared to me growing up as a child. Usually I would see what could best be described as up to two transparencies overlapping the “real world” in general. I could even lift these overlays to get a clearer view of what was being presented before me. At times these would both be at in the foreground of “reality”, other times both would be in the background, while at other times it would be split one in front and one in back. Yet there were numerous other configurations, sometimes completely unrelated to the happenings around me (foreshadowing alert). Gradually this ocular affect of the world began to diminish till it no longer was within my field of vision. By the time I was around sixteen to seventeen years of age this effect was effectively gone. Since then I have experienced this only a handful of times. I usually take a different approach, I will address momentarily. One of the proximate results almost immediately of perceiving my world in this manner is that I usually know the scope and degree that anyone is lying. As an adult it is not quite as prominent as in my childhood. Though there have been exceptions. As a direct consequence my earliest life lesson was in due course the hypocrisy of the adults around me. Everyone would profess such devotion to “the necessity” or importance of always “speaking the Truth”. Yet I would be punished to no end for pointing out the hypocrisy of the fact the adults more often than not lied as suited them. I learned to keep such to myself. Something I still do to this day. I tend to filter or make allowances far too much now as an adult. Invariably leading to greater complications. Besides transparencies certain images or objects would “float” across my field of vision in similar transparency manner. Some of which I could not decipher any context or meaning at the time or since. To begin to place elements of this visual experience I need to explain tangent events of recent.

The advent of the Internet and the information highway is as with most such paradigms, both a blessing and a curse. Dependent largely upon the nature and supposed inclination of man. We are all no doubt familiar with the media platforms of Facebook and YouTube. Like everyone else to some degree I have had occasion to surf around doing research or simply for mindless pleasure. Back prior to Jade Helm, when my Old Lady (though she was substantially younger) Tiffany and I were keeping house in Austin, Texas. I noticed a YouTube video regarding the Apollo 20 mission. Oh by the way according to my histories the Apollo lunar missions went up to 20. I wanted to see what was been discussed along with what twists and turns the disinformation specialist spin their distractions. Which if you can determine it sometimes conclude what they are trying to hide or if their direction of spin is a “z” vector you can sight 180 degrees opposite to determine the landscape they don’t wish you to see. You may consider all this a large investment of mental energies, it is just how my mind works at times automatically. Back to the Apollo 20 video. In the video there was some general discussion of aliens, their nature and origins. During this open dialogue, there was a series of various old clips. I presume were some how removed from the archives of NASA. Many of the older non-defined clips I was quite familiar with the images. Not because I have ever seen them as photos, images, clips or video. At the time I was floored, since previous to that moment I was unacquainted with their context or related meaning. These objects I use to see in the exact same configuration and involved in the exact motions approximately forty years earlier as I was growing up. Matter of fact judging from the age of the imagery I would have to conclude I was witnessing them contemporaneously as a child. Without the context of outer space or NASA I had presumed I was watching some complex interactions of some sort of strange protozoal life from. I even remotely as concerned they had some how become infected to my cornea, so prevalent we’re the objects across my vision. So striking was their imposition upon my sight that more than four decades later their association was immediate and most assuredly certain. One less mystery to worry about. Yet the implications are troubling profoundly. Both of myself and the world at large, considering how maliciously the world's population has been lied to and manipulated. The ends of which are too shocking and horrible to ever discuss. Although in previous conversations at moments of weakness I have divulged a greater portion than may have been prudent.

Wednesday July 11, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

You may right so wish to ascribe or diagnosis me as having a form of delusions inclusive of all types of hysteria, grandeur, psychosis with severe religious obsessions. For what passes for psychiatry today within the public ledger domain, you may be correct. I would offer in defense a extensive lifetime containing a ongoing accounts of a similar or even greater note. Although I am not a Moses, peoples of another time would recognize me as being touched by The All Mighty, as it were. I will at least own any such appellation. Am I some righteous man deserving of beautification unto sainthood, I would argue Not. At best I have tried to be a descent man, who speaks the Truth as much as possible. I am burdened by an additional commitment.

Back in my youth, being around nine years old. I had a singularly profound series of visions / dreams. I repeatedly dreamt my death, accompanied by the various permeations associated to reaching same. The process took several days (nights) between three to five. Being so young I didn’t think to take particular note of the days my dreams were thus occupied. They obviously had a unique feel with a equally sensational intensity, they still abide with me today. I distinctly recall a voice of sorts coming to me following the last night of witnessing this panorama of my life's end (as are the days accorded to the sons of man). Now this voice which came unto me, I presume it was within the precincts of my mind. Not that it would have mattered greatly since I was alone when it came unto me. Nor did I think to ask from whence or whom spoke. I knew and could feel the light of our Divine Home as I heard the intent along with the presumed words. It was a simple dialogue, stating; “this is how it ends, this is what you have come to do. You need not do it. You have the right to choose. However if you are to complete this task. You must choose to do so now.”. Being a precocious and arrogant child, I immediately presumed that if I had been sent to do such, than the obvious was that I was the best candidate to accomplish the prescribed task. Armed with such infallible logic, I whole heartedly accepted my calling understanding it would come at great cost. Now granted, an understanding of the true scope or magnitude or the enormity of the cost or suffering I fully lacked. I have spent my life preparing. I have come to know that even at the prescribed time I will lack of my own what is necessary. I shall present to the task my all, trusting in Our G-d to shore me up to complete that which I would do. Subsequent to acceptance of this appointment I am to keep in the near future, my sight / vision increased. The frequency and quantity began increasing dreams, visions, revelations, transparencies along with my general perceptions increased. I now openly own the fact that I see the world through the eyes of the mystic. Only recently was my sight dampened. A heart breaking topic the occasion of which surrounds losing my Love Tiffany. The subject of which shall also be laid upon the alter for examination by the modern day augers. Find what fault if you will, I care little. Only know that matter and its accompanying are for later. I must at present attempt to continue in this established vain of thought recounting events long past in my short life. Besides the notations contemporaneous to me and my circumstances or any of the other tripe I have need to spew forth. Believe this, if I could accomplish my foreordained task without sharing, discussing or placing ultimately for public review any of this – such would be my desire. Painfully I have had to come to terms with the ugly reality I must prostrate myself to assure I am able to do what needs be done. Onward thru the fog, as it were.

Without going into specifics too much, early on I displayed another aptitude. Sometime around first to second grade. My Dear sweet mother recognized I somehow had a hand in the going ons of the other children that back then composed the group of children who had commenced to being around. Now my mother was blessed with a keen intellect. Which included the wisdom to not over think somethings. Instead wherever possible if there was a direct and simple solution to apply one's efforts to the solution. Thereby allowing life to continue on as meant. Almost elegant in its simplicity, usually quite effective in solving any problem, a quaint provincial version of Occum's Razor. Consequently the solution was simple, as she noted; “son, I don’t know what you are doing. But it is wrong. Apparently you need my help understanding that.”. There after I regularly got my hide tanned. Until sometime around the age of seven plus the realization that just because you could do something; does not mean you should. And that everyone is entitled to make their own choices. Afterwards the occasion necessitating my tanning ceased as a consequence to those particular actions. By no means did I fail to earn other occasions of corporal punishment as befits a young boy trying to find his wings, so to speak.

Growing up making my way through our education system of public schooling. I never cracked a book. Now one should not presume schools and childhood were smooth sailing. Quite to the contrary, in second grade my school in southern California labeled me “retarded”. Lacking a separate facilities or classes you were simply shoved to the back of the class with similarly challenged children. Nor did they have to test the child or give notice to the parents. Following a few weeks at the back of the class I began to demonstrate “odd” behavior. Which my always observant mother was quick to question. She went to the school and raised holy hell. In actuality it was more of a racially motivated issue. My parents being divorced, the school only saw my Hispanic mother. Being profoundly dyslexic, their initial assessment was that I was a Mexican, and you know you can not teach their kind. I was going to a all white school at time. Not to mention kindergarten in Watts. During the riots in 1965. I had to have police escorts to school. While I still have very distinct memories of the entire family sleeping in the living room with all the doors and windows blocked and barricaded against the rioting blacks. A sort of difficult time growing up. Believe me I know what racism is like. I am not going to hold my tin cup up on that lame ass subject. The fact that there are those in this country that hold onto this issues as the reasons for all their troubles. Or that there are groups and individuals who exploit this history for their enrichment. All this does is allows an ever expanding rifts in our society. The age old axiom of divide and conquer. Yet we all seem oblivious to this, instead we rush to our own deaths.

Thursday July 12, 2018,. – Killeen, Texas

Aaagh, fuck, damnit…. I fucking swear. Why do I even try to help anyone. Generally they hold to their own practices of appeasing the least common denominators by which they live. What can I say. As gracious as my hostess and her son may be. I doubt if I can tolerate much more of their dysfunctionality sans any self realization or objectivity. And they wonder about Joey meeting someone (female). I can’t imagine the woman who would find any of this manner or lack of is appealing. I try to maintain perspective because I do recognize the roots of most of the antisocial behavior. Even if it expresses its self differently than one may anticipate. I just don’t have the tolerance I usually do. In my current condition of convalescing from my injuries, makes me subject to the vagaries that define the lives of normal people. Due to the obvious singular quality of my life I have had to come to terms with the fact that I do not process anything in like manner as my peers. An before everyone thinks I am trying to sound all superior or some such, please note that I am continually making stupid mistakes principally due to my own naivety. We all have this aspect wherein we judge our circumstance and that of others from the pigeonhole perspective. Everyone else's view though differing from each other falls within a given area, or a few degrees of each other. Mine falls a extreme distance outside of what could be considered the norm. Nonetheless being very human I continue in the belief I perceive “reality” much as the other person from a similar understanding and values system. Invariably this attitude finds opportunity to smack me in my face by its differences. Each and every time I am recalled that, oh I knew better because I am fully aware of the differences and should have factored accordingly. Even now at this more venerable point in my life I find one of my biggest failings is naive belief in the character of my fellow man. Yet if my assertions as to my last day as are allotted to the sons of man be True. For the greater part I will be doing so for the entirety of Our Familial Aggregation. Even for those who seek only to cause me and those I Love and care about, harm or maliciousness. Because that is the way of things in our Creation. Soon enough the vile evil shall reveal itself, the kid gloves shall come off and life will never be this peaceful again. If it be the will of he who sent me I will seek to balance many scales of injustice. Till then I must endure and prepare as best I can.

Well enough complaining about friends who do their best given the circumstances. I appreciate all they have done on my behalf. Especially since to a large degree they grasp what potentially may be the cost. Even if in some small ways they may have been influenced by the same malicious or “Bees”, that seek to be the cause of my failure. For such is the nature of things in the abyss. Especially considering the length of time I have elected to spend wrapped in the confines of twisting throughout what we commonly refer to as “reality”. I generally feel more comfortable surrounded by its miasma and ickor than anywhere else. As much as it may appear to be a contradiction it ultimately is fact. Sigh!!!

For the time being I guess I will change the temporal focus of my entries. I can seldom stay focused on any particular time frame for an extended period. Doing so usually causes me to shift to the associated memories which become very visceral in nature. Soon it begins to become a tad overwhelming. All the more so once framed in relation to the present context. I sincerely hope that suffices and is remotely coherent. I am usually deconstructing my conceptual models and ideas into a form more acceptable to being understood. Sometimes I become lost in the process to the point I know what I mean despite the fact that the words and or syntax are nonsense. In conversation I sometimes have to stop and ask if what I have postulated or presented in the dialogue makes sense. I know it all made sense and sounded good in my head. Aaah but I can’t always presume to have effectively communicated the same.

Saturday July 14, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Well here it is the weekend, somewhere in Who-ville are working stiffs cheering at the arrival of the ritual with its time off. It has been interminably long since I have have lived a life so constrained as to include the simple Joy of a defined weekend of days off. Hell I am usually engrossed in my vocation daily. With my ever prevalent purpose always driving me. For the most part I have become unfit to be amongst civil company. Yes I am conversant. I am genial enough when in mixed groups. I tend to empathic of those around me. I genuinely give a damn as to the well being of others. Even so, the inescapable Truth is that the darkness is too imbued into my being. Because of the darkness of my spirit, I have become rolled into the ubiquitous abyss of our “reality”. Though it does not effect me quite the same as others its taint has woven into my fibers. Not being much of a liar I lack the necessary tools to hide it from general view.

Wednesday July 18, 2018  - Killeen, Texas

Well damn, I sometimes really get fucking frustrated.  At one level I am perpetually detached from the day to day focus and obsessions of everyone around me. I can’t bring my mind to focus on the general ideological concepts propagated by the geopolitical theater. Which resembles an episode of the moppet show as far as I what it appears. Are the offenses and injuries less or non-existent to my sympathies or moral indignation; not in the least. They still represent injustices and crimes which need to be effectively dealt with and hopefully the scales will balance. Even so, I just can not seem to get all worked up over these slight daily travesties. All the more so since I tend to view all these for what they are within the larger perspectives and plans of globalist / occultic families. Typical divide and conquer, or simple distractions from their primary objectives. I can appreciate everyone’s sentiments and attitudes that the scenarios of what is to come are not perceived as real or likely. Hell even I given enough distance and time begin to feel as though none of it is possibly factual. Except for the fact that I have lived a life associated to these eventualities. Even when I was in the thick of things all those involved would tell me bold faced lies as to what was occurring. As if to make me question the obvious, because the obvious Truth of the matter was outside any social norms. I guess there are those for a convenient lie is preferred to Truth too extreme to accept. I have been at this life, spending the majority of my existence living in the abyss. Which is everywhere, it co-exists with whatever social or cultural conventions occupying our realities of the moment.  It is ubiquitous yet invisible to all but those who have had the misfortune to have grown up in its mists, or the uninitiated. Due to my unique occular abilities I am sort of self initiated. It took me a little while to come to understand the meaning of this subset of our world. I have always seemed to rub against this sub culture, even as a child. A odd fact which has taken me many years to come to terms with it. Even then it was a process of educating myself to be able to grasp the entirety of the concepts. Though outrageous beyond belief, it is nonetheless part of a larger pool of knowledge I have fought long and hard to achieve. We are a phenomenal expression of life, even across the multiverse. For all our uniqueness, we are seemingly determined to trivialize who and what we are. More importantly the processes and manner whereby we are to accomplish our purpose “here”.  Truly phenomenal!!!

Yet I digress. I am simply getting on my soapbox, whipping the horse, so to speak. Grrrrr…

How best to convey some of the basics back into the discussions and open forums in our sea of opinions. A perplexing problem one that has vexed my soul for almost three decades. I suppose the real source of my reservations has principally revolved around my own reluctance to be centrist to any reintroduction in a general dialogue. Much to my consternation it is plain that to accomplish this and thereby facilitate me being able to keep my appointment in the future, I must find the where with all and means to personally become directly a part of our social dialogues. I can freely admit to my own megalomania. I try not to buy into it myself. I shan’t feed such feelings or Mali-adpted inclinations. What ever a person's tendencies, we fail our own interests in doing so. To the point of it becoming a all consuming psychosis. Our histories are replete with the villains who are consumed by base desires at the cost of all else. Not that such is my fear. Rather I prefer to do what I can from a position far from the limelight. We don’t always get to choose how best to accomplish our goals. My non-object oriented way of thinking I suppose. Aaagh, this is an area I would deeply desire some assistance. Not to mention the realities of presently being impoverished. I had best get used to my condition, I fear I shan’t know any other for some time to come. I guess I need to find the way and means to broadcast my ugly mug on to the internet. I guess I will start some YouTube type of series. I need to really get my act together!

Amazingly as we and our solar-system has traversed the apogee of its elliptical orbit with its sister star. This having occurred back in December 2012. We are now accelerating towards our sister star on the side closest to our Galactic Center. We will soon be re-entering the flows of Magick. They are part of the natural order of things. Think of it as a higher order of physics. We conveniently suppose a posture of superiority over some earlier more organic beliefs or systems of interactions within our realities. Although witchcraft, paganism, shamanism, and various other practices have been collectively maligned for associated practices related to satanistic practices (which Are very evil). In many such cases we have throughen the baby out with the bathwater. I am not trying to condemn nor make excuses, only to ask for a broader open review of these strangely different beliefs and practices.  Many times they are simply corrupted versions of our Judaeo-christian thought, beliefs and practices. Sometimes I even find missing pages of our religious histories amongst these. An to borrow a quote;  “We are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft.” - C. Lamb.

Friday July 19, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Now as to my disjointed quaint manner of writing, I am recalled of yet another quote from Webster’s,  “Prolix, Diffuse. A prolix writer delights in circumlocution, extended detail, and trifling particulars. A diffuse writer is fond of amplifying, and abounds in epithets, figures, illustrations. Diffuseness often arises from an exuberance of imagination; prolixity is generally connected with a want of it.” [1913 Webster].  As to which, my confused manner may be likened, I leave such determination to those who due to some pathological compulsions decide to continue on through the disjointed tediousness of my log.  Excuse my quoting, it but appears the best and most eloquent descriptive means external to my own critiques. Wherein Webster provides what I believe is a more accurate description of my loquacious manner and style of communication. Bleck, ugh…

On to more relevant matters. As I continue to play my game of catching up to the current state of affairs in my existence. Jumping back to around August last year, at the time I elected to take my leave of the Long Beach / Wilmington area of the LA Basin. The majority of occurrences I previously wrote down in a contemporaneous log as I walked out of LA ultimately reaching Salt Lake City, Utah. With a brief momentary stay in Las Vegas, Nevada. My mind aches at the memories from that time. Regardless, there may in the retelling be wisdom or beneficial information for myself or others. Sorry if some of this has a choppy feel to it. There are mountains of unresolved emotional context and histories, which continue to elicit extremes within me. I hate sounding apologetic from the get go. Not that any of the vacillating diminishes the importance of the material or what I endured.

In July of last year, my younger brother was arrested and placed in presumably Twin Towers downtown Los Angeles. It was involving drugs and a handgun. I saw him and the P.O.S. , earlier that night. I already knew there were going to be problems. Additionally I had been indirectly informed my situation was about to become difficult. No more niceness regarding my treatment, operational dictums were changed. Initially I was was acutely aware my younger brother was not in police custody. I figured he was being held some where on or around the federal facilities of Terminal Island in the Port of Long Beach. Later parts of my sight of his circumstances were confirmed to me, though the exact location never has been (foreshadowing). Sometime during the second week of his presumed incarceration. He digitally appeared in the system with the appropriate arrest date, and information. To this day I am not convinced of the terms and conditions accompanying this purely “staged” event. No doubt there were days he was in the Twin Towers facility. Anything else is highly suspect at best if not solely manipulated data for the purposes of the Op. Nonetheless, I was sorely put upon. Due to the determinate fact that whatever had previously as well as on going to date are the proximate results of his being “my brother”. I was aware my brother was not my brother. I later would describe the fact as, “my brother was murdered on the mesas of New Mexico 4 (5) years prior”. I freely declared the fact, even with my younger brother present. At the time of his arrest I had invested two years trying to awaken and heal his soul. During this ordeal, he was on goingly conditioned (subject to various satanic trauma assisted by ultra high technologies deployed by our Shadow Government for the purposes of mind control). I can not escape a degree of culpability. Many may seek succor in the belief that I was not responsible, nor the individual inflicting these horrors to my younger brother. I acknowledge the physical reality as being so. However the moral reality is that, We are our Brother's keeper. An for myself it has a immense literal quality. We are all part of Our Larger Familial Aggregation, what we do, say or do not effects all. While in my particular case, he is my younger brother – same Mother and Father. I have known what to expect from the future all my life. I have even attempted to convey this knowledge in abstract to my brothers. Granted I did Not know that in recent times the evil practitioners of these vile satanistic rites had made a huge technical breakthrough. It use to be, if an individual attained adulthood free of these practices or influences, then they would die free of its chains. Obviously a person could freely elect to cultivate any base desires or perverse inclinations. By “choice” being the operative mandate, those chained to the MPD / DID minds of victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) are forever robbed of any choice in the matter. Not even I can “set” them free or the chains forged in their infancy and childhoods. I can only unlock the gates and offer them the means to heal. The process is long and painful, requiring more years than anyone can live to hopefully heal. Sadly as each victim is considered chattel to the perspective heads of each “family”, who is in turn property of another. Hence there are functionally twelve Satanic Patriarchs seated at the heads of their “family”. Under Satanic Dogma they consider themselves “gods” of their worlds. According to their beliefs you exist as titled property, if not than you are of no consequence thereby you do Not exist. The worth of you and yours is less than the trash sent to the dump.

Sunday July 22, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Continuing with similar point of fact as discussed, it may all sound or would be considered linear, a straightforward affair. Appearing almost orderly, locked in some strange perverse dance. When it is anything but. Take into consideration the matter of succession. You might be inclined to infer that being Patriarchal, it is a matter of patrialinacal father to son. The reality is far from such Familial Sensibilities. Simply put, upon the death of the head of any household. He, who inherits is the male gains control of his clan by right of arms, or force. Basically if you are not yet feared enough to demand your seat as the heir to the estate. The one who rules does so because he has murdered and killed all the opposition by blood rite according to Antediluvian Law. Meaning you not only kill your opposition, the action is inclusive of all males of immediate consanguinal association. The wholesale murder also removes any potential blood retribution by those who possess an immediate claim to do so. Secondly it demonstrates to clan members at large the vicious response dissent will meet. Terror then substitutes conditioned context within their trauma-based mindset vicariously confirming that male's natural right to head that Family’s Branch of the Larger Familial Group. If you can remotely rationale order from such chaotic slaughter. You more than likely were raised under such paradigms, or your values are perversely twisted and I recommend you seek professional help from any school of thought practicing a highly structured value system, preferably based on some well established benevolent religion. Notice I qualify said using the word benevolent. Cause if you use the most liberal definition to the concepts of religion you could quietly slip satanism or luciferinism in as established religions. The distinctions are sufficient as to invite debate. One I feel is much a waste of time for all parties. Generally I ascribe it principally to a matter of semantics shackled to vastly differing modalities of operations defining values. Our time can be better spent educating ourselves up and out of overly cerebral arguments designed to trap us in artificial concepts posing as reality. A overwrought process favored by Academia in defense of entrenched theories dressed in the ideology we refer to as the “Scientific Model”.  Yes, I have great disdain for what passes for education and schools of higher learning. They have long since been co-oped into the problems they were meant to free us from being slaves. I will tuck that soapbox away now, thank you for your indulgence.

What is even more incredible is the fact that this insanity is governed by their own set laws and rules. They even have a court system with defined jurisprudence. Not any sort you or I could consider properly legal. Rather it is more a system to maintain the “status quo” based on traditions, precedence, along with a strange quasi religious tones from Antediluvian Laws. Even known lies are acceptable if left uncontested but those who have standing and recognized Familial context. Elsewise the stated lie will stand as fact, enforceable to the fullest extent to which the system can accommodate.

Now if you followed that loose explanation, allow me to attempt to give an overview of some of the semi-societal interactive relationship between myself and these psychopaths. Especially above the standing rank and file victims constituting the entirety of the Families. I have a singularly unique interactive connection to them, their Families, their politics, traditions, religious dogma, technologies of the Shadow Government, including possible contingencies for what is to come. It is a chaotic and confusing dynamic paradox. Perpetually in a state of change, in recent times there has been much difference of opinion concerning how to acknowledge or interact with me. Technically I am a nonentity, because I exist outside the direct consanguineous relationship, nor am I amenable to joining their point of view. I remain in opposition to them, their practices, beliefs to the extent of being fundamentally adversarial to “them”. It is worth noting I have been at this so long that everyone I know or deal with daily belongs to this subset of our society. Almost all my friends, associates, girlfriends or anyone else comes from some blood occultic families. Some even to what capacity they are able seek to support me in my efforts. I am alive today because some evil bastards simply decided not to do as they were instructed. Knowing full well the consequences for siding with me. Try to understand these individuals have lived corrupt malignant lives, they hate themselves but are forbidden to take their own lives. There is virtual nothing they can do to truly cause those over them to flip out or take offense. Yet they do recognize that my stumbling about is upsetting. Having run around everywhere doing what I do. I have always done so without a net, so to speak. It is a source of boarder line amazement, more particularly they think I am “bat-shit” crazy! Nonetheless I am still here. You may know people who collect body art, fashionably tattoos these days. I sometimes joke of my own collection of scars and injuries to my body. Thankfully I heal exceptionally well. Most of my scars heal to the point of being almost unnoticeable, if you did not know my histories. It is an exhausting hobby, painful too! A frequent refrain I hear while being admitted to the ER or ICU has been, “Mr Williams, you are very lucky to be alive”.  “Yeah Doc I hear that allot. Do the best you can.”.  It has become somewhat of a ongoing joke, amongst friends and family. These days those groups have become ultra thin. Another reason I make this record of events in my life including improved contemporaneous writings. We can all hope for such. Believe me if it was up to me, no one would know much if anything about me, or my life. I have been, or more correctly I have allowed myself to be forced into a dreadfully unpleasant set of circumstances, as I have whined concerning previously.

Okay Sherman set the way-back machine to the 80’s and 90’ of the last century. Seeing patterns across the country in the minds of crazy ass bitches, now I do Not mean that in a bad way. I have a immense affinity for beautiful crazy ladies. Now as I was saying, the imagery within their minds was too consistent to be coincidence. The language of our sub- conscience is imagery, archetypal, motifs, iconography, mythical, dreams, visions, will of the wisps and whimsy. I believe we all “see” much more of one another than we choose to accept. The largest hurdle to understanding is this compulsion to read or understand what we “see” before the picture is finished assembling in our minds. This tendency has been increasingly pushed into smaller and smaller bits. Which as a negative exponential inverse function has become more and more confusing as to be nigh meaningless with each subsequent reduction. Hence at a time when we should be more connected to everyone. We find increased feelings of isolation and alienation. No matter how much we communicate with our neighbors next door or abroad we have less consensus or feelings of commonality. We sequester these feeling with their accompanying anxieties, less we inadvertently offend anyone. Like what the Fuck! It is part and parcel of the Adult World. Being offended or offending others is how things get done. Usually for the best interests of everyone. Granted we should strive to be engaging to achieve our goals, short of violence or intimidation. Yet as any honest government would gladly concede. Once negotiations by normal means come to an impasse then comes negotiations by “other means”. The debased conduct of sordid persons is best met with our best foot forward, right up their ass! Like most animals, immediacy tends to be the most effective in correcting Mali-adpted conduct. Back to the horse I rode up on, hahaha.

At any rate, over the years I began to solve the underlying issues. I actually came to my own work arounds prior to fully grasping the centralized source or the impact of its implications. Years later I did begin to hear limited bits of information over the internet. Although it did take me a while before I started to correlate the “conspiracy theory” data with what I was “seeing” in women throughout the country.  Largely because few had any real coherent information. Eventually, information concerning Project MK Ultra and our government's Psy-Ops programs sufficiently surfaced to flesh out the details. As a child, young teenager I was familiar with the government’s LSD experiments for a variety of reasons, mind control being one aspect. Frankly I can not believe there are people today who do not know or refuse to believe that our government conducted such experimentation on the populace. It was just common knowledge in the circles I travel. If you read the Program Outline for MK Ultra it has an extensive list of lines of “study” information was to be explored, accumulated with a focus of deriving paradigms of control on individuals, groups, countries, cultures, and from that to the world at Large. The Globalist, New World Order, G-7, Trilateral Commission, Illuminati the individuals and their constantly shifting panorama of institutions and foundations are continually sifting beliefs and cultures in an multi-generational game of Three Card Molly. Degree by degree all the world’s various societies and Cultures have been manipulated via global misdirection with large quantities of restructuring of values and beliefs. Till everyone on Earth thinks good is bad; and bad is good. I should think we have all heard these arguments before, usually framed as the delusions of conspiracy theorist. All rather convenient as a means explaining away any descent or even an open fair discussion. Our social structure has drifted far from where we should be. Starting in 2020, everything is going to change and never be this pleasant or nice again. Well at least not till after the Second Coming. Hahaha, despite sounding …...

[rebelsofshield]

Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics 12/19/18

Charles Soule’s metaphysical finale to Darth Vader deservedly hogs the spotlight, but Marvel and IDW offer some fun comics as well. But seriously...Darth Vader? Holy crap.

Star Wars Adventures #16 written by Kevin Burke, Chris “Doc” Wyatt, and Michael Moreci and art by Valentina Pinto and Arianna Florean

It seems a bit odd to grant Kazuda Xiono and the setting of Star Wars Resistance the starring role in an issue of Adventures when we are still so early into understanding what this show can be and how these characters function, but regardless writers Kevin Burke and Chris “Doc” Wyatt craft an entertaining story that actually would have made for a rather fun episode of the new animated series.

Kazuda finds himself taking part in a race on the Colossus in order to intercept a transmission to the First Order that an on station informant plans to beam out. The plot that Kazuda finds himself in smartly blends the series’ espionage and racing subjects into a fun mix in a way that is actually stronger than the show itself at times. Kazuda keeps his fun and somewhat silly personality, but Wyatt and Burke offer him more than enough opportunities to demonstrate his piloting skills and smarts for spying that it avoids some of the awkward execution of some of Resistance’s own episodes.

Valentina Pinto’s artstyle also captures the feel of Resistance well with stylized character designs and vibrant coloring and shading. Racing sequences in particular, as in the show itself, are a standout and it makes for one of the most visually distinct installments of Adventures so far.

This proves to be the first time that the main story actually overshadows the “Flight of the Falcon“back up tale since this story began. The Clone Wars fans and bounty hunter enthusiasts are likely to be very appreciative of this installment’s guest star in cult favorite mercenary, Embo. Artist Arianna Florean captures Embo’s stoic presence with an appreciated level of attitude and his already stellar character design translates well here. It’s also more than a little nice to see what the old Kyuzo is up to in a new era of Star Wars history. However, the actual story that Embo spins is pretty inconsequential and an encounter with Lando Calrissian is a little too bumbling in its execution. It functions fine on its own, but it doesn’t reach some of the strange and fun heights of previously installments of this surprisingly creative feature.

Score: B+

Star Wars Darth Vader #25 written by Charles Soule and art by Giuseppe Camuncoli

Charles Soule’s Darth Vader saga is frequently cited as one of the best creations to come out of Marvel’s tenure over the Star Wars brand. Providing a glimpse into the very early days of the Empire, the teachings of the Sith, and the twisted psychology of the young Dark Lord, Soule and artist Giuseppe Camuncoli, who in some small miracle never missed a single installment out of 25 issues, have created a dark and fascinating tale that feels both bold and personal. There were high expectations for the final issue of this series but it is safe to say that results are as strange and horrific as one could have hoped for.

Last issue concluded with Vader defeating the resurrected Lord Momin and in the process opening the portal to dark netherworld of the Force. The final chapter of “Fortress Vader” begins with Vader stepping into this realm and letting go of his physical form.

One of the continual highlights of this series have been Giuseppe Camuncoli’s expressive and bizarre meditation sequences which depict Vader as an ethereal being carved from darkness and strands of light often awash in a stormy sea. Camuncoli takes this concept and expands upon it here into a full issue of otherworldly Dark Side soul searching.

Together both Camuncoli and Soule create a feeling that is not unlike that of the stellar episode of Star Wars Rebels, “A World Between Worlds.” As Vader traverses this landscape he becomes unmoored from time and space and past, present, and future begin to blend together. Soule captures a similar feeling that Dave Filoni and crew did in Rebels by filling this world with quotes from various points in the saga which highlight not only plot points but Vader’s psychology and some of the central themes of the story. In the process, Soule and Camuncoli create an unprecedented deep dive into the famous Sith Lord’s inner landscape and hint at both controversial points of lore as well as more personal topics such as who Vader/Anakin’s real father figure was.

In a smart move though, Soule knows when to dial it back. We are given glimpses and images to interpret but are never told how Darth Vader feels or even how we should feel about him. The level of mystery and malevolent stoicism that has always remained an iconic part of the character remains intact and in the process the issue accomplishes its goal and then some.

“Fortress Vader” proves to be not only a more than fitting finale to a rather great comic series, but also one of the better Star Wars stories told in recent years. It provides action, dark humor, and strange new Force lore, but it never loses sight of the tragic and destructive character at its center.

Score: A+

Solo: A Star Wars Story #3 written by Robbie Thompson and art by Will Sliney

At this point, it’s pretty clear what we can expect from Marvel’s adaptation of Solo: A Star Wars Story. Will Sliney’s pencils and layouts are detailed and creatively translate and block the film’s moments, big and small, and Robbie Thompson’s script continues to delve deeper into the characters.

In particular, Qi’Ra shines here. In an inspired move, Thompson begins the issue with a single page montage of her being sold into Crimson Dawn’s ownership and tutorship by Dryden Vos. The result provides a more nuanced look at Qi’Ra’s character. The film version of the narrative played the level of Qi’Ra’s loyalty or fluid morality close to the chest until its final moments, but Thompson takes the opposite approach. The issue’s start is jarring and effective and immediately makes us recontextualize her character and motivations. It gives certain moments of film lifted dialogue additional weight and meaning and turns Qi’Ra into a more enigmatic force in the process. It shows again how Thompson isn’t merely content to translate, but reinterpret moments of the film and that’s a welcome change up from many of Marvel’s other film adaptations.

That being said, some portions aren’t as successful. One of the standout moments in the film version of Solo is the famous Sabacc match between Han and Lando. For many, myself included, this is the moment in the film where Alden Ehrenreich really came into his own as the title character and Donald Glover’s Lando is still a pure delight to watch. While Thompson and Sliney do a competent enough job in staging this moment, much of the energy and spark of the original sequence is absent.

All in all though, Thompson and Sliney are still producing a more than solid adaptation of this year’s Star Wars film.

Score: B

[dalekofchaos]

Why I always choose to Save Chloe and Sacrifice Arcadia Bay

Chloe Price died sad frustrated and alone on a cold bathroom floor feeling unloved and abandoned. Rachel is missing and she has no chance of finding her. David emotionally, mentally and physically abuses her and Joyce normalizes it and her house is under surveillance without her knowledge. She is in debt to Frank who would most likely kill her if Nathan didn’t do so.  Chloe had no knowledge that Max loves her or that she loves Max or what happened to Rachel and she had a really bad life and apparently it's destiny that she has to die in two universes.

Everything from Farewell, Before The Storm and Life Is Strange suggests saving Chloe is the right choice. Why all the build up if we choose to let Chloe die depressed, broken and alone with no memory of Max and no knowledge with what happens to Rachel. Chloe did not lose William and Rachel so she can die alone. A town can be rebuilt, but you can’t build another Chloe

Makes more sense from a story perspective anyway, since it becomes a story about accepting consequences rather than Learning A Lesson and undoing the growth that both characters went through

Stop Oh Me’s video

There are survivors in the Sacrifice Arcadia Bay ending.  Joyce, Warren, Frank, David and Kate. If you look closely, when Chloe and Max drive through the town, you can see, that the Diner still stands. It does not seem to be destroyed which means that all the people inside must have survived and should be safe and sound. David  stayed in the Bunker with Jefferson. Nothing destroys that bloody bunker, especially as it is said “seems like someone is preparing for the apocalypse”. Therefore, it is pretty obvious that David should also be alive.  Kate is in a hospital. Hospitals are heavily fortified, so there is a good chance that Kate is alive! Blackwell probably has some sort of cellar or spaces of electricity with thick walls, that cannot be destroyed easily. And I can totally imagine Samuel and Mrs. Grant doing their best to bring all the students into a save spot somewhere at school which would save all of them. But I assume Nathan died before the storm even happens, so sadly instead of getting the help he needed, Nathan is the last victim of Jefferson

Save Chloe and have her story be one of a girl who was abandoned by everyone she loved and had resigned to a life of pain and solitude, until the one person most precious to her returned and proved to her, again and again, that she is important, cherished, and worth the world. you can have her be a character who suffered and prevailed and survived until she was finally shown the greatest measure of love a human could possibly give, freed of the town that tormented her, and given a chance at a future with the person she loves.

We only got the endings we got because DONTNOD ran out of time and budget  The only reason why the storm stopped in save Arcadia Bay ending is because DONTNOD ran out of time and came up with the laziest excuse on why the storm is happening, like never mind all the shit the Prescott Foundation is doing to Arcadia Bay, nevermind that there was a huge spiritual presence which would explain why Max has rewind powers and there was a plan to make Sean a more important character in episode 5. The plan was The Prescotts knew about the storm, Nathan kept saying the storm was coming in cut audio and audio that suggests Sean was making him take the drugs to stop him from saying anything and guess what? Jefferson's drugs stop Max's powers. So the drugs stop the powers. But anyways the plan was this. The Prescotts wanted the storm to come, they had a lot of bomb shelters and the one we visit is called "stormbreaker" and Sean's motive would be for the storm to wipe out Arcadia Bay and move everyone into Pan Estates. The only reason that didn't happen is because they ran out of time and came of with the laziest excuse on why the storm happened.

This convo and post by @tangent101  Max retraces her steps and shreds the photo and the butterfly still appears. Which means that the photograph Max could potentially use to let Chloe be shot would be one in which she already saw her die and time traveled. The Storm Will Happen In The Chloe Dies Timeline. Jefferson revealed that shooting Chloe doesn’t stop the Storm. Arcadia Bay… is doomed. So save Chloe. It’s worth noting that every time Max gets a vision of the tornado (with the exception of the time at the art gallery), Chloe is somewhere nearby. We also know that Chloe is somehow connected with the nightmare dimension where Max gets lost in Episode 5. Even if we don’t consider Chloe’s multiple trips to that place in BTS, it clearly functions in a similar manner to the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks. From this, we can extrapolate that it has something to do with Max’s powers. Consider this: rather than triggering some unknown domino effect that somehow leads to snow, an eclipse, dead animals, and a tornado, Max’s powers are somehow draining energy from the prime reality of her world, and depositing it into this parallel dimension, which is invading her world using Chloe as its focal point for reasons unknown. This explains why Chloe’s fate is treated as such a lynchpin. It also explains why, as Max further uses her powers, reality starts breaking apart, like a video tape that’s been rewound too many times. Rachel fits into this too: she has a clear spiritual connection to Arcadia Bay, as evidenced by how her ghost lingers in the form of a doe that guides Max to the truth and to safety in the lighthouse. We also learn from the fisherman that the fish in the bay started dying well before Max got her powers, due to the negative influence of the Prescotts. Given her connection to nature, Rachel’s death may have triggered some sort of environmental decay. Even discounting her clear empathic connection with the forest fire from BTS, Chloe theorizes that the tornado might be “Rachel’s revenge” on a town that took everything from her. But she wanted Chloe to be safe, and so showed her and Max the way. So ultimately Max’s powers are kind of incidental to Chloe’s fate, if we look beyond the simple explanation given to us by the game and start examining the metaphysics. Sacrificing Arcadia Bay makes more sense from a story perspective anyway, since it becomes a story about accepting consequences rather than Learning A Lesson and undoing the growth that both characters went through. Max had the first nightmare sequence while in class. Chloe is not yet at the school and probably is driving there for her meeting with Nathan. After all, Chloe has a reason to avoid the school (her step-father) until the last possible moment to try and avoid being caught. And the nightmare is before the time travel happens unless you were to believe (as I do) that Life is Strange is in fact a time loop, and by not being with Chloe on the side of the cliff (or in LA) she is destined to nearly get killed and reloop to Monday. In fact, the second Tornado Dream Sequence has Max nearly killed by the ship slamming into the lighthouse, suggesting that being there on her own will get her killed. I’m not sure about Chloe’s connection with the nightmares though. As I’ve said before, I think Max is in a time loop. These “flashes” are brief memories of past times she went through this week. Also, as you pointed out, she has the nightmare glimpse of the Storm while in LA. Why would she have a nightmare of the Storm when a thousand miles away from Chloe? So I’m not quite sure if Chloe is associated with the nightmares so much as in helping Max get past them. Second, consider this: what happens if Max died in the Dark Room? If David Madsen slipped in the mud, then he could have been 5 seconds later getting into the Dark Room at which point Max is drugged (probably fatally so), Mark Jefferson knocks out and then kills Madsen, and the town is destroyed. Chloe is already dead by Jefferson’s hands. There would be no point as to the destruction of Arcadia Bay and yet it will happen anyway. If someone were to claim this is all predestination, that Max was supposed to survive so she could somehow end up getting to Warren’s picture… well, the choice at the end disproves Predestination because Max can choose to let Arcadia Bay be destroyed. the song “Spanish Sahara” used for what so many folk call “the good ending” is… well, here’s a line from his article: the whole song is like, getting over a trauma, but the trauma doesn’t go away and it multiplies from one into a bunch of furies…. The song is about trauma and things getting worse. And let’s pretend that there isn’t a tornado. If Nathan shoots Chloe, well, he’s a rich white boy, she’s a poor drug-user who tried to blackmail him. Nathan’s father is ruthless, has the police in his pocket, and lawyers up. Nathan walks. If there are problems with the warrant to check out the Dark Room then Jefferson walks. (If one of the cops who are in the Prescott pocket calls Nathan’s dad and he clears out the Dark Room of incriminating evidence before the cops get a warrant, then again: Jefferson walks, as does Nathan.) Add in funeral costs to the Madsen-Price household being over $4,000 behind in their mortgage (and that bill being over a month old) and the house gets foreclosed upon and Joyce and David thrown out. Joyce and David’s marriage likely falls apart. Kate’s video is already out in the wild and her mother has already contacted her, as has her aunt. She gets pulled out of school and is back under the repression of her mother and aunt… and probably takes her life quietly months later. Max is seeing nothing good happening from saving Arcadia Bay. She probably even hears people bad-talking Chloe as being a bad sort and trying to blackmail that poor Nathan Prescott lad… and has to cope with everything she went through (essentially rape) that she can’t tell anyone about. If she hears that Kate kills herself… what does she have left? It is my personal view that the Storm will happen anyway. The Storm is not about Chloe having to die at a specific point in space-time. If that was the case, then why does Max get time travel abilities to begin with? That’s the biggest question of all, and one that sadly has not been answered. It could be this. Rachel is reaching out from beyond the grave, using the one other person who truly loves Chloe to act as her sword and ensure Chloe Price at least escapes Arcadia Bay.

[miaobae]

Can’t sleep yet so here’s how that thing I’ve been trying has been going:

A little over two weeks ago I stopped taking my anti-anxiety and antidepressants, cold. I know this is advised against and I agree, in the best circumstance I should have consulted my primary care physician. Unfortunately, being unemployed means also being uninsured. But wait! -- You say -- Isn’t your gf an actual doctor? Why yes, yes she is. She is also my girlfriend, which means she’s biased. There’s no way she would have approved of me stopping my medication, because she’d be too worried that my mental state would continue to deteriorate. Understandably so, but my body had told me, screamed at me, that I needed to stop taking those pills. This was after MONTHS of feeling extremely anxious and depressed despite taking my pills. They weren’t fulfilling their purpose and the side effects were only worsening my condition. 

To explain my mindset: I almost died a few years ago because I ignored my body’s warning signs and fastidiously took a prescribed antibiotics instead, because everyone around me assured me that they would eventually kill the illness causing me agony. Surprise, it didn’t. My body rejected the antibiotics and almost killed me in an attempt to rid my system of them. In this instance (antidepressants) my body wasn’t having an extreme adverse reaction to my prescription, however the pills were no longer providing my any relief. They had been. They had saved my life last year. Showed me what it was like to be a better version of myself. I needed those pills without a doubt. But somewhere along the way that changed. 

The withdrawal was fairly mild. And the change in my attitude was almost immediate. I don’t think my girlfriend has noticed because she had the flu for one week and has been super busy this week. But I’ve noticed. My libido is suddenly alive again. I have more energy to focus on chores and things I enjoy. I’m remembering things I enjoy! I am almost tempted to try and make friends and be social! I’m no longer feeling bloated and can see that my metabolism is returning to what it used to be. Things are improving. And on a more metaphysical note, I feel my magic waking up again. I feel more in-tune with it. Good things are finally finding their way to me again. 

Now this post isn’t meant to say “Oh pills are bad screw them.” As I mentioned before, these pills saved me from myself. They taught me I could survive being stronger. They helped me hang on and see myself in a new light. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t reached out for help and started my regiment. But I was clinging onto them out of fear. I reached a threshold where they were no longer providing any physical benefit to me, but I was afraid of who I would become without them. 

I got really lucky. My body was right in telling me to stop them. I’ve still got pills leftover and I’m going to save them just incase I need them again and don’t have health insurance.

I’m not suddenly perfect. I can still feel devastated for an entire day if someone says something hurtful to me. I still nap out of sheer boredom. I am still an isolated creature who interacts with animals 95% more than people. But I’m making progress. I can do things I was NEVER able to before. On my own. And getting rid of the unwanted side-effects of the pills will remedy a lot of problems I’ve been having in my personal life. 

All I need now is a job. Let’s hope the luck is in my favor.

[skeletonsonline]

Collective Consciousness in Art

So, as crazy as it may sound, I’m pretty confident in saying that artist Allyson Grey and the original creative team of “Digimon Adventure” unknowingly pulled inspiration from the same place within the collective consciousness. 

This is a very common phenomenon, and explains why many writers/creators will create stories with similar premises all at the same time, without ever being consciously aware of each other’s work. I’m not talking about the “Simpson Did It” concept, where creators take inspiration (or out right copy/recreate) preexisting work, though occasionally that is a result of this phenomenon as well. But essentially, it’s the concept that ideas have agency, even more so than humans do, and humans all have access to this collective space of thoughts and inspiration hidden in their subconscious mind. Like a back door that most people don’t know how to open, but constantly opens from the other side, letting ideas from somewhere else settle in. In religious text, we call this Divine Inspiration. Sometimes a particular idea wants to manifest in the physical world, so they start in the minds of artists with intent to spread across the globe as a meme (internet memes being a recent example of the term, but not the original or full intention of the meaning, as explained here - wikipedia article ). With this in mind, I think it’s only natural to assume that the idea would originate in multiple hosts, each adding their own personal spin or interpretation of the idea into their work. This increasing the meme’s ability to spread, especially since artists don’t always act on every instance of inspiration they receive. 

Here is but one example that I like, Allyson Grey’s Scared Alphabet, and the Digimon Alphabet that was first majorly seen in the episode “Kabuterimon's Electro Shocker” (season 1, episode 5). Allyson Grey’s art is pure spiritual expression, and while it’s clear to me that most/all popular media is created with esoteric symbols for various purposes, I find Digimon to be a highlight of that - maybe i’ll discuss why later. 

Haha, don’t tell me that Izzy didn’t just wonder into Allyson Grey’s own sacred space in this scene. Allyson describe’s her work as a sort of sacred language, and while Digimon now has an established and translatable alphabet, the similarities are hard to ignore, for me at least. Izzy even demonstrates that tampering with letters inside this room effects the entire factory the room is located in, a metaphor to show how language shapes our entire reality on both a conscious level of communication, as well as a subconscious level of audio and vibrations. This is also described in the Bible- John 1:1 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

Anyways, I don’t really know where i was going with this post, I just think it’s cool that one of my favorite artists and one of my favorite childhood cartoons have a spiritual connection that will probably never be known by any of them.

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