#that whole brief period is still insane

[vampiricgf]

i do still dearly love bg3 it just sucks that fandom is spearheaded by some of the most hateful fucking demons ive ever had the displeasure of interacting with

[rainylana]

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds out that you self harm.

warnings: reader self harms and is severely depressed, undertones of poor eating habits but very brief, language, lots of tears, blood, angst to the max, mentions of periods.

a/n: this is the longest that i’ve posted yet since getting back into writing and i’m super happy with how it turned out! it is a sensitive topic so it won’t be for everyone. this is dedicated to all the ones who can relate to this fic. i hope you all have an eddie in times when it gets too much. please let me know what you think. it means the world and more than you can imagine.

You knew that what you did was not healthy. You knew it was sick and messed up. You knew that if anyone found out, they’d think that you were insane. The scars you gave yourself had no real reason to be there. You blamed yourself for that. You didn’t know how to deal with your issues any other way. The moment you were alone you’d drift off to the bathroom, turn the shower on and begin your twisted ritual of self abrasions.

Life for you was difficult, but still, marking your self up was no excuse. You had tried to quiet, of course. Many times you had, but it was a habit you could not break. You were too used to doing it. It was an everyday thing. It was like breathing. You breath to live. You can’t not just breath. So for you, cutting yourself was like breathing. You didn’t think you could stop. It helped you deal with your pain.

If you’d have known what the evening was going to hold for you, you would have slit your throat the moment you woke up.

Darkness clouded your mind. Sitting in class, the fog you knew well was storming your brain cells, making everything else fuzzy and hard to understand. Everyone looked blurry, their faces funny and distorted. They sounded odd. Your heart ached and sunk into the pit of your stomach like it always did. You had no way of explaining what this feeling was and what it meant, but you didn’t like it at all. Once it got you, it had you.

You didn’t try to share any of this with Eddie. You didn’t want him to know how much you struggled. Scaring him away was your worst fear. It was why you never let him see the tops of your thighs. Sex was always under the covers. Lights off. Eddie didn’t complain of course. To him, sex was sex.

And god, did you love him. You loved him with your whole heart and soul. You’d be devastated if he knew your secret. It felt awful to bare, this huge burden you carried on your shoulders. You wondered if any of your other classmates shared it too. There was a darkness in your heart that was eating you alive.

“Babe,” A warm, thick hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you from sinking to the bottom of the pool you were drowning in.

“Huh?” You said a little louder than you’d realized, blinking rapidly as your vision spun around the room. “What?”

You turned around in your seat to find Eddie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You good?” He whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve been staring at the floor for fifteen minutes.” Your class wasn’t even doing anything important. You had a sub, so everyone was doing their own studying or reading. Eddie had been talking to you until you drifted off.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with a swallow, grabbing his hand that still laid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Just checking on my girl.” He gave you a wink that made you blush. “You coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” You whispered with a fake smile, exhaustion taking over. He could see the way your lips had faltered. You turned back around and laid your head on your desk, arms being your pillow.

Eddie stared at you.

He might not have been the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knew you weren’t the happiest girl in the world. He knew you were sad and weren’t telling him about it. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to pressure you into it, but still, he was worried about you. He wished for one night that they both could talk about you instead of his problems for a change.

Maybe tonight could be the night.

•

You must’ve gotten your period, he figured. Here it was four o’clock in the morning, and for some reason he couldn’t sleep. He had gotten up to get a glass of water but stopped when he’d seen blood seeping through the tops of your sweatpants, the blankets kicked down below your feet.

“Babe,” He said groggily, giving your shoulder a light shake. “Y/n, wake up.”

You hummed back asleep.

“Y/n, I think you got your period,” He rubbed his eyes, leaning over you to switch on the light. “You’re bleeding.”

That woke you up. “Huh?” Your eyes went wide and you sat up. “Oh,” You gasped upon seeing the red leaks of blood seeping from your sweatpants. An inhumane shock of terror left your throat and you leapt from the bed to disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Eddie, thinking it was your period, thought it was a little funny, even if he was exhausted. He got up and followed you to the door. “Baby, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll get some new sheets from the closet, alright? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You didn’t respond. He waited for a moment to see if you would. He even knocked a few times before giving up and switching out the sheets on the bed. In fact, he did a lot before you actually came out. He changed the bed entirely, knocking again until you muttered a shaky response that you’d be out soon. He bit his thumb nail and paced for another five minutes before he went out for a smoke. He remained seated on the bed when you finally came out.

When he saw you, he knew something was deeply wrong. Your face was white and you were visibly shaken. Your face was stained with dried tears, your eyes bloodshot. Your heart felt like it was broken. This was too close. Nobody had ever gotten this close of finding out. The idea of him knowing made you feel sick. It was your burden and yours alone. It was yours. As sick as it was, it was who you were. Who were you if you didn’t do this? You were so used to it. It was routine for you. Half of the time you did it just to….well, just to do it, to feel something. You were addicted.

“Y/n,” Eddie glanced you over. “what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He stepped toward you, grabbing your elbows lightly. “Hey,”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.” You dismissed, now wearing a pair of dark leggings.

“Wait— babe, you’re crying,” He followed you to the bed, watching as you fixed the blanket over yourself. “Are you sick?”

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” You adjusted your pillow, your body shutting down into survival mode. You needed the situation to be dismissed, shut down. “I’m sorry about the blood, was just my period.”

He sat down on the bed by your thighs. “Don’t be sorry bout’ that, honey. Just want to make sure you’re alright. You need anything? You want some water or something?”

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You stressed, laying down and turning your back to him. “Just forget about it, please.” Your voice broke.

He absolutely did not want to forget about it, not with the way you were trying not to cry. He sat there in the same spot for almost three minutes, eyes glued to your cheek. “Y/n,” He said again. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You groaned into the pillow. “Damnit, Eddie, lay down!”

“See, I know you,” He shook his head. “You would never be this bothered over your period. Hell, last month you chased me around with your tampon!” He said bewildered, chuckling slightly. “Something else is wrong and you’re not telling me, and when something makes my girl cry, I want to know what it is, so tell me what’s got you so worked up, huh?”

You let out a sob and curled into yourself. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. God, you were so stupid. You shouldn’t have cut so deep.

“Baby,” Eddie frowned, leaning down to lay his torso on you, his chin laying on your shoulder so he could look at you. “Did I hurt your feelings today? Did I say something?”

“No.” You cried into your pillow. “No, Eddie, it’s not you. I promise, it isn’t you.”

He thought maybe he should just drop it, let you go to sleep and maybe it would be okay in the morning, but you were still crying, little puffs and pouts here and there. He couldn’t just dismiss that.

“It’s me.” You found yourself saying, out of the blue.

“What?” He missed what you had said. “I can’t hear you, honey.” He strained his ears to hear you.

“It’s fucking me!” You sobbed into your pillow, chest heaving with a heavy breath that made him jolt. “I’m the fucking problem!”

He had no idea why you were so upset. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped harshly. “Y/n,” He cooed, shushing you gently. He scooted closer, holding you tighter to place a kiss on your temple. “I’m here, baby. Shh, shh, I’m here.”

You let go, sobbing in his arms and into your wet pillow, you broke down in sobs. Most of it was just because you were purely exhausted and you were emotionally drained, depressed. This week you were in a deeper funk than what you’ve normally been in. You hadn’t been eating properly to start. Your showers consisted of laying on the floor and imaging yourself drowning. The idea of Eddie knowing your secret made you want to die, yet you spoke anyway.

“I’m so sad.” You whimpered while Eddie rocked you in his arms, his hands stroking your hair.

He’d thought maybe you’d fallen asleep. You’d been quiet for several minutes. “Why, baby?” He kissed your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You thought, a crinkle in your nose as you tried to reason why you felt the way you did. “Something is wrong with me, Eddie.”

You were starting to scare him. He’d never heard you talk like this before. He swallowed hard, batting his eyes across the room like his answers were a poster on the wall. “Y/n, if you tell me maybe I can help you.”

God, was help possible? Could you stop? Did you even want to? Who were you if you didn’t have that one constant in your life?

The idea brought on a wave of fresh tears, your lips turning down in a blubbering frown. “You’ll think I’m disgusting.” Your back shook against his broad, bare chest. “You won’t— you won’t ever look at me the same. You’ll think…fuck, you’ll think I’m disgusting.” You sobbed broken-hearted.

Eddie started at your face, features masked in concern. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better, and his mind was flashing the worst things that could’ve made you so upset, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Sweetheart, I promise whatever you think I’m going to say or do isn’t true.” He leaned over to wipe a tear. “I’m going to love you no matter what you say. That’s how this works, remember? Please, baby, tell me. You’re worrying me.”

Guilt made your heart pound. You let out a long mewl, curling up like a cat so you could cry. Eddie still didn’t let you go. This was your nightmare, yet you, yourself, were making it come true.

“I didn’t get my period.” You said with wet lashes.

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes down at you.

You let out a sob, holding a hand to your stomach. “I mean, I- fuck, I didn’t get my..my- period!” You hyperventilated through your breath.

“Shh, calm down, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” He soothed you, rubbing your arms. “Come on, sit up with me.” He gently lifted you by the torso, your hair cascading down your back. You looked like a scared little girl. Your eyes were wet and your face was soaked like you’d been laying in the rain. Eddie sighed, his mouth in a frown as he tried to help you.

“Breath, honey,” He fixed your hair, smoothing it down in rough places.

“I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, grabbing his hands tightly, squeezing them.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Just want you to tell me what’s got you so upset. What is it that you want to tell me?” He knew whatever it was, you wanted to tell him. And deep down, you did. Maybe that was why you couldn’t shut the hell up.

“I’m so scared.” You shuttered a breath. “I’m so scared that you’ll…what you’ll think of me.”

His heart was beating loud in his chest. “You said that you didn’t get your period,” He tried to question you gently. “What does that mean?”

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to just let it all go within a blink of an eye? Truthfully, yeah. Yeah, you did. You couldn’t do it anymore. At least not alone.

You sat up slightly, fingertips grabbing the waistband of your sweats as you tugged them down to your knees. You didn’t look at him as you sank back down to sit on your ankles.

“I cut too deep.” You wept, staring down at your thighs. It was your canvas, your target area. They were scared on every inch. Some white and faded with age, some angry and red.

When Eddie saw them, it connected all dots instantly. His eyes widened in horror at your legs. They looked absolutely terrifying. He couldn’t help let out a gasp. “Oh, god, y/n,”

His large palms ghosted over them, and he leaned down so he could examine them closer. “Jesus,” His own eyes blurred with tears, his bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“I know,” You shook your head shamefully. “I know, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” You lifted your head up as you shuttered out a tearful breath. “I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. It’s the only thing that helps me.”

“God, y/n,” He traced your scars with his fingertips, jaw fallen slack in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You bawled. “I’m so…I don’t know, I’m just- just- so miserable and it’s the only thing that seems to help. I’m just so used to doing it and I don’t think I can stop!” You blubbered, snot dripping onto your cupid’s bow and dipping into your lip.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, baby, come here.” He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You crawled to him immediately. He cradled your back as you threw your legs around his waist, your chests flush together in a bear hug. You sobbed into his shoulder, his kisses peppering your neck. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated.

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Your body wracked with moans and groans of heartbreak, but you couldn’t deny the amount of relief that left your soul. It finally wasn’t alone on your shoulders. “God, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Eddie hushed you. “You have nothing, nothing at all to be sorry about. I should be apologizing. I should have realized. I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Your voice muffled against his skin. “I don’t even know why I’m sad I just- I just am! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Stop saying that.” He held the back of your head with his palm. “How you feel is perfectly understandable. I’m glad you told me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone, but I’m right here now, okay? I’m gonna help you through this. I’m gonna help you rise above this because you’re so strong and you don’t even realize it. But you’re my girl and I know.” He rocked you in his arms, cradled you like a baby as you cried. “I know, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you honey.”

“Please, help me.” You fisted his curls, your chest hollow, yet heavy with emotion. “I need help.”

He nodded, whispering soothing words of encouragement as he fought off a wave of tears. “You can get past this. I did.”

You pulled away, your face an absolute mess. Red, snotty and tearful. Your lips pulled down in the deepest of frowns. “Oh, Eddie,”

He turned his elbow in a 90 degree angle, and angle you’ve never exactly examined, and cried when you saw the faded white scars. You went right back to his chest, holding him like a teddy bear. “Oh, Eddie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He held you close and kissed your shoulder, allowing one singular tear to spill that you didn’t have to see. He stopped when he met you. You were his saving grace. He’d be sure and do the same for you. His angel baby.

[floatingcatacombs]

Go Nagai was insane for this one

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 8

I like to always have manga of dubious quality on tap for when I’m having trouble sleeping. Ideally, reading a few chapters will distract me, but I won’t want to stay up late shotgunning volumes. Devilman Lady was the ideal manga for this, and this is maybe the last time anyone will ever describe Devilman Lady as "ideal".

An extremely brief introduction is in order. If Osamu Tezuka is the godfather of manga, then Go Nagai is manga’s weird horny uncle. He’s arguably just as influential, the two of them just moved in different circles, each reifying entire genres. Nagai is more or less responsible for magical girls, super robot, and ecchi, and also spent a lot of time in the sphere of supernatural and post-apocalyptic manga. These are fundamentally genres of extremity and ridiculousness, and Nagai dials every one of his works up to 11 by the end, one way or another. Devilman is probably his most famous work over here, and it’s a stone-cold classic for a reason. Nagai has kept revisiting it over the years, with side stories, alternate universes, manga cameos, and even entirely new series that function as stealth sequels such as Violence Jack. But his most notable attempt is Devilman Lady, which is far more than a simple gender-swap of the original.

Devilman Lady is about swimming deep in filth. It’s easily the most disgust-provoking manga I’ve read, with pretty much every content warning under the sun applicable. This is a truly rotten and conspiratorial world that Nagai is depicting. Societal decay manifests in countless forms, including rape, child abuse, homophobia, militarism, and hatred towards immigrants. Anything that could be potentially understood as fanservice is placed right next to or directly within the atrocities at hand, and it's genuinely unclear how much Nagai intended that as commentary. His intentions throughout this whole manga are a bit of an enigma, but what's clear that he is firing on all cylinders.

This is an extremely zeitgeisty 90’s work, with intelligent design debates, the mapping of the human genome, new age paranoia, religious zealotry, and anxiety over pollution all playing out on the pages. Where it breaks from many of its contemporaries is a decisive rejection of the end of history. This is the kind of thing you write when you’re still reeling from the subway sarin gas attacks and your country's role in the Gulf War and subsequent militarization. It’s the perfect manga for capturing a time period when ten to twenty percent of Japan’s population were estimated to have belonged to a new religious movement.

The punchline to all of this is that he doesn’t know how to draw women.

By the back half of Devilman Lady, Nagai’s depictions of hellscapes and grotesque monsters reach near-Berserk levels of detail and technical competency. And yet his female protagonists are still drawn in a drastically simpler 70's style, only now with giant spheres grafted to their chests. Either humans and the infernal are two completely different skillsets, or this was a deliberate artistic decision, and both are difficult to swallow. Either way, we just have to accept the juxtapositions.

one of my favorite pages to show people devoid of context

The finale is just nuts. Go Nagai makes textual the homoeroticism and gender deviance of the original Devilman manga, as the world burns in both nuclear warfare and demonic hellfire. The story starts accelerating at an unfathomable pace, the most inscrutable double mobius reacharound yaoiyuri occurs, and the universe resets once or twice. It makes the endings of Jojo Part 6 and 7 look tame by comparison. There is no way to parse this like a normal manga with a plot and narrative. It is raw id.

This has been a year where I’ve tried to deliberately broaden my comfort zone by engaging with more potentially upsetting works if I think they'll have something interesting to say. This was like jumping into the deep end. Devilman Lady may very well be Go Nagai’s magnum opus. It’s not nearly as tight as the original manga, but it’s a glorious mess, just as radical to its own time as Devilman must have been in the 70s. It made for spectacular insomnia reading. And there’s no way in hell I can ever recommend it.

At age 19, Nagai went through a bout of diarrhea so bad that he convinced himself it was colon cancer, and that he was at death's door. He vowed to leave something behind for the world to remember him by, and began laboring away on manga. And for the last 60 years of his career, he’s written and drawn with the fervor of a man who’s about to shit himself to death. Maybe that’s the real secret.

[skele-bunny]

Purrs. (CW)

CW: Mild description of burns, death, and spine breakage

Characters: Dewdrop, (minor) Aether, (minor) Special

A little gift for @chapel-of-rizztual based on this ask. It's short but I feel like short is perfect for it 👉👈 Divider by the lovely @wrathofrats !

Read it under the cut or on AO3!

The rhythmic sound of beeping, the occasional hiss of an oxygen tank, and that dreaded alarm that went off if Dew even dared to think about lifting his arm was driving the newly fire ghoul insane.

Eyes scanned over the white walls with an equally white ceiling, and even more disgustingly white floor. It was nauseating to see nothing but white, the only form of color coming from his body and the machinery around. Special had rolled a TV in for Dew once he woke up, carefully whispering when he'd turn it on, keeping the volume low. Dewdrop always loved stupid human game shows, seeing their ridiculous reactions to answers, always with his pack and shouting answers. But even now, he hates it. He hated everything.

Looking down at his body, Dew whined as his hands shook for no reason in particular, if he ignored the third degree burns and severe trauma his whole body went through. Dying twice and one being his spine snapping should've counted as a reason to shake. He flexed his fingers as they began to tingle, looking over to his side and seeing the flash of his morphine administrator, signifying it was dispensing. He squeezed his eyes shut as there was a brief period he'd feel his body again, groaning as his skin suddenly felt too dry–uncanny to his own self.

Tears rolled down Dew's charred cheeks, eyes rolling back as the pain hit him all at once. The once water ghoul sobbed, only for more pain to erupt as his throat rejected any activity, his gills desperately trying to open as he felt he couldn't breathe. He could hear the hiss of oxygen as it gave more. His shoulders began to bounce as he sobbed quietly, fingers digging into the blanket covering what was left of him.

This wasn't survivable. Dew knew eventually he'd close his eyes and wouldn't wake up. A part of him wanted that, and it only amplified when this pain came.

Dew felt like his chest hollowed as he gasped for more air, his claws kneading and releasing to try and ease himself, desperate to ground through the agony. His chest exhaled with a low rumble, Dew closed his eyes again while letting himself purr and knead for comfort he heavily craved. His own rumbles began to self-soothe, slowly rocking side-to-side as he distracted himself further. His arm got cold, and Dew's tail that had curled tight under the blanket began to release, eyes getting heavier and refusing to open anymore as he tried to look at the machine.

Laying himself back more, purrs continued until his hands came to a stop and his body welcomed the numbness for some type of rest. There was no comfort in sleep, either, left with memories of his pack. Their smiles and even Papa caressing his cheek so fondly. Then it'd terrorize him, remembering seeing faces shrouded in darkness as his elemental ritual was performed. The water he felt safe in had turned against his very existence, body being burned alive from the inside out yet drowning in his own self. The sickening crack of his own bones.

It was certain times like this he felt like a kit, alone in the depths of the pit. Left on land after his mother simply dropped him off, wailing and confused. Only surviving by the sheer pity of another pack, who only ended up throwing him out as well when he could walk on his own. Dew would let out his mewl-purrs, holding his tail as he waddled around, trying to understand where he was and what to do–being hissed and scratched at every turn. All he could do was purr.

When Dewdrop was brought topside, he thought it'd be different. This pack couldn't throw him out. He loved them with all his heart, worshiped like he was told, played like he was told, kneeled when he was told. Obedient. Yet, there were still so many nights he'd lay in his bed, purring himself to sleep as he tried breaking away from the desperate need to sob.

In reality, all Dew really had was his purrs. The one thing that never left him. It never would.

“He's having another nightmare.”

Out of Dreamland, Aether slowly caressed down Dewdrop's tear stained face with gloves on as another fell. His skin much too sensitive to risk infection, hence the absolute sterility of the room. He looked over as Special slowly undid the bandages around Dew's chest, showing the cauterized gills that laid beneath, taking forceps that held gauze as he dabbed up oozing blood.

“I'm not surprised…I’d have them, too.” Phil simply mumbled, distressed to see his friend in the state he was.

Aether looked over, hand never leaving Dew. “You were in there, weren't you?”

Special grimaced before sighing, moving to replace the gauze. “I was…I… I don't want to talk about it, not right now, Aeth.”

The quintessence just nodded, looking back over at his packmate, moving some of his hair back. Aether and Dew hadn't known each other for that long, yet they had a connection like no other. He leaned over and placed a kiss on his mate's forehead, ears perking up as purring bubbled from Dewdrop's chest. He laughed some, looking at the heart monitor to see he had calmed down.

“There you go…I'm right here, firefly. I'm never leaving…”

While Dewdrop believed his purrs were the only permanent thing in his life, the ghoul that continued stroking his face proved otherwise.

[deceitful-darlings]

TW: suicide

Can i get yandere childe, ei and scaramouche (not wanderer. It was when he was still a fatui) where reader kills himself because he can no longer handle all the pressure? So like one day they just came and saw his dead body.

If there’s one thing Childe would struggle with, it’s losing his darling. His loyalty to those he cares for is unmatched by anyone, he is completely self sacrificing for them, and of course you’re among those people. I don’t think he would know how to feel, but his denial period would only be brief, Childe isn’t stupid, and I don’t think he would be delusional over your fate. He would fall more into dissociation, he would zone out more, he wouldn’t be as happy and chipper, and he would keep as much of what was ‘yours’ to remind himself of you, and he has your body taken back to Snezhnaya to be honoured with his family’s tradition, after all, family is what you were, what you still are. Your death has no stripped you of that, in his eyes you will always be his even after death. He will tell his remaining family stories of you and your relationship through rose tinted glasses. While he is well aware of the reality of what your relationship was, he was certain you would come to a point of acceptance, and his younger siblings don’t need to know the reality of it. He wants them to remember you as he enivisioned your future together. Of course, he throws himself into his tasks and battles, completely reckless, dancing with death at every point he can. He knows he can’t die, he needs to be there for his family and the Tsaritsa, but a part of his passion died with you.

Now, Ei would be surprised, and most definitely hurt. Her whole arc is specifically around how badly she deals with loss. But unfortunately for you, you chose the wrong woman to end your life with. Separate souls and bodies are nothing new to her, her own body is a puppet now, remember? In fact, in some ways she prefers it this way. She’s an archon, and your soul could never move to the next plane of existence fast enough, your being still exists but simply has no shell to exist within, which is what would corrode you. But she has done this before, she knows what she’s doing. She could quite literally trap you inside the Plane of Euthymia with her for an eternity, making her inescapable for you. In fact it’s the reason I placed as one of the most dangerous, she goes beyond physical harm, she could quite literally kill you and keep your spirit. Even if, for some reason, your soul was incompatible with the Plane of Euthymia or began to have issues from it, she could literally just build you another body, she has already done so once before. It would only need to have the lowest form of function to store your soul, a puppet chained to the dark, a face void of all features, trapping you in a lonely, silent, void, unable to feel touch, move, speak. It could drive you to the point of insanity. But then there is a glimpse in the darkness, the sound of a breeze, and if you could cry, you would.

“Do you see now what you did to me? Finding you as I did? This is how I felt, how I have felt for centuries before you came. Could you bear it as I have? Do you truly wish to plunge me back into that abyss?”

But you can’t respond, you can do nothing but hear. Over time she gives your body its senses, she gives you eyes and a nose and a mouth, and finally even limbs, so well crafted, so human that if you weren’t aware of your own death you could probably convince yourself that it had never happened. But don’t be mistaken, this body is far from organic, and she suspects you of drifting from her again, abandoning her, she will push you back into that void to remind you that she is your only salvation from it.

Scaramouche...oh my lord, Scaramouche. He’s lost so many people already, he’s been betrayed and abandoned in every way, this feels like well and truly the final blow. He’s would go berserk upon finding your body, this wasn’t natural, you ended your own life to leave him behind. You’re not ‘just like the others’, you’re worse for what you’ve done to him. I could genuinely see how Scaramouche’s twisted love could devolve into hatred for you, because it’s just too painful for him to think about how you betrayed him. He would completely desecrate your body, it would be utterly destroyed in his rage, you would get no grave, he wants to forget about you just as he has all the others. But your memory infects everything, his anger towards you leaks into other faucets of his life, he becomes even worse to work for, he’s more dangerous and on edge, and you become a bigger driving force behind his ascension to godhood. Would his godhood be able to bring you back? Probably not, but it becomes one of his goals - he wants you back? To love? Not for a long time. He wants revenge, he wants to destroy you until you’re less than he ever was, lower than his lowest ever point, until you’re begging for his forgiveness. That is his long term goal.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I didnt watch rc9gn (sorry), but that question anon asked got me thinking:dont we already have amnesiac boy? *points at rex*?

Anon dont ever apologize for not having watched something, we all consume media/content at our own preference and pace!!! (I speak as a person who as of yet have not watched at least 5 major cartoons/shows of last decades lol) So its totally cool, always!

But YES you are totally right, Rex is another resident amnesiac in accordance to his canon show. It's actually one of the big bonding moments for him and Randy in HoM AU! ;D

However, the major difference between them is that Rex - started his 'hero' career after he lost his memory (the second time) and Randy - will canonically loose his memory at the end of his 'hero' career (or more like it ends his hero career). So you see their similar problems are also wildly different lol.

(um i went on a bit of a random rant about mostly Rex below, so you can read it of u want because im too lazy to delete it, but like, the point of the answer is above, so ye)

Technically Rex's amnesia is supposed to be a sort of 'chronic' debilitation that happens when he 'overloads'/ enters Titan mechabot state lol. But the show itself kind fibbled greatly with it (which annoys me to no end), because it seems that after the Nanite Event he periodically lost his memories so often, he kept a journal (when he was in the 'gang' with his friends) to keep track and later on Holiday and Five kept a close eye on him (i think it was implied he lost his memories at least once more at the care of Providence but i might be remembering wrong) in case his amnesia happened again. So, it seemed that his amnesia incidents got better with time, since we don't touch on the subject of him having another amnesiac episode almost throughout the whole show (and he even recovers several small memories!), until that damn finale.

At the end after the big fight, there was this sort of 'scare' of "Oh no! Rex saved the world but he forgot his family and friends!' but SYKE NO HE DIDN'T! And like... it wasn't completely explained, but i think it was implied that in that brief moment Rex was the Nanite Jesus Deity he somehow cured himself of amnesia i guess?? I was literally so mad about it, we were kind of building up to Rex making an ultimate sacrifice of his 'self' and it would have been such a great idea if he did loose his memory and have been allowed to (at least temporary) retire to his family home (of ex-werewolves) where he wouldn't be viewed as a weapon anymore, but... we get an ambigous 'some major villains escaped and are now at large' and thus Rex is still needed on the job and since he isn't amnesiac we dont even need to coerce him to fight! yay!

(can you tell im a little bit bitter about the end lol)

I mean I know the show was left in this sort of 'nothing changed' ambiguity for (im guessing) future possible continuation and/or for the GenRex brand, but its like my biggest annoyance from this show, which otherwise had such great storytelling! (in comparison to Ben10 AF&UA run lol)

That aside, what's up with Randy is different in a manner that his amnesia is something canonically inevitable and really scary if one thinks about it. 4 years of very life-changing experiences, of being a hero, just taken away would certainly reflect somewhat on him afterwards? I mean Im not sure how exactly mind-wipe work, (i dont remember all the details rn) but assuming it literally leaves you with gaps in your memories, without replacing them or something similar. So one of possible outcomes would be of post- mind wipe Randy feeling that he misses something from his life so keenly that it hurts him. Or perhaps human mind would work wonders of sort of 'filling' the gaps with vague false memories to not go insane, and after Randy would be constantly questioning that part of his life?

Many possiblities, but man I dunno, like, since rc9gn didnt have much in form of continuation so there is no extra info to explore.

But it does give me so much freedom to go completely bonkers in hom au (which i did man i went a really weird route ngl), because who's gonna stop me?? canon?????

...sorry this came out of nowhere, apparently i had a lot of feelings about Rex and his amnesia.

[dokidokitsuna]

So I'm currently in the middle of another losing streak in Splatoon 3-- this is gonna sound weird and "whiny gamer"-esque, but I'm pretty convinced that there are occasionally times where the game just decides that I'm not allowed to win. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ No matter what mode I play in, I'm consistently teamed up with players who spend the whole match either repeatedly running into the enemies' guns or just cowering around our spawn point, slowly watching themselves lose. Yes, even in X-Rank...I'm used to it; at times like this I just frantically recruit friends and wait for The Curse to end. >_<

Why recruit friends, you ask? Because while The Curse is active, that's the only time the matchmaking system will have mercy on me: Basically, I have to prove I deserve to be teamed with people who DO know how to play, by bringing at least one in with me.

Usually, this means that for a brief period, I get to play some fun normal matches where I actually stand a chance at winning...until last night, where something very interesting happened. ^^

I joined a team of two for some Anarchy Battles, thinking it'd be a great opportunity to finally start to win back all the points I'd been losing. And we were a pretty good team...but suddenly, our enemies were INSANELY GOOD.

Apparently, it seems I unlocked a new level of The Curse, where if I do get some skilled allies to play with, the matchmaking system now has to really really make sure I can't win by pitting me against pro-level players. Y'know, Dualie users who move exclusively with dodge rolls; Blaster users who never miss shots, people who are already on your side of the map harassing you in the first 10 seconds of the game. Those kinds of players. ^^;;;

It was...fun, in a darkly hilarious way. ^^ Like, it was still frustrating that the game was doing this to me, but the good kind of frustrating where you're ready for a really tough challenge. That's the cool thing about having allies who know how to play-- even when you're clearly outmatched, you can still try your best and make attempts to turn the tables, knowing your teammates will support you and actually react when you give them an opening.

Plus, the really freaky Splatoon players have one crucial weakness, something I learned to exploit long ago: they're not prepared to fail. ^^ Like, psychologically, they just can't bounce back from a missed shot or a surprise attack like normal players can-- I assume hundreds of hours spent mowing down innocent 3rd graders has conditioned them to expect that they should always be winning and succeeding, and that their enemies should not be capable of fighting back.

So if you can figure out how to trap them, ambush them, or even just NOT get killed by them in 0.5 seconds, they start going into panic mode. Every time they try to do something to you and fail they will come back worse, and as the game goes on it will show, as they slowly lose ground and become easier to deal with. Basically, the only way to beat them is to teach them to fear you. >:D

Of course, you need a competent team of your own in order to even get time to pull this off. ^^; But as I said, I had one, and we actually managed to win one of these insane matches together, essentially by beating the enemies back to the center and holding them off until time ran out. It was awesome, even if it was my only victory of the night. 1000% worth it~.

I almost hope The Curse will do this to me again sometime, because if I have to be on a losing streak, that's the kind I'd prefer: I'd much rather have enemies that are way too strong than allies that are way too weak.

[hislifesuckspoll]

Alright here's Stanley propaganda add it to the post. Content warning for a brief mention of suicide and general existential horror.

So basically. He's the protagonist of a somewhat shitty story made by a somewhat pretentious disembodied British voice who's basically god. And he's stuck in what's effectively a timeloop- every time he reaches an ending, or every time he dies (usually it's death)

The normal plot of the story is that one day, Stanley goes to his job where he literally just presses buttons for a comical amount of time, and all of his coworkers are gone. He investigates, and learns that he's been under mind control his whole life. He turns off the machine and escapes into the wild, still with questions.

AND THEN THE LOOP RESETS. Because yeah, TIME LOOP.

That's only one end- are any of the others like. Happy?? No. No. None of them.

Countdown End? He gets fucking exploded with a nuke while the Narrator taunts him for trying to gain control over the situation. Museum Ending? He gets crushed by a death trap. Insanity Ending? He has an existential crisis and dies. Apartment Ending? He thinks for a moment he's gonna get to see his wife again, but NOPE it's a fucking mannequin. Zending? You must kill yourself while the Narrator begs you to stop.

There is not a single ending where Stanley gets happiness. Even in any where he COULD, such as the Freedom End, where the final line is literally "And Stanley was happy," it does not last forever!! Because the end is never the end! The loop will always reset.

Stanley is trapped in a single office building, following a story written by the voice of something beyond human, caught in an eternal game with him where they're constantly trying to destroy and control each other. He's following a story about gaining control of your life, and is completely unable to gain control over his life.

Oh yeah, AND he can't exist without the player. Like literally. In an ending where the Narrator realizes he's been talking to you the player and not Stanley, it ends with you being booted out of Stanley's body, and he LITERALLY can't do anything. He may not even be conscious in there.

On the subject of Stanley being completely unable to do anything for a period of time- there's an ending where Stanley is frozen in time for increasingly long periods, up to trillions of years according to calculations, while the Narrator goes completely insane and you're literally forced to KEEP SKIPPING AHEAD. It's FUCKED. I LOVE it.

There are two more canon ends to TSPUD- one where the Narrator's like "Okay I'm gonna stop writing Stanley (he does not stop writing stanley) (it's a metaphor for being an artist /srs)" and, if he did stop writing Stanley/leave the Parable, Stanley pretty much doesn't exist anymore. The second "end" (epilogue) is where the loop continues, the Parable continues to spiral in on itself, and Stanley is still trapped in the Parable and will never fucking escape its horrifying death trap.

Also he's in love with a bucket and the bucket is his only friend

VOTE STANLEY HIS LIFE SUCKS AND HE DESERVES A WIN FOR ONCE

An incredible amount of propaganda 🤚🏼

[ezras--moon]

Therapy - Chapter I

drug dealer!Ezra x afab&fem!OC (Charlie)

Eventual smut in later chapters! 18+ if you plan to keep reading.

word count: 3377

Warnings: adult themes, read at your own risk! mention of SA (her mind goes into the gutter for a second, nothing actually happens.) drugs and descriptions of drug use, Ezra and Charlie are both way too hot (my fellow bi and pan sluts are very welcome) he's kind of insane probably?? in later chapters.

The first time she saw Ezra was thanks to her anxiety disorder rearing its ugly head after a particularly bad period of work related stress.

Charlie had tried everything.

Nothing was helping and she refused to have some high caliber addictive medication prescribed. Her sleep was irregular and light and she frequently woke from vivid nightmares. 

She needed something to at least take the edge off by day and preferably help her sleep as well. Ezra was a friend of her friend Tati, who’d given her the number after a brief correspondence with him, and said he could help.

So there she was, texting him at nine in the evening to ask if she could “leave some dollars with him”.

Ezra: Yes, come over. I’ll send the address. But hurry up.

She was put off by the tone, the lack of a greeting, and the way he made her even more anxious with the request at the end. Now it really felt like a mistake, but she couldn’t back out anymore, the need for relief too strong. Grabbing her keys and wallet, making sure she had enough cash on hand, she slipped into her shoes and left her apartment.

The address he’d sent was basically around the corner, just a seven minute walk away. Charlie wasn’t comfortable walking in the dark, alone, but what other choice did she have? The choice to call the whole thing off and just go home? That now seemed to come with the risk of annoying a stranger - and her anxiety would rather have her robbed and murdered in the street than inconveniencing somebody she didn’t even know.

Once she was walking, the cool air pleasantly blowing her hair out of her face, the roads being completely void of other people, it was easier to calm her breathing and focus on the task at hand without getting dizzy from the nerves. One, two, one, two, she counted her steps and watched her feet on the pavement. Rounding the corner into the road Ezra lived on, she looked at the GPS map on her phone leading her to his house. Just a few dozen more yards and she arrived at the apartment block, which looked very similar to her own.

There were so many names, none of them containing a full first name, so she just texted him.

Charlie: I’m downstairs

Looking up and taking in the tall building, Charlie checked for movement through the windows and neat balconies in the front. But a moment later, he just buzzed her in and she had to leap forward to the door to push it open in time. Inside, she listened - still not knowing where to go. A few levels above her, a door was unlocked and opened, quick steps approached the stairwells, and then somebody’s face came into view. A messy head of dark brown hair, she could make out a stubbled chin and two large hands gripping the railing.

“Fourth floor, there’s an elevator behind the stairs in front of you if you need it. I’ll wait!” he said, echoing, and his head disappeared.

Charlie did not want to get up there even remotely out of breath, how embarrassing that would be, so she cautiously went ahead and found the tall metal doors of an elevator tucked into the wall around the corner. The doors opened with an ominous creak, another source of fresh fuel for her general discomfort as she stepped inside and punched the button with the number four on it.

The ride up was unnerving, but finally, after what felt like an eternity in the tiny confines of the metal box, the doors opened and she stepped out. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath, huffing awkwardly when she laid eyes on Ezra in front of her. He was, unfortunately, handsome as fuck. 

There was a little blond streak in the mess of thick brown hair at his right temple, he was tall, broad shoulders, fairly big arms and the beginnings of toned shoulders peeking out of the hand cropped sleeves of a worn and torn Led Zeppelin shirt, a single dimple on his right cheek half hidden in his patchy mess of a trimmed beard - Charlie swallowed dryly. 

Why was he smiling? She’d assumed he was going to be apathetic or even a little mean, judging from his text. “Hi!” he said, still smiling brightly, “come in, please.” He led her inside the apartment right by the elevator, shutting the door behind her. 

To Charlie’s delight, a Golden Retriever was suddenly all over her, wagging his tail and sniffing, whining excitedly as she leaned down to pet him. “Hey, oh my gosh, who are you?” she cooed, scratching a floppy ear and squatting down to let the dog greet her properly.

Ezra chuckled, standing in a door in front of her, leaning against the frame. There was music playing somewhere, and she heard laughter - a girl. “That’s Jim. It’s short for Jimothy.” Ezra said, and Charlie cackled, looking up at him as the dog attempted to lick her face. “Really?” she asked. “Yes, really. He’s not mine though, so you better get all the head pats in now in case he won’t be around the next time you come over.” The next time? He was already on board with helping her out regularly?

“Whose is he?” Charlie asked. Ezra responded by gesturing for her to follow him into what looked to be his living room, where a petite blonde girl was sprawled on the couch just finishing a tray of nachos. The whole place smelled like weed. “Hey” the girl said, licking some cheese dip off her fingers and nodding at Charlie. “Hi” Charlie squeaked, and Ezra plopped down onto the couch next to the blonde. “This is Cee, Jim is hers” he introduced her, “and that’s Charlie. A new client.” The word client seemed foreign and wrong in this context, but Charlie shrugged it off with an awkward chuckle. Ezra pointed at an armchair to his left, “Sit down if you want. Actually, I would prefer it if you sat down, because it makes me nervous the way you’re standing there.”

Charlie obliged, sinking into the comfortable seat, such a stark contrast to how she was feeling on the inside. He looked at Cee now, furrowing his brows at the full glass ashtray on the coffee table. “You better empty this before you go home to your poor sweet girlfriend all stoned. I’m not cleaning up after you again.” he said, and he sounded like he was joking, not really mad. For some reason his demeanor set Charlie at ease; his voice was rich and warm, like he could make a fortune dubbing Dad characters in cartoons or recording audio books. Cee rolled her eyes but stood up from the couch, gathering an arm full of trash off the table and grabbing the ashtray on her way out the door.

Ezra took a kitchen scale out of a plastic container under the table along with a roll of aluminum foil. “So, I heard you have trouble sleeping, you’re nervous and shit? Anxiety?” he asked, folding his hands as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Charlie nodded. Ezra smiled, pulling out another big plastic box from where he’d gotten the scale and the foil. “I’ve got a few different strains you could try…” Charlie’s eyes widened when she saw how full of freezer bags filled with sticky purplish green buds the box was. The bags were all labeled with what she assumed were the market names of the strains and Hybrid, Indica or Sativa respectively. “How much money do you have on your person?” Ezra asked, fishing out a few of the bags and laying them out in front of him. “Uhm, I have like a hundred with me. I don’t know if the rates have changed at all since the last time I bought weed.” Charlie said, pulling her wallet out of her pocket. “Alright, a hundred will do, I can put something together. You know how to roll, or do you have a bong or something like that?” “I can roll, yeah.”

Charlie was calming down rapidly now, maybe it was the second hand smoke wafting through the living room, maybe it was the presence of a dog - maybe it was Ezra.

She watched him take various small pristine buds out of their bags, all kinds of pretty shades of purple and green, and place them on the scale one by one. Behind Charlie, Cee opened the apartment door. “I’m out, bye Ez!” “Bye! Say hi to Zara from me!” When he was done, he plucked all the buds off the scale and dropped them on a flat sheet of aluminum foil, neatly folding it up and sealing it at the edges. “There you go” he said, handing the package to her and holding out his other hand to accept the money, “and I’ll give you an herbal blend you can use instead of tobacco for rolling, it’s healthier, and some papers on the house. Pretty girl discount.”

The first time he saw Charlie, his expectations were neutral, just another contact in his phone.

Ezra didn’t expect to see a girl this pretty that evening; actually he’d expected a guy. He was about to send Cee home and call it a night, tired, when Tati had texted him to ask if he still had room in his contacts for her friend Charlie. “Sure” he’d replied, happy to gain another customer; it would help pay the rent. But when he looked down over the railing of the stairs in his apartment building, he spotted a young woman, and when she stepped out of the elevator, he could see she was fucking beautiful. She had wavy light brown hair, wearing it down past her shoulders with a middle part. Her face was freckled and pretty in an interesting way; an adorable nose, pouty mouth, long lashes the same shade as her hair and bright green eyes. He hoped she wasn’t just here as a one-off, wanted to see her again.

The second time she saw Ezra, her nerves were in much better shape.

Not only had her workload drastically reduced in the meantime due to word about her business having finally spread around town enough so she wouldn’t need to constantly hustle for customers anymore, the weed also helped tremendously. Charlie was still busy enough in her studio, taking portraits and driver’s license headshots during the day, and wedding and graduation photos in the evenings, but the advertising was the most stressful part, and there wasn’t a need for a lot of that anymore. It was easy not to fall into unhealthy smoking habits this way, only able to light up at night after coming home and kicking off shoes and jeans, and it worked wonders. She still had nightmares, but she’d had those ever since she was little. They weren’t as unnerving anymore and at least she could sleep at all. The general anxiety had mostly subsided too in the weeks since she’d started smoking again. When she’d called Tati and thanked her for referring her to Ezra, her friend had been overjoyed to hear she was doing much better. 

That day, she was almost out of weed. A twinge, a remnant, of the anxiety she’d felt about it last time swelled up in her chest when she hovered her thumb over the call button on her phone. Maybe she should just text him - but he’d asked her to call, and earlier too. So she sat on the steps in front of her apartment building and took a deep breath before finally getting over the inhibition and calling Ezra. It rang five times before he picked up.

“Hello?” he sounded sleepy, and the sound of his low voice distorted through the phone made her heart skip, for whatever reason. Stupid, she scolded herself internally. “Hey, it’s Charlie. Can I come over?” she asked, fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. There was rustling at the other end of the line, she assumed he was sitting up, maybe in bed or on his couch. “What time is it?” he yawned. “It’s almost seven. I just came home from work. Couldn’t do any earlier, sorry” she said. “Oh, you’re fine. Sure, I’ve got time, come on over!”

He was waiting for her at the elevator doors again, smiling, just like the first time, wearing a denim jacket over a Misfits shirt that was equally as worn as the Led Zeppelin shirt, and a pair of jeans that fit him just right… God damn it, she needed to get a hold of herself. “Hi” he beamed as he led her inside. The smell of the smoke hit her nose and she followed him into his living room where they both sat on the couch this time. It was, without question, one of the most comfortable couches she’d ever had the privilege of sitting on. Thick upholstery that just slightly budged under her weight invited her to lean back and linger, and so she did. 

“So how’d you like what I gave you?” he inquired, looking at her over his shoulder as he pulled up the scale and the box of weed again. “I loved it. It’s honestly helping me so much, I cannot thank you enough.” she chuckled nervously, shifting a little in her seat. He smiled brightly, the lines framing his eyes getting more visible, his dimple prominent and his soft looking lips revealing a neat row of teeth. “Good! That’s what I like to hear. So, same strains as last time?” he asked. She nodded, gave him a soft smile, and didn’t know what it was doing to him - but she could swear he glanced at her mouth for just a split second before focusing on bagging up some of his product for her. 

He worked quietly, then they exchanged the goods and the money, and she was ready to be walked out the door again, when he cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. I was actually gonna roll one for myself to smoke on the balcony just now, wanna join me?” She looked at him with wide eyes and she could fucking feel herself get flushed red. “Uhm… uhh” she stammered, fucking embarrassing. “You can say no, it’s no big deal. Just didn’t feel like smoking alone.” he continued, and she swallowed dryly. “Y-yeah, why not?” she squeaked, completely messing up trying to play it cool; and of course he noticed! He filed it away, dug his claws into her reaction and refused to let it go. He was going to have so much fun unwinding this pretty girl, and he could already tell it was going to be easy.

They sat on two wicker chairs on his balcony off his living room and had a pretty nice view of the neighborhood from up there. The roads were lined with small trees, the buildings weren’t ugly, and it was a beautiful late summer evening when Ezra lit the joint and leaned back in his seat, Charlie watching him in her peripheral. Fuck, he looked hot, greedily sucking on the joint and inhaling the smoke with a furrowed brow. He shrugged off his denim jacket and revealed those fucking arms and shoulders to her. She thought about how effortlessly he’d be able to just pin her down then and there and take her. And she wouldn’t even be able to defend herself. The thought was kind of fucked up, but it made her wet nonetheless. Just thinking about how strong he looked, how much taller he was than her, and her eyes wandered down over his chest and stomach. She spotted a slightly pudgy roll under the shirt there and her mouth watered. He looked hard and soft at the same time, and he smelled so good, and it was torture to be so close to him. Giving up trying to suppress these thoughts, she just decided to indulge. Maybe the weed would help - but it didn't; in fact, it made everything worse. He started talking to her after they’d passed the joint back and forth two times, and she felt light headed already.

“What do you do for work?” he asked. She took a long drag and passed the joint back to him before she replied. “I’m a photographer. I have my own studio, right down the road. Maybe you’ve passed it. The one next to the tattoo studio. Haven’t been there long, but I’m starting to get some traffic, finally.” she rambled, and she felt awkward for giving him such an unnecessarily detailed answer. “Damn, sounds cool. And you can live off of that?” Why was he so interested in her life all of a sudden? The pretty girl discount comment from last time returned to her thoughts as a fresh memory and suddenly her mouth felt dry. Reaching for the bottle of water he’d handed her and unscrewing the cap, she took a sip and nodded when he looked right at her, expecting another response. “Yeah, I’m very lucky.” she smiled.

She thought about asking him something too, but couldn’t come up with a good question. What do you ask your drug dealer about himself? “Do you have like an actual job?” she blurted out, and immediately regretted it. Ezra laughed, with his lungs full of smoke, so he started coughing and reached for her bottle of water. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, handing him the bottle and watching him drink. He sat there, bright red, and tried to swallow those violent coughs - and even that was hot to her. Jesus H. Christ. Was there anything he wasn’t able to turn into a fetish for her on the spot?

Once he recovered, he kept laughing but passed her the joint for now. “Holy shit, that’s hilarious” he said, beaming at her, so finally she realized he wasn’t even slightly hurt by her question and giggled too. “I’m sorry, I meant to phrase that differently.” she began, “I meant to ask if selling weed is your only source of income, and if that’s a comfortable living.” He just grinned at her. “Sure. Yeah, it pays the bills and then some. I’m not a nine to five kinda guy” he said, taking back the joint and watching her blow out the smoke in his direction. She nodded, understanding completely. If she was still employed with somebody else or hell, even working in retail or service, she’d lose her mind too. “I don’t just sell weed, you know. I have other stuff, too. Just for your information, in case you’re interested in boosting my income with something more expensive” he winked, and she cocked a brow. “Like what?” He cleared his throat, still burning a little bit from the smoke making it into his vocal chords. “Well, right now I have ecstasy pills. I usually have a decent amount of mushrooms growing in my broom closet, too. Sometimes I get a vial of LSD and make my own chews and blotters.” he elaborated, and her eyes widened. “You know how to dose it correctly and shit?” she inquired, and he nodded. “Yeah, I went to college for chemistry. Got my diploma just to become a drug dealer, I guess.” Charlie laughed, and he smiled. “So, if you’re interested in anything, let me know and I’ll hook you up. We’ll make it work.” he said, so assuredly and confidently, like they were talking about anything other than illegal street drugs.

“I’ve never done shrooms,” Charlie said, taking another drag off the joint and leaving the rest for Ezra to finish. “Oh, you have to.” he said, “Let me indulge you some time. You can bring Tati if you want. We’ll have a good time up here.” Charlie gave him a shy smile. “I dunno,” she said, considering it for a while, weighing her options and ultimately coming to the conclusion that trying everything at least once had really been her philosophy throughout her whole life, so why stop now? “It would have to be a free weekend for me.” “Deal.”

[makwandis]

could you explain why you think gil is old prussia please? and maybe how that translates into his personality and stuff not really being entirely culturally germanic? I so deeply want to settle on something but havent arrived at a conclusion. Im curious about your take :) Thank you!!!!

yes totally! so i have...many many reasons

the first reason that really made me go with this idea is that i do not like the idea of giving like. "nation status" or legitimacy to uhhh insanely violent colonizing religious orders that happen to violently acquire land. like... it just doesn't make sense and i think is quite sinister? the teutonic order wasn't a culture, it wasn't an ethnicity, it wasn't a country. it was a military order that managed to dispossess people from their land and only existed on that land for a fairly brief period of time. it was an incredibly diverse order actually, in that their forces were varied and came from across europe. i also think- okay, we give one extremist militant religious group who dispossesses people from their land a nation, what then? do the groups that are similar to that that exist in recent times then get one too? i find that pretty fucky not gonna lie. it just doesnt add up, and if it does add up it means a lot of fucked up things haha. i just ask that people apply that logic to other violent religious groups....

i should note here i do nooooot give a fuck what himaruya says or anything about canon at all. who cares! not me haha

now a lot of people usually go with the idea of gil is born as the teutonic order and he kills old prussia and the teutonic order takes over. like. sure. however it's not historically accurate. the old prussians, while they suffered a genocide, were not all killed off by the teutonic order. they in fact made up a bulk of the teutonic's military force after the prussian rebellions in the late 1200s. this is a very complex aspect of the order and it's relations with prussians and other baltic groups who also fought with the order. this, and the fact that the old prussians themselves lived on. the language did not officially die out until the 1700s due to a series of plagues that ravaged east prussia, and while a lot of people did flee the territory many remained and were just exploited peasantry- while the prussian nobles converted and took up positions within the order. there were speared "barbarian" units of old prussians within the order! this and the order itself due to such a heavy baltic influence in fact was criticized and almost condemned a few times there due to pagan influence rising in their ranks (there were reports that the order began soothsaying, doing animal sacrifices before battle and even cremating their dead- all sins in the eyes of the christians). so, the teutonic order didnt just kill all the old prussians in one day. it was a lengthy assimilation process that was more or less complete loooong after the teutonic order no longer existed in prussia. and even despite the death of the old prussian language, old prussian culture heavily influenced the culture of east prussia- the dialect itself continued to have many words from old prussian.

i'm indigenous, so for me i think this whole killing off of whole nations thing in the process of colonialism to be a pretty problematic way of addressing colonialism in this universe.... my tribe has a similar story to the old prussians, many of our nobility ended up joining with colonial powers while the peasants remained peasants labouring under colonial powers. if someone were to depict this as spain or another spaniard having murdered off my tribe and then becoming mexico or something, i think that would be insaaaanely fucked. it was 500 years give or take a few of german occupation and settlement in prussia before the language officially died out- and its been over 500 years since 1492 and indigenous people are very very much still around. tribes exist without even having their language anymore, or just barely. one thing, i think old prussian culture lived on still and maybe even to this day- just quietly. under colonial occupation, colonized people usually keep their culture very very quiet haha. i'd add another few generations on to the point where the culture is officially said to have died out, but that's just me lol. so, i just don't think its an accurate nor necessary way of depicting that history and totally glosses over the complexities of the region and gives credence to unsavoury ideas regarding the relationship between colonizing powers and colonized people, i think

SO what about gil!

well in the way i see it. he would have had to adapt to german culture. this wouldn't have even happened really during the time of the teutonic order, considering how many old prussians were in their ranks towards the end there especially. i think it definitely would have been a horrific, traumatic process for him, but over time i imagine the order would have relaxed a little with him- if they were practicing pagan practices, why would they be punishing him for it in the end there? i think the way hes treated varies from grandmaster to grandmaster lol. some were willing to work with pagans, others were completely against it. depends greatly. so, i think his prussian culture would be a very large influence on him. i dont think he'd have had reason to leave east prussia/original prussian territories for a long time either. in my universe, i have him as being pretty fucking old (around 2000), and he's an adult actually by the time of the teutonic order (i don't age him down because like, why would he be little? the heyday of the prussians began long before the order arrived in their territory.). so he remembers a lot, and continues to spend a lot of time in his original territory. i think he ends up going down to berlin to join the hohenzollerns in the mid to late 17th century, when brandenburg prussia begins the process of becoming a kingdom and actually like doing stuff lol. so then by 1701, he's in berlin, but he's very east prussian. he's very baltic i think! so it's really only.... 300, 350 years that he has been in berlin? as opposed to a 500 year period of teutonic existence and then if he has lived before (as i think he has), however long he has been alive before then. so, i think he'd remember a lot and his original culture would have a big presence in his life and the way he is

thus, while i think he can adapt to germans and the way they are, balts to my understanding are certainly not germans. east prussians were a mix of those cultures. i am not european, so i could be totally wrong about that, but i think for the sake of an immortal non human dude i can also kinda do what i want a little haha. he adapts to germans but is he ever really a german? does he consider himself that? maybe publicly, so people don't bug him about things (like my point about colonized people keep their true cultures pretty quiet), but i think its really a matter of:

you can take the man out of the baltics but you can't take the baltics out of the man.

hope that explained, i'm open to any questions haha i have MANY THOUGHTS!!! i love researching pre christian baltic culture, its super interesting, and i HIGHLY reccomend the book the northern crusades by eric christiansen, i learnt a lot from it.

also want to say, if you go with the teutonic order is gil's origin story thing, there's no shame. this is just a silly fandom. you don't have to go in depth as exploring it as me, i am just insane. this is how it's fun for me, do what is fun for you. but i think we should also remember, these are real stories, and the way we depict things can reflect our current world a lot. sensitivity is still useful i think. but. its just a dumb fuckin anime we are all taking ideas from and changing as they want. have fun kids lol

[quietwingsinthesky]

hope it's ok to pop in here about this but re your posts on destiel vs wincest. I love destiel but I made an entirely separate blog (this one) to post about wincest bc people are. less than forgiving about it on that side of the fandom. and like being personally against it is whatever, you do you, but like the amount of toxicity just got to be too much for me and I wanted a separate space to be "weird" about my interests ya know. also just wanna say I've found so far that the wincest community is so lovely <3

(also when will people open their hearts to wincestiel....)

yeah. i don’t actually dislike destiel much at all on its face. it’s just that the community surrounding it, the way it gets talked about, the narrow way you’re allowed to enjoy it…

none of that is enjoyable to me. for the brief period of time i engaged in destiel stuff after nov 5th, i felt like i was posting from inside a panopticon where if i so much as mentioned anything slightly outside the realm of acceptability, i’d be hunted like a dog for it. (not an unreasonable assumption on my part, because i was in the community, i saw people get harassed until deactivation for the incredibly minor “crime” of say. having a kudos on a problematic fic on AO3.) had fun for a month, learned how to perform that enjoyment to still be welcome in the community, got progressively more and more stressed because i didn’t feel safe talking about anything else i enjoyed about supernatural, and now that i’m out of there and can post freak shit freely, i’m a lot happier.

(i was joking earlier about how i’ve only been insulted on here by destiel fans, but it is like. you know, between the community that was so proud of itself for being about a revolutionary gay ship and the community of people getting freaky with the blowjob brothers, i’ve only been called a slur by someone from one of those groups. hell if i know whether there’s scientific basis for a correlation of how morally righteous someone thinks their ship is and how comfortable they feel sliding into someone’s DMs to say insane shit, but anecdotally? ain’t the brotherfuckers who have told me to kms.)

putting all that seriousness aside lmao, i’m glad you’re having a good time being free to do some wincest on the side. it really is a hell of a lot of fun, and also there’s so much to get into, you know? i mean, wincest is a foundational modern ship. it was big enough in the early 2000s to shape the landscape. there’s an abundance of fic and fanart and meta that’s really just got us spoiled.

also so real so true. the world would be a happier place if people let wincestiel in. we could achieve balance in the force. two houses both alike in dignity…. they should make out sloppy. what can i say, im a threesome shipper where i see it, and castiel might be the only character in the whole show who could be in the eye of hurricane winchester and survive there.

[airyairyaucontraire]

Watching The Mandalorian S3EIforget, "The Pirate"

Okay, 44 minutes of a show that's rapidly losing my allegiance, not for being offensive or brutal, just for being kind of dumb and palpably losing interest in its title character. Let's go then.

If this show was going to go with pirates while also being addicted to re-introducing characters from the CG TV shows, I really feel they could've graced our screens with Hondo Ohnaka. But I fundamentally don't want them to keep bringing in characters from the CG shows. The only exception I would make is Rex, because Temuera Morrison, but I would rather still have more Boba, because also Temuera Morrison.

They haven't even tried to re-member the dismembered IG-11 statue.

shiny ass-kissing droid

and now there are pirates

and I just feel like a man in Greef's position -

actually speaking of Greef's position, I love how before skyping the mossy pirate captain, he squares up and puts his hands on his hips like Henry VIII posing for Holbein

- okay, a man in Greef's position, formerly deeply involved with the bounty hunters' guild, ought to have a staff of mercenaries on site in readiness for shit like this. Instead he's as unprepared for the possibility of bad guys with a big ship showing up wanting to take his stuff as Boba was on Tatooine. Presenting these middle-aged guys who have been involved in the underbelly of the galaxy for their whole adult lives as so naïve about the security challenges of running one's own fiefdom during a somewhat lawless period of regime change is such a bizarre choice. Why is everyone in this show so dumb about stuff they should be totally used to? They're not Luke Skywalker coming from the middle of nowhere with starry eyes and feathered hair. Like they should be smarter than me at this type of thing, and I'm a typist from Auckland.

there's a PIRATE NATION taking over the Mid Rim? THAT I ACTUALLY AM SEMI-INTERESTED IN so I bet they won't show it.

Retreat to the lava flats - a large, open area without shelter or cover. Super.

exsqueeze me, Disney+ subtitler, but PSYCHEDELIC ROCK MUSIC PLAYING?

well, the krill farmers are still pumping out the blue juice, I see. And here's a nice Korean Canadian dad - you know what? I feel like Captain Teva is here to provide the Papa Smurf beard that Rex is not onscreen to give us.

Okay, so just as apparently Ragnar just hung out in a dinosaur's crop totally uninjured for 12 hours minimum while a search party stopped to rest overnight on their way to him, Mr Kim has time to travel to Coruscant and try to get a meeting with his superiors while Nevarro is under active pirate attack. He doesn't say "screw it, time is of the essence, I'll render aid and take the consequences." This show's idea of time in rescue situations is bizarre.

Who else feels like this fucking boring New Republic plotline was supposed to be part of the Rangers show that presumably Cara Dune would have headed up if the actress hadn't insisted on being a douchebag on Twitter? And now they're just trying to fold it into The Mandalorian. I resent it.

You know, when I heard the name Tuttle I had a brief feverish flowering of hope that a M*A*S*H tribute about the insanity of military bureaucracy might be in the works, but then it withered.

I know this guy from somewhere, somewhere relatively recent, but I am unable to place him. I am not interested enough to look him up.

I'm so irritated by the lazy cynicism of "If the Rebellion got into power they'd be useless." They're not the Democrats.

so now everyone's just wandering around in the blazing sunlight on hot black lava flats. Sorry Greef, your planet sucks.

And now... is this Jurassic Planet? yep, so I hope he doesn't get eaten by a serpent while he's here. Dude. Sir. You're standing so close to the bay that the mosasaurs like to pop out of. You've got your back to it. Please.

please help me

why does Paz address Teva as "Blue Boy"? He is dressed from neck to ankle in the most garish orange. Paz's own armour is predominantly blue. Is he fucking colour-blind?

Why does the Disney+ subtitler still head up Din's dialogue as "THE MANDALORIAN" when we've known for actual years that his name is Din Djarin?

they pride themselves on their secrecy... and their idiocy.

You know, this would never have happened if you'd stuck with your plan of repairing IG-11. He was no snitch.

Din calls him "Blue" too! HE IS DRESSED IN ORANGE

I CANNOT RECALL THE COLOUR BLUE EVER BEING SIGNIFICANTLY ASSOCIATED WITH THE REBELLION OR NEW REPUBLIC

HE HAS SOME BLUE STENCILS ON HIS HELMET BUT HE DELIBERATELY TOOK THAT OFF AND LEFT IT IN HIS SHIP WHEN HE GOT OUT TO PARLEY SO DIN AND PAZ CAN'T SEE IT

anyway BK's doing her swaggery walk again and while we're at it WHO ELSE PROMINENTLY WEARS BLUE?

and now we're going to have a long, leisurely meeting to discuss because what is time? what is urgency?

"and our children can feel what it is to play in the sunlight" - which we already let them do because we take absolutely no safety precautions about living right next to a bay where dinosaurs regularly pop out of the water or swoop from the sky to devour our young

"Does anyone else wish to speak?" No, because we are all just elaborately dressed extras. We know our place.

I'm... skipping stuff.

So the pirates are boozing it up in the school, like they wanted to. I'm happy that someone got what they wanted.

I like that one warthog pirate!

Did a Salacious B. Crumb monkey just tip off the Mandos?

I know they want me to be excited for the big battle, I know they do... I'm just too grumpy. I have a glass of wine, though, so that's good. Recognisable salmon pink in colour, The Ned Pinot Gris 2022 showcases classic aromas of quince, pear drop and vibrant stonefruit. The palate is lush with juicy nectarine and Braeburn flavours supported by an underlying hint of spice that leads to an unctuous ripe finish. A versatile wine when it comes to food matching with its notable fruitiness and gentle acidity. Try pairing this silky wine with succulent chicken thighs added to a creamy, lemon fettuccine pasta sauce.

you know, I don't usually tolerate words like unctuous and succulent being thrust at me by a mere product description, but I'll allow it

So... there wasn't much point to the mossy pirate at all, was there? Unless he bailed out with a parachute, he blowed up.

yes, the Anzellans are very cute. Always a pleasure to see them.

You know why I have a problem with this effort to do a whole thing about Bo-Katan and reuniting Mandalore and everything? It's the problem of trying to link up with the sequels, which were made before The Mandalorian was a consideration and gave absolutely no hint that the Mandalorians were a consideration either. Did they just "retake Mandalore" and then become totally isolationist, neither fighting the First Order nor supporting the Resistance? Did they get wiped out for keeps? Where were they when shit went down? You don't have to engage with that if you're prepared to just tell a small story of one dude and his kid, and a personal saga of family and faith, friendship and love, but once you commit to doing a big political historical story, you've gotta and it seems doomed to be unsatisfactory.

anyway if people are just whipping their helmets off now I reckon Din should pop back to Tatooine and show Cobb his smile

[policemanofprincesspark]

Please god tell me your blog is satire. You can't possibly, honestly, truly think a company would go so far as to literally make a baby just to pretend two of their clients aren't dating.

I'm a Larry shipper, but you know bisexual people exist, right? Hook ups and flings and broken condoms and drunk mistakes all happen. If Louis has a kid, has an honest to god son, that doesn't in any way ruin Larry, Louis or Harry.

"Why has nobody considered that they hired a sperm donor to make a baby that looks like Louis."

Because that is literally fucking insane and so wildly unethical. Louis having a son was handled so poorly, I honestly agree. Weirdly photoshopped pictures, alternating between wanting to push the narrative of Louis being a doting father and trying to bury Freddie's existence, whatever.

But the 1D decoys were literally because the boys were being mobbed the moment they stepped outside of a building. Fans broke into buildings to get at them. Fans hacked security cameras to get at them. They had to hide in decoy vehicles and supply boxes. Decoys are still nothing new or outdated today; multiple celebrities have admitted to hiring them in order to be able to travel in peace.

Honestly, I hope one day you show Louis all the absolutely batshit disgusting crap you're posting and he smacks you into place. Suggesting this movie-esque conspiracy where a company is so anti-gay they literally hired someone to make a living, breathing child just to pretend someone is straight?

Get fucked.

I contemplated answering this ask because it's so hostile and rude, but here goes nothing.

1. These things do happen, and here is the evidence:

If you believe Larry is real and that Louis's and Harry's girlfriends have all been beards, why is this also hard to believe? Like I just said, we now have evidence of this kind of thing actually happening. Look at how much money Harry makes and how much he appeals to women. Any ties to the "big Larry conspiracy" that's been so widespread even outside of fandom for the last 13 years are in the way.

2. Louis having a baby with someone else does ruin Larry. Harry was visibly upset over it, and Louis knew Harry wanted kids with him. I have a good question for you that I genuinely would appreciate an answer to: Why would you still support this relationship if you believe that Louis had an entire child with someone else and Harry was upset about it? Why would you not "take Harry's side" in this situation and stop being a fan of Louis, especially if you listened to the song Kiwi and saw Harry's tears at the GMA interview where Louis confirmed his fatherhood? Because that's what I did when I, for a brief period of time, believed in Louis's paternity.

3. If you understand that the narrative is trying to reinforce that Louis is a doting father when the reality is that he's fairly absent in F's life, do you not see something wrong with that? Do you not see something wrong with the fact that Elounor, the fakest beard relationship of all time, had their break-up announcement exactly one month before F was conceived? That doesn't strike you as odd?

4. Actually, I talked to one of the 1D security members, and he denied that the article was true. So, no, they did not hire decoys for the purpose of protecting the boys.

Proof:

(If you disbelieve in these screenshots, ask me to record it on camera with a separate phone and I will; that way, it won't be possible that I faked it)

Therefore, we have two possibilities. Either the articles were completely fabricated, or the articles were sent out by 1D's management without the security's knowledge as a casting call, and the whole security story was made up. I cannot prove which option is true. So, I am not saying the lookalike sperm donor theory is true. I am merely putting forth the theory with supporting evidence, because it could be true.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

Spoken like a true product of academia. Mr. Golarz, you do understand, or at least you should understand that the Bill of Rights and the Constitution as a whole are not there to provide Rights to the government but put the government on notice of the Rights we as Free Citizens have already. It further lays out in the text the governments responsibility to protect our Rights, both individual and as a group. Our Rights preempt the Government, our Rights exist without the Government thus the GOOBERMENT cannot remove a Right, nor can they curb a Right for the convenience of the Government. "As a veteran, father, grandfather, and citizen I say the AR-15-style rifle must be outlawed in every corner of this country." and? Me too. Short rant: I am tired of Veteran's saying "I'm a Veteran" so my opinion is more weighted on a given subject. Bring a Veteran gives you no special secret squirrel insight into freedom beyond the fact that you have paid the bill for yours. I spent more than 20 Years in the Service, I am no more qualified dole out freedom as I see fit than I am to give freedom. BUT, (And there is always a but.) as an educated individual I understand that a Right is something you have from birth, no man or government get's to determine your level of participation in that Right, that is up to the individual. Also, I become suspicious of any Veteran who first advocated for the remove of Rights and freedoms, this flies in the face of our Oath. As a Veteran I do not get to cherry pick what Rights I like or what Rights I will defend. I have to defend them all. Case in Point: I do not think burning the flag in protest is ok. I don't think the flag should be made in to Underroos (dating myself there.) or swimwear, or any number of other novity items the flag is used for. With that said I will standby and defend a persons right to do just that because 1A says it is protected. I don't get to look past that protection provided by the Constitution just because I find it distasteful. In short, the Veteran qualifier means very little to me unless that qualifier is being use to show you have direct first hand knowledge over a subject. (I.E., A special forced operator knowing hoe to eat snakes better, and Infantry member knowing how to conduct ambush operations better, a combat engineer knowing how to blow shit up better. But the general blanket of "I'm a Veteran" so I have a more profound understanding of Rights is horseshit. I quickly discount Veterans who say shit like "The most Alice in Wonderland aspect of this gun controversy is the allowance, ownership, and use of automatic weapons of war — pure insanity." Mr. Golarz, the bulk of privately owned firearm's in the United States are not automatic. That was stopped in 1934, and further curtailed in 1986, The fact is, about 99.5% of all automatic firearms in the U.S. today are controlled and used by federal and state governments, no the citizenry of the U.S. When a person, any person, regardless of qualification advocates for the government to not only remove a Right but make it a punishable crime after "a brief period of time" draws an extra level of scrutiny and skepticism from me, more so when they try to qualify that with the phrase "I'm a Veteran." End side rant. "Former Chief Justice Warren Burger summarized the action of the Supreme Court in District of Columbia v. Heller as, “one of the greatest pieces of fraud ever perpetrated on the American people.” Years later Justice John Paul Stephens declared that the decision in Heller was the worst decision ever rendered by a Supreme Court." Why would you try to use Justice Stephens ridiculous quote when the SCOTUS has actual ruling that are so much worse in some cases still "good law", here are a few examples. (side note: Heller was not a bad ruling, it was a correct ruling.) First and foremost, Dred Scott v. Stanford (1857).

In one ruling the SCOTUS said Black folks could not be considered American Citizens ever. It did not matter if the person in question was a freed slave in a state of territory that allowed them rights and privilege's such as voting they were still mostly slaves and thus sub-human.

Buck v. Bell (1927).

This case that is still "Good law" says that forced sterilization of those with "intellectual disabilities" in the care of the state either through forced "in males by vasectomy and in females by salpingectomy".

"Three generations of imbeciles are enough." Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in his delivered opinion to the court.

Eugenics much?

Korematsu v. United States (1944).

SCOTUS ruled that people could be interned into prisons, all their money and possession taken based on how they looked and fear. (Yes, that is simplifying the case but that is what it boiled down to.) The court ruled that individual American Citizens Rights were out weighed by the Governments fear of their Citizens based exclusively on racial background.

Of course there are other turds like:

Bowers v. Hardwick (1986), that Justice harry Blackmun called "an almost obsessive focus on homosexual activity." and Citizens United v. FEC (2010) that made donations to super PAC's protected under the 1st Amendment. I have been trying to post this for half the day. I had to remove all the source links, post the article first then reopen it and past in my part in, then repost it.

[marine-paint]

Do you have a summary for the GALE LORE so far? I just walked in here and it is exciting but my scrolling power is weak

Okay (rubs hands together until i get rugburn) strap in because this is gonna be a Lot.

technically the start of my involvement in the lore (and also the start of lore gale’s descent into madness) is when moth (@moth-yknowtheartist) pretended to act like they’re Moth But Wrong (as a sort of puppet history reference with the substitute) as a big and me being the only one to point out “hey guys moth is acting weird!!!” “moth” (which is the name that we’ll be using for the moth impersonator for now) claimed that they wanted to “make music” which was basically a euphemism for murder. gale, oblivious, obliged. the “instruments for making music” was a shovel, a crowbar, latex gloves, and a big jug of molasses. obviously not musical instruments!!! but “moth” insisted that it was experimental music so gale had no choice but to brush it off.

at this point they knew something was up but they couldn’t put their finger on it, but what fully tipped him off to the fact that Oh Shit This Is A Full On Murder Scheme was “moth” conversing with the scientist (@watcherwatts) and this made gale Very Stressed!! imagine being told by someone who you thought was your friend that you were making music and then see them conversing with a moth-looking scientist about who knows what. you’d probably be freaked out too!!

then gale lore officially starts. in the first leg of gale lore, gale is just sitting around waiting for asks. from here, “moth” torments gale behind the viel of anon just for funsies. gale, however, is not amused. this is around the time when the traveler (@andrewryder) starts doing the traveler things. the appearance of the traveler is also around the time where the Chess Metaphors start. you can check out moth’s post for the full rundown of basically everything including everyone’s role as chess pieces. but the gist of it is that gale Starts Out as a pawn. i repeat: Starts Out. this will be important later.

This, my friend, is when things Start to go off the rails. you heard me right. Start to go off the rails.

the next leg of gale lore is when gale was waiting for the items he got conned into buying for “moth”. here, thief (@foundthethief) tries reaching out to gale about “moth”’s whole murder scheme. gale gets intimidated out of trying to go at first but goes anyway, just to try and hear theif out. this would prove to be useless as gale is too afraid and too stubborn to switch sides.

later, they have an encounter with the traveller. they have a hilarious back and forth where gale refuses to properly answer the question “do you remember being born?” and instead toes around the question. eventually gale caves in and answers the question (for chess metaphor reasons) and leaves them a book titled fate. finally, gale moves forward. This is where the pawn promotion finally happens and gale turns into a QUEEN.

the next leg of gale lore is a bit wild. gale gets a new look (sick!) and the time of peep’s murder is fast approaching. the things gale ordered are coming soon and “moth” is waiting in anticipation. for a brief period an impersonator of “moth” tried talking to gale. gale snapped at the impersonator and forced anon to turn off using their new powers. also gale has powers now!!! what??? but hang tight because it’s only gonna get more insane beyond this point.

gale and “moth” also have a conversation together. it starts out relatively normal, but it quickly veers into the topic of “moth” leaving. gale is understandably very distressed at this because, even though “moth” was Not Great towards gale, they still cared about him. they also didn’t want a repeat of moth’s (the real one) death. these complex feelings culminated into a breakdown which heavily influenced gale’s decision to finally quit. hooray!!!! except oh noo because now he’s on “moth”’s kill list. the event also causes some serious interference which prevents “moth” from reaching gale through asks.

the traveller approaches gale once more urging him to open up the book. gale refuses at first but eventually relents, and the book offers some advice. gale doesn’t understand it but keeps it close anyway.

while the traveller and “moth” agree to track gale down and kill him, gale is busy watering down the molasses and cleaning out the jug. gale Knows about the interaction (this will become a constant for poor gale) and rushes with their plan, leaving the latex gloves and empty molasses jug on the table and just booking it with the shovel and crowbar.

while gale is running for their life in the nearby forest, the traveller and “moth” pick the lock to gale’s house and break in. while they’re there they find gale’s book. gale Knows about them finding it and he freaks out.

while gale runs through the forest, they turn invisible!!! what!!! this actually proves to be very useful later when they have a run in with “moth” at the lake. “moth”, who is in the process of grieving the recent loss of the traveller (sad! well there’s othe-) has a talk with gale, and eventually they come to a truce. the agreement was that “moth” would not kill gale until after they bring the traveller back.

(imagine me taking a deep breath before continuing)

on the way back, gale figures out a new name for “moth”, which ends up being acher! transgender rights and whatnot. also on the way back, acher and gale hatch a plan to try and repeat the events that happened when gale first quit to try and see if there is a pattern to gale’s new powers. the plan was for acher to piss off gale enough to recreate the feelings that set off the interference last time. and it works! but it works a little too well because acher’s system gets overwhelmed to the point of needing a restart. both gale and acher agree to maybe Not do that again. also gale is finally visible again! hooray!!!

acher and gale finally reach gale’s house, they have a brief discussion about gale’s powers, again. it leads to them hatching another plan which is the same as last time: make gale distressed enough to force the powers out. that totally won’t go horribly like it did last time!

the gist of the plot was for acher to put gale in a life or death situation with a knife to his throat while interrogating them to force the information out (forcefully triggering gale’s new Knowing ability) and it works, unfortunately. they get the information needed, up until they answer the question where andrew and the traveller (whom i will call ryder now) are. after getting that answer, acher presses further on the matter and gale has no choice but to answer, basically having the information sucked out of them. gale gets upset that acher didn’t do what they agreed and acher drops gale while apologizing. acher starts grieving over the now realized death of ryder, and gale offers some sympathy. they briefly talk once more before acher says she has to leave and urges gale get some rest. gale does not get some rest.

at this point gale starts reaching out to other people (all of them dead). they talk with andrew and convinces them to talk with ryder. they talk with ryder but doesn’t really seem to get anywhere with them before the transmission cuts off.

however, moth starts talking from hell, and gale starts talking with them instead. gale offers to be a guide, similar to the one dante had in dante’s inferno. also the hell moth is in is basically a corporate hell with 8 restaurants and a chuck-e-cheese (chuck-e-cheese is NOT a restaurant and anyoNE WHO SAYS OTHERWISE IS FUCKING WRONG) which is meant to reflect the 9 circles of hell in dante’s inferno.

gale also starts answering questions and admits to moth that acher may have tried killing gale before they truced. moth is understandably upset with this.

while moth is still traversing through a literal hellscape, gale is slowly becoming less and less human! uh oh! gale never really had the chance to deal with the mortifying ordeal that they are no longer fully human up until now, and that terrifies him. at first he gets egged on by anons to abandon their humanity and go full nonhuman magic mania. moth, however, stepped in and they have a very sweet moment and gale agrees to not use their power because it makes him upset.

(gasps for breath)

any questions

[abeyyabhishekh]

"Am I 10, or 12, or 22 (the sum)?"- I guessed standing in front of the mirror, while everyone was asleep. My eyes were itchy and red. It was the 3rd night i hadn't slept in a row. I stayed awake for long enough, i began to see things outside reality and began to go insane bit by bit. First, my senses refused to collaborate, then I had difficulty recalling things. I became a confused, indecisive creature that walks on earth. I lost track of time. I didn't just become illusioned, i became the very illusion myself. Suddenly volunteering for the grand magic trick done by God himself.

Then i slept, for a very brief period, like 1/3rd of a minute. I didn't remember falling asleep either. I just remembered waking up in the middle of Fluid class. Did I just nod off? I asked Adesh, then told myself to have a nap or, i stroll back home, but what I did was studied the whole period with my red itchy sleepy eyes. I waited for the night, then for the morning. Everything was going in a loop, even the issue of lack of sleep itself. I was downhearted because I couldn't sleep, i couldn't sleep because I was downhearted. "Isn't it a paradox?"- I asked myself. "Ofcourse yes, Everything is a paradox. A recurring pair of events. A program."- I answered myself.

"Insufficient sleep can increase your chance for dementia in the future" the healthcare column of 'The Kathmandu Post' i follow say. I read, then closed the browser, drank a glass of water. I had heard that an average human sleeps for 1/3rd of his life. I had also heard, How 1/3rd of our life is wasted before we can finally think for ourselves. How little time is left to accomplish. It is only in what remains that we do so much; finish study, obtain a degree, work our ass off, contribute to society, make friends, fall in love, marry, travel, find ourselves, lose ourselves, come to terms with god, see sunsets, form opinions, experience the true 'wakefulness'.

Yet when i look around, what i see is a monotonous cycle of continuous events with no intervention. It makes me ponder death. I think of "what i would have to look back on in the past, when I'm in the future myself? What will be there to reflect upon, when at last, death will arrive?" My eyes will dilate, my jaw wide open – not in fear but in awe. What after? I wonder.

Well, sleep. Sleep well.

There was a knock on the door. Bhai had knocked the door to wake me up. The sun had risen. I walked to washroom.

"Am I 10 or 12, or twenty 22 (the sum) ?"- I guessed standing in front of the mirror, while (not) everyone was in sleep. My eyes were still itchy and red. 3rd night in a row I hadn't slept.

Without thinking of anything more, I washed my face and left for 'Fluid' class.