#truly where did you get your lobotomy though I think they did great

[smonk-wonk]

Me after my lobotomy thinking trans women are respected more than cis women because my trash fucking opinion was very aggressively disagreed with by a Spooky Wooky Woke Mafia Anti Free Speech Liberal Feminist.

Like this probably didn't happen but I'll humor this totally real Tumblr story. If it happened firstly that's fucking stupid why did you lie about being a trans woman? Because you were that sure you'd get more respect if you lied about where you're coming from? "I don't remember exactly how I snuck it in the conversation" that's funny because I can't think of a way to appropriately fit that into the conversation without making it appear relevant to the conversation. So it's a good thing you established that to ensure no one questioned the fact that this wouldn't make sense to bring up. That is unless being used to somehow weaponize this identity that you're lying about having.

Also you're twisting the narrative to fit the way that you see trans women. They didn't see you as a powerful man with a superior opinion. A cis man giving their take on feminism speaking over everyone else would not be taken the same. This very real Liberal Feminist wouldn't likely, reasonably change her mind if she felt a "man" was speaking over her. In fact if you instead lied about being a cis man and said your pfp is your partner or some shit I don't see a reason why that would make her feel you more worthy of respect in that situation, reasonably. If your point was men get more respect you should've just done that- called yourself a man and seen how that went. Oh but that wouldn't fit this stupid fucking narrative that trans women are the enemy would it? The argument that they're equal to men would fall apart when they're not treated equally (they are not at all) wouldn't it?

Like you weren't being shit on for your opinion by a cis woman because you're a cis woman you fucking goofball. It's a shit fucking opinion acting like drag is this horrible disrespectful thing that perpetuates misogyny. That it's basically blackface but like, for women. Lobotomized take. And before "i DiDn'T sAy ThAt" it is describing it just as one would blackface, as if they are both problematic and for the same reasons. Blackface is what a caricature of an oppressed minority is. Yknow why though? Because it was always historically intentionally used to satirize and portray blackness as something to look down upon and laugh at and satirize. A caricature of women would be if the point was for drag queens to get up on stage and not feel good about expressing and celebrating femininity but rather act in an exaggerated manner that intentionally satirizes and makes fun of it and by extension, women. If you're going to call it a caricature of women then I can't ignore the parallel in that there is in fact a demographic that is very offensive to alter your appearance to imitate but doing so is also an offensive and oppressive practice. But the point of blackface is to be a satirical caricature of a group of people, which not the same point as drag. In fact it's the opposite and if you asked everyone at a drag show how they feel about women and femininity you would not get the same response as asking how they felt about black people and their community at a minstrel show. If you were wondering why your opinion is trash and makes no sense

But anyway, in this situation a change of tone from the other side would probably indicate that she began to consider that maybe you came from a place of perceiving this as transphobia because you lied during an argument and made your trans identity that doesn't exist relevant in said argument. I mean bringing it up in this conversation would imply that your identity as a trans woman has to do with how you feel here. Wouldn't be a stretch to think you were implying transphobia in sharing that honest detail because otherwise there's no reason to. Either way her reasoning kinda wouldn't matter because I can guarantee you it wouldn't have been "Oh shit a man, I'd better shut up and listen to him!". Which makes your point fall apart

They didn't respect you "as a man" because you weren't being seen as a man. Do you think if you debated with a cis man and said you were a trans woman he would respect you more than a cis woman but still regard you as a man? Do you live in a timeline where the only respected feminist voices are that of people who are designated male at birth and cis women are told to shut up about feminism and know their place? Anyway this one person who again probably doesn't exist but sure whatever, doesn't qualify as a large enough sample size to imply a generalization. That this is the Liberal Feminist Mindset.

Back when I had a Facebook account I once commented that I thought drag queens were misogynistic caricatures of women and this liberal pseudo-feminist came down on me very agressively like I was a piece of shit for thinking that and we ended up debating the pressure of femininity on women and I don't remember exactly how I snuck it in the conversation but I said I was a trans woman and her tone completely changed it was insane. She calmed down instantly, became super respectful, all of the sudden I was allowed to disagree and she understood where I was coming from, even though my arguments hadn't changed at all. All it took was pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. No more snarks, no more personal attacks, no more rudeness. My friends saw the conversation and were bewildered as well. I was only allowed a feminist opinion if I pretended it came from a man. I was only treated with empathy and respect when I pretended I was a man. Ridiculous.

[kit-williams]

Plague Soup for the Soul

Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@plegg

Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses

Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many

tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT

Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.

Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"

Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.

Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"

"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...

The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.

"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.

"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.

Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.

You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."

"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.

"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.

"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.

"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."

Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.

The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."

You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.

He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."

You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.

"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"

You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.

But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."

You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.

Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.

You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.

You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.

Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.

"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.

"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.

"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.

Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."

You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.

You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.

"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.

"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.

You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.

"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.

"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.

"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.

Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"

"Five years my lord."

"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"

"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.

"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.

As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.

Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.

The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.

His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!

You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.

You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.

Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.

[eye-of-yelough]

🍋🍪🍫!!

eeeeeeee thank!! doing this out of order cos the worst memory definitely had to be put under a readmore 😬

🍪 - what is something sentimental to your oc?

saved this one for last and i still don’t really know. i don’t think he’s very materially sentimental though. i think when he peels the face bandages away after Gortash gives him the lip/neck scars it’s like. in tv shows when they get makeovers and look into the mirror and cry because they’re so beautiful lmao. truly an insane response. but the Orin lobotomy happens really not very long after that so he doesn’t get the chance to enjoy it for long.

OH. the spiders lyre that Minthara gives him. when i mentioned everything reminds me of her by elliott smith was an aerynthara song the part i forgot to mention was that i imagine him playing it on the spiders lyre 🥹 i don’t think this Literally happens but it’s a cute image. i think he does try to teach himself how to play it but he sucks so bad and his singing would make your ears and eyes bleed.

🍫 - where does your oc go to think?

do people actually have “thinking spots”? i feel like that’s not really a thing. (<- guy who never leaves his room) anyway i don’t think he has a thinking spot but his “stop thinking” spot is basically any body of water. amphibious little fucker. maybe he wouldn’t be so weird if someone took him on a swimming date.

horrible horrible shit under the cut i’ve talked about this a little bit before in the tags of a post a few days ago, but this is in more detail. mentions of rape, both physical and psychological is the only way i can think to explain it. it’s bad. and csa.

🍋 - what is your oc’s most painful memory?

it isn’t one specific occasion, more a chain of events that gets worse and worse. i don’t know how to say this gently so i’m just gonna be super matter-of-fact about it. Aeryn got groomed and eventually sexually assaulted by his private piano tutor as a kid. (the fact that gort plays piano. ick) emphasis on the “groomed” part cos when his foster parents found out and they tried to have the bastard arrested he killed them to protect him. i don’t know exactly what happens between that and him getting adopted by Zhander the warlock mentor, but he doesn’t see the bastard who did that to him again. at least uhh. not for a while. Zhander isn’t too bad of a guy and doesn’t mistreat Aeryn, but their criminal lifestyle exposes him (young) to some more people who do over the years. Aeryn coming into his bhaalspawn legacy makes him increasingly difficult for Zhander to handle, especially seeing how Aeryn is using the same language he uses to justify his grey morality to justify brutal murder. he becomes terrified of him.

ok why is this just becoming aeryn’s backstory. yknow what i’ve started now i’m just gonna keep going cos i’m on a roll

Zhander eventually can’t handle the monster he created anymore and sells him to. some kind of Entity. idk Great Old One, it’s weird. this part’s a little a fuzzy if you couldn’t tell lol. anyway The Entity eventually becomes Aeryn’s patron after uhm. some amount of time? lots of horrors experienced in that time i’ll tell ya that much. Aeryn joins the Bhaalist cult at 21, only 4 years before meeting Gort.

to get it back on track to Aeryn’s Worst Memory, at some point he tells Gort about the piano teacher when they were playing their weird “Gortash as Aeryn’s therapist trying to cure his sex addiction” game. a mistake. first off Gort is super fucking creepy about it. but the real horror is a few weeks later when Gort leads him blindfolded into his basement (normal bestie activities) and uhm. locks him in a room with his former piano teacher. (big windows of course) and has no plans on letting him out until he gets his revenge. and i’m not talking about killing him. “takes back his dignity” as Gortash calls it, while forcing him to do the worst thing you could do to another person. and he eventually does do it, to be clear. strangles him to death while he does it and cries until he loses his voice, but he does it. Gortash makes him say “thank you” after wrestling him into accepting being cradled and told how good of a job he did. 😬

oh and Gortash makes sure to adequately break the guy beforehand to make sure it is rape.

and for context on why Gortash does this, because there is a reason: it’s pretty soon after he has the “Aeryn is my literal heart” realisation, but before he realises that his heart is an asset, not a burden. in that period of time, he does a lot of the worst stuff he ever does to Aeryn, including this, in an effect to kill his empathy. his heart. he doesn’t succeed, he never could, but he definitely fucks him up scary style.

so um. yeah. sorry

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 139 Review Part I: On Eren Jeager and Genocide

Why?

Why is this happening?

Folks, I’m going to be honest here: there are no words for this. The main thrust of this chapter is completely inexplicable. It’s stupid. It’s ill conceived. FML.

Just…just the term itself is laughable.

Eren redemption arc.

Sksksksksksksksksksksk

After everything he’s done, everyone he’s killed, you’re going to try redeeming Eren in the final chapter?

Eren didn’t need to be redeemed. He was a bullheaded kid who didn’t let anyone stop him from doing what he thought needed to be done. He sees the titans outside the walls as enemies to be exterminated. When he learns that his real enemies are other humans, who have a right to freedom as much as he does, he can’t accept it and decides to just exterminate them too. That mindset led him down a tragic path of genocide.

That’s not a bad character arc!

In fact, I’d say it’s very compelling. Nonconformity and obstinance are often presented as virtues; flipping that paradigm on its head and showing the vices of those virtues was legitimately smart and provocative.

Making people rethink what traits are virtues and vices is a great moral to the story, and it paired well with the other moral of cooperation and loving your fellow people.

Then this chapter came out, and they threw all that away.

Eren’s arc once made me think of Aristotle, who argued that true virtue lied between extremes: neither too submissive nor too rebellious.

Now Eren’s arc makes me think of pseudointellectual 4chan philosophy, and dumb teenagers: “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just human!!!”

Eren’s motivations are a mess now. He had no free will, but he also had a plan, but deep down he wanted to do the rumbling no matter what, but actually he really wanted to be with Mikasa.

Oh, and B T dubs, he killed his mom too.

You can tell Isayama is desperate to make Eren as sympathetic as possible to justify making him the anti-hero because he’s throwing everything he can pull out of his ass at Eren.

Really, though, all he ended up doing was smearing shit on the character.

Eren’s plan was to kill a significant part of the human population so the world wouldn’t be as overwhelming a threat as before. Simultaneously, he planned (“planned”) for the alliance to become vaunted heroes to the world when they killed him, thus paving the way to peace.

This…makes no sense?

There is no reason Eren should have believed this would work. During the battle of Trost, Pixis asked him if humanity could unite if threatened by a common enemy. Eren said no.

Eren is a pessimist about people. He sees how much the walldians fought with each other and concluded that people would always be at odds.

And the Tybur family helped defeat the Eldian Empire, but only the Tyburs were seen as heroes by the Marleyans. That good will was not imputed from the Tyburs to the other Eldians on the continent. There’s no reason to think that would happen here when it didn’t back then.

I’m assuming, anyway, that the alliance becoming heroes is supposed to lead to a world where Paradis is safe since that’s supposed to be Eren’s goal.

I’m willing to grant that maybe this part of Eren’s plan was more of a hope on his part. Peace would come only after his death, so he can’t truly “plan” for anything afterwards.

I think it’s safe to say that killing the world’s population was the main part of his plan, since that’s the part he had the most control over.

To the extent he had any control over his actions, which brings me to the next point.

So, turns out Eren had no free will.

Can you not feel Isayama’s desperation?

After all the awful things Eren’s done, Isayama’s brilliant idea to make him sympathetic is to strip him of all agency.

This is done by two routes throughout the chapter.

The first is by building him up as a victim. Eren’s mind is fucked; he can’t really control himself. Any decent person would feel pity for him, which is reinforced by the sorrow Armin visibly feels for him.

Then, like a shotgun blast to the face, we are told that Eren killed his mother in a moment that is clearly supposed to endear us to him.

This is such a transparent appeal for our sympathy. Isayama’s desperation leaps off the page and mugs us of it.

The only thing that this revelation adds to the story is that it gives Armin a reason to take up Eren’s hand, and show him support. You can see Armin’s heart breaking for Eren in that moment.

That’s mostly why this is here: to give the mass murderer a hard luck story so our hearts melt for him.

The second route is that depriving Eren of agency absolves him of blame for what he did.

Eren beat Armin bloody, but you can’t really blame him for it. He was drugged out on the Founding Titan and didn’t want to do it. He was acting on impulse, just going with the flow, so he deserves, at the very least, some leniency.

Eren both having a plan and not having much in the way of free will is contradictory. Everyone still talks about Eren as if he’s someone who is doing stuff even though we’re told he’s not really capable of rational decision making.

I’m going to be nice and assume Isayama’s intent is that when you parse this all out, you end up in a place where Eren is not truly responsible for what he did, and in any event this all ended with the titan curse broken and the world at peace, sooooo break out the champagne everyone, we achieved world peace!

…

Yeah, bub, I’m not partying right now.

Isayama’s ploy to absolve Eren of blame didn’t work. Eren is still responsible for the people he killed and his Founding Titan lobotomy counts for shit. Turns out it helps to know how free will works when you’re writing about free will.

Free will is the quality of being in control of your actions, at least to the extent necessary to be held responsible for them.

Eren was just going with the flow (wonder what Annie thought of that…), acting on impulse, and getting dragged along by fate, but that’s not actually important.

It’s been known for centuries that current events are caused by previous events and that the current events will bring about future events in a never ending chain of cause and effect. One domino causes another to fall causes another to fall and on and on. This is called determinism.

And that’s ok because we free will exists. It exists even if we can’t do anything other than what we are going to do. It exists in spite of, or even arises out of, determinism.

This premise, that free will and determinism are not mutually exclusive, is the foundation for a family of theories about free will called compatibilism.

Compatibilist free will is the most popular theory of free will. There are a couple of variations on the basic idea, but the gist is that free will exists when your actions can be linked to an aspect of yourself that you identify with.

For example, if you had no choice but to do something, but you’re ok with that because it’s what you wanted anyway, then you have free will.

Even if I didn’t know you’d stop me in the end, I think I still would have flattened this world. 

-Eren Jeager

That’s all I needed to hear.

EREN, FUCK YOU!!!!

Eren had free will, at least as much as necessary to blame him for his genocide.

Isayama threw this curveball at us and all it did was ruin Eren as a character while leaving him just as repugnant as before. Incredible. It’s the worst of both worlds.

Before this chapter Eren was a guy who believed in something and followed that belief no matter who got in his way. That was great! It was tragic and sad, but great storytelling.

Where does this chapter leave us?

What we learn in this chapter is that Eren didn’t really believe in anything. He may have free will enough to be a shithead for what he did, but that doesn’t mean he has free will enough to be an interesting character.

Eren coming to grips with him not being free, in an absolute sense, would have been so much more interesting than what we got. Eren started the series comparing humanity to cattle in a pen. He ends the series being literally sheparded by fate to his death like cattle to a slaughterhouse.

And yet we get no exploration of that at all.

It’s lame. Everything about this is lame. From a storytelling perspective, Eren was just along for the ride. Who would want to reread this series now? A story about a boy who’s quest for freedom neither ends tragically nor happily, but is just forgotten about by the end. What’s the point?

There is none.

Eren’s journey ends up lost in the author’s own ignorance of the very thing this is supposed to be about.

Unfortunately, SNK isn’t interested in 80% of the world being dead. If it were, Eren wouldn’t have gotten such a warm send off.

I was honestly shocked when I read this chapter.

I thought it had been made clear. SNK had come firmly down against genocide. I never imagined Isayama would try a 180 in the final chapter.

And, well, he did, and here we are.

SNK is pro-genocide.

To wit:

Once Eren’s abominable plan is explained to everyone, he is lavished with love and comfort by his friends.

Armin did punch Eren for being callous about Mikasa, but overall all Armin had nothing but sympathy and understanding for Eren. They held hands and hugged and gave Eren a tender farewell.

All they talk about is how great a sacrifice Eren is making.

Not the sacrifice of 80% of all people, but the sacrifice that Eren personally is making of himself.

I don’t know what deranged mindset Isayama has that made him think this was sensible, but no, Eren is not sacrificing anything. He was always going to die. We’ve known this for several dozen chapters. It’s not a sacrifice to befall the fate you were always going to suffer.

He lost nothing. If anything, he gained from this ending.

Eren died knowing he was loved and appreciated by his friends. What more could a dying man ask for?

Eren is rewarded by the story for killing 80% of humanity.

His ultimate fate was no worse than was expected even before he committed the genocide, and he went out in the knowledge that his friends loved him for it.

It doesn’t even make logical sense that his friends would be so receptive to what he did.

There is no difference between Eren’s plan and what we thought Eren’s plan was before this chapter came out.

Armin thought Eren’s plan was to murder humanity to ensure his safety, and Armin was appalled. Armin was willing to sacrifice his life to ensure Eren failed. He was truly acting for the greater good of humanity.

In this chapter, Armin learns that Eren’s plan is actually to murder most of humanity to ensure his safety, and Armin loves him.

Again, hand holding, hugging, “thank you.” No mention of the unfathomable harm caused. The 80% killed are not even a footnote in this chapter.

Even after the fact, Eren’s friends showed no qualms with Eren essentially winning and procuring their safety through genocide.

When previously the mere thought of that was what motivated them to lay down their lives to stop him.

I don’t think Isayama believes this genocide is supposed to bear on how we think of Eren. I say, having just read the chapter that’s all about Eren, in which his genocide doesn’t bear on how his friends think of him. At all.

Was that too great a leap in logic? I apologize if my rationality offends you.

Eren may have died, but he won in the end.

His friends are safe and the world looks set to conclude a peace treaty with Paradis.

I don’t buy for a second that the world is a threat to Paradis anymore, and I don’t buy for a second that there won’t be a peace shortly after the end of the story.

It’s very telling, to me, that it’s the world that’s come to grovel at Paradis’ feet, begging for peace, when previously it was the other way around.

The contours of this “peace,” if you can call it that, were made pretty clear in the epilogue. The world is in ruins while Paradis is stronger than ever, so the world sues for peace for fear of Paradis attacking further. 

This is the moral of the story. Frankly, it’s been staring at us in the face the whole time.

How do you end the cycle of violence?

The answer is to win. To be stronger. More determined.

The only peace is enforced peace through domination.

Peace through the barrel of a gun.

To be continued in part II (and possibly part III)

[thelordfool]

When The Sun Rises - Chapter Two

Stripped Away

The Courier stared up into the morning sky, Mojave dust tugging at the hems of his jacket, cracked, dry asphalt beneath his boots. Something about being back in the Mojave - back home - brought a great sigh of relief to him, a sigh that shuddered deep throughout his body. Long had he walked, long had he been exposed to the dangers that lay outside the wastes he had grown to know, and finally, he was home.

Home, he thought, blinking upwards at that same morning sky, sun hidden behind endless layers of charcoal clouds that hailed down the storm, is where he would like to be most. Laying down on his bed in Novac, shaped to the curve of his body, fiddling with a Dinky the Dino plastic figure and wondering how hilarious it would be to turn it into a grenade. Pop the head, toss over a wall, hear a solitary moment of confusion, then, boom!

“Ahem,” an impatient cough interrupted his thoughts. Aberdeen turned his head to stare at the figure in the tent beside him. The woman inside was waving him in. “Come on, get out of the rain already!”

He obliged and stepped underneath the canvas. Buckets were strewn about, catching drops of water that fell through in areas where the tent had been chewed through by moths.

“Sorry about the mess,” said the woman. She was a frazzled looking person, like the stress had sunk deep into her skin, but she still wore a genuine smile on her face. The hair on her head had looked like it once had a mohawk, but had been flattened by the onslaught of rain and was now slicked back. Her eyes shone bright green, even in the dimness of the tent. She wore, much like many of the Followers, a doctor’s lab coat. “My name is Julie, and I’m the leader of this branch of the Followers of the Apocalypse. Are you in need of any medical attention?”

“One could say that,” croaked out Aberdeen. He removed his helmet to give her a proper look. “Not in the physical sense, though.” Julie seemed taken aback to see his face. Aberdeen was not handsome by one’s standard definitions - his travels have caused scars, more than just on the surface. Across his dark brown skin stretched a bright pink, fresh scar, temporarily blinding his left eye. It ran up into his scalp, stopping just before the scar where he had been shot just three months prior. Fainter than them both, unnoticeable if not by where the hair could not grow, the scar from his lobotomy in the Big Empty. “Pardon my manners. I’m Courier Six.”

“An interesting name,” she commented, looking him over. “Are you the courier that everyone has been talking about?”

“One and the same.” 

“My goodness. And here I thought all the celebrities had been stolen away to the Strip.”

“I’ve got an invitation from a man named Benny up there,” he grimaced, “but I’ve decided to leave it for another day.”

“I see. So how can we help you today, Courier?”

“I’m looking for a therapist.”

“Well, you’re quite forward.”

“Takes a lesser man to not admit when he’s down.” Aberdeen was not one to be afraid of opening up to people, or showing his emotions. While some people become tough and an impenetrable wall when facing bad times, he had turned softer and knew that this was his only life. So to speak, having risen from the grave. Speak true, speak kindly, but take shit from no-one. It’s done him well thus far, and goody-two-shoes as it may seem, treating others with kindness makes their lives that much easier and gained him that much more in return. All in all, it was a selfish way of life.

“Well, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think we have what you’re looking for here. The Followers specialize in some forms of mental health, mainly addiction, but we may not...” She trailed off, seeing the pained look on Aberdeen’s face. Julie thought a moment. “Actually, we might.” Julie turned to point in the direction farther into the Fort. “Head into the tent just past the one next to this. In there, there’s one of our doctors. He’s less of a doctor and more of a researcher, though. He might be able to figure something out to help you with your problems.”

“So... you want him to experiment on me?” Aberdeen arched an eyebrow, a sarcastic smirk on his lips. Julie opened her mouth to retort but caught onto his tone before giving a disapproving grunt, narrowing her eyes. 

“I take it you’re the type to express his pain in the form of humor.”

“Ring-a-ding-ding!” That smirk grew into a shit-eating grin.

“Get out of my tent.” Aberdeen let out a short laugh, threw back on his helmet and trotted to the tent, Julie watching him disappear into the rain. They’ll be a good fit, she thought, then swore at how much water was pooling at her feet.

*

The courier stepped into the tent. This one was much smaller than the one that Julie had hurried him into, and only occupied a single person, sitting at a desk, fiddling with a barrel cacti. The sound of someone stepping in was enough to startle the man, who dropped his succulent and spun around to face the courier. Blonde hair that had been made unusually curly by the weather framed at the top of the man’s face, followed by rectangle glasses that shadowed green eyes - though a duller shade than those of Julie’s. 

“Uh, hi,” Aberdeen waved awkwardly. He once again took off his helmet, this time, sticking it on a nearby, unoccupied chair. “Julie sent me over here? I’m, uh, Courier Six. What are you...”

“Oh,” the man seemed to swallow what may have been a lump in his throat and cleared it out. “You know. Finding treatments to common illnesses and injuries. Simpaks out of barrel cacti, and other fantastic improbabilities.” He nodded his head back to the succulent, eyes rolling so hard they’d’ve been better off on a New Vegas betting table. “As far as fruitless wastes of time go, this one is quite noble in its aims.”

“I see,” Aberdeen nodded. He had quite the knowledge of medicine after having to patch himself up so much and all the magazines and books he’d found, reading them during long, boring nights of nothingness. “She had told me you were a researcher.”

“I’m not much of a people person. So I’ve got no qualms with Julie sticking me back here.”

“Yeah, no shit, I don’t even know your name yet.” 

“My apologies. My name is Arcade Gannon.”

“That doesn’t sound very real,” Aberdeen eyed him with suspicion and amusement.

“The situation we live in currently doesn’t sound very real, yet, here we are!” Arcade threw his hands up in annoyance. “Now, why did Julie send you over here?”

Aberdeen eyed the doctor over a little more carefully. Looking at the shape of his nose, the way his hair made perfect circles, broad shoulders and legs that went for miles. He found himself being hit with the initial feelings of a crush - love at first sight. Being the rational person he is, he swallowed that and planted his butt firmly on some dry ground up against a metal shelving unit.

“Turns out I need a good-looking doctor to help take care of me in the big, bad wastes,” he said with a smirk. Arcade scoffed at this, the slightest hints of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and a quick flash of red washing over his face.

“Overt flirtation will get you anywhere, you know,” he finally forced out with a chuckle. “Seriously, what would Julie send a courier to me for?”

“She thought your research might have helped you come across something for my mental health issues. Unsurprisingly, I have depression, but have found myself unable to cry in recent memory.” Aberdeen tapped the top of his head on his bullet wound. “Might’ve been able to before this magical eraser, but all I could remember when I woke up was my name and the face of the man who shot me.”

With this, Arcade made a hard face. His mouth twisted at trying to find the right words to say. But the look said enough for Aberdeen.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“I wouldn’t say that-”

But Aberdeen was already standing up, moving to put his helmet on. “Sorry to waste your time, doc,” he muttered in a frustrated tone. How many more days would he have to suffer with this? Strange as it may seem, it had effected his other emotional responses, too. How much longer would he have to think about how he would be unable to properly mourn? Laugh? Did he even truly feel anything? 

Arcade leaned over, grabbing the courier’s wrist. “Don’t,” he said in a stage whisper, barely audible above the rain. “What you really need, I think? Is a friend.” Aberdeen stared at Arcade with marvel. The doctor’s face screwed up and he released his grasp, face reddening with either ire or embarrassment. He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixated on his feet. “I’m sorry. You’re free to go as you wish.”

Aberdeen hovered for a minute, then put his helmet on, and stepped into the rain. Arcade didn’t even watch as he went.

*

Exactly two hours later, around 11 a.m., the courier returned to the tent. The rain had persisted relentlessly, forcing Arcade and the other residents of the Old Mormon Fort to the inside barracks. Aberdeen swore and rushed into the nearest tower and set search. When finally he came upon Arcade, he was slowly picking at an early lunch of cold grilled mantis.

“Courier,” he said in shock, “I didn’t think you’d return.”

Silently, only panting, Aberdeen sat and pushed a tightly plastic-wrapped, large, oddly-shaped package at Arcade. It made an audible thump as he tossed it on the table. The doctor looked down, then up to Aberdeen questioningly. 

“God damn it, just open it.”

With no further words, Arcade carefully tore the package open to reveal a set of armor not unlike that of the courier’s. Upon Arcade examining it, Aberdeen spoke again. 

“Why don’t you come with me?”

*

This is part two of ? of a slow-burn Courier Six (Aberdeen)/Arcade Gannon fic. If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or donating to my PayPal. If you need any artwork done, here is my commissions post.

If this is your first time seeing this, you can start here with chapter one on tumblr or on Ao3.

[changesxnight]

excessively detailed headcanons - Dallas

What does their bedroom look like? - messy as hell. his bed sheets are stained and ripped. his mattress has broken springs, making it really uncomfortable to sleep on - he's too broke to get a new one so he just deals with the back pain - there's posters on the walls of bands and singers he likes, all country or rock - he has a closet but he's too damn lazy to actually hang up his clothes so he puts them in piles

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? - bitch you thought - the most exercise he gets is running from the cops - you think he's can be an active smoker and actively exercise?

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? - go out and dine and dash like the asshole bad boy he is

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) - what is clean - he shaves once a week "cause he's blond" - his showers are hot as hell. it literally burns his skin but he loves it - it's practice for burning in hell

Eating habits and sample daily menu - he eats when he's hungry - likes finger foods the most - eats non-finger foods with his hands - loves burgers and pizza - but New York pizza is the best and WILL complain about any pizza that isn't from the city

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time - drinking or smoking - or picking up hot chicks and banging those hot chicks - wasting time is all he ever does - he's also really good at horseshoes?? - he loves bowling and pool and makes most of his money from his pool games

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging - it's Treat Yo Self day everyday expect it's stealing

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? - all of them - but it's the 60s and no body believes in mental illness cause you'll get a lobotomy :)

- okay but really - definitely borderline personality disorder - and possibly separation anxiety. but he had to learn how to live on his own so he doesn't get attached

Intellectual pursuits? - you think he does anything school-like on his own? - he tried to write a book in seventh grade but he got too frustrated

Favorite book genre? - he doesn't read - but I guess historical fiction / non fiction - let him hear about the Wild West - Billy the Kid was his hero

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? - he grew up in areas of lots of diversity so he's chill with everything - he's probably bisexual - but very, very closeted

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) - he's constantly getting hurt but he never treats his injuries properly - "oh no!1! they'll have to cut my side off!1!" kinda attitude - his knuckles are always cut up and gross - alcohol cleans the soul and the body from infections or attachment - he has lots and lots of scars from bloody knife fights to his abusive father

- I could see him being lactose intolerant but he eats diary products anyway because he hates himself

Biggest and smallest short term goal? - smallest would be getting another pack of cigarettes but he steals them every day - biggest would be winning the pool tournament down the street at Charlie's

Biggest and smallest long term goal? - biggest would be moving back to New York - or at least seeing the gang again - smallest? getting a car, maybe - an not just stealing one. he wants his own

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress - always in a jacket cause he's Cool™ - owns three jackets - one denim and two leather - black and brown - always in jeans. always - all his shoes are old and worn out - his brown cowboy boots are all scoffed up - and his two pairs of black Converse high tops should've been throw out years ago

Favorite beverage? - alcoholic: beer, mostly Yuengling. whiskey. Jack Daniels is a god - non-alcoholic: coffee. can't get through the day without it

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? - New York and how his old gang is doing, are his friends safe or even alive - he never stops thinking about the Bronx or any of it - he had to leave, he had to get out of there - but he wishes like hell he was still running from his father and having Patty take care of him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? - the first time he went to the doctors, he was four because his mother loved dope more than him - didn't get sick a lot; he had a great immune system - he broke a bone in a fight one time but never got it checked out so to this day, it still kinda hurts

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? - definitely a boobs guy - loves anyone who's good in a rodeo - muscles are always hot - loves a mystery and those who play hard to get

- he hates clinginess - he doesn't wanna settle down - he enjoys being single - he likes good girls but he hates being corrected for everything he does - he hates it when girls are too loud or are always complaining (that's his job)

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? - he'd either draw a bunch of dicks or write how bored and hungry he is

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? - there's a method to his madness - he's great at placing players for a sports game or saying who should cover who in a fight - but his room's a mess, his life's a mess, his emotions are a mess - but he knows where everything he is - at least that's what he says - he also has a great sense of direction - and knows how to get everywhere. like he's better than a map

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? - loves history and knows the gory details that they don't wanna teach in school - he knows the town's connections - real connections - to historical events and knows what the school and government are hiding

- he used to be really good at writing - still is, just won't tell anyone - he gets out his emotion through writing - there's a desk in his room - hidden by clothes and beer bottles/cans and trash - and in the bottom drawer, there's a bunch if stuff he's written. it's beautiful, really

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? - probably dead - or hooking up with some girl - or in prison - he'll either still be in Tulsa, a new city or back in New York  

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout? - he's convinced he'll never amount to anything so he doesn't have any plans - visit New York, do as little as he has to in order to get by - maybe even expose/destroy the government but that would take too much work

What is their biggest regret? - he had the chance to kill his father - everything was perfect; the opportunity was just placed in his hands - and he didn't do it - he hates himself to this day for not doing anything. he hated the man more than anything

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? - Russel-James Vincent is the best friend he'll ever have. no one can compete with RJ. they've known each other since second grade and they've been like brothers ever since - his worst enemy, well he's got a couple - he always hated Smokey but never said anything to his friends because Dally showed up last - he hated a lot of gangs in New York, whether it was street gangs or any of the Five Families - he hates Socs - and he hates the guy that hurt Johnny. he swore he was gonna kill him if he ever caught the bastard

- there's a lot of hate in this poor boy's heart - he needs to learn to forgive

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) - the fucker probably started the disaster - but he'd do what he always did: fix the problem himself

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) - self destruct until he forgets about it - smokes his lungs black, drinks until his liver fails on him

Most prized possession? - his leather jacket. it's one of the only things he owns that actually fits him - Mrs. Curtis bought it for him and he cherishes it like it's sent from God or something - his St. Christopher, it was given to him by his mother hey thanks @roblowes for letting me steal your hc

Thoughts on material possessions in general? - he came from nothing and died with nothing - materialism is what makes Socs Socs and keeps the rich rich - trust me, when he was a kid, he was practically Robin Hood - both Sonny and the Motorcycle Boy approved

Concept of home and family? - after his mother died, he didn't really know what family was - and he always hated his father - in New York, he learn that family doesn't have to be who you're related to. it's the people who will love and protect you unconditionally - once he met the gang in Tulsa, though, it was different - he truly felt accepted and cared for

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?) - he talks about sex too much - but he's a very private person aside from that - he keeps New York a secret but it's obvious to everyone he's constantly thinking about it

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? - it's not wasting time if you're making money - but if you lose, it is - that being said: pool, bowling and horseshoes on occasion

What makes them feel guilty? - nothing makes him guilty - except that he can't go back to New York - he feels bad that he left his friends and family with no explanation - and he can't remember anyone's addresses for the life of him

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? - emotional. he does what he wants in the present and deals with the consequences later

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? - he thinks he's type b but we all know it's type a - in New York, he thought he was carefree but we all know he cared too much - in Tulsa, his apathy rose as he had less to fight for, protect and provide for

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? - sex, mostly

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither? - probably inferiority because he let Sonny down - he was never good enough for his father and his mother loved dope more than she loved him

How misanthropic are they? - he hates Socs and those who hurt him or the ones he cares about

Hobbies? - pool, bowling, horseshoes, competing in the rodeo, drag races - anything stupid and reckless, really

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education? - he hates school so he barely goes - all his teachers gave up on him - everything he knows, he learned from Sonny, the Motorcycle Boy or on his own

Religion?

- Catholic but he doesn't act like it - but will go to confessions "to get a fresh start"

Superstitions or views on the occult? - superstitious when it's convenient - he was raised on superstitions, both in Detroit by his mother and the gangs and mobsters in the Bronx - he always kisses his ball before bowling or pitching in baseball - he makes wishes in fountains with pennies (don't tell anyone though)  

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? - through anger cause it's the only emotion he knows how to feel - that and lust but sex means next to nothing to him - he feels good for a while and then it's over

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? - liKE HE CAN - someone who can truly love him for him. knows how to deal with his moods, impulses and past. someone who won't push him too far and can't be pushed away, no matter how hard they try - basically Patty - they don't have to be perfect and they don't have to be just like him. they have to be someone who...pretty much his other half. someone who will take care of him if he protects them, someone who will listen to him and understand. someone empathetic and loves unconditionally

How do they express love? - he doesn't - with actions. he sucks with words - he'll give his partner his jacket or drive them home in 5 o'clock traffic or actually pay for a meal or get them a practical gift or something they've been talking about for a while - staying. he's horrible at commitment, but if he truly loves someone, he'll stay - actually no. you know he loves someone if he always comes back - or if he controls his anger around them. if he represses his anger for someone, he's in love - fighting for his partner. when they get in trouble, he'll back them up  

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? - when is he not in a fight - he fits fair. if it's skin-on-skin, he doesn't even bring a weapon. he wants the same number of men as the opponent. he follows the rules because if he doesn't, he'll have to deal with the Motorcycle Boy - he doesn't get doped up before a fight. the adrenaline is enough

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? - he wants to die 24/7. who are you thinking of??

[jfastereft]

"PROMETHEUS BOUND!"  a poem August 16, 2019 (Freya, fraying-away-Day!) dedicated to: Matthew!        :) - Yes, YOU!        :) - Who else?

  I'm Prometheus! You're Prometheus!  We're Prometheus, i.e.: Conscious enough,

 To: SING IN-A CHOIR! SELL TO-A BUYER!  & LIGHT-A-BIG-FIRE,

For-burning lots-of-stuff!

 Well, "Whoopee, Prometheus!  Now-that-you've-arrived,

In this exalted condition! and (somehow) you've survived,

The repeated attacks of-a liver hungry eagle,

Convincing yourself   you're-not-guilty-of  ILLEGAL

ACTIVITY, to                         "the n-th degree,"

What's-next, BIG BOY? Why-not drop-to-your knee,

And worship Yourself? or-another-eagle-archetype?

 Or! just-rest-at-home!  and smoke-you a pipe!

 Prometheus, baby, you just didn't know,

THAT PLAYING WITH FIRE MIGHT-BE "A-BIG NO-NO!"

 For-being-able-to-harness-fire HAS several "riders"* attached:

Like: "being THAT smart       means-that   GUILT YOU-HAVE-HATCHED!

Yeah, now you have the "capacity" to think you maybe did something wrong!

Plus:  Now you can "FALL IN LOVE" and sing THAT song,

About "FALLING IN LOVE - AGAIN!"  and "NEVER meaning to!"

Now, you-can  think you made a "good deal;" then, re-consider & get real "blue!"

Now, you can "eat your liver," by repeatedly drinking to excess,

Because - YOU ARE CONVINCED - your life is a mess,

And you can sit - and CRY because "You made mistakes BACK THERE,"

And you make GRAND EFFORTS -  to try to repair,

Broken relationships, even though ALL relations are broken AND (also) "whole!"

 Anyway, congratulations, Good Buddy, when "getting this far" wasn't even your goal;

It just happened! AND NOW - you can blame yourself for the predicament you're in!

AND - you can formulate and speculate - on the intricacies of "SIN,"

But-a-person-always-becomes sophisticated enough to-realize there-ain't such a thing;

However, coming to that conclusion - WILL NEVER BRING,

Any relief FROM THE GUILT WE ALL CARRY ANYWAY!

 CONGRATULATIONS, Prometheus!  I-guess we could seek a frontal lobotomy, hey?

Well, of course, that's exactly what drinking to excess will do for you!

It just takes a little bit longer!  to see the process through!

But, when you reach that point of "lobotomized demise,"

You're gonna get real cold, 'cause you-will-have forgotten how to make fire rise!

 But DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT! Something's probably gonna kill you first!

 "WELL, F - YOU, MR. MYSTIC POET!  You're too well versed,

In The Fine Art of Analogy! &-Pessimism! This is just way too much information!"

 No problem!  (1) Rob a bank; (2) Flee to France;

(3) Drink heavily at cafes;** and (4) Engage in romance,

Until "the cows come home," or "they" come to get-you,

And extradite you BACK HERE for-all-those-bad-things-we-do!

And, after you've been in prison for a number of years,

Your Friend in your cell might cut-out-your-liver with-blunt-scis-sers,

Someone nicknamed "Eagle" or "Zeus" or "Buzz,"

Who just likes to do stuff like that!  just because!

 So, after "Eagle" chops out your liver or your spleen,

He's-liable to set you and the cell on fire, 'cause he's pretty gosh-darn mean,

But he also feels guilt - for cutting - and torching His Cell Mate!

Oh, well!  This is PLANET EARTH!  It's "LATE!"  and-living's-great!

 Moral:  If your sanity is FRAYING, just eroding away;

Don't forget, as you're drinking heavily, to bow and pray!

And-remember to LOVE YOURSELF - and all our friends around,

Who are also DRINKING HEAVILY - &-also DON'T-KNOW-WHERE-TO (OR WHY) THEY'RE-BOUND!

fin   ♥

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOTUcb9k9u8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hK1lUswV6Uk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yC_OGqbRyDI

  * - Defined as things added to and becoming inherent in Congressional bills, especially "appropriation bills!"  It is any additional, often non-germane amendment sometimes added usually to a Senate bill or other measure; so, it might have NOTHING to do with what the bill is about, but is just something another Senator or Representative requires to vote affirmatively for the original bill!  Therefore, it's a deal, like making "a deal with The Devil," something (S)HE REQUIRES before agreeing to what you have in mind!

** - derived from the French word meaning "coffee!"

 Welcome, Friends, to the rest of a story preciously presented in an earlier poem called "PLEASE DON'T READ THIS!" presented on August 4, 2019!  That story was originally called: "100 Ways I Figured You Can Kill Yourself!"

When we left "our hero," he was enjoying Sunday dinner(s) with Grandparents and playing in the backyard with family and friends! . . .

 Now, the only "God" is the "force" of life that animates everything around me that appears to be alive and functioning.  Everyone is a manifestation of that God, and, therefore, that God can give me a hug and tell me he or she loves me one day and can then tell me to "hit the road, Jack," later in the day or tomorrow.  It is the same God, manifesting in someone cursing me or cutting my head off or medicating me until I can no longer write these words and then putting me in an institution for observation, until there is sufficient justification to believe I will be docile enough not to cause anyone too much concern, as long as, the moment I begin to panic or begin "clear-headed" enough to feel compelled to write words like these, I can be "dosed" sufficiently to bring me "back" to a "better" state, the state where I will not write such words or think such thoughts, where I can simply declare that the world is not such a bad place, or everyone has their problems, or all that happens is "God's will," and there are many wonderful things we can do here to make our lives valuable and safe and "this is no dream, this is no carnival, we are free and we have free will and life, existence, is really worth living and eradicating cancer is a very good thing, because that terrible disease causes so much suffering, and we can successfully fight those things that tend to erode our happiness and the happiness of those we love."

 I have been doing EFT, where you supposedly help yourself to emotionally "get better," by touching places on your body to help remove energy blocks, "bad" emotions and feeling that prevent you from feeling life is truly valuable.  Tap until they go away . . . or until you pass out.  It is a form of something called "hypnosis," which I BELIEVE is what all forms of conditioning represent.  Even "getting a 'good' job" is a form of hypnosis, to establish for yourself something of worth and value in yourself, to make you feel that you have a place in the world and can function, feeling fulfilled.  Or having a child and forming a family.  Wholesome, desirable things, that fill us with warm, fuzzy feelings that can perpetuate the feeling of relative well-being we need, to not begin questioning our existence, compelling us to write things like this or going to "an ashram" in India or compelling us to go to Guatemala to help give "the unfortunate, backward natives" "proper" medical and dental care, so they can become so addicted to those processes that they are, therefore, unable to moderately function without the necessity of seeking medical advice and intervention and treatment, which, of course, appears to be into what most all of us "here in the West," were born INTO, being as we were mostly born in hospitals and, initially, pumped full of drugs, even while in the womb.

 Now, then, the question: Where do we go from here? This is one I have been asking for what I BELIEVE has been too many years now.   And, I have concluded, there is no answer.  Yet, I am convinced that my parents, well-meaning as they might be, believe it is either: compel yourself to get off the pity pot and get out there and start experiencing the world again and take advantage of your opportunities and get over yourself . . . or find some relief at the bottom of any of an infinite variety of pill bottles or in the office of very sophisticated analysts or spiritual counselors, and, then, reintroduce yourself back into "society," or just try to be calm and just sit there because we always want you to have "a safe place" where you can rest your head.  And Jesus said, "I have no place to rest my head."  Not that I am any more Jesus than anyone else, including inmates in the state penitentiary, but these are just the sorts of things that appear to occur to me, and I have no idea where they are coming from, why I should write them down, or anything else.  Life is very distressing, no, INFINITELY DISTRESSING, and I have no idea where to go from here, nor have I really ever I BELIEVE, although time and time again I have BELIEVED that I knew where to go.  However, in retrospect, the direction of where to go or how to proceed appears to have always been provided by a combination of family values, based, largely on religious and cultural indoctrination, and my own interpretation, or speculation, of how those BELIEFS might be applied in my life. And over and over again I have run into a proverbial "brick wall," on which is written: "Ha, ha, stupid . . . you have fouled up again . . . you believed that you could find 'peace of mind' by proceeding in this direction.  Once more you have failed to find any ultimate value in or answers about 'life,' so, hit your head against this wall for a while, and, then, turn around and proceed in some other direction, where you'll find another brick wall . . . and another . . . and another . . . ha, ha . . . EVERYBODY HAS THEIR PROBLEMS, and you are no more important than anyone else . . . and you just need to 'get with the program!'  Your are an idealistic idiot . . . . "

 So now I have to do something, I guess. This 7th day of June 2015.  I have written this, describing my apparent condition right now.  Yesterday afternoon, when I wrote the words you might have read somewhere ages and ages ago, I recall writing that I was ABSOLUTELY HOPELESS, HELPLESS AND FEARFUL, or something close to that.  Now, I am in what I believe is a similar state of mind, but now with

 some apparently functional energy . . . enough rope, you might say, to hang myself.  So what do I do now?  Keeping eating, keep tapping, force myself or find myself compelled for wanting to avoid boredom to get on Facebook, check my e-mails, ATTEMPT to begin a life or doing artwork or writing things or, maybe, starting up an activist group to fight cancer, or the medical abuses concerning cancer treatment or Jihad-ist beheadings?!  All you have to decide is what you are going to do with the time you have "been given." However, my apparent functionality to do any of those things will I BELIEVE I KNOW, I know, will essentially terminate for a period of time in about 24 hours.  What would you do?  That is perhaps the most stupid question someone like me could ask under these conditions because, as is apparent, I have been asking that question since I was young.  And, based on the combination of the answer(s) I received and how I decided to apply that information, I have been brought to this apparently impossible, debilitating, suffering state . .. which, as I said I have been told, is all my own doing . . . and, even now, I am told, from time to time, that I must decide what to do next BASED ON MY OWN BEST JUDGMENTS, which I look at and perceive as being entirely inadequate to navigate an existence which appears to have no way of navigation because it appears we are stuck in the middle of where we do not know where we are at or what we are doing . . . and the only option apparently open to us is to, in this impossible state, BELIEVE in something that can give us "peace of mind," or a false sense of security . . . because here, it appears to me (Do I know?  I DO NOT KNOW!), if we do not find ourselves brainwashed to overlook any of these terrible speculations I am presented, we must be effectively silenced, so as not to affect the general population with any hysteric doubts about the value and worth of this apparent existence.

 Where do we go from here?  I imagine someone reading this, that is "stable" in the world, hoping they remain in that ignorant state (Ignorance is bliss.), I guess . . . can read and then say, "Well, I am surely glad I have such a firm 'faith" in my beliefs . . . thus, this really does not affect me! That 'boy' certainly has some problems. I hope he gets 'better.'  He might try my philosophy or religion or life-style or world view because it certainly has worked for me . . . maybe he just needs to get 'better' food, more fresh air, sunshine . . . but, definitely, a different attitude about things . . . like mine!"

 Radical hypnosis . . . if what you were exposed to early on does not take hold sufficiently to pacify the "demons" of doubt and uncertainly and questioning when you are in your impressionable youth, the means of rendering you functional later on, even WITHOUT physical or psychological "problems," are liable to be difficult, if not impossible, in the

Extreme.

 I am in a state of panic and terror right now, as I write this uselessness.  Later in the day, I believe (it is 9:20 A.M. now) I BELIEVE . . . I will have a somewhat different mood and may not be in such panic and terror.  However, I think I can say I KNOW that, within about 24 hours, I will be suicidal and essentially immobile, sitting by myself, a shaking, quivering, fearful mess, as I was yesterday afternoon and have been so many, many times in the past . . . in a state that is indescribable, really, that I could never, ever have imagined myself ever to have been in when I was in my youth, attending high school, playing basketball with my cousin Billy, or going fishing with my dad.  Where do we go from here?  I still . . . even after all this time . . . I still WISH I KNEW.   I guess I believe there is no place to go.  You simply are where you are at, doing whatever it is you are ALLOWED to do, so to speak.  For, it certainly appears, whatever is writing this, whatever is experiencing all this in terror and concern, has no more idea of what is really going on or why, if that is even a question that can ever be answered.  

 Why am I writing this?  Because I am . . . writing this . .  that is all I get.   I do not want to be here . . . I do not really want to be writing this . . . I am just spending time . . . feeling compelled . . . to do something, while spending time.  Some part of me just wants to "fit in."  Is there some value to uncovering the shroud of beliefs that keeps everyone in a state of relative peace and satisfaction?  Is there any value when I really do not KNOW that what I am saying has any more truth in it than other beliefs.  From time to time, it appears, other people (not that I am in "their leagues") have proposed radical departures from everything else!  Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, for instance, who, approached by an angel in his vision, asked which was the one true religion or way of life, and was told that "they are all an abomination!"  Well, I BELIEVE that Joseph then set out to perpetuate just another abomination. but are any of these religions or ideologies or philosophies really abominations?  Aren't they all just efforts apparently by humans to give themselves a little peace of mind, give themselves a little false hope . . . or the most real hope they might be able to muster . . . that their existences have purpose or meaning?  Without that, without something to prop up this human existence, wouldn't there just be mass hysteria and suicide?  And would that be so bad?  I have no idea!  If I could really destroy humanity and all the structure it has erected . . . and return everything to the instinctual whim of nature and the animals . . . would I do it?  I think I might . . . because I BELIEVE that everything human "kind" has tried to do, in the name of making things "better" has only led to where things are now . . . which is what I BELIEVE to be an absolutely terrible state of things, not deserving of being perpetuated TO ANY EXTENT AT ALL.  

 God, the life force, however, I BELIEVE . . . is completely neutral.  "It" just creates and destroys in "intelligent," non-thinking fashion . . . it is as unaffected by beheadings as it is by bar mitzvahs . . . or beer busts . . . or births.  It is just apparently operating . . . apparently . . . imagining all of this . . . somehow . . . just experiencing . . . existing and non-existing . . . all at the same time . . . and at no time at all . . . in a "perfect" state of rest . . . or non-rest . . . and any speculation about what is occurring . . . or not occurring . . . is completely irrelevant to its existence . . . non-existence . . . .  Do you, perhaps, imagine where this is going?  It is leading, apparently . .. inevitably . . . into a brick wall. And, I suppose, if I write anything more in this story, this is what my dad, or manager, would call The Preface! I guess I will scroll up to the top, therefore, and label it as such!

  CHAPTER 1 (Hanging From The Backyard Tree)

 Take my birth name: J Samuel Davis.  What does the "J" stand for?  I do not know; I really do not.  Therefore, perhaps, whatever I say it means.  It could be John . . . or, what my mom decided to "name"  me . . . Jay . . . or . . . Jesus (perhaps I am His reincarnation . . . yea, sure, what did I dream the next night).  Of course, what about Judas.  Now there is a name.  In my "raised" religion, the worst name of all.  The one who, in Dante's "Inferno" is trapped with "Satan" in the lowest ring of Hell!  Encrusted in ice . . . forever . . . to punish him for, perhaps, the worst crime in history . . . betraying the Only Begotten Son of God.  It was not enough that the poor sod committed suicide (perhaps the unpardonable sin) by hanging himself . . . from a tree. Jesus hung "from a tree," or a cross, made of tree wood, so . . . how fitting . . . that this miserable person of whom Jesus said, "It would have been better if he had never been born," allowing "Satan" to enter into him via a piece of sanctified bread, for the purpose of compelling him to betray "the

master."  The same Judas who, in the movie "Dracula 2000," with high praise for Gerard Butler's portrayal, got to hang . . . and hang again . . . and then burn up unto oblivion . . . as a detestable "vampire."  Judas, what a guy . . . as my brother-in-law has often referred to me: "What a guy!"  When he has done that, I have pretty much always shuddered with a terrible feeling, like he was condemning me, somehow, to that lowest ring of Hell . . . I do not even know why, but it is as if he was "putting a curse" upon me . . . similar to my little sister, his wife, who has commented that she perceives me as the hapless antagonistic in the terrible movie "Thinner," where a man, cursed by a gypsy he unfortunately "disrespected" somehow, starts losing weight, getting thinner and thinner, until . .  well, you can just read a summary on Wikipedia . . . a curse, then, upon me, the one who has always been so anxious about medical procedures, treatment options and the A.M.A., one of many of our sacrosanct cultural institutions, the bedrock upon which America civilization has "flourished," especially this past century; after all, doctors seem to "flourish," and many of them are on many of the same drugs they prescribe for their "patients" and willingly undergo many of the same operations they perform on their patients.  

 So, imagine Judas on the tree . . . whom, I bet, even if anxiety medication had been offered back then, and I am assuming that biblical story is actually real, would have resisted the offer of a little red or blue pill.  Those Morpheus-like, Jewish

officials he apparently conspired with, before he executed himself . . .I imagine them, like our kindly doctors, offering a little pain relief . . . for physical discomfort and . . . extreme mental anguish.

 I mean, imagine Judas at your own peril, whatever the Hell that means!  Perhaps his memory means different things to you, Gentle Reader, depending upon the circle of Hell you are in . . . assuming you think you are in Hell or not.  Can a person believe they are not in Hell because they have been so conditioned or blinded to the "reality" of their situation that they can see what others might see as Hell as a perfectly fine little place because that is their conditioned "reality," and aren't all realities here really just conditioned apparent realities, based upon the belief systems that have been so apparently, so judiciously implanted in our fertile, bewildered little minds?  Now, there is a great trick . . . and would certainly support the idea that "ignorance is bliss."  

Ignorance . . . is it not preferable to Hell? Perhaps so, which might certainly suggest that reading this piece . . . or, especially, writing it (of course, once it is recognized to be able to be written, it is TOO LATE . . . isn't it?) is not a very good idea . . . because, as in the movie "Inception," seeds of thought, planted, especially in those we "love," to our consternation, can have really disastrous consequences . . . or, at least, make us not feel too chipper!

 So, why am I so twisted around Judas?  Well, just take my name: J Samuel Davis . . . birth name . .  May 30, 1956 . . .Now, watch this . . . compliments of my fertile little mind: J (Sam) U (el) D A (vi) S . . .ta da!  Just perfect . . .in order and All That Jazz!

 Now, then, whether I am Judas' incarnation or not may be irrelevant.  I really do not believe any more in Hell or reincarnation or anything anymore . . . at least no more than motherhood and apple pie.  Everything is a blooming story.  Life is not real . . . never was, never will be . . . but we are a deluded lot.  However, let me make a suggestion . . . only a suggestion . . . do what you want, Sports' Fans!  MAKE THE BEST YOU CAN OF YOUR LIFE.  TRY NOT TO HURT OR DAMAGE TOO MUCH AROUND YOU. IF YOU CAN . . . FIND A FRIEND. AND GIVE THEM SOME HUGS AND KISSES . . . IF YOU

STILL HAVE THE ABILITY TO DO THAT . . . BECAUSE . . . THAT IS REALLY GREAT.  I MEAN, IF YOU ARE STUCK HERE . . . LIKE YOU DO NOT FEEL YOU CAN TRULY KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE (IN THE WORDS OF SHAKESPEARE)  ". . . CONSCIENCE MAKES COWARDS OF US ALL," THEN FIND A FRIENDLY DOG, AT LEAST, AND . . . GIVE IT A KISS.  I THINK I CAN GUARANTEE YOU SOMETHING . . . AND I CAN NOT GUARANTEE MUCH . . . IF . . . IF . . . YOU CAN, AT LEAST GIVE THE DOG . . . OR CAT . . . A KISS, THEN I BET YOU WILL FEEL BETTER . . . AT LEAST YOU MIGHT FEEL STUPID ENOUGH TO LAUGH AT YOUR PATHETIC, BEAUTIFUL SELF!

 So, I go out to the garage/work room in my Parents' Big House, when they are gone to the market, or church, or a concert . . . or to visit Mr. and Mrs. Rusty Herman for tea and crumpets!  I get a rope . . . I try to remember how to tie a hangman's noose . . . I go back outside . . . I throw the rope over one of the branches of the oversized pine next to The Little House (that tree may crush that house someday . . . unless I can summon the courage to, ever so gently, cut off some branches) and tie it.  I go into The Little House and get a chair from the meal table . . . bring it outside . . .

 . . . place the chair on the grass and pine needles, underneath the rope and branch.  I try to step up on the chair, place the rope around my neck . . . tighten it . . . and . . . then try to scoot the chair away from me.  With the chair gone, I am suddenly at the end of my rope!

(Actually, I own very little . . . the rope, of course, belongs to my Dad.)  I gasp a little . . . before becoming unconscious.  Just before I pass out, I wonder how Mom and Dad will feel when they come back into the backyard . . . they will look over to the right . . . and see a dangling body that apparently used to be animated.  Ain't that a kick!  Ain't that just terrible?  This life . . . really needs to be transcended,

somehow, doesn't it!?

  CHAPTER 2 (Off the Roof and Into the Ram Pick-up)

 There is a ladder leaning against the patio roof. Dad uses it to get up on the roof, to especially get the air conditioner, the "swamp cooler," ready for use in the summer.  He cleans out the plastic water conduits and replaces the "hay" filters . . . at least I think it is something like hay.  It certainly smells good when that cooler is first turned on (and for the next couple days)!  [August 16, 2019: "That's as far as I got . . . Sorry!  AND Thank goodness!]

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: Guardians of the Galaxy

So as you may well know, I loved Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. I can safely say it’s my favorite movie ever made… or one of them, anyway. While I do think it is marginally better, there is a marginally there, and I gotta be honest, I still love part one just as much in its own way. Guardians of the Galaxy is one of the coolest, freshest, and most out-there superhero comic book movies of the past decade, and a stylish change of pace for the sometimes very formulaic MCU.

But who could have guessed that? The MCU was known for taking the less famous heroes in its roster (Since they didn’t have Spider-Man, the X-Men, or the Fantastic Four to work with) and turn them into juggernaut blockbusters, but did anyone really guess that they could take a bunch of characters as obscure as the Guardians and make a quality film with them? And that’s not the only reason this movie was a gamble; this movie was almost totally detached from the rest of the MCU and its overarching plot, with the appearances of Thanos and the Collector (both of whom only appear in a single scene, though the Collector also pops up in a post-credits stinger) being the only connection to other movies, and even then, both characters were relegated to stingers to foreshadow future movies anyway! And then you have to throw in the fact that the movie is directed and written by a guy who directed cult movies and the horrendous Movie 43, the fact that one character is a talking tree, the fact another character is a talking raccoon who uses guns, and the fact the MCU is locked out of using characters like the Skrulls, Galactus, and the Silver Surfer… you can kinda see why this was a risky move on their part.

But oh boy, did it ever pay off. Rave reviews, audience love, and people hyped for more… it’s safe to say that Guardians is one of the best films in the entire MCU, and it really set itself up as a nearly impossible act to follow, which is all the more impressive seeing as it came after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, ANOTHER very tough act to follow. So, now that we have all this context, why are Peter Quill and his rambling gang of space jerks so endearing and enjoyable? Well, here’s the story:

Peter Quill was a young Earth boy taken in by the alien Yondu and his band of Ravagers on the eve of his mother’s death by brain tumor. Decades later, Peter is all grown up and calling himself Star-Lord, and is now about space pirating. Unfortunately for him, the latest trinket he stole (and left Yondu out of the loop on) is something that the Mad Titan himself, Thanos, is looking for. Thanos sends his daughter Gamora out to retrieve it, and at the same time, bounty hunters Rocket and Groot decide to take Quill in for the price on his head. All of them fight and end up in prison, where they meet Drax the Destroyer, a man who desires vengeance against Ronan the Accuser, a fanatical Kree renegade who serves Thanos. These unlikely allies decide to team up to escape the prison they’re trapped in and head off to sell the object for massive amounts of cash; however, Ronan is hot on their tails, desiring the object for himself. Can these knuckleheads stop bickering long enough to make some big bucks, or is Ronan going to destroy them all?

The biggest selling point for this movie is how weird it is in comparison to the rest of the MCU. Due to its weird, cosmic nature, Guardians gets to throw in stuff you’d never see anywhere else. We have Rocket, the gun-toting raccoon; Groot, the talking tree man who can only say “I am Groot” and who acts as Rocket’s bodyguard and best pal; we have Drax, an alien who literally cannot grasp the concept of metaphors and jokes; and then we have weird cameos from Cosmo the Russian space dog and, most famously, Howard the Duck. The only reason it’s easy to swallow Howard being here is because he only appears in the stinger to a movie that has featured the aforementioned gun-toting raccoon seriously; he’s the perfect capstone to this awesomely strange film.

But hey, this film is more than just weird and wacky characters; it has a kickass soundtrack, too! “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Escape (The Pina Colada Song),” “Cherry Bomb,” “I Want You Back”… Peter’s mom had great taste, and gave it to her son in the gift of a treasured Walkman. The soundtrack is another big reason the film is great; from the moment that “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone kicks up while Peter dances about the ruins he’s raiding during the opening credits, I could tell I would love the movie. It’s just a perfect summation of the movie as a whole: dark, intense dramatic moments followed up with goofy, fun, lighthearted moments.

Now, a comic book movie is only as good as its villain… so how are the villains in this movie? Well, there are actually quite a few antagonists here: Ronan the Accuser, Nebula, to a very small extent due to his minimal role Thanos, and in a not-evil-but-antagonistic role Yondu. Let’s start with the big bad, Ronan: Ronan is a villain I’m of two minds about. On the one hand, he definitely fits the “Generic Doomsday Villain” mold in a lot of ways, acting more like a roadblock for the characters to overcome than a truly complex antagonist. On the other hand… Lee Pace, his actor, throws himself into the role and elevates it above its genericness by being a truly incredible ham. Ronan’s every line of dialogue involves him chewing the scenery to the highest degree, which makes him a solid villain at the very least. What he lacks in being truly complex he makes up for in sheer hamminess, which is more than can be said of wasted villains like Malekith.

For the other antagonists and villains, Nebula is incredibly cool, but also pretty underused, really only getting one big fight scene at the movie’s end and kind of standing on the sidelines for most of the rest of the film. This is one thing the sequel definitely did better, which is also the case with Yondu, but for a different reason. As in the sequel, Yondu is absolutely fantastic and badass here, and Michael Rooker is clearly making the best of every second he appears, making him easily one of the best characters of the film… but the sequel gave him even more badass moments and even more character development. Still, Yondu was well-established by this film and is utilized quite well. As for Thanos, well, he gets but a single scene… but what a single scene it is. Josh Brolin gets to show off his skills playing the Mad Titan in all his glory, and he is everything he should be. He’s intimidating, he’s badass, and every line of his is just oozing with the capacity to be a bombastic ham of galactic proportions. This is his first impression, and my what an impression it is!

Guardians of the Galaxy is a modern comic book movie masterpiece. As the introduction/origin story, yes, there are some rough patches here and there, but for what it was trying to do and ultimately did, well, it’s really an incredible movie. And let’s be real: this probably opened the door for other movies that might not have been made otherwise. As an action-comedy superhero film, it paved the way for movies like Deadpool and ESPECIALLY Suicide Squad, which seems like this movie after a lobotomy. It’s a big step forward for comic book movies, for better and for worse.

Even if I like the sequel a bit better, I can’t help but stress it is just a bit. Like the sequel is at 100% and this movie is about 91%. They’re tied for my favorite movie ever, and I think to truly appreciate them they need to be watched one after the other, Kill Bill style. Needless to say I give this movie the utmost recommendation: if you like action-comedies, superhero movies, sci-fi, any of that, this is the movie for you.

Guardians of the Galaxy has manged to stay the freshest series in the MCU so far aside from Captain America; the Thor and Iron Man movies went downhill after their first installments (though the third Thor movie is looking good from the trailers), and Age of Ultron was a flawed but not irredeemable mess. Only time will tell, but it seems quite likely that so long as James Gunn has his way, the Guardians series will always be fantastic space action fun.

Infinitely rewatchable, infinitely quotable, and infinitely enjoyable… movies like this don’t come around often.

[lordofsunshadowandsailor]

story replies

I have intentionally left some comments, mostly on my writing, to be answered on another post, but here you get a bunch of them already!

Thank you so much @declarations-of-drama @simblu @acquiresimoleons @simcatcher @tyrellsimsoficeandfire @danjaley​ for the comments, and all for the likes and support on LoSSS!

declarations-of-drama replied to your post “story and other LoSSS replies”

Haha I meant Cor Blimey as in "WOW!" lol

That much I understood, after having looked it up... but still, why risk getting what we are asking for with such an expression? :)

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “That was the proper word to describe Alvar, Tobio pondered. For in...”

I, too, am a very "lost and far away" kind of person. My man often asks me, "where are you at? "When I'm sitting right beside him. It takes someone special to pull us back to the present.

I know just what you mean. I’m glad that you have someone special right by your side to pull you back to the present moment. Meditation helps too, and I have so often heard my Buddhist master talking about “the wonders of the present moment”, about being “in the here and the now”, that I often try to go back to it, just by becoming aware of my own daydreaming as the kidnapper, and by concentrating on my breathing...

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “I am not sure, but I believe it must be Zeus nevertheless.” Alvar had...”

Zeus, i think, could be more associated with *ahem* sperm rather than rain lmao

May I ask why you say that? Zeus did procreate like no other Greek god and had a bunch of bastard children, is that why?

simcatcher replied to your photo “Tobio’s surprise doubled. Alvar had joined two very wet teams – and...”

Amazing picture !

Thank you dear! I like it too. And now thinking back of it, it was actually harder to find the appropriate poses to fake a water polo practice, and to pose the guys inside the water, than to edit it! Both efforts did come along nicely. :)

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “That was the proper word to describe Alvar, Tobio pondered. For in...”

What a great recreation! They look so authentic and beautiful!

Thank you! I think you have seen the screenshots for Oneiroi, my Greco Roman game play, when I was actually trying to be authentic... This is a recreation, like you say, and much more a vision of Ancient Times in the 1910s, clothes looking more like costumes as seen in photography of that tperiod... I’m glad you like it!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Tobio’s surprise doubled. Alvar had joined two very wet teams – and...”

Great pic! But there's clearly a difference between rain and being in a pool. Come on Tobio!!

Tobio wasn't thinking clearly in that moment. He was wetting himself in another manner, with Alvar standing by his side, and so close, as he fantasized about what they could be doing... 

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “And to reinforce his invite, feeling at any moment Alvar could retreat...”

Fantastic! I'm surprised they can even wait to get inside :D

This is the 1910s, and I guess they could wait a lot longer to get inside... There is so much to take into consideration before acting out your desire for another person of the same sex... If you get caught or is denounced, prison, electric shock therapy, lobotomy, eternal damnation, social ostracism awaits you! Though death penalty no longer applied, there was still a lot to keep men from committing ‘buggery’.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Not quite sure.” Tobio responded, vaguely.  He concentrated instead...”

Secretive Stolen Intimacies! I am loving this

After you mentioned this, I had to go checking what ‘secretive’ actually meant, and whether it applied here... I often choose words by the sound, and how they link to the previous and next ones... Next I read it out loud, sentence by sentence -- but then, my choices might sound nice with my foreigner’s accent, while maybe not in native English... I had never thought of that :O 

Though you like it, thank you for bringing my awareness on that!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Tobio, brought up in the fear of God, permanently lacked the courage...”

Oh that thing called Religion! How it has suppressed so many lives!!!

I can speak for myself. This part is rather autobiographical, I must say. Though I have come a long way now in negotiating peace with myself  -- and not with some God! --, I still have a strong sense of shame and guilt infused in me by Catholicism.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Thus Tobio intently and mercilessly crushed his own impulses. <  ...”

Gutted for him :/

Sorry, I’m not sure I get that... Is it like “I feel bad for him?”

tyrellsimsoficeandfire replied to your photo “Thus Tobio intently and mercilessly crushed his own impulses. <  ...”

Already liked it but these pictures are too beautiful. Declarations of drama is right! Do they allow girls there? Just asking

Haha! I don’t think girls were allowed, but they certainly would be welcome... I’m not sure, though, that they would be respected upon entering the locker room, for back then, respectful girls would never have dared...

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “The recent freedom of spending his days on a strictly masculine...”

Bless him! And such teasing pictures!!! No wonder he is gagging - WE ARE TOO!!!!

This is only one of the many pictures I have taken inside that locker room, and from this point of view... It is also the least explicit of them, for the naked man in the front has some gagging material indeed, sprouting below that pubic hair... :O

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Dear Lord, protect me from what I desire.”  Thus started Tobio’s...”

Surely if he believes a God created him, why would he think He got it wrong? Just go with what your God gave you! tsk tsk, I can never work out these religious folk

I believe Tobio never reached that conclusion. Back then, mortal sin was the end to every line of thinking. What you mention is rather modern, or contemporary thinking. I remember how thrilled I was in listening to my Buddhist master enunciate that, if God created man in his own image, than if man is gay, God is gay too... Some people left the room, outraged, while I and others were silently applauding upon hearing that. 

Tobio did not have the chance, in his lifetime, to listen to such revolutionary, compassionate thinking.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Tobio instinctively knew he could entrust no one man on campus with...”

I reckon there's some of them who think the same - I'm sure Tobio can find a companion to release his thoughts upon :D

Tobio is actually afraid of finding his equals, though he can identify them... For what he longs is not talking to them, expressing his feelings, or releasing his thoughts... There is something much more urgent he wants to release, but that is a sin :/ 

I hope I don’t bother you with insisting in his religious point of view...

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “But something stood peculiar in relation to Alvar. Tobio expected the...”

Hahaha, of course! Tobio has to be your man :D

I believe it’s the other way around, here, and Alvar is Tobio’s man -- first man to actually drag him from behind his trenches of fear!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “To wait, they sat – the leather cushions of an old bench letting out a...”

Getting a bit confident with the feels Tobio :D

Or is he getting more desperate? All this because he keeps misreading Alvar’s reactions to his advances.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Immersed in internal struggles, Tobio heard nothing but his own...”

Do you use the Pose Player Add On? It lets you turn their heads and change expression for the same pose - making it look like they are animated in different shots.

That would certainly be an improvement, wouldn’t it? I did download the Add On some time ago, but never tried it... Maybe it’s time. Thank you so much for the suggestion!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Immersed in internal struggles, Tobio heard nothing but his own...”

Also - don't get too risky Tobi!!

He is acting on a different mode with Alvar, and going farther than he ever dared... I’ll mention it later in the text, but I’m pretty sure Tobio keeps in mind the scandalous outcome of the love affair between Oscar Wilde and Lord Douglas, ending with the famous writer being sentenced to jail.

simblu replied to your photo “Immersed in internal struggles, Tobio heard nothing but his own...”

The reader too feels the risk..

I do hope so! Though the boys are in a deserted hall with dim lighting, they are both aware that the implacable Law is spying on them, and aware of applicable penalties and punishments. Breathe deeply, gulp, swallow your desire -- you better forget it than act it out, is my advice to them!

simblu replied to your photo “Having remarked from the first day how, on his outstandingly pale...”

Ooh! Dismissed!

Yes. The impertinent, dirty little fly that Tobio’s caress is has been dismissed!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “That  touch exceed everything uncomfortable and uncivil Alvar had...”

Desperation! Calm down Tobio!!

Tobio certainly is desperate, though Alvar still keeps his calm, up to this instant.

simblu replied to your photo “That  touch exceed everything uncomfortable and uncivil Alvar had...”

Don't try to reel him in yet.. give some play in the line.

Interesting strategy. But who is the angler, and who is the catch here?

simblu replied to your photo “Like owning a rare animal for pet, wherever Tobio went with his...”

A very sharp character analysis

Thank you dear! I truly hope so... Because, you know, this is the last post I wrote for this update, though it stands in the middle and is a turning point in Tobio’s feelings for Alvar... 

Alvar is bullying material to his bones, and being defenseless as I describe him, he has be truly endearing to be favoured by his teammates with respect and protection... This was hard to write, and still feels hard for me to get along with.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Like an informal party of bodyguards, his most athletic colleagues...”

OMG!! That writing made Tobio almost sound like a predator capturing the poor defenseless Alvar!! This is getting so juicy!! :D

That is exactly the impression we are supposed to have, and how to read this scene... Predator yes, though circumstantial and a first timer, defenseless yes, though charmingly so. 

But as for poor Alvar... It’s not just that he is very wealthy -- I’m not sure he is the weakest part in this duet, and the one to be pitied... 

Juicy? It’s your comments that are juicy! Love them!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Reassured by the sepulchral silence spreading around them, both men...”

Jesus!!!! This is so erotic! I need a . . . coffee break :D Yes. Coffee.

Don’t you just love how we use religious names and expressions in these situations? :D I’m glad you find it erotic, and not offensive... 

How was that coffee? ;)

danjaley replied to your photo “Reassured by the sepulchral silence spreading around them, both men...”

'All the world's a book. And all the men and women in it merely characters watched by the reader...'

Shakespeare revisited -- cool!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Tobio drew in closer, flexing his knees to face Alvar eye to eye – the...”

Oh poor Alvar! Stuck in a world of religious dogma and pointless threats of the afterlife. Just let yourself go kid!!

Wouldn’t that be Tobio, the blond Medicine student?

I believe Alvar has no religious concerns at the moment. He has still to go to Sikkim, during the last year of college, to get in touch with Buddhism and any religion at all -- except, of course, the usual stuff of going to church on funerals and weddings and etc.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “Realizing in Tobio’s glance that, from too close, he was losing his...”

.......................... You had better not leave us hanging! I am devouring each chapter with a hunger greater than Tobio's!!!

Thank you for saying that , dear. But I have learned a thing or two since first publishing The Last Canvas, back in 2013, and one of them is to never properly finish a chapter, and leave a hook for the next... sorry for blatantly doing so!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “A desert, it felt like. Arid, and vast. But not deserted, not...”

HA! I misread and thought you wrote dessert! Tobio got his cherry pudding :D :D :D Also, got any more shots? Need. . . More. . . Detail . . . for this chapter. This is #66 - can't WAIT for #69!!! :p

I was really laughing out loud as I read this comment! Love it! Humour is a very privileged kind of intelligence, God bless yours! 

It’s very hard to determine how much detail to include in a scene like this, before descriptions become too graphic and plain, actually killing the eroticism... The same with the images. Let’s see what I come up with!

And as for pic #69, I don’t believe Alvar and Tobio shall be doing just that, not on their first date, not in a public hall... But they still have other possibilities of fulfillment, don’t they?

[southern-belle-outcasts]

29. what are your honest thoughts about your muse’s canon? //For like all the canon muses.

@meretrixious

//

Okay, so for Rogue it's no secret I like some runs better than others, and I am very...this shit didn't happen when she gets too OOC. My take on Remy does end up affecting Rogue's canon because I don't think he would go ask Sinister for a godsdamn lobotomy, ergo not be indebted or involved with the Morlock Massacre, ergo Roguey isn't choosing to leave him for dead. Even if he did...she wouldn't be doing that. She might cut you off and never speak to you again if she really feels hurt and that she can't trust you anymore, but she's not going to murder you if you're not being an active threat to her or someone else. That's just not her. My salt for the constant retconning of her power control status and the collar nonsense have been pretty thoroughly discussed on here, as has my adamant disagreement with her not having a serious talk before marriage if she truly didn't want kids. But we already know I just take everything from Excalibur, aka OOC-R-US, and chuck it into AU status as it is. She wants kids. End of discussion. But the lovey dovey, totally just eating up being able to touch Remy and letting him be his best thieving self? Yes. 12/10. Accurate af. So for me and her canon...it's a love-hate relationship. I think most comic fans are like that, tbh.

Sara's canon honestly doesn't bother me. Keep in mind I haven't so much as watched the crossover episodes on Green Arrow because I tried to watch it initially a few years ago because my brother was so into it...I couldn't. I got to episode three and had to stop because the gritty dark, slow pacing was just a big "nope" for me. So I have not actually watched any of Sara's relationship with Nyssa (don't really care to either now that L*tz showed her ass although I'm very much enjoying the wonderful levels of comic book bullshittery in the new season of Legends). Obviously me being the multishipper I am, I don't really have Avalance as like, OTP status, even though I ship them. Honestly really wanted to see what would have happened with her and Snart and I'm always going to be pissed they killed him off in the first season like cowards. But I really enjoy her self-growth and learning how to better trust herself and her crew, and just her as a character. So besides the eh direction some of the plotline took that wasn't entirely a direct Sara thing? I'm mostly okay with.

Cisco...sigh. I'm really annoyed with the sidelining and direction he's been taken in, but it's not really him so much as the whole show is going off the rails, literally everyone's character development is being tossed out the window, and he's getting dragged down with it so he's my OC now basically. Somewhere between season 4 and 5ish honestly is where I start to get looser and looser with my following of canon. I love he's so smart, the humor, the geekiness, the valuing friendship and wanting to help foster Frost's autonomy... and then they just undid that and I'm over here holding the smashed pieces of my character just dumbfounded as to why they would do such a thing. So...there's problems. There's lots of problems. I also have a huge, huge, huge problem with the show not taking the opportunity to change Cynthia's codename from the old comics, especially since fans had asked them to do so, sooooo my Cisco never heard the g-slur, would never use the g-slur, the g-slur is not a thing on this blog thank you very much and a big fuck you to CW on that.

My only real problem with Padmé's canon is people trying to tell me how problematic her and Anakin is based off of either 1) not watching the movies as intended, a saga, it's not supposed to be a stand-alone piece of perfection you can go over with a fine tooth comb, their traits are SUPPOSED to be exaggerated, 2) watching a really really ooc cartoon that I can't stand that came after the fact and shouldn't actually be considered but the loosest of canon, 3) reading a novelization that was by a hella misogynistic dude that was not actually directly overseen by Lucas. My two main canon pieces are the prequels, supplemented of course by the OG trilogy regardless of her lack of presence, and the RoTS novelization. Those are the KEY canon pieces, they needed George's approval before being viewed by the fans because they're that important. Anything else, eh. There's certainly other pieces of the og EU that are still compatible with canon but I don't consider them as hard and fast. I'm also not the 'I shouldn't need to read the book to understand the movie' person because while I have great love for the book and the scenes that ended up being deleted, but included in the book ergo are still canon, I didn't need it for that insight??? Maybe I just watched the prequels more times than is humanly reasonable, I don't see the discrepancies people have. Yes, it is ENTIRELY irrational, if not flatout dumbassery, to argue with someone going through a psychotic break, I'ma give y'all that. But, again, exaggerated character types, they're not supposed to be perfect, and you needed to have her end up dead. So working with the fact she is a naive to the real world when it isn't politics kind of woman, on top of being such a romantic AND believing in the political and justice system...it's realistic for what it is. I'm absolutely saying if it was me I would have have nodded along to his sleep deprived ass until I could have knocked him out. And I'm absolutely saying that when you're that pregnant there's no way you're sitting stationary in a pilot's seat for hours when this thing called autopilot exists. And I'm absolutely saying there's no fucking way I wouldn't have found Obi-Wan coming over with this news more than a little sus, nor do I buy you're sitting in that position in a closet silently for hours. I'm absolutely recognizing the last 30 minutes require some suspension of disbelief, but I'm also recognizing that I have more 'real world' experience than Padmé, I've dealt with more likely to pop off and fly off the handle people than she has, and I also don't think she's ever had that experience where you've been manipulated by someone close to you and then be awakened to it to form a deep suspicion of it happening again. So what screams 'why would you do that' to us doesn't really to her. So I have my problems...but at the same time I don't. Basically the only thing I would do would get rid of Luke's need to balance shit out the way he did in the first place so I can have some wholesome family time (by which I mean disaster time, because it would very much be a mess, and not the woobified trophy husband mess that keeps popping up, just a mess, neither of them was prepared for kids).

All in all, no surprise that Rogue is my problem child with the most need to cherry pick and dispose of certain canon. (Not Remy's blog but really my biggest issue is just the whole deal with Sinister as already mentioned, the runs he's ooc- hello Excalibur, and his lack of confusion for Rogue's 180 on kids. Again, comics, you can't rely on them for consistency.)

[ithinkthingsaboutstuff]

The Shadows Lantern’s Cast

Did this for the Arkham Garlley Zine which is free to download here

or check them out at @arkhamgalleryzine ​

Dr Crane is making notes of his newest test subject before the door comes crashing down.

By H.T.Vitols  

 Doctor Jonathan Cane,

Personal Medical Log: Recording Number 41

Date is: 3rd of the February 1967.

Time: is 9: 45 pm

Location: Arkaham Asylum

             Asylum, what a strange word to use for a place such as this. Asylum, where those of faith will seek sanctuary to be safe from the damned and sinful. But this place is for the sinful and the damned, the sick that came here are not here for salvation but for to be stashed away from the normal. The small minds the normal have, no ambition, no precedence for brilliances but they are more than willing to lockdown anything they deem unordinary. They divide people, all kinds of people for so many reasons, from their skin to a woman speaking her mind. They all end up here, now don’t get me wrong I’m not saying all the people here are righteous and misplaced, far from it. I am simply saying that I deem people, all people as individuals, as there are commonalities in groups of people, but no result is ever the same.

The truly sick can never hide what they are, at least not from one who knows the signs, and believe me I know the signs. Fear, fear is what drives them, I understand fear, it is an old friend and a guiding light in dark times and for the longest time I only analysed fear.

Update:

Time: is 10:07 pm

           What is fear?

The hippocampus is closely aligned with the amygdala, the hippocampus and the prefrontal cortex, this help’s the brain interpret perceived and even unperceived threats. They are implicated in higher-level in the processing of internal and external contexts, this helps a person know whether a supposed threat is real.  For the laymen fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. Fear is many things, it is your lifeline when everything else is unclear, it can also be what leads you to your death. It holds the key to the evolutionary processes that has allowed us to be the dominant species on this planet, without fear there is no life. Life I hold in my hands.

Today my patient is one Mr Noah Kuttler.

Patient number: C-483

Mr Kuttler has a nasty habit of shredding nasty rumours around the cell blocks and having some wild spasms that cause many to disembark from his company. Now he is on my table today to go through some more therapy. Prior to today I have been using Insulin Coma Therapy, although this has been effective for his body, his mind has not yet felt the full force of fear, so I am making the switch to Metrazol Therapy. This will allow Mr Kuttler to have more conciseness in his sessions and retain information of his time here, I will also be adding a contaminant of my own design, it will enhance the activity in the amygdala this will allow for a better look at the effects of long-term fear exposure.

Update:

Time: 10: 16 pm

The world is getting more filled with fear every day, after Kennedy was shot the whole country had a wave of fear wash over it. So naturally, ‘we’ started a war in a country we have no business being in, its Korea all over again. Everyone started losing their minds as fear took over, everyone is after ‘us’ the Russians, the Vitamise, the ‘China men’, it’s all the same. People trying to take control of their fear by pushing it onto something that can be ‘fixed’, someone they can kill and then all the fear will go way. I know better than most that that is a rare and elusive result.

Other’s think they can run from the fear. Trying hard to get into orbit, ‘The Great Space Race’, the papers call it, I fail to see what is so great in stretching far past our reach before ‘we’ are ready. The dark fear of space though terrifying, is not one I consider viable in any of my work, arrogant as that may be. I am a self-admitted hubristic man, but I am not one to be derailed from my work due to outlandish possibilities. I will move my work forward at the pace it is able to do, I will let it tell me where I need to do. I may be reaching for the stars, but I have no interest in being among them.

I say there is another way that other indirectly do not deal with their fears, it is through blind unadulterated hatred. Take the riots a few years back, I don’t even think the riots have anything to do with law’s being pasted, mind you I am not suggesting that this is not the case for other places, but Gotham has always had a flare for the dissident and basically will take just about any and all excuses to have some kind of revolt. It is one of the many reasons I moved here, any place that quick to anger must have deep rooted fear in its walls and peeking out of every crack of its concrete.

But too every action is an equal reaction, in this case the wave of these fears is being challenged but what was been dubbed ‘The Summer of love’. The young have always been one’s of misplaced optimism, unaware of the real pain that awaits then when they finally wrap the minds around the true nature of life’s privations.

Or perhaps I am being optimistic, after all my life has always fallen on the penury side of things. Those of opulence temperaments and overindulgences, may never face the consequences of the vexatious parts of life. But that is not the only remedy that is trying to emerge in these troubled times. A man, a single man, has decide to try and wheeled the fear of Gotham as a weapon. Such a thing is of course, a vain attempt to give order to a city full of heretics. I am no exception for I heard the demon’s horn and came here of my own volition. But fear is not a weapon, it is a state of being, a contract of consequence, so fear on its own is a foolhardy weapon, for it can become regressive if over stimulated, one does not fear what they know is coming, even if that thing is initially horrifying. So, fear can be finite if you do not know how to truly harness it.            

But I am starting to ramble.  

Update:

Time: 10: 32 pm

I will be making two injections into Mr Kuttler. One of which will be 2mg’s of Metrazol and the other will be 3mg’s the aforementioned homemade compound. This will allow for stimulation and cognitive awareness of the fear that is big experienced. However, I am finding it hard to see, as my worktable is only lit by a three lantern’s mounted in front of me. It doesn’t allow for a lot of visibility but the shadow’s that the lantern’s cast are allowing me to do my work undisturbed by prying eyes and narrow minds.

The two injections have been administered; I am now waiting for a reaction. It should take about 1 minute and 45 seconds, then the seizures will set in, then the other compound will create hallucinations, this will continue for about 20 or so minutes, I will be monitoring his brain function and heart fluctuations, during this time. So far, my success rate has been rather lacklustre, but what can one expect since I have had to down grade in my facilities. Working like a dirty raccoon in the dark, I am doctor for god sake, with theses lanterns on the walls like this you would think I was some kind of plagued dwelt, cursed to not see the above world for the simple crime of being delusory. Well, in any case my work has continued, despite some’s best efforts.

Update:

Time: 11: 05 pm

Patient number: C-483

Name: Mr Noah Kuttler.

The procedure has been completed, and patient is alive and resting.

Note: The procedure of Metrazol Therapy, though violent has a minimal mortality rate in roughly about 10% or so, at any given trial lasting about 2 to 5 weeks. However, combined with my…Fear Toxin as it were, it has increased the overall risk to fatal outcome from 10% to about 30% to 40%. Though this has held back some prolonged testing, the overall outcomes have been somewhat successful.

           I have had some less then desired results in the past and have had to take, unfortunate measures, I have had to schedule 4 lobotomy’s in the past few years and though it allows me to continue my work, the loss of a test subject is regrettable, as finding a replacement can be rather taxing. Though this basement with its lantern’s light, leaking pipes, cracked concrete with the smell of death, sulphur and swamp water, and a chill that is somehow muggy, may no be the best option or environment for my testing but I will take what I can get.

As for Mr Kuttler he is holding steady and will recover in a few hours of rest. I must say despite my setback’s I have been making the most of things. Now, I must wait until Mr Kuttler can be moved back to his cell.

Update:

Date: February 4th

Time: 1: 13 am

           It would seem, that hiding in the shadow’s that these lanterns cast was only a temporary solution. I had hoped that a little more time would past before this location was found.

Bang. Thud. Bang

‘Open up, Crane…’

But I suppose that even a stopped clock is right twice a day and by the same token, every now and then, Arkham security actually can do its job with competence.

Bang.

‘We know you’re in there…’

That being said, I had timed my leave with Dr Julius cigarette run, he does like to share, so he runs out fastest, but it seems I have not done enough to cover for my whereabouts.  

Bang. Thud.

‘Don’t make this harder than it needs to be...’

I currently have every few options. I can fight them, but after that there is no way for me to get out of here, I could kill them all, but I fear at these hours I no longer have the strength to do so. My only viable option is to destroy my work and continue at a later date, though it pains me to do.  

Thud. Bang.

‘Get on the floor and come back to your cell quietly and we won’t use force…’

              I will hide the recordings and hope that will be enough for me to continue. However, I will play with the security a little to make it more convincing.

Bang. Bang. Thud.

           ‘Crane…final warning, open the door…’

Thud. Thud. Crash      

           ‘On the ground, Crane. Hands behind your head.’

           Oh, shit.

           ‘Get on the ground, now…’

           Well, hello gentlemen,

           ‘Cane on the ground…’

I am afraid you are going to have to make me.

‘Get in and take him down…shit, his got knife, take him down, take him down now.’    

Ha…ha…ha…haroo…haraa

 End.

[mgrgfan]

Some worldbuilding for my fic - Ancient Soris Empire, part 1.

More than 3000 years ago, in the Soris region, there was a great Soris Empire.

Thanks to lack of Apricorns in Soris and low cooperativeness of local Pokemon, as well as abundance of easily-acessed metals and fossil and fissil fuels, Soris people took a technological way of development. Several centuries later, a Soris Empire springs into existence.

Unlike what you will think, this empire, at it’s peak, was pretty diesel/atompunk heavy and most of the electronics were based on higly-advanced vacuum tube technology, though transistors and arcane science devices started to slip in near the end of the empire. They also had nuclear-powered transport, including icebreakers, submarines and even rigid-hull hydrogen-lifted dirigibles!

The single most beloved Pokemon species in the later Soris Empire was introduced Alolan Flygon line, thanks to their weather-adaptational ability (like this of Castform) and great cooperativeness towards humans. Nowadays, these dragons has somewhat diverged from the original line and became Soris Flygons, which, while retaining abilities of their Alolan ancestors, have also gained minor Aura abilities (which they use to locate their prey and as a darkvision of sort) and are constantly migrating from one part of Soris region to another (however, they do this only in small herds, so each part will have some Flygons coming in, some staying and some coming out), so they will not get stuck in one form, like the Hoenn Flygons did. The most prominent changes of Soris Flygons are longer antennaes, which are crucial in Aura reception and are forked in two roughly in the middle, the lower part of antennae being shorter than a upper one, slightly different shape of wings and, surprisingly, more omnivorous digestive system, because such is life in Soris - hard and complicated.

These cute, but powerful insect-dragons were the reason why, after the fall of Soris Empire and subsequent loss of technology, humans has managed to survive in this region and, eventually, rebuild.

One of the greatest achievements of the Empire were Imperial Science Facilites, which were researching lots of things - physics, genetics, chemistry and so on. The main jewel in this crown was Imperial Science Facility 9 - the single biggest and most powerful of this line, which also had early arcane science as a main direction of the research, although not the only. More than 90% of this base were located deep underground to prevent outbreaks and protect it against attacks, when the ground had only a Bioscience Division’s surface labs (mostly for studying extraregional Pokemon), Astronomical Dome, material sorting and transport complexes, as well as some recreational sub-facilities.

This facility was constructed to be self-sustainable and able to survive for centuries without maintenance, if properly conserved. Because of this, the main energy source of this facility was complex of closed-circuit geothermal reactors, which could provide up to 1200MW of electricity and were cooled by the oceanic water, which was pumped from pretty far away, to reduce chances of detecting the facility itself. The secondary energy sources were several nuclear fission reactors, capable of providing up to 900MW each, although two of them were mostly used to empower some of the science equipment directly.

One of the main energy hogs in this facility, as well as in Imperial Science Facility 8, was early arcane science equipment, especially irradiation chamber (in which first Mega Stones and some artificial Evo Stones ever were created) and tseryobla (teleportation device. Why it was named so? Even creators, when they were alive, could barely remember it, because all memories of the night when it happened were way too obscured by the alcohol fumes). One of the most important devices, which were crucial to functioning of the rest of arcane science equipment, were highly advanced two-way energy converters, which could not only turn Pokemon life energy into electricity (like Devon Inc. and some of the Nikola’s devices did), but turn electricity into life energy as well! Because of these converters and abundance of electrical energy (thanks to geothermal and nuclear reactors), facility had no need to use Pokemon as a “fuel”, so, no “Powered by a Forsaken Child” for you! After the fall of the Empire, data on how to create and maintain these converters, as well as most of the converters themselves, was lost, and the only surviving units and documentation are in the sealed away ISF9, which is pretty much guaranteed to finally fall apart in this century. Chances of this facility, and, because of it, technology getting re-discovered and restored are... slim, at best.

It was also the facility in which first artificial mechanical pokemon ever was created. Constructed by one of the leading arcane scientists and named “Chugun” (”Cast-iron”), this guy (psychological gender of the Chugun is male) quickly became intergral part of the personel, because he was truly great at task he was created to do - repairing and maintaining things. Having powerful and resilient body, which was also very easy to repair and modify, Chugun was always ready for performing different jobs - from helping planting tunneling explosives to saving people from the gassed or burning room to working in the operating reactor pool to hermetizing steam mains to soldering electronics and so on. In fact, he was beloved so much, that when one of the revisors came to this facility and ordered to dismantle Chugun, because he thought of him as too dangerous, Dr. Pobegov, which was in charge of the Imperial Science Facility 9, threatened to perform a skull trepanation and subsequent lobotomy on the revisor if he does not shut up. When this revisor reported this to the Emperor, he got following answer: “Imperial Science Facility 9 reports directly to me. You were sent to it to find a problems and report them, not to express your opinions left and right. In fact, I think Dr. Pobegov was right about what to do with you.”

Chugun was also the first sentient, on whom tseryobla was tested, and he has volunteered for this! Of course, some tests were performed beforehand on non-sentients (lab Ratattas, heh), but most of the time, after the tests, workers had to wash entire test lab out of bloody pulp, which was sprayed everywhere. Thankfuly, during the test with Chugun, when tseryobla malfunctioned (yet again), there was only teleport-throwing in random places, including even the Reverse World (Giratina was quite surprised, when she saw strangely-looking glowing mechanical Pokemon briefly appearing and, before she even had a chance to finish her question, vanishing again), for five hours (but for Chugun, it was like five years, though he knew what he has volunteered for), after which, however, entire tseryobla crew was hospitalized because of excessive arcane energy exposure. Thankfully, amount of data, gathered in this experiment, was more than worth it, because it finally allowed to find a safe settings for tseryobla and ensure safe teleportations. Moreover - the required data was gathered in less than an a hour, and the rest of the time was dedicated to stabilizing Chugun in the ISF9′s tseryobla and safely extracting him from the teleportational “vortex”, because if they’ve simply pulled the plug, he would’ve got scattered across the teleportation places - all of them. As you can see from it, they’ve really held him in high regard.

When the Empire was at it’s last days, the ISF9 had undergone conservation procedures and Chugun was tasked with maintaining it until someone comes. For more than a 3000 years he was fulfilling his duty, but now, fuel for nuclear reactors was burned off ages ago, replacements are almost ceased to be, so he is forced to cannibalize whatever he can from reserve systems to maintain main ones in (barely) working condition, the main steam turbine complex, which provides power to the base, has lots of leakages, which he barely manages to patch... To put it in short, right now, base can survive no more than a fifty years on remaining reserves. Chugun understands it, but still continues to do everything he can, hoping, that one day, someone will excavate buried entrances to the facility and restore it to it’s full glory.

However, the last part does not apply to the Shift-verse, where the Empire, instead of Ancient Soris War, got time-shifted 3100 years ahead and, therefore, was never destroyed and even prospered in the new time.

(Funny fact - initially, fic Chugun was created after watching humoristic re-dub of Half-Life 2, called Kayf-Life 2, where Alyx’s Dog robot became, well, Chugun, which was originally created for straightening rails, but, thanks to faulty AI, has escaped from the factory and took refuge in the Budulai’s illegal undeground workshop. Also, Kayf-Life’s Chugun was a champion in throwing trash bins at the distant moving targets, but got disqualified after he has thrown one of the bins at the referee. What’s this all about - after I’ve thought of Chugun, my “train” of ideas has gone like this:

“So, mechanical Pokemon, which looks like it was assembled from the junk, but is pretty powerful and reliable and needs to be called Chugun. How to write it in? Hm, what about Russia-like region? Pretty good idea, actually, but it needs some non-obvious name. Riso? No. Rosi? Definitely no! Soris? That’s great! Hey, but nowadays, no one manufactures Pokemon like this, so, it needs to be ancient! Yes, ancient arcane science Soris mechanical Pokemon. That’s good. But just how ancient? Hm, let’s see... The first traces of arcane science originate back to Ancient Kalos War, AZ had some cool arcane tech... So, more than 3000 years old it is! Also, why not plan it in such a way, that AZ gained some of this tech from one of the crashed airships, which were escaping from the Soris during the Legendaries rampage? I’ll roll with it. And Nikola... Nah, he has developed the arcane technology again without any help from AZ or data from Ancient Soris Empire. Back to Chugun: where would he be created and what for? Let’s think again: he would be great at repairs, he would be first and, unfortunately, only of his kind with some small hope for building new in the modern time... His creator would be one of the arcane scientists from the huge science facility. What this facility would be like? Well, Ancient Soris Empire, as I’ve written in my notes about the underground base beforehand, is already planned to be atompunk, so... Ancient Soris Empire atompunk arcane science-heavy Black Mesa-like facility. That’ll be awesome.”

In short, entire region and ancient empire in it were created just because I thought of backstory of one of the planned characters and origin of the ancient underground complex.)