#which is a metaphor for- [I am turned into goop]

[shortshowname]

Been on a streak of drawing Two-Brains in a ponytail after thinking about that one time I drew Two-Brains in a ponytail

[canmom]

games games'd recently

Solar Ash: the second game by the people who made Hyper Light Drifter. My feelings about it largely align with the reviews: gorgeous aesthetic if not quite as personally a vibe as HLD, the skating flows really nicely, the 'track down all the collectable things' structure was a little frustrating at times but I got used to it, the Shadow of the Colossus-like boss battles were a lot of fun when they worked.

It's a game about a decaying world full of people trapped in cycles of facing their last, worst moments. Most of the people you meet are some kind of animal people - cat people, fungus people, snail space imperialists - and the tone varies between darkly comedic and Meditating Severely On Death. The tone often swings a little pulpy.

So, ultimately - spoilers! - it turns out to be a time loop (something they pretty heavily foreshadow). Your player character Rei is one half of a split being who, after failing to save her world, has been resetting time and time again. The character 'Echo' who you encounter after every boss fight, with a white theme in contrast to your character's black motifs, is the other half of you - the half that isn't convinced to keep trying over and over again to save your planet and is pretty mad at Rei for prolonging this whole miserable existence.

In the true ending finale sequence, Rei finally concedes and turns into a big monster, and you play as Echo (who conveniently controls the exact same as Rei) to pull out the big spikes impaling her, metaphorically allowing her to reconcile with you and allow the world to move on with the other characters .

So like, big old trauma flashback metaphor I guess? The character's inner world is reflected in a big expansive scifi.

The thing that intrigues me most about this game is the tech art. For example, take the cyan goop you surf along in various levels. It looks like it's made of metaballs, and I kind of wonder if they are doing some clever stuff with meshing, or if they're rendering with signed distance fields, or what... in any case, it leads to some very cool level design where you can skate over all surfaces of the blobby space matter, and there is no consistent 'down' direction.

I went looking for how they did this and I ended up finding a half-hour talk from the lead technical artist, which doesn't really address the cyan goop, but does talk about integrating Houdini procedural simulations into the game using Unreal...

He talks mostly about the process of authoring the game's 'islands' (using a procedural editor tool that runs Houdini to generate the geometry), but does casually mention the clouds becoming 'really cool SDF clouds' in game, so I guess I called it! Really cool that that can run real time without being too expensive. I am definitely curious about how they handled raymarching so many metaballs (assuming they used raymarching, but that is the standard way to render SDFs).

It's kind of crazy that Heart Machine could go from a Game Maker game (even one with fantastic art direction) to a game as ambitious as this one. In practice though... running all over the bosses is cool but with the amount of camera hinting (necessary at the speed you're moving) it kind of feels like a series of QTEs, just figuring out where the next node is and trying to avoid jumping in the black goop, and if you screw up, you have to try again from the start. They're really cool sequences, but from a gameplay perspective, more like a rhythm game than anything.

This game didn't quite hit the same level of 'wow vibes' of HLD for me - I liked the atmosphere of HLD, the quiet and haunted world, the Nausicaa-like monsters. But I definitely enjoyed my time with it, and it's crazy inspiring on a tech art level.

The Thaumaturge: This is the latest game from 11 Bit Studios, of Frostpunk and This War of Mine fame. It's a fascinating concept: an RPG set in Warsaw at the turn of the 20th century, a world of boiling-over social tensions, in which you play essentially a wizard who summons invisible demons salutors to reveal secrets and manipulate people. Your father (also a wizard, you hated him) died mysteriously and now you're back at the family home to try to investigate.

I haven't finished this game yet (nowhere near, it's a big game), but I wanted to briefly comment!

In the first ten minutes of this game, you go to meet Rasputin. From that point I was already pretty much sold.

After sorting out some peasant-y business in what is essentially the tutorial area, you travel to Warsaw where the bulk of the game takes place, currently ruled by the Russian empire. Pretty much as soon as you get off the train, you run into Tsar Nicholas giving a speech, and get caught up in a tense standoff between the Russian cops and Polish workers. I ended up in prison lmao

This is the type of RPG that does have a combat system, and finds some... kinda awkward reasons to get Wiktor Szulski into fights now and again, but it's a pretty intriguing design oriented mostly around applying and exploiting status effects. But really, I'm here for the story, and the period setting. Although 11Bit are not a Polish studio, the game has the option of full voice acting in Polish, which is really sick - apparently they put some effort into giving it period language as well. And even though this is an occult story about wizard business, there's clearly a huge amount of love for the historical setting - there's a bunch of mini sidequests that just take you to look at landmarks and get a little bit of xp from it.

Wiktor is a fun protagonist to inhabit, and the game encourages you towards spicier dialogue options with its system of Flaws - essentially, each salutor is associated with a point of characterisation, such as pride, and if you feed that flaw by picking prideful dialogue options when they're offered, that will apparently make your salutor more powerful. It is certainly reminiscent of Disco Elysium's design with the thoughts as characters, but it's got enough of its own flavour to not feel derivative.

I will surely have much more to say about The Thaumaturge as I progress through it, but honestly, just wanted to shine a light on this game because it's fascinating. This kind of RPG doesn't come along often enough.

Neon White: Only just started on this one. It's exactly what everyone says: an addicting game designed to ease you into speedrunning. I have two friends on Steam who have played it and both of their times are very tight and several seconds faster than what I'm able to do lol.

Everyone also says the plot is a bit ehh and well... they're right. Strangely the tone reminded me most of all of the anime Mahou Shoujo Magical Destroyers: oddly casual, and despite the weebcore vibes, the character archetypes are more American - bubbly psycho girl, femme fatale, frat bro. It's very much aiming for humour, and generally it's not terrible, but the hit rate there is kinda mixed. I'm actually a bit surprised by it - given the aesthetic with the hannya masks everywhere, I was kinda expecting something way more chuuni, but it's quite laid back so far.

But none of that matters really because it's a speedrunning game, it's not about the story! The controls are tight as hell, the levels are elegantly designed to steer you towards picking up on shortcuts with a compelling learning curve, and restarting is incredibly easy. So far I've grabbed Ace medals on every level I've played, but there's a huge amount of room for improvement still. Definitely reminiscent of doing time trials in Mirror's Edge back in the day. Definitely gonna play this more.

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE Review: Venom vs. Crona

Two on two that are within one! Who will win, who will lose?

Venom′s Preview.

We open on a history lesson, about the Klyntar. And how they were a peaceful race that kicked out a loser named Venom. Who went through a multitude of different hosts. From heroes, to villains, to… Deadpool.

And then the Symbiote met Spider-Man.

And, after a lot of adventures, Peter got rid of the thing because it was a creepy goop monster. After this, the Symbiote bonded with one Eddie Brock.

Whose life was screwed from the start.

Between an abusive dad that blamed him for his mother’s death, and having terminal cancer, the guy had nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining with the Symbiote.

Aside from the powerset he got from Spidey, the hosts go over his other abilities, like camouflage, shapeshifting, and 360° vision, and all that other stuff. We get into our first animated segment.

Now, to be fair, Wiz is kinda right.

After going over their feats, they go over his past a bit more.

After accidentally killing a kid after stealing his dad’s car, he was told to plead innocent, and rig the jury. So, he’s been carrying around that guilt ever since.

And on the road to redemption, Venom and his host have fought and gone through a lot of crazy things. From fighting off most of Spidey’s rogues gallery to tanking a sonic blast that shattered glass miles away.

And… Some really weird convoluted comic book bullshit.

After fighting the Symbiote God that tried to turn them all into living weapons, Venom has proven himself a hero in his own right. Even teaming up with Spider-Man on occasion.

Sure, he’s always hungry for brains, but with Eddie’s influence, he’d rather bite the head off of a criminal than an innocent.

Crona′s Preview.

The hosts open up on the history of the world of Soul Eater, which, for those of you unfamiliar, is very… weird. Death is a goofy-looking dude who opened a school where warriors trained to stop evil.

Of the many characters, Crona Gorgon… Was not one of them.

Crona basically had your typical power-hungry abusive mother, who basically tried turning the poor kid into a living weapon… And by living weapon, I don’t mean the ones that actually turn into weapons, I mean the… uncomfortable kind.

Crona’s weapon is Ragnarok (Which I have now recently realized I misspelled numerous times in the captions, so… Apologies).

With all that power at their finngertips, Crona and Ragnarok became a formidable team. And that leads into the animated segment.

And after going over some bonuses of how the powerset works, what with the whole “eating souls” thing, we go into even more powers. Specifically, of the Black Blood.

From being able to project Madness onto others, to shapeshifting, to all sorts of sonic attacks, Crona has some major firepower under their metaphorical belt.

In addition, they go over how Crona has gone up against plenty of Death Academy students like Death the Kid, Maka, and Black☆Star (And for those of you wondering, yes, the star in his name is the official spelling.

Now, Death the Kid could reach supersonic speeds, and Black☆Star is eveen faster.

Since Crona can keep up, this means that they’re in the same ballpark of speed.

And all that Black Blood is also really damn powerful and plentiful.

It could cover this entire city, given similar comparisons to other similar cities in the area, that’s nearly 10,000,000,000,000 tons of Mad Blood.

Thankfully, through the power of friendship and good feelings, Crona ended up saving the world. And made a new kind of Madness that… made everyone obsessed with boobs.

The Battle Itself.

Luis is lead on this fight. Venom will be reprised by Adam Wennick, Crona will be voiced by Sarah Anne Williams, and Ragnarok will be voiced by John Van Doren. “Madness Envenom” by Brandon, and audio led by Chris Kokkinos.

We open on a church, where there’s a single person praying before Crona comes in.

Now, I gotta say: Mad props to the animator who is working on Ragnarok, that is some quality movement. You can’t tell because this is a screenshot, but the animation on Ragnarok is pretty fluid.

Anyways, it turns out the person who was there first was Eddie. And, in true Season Seven fashion, the fight starts because of food. Because why not?

After a very brief back and forth, Venom manages to trap Crona.

But, they’re a tough cookie, and they manage to blast away and make some distance.

Now, this being a sound attack, it deals some significant damage to Venom.

I am so glad I managed to pause it here. This is an epic shot.

And I guess Luis was watching some Jojo, because we get a punch clash.

Venom manages to get by, and camouflages to get the drop on them.

Five Nights at Venom’s.

Venom manages to get in a hit, but the Black Blood is a bit too tough for Venom to beat.

Fitting for a Halloween episode, there’s blood everywhere.

Anyways, the fight takes to the skies, where neither seems to have a specific advantage… Aside from Crona managing to get in a few more licks in and block more hits than Venom.

Crona manages to take the fight back into the church.

Five Nights at Crona’s.

Venom decides to boast one more time before, uh, well…

Yeah, finishing blow in

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Verdict + Explanation.

Anyways, Boomstick makes our second Lucy vs. Carnage callback.

Now, Wiz notes that the only advantage Venom had was shapeshifting, camouflage, and weapon versatility. That’s literally it. Venom was screwed everywhere else.

Crona could match Black☆Star, who could get to Mach 9000.

Compared to Venom matching Spidey 2099, who only has Mach 2000, that’s a pretty clear speed difference.

Strength was another. Venom hasn’t displayed anything comparable to Crona opening the Moon’s mouth.

And really, with the Black Blood, Venom couldn’t pull any puppeteering tricks.

Now, the big one: Could Venom survive Crona’s sonic attacks?

Now, the sonic attack that nearly killed him that shattered glass miles away is a good high point to gauge. That clocks in at about 244 dB. Crona’s feat of covering the moon clocks in at 275dB.

And if you remember anything from Black Canary vs. Sindel, sound changes on the logarithmic scale. So Crona’s attack was over a thousand times more powerful than the blast Venom barely survived.

Overall impression.

Magento vs. Robot Man anyone?- I mean… That’s the impression this episode gave me. Like… I know that Ben was largely unfamiliar with Soul Eater going in, and I can assume that the same can be applied to a few of the other team members, but… really? Why not pit Robotboy against EMP Man? How about seeing who wins between Sandman and Juvia? The only way this can feel like it wasn’t “My Weakness is Sound man” vs. “Has Sound as an Explicit Weapon Person” is if the big question was “Could Venom survive Crona’s sonic attack?” They don’t put much emphasis on it, so it feels like they knew going in that Crona would utterly destroy Venom. And while I’m not inherently against fights that are basically stomps (Hell, I still enjoy Flash vs. Quicksilver), they really should have put more emphasis on that question if they didn’t want it to feel like it was one-sided.

I’m happy that Soul Eater is getting some rep before the inevitable Ruby vs. Maka fight (Uh, more money on Maka please), but I was honestly expecting Black☆Star to make it in before Crona. And even then, I would have thought that they would do something more creative than “Black Goopy buddies that bonded with a human host”

I tend to rag more on matchups than I do on animation, and I’ll be real: The animation is still good. Ragnarok is well-done, and they definitely landed the creepy factor quite well.

My own first viewing was a bit tainted because my own mother demanded that I not spend time for myself and instead sit at a table listening to her and my dad talk about  whatever, so my own feelings are a bit skewed because I had to watch this in a rush. Just a little disclaimer.

8.7/10

Next Time…

Speaking of ragging on matchups…

Can anyone vouch for having wanted this? Or, failing that, can anyone vouch for having seen this as a suggestion in the comments section?

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Red vs. Red… Blue vs. Blue… It’s I against I, and me against you…

[theselfcaresocialworker]

Intro P2

I wish I could tell you that I have always been good at self-care, have always managed symptoms of burnout gracefully and have been fine in a general sense. To say that would be lying and would further perpetuate the myth that therapists have their shit together. The journey that got me to where I am started way way back, but just for shits and giggles let’s go back to summer 2020.

It was June 2020 (which isn’t that far from when I wrote this in August 2020 and edited it in September). This was in the “middle” of the COVID-19 pandemic, I had been working from home for 3 months. I was in the most healthy and happy relationship of my life. I had a few awesome close friends. I was making good money, had time off (that I seldom took). I was in therapy and had worked through a fair bit of my own trauma. I had hobbies. I had a career I was objectively good at. I was knowledgeable, well read, and had good experience. All before I turned 30. I was also depressed, anxious, often triggered, down on myself, exhausted, passively suicidal, physically unwell… I dreaded doing anything related to my job. Worst of all, and I hate to say this, I didn’t care about my clients… I honestly couldn’t care anymore. The fucks to give were all gone, the proverbial well had dried out months ago. I felt helpless and hopeless about clients, about humanity. But... I was a strong social worker, and I just kept going, day to day, doing everything over and over and over. And over...

One day I had a client crying on the phone all I could think was, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You’re sad, I get it. Join the club, life sucks. Just shut up and do something about it.” I paused, disgusted, scared and frustrated with myself, “What the hell is wrong with me?! That’s not how I am supposed to think about this! I am not that person; I am supposed to care! Why don’t I care?!” Since I was in the middle of the session, I had to contain that all and pull my shit together and finish the appointment. Once it was done and I hung up the phone, I stared into space and tried to process what was happening to me. It felt like I started to wake up to what was happening to me; I started to see that I was beginning to make mistakes and only just catching them before it turned into a big deal. I wasn’t offering my best services. I was on autopilot.

I did what any good social worker does, I talked to my clinical supervisor. I told them bluntly and with vulnerability, what was happening and how I felt. I was very honest and open, hoping for some validation, some empathy, care. What I got was a “lecture” about what I already knew. They regurgitated everything I had already read and researched, but not even in an educated way or with any thoroughness. It was almost offensive how poorly it was delivered.  

Anyways. There I was feeling all the things, not getting much, if any, help with them. Knowing that I had to do something, I worked on why I must have been feeling that way, how it had happened, what had gotten me to that point. I read articles and books, talked to my colleagues and friends. I knew in theory how to work on my symptoms, and what to do. I still have this treatment plan in my head (like I said, I am writing this awfully close to when this all happened, so I am not indeed out of the proverbial woods just yet). I just couldn’t do it. No one had ever taught me how to do the internal work I would need to do as a therapist, no one had told me what to expect internally. I realized I had gone into this work, eyes closed tight and here I was seeing the reality of this work, what it had done to me, and what I had done to myself several years in. I started clearly seeing the wear and tear it has had on my psyche, my emotions, on me as a person.

Let’s take a few steps back. To be clear. How I got to this point was not completely the fault of “the field”. Like I alluded to earlier, I have my own baggage and trauma which has heavily influenced what makes me, me. This has also played a big role in WHY I chose this work.

The following section is from a personal journal entry in December 2019.

It has always been my job to help others. Even as a young child I was a natural at making myself small, having fewer needs, being independent in order to be less of a burden. I learned that in order to earn my keep, be worthy of anything, I needed to do something for someone. What came naturally as a deeply sensitive person was helping, listening, and feeling for others. I got so good at it that I made a career out of it.

I learned so many basic counseling and social work skills within the first ten years of life that when I finally got into graduate school I was made in the shade. I was a natural, it came easily. I think the assumption is that when a grown adult goes into a graduate program, they have a more or less well-rounded, healthy set of skills upon which to build. I didn’t have that, this was a huge issue moving forward. I knew how to handle living with this set of skills on a small scale, with friends and family. NOT as a professional. The problem was that I was not well balanced or well-rounded as a person and I was so good at “social working” that I just jumped in eager to help, to fill a purpose. I didn’t have a whole other set of skills that are needed in the field like setting boundaries, self-advocacy, self-care, etc. that are expected when you are an adult.

What happened was that I jumped into this disaster of human misery thinking that I was made in the shade, I have been doing this my whole life, but had no protective gear. It’s a whole different ball game to provide mental health care full time for 8 or more hours a day; it's nothing like being the friend everyone talks to. You are in a fucking ecological disaster. Some people have protective gear, they have the boundaries, they can advocate for themselves, they have a healthy sense of self or whatever. But there I was without boots, a jacket, or whatever else you might fucking need in a god damn disaster zone. Of course I got infections in the cuts one will inevitably get, of course I was coming home covered in goop and never really being able to get it all out from my hair and under my fingernails. I never learned otherwise, and no one prepared me.

I started realizing going to and graduating from school was like I had researched and learned about everything I could about some sort of ecological, environmental disaster (think BP oil spill, Chernobyl, poisonous lakes). I knew about the local and global ecosystem, I learned about the plants, the animals, I learned about why it was a travesty. I was ready to go into the disaster zone to make a difference. However, nowhere in my education did someone adequately impress upon me the absolute necessity for practical tools like waders, gloves, a hat, sunscreen, bug spray; anything to protect me from the very real hazards of the job in the disaster. School gave me shovels, trowels, clippers, hoses, tools to work on the problem, and they probably

assumed I already had a jacket, boots, wader, gloves, and goggles and further assumed that work places provided sunscreen, bug spray, maybe even a hat. Looking back now, at the beginning it’s like I was wearing a tank top, shorts, canvas tennis shoes and maybe a wind breaker, in a fucking poisonous lake.

Other’s told me to take care of myself, make me a priority, saying, “You can’t pour from an empty cup”. But I didn’t see many other people doing it either. I was arrogant, I thought I was strong enough to not need it. Only weak people need gloves and goggles. I thought if I just cared and cared and worked and worked to help, to fix people, the swamp would clear.

 *woosh, pan camera back to Summer 2020* There I was, wounded, sick, malnourished (whatever metaphor you want to put here) and I had to get out. I started to wake up in this seemingly never-ending series of ecological disasters, not caring that people were crying and struggling, and all I could think about was that they just needed to get the fuck over it. I was lost so far in the polluted lake with no real exit strategy. I had not planned for this. I had placed a bet on myself that I could hack it, that I would be fine. The only way was for me to get out—a med evac. I had to *gasp* take a leave of absence.

...

There are so many things that got me to that point. Some are system wide; some are part of the system of where I work. Some are from my own internal workings, negative core beliefs, negative thinking patterns, faulty assumptions. Some of the things existed before I started this work and weirdly make me good at this.

I don’t know how much of me sharing my story of lack of adequate self-care, of what my burn out was/is like helps anyone. I guess I am just hoping it makes it real for someone so that they avoid the mistakes I made. I guess it comes down to me wanting to go back and fix myself; if I can prevent what happened to me in someone else, then it feels like I heal myself. This is fundamentally flawed and part of why I have such bad burn out. Also, I don’t want to be one of those people that says, “Don’t do what I did” or worse, “Do as I say not as I do” so I avoided saying anything. But this is also part of my burn out—being afraid to say anything, being afraid of my own voice, denying that I even have one at all, not believing that I have anything valuable to say at all. I also know, a lot of what I have to say is said by countless other people in what may be more eloquent ways. But I come back to the point…I have a voice, maybe someone would benefit from hearing it.

This is as much for myself as it is for other people. I want to live a life I am proud of, one that I don’t need a vacation from, one where I am genuine, authentic and real; so I am learning to use my voice even when it feels awkward. I am learning to use my voice to stand up for myself and others even when what I think and feel is invalidated by people in power.

...

I know that what I am about to talk about is something you already know, and I know you will say to yourself, “Yeah, I know. I will.” And you might think, “That won’t be a problem for me.” But it will. Maybe you will be able to do some self-reflection about it quickly afterwards, hopefully before the full throws of burn out grab you, you make a change.

I wish I had known early on that you absolutely cannot care for others in a healthy, sustainable way if you do not take care of yourself first, if you do not have clearly defined internal and external boundaries that you regularly enforce and that are supported by those around you. I know you know this. We tell others this all the time. But us therapists/counselors/social workers have a nasty habit (not everyone, but I have yet to encounter a mental health provider that doesn’t or hasn’t struggled with this at some point…I have a lot of thoughts about this to discuss later) of giving sound advice and suggestions and somehow thinking we don’t have to follow it. It's classic, it really is.

We all experience stress, exposure to the everyday hazards of this work differently. My experience will not be yours. All I know is that what I have been through is unremarkably common, and yet, I feel like it is not shared as widely and as thoroughly as I believe it should. Ignoring not only the issue of burnout, but the lack of adequate education about it and self-care, we put ourselves, our clients, and the field in jeopardy. It is irresponsible, reckless, arrogant and short sighted.

As far as an answer to “Now what Sara? What are we supposed to do?” I have no real satisfying, thoughtful, profound answer. What I do now is this:

Journal entry from December 2019

The funny thing is that when things get bad, I know there isn’t anything anyone can say or do to make it any better. There isn’t always anything you can do or say to yourself that makes it better. Sometimes, all that can be done is to sit through it however you can despite how excruciating it can be. Sometimes, just knowing you aren’t alone and that someone has been there or knowing that someone somewhere cares even just a little makes all the difference.

If I can be that person, that voice for someone somewhere, I will have done my job. I know what it is like to be there, in the trenches of your mind with thoughts like bombs and feelings like mustard gas trying to kill you. It’s exhausting and excruciating fighting with and within yourself every day. I suppose in war, part of what might make things more tolerable is having your comrades, your platoon mates or whatever, there fighting with you; knowing you aren’t in that hell alone. Dealing with mental illness, trauma, oppression, with life, is no less of a significant widespread battle. How awful is it that we all feel incredibly alone even when everyone is fighting the same or similar battle?” We are all fighting something, and hearing someone say, “Hey! Yeah, me too! How do you fight off the suicidal thoughts at work??” can make all the difference.

[hoodie-lover]

My Multiverse Part 10

Ink was ready, he had his number two ready to help him, and he had his toys ready to play with. Before he opened a portal to the anti-void, he walked up behind Dream and hugged him, placing his hands in and around Dream’s soft ribs. 

“Can I have a kiss~?” Ink asked, his eyes a pale pink. 

“Why?” Dream asked, smirking and turning around to place his hands on Ink’s skull, rubbing it tenderly. 

“So we can get you into the right mindset. I’m soulless so I can’t truly be guilty, but you still have a soul, however deformed it may be, you can still feel genuine emotions. And we don’t need you feeling any guilt about what we’re about to do.” Ink explained, but continued. “But it can also be fun~.” Ink added, winking. 

“Sure Inky~.” Dream said, tackling the guardian. 

The two guardians kissed, a soft moan escaping from either one of them every now and then. Ink soon grabbed Dream’s shoulders and pulled him closer, then flipping. With Ink now on top, he summoned the chain he’d used on Dream when he’d first kissed him. And he tugged it, bringing Dream’s skull upward, and then he forcing the skull back to the floor with a prompt and deep kiss. 

They continued to flip and kiss for about 15 minutes before they both needed a break. Both thoroughly happy, and satisfied, they opened the portal to the anti-void, ready to begin the punishment. Though as both skeletons got up from the floor, a strong blush was spread across both faces. Ink’s face was a rainbow and Dream’s face was a bright yellow. 

Dream grabbed Ink’s arm, leaning his body against Ink’s and leaving his head on top of the god’s head. When they entered the anti-void, they saw Error holding Blue like a sleeping child. Dream squealed just a bit at the scene, he found it so cute. Ink chuckled at Dream and shook the guardian of his arm before walking up to the cute pair on the anti-void floor. 

“Glitchy~, wake up. It’s time for your punishment.” Ink whispered. Error perked up and pushed Ink away, gripping the sleeping Blue tighter. 

“What do you want?!” He cried out, covering place Blue’s ears would be if he actually had them. 

“We’re going to punish you for trying to tell Blue about my powers.” Ink said, booping Error on the nose. 

“We…?” Error repeated, and upon seeing Dream, he felt his metaphorical heart stop. 

“I made him like me. So I can have someone to relate to, and have fun with.” Ink said, looking at Dream with a longing look. “And thanks to you Error, credit where credit is due.” Ink added on, giggling as he poked Blue in the skull. 

When Blue’s glitchy eyes opened up, he looked up, in no particular direction. “Error…? We...out?” Blue asked, his voice still echoing. Blue grabbed Error’s clothes, beginning to shake and tremble. 

“Hi Blue! Did you miss me?” Ink asked, and Blue stopped breathing. 

Error panicked and began to run Blue’s back, whispering a soft song. But Blue was still frozen solid, like a block of ice, and just as cold. Error had often been told this was a sign of an upcoming REBOOT. Though Error never stopped breathing before, and he often went limp or isolated himself. 

Glitching and static covered Blue’s body as his eyes became covered by the glitching of his body. He was in the middle of asking a question, or screaming, Error wasn’t sure, but he was stuck on the ‘ah’ sound for the time being as he had something akin to a seizure. Error and Ink were stunned, Error usually went limp when he was close to or REBOOTing. What was going on? Error quickly moved Blue off of him and gave him some space. Ink also backed up, though he was more curious.

When Blue finally stopped, a REBOOT progress bar appeared over his head and began to fill up, a percentage showing how far along he was. 

“This is new. Dream get over her and take him.” Ink called out, and Dream walked over and picked up Blue by the shoulders and threw him over his back like a sack of potatoes. 

“NO!” Error screamed but Ink blocked his path and grabbed his hands, which had already been tangled with his strings, signalling he was ready for a fight. 

Ink threw Error onto the ground and placed a foot on his chest, pressing down and breaking a rib effortlessly. Ink then let Error’s hands go and untangled the strings, letting the soft material rub against his boney hands. He giggled and began to pull them, and pull hard. 

Error cried out in pain as Ink pulled on them, forcing Error’s eyes to make more, and it hurt, “STOP! PLEASE!” Error begged, trying to grab the strings and keep Ink from pulling more. 

“Fine.” Ink said as he ripped the strings clean off Error’s eyes. Then Ink looked over at Dream. “Make sure Blue doesn’t wake up, making him uncomfortable or feeling in danger should do it.” Ink told Dream, and the positivity guardian gave a thumbs up in response. 

Error breathed a sigh of relief as he was let go, but he clutched his ribs in pain as he sat up. Ink opened a portal to the pale AU Error knew all too well. And in front of him were Nightmare, Cross, and Fresh. They stepped out in unison, eyes blank and void. Though Error noticed something off about all of them. Fresh’s glasses were gone, Nightmare’s goop was more liquidy and runny, and Cross was slouching, something he would never tolerate. 

Ink snapped a finger and Nightmare walked up besides Ink, staring into nothingness. “As you probably guessed by now, I was bluffing when I said I’d dust them, but I most definitely will torture them.” Ink explained, and Nightmare collapsed to the ground and screamed in pain. 

It was loud, even the souls Error had stringed up above them were shaking from the noise. Ink spun his finger in a circle, like turning a dial, and Nightmare screamed louder, his tentacles flailing about. Error also saw the large tears were falling down his face. 

Far away from Ink, Dream looked on. He had a hand clutching Blue’s ribcage, cracking it every few seconds, which resulted in Blue’s REBOOT being stunted at 26%. Dream may not have felt guilt about what was being done, but a small tear in his soul, or whatever it was at this point, drew his attention. Dream used his free hand to summon his soul and look at it. It was normal, or normal for what is was now, a golden apple core with a rainbow sheen. The rainbow was the embodiment of his gift from Ink, the gift of control, and it also showed his undying allegiance. As Ink’s signature color, or colors, were forever on his soul. 

But the blue shone greater than the other colors, Dream knew that Ink’s blue vial represented sadness, so did Dream feel sad? He didn’t understand, he wasn’t guilty for what Ink was doing and his role in the torture of his brother, so why was his soul saying he was sad? Dream stole a glance at Blue, his limp body and glitchy bones, this wasn’t what Dream had thought their next meeting would look like. He still remembered when Ink had explained the vials to Blue. 

“Your soulless?! How?!” Blue had gasped, staring at Ink in shock. 

“I woke up like this, so I have no idea.” Ink said, though Dream knew it was a lie at the time, Dream was never told the truth either. 

“Well, I find it ironic that the favorite color of the Magnificent Sans is the color of sadness. For we all know that I am the most positive Sans in existence!” He announced to the room, which other than him only consisted of Dream and Ink. 

It was a favorite memory of his, he’d have to ask Ink if it was real or not. He silently hoped it was real. That was when he saw the blue color fade, and a golden hue take over. Dream dispelled his soul and made another crack in Blue’s ribs, setting the REBOOTing process down to 25%. 

Error was trying to get to Nightmare, trying to calm him down, but he couldn’t. Nightmare just screamed and cried in pain and Error was powerless as Ink laughed. Error managed to get his feet, but shambled as he found his footing.

“See Glitchy? This is what happens when you don’t do what I say. Honestly, I can make him scream and beg for death, of his own will. But I’ll give you one more try to not mess it up. If you spill anything, I will know, and your family will never be happy again.” Ink threatened as he grabbed a rusty knife and ran it across Nightmare’s face.

Error recognized the knife, it was the same one from the dungeon wall. He saw it break and slice and the bone as if it were butter. Error was terrified, as his, basically, dad screamed in pain Ink carved his name into Nightmare’s cheek. 

“Now that he’s done, time for Crossy~!” Ink announced and dropped Nightmare in a portal. A loud bang came from the portal, signaling Nightmare had hit the ground, and the portal closed. 

“You didn’t think I’d stop at one Error? Did you?” Ink cackled as he brought up Cross. 

Just then a blue bone shot up through Error, keeping him in place. “Just in case.” Ink explained and snapped his fingers. And Cross’ eyes sparked to life, and he collapsed on the ground. Scowling, but not at Ink.

Characters belong to their respective owners

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[thisislizheather]

The Witches Are Coming by Lindy West - A Review

I’ve been waiting for this book of essays to come out for months and it was so, so worth the the wait. I know it’s asking a lot, but can this woman please just write a book every year? Or every six months? That’d be great, thanks. Favourite parts ahead!

“This moment in history is about more than individual interactions between individual people. Those matter, too - it matters how you made your subordinate feel with that comment, and it matters quite a lot that the woman on the bus went home and sobbed after you groped her - but, as Rebecca Traister wrote in December 2017 on The Cut: “This moment isn’t just about sex. It’s about work.” It’s about who feels at home in the workplace and who feels like an outsider - which, by extension, dictates who gets to thrive and ascend, who gets to hire their replacements, who gets to set their children up for success, who gets credit and glory, and who gets forgotten. It’s about who feels safe in public spaces and who doesn’t. Which is to say, it’s about everything.”

“We gobble up cable news’ insistence that both sides of an argument are equally valid and South Park’s insistence that both sides are equally stupid, because taking a firm stance on anything opens us up to criticism.”

“We kept letting Adam Sandler make more movies after Little Nicky, because white men are allowed to fail spectacularly and keep their jobs.”

There’s literally an entire chapter on Adam Sandler movies that is perfection. You have to read it. Seriously, just pick this up at a bookstore and read that one chapter, if nothing else.

I loved all of her points about how there was endless discussion about The Ted Bundy Tapes when it came out earlier this year and how we debated whether this murdering monster was handsome or not. And how that same type of debate is somehow in the same arena as when people debate whether Elizabeth Warren is “likable” or not.

There’s a part in the Ted Bundy special where the judge sympathizes with Bundy and goes on a ridiculous tangent about how it’s “such a shame” that he turned out that way when he had so much potential, it’s truly disgusting to see a judge commiserate with a rapist and murderer, but it happened and it’s wild to see. “That anecdote is often held up as evidence of Bundy’s charisma - even the judge sentencing him to death was seduced by that smirk, that finger wave. But it is the most blatant, overwhelming evidence we have for the opposite. Men don’t need charisma to succeed. It doesn’t matter if men are likable, because men are people who do things, who don’t have to ask first, whose potential has value even after it is squandered.”

“Chasing likability has been one of women’s biggest setbacks, by design. I don’t know that rejecting likability will get us anywhere, but I know that embracing it has gotten us nowhere.”

Absolutely in love with the fact that she loves the movie Clue as much as I do.

I really liked the chapter that she discussed Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP, even if I did wish that she went in on her/the brand harder.

So in love with the chapter where she talks about South Park and its creators. I’ve always hated that show, it’s never been good, and I can’t understand who the hell would be into it. It’s never been funny, edgy, smart. Insane that it’s still on.

Maybe I’m really reading into it, but there’s a tiny part where she mentions that PETA sucks and I can’t stop all my little inside screams - it’s hard to find somewhere who dislikes all the same stuff as you.

“Men think that misogyny is a women’s issue; women’s to endure and women’s to fix. White people think that racism is a pet issue for people of color; not like the pure, economic grievances of the white working class. Rape is a rape victim’s problem: What was she wearing? Where was she walking? Had she had sex before?“

“Whenever talk turned toward solutions, the panel came back to mentorship: women lifting up other women. Assertiveness and leaning in and ironclad portfolios and marching into that interview and taking the space you deserve and changing the ratio and not letting Steve from accounting talk over you in the morning. During the closing question-and-answer period, a young woman stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice electric with anger, “but all I’ve heard tonight are a bunch of things women can do to fight sexism. Why is that our job? We didn’t build the system. This audience should be full of men.”

“Sexism is a male invention. White supremacy is a white invention. Transphobia is a cisgender invention. So far, men have treated #MeToo like a bumbling dad in a detergent commercial: well intentioned by floundering, as though they are not the experts. You are the experts. Only 2.6 percent of construction workers are female. We did not install that glass ceiling, and it is not our responsibility to demolish it.”

When talking about what men can actually do to help women: ”“Do you ever stick up for me?” sounds childish, but I don’t know that gussying up the sentiment in more sophisticated language would enhance its meaning. It isn’t fun to be the one who speaks up. Our society has engineered robust consequences for squeaky wheels, a verdant pantheon from eye rolls all the way up to physical violence. One of the subtlest and most pervasive is social ostracism: coding empathy as the fun killer, consideration for others as an embarrassing weakness, and dissenting voices as out-of-touch, bleeding-heart dweebs (at best). Coolness is a fierce disciplinarian. A result is that, for the most part, the only people weathering those consequences are the ones who don’t have the luxury of staying quiet. Women, already impeded and imperiled by sexism, also have to carry the social stigma of being feminist buzzkills if they call attention to it. People of color not only have to deal with racism; they also have to deal with white people labeling them “angry” or “hostile” or “difficult” for objecting. What we could use is some loud, unequivocal backup.”

“I know there’s pressure not to be a dorky, try-hard male feminist stereotype; there’s always a looming implication that you could lose your spot in the boys’ club; if you seem too opportunistic or performative in your support, if you suck up too much oxygen and demand praise, women will yell at you for that, too. But I need you to absorb that risk. I need you to get yelled at and made fun of, a lot, and if you get kicked out of the club, I need you to be relieved, and I need you to help build a new one.”

The entire chapter about the complications with Joan Rivers is such a great one.

“You can hate someone and love them at the same time. Maybe that’s a natural side effect of searching for heroes in a world not built for you.”

Okay, so the only thing that we strongly disagree on is her previous love for Adam Carolla. Always hated that man.

““Common sense’” without growth, curiosity, or perspective eventually becomes conservatism and bitterness.”

“There are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get older. Then there are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get better.”

“Art has no obligation to evolve, but it has a powerful incentive to do so. Art that is static, that captures a dead moment, is nothing. It is, at best, nostalgia; at worst, it can be a blight on our sense of who we are, a shame we pack away. Artists who refuse to listen, participate, and change along with the world around them are not being silenced or punished by censorious college sophomores. They are letting obsolescence devour them, voluntarily. Political correctness is just the inexorable turn of the gear. Falling behind is preventable.”

Talking about Ricky Gervais:” “People see something they don’t like, and they expect it to stop,” he said. “The world is getting worse. Don’t get me wrong, I think I lived through the best fifty years of humanity, 1960 through 2015, the peak of civilization for everything. For tolerances, for freedoms, for communication, for medicine! And now it’s going the other way a little bit.” “Dumpster fire” has emerged as the favorite emblem of our present sociopolitical moment, but that Gervais quote feels more apt and more tragic as a metaphor: the Trump/Brexit era is a rich, famous, white, middle-aged man declaring the world to be in decline the moment he stops understanding it.”

“Adam Carolla isn’t angry because he’s being silenced; he’s angry because he’s being challenged. He’s been shown the road map to continued relevance, and it doesn’t lead back to his mansion. He’s angry because he’s being asked to do the basic work of maintaining a shared humanity or else be left behind. He’s choosing the past. Gervais and Carolla are not alone in presenting themselves as noble bulwarks against a wave of supposed leftwing censorship. (A Netflix special, for the record, is not what “silencing” looks like.)”

Talking Louis CK: “Less than a year after his vow to retreat and listen, CK made the laziest and most cowardly choice possible: to turn away from the difficult, necessary work of self-reflection, growth, and reparation, and run into the comforting arms of people who don’t think it’s that big a deal to show your penis to female subordinates. Conservatives adore a disgraced liberal who’s willing to pander to them because he’s too weak to grow. How pathetic to take them up on it.”

“Like every other feminist with a public platform, I am perpetually cast as a disapproving scold. But what’s the alternative? To approve? I do not approve.” - This is probably my most favourite line in the entire book

“Not only are women expected to weather sexual violence, intimate partner violence, workplace discrimination, institutional subordination, the expectation of free domestic labor, invisible cuts that undermine us daily, we are not even allowed to be angry about it.”

“I’d been taught that when ordinary people try to do activism, they look stupid. Of course now I know that there is no effective activism without the passion and commitment of ordinary people and it is a basic duty of the privileged to show up and fight for issues that don’t affect us directly. But maintaining that separation has served the status quo well. It keeps good people always just shy of taking action. It’s tone policing. It’s the white moderate. But it’s changing.”

“Diet culture is a coercive, misogynist pyramid scheme that saps women’s economic and political power.”

Definitely the best thing I’ve read all year. GO BUY!

[artofaboythatoncewas]

Cars 2

Leo: Audi Quattro. Yo, does anyone remember the time where I was buying Ben 10 minifigures from a cash-grab machine at the skewered chicken grill? Damn, you could really see the smoke coming off the grill there, and it was like, situated directly in a corner and accompanied by a window directly in front of it… floor three, wasn't it? Baby, come home… yeah, my thick alligator baby… come home. […] What? Wh-what was that? Ugh, Viz, goddammit: You have something to do with that probably. They’re the only person I know who could alter my subconscious to make me attracted towards plump alligators. <Oro is suddenly interrupted by a steep drop off of an unidentifiable platform; it’s hard to see in the dark atmosphere of the room.> Oof, that was almost as bad as when I got on that kiddie trike and it nearly impaled my taint. There’s no goop dripping off my body, and there’s no sensation that I’m nude either, so I’m not in a Matrix-like situation either. […] Ah, my phone, yes: The communicator. If I’m right, it should be situated in my right pocket, — the one with only one white stripe pattern — and if I turn it on, there should be a background image of Remigio Ángel González as required for opsec in the case that our operations are compromised… <The room Oro is within suddenly lights up, revealing a brick-layered second-floor with a unique and prominent detail.> Forget the phone, the phrase “somos los segundos nefilim” is written all over the walls. I think it’s a weird, religious thing, but the agnostic in me feels it’s related to general flooding, like that you’d find clogging up the pipes. [,] Viz? «Hello, I thought you were writing up a thesis to expose fireworks manufacturers; what gives?» I think my father’s job as a plumber is coming back to haunt me in ways I don’t like: Maybe it’s retribution for plunging that kid into the toilet once… «Cool; I don’t care. Just tell me where you are now so I can get an idea of your status.» Uh, second-floor, religious scrawl on the walls, darkness turned to light, hallucinations of thick alligators, and- <The walls begin trickling water.> Err, I’ll call you back.

Taurus: Maserati 3500 GT. Good morning, how can I interest you at all in- Good Lord! I could tell immediately that you’re spiritually exhausted: If it wasn’t obvious, your face looks like it was peeled off like the skin of a potato. «Uh, what does that mean? I’m coughing up something funny here, big guy, and I don’t have time to deal with the metaphors.» Oh no, don’t get me wrong; You came into my establishment not for the purpose of nutritional sustenance, but rather the mystical services I offer on the back of the sign. «Is that sexual implication?» Can you believe the degradation of this man’s morale? Do you wanna look through my Zen Cat calendar until you feel an improved fighting spirit? «I am the governor of the state of Goa, and this is the treatment I receive from shop-owners in the north? I was nearly killed just making it… Oh no, he caught the tone-switch.» <Gresham leaves a pillow for the weary man who claims he’s the governor of Goa, leaving him with the Zen Cat calendar that he didn’t request.> [,] «Did he notice the façade, or did he actually buy it? If I just stay here, admire the atmosphere, and pretend I’m hurt in some way, he’ll still buy my story. That titan of a man can’t know that I work for the CWW or that he’s wanted by th-» Heh, sorry about that, I was trying to look for that Zen Cat calendar ‘cause I thought you needed it, but apparently you’ve had it with you the entire time. Silly me: I always forget that there’s spare calendars below the restaurant calendar. <The CWW agent breathes with relief and continues pretending to be the sickly president of Goa: Offended attitude from poor service still maintained.> Your condition clearly hasn’t improved much since I left to aid: This is a healing that’ll require a lot more than simple yoga. Your atman (true self) is still locked away behind many layers of grief and domestic malnourishment which keep you hindered back to cycles that have washed you away. This isn’t a naturality according to my senses, and must be the work of minor demons attempting to prod at your well-being. Natuk, bring me the Soma! «<The CWW agent mumbles under his breath> Either this guy is a nutjob, or he plays a really sincere act as a nutjob.» Do you fancy the Zen Cat calendar? I favor the Himalayan cats out of all. «Typical.»

Aquarius: Mini. “Oh, hello. I see you two have come in the corner of Paula’s Sports Cards, and, sorry to say, but if you came here for the tourney sign-up, we’re currently not listing right now. However, we’re making some special deals for you. We also sell Magic the Gathering singles, but they're the really shitty ones that nobody wants."  […] My plan to help these teens outta Magic cards isn't going too well, <Aukai thinks to herself.> «Yeah, whatever, lady. We saw the flyer at the noodle shop and I wanted to fulfill my cardboard crack addiction.» <Aukai contemplates dropping the act of a shady dealer for just a moment, then she returns back to a more aggressive form of the same act.> “Eh, don’t compromise this deal, buster, I only have several, ultra-rare cards stored between my boob wedge, and being dismissive to my game is bound to get you kicked out.” «Just show us the cards and tell us what you’re offering.» [,] Ugh, fine. <Aukai drops the act: The one that had brittle legs to stand on. She then begins to monologue with the cardboard-addicted teenagers as she literally takes the cards out of her bosom.> You know, I was on board on a cruise ship once, — that’s usually not my style; I’m the one manning the ship more often — and I saw this cute magician who blew me away, and I thought imitating her style would help me, but I guess I’m better at this merchant personality when I’m selling ship parts. <The teenagers are thinking if her cleavage possibly damaged the material of the cards, but they don’t question it: They’re battle-hardened players.> «Yo, is that a Judge Foil Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite?» <Aukai reflects on what Tehura told her regarding the basic cultural knowledge of Magic, and she grinned somewhat deviously, knowing that she can present as malicious.> “I could make you cough up $400 for this card, but do you know what’s a better investment than this?” «Literally nothing else, just give us the cardboard crack,» <Said the teenagers in a creepy unison.> Yeah, but teacher-learner skills when it comes to the game are way more important than what cards you can get your hands on. <One of the teenagers breaks the creepy, unison speaking to speak their thoughts.> «Actually, I’m intrigued by what she can offer to us in terms of both real-world and game knowledge. The fact that she was able to get her hands on such cards tells us that she’s more than meets the eye.» <The two other teenagers counteract in unison.> «Shut the hell up; she stores cards in her boobs.»

Pisces: 1948 Tucker Torpedo. “Copulation is just the insertion of an appendage into a bodily orifice for the purpose of expelling a juice containing seed that is absorbed into the body for the purpose of procreation.” I’ll use any disgustingly medical and biologically-existential definition of human biological functions to make me as repulsed by humanity as possible. For the previous time, I attempted to embrace naturality as much as possible by isolating myself from what I perceived as corruptive forces of civilization, but then I found out that I ended up terrifying whoever came along with me, and that I was guilty of several counts of potential assassination, so I had to call that one off. But now, I’m a changed man: I seek to embrace a transcendence beyond my natural form as quickly as possible. […] «Oh, my son Aleep? Yeah, he’s in one of those moods again where he tries to see if he can flex himself beyond humanity. I don’t get it, and I think it’s the corruptive influence of too much television and tinkering around with electronics that’s getting to him. I preferred his older hobbies of ambitious poetry, but now, I don’t know what he’s doing anymore.» I can hear your valid criticisms, mother! The walls in this house are made out of cardboard and so are my feelings! «He likes to engage in these dramatic monologues or whatever, and he’s saying it’s leading up to some “connective truth” as he calls it. He’s a bright young man, but he’s kinda flippant.» <Only silence can be heard from the upstairs room where Aleep stays. It’s like this for a good two minutes, and Aleep’s mother assumes he’s busy and likely didn’t hear the continuation.> I seek to busy myself in the virtual world since my mother is already occupied with introducing a false image of me to her regular guests; they probably think I’m so gross hermit, when the truth is that I’m a well-kempt hermit. The boys at my gym class thought that my locs were sexy, and that’s all the confidence boost I needed for the week. […] I look around my abode and I see nothing but human unnecessariness: The floors are covered in years of shedded skin, rolling around as it were a wasteland, and the windows are marred with the remnants of oils excreting from the human hand. It disgusts me, and I see it fit that only the world of human exclusion can save me now… Olligestaia, here I come. <The Olligestaia theme starts playing from cheap speakers.>

[exfujin]

Meeting Seimei, Mushishi, Koroka, and IchiRen’s current state

There’s a little short with Ren & Seimei meeting which is super cute, I just wish it was translated ! Please watch it just for the cute shenanigans !

Well. Needless to say, their meeting was the game changer for Ren. This is mostly an elaboration on what I can understand/translate from the chapters on Ren in game ( since there’s no English equivalent at this time ). It’s probably not going to be 100% correct until there’s an english translation but for now after scouring for ages. . .

 IT’S GOING TO BE LONG WINDED BUT TRUST ME IT’S WORTH KNOWING THIS.

It began with a moth spirit named Mushishi who had admired Ren when he was a gentle god to his people. Her story goes that she used to find herself ugly and weak so she always stayed in her cocoon, but she became completely enamored with the grace and beauty of an old wind god (Ren) who would light a path at night with lanterns and fireflies so people could travel safer in the forest to his shrine at night. Eventually it gave her the courage to emerge from her cocoon, where she met the god of the forest Yamakaze and his sister spirit Kaoru. Unfortunately Ren had disappeared by then and she spent a great deal of time searching for him after a dream told her he was dying and would soon disappear into nothing.

Frantically she looked for him at the cost of her own livelihood, for she was still a newly born yokai and did not possess very much strength. Eventually Mushishi discovered the onmyoji Abe no Seimei along with Koroka ( which... is some kind of stone lantern spirit possessed by its own fire ? ) and asked for his aid in saving Ren. There’s actually a funny exchange where she’s describing his appearance, and Koroka is like, BRUH WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE REN IS !

You see, as it turns out, Koroka had met Ren long ago after he was caught trying to steal a human’s ritual offering to Ren. He basically told him, “don’t you think that’s kind of rude to humans?” and the two bonded like a big brother to little bro. Koroka was even there at his side when Ren lost his eye. 😭 The rest is history. Either way, Koroka fashions himself as Ren’s protector and even demands Seimei go through him before he is deemed worth enough to save Ren lmao. Ren has a good, caring family. Ty for this delicious fucking supply of found family trope, Onmyoji devs !

They do find Ren and as it turns out, he is fading away because his power as a yokai are depleting because he refuses to eat humans and other demons. Yes, he’s a good fucking boy folks ! Ren remains humbled to Seimei’s offer to help him, but tells him he doesn’t need his help and instead has a request, “If there comes a day where i am no longer around . . . would you protect the village . . . and take care of Koroka for me ?”

To which Seimei being fucking Seimei is like, sure I’ll do that . . . if you can best me in a duel ! Smh. Even Kohaku is flabberghasted at him. Seimei Who Challenged A God To A Duel. But after defeating Ren, he had expended so much power that he actually begins to fade away for realsies. Tearfully, Koroka begs for mercy and Mushishi bursts into tears to lose him so quickly. Ren apologizes for not being able to do anything for him, to which Koroka lets him know he has done plenty to take care of him . . . 

Seimei is moved by the amount of empathy which Ren holds and casts a binding spell upon him, which gives Ren a part of his power, therefore sustaining him. It’s unclear exactly what this is, but it could lend to the statement of Ren in game claiming he “will always carry a part of Seimei inside him now”, whether it is metaphoric, literal, or both ! Either way I’m goop at this point,,, 

Koroka and Mushishi both thank Seimei and Ren promptly acknowledges Mushishi, telling her he actually recognized her by the noises she would make in her cocoon all those years ago when he would pass by and thanks her for remembering him in the first place. Aa aa a a a ah hhh h hh....family... 

It’s all very heartwarming. With Seimei’s help, Ren actually has a bit of his divinity back and it’s Hiromasa who says that the shrine will start to become busy again, slowly repaired, and people may even come to worship him again (implying that, over time Ren would earn his godhood again !!! Yay !!! )

[bubblet-ea]

something foreign but altogether completely familiar

“the fuck?”

“please?” jimin all but whined, head tucked comfortably atop yoongi’s lap as both sets of fingers moved rapid-fire against his ps4 game controller.

“no,” yoongi’s green humanoid blob managed to shove jimin’s blue twerky thing to go plunging to his doom off a rotating blimp. 

”hah!” taehyung’s screech could be heard through his headset. “team taegi wildin’ out!”

“come on, just one time,” jimin’s eyes remained glued to the tv screen where he adamantly tried to body flop his way over taehyung’s yellow goop man that tried to throw him off again ”hoseok! you fuckin’ suck! you’re supposed to have my back!”

the only response received was a high pitched cackle-scream hybrid that had jimin flinching, probably bursting one of his eardrums as well. hoseok’s little red floppy dude went plummeting to his doom all on his own at the opposite end of the screen far from the melee going on between the other three players.

“yoongi please,” jimin was just that close of chucking his controller at the tv, nostrils flaring with annoyance at how crap he was at this game. “three hours, tops.”

“fuck no,” yoongi effectively managed to nudge both jimin’s and taehyung’s characters off the blimp, sacrificing his own partner with no remorse. (”hey! what the heck!”). “what part of no don’t you understand?”

“but i said please,” jimin finally tossed his controller and waved his metaphoric white flag of surrender. he opted for rolling flat on his back and lifting his gaze to stare up at the underside of yoongi’s chin with the softest puppy pout he could muster. “i thought we were bros.”

“no,” yoongi somehow managed to continue playing with a single hand, freeing the other to produce a swift flick on jimin’s forehead (”ow.”). “i am your elder, and you are a pint-sized peanut stuffed full of teenage gay angst and i don’t know why i put up with you.”

granted, jimin supposed that was true. yoongi was technically two years his senior. but they’d been practically biffles for life since childhood because their dads were fishing buddies. and jimin would rather have every last one of his teeth pulled out with steel pliers than to actually admit, but he picked this university for the sole purpose that it contained one min yoongi.

because.

best bros.

“but i thought you were my fam,” jimin plopped his body like deadweight and stretched his full height across the couch. “my homie for life, piña to my colada, the half to my whole, soy to my latte-”

“you can fuck right off with that.” 

 “and after all i’ve done for you,” jimin swooned, arm tossed over his eyes in a dramatic effect. he snuck a peak to glance up at the pointy end of yoongi’s nose.

the elder’s eyebrow was in serious danger of shooting up and out through the roof. if jimin didn’t know any better, and he liked to think he knew better than most, yoongi’s expression was definitely in danger of being permanently fixed the way it was, what with yoongi’s constant skepticism and no-fucking-nonsense-stick-up-his-ass-you-mess-with-me-i-will-shove-this-lamp-pole-up-your-fucking-dickhole attitude.

“pray tell, what exactly have you done for me?”

“like that one time,” jimin started, straightening out from his maiden’s swoon and poking up at yoongi’s left piercing. “you were thirsting over taehyung hardcore like the dehydrated prune ass bitch you are. and i had to step in and play cupid so you could finally man up the courage to tap dat.”

“damn boiiiii!” hoseok screeched.

“exposed!” taehyung followed. “i know i’m hot shit and all but daaaaang!”

“i will literally set your hair on fire, you oversized carrot top,” yoongi gritted through clenched teeth where jimin caught a muscle twitch. (”you love my glorious orange hair, don’t lie.”)

jimin could truly say that episode had been one helluva fuckin’ ride, an experience. to be honest, yoongi seemed to be hellbent on pretending the entirety of last winter holidays had never happened, it was that embarrassing. in the end, jimin’s efforts had been in vain and yoongi snapped right the fuck out of it when he realized taehyung was not the soft, sweet cotton fluff he thought and a whole lot of nasty, panty dropping extra that could not be contained.

yoongi shot him a brief, tight lipped smile that looked more constipated than anything else.

“it’s true though,” hoseok’s mirth was clearly visible even through the shitty wifi connection. “jimin did do you a solid.”

“the sex was really good though, you gotta admit.”

“first of all, you piece of shit,” yoongi’s game controller went to join jimin’s across the coffee table. “i did not thirst after taehyung-”

“you were so thirsty your skin was flaking,” jimin smirked, shortly before he was shoved off the couch to land in a puddle at yoongi’s feet. “ow, fuck that really hurt.”

“i am the king of gang beasts!” taehyung’s shrill deep voice echoed in jimin’s ears. “all hail king tae! bow, peasants, and kiss my feet!”

“the fucking disrespect,” yoongi’s toe nudge into jimin’s side, making him jerk sideways half under the table. “it was mid winter and i have eczema you snot rag. second of all,” yoongi continued on his tirade and jimin wheezed with laughter. “what you managed to do was set everyone up for fuckin’ centuries of cringeworthy humiliation that is bound to have my descendants curling in misery.”

“you’re so dramatic,” jimin smiled fondly, rolling back out from under the table and sitting himself up. he rested his chin along his arms crossed on the edge of the sofa by yoongi’s knees. “i totally helped you get dat ass. i am the best wingman.”

“you are a fucking nightmare, is what you are,” yoongi deadpanned, ruffling jimin’s already mussed up, pitch black hair.

“i know, but please,” jimin tried again, throwing on his best sulk face and capitalizing on the best asset god bequeathed him with. his plush, pouty lips. “just this one time,” he bat his lashes, just for good measure. “how often do i ask for favors?”

“all the fuckin’ time!”

“like when do you not?”

“did i ask for your opinion?! i think the fuck not!” jimin straightened out like a snapped spring and bellowed into his headset mic. through his peripheral vision, he saw yoongi take of his own headset and slowly rub at his temples.

“why do i put up with all of you,” yoongi let out a long suffering sigh.

“because you lo-”

jimin turned off the tv, remote arm out, cutting hoseok off mid-sentence. yoongi looked at him like he might kiss him. or not. with a shrug, jimin tossed the remote on the carpet by his feet.

“back to the subject,” he licked his lips, settling against the coffee table with his knees drawn to his chest. yoongi let out another heavy sigh, but that didn’t deter jimin. “just one time please. one date,” he attempted the most forlorn look, like stepped on flowers, run over a dog’s tail, cookies got burnt disconsolate. “taemin is gonna be there.”

“how do you even know this,” yoongi sighed. again.

“with jongin.”

jimin pouted extra hard.

“who the fuck is jongin,” yoongi rubbed his temples with his middle and forefinger, as if he was warding off an oncoming migraine. which is nonsense. because jimin is the light of yoongi’s life. he could attest to this.

“who is,” jimin's face crumpled. “who the fuck. jongin!” his arms shot up into the air. “kim jongin! the third year ballet twink with the good ass thighs and facial structure crafted by the gods! dance prodigy jongin!” jimin’s voice escalated with every syllable, in speed, pitch, and volume.

“that kim jongin. the one taemin dumped me for,” jimin was now truly feeling really sad. this was not how he’d anticipated this conversation to go down.

it still hurt. three weeks had passed since the evening that shall not be spoken of. and jimin’s chest still throbbed with an empty longing at the memories of how taemin had broken up with him at their favorite mom-and-pop cafe that had been the center point of almost a year’s worth of happy memories. the sacrilege, how dare?

“i found someone else,” taemin had said.

“well good riddance! ‘cause i was gonna break up with you first!” jimin’s brain to mouth filter completely went on vacation, leaving him with utter regret and despair. but why stop there? “i found someone else too!”

the look of surprise on taemin’s face had almost been worth it.

almost.

now jimin was stuck with empty words and no boyfriend to show for it.

“please,” jimin tried again, clutching at yoongi’s artfully ripped jeans, which was saying something as they were so tight they clung to the elder’s very legs like second skin. “i just gotta prove to him that i do have somebody else and i’m not like desperate-taylor-swift-binge-eating-sobfest-heartbroken.”

“you are heartbroken,” yoongi muttered, pulling off his headset and running a hand through his soft brown hair. “there’s nothing wrong with that. the asshole literally broke your heart. i’m pretty sure that’s the definition of heartbroken.”

“just to prove i have a boyfriend,” jimin could sense victory in the soft sigh leaving yoongi’s lips.

“but you don't.”

“minor detail,” jimin waved a nonchalant hand.

“i’d say that’s a big fucking detail,” yoongi replied gruffly, rubbing his face with his open hand.

“i’ll buy you dinner,” jimin enticed, coming up to his knees and peering up into yoongi’s face.

“it better be a good fucking dinner,” yoongi sighed, finally relenting.

success.

--

“i can't believe i let you talk me into this,” yoongi shook his head, jimin chancing furtive glances over his menu to look for that familiar face.

“just,” jimin finally caught taemin and his new boyfriend at the far side of the cafe, tucked away in a discreet corner booth. “pick something to eat while i do some recon.”

“fucking ridiculous,” yoongi released a long, deep breath but picked up his own menu and began to look through the list of foods. “recon,” yoongi snorted, a crease forming in between jimin’s brows as he tried to subtly, not so subtly, crane his neck as if he could actually catch what the other two were talking about if he stretched far enough.

he didn’t even notice as the waitress stopped by to take their order, squinting as he attempted to lipread what taemin was saying to jongin.

damn, it was hard to see exactly what words were being exchanged from this angle and distance.

but what wasn't too difficult to see, even for jimin from this length of space between, was the brilliant laughter playing on taemin’s lips and the way his eyes curved into that precious moon smile that was jimin’s favorite and had always been reserved for him and him only.

the dull thud in his chest echoed like a bucket dropped all the way to the bottom of an empty well.

he watched, breath held, as taemin pulled the other’s hand and pressed butterfly kisses along every knuckle. something he used to do for jimin too.

it felt as if he’d fallen into that empty well along with the bucket.

it hurt.

like a fucking bitch, it hurt.

he really thought he could do this. but he couldn't. not when taemin looked for all the world like a man completely smitten. and the other person wasn't jimin.

a sharp kick to the shin finally jolted his attention away from the other couple, a startled whine escaping through his parted lips as a bright hot pain traveled up his leg from the point of abuse.

“what the fuck,” jimin’s expression puckered, rubbing at the sore spot on his shin that was very likely to bruise. yoongi’s brow quirked, arms crossed over his chest looking bored as hell while jimin’s world came crashing down around his feet for what was probably the thousandth time since he’d been dumped.

“you’re supposed to be having a good time,” yoongi’s face softened when jimin bit down on his lower lip that had started to quiver. he blinked repeatedly, forcing back the burn that had begun to emerge around the corners of his eyes. it was becoming somewhat hard to breathe.

“do you want me to take you home?” the elder asked gently, and jimin shook his head faintly. “then what do you want to do?” yoongi enquired, head tilted to the side.

inhaling a shaky breath, jimin willed himself to calm. “can you just,” he answered after a moment of silence. “talk. just talk. about anything, i don't care. just please,” jimin didn’t really know what he was begging for. he just needed the pain in his chest to stop.

so yoongi began talking.

he started with a teacher aide in his music comp class that none of the students liked because he was a total pompous bitch. he talked about his latest assignment that was due in a few day’s time, but he’d procrastinated up until now because who fuck care anyways? he commented on the weather, about Pokémon GO, about a new movie that had come out, about the upcoming spring break and how their mothers expected them back home because yoongi’s older brother wanted him to meet his fiancé’s family and how jimin was going to come with him or else he’d die of boredom and the younger owed him a favor after this anyway.

the words flowed freely, and jimin was content to just listen to that deep silken voice wrap him softly like a bandaid over a wound.

he listened and he ate as yoongi talked, gradually forgetting the reason that he was here in the first place and began to actually engage in the conversation.

“do i get a free meal out of it?” jimin tipped his head to the side, popping a french fry in his mouth and licking the bit of ketchup off the end of his middle finger. at that, he thought he caught a near imperceptible dip in the elder’s adam’s apple. but he waved it off as just his imagination.

“freeloader,” a hand leaned over the table to ruffle jimin’s hair before he could swing out of yoongi’s reach.

“knock it off,” jimin huffed, batting the hand away. “and no i’m not.”

“you are soft as fuck,” yoongi laughed at the excitement that lit up jimin’s face. “yes, you’re getting a free meal out of my brother so you’re ass is coming.”

“okay.”

“and you act like you never get a free meal whenever you come banging on my doorstep anyway,” yoongi said in a deadpan tone, sliding his credit card into the check folder the waitress brought over. “you know how much my mom loves you.”

“i can’t wait to play with holly,” jimin hummed with a content smile, sipping on his watered down coke zero.

--

“thanks for, you know,” jimin stared down at his feet, scuffing the point of his right shoe against the concrete. he glanced up to see yoongi shrug, hands tucked away into the pockets of his jeans while they stood outside of jimin’s dorm.

they’d done this a million and trillion times before in the past. but why did jimin feel somewhat nervous?

yoongi was as familiar to him as his own right arm, or his favorite blanket back home.

there was something different though, hanging in the crisp night air between them... something that was never there before.

“thank you for being the best fucking bro in the whole fucking world?” yoongi prompted when he’d paused for long enough, jimin snorting with amusement and retuning somewhat back to planet earth.

“yeah, that,” he conceded, fingers clasped behind his back for lack of anything better to do with them. “thank you.”

something warmed inside jimin’s chest at the soft grin that spread across yoongi’s face, eyes traveling down his side profile as the elder looked up into the starry deep sky above.

when their eyes met again, it was as if jimin hadn’t known yoongi his entire life, since toddlerhood, something foreign yet altogether completely familiar thrumming in his chest.

“’night.”

“good night,” jimin licked his suddenly dry lips. he watched as yoongi turned, breaking into a light jog as he moved back towards his car parked in the no-parking zone with the emergency lights flashing.

what the hell?

--

“i’ve been doing some thinking.”

silence.

“can i ask you something?” 

the only response jimin received was a muted grunt.

“and hear me out, okay? don’t just completely write this off,” jimin continued, staring at yoongi’s back from his current position of lying perpendicular across the elder’s bed, head hanging upside down over the edge.

yoongi didn’t even glance up from the composition project he was working on. the one he’d procrastinated on for weeks now. the one that was due within the next twenty-four hours, holy fucking shit rest in pieces.

“i think we should try kissing a go,” jimin blurted out, body tensed, as he watched for yoongi’s response.

there was the briefest of pause in his constantly moving hand, the soft pen scratches going even quieter still until it had completely stopped.

jimin held his breath, if only to not break the utter silence. the room was so thick with it, he thought he could put a knife right through it and cut a slice straight out of the air.

cricket cricket bitch.

after several minutes had passed, jimin was about to laugh it off as a joke when yoongi finally responded, “don’t be stupid,” and resumed his work once again as if jimin hadn’t said anything at all.

“but i’m being serious,” jimin rolled over onto his front, chin propped up on his clasped fingers and boring holes in the elder’s back between his shoulder blades.

yoongi finally turned, shooting jimin a long, searching look that had him squirming to the very tips of his toes.

without another word, the elder lobbed a crumbled up composition sheet that landed squarely in the center of jimin’s forehead.

“ow what the fuck?!”

--

“i cannot believe,” yoongi exhaled a sigh of resignation, glaring up at the ceiling flashing technicolor strobe lights as if it had done him some personal great injustice.

“is that jongin over there? can y’see him? i can’t tell if it’s him or not,” jimin was just this close to overbalancing and tipping over the barstool with how far he was stretching his neck to catch a glance of the familiar looking couple dancing amongst the drunken crowd.

he’d lost count of how many shots of tito’s he’d downed in the past few hours they’d been camped out at the congested bar. jimin was a man on a mission. and yoongi’s palm was warm against the small of his back, propped there to prevent his fall, made all the warmer by the inebriating flush that spread across his cheeks.

nibbling on his parched lips, jimin leaned even further out to squint at the blond haired man that looked kind of like taemin and kind of didn’t, only breaking his stare when taehyung dipped by to pass him another shot of something or other.

“drink bitch!”

“i think not,” yoongi swooped in before jimin could reach to intercept the small glass rimmed with salt.

“ooh tequila?” jimin pivoted on the stool without warning, nearly knocking the drink out of yoongi’s hand and quite suddenly placing the elder to stand in between his legs. 

“but i have limes!” taehyung’s boxy smile stretched so wide, jimin couldn’t help but grin back as he tried to grab the shot.

“i think you’ve had enough,” yoongi stretched his arm away from jimin’s circumference of reach.

“but i have limes!” taehyung repeated as if that tidbit of fact made it even more important. and quite frankly, jimin couldn't help but agree.

“give it,” he pouted, one hand grasping onto yoongi’s shoulder and the other reaching out making grabby hands at the glass.

“why you gotta cock block?” taehyung whined, having already downed his own and cramming the lime wedge into his mouth.

“no,” yoongi said in a no-nonsense tone that should've brooked no argument.

but jimin was buzzed and had no shits to give at the moment, completely forgetting that his best bro for life had promised to please, please, please play designated let’s-not-let-jimin-do-anything-utterly-stupid-whilst-in-his-intoxicated-state.

however, that was besides the point.

what was the point again?

instead, jimin opted for wrapping his legs around yoongi’s waist to bring him even closer, extending his wiggling arm to the best of its somewhat stunted abilities to reach, reach, reach...

oh.

“shit!”

“ow.”

“y’okay?”

the stool ended up tipping over, both of them landing in a puddle of confused limbs and pained grunts. but jimin’s fall had been miraculously cushioned by yoongi’s chest, the elder having fallen flat on his back against what jimin could only imagine was the disgustingly alcohol-sticky tiled floor. gross.

yoongi groaned, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass intermixed with taehyung’s loud shrieking.

“hey,” jimin rested his chin on yoongi’s chest, his already muddled brain just a tiny bit overwhelmed by the stale and bitter scent of beer that lingered on the other’s lips. “you’re kinda cute, how did i never notice before.” 

yoongi snorted, groaned, jimin couldn't tell which.

“i’m gonna kiss you,” jimin said before his consciousness could actually catch up with his brain. “y’know, not because we’re best bros or anything, but like because you’re kinda cute right now and i’m kinda drunk and i couldn't think about anything but this for the past few days since-”

“just fucking shut up,” yoongi leaned up and pressed his lips onto jimin’s. 

it tasted bitter, but it was warm and soft. and it tasted like something foreign but altogether completely familiar, like a promise of the past and present and future.

it tasted like home.

“literally you are such a piece of shit,” yoongi smiled fondly when they finally came up for air.

yup, definitely felt like home.

[cosmosogler]

i am having PROBLEMS!!!

this morning i did ok, but as the day went on i have been getting more and more restless and agitated. i seem to have endeared myself to some of the staff but i really, really don’t feel prepared for this test. i know only two of us have studied for it but... suzanne told me that about half of the students pass the test on the first try. i joked about getting “a zero or something embarrassing like that” to the staff member that came and visited with us studying in the office and he laughed, but it wasn’t really a joke... 

i left a little late but i did ride the bus to the department. i got there at 10 and made myself comfortable in the lounge for a little bit before suzanne and her little brother alex showed up. alex is super into recycling and waste management. i friended him on facebook and he types like a maniac though. he’s my age but he’s not a major so he just hung out for a little bit while suzanne filled out some notes for his doctor for him i guess.

snoopy has started headbutting me in the hair whenever i bend over to pick stuff up. maybe she can tell how stressed i am and wants to reassure me. i don’t know. i’m glad she feels more comfortable around me at least. she let me brush her chest a little bit today. she didn’t eat as much though. 

i also got my meds refilled. that wasn’t too hard except getting to the health center through the construction was hellish. i studied with suzanne and jennica and ioannis and soham and taylor for most of the day. i didn’t see keegan. i am listing all the physics grads i know here so i can try to start remembering everyone. 

it was exhausting. i liked the lunch i packed and ate most of it... but i guess the difficulty of the material on top of the long hours on top of the stress draining my energy just wiped me out and i felt braindead by 4:30 so i went home. the bus took a half hour to get to the station which was obnoxious, and the bus schedule app doesn’t say which stops go in which direction or which routes go to which stops. just which routes arrive at any particular stop. so i had to memorize the four day routes that go past my apartment complex and the three night routes. that was tiring too.

when i got home i unpacked and got settled in and then made myself a big mac and cheese dinner with some fruit and green machine juice. i also hard boiled some eggs for breakfast- never done that before! it didn’t turn out the best, but i think i might know what to do instead next time. so i will try again tomorrow. i didn’t get sick from the velveeta goop cheese so i’m hoping that means i can handle milk products in general in the future. 

but i was so scatterbrained after dinner that i didn’t get any more studying done. i just couldn’t. i barely remember what i did all evening. i want to sleep for a million years and never take the test. 

it’s hard to take a 12-hour test BEFORE classes start and expect to get anything more than 10%. i was hoping i could work on my test anxiety a little bit beforehand i guess. or get some kind of pep talk? but all the encouragement and “oh i didn’t either”s i’ve gotten from the people around me haven’t helped at all. 

i found out today that i also got a scholarship for 3,000 dollars a year for three years. now that i know the school invested in me (which was apparently kind of risky if i go by what i saw of the graduate adviser yesterday) and then put in extra resources ON TOP of that i feel like i’m going to let everyone down before the semester even begins. 

if i don’t do well on this test... that will be a really bad sign for the future, and it will also mean that i have a ton of work to do if i want to catch up and then, worse, keep up. 

man. i haven’t even considered that i might do *well* on the test. it wasn’t worth the resources to consider. the chances are basically “not going to happen” anyway. i can’t do well on tests. i don’t do well on tests. short tests, long tests, marathon tests. quizzes. the only thing i contribute to group projects is a lot of questions that i have to rely on my teammate to answer, and then i can’t answer any of their questions.

i want so badly to do well. i keep telling myself that. but thinking about it, it seems so likely that i’m going to worry everyone right out of the gate that it feels like i don’t even want to do well any more. and that’s really bothersome. i don’t like that. i want to want to succeed. 

i want to talk to someone about how i’m feeling, but my old friends aren’t really available and my new friends i haven’t put enough time into to really trust them at all yet. and i think if i sat them down and told them how seriously, non-jokingly horrible i feel about the test coming up in 11 hours then i’ll really intimidate them. 

when i interact with these new guys i feel like i’m watching myself say words at them. i can understand the words they say back fine, and i am trying to get to know them. but every time i open my big dumb loud mouth and talk about my goddang feelings i feel like i’m hogging the spotlight. like maybe if i cram in just one more snappy comment they’ll like me more. but the whole time i’m also sitting there in the back of my mind thinking, is this really happening? is it me saying those words? why am i saying them? what will these other people get out of it? 

i wish i had more time, but i know that if i had more time i would spend it all doing nothing anyway. 

i don’t understand why the negative self talk comes back in full force so quickly every time i go a few days without seeing a therapist. am i just not working hard enough? 

maybe i’ve forgotten how to practice. practice anything. i sit and look at stuff and i think and think about it but i don’t do any of the things i think about doing. and i’m an active learner. i know this. i know that if i go out and do stuff a lot i’ll get better at the stuff i do. but i’m so tired, and i just want to die, and if i do nothing for long enough maybe no one will miss me when i do die.

i guess that’s the root of it, huh. being invested in my life is hard, and unpleasant, and i know the world will go on without me. there’s no actual requirement, and if there was, i probably still wouldn’t do it even then. all those connections got chopped off over the years. all the tethers to real life vs the life in my head where i am still enthusiastic about stuff but i never participate in any of it outside of my imagination. at this point i may as well just literally be a brain in a jar with a nonstop receipt style printout of nonsense words. 

i keep recognizing the problem in new ways but i still haven’t done anything about it. or maybe i do things about it and then stop and forget about it until i rediscover the problem, and hope that using this NEW metaphor will finally get me moving!!! if all the pieces fall into place, then the effort just happens, right? if i can move the information around enough then new things will happen, right? i don’t have to do anything for things to happen, right???

no willpower at all. i used to be so stubborn. now i’m just stubbornly nothing.

it’s... hard, to exert my will in life. it’s hard because i know that saying “no” doesn’t actually mean anything. people won’t stop if THEY don’t want to, because what they want is more important to them than what i want and there’s no way i can actually stop them from doing what i told them not to do. crying, making a fuss, fighting back, calling for help, none of it actually does anything. people won’t help if they don’t want to help. you just sit there in the dark screaming forever and no one comes because there is no one TO come.

i hate that that also applies to me.

i screamed a lot in my nightmares as a kid but i’m a silent sleeper i guess. people don’t wake me up from nightmares. i don’t really call for help even in my dreams any more.

how do you not kill yourself after living like that? after learning that about the world? your own parents don’t stop hurting you because they don’t feel like stopping? your best “friend” won’t stop hurting you because he doesn’t feel like it? your friends won’t help you or even believe you even when it happens right in front of them because they don’t feel like it?

i guess the only reason i haven’t killed myself at this point is because that would require actually doing something. there’s a certain unreality to the idea, like “i can’t actually do that, it wouldn’t happen that way” when i think about it, the same feeling i get when i think about anything. graduating. HAVING LITERALLY GRADUATED ALREADY, WITH A DEGREE. working a real job. meeting people and caring about them. making meals, which i do every day despite being surprised at finding myself in the kitchen every time. 

sleeping.

hmm. this might be more urgent than i thought it was. maybe i should call the counseling center during my lunch break tomorrow (between the two sections of test) and see if i can get a quick appointment. not sure when i’d go in this week because of the test, but i only have three hours of class a day this semester. next week could be fine.

making phone calls is weird too but i guess at this point i’m completely uninvested in what’s happening so it’s easier than it used to be. 

ok. pep talk. even if i do get a 0 on the test, i am already enrolled. it would be weird to kick me out, even if i will get a lot of worried looks. if i put in the work, and use my resources, and put myself in a position to succeed, all i gotta do is work hard to succeed. so all i gotta do here, besides *actually practice my field,* is learn how to be invested again. i’ve been invested before. maybe it’s like learning to walk again. 

in my experience, doing more things than i have energy for, but not so many things that i get burnt out, actually gives me more energy. kind of like working out. if i push myself (but not break myself), and keep myself healthy, then maybe i can learn how to throw myself at a problem in a way that will actually solve it.

is that an ok pep talk? i wanted to try to end on a positive note. finding bad thoughts and replacing them with more realistic ideas is how you train your brain to think in a less self-destructive way. and it’s easier to sleep when i’m pumped up than it is when i want to cry.

[squirenonny]

Okay, so I just finished Voltron Season 2 and: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Short, spoiler-free version: I have a few things to take issue with, but as a whole I absolutely LOVED this season. *screeching* !!!

Long, spoilery version under the cut

Starting with my three big complaints before this devolves into excited screaming:

1. They’re still going with the Hunk food jokes. Like. Please. The mall cop episode (which was fantastic, by the way) did Chef Hunk right--he’s competent, he knows what he’s doing, he’s cooking in a way that obviously a large number of people like, AND he actually taught Sal how to cook?? Like oh my god, Hunk is the best space Gordon Ramsey, yes! A lot of the other episodes, though, are more of the same old tired fat jokes. Hunk’s always hungry. He’s always talking about food. He’s always making shallow food metaphors. We get it. I’m really hoping the writers cut it out in season 3, or at the very least continue to shift the focus toward other aspects of his personality.

2. I’m more than a little salty that we didn’t see half the team’s reactions to Keith being Galra. Like... I didn’t need a “reveal scene” (we got that with Shiro, and I loved that it was a shock that immediately turned into a non-issue.) What I wanted was the kind of thing we got with Hunk--the aftermath, and the other paladins figuring out how they feel. Hunk’s stuff was great, tbh, and Allura’s was pretty good (a little disappointing that she was so harsh with Keith, but I get it. She’s lost a lot to the Galra and all very recently.) I just wanted...something. Something with Pidge and Lance, at least. Some interaction that wasn’t in the middle of a battle anytime after the reveal. Maybe that was supposed to be because they were all so rushed trying to put their plan into action, they didn’t have time to process. Maybe we’ll get Lance, Pidge, and Coran’s responses in season 3 (god I hope we do). I just wanted more emotional fallout from the reveal (or support. Support would be good too. Somebody give my son a hug.)

3. Everything else can basically be summed up with, “Why isn’t season three here yet??” I wanted more of a lot of things, and I get that you can only fit so much into thirteen episodes, especially when the plot was so BIG. Holy shit you guys, so much happened in this season. So, yeah, I really wanted more Lance development (more Hunk, too). Klance? Shallura or Shatt development?? Keith and Pidge??????? The team was split up for so much of the season, and fighting battles the rest of the time, that a lot of relationships got shafted. I’m not overly bitter about that, but I am hoping we get that relationship development in season three.

Okay. There’s my salt, now time for the screaming: (Sorry, intermittent caps lock because I couldn’t control myself.)

AAAAHHHHHH OH MY GOD GALRA KEITH!!!! I have never been so alive! Fuck. I’m so happy (lack of fallout with Lance and Pidge aside. Dark Voltron season 3, give me an episode specifically dedicated to Pidge’s reaction to Keith being from the same race that took her family.) I’m choosing to imagine that Pidge has bottled up any reaction she may have had, and that it won’t come out till things have calmed down (or she’s stuck alone with Keith) and that Lance considers it such a non-issue that he had no reaction, and for him to be surprised when Keith is wary around him after that last battle.

ALSO????? I’m so happy that Keith’s mom is apparently the Galra??? I jsut?? YES??????

MATT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my GOD Matt! Matt’s out! Matt’s with rebels! REBEL MATT HOLT HOLY FUCK! I need season three like yesterday, and it had better have Matt Holt, Rebel soldier/spy/hacker/medic/literally anything. I’m so freaking happy Pidge actually got a chance to search for her family--and FOUND SOMETHING! Ahhhh!!!

HAGGAR’S ALTEAN! HAGGAR’S ALTEAN!! HAGGAR’S CANONICALLY ALTEAN!!!!! I so called this, and I could not be happier!! Augh!! I screamed! I screamed so much holy fuck

DRUID ALLURA????????? What???? I need more of this. What happened? Is she using magic or just redirecting it?? How?? Why???? Is she going to learn more???? Allura being badass with that staff was awesome, but imagine Allura charging into battle with her staff a deadly blur and a lightning storm swelling around her oh my GOD MY QUEEN!

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO SHIRO????? I’m so scared for him, oh my god?? But, like, in the best possible way. He’s not dead (I hope????? Don’t kill Space Dad, Dreamworks, PLEEEEEASE!) But we can still have Black Paladin Allura in season 3?? And maybe even Matt Holt, Rebel (TM) saving his boyfriend???

SHIRO AND KEITH OH MY QUIZNAK! “You’re like a brother” haaaaa Okay, I’m dead. “My live would have turned out a lot different without you” *screeches* I still want more (mentor at the Garrison? Foster brother?? How??? do you know each other?????) ((Presumably not forever, because Shiro didn’t know anything about Keith having a knife, but still???????))

ALLURA CALLING CORAN A SECOND FATHER AUUUUGH JUST KILL MY NOW MY HEART x.x

The heITH in that one episode?? Or like... at all??? Keith joking? Hunk making Galra Keith jokes? THem workibng togethera and thanking eachother and Hunk standing up for Keith when Allura’s tyring to ingore him???????? AUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH

Klance Emperor’s New Groove AU???? Oh. My god. Like. We didn’t get much Klance this season, but we got them cliMBING UP AN ELEVATOR SHAFT like pros?? I die.

KEITH’S FRIEND FROM THE TEASER? Who are you?? Are you Matt? Are you WITH Matt’s rebels?? What did you need the Weblum secretion whatever for?? Why aren’t you talking??? Are you mute?? Are you a lady rebel?? Please be a lady rebel! (Mute or nonverbal lady rebel, y/y?????) *whispers* season threeeeee

Space spore snowball fight!!!! I’m so happy!!!! Lookit my son Shiro being a kid!!!!!!! Lookit Keith and Lance flirting with glowy space goop. :)

Pidge/Tech continues to be my otp

Shiro? Getting pushed past his limit by what’s his name. Slav? W/e. I died. Even Space Dad’s patience isn’t infinite.

When Keith was asking Coran about whether Galra have ever been to earth and Lance is RIGHT THERE? LIke??? You’re in the middle of your facial regimen, Lance, what happened? Did you hear Keith’s voice and  immediately sprint to the door??

Pidge having a gay squish on Alan Turing??

Ryner??? Is??????? So great?????? My biologist daughter????????? Also she came so close to the “we’re all made of star stuff” quote and I just? Die??? hONESTLY, season three needs to bring back her, Shay, and Nyma and let them be badasses.

FORM BLAZING SWORD!!!!!

asdfghjkl;

There’s tons more I’m sure, but my brain is on complete overload right now and I just. I can’t. Frick.

EDIT: I cannot believe I forgot: Pidge is SO NOT CIS!! Like! Frick! The bathrooms! Which were conveniently color-coded in a way that’s consistent with Earth bathrooms. In a way that Keith didn’t even stop to think about. But Pidge??? Is at the very least much more aware than Keith that the gender binary is a social construct--and you could very easily make the argument that she was debating whether aliens have the same biases as humans. Should she risk using the girl’s bathroom? Does she pass by alien standards? What even ARE alien standards for gender conformity? All this to the point that she’d rather just hold it.

(On that same note: trans Hunk? y/y)

((On a closely related note, rewatching the mall episode: Keith pulling Hunk onto the cow is weirdly adorable?? This season is gonna make me ship Heith more than ever, frick.))

I think I need to rewatch this for character/ship tags now, kthanx. Feel free to yell at me about anything!

[entergamingxp]

Doom Eternal review – the same orgiastic thrills with a creeping weight of story • Eurogamer.net

“Story in a game is like a story in a porn movie,” the original Doom’s programmer John Carmack once wrote. “It’s expected to be there, but it’s not that important.” A connoisseur of sleaze might object that story often makes for sexier porn – after all, story tends to involve chemistry, atmosphere, suspense and all the other emotions that distinguish intimacy from the act of banging together genitals to spark a human being. Still, if we’re going to liken games to pornography, and assuming it’s the more kinetic kind of pornography you’re after, I heartily recommend Doom Eternal: a looping video compilation of oversized guns and fists plunging into squelchy orifices, spurting along at 60 frames a second.

Doom Eternal review

Developer: id Software

Publisher: Bethesda

Platform: Reviewed on PS4

Availability: Out March 20th on PS4, Xbox One and PC, coming later this year to Switch

2016’s accomplished reboot was already quite the debauch, its firefights punctuated by leering close-ups of skewered hellspawn, its heavy metal soundtrack always building to a crescendo. Eternal turns up the heat even further, allowing you to dash and flip your way around arenas that are newly fixated on the vertical axis. Dripping organs are wrenched out of, then stuffed back into, demon torsos; chargeable alt-fires scream for release; health orbs spatter the ramps and chokepoints like – well, you get the picture. The environments often look like the work of an adolescent H.R. Giger who’s just got into AC/DC. Aside from silvery Protoss-ish fortresses and some seriously down-at-heel office blocks, you’ll wander labyrinths of squirming flesh, using runes to unclench toothy sphincters and shearing pop-up tentacles in half with your shotgun.

Some, of course, will soberly insist that all of this is just good, honest, videogame violence – clean, upstanding fun with absolutely no over- or undertones whatsoever. And to these people I say: when I am walking down the shaft of an enormous spear, straight into the pierced belly of a reeling, gaping titan, it is difficult to argue that there isn’t some kind of metaphor in play. “Rip and tear”? More like rip and splooge.

Carmack’s porn quote (which he has since qualified a little) epitomises the view that narrative in games is always an imposition, a foreign body carried over from film and literature. It’s a view that has been roundly debunked. The thing is, though, Eternal does have a story, somewhere in amongst the parade of demon O-faces, and while that story is lightweight by Zenimax game standards, it feels hopelessly grafted on. Having thwarted Hell’s invasion of Mars, the legendary Doom Slayer must purge Earth itself of diabolical interlopers, setting out from a gothic orbital station turned customisation hub to a series of ravaged cities, factories and temples that feel on loan from Gears of War. In the process, he must also tunnel back into a startlingly eventful past, sitting through flashbacks and wrangling with old allies.

The 2016 game was a thrilling reimagining of the speed and ferocity of 90s Doom combat, but it also magnified Doom’s narrative trappings, adding in cutscenes, audio diaries, codex entries and mid-mission dialogue – a curious reversal of one of id’s key decisions with the original game, which was once planned to include a sizeable narrative component written by co-founder Tom Hall. Eternal adds yet more to the load, expanding the cast and redoubling the emphasis on lore.

The cutscenes are now a mix of first and third-person, which means the Slayer is a fully tangible human being – one you can, moreover, trick out with unlockable outfits and weapon skins – rather than a pair of enormous fists twitching beneath your aiming reticle. He feels enclosed by the fiction, rather than, as Christian Donlan put it back in the day, like a man who is also playing Doom and who shares your resentment for anything that gets in the way. There’s some effort to explain the character’s superhuman prowess, with one scientist suggesting that you represent humanity’s rage to survive, as opposed to humanity’s love of making Cacodemons pop in slow motion. The Slayer even has a voice these days, though I think he strings together maybe five words in total.

True, our man in green never looks happy with all the attention, stomping impatiently through cinematics while other parties monologue at his retreating head (if they’re lucky, that is – the fate of most speaking roles in Eternal is to be ground up like tuna). Nor are you required to listen to the audio diaries, or dip into the codex. But these elements drag on you nonetheless, like the lakes of purple goop that stop you running or jumping in certain levels. They’re a deflating reminder that you are no longer here just to indulge your baser instincts. Conversely, the developer’s guilty awareness that people don’t play Doom for the narrative means that when you do dig into the world-building, you’ll find it to be scanty and by-the-numbers: a set of tired references to ancient races, legendary battles and fallen cities.

Still, if visceral gratification is the goal, Eternal amply delivers. The combat is once again about ceaseless pivoting between attack and retreat, care of a raucous battlefield ecology which sees you ripping ammo, health and armour refills from your prey rather than just searching for medikits or finding somewhere to cool off. Stun a foe and you can execute them for a smidgeon of health. These executions double as windows of rest, with other demons easing off till you’re done rearranging your victim’s anatomy. They can also be triggered from metres away, warping you to the target without even the courtesy of a transitional animation, which means you can use them to escape or get behind a mob. Bisect demons with your trusty chainsaw, meanwhile, and you’ll be rewarded with a geyser of ammo, restocking all your weapons in one dollop. You’ll need plenty of chainsaw fuel to carve up the bigger demons, but you’ll always have enough to carve up the smaller “fodder” demons, who spawn endlessly throughout each battle till the larger demons are slain.

This hyper-aggressive resourcing style forces you to close the gap with foes who are, in any case, very good at running you down. Some, like the minion-summoning Archville, are closer to terrain hazards, but the underworld’s legions are light on snipers or artillery; pretty much everybody, from the podgy Mancubus to the serpentine Whiplash, is hell-bent on getting in your face. It sounds like chaos, and often is, but there’s a lot of science to Eternal’s combat, and solid artistry to how the key variables are conveyed from second to second. Ammo, health and armour drops are colour-coded; staggered enemies flash blue, then orange when they’re about to recover. The game’s audio is similarly readable, once you acclimatise to the roaring heavy metal soundtrack. You’ll learn to follow the progress of the battle by ear – be it the tink of a cooldown gauge, the belch of a Cacodemon that has just swallowed something explosive, teeing it up for an execution, or the nasal howl of a charging Pinky.

New variables include an ice grenade, mapped to the trigger, which lets you flash-freeze whole groups to interrupt otherwise lethal offensives. You can also light foes up with your shoulder flamethrower attachment, causing them to spit out armour parts and further motivating you to fight at close quarters when you’re hurting. The most important change-up, however, is your newfound agility. Besides availing himself of launchpads, the Slayer can now perform aerial dashes, scuttle up laddered surfaces, swing from monkey bars and use a Super Shotgun-mounted grapple line to yank himself towards or past enemies.

This encourages showboating reminiscent of anti-gravity duels in the sadly-forgotten Lawbreakers. You might grapple somebody, fling yourself past them while firing your shotgun pointblank, then double-jump to a monkey bar, hurling yourself at a stunned Pain Elemental, then drop neatly onto a launchpad while switching to your Heavy Assault Rifle so that you can carpet the arena in micro-missiles. The weapons are by and large entertaining rejigs of DOOM 2016’s offerings, with two upgradeable alternate-fires per gun that lend themselves to different tactics and different opponents. Your shotgun, for instance, can serve as either a sticky grenade launcher – useful when trying to shoot the turret off a Cyberdemon – or a buckshot-firing Gatling gun for crowd control.

Inevitably, the charm of Eternal diminishes the further you travel from these firefights. Its grander story component aside, the game is slightly over-burdened with customisation systems. Besides tracking down weapon mods in levels themselves, you’ll equip runes for perks such as slow-mo when you aim in mid-air, together with Praetor Suit upgrades such as the ability to suck in health drops from further away. There’s a knack to combining Rune perks, especially when tackling “Master” versions of levels that have more punishing enemy spawn patterns, but the role-playing systems aren’t novel, and the associated menu-diving bogs down a shooter that’s at its best in the thick of the bloodshed.

What really saps Eternal, however, is the predictable way the campaign once again breaks down into combat bowls and platforming stretches that feel like they’ve been stripped at random from Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. There are collectibles to unearth, some tucked in high alcoves or behind smashable walls, together with optional hidden battle chambers, but the alternation of shoot-out then jumpy bit then shoot-out is the same throughout. Boss battles are the biggest change of tune – the final clash is a doozie, a gruelling two-phase affair in which your nemesis looms over the layout like the world’s angriest D&D player. But some of them are just annoying, a question of repeating a tactic to whittle down a health-bar. It’s revealing that the game offers you a layer of all-but-indestructible Sentinel armour after a certain number of deaths, though Eternal’s accessibility is otherwise refreshing: dropping the difficulty doesn’t cost you anything in terms of progress, and you revert to the previous difficulty once the bossfight is over.

It’s worth remembering that old school Doom wasn’t just a series of one-man massacres. It could be ominous and anxiety-inducing. It had monsters you could hear through walls, shambling about in the guts of the level, and concealed partitions that slid open without warning. It had a narrative, just about, but it didn’t try to root the weirdness of its concept or spaces in lore, and its secrets were as much about enjoying the possibilities of virtual architecture as securing a power-up. It was a world of alarming corners and optical tricks that deformed and shifted simply because it could. For all its abundance of things to find, you don’t get quite the same feeling in DOOM Eternal. At times, it feels like the levels have been designed backwards from the completion screen, with its grocery lists of optional treasures and encounters. You might argue that 3D worlds are simply less surprising on the whole in 2020 than in 1993, but that’s to ignore the work of countless DOOM modders whose creations, made using id’s original engine and tools, continue to startle and intrigue today.

The missing link in this review is multiplayer, which is offline for the moment, but which already looks like a step up from Doom 2016’s ramshackle online. It’s a strictly asymmetrical affair, with one player starring as the Slayer while the others control one of five demon breeds from the campaign. As a demon, you can summon AI-controlled hellspawn with the D-pad, so victory is presumably as much about mob strategy as dealing damage yourself. Which sounds like a pleasant way to cool off once you’ve tired of the sweaty embrace of a campaign that, for all its breaking of Carmack’s ancient maxim, has a shot at being one of the best you’ll play this year. Still, Doom Eternal leaves me undecided. The game is fundamentally the 2016 reboot again with new props, and its dogged commitment to Doom’s narrative universe is as baffling as the firefights are exhilarating. Is this really all Doom can be, nowadays – a cascade of collectables, unwanted cutscenes and the spectacle of a gurning demon face, forever?

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/03/doom-eternal-review-the-same-orgiastic-thrills-with-a-creeping-weight-of-story-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=doom-eternal-review-the-same-orgiastic-thrills-with-a-creeping-weight-of-story-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[chaoscrystals]

Every note in my phone 19

Maybe I can speed up the present. All I can think about is how I'm going to dominate the art world. I guess that's kind of fucked up? I feel dizzy and like my blood sugar is low. My body must look so disgusting I'm always burping. I must be disgusting that's why Ariel never hits me up All I can think about is how I want an art empire that is accessible to people of all races and social classes And how I want this sandwich I'm about to go eat. I'm so much fatter than I was when I was 18 that's why Ariel never hits me up anymore!!! :(__(_((((( It's really not worth beating myself up over. Pretty sure I got a yeast infection from fucking him anyway. * Why does my back hurt so much why does everything hurt why is life pain. when have I gotten to the point where I can hold all my pain and all my ecstasy at the same time, for one moment and then the moment ends and I'm back on the train again trying to make time go faster. If I was decaying I would look like black and pus and torn flesh, strips of flesh covering what once was my body. She killed me and left me in the woods to die. Put me in the back of her trunk. Headlights were right blue. Righteous and it was..she thought it was good.  I wasn't either dissatisfied, but isn't dying to hurt and be sad? I could spit black tar right here and people would probably just turn away in disgust, I could vomit up maggots, yeah girl its the same as it is for you too. I don't want you anymore he always wanted me. I'm taking you with me. Now we are dead. It came to me in a flash I had a divine vision. Of music. And being alone. * The boy means everything to me I got him in the corner of my sleeve, oh the bend of my elbow i lean on the table looking over at you I see the empty glass it magnifies you I'm ready I'm ready we're starting again, you're starting to break my heart again * Male exclusivity needs to die. Some men really can't be around women if they aren't fucking someone it seems. Ugh. Get away from me. Wake the fuck up. Sorry that everyone made us think that our bodies alone are sexual and need to be covered. I do so many non sexual things with my body. Americans can tend to being lethargic. I'm so angry * Im all caught in vines . sleeping time leaks the day its dripping in green and surrounding me. Phonetically speaking I think your words have more meaning than you realize Pick it up again inspired by my friends and I'm feeling feeling so good. Pack up your bags and take a vacation take yourself to rockaway * There's nothing special about me I bet you could compare me to any other girl in the world and id seem just the same, got a pretty face and her head isn't too bad either. And if you asked me today id say I don't think nothing special about me neither but id tell you what I know, that I'm the girl who would love you the most. * The praise on the water sought after colorful lights and pure tones Praise phoning in for a second chance in glasses cracked in the pavement red warring the light and wearing it as a disguise, praise be had, our Lord has grown old * Y stomach is too full its so full but I'm hungry and I don't have the energy to digest. I never needed to eat that much * So excited to be your own boss until the app doesn't give you work!! I'm gonna stop acting like I'm not doing things for a reaction or to make people think something of me. I am. Including playing music I am almost to the point where I dont have near anxiety attacks from eating around people. Proud of myself Taking kindness at surface level only is probably not going to cause any progress. Take all of me, baby. Even if I'm mean from time to time. I'm not okay with people's boundaries being broken in a monogamous relationship. But I don't really believe in monogamous relationships. Maybe I'm just cynical but it seems like there are too many rules. Or maybe it's all a ploy to lure guys in because they'll think I'm easygoing but I'm not I want to tell everyone every single one of my thoughts that sounds like a fun game * Jonathan is on my mind I've always had a craving for a good hearted musician and someone who will counter my unbalance, prince charming rides in on a horse, who brought the horse into the street who's mans is that? Are they getting with the plan do they understand or do you only like me because i have connections to new dimensions * I'm in love with nothing This haunting feeling Like I know what comes next I'm in love with nothing There's a hole in my heart when its growing apart it gets darker and smaller and I'm falling in love with you again * It isn't fair he will never hear me. He will never see me or understand me, when the mere sight of him sends me spinning away from anything easy to feel, I'm feeling so dreary one second and the next I got jets on my feet, flying over the moon cause I'm so in love with you * I just enjoy Jonathan is my whole heart!! One day he will know * Songs to write out Gracias a la vida Stormy weather Good morning heartache Lover man where can you be April in Paris * I want to tell people how hard my life is! * My song for you This is my song for you I like everything you do When I see you its like a cool breeze graced me with unending presently waiting pleasant and unchanging you seem stable to me, and I even like you when you're rocky. I like the lyrics I like the melody, you're like music, lets make a baby And live together In the city and very far. We can have two houses and even a car This is my song for you I like everything you do When I realized it was you Wrap it in red and a bow, kiss my head, after your show I know I can be a hard one to break, I've heard all these stories of heart break, what do I choose, what to listen, use or lose. But I know when I'm with you my dreams start coming true * Deep desires Understand the universe. Have someone accompany me in my sadness and despair. I want to come back together I want to feel enlightened I want everyone to feel goddamned enlightened I'm definitely willing to open up portals make everyone realize we are collectively manifesting our reality I want everyone in new York city to know my name nova luz, the body inhabited by us. She needs a companion. Lets get her a partner or two. * How do i really feel about the boys that I think I love? My Spanish tongue isn't too sharp....I wish...shit man, you just have to try harder to get it right. Laser mind. Not tonight. Michael is the name of an angel and no matter how hard I try or how much I'm thinking about Jonathan I still wonder about Michael and we spent more time together than Jonathan and I ever have. Fuck me. What are either of them up to? Why do neither of them talk to me. Haven't seen either one in weeks. I think I feel like I'm attached or in love. No matter how hard I try to forget...not trying hard enough you stupid fucking cunt! You're so fucking weak nova!. I wish someone knew how much I fucking hate myself sometimes I don't get why I just internalize this and nobody can ever know and its always a dead end fall off a cliff and snap your spine on the rocks before you drown and are pummeled by the waterfall FUCK. I think about them every day I wish I had a boyfriend, but malificence red lipped and hooded with festering infections on her skin, she's standing in the way, she's guarding the little red dog in my heart, the little puppy with forgetful parents, crying and underfed in an alley way alone, you only care about the way it looks. The loving puppy. Loving little dog I love you so much I love you no matter what even if you took a knife to my throat severed my veins and rendered my body a corpse I would still love you. Shit man that's fucking intense. That's a part of me that needs some help. The unconditionally loving part.....have I been deceived? I feel as though she has been deceived, and people always want to exploit her loving nature. This is the world I live in today. What if I wake up tomorrow on another planet? Is my boyfriend going to be there? If it was a planet with fruit orchards brightly colored things little houses and healthy atmosphere I would be down. Since I'm making it up, my boyfriend is there too. He loves me and we only need each other. I love him so much it fills me with fullness and vibrancy. He loves me so much. We spend most of our time together enjoying the planet, and sometimes we cook a big feast together for our friends and they come over and we all play music and drink wine * I guess now is an appropriate time to work on my issues with jealousy right? Actually...maybe ill wait What if it was a giant poetic metaphor? Green goop spilling from my heart and getting stuck in my pelvis..melting out of my pelvis out onto the floor. My physical my non physical. Non psychic but spiritual. Elephants from India are a shymbol for wealthy. And poor. Bread. Winning. Happy family. Sad family. Bread. Okay Maybe now I can work on my massive jealousy issues. Okay I'm going to start by listing scenarios that make me jealous Any female speaks to a boy that I like (level 10 code red situation) Someone's life looks shinier than mine Julia's in middle eastern vogue My friends have things that I want Other people have things that I want Other peoples bands are playing at cooler venues I am literally not a musician my name is Harriet and I never leave my apartment. Yo these sensory hallucinations are too much sometimes. That was a side note. I think my biggest issue is that when I am into someone in a romantic way, I get really upset when I see them talking to like, anyone of the opposite sex. Or of the same sex with Ursula. Or when someone is skinnier than me. Sometimes I get jealous cause of that which is not allowed because I am not allowed to have an eating disorder. Why is Julia getting so much attention while simultaneously being underweight and anorexic??? Noooo oh my god is she okay? Is everyone else okay?? Why is that allowed are you people fucking retarded? I can't do these things without having a million other thoughts. But I'm breaking the surface which is something. This is a deep fear for me I don't intend to leave unchecked. * I want somebody to love. I think writing all this sad lonely poetry can't be helping kts hard not to hate yourself sometimes. I wish someone was reading this. I really want a boyfriend so badly but I'm resisting it because in want it to be Jonathan so I'm waiting for him and ignoring everyone else.that's scary I don't know where he's at. He never talks to me. I want to smash glass bottles over his head for being so detached Fuck you!!! He never talks to him I mean me but I think about him pretty much every day.this hurts Why am I being like this? Lately everything I do is to get his attention. I want to cry. I hardly get any attention from him this is ripping me up inside.I just keep these fantasies in my head and I fall in love with them but it's an illusion I'm in love with an illusion. This hurts my chest. All I want is his attention and he isn't giving me any!!! I should turn around and walk the other way but I know I wont because I'm still in my fantasies that we are the same and that he gets weird crazy visions as well and that I was a part of his. I think I'm going to be wrong. My heart.. * I'm hitting the resin in my pipe again. And writing semi cohesive notes about my feelings. Am I using boys as a distraction from my problems? Why do I always want someone to hear the most insecure parts of me....I always always share my deep insecurities, like, first before we even get to know each other. What a weird kind of flirting style that's so weirded out by myself. Like, why? Do I not realize that most people are too in denial to accept insecurities in someone else? Especially in a package as cute as a nova. I have some pretty great ideas in my head..heart..butt..whatever...all of me......... Dot dot dot * Feeling A poem by nova luz palaquibay brener Written in September of 2017 I can feel everything. Mannequin pussy is famous they were in new York Times and rolling stone and a bunch of other big name publications. In happy for them. Not like when Julia's thing got famous. Even though I didn't spend a ton of time with any of these people, they changed my life. I still feel a little intimidated by that world, by the professional world and its cutthroat attitude. I don't really like it or want to participate. I just wanna have a nice apartment with a nice boy and wake up at 7 am every day. I still want to play rock music Its fun Mannequin pussy has that song where Marissa goes "I'm feeling it all I gotta get home I gotta get up" I'm feeling it all I'm feeling it all I just want to share a room with a nice boy and Rowan can come too And we can have small shows where we support each other for the things we love about each other and we still love each other when the other one is being an asshole. I don't like thinking of myself in a negative way. It feels bad. I'm very childish. I'm insecure that the things I do aren't big enough. That's stupid. I'm mad at my mom for always acting like everything was a huge deal. Like, nothing was ever just chill and normal everything was something. I'm childish inside * September 7 2017 Dear j boxer, There are actually several thousand things I would like to be saying to you, but I don't want to overwhelm you and lose you. Oh my god. You make me so nervous. Did you realize?at flowers for all occasions. I have never been more stressed out at a show in my life. I was hyper focused on what you might be thinking of me. I want to pour out all the imbalance I feel and you can watch it run down into the drains Yes I still think about that. And don't think that the only side of me is erratic and unbalanced and bad, everyone has so many sides. I know you think the way i play is interesting. I know I can play well. I feel like I am everything when I think about you. I think about you every day. Would you still love me when I am nervous and insecure? Love me like this or you'll never love me at all, you can only leave me if you don't love me like this, my all. My heart. Sometimes I get chest pains What do you think about me? My dream partner is someone I can put together shows with. but not ordinary shows. I don't know. But it would be something. I can envision my dream partner: active, healthy, compassionate, loving, open, creative, enjoys sex, kisses my neck. Is it fair to tell you this? Am I asking too many questions? Is it fair that I want to tell you all this but we haven't exchanged a single word in weeks? I can't explain it, its a feeling in my body, it feels so electrifying I don't ever want to stop. I'm sorry I have to test you so much. I can't help it. I think I'm like that with everyone. I wonder what you are doing now? If I said I wasn't feeling good would you sit with me in the park and put your arm on my shoulders? Even when my eyes are puffy and dry? * I don't know there's a vacuum in my heart and silver worms that live inside the vacuum, ever present resilient love the lasting energy in my blood, that they feed off of. Freed some space for their babies I know it couldn't be any other way, but sometimes I resent my mother for leading me to believe this. Because my religion is based in pain, my suffering will cleanse my sins and if you don't know then you must be unclean, I got to tell you how I see it. Everyone is looking at me Cause there's maggots in my heart, I can feel them squirming around, I can feel the top shell of muscle straining to get ahead of them to get on top of them, maggots squirming around in my heart, eating my muscles. My mind is unfocused. All I can see is misery. But its okay. The lord wants me to be this way. With a red-skinned entity hanging onto my shoulders and telling me "no, don't go there, you dog". Maggots in my heart. Maggots eating my heart * September 8 2017 Dear Jonathan Hi, how are you? Its been a couple of weeks since we last met. I am pretty much still the same. Hopefully I'm going to get a job teaching kids! Maybe one day you will fall in love with me. What have you been thinking of since I last saw you?do you want to tell me? Do you think about me? Do you want to hold hands? Can I kiss you in the dark on the street? Can I kiss you in front of people? I'm trying really hard not to take things too fast. Part of me really believes you and I are the same person. I really like how you make me feel..I always think about what it would be like to fuck you again. I really want to. I think I will. But there's one thing I'm wondering. Like what kind of relationship do you want? Do you like the idea of having me around or is this like "ill see you when I see you" No it can't just be fine I have insane feelings about you I need to know. I can be fine with what you want..I just want to know I'm not gonna hurt myself falling for you when I don't need to. If I'm just living on the promise of what I think you and I could be, I need to know if I'm right, right? Oh shit this doesn't sound good I'm spiraling into a panic. Oh god. Just tell me if you want to be with me!! Sorry I kind of get these intense insecurities. Then I like to wallow in them. Love me? Hah. To not end this letter on a sad desperate note, I will say the following: I like how you look I think you are very handsome, I like how you sing and play even when you lose your focus you sound amazing to me, I want to kiss you all over be naked with you and have my chest against yours, and feel your arms. I hope you don't mind me saying I love you and that I have a lot of love for you in my heart because I am insatiably attracted to you, and I also think you are kind but distant, and I think you are very loving and radical in your ideology, but you aren't annoying and liberal and show-offy about it. I like how much you know about music and music history, I think you are really smart. I want to kiss you all over. I feel so passionate when I think about you. It feels like you live in my heart and that's why I love you. I really really want to tell you. I don't know what could happen I just need to fuck you. I want you so badly, body and soul and mind. * August 9 Honey I want to marry you I love your sweet and bitter tastes Even on your sour days You make me believe That all my desires can be mine And I know my heart is true When I'm near you Yes I may have immense pools of jealousy, but honey, its nothing to me, when you bring me back home In a sentimental way, I say, oooooohhh you're too good for me The way we play together Like in our youth I feel like our life is a union, oh know honey I want to be true to only you We spend our days rushing around But I dream of a night where, without a sound I can slip into bed next to you, and you will hold me close, you're then the only other person I need to know, you're my everything Oh my honey I love you, you know I do, I would spend my days working for you, because I do love all the things you do And at night when the moods right, ill look into your eyes and say my sweetie, you know I love you.