#why is my brain trying to sabotage itself

[khitty]

I'm really tired but I'm terrified of closing my eyes. The thoughts are so vivid and just horrific. I want to have someonr to be with me throughout the night. But being in a dark room with another person would just make me even more terrified. Sleep please come soon

[zebratimw]

Spirit animal SQH

[anemoiashifts]

shifting tips / advice that don’t suck !

♡getting offline.

i know i know it’s hard, but being bombarded with different information about a certain topic can be so overwhelming & create room for overthinking which can effect performance. looking in places outside of shiftok or shiftblur or shift whatever. putting more effort into trying to figure out what something is instead of doing it will drive you insane because there is no answer to what shifting is. hence, “theories” & shared experiences. there is no concrete reasoning to shifting backed by science so don’t try & find them or you’ll be looking forever.

♡music.

did you know you can use music to manipulate memories ? the brain is so so bad at remembering things due to how much information we consume daily. when you visualize & listen to a sound or music, your brain can register that as a memory.

♡smell.

this one also aligns with the one above. smell is heavily tied to memory, also. by watching a show we are shifting to & pairing it with a certain scent like a perfume or candle, we can create a link between the two. then, spraying during shifting attempts can help us visualize & associate that piece of media with where we’re focusing on.

♡shadow work.

find out why you’re shifting. happiness ? you don’t need to shift for that. love ? you don’t need to shift for that. if you want to that’s fine but is shifting a bandaid for something deeper ? discover that. really think & consider where you’re going & if you’re in the right mentality to handle it. you aren’t in a television show episode or an oc, you’ll be a living human being in a very real & interactive world. figure out your intentions.

♡put in effort.

this may be a little obvious but you have to want to shift, to shift. you have to put in work & effort to shift & take another approach if doing the same method 10x over hasn’t worked for you. “we shift every second” sure but you didn’t shift into your desired reality in the past thirty. “im saying an affirmation & rolling over & hoping ill wake up in my dr” & how has that worked out for you ? just because this has maybe worked for other people, doesn’t mean it'll work for you. everyone is different. people require more time & effort to get something right then others just like subjects like art or english come easier to students.

♡perfection.

not everything has to be perfect. script isn’t completed ? so what ? you’ve been saying “im not ready yet” for the five months. don’t put off good things out of fear of them not being exactly how you want it because it will never be perfect because perfection isn’t real. if you don’t have everything figured out — that’s fine. why ? because life will sort itself out. this remains true right here & in your desired life. if it’s any comfort, everything will fall into place.

♡neutrality.

if you’re someone who wakes up after an attempt saying “i’ll never shift, i hate this reality” then you’re kinda sabotaging yourself in a way. your creating the mindset that this is the “bad” place when shifting is “good”. that’s not true. everything is entirely neutral until you define it as such. in addition, you are focusing more on the “haven’t” & giving that more attention to & what you give attention to will only grow until it’s so big you can’t see anything else.

♡listening.

people who want things don’t sit & complain about not having them, they persist & would do anything to get their desires & live in that reality. instead of saying “i didn’t shift” & sulking about it, take it as a learning experience to see what does & doesn’t work for you; your body is showing you what not to do so listen to yourself.

[echo-and-dust]

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

[nari-writes]

...........

The thing is, Tim doesn’t realise Kon doesn’t know his secret identity until Kon sighs, looks over at him longingly, and says, “Man. You’d be so good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asks, distracted by the plans he’s got spread out in front of him. Bruce wants an update on Lex’s new office, but Tim’s been trying to figure out why the old one has an extra hallway that seems to go nowhere. The last time Lex had a hallway that went ‘nowhere’, Tim and Bart had found a cloning lab.

“All the hero stuff, you know?” Kon says, and Tim blinks. He blinks again, trying to catch up while Kon keeps talking, “Like, you’re super smart, you’re super organised, and you’re totally obsessed with mysteries. You’d make a great Robin.”

“What?” Tim asks, feeling vaguely like he’s been shoved into a mirror dimension. But his undershirt is definitely half-hanging out of his laundry basket, and the R’s on the outside, so he can’t have been transported to an alternate dimension sometime within the last two minutes of conversation. Also, wait! he thinks to himself, he’s literally working on a plan to break into Lex’s building with Conner – why would he be doing that if he wasn’t-?

“Yeah!” Kon says, gaining enthusiasm at Tim’s bafflement, “Dude, you’re awesome. We could totally make a case. Where’s your computer? I bet I could get one of your powerpoints in front of Batman. Reasons why Tim Drake should be Robin, created by Superboy and validated by Young Justice.”

“Is it even my powerpoint if you’re going to take credit on making it?” Tim asks, and Kon waves off the question with one hand.

“Well, we can’t present a biased opinion,” Kon says, “and everyone in Gotham knows Robin’s the coolest, so if it was just from a civilian Batman may not take it seriously.”

Batman may not take it seriously, Tim’s brain repeats to itself, and then Tim has to stop himself from cracking up at the thought of Bruce sitting through a powerpoint on why his current Robin would make a ‘super cool’ Robin.

Presented by Superboy.

“Kon,” he says, unable to hide the laughter in his tone. Of course his friend is trying to joke - what other option is there? That Kon doesn't realise he's Robin? “What are you talking about? I can’t give Batman a presentation on why I should be Robin.”

Kon’s mouth twists in a mulish scowl. “Don’t,” he says, sounding more annoyed than Tim would’ve thought at such a joke, “You’re amazing, Tim. You would make an awesome Robin.”

“I know,” Tim says, and tries to ignore the flip in his stomach at how solemn Kon’s expression is, the way he’s serious about every word. It’s making his face feel hot, that Kon hasn’t immediately dropped the compliments, or paired them with an overly flirtatious wink. “Come on, dude, I get it. What bought this on?”

“It just- it’d be cool to hang out with you at the tower. Or do missions with you,” Kon mumbles and Tim stops entirely.

“Kon,” he says, because before it may have been a weird joke Kon was playing, some sort of ego-boost but he knows Kon well enough to read that expression, and- “Kon, I’m Robin. I can’t get Batman a presentation on why I deserve to have my own position.”

This time it’s Kon’s turn to look shell-shocked. “-what.”

“How did you not know?” Tim asks, feeling pained and also a little bit like a bad friend – had he inadvertently lied about something, made Kon think he and Robin were different people? Was he not clear enough when he’d introduced himself to Conner and Bart and Cassie, that weekend before Jason’s attack on the tower? Did Bart and Cassie also not know? Also, wait, back to his first thought of the day: “Why- why did you think I was helping you plan a break in to Lexcorp?”

“Lex sucks?” Kon says, the words an offering, and Tim squints at him.

“You think a normal civilian would help you commit crime?”

“What! How is this a crime?”

“This is literally breaking and entering! Technically, since I’m Bruce Wayne’s ward, it’d also be considered corporate sabotage.”

“It’s not a crime if the victim sucks,” Kon mutters bitterly, and Tim’s squint gets even more aggressive, brow furrowed.

“Kon. What was your explanation for how I knew you were Superboy?”

Kon shrugs, but his face has steadily been getting more and more closed off as his embarrassment deepens. “Dude, I said you were good at mysteries. I thought you just- figured it out. I wasn’t subtle the first time we met.”

“You didn’t have a name the first time we met!”

“What? Oh-” Kon says, “no, okay, the first time I met you as a civvy?”

"Huh?" Tim asks, and Kon cocks his head to the side.

"Yeah! Remember, it was the Mudders charity thing, and Superman and I volunteered in civvies but that girl got stuck in the mud pits so after I went to get her out you helped me hose off and said 'good job Superboy', and then I freaked out and you laughed at me."

"What," says Tim. He does remember that, but there's a key difference between his memory and Kon's- "you were in civvies?"

"Why did you think I kept showing up here as Superboy!" Kon says, this time his turn for exasperation.

"Because I told you my identity?!"

"You said your name was Alvin Draper! You wore contacts!"

"You have x-ray vision! I live with Batman!"

"Tim!" Kon yells, and it's not entirely angry but Kon's suddenly in his face, his hands wrapped around Tim's biceps. "Tim I didn't know! I just thought you were my cool civvy friend who figured out my identity while I was covered in mud and- and-"

Kon's suddenly beaming, and Tim has whiplash.

"Hi, Robin," Kon says, so soft that Tim's heart crawls up his throat with sticky fingers, his face burning. Is there a connection, between the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the migration of his pulse? He knows there's a connection between Kon's palms on his skin and the movement of his heart, at least, but this is-

"Yeah?" he says, and Kon's grin gets bigger.

"I am never ever letting you forget this."

[honourablejester]

Some of my favourite ghoul NPCs in Fallout:

My sister and I are replaying New Vegas lately, and we recently did the Come Fly With Me sidequest again, and since I’m talking about Fallout recently and this quest reminded me how much I fucking love Jason Bright and his merry band of lunatics, I figured I’d talk about some of my favourite ghoul characters in the games I’ve played (3, 4, New Vegas). Specifically non-companion characters, no offense to Raoul. I just like some of the ghouls you just run into.

First off, since we’ve already mentioned him, Jason Bright is such a nutjob, and he is the focal point for such a fantastic, batshit quest that you have to adore him. Yes, he’s a cult leader, and yes, he’s leading the ghouls under him possibly to their deaths based on ‘visions’, and yes, he is using Chris’ delusions to help get them there (and also sends us, the player, into a very annoying set of negotiations), but. How can you not adore the idea of a non-feral glowing one cult leader who is leading his flock into space, and manages to find actual functioning rocket ships to manage it? (Well, functional if you help out and don’t sabotage them, anyway). Also, given that Atom may genuinely be an actual god in this universe, I’m not going to fully rule out the visions, especially since he had a sane enough grasp of them to realise that he was seeing somewhere so irradiated that Chris wouldn’t have survived it. But just for the quest alone, just for the sight of those rocket ships taking off and presumably baffling and/or scaring the pants off half the Mojave, I just love this guy.

Second, one of the best characters in any of the games full stop, and also in one of the best and most batshit sidequests full stop, we have Desmond Lockhart from Fallout 3: Point Lookout. Because he’s a ghoulified James Bond fighting a maniacal brain in a jar supervillain in a rivalry that has been going on since the Great War. That’s just. You cannot beat that. He’s foulmouthed and bitchy and ungrateful and an arse, and he’s fantastic. I love that the mansion you find him in is his enemy’s ancestral home, the cheek on this bitchy ghoul man. I love him. He’s just spectacular.

Third, to round out our ‘best batshit sidequests focused around ghouls’, we have Kent Connolly from Fallout 4, because who wants to play a hammy 40s-style pulpy comic book hero in post-apocalyptia today? You? Excellent! The Silver Shroud is such a fun and fantastic questline, and I also just deeply adore and wish to protect Kent. He’s so sweet and sad and gently pathetic, and he’s not remotely able for the wasteland, and he’s trying to help. A pre-war ghoul clinging to the old radio shows he used to love when the world was less overtly hellish to try and help him cope, and not doing so well, and wanting to bring that hope to other people by resurrecting an old-world hero. He’s very sad and badly adapted, but he’s very sweet, and we always wait to take his quest until we have the rifle skill levelled enough to get him out of his little situation at the end of the quest alive. Because Kent is not allowed to die.

Fourth, on a continued theme of ghouls too nice for this world and who I will cheerfully murder people to protect, we have Gob from Fallout 3. Because everybody’s fucking mean to him, including the game itself, and somebody needs to fix it. GIVE ME A QUEST TO FREE THIS POOR MAN, YOU STUPID GAME. I mean, yes, we always murder Moriarty to help him anyway, which does solve the problem, but I HATE the fact that the game lets you tell his mother he’s a slave, and then doesn’t let you fix it. You just crushed her hopes for nothing, and even if you do get him free anyway later, with no quest to do so, you can’t tell her that. I want to stab FO3 so much for that. Why do you put a poor abused, incredibly nice slave man in front of me and then not let me free him? THERE SHOULD BE A GOB QUEST. If only so I don’t accidently crush poor Carol’s spirits with no hope of then telling her better news later. Because I am murdering Moriarty for the man, I’m not going to leave him enslaved. I don’t do game mods, but if there is one mod I want for 3, it’s that one. Let me free him officially and then tell Carol about it.

Ahem. Anyway. Sorry about that. Moving on (never, I will never move on, I will hold a grudge on this forever, but howandever).

Fifth, and still on the theme of the saddest goddamn ghouls in the wasteland, there is Arlen Glass from Fallout 4. Because he broke my fucking heart and I will never get over it. Giving him that tape from his family had me sobbing. A sweet gentle toymaker and family man who was never home because of work, who talked to his wife and daughter primarily over the phone, and who was still at work when the bombs dropped and never made it home to see them at the end. Who ghoulified, and was left with that grief and regret for the next 200 years. He ripped my heart fully out of my chest. Letting him hear his family’s voices again by retrieving that holotape was one of the most impactful things I’ve ever done in these games, and it was the one moment where I desperately wanted to refuse the quest reward. We fortified the Slog to hell and back to make sure Arlen was safe. Again, would die and kill for this man without a thought.

And then, in slightly less obsessive fashion, some honourable mentions:

Captain Zao, Fallout 4. Because there is something so quietly sad about his whole situation, trapped in a tiny vessel while his crew goes feral around him, keeping watch over the ruined country he helped destroy, wanting only to go home, and relying on enemies with extremely justified grudges to help him. No one won the Great War, and Zao is proof of it. We help him, every time. All he wants is to go home, after spending more than 200 years trapped wondering how much of it is left for him to find when he gets there. What the fuck would shooting him do, in the face of that? No one won the war. Let’s just let those it destroyed find what peace they can.

The Vault Tec Representative, Fallout 4. Because I just feel so sorry for the man. You never even learn his name. He was left out to die by his company, and he knows it, and after 200 years ghoulifying and rotting, out you pop, fresh as a fucking daisy from the vault he put you in, just to rub it fucking home. It’s not the Sole Survivor’s fault, but you definitely can’t blame him for being sore.

And finally, Daisy, from Fallout 4. I want to mention her because I do love her, that of all the quests you pick up from people in Goodneighbour, hers is to try and clear out the Library, because she remembers it from when she was a girl and she’d like to see it at least not overrun, if not quite restored. I love a nice bookworm, tough enough to survive Goodneighbour, and to put her caps into trying to bring a little civilisation back to the wasteland.

But Daisy also highlights a bit … There aren’t too many important female ghouls? Ones with cool quests around them. There are quite a few scattered around the various games, sure, but not too many you can really interact with like the boys above. There are a few memorable ladies around, like Keely from New Vegas, the tough as nails scientist who survives Vault 22 in New Vegas, Carol and her partner in Fallout 3, and then Beatrix Russell, also in Vegas, who has a tiny but extremely memorable part in the ‘find hookers for the casino in Freeside’ quest, just for being a (potential) ghoul cowboy dominatrix who likes to have a good time and believes that ‘good times’ are a full-contact sport. Like. She’s pretty damn memorable.

But there is, at least in the three games I’ve played, a bit of a dearth of full-questline-attached, batshit-shenanigans-ahead lady ghouls, and that’s another thing I could wish changed. Heh.

But yeah. Ghouls are some of the best characters in these games, and they definitely have some of the best quests attached to them too. And a lot of them will break your heart as well. Heh.

I do love this universe. A lot.

[gohannygo]

Emerie lore speculation post?!! :O

Okay guys this is my little gift to myself for finishing my school work on time. Also like low key regardless if you agree or not, drop your Emerie predictions/thoughts in the comments— because for whatever reason my brain has attached itself to her, but she has like 5 mins of screen time and vary little discourse surrounding her :D

Okay guys I’m get real with you, I don’t think Emerie was created as an enhanced clone, or with some kind of special ability. I think she was made to be as plain and reg-like as possible.

Based on Nala Se’s reaction to Omega’s blood being sampled and tested, we can assume she knew and maybe even was responsible for Omegas ability to support an M-count. What I think happened was, Nala se was like “Oh oops it appears I have gotten emotionally attached to this child so I’m keeping her as my own, but I dont wanting any snoopers out there to trying to figure out whats so special about her,” so she created Emerie as a decoy of sorts. Essentially a female version of a reg to send out to the world to prove that theres no reason for anyone to inquire about Omega because look how regular female clones are. Like in a super heartbreaking way, my theory is that Emerie was essentially made to have no identity. To be an obedient little placeholder to take attention away from Omega’s existence.

Wow thats cool but why does it matter?

OKAY so throughout the premiere we saw that maybe there was some trouble in Tantiss paradise for Emerie. Shes been content(?) with complying and doing what is asked of her up until this point, but we saw her be willing to break rules for Omega’s sake, and we also saw how shaken she looked when Hemlock was like “Return to the lab, Dr. Karr”. She also looked like she was really pondering things at the end of episode three when she discovered Omega’s ability to support an M count transfer.

I think maybe during the rest of the season we’ll see her start to grapple with what she really wants to do here, as (I believe, in her own little way), she now has a sister she cares about and wants to protect. I think Omega, through her doll making and Batcher taming, has shown Emerie a little bit of light. That clones can have their own wants, and makes choices based off of them. But really, I don’t think a person who has presumably grown up being conditioned to follow rules and see herself as property would be able to quickly break out of that rigid structure shes used to and make a personal choice to try and keep Omega safe in a significant way.

What? Okay please just bear with me. Wording things is not my forte.

I think Nala Se will see an opportunity to further get in the head of an already torn Emerie. I think she might reveal her original purpose of essentially being made to protect omega. And emerie, who already sort of sees herself as a tool to being used for some greater purpose, will then feel almost like shes been given “permission” to disobey. Sort of like “Oh damn, not only is this something I want to do, but more importantly it was the purpose I was designed for yassssss”. I think she will continue acting as normal but will basically be a shooter on the inside for Omega and it will build up to her sabotaging further experimentation done on Omega if shes captured.

Idk if this makes sense or is dumb. But I just think it could be a cool avenue. Because we’ve seen clones grapple with what theyve done under imperial command and have seen some of them change their ways which is awesome. And, I think it could also be cool to see a character whos been so shaped by her upbrining, and doesnt have that soldier-ly sheer force of will to just defect. I think it could be cool to see someone go about a change of allegiance in a more roundabout way where they basically have to reason themselves through it because they arent equipped to do it any other way. But yeah its 2 AM now so goodnight.

Bonus: Here is an educational diagram I made of Emerie being “sent elsewhere” circa twentysomething BBY

[creature-wizard]

"If the Law of Assumption is fake, what about the success stories?"

This is a question gotten a few times, so I figured I'd do a post on it.

First of all, the methods used by LOA practitioners to change their beliefs about themselves would certainly have profound psychological benefits to many people who'd internalized false beliefs about their personal agency and value as people. There are a lot of great brain hacks here to break yourself out of learned helplessness and unwittingly sabotaging yourself and others through the Pygmalion Effect.

Here I would like to state: if these methods have helped you regain your personal agency, learn to love yourself, and develop healthy relationships with people, then by all means keep doing them. There's nothing wrong with using affirmations or using a little make-believe to make yourself believe.

Next, there's really know way of knowing for sure whether the LOA actually had anything to do with people's apparent successes. Like if somebody tries to manifest money and finds a hundred dollar bill on the ground within a week, it doesn't necessarily mean that the LOA was the cause of that. Sometimes people just find dropped money; it's not exactly statistically improbable.

Of course, it also doesn't mean that they didn't somehow metaphysically arrange for a hundred dollar bill to come their way. But even if they did, it wouldn't prove that Neville Goddard was right about literally everything, much less the extreme solipsism he pushes in pieces like The Pruning Shears of Revision.

We've also got to remember confirmation bias, where people are more likely to remember things that support their beliefs and dismiss whatever doesn't. Somebody might try to manifest a hundred things, get five of those things, and count the five as proof the LOA works, ignoring the ninety five that didn't. The reality is that the more things you try to manifest, the more likely it is that at least one of them will actually happen.

Also, there's the whole affirm and persist/living in the end deal, where people are supposed to just behave as if they have everything they want. When you see people posting about their successes, they might just very well be trying to act as if their desires have already manifested. They might not actually have it at all.

Finally, people just lie sometimes. Tumblr itself was host to the infamous hivliving, a blogger who lied about having HIV, among... many other things. If you ever want to learn just how ridiculously dedicated someone can be to keeping up a lie online, look into the story of MsScribe sometime. If you think nobody in the LOA community is lying, I got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.

In fact, Neville Goddard most probably lied about some pretty important shit. You've probably learned that he learned about the Law of Assumption from this Ethiopian rabbi named Abdullah, who supposedly got it from Kabbalah.

The thing is, if you've studied mysticism and the occult for any length of time, you pretty quickly realize that claiming to have been taught by a mysterious foreigner is pretty much just code for "I pulled it out of my ass."

It's also pretty obvious that the Law of Assumption has more in common with New Thought and Protestant beliefs about divine reward and punishment than it does with Kabbalah, which is a closed practice to non-Jews. (If you want to know about the history of Kabbalah, and get enough of an idea of what it's actually about so that you know why the Law of Assumption has nothing to do with it, I recommend Dr. Justin Sledge's lecture series over here.)

Additionally, Goddard's claim that the Kabbalah actually supports his obviously Christian form of mysticism isn't only just absurd, it echoes centuries of antisemitic Christians claiming that Kabbalah actually proves that Jesus is the messiah in order to try and convert Jews.

Goddard's use of the Bible, by the way, is appalling. If you've ever read the texts he quote, it's obvious that he's just ripping passages completely out of context to spin them into something that was definitely never intended by the writers. In other words, he's blatantly lying. (And by the way, if you ever want to learn about the real history of early Christianity, I recommend the work of Dr. Bart D. Ehrman. He's also got a YouTube channel over here.)

Now tell me this: if Neville Goddard so blatantly and so brazenly lied about the source of his ideas, why should we believe him when he claims that the Law of Assumption can do literally anything? Shouldn't we consider that maybe, just maybe, he might have lied about some of that other stuff, too?

[rip-headphones-users]

My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate

Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)

(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)

Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite

He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.

The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.

Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time

It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.

Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat

Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.

Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.

Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)

His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time

Infected is only transferrable via chainmail

Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.

Infected doesnt feel pain either

Kasper feels it though. A lot.

In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.

Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.

They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.

It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)

Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.

Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)

UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”

Bro is, in fact, infected.

[ladybugpowermakeup]

Okay. Okay. Hear me out. Because I'm Greek mythology trash.

An Odyssey AU for Miraculous Ladybug. Think about it. Adrien is the most Odysseus character I've ever seen. Fake piano playing? Hiding in a fountain? I mean, it practically writes itself. And Marinette as Penelope is equally as perfect - she creates, but she's smart enough to pull it all apart at the end of the day.

Now here is where things get a little strange: Telemachus. Being an avid MLB fanfiction reader (and ignoring all of seasons 4 and 5), I'm very well aware that Adrienette's kids are supposedly going to be Louis, Hugo, and Emma. Now tell me, what could Emma be short for? That's right, Telemachus. So hear me out - Adrien was drafted into the war *Before* Emma was born, so he never knew he had a daughter and his last request for his child was to name them Telemachus. But when she was born a girl, she was nicknamed Emma. Hugo and Louis don't exist in this version, obviously.

So we have our main family, what about everyone else? Well, we have Adrian's two crewmates, Polites and Eurilochus. Or in this case, Nino and Felix. Nino is his friend who fought at his side and is tragically killed along the ride back, causing Adrian to go into a spiral of grief, whereas Felix is his somewhat suspicious and angry second in command who can't understand why Adrien is being so reckless with his own life and that of the crew to get back to his wife and child. So eventually he starts straight up sabotaging the trip to try and get through to Adrien, which doesn't ever work because when Adrien is in love, he doesn't notice other people.

As for the people they meet on their travels:

Circe is Lila - this one feels pretty self explanatory, except for the fact that Lila would never care that much about the nymphs around her, so I'm thinking she lives alone on the island and basically functions as a non-water siren - she draws men in with comfort and beauty and then turns them into pigs.

The wind god Aeolus is just Trixx - they're weird and whimsical and would absolutely give someone a bag of wind with the word "gold" written on it.

Calypso is Chloe, left there alone on this island for "protection" from her overbearing father, a minor deity. Again, this just kind of makes sense in my brain. And she gets a little bit of a redemption when she finally willingly lets Adrien go home.

When the crew of the ship go down into the underworld, they meet "Tyresius", who in this case is Master Fu. Weird cryptic old wise guy who's maybe dead? Yeah. That fits.

And finally we have the deities themselves. Like I said, Trixx is already accounted for, so we have three main ones - Posideon, Athena, and Hermes.

Posideon is most definitely ShadowMoth - not really any meaning behind this, we're just making him mysterious and powerful and angry at Adrien for seemingly no reason. But he's doing his best to keep this man from reaching home, possibly because early in the journey, Adrien was instrumental in killing a sentimonster, which canonically is kind of a piece of the creator.

Athena and Hermes are two of a pair - Tikki and Plagg, obviously. Wisdom and trickery, sounds just about right to me.

Anyway, this has been on my brain. Enjoy the weird crossover! If you do anything with it, please tag me!

[emblemxeno]

Something ironic is that even though 3H is a massive game with a very strong and consistent creative fandom, I have had no creative spark with that game beyond discourse lol.

Of course, my type of creative output is different from most people's; I like reading into things, analyzing dialogue to recontextualize characters as a whole, look for real world analogies, hypothesize potential non-canon interactions, etc.

E.g., the Nohr siblings and their relationships with their father, with each other, or the court is never explicitly laid out in detail as to what happened. At best, you get basic extrapolations such as "we were told not to talk to Azura" or "our mothers used us as tools to curry favor and to sabotage/hurt one another."

Put those backstories and character traits against events in the story? It makes you think. Elise, Leo, and Camilla are stressed tf out and panicking over Xander and Corrin's fight during chapter 2, cuz siblings hurting each other = one's gonna die to them. Corrin choosing Hoshido or even siding with neither kingdom is a strike against Xander's ego and his built up sense of normalcy as a stoic fraternal unit trying to hold together the last remnants of his family. Camilla intertwines violence and love because she was raised receiving love and affection from her mother only after being subservient to her mom's terrible actions towards the other concubines and royal children. Leo is on Forrest's case at first because he has his on warped sense of "bringing shame and dishonor" to his family, an amalgamation of his loneliness when the other sibs focus on Corrin despite his own accomplishments and his mom most likely drilling it into his head that he has to be talented to be an honorable prince; it's little wonder he lets up on Forrest when he sees his son doing something noble and selfless like healing and attending to an entire town. Elise is an outlier because she's so young, and that either manifests as reckless, well-meaning bravery, or blubbering, immature outbursts draped in ignorance; she knows nothing beyond her supposedly good family unit other than what's been told to her second-hand, so how is she supposed to react when the rug is pulled from under her?

With 3H I don't get that kind of stuff, partly because the game is just that packed with dialogue and auxiliary comments from characters (IMO, a big reason why things seem bloated), and partly because of the way the story is delivered; since Byleth is a silent protagonist, character dialogue seesaws between having a conversation and telling/expositing at you, which results in a restrictive writing style that's actively harmful to implicit writing or subtext. There's nothing to scratch your brain about, because the game pretty much does that for you. And while many think having characters comment on story events each chapter in Garreg Mach is a positive to world building and narrative depth, I actually think the opposite, because the medium in which this dialogue and insights are given-talking to them with a silent protag who can't ever have an actual conversation-feels like I'm a scientist putting variables against each other and extracting data and information from the results, rather than a story with believable characters with lives, dreams, and relationships.

...Though, writing this out, maybe that's why it's appealing to other creatives. Maybe it's the equivalent to getting a 2,000 piece lego set, and switching only a few things around without dismantling the entire base project. The product itself is seen as art that can be altered in specific, minute ways that inspire curiosity and creative reaction.

I, on the other hand, get the most fun out of thinking about why the pieces fit together in the first place and how well they do in practice. Different strokes, I guess.

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

"Oh ho ho...You're one of my brother's goons sent here to sabotage my plans!"

The minion of the Heat Miser stood in place, limbs trembling not only from the chilled, crispy air of the Snow Miser's lair, but in sheer terror of what might happen now that they were spotted. As the towering icy man took slow steps forward, his potential victim shivered with hitched breath and began to lift a foot, preparing to dash away.

Mr. Snow notices this, and his right hand rises from his side, his fingers emitting small icy particles as his scepter begins to shape itself out of thin air.

"Stand your ground, ashrat." He states firmly from his wide crack of a grin, eyelids lowered while glaring, "Or I will see to it that your feet never leave that spot again."

What happened next took place in an instant. The terrified spy turns to run, only for them to nearly fall forward as their feet suddenly freeze to the ice floor. The cold mister had grasped and aimed his scepter forward as fast as lightning to shoot beams of ice at their feet. The ice burned almost as hot as their Lord's breath, ironically. Their feet then became numb incredibly quickly, quicker than they would have in normal snow.

Snow and ice summoned directly from the Lord of the Cold was far worse than anything that had naturally accumulated. It felt as if it was already too late to try and salvage their feet at all. To make matters worse, the Snow Miser now approached the stuck prey, his scepter still tight in his grasp. He kept that sickly grin as he stared his catch down.

"My, you dare to try and test me? I suppose it makes sense that you'd have no brain. That fiery fool never had sense, so why would his lackeys?" He closes his eyes and shakes his head with a "tsk tsk" from his tongue.

The minion of heat could now only whimper quietly, glancing back and forth between the Snow Miser and the direction they came sneaking in from. It was too late now. They doubted they were going to make it out.

A gloved hand suddenly shot forth and gripped their throat. The glove did nothing to contain the sheer cold that came from that hand. They couldn't breathe, but they could hear. They could hear that sometimes kooky voice now deepened, cold, rumbling in the mister's throat. He spoke under his breath, which came out in freezing puffs against the captive's face. They turned their head to face their captor. They both locked eyes.

"My brother and I do have one thing in common, I suppose..."

Ice began to overtake the flesh of the minion's neck. Veins and arteries instantly became sealed shut. Their inner throat pipes were already rendered useless. That voice was now in their ear.

"I don't mind sometimes seeing some white turn red."

All went black for the unlucky idiot. Their head had become encased in an icy prison, and with a hard CRACK, their head had snapped off of their frozen neck and fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. Blood seeped from various slits in the ice shards, staining the ice sheet below.

How convenient, some takeout delivered for Snowy's various creatures of ice to feed upon!

[mha-grievances]

Ok, so I know that I constantly criticize MHA. I constantly bitch and moan about how much missed potential there are in the series, how the pacing is ass, how Hori’s comedy is atrocious, how there are many plot holes, how Katsuki is an utterly shit character, yada yada yada. The way you see me talk about MHA probably makes you think that I feel it’s the worst anime of all time.

Trust me, it’s far from the worst thing that’s out there. Like any sort of media, anime is littered with some bizarre, atrocious stuff.

Future Diaries is an anime that has cemented itself as a hugely influential aspect of pop culture, Yuno being THE character that defines the idea of a Yandere. However the series goes into batshit crazy territory that makes absolutely no sense, the MC is all kinds of shitty, and, well, shit happens just to happen.

Redo of Healer is revenge r*pe fantasy that has no well defined characters. They’re either comically fucked up or just there to contribute to the MC’s harem. Also magic sperm.

Pupa is an incest anime (yes, anime, not hentai) about a sister who needs to eat flesh to survive and a boy who can regenerate. For the sake of your sanity, I’m not going to talk about this further.

School Days goes off the rails and has perhaps some of the most unlikable characters to ever exist, including the MC himself. Meant to subvert the typical romance visual novel, things get into wtf territory fast. Honestly I constantly debate whether School Days is a masterpiece in what it does or if it falls under the same pit traps that other series that aim to “subvert expectations” does.

These series (except for perhaps School Days, still tryna figure out where I stand on it) are far worse than MHA, which is incompetent at worst.

So why do I criticize MHA rather than these series?

Well, MHA is an interesting beast. Future Diaries, Redo of Healer, and Pupa know what they are. They know that their storytelling isn’t the best. They know that they’re fantasies for perverts, people who just wanna watch something fucked up, those who like the shock factor/harem aspects, all that stuff. They don’t try to be anything more than what they are, and there’s nothing wrong with that (and by that I mean there’s nothing wrong with them not being deep. Whether the content shown might be is a different topic all together). MHA is a series that tries to offer commentary on the real world and wants us to take it seriously, but there are barriers that stop this from happening. Whether it’s Hori failing to allow his MC to breathe which makes things feel angsty for the sake of it, his failure to tackle the themes in a meaningful and non-hypocritical manner, his “comedy”, missed potential that he doesn’t capitalize on or cares to, the creation of characters meant to embody certain themes but fail at doing so (Katsuki, Shota, etc.), fake tension that goes nowhere, or Hori springing shit at the last minute to up the stakes but only makes people scratch their heads. MHA is a series that, despite it being a colorful world of superheroes and having a charming set of characters, is meant to serve as a criticism of society and a dive into what it means to be a hero. Sadly it fails to do this accurately. I can meme and shit on Pupa, Future Diaries, and Redo of Healer, but besides edgy 12 year olds on YouTube who think they’re philosophers, everyone will pretty much agree that these anime aren’t good. Even the fans will agree. Wildly entertaining as fuck, yes, but not good, and they weren’t designed to be good or thought provoking. They were designed to appeal to a certain demographic and keep them entertained as they turn their brains off. MHA however demands that we use our brains, to analyze the material that’s being shown and to question ourselves, but it sabotages its themes at numerous points and that’s what makes MHA the subject of my analysis. It’s a series that ultimately fails at what it’s trying to do, and what it’s trying to do is pretty big. Take Katsuki for example. MHA is constantly shoving down my throat that Katsuki is a good person and that he’s worthy of being a hero, but it does it in an obnoxious way and constantly contradicts itself with Katsuki’s actions. Meanwhile the other anime I mentioned don’t bother propping their characters like the second coming of Christ, some even embracing the fact that a character is shitty, and if they do try shoving down my throat a character is good, it’s done in such a laughably bad way that it’s far more funny than it is annoying.

To me it’s interesting HOW MHA manages to fail at what it’s trying to do and it serves as an example of what works and doesn’t work when writing a similar series. In MHA what works really works and shows that there is immense potential in MHA to be something amazing, further proven by the fact that some of the characters and some of the arcs are well written. However what doesn’t work really reduces the quality of the series and makes you wonder how one writer can understand the assignment in some instances and completely bomb it in others (especially in key moments where the writer is meant to give it their all and showcase WHY their series is so popular and WHY they chose to write this series and about certain topics rather than do something else).

So yeah, if you wonder why this blog was made, and why MHA over everything else, now you know 😂.

[artoile]

hi hi hi 👀 im here to ask about jamiazu !!

what got you into shipping them? like what aspects about their dynamic and potential chemistry and stuff . i usually love to hear abt that kind of stuff i hope the ask isnt too silly teehee

HELLOOOOO SORRY IM LATE. Work and life have been kicking my ass and I wanted to take my time answering this 💀

There are many things I love about azjm/jamiazu and I could write thousands upon thousands of words waxing poetics about why I adore their dynamic

But...if I'm being completely honest with myself...the first thing that initially got me into the pair was.............................................................(wait for it)................................................................................................................

.......................................hakukai

IUDAWHAUWGDYAWGDYAUGDAAWDAD

Now. You might be thinking, "Kono, what the HELL does hakukai have to do with azjm?!?"

And to that I say. Hear me out:

Do you get me. Do you see my vision. Are the worms crawling inside my brain coming through? Is this anything? (<- Person who is completely deranged and delusional)

Hakukai and Azjm are obviously very different pairs for many reasons but I think they have some core similartities that REALLY appeal to me: They're both dynamics with two classmates where one half wants to learn EVERYTHING there is to know about the other one. Person A (Azul & Hakuba) wants to dissect and understand the other's motives as thoroughly as possible and bring everything about them to the light. A is very straightforward about their interest--- but it is over-the-top to a degree that may come as very cloying and saccharine, leading Person B (Jamil & Kaito) to interpret it as dishonest. Consequently, B is very suspicious of A's motives and tries to keep them at bay. B has a part of themselves they're trying to hide (With Kaito, it's KID. With Jamil pre-CH4 it's his skills and real personality) but they know A is able to see through their bullshit.

HAVING SAID ALL THAT, TO SAY I ONLY LIKE JAMIAZU BECAUSE OF HAKUKAI WOULD BE UNFAIR. It's the main reason the ship appealed to me initially and why I started looking into it, but

I think hakukai is ultimately a soft ship. Despite being increbily chaotic, Hakuba and Kaito are both good, selfless guys at heart. Azul and Jamil are anything but.

There's a lot more emotional constipation and resentment in azjm,as well as dishonesty and selfishness on both sides. Azjm lends itself to more mindgames and tension. Azul and Jamil are both cruel and conniving; they are both willing to use and exploit one another, making for a really tenuous relationship...And that is fascinating to me!

Azul is a fundamentally greedy character that is used to taking stuff from others for his own benefit while Jamil is someone who has been forced to give everything and not have anything of his own due to circumstance and these traits are both their undoing. Azul becomes too fixated with the things he has accumulated because they're a tangible representation of his own worth while Jamil becomes resentful, bitter and self-sabotaging due to the things he's been forced to give up due to his position. I like that jamiazu as a dynamic has the potential of challenging those roles and making the characters question their positions as they interact and become increasingly frustrated with one another. Azul dislikes wasted potential. Jamil is a wealth of wasted potential. Jamil resents those free flaunt their skills and possessions. Flaunting is a core part of who Azul is.

Azul trying to rationalise his interest in Jamil as a business endeavour despite it bordering on ridiculous and unprofitable because he's 100% convinced Jamil is a worthy investment. Jamil struggling with the idea of seeing Azul as someone on par with him and a possible partner to help him reach his full potential. Their image of one another slowly morphing from "valuable asset" to genuine equals.

Not to mention how absolutely terrible (for everyone else) they would be together!!!

I also really love Octarabia/Scaravinelle as a dynamic. So I really like how the tweels and Kalim play a part in the overall relationship as well. But that's a topic for another day!!!

ANYWAY. I DON'T KNOW IF THIS ANSWERED THE QUESTION AT ALL. WADIUHAWUDHAWUIDHAWUIHDAUIDW I could talk about them all day. The snide comments. The scheming. The constant observation. The 4D chess. Jamil losing his mind. You get me.

With all that said. Phantom thief Jamiazu AU when? 🤨

[notoneopinion]

The Newsletter #1: The Demon {social anxiety}

Social anxiety is a demon.

I don't mean to come on here and announce the obvious, but there is no point in making it more complicated than it needs to be. Social anxiety is the pesky demon that latches itself to everyone at some point; depending on a number of factors, that demon can be a daily torment.

My experience with The Demon dates back to early childhood. I remember being as young as six, hiding under my bed so my parents wouldn't make me go to the shops with them. And God forbid I actually did go to the shops, because I just spent the entire time trying to breathe, which must have looked alarming to those poor shoppers. As I grew older, this demon on my shoulder was no longer saying I couldn't go out for my own good; suddenly, I couldn't go out because my hair wasn't sitting right, or my weight wasn't low enough, or my face just simply could not be showcased to the public, because people would surely make fun of me for it. Suddenly the public wasn't the problem - I was. Only I didn't realise that until I started therapy.

I'm not going to tell you that therapy was my cure-all for social anxiety, because it wasn't. I will never talk someone out of going to therapy, as I'm actually a great advocate for it, and the proof of its benefits are right there for anyone to look at. Saying that, my relationship with therapy was a weird one; I was being forced to talk to a person about my crushing fear of people. I found myself dreading those sessions, yet despite this, I was able to gain some pretty decent in-sight into why my brain functioned the way it did. The way it does. The thing about therapy is that it forces you to go right back, because nine times out of ten, that's where the problems stem from. My therapist trailed me through a field of reasons why I was so terrified of leaving the house, going from high school bullies all the way to something like coming from a big family. Stuff a person wouldn't even begin to think, because - well, I always just put it down to me being messed up in the head. I didn't bother going beyond that line of thought, but that's the beauty of professional help! It made me feel better knowing it wasn't just pure self-sabotage making me this way - there are actually so many factors out of your control that play massive {The Biggest} parts in your mental health.

After getting to the root cause of the problem, I made it my mission to focus on myself. There comes a point where you just get sick and tired of being your own worst enemy, and that was the point I was at. Drastic changes had to be made, or I knew I was going to fall under and never crawl back out. It started with me dropping out of public school and moving to homeschooling, which might not seem like the best way to get over anxiety, but it was the start of something incredible for me. Escaping the environment that made me feel stuck and surrounded me with some of the most toxic people - it changed my life. It allowed me to have a clear head for the first time in years, which in turn let me focus on myself. I was able to establish a routine, got myself through GCSE's and A-Levels, grew closer to a family I was too run down to pay any attention to before. All this self-improvement came together, and suddenly I wasn't wearing the baggy clothes. Suddenly I wanted to go to the movies with my friends, because my head was no longer cluttered by these thoughts of self hatred. Of course crowds still scare me, and I'm always more comfortable going out if my fiance is with me - but I have a fiance! I'm going out! I'm making friends, because taking care of myself, putting myself first, made me realise that I am worthy of showing my face to the world, even if it is just in short bursts.

[archonate-seorwen]

In Medias Res: A KOTOR Fanfiction - Prologue

Hi everyone.

I am currently working on a French version of the complete KOTOR story. I've got little time and not always the energy, so I'm trying to cheer myself up by translating what little I've written so far.

This version will include some chapters that are published (not here) in another fanfic dedicated to the relationship between Revan and Bastila. But they will certainly be subject to some changes.

Seven other chapters are to be published soon.

I am not a native English speaker. So my apologies for the grammatical and syntactical errors.

Thanks a lot!

------

Prologue

Darkness. Then, a pinprick of light, growing steadily brighter.

"Corem."

The voice echoed, distant and muffled, as if filtered through layers of thick cloth. I tried to respond, but my lips refused to move.

"Corem Galhor."

My name. They're calling my name. But why does it sound so unfamiliar?

Good gods. What's happening to me?

"Corem Galhor, if you can hear me, do something."

Shut up. Please, just let me sleep.

"Turn on the spotlight. He needs to wake up."

Suddenly, a blinding flash assaulted my senses. It pierced through my closed eyelids, searing my retinas and slicing into my foggy brain like a vibroblade. The pain was excruciating, indescribable.

"The eyelids are contracting. Keep going."

No. Leave me be. I don't want to wake up.

A softer voice cut through the chaos, gentle yet insistent.

"Corem Galhor, you're waking up from a very deep sleep. It's normal that you feel unwell. Don't be afraid, this is only temporary. Come back to us."

Slowly, agonizingly, I force my eyes open. The world was a blur of harsh light and indistinct shapes. Where was I? What was happening?

The voice, once distant, now drilled into my eardrums with shrill intensity. An infernal cacophony. Would it ever stop? Part of me yearned to surrender to its insistent calls, if only to regain the soothing calm of silence. But the choice was being torn from my hands.

Slowly, inexorably, I clawed my way out of the darkness. This sleep had been so deep, so all-encompassing, that my very consciousness felt alien. Was this truly my reality? Or was it merely the product of my unhinged mind, a chaotic dreamscape orchestrated with unsettling precision?

How did I get here?

I forced my eyes open, only to slam them shut again as searing pain lanced through my skull.

"You're doing well, Corem. Take your time."

My breathing came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a monumental effort. Yet beneath the discomfort lay a startling realization – I could breathe. Such a simple act, one I'd never given thought to before, now filled me with a quiet satisfaction. I was alive.

But what had happened? I had to see, had to face whatever awaited me beyond the safety of my eyelids.

Bracing myself, I tried again. The pain returned, sharp and relentless, but I endured. If I let it wash over me, I reasoned, it would eventually tire and recede.

And so it did. After an eternity of agonizing seconds, the pain ebbed away. I blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. Blurry shapes danced before me, silhouetted against a blaze of light. Gradually, one of these forms approached.

A new sensation: pressure on my wrist. Gentle or firm, I couldn't tell. But it was there, grounding me in this strange new reality.

"Well, you're coming back from a long way off."

The voice was right. What I'd thought was a simple coma had ravaged my mind, reducing my mental faculties to mere fragments. The days following my awakening were a hellish ordeal: atrocious migraines pounded relentlessly, the world spun in a nauseating dance, and my stomach rebelled against me at every turn. My body, it seemed, was intent on sabotaging its own recovery.

-----------

Yet, as the days bled into weeks, my strength slowly returned. Health, or at least a semblance of it, gradually reasserted itself.

With my memory in tatters, I became a detective in my own life, piecing together the puzzle of my past from the accounts of doctors and hospital staff. The picture that emerged was disappointingly mundane: a traffic accident. Ordinary, if spectacular. By some cosmic jest, I had managed to injure no one but myself.

But the fragments of dreams that clung to me told a different story. In my coma-induced haze, I had been someone else entirely - powerful, dominant, exceptional. Those phantom memories whispered of an extraordinary life, far removed from the banal reality I now faced.

The truth hit me like a bucket of ice water. I wasn't special. I wasn't powerful. I was just an ordinary man, recovering from a stupid, all-too-common accident.

The realization stung more than I cared to admit.

As days passed, fragments of memory slowly resurfaced. My brain, it seemed, was undergoing a meticulous process of cleaning and reorganization. Flashes of my time at Bar'leth University returned, reminding me of the path that had led me to become a skilled interpreter and translator. I recalled my last job, the pinnacle of my fledgling career, where I'd found myself in the rarified air of Onderon's royal court.

But beyond that? A vast, unsettling blank.

My personal life remained an impenetrable mystery. Was I married? A father? Did I have a family waiting anxiously for news of my recovery? Try as I might, I couldn't conjure a single face or name. The realization hit me with crushing force - I was utterly alone. Weeks of interacting solely with hospital staff only reinforced this isolation. Not a single visitor had darkened my door.

I was just an ordinary man. A lonely man. Adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Yet even this bleak assessment didn't quite fit. Why was I, a civilian translator, recuperating in a military hospital in the heart of the capital? True, I served the Republic, but I had no official ties to the armed forces. Wouldn't a civilian facility have been more appropriate? This incongruity nagged at me, adding another layer to my growing sense of displacement and confusion.

The more I pondered my situation, the less sense it made. Each answer only spawned more questions, leaving me feeling even more lost and isolated than before.

"Hello, Corem."

The familiar voice drew me from my reverie. It belonged to the head of the department, the woman who had been overseeing my care since my arrival. I recognized it as the same voice that had guided me back to consciousness, though its timbre had changed. What once had been aggressive and piercing now felt soft and comforting, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

With effort, I pushed myself up from my reclined position, turning to face her properly. She stood in the doorway, a woman in her forties with fine features etched by years of dedication to her work. Fatigue had left its mark on her face, and strands of gray threaded through her short-cropped hair. Yet, despite these signs of age—likely accelerated by the demands of her profession—she radiated a quiet dignity and charm. There was an undeniable charisma about her, born of intelligence and a deep sense of responsibility.

"Hello, Doctor," I finally managed, my voice still rough with sleep.

Her eyes, kind but keen, studied me closely. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Morning? The word caught me off guard. I glanced towards the window, where partially drawn blackout curtains allowed a sliver of light to spill into the room. Beyond the glass, I could make out the bustling energy of a city coming to life. The soft glow of early morning light painted everything in gentle hues, its warmth slowly reawakening my dulled senses.

"I'm fine," I replied, meeting her gaze once more.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. "Perfect. I'm going to proceed with our usual tests, Corem. After that, I'll let you wash up and get dressed." She paused, her expression shifting slightly. "A naval non-commissioned officer wishes to speak with you."

The last sentence hung in the air, pregnant with implications I couldn't quite grasp. Why would a naval officer be interested in me? The question added another layer to the mystery surrounding my presence here, but before I could ponder it further, the doctor was already moving towards me, ready to begin her examination.

"Understood," I managed to reply, unable to keep a note of bewilderment from my voice.

The doctor, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil, proceeded with her daily routine of tests. Motor skills, cognitive functions - all checked and rechecked with meticulous care. As always, the results were surprisingly positive. My recovery was progressing at a pace that seemed to astound even the medical staff. At this rate, I was slated for discharge by week's end.

Once the examination was complete and I'd gone through my usual morning routine, I found myself restless. Instead of retreating to the bed or settling into a chair, I felt an overwhelming urge to move. I activated the news terminal, more out of habit than genuine interest, and began to pace the room.

My restless wandering brought me to the window. The view beyond the glass captured my attention, drawing me into a moment of quiet contemplation. Coruscant sprawled before me, a forest of towering skyscrapers bathed in the planet's characteristic white sunlight. Several of the most imposing structures, I knew, housed the Ministry of Defense - explaining the military hospital's proximity.

As I studied the cityscape, trying to reconcile this vast, bustling metropolis with my fragmented memories, a sudden burst of sound from the terminal jolted me back to the present. The news broadcast had begun, its urgent tones a stark contrast to the serene urban panorama before me.

Suspicious activities in the peripheral regions of the Outer Rim and the Taris system have caught the attention of the Republic authorities. Part of the fleet has been chartered to these areas and—"

The sudden roar of a passing convoy outside my window drowned out the newscaster's words, momentarily pulling me from the broadcast. As the noise faded, I caught the tail end of the report:

"—the Chancellery and the Jedi Order have renewed their agreement providing for effective military collaboration. Bastila Shan, credited with the Republic's recent victories, has been placed in a secure location following a Sith ambush attempt. Public authorities report that Lord Malak is now actively seeking the Padawan, whose Battle Meditation power has inflicted heavy losses on Sith forces..."

We were at war. The word hung in the air, heavy with implications. My mind grasped at the broad strokes of recent history: Malak's betrayal of his master, Revan, barely a year ago; his subsequent seizure of control over the Sith Empire. I knew these facts, but they felt distant, detached—as if I were recalling a history lesson rather than lived experience.

Yet, surely I had lived through these events? My mission on Onderon must have been connected to this conflict somehow. But the details remained frustratingly out of reach, like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

The name Bastila Shan struck a chord within me, triggering a sense of familiarity I couldn't quite place. As I tried to visualize this woman, so crucial to the Republic's war effort, I felt a strange resonance. It was as if fragments of memory were trying to surface, only to sink back into the murky depths of my fractured mind.

The disconnect between what I knew and what I felt was jarring. I understood the facts, but I couldn't connect them to any personal experiences or emotions. It was a stark reminder of how far I still had to go in my recovery. Regaining my full memory, understanding my place in this turbulent galaxy—it would take time. More time, perhaps, than I was comfortable admitting.

As I stood there, caught between the impersonal news report and my own nebulous recollections, I felt more lost than ever. 

A sudden, jarring noise behind me shattered my reverie. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat, to find a tall figure looming in the doorway. It was a young man, lean and lanky, his hand still gripping the door handle as if unsure whether to advance or retreat. His eyes, though polite, betrayed a hint of discomfort—as if he was acutely aware of intruding upon my solitude.

"Please, come in," I offered, hoping to ease his apparent tension. As I spoke, I fumbled with the terminal, silencing the droning newscast that suddenly seemed trivial in light of this unexpected visitor.

The young man stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click that seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room. As he moved closer, I took in the details of his appearance. His youth was evident, but so was the crisp professionalism of his bearing. The dark uniform he wore was immaculate, trousers perfectly creased and jacket adorned with a smattering of medals that hinted at a career already marked by distinction despite his age. In his left hand, he clutched a data block with white-knuckled intensity—a digital lifeline that I suspected held the key to his presence here.

"Thank you," he replied, his voice clipped and formal. For a moment, he simply regarded me, his gaze analytical as if comparing my appearance to some mental image. Then, squaring his shoulders, he launched into what was clearly a prepared speech.

"Sir, we regret having to solicit you under your current conditions," he began, his tone as stiff as his posture. "I was sent to inform you that your next assignment is still effective."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My next assignment? Delivered by a military officer? I felt my brow furrow in confusion, a thousand questions suddenly clamoring for attention in my mind. What assignment? When had I agreed to this? And why was the military involved in the affairs of a simple translator?

As I struggled to make sense of this bombshell, the young officer stood there, ramrod straight, awaiting my response. The air between us seemed to crackle with tension and unspoken implications. Whatever this "assignment" was, I had a sinking feeling it was about to turn my already confusing world completely upside down.

"As soon as you've finished care here, you will be expected at the B96API Academy, the entity to which you belong."

The words hung in the air, each one a puzzle piece that refused to fit into my understanding of reality. A shrug escaped me, involuntary and telling. I shook my head slightly, my face a mask of bewilderment. The young officer's eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

"Well, Sir..." I began, my voice faltering before I found my footing. "Thank you for this information, but... if I may, I'm not a military man. I don't see what I have to do with any of this."

The officer's gaze sharpened, a mix of surprise and suspicion evident in his scrutiny. He activated the data block, his eyes flicking rapidly over its contents before meeting mine again. In that moment of locked gazes, I sensed a shared confusion, a mutual grasping for understanding.

"Sir, you are indeed Corem Galhor?" His voice carried a hint of doubt now.

"That's me, yes." The words felt hollow.

"Well, Mr. Corem Galhor," he continued, his tone a blend of formality and growing concern, "I confirm the announcement I made to you. Four months ago, you agreed to collaborate with the Ministry of Defense, which assigned you to the Academy I mentioned."

The revelation hit me like a physical blow. My mouth fell open, words evaporating before they could form. The officer, seeming to grasp that my confusion was genuine rather than evasive, softened his approach.

"I know, sir, that your health is not at its best," he said, his voice tinged with patience. "However, we have received the results of all the tests you regularly undergo, which clearly indicate your ability to respond to your next assignment. You are expected at the Academy of sector B96 as soon as you are out of here. You will receive a short training there, and then you will be sent elsewhere."

My mind reeled, grasping for something familiar, something that made sense. "I hear what you're telling me, but I'm a translator," I managed, the words sounding feeble even to my own ears.

The disconnect between what I knew of myself and what this man was telling me was vast and terrifying. Had I really agreed to this? And if so, why couldn't I remember? The implications of his words began to sink in, each one adding weight to the growing realization that the life I thought I knew might be nothing more than a fragile illusion.

"It's as a translator that the Army called on you," the young man clarified, his tone softening slightly. "Anyone working within our armies is expected to receive military training. Don't worry, it will only involve basic knowledge for you. You will only be solicited militarily if the situation is desperate."

A cynical grimace twisted my lips. What choice did I have? Clearly, I had committed myself to this path before my accident, and the Ministry wasn't about to release its grip. The Republic's precarious situation demanded contributions from every citizen, even translators.

A hazy memory surfaced: I had indeed undergone some military training before. The volatile political climate on Onderon had led the Republic to arm its officials with basic combat skills. I recalled performing well in those exercises, but that hardly made me a soldier. The disconnect between my perceived identity and this new reality was jarring.

I heaved a deep sigh, resignation settling over me like a heavy cloak. "Alright," I conceded, my voice tinged with defeat. "I will report to the Academy as soon as I'm discharged."

The officer nodded, a sober smile flickering across his face. "Perfect. I'm leaving you a card with all the elements related to your file."

He deftly extracted a small data card from his block, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger. I stepped forward, accepting the object that somehow held the keys to my forgotten past and uncertain future. As I slipped it into my pocket, its weight felt disproportionate to its size.

"Mr. Galhor," the officer said, his tone unexpectedly warm. "I wish you a speedy recovery."

"Thank you," I replied with a nod, struggling to match his cordial tone.

As the door closed behind him, silence engulfed the room once more. I stood there, mind reeling, wondering what labyrinth of intrigue and duty I had unwittingly entered. My hand found its way back to my pocket, fingers tracing the edges of the data card obsessively.

Finally, driven by a mix of curiosity and dread, I approached the terminal. With trembling hands, I inserted the card, watching as the screen flickered to life. The first file opened, revealing details about me and my future assignments - information that should have been familiar but felt alien:

-------

Name: Galhor | First name: Corem | Age: 33 | Planet of birth: Deralia

Personal status : Single, no children

Occupation : Translator, interpreter

Place of education : University of Bar'leth

Duration of studies: 5 years

-------

Military status: Recruit

Military training location: API Military Academy, Sector B96

Expected duration of training: 2 months

General Officer in Charge: Commander Bastila Shan

Restrictions: not specified - refer to the officer in charge

Last position: Interpreter, Onderon Republican Embassy | Duration: 4 months, 2 days

-------

Current duty station: not specified - refer to the officer in charge

Assigned by: not specified - refer to the officer in charge

Assignment validated by: not specified - refer to the officer in charge

General officer in charge of the agent: Commander Bastila Shan

Duration of assignment: not specified - refer to the responsible officer

-------

Height: 189 cm | Weight: 82 kg | Complexion: white/matte | Hair: dark brown/black | Eyes: brown

Sight:  satisfactory  hearing:  satisfactory

Physical and physiological condition: satisfactory

Psychological and cognitive condition: satisfactory

Suffers from retrograde amnesia after a severe shock. However, not a problem with current and future assignments. Requires medical attention, however.

Psychological condition: satisfactory

-------

Tests conducted by the Coruscant Republican Military Academy - B96API.

Extraordinary session requested by Commander Bastila Shan, validated by Admiral Forn Dodonna.

The B96API Republican Military Academy judges the agent eligible for training.

Corem Galhor #894

-------

I stared at the screen, my eyes darting from line to line, each new piece of information sending a jolt through my system. The clinical detachment of the file contrasted sharply with the turmoil it stirred within me.

Thirty-five years old. Born on Deralia. Single, no children. These basic facts should have felt familiar, comforting even. I found myself desperately searching for some emotional connection to these details, but came up empty.

My gaze snagged on a particular line: "General officer in charge of the agent: Commander Bastila Shan." The name echoed in my mind, triggering that same vague sense of familiarity I'd felt earlier. But why would a celebrated Jedi be personally overseeing my case? The implications were both thrilling and terrifying.

As I continued reading, more questions piled up. Why was my current place of assignment classified? What kind of translator needed such secrecy? And the duration of my assignment - also undisclosed. What had I gotten myself into?

Then the medical assessment hit me like a punch to the gut. "Suffers from retrograde amnesia following a violent shock." There it was, in cold, unfeeling text - the reason for the gaping holes in my memory. But the next line chilled me to the bone: "However, this does not pose a problem with current and future assignments."

How could my memory loss not affect my work? What kind of assignments could I possibly undertake in this state? The casual dismissal of my condition felt almost sinister.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. There was no use in tormenting myself needlessly. After all, I had just emerged from a months-long coma with significant memory loss. It was only natural that I wouldn't have all the answers or details about my situation.

"Everything will eventually fall into place," I murmured to myself, though the words rang hollow in the quiet room.

As I stood there, staring at the terminal screen, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of something much bigger than I could comprehend. With a mixture of apprehension and resigned determination, I realized that the only way forward was through. I would report to the Academy as instructed and undergo the training.

For now, all I could do was prepare myself for whatever lay ahead. The future stretched before me, a blank canvas filled with uncertainties. As I turned off the terminal, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into a story much larger than myself, one whose outline I could barely glimpse.

Whatever awaited me at the Academy, whatever role I was meant to play in this war, one thing was certain: nothing would be as simple as it seemed.