#''no longer the player they once were'' is so haunting to me

[solargeist]

(So that void drawing, huh. I saw it and immediately went ‘I must write a thing’ so here!)

Grian took a breath and took Mumbo’s hand. The hole in the rocket ship by no means beckoned, but… something else definitely called. Or maybe it was just his mind supplying that it was the one way to escape the moon. He could hear Scar, Pearl, Mumbo, and Impulse talking and joking. They were all handling the certain destruction of their world surprisingly well, especially Pearl.

But he kept staring at the hole in the rocket, until Scar was clapping his hands and saying it was time to go. He looked up as Pearl took his other hand. Scar was on Mumbo’s other side, one foot already over the void. Impulse was at the end of them. Everyone looked so rigid. A faint voice at the back of his mind pointed out that they’d never lived in the void, and they didn’t know he ever did. So he squared his shoulders a bit to match.

And then the ship started rumbling as the moon started to tear it apart.

“Alright! Let’s go!” He heard Scar say, and then he was being pulled down. And down. And down. Seeing the walls of the Boatem pole fly past him, memories etched into each one. And up above he could see the looming moon. The void was slowly reaching, and grasping for him. And now he was certain it was something within it whispering.

Their descent slowed as they went past bedrock, the space suits fighting the complete lack of pressure or oxygen.

At some point he could no longer see the bedrock, or the Boatem hole. And a while after that they were floating. Everyone was dozing off, even Pearl who was trying to fight it with all her might. He had the faintest feeling that maybe she’d seen this before and he just hadn’t been looking. But nonetheless sleep claimed the rest of Boatem. The tethers of the spacesuits still, thankfully, keeping them together.

He was tempted to try and fly ahead and see if he could find their final destination, get them there early. But whatever voice was down there with them kept him firmly at his friend’s sides.

There weren’t all that many things that would be living in the void itself, not without islands floating just above its constant stretching. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d see Aether down here. Probably not, the void was huge after all.

But he couldn’t feel eyes. And the whispers were sounding less like they were actual words, instead being rustling. Feathers maybe.

For some strange reason, with no clue what possessed him to do this, he looked back over his shoulder.

He felt his heart drop, his body frozen as he tried to take in the sight.

Something massive, with eyes that should not be there and feathers that didn’t quite fit, and a beak that was twisting. He could feel the eyes staring through him. Through his friends. As if they were all something it had seen before, were of no note. Or maybe they were looking at nothing and this was a long dead corpse, preserved by the void. He held that thought for moment, feeling slightly put at ease.

And then all their eyes flicked towards him. And it clicked, they were a Watcher. And they were very, very incredibly old with not a human characteristic in sight. No longer the player they once were.

It felt like time itself sped up as he clutched onto Mumbo’s arm, hoping that they would turn their gaze past them. That he would no longer have to be confronted with the future he could have had, or well… maybe still could. But their eyes stayed trained on him, so he instead stayed on Mumbo’s arm and tried to convince sleep to take him as well.

inbox fic !!

someone let this poor boy sleep so he doesn't have to confront the horrors

[pixiecaps]

Heres a portion of Maxo’s ending monologue and some meta commentary.

q!Maxo: And what if I stay? At least they won’t have that planned out. How can I be so stupid? Of course, they know about the bomb. They literally know everything, see everything, its an all seeing eye, of course. They already knew about my plan.. But there’s a plan they don’t know. And it’s that I’m going to stay here. It’s over. Besides, I’m a danger to everybody, I’m turning into a code. I know now that I’m not the only one but at least it’ll be one less, right? It’s the desperation of not being able to do anything against the Federation. They always get away with it, man. They always get what they want. I don’t- I don’t know why I’m even still walking. … They’ve taken my bomb and stolen my idea and now they’re exploding it. They don’t care. At least, we found a way to escape. (Timer runs out)

cc!Maxo: (Closes game) And like that is how he dies. “Are you coming back as a ghost?” As of right now I am not thinking about returning as a ghost. (Plays sad music) Rest in peace qMaxo. Rest in fucking peace. I did all I could chat. I did all I could. … If I had reached the boat I would not have gotten on. I think what I would’ve wanted is to reach the boat, say goodbye to everybody, and die. But I suppose due to the timer the bomb blew up before that could happen. … So I’ve died. That is how it goes. This was the only thing I could do that the Federation could really not control. Killing myself.

cc!Maxo: (When a chatter mentioned the people who didn’t reach the boat) Chat I only know that I’ve died, it’s what I wanted for my lore. That I would’ve stayed there with the atomic bomb. In a fantasy world like the QSMP, of course I could revive, finally turn into a code, or whatever but for the moment all I know is that I’m dead. And I don’t have anything else scripted, from this moment on I’m dead and thats final. Thats the reality, and thats why I’m not… happy because I will for sure miss the QSMP. But since I personally take roleplay very seriously, for me there is no going back. I am dead. I cannot return as cubito Maxo. I can return as a spirit that haunts Roier once in a while, periodically, I could, I could but qMaxo is dead. It’s sad, I’m not super happy because obviously I spent a really great time on QSMP but by my own lore, man, I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t handle returning to Quesadilla Island knowing I couldn’t do anything against the Federation. If I made a fucking atomic bomb and the boss of Purgatory goes and says, “Oh you have an atomic bomb? Okay. In fact, that’s a good idea. Let’s explode it, run to the boat, returning again to the island that you were in, because thats likely what will happen, and you’ll continue suffering.” I can’t do it anymore. I’ve lost Trump, my son, I’ve lost- I no longer trust people who can kill each other amongst themselves, by the lore.

cc!Maxo: The players themselves are super fun people and I’ve had a good time. What makes me feel shame is that, that I can’t roleplay with them anymore. To say it one way or another. Well, there could be things in the future the admins offer but as a player it makes me feel shame. Also, while it is true that recently I hadn’t been logging in a lot, the times I did I had a good time. I did a lot of cool things with these people.

cc!Maxo: I lost SOFIA, I lost.. everything. Everything that I’ve done, every idea that I had thought of for myself and others has been taken by the Federation. … I think that the Federation has so much control that is impossible to do anything against them. And everything you do against them they’ll use to further confuse the people. … For me I will no longer play [as qMaxo] because I am dead, that’s serious to me, I’ve decided my character has died in an explosion. Another thing is that I could occasionally log on as a spirit or something. If they allow me that then great! But if dying means not being able to play on the QSMP anymore then so be it. … This was necessary for the roleplay. … I didn’t die thinking, “Wow I found the answer.” I didn’t want to die because I found any type of answer. I died because of desperation. To say, look man I couldn’t find any answers.

Maxo mentioned it did leave him with a sour taste in his mouth that he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to everybody since he ran out of time. So a chatter suggested he does canonical pre recording goodbye video to everybody. He said he’d likely consider it and do it so that his character gets the chance to tell the other characters goodbye and that he’s gone.

Rest in peace qMaxo, the original founder of the Theory Bros, and someone who gave his all to escaping the island no matter the cost.

[katelynnwrites]

fortnight | felicitas rauch

warnings: angst, mentions of sex

word count: 573

summary: your time together with feli feels like only a pitiful fortnight now that she’s gone to north carolina

a/n: the fourth installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

it seems that time feels different ever since feli left for america.

you can’t blame her. no one here’s to blame. she wasn’t getting any playing time at wolfsburg and she was losing her spot on the national team.

she needed a change and that change included leaving you behind.

you hope she’s okay in north carolina. even though you sure as hell are not.

she’s not here in wolfsburg anymore but you can still feel her fleeting touches and kisses.

the defender used to gift you those, in the dark of night and behind closed doors.

during the day you were nothing more than her teammate but at night…at night you had her moaning your name.

you knew her intimately, just as she knew you.

for each and every time you had her crying out in pleasure, she repayed the favour equally well.

you were with the brunette for months and now as you look back on your time together, you realise it feels as short as a simple fortnight.

two weeks, fourteen days, three hundred thirty six hours.

her absence has felt impossibly longer.

for a while, drowning yourself in extra training sessions worked. it was like a miracle move-on drug.

it was everything you needed but oh so temporary.

your playing is missing its usual finesse and you are beginning to find it harder and harder to sleep.

tossing and turning becomes the new nightly activity.

one night it finally dawns on you.

somewhere along with using each other for sex, you fell in love with felicitas.

and now it’s ruining your life.

you touched her but it was only for a fortnight. she was yours, only for a fortnight.

it wasn’t enough.

seeing the former wolfsburg player in person again is a rarity but it does happen.

she’s managed to become a starter for germany once again and when your country plays her, she’s there.

you’re on the bench because it seems that unlike feli, whose career is soaring like it used to be, yours is slowly but surely falling apart.

the ghost of her touch haunts you relentlessly every second.

all of your wolfsburg teammates miss her and yet you can’t express how much you miss her. not if you want to keep the details of your less than platonic relationship private.

it hurts you more than you care to admit.

you don’t come on at all but you are not surprised.

what’s surprising is that the brunette approaches you after the match, sending a smile your way.

‘hey you. long time no see.’

‘yeah feli.’

you fidget a bit cause she looks impossibly good. she’s got new highlights in her hair and her cheeks have the prettiest blush.

she begins to say more but is distracted by something behind you.

or rather someone waving.

‘oh gosh sorry i hope you don’t mind us catching up another time. that’s my girlfriend and she must be here to surprise me because i didn’t know she was coming today.’

then she’s gone. again.

leaving you standing alone in shock. with an awfully nasty empty feeling in your chest.

desperately, you want to tell her, ‘i love you, it’s ruining my life.’

because it is the truth.

you love her. it’s ruining your life.

you touched her for what feels like a mere fortnight but now she’s no longer yours to touch and you don’t know how to deal with that.

[cryptic-bee]

This interaction with Sera gave me Thoughts and I'm subjecting you all to them smile

Didn't edit this much because I'm eepy and just wanted to get The Thoughts out quickly-

Lizzie and Jimmy have a chat in the After-Void

(pspsps you can now read Lizzie's POV here!!)

•

He's brought to a familiar sight, that vast emptiness after death, and normally he would scream at this point. Normally he would scream at the invisible eyes watching him, or he'd stomp out his frustration like an angry toddler, or he'd wail about his sorrows, but eventually he'd fall into a numbing silence. A silent embrace with the curse that haunted him. Normally, he would.

Because normally, he was the first one out.

But this time, he wasn't.

So when he's brought here, to this place he had screamed obscenities at till his voice was gone and lost Void knows how many tears into, he smiles. Jimmy smiles, then he laughs, and he jumps around and for the first time the feathers hanging from his back don't feel like heavy reminders of his downfall, so he let's them flap around behind him as he celebrates and he's not the first one out. He had done it! The curse was broken it wasn't, he hadn't died first, he-

He lets out a scream when someone coughs behind him.

Because he wasn't the first one out, which should have made the other presence obvious to him.

"Congrats!" She smiles, something that does little to mask the wave of emotions she'd been struck with. There's a fire burning in her eyes that gives her away. "You did it. Congratulations, Jimmy."

There's something familiar about it, about being the only two left in a world only they were a part of. A hand instinctually raises to his neck, expecting to feel the edge of gills, only to be met with tiny golden feathers.

"Lizzie-" His voice cracks, he clears his throat. Why was he tearing up? "I wasn't- I didn't mean to-"

"To what, gloat?" Lizzie laughs, but it's not his sister's her laugh. She waves him off. Her heart still burns for a revenge she'll never have. "I'd have done the same. I mean- 4 seasons? You should be celebrating!"

There's an awkward silence between them, thick and suffocating and suddenly he doesn't feel like celebrating anymore.

"I didn't-" He didn't what? He wasn't the one to kill her. (He was, then he couldn't be bothered to show up when she needed him).

But Lizzie, observant as ever, just took his hand - pulling it away from where he'd been digging his nails into the side of his neck. "It's okay, Jimmy. You made it. That's all that matters now, right?"

I didn't mean to lose you again, he wanted to say. And he's not sure why he wants to say that, because that life is foggy to him and he can't exactly pinpoint why he's acting like this and he just wants his sister back please. So instead he just nods, gently squeezing her hand.

"I didn't mean to make you a Red," He settles on.

Lizzie tilts her head, a small laugh. "How many times are you going to apologize for that?" And she knows, she knows that's not what he meant, but she'll let him believe whatever he needs to. "I already told you it was just a silly mist-"

"I missed you."

She pauses, and the fire no longer burns. She smiles, soft and loving and the same one she once had while making up bedtime stories for him, and pulls him down into a hug. It's hard to navigate, now that her little brother has wings instead of fins, but she manages.

A new presence enters as they pull away, stumbling till he trips to the invisible floor and shouting something about a...fence post? He stops, cuts himself off upon realizing where he was, and looks to the other two players. It stays silent for an uncomfortable amount of minutes.

"..we're really bad at this, aren't we?"

[pinselwurm]

at my gf’s request, i’m putting my Deadloch Killer Manifesto out there into the world just so i’ll stop giving her impromptu tedtalks about it in our kitchen.  and so i can say “told u so.” written after episode 6 of 8 has aired.  i came to my conclusion after watching episode 5, then turning around and rewatching all 5 episodes again to confirm.  episode 6 then further confirmed by hitting me in the face with the story’s theme with no subtlety.

deadloch is a good show, with good writing, and good writing leaves breadcrumbs.  not necessarily clue breadcrumbs, but theme and style breadcrumbs.  pulling any ol’ person out at the end as the murderer is shitty, you’ve got to make it a satisfying realization.

so to start with, other than murder, what is our story actually about?

obviously major spoilers and the potential to ruin your viewing experience by taking away your own “aha” moment when IF i am correct:

what is deadloch about?  certainly social strife, all the (misogyny, classism, racism, homophobia, colonialism) -isms that make people hate and resent each other, but the reason these characters are so interesting put together in the small town is because they are each two people at once, the person they were and the person they are or are in the process of becoming.  they are haunted by the shadows of their former selves in deadloch, a town too small to properly hide in.

if you remember the very, very first seconds of the pilot we see a sign on a road at dawn: Deadloch.  Population 2406.  Home of the Winter Feastival.  Reinvent Yourself.

REINVENT YOURSELF.  The key to the entire story right at the start.

the dynasty women of deadloch who reinvented themselves are all the big players in town, the successful residents.  margaret reinvented herself as a business woman and artisan after her husband’s death freed her from just being a wealthy wife going along with his plans.  skye reinvented herself by escaping deadloch, being out as a lesbian, and gaining culinary skills that made her valuable to blossoming business in deadloch.  vic started her bakery after her husband’s death, no longer just a publican’s wife, she’s got her own business.  mayor rahme, clearly an overachiever, decided being a doctor wasn’t enough so she’s run for office and spearheaded local development herself.  cath retrained from a lawyer to vet.  dulcie nuked her career to get over her cheating past.  dulcie is now in the process of reinventing herself again as the woman who needs to be a leader and can’t deny she’s not satisfied anymore.  abby redirected her life to suit her terrible boyfriend and is now seeing that she’s worth more.  eddie is becoming another person, letting herself let go of her own anger at herself.  fuck, even ray pies reinvented himself from try-hard to sincere.

most of the deadloch men, however, are not reinventing themselves even a little bit.  no improvement, just endless bitterness at the women who are surpassing them.  no class betrayal or individualism from the boy’s club.

so who among our leading suspect ladies did not explicitly reinvent herself onscreen or is not in the process of doing so?

sharelle and vanessa

sharelle is immediately discounted because, quite simply, she can’t be fucked to do much of anything that she doesn’t have to do to survive, much less dramatic murder.  she’s a stressed, low-wage mom with little support system and she’s not amused by the theatrics of everyone else.

that leaves vanessa, who the story made you discount immediately as an air-headed idiot.

vanessa, dismissed by the police as a mess too dumb to pull off the murders.

vanessa, who’s been completely unsupervised and free to do as she pleases since trent died.

vanessa, who’s been present for almost every body discovery with her hysterical screaming.

vanessa, who’s been with all recent victims the nights before their deaths.

vanessa, who lied about the tuna mornay.

vanessa, who’s inserted herself in the narrative again and again.

vanessa, who LOVES a big dramatic moment and being the center of attention.

vanessa, a good christian woman.

vanessa, who i bet anything, as a good deadloch dynasty girl, knows the tides and boats and clearly has the physical strength to move bodies.

vanessa, trapped as her high school beauty queen self forever to the other residents of deadloch. 

vanessa, not truly accepted by the boy’s club, not given recognition by her female peers.

vanessa, repressed and full of rage.

no job, no real identity, no accomplishments.

god, she must have been just dying to self-actualize.  reinvent herself.  take control, prove she’s smart and sneaky and powerful.  serial killers want everyone to know how smart they are, don’t they?

if you’d spent decades with the boy’s club, playing along, listening to what they said to you, you’d cut out their tongues too.  she has plenty motive.

she’s lived for decades as the good feminine girl gravitating to “strong” masculine men.  but she’s got a goddess complex and takes out men who break the contract, ruin the fucked-up gender role dance with their boorishness.  punishes men who fail to give her what she wants from them (they never will).

i said earlier that i loved this show because only lesbians could write something that appealed to fellow lesbians so much.  “dumb” small town beauty queen snaps and murders all the men that have been disgusting to her, casting final judgement on them, reinvents herself as a goddess of death?  fuck, i’d write that story myself.

what did eddie say in the first episode? “you obviously need a refresher in homicide, mate, it’s always the family.”

deadloch’s misogynistic pressure cooker created a monster, and that monster is nessie. 

(now, there could be a ladies gang doing murders but i think it’s going to play out like this: margaret is doing something stupid and racist for the sake of her money and land but she definitely not a team player so she’s out of any potential murder club.  for skye and vic: i think eddie was right in the beginning, there’s a drug ring in deadloch....run by vic and skye.  but they’re not murdering.  nobody else is doing crime.  yet.)

[jakespeed207]

Honoring a Memory of Red

Inside Vacuo's Shade Academy, teams R_BY and _NOR were headed towards one of the lower wings of the building, where there was housed a small theater.

Yang: Y'know, considering how rough this whole academy is, i didn't expect them to have something like a theater.

Oscar: it was an idea Oz had when the headmasters were deciding what courses and additions to add to the curriculums. He said that the words of an old friend inspired him to add a theater to every school.

Blake: what were those words?

Oscar: "Combat, teaching, business, engineering; these are noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life... But poetry, beauty, romance, love; these are what we stay alive for..."

Everyone stopped for a moment, each one touched by the simple and truthful words.

Ren: that is a beautiful sentiment...

Blake: And very true to our world.

Ruby: Come on, we're almost there.

As they approached the theater, they began to hear the sounds of a piano coming from inside, as well as a familiar voice singing a slow and lovingly haunting melody they hadn't heard before.

Some people fall in love for life...

Others never get it right...

As soon as Ruby pressed the doors open, the voice stopped, though the piano continued for a little longer. Looking down to the stage, the group could see a large performance piano on it, around which were Jaune and Weiss. The white-haired girl was leaning against the front of the piano, while the blond boy was sitting on the player' bench, his hands missing their protective gloves and his fingers ghosting over the ivory keys.

Weiss: hello everyone, thanks for coming so quickly.

Ruby: what's up, Weiss? Were you singing just now?

Weiss: yes, that's partially why we called you here.

Nora: what's going on, guys?

Weiss and Jaune looked at each other for a moment, and Weiss nodded in his direction. Jaune sighed.

Jaune: I got a letter from Saphron a little while ago. She said she sent it almost as soon as she saw the broadcast we sent out in Atlas. In it, she added a second letter from someone else that she said was left at her doorstep.

He picked up the letter from where it was laying on the piano, showing them it was neatly written and looked like a poem.

Yang: Who was it from?

Jaune: this... was written by Pyrrha.

Dead silence met his statement.

Nora: H-how do you know?

Jaune: Because Saphron said that the letter she received said it was meant for "Jaune Arc... the best leader and partner..."

Everyone's eyes started to water at that, none more so than Jaune's. Ren and Nora walked up to the blond, placing hands on each of his arms, and he dragged them in for a hug, one that the others joined a moment later. Once they separated, Jaune continued.

Jaune: reading it hurt like nothing else, but when i did, it almost felt to me like a song, and it made me want to make it a reality. So, i asked Weiss for a little favor.

Weiss: I'm still honored that you asked me to do so.

Jaune: Who else could it be?

The other stared as Jaune and Weiss looked at each other with soft smiles, their eyes saying far more than maybe even they knew.

Weiss: and so, we wanted to share it with everyone, and honor the poem properly.

As the group started to take seats, one person couldn't hold their curiosity.

Ruby: Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Ruby: When did you learn to play a piano?

Jaune: just last week, actually. I only know the basics, but Weiss' voice makes even the basics sound heavenly.

Weiss, lightly blushing: oh stop...

Yang and Blake looked at each other knowingly, then turned to a giggling Nora and caught her knowing eye as well.

Nora, in a stage whisper: well, the Ice Queen seems to like it~

Weiss chose to ignore that, clearing her throat to begin the her performance. With a lulling intro by Jaune at the piano, she began:

[canmom]

Animation Night 150: INU-OH

Hello everyone! Tonight we celebrate ✨Animation Night 150✨. I never imagined I would still be running without pause for that long. In a few weeks it will be our third anniversary. They still haven’t banned me!

Tonight our subject will be Masaaki Yuasa, one of the most brilliantly inventive directors in the whole medium. Yuasa was the very first director I wrote about on here on Animation Night 12, and once again on Animation Night 28, which between them gave a pretty good survey of his works - works such as Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!, Devilman Crybaby, Kaiba, and Night Is Short Walk On Girl to name a few favourites. However, since then he’s gone and released another movie! Inu-Oh spent a long time touring the festivals, and then a while longer going around cinemas. I wrote this at the time I saw it...

If you haven’t seen this movie yet, seriously you gotta - Masaaki Yuasa totally outdid himself, the choreography and flow if it is just incredible and the whole concept (a biwa hōshi and the cursed mutant son of a noh performer invent glam rock to tell the story of fallen Heike soldiers) is both so out there I struggle to imagine how they came up with it, and yet a perfect evolution of the themes Yuasa explored in his films so far.

So… I was completely spellbound the whole time, it’s one of those films that really rekindles the firey love for animation after days of drawing tiedowns lol. The ideas for movement, the creative shot choices, the solidity and weight of the animation, the visual motifs, the music behind the animation… gaahh you guys it’s such a good movie that ties together so well. So glad to finally get the chance to see it. And you can trust that the very minute it becomes available on blu-ray, or at least the very week, I’ll be screening it on Animation Night.

Well, that day has come! I’ve got the movie and I’m gonna show it to ya.

So what’s this all about?

Perhaps you remember when we watched Naoko Yamada’s brilliant adaptation of the Heike Monogatari. This is the story of how the Taira or Heike clan, who once effectively ruled Japan back in the artistic and peaceful Heian period (literally ‘peace period’!) of 794-1185, got too ambitious and were annihilated by their rival Minamoto clan in what would later be called the Genpei War, bringing an end to the period of peace, and putting the samurai and their shogunate in ascendance.

You don’t need to know much more than that to follow Inu-Oh, which is set in the years after the fall of the Heike. The story was transmitted forward through history by the biwa hōshi, blind biwa-playing itinerant monks who would go about singing stories.

However, Inu-Oh isn’t really about strict adherence to actual history, as you’ll see! The premise is essentially that a radical young biwa player Tomoaru, blinded as a child by an ill-fated attempt to fish up the sword Kusanagi, encounters the mutant son of a noh troupe, who is haunted by the ghosts of the Heike soldiers who perished in the war. The effect of this haunting is to give him a strange body with long, distended limbs; he takes on the name ‘Inu-oh’ meaning ‘King of Dogs’. Inu-oh’s father rejected him, leaving him an outcast, but in Tomoaru he finds another outcast who doesn’t give a shit how he looks.

Our two boys quickly become best bros and driven by the ghosts’ call to tell their stories, invent biwa-based glam rock, creating a sensation as they sing untold stories with elaborate, pyrotechnic-laden preformances of songs such as ‘Burial Mound of Arms’... but in so doing, fall afoul of the new shogunate, as Inu-Oh’s father cannot stand to gain a rival in his rejected son.

Inu-oh is full of some of the most inventive and charming animation of music performances I’ve ever seen. I struggle to imagine how they came up with the ideas that drive this film. It feels like it’s constantly in spellbinding motion. The rougher lines and more detailed designs are a departure from the Flash style that Yuasa’s later films mostly used, much more like the ones in Heike Monogatari, but the young international animators at Science Saru pull it off incredibly.

There’s been much discussion of how to interpret Inu-Oh. Is it about Yuasa himself and his weird career? Is it about the struggles of art in general? There’s a nice review of it over on fufuro; for now I will just say that it reminded me why I love animation. (Also it’s gay as hell. Y’know. Just putting that out there.)

Along side this, I’m going to be bringing back a Yuasa work that I feel like we gave an unfair shake back in the day - MInd Game, animated at Madhouse in 2004 at the very beginning of Yuasa’s rise. Known for its incredibly varied and experimental animation, Mind Game follows a man who fails to intervene against an attempted rape and dies, but after a brief meeting with God, drags himself back to life and begins a surreal journey as he flees from the yakuza. Much of the film takes place inside a whale, where they meet an old yakuza who has lived there for decades, following how the characters and their relationships evolve (which is to say they go fucking nuts) - before an absolutely batshit final sequence as they attempt to make their mistake.

Mind Game notally marks the beginning of the collaboration between Yuasa and the brilliant Shinya Ohira, who provided some of his warping, expressionist rough pencils. It’s got a lot of naked people being flung around, wild smears, bright colours. The simplified designs allow the animation to be all the more creative. It’s hard to find anything to compare it with, really! Mind Game doesn’t feel like a Madhouse work. It only somewhat resembles Yuasa’s later works. If anything it feels like something you’d find on Catsuka at 2am. 

So I think it’s about time I revisited it!

I’ve learned a great deal more about animation and its history since I wrote about Yuasa before, and later I’d like to write a more substantial account of his works. But right now, it’s about time we started! Animation Night 150(!) will be going live now at twitch.tv/canmom, with movies due to start in about 15 minutes - I’d love to see you there to see what is probably my favourite movie of 2022! (even though it strictly came out in 2021). see you soon~

[seat-safety-switch]

We’ve all had our embarrassing moments in the past. That crush which didn’t work out. Forgetting to wear pants to a big party. Eating your fellow soccer players when your plane crashes in the mountains. All normal, everyday traumas that haunt us for the rest of our days, long after the other folks involved have forgotten all about it. I wasn’t so lucky. You see, they let me run Dodge for a few weeks.

Now, I’m aware that “Dodge” the entity is only one small part of the amorphous and indescribable entity known as Stellantis. Maybe that’s why I was the only applicant to the job. The interview went pretty well, except for the part where I got nervous and complimented them on their work on the Camaro. That wasn’t the embarrassing part.

No, the embarrassment came later. You see, Dodge in the current era is famous for one thing: shoving a lot of horsepower into a 25-year-old taxi chassis that another automaker didn’t want. Seeing the opportunity to become innovators and legends, they instead chose to retread the V8 horsepower wars of the 1960s and early 1970s, hoping that this time things would be different. For instance, they learned to target the customers with money, instead of broke teens who occasionally powerslid their 185-horsepower muscle car through a Dairy Queen. In conclusion, the Dodge formula is simple: big V8, lots of power, sell it to retirees and newly-enlisted soldiers.

Once I got in, though, I screwed things up a little. Sure, there were the first few days of finding my office (it’s the big scary one at the top of the building,) redecorating said office (more skulls, flames,) and figuring out what my secretary’s name is (Hector, I decided.) After that, it was time to make some very poor decisions indeed, as was my right as president of a major American automotive corporation.

Folks, let me tell you. Even though the average person on the street cannot figure out if 3/16″ or 1/4″ is bigger, they sure can tell if you turn their V8 into a twin-turbocharged inline-six. There were a lot of ramifications outside of the immediate consumer rage, too. For one thing, the aftermarket auto parts industry collapsed because they no longer got to sell two sets of valve cover gaskets. Look, I did what I could. Our 20-year-old chassis was getting very long in the tooth, so I called up Nissan and asked them if I could pretty-please have a couple of leftover Skyline GT-R dies. They were happy to get a new Patreon supporter, and I was happy to introduce the next ancient chassis that we would ruin for the next twenty years.

Now that I’ve been kicked out, and things are back to normal over at Dodge Towers, I don’t regret my choices. Sure, the automotive enthusiast media takes pictures of me whenever I leave my house, and occasionally spontaneous protests will form when I go down to the neighbourhood Denny’s, but I don’t care. I made sure to negotiate exactly one (1) broken-ass old Skyline as my severance package. They’ll come around to my way of thinking eventually.

[yakkyrwhackr]

Imma be so fr, I am insanely tired of the Mimic vs. Afton debates. I'm settling this once and for all. Buckle up, as this will be a pretty beefy post.

In regards to Burntrap, it's Mimic. There's no other viable explanation anymore. At SB's launch, Burntrap was very much intended to be Afton, but that is not the case anymore. I am aware that Burntrap and Mimic have very different designs, but need I remind you this series is plagued by design inconsistentcies? Scraptrap is supposed to be the same suit as Springtrap. Scrap Baby has a completely different hair structure, despite her seemingly using a broken version of her original mask. Molten Freddy doesn't have legs despite Ennard having them. You need to realize that just because characters look different, doesn't mean they aren't the same. But most importantly when it comes to Burntrap, it no longer makes sense for it to be Afton. We know many things about Afton, but most importantly we know he's egotistical. He's grandiose. Tell me, why would Afton just disappear after accomplishing the feat of escaping hell itself? He would absolutely move on to his next big plan. He's not seen in RUIN. In fact, Mimic is right where Burntrap used to be. You're telling me Mimic just showed up exactly where Afton was and suddenly Afton is gone? Did Mimic kill him off screen or something?

Afton is not Glitchtrap, either. It's still Mimic. We know from SB and the questionably canon emails of FNAF AR that Glitchtrap took control of the whole Fazbear Network when scanned in. Why would William not be immediately exploiting this? No, Glitchtrap exploits it, but he does it more slowly. More methodically. Glitchtrap doesn't act like Afton either. It's got a the bragging Afton, but it goes a bit overboard. It dances and prances and waves. Not to mention Glitchtrap wears a more mascoty costume as opposed to a springlock suit, just like Mimic.

"Ohhh! but they scanned Scraptrap's circuit boards for Help Wanted, Yakkyr! Ohhhh!" Wrong. I recently replayed Help Wanted, and all Tape Girl says is that the boards were old. The boards are also specified to save on programming costs. You know what character is old, able to mimic performances, and happened to recently come into Fazbear Entertainment's possession? The Mimic. Not to mention, Glitchtrap specifically latches onto Tape Girl's AUDIO LOG FILES. Halfway through the tapes, Tape Girl completely flips her script and leads the player right to Glitchtrap. And I know it's mimicking her voice because if it had already possessed her, it wouldn't need Vanessa.

And finally, if it IS Afton, why is he the only one who survived the fire? The Blob/Tangle isn't Molten Freddy. It's probably made up of his remains, sure, but it's not really him. Notice how mindless and rabid Tangle is. It Acts more like a creature infected with agony. It may have Molten Freddy's Agony, but the souls within Molten Freddy have been laid to rest. Michael and Henry are dead. Charlie is at rest. (Be thankful I'm not going on a tangent about how stupid the theory of Charlie haunting the Pizzaplex is. I'm keeping this on track.) It would make no sense for Afton to be the only one alive.

And if they DID scan Afton's circuit board, all the board would have would be Agony, which means Glitchtrap wouldn't really be him. Agony can bring things to life, but it doesn't cause true possession. There is physically no way for Afton to come back whatsoever. And if they actually DID scan the circuits of old animatronics, why didn't anyone else come back? Why don't we have a Circus Baby Glitchtrap or a Puppet Glitchtrap? It makes no sense

You all need to accept that Afton is dead. He's gone. It's Mimic now. Get over it.

Mimicsweep.

[cerise-on-top]

I thabk you for doing my request and I love it . Now I have to more ideas for request, you can choose either to do one or both of them I am fine either ways . This ideas are mostly like platonic

1) ok I don't know if you know the OFF fangame called continue/rise/stop or take request of fangames of OFF but I will just leave the idea anyways. Well in the game the player left the batter after turning off the switch but not intensionally it was just out of their control . They just simply wake up at a kind lady house and her named Celeste house , they don't remember much about what happened so she them stay at her place and work at shop . A few days past and someone new came was a familiar looking duck but he left before you could ask him ....more minutes later and the door burst open .

The duck return but this time with a ghost and lastly batter. They remember batter obviously and was happy to see them . The other two were obviously sad even though the ghost didn't admit it. Batter then explain that they are ghost batter and bad batters , the 4 of them went on an adventure and the boys got attached to the player thinking them as a younger siblings so if anyone dares to upset them then they will get purified (some of the elsens are extremely rude)

2) XD ok this one is mostly a silly idea. The player finished the game and they wake up back to their world. Of course they thought it was a dream until they saw ghost batter was Infront of them . They thought they were hallucinating but believe it when batter pinched/lightly punch them . Then after a few more days it was summer time and it was really hot they wishes they had something to cool down until they got an idea and just hugs batter since his body is cold as ice XD

YOU! I HAVE PLAYED C/S/R AND I LOVED IT! I never would have thought I'd get a request for that game, so this makes me so incredibly excited! Ghost was my favourite character out of them all too! I never would have thought I'd end up liking him this much!!!

Reader Hugging Ghost Batter to Cool Down

Notes: A lot of cussing

A world where heaven itself was corrupted with the idea of making a paradise on earth itself, where horrid creatures would attempt to take over once again, where its fate was placed upon the hands of four heroes, three who were one, and one to accompany all three. The hardships that were suffered amplified by a strained bond haunting two brothers. And yet, despite all that, it was a world not beyond saving. For even when you faded away, saying your goodbyes with tears in your eyes, you could leave knowing others would finally live again and not merely survive.

Yet, was any of it truly real? That dream, two adventures where you were the saviour with your companions, it was not the first of its kind. Those dreams would occur every once in a blue moon. Lying in your bed you stared at your ceiling, a vain attempt at making sense of what had happened. All the memories you’ve made, the good and bad ones, left an aching hole in your chest. Such was the nature of a dream, it had the power to leave you with the bitter aftertaste of a world you could no longer return to. Turning to your side, you took your phone in your hand, wanting to check the time.

“Fucking finally, you woke up. You got any godforsaken idea how long I fucking waited for your tired ass to wake up?!”

Giving your attention to that familiar voice immediately, you were met with black, empty eye sockets. A white, floating being, crossing its detached arms over where its chest may have been, it very much resembled a ghost. For a moment, you simply stared at the being, gears turning as to who it reminded you of. “Oi, are you still prancing around in that shitty heaven? I have no goddamn clue whatsoever where the fuck I am and I need your fucking help to figure things out.” Could it have been…?

“Ghost Batter? Is that you?”

Huffing, he got closer to you, sitting down on your bed, his tail wagging as he approached. “Which other cocksucking asshole would I be?”

Well, this did not seem very realistic at all. Although it was possible to dream about people you have not met yet, it was highly unlikely you would dream of something inhuman, much less a ghost. Therefore, you deducted this was another dream of yours, even if the setting would suggest otherwise. Then again, perhaps this was a dream of the non-lucid kind. The mere thought of this was ironic. Nevertheless, you sighed. “Is this another part of my imagination again? Am I still asleep?”

Ghost Batter leaned closer towards you and you could feel the air growing a bit more chilly. “Again? You saved one shitfeeding world and decimated another cockbusting one! You’re as awake as it gets, you sad fuckgoblin!” Lightly, he hit you over the head, the sudden cold making you inhale sharply. All things considered, he was corporeal enough, making you wonder just what exactly happened. You had never seen a real ghost in your world before, after all.

Strange as it may have been, you had to admit, having his company was nice. The profanity aside, it was pleasant to have someone familiar at your side, who you went through thick and thin with, a reminder, that your journey was not in vain and wasn’t going to be forgotten either. Still, it did leave you wondering what had happened to Batter and Bad Batter. Uncertainty may have been creeping up in your mind, but that worry was not welcome, if anything, you should consider potentially meeting them again as well.

But it wasn’t that thought, which was killing you as of right now. While you had been preoccupied with your new roommate, summer had left its blessed curses upon these lands. The heat had you sweating bullets, with every move being an unbearable necessity. Even your popsicle was only a temporary relief. Glancing at Ghost Batter, he did not seem to mind the high temperature whatsoever, sitting on the couch and reading a comic. Jealousy was a disease and you were haunted by its fever.

Once the cold sweetness had melted entirely in your mouth, you put the wooden stick on top of its wrapper, already yearning for an alternative. Again, you looked over to your former companion. Certainly, he would put the “ghost” in “Ghost Batter”, right? Spirits of the dead, that would no longer produce any sort of warmth. Some might even say the air freezes around them. It was worth a try: At best you’ll cool down, at worst you’ll get cussed out.

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him closer to your body. The effect was instantaneous. He truly was cool to the touch. But your action was met with light resistance. “The fuck are you doing??”

Still, you refused to release him, no matter what, putting your head on his shoulder instead, making sure your forehead touched his neck. “I’m hot, you’re cold. Stop moving.”

Looking you in the eyes, he was unamused. “Do I look like a fucking ice cube to you?”

“No, but you feel like one. Plus you’re not doing anything anyway. A hug wouldn’t kill you, but the heat will kill me.”

Despite uttering more of his creative curses, he complied, leaving you holding onto him until the night had come with a slightly more bearable temperature like a koala. This was to be an endless cycle, only broken by the salvation of autumn and winter, where you were to complain about him planning to freeze you to death every time he was in your close proximity.

[aquilacalvitium]

Strauss

Last year, I had a haunting dream about an abandoned house. I don’t remember much apart from an old woman with atrophy, a man who died at sea, cluttered and ruined rooms and an overgrown garden.

The day I had the dream, I started to write out what few words I remembered into a poem, and it’s been gathering dust ever since. Tonight, I finally reopened that old draft and finished it.

Be aware, I’m not a poetry fan so I don’t have much practise at all. I normally wouldn’t touch poetry with a ten foot pole, but my dream really inspired me. It’s pretty short.

Content warnings for death at sea, suicide and abandoned buildings

An old abandoned garden. An old abandoned house.

A long-forgotten tale, of the family once named Strauss.

The tragic deaths that befell them, few souls have yet to hear,

For it is impolite to share gossip, about those who are stood near.

The door hangs off it’s hinges, the carpet seeps with mould,

Once you step inside the hallway, the air becomes quite cold.

The walls are cracked, the windows bare, there’s clutter in every room,

The few looters that dared set food inside, soon found it became their tomb.

“Who are you?” Asked the ghost, “you are not welcome here,”

“I’m sorry sir,” said I, “I mean no harm so do not fear.

I am here as an observer, to see the fates of those long gone,

I am here to tell their stories, to see that they move on.”

Mister Harold Strauss, he met a tragic fate indeed,

shot down in a duel with his brother, on the ground he was left to bleed.

Little Missus Paula, wife of the man shot dead,

saw no more reason to go on, from a rope she hangs by the head.

Poor Aunt Owen, she sits by the fire, for she was stricken with atrophy,

Was caught by the flames of the warming hearth thanks to the pain in her sewing knee.

Uncle Sergeant Fredrick, feared no storm nor wind nor wave,

His body never found nor buried, for the brine became his grave.

A single room stands empty, awaiting souls that were never born,

Missus Strauss spent days on clothes, that still await to be worn.

The record player stands still, no music played in years,

but faint songs may be heard, if you stand and strain your ears.

Be careful as you walk, dear visitors, through this old and dusty house,

The many items that remain here still belong to the family Strauss.

Mister Harold’s pipe and Missus Paula’s vase may be covered in layers of grime,

but in this place, holding a thing that’s not yours is considered a terrible crime.

The garden is our final stop, the weeds grow wild and free,

the crops are destroyed, the greenhouse in ruin, dead vines choke the sycamore tree.

The fence still stands in places, though most beams have long since rot,

Feet no longer walk these paths, and the dirt trails have been forgot.

O’ old forgotten home that lies in ruin undisturbed,

no bark of dog nor call of crow has near this place been heard.

The dwellers have now left this plot, leaving just an empty house,

no soul will ever again hear of the tragic tale of Strauss.

[ashe-delta]

I Hate Losing

My Bloodied History with the Card Game Genre

I’ve got a weird history with card games. I feel like they go against everything I stand for when it comes to game design, and for the longest time I didn’t get why people couldn’t see what I was seeing. The skill curve was drastic, there was too much reliance on RNG, and the genre is actively demanding in an almost pay to win sort of way. Yet here I am, still thinking about them. What happened?

(This is a long rant post about my history with card games and my opinions on the genre. All opinions are my own and shouldn’t be taken seriously. Forgive the weird pacing and focusing on things for too long, I’ve got a lot to say after all.)

I don’t think it’s a secret I’m a stupid nerd. Ever since I was a toddler I was playing video games (shout out to Yoshi’s Story), and I’ve been watching anime since I was around 12 (and earlier, whatever my dad was watching at the time). So, I would eventually run into the card game fandom eventually, as being a nerd typically will cause you to do.

And that I did, but it was always a dud to me, mostly due to the barrier of entry. I did collect cards, but never actually played any games with them. That was, until Hearthstone, which was the first time playing a card game was really accessible to me. And it was... okay. I didn’t spend any money and didn’t play a lot, so I was always underpowered, and eventually I was forced to play Hunter for any chance of winning, so I stopped playing.

I’d come back to it every once in a while, some periods of time longer than others. I played C’thun Warrior and Deathknight Hunter when those existed. But when the meta shifted, I’d just start losing because I didn’t get the cards I needed. So I moved on. 

My main frustrations were that it felt like I was always fighting an uphill battle. I had to memorize hundreds of cards, play around all of them, and learn how to fight against things correctly in a timely manner. The skill curve was needless to say intense. Plus, with having to get my cards randomly, and having some decks randomly just not work due to shit draw, it just wasn’t fun to me.

After Hearthstone, I bounced around a bit to other card games when they’d come out - I’d play MtG Arena, and while it was okay, it felt like I could do nothing when the opponent had an answer to everything. Then I’d try LoR, and it was that but SIGNIFICANTLY worse.

So, I mostly wrote myself as someone who can’t play them and doesn’t like them. My problems with the genre were valid criticisms, but at the end of the day it was obvious I didn’t like them.

...and yet. That albatross still remained. ALL of my friends love this genre. It’s like... the genre to like a nerd. How the hell do I not like it?

This haunted me. I’d keep trying card games over and over but to no avail. I’m already someone who can’t handle losing well (something I’ve gotten SIGNIFICANLY better at in the past 2 years, but still comes back to bite me sometimes), but having the tutorial be “lose until you get it” was maddening.

The genre was failing me. I was it’s target audience and it still couldn’t teach me it’s ways.

Even now, I don’t think that’s an insane take. Every game within the genre forgoes the new player experience in favor of getting those who know the genre already and it’s nuances. If you want to get into the club, you’ll have to work for it.

My philosophy of game design is that a skill curve should ease a player into the experience. If you just drop them in, it won’t be fun for anyone. In that regard, the game’s were doing the exact opposite of what I considered good design. To me, it’s as if you made Champion’s Road the first level of 3D World. That’s insanity!

...and even still. That albatross still remained. I was right about design. Yet, I’m still missing something. What the hell was going on?

I recognized that card games could be well designed, but without being able to play them without being miserable, it was mostly empty observations, with a tinge of spite from how the games wronged me. Yes, these games should be criticized for their skill curve and terrible payment model, but there’s so much more it, isn’t there? So what am I missing? What could be so glaringly obvious that it’s causing me to just not get it? Was I really that ignorant?

Enter... Marvel Snap.

Marvel Snap is what I would call a card game for people who don’t like card games. It lasted only 6 turns, had no health between players, and decks only had 12 cards, meaning you’d see 80% of your deck in every game. It’s the most consistent card game on the market. Or at least it would be, if it wasn’t for the locations.

Locations are a teaching tool. They teach you to play around randomness. They teach capitalizing on mistakes. They teach playing from behind. They teach sandbagging. They teach planning ahead. They teach you card game bullshit.

The final thing Marvel Snap taught you was that losing was not only okay, but actively required. It was turned into a skill test - do you surrender early, before the opponent snaps and makes you lose double the amount? Or do you stick it out? Losing was part of the game.

Marvel Snap takes all of the card game jank and BS and threw it into a very specific, readable teaching tool. The tutorial is also pretty decent, making you face off against fairly competent bots until around bronze-silver rank, but the locations are the real teaching tool. All the things you’d need to learn for other cards games are all put into one spot for you to think about instead of needing to balance 50 different things in your head.

However, it’s teachings don’t stop there. Because it’s a safe place to learn, lose, and try again, it teaches you card game mechanics from other games, too. You get used to the randomness of Magic the Gathering, and getting land locked. Sometimes you just draw bad, and it happens, and you move on (or retreat). You start having plan Bs if something goes wrong, because the game isn’t over just because you got wiped. You plan ahead yourself and know how you’re spend your turns.

Marvel Snap isn’t just a card game for people who don’t like card games. It’s a card game for those who want to learn card games.

...yet just one more piece of the puzzle was missing. I boot up MtG Arena to learn the game again, excited that I might enjoy a card game again, and then...

Nothing.

It’s the same as before. Less frustrated before, with the lessons I’ve learned, but it felt empty. The game was definitely more fun, but something about it was still super overwhelming and that uphill battle feeling was back.

I thought that would be the end of it. I was hyped to play, but ultimately I would succumb to what I knew before: that the genre wasn’t for me. Then, a friend asked if I could play against them in Tabletop Simulator (as the cards would be free and wouldn’t have to use MtG Arena). I said yes, and they built me a deck to use since I had NO idea what cards were good, and got ready for a mediocre time.

Then, to my surprise, it was fun. A lot of fun, in fact.

Even when losing, just seeing the card game bullshit unfold in front of us was both hilarious and fun as hell to watch. I didn’t even care if I was losing. Well, maybe a little. But it didn’t matter. Even if I wasn’t winning someone else I cared about was, and seeing them get excited for their miracle paying off was just as rewarding as seeing my lucky draw win me the game.

A conclusion so stupid, so heartfelt, that it could make you cry. The secret thing I was missing in card games wasn’t the mechanics. It wasn’t the powerful cards. It was the community. The friends.

Every card game I’ve played was completely digital. I played maybe one or two rounds physically in my entire life, and they were never even finished, usually because we had something else to do. Losing online hurt because I didn’t even know the person. All I got for losing was watching my rank go down. Why would I like that?

But being with friends? And seeing that chaos? And struggling to fight back, even with my back to the wall surely to lose? It didn’t matter. It was just fun.

So, with the lessons of the best card game for non-card game players, and some very patient friends, I’m having fun with the genre I was destined to hate my whole life. I used to hate losing, especially as a kid. It was the worst feeling the world, having all that work be for nothing. But now?

I can’t wait to lose again.

[blueprint-poetry]

open letter to myself

Now we’re getting down to bedrock I pick up the stones and make an altar Cast myself on the fires Of all that came before

I bullied myself into a corner Now we come to the table to truce We stare each other down Tonight, I must admit It’s come back To haunt me

I see their faces, I hear the memories Joy turned to grief, in retrospect, Deceived

I’ve been trying, trying so hard To do all the things I ought Yes, I am so scared And no, I do not know How to never find ourselves there again And if that’s your condition for peace, Please come again with a game plan I just want to sleep And forget for the time being, But I’m putting the work in, Please see I’m putting the work in

The altars will stand as gravestones They’ll stand as testaments And maybe they’ll be all the reminder we need To sacrifice ourselves only in the name of the Holy And never again be bullied By their cop-outs Not a sacrifice we ought to make So here we are, rebuilding Their blows were knockouts I put you through the wall And you have chosen to come forward And try to restore the heart They stole from inside of me Rundown building framing A propped up, abandoned Condemned part of me

He’s pulling weeds from our nervous system It’s a root system That’s more viral Than toxicosis Running rampant

So listen, You remembered the words Remembered all the times Their friendship left a bitter taste Cause it always loved to say, Hey. You leaning in is so demanding. Hide all this. Ask nothing of me. That’s not what friends are for.

I wash my hands of it every night When I get home. I am trying so hard to come home To myself. We ran so far with a collapsing frame And nothing to show for it. And I will keep working to absolve me Where all their professions of love Refused to release me. I am not toxic, kid, I’m broken. There’s a difference. But we are not broken Like there’s something wrong with us, Unredemptive. That’s an empty threat from a coward’s heart, Two full chambers of liars And one packed with laziness, And a nice cozy little attic To self-soothe Any prick of conscience.

So listen. Keep your conscience fresh And connected, Softened and trembling, Searching. Do not sear my hand when I question now, How do we find a way out? Cause you know I died to get out, Removed the disdainful crowds from the atrium And all the players from the ring. But this arena is not empty. Truer faiths showed up Just as we were needing.

So what are we going to settle on tonight? You’ve got my peace in one hand, Hope by the other, I’m holding the grief in spades And a lot of choice words made I can’t seem to help it. Everything feels like A house of cards on the verge of collapse Like the spinal column they almost tapped Before the night we took our life back.

Every play on words is a round of choices made Over the long course of the matter Don’t go spinning words I’ve already mastered And just tell me, What do you want? Them back? Only if they change Their regard For you. Cause it’s been missing All the best parts Of you.

That’s my condition. We have to make peace, So here’s the altar once again. I built it in the wilderness When you felt like you were lost And I gave us this place to come to On our journey home To ourselves, And the garden He’s planning, Planting, Landscaping Down to the bedrock Will be breathtaking. Be not afraid of this bed we lay in, Our foundation will be renewed And we’re working with midnight oils And wicks flickering in desperate places But we have not been lost To the sight of the Anointed One Who has already led the way.

Let them play, let them muse, Let them lambast and assume We are being renewed And we are being transformed And while they drop off to sleep, Let us pray until the weeping Turns to blood running over Our hallowed heart, No longer hollowed out By irreverent hands And follow these footsteps on into The Promised Land.

–blueprint poetry

[lightsofcolor]

"a boy I once knew…back in 1972"

he was like my vision that I had when I was just a little girl

he had soft pretty blue eyes

and every time I looked into them

it made my heart sigh

he had a heart shaped face

strong cheek bones

and ruby red lips

when I was with him

it felt like my body had existed within my soul

and everything felt so right

so aligned

at the perfect time

he was mine

and I grew fonder of him as our time together went on

I watched him play guitar

I watched him write and sing songs

I was 25 and he was 28

he had beautiful, black curly hair

and a contagious smile

that radiated for miles

his favorite color was blue

we met in 1972

in the summer

the sixties had just ended 2 years prior

and I felt the weight of that

how the world was past that

and I thought about that beautiful actress

they found in Benedict canyon

dead at 26

how her family was coping with it

cuz as the world went on

her family couldn’t move on

too devastating

too much of a loss

and as I sat next to jimmy

I brought it all up

cuz we lived in California during the summer of love

now we were in upstate New York

I had only done LSD once

Jim told me it was sad and he told me her name

Sharon Tate

how could I forget

cuz we didn’t live far from the canyon

too much going on

too much happenin'

that fateful august night

that ended that beautiful actresses’s life

was a good night for me

we were at a hotel near Santa Monica beach

all of my girlfriends were there

summer was coming to an end

so we swam in the pool

and talked about life

and looked at the clouds go by

and how my bestest friend was hanging on by a thread

I started to cry

maybe I felt Sharon’s spirit leave her body that night

cuz we had all stayed up

tripping out on acid

and all the good stuff

like mdma and orange sunshine and purple rain

the next day

we slept in a haze

the cigarette smoke

I could almost choke

on words that I couldn’t express at all

it was 8:55

California time

the sun had just came up an hour and half ago

and the news blared loud

as I spoke to my mom on the telephone

little did I know

that beautiful actress would haunt me so

her picture flashing across the tv

burned a hole into my memory

flash forward to 1972

Jimmy and I were together

better than ever

but one night

on the 4th of July

in 1985

jimmy went out

said he’d be back by nine

I waited up all night

he disappeared into the soft moonlight

leaving traces of himself behind

when the sun came up

he was no longer mine

jimmy

never returning

always leaving

not his fault

cuz 4 days later

I got the call

they had found his white mustang

on a mountainside

he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt

he went crashing through the windshield

he died

I cried for years to come

I was alone and it’s like his ghost was following me

it’s like I could hear him quietly whispering to me

"I’m sorry baby…I'm sorry"

on and on

his record player that he loved would play his favorite songs

on its own

without me touching it

I left it alone

but to this day

I still have all the sad love songs he made

his guitar is with me

always staying close by

it’s been 15 years since the accident

and I still have yet to meet another man

who will capture my heart the way jimmy did

I won’t forget his sun kissed face in the hot summer air

or all the nights we tripped on LSD

making love passionately

he was my everything and now it’s a new life

I died 23 years after the night he died and never came back home

some say he was driving drunk

or some say someone hit him and made him fly off the highway

the night I took my final breaths

I could see jimmy in the distance

his arms opened wide

accepting me into the afterlife

it felt so good to be reunited with him

he was holding me and standing in front of me

we were surrounded by a bright white light

that was filled with so much love

a love that caused us to return

reincarnation

a second chance at a life with one another

without accidents or outside forces driving us away from each other

god told us on the other side that we were soulmates

and we were destined to always find each other in each life

miraculously we did find each other again

well I found him

and I’ll always be waiting like I did on that night on the 4th of July

[a-luran]

Yes - Spooky anon

This is very late, spooky anon, because i couldnae think of just one story. But I will tell you (without doxing myself) about he ghost that paced my hallway.

I moved into a tenement flat towards the end of the first lockdown. In a bit of a hurry, truthfully, because my student contract had lapsed and I was afraid that I'd have nowhere to go if I waited any longer. It is a good flat, with high ceilings and hardwood floors that saw better days some four decades ago and i have loved it as a home. My flatmate at the time spent a week here while she packed her life away to return home and the very night she left I heard someone pace up the hallway and step in front of my bedroom door. Even now there are nights where someone seems to push against the door; it creaks low and budges a little before the night settles again. My neighbours have asked me about the man living here with me before although for years now I have lived alone.

As for legends. Once, while some friends and I were wildcamping up in the Isles, something chased me across two fields. Something silent, too large to be a dog and quick enough to beat me past sheepgates and a narrow, deep trench. I only stopped running when I reached the stone ledge of the bothy we were taking advantage of to shelter against the howling wind and looked back to find nothing. Only the fields. Another man who was spending the night there had a dog with him, great big, golden thing, shaggy and friendly. It stood there alert, not tugging on his roped leash but held tense as far as it would stretch and it looked out with me for minutes like it had also heard or seen something out in the field. A day or so later I told my supervisor while we were out scouting a field for an archaeological survey. Cat-sìth he said, and laughed and we all laughed with him but I still think to myself sometimes that I have no explanation to why I felt fear like nothing i have felt before and why I bolted running across those fields, in the dark.

I came across a woman crying once, late one night on my way home. I went to find help but came back to find no trace of her. Late a night in the building where I work, more than once I've had to turn off the lights and lock off and heard doors shutting, windows ratling, desk chairs sliding across the floor. I keep my eyes on the ground when I walk down the stairs because once I could have sworn i could see someone leaning to look down from the bannisters of the seventh floor.

I've been on battlefields and training trenches, but I can't say I have seen or heard anything there. I've felt something strange by the canals near Bannockburn though, even in the daytime. Near rundown mills, and by roads and trails that are running out of favour. Nothing bad, just something still. Like being watched. I had a friend who worked in a pub in town with a haunted cellar and once a month I have a meetings in the upstairs of another pub with a broken down record player that still plays tunes by itself every other night. I have never seen anything so frightening here as the ghost stories I can tell you from my home town. Only quiet things, shadows sometimes. The kinds of ghost stories that feel worn and ordinary.

[deeeelightfuldee]

How many times a day do you talk on the phone with your significant other?: ummm when i was with Z we would talk on the phone 2-3x a day. when i felt it was peak with K, once every couple days.

Other than English, what was the last language spoken to you?: spanish probably.

What math level are you currently taking/did you last take in school?: frick i hated all math. i took a lot of stats.

Who was the last person to ask you for relationship advice?: uhhhmmm... sawyer.

Do you have a sleeping problem?: yes. several. 

Have you ever taken a survey with a friend, listing both answers?: back in the junior high days that was popular.

Where would you order your favorite burger from?: i have zero taste for burgers these days.

Who have you been hanging out with most often these days?: em 

Do you know a guy who has hair longer than yours?: I probably do. but no one im close to.

What color was the last cup you drank out of?: clear

If you’re in school, what do you do to fill in time between classes?: im not right now. 

Do you have friends in your classes? im not in any classes currently. 

When did you last encounter someone you disliked? lol via instagram a few nights ago.

Ever been to a real haunted house?: supposedly. 

Where was the last place you got lost?: uhhhhhmmmm probably like 2 years ago tryin to get to alixs lol

What windows are open on your desktop right now?: yikes. uhh tumblr/surveys, timeline, library, college stuff

When was the last time you had cheesecake?: K got it for me a couple months ago with a cheesecake factory order.

When you last shed tears, was it because of a person?: outside of allergies.. yes. it was over the loss of what i thought would be a lifelong friendship/relationship.

Which music artists were at the last concert you attended?: hmm. it was like a cover band but idk their name.

What was the last thing you discussed through text messages?: lol how to switch phones -.-

How many songs are on your iPod/MP3 player?: I don’t use an ipod/mp3 anymore i just use spotify.

Other than yours, whose house did you last fall asleep at?: my sisters.

Have you ever had a significant other whose parents didn’t like you?: yes. Josh’s mom did not like me because at the time she thought i wasn’t educated (this woman had never spoken to me directly) because i was not currently enrolled in college. not once did she use a brain cell to consider the fact that there could be reasons as to why i wasn’t (like how i was paying off considerable medical bills) nor did it occur to her that it was none of her business. but she was OBSESSED with josh. like creepy obsessed. wanted to know where he was at all times, how much money he had, what he ate, what he was wearing. she was just super over involved. he recognized it was a lot and was working on stopping their inappropriate behavior, but then he passed away.

What’s so unique about your computer?: right now it is literally peeling off the sides. i dont freaking understand why because i BABY this thing. i love it so much. but its getting painful to use if it isn’t protected by other surfaces. it keeps knicking and cutting my skin. 

How was life for you six months ago?: hm. i was at the start of a new relationship. so that was exciting. idk. it hasn’t been the best go of it lol

How much is gas in your area?: around 6 bucks which is obscene. absolutely obscene.

What’s something interesting you learned in the past week?: that a person i dislike was harassing me and my family, still living with my person, and is making a point to not leave.

Do you know what you plan to do for your next birthday?: in the planning stages. its my big bash this year and i want it to be memorable. i dont ask for much so i would like to have one good thing for this year.

Was the last book you read for fun or assignment related?: for fun.