#get myself fired in all likelihood

[choking-on-roses]

I think I'm going to quit my job in February regardless of if I get this new job or not.

[milkweedman]

ah, the ever-more-frequent Urge To Explode My Brain from unending migraines. a migraine that just lasts the day already sucks so bad. whole day is gone in a blur of pain and misery, right ? a migraine that lasts multiple days is sort of like if hell was real and you were in it. time has no meaning, only pain, etc.

months of migraines... with no break or end or effective treatment and also you still have to work and behave like a normal person because you cannot lie in bed for months not paying rent. well id describe it you but ive fucking lost the plot. its gone on so long and its so bad that when the migraine ISN'T at its peaking on the pain scale and making me feel like if i was hit by a truck that would be an improvement, i start to feel like my head is a vestigial organ that has been removed. cant access sensation in my head and it feels literally disconnected from my body. meanwhile the pain is still there (along with the brain fog, vertigo, nausea, etc) but it feels like its happening to somebody else.

[hanasnx]

" YOU DON'T SEEM TO LIKE IT WHEN WE TALK " — naoya zenin.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: dedicated to @dosiido. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ dom naoya ノ dubcon: coercion ノ sexual content ノ unprotected sex ノ arranged marriage ノ breeding ノ degradation: m + f receiving ノ objectification ノ size difference.

"It helps you're easier on the eyes." NAOYA ZENIN teases, nipping his teeth against the line of your jaw. You're frustrated, and he's exacerbating it deliberately with how leisured his ruts are. Dragging out this experience at a snail's pace, the anger flared in your chest reignites with each detail of his cock sliding against the sensitivity of your walls. Your lips press together, refusing to look him in the eye despite him chasing it.

"You're a pig." you spit. Unfortunately, he chuckles. It's dark, cold, triumphant. You jerk your head away as you feel his body heat near.

"I'd prefer it if you kept that mouth shut. Might get you into some trouble." he replies, and you huff at his threat. Even if it holds truth, you're sure any fate would be better than remaining his wife. He picks himself up on his knees, large hands splay under your hips to raise them from the mattress. "At least try to act like you want it. You're to carry my heir after all, is that not an honor?" he purrs, rubbing salt in the wound as lifts you against your will. Despite your resistance, he bottoms out, his grasp on you tightening to a painful degree—purposefully making you wince. His powerful body flexes with each movement, not a muscle out of place, yet it appears easy. Like you weigh nothing to him, he uses your hole like a fleshlight.

The lack of lube from your disinterest is not a deterrent for him, instead he winds his deft hips in a circle, lodging his dick all up in your sticky insides. It hurts.

You throw your hands down to the mattress at your sides, neck craned from the position he's chosen to put you in with your back fully arched off the bed and your ass in his hands. "Will you just get it over with, Zenin?"

"I'm enjoying myself, aren't you?" your husband's steady pace of ruts annoys you to no end because he's milking it. He's not even close to finishing, and the sooner he does the sooner this will be done, and he knows that. With Naoya, it's not good enough you're practically his property—and his future incubator—but you're entertainment, too. He weaponizes your distaste for him.

You sigh, clawing into the sheets as a way to curb your anger. If you show too much emotion, you know it'll end badly for you. "This is to serve a purpose. Consummate the marriage, make a kid. I don't want to do anything else." you explain, despite knowing the likelihood it'll bury you. "If you could just—"

"You're just saying that."

Brows furrow, exasperatingly puzzled at him. "The hell are you talking about?"

That sickeningly wolfish grin stretches wider on his features. He'd be handsome if he wasn't so evil, if his personality wasn't so putrid, if he didn't disgust you. His canines and ear piercings alike glint in the dull light, like a yokai. "You can't refuse me." he replies easily, as if relaying the weather. Like his dick isn't in you raw, fucking your drying walls with no regard for your comfort or enjoyment or even fulfillment. "If you don't give me what I want, I'll take it from you."

At the prospect of yet another threat—one you're significantly more wary of—you open your mouth to refute, but your incredulousness is cut short by a palm swatting over your gaping trap. A darker, more sinister fire glows in his eyes as he looms over you. "Speak again, and the clan'll wonder why my brand new wife is tongueless." Your fear shows on your face visible under the large surface area of his hand, swallowing hard. "Make yourself useful and lie there."

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[mumms-the-word]

Illithid Souls - Part 3

The Case Studies: Karlach and Gale

Welcome to the third and final part of this wild deep dive rabbit hole monstrosity that is the three-part series about illithid souls and whether mind flayers, or specifically you as a mind flayer, have a soul.

If you read Part 1 and Part 2, then you know that yes, illithids have souls, they're just different souls that the gods don't recognize as souls because they're non-apostolic, or incapable of divine worship (as opposed to being apostolic like most humanoid souls). You now also know that you turning into a mind flayer is a bit of a special case because of the Netherese magic in the tadpoles, and this might be why you retain more of your soul than normal mind flayers would.

Also, a quick reminder of the two theories we're working with here: Theory 1 is that when someone becomes a mind flayer they essentially just die and their (apostolic) soul moves on to the Fugue Plane and the mind flayer body just gets a new illithid soul from somewhere. Theory 2 is that when someone becomes a mind flayer their soul is transformed and altered into an illithid soul, which remains tethered to the mind flayer body. BG3 seems to operate more on the Theory 2 side of things, but as we'll see with Karlach and Gale, it's more complicated than you think.

So let's deep dive, shall we?

The Case of Karlach

I'm going to be candid here and say that the mind flayer ending for Karlach makes me really sad, even knowing that there's a very high chance that her soul is mostly intact and she is mostly still Karlach. But there's no denying she's at least a little different, though the game tries to comfort us otherwise after she transforms.

Narrator: *She is transformed. Her body is no longer hers, but her eyes, her heart - she is still Karlach, for now. Only - there's a hunger in her eyes that wasn't there before.*

That "for now" is rather ominous, isn't it? But we have enough evidence from Tav/Durge/other Origins and Orpheus to suggest that the likelihood of her retaining her memories and her personality is very high. In fact, when you talk to her during the epilogue, she does seem mostly the same, though her language has mellowed out to a more formal tone and she speaks less colloquially (and swears less and less).

If you talk to her immediately after she transforms, she marvels that she's still "herself" but also "more," which again reinforces that we all get to be special mind flayers who don't completely lose our souls. But I think there are some interesting lines in this dialogue:

Karlach: This is wild. I'm myself but... but more. Player: I don't like the sound of that. Karlach: Don't worry, soldier. It's still your old pal under all this purple. But suddenly 'I' am different than I ever knew. And my engine, it's... it's... silent. No heat. No gears. Still there, but no longer threatening to explode. Soldier... Player: I guess turning into an illithid has its perks. Karlach: Here I thought I was making a sacrifice. Thank the gods I'm a noble fuck! Shit. I'm gonna be all right. I get to be alive. I get to stay. As a hideous monster, sure. But one that can feel. Think. Live. But I'm still myself. And I know what our mission is. I'm glad I get to the do the honours.

Karlach reiterates over and over that she's still herself, but you can literally hear the change in her voice. Where normally her tone and volume would be boisterous, loud, and energetic, she's now calm and mellow, even when she's swearing. Her tone here is more one of wonder. It isn't just the internal and external fires that have calmed down, her overall demeanor seems "cooler" too.

Also, in her romance ending just before the epilogue, where you're both in the Elfsong Tavern room, you can mention that she does seem a little altered.

Player: I still love you, Karlach. I still want to be with you. Karlach: I love you too. Before, that love was an irrepressible inferno. Now it is a calm, cool object of beauty. Player: I can see you're still yourself, but there's something else in there too. An illithid calm. Karlach: Maybe you're right. I feel less... changeable. Less afraid. I feel ready for whatever is to come.

It doesn't tell us much, but it does reinforce that when we or any of our companions turn into a mind flayer, we likely retain a lot of our former personality, but in a much more calm, even-keeled kind of way. Again going back to the idea that our soul is still there, still mostly the same, but has been made a bit more illithid.

What is more interesting for Karlach, specifically, is her discussion of her diet as a mind flayer. Remember what souls are allegedly made up of? Intelligence, personality, and what else?

Memories.

Karlach: For example, my favourite food used to be mutton chops. Do you know what it is now? Brains, soldier. Brains. Player: Comes with the illithid territory, I suppose. Karlach: True. But I've found ways to maintain my values while respecting that which I am - that which made it possible for me to live. I've made arrangements with a healer in the city. When a patient is beyond saving, but still able to speak for themselves, they're offered a choice. They can go as nature intends to take them. Or, when they're ready - when their goodbyes have been said, their affairs settled, and all that awaits them is pain - I relieve them. When I consume their brains, I am nourished by much more than the physical nutrition. Their memories - from birth to death - become part of me. I've lived hundreds of childhoods, first loves, marriages, feuds and friendships. I remember them all. And in this way, we all live on. Together.

There's so much to unpack here. One, she still remembers her values, even six months later, but is trying to negotiate her former humanoid values (and personality, I imagine) with her needs as a mind flayer. That seems very Karlach, through and through.

But then, when she consumes these dying patients' brains, she absorbs and retains their memories. I imagine their souls still go on to the Fugue Plane, because I highly doubt that mind flayers also consume souls when they eat brains, but it still leaves me with questions. Karlach isn't part of a hivemind, which normally circulates memories between each other, but she's becoming a similar kind of receptacle for memories, and only she is the one that contains them, rather than an entire hivemind.

I have to wonder how much something like constantly consuming and remembering memories that are not your own affects you as a person/creature. Does that eventually lead to a loss of self, as you begin to "live" multiple different lives? Or does it all count as mere knowledge?

In some ways this would put her in competition with any elder brains still out there, but she's also not collecting knowledge for the sake of knowledge. She's collecting memories and living them out in her mind, which is a certain kind of tragedy. She's literally living vicariously through these people because her mind flayer body is too scary to go out and about in, and she's making up for a decade of life she didn't get to live. She's alive, but she's not...living if that makes sense. And again...how long before all these memories start to change who she is?

(An aside. I really don’t think her eating brains and collecting memories keeps someone’s soul from moving on. If you use the spell Speak with Dead, you don’t call back an entire soul, but the corpse still has access to its memories. I think in this case, even though memories make up part of a soul, Karlach consuming brains and collecting memories is more like her downloading a copy of the memories for herself. The dead person likely still takes their own memories with them to the Fugue Plane, where they will be judged by Kelemvor or collected by their favorite deity. She’s just copy/pasting data, not transferring everything from one hard drive to another, if that analogy makes sense.)

This arrangement where Karlach consumes the brains of dying patients is expanded or clarified a bit if you're romancing her during the epilogue, and also includes a reference to souls as well.

Karlach: I can’t wait to say hello, but to be honest, I’m keen to visit the doctor before it gets too late. He said there’s a potential in his infirmary. A very old woman recently diagnosed with a wasting sickness. She seemed interested in what I have to offer. I’ll want to have a good long talk with her before we make an arrangement. Though if I’m being very selfish, I hope she’ll say yes. I’m absolutely famished - and think of all those memories. Player: Glad to hear. I was worried you were getting hungry. Karlach: I don’t hide it well, do I? Some things don’t change, even when everything else does. It’s funny. I’m hungry in my body, but in my soul too. That woman has lived a long life - births, deaths, love, misfortune. And if she agrees, I’ll be able to give her a dignified end, and remember it all in her honour.

Or if you go with a different option:

Player: I'm still not sure how I feel about this arrangement. Are you sure it's ethical to feed on the dying? Karlach: I'm sure of very little these days. But at least this way, I can live. And those who offer themselves to me can live on too. Births, first loves, marriages, losses - I remember them all and always will. Each memory I've consumed is of value.

It's just so interesting to me. One, her remark that she's eager to say hello but slightly more interested in chatting to a doctor about her next meal suggests that some elements of becoming a mind flayer are much harder to ignore. I imagine if she's hungry, she feels less like Karlach. (And I have thoughts, for another post, about whether she becomes "too fixated" on living when she's a mind flayer, given the cost of what it means to stay alive as a mind flayer.)

But she also says she's hungry in her soul. Her soul seems deeply interested in these memories, and I wonder if that's because memories are (or could be) part of souls themselves. Maybe the remark isn't really that deep, but she specifically connects the hunger of her soul to all the memories a long-lived woman will have. It's almost as if these memories nurture her soul, but it's unclear whether that is because it's somehow healing to see and "experience" life in ways she can't now that she's a mind flayer, or if it's because the memories have some kind of tangible effect on her soul/souls in general.

I suppose we won't know for sure. What we do know from Karlach's case, however, is that a great deal of the original soul (personality, memories, etc) seems to stick around even six months later, though there are noticeable changes in personality, such as an overall calm demeanor. There are also hints that consuming brains could lead to further changes down the road, but there's nothing really concrete. Just hints.

In the end, Karlach is still Karlach, and her soul still has plenty of elements of the original Karlach, even six months later. This is a good sign, but we can't completely ignore that her new body/mind as a mind flayer will necessarily mean some things have permanently changed. Whether you judge those changes as good or bad is up to you.

With that said, let's move on to the final and most mind-boggling case.

The Case of Gale

If you play a companion as an Origin run, the mind flayer decision typically works out the same way as Tav...unless you're playing as Gale. Gale gets some extra options at the end of the game.

This is mostly because Gale has perhaps the most apostolic soul that hangs in the balance, second only to Shadowheart, and her soul pendulum swings between Selûne and Shar. Gale, however, seems to be walking on a knife's edge trying to retain or earn back entry into Elysium, Mystra's domain in the Outer Planes. He's allegedly already been there, though not as a dead soul, so he knows what's at stake if his soul suddenly becomes non-apostolic or disappears.

In other words, Gale has a formerly Faithful apostolic soul, but he spends much of the game probably worried his soul will be judged as False when he dies (since he lost Mystra's favor) until Mystra offers her brand of forgiveness, which is essentially "if you sacrifice your own life, I'll let you into Elyisum again." It's a guarantee that he ends up in the afterlife he wants to be in. That's what Mystra's forgiveness really boils down to.

Now, this is a man who does not want to sacrifice his soul, and also (Netherese orb aside) does not want to die if his soul is going to be judged as False by Kelemvor rather than welcomed into Elysium as a Faithful soul. We know that Gale finds the Fugue Plane exceedingly depressing, so I can't imagine he has any desire to wander around it for any stretch of time, even if Mystra does eventually deign to invite him into Elysium. I'm sure the thought of becoming part of the Wall of the Faithless might as well be hell to him.

Gale: It’s a relief to be back in beautiful Faerûn. The dreariness of the Fugue Plane oppresses one’s soul so very quickly.

[mumm's note: yes my man died in service of a Tactician battle against Grym, but he got better]

It's a little surprising to see how adamantly Gale would prefer to choose the Netherese orb over letting himself or anyone he cares for become illithid. Look at some of what he says when he tries to offer the orb as an option for the final battle:

Gale: An easy proposition for the Emperor to make - 'become a mind flayer' - it has no soul to sacrifice. If it did - perhaps it would understand the weight of what it's asking of us. And why we might seek an alternative.

I couldn't get this next dialogue to trigger in my game, but in the same conversation as above you might potentially get the option to remind him about Mystra's offer to cure his orb condition, and even then he reminds you of the stakes that come with becoming a mind flayer.

Player: Mystra will cure you if we bring her the Crown of Karsus. You don't need to do this. Gale: To cure me of the orb, yes. But what of the guilt of allowing one of my friends to sacrifice their very soul and become illithid?

Now keep in mind, up to this point no one has shown any evidence that turning into a mind flayer won't actually mean the total destruction of one's soul. Up until now, the only evidence anyone has of an original soul remaining intact inside a mind flayer body is the Emperor (we have no frame of reference for who Omeluum was before he was a mind flayer), and most of the companions do not trust the Emperor one bit. So Gale genuinely thinks that becoming a mind flayer means your soul is either destroyed or changed so much that it's no longer you.

I mean, think about it. He's half expecting you to take the tadpole the Emperor offers and literally cease to exist. He's expecting to fight alongside a mind flayer who has, at best, your name and a few scraps of your memory, and at worst, no shred of you at all. Because again, up until this point in the game, none of them realize that they could become a special mind flayer who does actually retain most (if not all) of their soul, including their personality and memories.

Gale literally thinks that blowing up and going to the Fugue Plane is better than you or any companion becoming a mind flayer.

But that's in a companion run. Obviously, if you play him as an Origin, you can have him turn into a mind flayer as a different kind of ultimate sacrifice. The decision plays out the same as a Tav/Durge run or any other Origin run. But after the game ends, Gale gets unique dialogue if he (1) sacrifices himself or (2) does not sacrifice himself and goes to meet Mystra with the Crown in hand.

Any run of his sacrifice (aka, using the orb, regardless of whether or not he is illithid) results in Withers finding him in the Fugue Plane for a brief conversation. This conversation isn't much different if Gale is a mind flayer when he uses the orb, since all it does is add an extra option to their conversation that references being illithid ("One illithid for the whole of Faerûn seems like a fair trade to me," which replaces the option "One wizard for the whole of Faerûn...etc").

(An aside, I don't have an Origin Gale run so I can't test this, but I think if he ends his life on the docks as a mind flayer, the way Tav/Durge can with a knife got the stomach, then he just gets the usual Tav/Durge conversation with Withers about how his form has "something of the spirit" about him. See Part 2 if you're curious about that conversation.)

What this conversation with Withers reveals is how much control Mystra seems to have over his soul, especially if/when he's a mind flayer. If Gale decides to sacrifice himself using the Netherese Orb, Withers remarks about how surprising it is that Mystra hasn’t picked him up yet.

Withers: Who flickers there ‘twixt the shadows? Gale, who didst surrender his very self for the salvation of Faerûn. I feared I might not find thee here - that Mystra would have already plucked thy thread from the tapestry of fate. But she may wait a while yet.

It’s a little unclear if Withers uses “plucked thy thread from the tapestry of fate” to mean Gale gets to go to Elysium or something else, and it’s equally unclear whether Mystra waiting is a sign of displeasure or a sign that she is interested in sending Gale back to the Material Plane. She is capable of doing that, after all, and has frequently resurrected her Chosens, like Elminster, if it suits her.

But I highlight this conversation to show that you can get it as a mind flayer, and (if you are a mind flayer during this scene) that Mystra waiting isn't because he's a mind flayer and she can't find his soul. She waits for a minute regardless of whether he's illithid or not. But Withers is certain Mystra will be able to find Gale's soul, because he was able to find Gale's soul and recognize it as Gale.

So, not to harp on this again and again, but it's proof that turning into a mind flayer didn't destroy Gale's soul. It's still Gale's soul, even in the Fugue Plane, even if he's mind-flayer-shaped, and that soul is still capable of journeying to Elysium, should Mystra bother to find it wandering the Fugue Plane (or wherever he is).

But things are a little different if Gale decides to become a mind flayer and then goes to visit Mystra with the Crown of Karsus in hand. Keep in mind, Origin!Gale always has the option to face off against Mystra after the defeat of the Netherbrain, and this face-off is where he decides to hand over the Crown, become the god of ambition, or straight up try to fight Mystra.

However! If Gale is a mind flayer, he gets a secret fourth option.

If Gale goes to meet Mystra as an illithid with the Crown of Karsus and then gives up the Crown to her, Mystra offers to take Gale to Elysium with her. More than that, she offers to literally restore his humanity and cure him of illithidness.

Sort of.

Mystra: So, Gale of Waterdeep, you have become the inheritor of Karsus’ powers at last. What do you intend to do with them? Gale: I came to surrender them. The Crown, the Karsite Weave - take it all. Mystra: This offering cost you greatly. There is no hope in life as an illithid, devoid of soul and conscience. It is within my power to restore your soul, and your humanity, if you are willing to leave the mortal realms behind. Return with me, to Elysium.

No one else is offering this kind of deal to an Origin-turned-mind-flayer. Selûne and Shar don’t care if Shadowheart turns illithid, and Withers isn’t exactly offering to restore souls and humanity (or…mortalness?) to everyone else. This is a signifier of the sheer amount of power Mystra has, yes, but this also hints at some other things.

One, despite evidence of the contrary, Mystra is adamant that Gale-as-illithid is or would be “devoid of soul and conscience,” even though we know that that likely isn’t true (just see Karlach, Tav/Durge, etc). Perhaps Mystra is unaware that Gale is a Special Mind Flayer (seems unlikely), or perhaps she’s simply trying to convince Gale to come with her. After all, what she’s offering is still a kind of reward.

Then again, maybe Gale and/or Mystra fear the long-term effects of illithidness. Maybe over time he would become less and less like Gale, perhaps due to consuming memories, or other factors that come with being a mind flayer. Still, though, saying that his life would be "devoid of soul and conscience" seems like a massive stretch on Mystra's part.

But anyway, the reward for him turning into a mind flayer and giving her the Crown is a restoration of his humanity...but only in death.

Mystra: Return with me, to Elysium. Devnote: respectful - Gale sacrificed his humanity to achieve what she asked. If he’s willing to die on the mortal planes, she will restore his soul and body but in the heavens.

Now before I get to what happens if Gale agrees to this reward, I want to point out that Mystra herself sort of acknowledges that Gale isn't exactly devoid of soul and conscience if he refuses her offer. Here are some of the ways Gale can turn her down, with her answer to each option being the same:

Gale: [Option 1] Thank you, but no. I have someone waiting for me. Gale: [Option 2] Perhaps one day, but for now there is more I need to accomplish. Gale: [Option 3] Being an illithid has its advantages. I'm content as I am. Mystra: Then you are free to go with both my thanks and my promise - henceforth, your prayers will always be answered.

The whole idea of an apostolic soul is that it means the person is capable of worshipping a divine being, and this worship ncludes prayers. She might have said that him being illithid would mean he would be devoid of soul and conscience, but in nearly the same breath she promises to answer all his prayers. So she recognizes something of a soul within him. So why say he would be devoid of soul?

Of course, things get weird if Gale accepts her offer to be restored and go to Elyisum. If Gale agrees, then she fulfills her promise and even restores his place as one of her Chosen.

Gale: I crave nothing more. Take me to Elysium. Mystra: So be it. Gale of Waterdeep, Chosen of Mystra. Cinematic Tag: Mystra transforms Mindflayer Gale back to his human form (hollow) and grabs Gale’s hand. They return to Elysium.

This is wild to me. You see, originally when I started this project I thought I was going to be writing posts about how interesting it is that when you become a mind flayer, your soul is probably hanging out in the Fugue Plane or something, and eventually I’d suggest that Mystra is able to restore Gale’s soul to him because it’s already gone to her domain or she knows how to find it because he used to be so faithful to her. But none of that works now.

Because now I’m convinced that the Netherese tadpole changes everyone into a Special Mind Flayer whose soul is still present in their mind flayer bodies, just altered or transformed. So what’s up with this stuff from Mystra? She recognizes Gale as Gale even when he's a mind flayer and promises to answer his prayers, so clearly there's some kind of apostolic soul thing going on here. So why does she offer to "restore his soul," and also, why only in death?

She does say that she will restore Gale’s humanity, so now I assume that somehow her powers allow her to un-alter Gale’s soul so that it isn’t so illithid anymore. My idea is that she’s essentially restoring his soul to its former state and not, as we might otherwise infer, literally giving him his soul back, as if it were separate from his body. Gale’s soul is still in his mind flayer body, if all the rest of the evidence holds any water, so Mystra must have merely changed it back to the way it was.

quick picture break, this is from Northalix's video, linked below

Which makes me wonder, can a completely original, apostolic-type soul exist in an illithid body? Or does the body dictate that the soul must be somewhat illithid in order to be compatible?

Because the thing is, this deal comes with an ultimatum. She’s not going to let him go back to the mortal realms after she’s restored his soul. She probably could—she’s probably capable of doing that, if only by giving him a completely new body (she's done that before with Elminster). But she doesn’t. The cure comes with a cost. He only gets to be human again if he agrees to die completely and join her in Elysium. There is no undoing the illithid sacrifice, which seems more like a game limitation than a Mystra limitation (although we can certainly brainstorm reasons why Mystra would be so petty as to basically say "I can make you human again but only if you die completely.")

I want to point out that Mystra doesn't offer to let Gale come back to Elysium as a dead guy if he's not a mind flayer. Like, we don't get the sparkly ascension scene if he blows up with the Netherese orb, we get the Withers visit in the Fugue Plane. This Elysium offer is an illithid-only option. If he's not a mind flayer and he returns the Crown, she cures him of the Netherese Orb and sends him back. There's no option to join her in Elysium. Why is this an illithid-only option?

Also, just...I need you to watch the scene.

There's a lot that bothers me about this. One, the gestures she makes are the exact gestures God!Gale makes when he ascends Tav/Durge if they romanced him and agreed to become a god with him. Do with that what you will. But two...it just gives me the ick. This is a different kind of ascension for Gale. It's a restoration of his place in Elysium, but it ultimately means his premature death. If this is the route you take as him...it's hardly better than him sacrificing himself using the Netherese Orb without becoming a mind flayer. Only this time, we get to see the scene where he goes to Elysium, I guess.

It also massively complicates the whole idea that everyone gets to be a special mind flayer with a mostly-intact, mostly-apostolic soul. If the soul didn't change, why does Mystra need to "restore" it? And if it did change, why is Mystra the only one capable of un-changing it back to its original form (is it because he’s her Chosen and is/was so faithful)?And if such a thing is possible, why offer it and then say "but you're dead now"?

It seems as though her "fixing" Gale's soul was really just her...I don't know, separating it from his physical mind flayer body so the illithid anatomy wouldn't mess with it as much, and then dusting off his soul, which is now bodyless, and taking it with her to Elysium. I'm not saying that's what she did, but that's the weird vibes I get from this interaction. Like, there seems to be some kind of implication that you can't have a fully humanoid, apostolic soul housed within an illithid body. The soul has to be altered somehow to work with the illithid body.

So why not just give him a new body, Mystra??? Fix is soul and give him a new body! You’re absolutely capable of that!

I have so many questions.

Of course, keep in mind that Gale can reject her, obviously, and return to the mortal realms as a mind flayer. She does acknowledge that he has at least something of a soul that can pray to her so...I mean, there's that.

Anyways, what have we learned?

The Summary

With Karlach, we see that being a mind flayer does necessarily change parts of a person's personality (which, again, is part of their soul). Usually this results in a person seeming calmer, more mellow, less emotional than they normally would have been, but it does seem that for Tav/Durge, the companions, and Orpheus that turning into a mind flayer doesn't completely destroy their soul. It just seems to alter it a bit. In my opinion, the soul just becomes a tiny bit more illithid. Karlach’s case does leave us with questions about how “good” consuming and retaining so many memories might be in the long run, but as of six months post-ceremorphosis, she seems fine.

From Gale, we learn that apparently it's possible to restore or un-alter a partly-illithid soul so that it goes back to normal, but this power is extremely rare and likely relegated to the gods alone (or a particularly powerful Wish spell). We're also reminded that keeping recognizable parts of one's soul, like the personality and memories, is a huge surprise, because that's not how normal mind flayers work. We know this from Orpheus, but Gale just kinda reinforced it.

I guess we also learned that Mystra is a massive—but I should keep this civil. We all know what Mystra is.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that she's unwilling to accept Gale into her domain while he is still a mind flayer, even though his soul obviously would fit the bill based on what a soul is/does for the gods. He has a viable apostolic soul, it’s just mind-flayer-shaped!I'm sure Mystra thinks she's being magnanimous by offering him eternity as a human in Elysium, but I think it ultimately just shows how shallow she can be. Gale only gets to come back if he’s not mind flayer shaped.

And I think, deep down, Gale has always suspected that would be the case.

And on that familiar note, my friends, thank you for joining me on this excessively long deep dive into mind flayer souls and things we can learn from the game and the lore.

~*~*~

If you made it to the end, congrats! More gold stars for you!

✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨

If you read through all three parts and also made it to the end of this one, you are the real MVP and I wish I had stickers or achievements to give you so you can be like "I survived another three-part deep dive from mumm." But I don't even have a lousy T-Shirt to offer you.

You can have this random picture instead though :> it's my Tav Dani looking very unimpressed by the Emperor's offer of sexy times (sorry not sorry Empy, she's got a man and his name is Gale and she prefers him and all her friends to be tentacle-free)

Enjoy the lore and remember that it's all up to you to decide what you want to keep or reject! I'm just showing you what's out there!

Tags for those who wanted an update! @galesdevoteewife @stuffforthestash

[dnalt-d2]

Christ alive can anyone get a break right now??

(Ahem)

Update time, once again!

Also once again, it is a mixed bag

So to start off with, as most everyone knows, Pomme and Dapper's admins have resigned from their positions. This is incredibly unfortunate, and I honestly don't know what it's gonna mean for the French Creators who said they wouldn't stay on QSMP if Pomme's Admin was fired. Since she technically left of her own volition, I really don't know what they're gonna do

(Edit: I talk about Quackity's stream here but I don't speak Spanish so I can't personally say what was said exactly. Thankfully, it looks like someone JUST POSTED an English Translation so I'm just gonna drop the link here for anyone who wants to read it)

On another note: Quackity has finally given a slight update. For obvious reasons, he can't say anything specific, and I wouldn't have expected him to. But according to the translations I've seen so far, basically said that he can't update because the leaks that happened are creating added complications in the restructuring process. I'm assuming his reason for that is that he simply doesn't want anymore information to be leaked out, but unfortunately, that's just counterproductive to the miscommunication problem

AND SPEAKING OF MISCOMMUNICATION???

So as you all know, I've been in support of the French Union getting involved with this. As I've stated a dozen times now, Unions are meant to be resources, people who inform employees of their rights and do what they can to help them get those rights. As far as I know, one of the main things they do is mediate between the employees and the employers. But APPARENTLY the Union has not attempted to reach out to Quackity outside of Twitter. Which REALLY isn't all that professional. Twitter is a NETWORKING site. Meant to START building connections. Afterwards, people typically move onto email or even discord, which are way better equipped for the long-form communication that's about to have to happen

So even if Quackity WAS active on Twitter, which he isn't. And even if the Union DIDN'T know that, which they do. This isn't the right route to communicate. They have stated that he "has their email" and has to "reach out to them." They are apparently working on the logic that SOMEONE would have had to pass on the information to him by this point, which isn't a fair assumption at all, considering that we know there were Admins ALREADY hiding information from him before all this

They're acting like Quackity is the CEO of a major corporation, with COUNTLESS RESOURCES on-hand. Yeah he's the CEO of this business, but he's also a 23-year-old Twitch Streamer who in all likelihood is learning a LOT about running a business for the first time AS WE SPEAK. I'll tell you right now, when I was 23, I didn't know jack-shit, and I'd still say I don't most of the time. And the only reason I LEARNED jack-shit was because someone would actually TELL me about it. When someone makes mistakes, it REALLY helps them learn when someone is able to not just point out the mistake, but also HOW to fix it. I don't know how they're expecting him to grow from his miscommunication mistakes when they aren't willing to give him the chance to

And yes, there are MANY problems that need to be fixed, as I've said before. But Quackity did outright confirm some of the other things I've said too. That things ARE happening, and we aren't hearing about it. That we aren't GOING to hear about it. Which is fine. It makes sense. We aren't the people who need to know every step of the process. But he is going to have to figure out a better system for talking to the Admins. It's a real problem when he's communicating with people like Aypierre that Pomme's Admin has her job still, but didn't tell the Admin herself

There's still lots of problems, and I know it sounds like I'm just repeating myself, saying to wait and see, but in reality, there isn't much else we CAN do besides that and voice our support

This might be the last time I make a post on this for a bit, because this has been a little draining on me. Which I would normally be able to handle SUPER easy, I'm pretty good at handling stuff like this well enough. But now I've also got real-life stuff reminding me that no matter how much better things SEEM to be getting for me, something's gonna come smack me in the back of the head to remind me that actually things suck, and I just should've known better! And unfortunately that stuff requires my focus more than this. I'll still be here, watching everything, maybe commenting on stuff, but I might not be quite as vocal as I have been

Once again, I remind you all, take care of yourselves first and foremost. Whether it's physical, emotional, or mental, or whatever else. You matter more than the events taking place here right now. My support goes out to all of you, as well as the Admins who VERY WELL COULD BE SEEING THIS APPARENTLY. So I guess this message goes out to them as well lol. You guys rock and I've enjoyed all the contributions you've made

Anyways, see you all later

[opuntie]

Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

Hello, John.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? Barry? Adam? Can you believe this is happening? I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. You got lint on your fuzz. Ow! That's me! Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! Hey, Adam. Hey, Barry. Is that fuzz gel? A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive. You did come back different. Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. Hear about Frankie? Yeah. You going to the funeral? No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp under the circumstances. Well, Adam, today we are men. We are! Bee-men. Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of 9:15. That concludes our ceremonies And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick our job today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. Wonder what it'll be like? A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to The Hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! That girl was hot. She's my cousin! She is? Yes, we're all cousins. Right. You're right. At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. What do you think he makes? Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. What does that do?

Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it.

Saves us millions.

Can anyone work on the Krelman?

Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones.

But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot.

But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life.

The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that.

What's the difference?

You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years.

So you'll just work us to death?

We'll sure try.

Wow! That blew my mind!

"What's the difference?"

How can you say that?

One job forever?

That's an insane choice to have to make.

I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life.

But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?

Why would you question anything? We're bees.

We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth.

You ever think maybe things work a little too well here?

Like what? Give me one example.

I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about.

Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach.

Wait a second. Check it out.

Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

Wow.

I've never seen them this close.

They know what it's like outside The Hive.

Yeah, but some don't come back.

Hey, Jocks!

Hi, Jocks!

You guys did great!

You're monsters!

You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!

I wonder where they were.

I don't know.

Their day's not planned.

Outside The Hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what.

You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that.

Right.

Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime.

It's just a status symbol.

Bees make too much of it.

Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it.

Those ladies?

Aren't they our cousins too?

Distant. Distant.

Look at these two.

Couple of Hive Harrys.

Let's have fun with them.

It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock.

Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom!

He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me!

Oh, my!

I never thought I'd knock him out.

What were you doing during this?

Trying to alert the authorities.

I can autograph that.

A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades?

Yeah. Gusty.

We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow.

Six miles, huh?

Barry!

A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it.

Maybe I am.

You are not!

We're going 0900 at J-Gate.

What do you think, buzzy-boy?

Are you bee enough?

I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means.

Hey, Honex!

Dad, you surprised me.

You decide what you're interested in?

Well, there's a lot of choices.

But you only get one.

Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day?

Son, let me tell you about stirring.

You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around.

You get yourself into a rhythm.

It's a beautiful thing.

You know, Dad, the more I think about it,

maybe the honey field just isn't right for me.

You were thinking of what, making balloon animals?

That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger.

Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey!

Barry, you are so funny sometimes.

I'm not trying to be funny.

You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer!

You're gonna be a stirrer?

No one's listening to me!

Wait till you see the sticks I have.

I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!

Let's open some honey and celebrate!

Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!

I'm so proud.

We're starting work today!

Today's the day.

Come on! All the good jobs will be gone.

Yeah, right.

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal…

Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!

One of them's yours! Congratulations!

Step to the side.

What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!

Wow!

Couple of newbies?

Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!

Make your choice.

You want to go first?

No, you go.

Oh, my. What's available?

Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think.

Any chance of getting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.

I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.

Wax monkey's always open.

The Krelman opened up again.

What happened?

A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.

Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.

Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!

Oh, this is so hard!

Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler.

Barry, what do you think I should… Barry?

Barry!

All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine…

What happened to you?

Where are you?

I'm going out.

Out? Out where?

Out there.

Oh, no!

I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.

You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?

Another call coming in.

If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today.

Hey, guys.

Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?

Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.

It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

Really? Feeling lucky, are you?

Sign here, here. Just initial that.

Thank you.

OK.

You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.

So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats.

Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us.

Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada!

That's awful.

And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans!

All right, launch positions!

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

Black and yellow!

Hello!

You ready for this, hot shot?

Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.

Wind, check.

Antennae, check.

Nectar pack, check.

Wings, check.

Stinger, check.

Scared out of my shorts, check.

OK, ladies,

let's move it out!

Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers!

All of you, drain those flowers!

Wow! I'm out!

I can't believe I'm out!

So blue.

I feel so fast and free!

[saintmagx]

I Knew you were Trouble❤️‍🔥

Part 3

Pairing: Jimmy Uso x reader

AN: if you would like tagged let me know 💖 Trinity is still with WWE. No specific timeline

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity, jealous Jimmy, bad writing, cringe story telling, the Usos (because they are a warning in themselves) ⚠️

JIMMY IS SO FINE LIKE 😭🤤 HELP!!!! Also is anyone else just loving how much fun he’s having on Smackdown right now????? YEEET 🤪 NO YEET 😐

The hustle and bustle of the gorilla can be a bit much for some people but not me, it strangely helps me get in the zone, ready to become my onscreen persona and throw yn out the window. Hunter confirmed the timeline for myself and trinity to win the tag team titles - five weeks away at Summerslam. Trin was still determined to get us an in ring team name and had enlisted Beverly the seamstress to start working on matching outfits - I love her but when she sets her mind to something - nothing and I mean nothing stands in her way.

Tonight I had a singles match against Liv Morgan, a simple one on one match with a clean win for me. Waiting for my cue the Uso’s come through the curtain after finishing their match. Josh greets me with his huge infectious smile and warm embrace, Jon on the other hand greets me with his signature fiery stare.

“Good luck out there yn. The crowd is on fire tonight!”

Josh walks away leaving me standing with Jon once more.

“We need to stop meeting like this.” Jon says with a smirk

“Ah yes, however it is hard when we work at the same place and are friends with the same people, the likelihood of us continually bumping into each other is pretty high.” Proud of my self for my reply I look at him smiling awaiting his response.

“Ya know, for a pretty girl you have a pretty smartass mouth. I sure hope you ain’t all talk and can back up that mouth babygirl.” He gives me a final once over and heads over to Josh who is standing chatting to his cousin Joe.

Focus yn, focus.

“Yn, you’ve missed your cue, get out there NOW.”

Shit. I don’t need distractions right now, I need to prove to Hunter and everyone backstage that i deserve to be here and I deserve these titles.

My match against Liv went to plan, we only had a 7 minute slot so it was quick and effective.

Trin

Hey so a few of us are heading to dinner before you guys have to be back on the road for the European tour. You in?

Yn

Of course girl, lemme get ready and I’ll meet you at the car 💗

Trin

I’ve already left the arena, but Jon and Josh are still there, tag along with them and I’ll see you at dinner 💕

Great. The more I try to keep away from Jon the more fate keeps throwing us together.

The car ride to the restaurant was pretty normal actually. Jon and Josh were in the front talking tactics from their match and goofing off. Me on the other hand was a simple bystander to this, it was nice. The bond the boys have is special, really warms the heart.

“Earth to yn!”

Josh snaps me out of my thoughts

“Sorry, um what were you saying?”

“Damn, not even paying attention to me huh.”

“Oh shush Josh, I’m tired.” I say laughing, I wouldn’t tell them that the real reason I was preoccupied was because I was in awe of them and their bond, those boys don’t need bigger heads.

With Josh fake falling out with me, I turn my attention to Jon.

“Can you tell me what he said?”

“Please?” I beg batting my eyelids, being a little flirtatious always gave me the upper hand, but with Jon it was dangerous territory I was entering.

Looking at me from the mirror he licks his lips.

“Sorry yn! Ain’t no way I ain’t siding with my bro.”

“That’s right uce. Day ones!”

Josh turns to me with a smug ass look on his face. Rolling my eyes I turn my attention to my phone ignoring them both.

Sighing I question “how am I going to manage myself with you two double teaming me.”

Jon’s eyes dart to the mirror with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Im sure you’ll be able to take us.” His eyes revert back to the road as we pull up to the restaurant.

Fluttering. Everywhere. That’s the only way I can describe it. There wasn’t a part in my body left that hadn’t been effected by Jon and his words. When I said double teaming me I hadn’t meant anything by it other than then ganging up on me but now, all I can think about is both their hands on me, Josh attacking my neck, Jon all over my breasts sucking and caressing them.

“You’ve been pretty quiet tonight, what’s up?” Trin enquires.

Truth is I’ve been distracted, Jon’s words in the car, watching Jon interact with Trin like a normal husband and wife, the feeling of jealousy and shame washing over me.

“I’m just tired honestly, plus I’ve still got so much to do before I leave for Europe tomorrow.”

“And moody, was all pissy with me in the car earlier, right Jon?”

“She sure was.”

I look at the twins and flip them off making the everyone at the table laugh lightening the mood. I hate how one man has effect me so much. And I know it’s only going to get worse once we kick of the European tour. No wife and me close by for 7 whole days - it has disaster written all over it.

Sorry it’s kinda short, felt like this was a good place to end! Anyhooo

Tagged: @southerngirl41 @missfamilyjeweles @jeyusos-girl @christinabae @jeyusosgirl @raya-hunter01 @harlem11680 @theogsamoanqueen @harmshake

[genderdotcom]

ffxivwrite2024 day 7: morsel

the warrior of light grabs a midnight snack. (hw)

Fickle Slash slides her legs out from under the blankets and sends a fervent prayer of thanks to the House Fortemps servant that saw fit to furnish her with slippers. Despite all the furs and roaring fires, Ishgard and its stone floors remain bitterly cold. Colder than any place she’s lived- but it’s better not to get into that at this late hour. 

She pads silently through the second floor halls. Her candle in its dish illuminates the edges of portraits, vases, suits of armour of knights long gone. Then down the staircase she goes,  trailing one hand along the wall, first door, second door- there. She opens the door to the kitchens, the only one lit up at this hour, and-

“Ah-!” Alphinaud, dressed in nightclothes much the same as hers, almost drops his plate. “Oh. Fickle. It’s you.” She raises the candle in mock salute.

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

He mutely shakes his head. What a pair they make- the child who thought he could save the world and the adult that let him fail. All their high-minded idealism come to this- sheltering in a stranger’s home in borrowed slippers, pilfering their pantries in the dead of night. For all that Haurchefant correctly estimated his father’s likelihood to accept them as his wards, his absence only made the atmosphere in the manor more tense.

“I asked the cooks if I could help myself,” says Alphinaud, as if reading her mind. “I would not dream of, of-”

“Don’t worry. I came here too, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” He relaxes just a tad. “Do you want a slice?” 

It’s some sort of dense fruitcake, crumbling slightly under her fingers as she picks up a piece. Warming, hearty fare for the inhabitants of this frozen land.

“Thanks, Alphinaud.”

[a-student-out-of-time]

Mod, I’m worried about the future. I’m young, but I’m worried about WW3 and potential imminent nuclear war. Why? Because I don’t want people (like my favorite artists and VAs) to have their lives tragically cut short, as well the planet to become inhospitable./gen

//I'm not going to dismiss your concerns, because I was at that same point when I was a teenager. Instead, I'll tell you what I wish I'd been told back then: the mainstream news tells you the worst things possible because it's how they make money.

//Our brains have a natural bias toward negativity, since it probably helped us survive while we were still running from predators in the wilderness, but it's been carried into the modern day and become one of our worst attributes. I'm not joking, there's business incentive in the news to bombard people with negative information because it draws in more clicks and views since we have a natural inclination toward it, and that comes at the cost of truthful, factual information.

//Add obvious political bias in both directions and you have a recipe for misinformation and propaganda that can easily drive one to catatonic depression. I know because that was me as a teenager, and I still get that way sometimes. But let me tell you right now that it's all bullshit.

//Yeah, it's time for some real talk because I've been in a major funk myself.

//I'll start by saying the danger of a full-scale nuclear war is, in all honesty, incredibly exaggerated. They tell you that nukes could destroy the world or render it uninhabitable because that's the best way to deter anyone from using them, but when you get posturing and saber-rattling (not uncommon since 1945), then people start to believe nuclear war is inevitable. It is not.

//That isn't to say that nuclear weapons aren't still incredibly dangerous and should never be used, because they are and they shouldn't be. What people neglect to mention is that Russia's nuclear arsenal is, in all likelihood, so old and obsolete that they probably don't even work anymore. Nukes are actually quite fragile things, requiring delicate machinery to even detonate properly.

//Seeing how badly Russia's performed in Ukraine, using all their resources and still losing so many valuable vehicles and military figures while also trying to suppress a rebellion at home? They tried to gamble on scaring everyone with nukes, but after 2 and a half years, they've done nothing with that. It's an empty threat especially because the moment anyone actually fired a nuke at a smaller nation, they would become an international pariah state. Putin and Kim Jong Un have no reason to actually bomb anybody because that would simply guarantee the destruction of everything they still have, and they're desperate to cling to power even as their nations crumble under their own actions.

//But even if worst comes to worst? There's no consensus that nuclear winter is even a real possibility. The initial estimates were based on cities in Japan that were firebombed during World War II, and their buildings were mostly made of wood and paper. Modern cities are mostly concrete and steel, which probably don't burn in the same way. It's not a theory we should test, but it's worth contemplating.

//Even if that did happen, any idea that you've heard that nuclear war would throw us back to the stone age, that we'd lose all our knowledge and have to start over? False. Most of our storehouses of knowledge, along with common knowledge about how to create things, would survive untouched. Hell, our global fiber optic cables are mostly on the ocean floor, so we might get the internet back up pretty quickly.

//The ecological effects of this would also dissipate within 10-15 years, and so a generation after nuclear war, the world might be back to being relatively normal. Yes, it would be a period of intense misery and hardship, but we would survive and recover. We're actually in a better spot now because the global nuclear arsenal is much smaller than it was in the 1980s.

//But that's a direct event. What about the issues regarding climate change? Progress is being made on that front, so much so that it all would've seemed impossible just a decade ago. We have more ecologically-friendly products being produced, alternative energy sources are coming closer to overtaking fossil fuels entirely, building materials that can actually capture and store carbon dioxide and being developed, ecosystems are growing and recovering at an astonishing rate, the ocean is being cleaned of plastic, and better methods of farming are allowing more efficient use of land.

//These are all just a few examples. With new revolutions in the field of fusion power and proof of concept tests for power-beaming satellites succeeding, I'm honestly convinced we will overcome and reverse the issues regarding climate change. Yes, it can be reversed, we can re-wild the environment, and we're getting to the point that we can actually bring extinct species back. Hell, we can directly grow raw meat and milk in bioreactors now, potentially eliminating the need for cattle and dairy farming while eliminating the risk of disease or contamination.

//For some other great news, global crime rates are at a historic low point, new medical technologies are restoring everything from mobility to hearing in patients, a ban on plastic bags in one state has removed 1.5 billion from the environment, and so many other inspiring stories from just the LAST YEAR AND A HALF.

//In short, while there are plenty of things to be concerned about for the future, we cannot and should not forget that there are great things happening all the time and that there are people working hard to make it possible. People who don't simply lay down and give up when things are difficult.

//That's the big problem nobody talks about enough. The real problem in the world today is misanthropy; this prevailing hatred and disgust with our own species ironically allows the worst issues to flourish because that's simply what we expect. When you don't expect better out of people, things won't get better. Pessimistic nihilism isn't intelligent or cool or mature, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy that breeds laziness and lets the worst things in our world persist.

//The world can be better and that starts when we believe it can be better, and most people believe that. I believe that. I hope I've helped you start to believe that too.

//If you want some more, here are a few that I recommend:

This video by SF Debris: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQHVGqgHD2A

The entire channel Science & Futurism w/ Isaac Arthur: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZFipeZtQM5CKUjx6grh54g

The blogs Reasons For Hope and Hope For The Planet, both great sources for real inspiring news

Good News Network, my most trusted source of information: https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/

//Above all, stop worrying about the worst case scenarios. Spend your time learning, creating, sharing and just enjoying life. Some of the best works of literature came out of some of the most tumultuous times in history, and we survived those. We'll survive this one too.

//I really hope all that helps and I hope you have a great day ^^

[plushieclan]

Prologue part 2

TW: Injury, implied death.

< previous | next > | all>>

Night yawned, picking herself up from her nest. She slept beneath a Twoleg porch with her guardian, a grouchy old cat named Rime.

“Let’s get a move on before Snotlout starts bothering us.” Rime barked, referring to the kittypet that lived in the house above.

“But I wanted to sleep in!” Night whined.

“You sound like a kittypet. Come on, let’s hunt.”

As they stepped through the Twoleg place, Night had an idea. “Can we hunt on the other side of the Thunderpath today?”

Rime grunted. “Do you think you’ll find them this time?”

Night sighed. “I really hope so.”

It wasn’t always just Rime and Night. Once, she was known as Nightkit— a cat born of the clans in the wilderness beyond the Twoleg place. Night was only just a moon old when her clan was attacked, and everyone slaughtered within it. Sometimes, she wanted to go back to her old territory, but there seemed to be new residents. A clan she didn’t recognize prowled in their old hunting grounds. She was always chased off before she could make her way to their old camp.

Night knew that after all this time— half a year, as Rime called it— the likelihood of her parents still being alive was slim. Still, she held onto hope that someday, she could rejoin her family in whatever form they existed in.

“If you join those there feral cats, I won’t be coming with.” Rime said sadly. “My old bones wouldn’t be able to live there in those meadows. I won’t be able to support myself on those slim pickings.”

Night nodded. “I know, Rime. I know there isn’t a high chance of anyone in my old clan still being alive. I’ll probably stay with you until you keel over— but that’ll probably be a long time away!”

Rime swat at the young cat’s head playfully. “Stop flattering me, Night.”

They didn’t end up crossing the Thunderpath— Night figured that was for the best anyways. As much as she hoped to find her family again, she knew she’d probably be chased away again.

They spent the latter half of the day chasing away the cold by hiding under their porch. The Twoleg nests provided a lot of heat, which was needed for the chillier days. Night found herself drifting to sleep once more.

When she awoke, it was to the smell of smoke. The porch was saturated with it— the Twoleg nest must be on fire!

Night ran out from beneath the porch frantically, hacking out a lung from the smoke. She couldn’t see Rime anywhere. Where was he?!

“Rime!” she yowled, looking for any trace of the old tom. Twoleg monsters swarmed the nest, and Twolegs raced around. One spotted her, approaching.

She hissed, running away. She’d find Rime later. First, she needed to get to safety! She realized the only place that was safe would be the other side of the Thunderpath.

Taking a deep breath (before coughing up a storm), she ran across. She hasn’t properly looked both ways, but she was desperate!

She heard the sound of a deafening bellow, causing her to jump. A monster was barreling towards her!

She bolted, but it was not fast enough. She felt unimaginable pain as she flew to the side of the Thunderpath. Her eyes fluttered as she coughed weakly. Was this how it ended?

The last thing she saw before she faded into unconsciousness was a group of cats, faintly in the distance.

—

Night found herself curled up in a warm nursery, wedged between a little black cat and a large gray cat. It was a dream she had often; it was her mother and sister. She didn’t remember their faces, only their scent and the way they felt that fateful night.

As always, though she wanted to stay in the warmth, she untucked herself from the cocoon and waddled out of the nursery. She was a very big kit by this point— nearly one whole moon, and exploring was on her mind. Leafpelt was so strict, always keeping her in the nursery. Well not tonight!

She crouched down as to not be seen by the other warriors. As sneaky as possible. She made it all the way to the warriors den before someone saw her.

“Now, what are you doing?”

A white molly stood before her.

Blazestar!

Little Nightkit stammered, facing her leader.

“Um… I wanted to explore.”

Blazestar chuckled. “How very brave of you. I remember when Puddlesplash and Swanjaw were still kits. They did the same thing.”

Nightkit gasped. “Really?”

Swanjaw and Puddlesplash were Blazestar’s own children. She’d seen Swanjaw duck in to tend to his three kits, who were much bigger than her.

“They’re just like me? So I could become a great warrior someday?” Nightkit said.

Blazestar smiled at her. “Of course.”

Night wanted to savor this moment. Surrounded by the happiness and tight-knit life of her clan. However, she knew what would come next.

She heard yowling at the center of camp. Blazestar looked over. Her face was as horrified as Night remembered.

“Oh, is someone playing? I want to play to!” Nightkit yipped, waddling towards the noise.

Blazestar stopped her. “How about we play a special leader game?”

“Ooo, I want to play that instead!” she said.

Blazestar lifted her by her scruff and dropped her higher up the hill. “It’s called Grangeclan run. Run through the gap in the bushes and keep going until you reach Grangeclan camp. Whoever gets there first wins! I’ll give you a head start.”

She stammered. “But… I don’t want to run so far.”

Nightkit looked back at Blazestar when an unfamiliar cat pounced on her. Blazestar yowled, throwing them off. “Nightkit, run!”

She sprinted as fast as she could, following her leader’s commands. Fear quickened her steps. Did Blazestar know the clan would be wiped out? She wondered about it many times over.

As she ran, she cried out, “Leafpelt! Mommy! Where are you?!” But Night always knew things ended the same. Leafpelt was always gone, and she was always running.

—

“You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke, huh. And survived a monster hit— I wonder who you are, little cat.

Night slowly opened her eyes to see what looked something like a small cave. Two toms sat at the entrance— one was a gruff, black tom with a large scar on his muzzle and the other was a calico with a white back half— though neither was looking at her. She didn’t think they knew she was awake.

“What are we looking at here, Rainfeather?” The black tom asked.

“Well, she seems to be around six or seven moons, I’d reckon. It’s old enough. Besides… she was saying Starleaf’s old name. I think it’s her.” The other tom, presumably Rainfeather responded.

The black tom sighed. “After all this time… she was right. Nightkit…”

He turned, and she pretended to be asleep. She wasn’t even sure why. He padded over to where Night lay. He pressed himself next to her.

“Do you even remember me, Nightkit? You were so young when everything happened. Please, wake up. Your mother and I miss you so much.”

He was her father?

She knew that her father used to see her in the nursery every day. His name was Darkheart, she thought. She couldn’t remember his face, but if it was true… she’d be so happy.

She pretended to wake up. “Darkheart?” she said. “Are you really my father?”

He looked overjoyed. “Yes, Nightkit. It’s me. Darkheart. I’m so glad you’re awake,” He barked to Rainfeather. “Get Starleaf. Quickly!”

He turned back to her. “Are you ok? Does anything hurt?”

She thought about it. Her throat was still sore and scratchy from the fire, and she could feel a dull pain in her leg. “My throat hurts. My leg, not as much.”

“The poppy seeds are working then.” He sighed. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

A gray molly entered the den, her purple eyes shining. “Oh, Nightkit! You’re alright!”

She joined Night’s other side. Her scent was just as she remembered from that night as a kit. It was really her— Leafpelt!

“Leafpelt, mom, it’s really you!” she cried.

She nuzzled Night. “It’s Starleaf now. And your father is leader— Darkstar is his new name.”

“That means— you rebuilt the clan?” she asked.

“Yes. With help from my former kin in the Wanderers. We’ve done a good job of creating this new clan. It’s called Crystalclan. When you’re well enough, I’ll show you around.”

She felt at peace. Somehow, the impossible happened. But someone was missing.

“Where’s Ravenkit?” she asked.

Darkstar sighed. “With Starclan, now.”

Her heart dropped. It hurt, but part of her knew. She just didn’t want to accept it.

“Please focus on healing for now. We’re just so happy we got you back. Don’t worry about anything else.” Starleaf rested her muzzle on Night’s head. “I’m sure Ravenkit will visit you in your dreams.”

—

It took Night a few days to heal enough. She wasn’t perfect yet— her throat still required a lot of honey and poppy seeds to feel normal— but she could walk without pain. Starleaf had shown her around the camp.

It was a small sandstone cave, with a stream rushing through the center. On the higher side was the nursery, where a queen was currently grooming her kits’ wild fur, and the elder’s den. It was empty for now, but Starleaf said that some of the older warriors would be retiring there soon.

On the lower side, the cleric den was a large outcropping of the cave. An open section allowed for a patch of grass, where Rainfeather grew important herbs that couldn’t be found with foraging. Two extra caves acted as the recovery den where she slept and Rainfeather’s den, where he also kept his herb stocks. The warrior’s den was also on this side— a stout log dragged into the cave lined with nests. At the very center of the lower half was the crystal rock, which towered above everything else.

Darkstar was stood upon the rock. Night wondered what was going on.

She touched noses with Leopardcloud, filled with excitement. A warrior apprentice… it was something that seemed impossible just a few days ago. Nightpaw was practically bouncing. A new dawn awaited her, she just knew it!

[kingofthewilderwest]

So if I took up private music lessons again (budget pending), which would you vote for?

Banjo: The original private lessons plan. Bluegrass and its history have become a deep soul-fulfilling passion for me since I got into it in 2019. I've run into technique issues (ex: hand adjustments) that I don't know how to correct and are bottlenecking progress. If the teacher here is good, lessons would un-bottleneck me so I could work up tunes full speed and participate informally in local jam groups, which, if they're sorta good, would be stimulating and allow me to live my passion for a moment.

Cons: bluegrass lessons risk not being as bang-for-buck, with more casual and less intensive information and progress. There are many free resources I could tap into - and while they don't replace in-person feedback, might get me just as far in other respects. Many bluegrass greats didn't learn through lessons, and my prior musical training means I have a good sense of what I should be fixing. I also live in an area where there's rather limited bluegrass.

Level: late beginner Progress stakes: low Rewards: casual Local opportunities: casual

Flute: The instrument I've invested the most into already (besides piano). At my musical "height" in 2011, I was good enough on flute to be first chair all-state orchestra but not polished enough to audition into a good music school's spots. I'm craving returning to classical music and there is no thrill as extraordinary as performing flute like a diva in orchestra. This is when I feel at my best. Truly polishing flute would be working up my first, most driven, and cared-about investment, and could light a deep fire in me like nothing else.

However, I live in a small area with few resources and few ensembles - even fewer good ones. Most interesting ensembles I'm locked out of because I'm not a college student. The other interesting ensembles I'd had difficulties doing because flute is omnipresent and competitive. I'm already in one of the only bands I can access (it's "meh" and doesn't 100% fill my itch). I'm good enough to do the chamber groups at a classically-oriented church. There is a "semi-professional" orchestra and a local chamber group here, but the likelihood of there being a flute opening in the next five years is slim. I'm trained enough I can polish and grow myself. It would be an honor to study under a master flautist, but what is the chance that in this small area, there's someone advanced enough to push me to a new level? (the level I would need to get into the orchestra if an opening did happen)

Level: early advanced Progress stakes: high and ambition-oriented Rewards: best, but rare and high risk Local opportunities: rare for what I want

Viola: The instrument I've historically used to get into ensembles I shouldn't've. I had a grand one year of viola lessons with a high school classmate I was dating in 2011. I've used the viola to get into lower non-auditioning collegiate orchestras and church special events. There is a non-auditioning orchestra here I could participate in. There are always open viola spots in the "semi-pro" orchestra and they're far less competitive to get into than flute. The orchestra will accept advanced high school students, so I only have to be as good as an advanced high school student to squeak in. I suck at viola now, but I'm not starting from scratch. I think that a year or two of viola with a good teacher will get me good enough to be a participating fish in this small pond. I would not be able to work up my viola skills to get into the orchestra without a teacher. There are good string teachers here and I've received a recommendation for a viola teacher. Getting into orchestra would get me into the ensemble I've been most passionate about. This could also unlock me playing string trios at a local church. This is a very strategic choice.

Level: late beginner Progress stakes: medium Rewards: medium Local opportunities: multiple

--------------

I've been thinking I should switch my plan of doing banjo to viola. I could pound out the hardest two years of viola in my life, then switch to banjo lessons. In an ideal world, I'd take multiple instrument lessons at a time (would be nice to find a good piano teacher, too....), but I'm frugal, want to save for housing and retirement, don't have high-paying jobs, and have medical payment obligations that rein me in. So. If I allocate carefully, I can squeak in one instrument at a time properly. (Improperly, I could do two instruments at a time where lessons are every-other-week - ergo cycling lessons between the two instruments.)

[the-one-who-lambs]

how many cotl related dreams have you had by now?

Oh my god all my new followers are gonna have to get caught up to speed huh? So if I rotate something in my brain enough, the likelihood of me thinking about it as I'm falling asleep makes my chances of dreaming about it astronomically higher. Most notably, every other month or so I've had like.. a lucid dream where Shamura and I are just vibing in what seems to be their library. (This is why Pura drew me the Shamura profile picture actually.) Results have varied.

I'm just gonna copy and paste directly from my dream log document I have in the notes section of my phone.

-Shamura Lucid dreams. What have we done... Just chatting, talk about fears and shit, gave them a bubble tea (didn't go well), hug (not super comfy but it was nice anyway).. mostly just talk. They suck at jokes. They are literally so sweet and CONSTANTLY DEPRESSED BUT their presence is so comforting I don't know how else to describe it. Such a friend fr. Looked through their library.. I didn't understand anything but it looked cool but also felt like if I looked at anything wrong I'd set myself on fire by accident. Idk. most recently I talked to them about Gender Thoughts™ and just asked them how they knew they were nonbinary and they hit me with a "Well how did you know YOU were nonbinary ::)" motherfucker you are ten steps ahead of me right now. Forget the trans allegory of trying to "crack the egg." They put it in the microwave and tried to fucking explode it.

-Heket was my wife and we went swimming

-Shamura ran a Mexican restaurant, made good nachos

-Abstract dream, saw all five bishops. Just kind of observed stuff from the outside rather than interacting with them but nothing was super clear, other than them reuniting

-dream that lasted like 2 minutes, Shamura with a little Narinder. I think I was like watching an animated short tho, they weren't actually there. (Note: I still want this so bad)

-I was the Lamb and I went crusading and when I was done Leshy gave me a reward. I don't know why. I chose having a new scar (love that getting injured was my reward) and another choice was like .. the bishops had stronger weapons to fight me with?

-Kallamar (I'm pretty sure from @meatcatt's Redo AU. Great I'm dreaming about AUs of friends now.) was in his Gaming Hole™ and I went to say hi but I startled him and he like... Broke his mug or something and the noise woke me up at 4:45 in the morning.

-Choose ur starter pokémon (Bishop). They were all little and lying down on a table. I wasn't able to pick just one so I made some fried rice instead?? Also I was moving into a house with Ryan (note: my younger brother. I'm the first of 4 kids, he's the second of us)

-I was immediately transported back to 6th grade with all the knowledge I have now and started making predictions about the future that were all correct because I had lived it. One of the things I predicted was some sort of apocalypse that involved a red fungus taking over the world. All of the Bishops were responsible for this, and I distinctly remember Kallamar in a spaceship.

-Leshy disintegrated in front of me???? I think I killed him with my mind I'm SO SORRY LESHY

-Saw Shamura on 3 separate occasions on one night. One they were helping me win a competition to win a house but the house was boobytrapped and haunted and I had to get through the boobytraps to win it wait how were they helping me exactly?, second we were farming together I think in that exact house and we had like so many vegetables I couldn't fucking move and third we were selling ice cream together.

-I saw Narinder!!! Finally!! I was in some. Sermon thing. And he was giving a speech about peace for his followers. Idk (oh wait I didn't remember I had dreamt about him before)

-Had a dream that I became Heket's vessel. At the end of the dream, she turned against me and tried to reclaim her crown. I didn't see that one coming, somehow. Also, the fight took place in my parents's bathroom.

[yearofradicalselfbelief]

12/06/24

Did not mean to disappear, but life has been happening (as life has a way of doing) and I’m not too sure about this blog’s original goal. That’s not to say things aren’t going well! An exciting writing opportunity may or may not be on the horizon, but it’s largely out of my hands now and I’m very much just waiting and seeing, but otherwise life is just life-ing.

I did find out this year that there’s a strong chance that I’m neurodivergent – mostly after a friend who also is was like “listen, I have a hunch” and I did some research. I don’t have an official diagnosis, and seeking one out isn’t particularly realistic for me right now, but it definitely did shine a light on a lot of things that now make sense. And honestly? This discovery has been so good, but also something to sort of? Contend with? It’s been so nice to see a lot of what I previously considered my major flaws and realise there is an explanation for them, beyond “I’m a fucking idiot lolol” and all that. A quote I heard a lot at the start of my digging is that it’s a relief, because previously you live in a world of horses, built for horses, and you think “man, I’m such a shite horse” – and then you find out you’re actually a zebra, and a really good zebra, you’ve just previously been comparing yourself to something that is entirely different to you.

It's been a relief, in some ways, and it’s brought about a lot of forgiveness towards myself. But it’s also been really difficult. Especially the longer it sinks in, and the more used I get to the strong likelihood.

Previously, like a lot of neurodivergent women, I thought I just had bad social anxiety and depression, along with a hefty dose of C-PTSD (which I still do, it’s just rooted in something different to what I previously thought), which means that all of the symptoms were put into the perspective of something to be beaten and overcome. That if I just tried hard enough, I’d stop feeling so constantly painfully fucking awkward, I’d feel less lost in social situations, I’d suddenly gain some sort of charisma, a comfort in my own skin, nothing would hurt, everything would be golden. And realising this has uhhh…taken that possibility away.

In some ways, it’s a relief. Realising that it’s more of a feature than a bug – and that it’s an explanation for why I instantly click and feel comfortable with some people, while it takes more work with others (guess what I have in common with folk in the former camp) – does, to an extent, allow me to put down the sword and walk away from the battle. One that I didn’t have a hope in hell of winning. And in a way it’s good, because that acceptance does help me. It lets me sit in my discomfort and accept it, rather than making it worse by fighting it and seeing it as the symptom of some terrible mental illness that I need to conquer.

But…on the other hand I need to accept that it is just always going to be there, and that has been very difficult. Especially this week. I think it hit me properly this week. Because others sense it immediately – to the point where pretty much everybody knew this about me before I was ready to accept it, for better or worse. It’s what got me bullied throughout my school career, it’s what had the teachers asking my friends ‘is there something wrong with her?’ when that bullying was reported to them. It’s what had my mother despising me, because I wasn’t the social butterfly party animal northern lass of a daughter she’d envisaged. It’s what’s had people I previously considered close friends drunkenly making jabs about how painfully awkward I am, and how they wouldn’t want me around for important life events thanks to that.

And it’s just always going to be that way, isn’t it?

Sure, there are right crowds and right people, and there is a lot that I can probably thank this difference in me for. And I have to laugh that I’m discovering it at the same time I’m writing Here, Where Fire Grows, a fic where the OFC feels constantly othered and ostracised by people without being able to place why they immediately have her marked as different or less-than when she spends most of her time trying to blend in.

It's just a bit of a grieving process. Sure, I don’t need to fight the battle in overcoming this – because it can’t be overcome, and maybe it shouldn’t be overcome. I have a lot to thank it for. It leads me to finding people I do vibe with, I probably have it to thank for how obsessively I chase after my hobbies and skills, and my patron deity has an affinity for the outcasts, so maybe it’s even how he barrelled into my life. I would never want to change any of that. But it’s just accepting that this fabled day where I’m super socially savvy, charming and unawkward will never come. And I can’t lie, that does hurt a bit.

Sure, I’m a great zebra, but I am still living in a world made for horses. So I’m always going to be the awkward one, the one who needs to be explained before introduced, the one who’s only fun to hang out with if you’re willing to endure the awkward quietness the first few times before I get comfortable enough to not just go selectively mute. I’m always going to be the one who people see and immediately think there’s something not quite right, regardless of how much I’m probably internally panicking over trying to just seem fucking normal.

And honestly, the internet is a godsend. I’m so much better at communicating via text than speaking, because when I speak, I panic and I stutter, and unless I really concentrate, I’ll fuck up my sentences (not beating the awkward as fuck allegations, huh?) but then that adds extra panic, too, because I’ve made so many amazing friends online, and I die inside whenever one excitedly tells me they’re going to be coming through my city, because my first instant thought is “god, you’re going to be so fucking disappointed by how I am in person” – especially because in those cases, we don’t have time for the three hangouts before I manage to un-freeze enough to become who I actually am. And I can’t really bear the thought of that.

It’s just exhausting, if I’m being honest. And I do think finding acceptance will help me make strides forward, but even knowing that I don’t particularly have to fight the battle to be “normal” anymore, I feel like I’ve lost it once and for all now. I don’t want to be the one who constantly makes shit first impressions, or who has to apologise for being weird, or just apologise for existing in general, or who has to be explained before she’s introduced, or who thinks she has a really close friend only to be mocked for that awkwardness that she cannot help, and having that last bit happen enough that I’m in a constant state of waiting for it to happen with other, better friends, too.

People compliment me, and I’m just waiting for them to see the awkwardness and the differences, because surely they wouldn’t be giving those compliments if they’d noticed by now? Or if they have seen that and continue to actually hold me in some sort of high regard, I feel like I need to be fucking eternally grateful to them for being magnanimous enough to overlook my glaring flaws and other-ness in order to find one or two shreds that they kinda sorta like. Or hey, maybe they’re just lying and it’s all some cunning ruse. Very realistic and likely, right?

And people will love me anyway. Deep down, I know that. Whether it’s in spite of it, or because of it, they do and they will, but it’s so much harder for me to love myself while taking all of this in. I’m going through a bad bout of depression right now, and the overwhelming thought just utterly battering my skull is I don’t like anything about myself. Knowing that I am, to some extent, always going to be off-putting to people, always going to be laughed at or mocked for something that I can’t help and can’t even adequately cover up, and that I’m always going to feel like I’m living in a world where everybody else was given a map and a fully written guide on where to go, what to do, and how to act, when I wasn’t looking.

I’ll find my peace with it. As I said, a lot of this current feeling is just because I’m going through it with my depression right now. I’ve been the weird one all of my life, I’ll be the weird one for the rest of it. On a deeper level, I can find a lot about that to love. I wouldn’t want to blend in.  It’s just a grieving process, and I can’t skip straight to acceptance with this one.

[go-to-the-mirror]

Hello, @a-mag-a-day. Apologies for the deception but I rather wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself. I'm assuming you're alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn't try too hard to stop reading; there's every likelihood you'll just hurt yourself. So just listen. Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of landscaping-your-mind regarding episode 160 of The Magnus Archives.

Statement begins.

So, from all the stuff I scheduled for today you can probably tell I really like episode 160 of The Magnus Archives, right? Like, good lord, it is... it is a time. (Also, the words were really good (and also there's poetry) so :D incentive!)

Firstly, though, I have to say something. It's not the Watcher's Crown. The Watcher's Crown is the ritual Jonah Magnus attempted years ago. This is unnamed in canon, but Jonny said it could've been called The Magnus Archives.

Secondly... I would like to draw your attention towards the description of the youtube version of this episode. (to paraphrase)

The Magnus Archive discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others.

Ahahahahaha AHAHAHAAHAHAH WHAT-

I hate this so much. Like, with a burning passion. "The Magnus Archives discovers that some escapes are a lot easier than others" COME TO MY HOME AND KILL ME YOU COWARD! It just hurts, it just... hurts.

He can escape London, but he can't escape his ✨ purpose ✨

You ever think about how The Magnus Archives follows the story of Magnus' Archive? I do. A lot. I haven't even started listening yet, god, this episode am I right?

MARTIN (Joking) Or, (huffed laugh) or it is, and she just cleaned it up really well. (They both make uncomfortable chuckles) ARCHIVIST …Yes. (The Archivist makes an uneasy noise)

THEYRE BOTH SO AWKWARD THEY HAVEN'T TALKED TO A NORMAL HUMAN IN OVER A YEAR

Just their really awkward laughter, oh my godd they're so endearing your honour, I'm so glad this episode and TMA ends at the 5 minute mark (< in denial)

ARCHIVIST Hopefully a long way out there. (soft) But I think we’re okay

THEY ARE IN LOVE YOUR HONOUR

I just love how soft Jon's voice gets around Martin, like, like, eeeee i just love them i love them they're the reason im aro bc i know i will never love someone romantically as much as jmart loves each other /j

MARTIN Oh, n-no, not yet. I was actually gonna head down into the village to go pick something up?

Ooooh yay I get to share my "where are they in scotland" headcanons! I think they're near Dunnet, because it's pretty far north and in the Highland area, and it's also got allegedly the only full time gunshop north of Inverness, and... yknow, it is Daisy's safehouse.

ARCHIVIST Anyway, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.

your honour they're lightheartedly teasing each other <3

ARCHIVIST I’ll be fine.

SOFT!

(update im wrtinging with a cat on my lap now hes big. im balancing my computer on my leg.)

MARTIN I assume it’s her attempt at a- a, a varied diet? Eating your greens, you know? ARCHIVIST (Amused) Probably. (reassured) I’m sure it’ll work fine

hhh them <3 it's just like they're so... they're happy. they're so happy, and it's like nothing gold will stay or whatever

they had such a short amount of time

i wish they were ok

MARTIN …I will give you some privacy. Go for a walk. ARCHIVIST (Warmly) Let me know if you see any good cows. MARTIN Obviously I’m going to tell you if I see any good cows.

I'm...

them being happy is almost worse, right. because what once was a surprise we now know will happen, we have to deal with the dread, and it's all bitter now, the happiness is rotten because of what lurks after.

some people can listen to the first five minutes and feel okay, but me?

for me it just hurts.

ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) (Pleasantly) Statement of Hazel Rutter regarding a fire in her childhood home. Original statement given August 9th, 1992. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

He sounded so happy... he sounded so happy.

This is the first time he's happy before he reads a statement. He was happy, he was hiding from the police and the hunters and Daisy and Not!Sasha with his boyfriend in Scotland. And then, and then Jonah Magnus comes in and decides to end the world like a bastard.

I don't want to hit play. I don't want to know what comes next. I want to stop listening. I want Jon and Martin to be okay. I want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.

I just want it to be the real statement of Hazel Rutter.

I get it, right, horror tragedy! This was the desired effect. I am supposed to be feeling these emotions. These emotions being very sad. Well done to Jonny, lovely writing. Fantastic! I love TMA with my whole heart. I think that it's fantastic. I don't want to hit play though. I'm here for the characters suffering, I got in through The Hermit Archives, I wanted more of the horror! I am here for suffering! I'm here for the suffering. I'm hitting play.

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins.

He could have just ended the world. Like, the whole... forcing Jon to monologue about all the times he was manipulated into furthering Jonah's plan? That's fucked. That is fucked. Just put the ritual there you slimy piece of shit!

It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through the voice of another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

*me to my dog, in the "talking to a dog" voice* You wanna kill him too! Hey! You wanna kill him too!

Like, okay, so you're Jon and you're reading this statement and you can't stop, and this bastard says "you can't tell me you're not curious." Tell me that's not going to make him think that if he tried a little harder then he would've been able to stop reading. Tell me that's not going to make him think that a part of him wanted to end the world, and that's why he's still reading. Tell me that's not going to make him blame himself even more.

The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself.

He's so bloody arrogant. He puts himself above the entire world. It makes sense, he's from Regency era England, but like, it's still... really awful. Awful person.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

When I fear death I distract myself, not try to end the world. Like, this guy is just so evil. His only redeeming quality is being funny sometimes.

Everyone dies, Jack Magnet, you just chose to be a bastard about it.

Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it, was born.

Right, so The Magnus Protocol's Magnus Institute was located in Manchester, and I'm not an expert on the geography of the United Kingdom, and basically know nothing about Manchester, bar that it has the... football, I want to say, team Manchester United? I don't know how I know that. But it seems as though Jonah Magnus didn't attempt his ritual, or attempted it some other way in that universe.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain through lines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

I wonder what the others are. The Dancer could be one - The Dancer in The Unknowing. I think Jonny said in a QnA, but you know, the author is dead, he's speaking to us posthumously, that The Architect could have been one. Not sure what others. If y'all have any ideas... 👀

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt; but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

Ok, Mr. Jonah "orchestrates twelve traumatising events for this one guy and gets him to end the world" Magnus. He cannot talk, he cannot talk at all. Sure, she sacrificed people, but she wasn't malicious. She did it for a cause. Did she believe she was good? I'm not sure she cared.

Jonah Magnus is just awful for his own self gain.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the panic of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral? Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down. To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Gerry's colour explanation makes a lot of sense if you don't conceive of it as a traditional colour wheel. They're growing out in every direction, they all overlap with each other.

Sure, the fear of The Eye may seem in direct opposition to the fear of The Stranger, but let's take Jon, for instance. Is it not sort of Stranger to have some guy in a coffee shop staring at you with his autistic eyes, a person you don't know, but who definitely knows you?

What about the fear of The Buried and the fear of The Vast. Episode 195 covers that pretty handily. They're all interconnected with all of the others. Separating them makes them easier to understand (and invertedly makes them actually separated), but it isn't them, not truly. They are connected intrinsically.

Even the coffin! The fear of being alone in the dark is a part of the coffin.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that, well, it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. The Archivist is something... defined by how they feed their patron, but The Archive is defined by how they've been hurt to bring it into the world. He's not defined by even a person-like role, he's something molded by Jonah Magnus' desires to end the world.

I wrote a little poem about it, which I shall share here, because I am cringe but I am free, unlike Jon. RIP

He's not a person with a name, He's a vessel of destruction, He's not a person who feels pain, It's necessary for production, That he's scarred and marked, By things that lurk in the dark, Believe himself useless, Or it'll be fruitless, And at the end of the day, He's no person, no name, He's a plan that has come to fruition.

Also, he calls himself The Archivist, perhaps viewing himself as... something that hurts others, rather than something that is hurt for a purpose.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but my god, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of implicit blessing on my whole project and, do you know what, I think it was.

"I chose you" "I'll admit, my options were somewhat limited" Mr. Magnet, he was chosen by the web. Jonah's just not afraid to be puppeted.

So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

This line fucked me up. "One hand on the gas release from the start." Just... like it just sticks in my mind. How he held all their lives in the palm of his hand, how he let Sasha die, and Tim get eaten by worms, because he wanted his bloody perfect Archive.

One hand on the gas release from the start, while all of them almost - or did - die(d).

Like, what gets me is how fucked up Jon was afterwards, how he was asking everyone for their statements, shutting them up before they got to the part where they'd mention Jon and Tim getting eaten with worms. What gets me is how Elias was there and Jon was what, looked like a bloody mummy! He didn't have second thoughts when he saw...

He knew everything. He saw everything. He saw how fucked up Jon was over e v e r y t h i n g. (everything)

That's what gets me.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its door, you’re marked very deep by the Spiral.

And, you know, the manipulation, the gaslighting, the betrayal. I saw an interesting post on this, but I can't seem to find it. I'll look in the posts I've rbed tagged TMA meta, I'll link it in a reblog if I find it.

Honestly, I had nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so whenever her rage bubbled over you were right there, a ready target.

You know after Jon's second kidnapping that could have totally been resolved how Jonah made Jon stand in front of Melanie while she wanted to kill Jonah with a knife, and how it's like oh, right, yeah, use Jon as a bloody meat shield to get her angry at him, make him the scapegoat, that was intentional. It was intentional to destroy everyone in the Archives' interpersonal relationships, and then have Jon. A ready target for hatred and vitriol.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

I think that Jonah Magnus should eat shit and die.

The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

If you replace the Ceaseless Watcher with Determination then it reads like an Undertale save.

* The power of Determination flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

This also ties in with the above, I hate that he says "our victory" "the world that we have made." Jon didn't consent to this, Jon didn't want this, Jon was made to be an unwilling conduit of the apocolypse and Jonah Magnus is insinuating that he chose it, the victim blaming little prick!

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right. Come to us in your wholeness. Come to us in your perfection. Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies! Come to us. I OPEN THE DOOR!

GREAT INCANTATION! 10/10! And it's actually recitable, unlike the TBI one.

ARCHIVIST Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky. It’s looking back.

That is a fucking fantastic final line of the episode. All of it, four seasons leading up to this moment. Look at the sky. It's looking back.

Fuck dude!

(The Archivist begins a fractured, delirious, humourless, laugh that does not end)

That laugh.

That laugh is just... haunting. I love it so much. It makes me want to cry. I used to have it saved on my phone and I'd just listen to it over and over and over again and get more and more disturbed and heartbroken.

That laugh. That broken, horrific laugh.

I can't get over it.

And thus ends season 4 of The Magnus Archives. With a broken laugh in front of a window, leading out to the doomed world.

Episode 160 is quite possibly my favourite metaplot episode of The Magnus Archives, the way the whole plan was revealed, the awful manipulations that were exposed... that laugh.

I leave you all to think on this. To think on the Archive née the Archivist née Jonathan Sims, laughing at the world he has unwillingly and unwittingly doomed.

Goodnight, a-mag-a-day, goodnight. /ref

[seriously-mike]

Who's surprised, because I am not?

When ChatGPT set the world on fire a year and a half ago, it sparked a feverish search for ways to catch people trying to pass off AI text as their own writing. A host of startups launched to fill the void through AI detection tools, with names including Copyleaks, GPTZero, Originality.AI, and Winston AI. It makes for a tidy business in a landscape full of AI boogeymen. These companies advertise peace of mind, a way to take back control through “proof” and “accountability.” Some advertise accuracy rates as high as 99.98%. But a growing body of experts, studies, and industry insiders argue these tools are far less reliable than their makers promise. There’s no question that AI detectors make frequent mistakes, and innocent bystanders get caught in the crossfire. Countless students have been accused of AI plagiarism, but a quieter epidemic is happening in the professional world. Some writing gigs are drying up thanks to chatbots. As people fight over the dwindling field of work, writers are losing jobs over false accusations from AI detectors.

Of course. Just like I showed you a few weeks ago, an AI-generated image that is even marketed as such by the seller, was claimed to be "99.9% accurately" not AI-generated. A photo of the Mona Lisa uploaded to Wikipedia Commons thirteen years ago was claimed to be "99.9% accurately" AI-generated. We're having snake oil salesmen preying on moronic Butlerian Jihadi types with claims like this, with innocent people losing their jobs and chances for education.

In general, AI detectors work by spotting the hallmarks of AI penmanship, such as perfect grammar and punctuation. In fact, one of the easiest ways to get your work flagged is to use Grammarly, a tool that checks for spelling and grammatical errors. It even suggests ways to rewrite sentences for clarity using, you guessed it, artificial intelligence. Adding insult to injury, Gizmodo spoke to writers who said they were fired by platforms that required them to use Grammarly.

What. The. FUCK. If anything, computers are fairly good at scanning things and comparing them with rigid references, like style books and grammar manuals, often against the human writer's wishes (for example because a certain unorthodox turn of phrase is intended to shock the reader, or there's a play on words that cannot be expressed differently), but "perfect grammar and punctuation" is certainly not what I would expect from AI algorithms - for example, in the first minute or two of the Robert Makłowicz Gravel Bullshit I could hear ChatGPT stumbling over genders and grammatical cases, much like I sometimes do myself, particularly when typing quickly or in a runaway sentence.

Detectors look for more telling factors as well, such as “burstiness.” Human writers are more likely to reuse certain words in clusters or bursts, while AI is more likely to distribute words evenly across a document. AI detectors can also assess “perplexity,” which essentially asks an AI to measure the likelihood that it would have produced a piece of text given the model’s training data.

"Burstiness"? "Perplexity"? What kind of Stephen Colbert horseshit is this? I mean, seriously, those words sound like someone made them up for The Stephen Colbert Show "The Wørd" segment, in a "fuck me if I know what my software is doing" way. Like, you put the text in, pull the lever, the machine spits out the verdict and you're supposed to kowtow to its Grand, All-Encompassing Wisdom now. How it does what it does? You're not supposed to know and I'm not explaining it to you either, mostly because I have no idea myself. Magic everywhere in this bitch, man.

AI detection companies “are in the business of selling snake oil,” said Debora Weber-Wulff, a professor at the University of Applied Sciences for Engineering and Economics in Berlin, who co-authored a recent paper about the effectiveness of AI detection. According to Weber-Wulff, research shows that AI detectors are inaccurate, unreliable, and easy to fool. “People want to believe that there can be some magic software that solves their problems,” she said. But “computer software cannot solve social problems. We have to find other solutions.”

Of fucking course, why am I not surprised. Generative AI is snake oil as it fails to replace actual artists to any considerable degree (unless we're talking generic editorial cartoons you could left-hand in 15 minutes - DALL-E will left-hand something more specific in 30 seconds, particularly for the purposes of a dodgy third-rate website), and detecting AI is just as shit, much like I pointed out before. It's laughable, actually: we have companies run submitted writing through dodgy detectors in order to weasel out of paying, when in other circumstances they'd promptly have ChatGPT on the job of writing insipid clickbait listicles in order to weasel out of paying. It's like "I can fuck you over anytime, but god forbid you try to fuck me over".

“We hear these stories more than we wish we did, and we understand the pain that false positives cause writers when the work they poured their heart and soul into gets falsely accused,” said Jonathan Gillham, CEO of Originality.AI. “We feel like we feel like we’re building a tool to help writers, but we know that at times it does have some consequences.”

No, buddy, fuck you. Fuck you a thousand times with a fucking cactus. You're selling snake oil, you know it's not working and here you are playing dumb that your software just works, and when it inevitably fails, again and again, you're pretending it's not your fault, you coprolithically retarded cunt.

But Originality and other AI detectors send mixed messages about how their tools should be used. For example, Gillham said “we advise against the tool being used within academia, and strongly recommend against being used for disciplinary action.” He explained the risk of false positives is too high for students, because they submit a small number of essays throughout a school year, but the volume of work produced by a professional writer means the algorithm has more chances to get it right. However, on one of the company’s blog posts, Originality says AI detection is “essential” in the classroom.

CUNT.

Then there’s the way the company describes its algorithm. According to Originality, the latest version of its tool has a 98.8% accuracy rate, but Originality also says its false positive rate is 2.8%. If you’ve got your calculator handy, you’ll notice that adds up to more than 100%. Gillham said that’s because these numbers come from two different tests.

ABSOLUTE MOTHERFUCKING LYING CUNT.

Now don't be surprised that they're going to lie in multiple ways and make shit up only to make a buck on selling the tech to the gullible and, more importantly, the maliciously prejudiced. In the end, the whole thing is about money, and money curiously causes people to stop thinking about everything else.