#like I just feel the implications of this line DEEP in my soul

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

So I sat down the other day and went through the crane wives albums and some other songs to assign to Ninjago characters and I've finally sat down and decided to write the post out. The content are going to be under cut because this post will certainly be too long. I'm going to go album by album here starting with Coyote Stories and ending Here I Am: From The Listening Room.

(any and all "(X)" are simply links to the songs <3)

okay, here we go!

Coyote Stories

Keep You Safe: in some ways, I like to interpret part of this song as relating to Nya's perfectionism, especially within Possession. The bridge especially and lines "What if the steps I take turn out to be mistakes? How can someone like me learn to say "come what may"?" (X)

Allies or Enemies: this is Jay and Cole to me from Rebooted to ToE. Specifically, from Cole's perspective. The song has a lot of regret and bitterness in it that I just think fits so well. The first verse and second verse ("you owe me ears from dropping eaves"), and the bridge are all so clear to me. The bridge, "what happens now? do we have another go (oh) do we bow out and take our separate roads, I'll admit I've had my doubts (oh) but I want to be let in not out (oh) I want to be let in now out", reads to me like Cole's sudden giving in and desperation in their match in ToE. (X)

Hard Sell: this one's a little loser but it reminds me of Lloyd struggles to keep himself strong and straight with everything that gets thrown at him, all the stress. To be The Green Ninja (X).

Little Soldiers: Young Garmadon and Wu, I think. It's their doomed brotherhood, the way they loved each other clearly as impulsive youth ("on the broken backs of all the words we spared, like little soldiers in the trenches, it was a march we made through ruin and despair but we held hands all the while") but ultimately Wu couldn't keep his brother. The bridge reminds me of the war. (X)

Metaphor: Harumi, obviously. There's really no debate, it's her fake mask as the Jade Princess, it's her relationship to Lloyd even. "I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors, I've gotten good at leaning on someone else's page, I cut my teeth on second hand sentiments, you can't trust a single thing I say" -> princess era. It's a sweetly bitter song, chalk full of implications of trauma. The line "but I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can't trust a single thing you say" is relevant to her relationship with Lloyd, I feel. (X)

Of Everlong: This is a lovely and very soulful song, short and sweet. It's reminiscent of Pixane, to me, specifically from Pixal's perspective. There's a certain connectiveness in being in someone's head. "and if my lover will not hear it take my voice and take my spirit leave weakened and dig my hole only my lover not I can keep my soul" vs "I do not know if there is anything after this life for beings such as you or I, but if there is, I will find you there. Goodbye my Zane." (X)

New Discovery: Fairly simple and not to deep, but this is a Misako song. Adventurer and explorer, and all (X).

The Moon Will Sing: I want to preface two things, A) this interpretation is very much looser and a little less connected t the full original meaning of the song and a little more based in reworking it to fit the characters and B) Wu haters will be stabbed by my mighty and large sword. This is Morro and Wu, on a level. "I shine only with the light you gave me", the light here i the green ninja prophecy,something Morro latched onto to prove his wroth, who is, who is to Wu. The entire song as an air of bitter grief I think fit's Morro and Wu's story. Morro could've grown up and been something more than a half baked angry ghost chasing a dream from 40 years ago, but he wasn't, "I could've been anyone, anyone." (X) (X) (<- an extra link to the demo of the song!! I find it rather lovely)

(Extra note on The Moon Will Sing, I could also see this being a song about Zane/The Ice Emperor and Vex.)

Rockslide: this is about to be very unsurprising, I associate this with Cole! There's obviously the title but generally I think the energy of the song is very Cole-like, in the fun sense. There's also the lines about feeling the "quakin honey I feel it deep" which is rather self explanatory. (X)

The Hand That Feeds: I'm shaky on this one simply because I don't remember or know her character very well, but Akita. Has a lot of mention of wolves and is a very angry song against systemic oppression (though, in the song it's anti-capitalism lol). (X)

Sleeping Giants: another Cole song, mostly based on the presence of mountains, and the 'calling' aspect of the song. I also tend to associate songs with strong drums like in this with Cole (like Drumming Song by Florence and the machine) (X).

Never Love An Anchor: I've seen this song go around actually, mostly with Misako. Which, I agree with! However, I consider it a dual song with her and Garmadon. Specifically, their season one selves. It's Misako leaving Lloyd at that boarding school, it's Garmadon being so absent even though he so clearly loves his son (and despite his evilness, he doesn't seem to wish Lloyd to follow in his footsteps). The first verse really resonates with me as being Misako, clumsy hands and trying her best, and all. The last verse however, is Garmadon ("I am selfish I am broken I am cruel") and so is the line "With this heart of mine that's guilty not remorseful." If you haven't heard this song, I truly, truly recommend it, it's gut wrenching imo. (X)

Okay! We've reached the end of Coyote Stories. That's 11/12 songs out of the albums, the best ratio we have on this listing I believe. Moving onto Foxlore now!

Foxlore:

Nothing At All: when I was looking at this song, trying to decide who to apply it to, I ended up getting kind of emotional. It's Zane, post Ice Emperor specifically. In his self-dehumanization. I'm just going to list out the lyrics that made me incredibly sad lol. "Happy is the man who wants for nothing happy is the lair happiness itself is desire", "heart broken men long to feel nothing to free themselves from strife handle pain, pain doesn't define a man it sure lends an hand getting measured in the sweeter parts of life". (X)

Down The River: Lloyd, post Garmadon revival and Crystallized. All his bitter feeling towards his father, and the angry abandonment issues. The first verse ("I've been wishig that you'd prove me wrong, that you'd come clean and rue the damage done, restore my faith in you, but you've got no reaosn to") and fifth ("Now, tell me, when you start again where will you house your skeletons? Or will they stay behind? Your settlement in kind?") especially. (X)

Can't Go Back: Zane, post Ice Emperor, again. It's that guilt man, I don't really have more to explain but know it makes me Sad. (X)

Turn Out The Lights: Jay, this is mostly about an anxiety head-canon lol, considering the song is about a racing mind. (X)

Ribs: this song is so Nya it hurts. It pretty strongly connects to her arc over the seasons about self independence, identity, and misogyny. It's her finding her place as who she is, and taking back things as her own ("It is mine, it is mine). Verse three I like to connect to her element being of Wojira's and how that is so symbolic of her place in the team (and why she reflect Morro so well in a lot of ways but I won't get into that), "time has changed the metaphor, now, dust is not the orgin of bone, little girl don't let them sell you any armor all your ribs are still your own". There's also the main chorus, which, god I got sad when I looked at it from the angle of Seabound. "The dark doesn't frighten me I chose to close my eyes, it is mine, it is mine, the night doesn't frighten me I chose to let it thrive, it is mine, it is mine." (X)

Not The Ghost: perhaps a little literal but, Cole in his Day Of The Departed era. Though, it connects to his feelings at the time more than his literal ghost-hood. It pretty strongly captures the depression, low self esteem, and growing urgency (around the Latter half of the song). You could also read some of the lyrics as paralleling the events of DOTD itself. (X)

And that's it for Foxlore, that is...6/10 I think, so not the worst either. Fun fact, this next section is my favorite album as a whole :)!

The Fool In Her Wedding Gown:

Icarus: now who else would this be about if not the doomed siblings of the series? Of course it's Wu and Garmadon. I think of this pretty strongly as paralleling their 'adventures' as young children, and then the war. "Oh my brother, oh my brother, oh my brother, who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here", yeah. The entire energy of the song has that weird sad, yet hopeful regret Wu seems to carry around with him in regards to Garmadon, it's a very loving song. (X)

Fangs: Nya, the entire song carries the desperate anger she has, the longing for independence and strength. It's bitter too, in a way that reminds me of her from Rebooted to Skybound. "I am not your highness, a damsel left helpless by fright, I am a lioness, fierce as I walk through the night", "a man will never know his bride"...and well, she was a bride once, wasn't she? (X)

That's it for TFIHWG actually, I know, sad sad ratio but I am also not suprised because a lot of the songs on this album are rather specific.

Safe Ship, Harbored:

New Colors: this one is really simple, Lloyd, and only because it reminds me about how consistently stressed he is lol. (X)

The Crooked, The Cradle: This is a Morro song, to me. The idea of were you doomed from the start (the cradle), or was this purely because of the choices you made? The line "can anyone hear me? The crooked are smiling, they know me the best" strongly reminds me of him and the Preeminent. (X)

(Additionally, this came to me as i was writing this section but I could also see this song being Garmadon coded.)

Caleb Trask: Oni Lloyd! The entire song is about the concept of having 'bad in your blood' and how you simply have to embrace it. That you cannot let it chain you, that love will bring you back. Reminds me of him. (X)

I Ain't Done: if you look at this from a purely conceptual level and energy wise, this song is very Morro. It's got his vengeful, jealous and vicious return from the dead to wreck havoc vibes lol, the lyrics in a literaly sense, however, do not fit. (X)

We're nearing the end now! kind of! 4/12 ratio.

Here I Am: Live From The Listening Room:

High Horse: Jaya, actually. From Rebooted to Skybound, from Nya's pov. Mostly, I connect it to that weird, unhealthy desperation Jay had for Nya and Nya's desire to be free of it, her own self. "You're a sweet heart, you're a curse, you're a passing grade on a low, low bar, you've got your eyes open, I know your worth, but I've got so many things in my hungry, hungry heart", sums it up pretty well. (X)

Here I Am: This one's Cole, but it's a bit of a mixture on why. First up, it's again DOTD era Cole with all his being forgotten angst and anxiety. Secondly, and maybe more painfully, it really reminds me of his and Lou's relationship early on. Neglected child core, and all that ("I promised myself I'd learn to be the one who leaves, with no more roots to tie me down, it's just a different kind of lonely"). The last verse is strongly reminiscent of his pure stubbornness, too. (X)

Queen Of Nothing: Solidly Harumi, a lot on vibes and mood. It's got a dark, sort of unsatisfied sound to it. The chorus screams her , "Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out, just finish what you started, queen of nothing wearing such a heavy crown." (X)

Sowing Seeds: this one's a bit more general, it reminds me of Possession, the season. It's also a very moody song, having a tired, haunted sort of energy. It also fits nicely into the theme of consequences in Possession. The first verse ("still as a lake long after the wind is gone, in the face of a thief mashing ground to mud, still as a street long after the work is done, as he gnashes his teeth, as he cuts it up, cuts it up") heavily reminds me of Morro. (X)

Hollow Moon: fairly simple, Hollow Moon reminds me of Cole's fear on DOTD. It's got that spooky and paranoid sort of energy. (X)

The Wolf: this both a Harumi and Morro, bearing that bitter, self destructive energy. (X)

Now, that concludes all the albums thus far, and I know I sad we'd leave off on HIA:LFTLR, however, I am a lair. There's a couple songs that aren't on albums that's be a shame not to mention.

Margaret: this is Misako, in her loss of her husband, and her trails to find a way to fix things. "She's breaking her knuckles on truths that keep her awake, and she's tired but her jaw is set, she won't lose any more of the heart she still has left, so she says a prayer pulls the covers near and waits, Margaret won't sleep tonight." Lovely song. (X)

Scars: this is a newly released song! I believe it connects back to Never Love An Anchor, and as such, it fits Lloyd very well. Specifically in relation to Garmadon, post revival. It so so fits all that anger in him at his dad ("cause I was born with a whole in my heart, yeah, we were fucked from the start, tell me it's inevitable I'd end up with scars from falling down, down, we were always meant to fall apart"). (X) (X) (<- the second is a live audio recording that is personally my favorite!)

Okay, no we're done! Anyways, if you read all the way down here I hope any of this made sense. This is a little bit of a love letter to The Crane Wives and Ninjago, I spent hours doing this lol. If you haven't heard any or some of these songs, please do listen to them!! Every song mentioned should have an accompanying link. Anyways, time to end this stupidly long post, please share if you have any thoughts or connect songs differently!!!!!!!!

[mystverse]

EVERYDAY DRABBLES - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

WARNINGS : MDNI, Demon! Chenle, Smut, Oral sex (fem receiving), Unprotected sex (please use protection), mild implication of corruption kink if you squint, use of pet name (sweet angel like once), etc.

A/N : Sorry for this sorry excuse of a smut.

The knock on your door wakes you up fully from your restless sleep. Whoever it is, they are getting punc- kissed right on the lips. It's Chenle. Sweet, sweet Chenle, who loves to get on his knees for you.

His hands curl around your waist, entering your room. It's unusual but welcome. You know that his work ends at odd hours and odd places. He could have had his work near your place and that's how you reason for his arrival.

However, his pupils are blown out. Your fingers trace the almost healed cut on his cheek. "Is everything ok, Lele?" He hums, wrapping his arms around you. A warm hug, and you feel him, hard and warm against your stomach. Red creeps to your cheeks.

"Is it the bond again? Did I summon you?" You ask him gently. This has happened before, once when you first summoned him from hell. He hadn't formed a bond back then. Hence, it hadn't been difficult to keep him away. Now, Sweet Chenle, your demon boyfriend is bonded to you for eternity, and so he feels your soul, relentlessly tugging at the bond string. You wonder if your soul is entangled with his and at any sort of mild discomfort, it reaches out to him.

But he shakes his head, denying, "It's me. I crave you. I tried to keep it at bay, but I couldn't-" He sighs, "-do it. I almost let an evil soul reach heaven. The pact would have been broken."

"You should have come to me." You softly press a kiss to his jaw. You seat him on the couch and leave to bring him water, but he follows you to the kitchen, arms wrapping around you to engulf your frame.

Dark smoke fills the space. It isn't suffocating. The smoke rarely is. But you can't say that about the man behind, making his intention known with his actions and signals. Your eyes flutter close as an instinct. And the last string of sanity leaves the room silently when a sinful moan leaves your lips.

He seats on over the counter with a deep grunt and kneels in front of you. Slipping off your sleep shorts and cotton underwear, he leaves wet kisses on your cunt, breath warm and battered. He laps greedily, getting you wet for him. You let out broken moans and whimpers of pleasure, "Missed you so much. Missed your pussy so much. Ah- I'm gonna stay like this till morning. Oh- fuck you are throbbing, angel. Do you want it too? My face buried in your pussy? Bet you do." He's rambling absolute filth but all you could feel is bliss. He licks and prodes at your cunt, sucking on your clit. You could just come from his tongue. He spreads your legs further, delving his tongue in along with two of his fingers to spread you open for his cock.

"Chen-le ah shit-" you call out his name in ecstasy. He lets out an animalistic growl, picking up the pace with his fingers and pressing at the sweet spots inside. You are burning up, but the countertop is cool against your skin. You can feel the tight knot in your stomach, which is about to come undone. "Chenle- fuck- love-" the waves of oragsm crash through your body, leaving you shaking and trembling, but he doesn't stop. His hands are kneading your ass, nails softly digging into the skin, "Come home, please." You have no idea what's going on in his mind, but you agree with a nod and a soft whimper following, right after because you feel him inside you. He angles his hips to ruin you whole. You scream and cry out in pleasure. Who knew a demon's dick was this good? It's good enough to make you forget your morals; your ideologies. Who are you kidding? It's fucking fantastic.

"You can't go back on your word," he kisses the mark of claim on your neck, a glowing sigil of pentagram. You are too gone to care, and the black smoke plumes around them. It intercepts your line of vision, and you close your eyes for a second only to find yourself on a bed, with Chenle hovering over you. He doesn't give you time to question him. His dick is still buried in you, and he is thrusting fast and hard into you. You clutch onto the crimson silk sheets while he makes your eyes roll back in pleasure. The coil in your abdomen snaps for the second time, and he's filling you up while whispering soft praises for taking him like a good girl, "You did so well, my love."

"Where are we, Lele?" You ask once out of the daze, looking around the palace like interior of the room curiously. His grin is mischievous, "Welcome to Hell, my sweet angel."

: MYST

[autistichalsin]

So @dorky-malorky left a really good reply on this post I made earlier, and it was so good I had to reply- BUT my reply got way too long, so I'm making a new post. I'm going to quote their reply, and then add my own under.

So true, besties. As someone who was bullied pretty mercilessly all through grade school and right up until graduation, I see a lot of that same mask in Halsin. He puts up with so much and it's not because he's a sage wise old druid, it's because he has unresolved trauma!!! Man basically says Thaniel was his only friend growing up and that's why he became a druid. Imagine making a friend as a little kid and then finding out that no one else knows of him or can even see him. To all those people Thaniel may as well have been an imaginary playmate to a sad lonely boy. Then he grows up and loses pretty much everyone he cares about. He's cut off from Thaniel, he's cut off from his peers, and he puts so much of the blame on himself for that. Then he's thrust into a position of leadership where he, again, struggles to make connections. Sure some people at the grove are like 'sure wish Halsin was here' but then they all just go along with Khaga and the Rite of Thorns anyways instead of doing anything about it and they basically write him off as lost. In my view, Halsin has just been swallowing grief and disappointment his whole life and has been putting on the brave face because that's what people expect from him. Don't make waves, just keep on keeping on. Even with Tav and the tadpole crew he will keep swallowing that same shit beyond what a normal person would put up with because Halsin just wants to belong. He will take scraps if that's all he can get, and be thankful for it, when what he deserves is to be at the table with everyone else. And the heartbreaking thing is just how deeply he cares despite everything he's gone through. He could be bitter and angry like Astarion, but instead he suppresses and buries the hurt way down deep, and just keeps going, holding onto a hope that the future will be a better place. :(

And here is my response:

ALL OF THIS. There is a REASON so much of the fandom has independently come to the conclusion that Halsin is both autistic and a victim of bullying- realize it or not, the writers just put too many tell-tale behaviors in.

Your part about taking scraps just hits the nail on the head. He takes whatever the player gives, and he is still so damn nice- if he loses all of his approval towards the player (which is quite a feat since rescuing Thaniel and breaking the curse gets you 40-50 depending on choices made) he may be snippy in his greetings and in his point-n-click lines which are currently bugged, but he still never actually... really does anything about it.

And that he's able to still care after all of this- even setting aside headcanons, this is still a man who had few to no friends growing up, has been othered for his size and treated like his feelings don't matter, has lost everyone he loved, was made a sex slave for three years to one of the cruelest groups out there, with said slavery including seeing the bodies of other elves like him made into decorations, was forced to fight a huge battle and then faced a curse that killed so many friends of his that it would "take [him] a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends [he] lost" AND he had to kill the reanimated corpse of the previous Archdruid, a man he speaks admiringly of every time he mentions him, leaving him with survivor's guilt and pretty obvious PTSD, AND it took away his best/possibly only friend from childhood, he was forced into a leadership role he never wanted and in fact was actively miserable in, stressed to the point that he started thinking fondly of his past as a sex slave (with the implication being he romanticized it because he wanted not to have to be responsible for such hard decisions anymore) and with not a single soul to confide in who might tell him these thoughts weren't healthy, he spent years begging for help breaking the curse but even the Emerald Enclave was basically like "yeah you're on your own buddy", he fell into what was strongly implied to be alcoholism and had to swear it off entirely, his attempt to jump at the first chance he saw in 100 years to break the curse resulted in him being held captive again and tortured- by goblins, which got him mocked later- while his Grove was infiltrated, psyoped (seriously, too many people don't seem to know that Ketheric orchestrated the Shadow Druids infiltrating the Grove because he knew what a threat they/Halsin would be and wanted it neutralized) and turned against him by Kagha, requiring him to send in a new Archdruid while he left to try to solve the mindflayer crisis- and almost immediately discovering she was a better leader than he EVER was, which I'm sure left him with a feeling of not just inadequacy as he alluded to in his scenes, but also with a feeling he'd wasted all those 100 years trying to lead if he could have just handed it off to someone better all along, then after he finally breaks the curse that has been plaguing his homeland for 100 years he goes into the city, is promptly gut-punched with how much people, especially children, are suffering there, tries everything short of screaming to get people's attention that this is NOT OKAY and is promptly brushed off and dismissed at every turn, then finally goes to fight a Nether Brain to save the world, which he admits he had little faith he would survive- but he put on a brave face for the player (especially if romanced). And that's literally just the main canon path, not including things that can be done to him in darker branches, like his Grove being slaughtered and his attempt to avenge them all failing, or the Rite of Thorns succeeding and him losing his home forever, or him getting kidnapped by Orin, or, once that new update goes into place, him having casual sex with his friend/love interest (depending on the circumstances) and some prostitutes, opening up about his time as a sex slave, and then being promptly threatened to be sold back into slavery by the person he trusted. No, this stuff is literally just the main, good canon path.

I know people tend to say Halsin clearly worked through his traumas in a healthy way offscreen (this line gets used most with his time as a sex slave) but the lack of support system Halsin has, his inability to center his own needs, even to himself, for a single minute, his desperation to be validated for just a single moment, his idolization of the player if they break the curse even if they subsequently treat him badly, his emotions being so turbulent that he alludes to being unable to control his wildshape on two different occasions with both specifically being linked to turbulent emotions (one being intense arousal and excitement, the other being anger and fear when escaping the goblin camp at the player's side), all of which is incredibly unusual for any Druid let alone an Archdruid hailed as one of the most powerful around... none of this really?? points to that being true???

He doesn't act like he is a wise, zen old Druid, he acts like he's trying to be a wise, zen old Druid, and there is a huge difference.

[papiliomame]

Finally I read the new graphic novel too and it was very enjoyable. I went in with zero expectation so I was pleasantly surprised with the big thing everyone is screaming about. Amazing art, amazing story amazing everything! Gabriela Epstein is a genius. She managed to solve many problems with the show and expands the lore in a cohesive way while also be in line with the humor and tone of the original show accompanied with wonderful illustrated panels!

Under the cut are some of my thought about it:

SPOILER WARNING!

First things first: Phantom Planet retconnned! Now the series can continue with the loose threads of the original show and the new one from this novel without making some brain gymnastic to make the events from the episode fit in these stories.

Techonological progress: Everyone upgraded to a smartphone and they even have internet and social media( which makes it funny that Vlad used an old fat destop PC for his research as a (former?) billionaire)

RIP Tucker's PDA.

Danny mentioned that Vlad terrorized him for the past few years, that means Danny is at least 16 or 17 years old in this?

Ghosts don't need to breath. Vlad didn't have a helmet on while in space in his flashback .

Clockwork doesn't shapeshift in his other forms for some reason.

And he was quite reckless to put the thermos with Phantom just there in the open, you would think you would seal an apocalyptic threat somewere safe away or something like that.

Clockwork's staff is part of the timeline itself. interesting...

Also Clockwork is really the emodiment of time not just a random ghost with the title passed down by the oberservants( read some fanon about that)

Ghost Speak is canon! Well atleast the language of the ancients is. It consist of basically of old dead languages.

The translation of Vlad's rubbings is incomplete I wonder if there is more to it.

Hmm not sure how I feel about this but the Fenton parent are still bad parents in this, like how they not care about Phantom although Jazz said that this is Danny from another timeline. Now I wonder if they would even adopt Dani with this attitude.

Badass Valerie and badass Jazz!

The Source is a beautiful place.

The truth about ghosts which is revealed in there is so deep and give so much material for worldbuilding

But one thing is sure: Ghost are souls/emotions/ energies of people or beeings who ones lived and not monsters.

Implication that ghosts are immortal. Does this count for halfas too?

Danny got a new power: fireworks

Obsessions are canon!

The fight scenes are wonderful illustrated!

Danny is really much more powerful after his newfound purpose. He didn's retransformed after the ghostly wail, he can create ice glaciers with his ice powers and his shield withstand Phantom atomic explosion attack.( also RIP A-Listers and Lance Thunder from this timeline and everyone else who was there and wasn't protected by Danny's shield.)

Phantom insisted that he is not Danny but much more than that, however while he was falling apart he glitched out and we saw Danny Phantom's face and Phantoms face but not Plasmius face in there, I wonder why.

Danny becomes the avatar!

The Valerie cliffhanger: Phantom was falling apart without an anchor, does that mean Valerie will also fall apart if she doesn't wear Clockworks medallion anymore?

The last scene: Clockwork encourage Vlad to do more with the clones and the scene is also a parallel to the ending to " The Ultimate Enemey" how the observants shift the responsibility over Phantom to Clockwork.

[sobeksewerrat]

Okay so- if you saw my aroace chr headcannon list, you probably saw Adam from Hazbin Hotel on there! It's been a while since I have written an essay, but honestly I really wanted to expand on my asexual Adam thought and @kiichu asked me to so here we go ;)

[ Just. Don't expect any actual thoughtful analysis. I am mostly just grasping at straws and projecting because I kin the dude ]

[ Oh yeah and I will reference the Trans Genesis AU a lot. Nope, Stanley and I did not abandon it. Sorry not sorry ]

First things first, let's look at his first appearance in episode 1.

Needless to say, he was a bit of an asshole. But something really stuck out to me.

In one of the scenes, he was recounting a date/one-night-stand he had to Charlie (because of course he was).

He clearly seemed to be describing the dinner date itself in detail, but he literally just caps it off with "and then we fucked, and it was awesome".

This line can be read in a few different ways, depending on your view.

1. They didn't actually fuck, the woman ditched him or didn't exist to begin with and he's lying to seem cooler.

2. It wasn't awesome (*at least for him, but yk could go both ways) and he wasn't about to go into detail about his less-than-stellar sexual encounter (I feel. Really uncomfortable writing this, I am too ace for this shit).

3. The logical explanation of the writers not wanting to include it for rating reasons and because of the episode's already short run time and also because we as the audience don't really need to know that. Though I think that if that were just that, a better alternative would've been that Adam either continues describing the date or starts describing the sex and either Lute or Charlie (or both) stop him.

For my interpretation of the ace Adam, we'll go with the second interpretation.

Allos love pointing out how "asexuals can still date/have sex" but they always neglect one thing: that's not exactly how sex-favourable and sex-neutral aces work.

I can't speak for everybody on the spectrum (especially since I am mostly repulsed), but wanting to have sex doesn't mean you feel sexual attraction.

So yeah this doesn't disprove him being asexual, though I am aiming for a very different interpretation.

Sex-repulsed Adam.

NOW, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT I KNOW I SOUND CRAZY!!

Ace men rarely get any representation, and a lot of men (especially cis men, but trans men too) don't realize they're ace or are actively in denial about it because of this thing called ✨toxic masculinity✨

I don't think it's too much of a hot take to say that Adam clearly falls into a lot of toxic masculinity stuff.

Being literally the first man, the original dick (or the original pussy if we're talking about the tgau), he is probably expected to uphold these harmful beliefs of masculinity or at least thinks he has to to be taken seriously (or be percieved as cis at least-).

Therefore, he's probably is in deep, deep denial of his asexuality and tries to cover it up by, well, sleeping around I guess (*hopefully not with human souls because i don't need any of the implications that come with that).

But that doesn't necessarily mean he enjoyed it, you know.

Now I don't wanna go too deep into this honestly quite depressing line of thought, so to keep it brief that's probably why he wouldn't go into detail about that one night stand- even though he totally seems like the type of guy who would talk about this stuff in excessive and unnecessary detail (can you tell I love torturing this guy. I mean if yk the TGAU you probably already know but shush).

That or because a lot of aces literally cannot talk about sex seriously. It has to be a joke or about an ao3 smut fic.

*ahem* Moving on-

The infamous "Now, I'm going to FUCK you" scene that every Adamsapple shippers love (no hate to Adamsapple shippers btw, except @roryheart fuck you Rory /lh silly (I love you buddy don't take this seriously)).

Just. Just look at his face when Lucifer says it.

It could just be pure confusion, which is quite understandable tbh.

Or we could go with the funny interpretation of Adam being so autistic and ace, he thought for a second that Lucifer was actually hitting on him this whole time and he just didn't notice. Purely because this has actually happened to me before and I wanna project-

Moreover, he looks lowkey disgusted by it and just attacks Lucifer immediately.

Whatever, now we get to the ✨angst potential✨ of ace Adam.

Elaborating on the bit of toxic masculinity from earlier, maybe he thinks that his aversion to stuff like is why both Lilith (and presumably Eve) cheated on him with Lucifer, because he wasn't a real man.

And if we wanna get really depressing, all we have to do is just remember that his only purpose was to have as many children with Eve (and previously Lilith) as possible to populate the Earth.

Yeah, sounds like a total nightmare scenario.

I have a few other ideas, but they're really half baked and not really well put together and stuff- idk I just think ace Adam is a cool idea.

Sorry if this wasn't exactly the essay any of you were looking for but I genuinely just think it'd be fun and kinda interesting to explore really.

Btw gonna make "sobek rants" exclusively for angry rants and gonna repurpose "brainingsewer" for essays and analysis and stuff. Not that anybody really cares about my tagging system.

[samijey]

I still can't get over how SAD/STRESSDD Sami looked sitting there (waiting for Jey, we all know). Then how relieved/happy he looked by looking at Jey. He knew with a LOOK. so romantic coded. I see you WWE.

No joke, this one part of the exchange has been playing on a loop in my head ever since it happened:

The apparently casual staging of the scene with Sami sitting and looking down only to look up and maintain eye contact for a long stretch before looking down again and back up almost bashfully? The way his jaw moves as if he's considering whether or not to actually smile?

Meanwhile Jey's firmly rooted in place, clearly waiting for something - an argument, a plea, validation, just something! He likely doesn't know what he wants in this moment, but the fact is that his feet are glued to the floor because whatever it is that he wants to see and/or hear feels important enough to waste these precious seconds before going out to the ring to make the most important decision of his career (arguably his life, if we go deep into the implications of the story). And the way he visibly exhales?? There's none of the usual distressed face/eye rubbing from Jey here because he's already made up his mind and Sami is offering nothing but quiet, unwavering support.

In the grand scheme of things, does Jey's character need Sami's approval? No, but the story makes continuous efforts in presenting Sami as a vital piece of Jey's journey in breaking free from the Bloodline - I said months ago in another post that this story was about Jey losing his soul and having to fight to get it back while being helped along by Sami and look what happened. I know it's easy to downplay Sami's importance in all this because people feel like it devalues Jey's character arc - personally, I see absolutely no problem in having your tragic hero find some solace in another character who has partially experienced the same pains they have, and Sami is the perfect character to play that role since his support is so selfless and comes with no attachments - which is the complete opposite of the kind of love TC!Roman offers - with him, you're expected to be subservient because Roman is currently stuck in a pit of paranoia and insecurity (and seeing him fight to overcome that in the future is going to be amazing, but that's a whole other topic).

At the end of the day, Jey clearly spelled out to the audience the crux of his character arc with Sami months ago - "You saw the good in me the whole time and you never gave up on me". That line not only explained to us why Jey had grown to love Sami enough to the point of standing up to Roman to protect him, but it also offered foreshadowing to what was to be their dynamic post-Royal Rumble.

And now? We've come full circle and there's no more need for words.

[malicious-fisheeves]

thinking about the dlc again which made me think of my pre-trailer ideas that I had. Under da cut

miquella seeks godhood

generally i didnt regard marika much except maybe in the form of lore snippets of her and miquella’s relationship and really drawing out the irony of him Repeating The Things She Did Wrong

miquella puts all/some of the other shard bearers in eeby deeby aka soul jail. Part for godhood or close to it by trying to convince them to give up their power ‘willingly’ so as to cement their followers' support (they won’t, thats where you come in), part possibly for godwyn resurrection purposes(?)

potentially certain shard bearers are already super dead eg already implying to the player that miquella has betrayed previous ideals of kindness/compassion for more ruthless means of goal seeking (perhaps alluding to his kidnapping by mohg serving to make him a worse person)

for whatever reason certain demigods have resisted him. My og idea was that miquella could not necessarily directly kill himself but could basically create means by which they give up

only one he maybe doesnt do this to at all is melania. Or maybe he does but he more outwardly feels bad about it eg she is put in a nice, pleasant dream and you kill her quietly, indicating both that miquella feels badly about it but also is a deep betrayal of melania that is what crushes her

you interact with certain npcs that have also following their shard bearers into sleep that miquella is similarly trying to convince eg tanith, jerren, and Others who can be perhaps influenced one way or another and in this way may be charmed to miquella's side. Again, an opportunity to leave the nature of his influence to something of a mystery while also being clear it is by no means innocent

the player does kill the ghost/spirit versions of the resisting shard bearers with new boss fights but there is further ambiguity with which its righteousness. Rennala mourns the loss of her children, again, further crushed and disappears from the over-world altogether and its unclear what happened to her (you can still respec bc she puts the Egg in the crib at least) but the implications are not Good. Tanith fights in Rykard’s stead and its with her death that he’s like ‘fine, here, fuck you’ and gives you The Item. I spoke about this before but funnily enough i imagined miquella putting radahn in the torment nexus for his wanton warring and had ideas that radahn would actually be someone you talked to who expresses regret for his actions, but still does not want to give up his soul and so miquella continues to put him in The Thunder Dome until you kill him outright. Not sure about Morgott. One idea was both he and Mohg are trapped in the evil sewer, again, forever, until they capitulate and give Miquella what he wants, drawing again a line to Marika’s evil in that both are punished, yet again, and Miquella willing to do some ruthless shit to get what he wants.

with this being the case i think there could be something of minor difference you could change to the boss fight outcomes or at least the outcomes of their followers by giving whatever important Piece to them rather than miquella. You could only do this a few times, maybe, before miquella would catch onto your betraying him and might confront you about it.

It comes a head when Miquella finally swoops to get his godhood, maybe during/after radabeast fight just absolutely fucking crushes them under his foot and then you are given the option to submit or fight. Submitting leaves the ending on an unclear but ominous note as to whether miquella would or even can be a benevolent sort of god given his actions and the inherent nature of godhood, whereas fighting can open back up the other potential endings with perhaps something more of a sad note that miquella fell So Hard. because if there was One thing i did like about miquella’s story in the dlc, his destruction of all the things about himself that made him who he was and a ruthless pursuit of godhood ending only in tragedy? was it.

[beeblackburn]

Top 5 blorbos? 💖

Thank you, @xserpx!

FitzChivalry Farseer (Realm of the Elderlings) - One of, if not the best Fantasy Protagonist out there, how I love to bully him for his poor-ass choices and cherish him for his better ones. How I love to peel away at his layers, but also lose my brains to incomprehensible noise at just wanting to slap him and hug him and tell him it's all going to be okay, and he'll have a very unconventional family by his side, beloved by so many he won't let close.

Sansa Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire) - There are literally whole passages and chapters burnt into my brain from how many times I've reread her material. Easily one of my favorite female characters in fantasy, just this excellent, fleshed-out take on this classic princess, stuck in the tower, kept by captors in shining armor or with handsome locks of hair, but never losing her idealism in the face of abuse and adversity behind closed doors. I keep coming back to the series, mostly for her. She's worth it, despite what everyone in her surroundings thinks and says about her.

Vick dan Teufel (The First Law) - My broken sweetheart. This unbelievably tormented soul, broken down by the system grinding her up and feeling the only way to endure the cruelty and trauma done to her is through being the boot against the necks of people like her once, only to still have a flickering flame of humanity deep down. She managed to grip my heart from the get-go, and she never let go as she peeled away more layers of her self-delusion and repression of trauma, only to realize sometimes, all a person can do is not settle for what they're given, and instead reach for what they want. That last line of hers lingers in my heart.

Black Calder (The First Law) - I'm always terminally Black Calder-brain poisoned. I just love the journey he took from being a spoiled twat whose first impulse at being given a message is to cut off the messenger's head and send it back to his comrades, to a slippery schemer snake who slithers across political campfires and battlefields without his head nailed down, yet can't slip past his own heart in the end, to an embittered, yet determined father who'll torch most his ambitions, sell his very soul, just to protect and save his son at the very end.

Geder Palliako (The Dagger and the Coin) - Oh gods, this utter trash baby. I want to slap him and his pathetic flaws, so attuned to fascism and the banality of evil that comes with it, this up-jumped fool elevated to too high a castle in the sky, this fucking warmonger who would murder a political prisoner out of spiteful rage and wage violence in the name of making world peace and not think through the implications. Yet, he's also such a mew-mew, so curious about the world, just wants peace and quiet to read his books, just wants friends and will settle for people who just don't treat him like shit. Both virtues and vices so intertwined in the same person, unable to be divided so finely. Which is what's so great and terrible about him.

[jkholmes]

And then there were ..... ! part 2

Still on his knees Aemond felt a great realisation. Every sacrifice, every pain both physical and emotional his degradation as a child, the loss of his eye; it all made sense. This was why fate and the seven, the old gods and the new had taken so much from him, because they would give back in abundance. They gave him you, and you gave him; and took from him a love that filled his very being, and from that love together you bore these 3 prophecised dragon princelings.

"Aemond" you whispered, your brain still fogged and fatigue taking over. He came to your side prostrated before you taking your hands in his he whispered,

"My love you have done what no other woman has ever done, you've given a targaryen 3 dragon princelings born as one. The seven bless me through you my beloved and I pledge my life and soul to your eternal worship".

You began to cry as you tugged on his hands to bring him to his feet and closer to your face as he kissed your lips deeply but slowly. You stopped to breathe your forehead resting on his and spoke from you soul.

"everything that I have, everything that I am, everything that I love is you, is all from you, is because of you!"

Gods you were perfect you had given to him like a goddess the maid the lover the mother and yet you still believed him to be your exalted one. He kissed you intensely feeling that familiar primal need to take you in his arms and show you his reverence right then and there, had your beautiful body not just been through hours of birth trauma; And his mother, midwives, maesters and servants all being in the same room. With deep breaths you separated and he took his place by your side on the bed.

"Aemond my lord husband" you preened "i want our babies".

"Of course" he beamed, "My goddess wants our sons".

You let out a sigh as you closed your eyes, lowered your gaze and tilted your head down biting on your plump bottom lip at his new moniker for you. Aemond smiled from ear to ear, still his gracious and reverant wife he noticed, yet he would spend his life showing you that you deserved the title.

Your beautiful sons were placed into your combined arms resuming the feeding time that had been interrupted most joyfully by the youngest and most unexpected miracle. They truly were mirror images of each other.

The maesters and midwives resumed finishing their final checks and dealt with the after birth. Finally "lets give them time alone" called Alicent as she cleared the room of all the staff.

"Well done my dear I am truly in awe of you" she said respectfully.

"thankyou your majesty" you replied

"Congratulations, my son" Alicent spoke to Aemond

"Thankyou mother" he returned.

You did not see the look Alicent gave Aemond before she closed the door behind her. She too had an epiphany, she understood from then that it was clear who fate and the seven favoured; in whose blood and lineage the power of the targaryen line, the green targaryen line (and so that of hightower) would truly reach the pinnacle of its greatness. It would be Aemond and the blessed fruit of his loins that would sit the iron throne she would ensure it!

From that day everything changed the nobility and the common folk alike spread the news of the birth of the three dragon princelings across Westeros, the Narrow Sea and throughout all Essos. You could not possibly forsee the implications of your labours!

[gingerbreadmonsters]

i've been enabled and i'm making it your problem

@autisticempathydaemon and @zozo-01 are FAR better to me than i deserve - and so commences the most stupidly difficult, totally self-indulgent and utterly ridiculous game you may have ever seen 🥳🥳

somehow, i've racked up 31 redacted fics in just under a year (??? how on earth has THAT happened??) and for each one, i've picked my favourite favourite line - it's your challenge to match the line to the fic it's from!

(please, don't take this too seriously - i'm not trying to shamelessly promote myself, or fish for compliments or whatever. all that's happening here is that i'm really proud of some of the stuff i've written over the past year, and it's my blog so i can do whatever i want lmao)

under the cut: first off is my list of lines, and then a comprehensive list of fic titles (arranged by date published, and then separated by series) so that you don't have to go traipsing through my masterlist! there's 31 total - i wonder how many you can get...

(i'll probably reblog this post with answers later, for anyone who may be curious, but again it's not that deep lmao)

oh, and one last thing: MINORS DNI 💕💕 there's nothing explicitly nsft here, but the implication is HEAVY for a few of these, so i'm erring on the side of caution!

(also, it's fairly obvious, but beware spoilers for, like, everything i've ever written lol)

-

ginger's picks:

What do you get when you cross a bullet with a human brain?

Ask for the impossible, just once more, and know that he has never been able to resist you.

sitting cross-legged in the bowl of your pelvis, holding your stomach softly in his lap and stroking it like a pretty cat.

(That’s you, by the way. They’re watching you. Smile.)

his heart beats on. maybe you’re asleep, maybe you’re awake. it doesn’t matter. you dream of him either way.

Books be damned. You, the answer to his prayers, the apple that bit back, and he’s forever in your gentle grasp. What is magic, if it isn’t whatever he has with you?

he doesn’t stay to read it, but there is a small plaque attached to the front of the plinth, glinting in the light. the text reads simply, “THINGS TO HOLD ON FOR.”

Lovely, gorgeous, beautiful Gavin - the man who plays Mario Kart at full volume, and blows kisses to the mirror as he twirls around under your arm in his new dresses, and regales you with story after story of the time he and Vincent didn't mean to cause a low-speed traffic incident, we promise, deviant!

will you hate it, spit it out into your hands, dump it in the trash with the rest of his candied heart?

The tortured scream of an incubus, from whom the world just takes and takes and takes, sealed off from the stars and utterly alone.

(The mug is blue. Elliott is lactose intolerant.)

Vindemiator, the patron saint of the empty champagne glass. Always the bridesmaid, never the incubus bride.

it belongs to you. he does too.

How is it that you find him, over and over, sunshine in his moonbound soul?

He raises his nearly-empty glass to you, a polite suggestion of a toast, charming and melancholy in equal measure. “You love him. I love him too. In us, may he never disappear.”

the howl of your laughter, the flash of your teeth in the mirror - his sweetheart’s as animal as he is.

“When he holds your legs nice and wide, stretching you out, filling you up… Look down, honey, there it is - feel that? Feel how full he makes you feel?”

It's the look that means he's plotting something nefarious again - one of his diabolical schemes that should send anyone with common sense running for the hills, and that probably means you either need to find your passport, renew your life insurance, or check the stability of every flat surface in the house.

Laying herself down amidst the wreaths of flowers, shrouded in lace and tulle, a silver sixpence under her right heel and feeling oh so very blue.

they can’t make a dream like he can make you.

Pantomime villains, or not even that - a whole clan of half-baked sidekicks, tripping over themselves to trip him up, thinking they’re bigger and badder than they actually are.

“You think I need half an hour? Shit, sweetheart, you must be in the mood for more than I thought,” he laughs, phone already in hand. “And here I was thinkin’ you still wanted to be able to walk tonight.”

a rest can look like sleep can look like death. rigor mortis sets in. bleached to bones in the burning sand.

his jaw goes slack. you cannot seriously be expecting him to be fit for any sort of company, polite or otherwise, rose-tinted spit smeared across his face and eyes blown wide with stifled pleasure.

“i swear it on my life. every everlasting day of it.”

All you can do is stare down at the little post-it note by your right foot, bright pink paper stuck cheerily to the front of your current case folder, and try not to look like your heart is melting into caramel.

The smell of smoke, the sound of a campfire, and a single chair to sit on. Yes, a wonderful dream. When does Elliott get here?

head spinning, he pulls hazily at the hem of your shirt, too drunk on your touch to hear your laughter (he can’t quite tell if you’re calling him “needy” or “pretty”, and it really could be either), too desperate to worry about the careless way he’s practically tearing your clothes off you. whatever it was, he’ll buy you a new one.

You’re his, in this room most of all, his most treasured little darling that prefers the taste of his kiss to any wine he gives you, that craves the glow of his adoration as much as the sting of his disapproval, that knows every curve and line and swirl in the wood of his desk where he bends you over it.

Warmth and weight and water. A happy little inchoate, snoozing away in Vega’s arms, and you don’t remember if you dream.

All things are equal on the altar of his adoration and he is your greatest disciple, raising the knife up in his hands and swearing on your name that he will bring you back to life. Watch over him, bless him, smile upon him. Just you wait. One last miracle.

fic titles (standalone first, arranged by date, then series):

green umbrella trees

take a sip

ivory tower

thy fair imperfect shade

can’t help but see

knock knock!

sh-boom, sh-boom!

get in, loser!

I WON’T BOW OUT BRAVELY

ever thine, ever mine, ever ours

五二零

kingdom come

bury the hatchet

return to me

here we are in heaven

original sin

oops-a-daisy

LOVE HEART (the milo and sweetheart series)

SWEET TALK

SOUL MATE

ALL MINE

swings and roundabouts (imperium)

one more paradox

come into my parlour

stranglehold

five more minutes

blood sugar, baby!

wrapped up in clover

to the egress! (the barnum series)

hold on tight

a ring on the carousel

mad or sublime

motion capture (the elliott one)

motion capture

you’re the cat’s meow!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Posting this because it's a perfect segment to a fic that will likely never be finished or published. Part of the very long and involved prequel to my VDL Verse.

1930s au Geralt and Eskel as children feat badly translated Polish, vague allusions to the rest of the fic.

June 10th 1932 - Vesmir 

“... no papers, no one waiting for ‘em” Harlow is saying, leading Vesmir through the rabbit warren passages of the Ellis Island detention center “We were gonna send ‘em back but I remembered you mentioning wanting to see any orphans we got and thought of you” Vesmir winces at the implications of the sentence; here in the concrete and tiled hall voices carry and Harlow is about as quiet as a fog horn. 

“Send them back where?” Vesemir asks instead. He’s sweating beneath the brim of his stetson, in the June sun the hallways of Ellis Island become an oven, fit to bake people alive. 

Harlow shrugs “No idea. Neither of ‘em speak a word of English. The towhead is Polak I think but I’ve got nothing on the other - speaks no language I’ve ever heard before”

"If you take one you have to take 'em both" Harlow continues, taking out his ring of keys to open up one of the steel doors lining the hallway "had to take the older one for lice treatment a few weeks ago and the towhead nearly scratched my orderly's eyes out. Screamed themselves hoarse both of 'em poor mites" 

The cell is spartan, bare walls, two empty wire bedframes, a single barred window out of which Vesemir can make out the glitter of Manhattan Bay. The boys have built themselves a nest in the corner; mattresses pulled from the bedframes, blankets piled into a wall. They're sitting on it when the door opens, all wide eyes and terrified frowns, pressed together close despite the oppressive heat. 

The younger boy is less towhead than albino; hair a silvery-wite rats nest and eyes an odd sun-bleached brown, nearly yellow. He hisses at Vesemir and Harlow, curls close against his companion’s side. 

His companion is closer to double digits in age, face angular with starvation and dehydration, olive skin stretched thin over the fine bones. He has dark hair, closer to black than brown, and eyes like deer’s eyes; deep brown and soulful. He doesn’t make a sound at their approach, just maneuvers himself so his companion is at his back; a shield, a protector. 

Vesemir loves them both already. 

He kneels down to get closer to their eye level, takes off his hat to show more of his face. They flinch from him. He tries not to take it personally.

“I’m a friend” he says “I’m here to take you somewhere safe”

The boys look at him blankly. 

“Told you” Harlow says “not a word of english between the two of ‘em” 

“Aby zabrać Cię w bezpieczne miejsce” he tries, the language of his childhood feeling awkward on his tongue “pomogę Ci” 

The albino perks up at the familiar words, a sudden wash of understanding and relief crossing his face. His companion remains baffled; wide eyes darting between Vesemir and Harlow and back again as though searching for a threat.

“Jak się nazywasz?” he asks him. 

“Geralt” the child replies, voice whisper quiet, small fingers going white-knuckled around his companion’s wrist as though afraid someone will try and separate them. 

“And who is your friend?” he continues in Polish, gesturing to Geralt’s protector who, as though realizing he’s being spoken about stands a little taller and glares a little harder. 

“Eskel” 

"Tell Eskel it's going to be alright. I'm here to take you boys to a new home, a new family. I'm not going to hurt you" 

Geralt nods solemnly and taps at Eskel’s cheek. When the other boy looks he begins speaking in gestures, nearly too fast for Vesemir to follow. He wonders if the other - Eskel - is deaf or if this is just the way the two of them have figured out how to breach the language barrier. 

Back in the present Vesemir watches from the doorway of Eskel’s hospital room as Geralt's hand moves against Eskel’s limp palm. Signing in that old familiar language they'd shared before the spoken word "safe" he signs "You're safe. You're safe"

Smart he thinks resourceful. They're perfect. 

------------------------‐-------------------------

Eskel doesn't respond, doesn't move. 

Geralt’s eyes when they meet Vesemir’s are red-rimmed and exhausted, full of the sucking emptiness of a pain too great to bear. 

[blackjackkent]

We return to Elhan, who has been patiently waiting for us at the exit from the Underdark for us to bring back the Lanthorn. The battle has waned, and all that remains is the devastation left behind from the elves' clash with the drow from below.

"You return." Elhan's deep voice rumbles with the distracted tone of a general whose mind is consumed by strategy. Caden's safety is an afterthought - the Lanthorn is what matters. And "All has been relatively quiet here. I believe the drow were mostly satisfied with the destruction of our temple. They have made no further serious advancement. Yet."

Wordlessly Caden lifts the heavy black relic in one hand, and Elhan's eyes light up in answer. "You have the Lanthorn! It is in the hands of the murderous vampire Bodhi no longer! I feel the tide of this crisis is certainly changing!"

At Caden's side, Rasaad shifts suddenly, his weight settling back on his heels in a motion that Caden knows from long experience means wariness, readiness for battle. Jaheira mutters something inaudible behind him. Caden frowns, draws his hand back a little, not handing the lantern over.

It was almost lost to his attention in the ensuing fear for Aerie, but when Bodhi died, her last words carried accusations at the elves who had sent Caden there. She said that Elhan knew perfectly well who she and Irenicus were - that he was among those who originally punished and exiled them and left them desperate for new souls to extend their lives. And now that Aerie is back at his side, he has time to consider the implications.

"Yes," he says, his voice flat, empty, weary. "And she talked a lot before I killed her. You have been withholding information."

Elhan's head snaps back, and his eyes flash with sudden irritation. "Anything said by her or the Exile, Irenicus, must be treated as suspect! You would do well not to repeat their tales to those that do not need to know them!"

Yet another powerful force trying to use him as a pawn. He is so tired of it.

Something of the blankness drops from Caden's eyes for a moment, and anger flares him into something like life. "Damn it, Elhan," he snaps. "I'm not lifting a finger until I know what is going on!"

Elhan scowls - but Caden's anger has cowed something in him, and he looks away, not meeting the younger man's eyes. "No, this is... this is not for you to know," he mutters. A pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft, and Caden hears something of his own weariness reflected in it. "I can't tell you, Caden. It is not my place to do so. The Exiles, this Irenicus and Bodhi, are criminals. Their crime was great, their punishment greater."

He sounds sincere. And yet, if that were true, why is he so reticent to speak of it. "And so he has returned for some sort of revenge. I fail to see the great shame in this," Caden says slowly.

Elhan hesitates, then shakes his head. "You do not understand," he mutters hoarsely. "And I am not prepared to make you. If you wish to know more, you'll have to talk to one of those involved." He sideways at the other soldiers next to him, then back at Caden. "Demin, the high priestess. She will tell you. We will have to breach the city to find her. Fortunately, my sages have instructed me in the use of the Lanthorn."

He holds out his hand, gesturing at the lantern in Caden's grip. "We must go, but most of my elves must remain to hold the drow. We must not be struggling on two fronts when we face what is in the city." His eyes search Caden's blank, exhausted expression. There is a hint of sympathy, just for a moment, in the glance.

Were his city not on the line, perhaps he might be able to spare more thought for the fear and struggle that his new ally is going through. But his first concern, clearly, is for that lost city and what havoc Irenicus might be wreaking within it. "Follow, Caden. We must let the Lanthorn lead us to Suldanessellar. I can only hope that the Exile will have left us a city to find."

[dragynfirearc]

@therogueprincedaemon , continued .

what would she do? what has she already done? was her soul not already damned? though there are certain lines that they had not yet crossed. murder being on of them. he inquires about her thoughts and cheeks go as red as the dress that covers her body. it is a beautiful piece of artwork created just for her. she was surprised that he had even thought of bringing her back something while he was away. the notion of it made her feel quite desired. as does the way he speaks with declaration of destruction in the name of their love. it shouldn't thrill her the way that it does. she leans back into him, hands moving over his own. they look perfect together in the reflection. she could almost pretend things were as they should be. " my prince, i fear my thoughts are much more gruesome. " she would never get her own hands dirty, that was a part of being queen that she was discovering how to use for her own gain. if others were playing a treacherous game, then she would as well. " i have no dragon to burn those that would try to take me away from you. i must stoop to using more intimate ways to help them meet their creators. "

her father would be shocked at her speaking in such a manner, actually most who know her closely would be, as they saw her as someone to be protected or used instead of someone others needed to be protected from. being with daemon has ultimately changed her, made her more fierce, less naive, and less willing to let other people use her as a doormat. one of the reasons she wanted to be with daemon was because he never treated her as some pawn, but she also loved him for his humor, strength, and overall complexity. there was no one alive who could claim they had figured out the rogue prince completely, but she always enjoyed trying. patterns are being drawn on the back of his hand and up his arm as she listens to him, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her expression. it was tempting to name a name, to test his word. his devotion makes her breathless. she had a list of people who have slighted her and a list of those who have done more irreversible damage. would she actually wish death upon them though? the kiss given causes a shiver to run down her spine. she cannot help the noise that escapes her throat at the feeling of his teeth, it is a small whimper.

her body turns so that she is now facing him, doe-eyes gaze heated because of their discussion. then he asks her about the king, and she wonders if he truly wants to hear the dark fantasies that keep her company when she wishes he was warming her bed. she respects and cares for her husband, but that didn't mean she hadn't contemplated what would happen if an accident befell him. lips part and she doesn't exactly know where to start. could she even voice these thoughts without feeling like a monster? palms lay flat on his chest, as she leans upwards towards him, not yet kissing him, instead allowing their lips to brush against each others as she speaks. " i would destroy this world for you. rip it apart from the foundations until there is nothing left but you and i. " she kisses him slowly, allowing daemon to feel every deep and dark emotion she puts into it.

" as for the king, would it make you hate me if i admitted that i have pondered his death? i thought about staging an accident. not personally, of course, i'd get someone i trusted to do the dirty work. and that way, should they get caught, i could not be implicated. i would not want the king to suffer and so i would have them do something quick and clean. i am not so knowledgeable in the ways to kill men as you are, my love. but i think of what his death could mean for us. we would no longer have to hide. " she reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair. " i also think of my father's death. he, who would disapprove of us and try to sabotage our happiness. i would order anyone to be put to the sword if it would please you. there is nothing that would break your devotion for me, nor is there anyone who could break mine to you. this love i feel for you knows no bounds. i worship you instead of the gods, daemon. " by the end of her speech, there is a dusting of pink along her cheeks and breath is ragged. it is possible that they were not good for each other, if this was what their love brings, but he was in her veins now and she could not get him out easily.

[angelicsentinel]

Unsure if you're still interested in sharing WIP snippets, but if you are - I love your fic Candy and Gin. I know there's the implication of an eventual chapter two. Do you have anything from that work in progress you'd want to post?

I'll share my work almost anytime I'm asked. It's more than an implication, it's about half done. ~1500 of 3000 words. I keep this blog sfw, and most of what I have written down is Shiho's and Shinichi's love scene, but I can share some.

Reminder it's a first draft and incredibly rough. The block is in the first scenes; it has to cover the salient points of canon and build to the ShinShi ending. That transition is easy enough, but for characterization purposes I do have to go over some canon for it to work, and that's the part I'm dreading, so. Enjoy (?)

-

Candy and Gin, 002

The thing of it is, Shiho likes the pain. It's a reminder not to let her guard down. She guards it closely, keeps it tight and near and dear to her heart. 

She knows what happens when she stops thinking of it. The evidence lies in the kamidana in the Professor’s basement, a small urn of ashes next to sticks of incense, an infinitesimal space she keeps for herself and for her sister. 

(her parents are gone; she left them behind, only able to take herself. She’s an ocean of regrets, but what’s one more black line in her blood ledger?)

It is good to have it present in her line of sight while she works; she might forget otherwise. 

And it’s dangerous to forget. But it’s happening more and more. It’s all too easy to lose herself with the children. Such bright little souls, with their petty joys and petty cruelties. She’s not that innocent. She never was, not even at their age. She was nothing but a poison, left to steep and grow bitter and deadly. At that age, more from instinct than conscious choice, she decided to keep herself frozen—a glacier, cold and contained. 

But no matter how cold she is, they still surround her, agonizing in their warmth, melting her ice-cold heart bit by bit.

The cold is there to keep the poison away, the part of her that kills and kills and kills again, insidious and deadly. But they are the embers on the fire in the dead of winter, and her icy heart melts and melts and melts. 

But they pale in comparison to him. 

If Gin is cool, unyielding metal, a silver alloy of fear and pain, then Kudō is fire, hot enough to burn her alive, spreading from the inside out.

But warm and comforting at a distance, and it is this distance Ai keeps. But he shines bright like the bare sun, almost too much to watch directly, and yet Ai finds herself unable to look away.

When his hand rests in hers, it's ephemeral light.

This light too, she could kill with just a word. But she wants. Oh, how she wants, with a strength she never had, with an intensity she thought was long dead with her parents. 

Shiho fights to keep herself frozen, but the ice cracks, and her love leaks through the dam of her heart. 

But she still has enough sense to keep it hidden. Luckily for her, genius though he is, he’s always been an idiot in matters of the heart, and so her poison will not spread today.

-

The parting is surprisingly amicable.

To see them fail is to see her own hopes crash. If those two, the ones she sees as the pinnacle of romance can’t remain together, where does that leave her? What chance can she possibly have to find her own happiness? None, that’s what. 

(even if a traitorous part of her heart yearns at this unexpected chance)

-

Kudō has her caged against the wall and her heart is racing, but not from fear. She marvels at the deep abyss inside his blue eyes, how different this feels from Gin’s embrace. His grip on her wrist is tight but doesn’t hurt. His shoulders, while broad, are not the vast imposing expanse of Gin’s, and they radiate heat. The warmth of him is so enticing she nearly breaks there. 

(but she can’t, she can’t, no matter how—no, it’s unbearable, she can’t) 

And his face is so soft; his eyes, so unbearably fond. He’s chewing his lip, belying his confident words. 

She could kill him with one word. ‘No’ would undoubtedly do it. He would respect it, and never ask again.

The power in that word is heady. She wants to do it. She wants to destroy him as easily as he could destroy her. 

Shiho licks her lips. The part of her that yearns for him can’t do it. But she still cannot speak. So instead, she slips her hand into his shirt, curling against the small of his back, bringing him close. 

His hand slips under her blouse in exchange, and he pins her against the wall with his body weight. Far from being oppressive, it’s enticing, and it is that feeling that drives her to close the distance between them and kiss him. 

[leonbloder]

Lessons From Whitman's Spider

Some time ago, I included a Walt Whitman line from one of his poems in a Daily Devo, and a reader reached out to share their favorite Whitman poem, "A Noiseless Patient Spider."

Whitman (1819-1892) was one of the most influential of all the American poets. He was known as the "father" of free verse and part of the movement known as Transcendentalism in 19th-century literature.

His poem "A Noiseless Patient Spider" highlights the depth employed in the transcendentalist approach to poetry, which takes the reader from the ordinary to the extraordinary in just a few lines.

It also reflects the longing that each of us has as human beings for deeper meaning, purpose, and direction in life: A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

I remember reading and discussing this poem in an American Literature class eons ago, but I can't recall what I thought of it in my early twenties.

I'd like to think I had some deep and introspective thoughts about it then, but I wonder now if I summarily dismissed the poem as something an old man would say. It does have the feel of someone who has lived a little, doesn't it?

Whitman sees in the spider a metaphor for himself and, indeed, for all of us. Like that "patient spider," we cast out our gossamer threads, hoping that one of them will catch hold of something upon which we can be anchored.

This poem has a deeper meaning for those who read faith into it: a search for the Divine in the world around us.

Whitman paints a portrait that is not that dissimilar from the one painted by the ancient Hebrew poet from Psalm 8, who asks the question of God, "What is man, that you are mindful of him?"

According to Whitman, we fling our threads out into the void in hopes they will attach to something (or someone) upon which we can then build a bridge. Whitman doesn't go so far as to call what we are searching for "God," but the implication could be made as such.

Or perhaps what Whitman is searching for is Truth, not some relativized, subjective form of the idea of truth, but Truth itself. To which those of us who claim to follow Jesus might recall his own words about being the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

These threads of ours that we spin and send out in search of something upon which to hold fast are threads of hope if they are anything. These threads are tenuous and impermanent until they are attached and then added to.

This is the nature of hope, isn't it? It's the nature of hope that constantly seeks affirmation and realization, which can only come when it is connected to something meaningful.

And we never stop spinning this hope and letting it loose into the world.

We never stop trying to discover who we might become if we can only build a bridge to the next step in our journey. We never stop seeking the Divine anchor in our world to which we can attach our hope.

Because deep inside us, there is a place untouched by our own desperation and fear, a place that knows the One whom we are seeking is also seeking us. A place that knows we will be found.

May you spin your threads of hope with the confidence of those loved beyond love by a God who is for you and who finds you.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

[randomclam24]

I never wanted to admit a lack of agency on my *own* part, but it is true that, the wider the audience, the lower the lowest common denominator.

Anyway, I have the 4TB external hard drive now and am installing all the Steam games.

Update Obligatory botposting

https://archive.is/fnMtF

Daily reminder: You WILL not use your guns, you WILL live in the pods, you WILL down all of the semen, and you WILL

I've looked over my Steam games. I still have to judge whether Rage, and downstream from that all of id software, is ultimately pro-"our Democracy" - because it much more easily describes wiping the floor with the people still complaining, meaning true conservatives who are still alive somehow for some reason. There was a convention where id software literally said they don't like minorities in recent years, but in reality from my experience a lot of "the hood" is just hand-having what it means to actually take on the sad reality that everyone will collectively convulse down around you and have you locked up with a lifetime in prison for opening your ugly fat ass mouth. The FBI already started assassinating Trump supporters. I'll be the very first they're looking for.

Frankly, there *are* no means by which *not* to contribute to lefties' delusion narrative about the right. There's simply no air to breathe.

And now to end this with an obligatory, "and that's a GOOD thing!"

This is all so low class. I never got to live a life worth - trying for.

Look, I don't care what happens - as long as it stops starting right at my doorstep every single time. I have nothing to do with this. I have no personal involvement. I didn't make the deep state; I didn't get too far deep that it's like a permanent drug addiction where I'll literally just spontaneously die if I stop.

I just wish culture would stop being so fucking *slow*. Humans, specifically those who see themselves as the judges of others, are really incapable. They should be treated like livestock.

There's really no point in living: I'll fuck it up no matter what. I don't know what the end goal of everything is, because clearly it *can't* be what I *really* feel, as not even saying [redacted] is going to work as a cop-out for the newly-signed-into-effect direct legal implications, and I *know* this!

Can someone just get in there and physically, manually *stop* these people whno are signing into law these ridiculous things? I want people specifically to stop taking it in the ass as an excuse for a rational argument against my existence.

Like, whatever the fate of the West is, I could have been working on paradise on earth as an alternative to all that. What kind of timeframe do you think you need to get all this fecality past us and out of the way? Two years? 2024 tops, with the next election? Point stands, you're boring me. I want to die every day because of this.

Life is a *mistake*. Every day blows a *cock*.

I wish everybody could stop blowing cocks in place of oxygen, because that makes like a *mistake*.

Update I just went through the first parts of the lava underworld in Dark Souls on PC. I didn't just mow everything down. I took my sweet time, the whole time. I feel like it would have been better to die than to live a life where every microsecond is spent between different people telling me things that I have to listen to to survive. For the most part, what I've been living apart from this blogging is the best attempt at that, although I don't really know from experience if, once you get an actually decent-paying job (no offense?), people will stop being assholes - to the extent that life is fundamentally unbearable.

8/20 If listening to these people was all life was, it would not be worth living.

But at the same time, these toxic people are the ones who will readily get us all arrested when their time comes. They have to be listened to, at all times, because I toe the line. Everything I actively do is borderline. That's why life's not worth living[, and that's why they said that's why you just listen] - except that's not *true*, because you're the problem not *me*

Update Because I have nothing better to do, I'm going to write a *diss* track on my *haters*

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all"

[redacted]

Update It wasn't Ron DeSantis that rapped Eminem. His name is "Vivek Ramaswamy"

Everybody has to do this now

We'll brainstorm random ideas to see if any are worth making into "lyrics" - actually I always hated that rap was basically just droning where otherwise music has actual melody - this is what it sounded like

Getting fat off of pork rinds and Mountain Dew ("fucking *based*")

Except I'm actually intaking them in moderation now - so

Update Okay I remember somebody used the song with these lyrics in a video edit. I found the lyrics, but I can't find the song.

SHAKAMANIA X - I Was Tryna Beat My Meat Lyrics (l-hit.com)

I apologize for everything

Update I'm just going to repost garfielf

Garfielf is asks for lasaga - YouTube

Update Given the - absolute lack of interest in high-proficiency white males, upon which the infrastructure relies, who all essentially have this as the nagging feeling in the back of their heads, I'm surprised there hasn't been significantly more effort toward a Mannerbund, or multiple Mannerbunds. It may only be now developing, but you walk into a high-paying job's interview, and a black lady peeks out from behind the next door and asks, is it another white guy? I mean, what else are you occupied doing? You're not wanted there.

Update I want to die. Somebody take my life.

Moments in life - when my cousin who took it in the ass was there when I started up Galaga from Namco's 6th-gen arcade gaming collection and it made the starting music, and we just had this moment of agreement that, yeah, that's it mane

I don't have much else to talk about in life - at least I think I don't.

Update I don't think life has anything worth getting up in arms over. That's not to say I advise not to do it. You people aren't worth preserving, so in theory there would be nothing of value lost.

What's different in that respect from ancient times as modern nations?

I'll always tell you, midwits belong in the super-abyss.

But the drawback to that is that it makes me an *evil person*.

These politicians are going to keep being stagnant - go somewhere else. Hence the Mannerbund.

You can't damage a midwit enough because they *actually believe their own shit* - there's no reparation from that.

All I'm trying to be saying is that if incidentally, all of these politicians had in the first place never been born, that would have been great, but they had to go shit up the party for everyone. Now this takes up our priority because people are idiots who can't think for themselves and can only go by anecdotal example.

I think that's actually why I caught onto garfielf, because it's so overfull of anecdotal things it gets wrong, it becomes another thing in itself - but then who else is going to actually get that kind of humor?

My life is fundamentally meaningless. Someone *help* me

Update I really and seriously hope you lose your democracy - it sucks and you're fucking gay

I'm a Republican, and I'm going to speak what's on my mind even though it might be bad optics Your Democracy means these politicians won't be actively denied their obvious pilpul for what it is

My life really has no meaning. It's been called shouting into the void. The only ones *listening* are affirming leftist dogmas

Update God abandoned us forever. Why are we here?

8/20 Isn't the lifestyle we live, where you can just post things on the internet and get views on them, in a house that's - well not apparently if you live in Europe - air-conditioned Then people use this exact comfort to rationalize appreciating the one-world government, saying there's no justification behind conspiracy theories - for some reason apparently people love to say "how does this affect you personally?" Is expecting a working system in and of itself just a capitalistic impulse that liberals don't share?

According to amygdala research, they don't share the *disgust* response.

Update There was one point in college, one of the two liberal arts colleges I dropped out of before getting my General Transfer Studies degree, this professor on religions gave an assignment asking you to write out three examples of a religious experience *you* have had. I had heard in history lessons on religion long previous to this that such things as religious experiences weren't so common as they were regarded in ancient times. Then this professor thinks we liberal arts college students can just hand them out like candy. I tried to muster up *something*, that would be true to the prompt just subjectively, and all I got back was a nondescript note on the paper, "none of these are religious experiences". Is this a psyop? Yes, this is a psyop

It's another thing that seems like something that could have caught on in and of itself but didn't go anywhere in reactionary online horror, the incidence of that piercing old Macintosh-esque text-to-speech of essential Bible verses in the Mandela Catalogue.

I've made mention of a protagonist I *wanted* to create, where the purpose was less to be *that guy* in every situation like in media and more to make sense of things where everyone out there is overwhelmingly conflicted and be the arbiter of them, so if there was a hint of that space alien trope "take me to your leader" to be found in that, I actually thought that was kind of cool - the part of being an arbiter, rather than the part of being a glowie psyop.

But the sheer total size of the text is so huge, it's highly intimidating. Realistically, it could (and some would scoff at this and say it *would*, easily) take years just to get initially acquainted with the text.

That's where I've had an issue with even having a job - it's the fact that I could easily do other things in the meantime that would accomplish many more easily-obtainable goals.

Update I don't know. Maybe the motivation isn't there plainly because the whole original motivation for the thing was to just be contrarian, albeit in a big way.

It's not like it wasn't in earnest. But what was the *end* goal?

Update You have so many voices that people identify with because they feel a connection on a personal level, but nobody really seems to speak with authority. When people try to speak with authority, it's in a way where they're actively feeling out that everybody can just agree in a superficial sense that it's "authoritative", and it's on issues like "don't be racist", so in reality it's *not*: what amounts to, Republicans would be better off keeping their two cents on the issue to themselves, as advice, is not based on virtue; it's just Machiavellian.

So nobody is really speaking with authority anymore; they're just podium-hogging against right-wingers who want real change, giving minimalistic excuses.

So what you really get is, all of these leftists hogging up the political stage are legitimately believing that they're fighting the last implicit stand against what would have been the catalyst for the end of times on every individual issue like muh racism, muh Hitler, muh Nazis.

I was going to say, these people are in theory the ones who lack the proverbial disgust response. Why are they then the ones who are known for getting hung up on every little Machiavellian non-issue?

Update So what *is* the virtue on which push against racism is based? And with that, you have even ghostler saying "you wouldn't say any of that to a black person's *face* in real life", alluding to the same. And you had the event of "Propertarianism"'s first real-life meet ending abruptly to have everyone disband in embarassment when one of the leaders was actually physically confronted by a black lady and pissed his pants after cramping up. I want to just say, I don't see the substance here when things just seem to be set up so conveniently for these perceptions to play out systematically, this being a question of whether that was a psyop, but clearly there's this boof there that goes, right beneath the surface, for people. I don't know what it is.

Search your feelings

Update later I may say that about liberal politicians, but when it comes to politicians on the podium, they're all losers. We don't really *have* insiders.

8/22 night I just keep having to arrive at the realization against my will that life is just a complete non-start and there's no reason to get up in the morning all of the time

I want something like a movie night so I don't die of - autism

Update Since it's one of the few I've beat on Heroic and not just Normal, I tried replaying Halo 4 again on Legendary. I got down certain techniques, like switching from the assault rifle to take down overshields to something else after they're down, like a headshot weapon. I also fine-tuned the mouse sensitivity settings including the zoomed-in speed ratio. I still feel like the game is more work than it's worth as an experience.

That's life.

Update My life isn't going to go anywhere even with money at my disposal. We wouldn't be talking about that much in the scheme of things. More or less, it's because everybody else is already known to be a fat bitch when it comes to any matters that actually matter that I consciously make the deliberation not to expend *too much effort*, because I *know* that's out of place, and there's nothing to change that.

Life is pointless at conception: you all are going to sit around and do drugs essentially

8/23 night There was an image-based meme of something that looked like a worm with two big, beady all-black eyes and sharp teeth, and the text reads "imma pee in ur ass". Like, yes, this is a completely legitimate retort in an argument.

8/24 I'm just now getting my sleep schedule back on track, not that it matters that much unless I get caught, which really shouldn't be a thing anyway given how low-priority everything that I've been doing is. But in going back to sleep another time before this morning, I had a nightmare about an entire village of zombies. It's hard to tell where to begin because everything was grotesque in its own unique way. But in short, some or a lot of the zombies had this thing where their hands could contort into longer, thin appendages in a kind of hyper-motion, all wielding knives haphazardly. The first zombie that appeared soon after waking up out of the starting bed, after discovering the two with me had their beds death-trapped involving barbed wire, was Baldi. Sooner than later there was an entire village of people who looked normal, but as time went on more signs appeared that they were all under a ruse and were trying to get you, and there was minimal chance of escape through a slow-coming elevator. There was enough really subtle stuff going on to mess with the overall sense of comfort that it was horrifying beyond measure, but it's hard to describe. Basically, it was Siren's idea that eventually, the entire place becomes a secluded island, so in effect your entire world becomes zombified, and that's it for you. And what was I doing to produce the hand hyper-contortions? I was spending all night typing at a relatively fast pace until my wrists hurt, and I would shake them out, in addition to stretching them out.

Update Based on the way ghost was shown the way millenials are paying off the debt from boomers living their way of life, and he just said if you millenials cared, this would have been solved within a short duration of time, despite the fact that millenials are physically incapable of holding positions of authority where boomers hold them indefinitely from their generation and way of life, boomers need to be regarded as diseased animals and must be treated as such.

Update Reality favors world Jewry. Despite the hillbilly getting to #1 on trending or something, the r*ght lost the culture war. It's time to pack our bags.

Update At the end of the day, you're going to have to pass as a liberal, be you right wing or left wing. It doesn't make any difference

I'm not doing any of that, so long story short for the sake of catching up to what's already upon me in any case, I'm not going to make it.

I wrote out the first three books of the New Testament, and already I'm far enough into the fourth book to make the call, basically if you want it condensed, the book of Matthew contains the primary account of all of the parables, and only in the book of John are certain events like the miracle of turning water into wine even mentioned.

The point being, I actually told my mom about that, and that caused her to double down unconsciously on the idea that I need company from church in place of scripture, and that means that I'm dangerously on edge of being put into there, perpetually and, well, they wanted to keep it a secret, but, *forever*. Teehee!

As a sort of disclaimer, my grandma on my mother's side's church felt comfy. That's where I supported summer camp there and had my first all-night lock-in. But the churches my parents went to were too contemporary. I remember the first contemporary church we went to had Midway Arcade Treasures on PS2 in the middle school / high school lounge, and that's how I heard of it, but I think they got rid of that fast. But you actually talk to the people there, and it doesn't seem like a church community. it just seems like a last resort for people who can't *get* any friends. What other kind of community is it? It's not quality.

Update And the mentality I had was that like college, where it's encouraged you actually read the text before class, what's the good in taking part in a serious discussion group if you have never definitively read the text? But my mom wanting to shovel me into contemporary groups clearly is as a *preventative*.

My mom wants to shoehorn me into the straitened path of Chroma Tundra's sound, effectively, where everything about it is only supposed because of suppositions about what feels right stacked one upon the other for generations. By the time they finally finish their introduction and let me have a word in edgewise, I'm only left in all that constraint to cry out autistically, "Abba!" why have you forsaken me? because I had been left with all this retardation, taken in absence of consciousness.

Boomers need to stop perpetually taking it in their ass. That's absolute.

To the effect it's been memed we're already at war, there is a silent war going on by what would be considered the modern-day Pharisees against - not even enemies to them, but just anyone who blindly wanders into the domain of damning information against them. So to say we're already at war in that sense is ultimately just giving them "gainsay" on us - so it's pointless. Pack your bags. Start a new country.

I say that because at this level of corruption, that's simpler. But clearly see this: you don't want to end up becoming like Iran, which has one of the world's few non-jew-owned banking systems, to become international terrorists by name in the U.S.

Every organic expression that ever happened from the modern U.S. media has been in unison with the killing of the prophets, though there *be* not any. But had there been, the automatic reception would be along the combined lines of, pipe down you ain't really from the hood no you ain't with suspended booty rippling (I give up) (and am so sorry) I only make my case worse (oh no I went (*all* the way) over the edge)

I wonder if there's any relation to the Pharisees metaphorically making the outside of the cup clean in all their expressions and appeals to the divine and holy and the way now 30-and-above-degree Freemasonry now supposedly culminates in anal worship So if you want to say anything on the world stage, there's really only one approach left to gain you anything, to a dead world: (you gotta eat the whole ass bruh ain't no playin' around)

It's all in making sure you don't fuck up the semantics of the game, and if you don't, you'll make Denzel Curry go even more mental (I see no other reason people write music)

I don't have anything good to say.

As long as I keep talking, the people will never stop targeting me. These are the very people saying there's nothing to worry about as long as you don't fuck up the game - even though there hasn't *been* a fucking up of the game, and they're the ones themselves preaching don't be flustered over a minor detail, which is specifically what's setting them off with me, making them say it'll fuck up the game, so - you pick

Life was a mistake because these people have the full rein, and there's no point

In reality I don't *want* to show myself in front of any people I consider "real", because I would make them feel ashamed.

Update I felt the need to say all this because the way my mother talks proves that these social expectations precede the Bible.

Something I noticed which might have further meaning than the literal is the way it's described some people will say near the end times, the Lord delayeth his coming, and will instead start slaying the servants. Of course he delayeth his coming - it's the foremost common saying that nothing ever happens. Nothing ever happens.

And nothing that happens in the modern day actually has anything not to do with the secret circles like the Catholic priesthood but with God.

8/25 night For those who were wondering, or reposting the meme about the subject, why people don't make the association where in the Bible Jesus accuses Israel of being the sons of the devil, the Gospels have their strength as historical records because of the standard of having more than one or even two people give the same record, and this only appears in the book of John, starting in chapter 8.

8/25 I suppose it's not because of the thing itself, but because I've already been to so many sermons in life, most of which are concerning the gospels - even though I don't feel like I learned much, there's that implicit certification now that I've typed out the entirety of them and so ensured that I know at least more about them throughout than what any public sermon is going to assume a crowd of people understands about them. Why? I always felt like the material of the book of Acts and so on before the letters to the churches were underappreciated for what they were. There was the entire lifestyle implied by that, which is actually the part of the Bible that's unheard of by our society's standards.

8/26 night How wonderful it is that it's a new day! I'm tired of living. I just don't want to do it anymore.

8/26 Okay. So because I proved an entire 100-proof 750mL was not enough to make me do anything more than go off to sleep and do nothing more without remembering it, clearly that much is not enough to kill me. So we had to get it more concentrated. 69% ABV is about the highest that can be found by going to Wal-mart and getting it in secret, and it's not just at any location. So I've got two overproof Plantations, at that ABV at 1L total each. How much does that make?

*Don't* do this

Update I got a guide for MyHouse.wad. It seems like a good combination. I don't know what else to do right now.

Update In the burned version of the house, the sound of the music isn't in appearance only: from this version of the house onward, can't get a true ending. The artifacts you collect here are false artifacts and do not contribute toward the end collection. I didn't even know that.

Update I don't know the game well enough to know if you have to trigger the house fire to get that music or not.

Update So, cons of drinking: you have things to consider like, never trust a burp, but it's really more like never trust a cough because it's almost a given you'll have to burp already, so if you cough on top of that, you might projectile vomit.

Pros: I'm playing MyHouse.wad with a guide this time, and it's doing it in style

I know it's un-Christian to be given to heavy drinking, but also I've tried for experimentation's purposes, and I still don't *know* what everyone's talking about, when it comes to regrets and being out of control being drunk. At worst I legitimately just sleep a lot. And that's only my own case - but that's given that I have 0% peer pressure from other people, having my own abode in the basement where people don't come anymore unless they have storage purposes in the back room. So I have my own universe here

"The kid needs a milkshake" makes me want a milkshake, and that makes me face the facts that I'm a poorfag

Update Eventually they're going to force me to work and hold down a job.

To me that comes as a given.

Update I feel like I'm just waiting for time to go on, no different than anybody else. It's not good, but what can you do

When it comes to something like Mario 64 beta lore, it feels like there is something I can add meaningfully, but when it comes to something like MyHouse.wad, not really.

Update If for whatever reason a professor actually gives you a prompt asking you what religious / spiritual experiences you've had, actually press them on it if MyHouse.wad isn't valid as one - not that it is, but because we really don't have any examples - I don't know why that was a thing

Update I made it to the gas station, with only one artifact left to get out of the mirror artifacts. I feel like I've already seen enough. When they say Doom"cute", they're not kidding.

Something about seeing things like Doom Center take Doomcute arcade game machines and make actual arcade games within the Doom engine to play out of them makes me want to -

Really, I quit because I set up the contrast and brightness for a different monitor, and now it's too dark.

Update I'm too jolly for my own good, in this state.

Death to the deep state. That's figurative.

Update My parents got a deal where they decided to split half and half on spicy and non-spicy chicken at Lee's. Now I get to eat helping after helping of spicy chicken because absolutely nobody is eating it.

Update Guys, the Microsoft Edge browser updated just recently to match the hated "everything has to be a rounded square" style. It's like, people will rail me because I'm being a conspiracy theorist, but that much happened

8/27 night Beyond the fact that it has this status of being definitive, I think Dark Souls is definitely overrated for what it is. Then again, there *are* all those imitation games that get the formula wrong, because it's actually hard to get right.