#if life was one long cycle of being the most treated god by everyone then maybe i could be something i dont know

[girlthingdecay]

.

#i kind of want to kill myself. im so disconnected from anything. i have no original thought. everything is scripted #everything is just put together pieces from things ive heard elsewhere and i do not have a single original thought #everyone can see that im masks all the way down and everyone can see that i am nothing underneath and even that is a stolen way of saying it #i have no way of making nothing palatable but i am simply nothing. invite me over and ill try to adapt to you and write a new script based #off new media but if you make me truly comfortable and somehow manage to unplug my behavior then youll be rewarded with me just sitting #beside you on the floor and staring at whatever media you show me without speaking much and only occasionally seeking further warmth from #you #i vocalized it to someone close recently but im a nothing void and i wish people all acted in exactly the way i wanted regardless #i have selfish fantasies about people just doing everything to make everything easy for me and if i were a god i would be an entirely #selfish one #if the right people would go and stay as i please even though im a nothing void and dont deserve them around #if they would all do whatever i needed like gave me cuddles or sex or affirmation or money or treats #if life was one long cycle of being the most treated god by everyone then maybe i could be something i dont know #maybe something could be manifested into me #everyone already projects an idea onto me so maybe a collective idea held by all with a great deal of love would make whatever they say of #me true and maybe then id exist fully #until then oh well #though in reality im just sanitizing a bit. having others fully as puppets serving me isnt something that i want because i think itll “fix” #me by any measures and id likely only grow far more sadistic and selfish but i wish for that world because i could live in perfect comfort #i could do anything i wanted and have anything i wanted and nobody would stop me #sorry this is just like. a long rambling in tags. i should shut up now

[swanpyart]

Prepare For My Most Deranged Slay The Princess Theory That Makes Sense The More You Think About It - The Narrator IS Another Voice

I'm a bit jumbled so bear with me, but I realized a lot of odd things that give me the idea that the Narrator is actually another Voice and another facet of the Long Quiet.

The game goes out of its way to make it clear that the Narrator is different from the Voices; he has a degree of power over the Player that the other Voices initially lack, he has info about the world that the Player does not, and his authoritative nature puts him (and us by default) in opposition with the Princess. Because of this, none of the other Voices treat him as an equal or even as a friend: They are all either opposed to him, treat him as someone who can be listened to but ultimately ignored, or outright dismiss him. In the Thorn Route, Hero even points out that the Narrator "doesn't count" as one of them.

Another difference is that the Narrator never learns new info from previous chapters; we essentially get a new Narrator each one, while literally EVERYONE else remembers what happened before. This alone feels like the game pointing out the disconnect between the Narrator and the rest of the Long Quiet.

Now, for what my theory hinges upon.... the Start Over Ending, where the Princess wipes the Long Quiet's memories and causes the entire game to start over from scratch. The interesting part of this is that both the Long Quiet AND the Princess remark that there's a chance that they'd done this before, possibly countless times, because they were unable to make a permanent decision the previous times.

If this is actually true, and the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound have been in this perpetual cycle of the Long Quiet finding five vessels, the Narrator's Echo fading away, both gods realizing their true natures but being unable to compromise, and the Princess wiping both of their memories and forcing a restart.... then what becomes of the Narrator? How does he come back for things to restart?

"Well, obviously he's resurrected," You might say, but we're not given any reason to believe that the Long Quiet can resurrect an actual mortal person, right? The entire point of the game is the inevitability of death, and that "even in rebirth, things can't be the same." Not only that, Nary is an Echo, not an actual person, so his presence as a living being is one that's even more precarious than an actual human life; focusing too much on him makes him fade away. The Long Quiet and the Princess can come back from death, but those two are literally GODS.

So, my main theory is this: The Narrator we hear throughout the game is no longer the Narrator the Long Quiet may have originally started with in the VERY first loop with the Shifting Mound, right after the Creator killed himself and split the Gods in half. The original Narrator is actually long dead, along with his original Echos, and now he is merely another Voice of the Long Quiet assuming His role. Perhaps at one point, the Narrator was actually a person who wanted to rid the world of death, and created an Echo of himself to do it, but the Echo of that human has long since faded away, only to be replaced by the Long Quiet to maintain the illusion of the loop.

In this light, it's entirely possible that every version of the Narrator and the Creator we meet is merely an extension of the Long Quiet playing the role of an omniscient storyteller. This could be part of why the Narrator struggles to answer in-depth questions, and why the Creator never goes into detail about his true identity as a human. The Long Quiet doesn't actually know much about the one who created him, and gives the same recycled lines he heard long ago from the voice of a long-dead man.

So, why does the Narrator never remember previous Chapters? That's his role. Every Voice has specific skills and abilities, and the Narrator's role, as a Voice, is to maintain a status quo. With no storyteller, there is no path in the woods, there is no cabin, there is no Pristine Blade, and there is no basement. There's no vehicle through which the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound can reach an agreement of some kind.

The irony, then, that, if this idea is true, that the Narrator, hellbent on destroying the Shifting Mound, then becomes a vehicle through which her love for the Long Quiet facilitates. It's no wonder that, Like the Voice of the Hero, the Narrator is ALWAYS with us, and if Hero represents our agency, then Nary represents the scenario through which to exercise that agency.

Let me know if I sound like a madman lmao

#slay the princess #slay the princess game #narrator #stp the narrator #stp the long quiet #stp the princess #voice of the hero #the voices #stp voices #theory #slay the princess theory

[newnevermind-sanity]

This is probably going to sound more like word vomit but I have a lot of thoughts on Grimm and the Radiance and I would love to get it on paper. The difference between the Nightmare King and the Radiance are night and day, and I find it fascinating that the one with control over NIGHTMARES is the one that's way more approachable and inviting than the main baddie who burns as hot as the sun. Maybe in seeing their differences too we can start to understand (though I doubt we'll ever get an answer) why the Nightmare Realm is now apart from the Dream one.

The difference is the willingness to come down to a Mortal's level.

Grimm has a mortal form. It's one that embodies the cycle of life and death. Burn the father, feed the child. I think however child is not a correct word for what Grimmchild is at first, but simulacrum. A vessel for the new Nightmare King. Much how we were supposed to be a vessel for the Radiance, Grimmchild is a vessel for the Nightmare Heart in a cycle of life and death that fuels it until the ritual fails one too many times and the final embers go out. Whether or not that's willingly is up for interpretation and there's a lot that can be played with here.

The Nightmare King is how he is in dream, with the Nightmare Heart being, well, his heart: his source of power, tucked away in a realm he allows only a select few in. But most won't see that. Only the ones chosen to aid the ritual get to see it. Most people just see a polite troupe master that, while a bit unsettling and creepy, puts on shows to wow crowd, bows before any opponent, and gives kindness to those helping him. He's the one that treats us with the most respect. He disarms our perception of a Nightmare King by coming down to a mortal's level, by being kind and approachable. It's through this method that he's been able to keep going for so long. While others reject him for his nature and for being, well, the Nightmare King, those who are kind and most likely outcasts themselves, are more than willing to help a fellow outcast.

He does show however his real power in dream, but by then you know damn well to expect it. You know this is where he thrives. This is him fueling the fire before you throw him upon it for the child you carry. He is still the Nightmare King, he burns hot and bright, almost untouchable, but he dims that fire in the real world. Instead of an inferno, he's a warm crackling fireplace.

Furthermore he's not an all powerful god, he's a scavenger. He takes the flames of an old dying kingdom and burns them for his ritual, allowing for something new to be reborn from the ashes. He cleans up the last of the mess and leaves a blank slate for the next kingdom that he will one day return to. It may seem as gross and invasive to some who rather peace for the dead, but to others, they're just glad it's gone and can move on in their lives to build something new.

The Radiance on the other hand, is a blinding, burning sun, that can never be touched without serious repercussions.

She doesn't have a mortal form, only appearing in dreams. As such, she requires people to worship her in order to keep her godly form. She needs people to remember her. We're not told too much about the Radiance before she began to infect everyone, but I don't think it's a stretch to say that her moths left her for a reason. The Pale King is a much softer, more gentle light, that encourages thought and free will. Who wouldn't want that, when your previous god is oppressive and intrusive to your own thoughts?

It's hard to forget something like that, even through the generations. Told in whispers around the campfire of the previous god, they unwittingly keep her on life support, enough that she could concoct her scheme of revenge.

She appears as a blinding, burning light in dreams, offering unity at the cost of free will and thought. It burns, it's hard to resist in dream. It smells so sickly sweet that you want to throw up, permeating the senses and blocking all else. Even Void beings that are heavily resistant to this light can give in with enough prodding. There's no sense of humanity or kindness in it. There's no turning it off once it's there.

It's also very clear that she would not have stopped, not until everything was hers in Hallownest, or perhaps even beyond. In her own terror of being forgotten, of facing death in every sense of the word, she clawed her way back violently, not at all caring for the mortals destroyed in her wake, not at all caring about the repercussions to her living jailer, or that she's taking away others autonomy for the sake of being remembered and worshipped like the old days.

She is blinding, intrusive, hot, and at a distance she's warm and radiant. Up close, it's too much for any mortal. It hurts too much to stare into her and become blind to all else. It hurts to try and hold her at bay.

The only thing that can get anywhere near her and swallow her up, is the very Void itself, and the Lord of Shades who controls it.

With all that being said, what we're left with is two very different gods who don't talk about each other. Whether it was because there was no good place to put it, or whether it was on purpose, this is what we got. So then, what happened to make Nightmare split from Dream?

There's three options here as to what caused the rift.

It was a mutual split between two sides that never liked each other or thought it better to not have it together. (Possible, but unlikely. We do not have enough information to know their previous relationship. Friends? Siblings? Lovers? Absolutely loathed each other from the start? No damn idea. They're just connected through Dream with two very different ways of doing things, and I doubt they approved of one another once those were set up.)

Grimm began a conflict leading to the split. (Also very unlikely, unless his personality was different back then and this humbled him into what we see now. Grimm does not pick fights unless they help his ritual, and the only other time he would fight is in self defense, most likely.)

The Radiance began a conflict leading to the split. (Most likely with what we know, unless her personality wasn't as controlling and overwhelming back then. We don't have enough information to be sure.)

In the end it's left to us to speculate, and there's a lot to play with here. It's just important to remember the distinct difference between the two.

TL;DR: Grimm is terrifying and powerful, a swirling inferno, but he dims himself down to be much more approachable and welcoming to mortals like a campfire would be. Radi is terrifying and powerful, but doesn't dim herself down at all, and is just a blinding, burning sun that will melt your face off if you look at it wrong.

#sanity shut up #hollow knight #the radiance #grimm #troupe master grimm #nightmare king grimm #headcanons #I think #analysis #kinda that too #idk I just wanted to get this out there #I love the concept of these two so much

[ms-scarletwings]

Upon finishing S3//Ep2 of Moral Orel, “Innocence”, Orel’s morals finally clicked for me

As happens in a show this narratively rich, I looked around at some of the close-by chatter under comment sections. People were making these observations about how Orel seemingly just goes out of his way to interpret all of the lessons he’s given in the least charitable and most nonsensical way. Not an invalid view, and for the first good part of the show, you think this is just the function of an over the top comedic bit for the formula of each episode. It’s easy to ask how on earth a seemingly kind hearted, well meaning kid like this can be THAT devoid of the basic logical implications of what he hears, or any common moral intuition that virtually everyone has, right?

Orel’s not a stupid kid. But the entire problem with him up to the point thus far is that he legit DOES NOT in fact have that intuition we expect most people, even children to have. That knee-jerk repulsion to obviously harmful actions. That really vital sense of conscience. No, I don’t mean he’s some kind of psychopath. He has a bright and almost sickeningly sweet heart and it was part of how he broke the cycle despite everything. I mean that Orel has not had a coherent moral compass modeled to him through his earlier development. His ethical axioms are ALL rooted in divine command theory. To put it simply, he doesn’t believe “god is good”, he believes “goodness” itself is “what god says is good”. Most Christians, hell, most religious people generally do not literally, consciously operate in this way, and usually even the ones that do are (mostly) still functionally average people, because usually they were at least consistently conditioned to believe that axioms like human well-being are what God commands. To at least a fortunate degree, human empathy and socialization usually is allowed to and even encouraged to develop under mainstream religious upbringings.

You notice the glaring difference though when you see what happens to people who are molded entirely by Divine Command Theory and then become convinced that their God’s divine command is something that doesn’t happen to line up with conventionally good ideals, like those given earlier. This is what destructive cults do. This is what makes crusades. This is what causes anti-sodomy laws and stoning people to death for eating the wrong kind of fish or not wearing the right clothing to happen.

Understand that this is the hinge that Orel’s whole sense of right and wrong up to this point swings on. What it means is that this little boy can, and will, justify or excuse any and all directions given to him so long as he trusts the adult talking to him as someone who speaks for God. This combined with his craving for approval, plus the fact that he’s also had it drilled in his head to never question or doubt his elders’ wisdom makes for a child zealot that is dangerously easy to manipulate to do ANYTHING and with fanatical determination. It is less than no additional help that the Puppingtons (and the majority of the townsfolk) have never been golden examples for healthy social modeling, as well. Like, sure, he’s getting glimmers of actual goodness in there such as the Jesus loves you so love yourself and help thy neighbors messaging, but it’s being inconsistently contradicted by and juggled alongside at same hierarchical importance as “lessons” like beat the shit out of people who make fists, segregate the brown people, and be terrified of the same authority you expect safety and comfort from. Why on earth is it shocking that Orel seemingly has no sense of scale or priority when it comes to the rules? The rules he’s given are subject to constant and chaotic updates and are all treated with the same gravity. Follow X and you will be promised infinite reward. Disobey X and you will be met with infinite retribution. Not just even in a spiritual heaven and hell sense, but here in life too. Clay delivers the same punishment for getting hooked on crack or becoming a serial rapist that he does for the “sin” of using slang vernacular and meditating to relieve stress.

Everything that defines his life and virtues is a matter of constant anxiety and eagerness in order to appease a patriarchal tyrant that is portrayed as both ultimately benevolent and wise,

yet incredibly vindictive, sadistic, irrational, and petty.

And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this description can equally apply to Moralton’s conception of God and a certain alcoholic father.

No kidding when I say that Orel has so little consistent input to actually steer him in the right direction that it’s incredibly sad, to the point where he’s extremely fortunate to actually have such an optimistic and compassionate inclination at all. It only seems ridiculous how he can’t see obvious suffering and even personal detriment as any red flags to hesitate or question an action, until you remember that he’s so been domestically broken by Clay and his church that his Pavlovian response to pain is either gratitude, mild inconvenience, or, masochistic euphoria.

Nonetheless, all of this only backfires on every adult in Moralton because the one thing they can’t control or account for 24/7 is exactly how he interprets what they say, even when he’s trying his best to follow their command. It’s like a twisted Amelia Bedelia situation with him that no one actually wants to deal with, even though they all (except Stephanie) collectively played a part in creating this monster.

Censordoll was the first one who was smart and ambitious enough to see the potential for Orel’s blind subservience to be weaponized, and of freaking course she was.

Thing is, you bet the ONLY reason she stopped was because she also lost control of him, and we all know what the consequence of that was. He unintentionally yet absolutely destroyed her in the only weak point she has, yet exactly like Clay did during the “turn the other cheek” incident, she trapped herself in a situation where she couldn’t swallow her own pride in the name of reversing the damage.

What I guess I’m explaining here is that Orel’s collection of constant shenanigans, unknowingly, yet effectively, is literally a manifestation of the community’s own complete moral bankruptcy biting them back in the ass, and possibly even a divine punishment for it, depending on how you interpret the writing. Which is a HELL of a phenomenal, subtle twist to his whole premise that doesn’t abandon the original joke/satire, but instead builds upon it and adds a chasm of depth and intention.

PRETTY GREAT, HUH?~

#moral orel analysis #orel puppington #moral orel #scarlet talks about things #repost from my old blog #the old one was unable to be searched on my end 😒

[tangledinink]

Question about your Teenage Mutant What Now AU!

Has Leo always just been in puberty blockers since forever? Because I'm assuming he never had a period in his life because, well, reptiles menstruation is laying eggs

Kinda! I've actually thought about this a lot because I had the same question and went back and forth on it for a while. tldr; Leo has been on puberty blockers for the past three+ years and has never had a full menstrual cycle, but he does menstruate rather than lay eggs, at least when he's under the effect of his bracelet. Further details abt Leo's trans experience and how the cloaking crystals work below!

Leo has been on puberty blockers since he turned twelve and went on them before he had his first period. As we've established, Yoshi just kind of discovered that Leo was afab when he put the cloaking bracelets on them for the first time and was like "fuck it I don't have the time to unpack this right now you're Leo and you're my son whatever lesgo," and that was just kinda that and everyone involved was always just down with Leo being Leo. Leo certainly never had a problem with it, and he never felt any desire to switch over to being a girl and would get pretty upset if anyone (such as teachers or other parents) suggested he may be female. As such, Yoshi has always just treated Leo as his son and is more than willing to defend him from anyone who ever questioned his identity. His brothers, likewise, have always been very defensive of Leo and quite frankly were usually confused as children if anyone tried to say Leo was their sister. 'Cause??? Like??? Literally no he's not??? He's always been our brother???

When Leo was around eleven Yoshi did sit him down to actually talk to him about it in-depth, like, 'I love you no matter what and I support your choices but we've never actually for-real talked about this and I wanna make sure this is something that you want and not just something that you went along with,' (Leo, of course, at that point doesn't realize WHY he 'came out as trans' when he was five, he just kind of figures that he must have made the decision to start presenting as masc and go by 'Leo' when he was very little and doesn't remember it now,) as well as discuss the option of puberty blockers with him and ask if that's something he wants. And Leo is 1000% like. YES, I'm sure I'm a boy and YES I want to go on puberty blockers so very much I've been dreading the concept of puberty for months now pleeeesssase let's do that. So... they do, and that's that!

(And Yoshi would have gone along with whatever Leo said, but internally he's like, OH THANK GOD, because he's also like ?!?! How tf would turtle puberty translate?! Would the cloaking crystals cover that??? Surely my son wouldn't lay FUCKING EGGS but holy shit what if he did and would I be morally obligated to warn him just in case--!?!)

I do think that the cloaking crystals cover menstruation, however. In this AU, the cloaking crystals (at least the ones the Hamatos have) do provide an active transforming effect rather than just a 'disguise.' I don't think it could really work otherwise! It's definitely not a 100% transformative effect, though, and their true biology still plays a major influence on them. (ie they get cold easily! They swim really well and can hold their breath for a long time! They're naturally more athletically inclined than most other kids and a lot hardier! etc. etc. etc.) but I don't think it would leave gaps as big as to let them lay eggs or anything like that, just like it doesn't allow them to shed their skin or to go into full brumation. It's also worth noting that they're turtle mutants, but they're not full turtles. They're half-human, too! So who's to say if Leo would lay eggs even if didn't have the cloaking crystals or the puberty blockers? He does end up having one little baby period right after he goes on blockers, which is not super uncommon, and is very dramatic about it, but April big-sisters him through it and he hasn't had any since. In the fic he is currently in the process of starting testosterone in the near future, which is something that will be discussed/explored in later chapters!

#sorrywhatnowau #lore #asks #anon #leo #menstruation #periods #periods cw

[dailyadventureprompts]

Heavy Topics: Elemental Madness and Mental Health

To catch everyone up on the discussion that’s been going around regarding the depiction of “madness” in TTRPGs, there’s a long tradition in media of portraying those suffering from breaks or disruptions to their mental health as dangerous and alien. This has not only stigmatized those people most in need of sympathy and aid but has slowed down a lot of discussions regarding mental health and by doing so created an environment where ignorance,  neglect, and traumatic abuse can be perpetuated.

At the same time, this concept of “madness” as it exists in media has taken on a life of its own, seen as an almost elemental force that can pervade the world and eat away at the inherent order of things like an acid of the mind. This sort of madness has mechanics in many game systems, with characters having to resist and treat it as they would poison or a magical curse. The problem arises when these systems begin to interact with real mental health concerns:  I’ve played games where taking PTSD or Alcoholism as a flaw at character creation got me more skill points, to say nothing of Lovecraftian horrors inflicting schizophrenia or obsessive compulsion as an AOE attack.

TLDR: What we have here is a topic that needs to be handled with nuance, a situation that TTRPGs have been historically bad at. On one hand as someone who wants his hobby to be welcoming and who has had long struggles with mental health, I don’t want to include things in my game that could be alienating or othering. Conversely, there is a place in gameplay for both mental strain and psychic fuckery but those systems need to be handled with tact and placed at a remove from mental health conditions which should be something dealt with more on the character side of things. If we really want to cement this gap, I propose separating “elemental madness” into an actual force that doesn’t just afflict the mind, but reality itself, afflicting the targets and their surroundings with a dreamlike surrealism.

I’ll talk about my reasoning behind elemental madness below the cut, as well as why it’s fucked up to try and deal with real mental health issues through game mechanics.

Madness as genre conceit: Every culture has superstition surrounding mental health, but as the western enlightenment gave way to industrialization the old thoughts about demons and visions from god gave way to the concept of insanity as illness, and that those experiencing or expressing abnormal behaviours or beliefs should be confined just like those suffering from any other form of contagion. It was this tradition that intersected with one of the most prolific writers of the 20th century: Howard Phillips Lovecraft and the xenophobia that underlined his work

Lovecraft was terrified of the unknown, in that if he didn’t understand something he was very likely to write a short story about it being the vessel for a life ruining/world dooming horror.  Central to his work is the idea that there are things one can learn that can break the human mind, entities so vast or so terrible, truths so impossible, that it destroys a person’s ability to reason and leaves them to gibbering terror (his natural state apparently).  This is the form of madness that d&d has inherited, the sort of thing that has cultists pledging themselves to gods intent on ending the world, and villains acting in nonsensical ways because they have to do something in order for the story to make sense.

Madness in this way is a crutch for lazy writing, a means by which an author can move their narrative chess pieces about without having to write REAL justifications for why they’re acting this way. Saying that a serial killer is “crazy” lets you skip past writing about how cycles of abuse and social pressures can lead someone to kill, the same way that a cult performing vile rites saves you from having to write a reason for people to be brought to that extreme, or to examine your own justifications for why this group should be the enemy

Madness as a Mechanic: Personally I don’t believe there’s anything truly beyond human comprehension, both in that we’re imaginative beings and if we really did encounter anything outside of what our rudimentary organic perceptions could perceive, we’d simply come up with a working model and deal with it, much in the same way that we’ve done with quantum physics.  This is one of the reasons I’ve never been on board with lovecraftian horrors that break the brain just with their mere strangeness.   That said, I’m a firm believer in the idea that our minds can break down, as I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to rebuild from such a break down and prevent another one. As such, here’s a scattering of thoughts regarding mental health and how it should and shouldent be handled

By far “stress” is a more useful mechanic to track than a building “madness” or depleting “sanity” pool, because stress can be applied to all manner of situations. Everyone understands that there’s a wide veritety of things that can stress you out, from having to rough it over multiple days in the wilderness to seeing a friend fall in combat to confronting a horrifying monster. Stress buildup could switch off the refresh rate of abilities over time, or cause a character to act out should it reach some kind of threshold, leaving it up to the player to decide what kind of outburst is appropriate for their character (mental health event included).

D&D’s madness tables do an okay job representing various short-circuits in the brain, aside from the indefinite madnesses, which hew a little too closely to real world. These tables are usually used when the character is suffering some form of psychic trauma or attack, so it’d be better for the indefinite side of the table to emulate longterm scars such an attack can do.

Dealing with mental health challenges on the character side rather than the mechanical side allows us to sidestep a whole bundle of troubling implications. If my depression or anxiety could be removed with a restoration spell, what about my autism? sixty years ago homosexuality was considered a mental defect, could that be taken away with 100gp worth of diamonds and a quick trip to the local cleric?

Madness as Surrealism: Yeknow what’s scary? When your lack of control over your life and environment manifests and once fundamental forces like causality and reason begin to break down.  This is why genres like ARG horror and the new weird are taking off, and why projects like the Backrooms are resonating with such a wide audience. We’ve gone beyond the horror that we might be trapped in a space with someone who’s violently out of touch with the world, and have entered into a horrifying new era where we are trapped in a world that’s violently out of touch with us. THIS is the toolbox I want to play with, rather than the dementophobia of lovecraft’s era, where I can paint with everything form Escheresque architecture to glitch-horror to the revelator ravings of abrihamic doomsayers. 

This to me fits far more with the theme of horrors outside of reality trying to press in, and gives a wider pallet of options to pull from if I don’t want to muck about in any mental health baggage my audience might be dealing with.

#heavy topics #mental health #cw mental health #dm advice #dm tip #dm tips #dm tools #writing advice #self harm #Cultists #homebrew mechanic #d&d mechanics #madness

[dopepoisonivyoncrack]

I would have rather went to sleep since I got a long week ahead but my brain decided now, at 1:30 a.m. out of all time, to fixate on the new added scene in Bleach. Manga and novel spoilers ahead!

Yhwach took in all his godly centuries life, the pain, the suffering, the fear of death of all the people whose souls he absorbed or returned to him. Along with everything that made their soul, their knowledge and history, their kindness, their anger, everything, good and bad and in between. While being an entity of its own, the son of a divine being, thanks to his intimate connection and condition for living, he can also be considered a mass of souls. Although different than that of arrancars! Anyway, what still seemed to prevail from his intake of humanity, was their fear of death and the negative aspects of death. I can imagine becoming unbearable to ignore the tormented souls, all those feelings and knowledge that become part of his being. Its natural he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to help, he wanted to break the cycle. And he knew there was a time when fear of death didn't existed, because everything was one. And he knew the shinigami had something to do with the separation. And he knew he had the power to do something about it.

Yet how was he treated when he went to the shinigami? Ichibe might have said the truth in that the Soul King was the one to separate the worlds, because he had the power to do it. But what Ichibe then showed Yhwach, the part that Yhwach didn't knew until then, was not part of the Soul King's plan. Separating the world in 3, and life and death is one thing. Being chopped and stripped of everything and reduced to a mindless piece of meat to serve as the linchpin and have some shinigami(s) rule the worlds as they want while pretending they follow the will of god was most likely not part of the plan. How can they pretend to follow the will of god when they themselves stripped him of the power to express his will and sealed him? It is an outrageous farce! And they know not everyone would agree with such a state of the world, nor accept such thing as their god, so they hide it. Some that found out the truth became known as Bleach's villains but who can truly blame them?

There are 2 options. To bow their head and ignore or accept such farce only so the worlds will continue as their are. Because there must have been a reason to divide the worlds in the first place (despite the coup by the shinigami), the damage was done, and there is almost no one that could replace the Soul King, which is unfortunately needed to sustain the worlds.

And second option, to rebel. Either as Aizen, to try and become Soul King, a god with will and voice and everything. Or as Yhwach, to reset the worlds completely, erase the farce with everything. If you ask me, Aizen acted for himself, Yhwach acted for the people. Yhwach truly wanted peace for their souls, peace as a world without these conflicts between the 3 worlds, necessary conflicts to maintain the balance, conflicts born of the current situation like with Aizen, and so on.

Anyway, back to the scene with Ichibe and Yhwach... to be treated so condescending, to have his eyes sealed because his power to see past his lies and manipulation was inconvenient and be told to go live in modesty.... I would probably go rabid with rage! Yhwach held himself so well, going as far as expressing relief that his eyes were sealed so he wouldn't have to endure this any longer.

If having the power to do something about it, why should he accept the humiliation to himself? To his father? To his people? Why should he ignore the cries of the souls that return to him? Why would he cease to exist and leave them behind just so he wouldn't feel them anymore? Why in the knowing of truth would he allow this farce to continue and leave shinigami to rule the worlds as they please?

What is the value of courage of living in a world like that? Despite all...

Isn't this the message of the series? I have mixed feelings about it but I'll leave that for another post, along with a 3rd option I thought of.

#long ass post #bleach thoughts #written in 1 go in the middle of the night #but thought about this many times before #I could not stand to bow my head to some power corrupted shinigami even if it meant the end of the world as well #to live in a lie or to die in the truth. which is more important? #tybw spoilers #cfyow spoilers #yhwach

[daenystheedreamer]

What do daenys' kids do after her death? I love the bolton mother in law idea. Babe truly is living in a torture labyrinth

KISSES okay cwinge oc children below ^_^ i realise not everyone knows every detail of my insane au so ill make another post that explains the starkgaryen situationship a bit 😭 for you my special sweetling anon

so they were all raised by their evil stoic stark father to never gaf about anything except Respect and Honour. Women die this is their battle their war we honour their sacrifice but we do NOT end the cycle. because the cycle is tradition. look at all the thousands of bodies in the crypt none of THEM complained. so the kids are a little weird. also daenys died in 77AC when the eldest was 11 and the youngest was a couple months old so that also influenced them a lil bit ^_^ in order its serena, alarra, alaric, brandon, berena, edderion, cregan, sara, torrhen. too-long rundown:

SERENA 66AC the eldest :3 she is to daenys what daenys was to viserys ie a special child to project all your insane trauma on. has the targ colouring and a seer :) daenys+cregard betrothed her to lord blackwood; cregard because he wanted relations with the vale and daenys because she wanted her in a decent marriage and the blackwood guy is chill enough. after daenys dies cregard assigns her eldest daughter surrogate mother of the children. she prophesises her death and knows if she marries lord blackwood it will somehow kill her, but she's so tired of being a mother to her siblings that she chooses to accept this. and it makes her feel close to her mother.... she dies of apparent suicide and her husband then marries shiera strong (viserra's daughter) its a whole fckn thing cos shiera posioned her, and serena felt a call by the old gods to drown herself in the gods eye. and whether this was poison-induced or actual dream is ambiguous... anyway serena has one daughter, agnes blackwood, who ends up becoming an outlaw cos she considers herself her father's heir and not shiera's children. she has a weird relationship with viserra's daughter jeyne wayn, takes shiera's bracken-by-marriage sister hostage for a while, then gets hunted down by the Kingsguard and House Strong for that. yay^_^

ARRA 67AC stillbirth :(

ALARRA 68AC she is wilful and rides horses and a stark through and through... she's cregards favourite daughter (since she's so son-like..) but she's super mad about how he treated daenys so they have a troubled relationship. he wants to marry her into the umbers/glovers/karstarks or smthn but alarra decides to join the court of king's landing cos she's like idk might be fun. but the real reason is that she wants to understand her mother more :) cregard basically banned all talk of daenys after her death. she marries a celtigar and goes on adventures and has two daughters, Daenys and Jaenara. however to her it was like. she did that because she wanted to understand her mother. she's friends with princess daenerys :) has the most normal life out of all the kids. is a dragonrider, but dies of a dragonriding-related incident

ALARIC 68AC cregard's eldest. he is betrothed from birth to an arryn (the daughter of vaella daughter of aenys + rodrik arryn). he and alarra are twins but cregard likes alarra more and thinks alaric is prissy and a momma's boy. he would say alarra stole alaric's manhood in the womb alaric went emo after daenys died and does stark repression refusing to think about her. dies only like a year after his father idk how yet something related to his father though. he has a daughter, aregelle stark, who despite being alaric's daughter and heir is usurped by her uncle :3 also aregelle has targ colouring

BRANDON 72AC daddy's favourite son. frat boy jock. got all the worst stark and targ genes. has a silver streak in his hair and very light purple eyes. usurped his niece aregelle. despite being very targ he HATES the targs he's super gung-ho about the north. thinks his mother was a dumb woman. marries an umber but no kids with her, has a few bastards. the northerners love him :3 dies only a few years after alaric/becoming lord though. dies on a hunt after getting attacked by a wolf. might have survived but he was immunocompromised from several STDs. rip dickhead 🙏 also possiblly aregelle warged that wolf and killed him owo

BERENA 72AC brandon's twin sister. yes daenys had two sets of twins and cregard made her go to term both times god he sucks. berena is cool :) thought alarra was so cool and ruled her siblings with an iron fist. thinks brandon is a dickhead. doesnt really remember her mother. cregard marries her off to the old lord of runestone which she HATES cos he's a old hag (middle aged) but she likes leadership. is the sexy widow of runestone after lord royce's death and later on she remarries to lord arryn, vaella's eldest son, and becomes lady of the vale :)

EDDERION 73AC yes cregard made daenys have a pregnancy to term after having two sets of twins. EVIL MAN. he always clung to daenys as a child but as an adult he doesnt remember his mother well. remembers her being ill and thinks his birth made her sick :( gave him a complex. for ages as a kid he refused to believe she was dead and that she would come home soon. he goes with serena to the riverlands to foster with the blackwoods and becomes a knight, lives in king's landing for a time with alarra and at white harbour with sara. he though aregelle should rule but didnt want to fracture his family any more than it already had. was agnes' biggest advocate in regards to succession so shiera has him offed RIP ser ned 🫡

CREGAN 74AC he doesn't remember his mother, mostly flashes. has silver hair and grey eyes. middle child syndrome mostly ignored by his father. marries a dustin girl. becomes lord after alaric, brandon and edd all die so he's very sad. thinks aregelle is too weird to be lady of winterfell so doesn't disagree with his right to lordship. most normal daegard son, is able to fix relations with the other northern lords. very honourable. very very honourable. but not honourable enough to honour his niece's claim ofc

SARA 76AC was a year old when her mother died, was raised primarily by her older siblings and her septa. loves serena sooo much and feels betrayed when serena goes off to marry. cregard sent her off to the vale in hopes she would marry the arryn heir but she thought the eyrie was weird and didnt like her arryn cousins. she thought they were weird 😭 edd ended up taking her to white harbour which cregard begrudgingly agreed to. she married the manderly heir, they have a nice marriage :) names her daughter serena.

TORRHEN 77AC was like 6 months old or so when daenys died. again ignored by his father, raised by his siblings and maester mainly. married his childhood friend the odd wylla reed without his father's consent. really weird kid, had greendreams. cregard hated naming him after the king who knelt but daenys insisted and cregard was like fucking FINE god i give you everything huh. anyway he ended up killing his father WHOA PLOT TWIST. it was cos he HATED his father for how he treated daenys and his siblings. daenys was always a shadow over him since her never actually knew her but he spent a lot of time with weirwoods and got to know her through his weird dreams. he dies killing his father and wylla absconds to greywater watch with their newborn son. in 100AC wylla comes back to winterfell and she, the son (named torrhen:3) and aregelle run away to Beyond The Wall never to be heard from again. also they steal a dragon egg clutch that daenys had secretly hidden away in the crypts....

SECRET TRIPLETS yeah i did triplets FULL cringe ocs here. so after daenys and viserys are dragged out from the god's eye after the murder-suicide, three malformed little fetuses crawl out from daenys' rotting body. lol lmao. viserra quickly kills them them but she burns them after her makeshift autopsies cos they look like they're still twitching and hissing lol. also i deciced to name them danelle, theon and jon >:)

so thats a 'quick' rundown of the daenys stark kids ^_^ theyve all got various levels of targ and stark powers :3 theyre all so special and unique and deviantart im sowwy 😔 hope this was what you were looking for im sowwy if its not 😭 and yeah ill get another post for the daenys marriage and sexy mother in law :3 im so glad u like my silly posts <3 peace and love to you my friend

#au:omaegorverse #ask #anonymous #CRINGE ALERT CRINGE ALERT!!!! #genuinely. ily. kisses u on the hand

[namig42]

Wyndolyn's Ending

So I finished my first run in Baldur's Gate and was very upset at the lack of closure I got from the ending, so I decided to write my own ending and expand on what happened in game. Wyndolyn is a half-orc barbarian who fell in love with Karlach and Halsin, and became especially attached to Astarion as well throughout their journey together. This is the ending I decided happened after the credits rolled. Enjoy!

Summary: Based off the events of the final cutscene of Baldur's Gate 3 and continuing on them to achieve proper closure.

On the docks of Baldur's Gate, the party all greet the new day with a sense of relief and peace. The Netherbrain is gone, everyone is free of the tadpole and the threat of becoming a mind flayer, and all should be right for the band of heroes.

"Well would you look at that, I guess the tadpole's effects were permanent!" Astarion commented on his ability to still be able to stand in the sunlight, even though the tadpole that was protecting him from his vampiric restrictions had suddenly vanished. Wyndolyn smiled along with him, glad to see that her friend has so much to smile about. They all do now that they've saved the city, but especially him.

After the pure shit he had endured under Cazador for the last 200 years, the tadpole granted him his first sense of freedom. He was able to walk in the sun and enter homes without permission. Besides the hunger, he was able to feel alive, and most importantly, was free of Cazador's command. The tadpole had been his opportunity to finally end Cazador once and for all, and even with the power of the Rite of Ascension there for his taking, Astarion instead kept his humanity and ended the toxic power cycle that came with being a true vampire. The whole party was so proud of him that day for not taking that power for himself, and he thanked Wyndolyn especially for believing that he was more than what he could see. She saw something in him and made him feel like he could be more than what he had been for so long. This moment now, here in the sun, without the tadpole and without Cazador, Astarion could dream of a life he never would've allowed himself to imagine. The smile on his face was probably the purest she had ever seen. It was breathtaking.

Lae'zel had her moment as well. Now having destroyed the Absolute, Vlaakith would finally reward her for her devotion. Though Wyndolyn tried to encourage her to stay with their party and find her own purpose in life, Lae'zel was set on serving her queen. It was, after all, her greatest wish. Though they all disagreed with her fanaticism, Vlaakith looked on in approval by bestowing Lae'zel with her own young red dragon, the highest honor of a githyanki rider. With her new mount, Lae'zel climbed upon the dragon and said farewell to them all as she rode off into the dawn, off to who knows where.

Gale had a moment of questioning his next steps in life as well: he could go searching for the Crown of Karsus and the Netherstones and become a god with its power, return the crown to Mystra, or simply leave it so that no one would ever be able to abuse its power again.

"What do you think I should do?" he asked Wyndolyn.

Gale had always valued Wyndolyn's opinion during their adventure together, whether he liked to admit it or not. After being rejected by her, he never spoke quite the same way to Wyndolyn again. There was now a sense of guard at all times, but he still always relied on her for her insight. Wyndolyn never understood why Gale respected her word so much though, or anyone in the party. She wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed. She was quick to act on her temper and, only until the illithid ship, had never managed to hold the respect of anyone, friend or lover. Still, he and the others would come to her and treat her with the utmost respect, whether it felt deserved or not.

"It's probably best left lost, that way no one can ever be tempted by that power again."

"That is indeed a wise decision. Besides, I've quite enjoyed this merry band of ours! Perhaps we should be celebrating instead of brooding!"

"A celebration sounds like a wonderful idea." Wyndolyn said with a smile.

"I suppose a drink would be nice after everything we've endured," interjected Shadowheart, still playing coy at how much she would actually enjoy a celebration amongst friends.

"I honestly don't mind what we do, just as long as we get to - ow!" Everyone turned towards Astarion. "What...? Oh gods... oh no!" A sizzle could be heard, then smoke appeared from his skin. The soft, pale complexion began to crack, just as Petras' had when Astarion held him to the open window in the inn a few days ago.

Without the tadpole, the afflictions of a vampire were returning.

"Well... it was nice while it lasted." He said while panicking. He was swatting at where his arms were disintegrating, about to burst into tears. Wyndolyn was in such a shock that she didn't know what to do. She couldn't move to help him. No one did.

"Augh, I'm sorry! I have to go!" He ran off towards the buildings on the docks in search of a shelter made of shadows. He was stumbling from the pain and the shock of everything happening all at once, his eyes damaged from the sun on top of it. There was no dignity in his run, only a small creature who feared for his life.

"Astarion!" Wyndolyn yelled after him. She was about to take off running after him when she heard Gale say, "Well, I suppose that's the last we'll see of him." She was shocked. She turned back to the party, frozen in place, surprised and disgusted that no one seemed to feel anything more than pity towards the friend that they had fought so hard to help in their time together. They seemed content to write him off, to close the book on his story, not even to say they'd search for him later. Just... to leave it at that.

Wyndolyn looked to Karlach, shocked that her partner of all people, the tiefling who wanted nothing more than to defend her friends, hadn't said anything. Looking at her now though, Wyndolyn understood why.

Karlach had taken a few steps back towards the edge of the dock and away from the party. Flames were shooting out of the exhausts on her shoulders. "Well... this is it, soldier. The city is going to be alright, and so are you." Wyndolyn dashed to her side, kneeling in front of her and feeling so powerless and pathetic. She wanted to hold Karlach now, to comfort her in these final moments that the two of them knew were inevitable, but still neither were quite prepared for. She reached for Karlach's face, but the fire was too intense. The skin on her hand would've melted in an instant if she held her love.

The pain was becoming too much for her, but this was the way Karlach had wanted to go. In Baldur's Gate, free of Zariel and Gortash and all those despicable people, with her favorite person by her side. She was home, she had defended it, and now she had the most beautiful view for her last: the love of her life sitting with her while they sat under a beautiful morning dawn.

"Engine's finally cooked. Held out just long enough. S-so how'd I do?"

With a great deal of pain and choked back sobs, Wyndolyn answered, "you were spectacular in every way."

"How'd I do? Spectacular? Augh," she said, another wave of pain rolling over her. "It's the one thing I can't beat, isn't it. Same below as above." Karlach smiled before wincing at the pain again. "I love... you. You, more than anything I saw- ow, gods!" The fires were turning from red to blue, the intensity getting only stronger by the second. Karlach looked up at the sky. "Goodbye sun. Goodbye sea. Goodbye."

Wyndolyn could only look on with tears in her eyes. It wasn't too late to try and drag her back to Avernus, but Karlach had insisted every time it came up throughout their time together that she never wanted to go back. She wanted to end it on her own terms, and this is what they were. She accomplished what she set out to do. She had saved her home, protected her friends, and found true love. The only regret she had was that she wouldn't get to live long enough to enjoy everything she had worked for.

"I'm ready. I... I... Stand back, I'm going to-"

She screamed a fiery scream as the flames shot out all around her. Her body was glowing, with her heart becoming blinding from the light. One final burst, and Karlach, Wyndolyn's love, was gone. She simply disappeared into a puff of smoke and ash, nothing left of her except the heat she had left behind.

Wyndolyn sat there on the dock in shock. The grief left her paralyzed, and she couldn't do anything. Karlach was gone, and with her, the love of Wyndolyn's life. Wyndolyn had developed feelings for others along their journey, most notably Halsin, but it was never to the same extent as what she had felt for Karlach. Her strong, beautiful, goofy tiefling that wanted nothing more than to live a life of joy, surrounded by the friends they had come to make together and the family they had built from the tragedy of the tadpoles.

Everyone sat in silence, Halsin placing a gentle touch on Wyndolyn's shoulder, though there was no reaction from her. The rest of the party began to shuffle back towards the streets of Baldur's Gate, talking about their mourning of Karlach and what they should do in her memory. They glanced back at Wyndolyn, leaving her to have some space so she could grieve.

"She was the bravest of us all," Halsin said, trying to give Wyndolyn some comfort.

Only silence.

"Is there anything I can do for you, my heart?"

"I..." Wyndolyn began weakly. She couldn't find the words. So many people had found their way into her heart during this adventure. Growing up on the outskirts of Wyrm's Crossing with no family and no friends, just herself and the animals of the forest that she learned to enjoy the company of, Wyndolyn never would've expected in her life to have found so many connections that she would risk her life for. Karlach especially was such a ray of sunshine and optimism, in spite of the literal hells she had endured for so long. Being in Karlach’s presence made life feel like it could always be good, no matter where they were or what was happening. So long as they were together. Hells, a simple date had brought the two of them such joy. A moment of normalcy in everything that had been going on… why couldn’t they have time for more peaceful days like that? 

Karlach was a fierce protector as well. When anything happened to anyone in their merry band, she was always the first to be there, sword in hand against any foe. After they found the first upgrade for her engine so she could be able to touch others again, Karlach also tried hugging away as many problems as she could across camp. All she wanted was for everyone in their camp to find happiness. Whether it meant destroying someone's enemies, lending an ear, or a simple hug, Karlach was the one everyone knew they could turn to. In a lot of ways, she was the light of the camp. The fire in her heart, even if it was from that damned infernal engine, brought everyone a warmth they could never have imagined without her there.

Now that she was gone, it felt like that warmth would never be there again. Especially for…

"I want to go find Astarion." Wyndolyn finally managed to say.

Yes... everyone in their party would finally be able to return to a semblance of their old lives, though hopefully now for the better. Honestly, after their treatment of Astarion, she questioned if she ever wanted to see them again. They were so quick to betray his trust, were they truly the companions she had thought they were?

Her and Astarion hadn't gotten along at first, what with him trying to slice her throat and him disapproving of every good action Wyndolyn took the first few days, but over time, she managed to let her guard down around him and even come to trust him. The reveal of his vampirism was the first moment that he had shown any kind of truth in his actions since meeting Wyndolyn. On the night he tried to bite her, Astarion had seemed different from the man she had become accustomed to in those early days. Normally, he felt so calculated and rehearsed, but in that moment by the campfire, he seemed nervous and unsure, something that was very unlike him based on Wyndolyn’s first impressions. She had allowed him to bite her, and after being exsanguinated to death, brought back to life with a scroll, and one punch to his charming face later, the two were on okay terms with a rule that he wouldn't feed on anyone at camp after that. Enemies, however, were perfectly fine.

After that night, Astarion finally opened up gradually about his past. He would every so often share stories about Cazador and his cruelty, and over time, Wyndolyn found herself wanting to protect Astarion more and more. He was more than capable of handling himself with his sword and bow, but there was still so much darkness in his heart that threatened to swallow him up. The night in the Shadowlands that they found out about the truth of his scars from Raphael, Wyndolyn promised Astarion that whatever it was that he felt he needed to do, she would support him. Whether it was to kill Cazador, flee, or even take the Rite of Ascension for himself, she would be there for him.

Then the day came where they finally found their way to the Szarr Palace, and the entire time, Wyndolyn felt terribly uneasy and kept glancing at Astarion. Being back in the place where all those awful things happened must’ve been a lot for him to process, so she followed his lead, letting him go at his own pace and leading the charge. This was something he needed to do for himself, after all. Whatever Astarion needed, she was there beside him, ready to jump into action the moment he gave the word.

When they finally encountered Cazador, she stood beside Astarion in silence as he was finally able to vent his anger for the first time in centuries to his former master. When put into position for the Rite of Ascension, Wyndolyn immediately went to free Astarion from his restraints before anything else, Karlach protecting her from behind, and after defeating Cazador, when Astarion asked for help to complete the ritual so he could be take the power of the rite for himself, Wyndolyn was ready to help him kill thousands if it was what he truly thought was the solution he needed. Something was off though when he asked for help. She looked into his eyes and saw that it wasn't the power that he really wanted, but instead to be free of Cazador, to finally feel safe and not have to fear anyone. The rite seemed like the safest way, but it wouldn't be right. He would no longer be Astarion, but rather another vampire lord that would go on to wreak the same suffering onto others that Cazador had onto him.

After all they had been through, she had been there to support him, and in that moment in Cazador’s dungeon, she was able to voice Astarion's doubts to him, and he knew that she was right. He ended Cazador's life in a vicious, bloody mess, and at the end of it, retained his humanity and sense of self instead of giving into power.

Back at camp that night, everyone had said that it was an admirable choice Asatrion had made, but two people in particular were incredibly proud of him for what he had done and made sure that Astarion knew: Karlach and Wyndolyn. The two of them were so proud of him and made sure that he knew they saw him as more than a surviving spawn of a cruel master, and he had been grateful to know that he had managed to find friends that saw more in him than what he could see for himself.

Astarion had just found true freedom at the end of this whole ordeal, only for it to be taken from him all over again. If anyone needed a shred of Karlach's warmth right now, it was the one who was just relegated back to the cold shadows. Wyndolyn may not be able to share that same level of optimism and positivity as her love, but she knew that she did care about what happened to her dear friend. With everyone gone off to give Karlach a proper memorial at a tavern and drink in her honor, Wyndolyn decided she would go to search for the friend that she wanted to protect. She vowed that she would find him and, if he would have her, never leave him to feel alone again for as long as she lived. That's what Karlach would want instead of a drink at this moment, Wyndolyn was sure.

"Alright, if that's what you wish, then we shall search for him. Perhaps if we split up, we may be able to find him faster. Shall we meet back at camp once it gets dark? Hopefully by then one of us will have found him."

"Yes... alright. Let's get going."

Halsin took the western part of the Lower City, and Wyndolyn took the east. Astarion likely didn't get too far, but still she combed the streets and found no signs of him. She looked in buildings but remembered the rule of vampires not being able to enter homes unless given permission. Did that apply just to houses, or any building that people lived in? Would taverns or inns be okay? She was so used to Astarion being able to roam freely alongside her that she had never bothered to consider or ask about the technicalities that come with being a vampire. Gods... now would've been a good time to know all these little details.

While chastising herself for not being smart enough to have thought to read all those Curse of the Vampyr books she had found so long ago, she looked down and saw out of the corner of her eye a manhole cover. Of course, the Undercity! They had explored so much of it the past few days, perhaps he found his way down there! She opened the hole and climbed down into the depths. No immediate sign of him, but that's alright. There were only so many places down here after all. She began exploring the ruins of what remained after the Netherbrain’s damage, and after a while, she began to lose hope. She had been looking for hours now, what if something had happened to him? If he couldn't get to shelter in time as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky? Gods... she didn't want to think what could've happened. It was at that moment near a river of green, rancid water that she heard another noise. A sob?

Someone was crying. 

She sprinted in the direction of the sound, rounded a corner, and saw Astarion curled into a ball, tears streaming down his face. He had heard Wyndolyn coming from a mile away with her heavy, orcish footsteps giving her no sense of delicacy or grace. Wyndolyn stood frozen in place and looked at him with a mixture of worry, distress, and relief. His face was still burnt and cracked, as if he was a marble statue that had been sitting out in a garden for centuries.

"Don't look at me!" he yelled, burying his face back into his arms. He may not have known what his normal face was anymore, but he knew what sun damage on a vampire looked like and that it was repulsive.

Wyndolyn took the blue cape that she wore and draped it over Astarion's head, covering him in a shroud. She took a seat next to him, not too close, but near enough that he could feel her presence. Under the veil, Wyndolyn saw him still shaking, the sobs racking his body. She simply sat there, not saying a word, as she usually did. She felt that she was terrible at finding the right words, so she often opted to say nothing and waited for the other party to initiate the conversation. If only Karlach were here... She'd know how to comfort him in her own way.

After some time, the sobs seemed to calm, and Astarion's breathing returned back to something resembling normal. He peeked from under the cape, still very much self-conscious about his face, and really looked at Wyndolyn for the first time since she arrived. "I don't suppose you have a healing potion with you?" Wyndolyn searched her pockets and found her last one that managed to survive the Netherbrain battle. She handed it over to him. "Oh thank gods..." he mumbled as he opened it and drank the whole thing in just a couple gulps. Some of the sun damage seemed to fade, though not entirely. His face still had cracks and was that marble, ashy white color, though the damaged spot seemed to shrink ever so slightly. He appeared to feel a bit better, even letting the cape fall off his head and around his shoulders, allowing Wyndolyn to look upon him. He looked at her and gave a half-hearted smirk. "I must look absolutely dreadful."

"You really don't," she said, smiling back, and she meant it.

They sat for another moment of silence, then he began to speak. "For the second time in my life, I've lost the chance to stand in the sun. I've lost the chance for a normal life and the ability to feel alive all over again. I thought that the first time this happened, when Cazador turned me, that I had experienced the worst possible feelings a person can have, but now that all seems so... trivial. I had my freedom in my grasp for the first time in 200 years... only to lose it all over again." He sighed and took a pause before continuing. As he spoke about freedom, he reached out for something in the air in front of him, only to open his palm and show that there was nothing to be had.

"Do you want to know the worst thing?” He took a pause before continuing, his eyes cast down to his boots. “At the very least when I was first turned, I never had to question what my purpose was. As awful as it was serving under Cazador, I never had to question what I wanted since it was simply never an option. I simply went through each day not because I wanted to, but because I would've suffered more if I didn't at the hands of that bastard. Now I'm back to where I started, cursed to live in the shadows once more, though now I have nothing! I'm still the same, miserable monster, only now I suppose I have 'freedom.'" He used air quotes on the last word. "What use is freedom in a life that gives you nothing but pure shit?" He spit out those last words, his anger at the world and his misfortune palpable in every syllable.

"Well, you find something new to live for then." Wyndolyn said matter of factly.

"Oh?" he scoffed. "Like what, love? Companionship?" He made such kind things sound like the plague.

"Yes." Wyndolyn said with no hesitation, looking Astarion directly in the eye. Though he was being heavily sarcastic, she genuinely meant it. If it weren't for the people she cared about, life wouldn't be worth living. Despite all the hardships and dangers of the past few months, the time they had all spent together was the happiest of her life. For the first time ever, she found people that wanted to be close with her and that she wanted to be with as well. Nothing felt more worth living for than for the people she loved.

"Please,” he scoffed. “No one bothered to give a damn about me outside of a successful lockpick here and there when you didn’t smash the bloody door down yourself. Well… besides you, I suppose.” He turned to Wyndolyn with a huff. “What did you even find me for? Shouldn't you be celebrating with those other bastards? Drinking the finest wines and sharing a moment with your fiery lover?"

A pang struck Wyndolyn's heart. The bursting flames came back to mind, then the puff of smoke. She thought of Karlach's final "I love you," and had to turn her gaze downwards.

"Karlach... she's..." Wyndolyn started, not being able to get the words out. She stared down at the water rushing by their feet, holding back her grief. Astarion took a moment to understand what had happened. "Oh," he said, surprised and feeling a bit sorry for his jaded tone before. "I'm... I’m sorry. Her engine...?" He asked, afraid to finish the thought.

"Yeah, it finally burnt out. Just as you had to get out of the sun."

"I see..." he said, processing this new information. He had always enjoyed Karlach's company. Next to Wyndolyn, Karlach was the person he was most likely to talk to when he wanted to have a light-hearted chat or open up about himself back at camp, sometimes even causing a little mischief together. The two barbarians were surprisingly comforting to be in the presence of, especially Karlach.

"All Karlach wanted was to keep everyone in our group safe and happy, and that includes you." Wyndolyn said, looking back to Astarion. He seemed a bit taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. "You deserve a happy ending as well, even if it is in the shadows."

He blushed and looked away from Wyndolyn, unaccustomed to such kind words. Normally that was the kind of line he would deliver as an empty flirt. Being on the receiving end of a statement filled with such honesty was a strange feeling. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not. After a moment, he regained a bit of composure and looked back to Wyndolyn. "Well… I suppose having my favorite traveling companion around a while longer would be welcome. I still don't know where to go though. Living in the sewers for the rest of my days doesn't seem quite becoming of someone of my stature." He sat up a bit straighter and titled his chin up a bit, regaining some of his usual, noble composure. Wyndolyn smiled a bit then thought for a moment.

"What about the Underdark?" she finally spoke. "There are thousands of spawn there now that have no idea what they're doing. You sent your siblings to help guide them, but even when they find somewhere to settle, they won't have any idea what to do with themselves either."

"I... suppose that's a start." He said, lowering his face down again to ponder. Whether he went and became a leader or simply lived amongst the spawn, at least it would be a group of people that he could relate to. Though, gods... so many of them he personally ruined the lives of. Would he be welcome or would they want to kill him the moment they laid eyes upon him? Maybe they'd allow him the chance to help since he did help free them in the first place. Maybe... helping the people he lured to Cazador could be a purpose in itself. It wasn’t such a dreadful idea.

"Well then, let's go." Wyndolyn said. "Though I should make a quick stop back at camp and let Halsin know. I imagine he'll stay on the surface, but perhaps he'd like to tag along and see a new side of nature. I wonder if he's ever been to the Underdark…?"

Astarion shot her a perplexed look. "What do you mean? You make it sound like you're coming with me to stay." Wyndolyn looked at him with wide, honest eyes.

"Well... if you'll have me, I would like to stay by your side." Everyone on the surface would be fine without her, and perhaps Astarion would be too, but truthfully, Wyndolyn was afraid of no longer being needed by her friends. Karlach was gone, and though Halsin did care for Wyndolyn a great deal, he understood the migrational mindset of an adventurer and that time apart didn’t mean that their connection would grow any weaker. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and he didn't want to settle anywhere most likely anyway. His love for Wyndolyn was a deep, intimate care that would be there regardless of where they were, either together or miles apart. 

"Oh," Astarion said with a bit of shock before throwing on a flirtatious grin and leaning towards Wyndolyn just a touch. "I wasn't aware my charms had gotten to you. I haven't even been trying, darling."

Wyndolyn smiled and leaned away from him just a touch. Though he hid it well, Astarion was surprised at her recoil. "I care about you, Astarion, and I'd like to keep you safe and make sure you're happy. It's something I think Karlach would've wanted, and it's something I know I want. Knowing her, she would've followed you the moment you ran off earlier if things had gone differently. She'd probably ask if she could wrap you in a big hug too..." she trailed off, thinking of Karlach's smile, another pang in her chest at the thought of her tiefling’s beautiful face.

"I suppose you're right.” Astarion agreed, thinking of his friend as well. “Well... if you can stomach being around a whole colony of vampire spawn and keep that pretty neck of yours safe, I suppose I wouldn't mind the company.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “I'll be fine though, alone, just so you know, if you’d rather stay with the others."

"I would rather come with you.” Wyndolyn said, looking Astarion directly in the eye and speaking firmly. “I want to go with you because I care about you and I love being your friend, and I'd like to have many more moments together that we can look back fondly on in the future. I want to protect those who I consider the closest to me in my own way, just as Karlach would’ve. Next to her and Halsin, you mean the world to me, Astarion."

Astarion didn't think he had ever heard such kind words spoken to him. They weren't compliments about how beautiful he is or declarations of how much she wanted to bed him or even be intimate in any capacity. She loved him as a friend, for himself and nothing else, and that was a feeling he couldn’t recall having ever experienced. After years of being used by so many, this was a new sensation for him. There was a warmth in his chest, something that felt strange since he normally ran cold. It would take him time to admit, if he ever did, but hearing the word "friend" in such a genuine voice was something he had never realized he had wanted until he had heard it.

"Well... thank you. Truly. I welcome your company, my friend."

Wyndolyn smiled and moved a bit closer once more. "Can I give you a hug?"

"Yes, darling." After a long, tight embrace, Wyndolyn stood up and offered her hand. "Would you care to take a walk with me? The sun should be setting by now, and we have a long journey to prepare for."

"I suppose I wouldn't mind a stroll under the stars." He took her hand, and the two made their way back into the streets of Baldur’s Gate, ready to begin a new adventure.

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #comfort #spoilers #bg3 spoilers #act 3 spoilers #bg3 act 3 spoilers #karlach #halsin #astarion #tav #platonic astarion #wyndolyn #writing

[gentil-minou]

(Same anon who talked about having a Jewish friend)

Actually, I've already seen a bunch of the video explanations and looked things up before sending the last ask in, and yeah, I'm pretty convinced the Palestinians got a raw deal. It looks like the British came in, took over Palestine, then decided to kill two birds with one stone and try to move all the Jews out of their country and into the area they were trying to establish as Israel, while intimidating or outright forcing Palestinians into leaving their own homes in order to make room.

And then after repelling the attack from all the surrounding countries trying to get rid of Israel (which yeah, that uh. That would also have led to a massive tragedy), Israel took over a bunch of territory beyond what they'd been assigned (without any Palestinian input whatsoever), and claimed it as spoils of war or something. And it's occupied areas even beyond that, and regularly bombed Gaza like. A Lot.

Honestly, my biggest source of difficulty is that, well. I DO know people who are Jewish and have family in Israel, and are pro-Israel and arguing all the usual Israeli talking points, and are scared right now. And I can't really say that they shouldn't be afraid for themselves and their friends and family either, even though from what I've seen with my research, Palestinians seem to have been dealt a rawer hand. I'm not sure what to say to them, except generally adopting one of the more neutral stances that focuses on the horrors this conflict has inflicted on everyone involved, like what Rick Riordan said in a recent blog post.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’  We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is  easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

I'm not sure whether you have a better stance to take when it comes to talking to friends who have close ties to the Israeli side of this conflict, who are afraid for themselves and their family. Because I can't say they're wrong to be afraid and upset, but also there needs to be recognition of what Palestinians have gone through as well. I'm not sure whether you have Jewish friends who support Israel who you've talked about this with, but if you do, how do you handle that?

To be frank, I wish I had the answers for your question but I don't right now. The majority of people in my life are either Pro-Palestine or refuse to talk about the situation saying it's too stressful, which is its own frustration and which I push back on by still talking about it.

The people in my life that are Pro-Israel are at work, which is difficult considering the ethics in this situation are all over the place. How do I support an Israeli client calling for the genocide of an entire race? How do I, as their therapist, validate something that I find so morally repugnant I feel sick to my stomach before every session. How do I deal with working at an organization devoted to helping kids with their mental health when right now one of the most traumatic incidences the world has ever seen is happening right this second?

My workplace has apparently chosen silence and not talking about any of this as its strategy, and I don't know how to navigate it. Do I leave my job and the kids I work with to uphold my morals? Do I stay to help the kids I wanted to support even though they support something I fine reprehensible? Do I ignore it like my workplace does and stay for the kids I can help, where I comparmentalize everything thats been happening so I can help them even though their problems are so small? Do I stay even though every second of silence and refusal to recognize the very real genocide happening right now kills me every single day? I haven't worked it out yet. I don't know how to balance psychology ethics with my own ethics, and I think that's it's own issue.

So I don't have the answers here. I'm much better talking about these things online than I am in person. I have a better reach online than I do in person, which is why I do it so much here. If I had to confront a Pro-Israeli family/friend I know myself and I know I would cry and get angry and I don't know what I would do after that.

So for that, I'd say you're doing better than I am Anon.

Something I have considered though is where do I draw the line for what makes someone a friend or person I want to keep in my life.

And to me, a South Asian woman with an Arabic name from a Muslim family who grew up under the shadow of Post-9/11 Islamophobia in NYC and has devoted her life to working with kids who have trauma, depression, and anxiety, I think I am justified in taking it personally and with great offence if someone is saying the genocide of people I relate to heavily is okay. I think I as a person as a human being can draw the line when I need to.

And I think what gets me is I will talk about it. I refuse to stop.

#not tagging cause too much personal info here sdjkhfdsjkg #i wish i had better answers anon #i dont i feel stuck every day i feel like quitting every day i dont know what to do #and so i guess in that i hope at the very least you take comfort in knowing you aren't alone #but again the best way i've figured out i can help is to talk about this for as long as i can because if i stop i dont think i'd like #the person i would become #also anon ask me this question again after thanksgiving cause im sure that will be a big one #Anonymous #asked and answered

[grimm-antics]

My father and me

I'm a woman, I was a girl. before that i was his little girl and at the best time I was his baby.

he loved me and then I was his little girl and he loved me and then I was a girl and he loved ? me and then I became a teen girl and he loathed me and then I was a woman and he hated me.

is it because I wasnt his anymore? was it because I became more like my mother?

like his mother?

like him?

was it because I was female? was it because I was supposed to be a boy? what went wrong, was it me? was it him?

he loved me and brainwashed me and cared for me and tore me down. he took me to amazing places and we would argue until midnight, my voice growing weak. we would go to see mermaids together and then I would sob on the car ride home.

he loved me and he loathed me and it's a cycle like the abuse and yet here I am back at step one, wondering if it was me. step two, knowing it was him. step three knowing why. step four through six debating on which was worse. step seven, mourning what we could've been. step eight seeing what hes done.

step one.

for a man who followed the 12 steps like his life line for longer then I was alive, he seems to have an effect on the simple 8 I take to follow him. he has me stuck in the what ifs.

what if I had been more like him? less? a boy? a twin like him? older, younger? closer to my sisters age? closer to his nephew's?

what if I had stayed an only child? if I had hated my mother? loved him more? what if I had been smarter? dumber? done drugs like he had? told him of my depression?

what if I had made myself easier for him to understand, to empathize with?

what if I had been simpler to love and less wretched to care for.

a daughter is a wretched, terrible thing. a wonderful, terrific child. he loves me and loathes me at once and I ache.

if a heart is a heavy burden, how his must weigh and drag him down. by gods he loves me so much, he does he truly does, but by hell does he loathe me, my wretchedness and similarities being his undoing and his greatest feat. his greatest fear.

be like me, he says, but do not be like me. do like I, he pleads, but not what I have done. he cries and struggles. he wakes early and sleeps late. hes late for dinner but always kisses me goodnight. he works and works and loves and loathes and I hate myself for focusing on his loathing and I hate him for not seeing the loathing.

a son is a worried burden of the mind, a daughter a bleeding wound in the heart, and yet he loves me and he loves my sister and he hates his twin and he hates his father but what is hate if not love because he cried when his father passed and he keeps photos of his twin.

he sees them every day in the mirror and is the most vain man I know, but I wonder if it's not narcissism but instead longing for love. does he look at his face and imagine them loving him the way I avoid mine fearing that love?

his love sends me running, often back to him, but it sends me rolling away all too quickly.

would things be different if I stopped seeing him as human, made him harder to empathize with?

should I keep him the evil villain in the story, barely fleshed out and red like a devil?

would that really stop me from wondering why?

would it allow me to have a justifiable rage towards him?

would I live with myself afterwards?

if I treat him as such, I would have to treat everyone as one dimensional characters, else it would only enlarge the unfairness of that treatment.

how do you stop loving someone completely without stopping all love for everything.

I dont love my ex, but I love the shirt I got from her.

I dont love my Oma, but I love the way she says my name.

I dont love the man down the street, but if he stopped being on his porch everyday I would worry.

what is love but remembering. not always the knowing, but the remembering, the space in someone's mind you take up, no matter how small. that's love but by gods thats hate so what is the difference.

is it the bitter wet feeling instead of the warm dry breath?

even then, which is which?

have I not loved warmly and have I not loved bitterly? do we not hate with feeling and find hatred dry under out breath?

even simplified down to description, I cant quantify the difference. I love my mother and I hate my mother still. I hate my father and yet I think of him often. I have had men kill me and I would do so back on sight, yet I cry when I remember their why. I have had women who loved me and yet I burn at the sight of them when I remember they are someone's why, sometimes even mine.

what a wretched, worrying thing I am, what a draining heavy burden.

I want to leave so that they may be free but I need to stay because I am weak.

I curse the child that I am and yet miss the child I once was. I see her in photos and I dont recognize her. shes happy, young, loving and soft. she could be in front of me and I'm torn between if she would recognize me or not.

am I different from her? similar enough? would she love me? would she dislike me? would she spare me more then a passing glance?

if she remembered me, would it be more then a face in a dream? I ask and yet I close my ears and shut my mouth, to scared to hear the answer and to sad to say it.

[resmarted]

we are in an endless coming of age story, except i never learn my lessons or grow up at the end, it’s just some sick cycle of the same harmonies that haunt me into my a belated adolescence. did i tell you i found some old love songs? i started writing them last year before my heart was ripped from my throat and i forgot how sweet i once was on you. they have new meaning now, it seems the subject often changes over the years but the sentiment stays the same. how do i keep accepting these people into my life who can’t bring themselves to reject the people who hold no real place in their own? i am so good at it that i can’t help but snub and scoff anyone who can’t see clearly and cut the fat where it needs to be snipped. i will not exhaust myself for anyone, especially one who keeps these demented vampires surrounding them like cartoon birds after a great blow to the head. i may be slow to grow up but have spent far too long outgrowing people i know serve no purpose but to fill space that i don’t necessarily have to offer and you can block your own aura, fine, but don’t expect me to meet you down there. elevating is a constant process and sure, i am more whimsical and free for it, but mostly i am too smart not to and if you really sit with yourself in honest integrity you can admit you are too.

protect me from the beggars and hounds scraping and clawing at the door for my energy, waking me from my sleep and invading my dreamspace when i do. they sneer and howl and get louder when i am in earshot because god forbid i dont hear them, how they bend over backwards and lift their voices as loudly as possible to ensure i will be made aware of their uber impressive remarks and less than subtle digs so that i may clap for them like dogs and say good job! i knew you could do it! have a treat. it's exhausting, but unfortunately very normal. it comes from every corner, the so-called allies are the worst of all, and the ones who feign offense need the most attention. but you know me by now, don't you? you know I protect my peace at all cost and am seldom concerned with the gadfly of the hour as there will be ten more in its place tomorrow. what I want to know is how you managed to see past all of them and were able to stare directly through my soul without so much as a pin drop? how were you the only one ever brave enough to ignore the fodder and look past the vigorous campaigns waved against me like a salem witch in spanish harlem? i am forever indebted, even if you never make it past that last step, i don't blame you for giving up and will always admire you for how far you got. it was a hell of a lot more than anyone else who dare to slay the dragon or tame the beast, most others just became them, another head added onto the hive mind, soaking in the relevance while it lasted like bored vultures hungry to pick at anything left before moving on with the same anger they carried in with them, if not worse than before. playing nice does nothing but make it worse, and yet being indifferent seems the greatest crime of all. I can't help it though, i've got a lot on my mind.

like how did you know all of my hiding spots and how to coax me out with those big bashful eyes? where did you learn how to do that and how many others did it work on before me? probably all of them. probably everyone falls smitten for those soft blushing cherub cheeks and curious eyed stare like a darling deer just searching for its mother. people line up to wash away in your silence and bathe in the warm glow of that sweet little laugh and precious pout. you know it and i know it and everyone else acts like they don't know it because they do a similar thing to you where they don't want to be caught caring so they act like they don't see all your good qualities or that they even see you at all. but everyone sees you. they find their positions before you approach so they can meticulously appear aloof when they're dying to look at you from the corners of their eyes and downplaying how happy they really are to see you. i don't have time like that to waste. i have too many dead friends and too many regrets for the things i never said or did while they were still around, and i'll sure as hell be damned if i let the confines of some obscure social realm dictate how I behave towards the ones i love and care about. i love and care about you probably more than i have for anyone in a very long time, maybe ever. i sit like a broken soldier outside your home guarding it as if it weren't already made from walls and walls of brick and steel, the highest of fences and the most complicated of labyrinths and riddles just to cross the threshold. i'll still defend your honor like everyone doesn't already love you to pieces, as if what i say could even make a lick of a difference, still a loyal sheepdog just the same. i miss you so much it kills me. i have since the day we met, and all the days that came before that. my entire fucking life before you is one big painful blur and if it stays that way after you, i'm fine with that. i remain sedated in even our smallest memories, so may i die knowing the sweetest relief. that's a little dramatic, okay sure, you got me. but something tells me you wouldn't have it any other way.

#long reads

[strange-spaghetti]

There are 10thousand methodologies on how to cope with a break up & the dos & don'ts. Most recent one I saw was not to analyze your former but isn't that how we see the forest for the trees & take off the rose tinted glasses? I was foolish & I fell in love with a kid. Whether it's true or not but for me I understand him better on how I even fell in love. He is a sexually repressed christian who bows down to god, parents, & even people... he's a people pleaser. He was a chameleon to my needs, to do right by this young woman he was dating & wanted as a girlfriend. This was our first experience with love & a real relationship, our first year together is messy but fun & exciting, the next... not so much & he even tried to get out of it because he knew he wasn't ready & cut out for my needs... I begged him to stay &, being the people pleaser he is, he stayed, & for another year he trudged along half heartedly as I complained & wept that he wasn't the excited in love boy willing to be dependable, considerate & affectionate. Our dynamic died. I wanted so much to see him as my clean, considerate, creative gentleman eager & in love.... He isn't & couldn't be. He's young so I knew it wasn't going to be easy, everything required patience, understanding - it would be a process & I was willing to go through it... but I really need to understand that his silly, playfulness & jokes were a huge portion of him & I resented that the most. The kid could not be serious. He doesn't want to grow up. He'd rather hit fruit & soda bottles with a baseball bat, walking around shopping malls in an entourage of obnoxious youths than be in love with lonely old me (& receive passionate devoted love & partnership, kinky & exciting sex,.. but hey, to each their own.) I measured his age by my own experience, which my lot at his age we were all looking for love, a good job, a home... & sex frankly. & he wants none of that. He wants a band of bros, ramen noodles, & the college experience being a juvenile punk. I thought he had had his time with that before I came along but I guess not. He has a 2 in his age, so I would assume it's time to grow up, no? I wasn't asking for marriage. I was asking to not act like a long distance couple when we live FIVE minutes away. I did become a b*tch, I was mean even but that's because I was so hurt by his secrecy, neglect, forgetfulness & his warmth & devotion to EVERYONE but me. My jealousy was a byproduct he conditioned. Though our breakup certainly doesn't sound like it, it was mutual. Had I not finalized our breakup with a "f*ck you" & "I'll leave your stuff in your mailbox" I could still be going through the vicious cycle with him. I did try to get him back (I even told him not for the right reasons because I'm just terrified) but luckily, he's not as deprived & cynical as I am, if he thinks he's going to be the next Tom Cruise, & his band is the next Nirvana then.. ya know he was going to obviously expect his dream girl is out there too. So he completely burned our bridge & wants nothing to do with me since I'm a mess, I cried & attacked him about the same things even though it was over for good because of said things. He would say such loving things.. & then go on to treat me like nothing, I didn't get it... Now I do. When faced with me, he honored me, when faced with himself he honored himself - those two notions are not one in the same. He has to be a kid. He'll go on to be an obnoxious little boy with his entourage of youths, thinking his band is going to be worth millions. I'm going to go on & be involved in videography, photography, film & tv both academically & professionally. Yeah, I'm at a community college & yeah, my job is invoicing inventory at a camera equipment store, but that gets me closer to my dream than thinking a gaggle of 20 year olds can make my dreams come true. Because they're so established right? He cut a valuable connection out of his life, we're in the same f*cking study & he deemed me as worthless. Alright, I hit my text limit lmao. But regardless, I'm going to be better off.

#uhoh an essay #I went running & I felt really amazing & came across a better felt for understanding of my situation.

[okamixxiii]

I thought why not let everyone know some more lore. This time we will start at the beginning. Im still trying to figure out how to coherently place things together for people to read so sorry if this seems outa order! XD

maybe its kinda like a puzzle.

------ In the zenith live gods. not as deities per se but as a species.

among these gods were father time and his three sons. the past, the present, and the future.

The past was well liked, well adjusted and everyone saw him through rose-tinted glasses. he had everyone under his thumb. the present generally had an indifferent feeling towards him. Some loved him yes, but only those who could experience the moment and know how to make the most of it.

The future, however, was the least liked amongst the brothers. he was unpredictable and chaotic. feared even. for some time he remained oblivious to this and thought everyone's love was genuine. until it began to show otherwise in the god community. The third brother's name was Chronos, but later we will learn him to be named Jack.

Growing up Chronos was slowly losing the community ability to stand his mistakes and strange habits. He began to try and stuff his real self down in order to appease everyone.

During this time period of growing up a girl of the name Franchesca had her eyes set on him. she had an innocent curiosity and a small crush developing for the weird boy despite his reputation.

eventually she befriends him much to his surprise and embarrassment, since a girl has never talked to him before. and she was pretty too. he was nervous about how she would react around him so he tried his best to appear suave and well collected like his eldest brother, the past.

it came off as forced and awkward, but much to his luck Franchesca thought it was humorous and unique to him. she would giggle slightly and act as if he didn't blunder. that was until he eventually started being himself around her properly. every weird quirk and all. that sweet crush on him grew into a love as they grew older. Chronos grew more comfortable with her.. her being the kindness he needed as his first and genuine friend. though he was stuffing himself down all the while to the rest of the world still. eventually this caused him to have an outburst.

Franchesca had stepped in and resolved it, telling the other gods gathered off finally. that their cycle of this has ended.

it was after that they left together and eventually got married.

from the marriage came a child and a would have been child.

They are this point were living off the grid in the zenith for some time, finally at peace with their lives.

They befriended the neighboring village of elves and had settled nicely and quietly. Chronos had even began a profession for himself, to figure out how things work in the Zenith and why.

Eventually, it began to dive into medicine, where he found his talent in the apothecary. There was an apprentice that he took on, through the pity of how the elves treated him and how exceptional this young man was with healing magic. This apprentice's name was Cryxal. Everything was peaceful and perfect.

Until Franchesca fell terribly ill one morning, fainting into Chronos' arms.

She was bedridden and still with child, watching as her husband worked long nights and several mornings without breaks.

he swore he would find a cure, no matter what. it was his purpose.

Cryxal would come in and sit with her, viewing her as somewhat the mother he never had due to her kindness. He had gotten caught up in the time gods mess of wanting to save her, even if it seemed selfishly so. this began his pursue for a greater study. to push the limits.

Chronos couldn't , these limits where going to be at the cost of another's life. They couldn't do that.

He would belittle the concept immediately, which Cryxal took for sometime quietly. He was honest in his need to help, so he didn't mind Chronos' frustrations. he understood the circumstances himself.

During this time word had gotten around and father time himself came to the doorstep. Chronos was furious as his father wouldn't help him in Franchescas situation but rather ordered him to take care of four creatures known as Renascence.

The Renascence which can only be closely described as biblically accurate wolves that understand speaking tongue. They are energy and the magic teeming from the zenith as a somewhat solidified form. To get him out of his home he reluctantly agreed to watch them, and instead handed the responsibility to Cryxal while he worked on his cure.

Cryxal was growing frustrated with these set backs finally. He was tired of being spoken down to by his mentor but he didn't let it show yet. It went over on into a course of months. Franchesca was declining in health the closer her due date came.

It wasn't until one-day when he was watching the Renascence that he discovered their potency in magic. Cry believed he could harness it and decided to act on his own in secret. He concocted a potion from the light of the Renascence and foolishly fed it to Franchesca. All efforts were beginning to work until she died!! It was too much. The energy consumed her and couldn't be contained in her body. Essentially, she died a bloody death.

Cryxal was petrified of what he just experienced, then even more so by what was to come. At long last his mentor came home. The sight was too much for him, and in this he discovered his power. To reverse time. He drew back his sleeves and reached his hands out frantically to his wife, shaking and sputtering out nonsense. Sigils and clocks appeared as glowing tattoos along his arms in iridescent gold as he worked. Bits of flesh would reform, and go back to where they belong like pieces in a puzzle piece. His nose would bleed and his vision would blur.

It could have worked-- it should of-- but the efforts were all for nothing. Some things can't be reversed.

Chronos was distraught and had grabbed the apprentice by the shirt collar. In grief and anger he said things he couldn't take back and Cryxal was pleading with him that he just wanted to help. It was the only thing he could do.

The time god didn't believe him. as words got harsher and harsher Cryxal finally broke under the weight. The treatment he endured his whole life finally got to him and he leaned into his demon to turn off his emotions.

They fight, and Cryxal with now found strength nearly kills Chronos.

The Renascence escaped from the threshold as Chronos slipped into another world for safety. He was horribly injured but managed to survive by pretending to be human. He then adopted several names since then but eventually permanently settled on the first name Jack.

He knew the Renascence was loose in the world but he didnt know where to begin to search for them, nor did he want to. For all he knew was grief associated with them now.

When Jack came to earth, the forgotten war was about to begin. He was unaware he had slipped into a world compatible for the Zeniths magic as gods themselves can travel anywhere regardless if need be.

It started with the burning of villages but no one knew the valid reason until the years progressed. It was the fight between humans and the world of magic since humans became more aware of it. The more familiar they became the more fearful they cowered underneath false protectors and promises of ridding the world of "evil".

From there the chaos grew. The supernatural population, known as Mystics collectively, were ostracized, hunted, and made examples of by these "Protectors". Naming the Mystics entities of evil.

This is where the tale of the three families comes in.

#lore #skinandteeth #skin and teeth

[daikini-in-the-twilyhtmist]

Is it a New Year? REALLY?

I got a wild hair up my butt to look at the name and meaning of the months of the year for some reason... and I discovered quite a lot, actually...

So, the Roman Catholic "New Year" that we are entering into is actually the 2 DEAD MONTHS that most Romans ignore calendar-wise, even though it still takes place time-wise. It starts with the Janus Month (January), and then The Februalia/Februus month (February -The Februus 'god' was a later "personality/embodiment" created out of the Februalia holiday… like the Easter Bunny with Easter/Ishtar's holiday). The real new year begins with SPRING, just like all other plant life, that sprouts and starts growing anew; are we not walking trees, animated funguses? Most of our bodily systems, like the Nervous and Circulatory systems are very fine, delicate tree networks layered upon and woven within one another; all fit within a soft spongey body that holds a LOT of water, like a fungus… so the natural thing for us, would be to follow the natural cycles - and NOT begin our "New Year" with DEATH, and the worship of currency. And then follow that with the (month of the) technology of scapegoat-ism, to purge and cleanse ourselves of everything bad we did earlier in the year, to 'make up for it'. Just to go to war as soon as MARCH arrives; the month were the "season of warfare" begins, for the Romans - and lasts throughout Fall - for those who live as a "living death", the seasons of planting and harvest is ALL THE SEASON OF WARFARE - violently attacking life & plundering the living. So you see how we have been casually corralled into this toxic modality of living, whether or not we actually believe it? It still guides you, and you still 'believe & see it' that way, by casually going along with 'society's observed holly-daze' - a social inebriation to keep you jolly and dumb, and just keep playing along. Interesting, too, is how there is an orb/apple of light in New York city - TIME's SQUARE - that FALLS into darkness & a lower stature as part of this ritual. It shows how we are entering into the Dead realms symbolically… and everyone has been trained to celebrate it. Good doggy... now sit, & beg for a treat to prove you're a good boi (Februalia). Because soon you'll need to attack on command. SMH. My notes below, for those interested. This reminds me of a LOTR quote...

JANU-ary = JANUS >> DEAD MONTH #1 Related or belonging to Janus: the God of portals, gateways, doors & all beginnings/endings; also rules time (NY Apple falling in Time's Square), transitions, & duality (polar opposites). The Roman Catholic church established this as the first month of the year, for their agendas and false timeline calendar. Traditionally, Janus presides over THE MONTH OF JUNE, not January; and the beginning & ending of war/peace, journeys and ALL Exchanges (monetary connections there). Highlights the 2 sides of a singular coin, and BICAMERAL mind. Side note/thought: Typically taught, unstudied/uncross-referenced Christianity (as in: not compared with other religions/belief structures) teaches the ignorantly initiated (church goers who don't know they are being taught magickal practices) to exchange worship, time, energy & attention (CURRENCY) for FAVORS, protection and blessings. Zoroastrian scholars have noted that this is "the technology of beggary". Interesting to note the differences between that, and what the 'Jesus-embodiment' teacher of that time exemplified/taught. They are not the same processes at all, & they each require completely different internal POV's and innerstanding/self knowingness. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janus

FEBRU-ary = FEBRUUS & FEBRUALIA >> DEAD MONTH #2 Februus is the God of purification and the underworld (Pluto/Hades), and this was a month long observation of self purifying, and making ritual sacrifices & atonement for anything done throughout the earlier 10 months of the year. Showing that this is the true END OF THE YEAR, which begins anew in MARCH (on the spring Equinox?, most likely).

Understanding the Roman Calendar The festival known as Februalia was held near the end of the Roman calendar year–and to understand how the holiday changed over time, it helps a bit to know the calendar's history. Originally, the Roman year had only ten months–they counted out ten months between March and December, and basically disregarded the "dead months" of January and February. Later, the Etruscans came along and added these two months back into the equation. In fact, they planned to make January the first month, but the expulsion of the Etruscan dynasty prevented this from happening, and so March 1st was considered the first day of the year. February was dedicated to Februus, a god not unlike Dis or Pluto, because it was the month in which Rome was purified by making offerings and sacrifices to the gods of the dead. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Februus https://azenofmyown.blogspot.com/2015/02/februalia.html

MARCH = MARTIUS = MARS, Roman god of war Also the first month of the year, typically, when the ground is dry enough to go marching about on (for any reason, really). Typically its the beginning of the planting AND warfare season, which lasts thru October. Associated with the Zodiac sign PISCES until March 20th, and the BODY/HEAD/YEAR starts anew in Aries on March 21st. Pisces is the FEET of the body, and Aries is THE HEAD - so this also reflects that March and the spring equinox is the true beginning of the year, since every month & astrological sign that's cycled through is associated with a different area of the body, starting at the head & ending with the feet.

#new year #walking dead #underworld #not of this world #the upside down #the light bringer #ye are the light of the world #just saying #interesting contemplations #Youtube

[butchwaifu]

7, 13, 17, 43, 96

7. Does your oc collect anything? What about of knowledge or facts? How big is their collection?

Amreaux collects a number of things that don't take up a lot of space something noteworthy could be the amount of gaudy/gothic rings they have alone but they also collect bottle caps to turn into fridge magnets however their largest and most valuable collection is physical photos they keep of their self and people they've been acquainted with over the years ranging from the kids people gave up on to the adults that didn't know if they were going to make it out there in the world another day while they're long gone from Amreaux's life they've never forgotten any of them and the only reason the collection of photos isn't as large as it could possibly be given Amreaux's immortality is because photo graphic cameras weren't quite invented until a little late in the game

13. What is your oc’s confidence like? Are they self-confident to the point of being arrogant? Are they terribly self-deprecating?

Point blank Amreaux is very confident but if you ask them to elaborate why they might be able to pitch some good reasons but if you keep pressing it they'll start to devolve into a bad cycle of thinking and get self depreciating and then they'll just go garden for some hours until they stop thinking like that

17. How polite is your oc? Do they know how to act in a formal situation? How would they *actually* act in a formal situation?

Politeness and formality are interesting because Amreaux when nervous comes off as overly polite and in formal situations it depends how comfortable they are if uncomfortable they're nervous therefore as polite as they can manage but when comfortable they treat anyone and everyone like a friend

43. How important are the rules to your oc? Do they follow them to a t, or do they enjoy breaking them?

Amreaux is all for breaking norms at the very least and imposed mental gymnastic rules people lock themselves into they help break habits that lead to spiraling and self depreciation and most importantly nothing getting done in the end there's one post that always sticks with me talking about spicing up some instant ramen and "You can cut the scallions with scissors I won't tell your mom" is something so treasurable to their character to me otherwise Amreauxs has broken laws both in the human realm and to everyone's inconvenience the spiritual realms too I wish I could say "I think they'd fight (a) god" but that's giving them too much credit they would without hesitation its funny that as little as it goes Amreaux would reassuringly help people break unspoken or unimportant social rules that don't matter but at most they've not even probably but most definitely done some questionably dangerous nonsense (in the human realm no worries but the spiritual realm it's just like they're asking someone to come try to assassinate them keyword: try)

96. Describe your oc in three words. What three words would they use to describe themselves?

The words I would use are: compassionate, dangerous, and horny

Amreaux would use: awkward, dedicated, and tall

Three words common to hear from outsiders is: charismatic/charming, sentimental, and comforting

#amreaux