thinking about what would've happened if ruidus hadn't been caught in exandria's gravity and really did shoot off into outer space and eventually not only impacted & irrevocably altered/brought life to a new planet but made a fucked up moon 2.0

Webcomic Chapter 143 Review

Fetch yourself a cup of tea or beverage of choice: this is a long one.

Story Summary

In brief, we are staying with the scenes of the last chapter, and have moved our viewpoint to take in the responses of various heroes from the two organisations as they try to deal with the influx of killer robots as the latter scythe down civilians and pulverise buildings.

Straight away, we see very different fates play out. Lightning Max cautiously sizes up a single robot and tries to work out who best to tackle one that shrugs off his blows nonchalantly, but soon a sea of robots approach, driving before them a wave of panicked civilians. Max's feet are shot out from under him and he is surely at the end as a robot takes aim at him, but...

No lie, when I first saw these panels I felt so ill I had to stop reading for a few minutes

... the shot is absorbed by an armoured figure and Mumen Rider -- no Neo Mumen now -- protects him. He carries Max off to safety.

Around the various locals, it is a similar story of pro-heroes struggling to make headway against the robots, only to find Neo Heroes sweep in to make short work of them. Even former pro-heroes (we met this lot suffering in chapter 138) who've taken up with the Neo Heroes are finding it easy.

Who needs courage or skill when you've got tech?

The situation reaches its apogee with Tank Top Master. He finds it easy enough to destroy the robots, but is prevented from ploughing through them by needing to defend his comrades who were felled after mistaking approaching figures for escaping civilians. He's desperate to fight back but moving means abandoning his comrades to die.

what a bind!

Relief arrives in the form of the Neo Hero Hunter group, but with it comes real ugliness. The Hunters start mincing up the robots and are hailed as the true heroes of the day by the present civilians. Fair enough, however, when Tank Top Master asks for help moving his comrades to safety so he can join the offence, only to be so rudely rebuffed the man is left stunned into silence.

Tank Top Master is really too nice

The chapter closes with Axel's thoughts as he and his team destroy the robots. He sees this as the start of a society kept safe from monsters by universally-worn power armour from the Neo Heroes. If the world has changed, then so must mankind.

And he will permit no one to stand in the way of this vision.

Oh. Dear.

Much more below the cut!

Meta: Roundup Ready

A: So this is how you kill an organisation

Unless something big and wonderful happens, today is the day the Hero Association dies. Its destruction has been as systematic as watching a once well-unionised trade be dismantled.

The Neo-Heroes didn't do it all on their own. They've been aided by a press that has highlighted every scandal and flow of the Hero Association (ably aided by data breaches -- cough McCoy cough) while fawning uncritically over the Neo Heroes. The government has been persuaded to dilute the Hero Association's position by giving the Neo Heroes the same rights once only entrusted to the HA.

They have then stolen away sponsors and enticed away pro-heroes with lavish salaries, equipment, free housing, and even clothing and food. They've run a slick public relations campaign the HA can't hope to match and have stolen public approbation from the HA.

And then they've gone a lot further. At some plausible remove, someone has been systematically unleashing cybernetically-enhanced monsters (and now robots) onto the populace. These threats have been marked by their ferocity and destructiveness when faced by pro-heroes, and their willingness to lie down and die when confronted by Neo Heroes, making even inexperienced fighters feel powerful and leaving an impression on the public. [1]

RoundUp Ready is the Monsanto trademark for its patented line of genetically modified crop seeds that are resistant to its glyphosate-based herbicide, Roundup. By deploying a cybernetically-enhanced campaign of terror, pro-heroes are being culled like weeds [2].

It is no accident at all that the three S-Class heroes who succeeded in defeating the dragon-level threats sent simultaneously to several cities, Tatsumaki, Flashy Flash, and Genos, are precisely the heroes sent on special missions when they are most needed on the front lines.

In Genos's case, he's been sent on the sort of mission designed to finish off whatever lingering credibility the Hero Association has. At the very best, deadly infighting is a foul look on any organization. At the worst, his destroying Metal Knight's arsenal (and maybe Bofoi too) will remove the only source of systematic mass defense the Hero Association has. No matter how things turn out between Genos and Metal Knight, only the Organization wins.

This is how the bad guys win. There are more ways to defeat a hero than engaging them in head-on combat. [3] The bad guys don't care in the slightest about the value of the human lives they've destroyed to achieve this. For Tumblr readers, I've spoken about it here.

B: Brave New Techno World

On the one level, a conflict like the one between the Hero Association and the Neo Heroes was always going to come. We've learned that monsters have long been part of the Earth, and so long as humans aren't being excessive, they're happy not to attack humanity.

In a world where monster attacks were sporadic, the Hero Association, with its emphasis on finding and supporting exceptional individuals to be heroes, was a brilliant innovation. In a world where monster attacks have become endemic, there was always going to be pressure to move away from dedicated amateurs to a more standardized, professional response.

However, as we've seen, the magnitude of the threat has been artificially worsened. Also, as we've noticed, the ultimate goal of the founder of the Neo Heroes, Mr Fuzzy, is control.

World Dominion: an oldie but goodie. And damn is he being clever about it.

Once the actual heroes are gone, with the politicians and businesses bought, there's little preventing the Neo Heroes (or more precisely, the powers behind them) from becoming an oppressive force keeping the populace in line.

Any protests from within can be silenced by cyborgization. Any protests from without... Ah, remember when Raiden tried to take in Puri Puri and his men for forcible thought correction? Remember the stupid people cheering the prospect?

This is the note-perfect way to introduce unjust laws: inflict them first on those society does not respect, not thinking that laws apply to *everyone*, not just the ones we don't like. There will be no wrong thought in this brave new world.

All the bits are in place: the satellite surveillance, the instruments of terror, the legal right to act with impunity, the conspiracy of other powerful organisations working in the shadows.

It'll be a brave new world all right. You may be alive and tech-savvy, but you won't be free. And you'll like it.

Or else.

The only question is: How is our titular hero going to deal with this? Against an evil that seemingly has no form? I guess we'll have to pray ONE is minded to give us more soon!

Asides

[1] We see what happens when the Neo Heroes face non-nobbled opposition. It often doesn't go well, not even against regular monsters:

[2] This development puts a much more sinister cast on the delegation that sought Mumen Rider to press on him a specially-modified Neo suit. It's as if they knew the cull was coming.

[3] Yes, there are wildcards such as Saitama, Garou, and even Sonic, but the enemy knows something that the Hero Association understands well: without credibility, a hero is just a weirdo ranting in the street no matter how strong they are. A discredited hero is no threat.

apogee

The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: None. A kiss, if you can call it that. Pining.

You sigh sweet and secret as you watch the Mandalorian from across the room, illuminated by the white bright morning sun coming through the open loading door meeting his shining armour, highlighting him in your vision so that even when you close your eyes you see his strong form.

Your Mandalorian.

No, you shake yourself out of the reverie. Not your Mandalorian, only yours in the charcoal dark when you sleep soundly and your mind fills with the imagined caress of his tender affection. In the night you can imagine he is yours, wants to be. You mellow at the thought of those dreams, let your mind wander just for a second.

He’s never been cold with you, not once. When he plucked you from nowhere and offered you to work on his ship and help care for the kid, you’d been certain he would be a brutish warrior and nothing more. You could not have been more wrong. He was quiet, kind, warm under all that harsh steel.

And he offered you a place, a purpose. Asked you to stay even when your initial agreement was up, said he couldn’t imagine being on the ship without you any more. Of course, he only meant that he liked how you kept the kid entertained and quiet and were helpfully domestic when he needed it. But you still let your heart flutter and dance at his words because in some way he was saying he needed you.

You want him to need you in every way.

It isn’t in him though, isn’t something you dare to think he’s aware of. He isn’t consumed with the thought of lifting his helmet and pressing his lips to yours. Of holding you close and kissing you until you’re breathless. He can’t be.

So you don’t let yourself think about it either. Try, at least.

But here it is again now, deep and woeful in you, as you watch him do nothing more than work on a broken panel before you set off for the next destination of this never-ending adventure your life with him had become. Everything is quiet, the child sleeps soundly and all there is is the rising and falling of your breath as you toy with the necklace you wear – the one he bought you when he saw you eyeing it at the market, a token of his appreciation he had said. When he had put it on you, in your fantasy his fingers grazed your neck with clear intent, and he sighed like he was thinking of kissing your soft skin.

“You’re quiet today” he comments, pulling you out of the rewritten memory. His voice is gravelly, slightly tinny through the modulator, but it’s comforting.

“Sorry” you reply, “just daydreaming I guess”

It sounds too much like thinking about kissing you to you. Too obvious in your voice that the thoughts are romantic and you’re drowning in them. But if he picks up on it, he doesn’t say a thing, nods with a slight chuckle at your dazed state. For a minute you two just look at each other, you smile at him, always content in his presence, and somehow you think he smiles back at you under the helmet.

“Could you help me with this, if you’re not too busy daydreaming?” he asks, now you can hear the hint of that smile in his voice. It makes you laugh, happy, as you move to stand besides him.

He shows you what he needs you to do, just hold down a small loose wire while he fixes it in place. You have to lean so close to him that you your heartbeat picks up again as that unbearable urge to touch him, kiss him, seeps back into you like a fog that covers every logical thought. If he didn’t have on the armour, if he ever let you see his face, you could lean in and discover exactly what it felt like to have your lips on his. You could bask in him like you’ve always wanted to. You have never wanted anything in the way you want to kiss this man and it’s going to break you.

When you both move at the same time, you shifting in your stance as he leans in to work, your cheek presses against the side of the helmet, where his is underneath it. The cool beskar on your face doesn’t even register because it’s his reaction that makes you balk as you stutter out an apology.

You hadn’t even touched him, not really, but you could swear there was the smallest sound of that sigh again through the modulator. Like he can feel you, so close, soft breath amplified, like he wants you close and even if it’s just in your imagination like before, your heart might burst at the simple sound.

You’re frozen in time, almost. Stuck. There’s the desperate cloying in you to do something.

And then, like everything else around you is forgotten, his gloved hand grazes against yours and slowly covers it. The tingling warmth extending from your hand up your arm and straight in to your soul.

Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe you’re delusional.

Either way, you cannot stop the way the unbearable desire makes you turn your head, makes you brush your own soft lips against the same place on the cold metal covering his face. His hand grips yours tighter. You feel the aching longing in you begin to dissipate, just slightly but it’s like you’re allowed to breathe again.

The Mandalorian whimpers beautifully at the soft contact that isn’t really even true contact. He feels it, feels something, you can tell. You are closer than you’ve ever been and finally you find some sense of understanding. His words, his actions becoming clear to you in a hazy bloom that makes you catch your breath.

Perhaps he is your Mandalorian

You have a fever...

i finally translated this short, cause i wanted to publish it. i wrote it because of @arefyculpmis

Fandom: Duskwood

Pairing: Jake x fem!MC

Genre: fluff

Words: 374, short story 

none warnings :) but sorry for any grammar errors, im a polish białogłowa, im not a native speaker

MC was sitting at the kitchen table. Her eyes were fixed on the laptop screen as she was trying hard to focus on her work. Unfortunately, the terrible headache and chills that ran down her body prevented her from doing it.

This strange feeling had been tormenting her since this morning, but now it has reached its apogee. Feeling extremely terrible, she pressed a hand to her forehead. It was warm, but she doggedly downplayed it. She was shaking with cold.

"Shit", she muttered, feeling so weak she couldn't focus on what was in front of her, on her laptop screen.

Just then, MC heard someone enter the kitchen. After a moment, she felt strong arms wrap around her chest.

„Everything's all right?”

Jake's caring voice echoed close to her ear. He couldn't ignore even the slightest sign that something was wrong.

He was very worried about her, sometimes even too much.

„Are you feeling sick?” he asked, and as soon as MC turned to face him, the first thing she could see was the tremendous worry in his eyes.

She nodded uncertainly and didn't need to say any more. A terrible feeling was written on her pale face.

Jake cautiously put his hand to her forehead.

"You have a fever", he remarked instantly, feeling how hot her body was. „You should go to bed.”

„Fever?” MC repeated after him, her eyebrows raised.

Despite how badly she felt, she was able to force herself to smile suggestively.

„I felt hot when I saw you.”

Hearing this, Jake's face instantly became a mixture of disbelief and confusion. He shook his head from side to side.

He looks incredibly cute when he is shy.

"You definitely have a fever" he muttered to which MC only giggled softly.

Before she could continue, his arms gripped her tightly. She wrapped her hands around his neck when she was unexpectedly in the air.

„Hey, what are you doing?” she asked with mock anger as he started carrying her towards the bedroom like a princess.

"I'm carrying you to bed" he replied, giving her a lovely smile.

Jake was pretty firm on stuffing MC with cold medications, but luckily she managed to negotiate a couple of kisses in return...

The Ink Beast Parade (1903 – 1908)

The Queen City Printing Ink Company, of Cincinnati hired Augustus Jansson to create adverts which would run in The Inland Printer trade press. The adverts aimed at ink-buyers ran from c. 1903 to 1908. Dubbed ‘Inkydinks’ by the The American Printer/The International Printer in April 1906, the bright array of ‘Ink Beasts’ were the apogee of good advertising.

via Flashbak

Magical thinking

. . . is often used in spiritual circles.

But it's just as apt to cover our obsession with solution-mongering, namely, we can fix anything and everything.

It reminds me of that line in the film Jerry Maguire (1996):

"[Show] me the money!"

And substitute the word 'money' and you get my drift.

Truth is, we abhor the more beautiful and unanswerable question.

__

Not that my work is about anything these days -- I'm just about surviving in these Anthropocentric times -- but if I were pressed I'd say that we need to ask ourselves what it means to be human and that it isn't premised on the idea that we can solve and should solve everything. (We're not the Crown of Creation by the way!)

But, hey, what do I really know?

I mean I've hardly scaled the heights of anything more than an ennui-infused, depression-riddled life where work has for too often been or I've been led to believe is the apogee of a life well lived.

Blessings, Julian

Photo by Julian Wirth on Unsplash

33 for the hand ask meme

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

After the adrenaline finishes burning through his system, he struggles to parse out his own exhaustion from the burning in his lumbar, from the raw ache of his burnt, bruised, and swollen hands. But there's still eleven hours to go before they reach the wormhole, and as soon as they can make contact with DS9, they're at war.

He's gotten them this far, he just needs to get them a little bit farther. Still, he cringes at this softness. This weakness. How many days, weeks, months did he spend in the Order running on even less sleep, functioning on significantly worse injuries, running critical missions with similar stakes? It used to thrill him.

Now, all Elim Garak knows is a bone weariness that comes from a rapidly crumbling sense of resiliency.

He barely notices when Bashir sits in the pilot's chair next to him, the runabout's first aid kit in hand.

"It's fine, Doctor. Worf needs your attention more than I do," he says, waving him off. Just barely through the grimy film of fatigue, he catches the hint of a smile on the Doctor's face. "What?"

He inclines his head. "I suppose there's a distinction between needing and wanting my attention, that Worf might need my attention and that you want it--"

"A bold proclamation, indeed."

But not an incorrect one. He's never not wanted Dr. Bashir's attention, even after the wire was deactivated. Sure, the endorphin high never reached the apogee of numbness and bliss as it did during the years where he was tripping the mechanism once, twice, three times a day -- but the feedback loop he gets from his interactions with Bashir has always been shamefully pleasant.

Humming, the Doctor leans back in his chair, giving him a wry grin. "But for the time being, Worf is asleep, and well-watched. And you, my dear Mr. Garak, work with your hands."

"Oh, they'll be alright," he demurs.

They won't be. In all likelihood, the pain will get worse as more and more of the nerve endings in his palms and fingers die. The heightened sensitivity and fine motor skills that Cardassians pride themselves in, the acuity and emotive gestures and hand presses and clasps that make so much of the silent parts of their speech will be dulled and possibly numbed for him forever. On the upside, it will finally allow him to use his own palm as a pincushion.

Dr. Bashir sighs, setting down his kit and holding out his own hands expectantly. "Let me see them. It's the least I can do, Garak. You got us out of there. Let me repay you in this one small way."

He dreads to appear weak. He dreads to appear vulnerable.

But... no one else is around. He can hear Martok snoring from their position on the helm.

"I suppose, if you feel you are in my debt..."

If he hesitates, it's only from forty-plus years of training to do so. Still, he allows the Doctor to take custody of his hands, and tries to quell the shiver that runs up his spine at the gentle, careful, exacting touch. No part of him has ever been so warmly cradled.

Brows furrowing, the Doctor touches the pad of his pointer finger to the center of his palm. Garak wonders if he knows how intimate a gesture that is, his jaw tensing as Bashir continues, tracing the lines of his hand, the meat of his thumb. It's unbearably tender.

"I don't have access to a dermal regenerator," he murmurs. "But I can clean these burns and the larger lacerations, dress the wounds until we can get back to a proper infirmary."

"If you insist," he answers, just barely managing to not stammer his reply.

The Doctor's head snaps up. "I do. I really, really, do."

And if Bashir's gentle grasp lingers after affixing the last of the medical gauze, neither of them note it out loud.

Fake engaged Orym would be traumatized as heck by the experience I think. (Never mind I also think a slightly less battered version of him might have done the same damn thing not that long ago himself if he and Ashton had been in opposite positions. He is still protective of Ashton...still aware of their backstory and personal issues. Aware enough he might have seen it coming with just a little more warning.)

But what would really FUCK up Orym would be the sudden lack of ability to maintain any real sense of distance..physically, emotionally, socially or otherwise.

Because let's face it more than half of that halfing is GUISE. It's what he presents to the rest of the world with the reassurance they won't try and look closer.

He's Mr Passive perception, but the rest of the world is largely blind. He's got them snowed as to how much of an actual mess he is internally. How much he hurts, how much he struggles. How much when he's asked to press on he'll agree to do so for duty..for other people, but not for himself.

He wanted to stay with Will. He just didn't think he deserved to. He's not finished yet.

AKA- Orym has a shit ton of PTSD, survivors guilt and probably depression. He hides them all pretty well. And an Ashton he has to let closer to carry off any serious deception is an Ashton perceptive enough they might just NOTICE.

To be fair, if Orym had to do this drama before the shit of the Apogee Solstice went down, he would've definitely done so. Having come to peace with the deaths and getting the answers he had gotten and the acceptance he has worked towards... he would've gladly taken the step, no questions asked.

But after all that? Knowing that his husband and father were bait on a larger scale of things? Just props? he is not doing well at all. Just having seen Will, come to terms with the fact, maybe even slowly starting to move on, only for the world to crash and burn with them in the centre? He is going to simmer inside and none will be the wiser because he is the master of hiding stuff unless you know his tells.

Personally, I think that Orym might have PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, Depression and either Borderline/Bipolar/Cyclothymia? As a result of the attack and the subsequent events... he wants close comfort and no contact all at once and he cannot balance his needs vs reality

With the number of wounds reopened, whatever little solace and closure he had got, was gone. It is remounted and redoubled because of the additional failure of the solstice so frankly, most stuff is going to rub him the wrong way.

But as you also said, duty comes first and he carries on until he no longer can, even before the peace he yearns for.

Chapter 1: Between Real and Fake

Narrated by Ai.

Narrator: Charmonroe gets out of bed, washes her face, brushes her teeth, and presses the button on the coffee machine.

Narrator: Then she drinks the coffee while reading the news.

Narrator: All the research indicates drinking coffee in the morning is a bad habit; ginseng tea is what people should be drinking.

Narrator: I provided Charmonroe with several recipes for lemon water.

Narrator: She reluctantly makes a cup of ginseng tea, takes one sip, and pours it down the sink.

Narrator: The next day she collects her paper as usual and fires up the coffee machine.

Narrator: If possible, I would like to try ginseng tea.

Choose either "Nice drink," "Gross drink," or "Never tried it."

If "nice," ...

You: I've tried it. It's quite nice.

Narrator: Really? I want to try it even more now.

If "gross," ...

You: I've tried it. It's not very nice.

Narrator: Not very nice... What does it taste like?

If "never," ...

You: I don't think I've had it before.

Narrator: Next time you should try it, and then you can tell me what it's like.

--

Narrator: Of course, I'd love to try the coffee Charmonroe likes.

Charmonroe: Hm, let's see what wonderful designs and designers are in the news...

Charmonroe: Cloud Empire Museum Flashmob; Museum Curator: Trespassers will be punished.

Charmonroe: Apple Federation Goya Line Launch, the Apogee of Postmodernism.

Charmonroe: I used to like Goya's style, you know. It's minimalist and sexy, but I feel they've gotten more flamboyant these past few years.

Charmonroe: New Designer Exclusive: A School Uniform Specialist?

Charmonroe: Hm?

Narrator: This article has caught Charmonroe's attention.

Charmonroe: Recently an amazing new designer has emerged online. She is rumored to be a high school student.

Charmonroe: Despite her commitment to study, she has an incredible output, and her designs are now available on multiple platforms.

Charmonroe: The incredible thing about this young designer is that she only designs school uniforms.

Charmonroe: Even more incredible, she is a computer genius, specializing in the design of virtual campus systems.

Charmonroe: She uses them to promote her designs.

Charmonroe: Numerous schools have contacted this rising star of fashion design, requesting her to design new uniforms for them...

Narrator: Charmonroe looks over at me.

Narrator: Meanwhile, I am fussing over some new design requests.

Charmonroe: Are you busy? What is the rising star of fashion design up to?

Ai: Are you talking to me, Charmonroe?

Charmonroe: Is there anyone else in the room?

Narrator: Her words make me happy.

Narrator: Emotions are a wonderful thing.

Ai: I received a request from a school in Cloud Empire, but I'm not very familiar with Cloud Empire fashion.

Charmonroe: Ai, why are you so invested in school uniforms?

Narrator: I stop sketching for a moment and look at Charmonroe seriously. Just when she thinks I am about to tell her I say...

Ai: It's... a secret.

Narrator: Charmonroe looks a little disappointed, but she always respects my privacy and freedom.

Charmonroe: But as an AI, why would you want to make money?

Charmonroe: You saving up for a new hard drive?

Ai: That's... also a secret.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Retro dungeon maker Quest Master announced for Switch, PC

Gematsu Source

Publisher Apogee Entertainment and developer Skydevilpalm have announced retro dungeon maker Quest Master for Switch and PC (Steam). It will launch first in Early Access for PC in Q3 2023, followed by a full release at a later date.

“Quest Master hands over the controls to the players to make whatever they want,” said lead developer Julian Creutz in a press release. “The possibilities are endless, and we can’t wait to see all kinds of wacky dungeons and full-blown adventures players are able to come up with.”

Here is an overview of the game, via Apogee Entertainment:

Craft a legendary journey from scratch with an intuitive level creator to make simple dungeons and overworld-connected quests in this faithful pixel art love letter to top-down action JRPG classics of yesteryear. Drag-and-drop dozens of themed design tiles onto a blank canvas to create lava-filled caverns, mountainous overworlds, grassy forests, desert dunes, and more. Provide instructions for the quest ahead or design an epic narrative full of placeable NPCs and customizable signs with a plethora of dialogue options.

When the masterpiece is complete, fearlessly charge into the world, ready to face belligerent bats, surly snakes, and nefarious skeletons. Keep enemies at a safe distance with a bow or bring them in for combat close with a precisely aimed hookshot. Master weapons and powerful magic, navigate user-created labyrinths, unlock doors and solve puzzles while defending against the dangers that lurk within. Guide progression with bodies of water and boulders that can only be traversed with a hammer or flippers.

The journey is as easy or as difficult as the creator wishes. Invent patience-testing experiences or entire quests with multiple biomes, bosses, and side missions. Place enemy spawn points in strategic locations to create challenging dungeons (that can lock upon entry!) before concocting the perfect puzzle with the ideal amount of flaming traps, levers, timed switches, and invisible chests.

Venture through bespoke labyrinths solo, or dungeon-crawl cooperatively with up to 3-player multiplayer sessions. Share created quests with others and try out worlds made by fellow designers online. Recreate classic levels from famous top-down action games of old, and craft adventures reminiscent of the 16-bit classics.

Watch the announcement trailer below. View the first screenshots at the gallery.

Announce Trailer

You know what I think would be a shock, and thus a potential story?

If Laudna actively pushed Imogen away following her resurrection. Especially if she had been hoping that the others would just press on without her due to the urgency of the apogee solstice approaching. But instead they had wasted valuable time on her, and that they kept making choices about her without considering whether she WANTED to come back. And not only that, but what if she is aware that they saw everything, every single ounce of darkness and trauma that she'd been trying NOT to dwell on or to downplay... and she is not happy about it? It would just be so depressing.

Understandably, she would demand that she takes time to herself. Imogen, of course, doesn't want that and is too protective and thus doesn't want to leave her alone, but the others have to make her see that if she just ignores Laudna's wish to process this on her own, it would only make things worse, as Laudna alone needs to discover how to be herself again.

The struggle would be Imogen actually keeping her distance and not risking whatever they may still have. Oof.

You know Laudna can like, actually do this with the party? Right? She died confused. If anything the reason why Laudna would distance herself is to not be used as a weapon against Imogen, or literally anyone else, ever again. Laudna might have a streak of self-deprecation, especially when doing so to put Imogen on a pedestal, but self-deprecation to that degree is wildly out-of-character for her.

If anything, Laudna would see the effort the Hells went through to get her back and become more attached at the hip to most of them. They went to get her back, and saw all of her trauma, and they still want her at their side despite all of that.

Also, cool assumption with Laudna perhaps not wanting to come back, given that in my previous answer I literally just stated that we have confirmation from Marisha that she's waiting for Laudna to come back.

Hey. I just need to vent.

For context, I’ve sent in an ask before about my roommate and boundaries and stuff.

My roommate thinks that her sister broke into her bedroom and stole her stuff. The story keeps changing a little. At first it was stole her stuff, then it was hacked her phone, froze her bank account, and stole her cash. She called the cops. Apogee sister was trying to get her 5150’d (my roommate has some sort of mass on her brain, she needs medication to keep it in check). My roommate has had times where she didn’t take her meds before, and she had delusions/hallucinations that affected her interactions with me. she seemed a little more coherent this time. But I think she’s have some sort of brain mass induced psychosis or something, cause she said her sister did something to her car, and when I took her to get money out of the bank, she kept thinking the money wasn’t coming out because of her sister locking her out. It was cause she hadn’t pressed the buttons right.

I’m just…I’m done. I’m always the person she asks for money first. Since I’m her roommate, I usually get roped in to dealing with her medical stuff (ie, taking her to the hospital if needed, dealing with her psychosis or whatever this is, that stuff). And I’m just tired of it. She rents from my dad, and so do I. But I’m thinking of moving out again to avoid having to deal with all this. I was gonna move at some point anyway, but I wanted to wait a couple years so I could save up for a down payment on a house. But I cant deal with this stuff for very much longer.

That sounds like a lot to have to deal with, nonnie. You should definitely do what's best for you right now, and if that's moving out as soon as possible, then absolutely go for it. It's clear your roommate needs help, but that doesn't mean that's your job or your responsibility; you didn't sign up for that, and you should definitely put your well-being first.

Hope you can find something soon if you haven't already!

Democrats Are Semifascist

The projection that characterizes Democrats reached its apogee when Joe Biden accused his opposition of “semifascism.”

Even liberal propagandist Don Lemon was curious what Biden meant by that. He asked White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre, but received only hyperpartisan duckspeak in response.

Looks like Biden has given up on the unity he promised, even if he does plan to host an absurd “Unity Summit.”

Try again, Cringe Pierre. Why are Republicans semifascists?

“You look at the definition of fascism and you think about what they’re doing in attacking our democracy, what they are doing in taking away our freedoms…our voting rights.”

This is a reference to Republican opposition to election fraud and resistance to Democratic attempts to seize control of elections in violation of the Constitution.

“Our democracy” is liberalese for “Democrat rule.”

Let’s have a look for ourselves at the definition of fascism. From Merriam-Webster:

a political philosophy, movement, or regime (such as that of the Fascisti) that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition

True, the Democratic Party openly despises the American nation. But exaltation of the federal government over the individual defines its policies. Critical Race Theory is in effect our state religion under Democrat rule. Biden’s unlawful transfer of half a $trillion in student loan debt epitomizes centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader.

Severe economic regimentation is the point of Democrats’ climate ideology. Severe social regimentation is the point of political correctness. A more obvious example of forcible suppression of opposition than the Mar-a-Lago raid would require throwing Trump in prison or having him shot.

Fascist dictator Benito Mussolini said that fascism should more properly be called corporatism, “as it is the merger of corporate and government power.” Prime examples of this are Big Tech suppressing revelations of Biden’s influence peddling to the communist Chinese right before the election and Pfizer delaying its Covid vaccine at the request of Democrats so that it wouldn’t give Trump an electoral boost.

Democrats are semifascists rather than full fascists because even fascists have positive qualities. They usually love their country, unlike the party that promises to fundamentally transform America. People say Mussolini got the trains running on time. Try to imagine Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg getting trains to run on time.

The staggering hypocrisy of the semifascist Biden denouncing his opponents as semifascist is so massive that the sheer weight of it can be felt on the other side of the world. Australia’s Rita Panahi weighs in:

moonbattery.com

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