The winchesters art of dying cast

Shazam! Fury of the Gods was released in theaters last week to a resounding “meh, okay” from audiences and critics alike. And now its main star and Jordan Peterson admirer, Zachary Levi, is out here on Twitter asking Neil Druckmann to cast him in the next season of the popular HBO Max series, The Last of Us.Read more... Link to article

Once upon a time, the Earth was not what we would expect to find. People did not live in the conventional ways, but instead created their own ways of living, with the help of arts and crafts.
The landscape began to be filled with wonderful and wild creations, from the small and detailed to the large and extraordinary. People were crafting their own homes, bakeries, schools and other buildings. All of it was being made out of reused and recycled materials. It was breathtaking.
The air was filled with the sound of children playing, whistling and singing, and the smell of freshly made paper, paints and new sculptures. Each one was as unique as the next.
The world buzzed with an energy that no one had ever seen before. Everyone was living simply and responsibly, in harmony with their environment. People could now enjoy the process of creating something and the pride that accompanied it.
No one knew exactly how the world had got to this new way of living but they all felt the same – content and excited for what the future would bring.
This is how the world had become an arts and crafts project; a place where people could live in harmony, with the environment, and with each other.

This is mostly based off the show but when Monty died count Olafs troupe, disguised of course, came and took his body away from the house….. what did they do with it…? Cause as far as I’m aware the real police never took the body… Olafs troupe did… so whered Monty go??? Is he still in the back of that van?? Or did they throw him in the lake Gustav was drowned in??? Did they burry him??? Set him on fire??? I’m so confused!!! Or mabey the police did come and I forgot about it but I’m to lazy to rewatch the ending of that episode…

You Matter to Her in a Way No One Else Could
When you died and were reborn, you became divine. You were love, and you were violence, and you were my miracle. A God sprung forth from the decaying machinery of your broken body. Koishi, the God of Love and Hate—have mercy on us all.
Down by the shore of one of the great Lunar seas, there sat a lonely shack thatched with feathers. Inside, there was a massive wani no less than eight leagues long… and her infant son. To that crocodile who had never known true familial love, that delicate little child—who cooed and smiled at his mother’s every move—was nothing less than a miracle. Such a delicate life in her claws, who knew nothing but unconditional love for his mother—to the crocodile, it was proof there was still good in the world.
She was tired, but the crocodile forced herself to stay awake. There was something she needed to do—a memory she wanted to share with the most important person in her life.
So, with all the caution and tenderness in the world, she picked up her child with her jaws and coaxed him into her throat pouch. The newborn child, perhaps having some shared instinct with his crocodilian mother, did not cry or struggle. Instead, he let out a giggle as he poked his head out from between his mother’s jagged teeth. With a snort, the dragon climbed out of her thatch hut, and crawled along the shore, drawing a meandering trail in the sand as she went.
When she reached the point where the water came to shore in gentle waves, the crocodile set herself down in the sand, letting the waves wash in and lick at her child in gentle sprays. Her child giggled as the Lunar sea’s tickled him with its pure waters, and as he did, his mother couldn’t help but feel at peace.
Nothing. Nothing at all would be able to take this from her.
Her miracle.
Toyohime opened her eye to clear blue skies.
She flexed her fingers, and instead of feeling the cold steel of the ship she started to tear apart, she felt so many tiny pebbles, warmed by their time in the sun. Sand? She brought a fistful of the stuff into her vision, before letting it fall through her fingers and run down her face. It was too real to be a dream.
Toyohime sat up to observe her surroundings. As far as the eye could see, there were infinite stretches of sand collected into wind-swept dunes that obscured the horizon. It was hot. Unbelievably so for what was supposedly the void. She felt a gentle gust of warm wind pass by her and toss her hair. This place… this impossible place… was she dead?
She rose to her feet, fighting biting aches and pains from her battle not too long ago. No—not dead. Somehow, she had survived—there was no other explanation. And as she looked down to assess the damage she had taken, her suspicions were only confirmed. Her right arm was missing, and in its place was nothing but a healed stump. The nasty cuts and bruises she had received in the fighting had all healed over for the most part, the only evidence they happened at all being residual scars that were yet to disappear. The ground was covered in dried blood. She must’ve been laying here in this sand trap for hours.
She brought her free arm, completely healed, up to the general space where her right eye was to find an arrow still protruding from it. Wrapping her fingers around the shaft, Toyohime tore it out in a fluid motion, causing the wound to reopen and drip blood onto the sands below. But, through some miraculous action, it was mere moments before the flow of blood stopped as the wound healed shut. Her right eye was still inoperable, but this healing ability was downright uncanny, even for a god.
She flexed her fingers. It felt like there was a hole in her head from which memories and feelings poured out. The mystery of how she got here, who she killed, and whether she could even trust her own senses had no answer—Toyohime knew she herself had made sure of that. She supposed there was a good reason. The less she knew, the better. That was something she could trick herself into believing.
Though no matter how much she forced herself to forget, she had the horrible feeling she had done something unforgivable—something she would kill over. In a sea of atrocities however, she could hardly even begin to suppose what that might have been. Maybe the heat was starting to fry her brain.
After spending a few minutes snapping the arrows lodged in her body by their shafts, Toyohime looked to the horizon, and then up. Ahead, there was a massive sand dune, no less than five times her height, and beyond the crest—a black pillar of smoke. Toyohime was not alone.
As she made her way up the shifting incline, Toyohime got to thinking about her next course of action. If this wasn’t a hallucination, then it most certainly had to be some extension of Koishi's will. Land in an impossible space… the creation of something impossible like that could only be a factor of a deteriorating mind, or God. And Toyohime had no time to consider the possibility of a crumbling psyche—not when she had a duty left unfulfilled.
But then… that would mean this was the paradise of Koishi’s mind. Surely, by her side is where she would find her salvation. She had already come to terms with it—that there was nothing left for her in the old world. Koishi could pervert and corrupt reality in whatever twisted ways she wanted—as long as it was the creation of her heart, it would be sufficient. Everything beyond that was not worth saving to the former princess.
… But that also meant there would be more enemies. More people she had to kill. She was ready. Ready to kill and ready to die in the name of love.
And as she planted her boot upon the peak of that sand dune, she saw the whole world become bare before her. A fair distance away was the crashed wreck of a golden ship, releasing plumes of black smoke as it burnt away. From this distance, it was difficult to make out any finer details, but she was sure the occupants had escaped. Satori was resourceful and stubborn, if nothing else. Dying in a crash was an impossibility.
She then traced a line from the ship through the shifting sands—to a city upon the horizon. Massive towers of glass and steel pushing against the sky, half buried in the sand, bending light around them as they reflected the intense heat of the sun. It gave the sight an unnatural fuzziness, as if the city was threatening to disappear at any moment.
As she traced the decaying visage of those buildings upwards, she saw a thin line reach beyond and into the sky. The line separated into two before converging back on itself. Above the city, etched upon the sky itself, was a pitch black gap in reality, opened and filled with so many eyes. And above still, the object of Toyohime’s desires and her sole driving factor—Koishi Komeiji.
Though the God’s eye was open, as well as the myriad collection of smaller eyes and drooling jaws that had lined every square inch of her squirming appendages, it was hard to tell if she was awake or conscious. Toyohime knew Koishi best, and if she had any guess as to what Koishi had been doing in the time they spent apart, it was receding back into the numbing comfort of her own mind. Even now, Toyohime figured she was still dreaming, avoiding the cruel weight of her responsibility. What manifested outside of her mind must’ve been some sort of twisted runoff.
Down there, hidden in the dunes, Toyohime knew there were those who would take this dream from Koishi. Those who would hurt Koishi. Those people would’ve done just as well to dig their own graves and build their own coffins. Because so long as Toyohime drew breath, she would protect Koishi with everything she could muster—that was her promise and the nature of her impossible, unconditional love.
Koishi was Toyohime’s second chance.
This time, one way or another, there would be no opportunity for a third.
Mima, on the other hand, had woken up quite a bit earlier than Toyohime had.
She had not suffered any fatal wounds or debilitating strikes leading up to the point where the reality around her started to crumble and distort—but she had briefly lost consciousness regardless. She figured that might’ve been a good thing; an action so absurd and so against everything she knew, perpetrated by an impossibly powerful being… even if a mere glimpse didn’t physically tear her mind to ribbons, she had no interest in trying to understand such a nonsensical event.
Mima awoke not in a desert, but in a grand sprawling city of seemingly human construction. Though the sun still hung overhead, the impossible hills and mountains of sand that caged the city in, always seemed to shift and move in the most calculated way… such that the sun was always put out. Caught in the shade, the city looked like it was in a perpetual night, in spite of the blinding yellow of the endless desert just beyond its limits.
Though that was the case, the city was far from dark. Street lamps, blinding neon signs, blinking traffic lights, apartments and houses with windows illuminated by the fluorescent lights within… It gave the impression the city was alive. It seemed exactly as a real bustling city at night, with its breathing and blinking—but there were no people. No matter how far Mima walked, no matter how many buildings she popped in, she would encounter no souls. She would find, in those buildings, immaculate setpieces filled with lived-in charm, hints and implications of life—but not people. Not even Yukari, who she wandered the streets in search of.
She recognized this place. This city—Tokyo. It couldn’t have possibly been, but it was the same Tokyo she grew up in, back before the Moonlight Descent and before the Kaiju. Before her chance meeting with the youkai who used to be her friend. This city, trapped in the middle of the desert, caught in an artificial night that obscured the flow of time—somehow it managed to be the perfect recreation of a long lost city, as if someone had taken a scalpel to the part of Mima’s brain that held onto the precious memories of her past life. It was comforting, being back in familiar territory, but it also carried along a pervasive uneasiness. The nostalgia said it was real, but the rational mind knew better than to buy into an impossible mirage—made all the more uneasy by the deathly silence of its streets.
After wandering around for a dozen minutes or more, Mima eventually came to find Yukari in a 24-hour fast food joint. She was sitting, out of her suit and miraculously healed, on a stool that faced the street outside, with her head down and a small pool of drool collecting at the point where the corner of her mouth met the countertop. Renko always said Maribel could fall asleep anywhere.
Mima floated back and forth around the gently snoring form of Yukari for a bit, considering her options. She changed back into her Renko form for a second, and after adjusting her hat a little, she reached over to tap Yukari on the shoulder… but then shied away. Glancing at Yukari, then back to her bag, she rummaged through its bottomless contents and pulled out a whole host of items: hand mirrors, makeup kits, two liter bottles of listerine, mints and peppermint breath spray and assorted beauty products.
She stole a quick glance back at Yukari to make sure she was asleep before going at it—in one go, she dumped every minty product she could into her mouth before swishing the unholy mixture in her mouth. It was not a moment later that she coughed out all of that liquid ice with a retch and a gag. Sheepishly, she turned her head to see if Yukari had woken up in all the commotion. Luckily, she was still knocked out something fierce. Mima might’ve guessed she was dead, if it weren’t for the occasional snore.
Undeterred, she opened a hand mirror and began to apply her makeup. Carefully. There was a subtle art to it—she only needed enough to hide any unsightly blemishes she might’ve gotten from her rather shut-in lifestyle as a ghost. Anything more, and Maribel was bound to notice Mima was purposefully fixing her appearance around her. None of that. Mima was trying for a more subliminal approach… It’s what worked in the past, after all.
Well, upon further thought, Mima figured “worked” was too strong a word. She did die before she saw any results, after all. But enough of that, Mima thought—now that she regained her memories, she’s finally gotten another shot. This being the apocalypse and all, she figured she should probably make it count.
She clicked close her portable hand mirror and, along with the rest of her stuff, threw it back into her field bag. She stole one last glance at Yukari, who was still sleeping soundly, before straightening her hat and clearing her throat.
“Maribel…” she said in a quiet, sing-song voice. She placed a hand on Yukari’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Maribel, wake up.”
No response. Mima pouted as she shook her around again. “Merry? It’s so scary around here—I need someone super strong and amazing by my side. Maybe we could hold hands?”
Nothing but more snoring. Mima’s expression fell. “... Okay, seriously. Wake up.”
“Don’t make me break out the big guns, Merry,” Mima said, digging through her bag and pulling out an airhorn. “I’ll do it. You think I’m bluffing?”
A tense beat passes. Mima stows away the airhorn. “... Ah, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do something like that to you. You’re too cute, hehe.”
“I’m not above this, though.” She reaches back into her bag and pulls out a spray bottle filled with water… before giving Yukari’s face a couple of quick spritzes.
That quiet, tranquil expression to Mima seemed almost a timeless representation of the relationship she shared with Maribel quickly contorted into one of disgust. After a moment of being pelted with spray after spray of water droplets, Yukari finally was roused from her sleep, a squinty, grouchy mess.
“Who..? Urgh…” She mumbled with a groan. When Yukari saw Renko, immaculately constructed before her with enough accuracy to convince her she came straight from her memories, she froze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “... Renko?”
“Hehe… Yep, it’s me! Your best friend. Best girl-friend, even. That is, a girl who is also a friend. Not a girlfriend, you know? Aha… Unless? Kidding, kidding.” Mima flashed an easy smile. “Glad you’re awake. Hey, before you say anything else—how do I look? I look cute, right? I know we’re in the middle of saving the world and everything, but I’ve actually been spending a lot of time taking care of my appearance.”
As Mima continued to ramble on and Yukari continued to wake up, her expression made a slow and gradual pivot. Where at first Yukari couldn’t hide her bemusement from her face—as well as that strange pained expression someone would have, seeing a loved one they have long since finished mourning appear upon their doorstep—she eventually came to settle on an empty stare and a neutral, apathetic expression. It hurt Mima a little, seeing such a radical turn in her demeanor.
“Oh,” Yukari muttered. “It’s just you.”
Mima didn’t think she intended it, but there was a layer of latent annoyance in her words. Or maybe it was disappointment? A thousand years or more apart did a lot to shift their relationship. That much was clear—and it hurt.
Yukari took a moment to look Mima up and down. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she delivered an unceremonious answer. “You look fine.”
Mima sighed in response. “Hey, I’ll take it.”
“More importantly…” As Yukari continued, she craned her neck around to absorb every detail of her surroundings: everything from the light fixtures above to the tables that were so meticulously set and prepared. “... Where are we?”
Her eyes naturally gravitated toward the front counter and the kitchen section that was just behind—meticulously wrapped burgers and fresh fries, set underneath heat lamps… it was as if they were all made recently. But that wasn’t even the strangest detail Yukari’s eyes were able to pick out. Upon one of the tables was a tray, filled with half eaten food—as if the patrons ceased to exist in the middle of their meal. This was beyond a mere liminal space, where it gave the impression of once being a place where people gathered—it was closer in relation to the scene of an ongoing disaster, where people had left in a hurry.
In that way, it didn’t carry much of the surreal quality of a place no longer meant for humans—it more so felt like a place with a cursed history, its sinister and mysterious narrative etched into its skin and flesh through the vestiges of human presence. Mima could tell, being a ghost herself, there was more to this place than the physical construction. As to what ‘more’ was, she could not place.
She could tell Yukari was thinking something similar by the way she walked around and took in the feeling of the place. Her posture was rigid and cautious, but not necessarily ready and waiting for danger. There was a quiet dread to the things that weren’t, but should’ve been.
“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” Mima replied, following Yukari around with her arms folded behind her back. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but… I think we’re back in Tokyo.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Yukari replied. She walked over to the table with the food and traced a finger across its top. No dust clung to the surface of her finger, as if the tabletop had recently been cleaned. She brought the back of her palm close to the food. It was still radiating just a little bit of heat, as if it had been freshly served. “That’s the part that scares me.”
“... Assuming this is all very much real, this must be Koishi’s doing,” Yukari declared, taking a moment to look down at herself. As she flexed her fingers, her eyes narrowed. Mima figured she might’ve just realized she had been healed and mysteriously back to her usual outfit. She still looked younger and weaker than she once was, but there was an undeniable, albeit subtle increase in the vitality she seemed to convey. As Yukari’s eyes wandered to the empty city street outside, Mima couldn’t help but notice that expression—that idle, faraway gaze that looked like Yukari had trapped herself in a vivid daydream. She couldn’t help but realize how much Maribel had changed—and yet stayed the same.
“Whatcha thinking, Merry?” Mima tried, shuffling up to Yukari’s side.
“Yukari.”
“Oh. Right. Ha, that’s my bad. My bad…”
“I’m thinking: why Tokyo specifically?” With a wave of her hand, Yukari opened a gap next to her. Through that little tear in reality was a bird’s eye view of the whole city, as well as the infinite desert that surrounded it. “... There must be some significance to this location, but I couldn’t possibly imagine what it could be. Not right now, knowing what we know.”
“Hey, I grew up in Tokyo, you know? Maybe it has something to do with that? And… y’know, we were teaching in Tokyo before…” Mima gestured vaguely around herself. “... Everything, I guess. Maybe Koishi’s reacting to our memories.”
“Could be. Could just as easily be something related to Koishi. Could be nothing at all.” The view through the gap eventually fizzled out, leaving nothing but the inky blackness of the pocket dimension Yukari held dominion over. She let out a sigh before stitching the gap closed with a wave of her hand. “I’d suggest we keep on moving. Collect as much information as we can about this place. But only what we need—the plan is still largely the same. There’s no telling when she will appear again. Best be as quick about it as we can.”
“Oh. Uh… Alright. That’s cool.”
“... What?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong? You disagree?”
“Oh no, ah…” A sheepish grin crawled across Mima’s face. “I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed, is all. It’s just… you know, a huge city missing all of its people is pretty mysterious, huh? Don’t you want to do more exploring? Poke around a bit and take in the sights? Like we used to—just one last time?”
There was an unsettling period of silence where Yukari stared straight through Mima with that flat look. She averted her eyes for a passing moment. When Yukari returned her gaze to Mima, it was steely and cold. “No. Neither of us are kids anymore. We have duties and responsibilities that we can not abandon. Not for anything.”
Yukari brushed past Mima. The gesture wasn’t very rough at all, but Mima felt it come at her hard. As Yukari opened the door, she looked back at Mima and gestured to her to follow.
“Let’s go.”
Orin did not want much from life.
There was Satori, her master, who she cared about deeply. There was Okuu, her best friend, who she loved. There was Koishi, the younger sister of her master, who she felt obligated to take care of. And of course, there was her job of transporting corpses, which she could do endlessly and without tiring. Those things more or less encompassed everything she cared about—Orin was a simple person.
So as she crawled out the emergency hatch located at the top of the ship her master had so recklessly buried into a sand dune, she couldn’t help but feel so hopelessly out of her depth. With a groan, she hoisted herself over the lip of the hatch before losing her balance and tumbling over.
As she tumbled downward, bumping her head against every little edge the ship had on her way down, the visor to her suit cracked and then shattered. But as she flopped down into the warm sand, her arms and legs spread in a state of absolute fatigue, she couldn’t really bring herself to care about the warning tones in her helmet—or the fact she was able to breathe the air here, in what used to be the void. Frankly, all she could think about was how much she wanted to go home.
“Orin! Are you okay?” A familiar voice called from somewhere outside her field of vision. It was followed by the hasty clattering of boots on metal as they no doubt clambered down the ship in a hurry.
All Orin could offer in response was a weak grunt and the extension of a thumbs up.
“Are… are you insane?” Another voice called soon after, all breathless and hoarse. It cracked with exertion, as if it had already been worn out by so much screaming. “Satori, what form of devil possessed you to do that? We could’ve all died!”
Satori, of course, didn’t respond. Not before she entered Orin’s field of view, her own helmet long since thrown away. Her face was etched with a rare look of concern, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief when she saw Orin manage a weak smile. Wordlessly, Satori jostled off the smashed helmet from Orin’s suit and brushed away any remaining debris… before pulling her into a tight embrace.
Orin, dazed and shocked from the crash, could manage little else than to rest her head upon her master’s shoulders as she was pulled in. But through whatever stores of energy she had left, she managed to raise her arms and wrap them around in loose reciprocation.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
Satori pulled back from the hug, but stayed kneeling by Orin’s side. Cautiously, she looked to the horizon, as if she had caught a vanishing glimpse of something stalking them from behind the shifting sands. She extended an elbow for Orin to grab on to. “Let’s go. Can you stand?”
“I… I think so,” Orin mumbled, hooking one of her arms around Satori’s elbow and placing a hand on her shoulder for support. Her master lifted, and in response Orin tried her best to stumble onto her feet, with mixed results. As she straightened herself out with the help of Satori, she heard her bones shift and crackle in strange ways—followed by an absolute lightning strike of localized pain in the leg and the fuzzy static that came to replace it.
After a sharp intake of breath and a pained wince, Orin settled into a decidedly unconvincing posture—she plastered a smile on her face and shifted all of her weight onto the other leg in a poor imitation of nonchalance, but Satori’s face only got graver. It broke Orin’s heart. For a moment, Orin tried to separate herself from her master so she could stand on her own—but Satori only squeezed her in closer, as if she would’ve lost Orin the second she let go.
That didn’t surprise Orin much. She knew better than anyone that the events one year ago were still fresh in her master’s mind. Even now, it haunted her every action, and now the consequences were starting to catch up with everyone involved. But to Orin, that didn’t matter. It never did—not so long as Satori was her master, and Orin was her pet. Satori could march to the deepest pit of Hell, pick a fight with a God, oppose reality itself… and Orin would march along right beside her, no matter what.
Patchouli, on the other hand, did not share the same sentiment. She marched up to the two, at least temporarily uncaring of the fantastical environment they found themselves in, and went straight to airing out her grievances.
“Recklessly engaging with Toyohime like that, against all better logic… one day, and this day might very well come sooner than you think, your obsession with that cursed woman will hurt someone you care about,” Patchouli snapped. As she looked to Orin, whose body was riddled with evidence of blunt trauma, her expression softened. “... It already has.”
“As if we had any other choice. It was our best shot to kill her, once and for all,” Satori replied, stone-faced and cold. “... Besides, let Orin speak for herself. As if you know what she does and doesn’t wish for.”
“... Orin wasn’t the only person who got hurt. Or killed.”
“It just so happens that Eirin conveniently falls outside my definition of ‘people I care about.’ I fail to see the issue.” Satori snorted with disgust, as if offended by the mere implication. Orin wanted to speak up and cut between the fighting, but couldn’t find the strength to oppose her own master. “That aside, who says I was the one who got her killed? She got herself killed, following her own incomprehensible mess of half-baked ideas and strategies. What are you coming at me for?”
“How could you be so cold toward someone like her? Especially since we were all fighting out there together, as comrades? Have you no shame?”
“I’ve no love for her. Not after what she did to my sister.” Satori stared straight into Patchouli’s eyes. Sometimes her master was like this—staring straight ahead through a person, as if judging the content of their soul itself. Sometimes, this was literally the case, given that she made liberal use of her opened third eye. “We might be fighting beside each other, but we’re fighting for completely different things. Yukari, Eirin, Kaguya, even you and I—we’re all fighting for something different. Those are just the facts. Just as it was a fact that Koakuma had darkness in her heart. It’s that kind of fact.”
“How cynical. Aren’t we friends?”
Satori fixed Patchouli with a steady glare as she thought through her answer. Even with an open eye, Orin found her master’s thought process difficult to parse.
“... No. We aren’t,” Satori settled. “It’s not a secret—I’m fighting to get my sister back. I’m fighting to kill the person who turned her into a monster. I’m fighting to protect my family. You are doing none of those things—you’re fighting for a more abstract reason: protecting the world, or preventing human suffering, or whatever other justification you assign to your actions. It’s admirable, but recognize that It’s only by convenience that we’re here, helping each other out.”
“... Is that right?” Patchouli muttered under her breath. “Then if it came between Yukari, or Eirin, or me, or anyone else… and your family. Who would you choose?”
Silence.
“It’s best to be honest with ourselves. It saves us the heartache.”
“I see.”
In the silence that came after, the atmosphere seemed to become heavier. Orin spent each passing beat being suffocated by the pressure. Her eyes darted from Patchouli to her master, and then back again.
“Er…” Orin started. “Let’s ah… could we just figure out what we’re going to do next, maybe? Without fighting—that would be nice.”
“Good plan, Orin,” Satori said. Though strangely enough, she wouldn’t take her eyes off of Patchouli. “I’m not quite sure what we would do without you.”
Patchouli looked away. Orin couldn’t help but feel vaguely responsible—though the second the thought even popped into mind, Satori squeezed a little tighter, as if in reassurance.
“... There’s no use in arguing,” Patchouli said with a heavy sigh. “Or rather, it’s a subject for later, when we aren’t all in danger. For now, I agree—we should figure out our next steps.”
The guns had long since run quiet.
Those satellites—their powerful bodies forged by the greatest minds, cast in the strongest metals, and mounted with the fiercest weapons humanity could muster—how could they have possibly matched the horror of God’s wrath? They could never, and for their hubris, their bodies and their souls were scattered and broken as a million glittering lights upon the ocean.
Those were the kinds of things Kaguya Houraisan thought about as she sat beside a flickering fire, her only source of light deep in the darkness of a desert night, not a few meters from the turned and battered wreckage of the CNS Beyond the Sun. In the void, It was battered by unseen force, turned three times—and upon the fourth, struck down and consumed by the void, as was the divine will of God. To its crew, it might have seemed like nothing less than a castigation of divine nature—but Kaguya knew it was nothing more than the temper tantrum of a child. As infant children must necessarily cry, Koishi must necessarily kill—it was her unconscious will.
Woe upon humanity, as its greatest accomplishment was brought low and made worthless before a child. Her own child. What a dubious honor it was—being the mother of such a terrifying, omnipresent killer.
Kaguya was on the ship when it was attacked by Toyohime. She was there to see Eirin march on to meet her. And she was there to see her die. It didn’t bother Kaguya too much—after all, she had watched Eirin die countless times. She will likely watch her die countless more, before all is said and done. But it was there, seized by the temporary shock, that Kaguya lost consciousness. When she woke up, she was deep within the fresh wreckage of humanity’s greatest weapon—alone. On what happened to her crew, and why Kaguya was spared, she could only make guesses.
With no direction and no plan, Kaguya spent what felt like hours wandering the claustrophobic halls of that great metal cage of a ship. But she was alone. Alone in such a way that not even the impression of humanity remained. Even the spot where she saw three men become atomized by Toyohime’s attack, which had burnt dark impressions of their silhouettes into the steel, was mysteriously void of any sign they were killed at all. The damage remained, but the people were gone—erased from existence in a way only God could manage.
When she eventually emerged from the dark recesses of the ship into a darker night, with nothing but the stars above and the inexplicable ground below, she could do nothing but start a simple fire. The night was cold, and she had a feeling it would be long. Warmth would be needed.
This, alone and huddled by a dying fire, must have been the end. Kaguya shifted closer to the flame, and held her knees closer to her chest. She didn’t know what to do. When her own daughter had sought her out, she didn’t know what to say. All she could do was recognize—that in pursuit of an easy life, she had made things so much worse. She wondered if it was too late to make things right between herself and Koishi. If Kaguya had looked up to her daughter now, and said sorry, would she hear? Would she care?
She wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.
As she stared at the stars above, Kaguya heard the shuffling of boots displacing the sand. The sounds came in an irregular, halting motion. When it came to a stop, Kaguya lowered her gaze to the figure who stood at the edge of her fire’s light.
A moon rabbit in a pilot suit, all ripped up, tattered, and blackened by combat. In the gaps of her suit, her skin had melted away from severe burns—and froze in place, creating large patches of gangrenous tissue that covered her body. As Kaguya’s eyes drifted downward, she noticed a patch of body that had a view to the other side. Somehow, by some miracle of medicine, the wound remained stable and closed.
Her face was concealed by her helmet, tinted and patterned by a spider web of cracks, but by the way she stood, so still and lopsided, Kaguya had the impression of an empty gaze just behind the facade.
The moon rabbit carried in her left hand a revolver, its chambers empty and on display as the mechanism that connected the grip to the top half of the hung loose. In her other hand, was an ax, splintered in half at the handle from excessive use and its blade caked in a thick layer of blood.
Without a word, the moon rabbit collapsed into a heap by the fire.
Kaguya rushed to the moon rabbit’s side and, upon removing her helmet, froze.
Atonement—she wondered if it was even possible.
Previous Chapter:
Interim Chapter 11

Platform(s): PC I believe (I watched a YouTube play it)
Genre: Horror
Estimated year of release: around 2014 (peak YouTube game plays I think)
Graphics art style: semi realistic gore, tub full of blood, would show pictures of gore, dark and old setting. Mostly dark colors like black and grey but would have deep blood red to contrast the gore
Notable characters: I don’t remember other characters, you just played as the character
Notable gameplay mechanics: you would pick things up and look at them closer, could be pictures or items, would be like a puzzle to find clues to open safes or doors. Would keep items and use them to open other areas or escape. You use arrows to move to different rooms
Other details: Okay this is just going to be a description if what I remember because I genuinely can't find it. It's an older horror game where you click arrows to go through an old house and there are puzzles throughout the house to keep moving on. I don't remember if this is a different game from the same creator or not but later on you end up at another house and in the vents a body pops up. Then you end up at a church and realize the apocalypse is about to happen? A similar game style to another game where you go through a mansion with all of these weird things to do an interview or something and you end up going into a maze finding a cabin where there is a man murdered? Please help me I'm desperate to find the names of them

I'm working on a theory about a movie I recently watched. And I have exhausted all google searches. I need to know how many bullets delaware police carried in their guns in 1999. The guns they would use carry 10-15 rounds, however in some states/municipalities police are not allowed to fill their guns up all the way.
The theory if you are interested- the main character is shot in the head in the last scene, but the gun used had fired a number of rounds before that, and we do not see the main character dead or even dying. Im thinking an interesting take is that the character might not have died, if the policemans gun had fired all its rounds.
I'm not a gun-bro I swear I'm just a nerd

one of The Best fucking moments that Made me die inside 🤣

I’ve decided to get back into colored pencil after a few years of not touching them. I’ve spent the past two days having a blast, but now my left hand is numb and my neck is KILLING me. I don’t remember having this much pain when I did art shows in highschool lol. Any advice for helping the current pain/preventing in the future?

I have tried Solasta a handful of times now, not getting super far each time. I was extremely excited when I found out about an actual Turn Based TTRPG Video Game adaptation with multiplayer that wasn't made by Larian/in early Access. I have tried a few different party comps and played with friends and one thing that keeps making me drop the game is how boring combat ends up being. And it feels like I'm missing out especially since the combat is one of the most praised things I see for the game everywhere. IDK if it's because it's based on 5e (although I really don't have experience with 5e but have heard it actually fixes some of the more common complaints) or because games like Divinity OS2 and TTRPGs like PF2 are just a better fit for me personally (I really enjoy action points and the importance of positioning) but Solasta just feels so bad to actually play to me.
In my experience, most of the combats have been getting into a position, maybe buffing to get an easy advantage or disadvantage, then attacking over and over and over as a martial, or just throwing out spells that don't really change things up too much as a caster. And to my understanding that's kind of how it is low level, which is okay. But I found later levels (which admittedly I didn't get very far into the later levels but the little I did play) to be more of the same with maybe one or two extra situational actions/abilities but nothing really exciting, especially as a martial. Casters get better spells ofc which is nice but I also just didn't find them interesting when interacting with everything else but that may be a preference thing. I do enjoy how the verticality is important, but again, once you're in position I found it not really doing much.
The situation that clinched it for me: I was either a Ranger or Rogue (I honestly forget but I had a bow) and moved myself to a spot above most enemies. My two friends were down with both enemies and the final player character I controlled was sneaking around. Bow guy spent the rest of the combat in that spot shooting enemies and none came towards him or really even could. Sneaking guy just started fighting them after the first attack, both friends moved a bit and started casting. We spent the rest of the fight like that just sorta clicking the attack buttons and won. It didn't take super long but also wasn't really fast either and we were all just sort of bored with things by that point.
That was part of the longest game with a single party I played (which was with those 2 friends with me controlling 2 characters) and we basically played until we TPKed (Not from bad tactics mind you, we were just so bored we deliberately started playing recklessly until it eventually caught up to us). Both friends also came to the same conclusion as me that the combat was just boring and there wasn't much to actually do (We all enjoy tactical and fantasy games especially cooperative ones, but just felt there wasn't much to this. Rogue sneak attack, ranger attacking from range, using some not too notable spell, getting disadvantage or advantage. It felt like once we knew the basic gist, it was so easy to do and there wasn't really more to it or any sort of choice in combat to make things more interesting. It just felt boring with not too much depth which I understand I may be wrong on but I'm not sure what we were doing wrong or could do differently cuz we were on a harder difficulty and getting past encounters pretty easily for the most part. Again none of us have played or have any 5e experience really so idk how bigger or smaller it might make this problem)
I don't want to be negative, (and hopefully this isn't too negative, I just haven't ever found anything with similar critiques) and I really really want to like this game, but I just don't know what I'm missing or if this is just a game that isn't for me. I love turn based games, I love TTRPG fantasy worlds, I love having classes and races and cool party compositions, I want to love this but I wish I knew why I didn't

I (23F) have been dating my boyfriend (24M) on and off for around 5 years now.
A little backstory:
I grew up in an abusive, controlling household. I was never given an opportunity to find myself or become independent. Every move I made was completely monitored. Even at 18, I couldn't leave the house without my mother watching me like a hawk.
My boyfriend is the only person willing to put up with all of that. In addition to her always watching every interaction (even going so far as to monitor our messages!), she's very offensive and has insulted him multiple times.
I've known for a time that the only reason I'm really with him is because I don't have any other choice. Who else would choose to be with someone like me? I'm not attractive enough either to be worth all the bother.
We date on and off because I have commitment issues and trauma from my parents' marriage. Honestly, I feel that they should have divorced, but they're very religious and conservative and believe that a child should always grow up within the sanctity of marriage with two parents. To do otherwise would be damning the child to the flames of hell or some bullshit like that. So as a result, I grew up seeing my father yell and hurt my mother while I hid in the bathroom. My mother has also trauma dumped on me multiple times growing up about how my father would throw hot soup or water on her when he was mad (HE FIRST DID THIS ON THEIR HONEYMOON!). She never left him because "divorce is a sin". She was a lawyer and he even made her leave her practice.
As a result, I ended up with a very warped view of love and marriage. I constantly break up with him and get back together with him because of fears of ending up like my mother.
Lately, I've been slowly getting some of my freedom back. At this point I realized that I'm just stringing my boyfriend along, and I feel terrible.
I realized it yesterday when he made a joke about me being the breadwinner and he'd be a househusband. To clarify, when I was 16, I said I'd want to be the sole provider of the family. This comes from my experience with my father. Because he controlled the finances of the house, my mother had no way of going against what he wanted. Because all resources came from him, his rule was law in the house.
That made me believe that the only way to escape abuse was by being the one controlling finances. I was adamant and told my boyfriend that I'd want him to he a househusband and take care of the house while I be a provider.
That was years ago. Since then, I've started to develop a much healthier view of relationships. My boyfriend and I graduated college, and while I was still stuck with my family that didn't allow me independence or financial freedom, he was able to get a job, move out, and provide for himself.
Maturing since I was 16 and scared made me realize that maybe being the breadwinner isn't the only way to escape abuse. I've also been seeing all my other friends with healthy relationships where the man spoils the girl and pays for all the dates and brings her home and everything. I'm always the one taking care of myself and seeing all of that looked so romantic. I wanted that for myself. Like, its a way to feel loved outside of being abused.
Since my boyfriend got money, he's been able to take me out on dates, buy me gifts, etc. It's so nice being spoiled and taken cared of and loved, I realize.
Then he brought up a few days ago my initial plan again to be a breadwinner and how it's funny that he's the one spending, when the plan was for him to be the one cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the kids. For context, I FINALLY was able to get a good paying job, so he brought up that maybe now I can be the breadwinner.
I realized I don't want that anymore.
Also, since I mentioned, we've been on and off. He dates other women in the periods that we're off, and I get so jealous and hurt of them that he ends up breaking up with them and going back to me.
I realize that I'm just stringing him along. I don't love him anymore, but every time there's a new woman, I get so jealous and possessive and hurt. I don't think I want to marry someone like him, but I'm too far deep in now.
If I let him go, I'll just die of jealousy if there's a new woman (especially since he has the freedom to go out and meet new people, while I can't!). I practically have no one other than him.
So now I'm just keeping him around until I can fully gain my freedom and meet other people. I don't want him in the end, in all honesty. I don't want the kind of life he was expecting he'd have. He's just a placeholder for me now that's comfortable until I find the person I'm ready to settle down with.
I'm a terrible fucking person for this and something is seriously wrong with me. I'd get therapy for this bullshit, but therapy is expensive.
PS please don't post this anywhere else like on tiktok or Facebook. I plan to either get the courage to talk to him about this or seek professional help to figure my shit out. The last thing I'd want is for him to find out about my true feelings from the internet.

I fear everything anytime I leave the house I have to go through a cycle of panicked sweats and have to accept that I may end up dying because I chose to go out for a couple hours. I’m a 21 year old NEET with 0 human skills I haven’t done anything since I left school and just stare at my phone all day getting high when I somehow can afford it. I don’t want to die but I don’t want to exist I don’t feel any strong connection to those around me but at the same time I have immense feelings towards them. I know that I chose to stay this way and that if I truly wanted to I could either kill myself or get my shit together but instead I stay in this limbo of doing nothing.

what do you do when your starving and none of the goverment services work?
why is my ability to live dictated by the profit motive of small business and corporate greed?
I want out so bad. I never tried to be on the top so why did I fall so hard. I'm being punished for being a human.
what can I do please, I have maybe 20$ between me and my lover. we have been stealing food just to make it by and nobody will hire either of us, and I can't even tell why.
are we going to die because ebt service are completely automated and there is no person to talk to. am I going to jail because I can't afford to feed children that aren't even mine.
aaaaaa!aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahxhdjjsnnndms
aahf27
why is it so hard to die no?

This fanfiction was located on Wattpad. The main character name was Atticus smith. Basically, in the fanfiction the world gets bombed and like gangs start doing a uprising. The main character joins this gang, and in this one scene he like goes to get his friend who got kidnapped by another gang and he like steals a car and that whole thing happens.
I don’t really remember this fanfic because I read this almost 5-6 years ago, so my memory is very vague. But I do remember that the main character was gay I think and I think he was in a poly relationship but I think it was just the beginning of it because I don’t remember what happens after that.
Another key moment that I remember is that the main character came out to his parents and they didn’t really take it well so he left with his boyfriend and like they go to town or something and then the bomb start happening and then his boyfriend dies. I think he gets crushed by a building.
Another thing I remember is that they find out that his sister is actually alive and she’s in another gang as like a medical person or something so yeah.
please help me find out this fanfiction, I’m so curious.

Dear Mom and Dad,
What do you do on the bad days; when I’m not around for you to pour your heart out to? Do you keep it bottled up inside of you? That’s what I think you do. You don’t trust anyone to talk to them, and you passed it onto me unfortunately. I mean sure I write in my diary, for some form of coping, but am I terrified to go to a therapist because they’ll refer me to the mental hospital? Yes. But I wish we had the relationship that I could talk to you. I know you always say that I can, but let’s look at it from my perspective and I know this sounds selfish but bear with me here. Throughout my life, at least what I can remember, it’s been about my sister, about what she can and can’t handle, her problems, and how to deal with them. In some ways I was given more leeway than her because you trusted me, but you also held me to much higher expectations than her. That one time I got pulled over, I wasn’t crying because of stress or interacting with cops, I don’t care about that. I was mad at myself for disappointing you; I was mad at myself for adding another problem to your plate, especially you mom, with my dad being away and my sister’s issues still going on. You see, because of the standard you held me at, whether or not it was in my head or not, that standard was one I set myself on as well. Not going to you all with my problems because my sister’s were stressing you out already was just one of them.
I have a question. The first time I cut myself, did you believe the lies spewing out of my mouth. What about the second time, or the third time, or fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth? Today I made my tenth. Did you really believe that I got a 4-inch cut on my arm from a bookshelf? Or did you choose to ignore it? Did you really believe I had my life together that much? That I was that ok? That I never had any struggles in my life? How could you? I’m sorry. You know I never blamed my sister, she is and was obviously going through something. I don’t really blame you all that much either, because you’re human and you make mistakes too, no one is perfect, except I had to be. You see, you never asked me really how I was feeling, the few times you did after an awkward ok from me, you left. You never seemed to agonized over what was going on inside my brain as much as you did my sister’s. Even now in university, whenever I come back it seems like we have to talk about my sister, and I don’t mind that, I just wish I was included in there somewhere too.
I feel empty. All the time, unless I’m with my dog. University is a shit show, because suddenly I don’t know how to operate and I’m too scared to tell you that I can’t do this, that I want a break, that I just want to go to sleep forever, that I want to die. It’s why sometimes I don’t call you for more than a week. I feels o depressed and lifeless and I don’t want you to see that.
You know, mom, you always talk about how I’m like you in regards to friends, and caring more than other people, and being picky in who I’m friends with. But whenever you say that it cuts me open because I don’t want to be like you. Now before you get sad look at this way, I have heard you on countless occasions being utterly despaired that you have no friends you can talk to, and how much you wish you hadn’t become a stay-at-home mom, or even gotten married so young. So no, I’m sorry but I don’t want to be like you but I also don’t want to be like dad.
It's so hard. So fucking hard. Surprise I curse, not in front of you though because that would just be ruining your image of me. Knowing that I’m not enough for anyone. Not enough for you all unless I exceed your expectations; not enough for any of the friends I meet; not enough for any guy to even ask me out, just not enough. The only person that I sometimes feel like I’m enough to, besides my dog of course, is my friend from high school. But there are many times where I haven’t felt like enough there either, which was primarily the reason we stopped being friends a couple of times. I’d like to say I stopped caring about those things, but honestly, I just stopped letting other people see I care, because all that made me feel was weak and them pulling away. So why bother right?
The only thing I resent you both for, however, is how showing kindness is hard for me sometimes. When I was growing up, many times if something happened to another person you just told me to ignore it. I know it was more a security thing because the world is dangerous and all that. But you never showed me how to be good. How to be kind to strangers. That wall you kept saying I had up mom, you’re the one that gave me the bricks to build it in the first place.
I think I stopped living during my senior year of high school, and I don’t think I’ve come back to life since.
Sincerely,
Your daughter

22.03.23: Strength Practice
4 ROUNDS. NO REST BETWEEN EXERCISE. 120s BETWEEN ROUNDS.
Total Training Time: 49:12
Single Arm KB Complex ⬇️ +28kg Bell
12 Single Arm KB Swings
12 Single Arm KB Snatches
12 Single Arm KB Overhead Squats
12 Single Arm KB Get Up Press
X4 - 192 total reps
Finisher: ⬇️ +2x32kg Kettlebells
2 Cleans
1 Half Snatch
1 Jerk
1 Strict Press
X5 EMOM - 25 total reps
Some Bottoms Up Cleans (24kg)
2 Pump Burpees - Bodyweight
120 Burpees, 240 Pushups
Ring Mixed Grip Pullups - Bodyweight
40 total reps
Jump Rope - 1 pound rope - High Intensity
5:15 minutes total
Verses for today:
Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. Hereby know ye the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God: and every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world. Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world. They are of the world: therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth them. We are of God: he that knoweth God heareth us; he that is not of God heareth not us. Hereby know we the spirit of truth, and the spirit of error. Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another. No man hath seen God at any time. If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us. Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in us, because he hath given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world. Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God.
1 John 4:1‭-‬15 KJV
The Lord's Prayer
Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us, not into temptation. But deliver us from evil. For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory. Forever and ever. In Jesus Christ's Holy name I pray.
Amen.
Father, help me put on the Full Armor of God & protect me & my family from the wiles of the evil one.
Halleluyah!

So, like the cringe goblin I am, I wrote a song about wanting to be friends with Markiplier. However, the lyrics are vague enough that they could be about any celebrity or influencer. I am not sure if this song will come off as creepy or hilarious. I recorded my vocals, but I am an amateur at singing, recording, and probably at life in general. I will post the lyrics here, and if enough people want to hear it, I will post myself singing the song. I don't have any instrumentals to go with it yet. Perhaps someone here could help me with that.
Be Your Friend By Gravity
l wish that I could be your friend, be your friend But I know I’m not your friend, I’m just a fan. That’s who I am. I’ll probably only ever shake your hand. And that’s the end. Oh, I know I’ll never get to be your friend.
I wish that I could be your friend, be your friend. But I know that if we’d ever met I’d be starstruck and laugh just like an idiot, And i’d be an embarrassment. I’m not your friend, not your friend. But I really wish that I could be your friend.
Be your friend, just a friend, but I know I’ll never get to be your friend.
You just happened to be at the right place at the right time, And realized you had all thar talent inside you, you could mine. Trying absolutely anything that you think you might like, And you shined. And it really makes me want to be your friend.
Be your friend, just a friend, but I know I’ll never get to be your friend.
And I know that there are millions of us probably thinking the same thing. Oh, I know that is far too much to put on just one human being. And I think you carry all that sway and influence so gracefully, And I can’t help but wish that I was your friend.
Be your friend, just a friend. But I know I’ll never get to be your friend.
Oh, I promise I’m not being weird! Platonic is what I am aiming for. I’m married with three kids, and I know they are the only ones that I’d die for. If it ever came down to them or you I promise that I would shoot you to save their lives.
But with all that being said…
I really wish that I could be your friend.
So, what do you think?

https://www.moxfield.com/decks/oSabceN83Ue2hJPuL1yHKA
I used to run [[Athreos, God of Passage]] as a [[Rat Colony][ commander, one of my beloved iterations of my rat deck, but it's been a long time since I've pulled Athreos out of the binder and into a deck box.
After wanting to brew a deck based on a [[Shadowborn Apostle]] engine and already feeling nostalgic for Athreos, the two cards inherent synergies made me decide to try and build something.
I've been playing the game for quite a while. I'm no Master Craftsman or anything, but I've found the rhythm for brewing that works best with my playstyle. Ultimately, I always start with focusing on my lands, ramp, card draw, and interaction pieces, then work on value and synergy, adding and taking away to ensure those previous pieces are not only strong enough to matter in the deck, but that they're synergistic with the deck as a whole. I'm a control/combo player at heart (kind of Midrange-ish?) and always run decks that have legitimate ways to win the game, pieces to ensure I keep drawing cards and have more resources to my opponent's, plenty of Mana to cast those cards, and ways to interact with my opponent's threats and keep them from winning instead.
The only problem with this deck is that while Shadowborn Apostle is inherently a straight forward card, deck construction around it has bot been. At all. Coming to understand how many I needed (31, as 30 allows for 5 activations off of a full Thrumming Stone pull and, as far as I'm aware, gives me, generally, a near 62% chance to get every Shadowpostle off of one Thrumming Stone trigger, with the 31st enabling [[Secret Salvage]].
Due to this inherent and massive limitation, it was quite tough to put a list together on Moxfield and with the price of the cards I don't already have I want to ensure I have confidence in the list even if I know it can be improved as time goes on.
I'm worried I don't have enough ramp, draw, Interaction, or a way to put a crucial piece to Tutor with Shadowpostle, like [[Razaketh, the Foul-Blooded]] back into the deck should I draw it early.
How do you manage unorthodox deckbuikds that you still want to be consistent and strong?
How would/did/ you brew Arhreos Shadowpostles and why?
https://www.moxfield.com/decks/oSabceN83Ue2hJPuL1yHKA
TL;DR - Need feedback on Athreos Shadowpostle build.