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wolfishflame[After getting the lowdown from a rather nice lady, a very annoyed-looking young woman is staring balefully at the camera.]
Are you serious.
Are you serious.
Because people keep explaining this Life-Death-Dreaming thing to me and it sounds like bullshit. There are two planes I can be on and I’m apparently not on either of them and that is so much bullshit I have apparently been dropped into the former pasture of a hekatomb of oxen because what the hell.
Look. Look at this. [She holds up her journal with a helpful diagram of a stick figure, a vertical line, and another stick figure, and a double-sided arrow.] My soul can be Waking, or it can be Otherside, or it can occasionally be both at the same time because my life is a dumpster fire. Not this, okay? [She puts the journal down, raises her hand, and taps the labradorite ring she’s wearing.] My soul is not in a rock. Even if it’s a really pretty rock, and I know from pretty rocks.
[Frustratedly:] Like, oh my gods. Every single god I have ever met. All of them. Up to and including Inari-Ōkami. For the love of baby Jesus in his mangery crib. Put me back. I want to speak to the manager. Yeah. The spell manager.
Fix this, Obama.
Are you serious.
Are you serious.
Because people keep explaining this Life-Death-Dreaming thing to me and it sounds like bullshit. There are two planes I can be on and I’m apparently not on either of them and that is so much bullshit I have apparently been dropped into the former pasture of a hekatomb of oxen because what the hell.
Look. Look at this. [She holds up her journal with a helpful diagram of a stick figure, a vertical line, and another stick figure, and a double-sided arrow.] My soul can be Waking, or it can be Otherside, or it can occasionally be both at the same time because my life is a dumpster fire. Not this, okay? [She puts the journal down, raises her hand, and taps the labradorite ring she’s wearing.] My soul is not in a rock. Even if it’s a really pretty rock, and I know from pretty rocks.
[Frustratedly:] Like, oh my gods. Every single god I have ever met. All of them. Up to and including Inari-Ōkami. For the love of baby Jesus in his mangery crib. Put me back. I want to speak to the manager. Yeah. The spell manager.
Fix this, Obama.