#I am sad about the other thing though

[incandescentflower]

Most of ep 33 was centered on love for Zhuo Yichen and honestly, I get it. I love him too. He deserves it.

[starry-bi-sky]

finally giving fem danyal her own au and fulfilling my 'danny is an animal whisperer' agenda at the same time: mother of monsters danyal 2.0

i say "2.0" because TECHNICALLY 'mother of monsters danyal' is an au I made back in June for Dark fem!Danyal (who I promptly named Layal). However, I haven't posted much for her yet, and I like the "mother of monsters" premise too much to leave it only to Layal. Plus Danyal in that au was going to become the mother of monsters anyway, just with significantly less world domination and mass extinction.

'Animal whisperer' Danny has been something I've been thinking about since my latest DP 'wolfpack au' post and it's! So fun to think about, and who no better to assign the idea to than Danyal Al Ghul? Who comes from a family infamously known for their love of animals and nature?

Fem Danyal is just purely self-indulgent. *gestures wildly at her* i just lomvb,,, her,,,, I've only really mentioned her in context of the 'Things in Threes' au/my first Danyal al Ghul au with the facial scar, but she's!!! I love her. She deserves her own au <33

So kill three birds with one stone! Make a post about it.

Anyways, Danny has a large lair. Similar to cult leader danyal, her lair is a giant mountain region resembling nanda parbat with a big temple/palace-like area built into the mountain. It's large, it's overflowing with natural flora, with its own mini-floating islands hovering over some areas, and it's also completely empty.

Danny takes one look at her lair upon first meeting, -- noting that it looked relatively smaller from the outside -- and promptly, with the elegance of an Al Ghul, goes "What the hell??" Because yes, while she does enjoy her own solitude and privacy, this is a bit ridiculous.

For heaven's sake, there's even a massive lake in there! What's she going to do with all this space? Can she make it any smaller? Why is it so big in the first place? This looks borderline like one of the mega-islands!

She finds out later that apparently, the amount of ectoplasm a ghost has can have an effect on the size of their lair. And since she has such a large core, her lair reflects that. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, it's bigger on the inside so it doesn't take up "too much space" on the outside. Don't worry about it too much.

Danyal isn't totally opposed to having such a large lair, she's just... a bit baffled by it. It feels like so much wasted space is all. All this flora and no fauna to enjoy it with. It's practically eerie.

She decorates her temple-palace area, transforming rooms to match her needs as she sees fit. In the center of the inner gardens is a massive tree that she likes to climb, with twisting, winding branches. Sam and Tucker have honorary rooms, even if they can't safely leave the specter speeder for long periods of time, even with proper safety equipment. So does Jazz. Ali (Dani) has one too, but he can actually use that one, and Danny brought him to her lair so he could decorate it himself.

She has a personal garden, but for the most part she lets the flora exist as it is. Too much space to cultivate it en masse anyways.

Skip to a few weeks later, on her next visit to Clockwork. She developed a habit of going to see him semi-regularly just because. She enjoys his wisdom, and he has a lot of stories to tell, and when he's not being the cryptic and esoteric timekeeper, he's a bit goofy.

(pushing my dadwork agenda here,,, i think Danny deserves to go 'hey, Lord Clockwork, do you want me to buy you something' while she's at walmart, only to receive a singular glowing sticky note that says 'cucumber gatorade'.)

(She insists on referring to him with his proper titles even for the most mundane of things because it's proper, but Clockwork sees a future where she eventually calls him "Cee" and by all things in existence is he determined to get there. Anyways,,,)

On her next visit to Clockwork, just as she is about to leave, Clockwork stops her and goes; "Ah, I have something for you. Hold out your hands."

Danny does as such, and Clockwork doesn't give out things often, so her curiosity has spiked to the highest levels. He turns away from her for a moment, using his staff to summon whatever it is he needs, and when he turns around.

He drops a fish into her hands. Granted, a fish in a small glass tank. But a fish nonetheless. A small one, roughly about the size of her finger, with a blue-black, eel-shaped body and four sets of glowing eyes. She can see thin, almost translucent, but spiny fins down its back and the start of bioluminescent markings. It's swimming around in circles in its small container.

"Lord Clockwork." Danyal says all too calmly.

"Yes, Danyal?"

"What is this?"

"That is an adolescent leviathan, Danyal." She’s transfixed onto the tank, but she doesn’t need to see Clockwork’s face to hear the smile he’s stifling.

The myriad of emotions that runs through her all at once threatens to overwhelm her, and she can’t tell if the feelings are negative or positive. So she carefully closes her eyes to breathe in through her nose.

“Clockwork.”

“Ah, I see you’ve dropped formalities.”

She ignores that.

“Why have you given me an adolescent leviathan?”

She's expecting the trickster to look amused when she opens her eyes. Instead, he just looks endeared. "I know you're fond of animals," he says, "and you always look amazed when you come across an animal of the realms. So I thought you might enjoy taking care of the young beast, it's mother is dead so it has no one to care for it."

Oh.

"But, if you don't like it," Clockwork's hands reach out for the tank, "I can simply take it back--"

Danyal shifts the tank out from his reach and hugs it possessively. "I never said that. How do I care for it?"

And so clockwork gives her a list, and when Danyal returns to her lair, she sets up a large tank in her room for the leviathan to swim in -- it's much too small for the lake right now, she thinks. She'll feel better if it's somewhere she can find it. She names him Suhā.

Suhā grows quickly, and by the end of the mortal month she transforms one of the rooms into a large pond for him to swim around in. He's a very loyal beast, recognizing her as it's mother of some kind. Danyal takes great care ensuring that her beastie gets quality care, and Suhā swims to the surface to see her when he senses her in the room.

It spirals from there. Somehow, Pandora catches wind that Clockwork gave her a leviathan, and so the next time Danyal visits the Greater Athens, she gives her a baby chimera. It's eyes are still sealed shut, Danyal can't bring herself to say no. She names the little beastie Firas.

Frostbite hears about it too, and not to be outdone, gives her an animal she's never even heard of. Infinite-realms born, apparently. A fox-like creature with two small horns like an impala, four eyes, and tall legs. The name isn't something she's quite sure how to write down, and she's positive that her friends won't be able to comprehend it. She names her Eira.

Getting the three of them used to each other was... interesting. Suhā tried to eat Firas when Danyal first introduced the two, and they've hated each other ever since. Firas and Eira are seemingly getting along. Her island already feels full enough with the three of them on it.

Of course, that's not the end of it. With her luck, she begins stumbling across other monsters. Realms-borne or otherwise. An injured hydra in the Grecian islands that, through lots of trial and error, Danyal is able to rehabilitate and heal. It routinely comes to visit her afterwards.

A griffin with a broken wing that she moves permanently to the island that likes to keep to itself, but tends to come down when she's near. It gets along best with Firas.

A panther-like monster from the Shades Woods that had six legs and three tails, with ends that reminded her of a venus flytrap. It stuck around the heavy foliage and she can only make out where it was when she saw its golden eyes reflect.

She befriends a young indrik with its leg injured, and much like the hydra it follows her back to her island, and stays there in the mountains. It comes out when she's alone, much like her other beasts.

She receives two more leviathan -- one from clockwork, and one she finds herself while exploring the deeper and darker recesses of the Ghost Zone. It was huddled against the carcass of its mother, and she managed to befriend and get close enough to it to bring it back to her island. Suhā is fully grown by then, with a head bigger than Danyal herself and he still likes to stick her head out of the water for nuzzles when she's near.

He's not very happy with his new siblings, but he's not trying to eat them when she's not looking. So she calls it a win in her book.

And it's not just large beasts either; smaller animals begin popping up when she's not looking. Bird-like creatures and small mammals, and she swears she saw a doe (or something resembling a doe) grazing in the forest while she was walking by.

She takes back with her a lone snake egg once, and it grows so big it wraps around her island and sleeps with its massive head on the mountain beside the temple, like some smaller breed of Jörmungandr.

And on and on it goes. Some of the beasts she comes across never step foot onto her island, some of them follow her back, while others she has to carry back. Not all of the ones that follow her stay, and Danny rehabilitates the injured and releases them when they're fully healed.

It's hectic, and busy, and frankly she loves it. Some of her rehabilitated beasts return to visit her, or to have their children somewhere on the island, or whatever it is they need to do.

She becomes a bit infamous for it. She goes to visit Dorathea once, and as she's walking through the streets she can hear some of the denizens whispering while she walks past.

"Is that her?"

"Her highness' friend? Yes--"

"--that's the one--"

"--Mother of monsters--"

Danny's not sure how to feel about that.

Although, she can't say she's opposed.

Danyal Al Ghul, Mother of monsters, raiser of beasts. It has a nice ring to it.

[naamahdarling]

.

[uncanny-tranny]

It's honestly fucked up to me how everything associated with wellness, like fitness and what have you, is associated with "being skinny."

I told somebody how I wanted to go to the gym after work, and it was surprising to me how they responded, "What for, you're already skinny," as though your only goal at the gym should - or can - be to "get skinny"

Diet culture and whatnot is a fucking disease.

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[rainingincale]

.

[mekanikaltrifle]

the mortifying ordeal of trying to talk to people and absolutely whiffing it

[ectopuppy]

its the boyyyyyyy (and shoko)

brain fell out so i drawed my sonic ocs uwu

[the-mehlwurm]

IN ONLY 2.5 DAYS MY PARENTS WILL BE GONE I AM VERY HAPPY

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — roll with me, henry.

MAY 12, 1956

Prom is so much bigger and so much louder than George had been expecting. 

Balloons and decorations are everywhere, the band is in full swing, and the whole country club is alive with dancing and movement. 

He finds himself drawn to the outskirts of the party, nursing a glass of water he’d gone to get five minutes ago as he runs a hand through his hair, straightening his suit and boutonniere. He keeps his eyes on Lorraine, and, as always, she’s lighting up the room with her dazzling smile, dancing with her friends in her beautiful blue dress that matches his tie. Even though it’s been months since they’d been going steady, he still finds himself wondering what in the world she’s doing with him, marveling at how out of everyone in the whole school she’d picked him. 

She meets his gaze and his heart stops for a moment when she raises her gloved, corsaged hand and waves to him, her gorgeous eyes sparkling in the lights.

He manages an awkward wave, pink dusting his cheeks, wondering if he’d be missed if he ducked into the bathroom and didn’t come out for an hour or so.  

‘George, buddy,’ Marty’s voice pops into his head again. It’s been happening more and more frequently lately, with the protagonists in his stories always managing to have a best friend who knows just what to say at just the right time. It’s some kind of narrative shadow, like a ghost creeping in through the pages, that he just can’t shake. ‘You’re not seriously gonna be a wallflower at your own prom, are ya?’ 

He can almost see him, too, leaning up against the wall like he’s the coolest guy in school. While George is in baby blue, Marty would be in pink, maybe, giving him one of those mysterious and oddly familiar smiles.  

“No,” he defends, weakly. “I needed a minute, that’s all. It’s hot in here and there’s so many people, I just…”

‘I thought we talked about this,’ Marty would respond, squeezing his shoulder. ‘You gotta stop freaking yourself out.’

“I have to stop what?” 

‘You gotta get out of your head, George,’ his inner Marty continues. ‘Look. You love that girl, right?’

“More than anything in the whole world,” George sighs. “No. In the whole universe.”

‘Right, okay. So, if you need a break, why don’t you tell her you’re overwhelmed and you need to get some air? And take her with you this time, got it?’ 

“But… she’s with her friends, I… I wouldn’t want to get in her way…”

‘George.’ Marty gives him a pointed look that reminds George way too much of his mother. ‘She came to the dance with you. She wants to be with you and she wants you to have a good time. She’s not gonna want you to be miserable.’  

“...Okay,” George acquiesces, sighing. “Okay, you’re right, as usual.”

‘Can I get that in writing?’

“What?”

‘Never mind. Now go on, get outta here.’ 

He almost can feel the playful shove forward Marty would give him, but when he looks back at the wall, there’s nobody there. 

Gently, he takes Lorraine’s hand, giving a smile to Helen and Margaret and asking them to excuse them a moment. The two girls giggle and gladly disappear into the crowd.

“...I think I need some air,” he tells her. “I-is that okay?”

“You know, I was just thinking the same thing,” Lorraine reaches up to cup his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone and giving him her sweetest smile, the one she saves just for him. 

The two walk hand in hand out to the porch, closing the French doors behind them, and the relief George feels is overwhelming and immediate as he leans against the porch railing, looking up at the sky. 

“Are you okay?” Lorraine asks, rubbing his back. 

“I am now,” George returns, smiling. “I-I just… I know it sounds silly but I get overwhelmed, sometimes, in big crowds.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all!” Lorraine exclaims, “I understand. Ever since… that night… I don’t really like small spaces, or feeling trapped... So I’m really glad you said what you did.” 

George is pretty convinced Marty was right; this has to be destiny, it just has to be. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “I’d much rather be out here with you.”

“I would, too.” After a moment, Lorraine continues. “You know… you can still hear the music pretty well.”

“That’s right, you can.” George extends his hand and Lorraine takes it.

Together, underneath the blanket of stars, they start to dance.

[chibishortdeath]

Alright I’ve thought about it a bit, let’s rant about just how horrifying the curse Simon was afflicted with would be! Consider this like a part one of sorts for Simon’s Quest analysis stuff cause I could talk about this one game for hours on end—

I’m gonna put a cut here because warning ⚠️ descriptions of decay, gorey stuff, disease, and some pretty bad mental effects. Stay safe guys, don’t read further if you can’t handle those topics!

I’ve seen multiple different descriptions of it from different media and manuals, but, just from this little line alone, this is already a pretty awful fate for the guy. High emphasis on the word decay. That in itself can imply a lot of different things, sometimes all at once. And keep in mind too, he’s had this over the course of 7 years. Simon is probably already an absolute wreck from this wayyyyy before the game even starts.

First of all, getting hit on the back is a bad spot for any kind of infection or spreading disease (closest irl counterpart). That’s awfully close to a lot of vital things you don’t want something spreading to including the spine, lungs, heart, etc etc. Especially for deeper cuts because we’re talking Dracula level injury here, not like a paper cut or something. Hell, too deep of a hit on the back might cause some nerve damage, not to the extent of paralysis in his case, but general chronic pain from a wound that won’t heal properly is uhhh… not great. :( I’ve also seen some media say that the curse causes wounds to not heal, bleeding, the American manual even mentions it effecting the soul, awful stuff. I generally like to think “Bloody Tears” is referring to Simon tbh.

Another thing, with afflictions that cause decay generally the smaller appendages start getting hit hard with it first. It’s the same way for a lot of other conditions; fingers, toes, earlobes, anything protruding like that because the body considers them lowest priority in a survival situation like that and it wouldn’t kill you to lose them. Necrosis especially has things start turning ruddy colors, blacken, and start forming holes in the layers of skin (@ @ ;). Obviously this alone is excruciating. Poor dude has to walk for days on end like that…

And slowly deteriorating could also imply some form of wasting. Fats usually go first, then muscle, which is also very not good when you’ve gotta beat the clock to survive. Scary thing is that the brain is like 60% fats and not immune to any of this whoops—

Something I don’t really see anyone consider very often when talking about the curse (not that I’ve seen many people talk about this 💀) is how absolutely mentally fucked up Simon would be from it. Just the terror of knowing you’re slowly rotting to death would be enough to drive most people into some kind of despair or panic, but seeing and feeling all the gruesome details of it is even worse. Being in constant pain and stress isn’t good for anyone, especially someone who is already weakened from illness. But the sheer mental deterioration this guy would be having from the decay itself oh my god (0_o ). Looking up widespread brain shrinkage like that and uh some of the early signs are already stuff like seizures and extreme headaches. Add the fact that he doesn’t really sleep much for upwards of 7 days and it’d be an absolute miracle if this guy wasn’t hallucinating and/or completely hysterical by this point among other things. I mean, no wonder so much of this game is running around lost and confused, not only are people lying to his face, Simon is probably just barely keeping his shit together the whole time.

So just imagine for a second all of these things combined. No wonder people were terrified of him, he probably genuinely looked like a corpse. Eeeee yikes yikes ouch, poor guy :’’’’’(.

Anyway, Konami where is my horror focused Simon’s Quest remake you cowards—

[moe-broey]

More extremely specific rules in my PokeFEH AU world building:

> To have a shiny Mimikyu would defeat the ENTIRE PURPOSE of Mimikyu itself. ALL of the storytelling of it. Of being something cast aside, thrown away, abandoned, and regarded with fear and scorn. To make something so completely undesirable Desirable, especially through "This One Factor Makes It Special (and therefore "redeems" it of all previous perceptions)" is like, the ANTHESIS of The Purpose of Mimikyu. AND only serves to fuel the deep self-hatred, the feelings of resentment and spite at Being Unwanted when all it ever has longed for ALL it has Made Itself To Be IS to be Wanted. What about all the other Mimikyus? The completely average Mimikyus with Nothing special about them? Who will NOT be Chosen Over the special, sparkly one? The Best One? The most Desirable One?

So Moe has a completely average non-shiny Mimikyu. Okay! 👍 One idea I played with though, is having Moe's handmade custom Mimikyu hoodie be the shiny version. LIKE THIS LITTEN CARD

You can SEE. Whoever lives here, ADORES LITTEN. They have two pet Littens. Neither of them shiny. Like beyond what I was saying previously, shinyness is SO RARE that it would take insane luck or Purpose to find one. This person seems to be an avid Litten enjoyer, but an otherwise completely normal person. So they have merch!!!! They have a little picture OF a shiny Litten!!! They even have an Incinaroar plush, which makes me imagine if they are an average person (not a serious trainer!) -- maybe they don't have the space or resources to care for a whole ass Incinaroar. But they still like it! So they have a plush of it!

So back to Moe, the Mimikyu it has, and its hoodie, the story goes: Moe loves the SHIT out of that fucking thang. Extremely fucking passionate about that thang, both the (un)living (un)breathing(?) Mimikyu that rides on its shoulder and The Concept of Mimikyu, the Pokemon. Fanboy behavior. Okay!!!!! NEXT!

> IF anyone is going to have a shiny of ANYTHING, that shiny Pokemon needs to be completely random. ESPECIALLY a Pokemon that person would not think to have in their party. A Pokemon they have never thought twice about. ENTER

GOAT MOTIF. In a world where I very quickly discovered ohhhhhhh Moe's whole religious angel/devil theming just does not translate At All in a world without Christianity*. Like, if it was born and raised In The World of Pokemon, NOT isekai'd. There is nothing to blaspheme. Okay 👍 So for Moe, who seems to have a proclivity for Ghost types, what business does it have with some fucking grass goat. A chance encounter! And an excuse to match Moe's outfit to shiny Gogoat's color pallette. In my mind, it fit better.... although, like I said earlier, I definitely hit a wall trying to figure out color pallettes........ 🥲💔

*LIKE YEAH we have Arceus as a creator god Pokemon who's even goat-like in design... but there's like. Not at all the same connotations I don't think... and Moe's whole deal is less about the religion itself, and more about how it was hurt by the flavor of it that it was brought up with. I DON'T WANNA INVENT RELIGIOUS BIGOTRY IN POKEMON WORLD............... this DOES beg the question of how the hell did Moe get here as it is today BUT. IT'S FINE I CAN WORK WITH THIS...... it's a creative exercise. And tbh given some of the evil teams we've had maybe there's something in there I could work with. Pokemon has planey off options for oddly specific doomsday cults... it's Fine.... and shitty family situations exist in Any universe ☺️💖

All that said, I may end up making the hoodie the regular pallette, who knows. I hit a wall. I overthunk it. I died. Badly. I still like the Gogoat idea though.

[dr-gaytorius]

NO I'm not mad that my new 32gb of ram won't come in until after I finish the game. It's fine and I'm not brooding

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It