#I feel like I would actually die of burnout if I don’t do these things

[wishingprince]

me realizing that if I keep fretting over my work mistakes that I’ll make my anxiety worse and keep making more mistakes - therefore I need to approach getting better as helping my anxiety first and the improvement in my work will come after

[pseudowho]

hello there! i’ve been following you since the beginning of the year I think and absolutely LOVE your nanami fics (especially the papamin ones)

more of a personal ask: how did you manage to balance your time and stay motivated while doing your studies, growing your career, and having a family? it’s definitely possible (hello, you’re proof) but i sometimes feel overwhelmed with just my undergrad uni coursework.

as a fellow future healthcare worker (hopefully), I get bits of your life and am like omg she’s so smart and inspiring while also being like i am falling behind and should be doing so much more rn if I want to be this cool later in life 🙃. maybe it’s different since I’m across the pond in ‘merica but still, fellow overachiever here so what is rest and reasonable thinking? we don’t know her 😭

I'll be honest, my secret is...

💕✨ High-functioning anxiety, with perfectionism, a little dash of competitiveness, and a constant belief that I am not currently meeting my maximum potential, with the overwhelming sense of responsibility that the weight of making the lives of others around me better, is on my shoulders, because I'm strong and capable ✨💕

Get yourself a dose of that, my love (actually don't, the pressure is absolutely incredible, every day I feel like a failure).

Quite honestly, I'm extremely hard on myself. It makes me burn the emotional candle at both ends if I'm not careful, and I struggle to rest. It takes a lot for me to burn out, but when I do, I burn out like a firework.

Listen, I am one for pushing yourself to be the best that you can be. I would never expect you to damage yourself in the process though. You will have good days, where you can do everything and more, and bad days, where you struggle to do the bare basics. That's fine, and healthy, and okay.

I wouldn't put me on a pedestal. While I'm extremely productive, I will probably die young of stress-related causes. You should focus on your Uni work, without any side-pressures; you'll probably find the Uni work less overwhelming when you're not thinking of all the vicarious side-pressures that you're 'not achieving'.

Between the ages of 21 and 30, I got married, I had three babies, climbed my career ladder while my husband climbed his (and with little to no childcare, just being ships in the night), had a Higuruma-grade burnout meltdown, and started writing for the first time. Not a scrap of my twenties went untouched.

It's too much, I'll be honest.

So...don't aspire to be like me. Take it slowly. None of the things you can achieve come without effort, or quickly. But by the time you turn 30 and look back on your twenties, you will almost certainly have come so, so much further.

Love, as always, and you're doing so well.

-- Haitch xxx

[girlreviews]

Review #293: Last Splash, The Breeders

FUUUUUUUCK I love this record, but it permanently damaged the hearing in my right ear. I caught their show at Blackheath Hall in 2005. I put myself right at the front because I really loved them that much and I wanted — no, needed — to feel the heaving guitar in my chest, it felt like, to even continue on. I was seventeen so you know, everything felt a bit extra. I might as well have been hugging the PA system. Anyway, I didn’t anticipate what would happen during the part in Cannonball where Kim sings (yells) “WANT YOU, LITTLE CUCKOO” into the harmonic mic with all that distortion. Yeah, it’s loud. It’s so loud. My eardrum burst. I’ve had tinnitus ever since. My poor left eardrum suffered the same fate two weeks later at the Reading Fez (RIP), during a Mew show. Respectable, but so much less cool than its audio peeper partner in crime. Wear earplugs my friends. It’s not a joke.

Kim Deal founded The Breeders while The Pixies were on hiatus. Well that’s not true, she had been doing both but never able to focus on The Breeders, until 1993 when went Frank Black abruptly announced The Pixies hiatus live during an interview without informing the other band members first. The hiatus was kind of due burnout from recording three albums in two years and touring the hell out of them. Really though, Kim was not getting along with Frank. Here’s the thing — nobody really gets along with Frank. I love the Pixies. I do. But I will get into a fist fight with anyone who wants to insist that they’re better than The Breeders. They’re not. And the thing is, everyone has listened to The Pixies, while most of those same people haven’t given Kim and her band the same time of day. And you know why that is? Because they’re women who are playing heavy rock music. That’s all there is to it. I won’t hear anymore about it, I won’t say anymore about it and I’m not gonna fucking argue with you or anybody else about it. I’m right. Frank Black is a man, he fronts a band, so he gets paid more attention and listened to, and his shitfuck behavior gets dismissed as creative genius. The songs are great but that doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole, Frank! I’ll die on this hill but I’ll also throw hands before I do. Come at me.

I present to you, No Aloha, which actually, beautifully illustrates my point. It is also both beautiful and knockout punch effortlessly cool. It’s dreamy, and also like “we’re here to fuck shit up”. How can I express that it’s lovely and also ass kicking in its vague but biting commentary on being a woman in the music industry, and trying to make it in a band made up of all women (I think they’ve had a dude drummer in their line up from time to time to be fair, but still). It’s about how people that gave her the time of day during her Pixies tenure don’t give a shit about her now “No bye, no aloha, gone with a rock promoter” and how the perils of womanhood impact her creative output “motherhood means mental freeze, freezeheads, no aloha”. Think about what no aloha means. No hello. No goodbye. The disrespect. Ugh. Fuck yes to putting this out there unabashedly.

Obviously, Cannonball, the song that exploded my right ear, is iconic. If you don’t immediately recognize its bassline then I regret to inform you that you need to brush up on your general pop culture knowledge and you stand literally no chance of ever placing at any kind of trivia night. But most importantly, where have you been, and what have you been doing? And are you okay? Genuinely, you’re missing out. The whole thing about them is that musically they are just making some NOISE, and rocking so hard, but Kim’s voice is also so gentle and smooth. Like warm molten wax, or thick maple syrup and butter soaking into a perfect pancake. And she’s harmonizing with her own twin sister, who has the same voice? It’s too many textures but they’re polar opposites. It overwhelms and soothes at the same time. It’s quite an experience. So get it in your ears already.

There are some really lo-fi dulled down tracks, that are really tender and only a band of women could make them. Do You Love Me Now? Literally a low energy bass-led ballad earnestly asking someone if they want to get back together. It’s heart on sleeve girl bravery: I still love you and I don’t care if this doesn’t work out for me, I’m gonna say it. Such a poignant question, followed by a command:

“Does love ever end?

When two hearts are torn away?

Or does it go on?

And beat strong anyway?

You’ve loved me before

Do you love me now?

Come on come on come back to me

Right now”

It finishes with this cascade of harmonies. And I adore it.

My favorite track, and favorite story. Drivin’ on 9. A little ditty! Who doesn’t love a ditty? Again I need to talk about Kim’s voice. It’s like. It’s like. What is it like? When you toast a marshmallow and then squish it between a graham cracker and melted chocolate. It’s like, a smooth whiskey, probably (I don’t like whiskey). It’s like a tiny bird just landed on your hand for the briefest moment. It’s so delicate and precious and you don’t know how such a voice comes out of anyone’s mouth, but especially not hers, because she’s so tough and cool. The strings in the song make me want to die in the best way. Like when people say they died and went to heaven. They pluck it AND they use the bows. Why do I love it so much? Probably because it’s a song about driving and thinking. That’s my favorite thing to do.

“Drivin’ on 9

Lookin’ out my windowsill

Wonderin’ if I want you still

Wonderin’ what’s mine”

I last saw them play at Cannery Ballroom, and the most wonderful thing(s) happened. Firstly, they played this track, so I was happy to begin with. But there was some issue, like one of the violins was missing or broken or not able to be mic’d up correctly or something, I forget. So, Kelley Deal SANG the violin solo. And got it dead on. I cried. These women are just the coolest to ever do it.

I write these reviews because I fundamentally have a problem with the makeup of music critics being made up of men. And I notice looking back how these records and tracks are interconnected with trash men who have acted trash to me or others. I have things to say. I take issue with how they’re written as though their subjective opinions are gospel to be consumed as objective fact. This dynamic can make or break someone’s career when it’s their art and creative output that they’ve poured their heart and soul into. It’s no coincidence that music overall, but rock and alternative music in particular is made up of majority white men, too. Some with self-proclaimed “good taste” can just label it good or bad when it’s not necessarily made for someone that looks like them. These reviews are my experience and my opinion and it’s okay with me if you do or don’t agree, if you love a record that I hate, or if you hate a record I love. But more voices are important and remembering that they’re subjective opinions is pretty fucking important. Hearing someone’s passion (or lack of) about a record is more valuable than hearing their self-importance or gravitas. The Rolling Stone Top 500 is fundamentally flawed in how it’s compiled because of who it’s compiled by, and so I’m deconstructing it one review at a time, noting that as a white woman, the addition of my voice isn’t the full answer or even a big part of the answer. But like I said, I have things to say, and I hope if you have things to say, whoever you are, you’ll share too. But here we are: it’s just proving my point. I’ll be writing one review of The Breeders, but two for The Pixies.

I’m just doing what Kim did when she got sick of the bullshit with Frank Black and The Pixies and decided to do it her way. Nowhere near as loud, nowhere near as cool, and I expect your eardrums will survive my reviews in tact.

Signing off with these words from my favorite “girl” band:

“I see a boy I know

His hair's on fire

The whole world I discovered

If you're so special, why aren't you dead?

I just wanna get along

I just wanna get along

I just wanna get along

Wave bye bye

Cus it ain’t never coming down now”

[ernmark]

I’ve been watching the Fear Street trilogy as part of my Halloween horror watch-athon. And first of all, I wound up liking it much more than I thought I would. But I found I really appreciated its attitude toward drugs.

Drug use features in one form or another in all three parts of the trilogy-- that’s not surprising, they tend to show up a lot in a lot of horror movies, especially thanks to a little quirk of the moral codes put on movies in the past: that drugs, sex, and immoral behavior could be shown-- but only if the characters are brutally punished for it onscreen. It’s why The Final Girl is so frequently also The Virgin: while all her friends are murdered in punishment for their moral crimes, she’s only allowed to survive because she doesn’t partake. 

Fast forward to Fear Street, and there’s a lot of drug use. Not just because it’s a horror movie, but because the main characters are all teenagers in an impoverished town (emphasis on because they’re teenagers-- drug use isn’t shown as an artifact of the seventies or nineties here, but as just something kids do, going back all the way to the Puritans). Characters within the narrative will write off the drug users as burnouts whose misery is brought on by their own poor life choices-- but notably, the characters saying that are overwhelmingly from the hyper-privileged town next door, or people trying desperately to assimilate with them in an attempt to escape poverty. From one, it’s an act of cruelty; from the other, it’s an act of despair.

While the drugs show up in a lot of people’s hands, they’re almost entirely value neutral, where the extras handling them are generally neutral-leaning-toward-helpful, and the knowledge that’s picked up while interacting with drugs and drug users winds up being helpful toward achieving their goals-- experience with a drug overdose allows the kids of the first movie to come up with their plan, familiarity with the imprints on pills allow them in the second movie to realize the nurse’s innocence, and Sara’s searching for hallucinogenic berries in the widow’s home gives her an important clue in understanding what’s going on. 

Meanwhile the main characters associated with drug use are repeatedly shown to be clever, courageous, and resourceful. One is an overachiever who hopes to use the money she makes dealing to escape her situation and lift herself (and her friends!) out of poverty. The other is using them to flee from the horrible crushing despair brought on by the horrible things that have happened to her. These aren’t burnouts. They aren’t comic relief. And while they both die, both die while being selfless and heroic. Their deaths in particular are given weight and time for us to really feel the tragedy of their loss. They don’t die because they’re being punished for their misdeeds-- it’s because the curse that binds them is just that inescapable. 

And then, to add that final insult to injury, their interaction with drugs are used to write off those tragedies. The nurse has no say in her motivations for attacking a teenager-- she’s written off as being off her gourd on pills (even though they’re nothing more than Tylenol). The teenagers who came up with a frankly brilliant plan to escape the curse aren’t treated as heroes or even victims, but are instead blamed for the murders they tried so hard to escape. Meanwhile, among the victimized town, their loss is barely even marked: these things just happen. They’re so numb that each one of these mass murders is written off as just another weekday-- while the real killer goes free, ready to kill again.

(And here we touch on the metaphor actually at the meat of this story, which is so close to the surface that it’s barely even a metaphor anymore. These mass murders keep happening, and they’re immediately written off as the consequence of drugs, or mental health problems, or immoral behavior, because that’s simple, and easy, and most importantly: it directly benefits the people who are responsible for it continuing.)

[coastxlwaters]

My brain: Draw the DCA fandom eclipse being silly or cute it will make you feel betterrrrr

Me burnt out, wants ppl to see my actual art, going through a lot of stress irl, getting ghosted by all my friends, and can’t show my art to my family: Yessn’t

Tw: Venting, bad mental health, burnout, severe stress, (slight) mental abuse, getting ghosted, sickness, severe mental exhaustion, eye strain

Coffee? Tried it

Tea? I have none

Sleep? I have to much and to little to do

Taking a break? To much yet to little to do, not to mention my adhd brain doesn’t fucking allow me to unless I have meds which are out for 2 days

Art I enjoy? Has been ruined to me by my friends and family

Looking at the people who like my art and follow me? 70% of them are from the crackposts I did, not my actual art

Water? I will probably get sick if I drink anymore

Spending time with family? If I try I will only get stuck in an argument I don’t want to be in, and my brother is out of town

Try to figure out why my friends are ghosting me? Their ghosting me how am I supposed to figure it out-

Make new friends? I will mentally die if I try to go socialize with all the summer work I have

Go do things I enjoy? That’s horse riding but that’s also one of the things stressing me out

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE, please if someone has tips or anything at all I would really appreciate it a lot!

[ask-dcf]

More or less a ask for the epic mod that I’ve thought about long ago and just found some

How would you say you deal with obligation?

More or less during times where you feel like you HAVE to make a post or etc so the blog doesn’t go “inactive”while people think it’s dead or something

Or even earlier on in the blogs life how would you say you’ve dealt with times of feeling tumblr burnout in the case of answering ask or making post? [Basically just wanting to find and enjoy cool stuff on here without the hassle of “having” to make post etc]

I dunno the best way to put it aside from that and sorry in advance if you’ve had something alike this question back then but not as a 2 in 1 combo package

Bit confused on what you asking. But if you mean you’re worried about me seeing this blog as a “must do it for fans”, aka that slippery slope that YouTubers take in order to get paid. No it’s not obligation. Don’t get me wrong I’m grateful for all the fans and friends who wanna see the story of literal text boxes and I love them all. But I don’t keep up to date in worries people think I’ll shuffle off and leave my blog to die. Nah it’s more like I feel easier just stating how things are going with everything instead of just staying silent. I love my story I love working on it and I simply just let everyone know how things are going for me to work it. As for my other blogs I’m aware there has not been much done. After February I kinda just wanted to focus on my main blog for a bit to help get me out of my rut. It’s not like the other ones are gonna be canceled no. Ask Sword frisk had some major bumps that I needed to clearly fix. Aswell as ease off on the multiverse traveling. Kaijutale, my gf has been super busy and we honestly have not given it much attention even though we should. Or at least I should XD As for the other blog it’s a bit more complicated but it’s nothing to worry about. Just some pause time till some things are situated (which I’m actually gonna try my best to help out in) and we will see how things continue.

I love this fandom and I love these blogs. And I wanna keep interacting and telling my stories of these fantastical characters that have birthed from heart mind and soul qwq

To me this isn’t an obligation. To me this is fun. And actually therapeutic. uwu

[positivitee]

I curate this blog with only one person in mind: me.

If the things I post bring you happiness too, that’s great! I love that, and you are more than welcome here!

However, at the end of the day, I am making this blog for ME.

About this Blog:

I started this blog because I am autistic, and a lot of the time when I have a meltdown, it can feel like the world is quite literally ending, like nothing will ever be ok again, and everything is hopeless and worthless. Obviously this isn’t true, but in that moment, no matter what I logically know, it FEELS true.

I thought it could be helpful for me to have a place full of things that give me hope or make me happy, something that I could look at when I’m feeling hopeless so that I can have some hope to cling to until I’m feeling better.

I considered making an actual physical journal, but my executive functioning skills are quite poor & I felt like a tumblr blog would have a lot less barriers for me, since I spend most of my time on tumblr anyway.

Important Things to Know:

Because I’m using this basically in lieu of a private journal, I’m probably not going to do research on whether things are fake or AI or reposted or whatever. If I see something and it makes me feel hopeful/happy/etc., I’m going to reblog it. Because at the end of the day, if seeing it makes me feel hopeful, it’s done its job. I don’t really care if it’s fact or fiction, I just care that it’s made me not want to die, at least for a little bit. I wouldn’t be fact checking things I write in a journal, I’m not gonna fact check things on this blog either. If this bothers you please do your own fact checking before reblogging; however, I do NOT want to know if something I reblogged isn’t true, so please don’t send in asks about it! I will be getting on this blog when I am feeling like there is nothing good in the world, to look at these posts to try to make myself feel better. The last thing I want at a moment like that is to get on & see an ask telling me that actually one of the few little glimmers of hope I thought existed isn’t actually true, ya know?

There’s a very good chance things won’t be tagged (or at least, not always). And if I do tag things, my tagging system may or may not make sense or be consistent

I don’t tag for trigger warnings either, sorry. Nothing on here is going to be triggering to me, and since the blog is just for me…yeah. Since the theme of the blog is happiness/hopefulness, I don’t anticipate there being a ton of triggering things, but I also make no guarantees. You’ve been warned 🤷‍♀️

Right now, I’ve got asks & submissions turned on, so feel free to ask or submit something. However, there is a decent chance I will end up turning them off. Since the entire purpose of this blog is for me to be able to come on here during meltdowns to help me feel better, I don’t want to do anything that will make it stressful or make me feel worse. I do tend to struggle a lot with communication & social interaction, so I can see myself getting overwhelmed & needing to turn asks off.

On a similar note, I could see myself making all my posts private & soft blocking everyone some day if I get super overwhelmed so uh. Yeah. Just be aware that could happen 🤷‍♀️.

Most (but not all) of the things that get posted here will probably be queued first. Even with the queue though, there’s still a good chance I’ll disappear for months at a time.

About the Blogger:

I’m in my 30s, she/her. I was diagnosed with autism & adhd a few years ago. My brain makes a lot more sense to me now that I know what autism & adhd are, but things are still really hard & I’ve been experiencing burnout & skill loss for a few years now.

This is a side blog, but I’m not gonna link my main 🤷‍♀️ (can anyone guess what my favorite emoji is lol).

[strooples]

Random non Halloween-related Halloween night cartoon rambles:

My sister recently recommended me All Saints Street and looking at the thumbnail on YouTube, the art style seems super cute! I watched the trailer and may give it a go soon :D. It’s up on my tabs, and I’m honestly curious how it is!! She said I might’ve liked it bc it’s slice-of-life. But I haven’t even gotten around to a close friend’s recommendation of Ousama Ranking, bc I am terrible with recommendations… I also forgot most of the anime movies I wanted to wanted T~T. Short attention spans are a curse :((

I have absolutely so so SO much to say about JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures, as I’m basically nearing the end of Season 3. But part 2 where Joseph is the hilarious protagonist has got to be my favorite??? It is just such a good mix of action and hilarity lololol. I really gotta thank the mix of BoBoBo, Bakuten Shoot, and pt. 2 JoJo for getting me back the feel of excitement from being a young kid who enjoyed cartoons mainly marketed towards boys and shonen anime.

The more I draw Bakuten Stuff thing, the more I wonder how Metal Fusion is. It’s the Beyblade series my SO, sister, and people around me generally refer to/remember. But all IK so far is that Gingka is the protag, the dub voice was a bit iffy for him, and little else?? Has anyone watched Metal Fusion — dub or sub?

The release of Wiglett makes me so happy!! Gosh, I would DIE for Wiglett (figuratively of course!). It’s such a cute pokemon aaaaa. And all the Wiglett and Diglett drawings I keep seeing on my feed give me such joy lololol.

And speaking of art, another thing I have to add is that I really really want to draw Kamisama Kiss art. I had a passing thought of it the other day, and though it’s a relatively old shoujo, I only found out about it last year! And watched + rewatched it a 2nd time within a single year. I may do a 3rd watch-through. It’s an oddly comforting anime?? And the traditional Japanese aesthetic and clothing of characters is so pretty!! I don’t know though if I can do much RN bc my anatomy skills are still a bit lacking (so I guess we will see?).

Lastly, I dropped a TON of Webtoons (reader’s burnout, slow/bad pacing, stories going in weird directions etc.) and I’ve been looking for new ones to read. But I haven’t quite felt much of a push towards the medium, and nothing seems to catch my eye or focus for long. It’s sorta sad seeing the direction the platform is going in tho. And tropes are not bad necessarily — not if you do them up well with the right amount of creativity. But since I was primarily drawn to the platform for romance stories, I realized some of the same tropes that sell to an audience have been rehashed so many times. And it’s not really fun anymore when you consider that romance is an already-oversaturated genre in any platform. Guess my desire for a good romance-oriented story may have to go to shoujo instead!!

Edit bc I forgot:

Also wtf is going on with the Miraculous Ladybug fandom??? I dropped the show maybe 2 years ago (burnout, toxic writing, the fandom getting a bit crazy). But since it’s been trending, I keep seeing *SPOILERS* stuff about the love square reversing in Season 5??? Is there actually progression?!?!! Yooooo…. I really wanna see what’s going on. Like skipping the more irrelevant bits and jumping to plot. But I may not because I just feel so conflicted on the story, which has so so much potential, but is done kinda on iffy grounds.

[mossy-covered-bones]

I can have a little venting. As a treat

[riacte]

Hi Hermitblr

We’ve all been spreading Hermitcraft propaganda in the form of gushing about the hermits’ builds and their styles, but now I really would like a list of “little things the hermits do that made you think a lot”. Like hermits aren’t just fantastic creators, they’re also genuinely nice and wonderful people.

I’ll start off with two— Hermitcraft’s Golden Boi and Golden Girl. Grian and FalseSymmetry.

Grian: there was a time in 2020 when he was super stressed and busy, probably because of his wedding/ engagement and other irl matters. He mentioned that in his videos, but he still tried his best to get his Hermitcraft episodes out on schedule. But in the midst of this, he commissioned Rendog’s brother Jono to write a song called Work, which was basically a song about Grian working and all the tasks he had to do, like mining, paying the bills, caving. It sounds happy and upbeat, but it also has lyrics like:

Hear there's a party on the weekend

Had to decline, creepers be creepin'

And

Keep on minin' even though I'm dyin'

The lyrics sounds sad, since it literally says “I’m so tired I wanna die” and “I’m sacrificing my social life for work”, which probably reflects what Grian felt when he commissioned Jono.

Grian was very busy and tired. But instead of wallowing in his negative emotions, he tried to be positive and productive by having a cheerful song for him to listen to while working. He even recorded a whole MV of him working probably because he thought it was fun, which could help him overcome burnout.

So Grian

1) had a positive attitude

2) took steps to maintain that positive attitude

3) supported a small talented creator

4) supported his close friend’s brother

5) did all of the above despite being tired and stressed out

False: We know her as False Supremacy and a builder, but False is actually very dedicated to her community and Hermitcraft. The main island in Hermitcraft Season 6 was divided into districts like the fantasy district, medieval district, modern district etc. But as time went on, most hermits were too distracted to focus on the districts, leaving behind a pile of builds with distinctive styles in their respective districts.

So when HC6 ended, while basically everyone else was packing up and finishing up their builds, it was False who quietly connected the districts together by mimicking the building styles of her friends, going so far as to say she didn’t want other hermits’ builds to feel lonely. It was False who loyally stayed behind, filling up the forgotten districts, doing her best to fulfill the vision the hermits had at the beginning.

False is also a frequent contributor to the hermits’ nether hub, but since the hermits use the nether hub for transportation (which is boring), they don’t really talk about the builds in the nether. Yet, she takes the time to make it look pretty and complete, while being humble and never asking for recognition.

Well this went on longer than I anticipated, I hope more hermits can be added to the list <3

[odditiesofnicole]

Lay Down Your Sword

A little drabble about burnout, exhaustion, and purpose.

As my usual disclaimer, Ougi belongs to my wonderful bf. I just steal her for writing and drawing purposes when the gals stay on my mind. 😌 ♥

Word Count: 4,868

~*~

---

Not many deities questioned their purpose. It just wasn’t something they did. When may have been a more accurate interrogation, like when was their purpose over? Not how, not why. After all, only the oldest divinity had special privileges, meaning their existences would rarely ever die out. Some deities, like Mii, had more finite time limits. Born to serve humans and all life. When mortals forgot her, she would forget herself and cease to be. If she could not perform that function, then what need did she have to be around?

“Don’t you ever get sick of it? What have we done for you?”

It was why Ougi’s question had left Mii sufficiently befuddled ever since.

Mii had never known a sentence to rattle her so like Ougi’s question had that summer morning; she’d grown used to the intrigue and curiosity of her companion over time. Although Ougi maintained a gruff manner, Mii knew that was more a byproduct of her bluntness and her father’s expectations than any malice. In fact, Mii had come to know the quiet softness and consideration in Ougi. A gentility that when Ougi asked questions like that, Mii knew she came from a place of sincerity. It was rare to form a bond with a god and be allowed to freely ask such things, even sometimes among other deities.

To any other, they may have taken offense at the inquiry. How could they not enjoy what they were born to do? Yet Mii had hesitated to answer. She had always been just as forthright as Ougi was, but for some reason, that day she failed to put an answer to words. Knowing her answer left an odd chill that spread through her entire limbs. Like someone above waited to cast judgment on her reply.

She and Ougi hadn’t spoken in a week. Mii wouldn’t have thought much about it due to Ougi’s semi-princess status. Ougi could be needed by many and in many places at many times. Mii was always at the ready whenever Ougi required her aid, so why add an extra place Ougi needed to be? The need of her people surely outweighed any need Mii would have had just to chat inconsequentially.

But they had begun talking more—little musings at night, before breakfast, when waiting for the rainfall to subside. Sometimes on the material plane, sometime in Mii’s plane, and sometimes separated and speaking afar through their telepathic connection. Ougi started checking in more where Mii didn’t have to. She spoke despite not embarking on any excursion for the day, and it was…nice. Very nice, actually. To be wanted and not needed.

Which was all the more reason why the week that passed frayed Mii’s nerves.

Why couldn’t she have given Ougi the answer she’d wanted to hear? Was there one? Why did she have to laugh it off and lie? Mii rarely lied—she hated it. It made her feel twisted inside whenever she did, whether or not the lie was tiny in comparison. She’d told Ougi that she loved what she did, and to an extent, that was still true. “Why would I ever be tired of that?” she’d added.

Liar.

Mii’s fingers spun along the strings of her flat loom, weaving the fibers through the pegs and using her crochet hook to begin the cycle anew. When she’d had fewer believers, she’d have to find means to keep herself busy during the interim. As long as she had a couple who remembered her, she wouldn’t fizzle from being. Yet with Ougi, her following had grown bit by bit. It wasn’t anything popular, but it was substantial—so much so that she could settle for two hobbies in a day rather than twelve.

Knitting scratched an itch Mii’d had for decades without much to do. There were others across the region who guarded similar domains as she did, and in Ougi’s specific township and city areas, there were only a small number of magical and non-magical medical practitioners praying to Mii for guidance. So in weaving and knitting—creating new pieces of fabric—she found solace.

During her third layering, a tingling sensation nipped at the tips of Mii’s ears, familiar yet somewhat unexpected. Ougi’s faint voice floated through moments after. “Got a second? If you’re busy, I can wait—”

“No, of course!” Mii hastened to detach her fingers from her loom, nearly clattering the entire thing in the process. “Do you want me to head over to where you are right now?”

Two blinks illuminated her already bright blue eyes, making them near-blinding. She was so used to tapping between the planes that the switch to find Ougi flipped effortlessly. In her eyes, she saw Ougi standing in front of her altar, like the first time they’d met.

“Can you take me to you instead?” Ougi asked.

Mii stood, treading past the curtained archway of her drawing room and into the planar access space. Flora filled the entire chamber, complemented by a pond at the epicenter and rimmed by gold metal rods cross-hatched together, which came up to Mii’s ankles. Aside from the railing, the chamber looked as though it’d been plucked straight from an overgrown rainforest. It even had that fresh dew smell.

Her dress trailed behind as she stepped into the pool, silk fluttering like wind-tossed blades of grass. She knelt, closed her eyes, and placed her hands into the pool. The surface of it bubbled before lighting up with a bright blue. She could see the light through her lids.

At one time, opening this doorway would have left Mii breathless; she’d kept the fact from Ougi initially, although it seemed Ougi had figured it out on her own accord either way. Now as Mii sat back, awaiting the water’s movement to subside, she felt tense only because of the moment—not because the world needed to settle on its axis.

Where there was no form, a weak geyser propelled Ougi’s body from underwater, first leaving her prone before she, too, sat up and met Mii face to face. The eye-level closeness colored Mii’s cheeks, but she did not look away. Seeing Ougi up close in any capacity was enough to feel like she’d run a marathon. Why didn’t they want to be closer to mortals’ heights like this? There were so many benefits to it. Being able to see the flecks of brown in Ougi’s green gaze was definitely one of them. The color reminded Mii of summer grass. She would roll through Ougi’s eyes an entire day if she could.

“Are you in there? Hello?”

The palm waving in Mii’s sight brought her back down to earth, as she realized Ougi’s furrowed face had drawn closer to hers, seeming worried. Mii’s posture stiffened, which intensified as she shot to her feet. “Yes! I’m keeping you waiting, we should go inside because you must have things to get back to,” Mii blurted, combing her fingers through her bangs. “I’ll set up the room so that you’re—”

However, before she could fully retreat, a hand tugged her backward. Mii froze as Ougi rested her chin atop her head and kept her other hand on Mii’s shoulder. Ougi’s brazen affection, even when Mii had grown used to it, never failed to catch her off guard.

“You can be like you usually are,” Ougi said. “I like that side of you too.”

Mii tilted her head a bit, trying to catch Ougi’s gaze, but ultimately gave up when her chin locked her head in one direction. “How…How is that?” Mii asked.

“Big.”

For a second, Mii stared blankly toward the curtained archway until she extricated herself from Ougi’s grasp. She studied Ougi’s expression. Embarrassment was hard to see on Ougi, but she had one tell. And upon noticing her pursed lips, Mii smiled. “Okay. I can do that.”

Mii splashed and scuttled to the middle of the pond. Once she had enough distance in the water to spin, she used the twirl of her gown to encapsulate herself in a whirlpool that expanded higher and higher into the air, shaping, forming, and taking her body along for the ride. When the tornado of water transformed into petals and scattered gingerly across the pond’s surface, Mii stared down at a seven-inches-tall Ougi.

Her stance had changed—arms crossed, weight shifted to a single foot. The side of Ougi’s mouth lifted. “Show off,” she remarked lightly.

Mii beamed and curtsied, no matter her warmed cheeks.

She led the way past the curtains and into the main area. Despite her size and the potential perils that came with it, she had no worry over Ougi underfoot. Mii could float just millimeters above ground if she wanted the extra caution, but she didn’t need to. And just as Mii anticipated, she heard the patter of Ougi’s footsteps trailing behind, less cloppy than usual however.

Flats instead of her geta? Mii wondered. Maybe Ougi wasn’t going out somewhere after all.

According to Cameron, the way Mii presented her home was filled with many “useless” things. She was reminded of this as she led Ougi to her chaise. Cameron didn’t mean any harm in saying his first impression; most deities didn’t have a kitchen to cook, or a dining table to host others—mortal, divine, or in between. Sometimes her sister, Jihae, would visit for a spell or two and they could congregate for something sweet. Neither of them needed to eat, but ever since Mii could remember, she’d always enjoyed making things. Fruit-based dishes were her favorite.

Inside of the kitchen cupboards was where Mii kept utensils, jars and vials of tea leaves, and ginger roots. All of them (save for the utensils, of course) had a healing property in some way. Most of the herbs she grew herself, and the utensils had been gifts from her earliest days that she’d found no reason to part with. Ougi was as welcome in her home as Cameron and whatever company he brought were. At least one could gain more from eating than the other, though she appreciated him humoring her.

Specifically, her living room was where she spent most of her time. While she had a bedroom to reset her power levels rather than sleep, the room was a bit sparse in comparison to the main area, where she had a window to her outside garden and her stenciling wall just beside it, filled with the requests and prayers of those who still remembered her. “I hope you’ll guide me through my cold” or “let your light still guide us.” Words used when calling upon powers Mii could bequeath. It wasn’t something she necessarily had to keep track of, but she liked to. The stenciled words had increased little by little.

At the very bottom of the wall, though, a few stick figures danced around the edges of the baseboard. She and Ougi had drawn them months ago one night. Back then, she might have offered Ougi a sip too much of wine to ease the gash she’d obtained from a particularly nasty werewolf scuffle. Mii’s well of power had run dry that fight, and there was only so much magic Ougi herself could perform. Wine was the only other natural solvent she could offer during the interim. She’d hated hearing Ougi in any kind of pain.

Regardless, seeing the simple pictures always made Mii smile. She hadn’t had the heart to remove them. She didn’t think she ever would.

As they approached the folding desk beside her chaise, Ougi spoke up. “Is that a new scarf? Starting on them early this year, huh?”

The pink and lilac yarn remained untouched beside her loom, half finished. Once, Mii pondered asking Jihae to find a yarn feeder as a “Coming-into-Existence” present, but in the end, Mii appreciated using her fingers more than the tool. She plucked at the intertwined strings. “It’s going to take me a while with what I have in mind for patterns, so I thought it'd be nice to have it ready before wintertime,” Mii replied. “I’ll show it to you as soon as it’s ready!”

Mii bent over to hold her hand out for Ougi, who hopped into it with no stumble or hesitation. If she was acting normally, then perhaps Mii’s concern was for naught. Though as she sat down, Ougi instead slid off Mii’s palm before she could place her across her tabletop. Mii’s other hand shot out to catch her but stopped when Ougi bounced harmlessly onto her thigh. Mii sighed and shook her head.

“I really wish you told me these things before you went and did them,” she said in a murmur.

Soon thereafter, Ougi lay on her back while Mii took up her threads of yarn again, weaving them between the pegs and picking up where she’d left off. She tried not to think about the whys to Ougi’s company, only staying appreciative of the fact she was there. Companionable silence didn’t bother Mii; the less Mii could say to embarrass herself, the better. And Ougi had welcomed it just as much. Miss Hangaku, a woman of few words and even fewer judgment.

All of this hemming and hawing—she’d overreacted after all, hadn’t she? Or was Ougi expecting Mii to be the one to bring up the topic? Maybe she could have if the anticipation weren’t choking her. She wasn’t ready to think about how those questions made her feel, or why Ougi had even asked them in the first place.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable before."

Mii watched Ougi shift her position and dig her shoulders deeper into her makeshift pillow, blinking at her more than necessary. Ougi crossed her arms, and it was that motion which prompted Mii to sputter. "I wasn't! Really! There's nothing wrong with asking those sorts of questions, and I really wasn't—"

Two raised eyebrows met her reply. Mii flushed.

"I was just a bit caught off guard, that's all," Mii added, this time weaker. "It wasn't something you've ever asked me before."

The two fell quiet again, but it was different this time, weighed down by an unspoken discomfort. Mii tried to concentrate on her knitting, yet the longer she stared at the loom, the less she saw the shape of her scarf and instead saw a pile of unorganized, chaotic color mush. Would this carry on for another week? Was Ougi expecting Mii to be the one to get it over with? Ougi had already apologized, so the least Mii could be was honest.

However, Ougi's sigh brought a flinch out of Mii, and she braced herself.

"I was working through some things," Ougi said. "I wasn't really asking you specifically, because I know you're very enthusiastic about what you do. I just…"

Mii waited for her to continue. Ougi hadn’t sighed a second time, but it clung to the ends of her words, making them flutter. Mii made another loop around her loom’s pegs, doubled back, and started it again. Her eyes kept flicking back and forth between her scarf and Ougi, each time lingering longer on the latter.

But as more time passed without another sentence, Mii wondered if Ougi still hadn't worked them out quite yet. That was fair. She hadn't either.

"I noticed you've been wearing a lot more pastels recently," Mii said. "It looks nice on you!"

"Oh." Ougi’s eyes went a bit wider, and she rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, I guess I have been. I'm trying something different. Season's changing and all. Figured we could match for once? I didn’t think you’d notice."

Loose. Minimal. Earthy and muted tones. That was the style Mii had first been acquainted with when she'd begun to notice Ougi. And while Ougi favored that type of wardrobe still, today she wore a crop top and knee-length pants the color of daffodils. The ensemble had the faintest accents of periwinkle too. Mii's own gown was a deeper sapphire, although because they'd deigned to relax in the main room, she'd cut her gown in half, trading the veil and hem for shorts.

Mii smiled. "That's so sweet…" Hesitating, keeping her gaze on her yarn, she then asked, "Does that have to do with what you've been thinking about recently?"

Skin-to-skin contact made Ougi’s tensing unmissable. She huffed and, in a low voice, said, "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"We don't have to talk about it if it makes you—"

Ougi held up a hand. "No. That's what I came here to do. I'm not going to keep you for long."

You'd never be bothering me if you did, Mii thought, frowning. Instead, she slipped one of her hands down to her lap. The touch was brief, but it was enough to curl her fingers around Ougi, giving her a small squeeze. Ougi squeezed back, one arm companionably wrapped around two of Mii's fingers. They stayed like that for a few moments until Mii eventually pulled away.

Once Ougi settled down, she spoke. “Sometimes, I get tired of being out there, y’know? People always speak of ‘duty’ and your ‘bonds’ to others. Obligations.” Ougi waved her hands, chopping and slicing them through the air. “Then I think: what am I really doing that all for? Is it for me? Do I want to do any of it? Years don’t mean a lot to you, but it feels like I’ve been living this way for an eternity and I’ll die doing it too at this rate. And I'm tired.”

She clenched her fists. “Then I’ll see someone gardening, or one of those dicks who lives in the desolate parts of town and complains about society, and I think: is that really so bad to want something mundane like that? It sounds so much better than right now, where fighting feels pointless and every day of it feels the same. I know I have a duty, but I want to say to hell with them all. I have an obligation to be happy, too, don’t I?

“But when I thought about it, I understood why you out of anyone else would look so panicked then when I brought it up.” Ougi settled her palm atop Mii’s thigh, her voice softening. ”So I’m sorry. Also your yarn is about to fall, by the way.”

Like a corrected train track, Mii jerked her gaze from Ougi to her table, yelping as she fumbled with the wrapped bundle of yarn before it hit the floor. Ougi’s chuckle moments after soothed some of the heat left by her diatribe, but the sound of it seemed dry.

Mii picked at the tangles in her bundle, then frowned. She knew Ougi had read about her in one of the few history compendiums in the city library. During the Dividing War those centuries ago (they had so many names for it, it was hard to keep up with), the people’s hope had been Mii. Their desperation and uncertainty had been what had created her, and she’d maintained her subsection of the country, keeping them alive and out of the fury of her divinely counterparts. Jihae had been there to provide support as well, as any previous war-god would have been able.

Saying Mii was anything but grateful to be of service to them somehow, whether they remembered her or not, seemed like a slap in their predecessors’ faces. How could she admit to anything like that? Yet if Ougi no longer wanted their pact, where would Mii fit into her life anymore…?

Mii's grip loosened from around her yarn bundle, and she noticed, with disdain, the bent places of where her fingers had been. "Are you leaving?"

A pause. Mii's heart bounced between eardrum to eardrum.

Finally, Ougi responded, "No. No, I don't think I want to leave here necessarily. Or at least not forever. But I do think it would be nice to travel. See some other places. Learn a bit. And I thought…" her voice warbled for a split second, "it'd be nice to have you along, too. Not in my sword or whatever, but with me."

Mii smiled faintly. "Gardening together?"

"It doesn't have to be gardening. Unless you want to. You do have a forest growing out of your window."

"It's tame!" The window in question, or terrace actually, was the one connected to the dining area, fringed with orchid vines and strings of daylilies along the sill. Beyond the glass, first in sight, were the orange bushes and the rest was obscured by the distance. Eventually, Mii glanced back down to Ougi and shrugged. "It could be worse?"

"Fine, then we'll get a cottage with a huge garden and plenty of space."

What mirth their spontaneity spurred was sobered in an instant, and Mii's face fell. She fiddled with her hands as she spoke. "I… It does sound nice…"

Two smaller points pressed into her flesh. She could envision Ougi propped on her elbows. "But?"

"When you asked me that earlier," Mii continued, voice smaller, "I wanted to say that I did understand that feeling, because I've felt it before and I shouldn't. We who stray from the path—rarely any good comes from it. That's how the war happened. It's how I came to be."

"Mii, you are a good thing that happened from that. Just because some other god did that and fucked it up doesn't mean you trying would start the next Armageddon," Ougi said.

Mii’s smile grew with sincerity. “Thank you. I just mean I’m here because they needed me at that time, or at least they needed someone as a buffer between them and the other gods’ fighting. I came to you because I thought I could help you too, and by doing that, I’m still doing what I was meant to do,” she said. “But if you left to do something else, you wouldn’t need—”

There was another shove against her thigh that brought Mii’s gaze to Ougi, where she saw Ougi pushing her hand against her leg, face pinched and eyes alight.

"I want you there, Mii."

There it was again; the want instead of the need. Neither of them had ever thought about what they'd wanted until they'd come across one another it seemed. What Ougi proposed wasn't an entire uprooting but sounded more like a vacation of sorts. They could take their time away and simply just be. No deity, no future empress. Just Ougi and Mii. While she would never be able to erase her presence, she'd ventured enough to assimilate properly. Maybe it could work.

But people would always feel something was a bit off about her; a bit ethereal and uncanny, as most mortals did. They referred to it as a “sixth sense.” Though it wouldn't have been enough to have them treat her with any hostility or reverence.

Mii finally smoothed the remaining knots in her yarn, although instead of restarting her knitting, she set her loom aside. Her hands cupped around Ougi again. "I think you're allowed to be happy doing whatever you want," she whispered. "And if that's telling someone to stop stepping on your grass, that's okay."

"I didn't say I'd be that bad." Chuckling, Ougi nudged her shoulder into one of Mii's fingers. "What sort of mental image of me do you have in that fluffy head of yours, mikan?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Mii poked her. “Someone dependable? Someone who enjoys turning my furniture into tightrope walks?” She didn’t stop, even as Ougi half heartedly squirmed away from her prodding. “Someone cute and little right now?”

Ougi pursed her lips. “I’m not always cute?”  

“No, of course you are! I—” Stopping, noticing Ougi’s sly smirk, Mii pouted and pinched Ougi’s cheeks together. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that.”

The sigh Mii let slip allowed Ougi ample opportunity to slip from her grasp, sliding onto her feet then climbing atop the back of Mii’s hand. As Mii observed her, she was struck by her own fit of playfulness, and she turned over her hand slowly. It was enough to make Ougi totter and fall back into her palm instead of what she otherwise would have done, which was probably to venture onto Mii’s shoulder. Lifting her up, Mii transferred her to the table.

“If you—we—” she amended quickly at the downward slope in Ougi’s brows, “—ever went anywhere just to…be, I suppose, I still think I’d be able to answer to other people too. Maybe I can talk to more people too and let them know!” When Ougi’s expression still hadn’t changed, Mii shrunk back. “What?”

“That’s still you working, though.”

Eyes shifted, averting to the window, as Mii twirled her hair around her fingers. “It’s a little different for me. When others call on me and I don’t answer, they’ll eventually forget me and find someone else. As much as it would be nice to completely live like that, I…can’t. I’m scared I’ll disappear.” She met eyes with Ougi again and smiled, reaching out to rub her thumb against her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking. As long as there’s you, I won't disappear, and you’re right,” she added. “But I shouldn’t be your responsibility either. That would just make me another ‘duty,’ no?”

A minute of silence passed before Ougi said, “The things you gods have to do to exist sounds like it sucks.”

“Maybe so,” Mii replied, laughing slightly. “But then I get to meet you, so it’s not so bad, I’d say!”

With Ougi now on the table, she saw it as an opportunity to meander around the tools Mii had lying about. She weaved between peg to peg, careful when stepping over and around the curled threads. The last thing Mii wanted to see was Ougi trip and impale herself somehow. The pegs weren’t sharp per se, but they would still hurt to fall on when they were around hip height to Ougi. Someone would have said Mii could just fix any bleeding wound, and while true, that didn’t mean she wanted to do that any time soon.

As Mii watched, chin propped up with her palms, she was struck with the image of the finished scarf layered upon Ougi’s shoulders. When she’d first had the idea to make it, she’d wondered if Ougi would like those colors. Pink and lilac weren’t her usual. In fact, with the physical effort she did day in and day out, Mii couldn’t recall seeing her wear much of a scarf when the colder months drew near. The closest thing had been a neck gaiter, although they weren’t as wooled and thick.

But today, Ougi was in light colors, and they looked great on her—like she’d be plucked up from a meadow. A pink and lilac scarf would definitely suit her in the wintertime.

Ougi almost looked menacing as she picked up the crochet hook, flailing it around like she would have her katana, rotating her wrists and tapping at the pegs. Time away from her plane would have been nice, Mii thought.

In the past, she didn’t have nearly as much energy to stay on the material plane for longer than a few hours at the time. She’d mostly done so to spy on the people—or spy on Ougi before they’d known each other—but now that her influence had grown, did that mean Mii could remain there longer without breaking any rules? Over the course of her time with Ougi, Mii had grown more confident of fitting in with mortal ways—their speech, dichotomy, their values—yet there was still the matter of her presence.

However, Cameron stayed closest to the mortal plane all the time and it hadn’t caused any civil disturbances. Nothing more than a few at a time, really. Perhaps she would pay him a visit. If there was anyone who knew how to skate around the eyes of deities and mortals alike, it was him.

Something brushed against the side of her arm, and Mii glanced down to see Ougi seated beside her, hair tickling her skin. She still had the crochet hook in hand, but she let it rest against her lap while her eyes looked through the window. Mii turned her eyes to the window too.

“Do you really want to stop?” Mii whispered.

Ougi replied just as softly, “Yeah. For a little while.”

“And you still want me along as a…” —Companion? Partner? Oh gods, what were they?— “travel buddy? I can still keep you safe if we ever ran into anything—”

“Mii.”

“—I should still have enough strength if I pop in every now and then to check on others—”

“Mii.” Ougi’s tone of voice sounded as if she’d rolled her eyes.

Mii pouted. “I just wanted you to know I still can!”

“And I’m telling you to quit worrying you have to be useful all the time. It’s fine. You’re fine as you are. We both know you like it when I carry you around anyway.”

The flames from previous experience—of being palm-sized around Ougi rather than the opposite, held to Ougi’s chest—licked at Mii’s face and she covered her eyes with a squeak. Ougi’s laughter drowned whatever protest she would have given.

[redhedwitch]

I was way too upset last night to even gather my thoughts, but I hated it. In fact, I pretty much hated the entirety of season four, sans very few things - I was really hoping they were going to pull, it together. But they didn’t, everything went to hell, for no reason and with no reason. It’s like the entire season was written by a six year old.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Nothing made sense, and everything was just random and trying too hard to be edgy and “dark,” and have shock value, and it just fell flat. Every character who was already established felt hallow and watered down into one trait. Mike, the kid who jumped off a cliff and went digging for the upside down to find his friend is now so self absorbed and insufferable he didn’t even notice the friend he went to the fucking upside down to save sobbing his eyes out less than two feet away.

Nancy, Steve, and Johnathons weird little triangle was never cute and they somehow made it worse. Nancy is so fucking irritating and they’re trying so hard to make her into this “strong independent woman who don’t need no man” trope and yet she’s stringing not one but two vulnerable men along for what, three seasons now? Her relationship with Steve was at least compelling and complex, and I don’t blame HIM for still having feelings (though, I really do think he was still OOC for half of season four), her relationship with Jonathan makes little sense and actually hasn’t brought anything other than a shitty love triangle to the story line. It doesn’t progress any of the characters, it doesn’t even regress. It’s been in the same stupid high school bullshit spot since season two.

Jonathan brought absolutely nothing to the season other than being a doorway for Argyle to show up and even then his arc is about as interesting and believable as anything else. He was never a particularly strong character but we got absolutely no context as to why he went from man of the house, standing up to his abusive father and going into the upside down to… burnout stoner that brings nothing to the story other than the fact he can drive? They could have cut every scene with Johnathon and the story could have continued forward as-is, unchanged, and quite honestly none of us would have noticed he was gone.

El has gotten consistently more annoying, I can honestly say I hate her. The character is flat, I dislike this Stoic Trauma thing they have going and I know that’s the writing because Millie is a phenomenal actor. Her relationships are just weird, they’re unrealistic and make no sense, and they’re doing a carbon fucking copy of the Steve/Nancy/Jonathan triangle with El/Mike/Will and it’s not even compelling to watch it’s just irritating. They spent what, two or three entire episodes at minimum delving into her backstory with Papa, and it did absolutely nothing to make me feel a damn thing. I don’t feel bad for her, I don’t feel a damn thing towards Dr. Brenner, his death was unsatisfactory and dull. I felt literally nothing towards either of these characters the entire season. I did enjoy the “twist” with Henry, (even though I saw it the very first time he talked to El in the rainbow room, I see what they were going fo) but they ruined it immediately, and the “epic battle” between her and Henry at the end was just about the lamest fucking thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of watching. He’s floating, gets thrown. She’s floating, gets flown. She’s tied up. He’s tied up. He’s lecturing her and she’s crying. Wow. Amazing, I’m very invested.

They did Eddie dirty. He was OOC for the entirety of the finale, and his hero moment not only didn’t make sense, it was flat out insulting. The way they wrote him in was literally JUST to be disposable, had Eddie not been in the show at all, everything could have played out exactly the same and the story would have ended the same way. They brought him to the table, made us all fall in love with him, made it seem like he was going to have purpose and he didn’t. He was written to die at shock value. The reason and way he died was insulting. It’s not even the fact he died that’s bothering me, yes, I’m very upset, but it was _for no reason_. It didn’t make sense. That wasn’t Eddie. Eddie wouldn’t have done that. “There’s no shame in running” -> “I didn’t run this time, right?” ????? It’s also… so you’re telling me, Steve can be eaten alive and choked nearly unconscious and not only survive but go to war with two pounds of flesh missing from his stomach but … It happens to Eddie, while he has weapons, a shield, and three layers of clothing which includes a leather jacket and he… dies from it?

The two day time-jump was arguably the worst piece of shit lazy writing bullshit I’ve ever seen. And the fact no one even cared that Eddie died, they left his fucking body in the upside down? They just… don’t care? At least the other side characters that died (Alexi, Bob, Billy) died with purpose and had an impact. They literally just brought Eddie in and had him die in vain and I feel betrayed.

Max and Will were the only characters who’s development made any fucking sense and even then I have to reach deeper and look into their trauma and psyche MYSELF to make a lot of it make sense. They were absolutely queer baiting with both Eddie and Will, and I am absolutely livid they brought Max “back to life.”

Lazy.

They had over twelve consecutive hours for season four to tie it all together and they just. Failed. It was awful. I didn’t enjoy any of it and I don’t think I’m going to watch season five. I feel like I had a rug pulled out from under my feet, and I’m hurt. I’m really hurt.

I feel almost bad whining about it to this degree but. I don’t… I don’t find things I like often, not to this level. I don’t hop from fixation to fixation. I don’t absorb a ton of media, and the media I do absorb usually doesn’t hit hard enough for me to latch so when I latch, I fucking _latch_. I didn’t enjoy the last four episodes much at all, aside for 5 seconds here and there when there’s corny comedic relief, and it’s just like. What the fuck? You know?

I could go on for hours, honestly. But I’m so mentally and physically exhausted from being so upset about this I just can’t dedicate any more energy to it. It was bad. It was awful and terrible and hard to watch and I didn’t even have a good time.

[amintyworld]

Goodbye - (SBI Inc.) World War II AU

A/N: Hey guys! So... this is actually part of a bunch of fics I was making for some of my mutuals, and at first, I wanted to post them together, but I soon realized with my own creativity and motivation, not to mention constant burnout, it was more just wishful thinking.

This fic is a gift for my friend and mutual, Cam (@bones-sprouts)! They're an awesome person for me to rant to about AUs or other fic ideas, so if you can check out their awesome blog and give a follow if you'd like. I hope you enjoy it because I'm actually really proud of how this turned out! <3 - Minty

Edit: Forgot Taglist.

Summary: Phil works in the coal factories, his wife Kristen with the sewing machines. No matter how hard they work, there never seems to be enough money. What will happen when a World War rises on the horizon?

TW: Bomb mention, Implied death mention, injury (No blood or gore tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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Phil remembered when it was all just rumors. After all, one couldn’t help but get bored within the tedious factory jobs. Hauling coal from one place to another, scooping it into the fireplaces - minds always began to drift. Gossip was whispered with bated breath under watchful eyes. Phil had heard it all - some true, most of them, however... complete fibs. He guessed that’s why he didn’t believe it at first when there were talks of war. There were always talks of war, but after the World War a while back, Phil thought it was stupid anyone would dare try to repeat it. The leaders were smarter than that, he thought to himself.

Besides, he had other things to worry about. Wilbur needed a new winter coat for the season. He’d been going through another growth spurt over the summer and had, unfortunately, outgrew his one from last year. They’d been saving to buy a new one, and his old one was given to his younger brother, Tommy. Funnily enough, the coat was extremely big and baggy on the ten-year-old, so much so he kept tripping and falling to the floor. Kristen kept pinning it up, though it never seemed to help much. He remembered one night telling Wilbur with a chuckle he was getting too tall and Tommy was getting too small. Tommy had grumbled angrily in a way only small children could do, puffing his chest out and proclaiming himself a ‘big man’. Kristen had smiled and laughed throughout it all, and when Tommy yawned she picked him up and carried him off to bed.

Money was always a tight issue, but Phil had the wisdom never to bring it up in front of his sons. Instead, he talked about stories of adventure-seeking pirates or brave warriors in hushed tones at night when the roof began to leak and they huddled together in thin blankets during the winter. Phil’s heart always swelled when Tommy’s eyes would light up in curiosity at the stories, at another world full of hope and things that Phil could only wish to provide them. One day, he promised himself, one day he would give them everything they deserved. Everything they’d wished for upon stars or whispered to themselves at night when they thought no one was listening. One day.

Phil remembered once when Wilbur was not much older than Tommy, he’d asked him if he could work with him in the factories. They had barely been able to afford the school fee that year, and Wilbur had started school a month behind his classmates because of it. When Phil had quickly tried to dismiss the idea Wilbur’s mouth had pressed in a thin line.

‘I can do it, Dad. Let me do it. I want to help.’

Phil’s hand had absentmindedly moved to trace around the scar in his calloused palm. When he first started, the manager put him near the machines, with the task to flip the lever and run them when the ribbon was on target. He flipped the switch before realizing it wasn’t on target, and when he moved the ribbon - the machine was merciless. He’d thought about Wil doing that, the machines, hauling pounds of coal up a hill, and he realized that he’d rather die working in the factories than accept the help. The money wouldn’t be worth it, the money would never be worth his life. Never in a million years.

No matter what, he’d always protect them. That was never a question on Phil’s mind.

When the orders came there was never any doubt about what he needed to do. There was never any hesitation. They needed to be safe. They needed to survive. When he told Kristen he held back tears, but his wife knew him better than anyone, cutting him off with a small loving embrace. Emotion welled up in Phil’s throat as he returned the hug, and the two stood in their cramped dining room like that for a while, the opened letter left scattered on the stained wooden table. Phil’s gaze drifted toward the couch where the two boys lay sprawled on top of each other, covered by a single blanket, asleep. For a moment, just a moment, Phil wanted to keep them like that forever - blissfully in that perfect moment of peace. But, Phil couldn’t do anything. A war was coming.

“We’ll get through this together.” Kristen had promised him. Phil hoped she was right.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The train howled in the distance. Millions of families rushed to and fro on the platform, volunteers and teachers hoisted the smaller children into the train. Conductors shouted, and the entire train platform was bathed in a large gust of steam. In the middle of all the chaos stood Phil, Kristen, and their two children.

“Okay boys, let’s go through this one more time,” Phil said, getting down more on their level, and trying his best to maintain a smile. “When you get on the train, stay in your seats. Make sure not to lose your bags, and try not to cause any trouble. Listen to the volunteers, yeah?” Wilbur nodded, and Phil noticed Tommy looking around in curiosity at all those passing by. He snapped his fingers, turning the ten-year-old’s attention back on him. “Tommy?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What did I just say?”

“Uhm… don’t pull any pranks?”

“Yes, don’t cause any trouble, Tommy. This is serious. There’s a lot of people, I don’t want you to get lost okay?”

“Okay.”

Phil looked over at his oldest, clutching the suitcase in his hands tightly, a tag around his neck matching his brothers’. He’d been quiet since Phil had told them both the situation a day ago, and rushed off to help Phil get everything they needed from the list - they barely afforded getting the essentials. Money saved up for Wilbur’s new coat went to bars of soap, stockings, slippers, and handkerchiefs. Phil had given Wilbur his own, saying he’d be fine without one for the winter and they’d be able to afford another in no time. “Look out for him, alright?” While the two shared a brief moment together, Kristen was leaning down toward the child, spotting a bit of dirt on his cheek she was determined to get rid of. Tommy protested and squirmed from her grip as she smiled, holding back as laugh and keeping him still. Wilbur looked over at the two, smiling fondly.

“I will, Dad. I promise.”

Phil couldn’t help but be overcome with pride for his eldest, a small smile on his face. He grew up way too fast - where was that small boy who was always propped up on his shoulders and sang beautiful songs deep into the night, eyes shining with happiness? There were still traces of that same glimmer in Wilbur’s eyes, signs that those dreams and that hope were still alive, and to Phil that was all that mattered. He grew and became so responsible, so capable of anything and everything. At that moment, seeing him, he remembered that strong feeling of pride. Phil had every confidence in him, no matter what the future might hold.

He reached into his coat pocket for the letter, before taking in his eldest for what would be the last time for a while. His hand lightly brushed through that curly brown hair that always fell over his eyes, moving down to cup his cheek and look into those dark eyes that were so much like his mother’s - deep pools of infinite. “I hope you know how much I love you, Wilbur.”

“I do… I mean,” Wilbur stumbled, looking down at the ground. “I..I know, Dad.”

Phil nodded, pressing a small kiss to his son’s forehead. “Good.” He handed out the folded piece of paper with a name scribbled on it - Technoblade. “You’ll be staying with an old friend of mine, he knows me well and I trust him. Be on your best behavior.”

“Right,” Wilbur confirmed, looking over the name for a moment before sliding the piece of paper in his bag. “Does he... know we’re coming?”

“Well, uhm… no…?”

“No?”

“Just give him the letter, it’ll explain everything. He owes me.”

Tommy rushed over, seemingly running from Kristen who simply giggled. “Papa!” Phil’s smile widened at the exchange.

“Come here you little squirt!” Phil’s heart lit up as he scooped up the smaller child in his arms, Tommy laughing with a playful shriek as he did so. “What’s wrong, mate?”

“Mama keeps scrubbing my face, it hurts!” Tommy accused, to which Kristen rolled her eyes with a smile.

“You’ve got dirt all over your face, honey-”

The train howled once more, sending all of them to silence. One of the conductors at the train car around ten or so feet from them shouted: “All aboard! All aboard who’s coming aboard!” Phil looked between the two of them.

“Let’s get you two settled, yeah?” They passed through the crowd toward the conductor. At this point many of the parents were already gone or standing a far distance from the track itself, seeing their children off. He slowly lowered Tommy off his hip and into the step. “I’ve got two kids here for the train, they’ve got their cards and items.” Phil gently moved Wilbur in front of him as he spoke. The man, in a bit of a hurry, snatched Tommy’s tag, almost making the child lose his balance as he glanced at it. Phil heaved Tommy’s shoulder bag, packed with things, into the steps with him. “He’s good. You had another?”

“Yes, my oldest, Wilbur. Please make sure, if you can find them a seat together.” The conductor looked Wilbur over before checking his tag as well.

“Will do, but I don’t make any promises.” He nodded at the tag. “He’s a good chap too. Let’s go, we’ve got a schedule.”

Tommy hugged his father around the neck. “Love you Papa. Love you Mama.”

“Love you, Toms.” Phil smiled, as Kristen leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, making the smaller child giggle. Wilbur was already picking up his younger brother’s things and sliding the bag over his shoulder.

“Bye!” Tommy waved as he followed behind the conductor.

“Bye.” Wilbur waved behind him. “I love you.”

And… just like that, they were gone. Phil held Kristen’s hands as they watched their two sons leave in a cloud of steam, chugging away toward the countryside. Going someplace safe. Kristen began to tear up and Phil held her close in comfort. Now, it was a waiting game of fate. A waiting game for the foretold bomb. A waiting game to die.

—————————

General Writing Taglist (LMK if you want to be added/removed):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

[white-tulips]

I spent most of this morning continuing playing through the hikikomori route, more of my thoughts below!! (major spoilers ahead!!!!!)

if you haven’t but want to read my first post on my hikikomori playthrough, you can see it [here]!! it’s been a month since I last played any, aha...

I played for quite a few hours earlier but I don’t think I really progressed all that much aha. most of my time went towards grinding and wandering around and seeing little things. oh, and also playing through Orange Oasis. I never actually did that in my first run of the game. it was okay.

I really love how many little details and things to go back to that there are, but I’m still a little bitter at just. how long everything is. I talked about this a lot in my previous post, but it irritates me that the first 15-20 hours (give or take depending on how fast you’re able to blast through this game) is just. exactly the same as what you experience in the main route. especially since now my hikikomori save file is even longer than my main story file, and I think I still have a decent ways to go until I finish. I don’t actually know! I haven’t been spoiled for this route, thankfully, so I don’t really know how much is left. I have a vague idea of a couple areas I need to go to, but that’s about it.

ok, on to my thoughts!! this post is probably just going to be me rambling about tiny details I found interesting since I didn’t progress through much plot stuff, I think.

when I opened up my save file, I. completely forgot what I had been doing a month ago and what I wanted to do next, so I decided to go back to the Last Resort. I don’t know what compelled me to go, but there was a lot of fun stuff there so I’m glad that I did!

I had never tried to use Aubrey to go into the girls’ bathroom before? it was very cute, I liked it. I don’t know why, but as soon as I walked in it really reminded me of Basil. I think it’s all the flowers, photos hanging from the wall, and general soft cutesy vibe. I’m not really sure what to make of that, but it was just my general impression. hmmmm.

I have no words for this other than it just made me amused. go get your vacation, king.

also:

I didn’t know Hero had a confirmed age!! all this time I had been assuming he and Mari were 16 years old, so it’s nice to have something set in stone!

I have no words for these, either. seeing all of the Hero pictures just made me laugh out loud a little I loved it.

when I was standing in Jawsum’s office, I noticed that the elevator behind his desk was shaking. I went to examine it, and was surprised when this was where I ended up.

the black space elevator.

something I completely forgot to mention in my last hikikomori post was black space!! it had completely took me by surprise so I can’t believe I forgot to talk about it.

last time I played and went back to Last Resort, there was a completely black car on the highway and it had really freaked me out. as soon as I clicked on it, instead of giving me some kind of prompt Omori just got in and it drove off. I was so shocked because I wasn’t expecting it fhgjdfhgj. it ended up taking Omori back to one of the black space rooms, and I had no clue what to make of it. I wandered around for a little while, and ended up finding this... friend?

I’m... not sure! who are you......

anyways, so I got in the elevator and we’re back here, now with more spiders.

the spider wasn’t interactable. not sure whether to be upset or relieved.

aaaand then there was this guy in the treehouse. I want to know what these black space NPCs are!!! as soon as I tried to interact with it, the screen glitched out (intentionally) and then it was gone. one day I’ll know what it means.

oh, another thing I spent quite a bit of time doing at the Last Resort-

getting statues made of everyone!! RIP to all of my clams, but these are so cute.

cuuute.

I really liked the comment on Mari’s! it made me happy that it highlighted her playful side.

after I was done reexploring Last Resort, I wanted to go back to Sweetheart’s castle. I was walking through Pyrefly Forest, and I noticed one of the picnic blankets had a cooler open (signaling that you can see a new picnic cutscene) so I went to go sit down and have a picnic.

so, when I was going around earlier and doing some stuff, there were a few picnics that I think I had skipped for some reason so I was doing them and mindlessly skipping through the text for no reason other than it would bother be if I just left them. nothing about the conversations was different even though Basil is here now, so I didn’t think anything would be different for the one in Pyrefly Forest, but I was wrong!! I almost completely skipped through everything aha.

it started off the same, with Hero being scared of the spiders, and then Kel prompted Basil to say something positive to try and make him less scared.

it’s pretty insignificant, but I thought it was interesting that he said pretty much the exact same thing he says in the spider room in black space.

when I got to the castle, I went straight to the library. something about the pattern of going to black space, plus being able to go into the barn in Otherworld, just made me feel like there would be something there. and oh boy was I right. the entire place was crawling with Something.

very good.....

I wasn’t able to get screenshots of them, but there were a couple text popups that really stood out to me. my memory is so bad I can’t remember all of them even though it was only this morning,,, but I’m pretty sure one of them had a popup that was just “Liar.” and I was like HM....

it just really had me thinking....

in my previous post, I mentioned that I had a gut feeling that the Something in the barn was supposed to represent Basil, not Mari. this kind of added fuel to that thought!

the barn in Otherworld was only used in the main route in reference to Basil, with it literally showing Omori a vision of him, and also having Stranger walking into it. now, the library also has a lot of connection to Basil! after picking up one of the keys, it shows us another vision of him, and it’s also littered with egret orchids. I don’t think choosing to have all of these Somethings in both of these places is just a coincidence.

now, about the “Liar.” line. in any fight with Something, if there’s a text popup meant to be Something speaking, it’s always done like this-

with the “???:” to indicate character speech. but the “Liar.” popup was just a standalone line. and it instantly reminded me of this room in black space-

and this just kept making my brain whirl.

in this room, there were all of these popups with “Liar.” and then of course there was-

see here how there also weren’t indications of who was saying ‘liar”, but there was for Something? my idea for this room was always that it was Omori repeating it to himself. because we all know by now that Something is Mari, and her saying “I love you”, especially in this form, is nothing but pure torment. and I think here, we have Omori unwilling to believe it. there’s no way Mari could love him/Sunny. she has to be lying.

soooo then, this brings me back to the library. having the “Liar.” popup there, keeping in consideration that the Somethings there might represent Basil, what could that mean?? it could be in reference to Basil’s words “Everything is going to be okay” because clearly everything is not okay. if all of these Somethings are meant to be Basil, it could fit!!!

... so there’s my long winded theory. idk! I think it makes sense, but I could be wrong!! that’s just my first impressions right now, maybe my thoughts will change when I play more!

moving onto the piano room-

this was when I thought “ohhhh so that’s why the wall always felt hallow. it all makes sense now”

and then I spent the next 30 or so minutes fighting all of the Somethings

I LOVED this. this was the first time a fight was put on a time limit, and since Something was so much more powerful, it felt actually stressful. I was stressed! but I managed to make it with 2-3 turns left, and I didn’t die. I did die about 1 or 2 times to arachnophobia and thalassophobia though F. but it’s okay because I got an achievement and also Omori’s suffocate skill is really good.

anyways I did some more mindless walking around (I had to kill time waiting for all my statues to be built, you know!)

this made me really happy. Big Molio I love you you’re the mvp and you deserve the world.

... looking through my screenshots I wish I could forget this one-

,, do I need to even explain it.

I remember a while ago, I saw someone on twitter post this and iirc the caption was something like “isn’t it a bit morbid to have the jumprope there” and, at the time, I had never gone through Orange Oasis, so seeing that tweet I had the wind knocked out of me. I was just sitting there like “fuuuuuuuuck”. and then I went through Orange Oasis today, saw it again, went “fuuuuuuuuck” and then forgot I screenshot it. it’s just a lot.

okay who knows how I filled the rest of the 6 hours I played because I didn’t take many screenshots of the downtime and running around completing sidequests I never did. the last point of interest today was I had went back to Humphrey.

I didn’t do too much, but I did fight Mutantheart.

I adore her!!!! so cute!!! Mutantheart my beloved.

I lost to her once, because I was a bit confused, but once I caught on to the gimmick of her fight, it was actually pretty easy. rest in peace, queen, I love you...

and then, uh. Her-

I tried 3 times. I didn’t win... all of the characters are maxed leveled at 50, but this is so difficult... well, the first half of the fight I found to be pretty easy, actually. but once she switches into full power mode it’s over. I don’t know how I’m supposed to win. farewell my dream of completing the foe facts book, it was a nice goal while it was realistic. 

and then I stopped for the day! I think I needed that month of not playing, because coming back into the game after a lot of my rage and burnout settled was probably best, and I had a lot of fun playing! hopefully it doesn’t take me another month to continue.

if you made it all the way through this post, thank you for reading! I hope you like my thoughts~

I’ll leave on this note-

king shit

[artzychic27]

The Primaries: Beautiful

Adrien: September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary:

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of Senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known since I got here, and I ask myself—what happened? Students: Freak! Liar! Burnout! Moron! Poser! Dumbass!

Adrien: We were so tiny, happy and shiny! Playing tag, and getting chased! Students: Bitch! Jerk! Liar! Bullies! Adrien: Singing and clapping, laughing and napping! Baking cookies, eating paste! Students: Blowhard! Stuck-up! Tabloid! Adrien: Then we got bigger, that was the trigger Like the Huns invading Rome! Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome! Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon! Students: White trash! Adrien: Next year will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!... But I know, I know, life can be beautiful I pray, I pray for a better way If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...

*Alya trips Aurore* 

Aurore: Hey! Adrien: Just not today. *He goes to help her up* Hey, are you okay? Aurore: *She smacks his hand away* Don’t talk to me. Adrien: Oh, okay Students: Jerk! Liar! Poser! Doormat! Doormat! Doormat! Adrien: Things will get better soon as my letter Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown Wake from this coma, take my diploma Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés Lila: Watch it! Adrien: Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze! *Lila smacks Mireille’s lunch tray out of her hands*

Lila: Oops. Adrien: Lila Rossi. Third year as an Agreste Model, and tenth year of smacking lunch trays and being a lying bitch! Lila: Do you want me to tell your dad what you just said? Adrien: ... Shut up, Lila. But I know, I know... (I know, I know...) Life can be beautiful (Beautiful) I pray, I pray (I pray, I pray) For a better way (For a better way) We were kind before; (Ooh...) We can be kind once more (Ooh...) We can be beautiful... (Ooh... Beautiful...) *Nino taps on his shoulder*

Adrien: Ah!... Hey Nino. Nino: Hey! Adrien: Nino Lahiffe. My best friend since I started this school. Nino: We still on for movie night? Adrien: Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail. Nino: I rented "Jurassic Park." Adrien: Again? Wait, don't you have it memorized by now? Nino: What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good Spielberg movie. Alya: Nino! You can’t go to movie night; I need your help with the Ladyblog. Adrien: Alya Ceasaire: Blogger. She is always jumping to conclusions. It often leads to trouble. Lila: Oh! Then that means you’re free tonight, Adrien! Adrien: No! Nino and I are having movie night! Work on the Ladyblog another time. Lila: I'm sorry, are you actually standing up to me? Adrien: Yes, I am! I wanna know what gives you the right to act like a high and mighty control freak. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future cocktail waitress!... Jean: Wow, Adrien! Your balls finally dropped. Congrats.

*The students laugh while Adrien blushes from embarrassment*

Adrien: Dear diary: Why... Myléne: Why do they hate us? Mireille: Why don't I fight back?

Marc: Why are they such creeps? Adrien: Why... Lila: Why won't he date me? Kim: Why did I hit him? Juleka/Mme. Bustier/Nino: Why do I cry myself to sleep? Adrien: Why... Students: Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

... Students: Ah! Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: And then there's the Primaries. They float above it all... Students: I love Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... I hate Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, president of the art club. His family is dangerous—they’re the Jewish mafia.

Students: I want Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: Chloé Bourgeois, my sort of best friend. Her dad runs the city. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for hair extensions. Students: I need Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Almighty... She has connections all over the world. They’re solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed even though they’re in my class... I would give anything to be like that. Aurore: I'd like to be their girlfriend. Students: That would be beautiful... Sabrina: If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. Students: So beautiful... Ooh... Nino: I'd like them to be nicer. Students: That would be beautiful... Ooh... Lila: I'd like to kidnap a Primary and photograph them naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave them tied up for the rats.

*Cut to the Primaries in the locker room* Marinette: And after we take down that tabloid blog, we-

Mme. Bustier: *She walks in* Ah, Marinette, Nathaniel, and Chloé. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell. You're late for class. Marinette: Oh, yes. It’d be a shame if we were late to a class that had us read fairytales about princes kissing princesses to break spells. Ever heard of Edgar Allen Poe? *Chloé and Nathaniel snicker*

Mme. Bustier: *Sputters* Week's detention!

Adrien: Um, actually, Mme. Bustier, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee *He shows her the fake hall pass* Mme. Bustier: ...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going. *She leaves*  Marinette: *She takes the forged note and examines it* This is an excellent forgery, Agreste. I didn’t know you had it in you. Adrien: Thanks... I crave a boon Marinette: What boon? Adrien: Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If the others think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone... *They laugh* Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes- Nathaniel: How about prescriptions? Chloe: Shut it, Nath. Nathaniel: You shut it. Marinette: ... You know, for a tall, lanky nobody whose father puts him on a strict diet and trims away body fat so you look like a twig in your shitty fashion magazines... You do have good bone structure. Nathaniel: And a symmetrical face. If I took a switchblade down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important. Chloé: Of course, you could stand to gain a few pounds. Marinette: And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Some new clothes, brush his hair out. And we're on our way. Get this boy some blush; And Chloé, I need your brush Let's make him beautiful. Nathaniel: Let's make him beautiful... Chloé: Let's make him beautiful... Marinette: Make him beautiful... Okay? Adrien: Okay! *The next day*

Lila: Out of my way, bitch! Aurore: Why don’t you get bent?! Mireille: Your class will die at 3 pm! Marc/Jean: Don't you dare touch me! Get away, assholes! Alix/Kim: What did we ever do to them? Students: Who could survive this? I can't escape this! I think I'm dying! Juleka: Who's that with Mari? Students: Whoa... Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Aurore/Mireille/Marc: And someone! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Lila: And a babe! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Nino: Adrien?! Students: Adrien? Adrien? Adrien?! Adrien: And you know, you know, you know Life can be beautiful You hope, you dream, you pray And you get your way! Ask me how it feels! Lookin' like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! I might be beautiful... And when you're beautiful... It's a beautiful frickin' day! Students: Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien!