#i won't be reaching out to people until the weekend at the earliest

[austerulous]

You know the drill. ♡

[realmagicmaddie]

A Busy Weekend - Online "PersonaCon" 2023 w/ pigdude & Good4Gaming Supports The Trevor Project!

Hello, Tumblr! It's been some time since I initially kickstarted this blog. Since then, I've been hammering away at the video game reviews/blogs/essays/etc. that'd be exclusive to this site, as well as developing fair treats for prospective Post+ subscribers.

And then I'd be sitting stuck on a part of it.

Then going absolutely wild over my mere keyboard!

Then my brain goes out, just running on pitiful fumes.

I feel I have a ways to go in that department (call it my self-consciousness kicking in for no good reason...and maybe you're half-right, I admit). But until I feel I can deliver something substantial, I won't let this site miss out on what can be found on my Twitch, Twitter, Discord server (co-hosted with my lovely S/O @thepigdude), AO3, or even YouTube. And with this weekend being one of the largest I've had online in a while, it's only fair it's one of the first times I import the announcements from Twitter to Tumblr, and not just slap the Twitter thread's link and call it a day.

Now if it makes it easier, then here you go...

But at least I should give the Tumblr version its few bits of flair.

So with no further ado:

First up is another major charity effort from my friends at Good4Gaming, starting this Thursday (and as of writing this, TOMORROW!) at 2 PM EST.

(Small TW for the mention of self-injury and suicide; while only briefly, and in the context of helping to prevent such, it doesn't hurt for you to be aware. Just know this event is for The Trevor Project, and skip the single next paragraph if it's helpful.)

With Pride Month just around the corner, it was the perfect time to set up our next quarter of the year's major fundraising as a very appropriate cause: The Trevor Project, a renowned organization that emphasizes the care and physical/mental well-being of LGBTQ+ youth. They provide several resources for those demographics of people that couldn't readily find them elsewhere. In addition, not unlike the Crisis Text Line or numerous countries' own mobile hotlines, TP helps those in crises and/or to prevent self-injury and suicide from happening. And frankly, with how turbulent and disappointing some of the national/global news has been for LGBTQ+ groups, the Trevor Project remains as necessary as ever.

And even when this weekend's come and gone, G4G will continue to emphasize Trevor Project in charity fundraising and gaming streams/segments all through June, July, AND August—and even then, we aim to keep the site for donations open for the entirety of the year, merely switching major focus as soon as September hits.

So from Thursday afternoon to late Sunday night (going into the earliest small stretch of Monday), the team at G4G will be streaming games and activities hosted by a variety of our community members. I will be jumping on that Saturday, June 3rd from 2-6 PM EST (the game I'll be playing is still TBA, so stay tuned), but there will be a lot of other personalities to join before and after, so keep an eye out.

And if you're raring to donate or even spread the campaign to others, please check it out HERE - thanks in advance for your support!

—

And now we reach the announcements that relate to the 2023 run for PersonaCon, a completely-online, Discord-based fandom convention that kicked off amidst the start of the pandemic, yet continues to receive its share of support and festivities as the years go by. pigdude and I have been hosting panels at this virtual venue since 2021, and we are thrilled to be back with a trilogy of new panels for people to watch/listen in on, and even directly participate in.

While we encourage folks to join the actual server HERE, you can also interact through my Twitch channel during livestreams of the events; we'll be sure to consistently connect comments from both the Twitch and Discord room chats, keeping your time with us as seamless as relatively possible. Also, unlike with PersonaCon 2022 (regrettably and from my own clumsiness), the Twitch VODs for these panels will be archived to YouTube, which I'll link to around that time.

But without much more digression, here's our newest lineup of panels for this year's PersonaCon:

Saturday (June 3rd) at 11 AM EST (and ending 1.5 hours ahead of my G4G takeover!), pigdude and I'll go through the downs and ups of the P5 anime while reworking it for Royal and/or Strikers.

Sunday (June 4th) at 11 AM EST, the casts (mainline, remastered, and spin-off) of Persona 3, 4, and 5 duke it out in very (real) high-stakes Hunger Games simulators - but who're those OLD people placing bets?!

And to wrap up our time at our third consecutive online con:

Monday (June 5th) at 12 PM EST, pigdude and I'll be pitching our ideas for adapting the Persona games to the gold and/or silver screens (or the streaming equivalents): the ideal, the disaster, and the "realistically stellar."

—

So there we have it! I hope those who have the time this weekend are interested in checking out (more or less unorthodox) content from pigdude and myself. And if you want to watch any of the con's panels you might've missed, stay tuned after for the VODs to be uploaded on my YouTube channel (which is otherwise currently inactive) after the week has wrapped up.

Take care, everyone, and have a good one!

Best,

Maddie

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #45

NOTE: I may add screenshots later, if I feel like it. Read if you want, but be warned; it has no pictures.

previously - Journal Entry #44 (part six)

Yuri

Everyone survived the weekend.

I don't mean for that to sound offhanded or flippant. What I mean is, It was a tough weekend for Victor and me, but our friends didn't find it particularly pleasant either, nor did our families. Today is Wednesday, and the first part of the week hasn't really been any easier than the weekend, but we're all still here and hanging on as best we can.

Everyone's been calling and texting me to find out how Victor's doing. Sakura, Seiji and Takahiro want to visit him, and so does my little sister Yuki, but he won't accept any visitors other than me. He says he doesn't want our friends to see him the way he is, and he especially doesn't want Yuki to. He's concerned the experience of visiting him in the hospital might upset her. I didn't bother to point out that Yuki has visited me on numerous occasions when I've been in the hospital. I'm sure she's never thought of it as fun, but she's never seemed any the worse for it, either.

I'm frustrated by this, because I think it would do Victor good to have some visitors other than me. But, I also understand that if he says he doesn't want visitors, we all have to respect that. Regardless of how badly all the people who love him want to see him and show their support, ultimately the decision is his.

As for his family, I've been talking to Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian, and to his soon-to-be stepsister Ellie. I haven't connected with Leo, but I'm sure Ellie is passing all the information on to him and his parents.

I didn't end up speaking to Dr. Grace at all on Friday, notwithstanding my numerous attempts to reach her. After I finished recording my journal entry on Friday night, I crawled into bed, so exhausted that I don't even remember pulling the blankets over myself before falling asleep. Apparently, Dr. Grace called after I was in bed. I hadn't even heard my phone, but Papa did. He answered it and explained to her what had happened.

According to Papa's retelling on Saturday morning of their conversation the previous evening, Victor's mother hadn't taken the news well at all, which was nothing less than I would've expected. Papa said it sounded as if she intended to get on the earliest flight she could, which didn't surprise me either.

By the time I finally spoke to her on Saturday evening, she seemed calm, although I could tell she was very worried. She said she wouldn't come unless we really needed her to, but she made me promise to give her daily updates until Victor was able to talk with her himself.

I spent almost the entire day on Saturday at the hospital with Victor, and most of Sunday as well. He didn't get to come home on Sunday like Dr. Sato had said, because when the nurses helped him out of bed around mid-morning and tried to get him to walk, he didn't even take one step before he said he was dizzy and felt like he was going to fall. They kept encouraging him to try again, but he was scared and wouldn't do it.

He made tentative progress on Monday, taking a few wobbly steps away from his bed before he panicked. Yesterday, he refused to get out of bed at all, and this morning Dr. Sato said she'd consider sending him home in a wheelchair if he isn't able or willing to walk by the end of the week. That, and she said she intends to refer him to a neurologist because, according to her, there's no medical reason why he isn't able to walk other than a neurological problem. She mentioned referring him to a psychologist as well, in case the problem isn't physiological. Victor's lackluster response to that had been, "Fine. Whatever you want to do."

The threat of having to see more specialists and having to be pushed around in a wheelchair hasn't motivated him. I thought it would, but unfortunately it's only made the situation worse. Victor seems resigned to the fact that he's going to continue to be poked, prodded and questioned by various strangers and that his recovery is going to be marked by challenges. I know he doesn't like it, but I think he's given up protesting anything and has just decided to let his circumstances happen to him rather than taking any sort of control over them himself.

After Dr. Sato left, a care assistant arrived with his breakfast tray, which contained a grilled cheese sandwich — his favourite — a small plate of fresh fruit, a bowl of vanilla yogurt, milk, and green tea. He doesn't have much dexterity with a cast on each forearm, but he can move his fingers enough to grip things or to hold a cup securely between both hands. Theoretically, he should have been able to manage at least the grilled cheese by himself, but he asked me to hold it for him instead. I didn't mind, but I would've been happier if he'd done more than nibble the corner off it.

He let me feed him a few bites of cut-up banana, but he didn't want anything else despite my coaxing and pleading with him to eat. He didn't want to drink his milk either, which he typically loves. I've never known him to start the day without a big glass of cold milk at breakfast, and it worried me that he didn't even have an appetite for that.

I ate a few pieces of banana and some apple slices, perhaps hoping in some odd way that if he noticed me consuming something voluntarily, it'd encourage him to eat as well. It didn't, but I opted to look on the bright side anyway. One of us got some benefit from the meal.

When it became obvious that Victor couldn't be persuaded to finish his breakfast, I carried the tray carefully across the room and set it on the little counter next to the sink.

Taking the cup of tea from the tray, I returned to my chair next to Victor's bed. While my back had been to him, he'd lain down again. His eyes were closed. I sipped the tea. It was scented with jasmine and reminded me of my mother.

"You know you can't keep going on like this," I said.

"Like what?" he mumbled.

"You know exactly what. You need to eat, and you need to get up and start moving.

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"Will you eat when you actually are hungry?" I asked.

"I guess."

This was not a particularly resounding reply, but I let it go. I had to tell myself that missing one or two meals wasn't going to hurt him. If he still didn't want to eat by tomorrow, that'd be a different story, but I resolved not to stress myself out about it in advance. I was already tired and stressed enough.

I finished my tea and tried to think of something to say that didn't involve the hospital or Victor's state of health. Neither of us typically has to search for things to talk about with each other, but for the past few days, most of our conversations have felt strained and awkward.

"I've been thinking about the new house," I said.

"Uh-huh."

"I found an app that lets you upload pictures and then pick colours so you can see what they'll look like in the room. I used some of the photos Kim and Robert sent us to plan out my bedroom."

"We're still moving?"

"Of course we're still moving," I said. "Why wouldn't we?"

"I don't know if I want to any more," Victor said.

I was momentarily stunned. "Going to Willow Creek was your idea."

"No, it was your idea," he said.

"All right, maybe it was, but I wanted to do it for you. I suggested it because I thought you wanted to go home, to be with your family and friends, and everything you grew up with."

"It's not what you want."

"I want to be with you," I told him. "I don't care where we are."

I probably shouldn't have been surprised when he began to cry. If I've learned anything about Victor since we've been together, it's that he can become teary at the slightest provocation. "I don't want to move. I don't want to do anything hard. All I want is to go home and sleep in my own bed."

"But, you just said—"

"No... home. To our house," he said. "Can you please take me home?"

"I want you to come home. When the doctor says you can go, I'll take you."

"I don't want to stay here."

I placed my empty cup on the floor, and then pulled my chair closer to the bed. "Listen to me for a second, okay?" I said, caressing his cheek with the back of my hand. "I know you don't want to stay here, and I really want to bring you home. But if you don't want to leave in a wheelchair, Dr. Sato needs to know that you can walk at least as far as from your bed to the bathroom. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can't."

"Can you tell me why you can't?"

"Because," he said, as more tears spilled down the sides of his face and onto my fingers. "I'll mess it up. Like I mess up everything."

"Victor, look at me." I moved my hand up to stroke his head, gently pushing back unkempt locks of silver hair. "You do not mess up everything. You're strong and capable and there are lots of things you do really well. Don't I always tell you that?"

"To be nice."

"No, not just to be nice. I say it because it's true."

"What can I do? I can't feed myself or dress myself. I can't even see like a normal person."

"None of that is going to be forever." I did my best to reassure him. "You'll get better, and you'll be able to do everything you used to do."

"What if I don't get better?"

"You will. Your arms and your rib will heal, and then you can start exercising again and doing all the things you like. You were going to teach me how to lift weights, remember? We can build up our strength together."

"But... what if my eyes don't get better?" he asked. "What happens then?"

I closed my own eyes for a moment. This was the question to which I didn't want to contemplate the answer. I'd look after of him, of course. Whatever he needed, I'd do it to the best of my ability, but that wasn't the real issue. The difficulty lay in the psychological impact that even a partial loss of vision would have on him if it were permanent. He was already miserable and distressed. I could only imagine what would happen to him if his vision didn't improve.

"We have to think positively." It was a stupid thing to say, and I knew it before the sentence had completely left my mouth. Victor didn't need to hear useless platitudes. I pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. "But, if things don't improve, we'll find a way to cope. I'll take care of you."

"You're not supposed to be taking care of me," he said, and it came out sounding like a mixture of anger and defeat. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, but if I can't do what you need, then what's the point?"

"Victor," I said softly. "I love you. I need you. Anyone can cook for me and organize my medications, but only you can understand me and love me the way you do, and you don't need 20/20 vision for that."

He didn't respond for a long time. He just lay there and wept. The low moaning sound of it was horribly familiar to my ears because it was almost exactly the same sound that comes out of me when I'm exhausted and in unbearable pain and wishing I could simply slip away into nothingness.

Seeing Victor in that state was hard, not just because it broke my heart to know how much he was suffering, but also because I understand how humiliating it is to feel so helpless and weak. It's not a new feeling for me, yet I still hate it. I could only imagine how much worse it must have been for Victor, who's used to always being the strong one.

After a few minutes he quieted, and I thought he might've been falling asleep, but then he opened his eyes wide and stared straight at me. I could tell he was struggling to focus on my face. His expression was like that of someone afraid of heights who’d been forced to the edge of a sheer cliff, and I wished desperately that there was something I could do to pull him back from the threshold of that abyss.

"I'm scared," he said, his voice diminished by his tears. "Angry and disappointed, and... I don't know. Stupid for wrecking everything."

"You're not stupid."

What else would you call it, when this whole mess is my own fault?"

"It's not your fault. "I reached out and began to stroke his hair again. "I know you're angry and scared. It's okay to feel like that."

"No, it's not."

"I promise it is," I said. "No one's telling you you're not allowed to be upset. You have every right to feel the way you do. The hospital's a scary place, and not being able to predict what'll happen in the future is scary, too."

"I want things to go back to the way they were."

"Me too," I admitted. "I have to believe they will."

"I want to, but I don't think I can really believe they will, and..." He let the sentence drift away, unfinished. When he finally continued, his voice wavered a little. "I... I can't live like that, being a burden to everyone."

"You'll never be a burden to me," I assured him.

He sighed. "You won't always say that."

"Why would you think that?"

"Maybe in a few weeks or a month or two, you won't mean it any more," he said. "When you're in pain and not feeling good, and you're exhausted from doing stuff for me that I can't do for myself, you'll say I'm a burden."

"Victor—"

"It's not a criticism," he said. "It's just how it'll be. We both know that."

"If I can't do everything, we'll get someone else to help us," I said. "We could—"

"Yuri, stop."

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. "If nothing changes with my eyes, I'll be useless. I won't be able to look after myself or you. That's it. There's no more to say."

"Maybe for the first little while you won't be able to, but you can learn different ways to do things, and like I said, we can get someone else to help us."

"No," he said. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life groping and shuffling around, and relying on somebody else to do stuff for me. I'd rather not even be around than to live like that."

"Victor, please don't say that."

"I don't want to discuss it any more," he said. "Anyway, whatever happens, you'll be okay. Your parents will make sure you're all right."

"But, you—"

"I'm done talking about it."

"Okay, you're right," I conceded. "We probably shouldn't be trying to discuss this right now. Do you want me to read to you, or put on some music?"

"No," he said. "I just want to sleep."

"Okay," I agreed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I might go home and work for a few hours, and take the dogs for a walk. I'll come back in time to help you with your lunch."

"You're not going to stay with me?"

"Should I stay and watch you sleep?" I inquired.

"I guess not," he said. "It's just... I hate it here, and if you're not going to take me home, then I feel like staying with me so you're still here when I wake up is the least you can do."

"You know I'd take you home right this minute if the doctor said I could."

"Just tell her you're doing it. She can't force me to stay."

"That's true, but you know she has a good reason for keeping you here this long."

"What does she expect?" he demanded. "I can't walk if I can't see. If I'm going to be an invalid, I might as well be comfortable in my own bed, right?"

I could have argued that such an assertion was absolutely silly. There are loads of people with low vision walking around independently and confidently every day, and some who are even completely blind. As a matter of fact, there was a guy in my class at school with low vision. As far as I know, he can only see light and colour from one eye, and has just barely enough vision in the other to read large print, but not only did this guy do nearly everything the rest of us did, he was also a competitive swimmer and he was obsessed with climbing. For most of us, the highlight of our final year of high school was graduation. For Tatsuki Yamashiro, apparently the crowning moment of final year was an epic climb to the summit of Yukimatsu.

It wouldn't have done any good to tell Victor any of that, though.

"What is it going to take to motivate you?" I asked.

He didn't answer me for several seconds, and I tried to guess whether he was thinking about it or whether he was deliberately ignoring me. After what felt like a full minute or more, he said, "I want my mom."

"All right," I said. "Do you want to call or FaceTime with her? Your phone's here."

"FaceTime," he echoed, sounding as incredulous as if I'd asked him to do something outrageous, like fighting a snow leopard with his bare hands. "FaceTime? How the hell am I even supposed to use my phone, much less try to see my mom on FaceTime?"

"I'll help you use your phone,' I said. "You can still talk, and she might like to see you."

"Just call her yourself and tell her I need her," he said. "Ask her to come here, if she can. I know it's a lot, and she probably can't, but she's the only one who..." Evidently realizing he was about to say something that was probably going to be hurtful to me, he stopped abruptly. "Sorry."

Against my better judgment, my mind leapt to fill in the rest of the sentence. She's the only one who I trust enough to take care of me. She's the only one who doesn't expect anything from me. She's the only one who never lets me down.

"Don't worry about it," I said, but my tone rang hollow, even to me.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and then quietly, "See? I am messing up everything."

Contradicting him again would've been pointless. Instead, I said, "I'm sure your mother will come to take care of you. Is there anything else you want me to tell her?"

"I don't know. I can't even think right now. My head hurts," he said. "I want to go to sleep and stop trying to deal with any of this. It's too much."

"Okay," I said. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No," he said. "You can go. It's fine."

But of course it wasn't fine. We both knew that. "I won't leave you if you don't want me to."

"Go. There's nothing else you can do here. Like you said, it'd be dumb and pointless to sit around and watch me sleep when you could be working."

"That isn't what I said."

"Get out of here and do something productive with the rest of your day," he said. "The rest of your week. Come back when the doctor says she's discharging me. Or not. Whatever you want."

"If you're sure—"

"Yuri, just... get the hell out of here before one of us loses it, okay? You've obviously got better things to do than to hang around here and pretend you understand what I'm going through. You can't possibly get how it feels to realize you wrecked your whole life with one dumb choice."

But, I did know. I do know.

I left the hospital feeling guilty, as if I'd abandoned Victor, although he was the one who'd asked me to leave. At the same time, I was reproaching myself for feeling hurt over what had transpired between us in his room, because I should have known it would come to this point eventually.

Even now, when I'm stronger than he is, Victor won't allow me to be the person he leans on. I'm willing to do whatever is necessary, but despite everything, it seems that he doesn't want my help and doesn't trust me to look after him. I suppose we've established a pattern in our relationship by now, though, and he's always going to see me as weak and unreliable, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised.

The worst part is, I only have myself to blame because I've never been able to adequately communicate to him how much I love him and want to take care of him. No matter how many times I say it, and no matter what I do, it's never been enough to convince him. Maybe I should've tried to be more self-sufficient during my own periods of illness, fought harder to function through the sometimes debilitating pain and tried to do my share instead of letting him do everything for me. Perhaps that would've proved that my intentions have never been only to take without giving in return, and that I actually am capable of giving.

I can't cry. As desperate as I am to release everything inside me, years of conditioning are keeping me from it, even when I'm by myself. I expect I'll reach a breaking point eventually, but I guess I haven’t gotten to it yet, and who will be there to comfort me when I do? Not Victor. I can't go to him with my troubles like I normally would. He has way more than enough of his own.

The irony isn't lost on me that the only person in the world besides my mother, whom I trust enough to lower all my personal barriers with, doesn't seem to have even a fraction as much trust in me.

How could he say he loves me, and yet not trust me? As I walked across the snow-dusted hospital parking lot to the sanctuary of my car, a malicious little voice in the back of my mind whispered that my initial instincts had been correct. I've never been worthy of anything I craved, it said. I was inadequate, undependable, unlovable.

No, that's not true! I wanted to scream at that horrible, anxiety-filled part of my brain. Of course Victor loves me. He wouldn't have come halfway around the world and given up all his former plans and dreams for someone he didn't love. He wouldn't stay with me and tend to all my needs and be so patient and gentle with me if I weren't important to him.

Then it occurred to me that his lack of trust must be due to something else. It isn't about how much he loves me at all. I reasoned that it must stem from a question of how much he thinks I love him.

There's no way to define the depth of my love for Victor. He cared about me when I didn't even care about myself, and rescued me from a life so empty of joy and light that I'd actually considered ending it. He taught me how to trust, how to have faith in others, and how to love unconditionally and without restraint. He taught me what safety and happiness feel like. I would do anything for him. I'd move Yukimatsu itself, if I could, and if I thought it would make any difference.

The idea that he might somehow doubt my devotion to him is crushing, but I can't blame him. It's on me for not doing more or saying more to demonstrate it. And now he's frightened, confused and angry, and in no frame of mind to listen or be rational. He's not going to believe anything I tell him now.

It's not Victor who's messed up everything. It's me.