#if things were always shit i could accept that. but i keep getting better occasionally and then im reminded.

[autism-corner]

=w=

[lastoneout]

Honestly, I don't say it often bcs I know how this site is but I really do think for a lot of survivors of abuse, especially abuse that went on for years and years, sometimes the message "it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong/to deserve this" while ABSOLUTELY TRUE* isn't actually super helpful. For a lot of us there's a LOT of guilt tied into it, and even if things were truly out of our hands we will not be able to accept that we are truly blameless, at least not at first, and maybe for some of us not ever. So being told "no dw you didn't do anything wrong <3 <3 you're innocent" feels...idk like some toxic positivity style lies. It doesn't make me feel better, because I still do feel like there were things that happened that were my fault, that were in my control, even an ethicist or god or whoever could look me dead in the eyes, weigh all the facts, and assure me of my complete innocence, and I still wouldn't believe it. (Tbh, you have to be ready to forgive yourself and trying to force it early does more harm than good.)

And I occasionally see movies and shows and stuff get roasted all to hell for having the audacity to go with a different message, to offer abused characters not a platitude about how they are innocent and should forgive themselves asap, but instead say "so what if it was your fault? so what if you fucked up? you're still alive, you still have time, your mistakes(or perceived mistakes) don't make you irredeemable scum who deserves to suffer, it's okay that you fucked up, what matters is what you do next, and even if the horrible thing was your fault in one way or another or you did actually hurt people, you still did NOT deserve to be hurt in turn" because people think that is like, admitting that the person in question is at fault when they almost always aren't....but as an actual survior, I'm sorry, you can tell me I'm innocent till the cows come home and I won't believe it. What I need to hear is that even if it was my fault I didn't deserve to be treated that way. I still deserve help. I deserve to keep going. I am not forever stained by my mistakes. I deserve a future free from this pain.

I think before we look at things in this like...grand moral way where we try to make sure we're sending the most Correct and Healthy Message Possible, sometimes it's worth asking if that message is actually the one the people it's about need to hear. I'm sure for some people it is very freeing to be told it's not their fault, but that kind of message does not resonate with me. And I, as well as people like me, deserve to expirience stories about us that are cathartic, that resonate, that make us feel seen, and to not have to see everyone and their mom throw a fit because what helps us is "problematic".

Anyway this has been mulling around in my head for a while and I def have a lot more to say about the way guilt manifests in trauma born of abuse, but yeah I just feel like this is something that should be talked about when we bring up abuse narratives and how well written they are and if they send the Correct Message, because the "Correct Message" is never going to be the same for everyone. And that's true of ANY demographic you could choose to represent!

Like some disabled people might enjoy the "magically healed" trope while others find it offensive. Some trans people like stories where transitioning is easy as drinking a potion or getting a fancy futuristic surgery and some find that that trivializes their struggles. Some queer people want stories where there's just no homophobia at all, others find that a world without it feels fake and patronizing. Some women do want to read stories about how keeping hearth and home is noble and empowering and others want read about women who have other jobs and never have kids or get married. For some of us "you're beautiful no matter what" is lovely and some of us just want to be told being fat and hairy and having acne and scars and shit is normal and fine. Or, like the last post I reblogged says, sometimes "you're not a burden" doesn't hit as well as "being a burden isn't a bad thing". No one type of representation is ever going to work for everyone, and that doesn't mean one type of rep is objectively wrong and the other is objectively right.

So yeah, the next time you find yourself angry because you think a story is sending the wrong message about a marginalized or harmed group, maybe stop for a second to ask yourself if it's actually harmful...or if you're not the person who the story is speaking to, and if there's someone it is talking to who desperately needs to hear what it has to say.

(*Getting ahead of this now: Do not put words in my mouth. I am not saying that any abused person in any way deserved their abuse or was at fault for it happening, that is not up for debate. The fault is always in the hands of the person who chose to hurt them. I'm just saying it's nuanced and complicated and guilt is a huge fucking issue that survivors have to deal with all the time and it's not wrong to acknowledge that some of us are always going to feel like we did something wrong and not be eased by being told otherwise even if the person saying it is 100% correct and/or means well. I do not have time for people who are going to willfully misinterpret me. You will be blocked.)

[harry-sussex]

The media has branded Harry and Meghan a “flop” - there’s no coming back from that reputation.

That WSJ article just made my stomach drop. I have no idea how it’s possible that things have gotten this bad. The worst part is that there’s no way up from here - only further down. Rock bottom is a challenge at this point, and it feels like they’re shooting for it every single day.

This is what they wanted? This is better? They’re happy? No fucking way, man. No fucking way. If I know anything about Harry at all - and at this point, we all know Harry a bit too well - he must be outright miserable. There’s no way this whole thing has been worth it. None whatsoever. To someone like me, this is nauseating. I hate it. I hate this. I have always hated this, I always knew that they weren’t going to live the life they thought they would after they left, I’ve been saying for three years until I’m blue in the face - and the reception I’ve gotten from Sussex fans around the world has been horrific (you guys should see some of the shit that’s come through my inbox courtesy of the squad - so much for mental health, Harry and Meghan would be ashamed of them, but I digress).

If you give even a sliver of a shit about Harry, you’ll be able to get your head out of the sand and recognize that leaving was the absolute worst thing he could have done for himself. Look at him! Directionless! Lost! Misguided! Unproductive! Not to mention paranoid, tired, isolated, and he fact that he always looks miserable.

I will say it again and again and again - it. did. not. have. to. be. this. way. 3 years in - what do they have to show for it?:

A successful commercial venture? Nope - almost nothing has come out of Archetypes or anything else, as in the article. Bill Simmons called them “fucking grifters!” If he’s willing to say it loud and proud for the media to pounce on, how many are saying it behind closed doors?

More money? Their income hinges upon content they haven’t created yet. Clearly, these companies have no trouble pulling the plug on their deals and therefore cutting off the income. (Not for nothing - the more this happens, the less money they’ll be able to say they grossed by leaving the royal family. Since this looks like a trend, at what point do they stop and say ‘I probably would have more money at my disposal if I just stuck with the Duchy of Cornwall?’)

More exposure? Yeah, I guess, but look how shitty it is all the time. This is not the kind of exposure they were looking for.

More privacy? Totally goes against everything above, but they’ve never been more vulnerable to intrusive speculation. They invite it! Encourage it! Hand their personal lives over to the media and the public on a silver platter! The only thing keeping them ‘private’ is living in a gated community - imagine how private their personal life would be if they were in a palace instead?

Better treatment from the press? The American media are vultures too. The world media has made a fortune off of their bullshit. Even the gently critical ones that tell the hard truth - like the WSJ - show that the media does not care who you are if you deserve the criticism or if your bullshit is so completely out of this world that the story writes itself. Nothing is sacred, and it’s even worse now that there’s nothing standing in between them and the press.

The opportunity to provide universal service? What the hell have they done? One single Invictus Games? The occasional event? The occasional donation? They spend more time accepting awards for doing something rather than actually doing something!

Being happier? Bullshit, man. Look at Prince Harry. He hasn’t had a genuine smile on his face in public since 2021. I could go down a rabbit hole here, but you’re blinded by adoration if you can’t recognize he’s outright miserable and a complete shell of the person he used to be. That spark is completely gone.

I could go on, but these articles are starting to pop up in legitimate news sources. We’re not talking about the National Enquirer here - this is the Wall Street Journal. A legitimate news source is reporting on the way they’re failing to meet their own standards and the standards of those who control the purse strings - and how they’re nothing without their titles. If the money is the bottom line, then they need the star power behind their HRHs to make it. They don’t have anything else worth marketing. That star power is dwindling more and more as they get closer and closer to rock bottom and as they continue to bite the hand that has always fed them. Look at this from Vanity Fair:

So much for “service is universal.” They don’t get traction for any of their charity work because they spend so much time BITCHING. The world can’t focus on their service and help support those causes because they spend so much FUCKING TIME milking their only cash cow that nobody has any idea what kinds of causes they support! In fact - I’d bet that the only causes recognized by the general public are those they SUPPORTED BY WORKING FOR THE FAMILY. This isn’t about service - it’s about clout, star power, mystique, and the aura associated with the blurred lines between royal and celebrity. The service hasn’t been part of it for a long time. They’ve wronged their ship and there’s no way to right it anymore. That ship, for lack of better term, has sailed. The world doesn’t see them as charitable - the way they were seen when they were working for the family. The world sees them as washed up crybabies who don’t have anything to offer. It’s not just a “hater” thing anymore. They’ve lost their allure and that was the only thing they had going for them. Without that allure, they’re nothing compared to the Hollywood lights.

They’ve completely fucked up. I know it, you know it, Hollywood knows it, the Royal Family knows it. Harry and Meghan are the only people on earth who haven’t figured it out. They haven’t done a single thing they planned since leaving. They’re not happier, they don’t live a more private life, they don’t have more bandwidth to do charity work, they’re not making money hand over fist, they’re not successful in their new endeavors… they’ve completely fucked up.

Harry, in particular, has completely fucked up. He gave up a life of structure, service, wealth, luxury, success, protection, guidance, family, friendship for… this? And he’s pretending that it was the best decision he ever made? Please. He fucked up, and it will continue to come back to bite him day in and day out until he learns to sit down, shut up, get some help, and hire some competent people to make shit happen for him, because clearly he cannot direct the ship on his own.

This is not how it was supposed to be - not for us as fans, nor for them after leaving. It did not have to be this way. I’d bet anything that the part of Harry who wanted this is dwindling more and more each day. Someday, he’s going to regret the whole thing. The more I see him and hear him, the more I think he’s already there. He fucked up, and I think he’s finally on his way to realizing that they have to do something to make the world interested in them beyond their association with the family. That will diminish, and then they’ll really be shit out of luck.

What a complete and utter disaster, Henry. What a mess. With all due respect, Your Royal Highness - you fucked up.

[kraken17]

One quote from Enid Sinclair per every chapter of Kooky Spooky in which she has been present.

(Note: She is present in Ch.6 & 7 but in a total wolf out, so she has no dialogue).

"Yeah, yeah... relax. The knife-throwing contest is still on. I already made it clear to Wednesday that she could only use volunteers as living targets. Yoko has offered." (Chapter 1)

"I think she's mine and Wednesday's daughter, but not from around here." (Chapter 2)

"Sigh... as tempting as it is I'd ask you both not to maim her just because of her bad habit of spouting occasional idiocy." (Chapter 3)

"They've captured our Friday. Let's go find her and then you'll teach me what's the most painful way to rip off the head of the person responsible." (Chapter 4)

"Sorry, I just… I don't feel like wasting time with this ceremony right now..." (Chapter 5)

"OMG! Why do I always forget this now when I return to my human form!!??" (Chapter 8)

"Holy shit, I'm a hunk." (Chapter 10)

"Aaaw, I think it's very cute. I'm sure deep down your Bruno appreciated this kind of attention." (Chapter 11)

"Are you very fond of this nightgown?" (Chapter 12)

"And I smell people, and pollution, lots of pollution." (Chapter 13)

"Gosh, you're a year older than us now. This is disconcerting." (Chapter 14)

"Wednesday, don't talk about your parents as if they were rabbits." (Chapter 15)

"I'm sorry... I..." (Chapter 16)

"You threw me against a building and caused me to terrify a family! That's very rude!" (Chapter 17)

"At least you're not a racist nutcase who would use her personal Hyde to gather bits of human remains for resurrection rituals." (Chapter 18)

"Your sister told us a little about you when we met her. Well, she told us that you liked to be thrown with catapults..." (Chapter 19)

"I'm not going to fight you! We don't have the time!" (Chapter 20)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" (Chapter 21)

"Uh, I should say something, but just for calling Tyler a dime-store Hyde I'll let you have a pass." (Chapter 22)

"Wednesday and I are keeping our names because our dimension was the one originally visited by the others... Pure convenience but it was all by mutual agreement between all parties." (Chapter 23)

"What happened to my local counterpart?" (Chapter 24)

"God, it's a little trippy to think of myself as dead." (Chapter 25)

"Principal Weems! Or maybe I should say director... uh... because of the... Yeah, I'd better shut up." (Chapter 26)

"Uh... yeah, it's something I usually do, Wednesday. You used to love to complain about it." (Chapter 27)

"For your own sake, you'd better..." (Chapter 28)

"They will have no hesitation in killing any of you." (Chapter 29)

"You're going...to pay...for..." (Chapter 30)

"Oh... erm... apology accepted my... err... my lord?" (Chapter 33)

"But wait a minute, if they're a confederation of packs how come there's a princess?" (Chapter 34)

"I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with your last name. It's just that... well, in my reality a counterpart of you is one of my best friends." (Chapter 35)

"Ok, the doppelgänger thing I can get, but what's with the homunculus?" (Chapter 36)

"And now... now I get this story that I'm some kind of... multiversal warrior who reincarnates, like a cheap copy of Avatar: The Last Airbender!?" (Chapter 37)

"Ah, ah. I already know the electricity trick." (Chapter 38)

"We're going to breach The Bright One's defenses. And we won't use magic to do it. What we need is science. Mad science." (Chapter 39)

"What do you say about finding a way to inter-dimensionally travel to a magically sealed universe to rescue Wednesday and Friday and deal with an army of supernatural monsters?" (Chapter 40)

"Six months, my love. It has taken me six months to be able to come back to you." (Chapter 41)

"It's just that if you leave me stranded in another universe I have a bad habit of trying to find my way back." (Chapter 42)

"Oops, someone's a wee bit cranky." (Chapter 43)

"It's just that… Look at her! We're not even talking about being just a MILF anymore. I'm going to be totes a GILF, for real." (Chapter 44)

“My name… is… Enid Addams.” (Chapter 46)

"Fuck, Weds, getting stabbed by a saber shouldn't feel so good!" (Chapter 47)

"Who are we? Right now and right here, we are the Addams family." (Chapter 48)

"Well...I mean...the truth is...erm...Ireallylikeyourhairandyourloosehairdoesthingstome." (Chapter 49)

"Six months, Weds. I've been six months away from you. The word insatiable doesn't even come close to describing how I feel.” (Chapter 50)

“You know, if you keep calling them that they're going to end up being born with horns and wings.” (Epilogue)

[12thhouse-sun]

you came back with gravity

Chapter 2: i hate you for what you did and i miss you like a little kid (AO3)

Chapter 1 AO3, Tumblr

Gale x female!Tav

4.7k words

Mature

On one Waterdhavian spring day a chance encounter brings two old friends back together for the first time in almost ten years. Gale Dekarios is the last person Poppy wants to see but when confronted with his affliction, Poppy is forced to make a decision that will define both of them for the rest of their lives. – A Canon-Divergent AU where Gale still has the orb but the events of BG3 don’t happen.

Tags: Angst, Grief, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Discussions of Death, Discussions of Suicide

banner from @firefly-graphics

“What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with him? Taking care of him? That fucker doesn’t deserve even a second of your time why—”

The Sending cuts short at the word limit and Poppy restarts a new one with “Go on”, anticipating Holly’s barrage to continue and doesn’t want to interrupt her more than that.

“Fucking spell. Why are you even bothering? Let him fucking rot for all I care, for all you should care. Fucking piece of shit wizard—”

Casting another sending and another “go on,” she lets Holly rant until she’s done. Choosing her words carefully, Poppy finally responds. “Hols, you didn’t see him. Tara was desperate. I couldn’t leave him like that.”

“So where’s Morena? A godsdamned cleric? Literally anyone else. Come on, I thought you were the reasonable one out of the two of us.”

Poppy takes a steadying breath, trying to walk the line of what to tell Holly and what to keep from her but she can’t help her voice cracking at her response. “He’s dying, Hols. It’s too much for a Sending. I’m sorry. I’ll be back in Baldur’s Gate another time. I’ll write.”

“Fucking hells.” Silence. “You better. Love you. Talk soon.”

She drops her head into her hands, exhausted. Holly has always been fiery, the sun and spark to Poppy’s icy, grounded nature, which has admittedly been melting as of late. It took a tenday before she could pluck up the courage to Send her best friend, anticipating exactly what just occurred. Holly is right, she normally is the reasonable one: ice and stone and holding firm. But in this situation, Poppy is finding it hard to do just that. 

In these first few days, Gale moves around her like a skittish animal and Tara is constantly underfoot, battering Poppy with questions about her life and travels since they last saw each other. This is fine when Poppy is merely trying to settle in, but what makes this difficult is when it comes to tending to Gale. Just this morning the orb needed to be fed again and he didn’t tell her, not wanting to bother her. She told him off again, pleading with him to just accept her help, but he can be just as stubborn as her.

After using so much magic already today, she feels as though she needs another cup of coffee. Upon exiting her room, she finds Tara on the landing, giving her a look.

“Having fun listening?” Poppy needles tiredly. 

“I know this has not been easy for you, but your effort hasn’t gone unnoticed. Miss Smith will understand eventually. She is not entirely unreasonable once she calms down.”

Poppy can’t help but snort as she starts down the stairs, Tara joining her. “Does she ever?”

“Now I wouldn’t deign to comment on that, Miss Lyons, she is your friend after all.”

Poppy sighs. “Love you, Tara.”

“I love you, too.”

—

A month goes by, and things improve gradually. Every few days the orb gets hungry and so she feeds it, having to ensure she rations her magic so that it can be fed something suitable that day. On the occasional very bad day when feeding the orb doesn’t cause immediate relief in the other side effects, Poppy casts a Lesser Restoration over him which does seem to help. Gale is nothing but gracious but continues to shrink himself around her, never asking for spells to ease his pain even when she can tell he needs it.

Feeding the orb makes Gale more physically mobile but it doesn’t clear his mind. He’s spent a year locked in his tower with just Tara for intermittent company and thus has turned into himself. Poppy is fortunately or unfortunately familiar with the feeling; she is prone to bouts of melancholy herself, but navigating how Gale would prefer to be treated when like this is new for both of them. Poppy tries to offer assistance in any direct or indirect way, looking to distract, solve, or listen to whatever he needs, but the second she offers up even that kind of assistance Gale brushes her off, saying he can manage on his own. She gets it. But it’s hard. 

So she helps in other ways, food being one of them. She visits the markets a few times a week and becomes one with Gale’s kitchen, cooking up foods that will hopefully fill him out. That is, if he even eats. When he’s asleep (or pretending to when she walks in, hard to tell) she’ll leave him a bowl but it’ll be untouched come morning. To prevent this, Poppy has taken to getting him meals whenever he’s awake and eating with him. 

The first time she did it, he froze up and refused to look at her, but eventually did begin eating. And as the days went on, Poppy insists on eating with him at every meal, Gale finally taking the hint and eating whenever she arrives with food. It takes two tendays, but eventually he starts making his way down to the kitchen to eat whenever he can smell Poppy cooking.

Conversation comes more slowly. They don’t talk much during meals but one day Gale is curious to his core and actually asks Poppy about her recent travels, the shock of the moment making Poppy drop her spoon. It’s while she focuses on stumbling through an answer that she doesn’t notice how her heart soars at him opening up.

—

Poppy isn’t quite sure she trusts this fishmonger. That should be enough for her to ignore his wares but unfortunately he’s the only one selling littleneck clams today and she needs a quart of them for dinner. Combine that with the fact that she’s pretending to look like she knows what to look for in good clams has resulted in her standing at this stall for far too long. 

Just when she’s about to say “fuck it” and pick something else for dinner, she can grill Gale when she gets home on how to identify quality shellfish, she hears her name called out to her in a desperate and familiar voice.

Oh shit, Poppy thinks right as Morena Dekarios rushes up to her and pulls her into a suffocating hug. 

Poppy is ashamed to admit to herself that she had not forgotten to visit Morena in the few weeks she’s been in Waterdeep, but has in fact been purposefully avoiding her. That first day in the tower she had begged Tara to not tell Morena that she was even in town, let alone living with Gale, and the tressym reluctantly has been keeping her word. All that left Poppy to do was avoid Morena as best she could in the largest city on the Sword Coast.

Apparently Waterdeep isn’t big enough. Her and Gale had always joked that his mother was “inevitable” but it held more truth that one would think.

Morena shudders in her arms, overcome with emotion at seeing who is essentially the daughter she never had for the first time in years. Poppy doesn’t usually avoid Morena when she comes through Waterdeep, knowing that if Morena ever found she was there without visiting her, Poppy would be dead in a ditch less than a day later. But she tried to keep those past visits short as Morena would always push her about forgiving Gale.

It’s something that had always baffled Poppy; the only other person more upset than Poppy and Holly that he had missed her mother’s funeral was Morena, her mother’s best friend. While Poppy wasn’t there for it, she knows that Morena laid into him about it after the fact. But the baffling part is years later when Morena came to her to ask her if she would consider forgiving her son. That he’s truly sorry and that she hates seeing the both of them no longer on good terms. It always left a bad taste in Poppy’s mouth. 

And so it’s more than embarrassing to run into her when Poppy is clearly running errands as if she’s staying a while instead of just passing through.

“Gods, darling it’s been so long how are you? You’re looking so well–ah, are you staying a while?” she asks, gesturing to Poppy’s bags. 

Always gets right to it, Morena. It’s something Poppy always appreciated about her but right now she wishes she could misty step away and crawl into a hole.

“Yeah, I am. It’s great to see you, too.”

“Incredible! Tell me, where are you staying? You don’t need to rent a room, you know you can always stay with me, all the empty space I have and whatnot.”

Another gut punch. 

She braces herself. Poppy can’t lie to Morena. Can’t and won’t. Can’t, because Morena knows all of her tells–given that Poppy inherited them from her mother–and won’t because she can’t bear to. But not everything.

“I’m…staying with Gale,” she replies hesitantly. 

A wash of emotions spread over her face: shock, pain, excitement, grief. Grief that Poppy hasn’t seen on Morena’s face since her mother passed. Fuck.

“You’re staying with him? Tell me, is he alright? Please tell me what’s wrong with my baby boy.  I haven’t heard hide nor hair of him, Tara has been especially tight-lipped which is so unlike her—she kept you a secret, too! Oh, but you two have made up haven’t you? If you’re staying with him that must be true, oh that warms my heart but I wish I could just see him too…” 

The bombardment of questions overwhelms Poppy and so she guides Morena over to a spot between two stalls for a semblance of privacy. When Poppy looks back up at her once they’ve stopped she sees tears streaming down Morena’s face and her resolve shatters, her own tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry, I—” Poppy takes Morena’s hands in her own and gathers herself. “We have made up.” Not a complete lie. “I’m helping him at the moment. I can’t say much more unfortunately, but I will be staying in Waterdeep for the foreseeable future. I’m so sorry I didn’t come see you sooner.” She feels so ashamed and afraid, like a child about to be scolded. Poppy loves Morena with her whole heart and she could have handled this better. Should have handled this better. Then she wouldn’t be crying with her in the middle of the Markets. 

Morena pulls her into another bracing hug and they cry together, the older woman rubbing soothing circles into Poppy’s back. She’s missed being comforted and being held and she drops her bags and clings to the back of Morena’s dress like a toddler.

After a few minutes they break apart, Morena handing her an extra handkerchief to dry her face. “You truly can tell me nothing more?”

Poppy can only plead another apology and hope it’s enough. 

“Well, what are you doing the rest of the day, my love? I’m out running errands myself and we can take a stroll together. Maybe take tea in the garden after? You can fill me in on all you’ve been up to.”

Poppy smiles a little at the thought, wiping her tears. “I’d love that. Actually, could you help me with something?” She pulls Morena over to the fishmonger whispering the questions she would have asked Gale once she returned to the tower.

Upon returning home hours later, Poppy drops all of her bags onto the kitchen table, feeling completely wrung out. The rest of the morning and early afternoon with Morena had truly been a pleasure but she had to continue dodging questions left and right about Gale, his mother doing everything she could to try and get even a smidgen of information out of her. In the end, Poppy held firm, but agreed to a weekly tea with her every Seventhday and the occasional market run together.

It’s at that moment that Gale pops into the kitchen, finding Poppy hunched over the table. “Oh! You’re back! Did you happen to acquire the—”

“I ran into your mother today,” she interrupts, wanting to get this over with.

That stops him short and he pales. “Oh?” he replies weakly.

“I didn’t lie to her. But I withheld so much and you know how much I fucking hate doing that to her.” She feels the tears coming on again, that feeling of being so very small. “She misses you. She wishes you’d at least write.”

“Poppy I can’t…”

“I know why you say you can’t I know! I know it hurts, it’s what I’ve felt all day today having to withhold from her. I did everything I could to not hurt her more at the reveal of your condition. Everything. I don’t know how Tara does it.” Gods, the tears. She turns her head away from Gale, scrunching her eyes closed and willing the tears to stop their assault. 

She hears Gale shuffle forward and lay a gentle hand on her back, the first touch he’s initiated between them since she’s lived there. Poppy recalls Morena’s hug from earlier and finds herself yearning for that comfort again, yearning for Gale of all people to wrap her in his arms and let her cry but she’s still so mad at him and both thoughts living together in her mind are so confusing.

“Your efforts are most appreciated, and if you’d like to leave I’d understand…”

“Gods, not that shit again, Gale,” she sniffs, wiping the snot off her nose with the handkerchief Morena gave her. Through her tears she looks to Gale and finds him looking bereft and ashamed. “For the last time, I’m not leaving you alone here—”

“I have Tara—”

“Who leaves for days at a time to find you magical items! That’s not a life to live. We’re managing it, Gale. You and I, together.”

“But this is hurting you, too and I will never forgive myself for hurting you again.”

The elephant in the room. They haven’t talked about it yet and she doesn’t want to now. All it’ll result in is her getting mad and him retreating into himself, anyway. 

“Gale, is your worry about me that much more painful than the long days you go in between items?”

“It’s what I deserve,” he states a little too resolutely for her liking.

“Fuck that, and fuck Mystra for all I care. Just because this is difficult it doesn’t mean I’m going to leave for fuck’s sake.”

Gale is quiet for a moment, taking in her words, still looking more than a little shame-faced. She can’t look at him, can’t be in the same room as him.

“I’ll get started on dinner shortly,” she says, turning to the bags on the table and focusing on putting them away and only that.

After a moment, she hears the shuffle of Gale exiting the kitchen and walking upstairs.

An hour later, everything is put away and dinner is ready. Poppy is anticipating another quiet and uncomfortable dinner tonight. Maybe she’ll grab a bottle of wine for herself later, to take her mind off everything. She would rather get high but has yet to find a reliable seller of halfling weed in the city, her old connection long moved on.

Bracing herself outside of his door, she takes a deep breath and enters his room, but Gale is nowhere to be seen. Not in his bed, or in the armchair by the window. She wonders if he’s up in his study when she sees that his ensuite bathroom is shut, which is only ever shut when it’s in use. Poppy sets his bowl on his bedside table and sits in the armchair, digging in. 

Minutes pass, and Poppy has finished her dinner, and Gale hasn’t appeared. Tired of waiting, she approaches the bathroom door and knocks. 

“Gale? Everything alright?” she calls. She presses her ears to the door and hears a quiet groan, not the usual kind you’d hear in a bathroom. “Gale?” she calls again, worried now.

He doesn’t respond. Poppy declares she’s coming in and casts Knock on the door, only to find Gale crumpled on the bathroom tile in his bathrobe, arm clutching his chest as the orb glows menacingly. She rushes to him, pulling his head in her lap and pouring her magic into the orb, begging for it to stabilize. It takes a few moments, but the orb finally quiets, and Poppy rests her hand on his chest above the orb, confirming that it is no longer roiling.

She feels movement against her other hand and craning her neck more she sees her other hand clutching Gale’s cheek, not remembering having done so. He looks up at her tired and pained. His eyes are too much for her so she looks elsewhere, inspecting his head for any sign of injury but finds nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, barely a whisper.

It’s a loaded apology. It is like Gale to apologize for things he doesn’t need to, like needing her help after a fall. But Poppy knows this is more than that, it’s an apology for something else and many other things all at once. She’s still so mad at him, but she also can’t bear to see him in pain, the conflicting emotions inside her making her nauseous. So she ignores it, focusing instead on helping him.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” she chokes out, struggling to keep her voice even.

“No, fortunately,” he whispers weakly. “Thank you, again. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t mention it,” she forces out. “Your dinner’s in your room but it’s gone cold, I can reheat it for you if you’d like.”

Gale looks up at her and she anticipates the usual “oh don’t worry” or “you don’t have to” but he seems to catch himself, considering her. “That would be most appreciated. Thank you, Poppy.” He shakily raises one hand and places it on top of the one that holds his face, 

She smiles down at him, easier than expected given everything. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet.”

—

“Oh! There you are, I was—”

Poppy shushes him and beckons him over to where she kneels on the balcony. She’s currently ducked behind the railing and doesn’t want Gale to draw attention to her quarry.

Gale crouches next to her, wincing at his knees. Grabbing a cushion off the bench, she pulls it over for him to kneel on. 

“We’re going to be here a while,” she whispers conspiratorially. Grabbing the bottle of wine and glass she brought with her, she pours Gale a hearty glassful and takes a swig straight from the bottle. 

“What is this about?”

“Do you see that couple in the dinghy in the harbor over there?” she asks, gesturing towards the water with her head. Gale peaks over the railing with her to see exactly that: a young couple in a dinghy. What Poppy did not describe that Gale sees is a veritable garden of flowers filling the boat. “I think he’s going to propose.”

“At this time of day?” Gale says, a little too loudly. Poppy shushes him and he continues, quieter. “It’s supposed to be a cloudless summer day today, and quite hot at that; something that could have been seen with a simple divination spell from a cleric or druid. Neither of them are wearing hats, they could burn! She is also clearly dressed for something much nicer than a dinghy ride, that one doesn’t even look particularly clean! Oh how uncomfortable she must be. He clearly did not take her comfort into consideration. Does he even like her?”

Poppy can’t help but snort at Gale’s indignation, happy to see he’s immediately invested.

“I guess we’re going to find out. If she says yes, we can call out and congratulate them. But if she says no…” she turns to Gale and flashes him an impish grin. “I think that will be a different kind of enjoyable.”

Gale looks back over the railing. “Oh! They’ve stopped. Drat, I wish I had my binoculars at hand, they’re usually out here…”

Poppy wordlessly hands him the aforementioned binoculars she had taken with her when she originally crouched behind the railing and he takes them excitedly. Taking a sip of wine, he pokes back over the railing and begins narrating what he can see.

“He’s terribly out of breath…oh her arms are crossed she is not amused by this little excursion he’s concocted. Blimey, half the flowers are wilted. I wonder how long the boat sat in the sun…”

Looking over the railing herself she sees them sitting in the little boat but can’t make out much else. “Are they talking?”

“Indeed they are. I wish I had learned to read lips that would have been perfect for this very mom—OH! He’s getting down on one knee!”

The man does indeed get down on one knee and rocks the boat in his effort, the woman trying to stabilize herself and her squeal of her surprise and panic echoes across the water. Poppy swallows down another glug of wine but doesn’t take her eyes off of the trash fire she’s surely about to witness. 

“He’s speaking…” Gale continues. “Oh!” He exclaims and slaps a hand over his mouth in excitement, the binoculars almost slipping out of his grasp into the water. Poppy grabs the strap but she doesn’t need him to finish, she sees it clear as the day they’re sitting in: the woman has slapped the man square across the face.

“Oh my gods,” she effuses. 

Replacing the binoculars at his eyes, Gale replies, “Normally I’d hate to laugh at other people's suffering, but he could have done better. She can do better.”

They strain their ears for any taste of what they’re fighting about but they can only catch a word here or there as their volume increases and the fight continues. 

“...never cared..”

“...always…your mother!”

“...never supported me…”

“...and you’re still unemployed!”

“... at least I’m not a—”

The last few words are cut off by the woman slapping the man across the face one more time before turning around in her seat and pointedly not looking at him, thoroughly icing him out.

Both Gale and Poppy wince and “Ooooh” at the slap, this one apparently hard enough to make the man shut up. He pulls out a dagger, cutting off the blooms and ribbons to sink into the harbor, before taking up the oars once more and rowing back to shore. 

Turning so that her back is against the railing, Gale joins her, gulping down half his glass. He takes a refill without question even though she’s been drinking straight out of the bottle. Meeting the other’s gaze, the tension is broken and they both break out into a fit of giggles. Doubled over and clutching their sides, it’s a few moments before Poppy speaks. “You–you were so angry for her!”

“It seems like she needs someone in her corner! Besides, he clearly did not know her well or put in the needed consideration for a proposal. Anyone with eyes can tell that it was a rushed job.”

“How would you have done it? A mid-harbor proposal in a dinghy?”

“Well, to start,” he points his finger in the air, “I would check the weather, as I previously stated. The flowers would be fresh and in season, and their favorite. Though not so many as to affect the seaworthiness of the vessel. I would make sure they’re dressed appropriately and comfortably. I would row us out there to a programmed illusion I would have prepared earlier in the day, if I had my magic of course…” the last of his words draw off as he stares into the middle-distance. 

Poppy nudges him with his foot, not allowing him to bury himself in a hole of self-loathing. “And then what?”

“And then I would confess my never-dying love for them, which they would already be aware of. But more poetically—I would have prepared something for that very moment. And if they say yes, we’d enjoy a small picnic which I would have packed and stowed in the boat beforehand. Only their favorite foods of course.”

“Of course,” she smiles. 

“Oh but then there would be the dinner afterwards with family back at the tower, a sumptuous meal cooked by yours truly.”

“Nothing done by halves, here.”

“Never,” he grins, eyes twinkling.

“Cheers to that,” she says, holding her bottle out to him. 

“Cheers indeed.” Gale clinks his glass against her bottle and they both drink their fill. Poppy smiles into her drink at the feeling that something has finally dissolved between the two of them.

—

“These just aren’t doing it for me,” she grumbles, tossing another cookbook to the side. She’s trying to figure out what to make for meals the next few nights and for some reason everything Gale’s cookbooks had to offer are uninspiring. Getting up from the table and leaving Gale to his breakfast and tea, she goes over to the shelves where he keeps the cookbooks and pulls out a recipe box she hasn’t perused yet in her weeks staying at the tower. 

Popping the lid off, she starts flipping through them, begging the gods to show her something interesting. Most of the cards are written in Gale’s hand with plenty in his mother’s as well. But one card for Chicken Piccata has her stop in her tracks.  

She thought she knew every existing piece of her writing. It took ages to go through all of her things, Poppy finding herself reading and re-reading her mother’s journals, notes, recipes, even to-do lists, just to feel closer to her. Taking in the literal marks she left on this world. She has most of them memorized at this point and as a result is intimately familiar with her mother’s handwriting. The swoop of the first leg of her capital A’s, the flicks of the dots of every i and j, and the looping swirls of every o into the following letter. 

¼ cp capers. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen her mother’s handwriting make that specific string of letters before. The s is a little wonky here, a tiny loop at the top where her pen changed directions. 

It’s been ten years and everyone had been right; the grief never goes away, never shrinks, but your love and your life grows around it. Poppy has learned to live without her mother and learned to live around the grief. The pain used to be constant until it wasn’t. Until she could go months sometimes without feeling the wrenching stab of grief cut her open once more. 

It doesn’t happen slowly but suddenly, Poppy hacking out a sob that unleashes a torrential downpour of salty tears down her face.

Gale is upon her instantly, pulling her into his chest and hugging her tightly. The card is trapped between them in one of her hands but she doesn’t let go, she can’t let go. The headrush makes her feel like she’s swaying but Gale keeps her upright. One of his hands is cupping the back of her head and he’s whispering, “I’m here, I’m here. It’s okay,” like a mantra. She feels her shoulder moisten from his own tears.

“Why weren’t you there?” she wails, the pain of his absence from her mother’s funeral pouring over her. “You were sup–posed to be th–there,” she blubbers.

“I have no excuses. I was impossibly stupid, Poppy. My reasons aren’t worth repeating because you’re right, I should have been there. And you had every right to shut me out afterwards. I am so, so very sorry. From the deepest depths of my heart and my soul I am sorry for all the pain that I caused you. You are my closest and dearest friend and I am so sorry that I ever made you think otherwise.” 

Pulling her trapped arm from out in between them she hugs him back, clinging to him like a lifeline. This is what she needed when her mother passed, this is what she needed at her funeral, for him to hold her and for her to hold him back. Adrianne Lyons was like a second mother to him and in the days they both needed each other he wasn’t there. But he’s here now. And these minutes they hold each other and cry together in his kitchen heal something inside of her that she thought was going to stay broken forever.

[reality-inflicted]

This is a photo with more personal than artistic value (not saying that any of my photography has any of the former, but one can on the rare occasion hope that someone likes what I like). Somewhere in Nashville, Tennessee there is a little park. That park has, or at least it did about ten years ago, a little stage. On that little stage was the most askew little bench I've ever seen. And I loved it. I've never read a book about photography. I started out with a cheap ass little PoS-camera – i aimed it in the general direction of what I liked and I pressed the button. The camera did the rest.

After about a year or so i took money that I really didn't have and bought a small camera that I would bring with me on a trip to China. The plan was to write an article on the trip and to get it published and at least get some of the money back. I did actually manage to sell the articles (there were two of them), but the photos weren't taken with the new camera that I'd bought. On the second day of trip I got absolutely shit-faced in a drinking contest with a retired Major in the Chinese army and consequently lost the camera somewhere in a dark alley. Not a great success. I eventually bought a new camera for more money that I did not have. The last time I saw that it popped up was in a random plastic bag, a forgotten memento of forgotten times. I'd somehow managed to keep the camera though, which was a bit of a step forward I guess. As I geared up to go on my trip to the US, during which this photo was taken, i bought yet another camera I couldn't really afford. True to form I got shitfaced yet again on my second night, this time in San Francisco – a city notoriously unforgiving for drunken tourists. The camera, together with my headphones and some cash vanished. Luckily I'd managed to transfer the photos I'd taken previously onto an external hard drive (now sadly defunct and the photos – again – lost to time). I still had to buy another camera that I couldn't afford to document the remainder of my trip.

I have since lost that camera as well due to being shitfaced. As can be deducted I've had a very long and not very glamorous relationship with alcohol, however I am happy to report that I haven't lost anything to being shitfaced for quite some time now, which is always a bonus. I'd been toying with the idea of cutting down on the drinking before I went on the trip to the US (it will be ten years come December next year) but it would take about four or five more years before I finally felt shitty enough to go through with it. Alcoholism takes many forms – I was in no way drinking every day. But when I did it was always difficult to contain oneself to "just a few beers" resulting in increasingly self-destructive behaviour. What finally pushed me over the edge was the realization that I'd become that which I despise the most – my father. When he got drunk he turned into an absolute asshole and I started to see the same tendencies in myself or, rather, I came to accept that I showed those tendencies and I. Really. Did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit.

So I quit. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol for almost three years. Not that it did any good for my inherent ability to loose things. I still forgot headphones and laptops, but – increasingly – I noticed that I could find them again. In the hangover is a quiet despair, a disgusting apathy, that prevent you from handling even the easiest of tasks.

Today I have the occasional beer. Or a glass of wine with dinner once in a while. I can handle that – I know that some people can't and I place no judgement in that. I like to think, however, that I am at least a little bit of a better, albeit a bit more lonesome person. But that is ok. I like being alone. Like the bench above, all crooked like.

[lunamiuna-the-curious-fella]

Meet my parasite OC, Neon!

They prefer to possess skeletons cause it's easier and hurts the host less, wear deep dark blue with lots of colorful glow in the dark neon accents clothes, the tail being part of clothing just like the cat ears hoodie, though it can act like the real thing because magic, just like their star sunglasses can display text or simple shapes.

They're a parasite akin to Fresh Sans, here's their true form:

-except they were born with a mutation that caused them to experience full set of emotions and high empathy, and thus had to figure out a more peaceful approach when it comes to hosts in order to keep their emotions at bay, which took some time throughout their life. Yeahh, they've dealt with a lot of self hatred and guilt due to what they had to do to survive. Eventually though, they figured out a working methodology, as well as mastered understanding and working with their emotions, instead of against them. Sometimes they can still have relapses of self hatred and guilt, especially if something or someone causes it, but they're doing much better now that they actually got their shit together. They switch hosts frequently in order to leave them in a somewhat recoverable state, as well as treat them with incredible understanding, accommodate them to the best of their ability, comfort them in their pain, take their thoughts and desires into consideration, even going as far as sharing control occasionally. When they're not desperate, they prefer to gain hosts by first befriending them and gaining their trust, so that they're more likely to hear them out when they reveal themselves and explain their situation, and after the person understands and feels sympathetic towards them, they ask if they could possess them for a few months or so, before they leave them so they can recover. And a lot of the time, it works! It works, because they tend to wriggle their way into people's hearts with their adorable, kind hearted, a little bit mischievous, but still caring nature, which causes people to feel bad for them when they hear how much they struggle with the inherent tragedy of their existence, and how much they care. Thus, that someone may just agree to it, maybe in the future if they're not ready at the moment, even when Neon makes sure they know what they're getting into, just because they want to help their dear friend. That kinda play style is surprisingly effective for Neon, even if time consuming and requiring some effort. It's impressive how they can just befriend and convince someone to let them possess them, just by being themselves. I think they'd be an interesting foil to Fresh, just because of that.

Of course, they can't always have time and afford to take no for an answer, when their host is in a really bad condition for example. That's when they instead choose someone with an already utterly miserable and awful lonely life, so they have nothing to go back to, and either offer them a deal to give them a break from all that in exchange for agreeing to possession, or once they got them pinned down so they can't escape, give them time to process, explain the situation and why they have to do this, answer their questions, reassure them it'll only be for a few months and they'll treat them good, list the bright sides of the situation, like at least they'll have a break from their miserable awful lonely life, and hey, maybe they can be of company!, trying to coerce them into agreeing and accepting their fate, giving them as much time as they need. And once they're somewhat ready, they possess them, trying to be as gentle as possible even though it doesn't do much, comforting them in their pain by for example hugging them in the mindscape and rubbing circles onto their back, saying comforting words, trying to get them to relax a bit and let go so they can take over control without causing them further pain.

Some more information about them:

They do put up a friendly funky chaotic over the top nonchalant slang induced persona akin to what Fresh does, when they do not feel safe enough to reveal themselves, or they just want to mess with people.

They share with Fresh the distaste for smoking, alcohol, drugs, and other intoxicants, though the same doesn't go for swearing. They are mostly chill with swears and not family friendly stuff as long as it isn't harmful, though they have the ability to censor in their arsenal, if they so wish. They also happen to be immune to Fresh censoring, which makes for some good quality chaos ngl xd.

They are Aroace, sex and romance positive/neutral as long as anyone doesn't hold any expectations over them or wishes they would feel the same way, either Agender or Nonbinary and using they/them pronouns, Infp personality type, and some degree of neurodivergence.

They can be quite mischievous, with them liking to playfully freak people out or scare them, though they wouldn't want to go too far, so they make sure to reassure the person they're messing with that they are in fact, just messing with them.

Over the years they've grown to understand their own emotions and emotions in general very well, so they're pretty wise when it comes to that. Heh, if faced with Fresh starting to gain emotions and freaking out about it they would be like: First time? They would be willing to give him tips if he's willing to listen, even if just so he can be a tinge of a better person.

Speaking of Fresh, I think they would feel unease towards him, and intense distaste when it comes to his uncaring approach. He's like a dark reflection of them, reminding them that no matter how much suffering their emotions have caused them over the years, they wouldn't actually want to be like him. When first meeting him, they would crank up their over the top persona to the max, with them not feeling safe around him, though quickly drop it and act more real after he assumes they're just like him, because his uncaring approach towards his hosts fills them with so much distaste, they can't stand him assuming they're the same.

[bunnygirl678]

with my birthday coming up i'm feeling reflective;

i'm about to end my 20s and enter my 30s, looking back a ton has happened in 10 years, every decade i set goals (okay maybe i did it at 10 and again at 20, obvs bbs can't do shit) my goals for my 20s were;

graduate ✔️

get married ✔️

have a baby ✔️

make senior accountant (originally this was for public accounting, but i did one busy season and decided i would rather keep my sanity) my current company does not have the title senior accountant, but my title is accountant and i'm top, doing quite a bit of cfo/comptroller style work so i'm counting this as a win ✔️

Run a half-marathon (I was up to 10ks, then got pregnant and was told to stop running and working out, after that i really didn't have the time or whatever to get back into running until this year which i was doing well until i started getting sick)✖️

Only one of these things are things that I could actually control (graduate lol) but i managed to bag the rest of them i still managed to get married even if it ended in the big D (and I don't mean Dallas)

For my 30s I want to focus more on things that I control.

Learn a new language-I'm thinking Japanese and French, I really want to be able to understand them, not necessarily speak or write, but that would be bonus, i'd also like to learn more, and refresh my spanish skills back to where they were when i turned 20 lol

Learn art or at least keep up with it- i've written about wanting to learn how to draw multiple times, but now i'm actually doing it, i enjoy being creative, i'm always working on a craft, but now i'm really putting the effort into art, i know it's something you have to keep up with so here's to daily practice even if it's a quick small doodle

keep writing- used to i wanted to write the epic novel that would be remembered for centuries, but as i've gotten older i realized i just wanted attention, now that i'm older and not living with my parents i've accepted the fact that i'm not interested in writing outside of fanfics and the occasional technical piece, i don't need to be remembered and any writing i do should be for fun (or for research purposes)

understand my health better- after i got a pulmonary embolism at 17 then another at 19 i sort of just got used to being on blood thinners, right before my 20th i changed my diet to oil-free vegan then just vegan, i was really feeling good and i think it was all of the fresh ingredients, so i'd like to go back to that, i'm cutting out wheat again, and dairy temporarily, but also this year i was diagnosed with adhd so understanding it is a goal, i remember in college when i was running and eating healthy all the time i was suffering less so i'd like to get back to that, and then as always getting my allergy issues under control, i think the main thing here is just finding out what works and what doesn't, and accepting giving up certain things that cause problems

run a half-marathon- i love running, i started again this year, i missed it a lot, now that i'm getting older i need to make sure to improve my physical health, the thing about training with running is it is also good to cross train, so add in weights, flexibility and so on, i was running best when i weight trained and did yoga, so going to hopefully pick those back up

Get back into sewing- in college i used to sew all a lot of my own clothes, i constantly got compliments on my stuff, i still sew now and then but it's mostly mending or random crafts, i'd like to get back into clothes, as well as tailoring (really redoing) thrifted clothes, which is where i buy something a size too big and practice my sewing skills by reworking the clothes into something cute, it reuses clothes and is a lot cheaper than buying fabric, i'd also like to work with silk, i don't buy silk clothes a lot, but i've found my skin reacts better to it but it's so expensive, a lot cheaper to just buy fabric

attend more festivals/activities- i really enjoy getting out into the community and doing things, seeing things, my exhusband was (and still is) a homebody, he also would complain when I went to things, always wanting me at home with him, so now that we're not together i'd like to start attending things in the community again

pick piano back up/learn a new instrument (violin??)- i used to play the piano and sing in the church choir in high school, unfortunately i can't sing anymore, at least not without having to yawn and take in more air I lost my ability to sing for long periods after my first pulmonary embolism, but now i'd really like to expand my brain by learning violin something i always wanted to learn but never had the ability to as a kid, but as an adult i can, picking piano back up and teaching my kid too

pay off debt/use credit sparingly- we had some financial troubles back a few years ago, and i racked my credit cards up, i've been slowly paying them, but i'd like to pay it all off and really only use in an emergency

be a good mom- self explanatory

My birthday is only 9 days after new year so i always feel like new years and a new age are pretty closely intertwined, so i guess here is to my 30s, i hope i make fewer shitty decisions lmao

[sudoscience]

Finished The Indigo Disk last night, so time for some more PokéThoughts:

For costing more than half the price of the base game, I feel like the story could have been longer. I'm certainly not done playing the DLC yet (still haven't caught the Loyal Three, for example), but I finished the story in ~2 days. The base game probably took me about a week? To be fair, I did start the DLC with a full team of Lvl 100 Pokémon, so that probably saved me a lot of time.

Similarly, for being called "The Hidden Treasure of Area Zero", you really don't spend that much time in Area Zero. Again, this is likely due to having a late game, high level build. Part of the reason it took longer in the base game is because you don't have Koraidon, so you can't just jump and fly to get where you need. Also, I just immediately used the warp point to get to Research Station 4 instead of walking through all of Area Zero again. I hope I didn't accidentally skip any fun interactions, but with how much Game Freak tries to railroad you into doing the plot how they want you to (see my previous post about the DLC), I feel like if there were any cutscenes there, then you just wouldn't be able to use the warp points for... reasons.

That being said, what time you do spend in Area Zero is just as awesome as the first time you go there in the base game. The new music is great, too.

Speaking of new music: Celestial (Remix by Toby Fox)?! Leave it to Toby to make an Ed Sheeran song actually good, I guess.

Performance wise, it's comparable to the base game, maybe slightly better? Only clipped into a mountain once. Haven't noticed any other glitches so far, but it does occasionally seem to run a bit sluggishly. (And it continues to suffer from a lack of voice acting.)

Koraidon can fly now!!! Wish there was an option to invert the y-axis, but it can fly!!! Also, you can BE your Pokémon now!!!

Spoilers?

I like how they tell you Blueberry Academy is in Unova, but it's not, like, attached to it at all. It's just an island. They could have said any region, and it would have had negligible impact, imo. (But I am saying this as someone who hasn't actually played Gen V, so maybe there were things I missed.)

Well, okay, I think it did have one effect. I haven't played B/W, but I know Unova is supposed to be based on America, so when one of the NPCs mentions "BBQs", I was like, "Oh, that's cool. They have barbecues here instead of picnics." Nope! Stands for Blueberry Quests.

Terapagos being tiny when Kieran first pulls him out was the funniest shit

It broke the fucking Master Ball?! It can do that?!

Still not sure I really understand how the Stellar Tera Type works. I know it's not every type at once. I'm not sure how that would work either. Wouldn't they just cancel each other out?

I don't feel like the game did the best job of communicating how much time had passed. Carmine (and later, Kieran) always being like, "You really kept me waiting". I literally did not??? But also, Kieran saying, "I looked up to [Player] for so long", meanwhile I'm pretty sure that, at most, one in-game week has passed since I first met him. I guess if I had played the first part when it first came out, it would've felt like a longer time. (It was probably supposed to be at least a few months in-game.)

Also makes it a little hard to buy into his motivation being his desire to beat me in battle. Wait, maybe that makes it more believable, actually. "You're still bitter about that?" "Yeah? It was just last week..."

But, again, I would be perfectly happy to let him have Ogerpon. He has a personal connection to it! If I keep it, it's probably just going to stay in one of my boxes. (It is pretty cute, though.)

Despite the lack of hugs, I found the ending acceptable. I do still wish you could have hugged Kieran, though. Or at the very least, when he says, "Can we be friends again?", you should have been able to say something like, "What do you mean 'again'? We're still friends!"

[galar-abortion-clinic]

🍀🧠🥊🎓 For Jules, Mauly, and Rory! Just curious about these three!

(Jules is getting his own post since someone else asked about him, so stay tuned. Same twat time, same twat channel)

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Conceptually, both Mauly and Rory are two sides of the same coin. At first I only had Mauly, but I decided to extract a few traits from her and squelch those out into their own character so that her personality wouldn’t feel so totally neutered by incompetence. She’s a little more idealized, whereas Rory is my worst fear of what I could turn out to be, or how other people might perceive me

Mauly is impulsive, brash, self-serving, and arrogant. She’s unapologetically angry, horny, and human. Rory is all of those things, but deeply insecure and constantly overcompensating. He’s pathetic and he makes me sick. Basically he boils down to “sid vicious if he were a bit less of a dick, purely because he’s subdued by cowardice”

Design-wise? Kalos’ rendition of the Punk Guy/Girl trainer class, man. I fell in love instantly. Also this one specific tank girl page:

Good shit

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Mauly takes no shit. Sure, that might mean she leaves a bad taste in some people’s mouths, but she knows when she deserves to be treated better. Something I’ve always struggled with has been not standing up for myself because I’m worried it’ll hurt or inconvenience other people. Mauly says fuck those other people, It’s not my job to accommodate anyone else’s existence by minimizing my own. Her whole arc is about self-acceptance through ambivalence. “Even if i don’t love myself, i can’t change who I am. You’re not going to change me either, and you look stupid for trying”

Rory’s best use to me is catharsis. I’ve shoved all the shit I hate about myself into this guy and exaggerated it by queefzillion, and it feels reassuring to see him being knocked down a peg for behaving like a little wart. It also feels kind of nice when he still manages to find occasional kindness in spite of his many, many glaringly hideous flaws.

🥊 - What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Mauly was one of those kids who every adult in her life would describe as “so creative” and “a free spirit”, which is actually grown-up code for “this poor bastard’s gonna be a starving artist and we’re hiding our disappointment”. If she had the means to create more often, she’d have a lot of fun honing her craft and fully leaning into art as an outlet for her angst

Because she’s so hands-on and skilled at improvised patching and the like, she often gets stuck with repair responsibilities by the other schmucks she lives with. She doesn’t mind slapping duct tape over stuff several times over or whacking things with a hammer til it fits right, she just would prefer not being assigned that job by other people. Never tell her what to do

Rory’s nimble fingers don’t only make him a passable thief, but also a possibly-not-the-worst musician. He’s never played for anyone else, which might be why he kinda sucks, but it’s one of the few things he keeps to himself instead of bloating to give his delicate ego some padding. His songbook is loaded with edgy cringe, but its the sort of raw soul-bearing stuff that reminds you there’s a person in there. Not a great person, but a person

Anyway something he hates doing is uhhhhhh giving to charity,

🎓- How long have you had the OC?

Mauly’s been around ffffforrrrrr i wanna say maybe two years now? For a long time she was just an idea in my head, i didn’t wanna touch that idea til i knew exactly what i wanted to do with it

Rory’s my freshest OC, only been around for like a month. Not even. Could still use some fine tuning

Bonus: some VERY rough first drafts of Mauly that’re a little closer to the source material (excuse the positively grimy state of the paper, i dont take very good care of my sketchbooks)

[elendsessor]

because someone was interested here’s some flynn headcanons, mostly which involve issachar!!!

i think a lot of the villages outside of the eastern kingdom of mikado’s boarders would struggle in general, so keeping kids and the elderly alive and well is hellish. based on what little npcs from kiccigiorgi that can be interacted with, many of the adults (at least who we see alive) likely have to juggle tending to the usual farm work and caring for the kids. both flynn and issachar living to be 18 was likely a miracle, or having capable youth in general was one. i also like to think they were born in a really close timeframe, or even on the same day, so off the bat their families got along well and they were sorta just. born best friends.

flynn was definitely influenced by issachar in many ways but i think it’s because he genuinely looked up to him. i mean, dude’s pretty outgoing. he probably helped with a little bit of everything and might’ve been more physically capable of things than flynn.

that being said, issachar also did a lot of stupid shit. i’m pretty inspired by this post for this hc. flynn would always end up doing the same stuff even if he knew he could get hurt/in trouble just because he didn’t want issachar to take all the blame for something or the only one suffering an easily preventable injury.

despite physical differences, both ended up succeeding in different areas when it came to usual tasks. flynn was much better with animal handling.

you can’t tell me he didn’t grow out his hair just because issachar did, but low key flynn is bad at actually using hair ties and the like. he always has to get help.

they were basically inseparable from day one. can’t do shit without the other present.

they started visiting lake mikado for fishing purposes despite the trip being pretty long. it gradually became their usual spot on rest days, and both of them started training to become samurai by the lakeside.

flynn was actually the one who presented the whole becoming a samurai no matter what idea, though it was originally him thinking issachar would be the perfect fit while he’d stay back home. a little convincing lead flynn to eventually promise that. both were constantly motivating one another in the first place for everything. as the day of the gauntlet rite neared, though, anxiety surrounding the worst case scenario increased.

first few nights without issachar being there were hellish for flynn. the idea of being the only one of the two to become a samurai in general hurt. he initially considered seeing if he could find a way to drop out but i bet either sometime before or right when they got separated issachar encouraged him to stay.

it’s not like he could if he wanted to. samurai business outside of them protecting people was hush-hush, and due to how little end up getting accepted during the rite combined with how many likely died in naraku, yeah no take backsies. communication with anyone outside the samurai was likely strictly forbidden. even on holidays they had strict regulations on what they can and can’t talk about with folks.

didn’t stop flynn from trying to get in touch with issachar (to no avail).

in regards to the black samurai incident as it was deemed, he likely did end up mercy killing issachar. idgaf about the choice to not do so. aside from that being what issachar wanted, realistically speaking, he’d likely be killed either way, so better to die by your best friend’s hands than a stranger’s. i would imagine that the tragedy overall did leave kiccigiorgi unable to recover and those who turned into demons before death weren’t given any proper burial or respect. they were treated like the lowest of the low. i do think flynn ended up finding a way to hide issachar’s body just long enough so he could bury him at lake mikado.

for a long while after the fact, flynn tried his hardest to recover by never thinking of issachar by name or even saying it. worked for a little while, though occasionally he’d end up asking himself what he’d do if issachar was there with him still whenever he got stuck.

part of what inspired him to help out tokyo was because he felt like it was his duty to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. it’s not their fault they’re in constant life or death situations. though i think he also overworks himself.

he’d take constant trips back to mikado while he could just to gather supplies for the people of tokyo to use regardless of what rules that broke.

oh and he’d turn down buying certain things if he felt like that would deprive others of materials they likely needed more.

flynn really did become better overtime at fighting but adopted the ability to use magic because he’s secretly not that great at sword wielding. using guns also just feels too unnatural. learning from demons does make him feel a bit guilty though.

you could so easily guilt trip him into doing stuff it’s not even funny.

last hc for now i guess but i really like thinking that the option for nanashi to give flynn the fishhook helped put his mind at ease in 4a’s bonds route. he just automatically knew it was something that belonged to issachar despite looking nothing special. it’s kinda like having a piece of him there.

sorry this was so long btw. wouldn’t mind putting more headcanons out there in the future tho maybe idk ;-;

[residentdormouse]

Quite a few Qualms about my 'Q' Words

I was getting queasy thinking of what qualifying quips I could conjure to quell this quandary, because quitting this quest would be questionable. Quartering the most quotable q’ words, I hopefully quashed this quarrel and quenched the internal quakes so I can continue on with my queue.

My Words: Question Quite Quit Queer Quiz

Your Words: Relax, Regret, Random, Ramble, Realize

(Ramble may be a stretch - if nothing Rant can also replace - and Ready was on standby)

One questionable letter down. @mrsmungus , can we both agree 'x' just ain't happening? 'Z', you're on notice too, buddy...

As always - if you think you may have fun with this, please don't hesitate to jump in for a round or two. OPEN TAG. No obligations. We're just clowning about 😂

Question

"Hey, there's a lot of things we don't know and can't explain right now."

"Exactly! I just… who am I? Aren't you worried I could have been a shit person before this... I know, choices and all now, but that fight… what I knew..."

"Well, I don't know about you, but it seems pretty clear to me that a 'shit person' wouldn't let it weigh on them like this. There are plenty of reasons for you to know--"

"How to kill people?" Her eyes remained downcast, unable to bring herself to look up, but once again, Glen soothed her.

"How to protect people. You made a decision. Did what you needed to, to save lives. Now who's to say that wasn't the right call." He paused briefly, changing course in the debate, "So, you think Stu is a bad person?"

"What? No!" Standing to face him, she slowly realized the meaning of the question while her shoulders went slack, "of course not." He used trickery; it was effective. "Glen…"

"Just giving another perspective." He stood up as well, walking in front of her "Look, Hayden, I think I've been around long enough to become a pretty good judge of character. I don't pretend to know much about all this other… stuff… but I do know people." She found she couldn’t help but reciprocate his smile, even if it didn't fully match his conviction. "I'm not worried about you."

Quite

All things considered, Hayden chalked the night up as a success. She touched base with Larry. A meeting was set up with Stan, once he had a chance to hit up the library regarding her specific request that is. Hell, she even got to a better place with Harold. Recounting the accomplishments brought on an effervescent mood, and with it, a new burst of energy.

Energy and a pretty decent buzz. Prior assessments were retracted: she could do large crowds and parties with the proper liquid courage. Plus, dancing was fun; she liked that a lot too.

Finishing her drink, she began to head to the front of the pavilion where she spotted Glen standing next to Stu and Fran. Taking advantage of the fact that her presence went unnoticed, she snuck up behind them and snatched Glen's pen from his hand. Flashing a cheeky smile, she took a few puffs of the vape while Stu gave a hearty laugh at her antics. Glen made a half-assed attempt to swipe it back, but it was easily avoided. Despite his attempt to seem angered, amusement was evident in his features and she continued to sway in beat next to him, waving the accessory about with an occasional puff. Finally breaking the act, he let out a laugh, and outstretched his hand towards her. She accepted with a spin outward. A puff on the next beat. Spin back in. The last move however, ended with her being held against him. Playfully, she fought back, but truth told, she was quite happy where she found herself.

"You and your damn trickery..." With a sly smile in response, he took his vape back and released her from the embrace. "Eh, I guess you earned it."

Quit

I thought I had this, I really did. But all of them, ALL OF THEM, were just the damn thing finding 'quite' and thinking I just didn’t finish the word. My characters apparently don’t quit. Good on you guys. Keep on fighting that fight.

Queer

Again nothing. I am bisexual, and unless otherwise stated, even when they’re in a m/f pairing, every damn character I write I think of as being this orientation as well. And still, with this logic, I do not use the word ‘queer’?! Shame. Shame on writer for 1,000 years.

Quiz

(I have no instance of just ‘quiz’ I do however have ‘quizzically. Please accept the substitute and my apologies.)

“I don’t think we should bring this up around Stu and Hayden.”

Quizzically, Fran looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Glen simply shook his head. This scenario was always in the back of his mind, but now having it realized... “I don’t think they were meant to make it out of here.”

Fran and Harold both spit out their comments at once:

“You think they were going to kill them?”

“You think they killed these people?”

The differences in their initial reaction couldn’t have been more clear to Glen, or more appropriate to their character from what he had pieced together, but he continued reporting his observations nonetheless. “Well, I’m no expert, but, seems pretty clear from what I can gather... lots of blood down by one of the open containment rooms,” he pointed at the larger body, "he got shot there, made his way up the hall, and somebody ended it here. I sincerely hope it was this one," he pointed to the other corpse, "but..."

"But where's the gun?"

Harold venomously finished his train of thought with no problem. At least Glen could see Fran shared his sadness at the revelation.

[jammie-time]

Warning. Action post contains: a mental/psychotic break/could consider it a manic episode as well, also implications of harming ones self

This is also past tense. This isn't a current event.

-------

You were living you were happy, you were finally able to communicate with everyone and make new friends, just being a part of a group that you liked and even liked you a bit too.

First meetings and meeting people from the past.... It was all too sweet. Then something all too heavy fell on you.

~~~

"I know HE told me not to tell you, and I- fuck."

Prince suddenly called you and wanted to meet up, was weird cause usually it ain't that big a deal for him to just come unannounced, you're always too welcoming of his presence, he's your best friend after all.

When he finally came he sat you down across from him, and it was all..... Formal... Was getting you real nervous. You had every right to be by the end though.

Prince spilled something fierce at you. About a plan that him and your ancestor had in store with many others. But the problem was....

It was requested that you were to no know of it.

"Why" you asked. Could barely look in Prince's eyes, your voice was unusually monotone and stiff, which was always a bad sign for the trolls close to you. Who've seen the horrors that you're capable...

Prince was silent for a long bit before he explained. "The Grand Highblood,,, Kurloz,,,, He said.. You're too unstable to know any details...-"

Your mind trailed off, everything Prince had to say was a blur. "That's it-?" Was all you thought before you threw the table up in the air and on to floor behind you.

"FUCK-!" Prince fell to the ground from surprise, his agitation was apparent until he looked up at you to see red eyes fill of anger and tears. You couldn't tell what he was feeling when looking up at you for you were blind with rage. "Get out." This was not only a statement, it was a warning as well. "Get the fuck out."

Prince sat still for a moment before backing up slowly, his hands in your view, and getting out the hive. He was cautious, could tell that much.

You suddenly hissed and grabbed at your head shaking.

.............

The loudness that began within your pan was too much to bare.....

~~~

Your hive was a mess when you finally came to your senses and for the first time, when your anger took over in such a way....... You not only destroyed yourself and your part of the hive..... But your ancestors part as well, where he would stay when visiting you.

When the anger finally fell you were filled with sadness. For how long? You weren't sure but all you really did during this perigees long episode of depression was text Prince "sOrRy" before turning off your mobile husk.

You understand many things, things that people don't really get yet or be assuming you don't know a thing about it, sometimes you don't know nothing, and that's all fine too.

This plan, this beautiful but horrifying plan, was something you KNEW you could never participate in. But to keep it from you all together with the assumption that you ain't ready, you're unstable, and that you just wouldn't understand.

When in reality you aware of everything and why this shit needs to happen and you're just as aware of you were to participate you could lead to their downfall.

But to keep it from you for so long.... With such humiliating.... Could even go as far and objectifying reasoning...... Wasn't acceptable, not for you atleast.

The sadness stayed with you, random bursts of anger coming occasionally, and you'd even wish for your best friend to be here. But you know it's better for him too not be.

"I'm all too burdensome, been too aware of it for too long...." You push on your belly in a pained way before losing your consciousness.

___

You woke up.... In your cupe? Weren't you like not in here. You crawled out and then seeing Prince sitting in the reclining chair, sleeping. He was cleanest thing in in the block, everything covered in your blood, dirt and other things, just laying there, as sturdy as he always is. You could tell he picked some stuff up and cleaned the area he decided to lounge in.

You went right back down in the cupe.

The tears want to come down, you think you're all dried out. "Why do everyone gotta treat me so kindly after hurting me so bad, I don't get it, don't get it at all..."

You held your head in your hands, conflicting emotions running over you again.

[pretty-volatile]

Monday, April 17, 2023 6:49 am

I'm currently I'm feeling pretty bluh. I've noticed that it's been hard to get to sleep mentally, whereas before being so physically exhausted would help me pass out right away. Um obviously I go through times where I'm a little/a lot more focused on a specific mental health facet (?) of myself and well...

First check in is that I've become a lot more acquainted with my autistic self. I think I've noticed fewer meltdowns/shutdowns/burnouts/overstimulation/overwhelm than before. I still 'mask' a lot, but I'm trying to be more myself and therefore being able to better regulate and recognize the things that send me into those moments. So yay. Can't be open with everyone, but those I have been open with are very kind and accommodating.

For ADHD, my partner and I have brought the return of my perpetual lists! All over the place indeed. But so helpful! So necessary! Otherwise shit wouldn't get done. Overall struggles with ADHD haven't been too too much to handle.

For my bipolar, it seems when I try to accommodate my ism I also tend to help keep my mood swings to a minimum. But I still fluctuate, I would just say not as bad as the big dramatic ups and downs that would cycle one after the other. I seem to be getting some more stability in between. Still go through my psychotic phases though, but that's mostly workable. My partner is there for me too especially during those times.

For my eating disorder, um, that's still complicated. I try not to weigh myself and try to wait a long time in between weigh-ins. For a while we were only eating a meal a day only cause I didn't have enough money for more food. This month is a little better so we get to eat more frequently. It's still hard not to listen to what my eating disorder makes me feel when my coworkers constantly talk about their eating/weight issues and just sound like a lot of disordered eating and/or unhealthy body image/relationship with their body. But I just try to take it day by day.

For my (C)PTSD um well of course that's something I'm always going to be battling with. I try to logic my way through my memories and trauma, and when I do feel the pain of the past, it washes over me completely and I get stuck. It's hard to process all by myself, and I feel bad for even the things that I have shared with my partner since I know they have their own trauma to carry.

But what has my attention again is my BPD. Since discovering I struggle with this and learning what I do that hurts people or hurts myself, I've truly made an effort to work on all those things. The black & white thinking, the splitting, the running away, the self-harming, the self-isolating, etc. I've learned that my BPD episodes really correlate with my CPTSD & autism and since I've been working on the others, I've been better at managing my more harmful BPD behaviors/thinking. I still struggle with the idea of self harm, while I haven't cut myself in years now, it's still something I look back on, craving like an addiction, not quite being able to let it go but knowing it's no good for me. This has extended to my other self harm tendencies, not just cutting. I still crave stronger drugs than weed sometimes to escape reality/myself. It's a big feeling to sit with, accept, and let go. I fear I could give in, but I'm lucky to not have access. I would day for the most part I'm sex-repulsed due to all the sexual trauma that I've finally had a chance to sit with and process. Unfortunately that has affected my sexualness with my partner, but it's also brought on a whole new level of intimacy and romance, while also still occasionally doing it *wink*. I still self isolate a lot. Mostly out of a fear of being left, rejected, forgotten, judged, or having any sort of strong attachment to someone that could have the potential to end in heartbreak. My partner is my one true person, my best friend, my soulmate, my love. Everything I could need and more. It just sucks not having friends sometimes, that aren't work buddies. But even friends stop talking to me eventually so... I certainly still deal with my black & white thinking, also thanks to the ism. I try to stop and rethink or opposite action, etc. But it can be hard and my partner often has to call me out on it. Even though my partner is my most stable, comfortable, safe, protective, reassuring love that I have ever had, I unfortunately still deal with projecting my trauma onto them. Of course it doesn't help that if it's something that's happened between us two before, even if not intentional. Trauma response just be like that sometimes *shrug*. My emotions haven't quite been up-down like before, but more of the empty, stress, depression, fatigue, fog, etc. That certainly hasn't been helped by COVID. But the inability to recognize or name my other emotions and having a specific set of emotions that I always pick from to TRY to remotely describe how I feel could also be due to alexithymia. I still have outbursts. I still get petty and cranky and irritable. I still get major secondhand stress from others. But the way I handle those things are a lot better. Even my partner would agree that my BPD has been more manageable, smaller things that we can confront head on rather than the big explosive shit that used to happen. Idk just thinking about whether I still deal with it/how much I deal with my BPD traits. Wondering if I had it to begin but realizing the reason why I don't have to deal with it as much is because I really have put in effort to put more love into myself and my life and my partner, to heal the trauma a little that caused all this. It'll take me my whole life, but it seems to be getting better in some ways.

Anyway I've been up way longer than i should be and now I'm going to go self loathe like i normally do. Ttyl~

[briamichellewrites]

2

Rob didn’t think of Brie as anything other than a younger sister. That allowed Mike to make his move. He asked her on a date and she accepted. The date went great! They went to a restaurant, where they talked while sharing an appetizer. He had not been on a first date since he ended his relationship with his girlfriend, Anna a couple of years before. They had not been getting along and she was becoming resentful of his career.

He always chose that over her. After a heated discussion, they decided to break up because they were miserable. It was very hard because he thought they were going to get married. He focused on making music to deal with the pain of the breakup for six months. It was Brad who finally made him get out of his house. Staying home won’t make you feel any better.

He was right. Still, he wasn’t ready to meet anyone. Until he met Brie. Was that her full first name or was it, Brianne or Brianna? Nope, just Brie. She was used to that question. It was French. Was she French? Yeah, her mother and adoptive father were French. Her biological father was Italian, Dutch, and Irish. Did she have any contact with him? Oh, yeah. Her family was a little complicated because she was a sperm donor baby. Her biological father was a friend of her parents.

When she was born, he gave his rights to her adoptive father. She also had two half-brothers and a half-sister from him and his wife. They lived in New Jersey, so she saw them occasionally but they constantly texted each other. Was she the oldest, youngest, or in between? She was the third youngest. It was Evan, Jess, her and Sam. Her brothers were okay. They used to annoy her when they were younger.

Her brother, Evan used to pop the heads off of her Barbie dolls. He laughed. Why did he do that? She had no idea. Because they were kids and they did stupid shit like that to each other. They did get along every so often. That sounded like him and his little brother. Now that they were older, they could laugh about the stupid things they did to annoy each other. He had a little brother? Yeah, his name was Jason. He was an associate director at an architecture studio.

That sounded important. It was. He designed buildings around the world. After eating and paying, they went back to her place. It was there that he noticed pictures on her bookcase. One of which was of Bruce Springsteen holding a newborn baby. Your father is Bruce Springsteen? Yes, she didn’t want to say anything in case he was a fan.

“I know of his music but no, he’s not my favorite artist. Were you worried I was going to take advantage of that?”

“I’ve had a few people ask me for his autograph over the years.”

“No, it doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you.”

“Then I guess I’m keeping you around.”

He laughed before leaning to kiss her. It was becoming a great first date. He could see himself being happy with her. It wasn’t because of her wealth or her connections, but rather her as a person. She wrapped her arms around him. He loved the way she tasted and the feeling of her hand on his chest. There was an invisible magnet pushing them together.

They could feel it as they kissed. Their breathing got deeper as they backed up against the wall. She felt herself playing with the bottom of his shirt. He took it off before kissing her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair. He looked at her before asking if she wanted to go further. Yes. He noticed she was hiding something and he picked up what she wasn’t saying. Was she a virgin? Yes. He thanked her for telling him. If she wasn’t ready, he would understand.

He didn’t want to make her do anything she was uncomfortable with. She trusted him. Was she sure? Yes. With that, they went into her room upstairs. He closed the door behind them. They kissed again like they had been lovers who had been waiting years for each other. She straddled him on her bed and he took off her dress and threw it on the floor.

After their clothes were off, he laid her on her back before getting on top. He was going to make her first time special. She opened her legs and he came between them. He had lost his virginity in college and he had no idea what he was doing. Porn didn’t help because it wasn’t the same. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman and he had to stop himself from getting too excited. This was one of the best first dates he had ever been on.

She could feel his beard on her skin and lips, along with his hands going down the sides of her body. He was learning her curves and he wanted more of her. When he finished, he pulled out and caught his breath. He then laid on top of her. She ran her fingers through his black hair. Was it everything she wanted it to be? Yes! He laughed before kissing her again.

Depression was constant in Brie’s life. Even though she had a great life, she had inherited her father’s depression gene. Her parents didn’t know how to help her because they had never experienced the illness themselves. They gave her everything she wanted. Why did she need to feel depressed? They refused to get her help. As a minor, she couldn’t get treatment because she legally needed their permission to be medicated.

Mike was in her bathroom when he noticed a pill bottle on her counter. He didn’t mean to snoop, but he looked at the label. Zoloft. He looked it up on his phone. It was an anti depressant medication. He had experience with depression, as his best friend, Chester had severe and sometimes suicidal depression as a result of different traumatic events in his life.

It was nothing to be ashamed of. That was what he told her when he asked about the medication. Yeah, she had gone to get help right before she met him. She learned it was genetic. How long has she been struggling with it? She had it since she could remember. Her parents wouldn’t let her talk to a professional because they didn’t understand. They thought because they gave her whatever she wanted, she didn’t have a reason to be depressed.

Did she know it was an imbalance of chemistry in her brain? Yeah, now she did. How did she handle her depression before getting help? She stopped eating because she didn’t have an appetite. Her parents noticed. They tried to get her to eat. It got to the point where they were going to admit her for an eating disorder. Bruce had to knock some sense into them.

They continued giving her whatever she wanted, in hopes that it would cure her. When she turned eighteen and graduated, she got the hell out. She had very limited contact with them. Where they helping her out financially? Yeah, they paid for everything and they gave her a monthly allowance.

“I know. I should get a job and stop living off of them.”

He laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it’s like to be extremely wealthy. But money can’t cure mental illness. You can have all the money in the world and still have depression. What do your parents do?”

“My father owns an investment firm and my mother is a hedge fund manager. They met in college at a party. She thought he was an asshole because he was drunk. He sought her out the next Monday, after he had sobered up and apologized. To make it up to her, he took her out on a date to McDonalds because they were both broke. She decided he wasn’t too bad and they continued dating.”

He laughed. That was a cute story. What about Bruce? They met him and his wife, Patti at an industry party and became friends. After they got married, her parents tried getting pregnant right away. After a year of trying, he went to his doctor and they learned he was infertile. Bruce then stepped up and offered to be their sperm donor. After doing in vitro, they found out she was pregnant. She got his depression, creativity, and love for music.

As children, they all learned when they were in trouble by the way he looked at them. He didn’t have to say anything. They just knew. He would call their name, give them the look before nodding his head. It usually happened because they had been caught not listening to him or his wife. He was known as The Boss and it fit him perfectly.

He thought about how she had talked about her parents versus how she talked about Bruce. Her parents were not always there for her. That was the feeling he got. Money doesn’t buy everything. It couldn’t take away mental illness. He reminded her that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. A lot of people struggled with mental illness. They just didn’t say anything, but they should.

Everyone should know that they weren’t alone. She had a platform on Instagram, so she should use it. He didn’t want her to go through depression alone. No matter what, he would always be there for her. He kissed her forehead.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[detectivehole]

i agree that evil dead 2 is a totally different movie with a much different tone, being a comedy first and foremost as opposed to first movie being horror first that just happened to have a healthy streak of comedy and "low budget" self awareness

im not a movie critic or even particularly good with words but there were certain aspects of the first evil dead only present on the first movie that i found particularly compelling when watching it for the first time

first, i always considered ash's reactions to the world around him to be reasonably realistic; horror tends to skew for the dramatic, portraying victims as either dumb as rocks, or hyper competent/confident- and even when they do try and be more realistic they prefer characters who's reactions are blind or nearly blind panic. i get it! skewing extreme is certainly more dramatic, and/or depicting major panic is definitely conductive to producing fear and tension as the audience empathizes with the characters. i definitely prefer the more realistic approach, but in reality not everyone panics like... ya know. all the screaming and the bad decisions and the etc- in evil dead ash doesn't do that though. his panic isn't blind, it's measured in a very realistic way. he definitely freaked out often, made stupid choices, hesitates too long for his own good, etc etc. but he basically never just stumbles around in blind fear, he always gave off the impression he was thinking through his decisions at least a little, considering choices and options and even what he could bring himself to do morally. which in my experience is the more common irl terror response anyway, and certainly the one i enjoy the most and that would most reasonably survive in a horror situations and it wasn't just ash who did that! other characters were competent to a believable degree while still being blatantly and occasionally stupidly afraid (ash is just the main guy so the best example) and idk. i loved that. i don't blind panic, no one in my family does, i don't think all of my friends do, it's good to see "logically-minded dunce" representation in movies or whatever

second, the whole movie is like this but i have a particularly hard time describing it so im gonna pick out the best example; there's this scene, towards the middle, when ash is effectively the only one left. he's sitting in the living room, trying to get information out of and comforting his dying friend (note: i like that he seems to know his friend is a lost cause and along with comfort mines him for information- he's very obviously dead, ash isn't yet, he's being pragmatic but not unkind), surrounded on all sides by demonically twisted versions of his loved ones as they all mock him- no one attacks him physically in the moment, there's no action. and he just seems... annoyed? angry? and like, believably calm. not actually calm just, reasonably low key. and idk i really liked it, and it ties into that measure panic thing above. the idea of a man who was singled out mostly inexplicably by the forces of hell having to sit around the dead, demonic, and dying as he just gets more and more annoyed and angry with them, overriding not all but a good chunk of fear as they're teasing him is very... entertaining. very believable. it feels very human to me- people can adjust very very fast to situations when they have to, especially when it comes down to survival, and imo the most dangerous place to keep a person capable of fighting back at all is in a corner, so watching him sorta just accept this hell he's going through not as defeat but as a challenge he has to overcome is very compelling to me. idk like i said i can't explain it. that scene stuck with me and is borderline inspiring

thirdly, as always seems to be the case, the low budget makes the whole thing better. the effects are reasonable and decent- effective enough even when visibly shit to get the point across and the times when they're used very very well is always a treat. further, i attribute this to the budget but maybe it was a purely creative choice, but the effects were also super strange? emphasis on blood was probably a practical choice but as anyone might remember the movie had a comical amount of it in places one would maybe not expect blood to be, and other choices were similarly strange what with the light and the projector and the trees and etc etc. and all around it was weird but it commits to it without trying to force you to buy it all so it kinda comes around to be Truly Good in the end as a collective

sorta tied to the effects part i appreciate that the movie had a sense of humor and never denied or lost it, including constant being sorta aware of the budget imo, even though comedy wasn't the focus like it is in 2 or 3. fear and humor are, in my opinion, the easiest emotions to trigger in anyone and everyone, and they are well known to go hand in hand- which is why it's always a shame imo when horror movies try and reject comedy entirely out of some inane idea that it'd somehow devalue the scares. so it was nice to watch a movie that (while i personally didn't really find it scary) was good horror and genuinely funny at moments. supernatural horror is an absurd subgenera by nature, you gotta lean into that a bit to pull it off imo, even more than you would more realistic horror

anyway idk. i feel like this is incomprehensible but whatever. i like evil dead 1 a lot. yea 2 is good but it's it's own thing in my head

i prefer evil dead 1 to 2 i am sorry well no im not actually but i know this is considered the wrong choice. 3 isn't even the same series to me it's just like a funny adventure