#in case anyone's wondering how i've been since christmas

[klonoadreams]

my indigenous mexican ass is thriving off of Lostbelt 7 and the Mesoamerican servants, like 

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

No thoughts, head empty, too much Camazotz and Kukulkan (love the hair and outfit). I also saw Huitzilopochtli’s name, but until I see someone die and get turned into a hummingbird, then I refuse to get my hopes up for him.

Quetz, my beloved - you will now have more buddies to thrown down in the ring. Taiga can finally (lie) get a break.

Tezcatlipoca, your days are numbered.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to cut my step family out of my life?

TL;DR: im fine with never seeing/talking to any of them again, but my dad and my stepmom have really been on my case about how im "burning all my bridges" by not visiting.

I (19FTM) have 4 step siblings, CS (22M), CL (20F), LT (19F), and PR (17NB). I have known them since i was 7-8 years old, and when our parents married [my dad (53M) and their mom (49F)] we in moved with each other to a new house (i was around 11-12 at the time).

I frequently butted heads with them in the beginning bc i grew up an only child, but things mellowed out over the years, especially after CS and CL moved out. However, even after things started to calm down, i stilled butted heads with their mom. i still do even after ive moved out.

now none of them have like seriously & personally wronged me, and im actually pretty friendly with CS and PR. However, their mom and LT have really pissed me off in the past. Their mom for multiple reasons (transphobia, homophobia, taking my mom to court over petty reasons, and just generally very shitty behavior) and LT for outing me twice to the family.

i've moved in with my mom until i find an apartment of my own to move to, but my dad has been really on my ass about how im "burning bridges" by not visiting anymore, and how everyone there "misses me so much" and are "always asking where i am". he keeps going on about how sibling relationships are so important and we need to have each others backs, but honestly im just thinking "fuck that, i dont really care!"

contradictory to his statements, i get NO communication from them or about them at all from anyone. apparently LT has been in Greenland and then Chile for the whole summer and no one told me. CL is moving out of the country next year, and no one told me. None of them text or call me. EVER. so i just assume they don't want to talk, which im fine with!

i want NOTHING to do with their mom, and LT really grinds my gears whenever we're around. the last time i saw CS and PR was father's day '23, and the last time i saw CL and LT was probably Christmas '22. I'm fine with this, as the only one i actually like spending time with is PR.

so, AITA? I understand that im young, and my experiences not only growing up an only child but also how ive been treated by them factor into my choice, but part of me does wonder if visiting/keeping in touch (with at least some of them) would be beneficial.

What are these acronyms?

[slashingdisneypasta]

(M.I.) Long AF update, and thanks to slxsherwriter I found the thing: first episode, 42:09. Knew I didn't dream that. (Sidenote: that incorrect quotes post with Greasy and the B99 quote "you can punch me, kick me..." etc...that's the kind of sub vibe I was getting from Smiley.)

Very, very light mention of suicidal ideation in this one

1976

It's late at night and The Cafe has parked itself on a stretch of desert highway. Ironically making you shiver as you think about those old tales of ghostly hitchhikers. As if anyone more dead than you is going to wander in.

The reassuring thought does absolutely nothing to make the quiet, empty building less creepy.

You know Blackie's nowhere around because the air isn't right. It's something you've started to notice recently, that you can tell whether he's hidden or entirely absent just from the atmosphere.

The Cafe always greets his return like an old friend. Not in words, of course, but there's a...a feeling after he's been gone for awhile. The whole place is suddenly cozier and, yes, even the very air seems to change with that split second he pops into being.

Right now, everything feels wrong and empty. You think about wishing him back, just to see if it works and stop the hairs prickling on your neck, but if Blackie's out that means you'll soon have a customer.

You'd rather they didn't show up until he's home. Just in case.

"Where's he gone," you ask the ceiling.

The tv flickers to life and your ears are assaulted by the tinny sound of multiple bells clanging...Dingdingding...

Naturally he's in a casino. There he is, wandering the crowd and handing out terrible advice. Why not give the machine a few more coins? Pull the lever again? Gotta get lucky sometime, right? Don't give up.

He must sense you watching him, because he glances unmistakably in the direction of the screen; flashing a smile in response to what he knows will be your disapproval. You roll your eyes.

The contrast between his crowded, lively surroundings and yours only serves to highlight the eerie feeling of the desert location. With that song about Phantom 309 playing in your head, you know you've got to get out.

"No offense," you say, heading to the kitchen door, "but I've got the worst case of the heebie-jeebies and I'd rather be there."

Saying it out loud makes you suddenly aware that it's been awhile since you even thought about leaving. No matter how often Blackie manages to grate on your nerves.

Thankfully, the building approves your request; turning your uniform to a fashionable little cocktail number just as the elevator you materialize inside opens, leaving you facing the gold and red carpeted hallway of what looks like an expensive hotel. You're always glad for the chance to wear something different, and your reflection across the way tells you that even with a more modest neckline, the black and silver looks stunning.

There are a couple of small potted plants at the end of the hall with gold tinsel ropes wrapped around their buckets. Matching the ones that circle the columns behind them, ending in giant red bows. Is it near Christmas? Have you lost another year without realizing?

You follow the clanging sounds into the casino, trying to spot Blackie in the crowd. For a moment, you worry you've missed him entirely, then you spot a familiar coat draped over a chair at a poker table. A familiar form sitting in that chair. And you're not going to think about the fact you recognized him from behind. It was the clothes. Not his hair, his posture...the line of his shoulders...

It wasn't any of that.

He turns his head before you even reach the table, and you wonder if he's developed his own sixth sense about you. And how? This casino isn't tied to The Cafe. You couldn't possibly be having any effect on the atmosphere.

"Joining the fun," Blackie asks when you sit down, practically lighting up at the thought.

"Not a chance." You lean in, lowering your voice. "But I am keeping an eye on you."

"Wise decision," he says just as quietly. "Some people have accused me of cheating."

You laugh, knowing he means you and that he's all but admitted you're right.

"I can't imagine why."

Glancing around the table, you startle at the hollow-eyed man sitting directly opposite. He's barely slept in days, judging by the dark circles and disheveled appearance. There's no question he's the one you'll be helping. There's also no question you'd have jumped out of your skin if he'd happened by The Cafe while you were alone.

He looks like death warmed over.

"Is he dangerous," you ask Blackie, directing his eyes with a flick of yours.

"No, just an addict about to lose the last of his savings the same way he lost his wife. I've got this one in the bag," he adds gleefully.

"I don't think so."

You assume this was originally going to play out with the poor man losing whatever he had left and then finding The Cafe while on his way to...well, it made you shiver just contemplating what someone that down on their luck might be doing so far out in the desert. Looking for privacy.

But now, you've given yourself a slight advantage. No need to wait around until Blackie's finished 'testing' him.

"Wanna bet on it?"

"No!"

Though even you have to acknowledge you're teetering right on the borderline everytime you let him goad you into competing. It's just...you've done all the gambling you intend to in your life. Or afterlife. You keep losing pretty big.

You make your way over to stand by the would-be customer, trying to figure out how you'll convince him to leave when he's barely paying attention to you. Despite the fact you currently look incredible and any other man would've taken immediate notice if you'd singled him out.

Blackie doesn't make things easy for you. And he has to be cheating, magically changing the deck to give himself an advantage. No one is that consistently lucky. At one point, he takes out a cigar after losing a hand, and you contemplate shoving it down his throat when he wins the next one. Realizing he's giving his victim just enough hope to keep trying. Enough rope to hang himself.

You glare across the table, getting a very self-satisfied smoke ring in return. It's annoying how cool that looks.

You're rapidly losing your advantage, here. You have to get the addict away from temptation. Taking your attention off Blackie, you settle it fully on the man next to you. Praying you've got enough feminine charm to make this work.

"What's your name, handsome," you ask while the next round is being dealt.

For a split second, you've got half his attention.

"Nathan," he mumbles distractedly.

Without bothering to ask for yours in return. You give it, anyway, trying to build a connection.

"Why don't we go someplace quieter," you ask, "maybe-" reassessing his appearance, you opt against inviting him for a drink "-have dinner, get to know each other a bit?"

Nathan finally looks over at that, quickly taking in the facade of glamour you've been handed.

"No offense, sweetheart, but you're barking up the wrong tree. I can't afford you."

Your face burns and you can't help glancing at Blackie. knowing he must've heard. The hand with the cigar is covering his mouth, visibly stifling a laugh.

Narrowing your eyes, you mentally project the word 'jackass' as hard you can. Hoping he'll somehow hear that. He draws on the cigar, holding your gaze with that evil little twinkle while doing so. Flustering you into turning away.

He's enjoying this way too much. And he's not giving you a chance. Blackie won't be letting go of Nathan until the man loses everything. Entirely too harsh of a lesson, in your opinion. It's a good thing you've moved to this side of the table, otherwise you would make Blackie eat that infernal cigar! It would be the greatest feeling in the world, even if you found thumbtacks in your chair for the rest of eternity.

You can only sit, watching anxiously as Blackie drops those crumbs of hope again and again. Nathan's not going to listen right now, not while he thinks you're a prostitute scouting out high-rollers. You've got no choice but to wait.

When he's finally left with nothing and forced to stop, he simply gets up and leaves; numb resignation in every line of him. You follow, unable to resist pausing long enough to flick your grinning nemesis sharply on the ear.

"Why not just take his soul," you snap.

That would really hammer home the cliché Blackie's playing up right now.

"That's gone, too, if you don't hurry," he says, cheerful even while rubbing the injury.

Quickening your pace, you finally catch Nathan in the parking lot. His car's seen better days and if you were the betting type, you'd wager it's secondhand and he's already lost a much nicer one.

"Mind if I hitch a ride," you ask, dropping into the passenger seat like a woman with no self-preservation instincts.

"I already told you-" he begins tiredly.

"I'm not hooking," you interrupt. "You look like you could use a friend and I know a great place to get a burger. On me," you offer, smiling hopefully.

You'd also bet that he's hardly eating.

Nathan shrugs, chuckling bitterly.

"Why not? You got some guy waiting to cut my throat, take my empty wallet? Saves me some trouble."

Okay, that's...maybe a little offensive that he's so convinced you're a honey trap. But, then again, you wouldn't trust the attractive stranger turning up at your worst moment, either.

He follows your directions to The Cafe, which you're sure is some combination of homing beacon and the building deliberately appearing where you say it will. The out-of-the-way location makes him speculate on your nefarious plans again.

"Place looks pretty empty," he notes suspiciously as the two of you step inside.

It's not. Blackie's here, you can feel him. You wonder how long he'll stay out of sight before turning up to ruin this attempt for you.

"My fault," you say, tying on the apron that's lying on the counter. "I got a little scared and abandoned my post."

"That's quite a trip," Nathan says with a low whistle. "You walk?"

"Taxi."

Once in the kitchen, you wish there was another cook so you didn't have to always do everything yourself. Then you immediately backtrack because the only way to get any help is to condemn someone. And right now, that would be Nathan.

"Ignore that," you tell The Cafe quietly, keeping an eye on him through the window. Raising your voice, you add: "How d'you want this?"

"Just ketchup and onions."

"Fries?"

"Nah."

When his food is ready, you bring it over to his booth with a cup of coffee. Eyes going wide at the sudden, stabbing pain when you sit down. Thumbtacks. Four, if your ass was counting correctly. Two on each side.

You center yourself with a deep breath, determined to ignore them and keep subtly flirting with Nathan. He's sadly open to the possibility you're a femme fatale out to kill him.

Whatever holds his interest.

"So, how'd a nice guy like you end up in a place like that?"

"What's your angle, here," he asks, exasperation evident. "I got nothing you want."

"No angle. I've known more than my share of gamblers and-" you shrug "-only the dishonest ones are lucky. You lost, that means you can't be all bad. I just think you need help. A second chance."

He scoffs at you, picking out a trailing piece of onion and popping it in his mouth.

"Naive, aren't you, kid? I'm all outta chances. My ex-wife said so."

"As long as you're alive-"

"Look, you're obviously younger than I thought, and this is gonna be a hard lesson, but, sometimes...it's better to give up. Stop chasing that second, third, fourth...dragging everyone down with you."

"No kidding," you fire back. "My ex-boyfriend died because he couldn't accept that. And took me right along with him."

You drop the last sentence casually for maximum shock value. Despite your fears, you're the only ghost in this building.

Nathan visibly pales.

"Ah, okay, sweetheart, I think I'd better be-"

The lights flash as the tv comes to life. Personally, you find the effect overdramatic, but The Cafe is like that sometimes. Showy. A bit of a diva. On the screen, you see Nathan's first descent into his gambling addiction. A tiny little victory that gave him a taste for more.

He watches in silence as the scene changes to one of his ex-wife begging him to stop wasting all their money. What about their plans to start a family? Three years play out in minutes; a highlight reel of bad decisions.

"I get that you've hit rock bottom," you begin. "And I'm absolutely not saying keep chasing that thrill in case things get better. I'm saying stop. Climb back out of the hole. Fix your life, start over. It won't be easy, but something tells me you like doing things the hard way."

"I-"

"Or you might find yourself in a real dead-end job," Blackie cuts in dryly, suddenly appearing in the seat just behind Nathan; leaning over the back.

The poor guy jumps, clutching at his heart. You tell yourself very sternly not to laugh.

"Your choice, of course," Blackie continues. "We certainly could use the help around here."

Nathan looks suspiciously between the two of you. Obviously remembering he saw you together earlier.

"I knew there was an angle," he crows, triumphant and suddenly nervous for a man so sure he was done with life. "You're the mafia boyfriend who's gonna-"

"Not my boyfriend," you say emphatically. "I'm the friendly ghost who's trying to save your soul-" you point to yourself, then Blackie "-and he's the literal pain in my ass hindering that."

"Guess you don't want me giving 'im this, then."

Blackie holds up a satchel. You eye it suspiciously.

"Depends what's inside."

"About...twenty thousand dollars, give or take. Got it off a complete shmuck back at the casino."

"That's-that's twice what I had," Nathan stammers.

"Alright, a few shmucks." Blackie sets the bag on top of the bench, giving you that too-innocent look. "Just lucky, I guess," he says pointedly.

When Nathan reaches eagerly for the money, Blackie pulls the satchel away.

"Uh-uh," he scolds. "Can't get something for nothing, there's strings attached. Use it wisely or you'll wind up right.back.here."

You're staring as he hands over the money. You can't help it. Mouth working silently while Nathan thanks first Blackie and then you before hurrying out without eating another bite. You barely manage the faintest response to your latest customer's goodbye.

Blackie had technically won that round...by letting you win. Implicitly taking Nathan's soul, as suggested, as soon as the other man accepted the money. Condemning him and offering redemption at the same time.

Actually, giving him back the money in the first place was-

"That was nice by my standards," you marvel when speech returns.

He switches seats, taking the one directly across from you. The burger is briefly considered then dismissed as he lifts the top; pulling a face at the choice of condiments.

"Maybe you're a bad influence."

He smiles and the thumbtacks finally disappear. You breathe a sigh of relief. Followed by another filled with regret as you look down at your dress. Knowing it will soon be changing like Cinderella's ballgown.

"Guess I've got no reason to keep wearing this," you say, plucking at the shimmering skirt. "Back to the usual."

Blackie gives a sudden start, casting a disgruntled look upwards.

"Or...we could...go out. Somewhere," he says, every word clearly forced.

"Careful, you'll give the place ideas."

"Too late."

Of course it's too late. The two of you get around that by steadfastly refusing to acknowledge any of the set-ups as dates. You're just graciously enduring each other's company to pass the time until The Cafe sets you free.

And maybe sometimes it's fun, with all the great places you've been trapped. The beach. A broadway show where the singers were so perfectly in-tune it was obvious they were only shadow puppets. That picnic lunch in the Tuileries where you had the entire place to yourselves...

But it's never Blackie's doing. Always The Cafe. You don't think he made the offer entirely of his own volition.

"Movie," you ask, seeing a way to beat the place at its own game just this once. "Is there anything good on?"

He tilts his head thoughtfully, considering. After all, he'd know the answer better than you.

"There's some Streisand thing a few people have been talking about. If that sounds interesting."

You nod.

"And how about a real theater? Sorry," you add, patting the table. "But this look requires showing off."

Once you've gone somewhere real, The Cafe can't lock you in. You'll be free to leave at any time.

You step out the door into an alleyway, just across from what turns out to be a fancy theater with balcony seating. And you don't question things too much when none of the other patrons join you in that balcony. Or how Blackie snuck those two bottles of red tucked in his coat past the ushers.

He gets away with things simply because he wants to. You're beginning to suspect The Cafe chooses people based on who can keep him at least somewhat in line.

"You're awful," you scold with a laugh. Overflowing with the joy of being a positive influence and having a real night out, you don't hesitate in taking the bottle he offers. Settling in comfortably with it. "Alright. I'll misbehave this time."

Oh. Dear.

You're suddenly aware of how that statement could be taken. So is he. Because he's not just looking at you. He's Looking. Capital L. Capital everything, really. A questioning, serious version of that heavy-lidded taunt he flusters you with so often.

And you're not entirely sure you won't just go along with the misinterpretation.

Or if it would even be a misinterpretation in the first place.

After all, some people might -in a moment of weakness- say he's actually...kind of...handsome-ish.

Those same people might be disappointed when he blinks, shakes his head, and the moment is gone. Not you, though. Just some people. People who weren't here for a casual, friendly night out.

A few minutes into the movie, Barbara's crooning her first song onstage as a barely sober Kris Kristofferson watches with every sign of already being head over heels. You're only halfway paying attention, enjoying what little of her voice isn't drowned out by the background chatter.

Your main focus is Blackie and the way he's tossing popcorn into the air, catching it in his mouth.

You wonder if he's even capable of getting drunk. His hand-eye coordination is still impeccable despite the fact you'd both kept turning up the wine at a fairly consistent rate. Chugging a little too fast.

"Show-off." You throw a piece at him, watching in tipsy delight as it rebounds off his forehead. "Hah!"

"Bet I catch the next one."

He readies himself to do just that.

"Betcha can't-Ah! You sneaky...devil something," You wag your finger at him. "Almost had me that time."

Even that sounds like an innuendo. As does his playfully wistful retort of 'someday.'

Obviously, he means someday you'll make a bet with him. Not someday he'll have you.

You chug a little more wine, trying to kill that pesky thought.

Onscreen, a curly-haired extra introduces himself as Marty and sits down to harass Kris. Insisting he 'sing a song for Sheila.'

"What an asshole," you remark.

"I dunno about that. I'd say he's got a certain cha- Oh! That's a broken nose," Blackie interrupts himself with a laugh as Kris swings at Marty.

"Pfft! No," you say, snickering too because Marty deserved it. "Actor stuff. Fake."

"It was definitely real," Blackie insists.

You throw more popcorn at him for disagreeing, taking him off-guard. It bounces against his nose.

"Didn't catch it. I win," you point out smugly

"Cheater," he says approvingly, upending the rest of his popcorn on your head as you fall to helpless giggles.

The best one yet XDD

I'm literally grinning from ear to ear while reading any of your updates but this one had me covering my face!! I need more of Blackie and Y/N having fun!! 💛💛💛

And oh yeah, Y/N, 'handsome-ish'. 🫥🫥🫥... Sure XD

Also- ALSO-

I see exactly what you did there at the end, M.I XD Very clever! 😆😄

[dnofsunshine]

Digimon Secret Santa Exchange 2023: Don't blame me (you started it)

Kuga Yuuya never texted her first. Until he did.

Written for @hallowed-nebulae for the @digisecretsanta 2023 exchange! :3

a/n: i'm your secret santa and (like i said on ao3 lol) i'm not entirely familiar with the digimon world series, or i wasn't until recently, so i hope i did your two favorites, Rina & Yuuya, justice!! i've enjoyed the gameplay so far of Re:digitize Decode and i enjoyed writing these two. i hope you have a safe and merry Christmas, and happy holidays!! <333 :D

Oh, and here's my Digimon discord server if you wanna yell abt digimon with us!

Read on AO3! || Read below the cut:

Kuga Yuuya did not texted her first.

It wasn’t something subjective—it was a simple, known fact! She wasn’t sure Yuuya texted anyone first. Often, when Rina texted him, Yuuya left her (very cruelly) on read. Sometimes he left her on delivered. Which was like, extremely rude, thank you very much.

(Granted, none of those messages were because of actual emergencies, but still. Her memes were nonetheless very important and warranted a response. But Yuuya had ignored her. Because of course he did. The jerk.)

So, naturally, when Rina’s phone vibrated and pinged, and Yuuya’s contact lit up her screen, Rina gaped. She blinked, surprised, and it took several moments to register that oh yeah, she should read the message.

Hey, Yuuya had written plainly. Jeesh, and he called everyone else boring.

Yeah, the world had totally ended. Sometime in the last few minutes, the world had ended and Rina had died and gone to an afterlife where apparently Kuga Yuuya texted her first.

She debated on calling him to see what was up, but that ran the risk of scaring him off because he didn’t even text, let alone call; so Rina leaned back in her chair and did what she did best.

Rina: hey!!!! ┌( ＾◡＾ )┘whatcha up to???

Yuuya: Studying. You use a lot of exclamation points, Rina-san.

Rina: and u text like the heir of the gigo company lol

Yuuya: Is… that a good or a bad thing?

Rina blinked again, her lips curving into a frown. She narrowed her eyes at her screen suspiciously, and who could blame her? Since when did Yuuya care about her opinion of him?

Rina: not bad!!! was just kiddin lol (≧_≦)

Yuuya: Okay.

She sent him another text that mostly consisted of emotes and exclamation points (perhaps proving his point), and this time, it took a while for Yuuya to respond. At least a good ten minutes.

Yuuya: What about you? What’re you up to?

Okay. Wow. She peeked out her bedroom window—yep, still snowing. Which meant it was still mid-December and she was still in Japan. Maybe. Probably. If she wasn’t… did it snow in the afterlife? To what afterlife had she been sent, for Yuuya to not only respond but ask about her in return? Smug, snooty Yuuya? What the hell was even happening? She couldn’t even begin to know the answer to that. 

Instead, she answered Yuuya.

Rina: just chillin!!! not really doing much haha it’s boring w/o V.V. here tbh

Yuuya: I see.

Another pause followed. Rina stood from her chair and made her way to her bed to sprawl out, phone in hand, as she awaited the continuation of their conversation. She got bored waiting on minute three and decided she couldn’t handle the suspense anymore.

Rina: so whats up???

Yuuya: I’m studying.

Rina: well duh u said that already i meant why did u text me

Yuuya: You text me all the time.

Rina: yeah! but u like never answer soooooo

Yuuya: Sorry.

Oh good god, okay. Yuuya, apologizing? Prideful, arrogant Yuuya? Maybe she’d gone to some alternate dimension—somewhere that wasn’t the digital world—where everything was the same except for one fifteen-year-old Kuga Yuuya.

She frowned again, this time in contemplation. As she pondered how to respond, she kicked her feet idly against her bed, tapping the back of her phone case if only to keep her fingers moving.

She wondered absentmindedly if his dad scolded him or something. From what she knew, Kuga Kenzou was more insufferable than Yuuya—which, of course, made sense considering he was Yuuya’s father—so it wasn’t much of a stretch to say he wasn’t all that great of a parent.

Her chest ached inexplicably at the thought and her frown deepened.

Rina: is ur dad being a bitch

Yuuya: Huh?

Rina: ya know ur dad is he being a bitch lol

Yuuya: I don’t see what he has to do with the conversation.

Then, after about a minute:

Yuuya: Father is always being a bitch.

Rina: lol!! i believe it honestly

And because Rina was a gremlin with no sense of self-control: 

Rina: his ass must really hurt from the stick shoved in it

Yuuya: Lol.

Rina blinked once more in surprise and then grinned at her screen because this was another new thing—Yuuya laughing at a joke? A joke she made? She didn’t even know Yuuya could laugh, much less over text. She didn’t know he even had a sense of humor.

They spent the next hour or so texting, with Rina sending memes (the normal amount) and emotes (also the normal amount) and Yuuya telling her that it was, in fact, not the normal amount. Eventually, the time between Yuuya’s responses grew longer and longer, and Rina assumed that he’d averted his full attention back to studying.

Rina: ur a fun texter lol

Rina: not as fun as me obviously but still fun just sayin

She sent it without really expecting a response right away, but she was surprised yet again when the reply came in only a few minutes.

Yuuya: Wow. One person approves of my texting habits.

Rina laughed out loud. This was a fun side of Yuuya to see.

(And no, it wasn’t because she felt a little warm inside that he seemed to trust her enough to make jokes with her.)

(She didn’t feel warm inside at all.)

(Yuuya was simply growing on her.)

(Like a fungus.)

Yuuya: Is this supposed to be an honor or a shame, since the person is Rina-san?

Her laugh quickly turned into a scandalized gasp as she stared down at her phone in offense. No, she changed her mind. Yuuya wasn’t growing on her.

“Rude,” she said aloud as if he could hear her, without any hint of fondness in her voice. None at all. "Yer such a punk."

Oh, who was she kidding—she sent him memes, shitposts, and festive, holiday-themed selfies every day after that for the rest of the month. If he was pissed about it, well, he texted her first.

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

Aww!!! I love your new Ayato story. To be honest, when I read the tags and the description, it was very hard for me to imagine a combination between Ayato and drugs, but I was very wrong, because now I started to get addicted to this story as well as Ayato. The idea feels so real and doable. I'm even now convinced that if Ayato was human in the canon universe, without those supernatural powers and vampiric sadism, he'd handle the situation in a similar way, since there's no way he'd be the asocial loser in class (-: However, his super beauty as a vampire doesn't work here, and it wouldn't be realistic just to exist to have friends :-*

hey anon! thank you so much! i'm excited to continue it, hoping i get another chapter in before christmas. here's the fic for anyone wondering, it's called the basketball diaries and i'll ramble a lil bit here, don't mind me.

putting it under a cut for discussions of drugs

so i've been writing drug addict fics for a real long time now and i generally consider myself able to make any character into an addict, primarily due to my wide scope of knowing and under the pretext of "it can happen to anyone", and in dialovers, i've now written shu, reiji, laito, subaru, ruki, kou, yuma and azusa. hence i moved to ayato.

ayato has gone up a lot in my heart since i first found dialovers in 2017 and especially since my re-obsession era in 2021. the more i read him, esp LE, the more i learn about his strengths and weaknesses. he's vulnerable, he's got academic trauma. he wants to do well, he does, but he's scared of trying because he doesn't want to make himself look stupid.

and contrary to the ayato can't read joke on my DL server, ayato can read and i think he's pretty smart if he really wants to do something. i.e. his MB after story he DOES get a degree but it's for yui's sake. he has to have a reason. and without said reason, he's void of motivation and frankly doesn't really know HOW to try.

you're right, ayato acts like a silly goofy big strong vampire because he's convincing himself he's The Shit. he bigs himself up as Yours Truly, pretends he's the best, because his entire self-worth growing up was based on the assumption he was going to be The Best. and if he's not The Best, then he's a failure.

when you combine that mindset with a situation where he obviously isn't going to be the best, you have a perfect recipe to write a drug fic i think.

he can't possibly be that guy with no friends, he wants to be liked and the best. but most importantly, he has a deep intrinsic desire to be the best academically too. but he never learnt to study, he has zero self-worth, and starting uni away from his closest brothers (laito n subaru in this case) in a difficult degree is challenging. couple this with the fact i gave him ADHD bc ADHD ayato has my heart, he's lost. and because being the best in his mind is more important than his own health and sense of self, he'd be willing to do anything to maintain that. and if he found a drug which does that for him, why wouldn't he use it, yknow?

i won't spoil too much about the fic there by mentioning yui's role in this (bc yui doesn't appear until ch11 unfortunately), but this is an overview of why i'm so excited to write an ayato addict fic finally.

on a similar note, next up Might be shin, actually. shin has potential, mostly from stuff in his LE. because of endzeit, shin very much has this mindset where he needs to prove he's sick in order to get validation. like he needs to be sick to prove something about himself. obviously if this weren't canon then endzeit can't be a thing, but i could talk for hours and hours and HOURS about the "needs to be ill to get validation of health" trauma (mainly due to personal experience) and it'd be really interesting to write in the context of drug addiction!

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes #5 - Breaking the Spell

Part 1 Part 4

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc,A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll

*Flails excitedly* I've been so excited to share this first scene since I wrote it 😊

---

"I cannot believe how amazing that loch was," said Rogue, swinging the hand that was holding the Doctor's back and forth. "And like, the fact you couldn't see it at all until you were right there. There was no hint, no spoilers as you say. It was just breathtaking."

   The Doctor pulled down on his arm in his excitement and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'm so glad you liked it. It's one of those places I come to calm down when I'm on my own. It's nice to come here with people for once."

   Rogue looked around at the moss and the heather on the hillside. There was something about the way the land scooped up on both sides that made it feel like all three of them were in the middle of one giant hug from the earth. It probably helped that he hadn't seen any more visions or heard any more voices, but Rogue felt warmer and safer than he had since the fear had first entered him back in the first loch.

   "Hey, Doctor," he said, relatively quietly. The two of them were a little behind Ruby.

   "Yeah?"

   Rogue smiled at him. "You know before when I called you 'love'? I really meant that. You're my love and I love you. I love you whether you're jumping around like an excited kid or looking after me like a patient mother. I love you when you're serious, when you're taking the piss out of me, when you kiss me. I'm never not loving you."

   The Doctor's face melted into a smile and he wrapped his arms around Rogue as they walked along side by side. "I thought you were just trying to talk British."

   "Really?" said Rogue.

   "No," said the Doctor. "That's me taking the piss out of you."

   Rogue chuckled. "Oh."

   The Doctor didn't say anything for a while, but Rogue didn't mind. Their relationship was complicated as hell and they were both time travellers; it was no wonder they'd be at different stages in their feelings.

   But then the Doctor took a deep breath and said, "I love you too. And that… is very scary for me. Because… well, you know what historically happens to people I love. And best case scenario, it's like knowing you're going to watch your pet get old. I'm sorry, I know that wasn't super flattering. But, either way, I do love you. I do."

   Rogue squeezed him tight. He almost sounded reluctant, but Rogue understood as well as anyone how scary this must be for him.

   "I'd still get a kid a puppy for Christmas," the Doctor said. "Even knowing what the future would hold."

   Rogue kissed the top of his head. Tears were starting to form and his throat felt a little tight, so he didn't want to say anything right now. They didn't need more words anyway.

   When the three of them got to the bottom of the hill, they picked their bikes back up and began the trip back to the Loch of the Lowes. As they cycled along the road that ran along the north side of the loch, the rumbling started back up, but even louder than before. The Doctor twisted his head to look at Rogue.

   "Wait, was that…?"

   Rogue felt his eyes widen. Had the Doctor heard it this time? The Doctor took one hand off the handlebars and reached across to squeeze Rogue's arm, but after that they concentrated on the road. The Doctor's brow furrowed, and Rogue recognised his focus-face. Was it a good or bad sign that the problem might not just be in Rogue's head?

   There was a little flat area beside the Loch of the Lowes car park where people sometimes sat to have picnics. Though they'd already had lunch, the Doctor led them down there to sit for a while. His eyes darted about, presumably looking for the source of the sound. But confusingly Ruby still didn't seem to notice anything unusual. Well, maybe except the Doctor and Rogue's behaviour. Rogue wondered if she could be convinced their weirdness was just from saying 'I love you' to each other for the first time.

   But how could she not be hearing it? Rogue stared at the water as the rumble got louder and more intense. Then a flash of white caught his eye, something tiny and fast somewhere to his left. He followed the movement as best he could and saw the cottage that stood between the two lochs, solid and present. There was a figure in a white dress running towards it, with a bright light all round her head.

   Rogue remembered the words he'd heard yesterday evening, with the man being tempted by a devil or a demon or something. As his eyes tracked the girl barrelling down the strip of land, he wondered what the man was being tempted towards, and his heart was seized with dread once more. He tried to ignore the vision and play with the grass, twisting a few blades around his finger, but motion over mind didn't seem to be working today.

   "Doctor, can I talk to you for a second," he said, drawing his legs up towards his chest to show he wanted to stand.

   The Doctor glanced at Ruby and she said, "On you go, I'm happy taking in the view."

   The Doctor smiled at her then followed Rogue towards the water's edge.

   "Okay, Doctor, I think we need to do something now," Rogue said.

   The Doctor stroked the side of Rogue's head, running his hand down past his ear. "You don't think it's just in your head anymore?"

   "Well, you don't either, right? You can hear the noise." Rogue pointed towards the loch, which grumbled on. "And even if you couldn't… Look, maybe most of it is in my head. I don't know. But on the off chance that what's about to happen over there is real I need you to do something to break the spell because I'm just a space agent and my techniques aren't working anymore but you're fucking magic and you know how to deal with magic stuff. Please."

   The Doctor blinked at him. "I think that's the most words I've ever heard you say at once."

   Rogue gestured towards the cottage. "Can you see that? And can you see the girl?"

   The Doctor looked where he'd pointed and screwed up his eyes. "I think there is… yes, yes, I can see something. Hmm… why couldn't I see it before? What is going on?"

   "I don't know," said Rogue. "And I don't get why Ruby can't see it or hear the loch at all."

   "Okay, we can figure this out. Tell me from the start what happened and we'll work off the assumption that none of it was just your brain playing tricks on you, all of it was sea monsters."

   Rogue nodded and started to tell him about the presence he'd felt in the water. But as he did, the grumble from the loch turned into a deafening groan, then a gurgle as a huge wave started to form. Rogue looked to his right, into the depths, and accepted his fate. He waited to see what on Earth was going to emerge.

---

Part 6

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert von Obsidian. Christmas. I give you my love.

Chapter 2

Gilbert brings lots of sweets for the children. The prince looks at Lucien.

Lucien, who was carrying a large number of packages, puts them in the nearest wooden box with an impassive expression on his face.

Boy: Wow...it's true! Thank you Gil!

Girl:  I love you! In the future you will be my husband.

Gilbert: Uh, really? I'm so happy.

Gilbert has been picking out gifts for these children since the beginning. The prince's red eyes, which are usually frightening, today are somehow good-natured.

The boy turned his attention to MC. He recognized her.

(Wait, this child lives next door.)

She needs to be careful not to give herself away.

Boy: Do you happen to know Gil?

MC: Uh-huh... Are we friends?

Boys: Cool. Gil is a nice guy, right?

MC rambles something affirmative and asks how often the kids hang out with Gil.

Boy: From time to time. I happened to meet him on the street and made him our friend.

Also, Gilbert knows a lot of things, and he taught the kids how to write.

.... Also, how to rip off a pickpocket in case of an emergency, how to protect yourself, how to get back at someone you hate.

MC is dumbfounded.

MC: Master Gilbert.

(What are you teaching!?)

The prince asked not to use titles and call him Gil.

MC: ....Gilbert...mister.

Gilbert: You're stubborn.

(As one might expect, even I can't behave like the children.)

The prince didn't force her.

Gilbert thinks that even if these are bad things, it is better to know them.

Gilbert: It might someday become a weapon to protect yourself.

He strokes the child's head. The kid is happy.

Gilbert: Most of the children here are poor. They have to dream.

Gilbert: Children in any country have the right to be happy because they haven't done anything wrong.

Maybe he says that because there are a lot of poor kids like that in his country.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Gilbert beckons to the boy, who says he knows MC.

Because of her "shyness", the girl says little about herself, and the prince wants to know more.

Gilbert: What does she usually do?

(Oh, no... Not good!)

The residents have orders of secrecy. But the children are an exception.

The boy told Gilbert that the heroine works in a bookstore.

......No way to mislead.

Gilbert: Hey, isn't she the daughter of a nobleman?

Boy: What are you talking about? MC is my neighbor. She's on good terms with my mom!

Gilbert: I've never heard about it before. ....Hehe

The prince from Obsidian throws a meaningful look at the heroine. She averts her eyes.

She wonders if this was Gilbert's plan all along.

Gilbert wanted to ask something else, but MC cuts him off. She wants to tell a story.

The children are curious.

Girl: I love love love stories!

MC tells them about the prince and princess.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

City Square. Near the fountain.

MC spoke for a very long time to keep Gilbert from putting words in. She is tired, wants to pretend that nothing has happened and quickly leave.

However, the prince prevents the girl from escaping by grabbing her hand.

Gilbert: Aren't children obedient and sweet?

Gilbert: Adults can keep their mouths shut, but children can't lie.

Gilbert: And they're good at keeping an eye on the town. It's better than hiring a bad informant.

MC: ...Is it possible that you are using a child?

(Master Gilbert's good intentions weren't just good intentions... they were little spies.)

Gilbert observes, if chattering is "use," perhaps it is.

However, the girl lied. How she explains it?

(Even if you didn't ask the child, you knew all along.)

She can't even tell a bad lie.

MC: ...I'm begging you. Please don't tell anyone about me.

I had to admit defeat.

Gilbert: You're stupid.

Gilbert: When you "ask," you choose to be in subjection to me.

Gilbert: Now you're really mine, aren't you?

There's a holiday outside and people are cheering, but not the heroine, the atmosphere around her has changed.

Stroking her head, he lightly coiled her hair. There was a black ribbon in her hair.

Gilbert: Since you're mine, you'll listen to me, right?

MC: ....If it's not to Rhodolite's detriment.

Gilbert: Okay, then.

(...What should I do if I'm asked to do something outrageous?)

Closing her eyes, she feels his breath...

Gilbert: I'd love to visit your home.

Gilbert's Masterlist

[duckapus]

Sibling Bonding Day!

Melony: *rapidly approaches the Haltmann siblings with that no animation, no in-between frames doll walk some of the characters do when they're excited* Sibling Bonding Day!

Vee: da fuk- *gets got along with her siblings and plopped in the back seat of a car, where they find that Lily and Lil Coding are already there* Uh...hey guys.

Lily and LC: Hi.

Melony: *gets in the front seat and starts driving* Sibling Bonding Day!

Hex: Why is Melony kidnapping us? *she's not too worried since it's Melony, but it's a legitimate question*

Lil Coding: Right, you guys are still new. Uh, so you know how Melony's technically still animate even when she doesn't have her mask even though, say, Desmond isn't?

Barney: I'll admit, I've been wondering why that's the case.

LC: Okay, so the short version is that before she got the mask she was an OC that Papa and Mario collaborated on. Mario came up with the original concept of a watermelon girl as a sort of...replacement goldfish of Meggy because he went stir-crazy in the old castle one Christmas. Then during Papa's big final evil scheme he gave her this weirdly elaborate backstory and made her a hacker and twitch streamer, and somehow that brought her to life.

Elanore: ...Wait, so she's actually legitimately our sister!?

Lily: Sort of? I'm pretty sure her, Papa and Mario all prefer to see each other as friends most of the time since she was designed to be about the same age as them, but every so often she gets into a certain mood and... *gestures towards the melon in question*

Melony, mostly oblivious to the conversation behind her: Sibling Bonding Day!

Hex: So, is there anyone else she would consider a sibling in this context?

Lily: Um, Welony and Desmond definitely, since they're both Masked Object People and Welony was literally her evil twin before she reincarnated, Franky's invited but he's even more of a "sibling-by-proxy" than we are so he can actually opt out, and...uh...wait. *leans forward to address Melony* We're not bringing Marty again, are we?

Melony, suddenly deathly serious: NO! Never again. Not after what he did last time...

The kids: O_O

Melony: *goes back to cheerful* Anyway...Sibling Bonding Day!

Hex: Riiiight...Uh, follow-up question; since when does Melony have a car?

LC: She doesn't.

Melony: I don't!

*they then failed to elaborate*

[novelmonger]

In case anyone was wondering, I never actually intended to take a Christmas break from my scoping homework, but I ended up taking one anyway because of technical difficulties. See, I went to begin the legal terminology section, which has you download a couple Word documents - one with quizzes, one that has the answer key. Well, the answer key downloaded just fine, but the quiz file just gave me a 404 error message when I clicked on it, and if I right-clicked to save it and then opened the document, it was full of gobbledegook.

So I reached out to the teacher for help, but that was on the Friday before Christmas, so I had to wait until Tuesday before hearing back -_- She got me in touch with the IT person connected to the course. We emailed back and forth to schedule a time for her to remote into my computer, because she was convinced the problem arose from me using OpenOffice instead of Word...though I was pretty sure it was something wrong with the actual file, since I could download every other Word document and read it in OpenOffice just fine.

I told her I was working from home this week and could talk any time, but didn't hear back from her for a whole day. Then, just yesterday she sent me an email that was like, "Hey, are you free RIGHT NOW?" But of course I didn't see it right away because my phone is slow like that, so fifteen minutes later she called me on my phone (guess she found my number in my records somewhere).

Now, I don't know about you, but the last thing this introvert wants to do is to suddenly have to field an important call with basically no warning, especially not when I'm suffering from a really bad cold. I'd been planning, once I got a scheduled time for us to talk, to de-clutter my messy desktop (and take away the embarrassing Captain America pictures so I'd look like a Responsible Adult) and maybe open up a browser window without a bajillion tabs open. But because she caught me by surprise, I couldn't do any of that, and had to flail around to explain the situation and try not to be too embarrassed by what she was seeing. (And she commented on how many icons I have on my desktop and how many tabs I have open AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH D:)

On top of all that, as I mentioned before, I've got a really bad cold right now, and am losing my voice...and she asked "Are you okay?" at one point *hides under desk* I'm sure I must have sounded like I was a chain smoker who'd just woken up or something x.x

But the issue has been resolved, and I felt vindicated because it was an issue on their end, with a link that didn't work, and I was able to download the file I actually needed. So ha! It had nothing to do with me using OpenOffice after all.

Now please excuse me while I cough into my pillow and don't talk to anybody for a week.

[2hoothoots]

I was wondering what if anything you thought of B-mask's P2 analysis on youtube! he brings up points of thematic dissonance about the way the maliks were handed (as well as wishing the interns/the P1 gang were better included which I think we all concur on)

ooh, LOVE a good video essay! i hadn't seen this one before but it was great to have on while i was sculpting this morning. i'm gonna link it here for anyone who hasn't seen it, if you've got the time it's a good watch:

i'd say i broadly agree with it, although i think the analysis loses me at the end. imo he tries to read in much too literally to the parallels between the Maliks and the real-life case of Tsar Nicholas II/the Romanov family. to me that's always been a much more allegorical reference, and i'd actually specifically point to '60s-era Cold War tensions between the USA and the USSR as a much closer thematic parallel to the whole Maligula thing, which is mentioned but not really dug into properly in the video. (in fact, i think that comparison makes the themes of propaganda in the game much clearer, especially given how the Psychonauts are so clearly American in all but name.) it's a shame, because i think everything else is pretty good stuff, but the last 20-or-so minutes feel pretty weak to me.

the video kind of pulls double-duty as an analysis of PN2's themes, and also a comparison and in some ways a critique of it versus the first game. that's something that i've been chewing over since... basically the moment it came out, haha, because i'm in the exact same boat of someone who's absolutely in love with the first game and doesn't quite feel like the sequel was as good (although it's a fantastic game in its own right and i love it a whole lot). so i'm gonna take this as an opportunity to dump my own thoughts on it! this is gonna get long so i'm putting it under a cut: tl;dr, the conclusion that i've basically come to on the game is that while it's not perfect, Psychonauts 2 is, in my opinion, probably the best possible version of what it is, given the circumstances around it and the nature of it as a crowdfunded sequel to a 2000s cult classic and a clear passion project by everyone involved.

the video brings up three main points of comparison/critique: the visuals, the structure/novelty of the gameplay, and the depth of the ensemble cast. i'm gonna borrow that structure, and then go into a little more of why i think certain decisions and compromises were made. overall, i think there were a lot of difficult decisions that had to be made during the development of PN2, and the more i dig into each one the more it seems like a lot of these decisions were made the only way they could be.

in terms of visuals: i can't disagree that the new game looks absolutely great, although i personally wish they'd gone just a little weirder with it. the stylized ugliness of the first game is one of my favourite things about it, and i know that part of that was due to the low poly count... but i dunno, i think there was still the opportunity to make the designs in PN2 a little less cute and a little more grotesque. it feels like the edge has been filed off, pun intended, and a little of the gloomy gothic feel of the first game is gone. i do love the look of the second game, but i can't help but feel that a little something was lost from moving from the deliberate asymmetry and exaggeration of the first game to something a little more... i guess i'd say 'clean' and palatable.

i can't lie, i think that's kind of a shame! but i also definitely get it, especially from a marketing standpoint. the style of PN1 is deeply mid-2000s, calling to mind properties like The Nightmare Before Christmas (which was cited by Tim as a direct inspiration for the game's artstyle) or Invader Zim (iirc, Jhonen Vasquez is a friend of the studio). there's definitely an argument to be made that that kind of angularity would feel dated in a modern game, and certainly similar games that have recently gotten refreshes (take Spyro, or Ratchet and Clank) have also moved towards a cleaner, cuter, more doe-eyed look. maybe that's just the aesthetic upgrade needed to make the game more appealing to a modern audience. (similarly, i think a lot of the tone shift between the games also has to do with being a product of their time. the first game feels a lot meaner, and the second more sincere, in a way that i think is in service to the shifting conversation around mental health. i think it's appropriate, but i do also miss some of the zingers from PN1, hahaha.)

gameplay: yeah, the lack of innovation in the structure of the mental levels is something i absolutely agree with. PN1 did a fantastic job of making every level feel deeply unique, and tying that into the themes of each level as well (ludonarrative!). even when these levels were a little frustrating to actually play, it always felt in service to what the game was trying to do. take how the Milkman Conspiracy is confusing and convoluted and even a little nauseating to navigate, all deliberately designed to create that uneasy atmosphere; or how Black Velvetopia literally traps players in a loop, constantly being forced backwards and only able to make forward progress in little steps before it all comes crashing back down again, as a reflection of Edgar's anger issues. in comparison, other than the noteworthy exception of Compton's Cookoff, most of the PN2 levels are just 'big platforming area that branches off from a hub'.

but i think the video stops short of diving into what i feel is the reason why some of these levels are less innovative. imo it comes down to the shifting market. 3D collect-a-thon platformers aren't really a thing any more, not like they used to be. the genre feels like it's stagnated in a lot of ways; it's not being innovated upon or moved forward, and it's also not something players are really used to any more. again, i think there's an argument to be made that designing a level that's unique but a little obtuse and clunky (take Gloria's Theater - which is great, but by god does it seriously suck to play the first time round) would be a huge turn-off to a lot of players. i sympathise with the devs feeling like they needed to prioritise a smoother platforming gameplay experience, rather than getting a little weirder with it.

story and ensemble cast - yeah, it probably won't surprise anyone to hear that i really wish the interns had gotten more screentime and depth hahaha. i know not everyone loved them, but also, anyone who didn't love them is wrong. they're the best. give me one million new intern voice lines please now

anyway, i think my biggest critique of PN2 (esp. storywise) has always been that it feels like it has one more cast of characters than it knows what to do with. it introduces the interns and the Aquato family and the psychic 6, and between everything it feels like no individual group is given quite enough focus and screentime and room to breathe to really make them shine. so the obvious answer becomes, hey, why not just cut some of the characters?

but on the other hand, like... think about what this game is. this is a sequel from a studio that really doesn't do sequels (and afaik is never planning on doing another one, certainly not a PN3). this is a passion project 16 years in the making. it's a follow-up to a beloved cult classic, and it's something Tim and the others were only going to get the chance to do once, and from that perspective i absolutely can't blame them for wanting to put everything in it. it's clear the team were bursting with ideas and themes they wanted to touch on and plot threads to resolve and cool new characters to introduce, and this was their only opportunity to do so. in their position? i would've done the exact same thing every single time.

a related point that i see brought up a lot, and that i also agree with, is depth - something that's there in spades in PN1, but feels a little lacking in PN2. i think comparing the interns to the campers from PN1 is a pretty obvious way to compare the two games, and yeah, i'll wholly admit that they're one of my favourite things about the first game. they just make the whole summer camp setting feel so alive. there's a huge amount of depth and care given to them; each one has their own little drama that plays out, and while i think there are a few obvious standouts each of them is still interesting and compelling in their own way. that's the kind of depth that has fans coming back a decade after the came first came out. Tim famously got super sidetracked making MySpace pages for all the campers over the space of a few days so that he could really get into their heads and understand their characters. it's great.

most people who play the first game casually will never see any of that. heck, i barely saw anything from the campers on my first playthrough. it was only on subsequent plays, when i went digging and started diving into the fandom and the discussions, that i realised how much there was. i still find new cutscenes and bits of dialogue and interactions every time i play. hell, the fandom is still digging up cutting-room-floor stuff that suggests there was going to be even more interaction with them. i love that depth, i really do. but is it worth putting that much dev time into something that most players will never see? especially in a game when something as fundamental as the boss fights was nearly cut for lack of time and budget?

actually, cut content is something that's pretty interesting to talk about in itself. there's a ton of stuff that's been discovered through datamining: sidequests (like finding Nona in the forest), stuff from early story beats (like the whole Mentathlon - an early version of Hollis' mind?), a whole Gruloky minigame (which presumably would have helped flesh out the Aquato family), and new mechanics (like Otto's bottled emotions - the lines related to which give what is, to me, vitally important insight into some of the characters. i'm not kidding when i say that Norma's bottled sadness line is load-bearing for like 80% of the way i characterise her, it drives me nuts i swear.) in this cutting-room floor content are glimpses of a game that was even more ambitious - dare i say overambitious - than the final product ended up being. we'll never know how much of it actually had a chance of ending up in the game, and how much was cut early due to various reasons, but...

games are made differently now than they were in the 2000s. an AA title like Psychonauts 2 takes more hours, more manpower, and a lot more money than the original. (this isn't adjusted for inflation, but PN1's budget ended up being $11.5mil; in 2012 a projected Psychonauts sequel was ball-parked at $18mil, and i can only imagine that number's gone up.) like i said, i deeply love the depth of interactivity in PN1. but is something like that really feasible, or worthwhile, in the current climate? PN1 was made on some pretty serious crunch. it was a passion project from a small, dedicated team who worked themselves to the bone on it, and due to a number of factors it ended up being a commercial flop that almost ruined them. for PN2, the team were committed to eliminating crunch, which i think is really laudable, especially given the wider state of the industry. in terms of the scope and the cast, PN2 is broader in just about every way than its predecessor. if that was the decision made in favour of added depth to character interactions that only a small number of players would see, was that the right decision to make?

when i look at PN2, what i see, above everything else, is a series of compromises that were made in order to bring a game that a lot of people really cared about to life as best they could. in a lot of ways, it's nothing short of a marvel that the game exists at all. seriously, before the whole campaign dropped if you'd asked me whether i thought Psychonauts could ever get a sequel, i'd have thought you were playing a practical joke. it was a one-in-a-million shot, and they made it, and i kind of think that given everything Psychonauts 2 is actually a hell of a lot better than it has any right to be. there's a lot of factors to the story of its development - it's a sequel, it's a collect-a-thon platformer that released in 2021, it was crowdfunded, it's a passion project through and through, oh yeah and there was a global pandemic midway through development - and i don't think any of those things necessarily hold it back, but they definitely shape it in ways that i don't think can be ignored if you're talking about the game as a whole.

i don't think it's a perfect game. i don't think there is such a thing as a perfect game. but the more time passes and the more i think about it, i think this is... maybe the only version of Psychonauts 2 we could have gotten? i dunno if it's the best game it could have been, but i do think it's the best Psychonauts 2 it could have been, if that makes sense. and the game that it is is, in my opinion, really damn good.

[muse-oleum]

Blind Dates OC Challenge: Lady Victoria Crawley

Fandoms: Downton Abbey/Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

Time period: 1920s/30s

Face claim: Elisa Cifuentes in Las Chicas del Cable

So, hum, I haven't written on here in a veryyyy long time, forgive my rustiness. I've been toying with an idea for a crossover between Downton Abbey and Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries ever since I first watched the shows, because it just makes sense lol. This is my introduction to Lady Victoria Crawley, fourth and last child of Lord and Lady Grantham.

I wanted to participate in @mercurygray 's Blind Dates OC challenge, and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for me to write something *not* academia related. I hope you enjoy this first snippet of Victoria and perhaps there shall be more...

Victoria missed the Antipodes. She missed Christmas in the sun, the hustle and bustle of the city, the constant activity she had known for the past two years, living far away from home and yet as alive as she had ever felt. But she missed her friends the most.

She missed Phryne’s laugh and Dot’s sweet smile; she missed Jack’s skepticism and Hugh’s clumsiness, and even her two favorite commies had found a place in her heart, though she would deny it if anyone asked. They would happily throttle her if they ever heard her use that word, but she couldn’t help it, annoying them tickled her. 

But most of all she missed Mac. 

Mac and her stern attitude hiding a softness that few people ever truly got to witness. Mac and her sardonic replies to Phryne’s less than stellar ideas—and there had been many; how she’d survived this far, she’d never understand. Mac and the way she smiled softly just for her, even when she thought Victoria couldn’t see. 

She missed that smile most of all. 

Here, in England, it was so much harder to let herself truly be. But with Mac, tentatively at first, and then more fully once they’d both understood the coast was clear, that they would be safe with each other, it had been different. With her almost two decades more of experience, Mac had been a friend, at first, someone whom she could trust with her most damning secret, before it had morphed into something more. 

And just as quickly, Victoria had been called back to England, her grand-mother on her deathbed, asking for her. She hadn’t seen her once in the last two years, not since she’d left Downton behind after yet another row with her father, neither willing to bend before she’d decided to break instead. But the Dowager Lady Grantham was not someone to be refused and when she had demanded of her youngest grand-daughter that she should write to her, Victoria had made a half-hearted promise that she would. 

She regretted not keeping it, now. 

1928 was proving a difficult year for her family. Between her grand-mother’s illness, her mother’s tiredness (a false alarm, thankfully) and her own problems to face, returning to Downton in mourning had not been something to look forward to. She had left angry and she'd returned apprehensive. 

Mac would have helped, but she could hardly bring her to England while her family mourned yet another passing. She had offered, of course, wanting to be there for her as Victoria had been in the past, insisting that she could take a room at the Grantham Arms, that no one would be the wiser… But it was a lie and they both knew it. Lying, after all, was an art they had mastered; anyone in their position had to be a damn good liar in order to survive. 

And now, as she sat in the library, alone with the fire cracking in the grate, the quiet of the Abbey playing with her nerves, she wondered why she’d come home at all. And could she still call it home? It wasn’t anymore, not really. Home was with Phryne and Mr Butler, waiting for the next case to drop so they could make sure to crash down at the station, taking perverse pleasure in eviscerating Jack’s well-laid plans in moves that would have had her parents tying themselves into knots. He complained—a lot—but she knew he secretly loved it. 

She also knew that he was not so secretly half in love with Phryne, but she had an inkling that he’d rather be caught dead than admitting it. So she hadn’t pushed… yet. 

The door to the library opened, pulling her back to the present. 

“I thought I’d find you in here,” Edith said, closing the door softly behind her. 

Once upon a time, if someone had asked her which of her three elder sisters she’d most looked up to in her youth, she would have said Sybil. But after her death, she had grown closer to Edith, finding a source of comfort in her sister’s embrace, and amusement at the shrewdness she so easily disguised as passiveness. She had admired that; her ability to hide what she was feeling almost to the point of quasi-invisibility. A wallflower, that’s what Mary had called her, once, when she was feeling particularly vindictive. 

Edith may look like a flower, with her honey-blonde hair with a dash of red, which they’d both inherited from their father, her pink lips and beautiful green eyes, but she could be a thorny one too, and Mary often seemed to forget that. Victoria, on the other hand, had always been much quieter than either of her dark-haired sisters, trying to find her place as the youngest of four—and the disappointment of everybody’s hopes. But she and Edith were alike, and it had only become more apparent as they grew from girlhood to womanhood. 

Perhaps because of the age difference between Mary and herself, Victoria had never found herself on the cutting edge of her eldest sister’s sharp wit. If anything, she suspected that Mary was quite fond of her, if a little distant, as was natural for an eldest facing much larger troubles than the rearing of her littlest sister. While their twelve years difference had put a certain distance between Mary and herself, Edith and Sybil had loved to play with her, and, when the time came, taught her much more than their mother when it came to matters of the heart. And she'd learnt much.

Or at least as much as she could learn from two sisters for whom there had never been the slightest doubt that they would marry a man.

In truth, if Victoria thought long and hard about it, she remembered certain looks and allusions that Sybil had dropped, which made her think that perhaps she had known, just a bit, what her little sister was only just discovering. But then she'd died and left a gaping hole in their family that would never truly heal. 

But Edith, Victoria thought, would understand. Edith, she could tell, one day. 

“I’m very predictable,” she answered, smiling, laying her long-forgotten book on her lap. 

Her sister threw her a disbelieving look. “I wouldn’t say that,” Edith said, sitting down on the sofa next to her. “I still remember the shock on Mama’s face when you hurled yourself out of the door two years ago. Personally, I applauded you.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. 

They fell silent, Edith lost in contemplation of the fire and Victoria pondering the qualities of sisters. On the tea table, a picture of her grandmother, all blonde curls and so young, taunted her. She quickly averted her eyes, unsettled by the clear blue gaze of a woman who was not here to scold her anymore. She noticed her sister looking at her, her eyes saddened by their recent loss but heavy with something else.

“There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

Victoria looked up from the cover of her book which she’d been fingering absent-mindedly, the silence between them natural enough that she had almost forgotten her sister’s presence. 

“It’s about Marigold.”

[doublegoblin]

9 people tag

Thanks again @gummybugg for the tag!

I'm going to do something a little different, as I've already answered this kind of thing before and I am a dull bitch who does not often change. I am going to answer for an OC from a WIP!

As for who I tag, I'll leave this mostly open for anyone but I'll specifically tag @asterhaze (I know I just tagged ya, but I'll do it again because like an elderly family member you have displayed an interest in something therefore I will hyperfocus on it to bring joy!) @tisiphonewolfe and @tailoroffates but other than that anyone can have fun!

I"ll be answering these for Rico from Abnormal Analytics, because he is an imaginary man who makes me smile.

[Hey thanks for reaching out to the Ric-meister! Despite being newer I appreciate the courage to try and get to know your coworkers lol! Now I'd hold off sending this to D or T, sticks in the muds they are lol! Maybe send this to V next? She's quite the social butterfly ( no pun intended) and well...between us, the other guys aren't the most chatty or personable or approachable or even the nicest!

Thanks again - Rico]

LAST SONG: So I was having a case of the Mondays, you know how it goes! So I had to put on the soundtrack to Tarzan, or should I say Phil Collins' greatest music video! He hasn't made much since the fire though...

Anyway! I was chair dancing in my little office to Stranger Like Me.

LAST MOVIE: I just introduced V to the wonders of Wes Anderson! Her and I sat down in the conference room (yes all signed out and everything it was great!) and watch Fantastic Mr.Fox. She had a hard time grasping the stop motion but I think next week I'll show her Nightmare Before Christmas.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: My life slowly trickle away like the grains in an hourglass...kidding! I'm actually in the process of processing and exporting the latest recovered data for [REDACTED]. In the debriefing/transcription circulation keep an eye out for when the [REDACTED]! Sooooo wild, shame about all the {REDACTED] though.

CURRENTLY READING: It's a bit of a comfort thing, but, as a grown adult man I am going back through the Goosebump books. You know they still hold up! I just finished this one where the boy turns into a dog. Maybe skip that one...

CURRENTLY CRAVING: My mother's cooking! It has been ages since I last had a bowl of her Broccoli Cheddar soup. If I can get in touch with her I'll see if she can't make extra for the crew. I swear once you taste her stuff you will NEVER buy from [EXPUNGED] again!

LAST THING YOU SEARCHED FOR WRITING PURPOSES: The life cycle of Varesus. Had to know if they really have this parental instinct or if that is still just a "theory" amongst biologists. I learned quite a lot about them! Did you know that [REDACTED]? Spine tingling!

[jeahreading]

I'm gonna post this really good story I just read on yt (take the reality of thsi story with a grain of salt)

"My brother went missing years ago, I distinctly remember my parents interviewing for the news in our living room. I think I know what happened to him.I was very young when he went missing, i barely remember him, but I do remember that I loved him a lot, he would pull me around our block in a wagon. Most kids his age didn't do that. The days before he disappeared, I remember him staying home and babysitting me. I stayed in my room and played Nintendo 64. Throughout the day a guy came over, I remember him, he was, older, almost our dad's age. My brother made me go into my room whenever I heard the doorbell. Later after the guy left, my brother would ask me not to say anything about the guy. With my brain only being focused on video games and extra dessert at that age, I agreed, I didn't care, nor did I comprehend the gravity of the situation. The day before he disappeared I remember the older guy coming over. I was in the kitchen and remember looking up and seeing him kiss my brother. They hugged. They didn't care that I saw them, the older guy waved at me and I waved back .

Then I kept watching cartoons. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to my brother whispering outside our front door. "Don't worry, he's asleep," he said. The older guy said something I couldn't hear. Then my brother said something I couldn't make out, but I made out the words "visit them" or maybe he said "visit him"? Either way, I know the word 'visit' was in his sentence. The man raised his voice and said no. Then I heard "plan" and "city." Then I fell asleep again. The next morning--the day he disappeared--my parents were at work. My brother was acting very strange. I remember he kept checking the clock. In the afternoon, I remember him picking me up and asking me if I wanted to go in the wagon. I was too hooked on Nintendo 64 and said no. He almost begged me and I said no again. Then he told me he had to run to our neighbor's house for something, I don't even remember what he said. I said okay. He reminded me to not open the door for anyone, only mom and dad. I shouted at him "OKAY!" because Super Mario was getting on my fricking nerves and he wasn't helping. He gave me a hug and told me he loved me and left. He never came back. All these years--decades--later and I think he was in love with that man. I know he was. The memories randomly came flooding back to me earlier, I'm not quite sure why. But it has been taking over my thoughts lately. I can't sleep because I keep thinking about it. I think my brother left with that man and they ran away together. Or maybe something worse happened. But I don't think that's the case. My freshman year of college, I was part of a sports team that got national recognition. I remember my team's picture was on ESPN and with our university's name. A few days later, I got mail at my dorm. It was a gift basket. I thought it was from my parents, so I didn't read the card. I threw it away immediately and ate what was in it, but it was nothing but candy. Nerds, jolly ranchers, Tootsie Rolls and Hershey's Kisses. I called my dad and thanked him for the gift basket and he said he didn't send one, neither did mom. Then I got to thinking: all of those candies were what I used to eat as a kid.

Literally all I ate for the earliest years of my life were those candies. I tried to find the card, but I couldn't. Then I began to think about how my brother would wheel me in the wagon to the gas station close to our house so I could get candy after dinner, even though it was a punishable-by-death "no-no" from mom. Months later, during Christmas, I got an unmarked Christmas card. The only thing written on it was a :) smiley. Since then, I've heard nothing. No one I know sent that card. I have never responded. I wonder, every day, if he's out there. I have never told anyone this. When the police asked me what happened that day, I told them that he went to the neighbor's because that's all I remembered, honestly. It destroyed my parents. My mom became addicted to painkillers and my dad has had three extra-marital affairs (which, I know this tragedy is no way an excuse to cheat, but it sure didn't help). It has ruined our family, and maybe my brother knows what he did. Maybe he regrets it and knows he can't come back home. But if I could see him today, I would just want to tell him that he is always welcome in my home. I love you so much, brother. We have so much catching up to do. Please come home. Please.

UPDATE 1 - April 12, 2016: Title: My parents kept my brother a secret from me These past few weeks have been insane. I posted on here before....my brother went missing a long time ago. I thought he ran away from home. Long story short, I got into contact with some detectives that our family has known since my brother went missing. When I started asking questions, they told me that my brother was no longer on any missing persons registry. When I asked what that meant, they told me that he was removed per my parent(s) request. I asked my parents--my dad, actually. My dad ignored me. My mom told me my brother is alive and okay ("as far as she knows"). They found my brother years ago--a very, very long time ago--and found out he was living with another man. He's gay, and it disgusted my parents. He tried reaching out to them. They told him they didn't want anything to do with him and that I didn't remember him and wouldn't want to see him..... I went ballistic. My parents weren't fazed by it. They sincerely hate my brother for who he is--for being gay. They kept him a secret from me all my fricking life. My brother missed the birth of his nephew, he missed my wedding, graduations, EVERYTHING. just because of my parents. they lied to me. I've been able to get a phone number and contact information from police officers. My brother left it all open in case anyone from our family wanted to contact him. i still can't work up the nerve to call him.

[UPDATE 2 - May 7, 2016] Title: I met my brother that was "missing"! The day after I made my last post, I woke up and called into work. I told my wife (who is essentially my confidant and I tell her everything) the whole story. She wasn’t really surprised; she’s not a fan of my parents much. But like many of you, she told me to call the number I was given for my brother immediately. She insisted on it. She took herself and my son out for a day together so I could be alone to talk with him. I dialed the number about seven times before I actually pressed the “call” button. It started ringing and I hung up. Then I got frustrated at myself and called the number back. It rang and rang and I got a voicemail, but it was the automated voice, not anyone else’s. I didn’t leave a voicemail. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. I called my wife and told her to come home and she refused until I had talked to someone on the other end of the phone. About an hour of pacing and drinking two glasses of scotch at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, I called the number again. It rang three times. I panicked. I hung up. But this time, the number was calling me back. I swear to whatever God(s) above, I thought my heart was going to stop. I almost threw up right there. I answered the call. The first thing I heard on the other end of the line was a guy laughing in the background. There was wind on the phone.

The person on the other end was outside and it was windy. “Who is this?” It was his voice. I knew that voice. It was my fricking brother. My brother! Who had been gone for my entire life! I covered my mouth with my shaking hands and just sat there. He kept asking me who it was. The guy in the background was trying to talk over him. He hung up on me. I called him back right away. He answered again. Me being a creepy a**, the first thing I said after decades of not seeing him and thinking he was dead, I blurted: “I got your number.” He asked me who I was and what I wanted. I said, “It’s me.” There was a really long pause. I thought the call had dropped. Then I heard him tell someone to turn the radio down and roll the window up. The sound of wind stopped… and then he asked me my name. I told him and he said that I was lying. I told him I got his number from the missing children’s network and detectives. I heard him gasp. He asked me what color shoelaces he wore to a picnic when we were kids, and I remember my mom getting mad at his orange laces with blue shoes. It was the last time we were together as a family. I could tell he was crying. The first thing he asked me was: “Where are you?” and I told him I lived a few hours away from home. Without hesitating, he told me, “I’m coming.” He went straight to the airport without any luggage, bought a plane ticket, and flew straight to me. We stayed on the phone with each other the whole time. When he was walking through the gate, I knew who he was right away. He is middle-aged; salt and pepper hair, muscular. He looks just like our dad, only better. I know if I told him that, that would make him mad. I literally pushed an old lady out of the way and I just hugged him. He’s about two inches taller than me. He was able to pick me up. He was crying, I was crying. I was having a breakdown. We went to a bar at the airport. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He kept holding onto my arm. He kept telling me how unreal it all was. He apologized to me. He kept crying, telling me he felt horrible. I told him to forget everything and tell me about his life. He’s married. His husband is a doctor—a pediatric oncologist. They live in the Pacific Northwest. They have two children—girls, 12 and 8. He works as a legal consultant and has his own firm. He has an amazing life. He told me that he thought I hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. We sat at the bar for hours. Literal hours. I think we sat for about six hours before I begged him to come home and meet my wife. We got home, and my wife was a mess. She hugged him and insisted he stay with us. At this point, his husband was going insane and kept calling him. He had no idea what was going on. He thought he had eloped or something. It was crazy for a couple of days until everything was explained and out in the open. My son and my brother were like two peas in a pod. Honestly, I never wanted children. My son was an amazing accident, but I’m not good with kids. I’m always afraid I’m going to break them. But my brother is a pro. Kids love him. He stayed with us for two weeks. And in two weeks, everything about my life changed. His husband and two daughters flew in to stay with us. My brother-in-law and my two nieces. My family. They were my family. They are my family.

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, August 28th, 2024.

When was the last time you climbed over a fence? I have no idea. (Btw, I'm just starting this survey to kill time before heading out to the Mountain Park. I'll probably finish it later today or tomorrow. Just letting y'all know in case there's any chronological weirdness in any of my answers.)

Does your pet wear a collar? No. I'd be afraid of them getting it stuck on something, plus they're indoor cats as it is.

What is the first thing on your Christmas Wishlist? I don't have a Christmas wish list.

What would you do if your mom/dad saw a hickey on you? I wouldn't allow anyone to give me a hickey in a visible place…or probably at all, for that matter.

What goal are you working on this month? I don't have any new specific goals. Pretty much everything I'm working on is just a continuation of something already in progress.

What could you say is your biggest time waster? Listening to YouTube videos and taking surveys. Imagine how much more productive I could be if I channeled all that YT time into something useful. :')

When was the last time that you were asked out somewhere, and you declined? I'm not sure. I was considering declining any invites from my mom this Wed-Thurs because I wanted some time to myself without any social obligations, but the movie she wanted to see wasn't out yet so I'm good.

If you’re listening to music, name a lyric from the song. I'm not listening to anything.

Are you a sound sleeper? I'm somewhere in the middle. I don't wake up over every little sound, but I'm easy enough to wake if need-be.

In your opinion, which is more attractive, nice biceps or washboard abs? How about an "average" combination of both - like sorta nice abs and sorta nice biceps - that way they don't look oddly disproportionate.

How do you feel about bands that use pyrotechnics in live concerts? I'm not much of a concertgoer, so I don't really have an opinion on the matter.

Why do you hate your ex? I don't hate any of my ex-partners.

Does anybody hate you? I suppose it's possible.

Trust issues? I've got 'em. I think I may also be spending too much time around untrustworthy people. I'm really looking forward to the upcoming dynamic shift at the animal shelter. Alex leaves on the 21st of September and Diane isn't scheduled back in cattery for the time being, so…yeah. I'm counting down the days. It will be interesting to see how the atmosphere changes. I wonder if Kristen will be the next cattery lead; she's got so much potential.

If you were pregnant, who would you tell first? Ugh.

Do you think that you’re good enough for the one you like? There is no such person. In general, I struggle with thoughts of not being good enough. It's hard to determine where the negative voice in my head ends and the truth begins.

Did you speak to your father today? Yes. I spent most of the day with him.

What is your father’s middle name? Blah.

When was the last time you had alcohol? At that fundraising event about a month ago. I tried a few sample beers.

Last person of the opposite sex you gave a hug to? Nan. She's a volunteer at the shelter who does a whole bunch of our dirty laundry.

Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? I've met people who practiced witchcraft in some capacity, but I don't think I've met anyone who outright claimed to be a witch.

What’s the weirdest thing in your body that you can crack? Nothing weird. Just my neck and my wrists.

Do you know anyone with asthma? My mom and sibling.

Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? No.

Who was the best kisser you’ve ever dated? Probably my most recent ex.

Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? No.

Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? I don't know what my sibling is like these days. I haven't had any contact with them since 2013-2014. In the past, I would have considered them rather volatile.

Any other names your parents planned to give you? I think Tristan was a possibility. I don't remember any other potential names. Now I'm curious, though. I'll have to ask my dad when he wakes up from his nap.

Are you healthy? I do have some issues (mainly migraines and questionable mental health), but generally speaking…I'd say I'm "functional."

Number of jeans in your closet? I'm not sure. There are probably at least a few pairs stuffed in there somewhere, but I don't tend to wear jeans these days.

Rihanna or Lady GaGa? I guess Lady Gaga.

Which was the last book that really captivated you? The first book in the Dune series. The following two (the third I still have yet to finish) were just "eh." Not bad, but not on the same level as the first.

Do you prefer nail polish with sparkles in it, or matte colors? I don't really have a preference.

Have you ever had a teacher you got really close with? No.

Can you actually picture yourself getting married/having kids, or is that something that seems too distant in the future to imagine? I can kind of picture myself getting married, but it's more like a distant daydream than anything grounded in reality. As for children, I don't want them. I will occasionally imagine it in a purely hypothetical sense (almost like an idealized form of nostalgia for the positive aspects of my own upbringing), but that's it.

When’s the last time you spent time with your cousins? Childhood.

What’s your younger sibling’s name? Blah.

Do you have an idea of what kind of profession you’d like to have? Yeah.

Do you ever pick up your house phone? No.

Is your sister a slut? No.

Do you ever think about what went wrong in your first relationship? Lmao my first relationship was in middle school, so…not really…? I'm more likely to apply that sort of thinking to my last two relationships.

If you had to get a piercing (not ears) what would you get? Maybe my nose. I have a bad track record of piercings getting infected, though. My lip piercings are the only ones that haven't given me any trouble.

If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be? No thanks.

If you woke up naked next to the last person you texted what would you say? What the actual fvck.

Ever been kissed under fireworks? I don't think so.

How would you react if a doctor told you that you were infertile? Whatever.

Do you get along with your best friend’s parents? I don't know my best friend's parents. I don't think they're even in touch.

Have you ever been in a relationship where you didn’t get along with the person’s parents? No.

How many people of the opposite sex have you said “I love you” to? Idk.

The person you fell the hardest for says they never felt anything for you. What do you say? Idk. It doesn't make much of a difference at this point.

Who was the last person to tell you that they find you attractive? A past partner.

What was the last compliment you paid to someone of the opposite sex? I'm not sure.

How often do you listen to music? I listen to classical music on my drive to/from the shelter, so at least five days out of every seven.

Have you ever wanted your significant other to get rid of a friend? I don't think so.

Is the person you last texted single? Yeah.

Have you ever seen the last person you kissed without their shirt on? Yeah.

Is the last person you kissed mad at you? I don't know how they feel about me these days.

Has the person you like ever made you upset? N/a.

Scenario: If you were getting unwanted attention by some creeper, would the person you like stand up for you? N/a.

Does the person you like, know that you like them? N/a.

When angry, do you get loud or quiet? It just depends.

Have you ever been in a secret relationship? No.

Have you ever danced in front of your mirror naked? Yeah.

Are your grandparents still alive? No.

Ever been in a car accident? No.

If you got married to the last person you kissed would you be happy? Ugh.

Do you like any of Justin Bieber’s songs? I've never knowingly listened to a Justin Bieber song.

Do you believe saving your virginity for marriage or no? I don't believe or disbelieve, but I do think I will wait a lot longer before being intimate in future relationships.

When you were a kid, did you ever like Barney? Yeah.

When was the last time you kissed someone? Years ago.

What’s the capital of wherever you live? Denver.

Did you have any beer this past week? No.

Have you ever had champagne? Did you like it? I think so.

Do you like to cuddle? Yesss.

Do you think you’ve changed over the past year? I definitely have.

[100dayproductivity]

18/100.

New Year's Eve.

Time for some reflection. Get my thoughts in order.

I had a fun Christmas week with my kids. They left today to spend the second half of the break with their father. The week was hectic and now I feel a bit like I'm coming off of a high. Though luckily I'm not feeling depressed at all, which has often been the case in the past. I don't feel exhausted either, which is also often the case after an on-week with my kids. But I do feel a bit discombobulated. My usual routines are not in place because of the holiday. I guess I need routines to ground me or something. Not sure.

I really had a very enjoyable week with my kids--except for one day that wasn't. My ex ruined the day for me. I won't go into details but it involved me yelling and swearing at my own children, and taking off for a couple of hours to cool down. We recovered the day later on but I'm so pissed it happened at all.

The root cause of the tension is something that will have to be dealt with, I just didn't want to deal with it over Christmas break with my kids. Now that my week with them is over, I will have to deal with the thing. So that's going to have to go on my to-do list. *Sigh*

Ah, well, yes, I suppose "the thing" is at least partially, if not wholly, responsible for my current discombobulation.

So this morning was the end of my holiday week with my kids and I did allow myself to more-or-less do nothing today. Ate a bag of Doritos for lunch. That sort of thing. But tomorrow I need to get back to my to-do list. I've been cooking all week and doing a great job keeping on top of dishes but yesterday being my last night with both my children for a while I let things slide. So there's a bit of a disaster in the kitchen at the moment. I also need to take the tree down. I like to leave it up at least until Jan 1 but after that it starts to depress me. Also, being the beginning of the month means I need to do up invoices. And, of course, I need to deal with The Thing.

Oh, and also, tomorrow being New Year's Day, I thought it would be nice to send a message of greeting to a couple of people I have been neglecting and are on my mind. I've already sent a couple of messages out today but there's a couple more I really ought to send.

And... Another thing I was thinking of doing tomorrow is a gut-reset. I have this fibre drink I was thinking of having first thing in the morning and then fasting for a bit, to "clean out" my bowels (lol). I'm feeling a bit bloated from all the Christmas treats I ate this week, I don't think a bowel-cleanse would be a bad idea (especially since I won't really need to go anywhere or see anyone tomorrow, it's an ideal type of day for a bowel-cleanse.)

What else.

Right. So one thing I was musing on during this week of constant food prep and clean-up is how I seem to function best if I go about doing things in a methodical manner. Otherwise I seem to get overwhelmed/bored/distracted. (Is this what ADHD looks like? I'm still wondering if that's a label that could apply to me 🤔) So in the kitchen, what has been working for me these days is to always start in the same place, and move through each step of a process that looks like this:

Put dishes on drying rack area away (always start here).

Move dishes from dishwasher to drying rack (put away anything that is dry, otherwise put on rack area to finish drying).

Reload dishwasher with dirty dishes sitting on counter and stovetop area. Run dishwasher.

Wipe down stove and countertops.

Move any overflow dishes left on table to counter.

Wipe down table.

Go back to Step 1 and repeat the entire process until there are no more dirty dishes.

Lately, when I'm feeling completely unmotivated to attack anything on my to-do list, I go to Step 1 of my Dishes Process. I find I can usually get motivated enough to at least do Step 1. And once I start there, I can usually follow through to the end of the process. And once I've got at least this portion of the kitchen cleaned up, I am usually able to then focus on other tasks.

Once I've completed The Dishes Process, the next process I start on is The Fridge Process. For this process, I basically look at each item in my fridge, starting from the top shelf and working my way down, and go through the following checklist:

Is it rotting/moldy/rancid? If yes, throw in compost. If no, go to Step 2.

Does something need to happen to it before you can use it? Does it need to be washed, peeled, chopped or prepped in some other way? Can you prep it now for use later? (For instance, lettuce and kale leaves can be washed, carrots and celery can be cut up, block cheese can be sliced or shredded.) If yes, then prep it now. If it's already ready to use, go to Step 3.

Should you just eat it right now? If yes, then eat it! If no, then when is it going to be eaten? For what meal? Do you have a plan for using it? Is it part of a recipe? What else do you need for the recipe? Have you got everything you need for the recipe? If no, then add it to the shopping list. If you have everything you need, then go to Step 4.

Is there anything missing from the fridge that you need to restock? If yes, add it to the shopping list.

The process for the freezer is similar except I ask myself if I need to take anything out of the freezer to thaw.

Once I've gotten through The Fridge/Freezer Process, I have a pretty good idea of what meals I'm going to be making, what needs to be used up and by when, and what grocery items I need to buy. Honestly, going through The Dishes Process and The Fridge/Freezer Process on a daily basis leading up to Christmas is what enabled me to be super prepared for making home-cooked meals for my kids every day this past week. I had many culinary successes this week with no waste and never unexpectedly running out of something we needed.

So, that's been working well for me and I will be continuing with this methodical approach, and probably adding more "processes" as I get more and more organized (?!) I call my methodical way of attacking my kitchen chores The Spiral Method, because I always start in the same place (the drying rack) and work my way out and around from there in a "spiral" (I mean, sort of. Depends on the shape and layout of your kitchen whether it's an actual spiral, lol. But it's the idea of moving from one task to the next in the same order each time from the same starting point each time that makes it a "spiral").

(Also, pro-tip, it really helps with the boredom factor if you put on a podcast or your favourite playlist whilst spiralling in the kitchen. For me, my kitchen spiralling is when I listen to Dateline (they have the shows in podcast format).

Well. I actually have more stuff inside my head I wanted to set down "on paper" but I'm actually quite sleepy now. I've been working away at this post for a while and there is now exactly 15 minutes left of 2023. Maybe I'll wrap this up now and post it in time for ringing in the new year.

[jenosavel]

I have some hard things to confront this morning, of the type that necessitate pulling out what I not-so-lovingly refer to as "the trauma notebook." The presence of that notebook and its associated loose papers are probably the reason I haven't been able to properly clean my desk in... 4 years now.

It's easy to blame that particular mess on ADHD. I've always kept a messier desk than most because of the way my mind works (or doesn't). But this? This is not just the ADHD.

God... it's almost been 4 years. It'll be 4 years next month.

Well, in any case, getting out that notebook this morning, I found some torn out pages from some other notebook stuffed in there. I don't remember writing this, but it's 100% me. It's a journal entry. July 1st, 2021.

This is not what I need to face this morning. I know it's a distraction. A delay of something harder. But revisiting it does remind me of some of what is important to me. It gives me strength.

That cedar is gone now. It's only me and the cherry left here, but I did visit home in the summer since I wrote this. Twice even! I got to say hi to all the relatives I'd been missing so deeply, and even start the process of reconnecting with others that I'd never met.

That has been so healing.

I am strong because of the beings in my life. I can do this.

I CAN do this.

Even though I wrote this journal entry never intending to share it, I'm sharing it now because this morning it gave me that tiny bit of strength when I need all the strength I can find.

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

July 1st, 2021

We talk about a tree falling as if it were a singular event. “When a tree falls in the woods…” But trees don’t do anything quickly, do they? I’ve been watching this cedar out my window for five years now, and something is definitely not right. Every storm it leans a little heavier. I can almost hear it groan, tired of holding up its own weight. I can relate.

It seems like I’m always tired these days, like the weight of this life grows heavier each day I’m stuck here. I miss home. I miss the trees.

Now, a lot of people say that. “I miss the trees.” But I don’t think I mean it the way most people do. They mean camping. Or hiking. Recreating. But when I say it, I mean, “I miss my family.” I miss my dad and my older brother. I haven’t properly chatted with my older brother in a decade. It’s hard to chat when that old maple is always asleep, since I only visit at Christmas.

My new family here is small: an alley stand of cedar and one cherry. Except something is definitely Not Right with the cedar. I remember the way my dad talks to the trees⁠—not like I do, not at them, with them⁠—and I wonder what the cedar would tell him. What burdens does it carry that grow heavier every day? Is it looking for help? A way out? Would my dad take it down?

My dad’s a logger, you see. Or he was? Logging is a young man’s career, and while he held out in it far longer than one could expect, that phase of his life is over now. Over, but never gone. So I guess he is a logger still, in that way. Is and always will be. But not one of those white man loggers that prides themselves on bigger machines and an “efficiency” that really means speed and totality of harvest. He’s the kind that walks the forest and listens. He hears the complaints of the trees, makes the hard calls. He always seems to know better than anyone which trees are suffering, which trees are falling in that slow, silent way that trees fall for years before they come down.

He never taught me how.

I never learned to hear the trees. I can only talk at them, not with them. But right now, watching this cedar, I think I hear it. “The city’s too loud,” it says to me. The harsh pounding of construction, carried down through steel and concrete to soil and root, it’s too loud, and the tree is going deaf. The hairs on its roots are dying, like the hairs in our ears, and without them, the tree can’t find water. It’s dying of thirst in the rainy city, all for want of a newer building.

But maybe that’s just projection. I don’t have my father’s gift. I wish I did, but I’m so far from home now. So far from the trees that knew me. And here, soon it will be just me and the cherry.

“Next spring, I’ll spread your babies,” I promise. I hope she knows what she means to me.