#like i shouldn't be a part of that grieving process

[leghorned]

jesus christ today was rough

[dredshirtroberts]

pardon me while i emotionally process all over everything

Monday's just decided to kick off really hard - it's only the one thing, and it's just stewing in the back of my mind really hard and has been for *checks time stamps* 2.5 hours.

the important thing for me to remember is my dad (and my mom too) is not owed nor does he deserve an explanation for why i cut him and mom off. They truly honestly probably do not understand why I made that choice and frankly i think the fact that that hasn't changed over the past year is telling about how little they truly look at their own actions.

I want to explain but as soon as I put it into words, I can immediately strike myself down with the things that I know they will say. Any attempt at giving any explanation will be met with denial and that's just not a battle I feel like participating in.

I spent my whole life doing the emotional heavy lifting for my family of origin and I got tired of it. I'm struggling with the way my brain is wired because of it on a daily basis. This effects my whole life and my loved ones. And it didn't even do what it was supposed to when i developed the coping mechanisms.

I am really really cognizant of it because we've added a 4th person to our home and I'm scrambling to learn them and their tells and their moods quickly so I can be The Best At Helping in any situation. And I'm running into the wall of "that's not my job and is generally unwelcome unless asked for specifically" and so I am sat here taking in footsteps and movement styles and tones of voice trying to catalog them for future reference and not being able to do anything with that and knowing it's a flawed coping skill to deal with an unstable and volatile home life in my early childhood and I just want more than ANYTHING to be able to backsass and confront my parents about the way they've fucked me up and I can't.

i will type it all out and immediately change my mind - the words aren't correct, they can never be correct because the words don't matter. I could say everything perfectly and it wouldn't make any difference because my parents are dead set on invalidating any stance I make for myself and myself alone.

And also guilt tripping at the end of truly bad news (but like, neutral truly bad news) is not the way to get an explanation. It's a way to make me angry that I cannot begin the proper grieving process ahead of time because you're making a last ditch attempt to dig into me and not let me get away without an answer to the question you do not deserve to have answered. There was no indication they have looked at themselves and seen the way that they treated me was bad enough to cause my brain to splinter into multiple different people just in order to get by. They do not understand how much i wanted to die when I was trying to be a good kid for them. And they can't understand because they didn't pay attention then so me telling them about it now will look like i'm making things up.

They also have in the past given me large sums of money that I didn't have to work for dad to get, but it always came with other - more fraught - strings to deal with. and knowing that they bailed me out makes me feel super guilty for not giving them an explanation but it also really hammers home how much I just cannot say "you treated me badly" because they will throw that money in my face and say "we did everything for you, we deserve your love for the bare minimum of affection!" and money, btw, is not affection but they don't know that and now I have to figure that shit out.

and also we never repaired our relationship after I stopped working for him. I'm pretty sure he took my leaving the company personally - and he should, it was because of him I couldn't work for him anymore - but i know it's been worked around in their minds as my choice for completely unfathomable reasons that they clearly just cannot wrap their heads around because it doesn't make sense. why would i just cut them off, they've been good parents! why would I just leave the company, he was a great boss!

but they weren't, and he wasn't, and I suffered for it and I hid my suffering and because i hid my pain (as i was taught to do from VERY early on because i have been in pain MY WHOLE LIFE) they will never believe i was in it in the first place. because they don't believe me about my physical pains either and never have. why would they care about the mental and emotional pains?

they'd probably also come back with "Everyone's messed up by their parents, you need to just get over it" if I did bring up that their behavior towards me fucked me over. Because that's what they've said in the past - maybe not directly to me but in general.

a lot of my assumptions of their responses are based on what they used to just say. or continue to say. or how they'd say it. or how they'd talk about specific other people who i didn't think were bad people but boy did the way they talk about them make me go "well i guess i can't like that person now" and it isolated me from everyone. I had no way out, I had no escape i had no one but myself.

well and my internet friends but for a very long time I had a hard time remembering those were real fucking people on the other end of the internet connection, because i didn't have anyone else but the computer and those who i had a connection to through said computer.

oh and the reason this all came up?

my grandpa's going into hospice - he was in the hospital all weekend. he's the one with cancer that he stopped treating because the treatments were taking too much of a toll on his body. They had to cut their vacation short to take my grandparents back home and that same day my grandpa went into the hospital - dad made sure to mention the vacation to me, because i guess that's important. Didn't tell me any details on how the hospice thing is going to work (maybe he didn't know, maybe he didn't think that's important for me coordinating how to contact my grandparents to check in but whatever), but it was imperative that i know that their vacation ended early so they could take him home. And it was important to guilt trip me at the end to try and reopen communication with me on the email i deliberately did not give out to them, and they had to circumvent my blocks elsewhere in order to acquire because they didn't ask me for it.

I don't know how many people in my family know I'm not talking to my parents. I don't know how far that information has spread I don't know who leaked my email to them (that's a strong way of phrasing it but it feels about as violating, since i rock up into my inbox today and get jumpscared by my fucking dad's name and his absolutely abysmal choice in subject lines. literally could have said "grandpa update" or something similar. no he just said "Stuff" and then opens with "Hope you're doing well. Grandpa's in the hospital" and like????

he got lucky i opened it because i can see the message preview and knew it had important information. I might have seen it and gone "y'know, I don't care what he has to say about "stuff"" and hit delete and not known.

but like WTF dad. wtf.

go to hell, my dude. go to the absolute eebiest of deebies you cuntwaffle.

and take mom with you.

[milliebobbyflay]

paired with their often intimate and violent subject matter, i find the incidental way tamsyn muir frames women and their bodies throughout the locked tomb series to be refreshing bordering on radical

consider harrowhark; in the first book we see her as gideon sees her. she's a hideous ghoul with a flat ass and no tits, she's a delicate sopping wet beauty with a sharp face and angel bow lips, she's a triumphant and awe inspiring master necromancer screaming and fighting drenched in her own blood. the shape and condition of her body is allowed to take on meaning contextually based entirely on the situation and how gideon feels about their relationship in any given moment

she then spends the second book hobbling around with a sword twice her size, ripping apart her body to use as a weapon and passing out in her own vomit, struggling to eat and sleep – she and puts herself through absolute hell and never once thinks anything of it, and we're made to mourn this not as the desecration of a beautiful woman but as a manifestation of a human being's despair and self loathing, and we see this specifically contrasted against the care gideon tries to take when inhabiting her body during the last act

it's jarring, in nona, when we're suddenly made aware that her body could be perceived or valued as a commodity, when pyrrha is assumed to be nona's pimp. it feels strange and horrifying when we learn alecto's form was modeled for a doll, learn that she was given a woman's body as a display of ownership, an alternative to being consumed, and as we're processing this we watch gideon, paul, and ianthe, immediately setting aside their conflict in a desperate scramble to preserve harrow's body for no reason other than because it is harrow's and they love her

feminist fiction often focuses on women's relationship to a body which is valued more than the person within it – and that is a worthy experience to explore – but as a transsexual butch(ish) dyke, i have never really had the privilege of seeing my body as a precious commodity, never felt like it couldn't or shouldn't be a sight of violence and disgust, and as a result the locked tomb books have made me feel seen in a way that few other works of fiction have?

we as an audience are not made aware of how attractive any character would be outside of the context of our lesbian POV characters' perspectives, their relationship to patriarchal beauty standards is an utterly irrelevant detail we're never told and only occasionally glimpse through implication. the women in the locked tomb books are simply free to exist, to have experiences and feelings, to love and hate and grieve and suffer and die like anybody else, and to have those experiences reflected in their physical vessels

it's a perspective that's so fundamental and obvious that to praise muir for it for it feels almost patronizing, but i also think it's a huge part of what's made the series so resonant for so many queer women and i feel that that's worthy of highlighting and celebrating

[genderqueerdykes]

i think i'm a trans guy. i wish i wasn't. i keep telling myself that i'm anything but that. that i'm non binary or demigirl or agender or that i just don't care about gender because it's made up anyway but i think really i do care, i care so much and i feel like i shouldn't care as much as i do and i should be what is expected of me, i should be a pretty girl but i'm not i don't want to be, i can't be, i've tried, i have tried so so hard to be a girl or anything other than a guy but i know if i was given the chance i would give anything to be born a boy. i know if i was born a boy i would just be a boy. i have recognised this in myself for years but i just can not fully accept it, but i so desperately want to. the tv has never glowed brighter and i have never craved darkness more before.

its okay to feel that way. when i figured out i was a trans guy i was practically clawing my skin off because i wanted to be anything but that. i thought it was a terrible thing, because i would never become a real man, or people would always see me as a tranny and nothing more. i was very depressed thinking about how hard transitioning would be, and how i may never pass or get people to address me correctly

there's a sort of grieving period at first when you realize you're trans. you grieve for the person you were, and still are. you are taking the first steps toward moving forward, which involves allowing yourself to feel grief for what you're about to leave behind. you could or should just be a pretty girl, but that's just not you. you're grieving that girl, and it's okay to do so. it's part of the process of letting go

take care of yourself, feel free to stop by again at any point. you're not alone, this is a very normal experience to have

[sc0tters]

Better Off Apart | Luke Hughes

summary: the long awaited day has finally come! Luke is in New York and the Devils are set to play the islanders, but now a third person as slotted themselves into your love equation.

request: yes/no

warnings: this became a bit of a sad chapter, Luke is a boy who doesn’t know how to process his emotions, Mat gets jealous and also doesn’t know how to handle that. The reader is finally in a position where she’s reader to move on.

word count: 1.76k

authors note: I wrote this in an hour I was so excited. I saw that in some requests you guys actually wanted the mc of this to get with a player from the team but I sort of put my twist on that. The rest of the full length chapters for this story have been planned out but I think it could be cool doing a few blurbs for these two, so if you want to see anything in those let me know!

previous part | next part

It had been circled in red pen.

The date on your calendar had been marked the moment you got the NHL calendar announcement.

It was the date that you had been counting the sleeps down to like a child counting down the sleeps till Christmas.

It was the date that you felt so excited for but were also so nervous for that you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building and scream.

It's the date that the Devils were coming to town to play the Islanders.

It's the date that you were going to finally see Luke again.

You knew that you shouldn't have been excited, shouldn't have let your grow full and your palms grow sweaty at the thought of seeing him again.

All of your efforts to forget about him were now nonexistent as you spent moments every day staring at his social media's.

After a drunk night out with friends you unblocked and unrestricted everything that had to do with him, when you woke up much more sober you simply couldn't find it in your heart to or in your head to shut him out anyone.

A few nights ago whilst being sat in front of the tv with a meal from your favourite restaurant, you did something you never thought you would.

You wrote Luke a letter.

Just like you had for each of his teammates.

So you sat and you wrote, making sure to mention everything from how you felt to why you left. Writing that letter was better than any type of therapist as it had brought up things that you had seemed to compartmentalise. There were seven different editions of this letter.

The first two had to be rewritten because you zoned out and came back to see that your tears had soaked the pages.

The next three had you swearing like a sailor as you told him to fuck himself for making you fall so deeply in love with him.

The sixth letter just didn't feel right. You assumed that it was the lack of sleep that was getting to you, so like any mature adult you got up and went to bed deciding that the letter writing efforts would continue the next day.

The seventh and final letter was perfect, you were honestly tempted to email it to your high school English teacher you were that proud of it. It was the perfect way to tell Luke that you were okay that this was goodbye and that you didn't hold anything against him for how he treated you.

Yes you told him that he had hurt you but it helped teach you that some loves just simply weren't worth it.

It was like you had been put through the grieving cycle over the last fifteen hours as you learnt to accept that Luke just wasn't on your cards and that it was probably for the best.

Mat hadn't slipped up from his role of your new best friend, if there wasn't a game on Thursday you two would go get dinner and then sit at his apartment playing card games until the early hours of the morning.

The Canadian had quickly learnt why you were so popular in New Jersey amongst the players and it was one of the things that he was actually so attracted to.

Yes Mat found himself growing more enamoured with you by the day and despite his best efforts you never seemed to notice it.

You never noticed how his eyes lingered on you far longer than appropriate for just friends, or how he'd glare down every man and woman who dared to even look at you when the two of you were out in the town. You never noticed the way you squeezed the life out of his heart the moment you came to Mat's apartment in tears one night as you missed Luke.

The Canadian was hurt, it wasn't even the fact that you weren't interested in him that haunted his thoughts at night. It was the fact that you gave your love to someone who was so cruel to you.

But Mat put on a comforting smile each time he was forced to listen to you spill your heart out on his sleeve as you couldn't get over your failed attempts to get over the Hughes boy.

At one point the Islander player was ready to rip the bandaid off and tell you everything.

He wanted you to know that you were loved.

He wanted you to know that you were wanted and it was by a man who was sat right next to you.

But deep down inside Mat knew that those words would mean nothing to you unless they came from the Hughes boy.

That was the thing about love that was so cruel. Here were two people that wanted nothing more than to be happy. But the reciprocation of those emotions from the people they craved them from the most weren't there.

Yes you loved Mat but you weren't in love with Mat and that different meant everything to him.

So he kept his feelings to himself as he watched you count down the days until the Devils came to town.

He sat there dreading the moment he had to face Luke on the ice, Mat had been watching the meditation videos that you had sent him on repeat as he tried to memorise the various methods of calming himself down that he’d had to use in other to not hit Luke.

It wasn’t because Mat wanted to protect the boy, in fact he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to hurt Luke for all that he had done to you. The Islanders player wanted to see the Hughes boy finally feel some sort of remorse, but he knew that if he laid a finger on Luke you’d get upset. So he was going to have to try to behave.

You woke up practically running out of bed ready to take on the world when the day finally arrived. Part of you was excited to see your friends from the team too and that’s what you told yourself made you so happy.

Luke swore he was going to throw up when he got on the team bus. Sure he was excited to see you in the flesh once more. But after seeing how the every gossip account swore that you and Mat were dating after someone spotted you on another on of your excursions, hope for him was running out. So he spent the last week forcing himself to accept that fact that this was all his fault. Yes he wanted to blame Mat instead but he knew he couldn’t.

If Luke couldn’t be the one to love you then he then simply hoped that the man who loved you, loved you even half as much as he did.

The young Hughes boy felt trapped inside of his mind as he had yet to reveal how he felt about you to anyone. It was partially due to the fact that he knew they’d all laugh at him especially after how he treated you. Yet there was another much larger part of Luke that didn’t want to admit it because one he admitted that he did indeed like you, it meant that it would really be real. At least for now he could act like you were all just simply a figment his dreams and hopes for in the future. He told himself that all he needed as a simply protein shake and his usual pregame playlist blasting through his headphones at a volume that was enough to make his mother cringe as she reminded her son that she didn’t want him going deaf.

Jack noticed the way that his younger brother had gone quiet since he stepped on the bus, the whole team did. As bad as they all knew it sounded none of them bothered checking in on the boy as they all just put it down to him not wanting to see you again.

If only they knew, right?

The youngest Hughes boy knew your routine on game days from your time with the Devils. It was something that he made an effort to learn early on in his attempts to avoid you.

He hoped that you had the same routes mapped out here because Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he caught sight of you.

Now more than ever though it was because he knew he’d start crying on the spot.

Luke wasn’t a crier naturally but he had no clue how he was going to say his apology to you. All of the emotions that you made him feel just made him want to cry due to the sheer panic that was going through his mind.

As the team walked out of the away locker room he heard it.

The sound he had grown to miss.

The sound that brought him this warm sense of comfort in his stomach that he could only describe as funny.

It was the sound of your laugh.

Mat had been telling you a story as you two made your way over to the home dressing room as you had forgotten your folder in there when you took some guests around earlier.

As Luke saw the sight of you it was enough to knock him off of his feet as Jack walked into the back of him “dude,” the middle Hughes boy groaned as he lifted his brother off of the ground totally unaware of the fact that you were stood there.

It was like time stopped for the youngest Hughes boy.

He watched as your eyes locked with his and your lips formed a smile as you sent him a nod.

Mat had seen how you had stopped listening to his story were just simply looking in front of you.

It made the Canadian angry as in that moment he wanted to throw out all of those stupid meditation lessons.

He knew his next move was childish but he didn’t care he sent Luke a harsh glare as Mat threw his arm around your shoulders.

That moment dropped Luke back into reality as he felt like he had just hit a cement wall.

“Luke c’mon!”

There was a game to be played but it seemed that it was quickly coming off of the ice as well.

And you were right in the center of it,

But you didn’t even know it.

[thedreamlessnights]

Give The Devil His Due - pt. 2

Gale x F!Reader

{part 1}

Warnings: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving and loss. Amnesia, self-hatred, guilt-tripping. Raphael being a dick.

Synopsis: Gale is back. He's real, and alive, and... he doesn't remember you. You should be happy, shouldn't you?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for your patience as I got this chapter out. Life has been crazy, essentially. Apologies for the angst - next chapter will be happier, I promise! We'll also see more Gale then ♥

You must have sat on this balcony a hundred times in the past year. More, maybe. Sometimes, Tara curled up on your lap as you read a book, her purring a constant comfort. Other times, you fell asleep watching the ships sailing by and woke in the darkness.

The view was always beautiful, even in the storms. Crystal-blue skies against an aquamarine sea. Lavender sunrises that swirled with orange. Dark clouds, streaked with silvery flashes of light and the bone-shaking crashes of thunder. You can certainly see why Gale favored it. 

Until about two hours ago, it was a place of comfort. Now, it feels wrong. Or rather, you do. 

Every inch of your presence feels out of place. A transplant, neatly sutured into surrounding skin only to be rejected a year later.

The moments after you’d kissed him are nothing but a blur in your memory. The sheer, utter horror when he hadn't known you. Morena’s voice taking on an edge of panic. Your feet moving you away - anywhere, anywhere where you couldn’t see the look on his face anymore. 

You’ve been sitting on this balcony ever since.

Before today, thinking of Gale was painful. Every thought was a fresh shard of ice plunging into the warmth of your chest, slowly thawing - until a new wound came to start the process over again. But it’s different now. 

It’d be easier to deny this situation, to pretend that it isn’t really Gale in that room, but you know better. You know that it’s him, just as you know that darkness will follow the sun’s fading light and greet you with the shimmering stars. 

Gale is alive, and he doesn’t know you. 

Gale is alive, and every memory of him - his face, his words, your old life - feels like it’s rotting away in your chest. You’re grasping at every thought, determined to keep him from slipping away, but there's only so much you can prevent.

Even you have to admit, it’s better than you’d expected of a devil’s deal. You’ve spent the last year picturing all the ways it could go wrong, laying out the risks and estimating the reward. If I word things in a specific way, you thought, if I prepare for the loopholes, then perhaps I can avoid the worst outcomes.

But a part of you had always known that you could have ended up like Mayrina. Dragging around a corpse just to cling to that tiny scrap of hope that Gale might return. 

Gods, you could have had so much worse. Why, then? Why had Raphael let you have this? What more could he possibly want from you?

This isn't the first time you’ve felt this way. During your travels, Astarion had made a deal with Raphael to learn more about the scars on his back, and the only thing required in return was Yurgir’s death. You made a deal to bring back the one you love, and you’ve gotten it only at the cost of his memories. 

 Your soul remains intact. Gale still knows his mother and his tressym. He’s alive. That’s enough, isn’t it?

No, your heart says. No, it isn’t. But you’ll survive, as you always have. You’ve had worse than this.

Nearby, there’s the rustling of fabric. You know who it is, even before she speaks.

“I thought I might find you here.” Morena’s voice is gentle, as though she’s afraid she’ll startle you away, but it’s filled with a fullness - a radiant warmth you’ve never heard before. She gives you a reassuring smile as she approaches, then sits at your side and reaches for your hand.

Your throat goes tight.

“My darling, I know this was your doing,” she says. Her voice is measured, as well as her face, but the crinkling at the corner of her warm brown eyes - Gale’s eyes - bleeds the joy she’s trying to hide into her expression. 

There’s no point in lying to her. She’s much too perceptive for that. All you can manage is a small nod in response.

“It’s really him,” she breathes. Her voice is suddenly thin. Hollow, almost. “I always thought… if we could even get him back, he wouldn't be himself. But it’s him.”

Tears sting at your eyes, hot and unwelcome. “I know,” you say. Your voice chokes at the last second. “He doesn't remember me.”

“No,” Morena murmurs, “he doesn't.” She squeezes your hand, resting her other hand on your shoulder. The comfort feels more like pity, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You’d known, but the confirmation still hurts to hear. 

“What does he remember, then?” you ask, slow and careful.

Hesitation flickers across her features. The hand on your shoulder slightly tightens. “You have to understand, he’s still very confused,” she starts. “His memories are muddled, grouped together. It’s entirely possible more will start coming back, if you just give him a little time-”

“Please, Morena,” you interrupt, desperate with anticipation. It’s always the not knowing that hurts you most. The cruelty of your mind that swirls out horrors that needn’t be there. “I need to know. Is it - is it everything but me? A hole in his mind where I used to be? How much of himself did he lose?”

She sighs, and her expression crumples. “It seems to be a… specific loss,” she says. “A cutoff point, really. Everything before the Netherese orb is perfectly intact. Everything after, well…”

She trails off, and her silence says the rest.

It isn't only you, then. It’s everything else you know of him. The tadpole, the Absolute, the Elder Brain. His friendships with the others. All the months of travel, and every single experience you shared. Even his year of isolation in the tower has been lost. 

His abandonment from Mystra; her charge for his life.

Something cold and numb blooms under your skin, trailing from the nape of your neck down your spine. Your lungs don’t quite seem to fill with air.

You’d hoped he wouldn't have to bear the burden of remembering his own death, but this… counting the time after his death, two years worth of life has been all but turned to ash. Morena doesn’t know of it, and Tara only knows glimpses. Your precious memories of him only encapsulate a few months of his loss. Is he still the man you fell in love with?

The spinning under your feet is making it difficult to think. You need to speak with Raphael. You don’t even know what you’ll say to him, but at this point it hardly matters. 

For a moment, you’re silent, almost forgetting Morena is there. Then, you remember her presence and swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “I don’t think we should… tell him about me,” you start. “All of this… it’s enough for him to take in already. I would only complicate things.”

She gently pats your hand. “Your kiss said more than enough enough,” she replies, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Gale is a smart boy. Believe you me, he’s already pieced it together. Aspects of it, at least.”

Gods, what had come over you, kissing him like that? If you hadn't been so impulsive - if you had just waited a little longer, this would have been much simpler. The split would have been clean. 

“Some time, then,” you land on. “I think it’s better for the both of us if I… if he - has time to process this. At least for now.”

Morena nods. “I can't pretend to know how incredibly difficult all of this must have been on you,” she says. “Whenever you need to come over, feel free. I’ll make an excuse for you.” 

She gives you a wink, then rises to her feet and places a kiss on the top of your head. “He’ll come back to you,” she whispers. “I know it.”

Her words linger long after she’s gone.

The moment you’ve stumbled your way home, you’re met with a burst of orange light in the kitchen. You don't bother looking for the source - the scent of cinnamon and honey in the air says enough.

“My, my. Whatever happened to our poor resident wizard?” comes Raphael’s voice, a few feet to your side. “How… unfortunate that he’s lost his memory, don't you think?”

You’re in no mood for his games. You toss your things to the floor and meet his gaze dead-on, staring daggers at him. “What do you want, Raphael?” 

“Tsk, tsk. What a temper,” Raphael purrs. “Aren't you satisfied? You got what you asked for. Gale Dekarios is alive and well. Of course, if you’re unhappy, I could always return him to the grave...”

You suck in a breath, attempting to dissipate your lingering fury. “I’m very happy,” you force out. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Raphael eyes you, tilts his head, and finally sprawls himself out on one of your chairs. He trails his fingers along the table, then hums. “You know, of your ragged little group, I’ve admired you in particular. Such ambition. You could have dominated the brain, had you really tried.” 

He pauses, and his gaze seems to sear straight into your soul as he looks at you. “Tell me, why did you let Gale sacrifice himself? Were you afraid of yourself, little mouse? Afraid that, given the chance, you’d have taken the power you so desperately wanted?”

Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, the way they always do when your brain decides to relive this moment. No merciful sensory images to distract you. Nothing but sheer agony, even now, when he’s alive.

Fear. It’s what you remember most about that day. Regret had come afterward, but first it had been fear and exhaustion and pain. Stiff joints. Fatigued muscles. How in the hells am I supposed to go on like this? you’d been thinking. How can I defeat the brain on nothing but fumes?

And with the fear had come temptation.

The voice of the Absolute was always a siren’s song in your ear. It was a path to complete control, to security and safety like you’d never known. No more humiliation, no more fear, no more pain. Nothing unless you wanted it, you commanded it. Even as shame and horror bled in your gut, keeping you from sleep, you ached for it.

With every inch closer to the Elder Brain, the temptation had strengthened. An itch that you could not stand not to scratch. A whisper in your mind that grew until you could hardly hear your own thoughts. By the time you’d reached the brain stem, it was so terrifyingly potent that you were ready to lay down your sword and end the internal battle you were undoubtedly going to lose. 

Anything to stop yourself from going down that road and betraying your friends. Anything to stop the vision of 

And when Gale had offered to use the orb, it had all been so fast… even now, you can't remember saying yes. Only that he’d insisted, despite your arguments. Just as you’d wanted to save him, he’d wanted to save you.

The rest is blurry, but still there. His last words. The helplessness you felt as his magic overtook you, teleporting you and the others to safety. The all-consuming panic as you met with the reality of what it meant for Gale Dekarios to die, much too late to stop him.

A flash of light.

And then, agony that never ended. 

When the memory releases you, your body is stiff and heavy, and your cheeks are wet and raw. Your chest throbs. You feel as though you’ve been hit by a Thunderwave. At your side, Raphael’s face drips with false sympathy. 

“Is that what you want to hear, Raphael?” you ask thickly. “That Gale suffered because of me? That I’m the reason he chose to use the orb?”

Raphael leans back in his seat. “I want to know one thing, and one thing only,” he replies. “Is Gale losing his memory a cruelty, or is it a mercy?”

You're silent, but your lack of reply must say enough.

“Really?” he muses, rising to his feet. “I see it as a mercy. The orb must have been dreadfully painful to detonate, after all. Not to mention the fear he felt as he plunged the knife into his chest.” 

Raphael steps closer, and though he doesn't touch you, you can feel his presence on your skin. “How terribly alone he must have felt in those last moments,” he murmurs, his voice honeyed but sickening in your ears. “Yes. What a relief to have that washed away.”

He smiles, and the tension in the room finally breaks. “On that note, I must take my leave. I’d love to stay, my dear, but I’m a busy man,” he says. “Watch over the wizard, won't you? I brought him back just for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he snaps his fingers, and he’s gone. 

You buckle over and wait for the pain to pass.

[lisimcpisi]

One thing I've always found interesting in Rescue Bots is how each of the bot's have gone to accepting their newfound life on earth. Despite all coming from the same circumstances (all being contained in stasis in the middle of space and being found by Optimus), they each have gone through their own process of accepting that they can never go back home and have a new planet and humans to protect.

Throughout most of the series Blades and Chase are pretty much good with Griffin Rock. In fact, they're pretty much thriving what with how enveloped they are with different aspects of human culture!

Blades is a total pop culture nerd. He loves watching movies, game shows, and cartoons. So much so that it even influences how he sees the real world (thinking that monsters are real and having heatwave hunt them for him). He's even involved on the internet and developed a fan club.

Chase, being a police bot, is extremely passionate about upholding the law and memorizing police codes. He even loves sharing his love for the law this boy hyperfixates to the ends of the earth its so charming. In the episode where everyone on the island starts singing Chase sings a whole song about different police codes and it'smhilarious. When Cody is trying to figure out what he should do for his Lad Pioneers Project, Chase creates a fake game show where he quizzes him on the law. All in all, Chase loves his job and loves learning about human law.

Heatwave, on the other hand, is a complicated case. It's clear that at the start of the series, Heatwave is dedicated to his mission and wants to make Optimus proud, but he is very frustrated by the circumstances he's being put under. He has to hide who he is and pose as an emotionless machine. His partner is selfish and takes all the credit for their rescue work. All the others seem to be content with what they have, but Heatwave isn't. He so much so desires to be a part of Optimus' team on the mainland so he can be part of the action (even though any decepticon could kill him in one shot). There's also been multiple cases where Heatwave requests him and the rescue bots to be reassigned to a mission off planet, much like when the first Morbot "replaces" them in Season 1. And yet despite it, towards the end of the series Heatwave definitely turns over a new leaf. He loves his family and partners, and will fight to hell and back to protect his home.

Boulder, imo, is the perfect medium between Blades/Chase and Heatwave. One of his most endearing traits is how much he adores Earth. Like, he is in LOVE with the place. Right when the bots first arrive on Earth, boulder remarks at how beautiful griffin rock is. One of my fave episodes with boulder is when he discovers a species of bird that was previously extinct and wants to try so hard to protect it from tourists. In the musical episode his entire number is just a love song to Earth and its so adorable. He also actively wants to be a part of the community. He offers people to ask him questions about himself. He does community gardening and tries to sign up for a library card. Though, with how much he loves Earth, there are times when we see he still grieves his life on Cybertron. On the episode where they celebrate All-Spark Day, Boulder looks back on the fond memories he had celebrating on Cybertron, and wants to share his culture with Griffin Rock. Surprisingly, Heatwave turns down the idea, saying that they shouldn't look back on the past and stay focused on their mission.

anyways those are just my thoughts on rescue bots. it's such a well written show and I could talk for hours about what I love about it!!

[kurithedweeb]

I went to a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons recently and let me tell you I've had such ideas about how each one applies to each of the Ro'Meave brothers. I saw like entire animatics while listening.

Spring is about all three of them: the first section is Vylad’s, upbeat, innocent. The second section is Garroth, much slower and more somber, almost mourning interspersed with moments of frantic energy like the first, about the night he escaped and was captured by the titan golem that guards the outskirts and released at the last minute after it saw flashes of Esmund, who created it. Zane in the third section where he almost mirrors Vylad but with a less jovial air.

The second section, the slow one, got to me especially. It reminds me very much of rain and it switches between slow somber pieces and bursts of almost frantic energy that follows a two-beat rhythm. In the beginning, Garroth is still the heir but he is becoming increasingly disillusioned with the idea that his allowing himself to be molded like this will do anything to save his family and has recently discovered he'll be married off without his input, and his planning his death is a slow and controlled process. There is a frantic burst where he believes he's been discovered, but the actual death is a calm, calculated affair, and the panic only sets in when he is running through the streets to make his escape. There is a brief, grieving respite in the sewers as he properly tends to the wound and it finally completely sets in what he's doing. If he goes back now, he'll be killed for real. So he goes out into the rain and he runs, and the frantic energy in the faster parts get more and more sad as he cries and his tears mingle with the rain, and there is this feeling right in the middle where it feels like something is approaching. Something massive. In the background of the shot, an enormous shape becomes visible, and though Garroth doesn't turn to look he knows what's coming, and he's incredibly worn out from what he's done. He wonders if he shouldn't have done this after all. He slows to a stop and lowers himself to his knees, and he curls into himself as one massive hand comes down over him and covers him from view. The hand slowly lifts, turns towards the camera, and reveals Garroth cradled in the center of its palm, so small by comparison. He finally lifts his eyes to look at it. They're face-to-face. In the reflection of the golem's eyes, we see Garroth, and the rain washes his image into one of Esmund.

There are flashes of Esmund seen from the perspective of the golem. Laughing and talking with his friends. Talking by the fire with his family. Gathering the materials for the golem. Sketching designs. Looking into the golem's eyes and smiling softly as a parent to a child, speaking to it though the words cannot be heard. Esmund, wounded and torn open emotionally, mouth opened around an unheard cry as he throws things off his workbench and collapses against its edge, shaking as he holds himself up with a hip pressed to it and a hand coming away bloody from his bandaged side. Esmund curled into his seat by the hearth, the flame so low as to nearly not be burning, exhausted even in sleep. Esmund in the golem's palm just like this, holding his hands to its face and laughing with the joy of creation. And Garroth in the same pose, grief-ridden and resigned. And in the last few beats of the song, the golem lowers its hand and it remains there with its hand upturned in the grass as Garroth flees.

Summer is Garroth. Shots of him traveling, ill and hurting, and finding his way to Phoenix Drop. The second section is him finding Zenix, first slowly integrating into Phoenix Drop and then following a blood trail out to the woods and finding a boy crumpled to the ground and covered in wounds, the camera pausing a completely three beats on his feeble form before the pace picks up again with Garroth crashing to the ground and gathering him up and getting up even as he shouts for help. Shots of rushing Zenix to safety and caring for him and taking him on as his apprentice. The third section is as Phoenix Drop begins to devolve under Malik’s increasing paranoia, in the final slow part Zenix looks upon the flames he set to Malik’s house. Summer ends as Garroth takes charge of the investigation and the village and gets more and more tired with each passing shot.

Autumn is Zane. It has a bit of a haunting beginning that quickly folds itself into jovial music you wouldn’t find out of place in any noble society party scene in a movie. This is what he was raised in, where he finds his power, his connections, and there are sharp moments that reflect that there’s something well-hidden beneath the high-society charm. The slower second section is the moments behind the mask when we can see a sliver of the true face of the boy beneath: one devout and calm and perhaps not so inhuman as he portrays to his subordinates. He holds himself to an ideal. There’s a segment at the end of the second section that reminds one of a steadfast love, and this is Zane bringing Janus into his embrace and his plots as a man who finds loyalty in affection and duty and a sense of self given by another. In the third section, he dons the mask and veil once again and this is when he gathers all his strings and seizes power, by the end standing as the undoubtedly most powerful man in O’khasis even if all that power is hidden in doublespeak and undertone.

Winter is Vylad. The first section is Vylad as a boy as he grows into his teens, reminiscent of his part of Spring but having grown into something else. As we near the second section, there is an undertone of unease as he realizes something has been happening without his knowledge. The upbeat tone of the first part sombers a bit as Garroth dies, and soon after picks back up as the plot against Vylad spirals into fruition: in the last few segments of this section he is running through the forest and fields. The second segment opens as he is being hunted and chased, strings plucked in tune with his rapid breaths as he finds himself pinned and stabbed and lying in the grass as his life drains away. For a handful of moments, he sees the afterlife. And as this section closes, he wakes in a body he no longer recognizes, feeling as though he has been stuffed into a broken doll. In the third section, he navigates his old-new body. He finds himself in the Nether, at the beck and call of the Calling and cruel commanders. He gathers his strength, and at the first burst of a frantic movement, he makes his daring escape. He is chased, and so near when he is caught. But he bides his time, shown in shots of him drawing on the walls of his cell and fighting anyone who comes near and slowly cutting his way through his bars until the second frantic movement crashes over him and he bursts from his cell, runs through the fortress, bulldozing past anyone he can. The portal is within reach. He bursts through it and does not stop, heart racing and breath coming quick as the day he died. He’s forced to slow eventually, and over a series of backgrounds that change with each repetition, he slowly falls to the ground. As the song comes to a close, as he sits defeated on his heels without even the strength to push himself to kneeling, there is a swell that inspires hope, and he looks up to Hyria standing over him at the edge of the Sacred Forest.

[h2llish]

rollo rambles. they're kinda all over the place but hopefully you get the gist of what i'm saying right?

rollo, upon first meeting him, seems rather cold and serious, perhaps even a little skeptical and wary of who he interacts with. he's respectful in the way he talks and quite professional, outside of the occasional annoyance he displays and does rather well at hiding.

he doesn't seem very open, regardless of how close to a person he is, he may not even have the intention of forming relationships that would lead to him opening up about himself.

when the nrc students met rollo, they commented about his lack of expression, how he wasn't smiling, assuming that he must be angry. he probably makes this impression a lot, seeing as he doesn't seem very expressive of himself.

i think rollo, while naturally indifferent and closed off, has also crafted his persona into what it is and into what he's shown others. he masks a lot of anger, although his lack of expression can cause people to think he's angry all the time, no one knows just how deep that anger runs. his indifference and respectful way of speaking is a part of that carefully crafted persona, he's probably used to people complimenting him, like the way trein praised him for his manners.

he occasionally (slips up and) expresses his disapproval about something or someone. he also seems to think a lot more people share his views, and when people don't, he gets upset. apart of that disapproval involves the disgust he showed towards the towns people using magic (although it was minor as he did well at hiding how truly annoyed, he was). but these were all comments made behind a hand and hardly able to be heard by everyone.

another thing about rollo, is he's also dedicated and hardworking. knowing and learning all he has to know about the nrc students, and remembering everything he read afterwards. and how he was meticulous in the way he planned the release of the crimson flowers. he must've been planning for years, by how it's presented in the game.

now on gt the psyche of rollo, it doesn't seem like rollo was ever allowed to grieve, or perhaps never received the proper grieving counsel he needed after not only losing but witnessing his brother die. when going into psychology of grief, one often needs support in their grief, to have someone help them along the process and help the grieving understand their grief is valid in whatever form it takes. however, it doesn't seem like rollo ever received that support. perhaps he felt as if he shouldn't be allowed to grieve, perhaps he was guilty or ashamed, and no one was there to help him navigate through the difficult emotion that may come with grief.

now i'm not saying that if he did receive proper counsel, his hatred for magic would've gone away. however, perhaps it wouldn't be so disastrous if he had people there to help him process his grief. it may have stopped him from making the decisions he did, to eradicate magic entirely.

rollo kept a journal where he not only spoke about his plans with the flowers, but also his brother, possibly the rest of his childhood as well. this makes me believe that rollo might've been a bit aware of himself during the process of planning. but then again this could've also been his way of grieving, as some people who grieve choose to keep a journal on the reason for the grief. and also his way of making him believe what he was doing was "right".

rollo really doesn't seem to see anything wrong with what he did. he really does believe he was the "hero" for trying to rid the world of magic, and that anyone who doesn't share his views, or uses magic, are villains. he doesn't seem to realize the hypocrisy of it all, as a magic user himself.

during the event, the gargoyle comments of rollo's diligence for both the bell of solace and the gargoyles, mentioning how rollo seemed to care a lot about the bell and the tower. the gargoyle even went on to say that he doesn't think rollo was faking it at all. the gargoyle was worried and also cared for rollo despite what rollo had done. because of this, i believe, while rollo may not be completely truthful in the character he has shown others, and is also greatly clouded by hatred and anger, he is capable of caring for others he just isn't close to anyone to show that. i think he really did care for the gargoyles and showed parts of himself to them he hadn't shown others.

rollo lost his brother young, he witnessed his brother lose to magic, he witnessed his brother die. witnessing death, especially death of a loved one, at such a young age, can largely affect a person, and shape them into a person that probably wouldn't exist had they not witnessed such a traumatic event. and it did largely affect rollo. while i don't know the exact age rollo was when his brother died, i do know that he was young.

rollo seemed to understand what was happening at the time and felt helpless. his brother was a prodigy, manifesting very strong magic at a young age, but the same couldn't, or wasn't, said about rollo. and then rollo had to witness as the mages around them did nothing to help. and so his grief built into hatred and anger aimed at magic and mages.

grief is a hard thing, especially for children in rollo's case. losing a sibling can be difficult for a child. children who lose a sibling often feel guilty, or that they failed. it's even harder when that child has to witness that death. that shows itself when rollo witnessed his brother go up in flames because of his magic, while yelling out for rollo, and was unable to do anything. a child grieving may have misplaced anger at the world or a specific group - as it was with rollo.

rollo was heavily affected mentally after his brother's death, and that only got worse when he didn't receive the proper grief counsel as he got older.

during the final battle during the event, he showed no signs of caring for the amount of magic he was releasing while fighting idia, malleus and azul. it's said with the flowers draining so much of his magic with the large spells he was releasing he must've been in a lot of pain yet showed no signs of stopping. malleus commented that he must have strong mental fortitude but i don't think that had anything to do with it, i think rollo simply did not care. he was in pain, a lot of it, but didn't care because he was so focused on reaching his goal.

rollo was a child when he lost his brother, and his parents did not seem at all active in his life.

he's hated for being based off frollo yet he and frollo don't have much in common.

rollo is an interesting character and his trauma runs deep.

anyways i'm done hope you guys enjoyed this and it wasn't too confusing <3

[novashelby]

I'm Sorry....

I'm really sorry these last few days I have been kind of cunty posting. Life is emotionally hard for me right now. I don't want to go really deep cause I don't think anyone really wants to or needs to hear about all the shit in Nova's head. In short, as many of you know, my dad passed away in July. It was unexpected and my grieving process has been extremely hard and difficult. Mostly because of my awful narcissistic mother. Aside from that, I live across the ocean from my home. 1. That makes it extremely difficult going through the holiday season. Not only being away from family, but essentially having no more family other than my aunt. I've been away from my best friends. So, I have no one. Yes, of course, I have friends here and a social life, but it isn't the same. 2. My mother is still making my life difficult; over calling, harassing me, and all that. I can't block her because she isn't only vindictive, but cruel and mean. She has almost no limits and blocking her may poke a bear.

In saying this, I have been highly sensitive about a lot lately. Typically about things that shouldn't bother me. It is why I cling so hard to Evie because, as pathetic as it sounds, I quite literally have no family. I have one aunt and then a group of cousins, aunts, and uncles who don't really think of me unless they have to. So, they don't exactly count.

Part of me was feeling highly sensitive about the lack of engagement on my recent work or like lack of inclusion in the community. Seeing everyone, because we are all moots, talk and interact with another kind of hurts. (Though, it shouldn't cause I haven't been really active and engaging with others the last few months-I'm trying my best in catching up and doing my part in that). But I know it isn't because of that, but because the issues in my real life that somehow and someway mirror that exact same situation are taking place; feeling like an outsider in my new community, having no family, not being included, etc. I don't exactly know how to explain it, really. So, I hope what I wrote makes sense. TL;DR: because my personal life is sort of shit and it's over bubbling, things that I don't normally think about are bothering me. I don't expect engagement or inclusion, and I'm happy being moots just to be moots. So, know that it isn't me complaining or angry at anyone other than my own emotionally torn brain at the moment.

I am sorry that I kind of use this as a method of release because there really is nowhere else. So, I am so sorry to be kind of a trauma dumping idiot. I'm sorry for not always being the best person and friend on here. And I'm sorry that I have been kind of....out in left field?

I will get back to normal Nova or whatever that is sooner or later.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends on her that have listened and messaged me. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to appreciate my work. I suck at replying to comments sometimes, but I read them all and I hold them close to my heart.

Peace and Love.

[steddieunderdogfics]

FOR THE MONDAY CHALLENGE THEME:

The recent summer exchange has SO much great fic but I didn’t expect the dnd part of this one to work the way it did and I love being actually surprised by a story, plus the love story part of it is also done in a kinda surprising way too? 

hitlikehammers’ if you can’t write your own necronomicon, store-bought is fine

On ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/56414623/

And here on tumblr: www.tumblr.com/hitlikehammers/753765626924924928/if-you-cant-write-your-own-necronomicon

if you can't write your own necromicon, store-bought is fine by hitlikehammers

@hitlikehammers

Rating: Mature

14,421 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Temporary Character Death, (TEMPORARY being the important part; I mean: that IS the orienting concept of the story), Pre-Relationship, (but won't stay 'pre' if these crazy kids succeed in their crazy plot!), Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Necromancy, Dungeons & Dragons References, (as in: HEAVY Dungeon & Dragons References), Grief/Mourning, But Then: What If You Interrupted Your Strange Process of Grieving/Feelings Realization, By Putting All Your Eggs In The ‘What If It All DOES Match D&D?’ Basket, Including but Not Limited To The 'Raise Dead' Spell?, The Adventures of Platonic Soulmates Trying to Understand the Nerd Game, Specifically to Try and Resurrect a Certain Dingus' More-Than-A-Crush, Resurrection, (and its consequences), The Dungeons & Dragons References Work With About As Much Leeway as Show v Game Demogorgons, So: Stretchy Like Gumbo, And Then All Of A Sudden:, confessions of feelings, Feelings Realization, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Happy Ending

Summary:

Steve gets stuck in his head about it: the fucking gravestone they’re putting up. He hates the idea of it being installed over nothing, just plopped on grass and dirt and just, just…nothing. Almost like they’re saying Eddie was somehow nothing, and when the overall notion hits on that thought specifically, Steve has the simultaneous urge to break a window and vomit, and it’s just, it’s not— He needs to find a way to curb that feeling. He hates it enough to mention it to the others, who don’t get it. At all. Maybe because it’s Steve, and they don’t think he knew Eddie enough to be this…this. If Steve was in a clearer frame of mind, maybe he’d be able to wonder, too. But he’s not. In a clearer frame of mind. He can’t process all that much beyond the all-consuming need to not bury nothing under Eddie Munson’s name. Which doesn't even touch yet on the way it also sticks in his head that, if they were going to name half of the Upside Down bullshit after the nerd game, if the parallels were gonna be just, accepted as a rule? Then why shouldn't the existence of a spell in the nerd game called 'RAISE DEAD' be accepted, too?

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics from fandom challenges.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[veronica-rich]

It's concerning to see people come blazing out of the gate at fans of someone who's just been reported to be majorly problematic or criminal, or outed themselves as such, with sentiments like "If you're not wholly invested with the victims and shed immediately of that thing you loved, I hope you choke on a dick!" It's not helpful, it's not productive - and it's not realistic.

Even when a fan reads the news and is willing to accept their fave did the thing, it's hard to process. It's like grieving that someone died. You shouldn't expect someone to get over their mom in 24 hours, and you can't expect them to throw away part of their psyche so fast.

At my age I've unfortunately seen a LOT of Regarded People fuck themselves into revilement or obscurity, yet there are times I'm still surprised when news comes out, even if I'm not personally invested in their work. When you see a fan still struggling to come to terms and it's only been hours or a few days, especially, take a breath.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Given a true, heartfelt apology, a change of actions to match, and probably a LOT of time, do you think Muriel would ever forgive Lucio? Or at least detest him less? It’s one thing I haven’t been able to pin down about Muriel’s character. Would love to know your thoughts on the matter!

@httyd-chocolate here you go friend!

Lucio's forgiveness

Since I was covering Lucio's forgiveness from multiple characters, I didn't go super in-depth for Muriel's part, so I'll go more in-depth on what I consider "forgiveness" to look like ^.^

Truthfully, forgiveness as we understand it is a much angrier, active, and empowering process than what often gets portrayed as it. The contexts I most often encounter "forgiveness" in are either media, where a saintly character rises above a villain's games as that villain is facing accountability and the consequences of their actions, or when someone in interpersonal situations wants to brush over what they've done wrong. In both cases it essentially boils down to "I've decided to stop thinking about and acting on the wrong thing you did." I've rarely seen forgiveness discussed or portrayed as what I've come to understand it to be.

(To be clear - I'm not talking about petty wrongs like your roommate eating your food and then trying to make up for it by buying you the replacement. This is in reference to horrific levels of violence/betrayal/wrongdoing, like what we know makes up Lucio's backstory)

Forgiveness as I see it is something that only the person who has been wronged can do. It is not something that can be demanded or expected. It is not owed - and granting it to someone who has hurt you only adds to the accountability they face. While there are things that the person in the wrong can do to make the process of forgiveness easier, at no point are they in any position to directly involve themself in it. It is something that only the person who was wronged can do, and anybody besides them has no power in that decision and process.

It starts by listing and acknowledging all the ways in which you were wronged - each action taken or not taken, the reasons why that decision was wrong, and every harmful impact it had. It means confronting your grief and anger with the reasons that you should be grieving and angry, and allowing yourself to feel them because that is an act of justice that you are worth taking. It means reaffirming that how poorly you were treated is in violation of your inherent value, not in accordance with it. It means understanding that there are no excuses.

This phase is the longest, and perhaps the hardest part, and it's one you never completely leave. Forgiveness for something on this level of wrong isn't a single decision or action, but a maintained mental posture that gets easier to hold and smaller in the context of your life as you grow and live on. There may come a point where you hardly think of it at all and the feelings are well-worn and quieter, but that has far more to do with time and healing than what forgiveness is.

The next step is deciding who you are and what you're going to do in the context of your suffering. It's not possible to do this honestly without spending time in the first step of acknowledging how valid your hurt is and how wrong what you suffered was. It shouldn't have happened. It did happen. So, now what? Are you going to let the actions of the person who wronged you define who you are and what you can do? Or are you going to take the pain that shouldn't be yours in your own hands, and slowly learn how to carry it because you were here before it was? Will you define your suffering in the context of the person who inflicted it, or in the person hardy enough to live with it even though they shouldn't have to?

It's only after you've found it in yourself to do those things that the part we usually think of as forgiving someone starts. It's when, after seeing and feeling how wrong their actions were, after living with and growing beyond the consequences they've inflicted on you, you get to bring the results of their faults back to them:

"This is what you did wrong. This is why what you did was wrong. This is how much harm you caused. Nothing can erase what you did. This will always be something that you did, and I am proof of it. I have lived with the consequences of your actions. I have refused to become the person you treated me as. I have developed the strength to carry faults that are yours, not mine. I have taken the ugliness you forced on me and turned it into a catalyst for growth and goodness. In that regard, I have covered for your wrongs, and I am choosing to let you live in debt to me for that. Whatever peace you get from not having your wrongs visited back on you is the gift from me you do not deserve, but I am choosing to give you anyways."

Obviously, forgiveness and healing are closely linked, and neither are linear or one-size-fits-all. Sometimes the context is well-intentioned love and close relationships that caused major hurt through personal failings, and forgiveness is navigating and balancing the pain and wrongdoing with the genuine love and connection you have for each other. Sometimes the context is selfish callousness where the person who did wrong puts no stock in how they affect other people, and forgiveness is asserting that it was still wrong and that your value is equal to theirs. Sometimes the context is malice and a desire to assert and maintain power, and forgiveness is becoming empowered to live as proof of their faults where the only place they have is in your debt. Sometimes the process is so long and hard that by the time you've reached that point, you have to do it to someone who isn't around anymore.

To bring an introspective, philosophical ramble back to Muriel from the Arcana, yes, I think he could one day forgive Lucio as far as what I consider true forgiveness. He's already in the first stage when we meet him. (Julian, on the other hand, has yet to consider any of the ways Lucio treated him as more than "mantrums" and I find that very concerning -)

[deepmochi]

Understanding the 8th house in Astrology (Synastry and Natal)

Take what resonates. I don't own these images.

Let's talk about the eighth house and its meaning in astrology. Only the meaning, description. I will try to do another post with the signs.

⇢ Many people love to idealize the "good" sides of the 8th like "steamy relationship" or "an alluring person". However, traumas shouldn't be glamorize; they should be healed. The 8th house is like a closet, and inside of that closet we find fears, doubts, traumas, vulnerability, and so much more.

⇢For instance, the energy of the eighth house represents how obsessive you are, and which are your obsessions? What are your secrets? Can you keep secrets? How you view intimacy? How you approach sex? How you view a sexual partner? How you view sexuality? What turns you on or off? What is your sexual orientation? How you perceive death? What are your fears? What is your generational heritage or traumas? What you inheritance? How mysterious you are? In what areas you hide things? How you investigate, your inner detective? How good you lie? What are your inner goals?

Following with death, it is not exactly physical death; it explains about your transformations. How you process your own "death" in order to advance to the next stage, how you grieve or mourn. Continuing, the 8th house is opposite of the 2nd house, so how you share your possessions or inner fears? How we emerge with others? What is your relationship with taxes and gambling? How you lend or owe money, even pros and cons? What are your partner's resources? What you offers to others (partners) ? Why others give you money? How you share money resources with your partner? Do you have limits or you should draw new limits, too? What are you hiding? Your shadow self face.

The sign, aspect and planets in your 8th houses can reveal of this info. In some chart, some themes are more prominent than others. Next time, reevaluate your 8th house closely, it will reveal a lot of you that's hidden.

In natal

Depending on the planet, this closet (your 8th house) can have a password, or even be blocked by a chair or a desk (another planet or more). The sign will try to be the digits/ words you use to decode the password, and you can try to guess it. No matter the planet, the impact of the house is monumental. It's hard to describe the confuse energy, especially because the 8th is extreme, all or nothing.

The native may use it for its benefit after knowing the painful side. Transformations are a journey and not so pretty or easy.

Someone with this placement knows that they are changing constantly, so they either take responsibility or blame others.

If they blame others, they will never advance truly from the turmoil. This lead to vengeance, resentment or anger issues as result self-destruction: addictions. Nonetheless, they should trust the process, but trust is not simple after many betrayals and letdowns, even from themselves. This native needs to learn that they can't control everything; you just need to learn the lesson and keep moving like the eagle and reborn like a Phoenix. The biggest recommendation for every person with a 8th placement is let your pain talk. What are you shutting down your emotions? What are you afraid? It's time to be vulnerable. It's time love and accept that part that everyone hurts.

In synastry

This house is not only about hot sex or an enigmatic couple only. It's about remembering to open yourself and let the other do the same. Are you ready? Perhaps, nobody is ready for it. Sharing your inner fears to someone else,it is a difficult task.

The 8th house energy is scorpionic, have you seen Scorpions in love?? I don't think so. I think, the less dramatic representation of Scorpio is the eagle, yet they are usually alone or typically known for that, don't they?! To love someone with the 8th house energy means to learn that you cannot control them, and still love them. The obsessive energy of this house makes things steamy and creates mysterious, even an addictive effect. Being addicted is not good, though.

In synastry, the challenge for the 8th person is acknowledge how their partner is a person, not a possession. Change should come without other's imposition. Each person has their own demons and fears. For this reason, this house synastry can be difficult. Obssesion over someone is not love. If the individual' love perspective is rooted in pain; they will add more pain to others, stinking their venom like a true Scorpion. Love in the 8th should be transformative not destructive, where both are fine with changing and emerging together.

Overall, this house is not easy. if you have any planet or a stellium in the 8th house, I understand your confusion and anger. People ignore how hard is to be transforming yourself constantly. Because these changes are constant, Scorpio energy is always renewing itself. Any placement with Scorpionic energy proves it. You aren't the same person you were yesterday.

This is a reminder to take things slowly, bb, you are doing well. Take care, mochis.

©️ deepmochi, 2022

[bercintalewatkata]

‧₊˚✧ Surrender ✧˚₊‧

We've all heard that old saying, "It's easier said than done." And it's so true! Everything in life really is. But remember, just because something is challenging doesn't mean we shouldn't speak our truths. 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

We live in a world that's always buzzing with noise and distractions, which can make it really easy to lose sight of the present moment. It takes a little practice and patience to train our minds to anchor ourselves in the present moment. It can be tough to accept what is, rather than what we wish it to be. It's a journey that can feel like an uphill battle at times. It can take a really long time to get used to reality and to let go of the resistance that can feel so strong in our hearts. ‹𝟹

🌸But I want you to know, it's okay. It's more than okay. It's totally normal to need time, to move at a pace that feels right for you. If that means taking it slow like a snail or a tortoise, that's okay!🌸

When you're going through a tough time and dealing with loss, it can feel like the days are dragging on forever, with each moment feeling heavy and sad. Maybe someone who used to be really important to you has left, and you feel like you can't go on without them. It's so important to recognize that the urge to fill that space or bring them back will come rushing in. Guess what? You don't have to fight it. There's no need to rush to fill that emptiness. Take your time and just sit with it, okay? Let yourself feel the pain, heartache, and sorrow.𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Please, take all the time you need to grieve. If you need to, please stay in bed. Let those tears flow. Each wave of emotion is just part of life's journey. It's all part of the process of surrender. When we surrender, we don't lose our strength. We find it! As we surrender, we find the courage to look at our situations with fresh eyes. With this new perspective, we begin to make choices that guide us forward. In your moments of surrender, you'll find the love you've been seeking outside of yourself—right there within you! Remember, healing begins with a choice. We can choose to numb our pain with distractions, or we can choose the sometimes difficult but ultimately fulfilling path of healing. I know it can be tough, but we've got this! ‹𝟹 ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

[scopebite]

Manny...

the hardest part is that the more I think about Boone the more he both makes me miserable and pisses me off wait hold on don't whine in Boone's defense to me because I'm already irritable plus whatever it is... consider the possibility that I've already considered it !! inside and out !! over and over and over and over !! at every angle and overly in Boone's defense too many times so reel it back on track here and wait I also know it's the writing and how it's limited for game space so whatever let me be mad at Boone('s writing 🙄) thanks anyway

and right now I'm thinking about how especially in relation to Manny... he's a shit friend to Manny and they're stuck like that in game since there's no interacting with eachother and even then like fucking step outside of Boone's perspective for a minute here with me

Manny would be so sorry horrified even if he knew any of the truth because what happened was a rotten terrible sick thing nobody wishes slavery or death on the family of their best friend regardless of anything at all

and then he'd probably feel so weird about Boone considering the weight of everything like that's so much to process and it all loops back into other parts

you didn't know your best friend killed his wife and might have almost blamed or at least suspected you for what happened just because you seemed happy she was gone while you had no idea what actually happened to her and you just thought she got sick of being with him in a town she's miserable in and left even others were sure she just left nobody else (yeah except No Bark) saw any signs of kidnapping so of course you didn't like her you thought she ditched your best friend and was hard to get along with because your ordeals* clashed with hers** whatever but you wouldn't betray your best friend you wouldn't sell a pregnant woman to to fucking legionaries and yet your closest best only friend thinks you could have done that !! your only friend !! and even after he finds out who really did it he still avoids you doesn't even tell you he's leaving with a total rando and by the way that tribe you joined as a kid with your cousins? yeah your best closest only friend killed a bunch of them even the children the sick the elderly civilians amongst them that's what nobody would talk to you about but reeling back around that friend your best closest only friend thought you could have something to do with his pregnant wife being sold into slavery to legionaries your best friend thought you'd traffick his wife your closest friend thinks of you that way your only friend sees you as a potential slaver and because why what you were according to ncr propaganda a mindless heartless raider and even to your only friend subconsciously is that it? it couldn't be that right? either way you're alone in that dinosaur alone in the world

and maybe that's why they shouldn't talk or maybe that's even moreso why they need to

Boone is both grieving and should be sorry. All Manny did "wrong" was make the mistake of reacting according to how he perceived a situation without knowing everything. Boone knew more and jumped to worse conclusions with it.

* ** I don't feel like pulling up the references but both autistic Carla and classist anti-khan Carla (booooooooo tomatoes) can be true at once and consider the classic ordeal of one person’s autism (or other neurodivergences) clashing with another's that shit happens all the time it could happen with Manny and Carla too that's right Manny too now