#of the few things ill leave to do until after i get the full game lol

[zwei-rhunen]

-crawling thru the Thanalan deserts like a parched creature -

I've finally done it.. I've finished Hildibrand 2.0 (and leveled MCH to 50) ....

Now I can work on the rest of Heavensward (and try out BLU) 😋

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about how canon it is that Logan's cptsd and truama is so bad that his brain quite literally just DIPS sometimes like in days of future past when he blinks out and Charles is the one who calms him down.

How he grabs charles up and growls at him that he dosn't know who he is, where he is, or how he got here. He sees one of his best friends in the future and screams "What the fuck is that!?"

Charles and Hank just look at him like bruh weve been over this already. He says "Ill handle this," while looking at Logan when talking to Hank, then tells Hank to go stop Erik.

Logan recognizes this as Charles having authority over this big blue beast of a man, somewhat submitting to his word, litsening that he is infact 'Logan' and that he's spent the last couple of days with them (establishing that they are friends not foe) and then- in the most pathetic way ever- Lies to him. Tells him he's on "really bad acid"

Logan is still very spooked but just gives a little nod.

This is the quickest I've seen ANYONE gain his trust when in states like this other than Jean and Kurt, who was stupid enough to bear hug the feral woods man charging at him with his claws out.

Kurt is one of the few people without telepathy (even though Charles sacrificed his for his legs) who can get to Logan very quickly with minimal damage.

And I feel like... Wade might be just as stupid. He's so stupid that Logan would growl at him, shove a fist full of knives right through him, and Wade would just stand there like "ouch. Anyway- what's got you all riled up, peanut?"

So he'd do it again. And again. Annndd again.

When he finally does think Wade is dead, he just gasps and sits back up. "Look if this is about what I did with your toothbrush-"

Logan could decapitate him, and still he would just chase after his head like, "Aaw not cool man, do you know how much it hurts to put this thing back on? 3 days of neck pain, that's what."

It would both freak logan out and confuse him enough to become grounded, that shock factor of "what the fuck just happened???" enough to regulate his heart.

Logan would stare at him, baffled, watching as he sits there and tries to reattach his head. He'd look at his bloody claws, look at the mess on the floor, blink a few times, and honestly might start batting at his head with pure curiousity.

"Oh my god, you're such a cat."

How was he talking still? Maybe he was sleeping. Yeah, that's it. He was dreaming. This was a dream.

The only real issue he would have is keeping Logan inside the apartment until he calmed enough to realize that this wasn't a dream- this is real- you just decapitated your room mate.

Because god knows that once you set a feral wolverine free? You won't find him again until he wants to be found, which can be weeks, months, years even.

He needs that soft authority. The type that's built on mutual trust and respect. The type where he has the ability to leave and return at his own will. The moment you try to pin him down, tell him that you have higher authority due to some made-up rank, that's when you lose him. Logan subconsiously has an animalistic based sense of authority and hierarchy.

Charles had "control" over this blue beasty creature, and to Logan, that means he's head hancho in that moment. It makes Logan recognize that there's a reason, too, seeing as Beast could easily destroy such a scrawny pathethic looking man, right? It's only natural for his systems to lay out like this. Having constantly battled for "dominance" with Victor also plays a part.

Despite being in the military for so long, hearing someone is captain does not add up in his head unless they deserve to be captain through strength or size. It's why while Wade (who technically is stronger than him) dosn't show agression to "prove" his status, Logan realizes that his claws being usless plays a big part.

It's like when you go to fight a battle in a video game only to realize that your fire powers do absolutely no damage on the fire based enemy, if anything, fueling it by giving it more fire.

A "aw shit sorry fam my bad" type of submission such as wolves do. While usually related, juvenile males will still try to prove dominance with the top male only for the top male to quickly remind them why they are boss in which case the juvenile wolf will be like "Damn sorry- My bad original gangster I was just being silly"

Logan also needs a reason to stay. Charles telling him that logan has stayed with them makes Logan believe he should stay with him longer.

He needs that beacon. And right now?

That talking head that he's pushing around on the floor is pretty entertaining.

"...how are you talking?"

"Oof look wolvie I love you're embrassing your true self but let's not open that can of worms The comics are contradicting, and by rights, I shouldn't be able to control my limbs anymore, but I can. Now- be a big, strong kitty cat and give me back to that handsome man over there, will ya?"

His body is just casually sitting there with his arms out, wanting his head back.

".... i'm so fucking high."

"I wish. If you were high on catnip you wouldn't have sliced me to bits."

"Heh... you're funny."

"Aawww!! Really?"

".... what happens if I punt your head out the window?"

"Woah woaH WOAH PEANUT LETS NOT GO THAT FAR! SAFEWORD!! I NEED THE SAFEWORD!"

But alas. He fogot the safeword.

This has been your PSA that safewords are important. Be safe, kiddos.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! Episode 4 observations

8.5/10 ☆

When will Army cancel Jimin and Jungkook? When will ot7 jikookers and vminers and vminkookers make call out posts for them? Jimin and Jungkook should express that all encompassing love for the entire members of their group all the time. Pointing out throughout the entire first day that Tedros is their guest or that they he should leave if he doesn't like it, that he's looking for attention or that AYS is their show, not for other people, was giving mean girls behavior. How is that nice? They love their guest but they're shading him. I think we should totally cancel Jikook!

But how the tables have turned once the kid that tagged along went to bed and the adults could play. Oh, we were back to Connecticut vibes once again. Which are basically the usual jikook vibes in where every little game needs to have a hint of flirtation (I wonder what Jimin would have done if Jungkook wouldn't have warned him about the glass part in the pool? Jimin was in slytherin mode the minute he took off his clothes).

From enganging in intricate rituals to touch each other (as always) to go through a long negotation over eating ramyeon or not (what's ppeuriri got to do with everything? I love their inside jokes and hate them at the same time. Let me in!!!! I was waiting for the bj brothers and when they deliver even some innuendos, it riles me up).

I'm not a BL fan of regular watcher, but this looks like the beginning of one of those steamy scenes where they show them fuck on some balcony or in the pool. Just sayin'.

Say yes and eat the damn ramyeon, Jungkook!

I like Jikook's nighttime routines. Although so far they have been quite tame, no drinking or other shenanigans. They do teeth brushing yoga or they cuddle up and talk about work and their schedules before bed. And there's no bed without Jimin's legs all over Jungkook (I'm sure he must be dreaming of those thighs at this point).

Can it get more domestic than Jungkook talking to his mother and her already knowing about their schedule?

I have a feeling she and Jimin text each other regularly. Oh, if only they had filmed just a bit during their Chuseok weekend in Busan (I do assume Jimin went too, but 🤷‍♀️). I need to see Jimin with Jungkook's mother. She would dot on him and Jimin would be so respectful but shy and oh, I get all giddy just thinking about him. Busan boys, please visit your home town one day and share that with the world!

I refuse to accept the existence of Jimkook, sounds ugly, forced, it doesn't roll off the tongue. But Jikook? Yeah, that works. And they were in full jikook mode on the boat. That embarrassing CPR manouver by Jimin is yet another sign that they will remain that cringe couple. How did Tedros survive on that boat? No wonder he took a step back from all that up until the end.

The entire afternoon on the boat really gave us a glimpse into their original plans and how once again, they just click. They never push it, they want to do the same things and they have fun. And we still got the cuddle and drawing whales out of clouds without that moment turning into something else.

When Jimin is in top shape, without any other illness looming over their vacation, then we know we're in for some entertainment. He's much more engaging and laughs at everything while Jungkook is right there next to him, ready to joint whatever Jimin wants to do.

(Who would have thought that Tedros headbanging the first day would make him take a step back and allow them to do their own thing how they originally planned? I have lots to say about him, but for another post, there's too many nice things that happened and I focus on that at first)

And now, a few more highlights:

What is this? Cutie Jiminie who can also get angry while stuffing his face with rice and noodles and chicken all at the same time? You are what you eat. Or whom 🤭

Jungkook has always been an expert at such lines, how can Jimin still be surprised after a decade? That's what you get. You have the tattoed guy who's really into bikes and Jimin who is clearly into all that, but he's gotta take the lame lines too.

[pomefioredove]

please, PLEASE write a rollo x reader fic where rollo wakes up from a nightmare about his brother and where there to comfort him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

let it be known that the only reason I started playing this game was because they added frollo. rollo is like a cryptid in the HoND fandom

summary: nightmares and comfort type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, established relationship?, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread, rollo vaguely implied to have ptsd because I do and am a scholar in trauma nightmares ^-^

There's a certain point at which bad dreams and reality melt together.

Where the line blurs, and you can't be sure where the nightmare ends and you begin. They so often feel one in the same.

Rollo is familiar with bad dreams.

At one point, he thought there would be a solution. Something to hold them back, to release him from their sticky grasp. He journaled, for a while, but all that brought him was grief.

It happens like clockwork.

Four or five nightmares in one rest, for one to two weeks, at the same time every year. He keeps track of them. How could he not?

They culminate on a certain day, one he dreads in and of itself, and then slowly, painfully die off, leaving him wounded and alone.

It's dreadful.

And it's worse that he knows exactly why they happen.

You had once asked him what keeps him up at night, as a sort of conversation starter when you were first getting to know each other. What a strange question to ask someone, and in such a light-hearted tone.

He told you he sees no use for excess sleep when he can be diligent, instead.

Sloth is a vice, he said. Detestable.

You seemed to accept that as an answer, much to his relief. The truth was far too ugly for someone as pure as you to shoulder. He was only protecting your feelings, after all. And perhaps his.

Rollo hoped, for your sake, that you wouldn't notice. He was still getting used to the idea of sleeping beside another person, and the very last thing he wanted was to burden you with all of what he is.

To put it plainly, he didn't want to scare you off.

The first few nights were easy enough. Nasty imagery wrapped up in otherwise normal dreams, those of which could hardly be considered nightmares.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, and toss and turn until he could manage to fall back asleep, never stirring you.

This time is different.

He wakes, not quite jolting, but certainly thrashing himself back into the present moment like an animal caught in a trap.

His eyes snap open, and there's nothing but darkness, his breathing, and the uneasy feeling of his stomach. It takes a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings.

You're still asleep. Thankfully.

He liked to keep some distance between the two of you, anyway. Rollo had to ease himself into the idea of being physically close with someone without being utterly repulsed.

The only reason he'd entertained the idea in the first place was because it's you, you, pure and good, who would never do anything to discomfort him, you, who even now, sleeps like an angel in his bed.

There's something unclean about that thought, although it's not your doing.

Rollo gets up, careful not to disturb you, and paces around the room while he tries to get ahold of reality. He reminds himself of the date, the time, his full name, anything that will shake the lingering terror coursing through is body.

He does not cry. He hasn't since...

Well. Never mind, that.

Now is not the time to make a fuss. He's not a child, he's not fragile, he can handle his own nightmares without needing someone to tuck him back in.

The dream was so terrifyingly, disgustingly real, though.

The nightmares which aren't nightmares are the worst sorts of dreams, because he instantly feels silly for scaring himself over something so mundane, even if that looming sense of dread and fear still makes him feel ill.

This one was but a normal conversation, with...

...He didn't want to remember it.

The point was more so that it felt so utterly real that waking up like this, having it fall apart around him like the rotting pages of an old book, was like having his head dunked in freezing cold water repeatedly.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He paces, back and forth, in front of the now-dead fireplace, trying to regain his bearings.

He's quiet; he so often is; and yet, still, roused either by the sound of his footsteps or the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the air, you wake.

The sound of your voice nearly scares him.

Rollo turns to you, eyes wide as you sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. "What?"

"I asked if you're okay," you repeat, turning to the space beside you to check the time. "It's two in the morning."

His answer is immediate, as calm as he can muster, although there's a faint crack in his voice on the last word. "I'm well. I was just thinking,"

"Thinking? Now?"

He nods, and turns back to the mantle. His arms are crossed over his chest, acting as a sort of armor, protecting him.

You tilt your head to the side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He hates how perceptive you can be, sometimes. It takes him a moment to think of a suitable answer- is it worth telling you the truth?

"I have bad dreams all the time," you say. "Like... all the time. Weird ones, too. It's nothing to be embarrassed a-"

"I am not embarrassed," he snaps, whirling around on his heels to face you. His tone softens when he sees the perplexed expression on your face. "I was just trying to tire myself before returning to bed. I didn't want to disturb you."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't have minded if you did. I understand... do you want to talk about it?"

He's silent, looking away again, which is enough of an answer to you.

"Then will you at least come back to bed?"

Rollo supposes he should. He doesn't want to risk worrying you any further. That would only stir up more questions.

He settles himself in bed, lying flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, more cadaver than human. You always found that position so amusing, for whatever reason, and even now you can't contain a laugh.

"Are you cold? You're shaking,"

Damn it. He is. He hadn't even noticed... and though his tremors aren't from the temperature, he agrees with you anyway.

"Yes. It's rather cold tonight,"

You hum a small note of contemplation and inch closer to him. "May I?"

Rollo's face immediately turns red, although he can't help but indulge himself... just this once. For your sake, anyway.

He nods.

You come closer, resting your head on his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist in the most comfortable position you can manage while he's lying like this.

Your body is warm, soft, comforting... all things that would normally repulse him, but it's you...

He pats the back of your hand with one of his in a reassuring, though awkward gesture. As much as he expected to feel his heart pounding even harder at your closeness, there's something quite... safe about the embrace. He can't deny it.

"Good night," you murmur, already half-asleep.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax... just the tiniest bit.

"Good night,"

[equallyshaw]

not about angels | mat barzal

word count: 3.0k

warnings: talks of cancer and death.

It would be lovely if the format didn’t change after every save omg

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

We know full well there's just time So is it wrong to dance this line? If your heart was full of love Could you give it up?

◦

we only have so long in this life, until our journey is meant to end. only so much time to spend with loved ones and create memories that can last a lifetime. only so much time until things can change, much to our dismay.

when mat got the call, it was as if the whole world stopped. he was in the process of getting ready for a home game and maggie was incessant in trying to get ahold of him. well, her mom was.

"hey, im in the middle of-" and mat was cut off by sobbing - scratch that, screeching. his heart fell to his stomach, as maggie's mom explained that he needed to get home.

"i can't come home right now-" again, he was cut off. "mat - mat, maggie has cancer. she just got the news hun." maggie's mom explained, her voice faltering in and out.

mat dropped the tape and stick, and stared at the ground. he couldn't move, he couldn't speak and felt as if his world was frozen. "mat?" she questioned as tears began to form in his brown eyes, and then he looked down and let out a small whimper. this was not how maggie had planned for him to find out, but she wanted him home. anders lee looked over a few stalls and saw mat begin to cry, and quickly looked around and saw a few other guys begin to look up. "tell her- tell her im coming home- now." he said before hanging up. he wiped his eyes, sniffling, and standing up.

"mat." anders said standing up and trying to assess the situation, and mat couldn't look at anybody in the eye "i - i have to go find coach, let him know i - i have to go home." he said before walking out. he found coach pretty quickly and as soon as he said told the news to him, he broke down. him and management would do what they needed to do to give him some time off, so they could process it together as a couple. mat thanked them before quickly going and changing to head out. "mat, is everything okay?" matt martin questioned as he sat back down next to him. mat shook his head, continuing to get changed. before mat was about to leave matt spoke up, "if you need anything from us just let us know ok?" matt said and mat thanked him before walking out. he sat in the car for a few moments before heading home.

mat made it home in about 35 minutes, quickly heading inside, and was met with sobbing. he followed it to the living room to see maggie in her mom's arms trying to comfort her daughter. "mags?" he asked setting his keys down on the coffee table in front of them and maggie's sobs ceased. she turned around slowly, her cheeks stained with tears and crimson red. her mom got off the couch and said she was going to call maggies dad, and mat took over. "mat-" she sobbed and mat nodded, "i know." he repeated over and over again softly. his heart broke as he listened to her sobs and the way her body crumbled in his arms. he rubbed her back, his body slowly relaxing as her sobs grew softer and softer until she wasn't crying. "i didn't want to tell you that way, im so sorry mat." she said looking up from his chest and his eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "don't apologize for one second. you needed me and wanted me home, you know ill come running always mags." he said softly kissing her temple. she nodded, "doctor says i don't have very long.." she said feeling herself beginning to cry again. "he says its too far along for chemo." she said before her body began to shake, and mat pulled her in tighter. in fear of losing her for just one second.

this was the absolute love of his life, he knew the second he saw her from across the bar. newly 21, she decided to head to a bar that her and her friends had never been to in manhattan, and that was where she first sat mat. just like any other girl, she was a goner. there conversation in that bar, lasted for a few hours before heading back to her place to continue that said conversation. they couldn't get enough of one another, mat even stayed in the off season for pretty much the full thing just so they wouldn't be apart. only going home, when she was able to get a week off.

how could he be losing the one thing that mattered most in this universe? the one person he only saw himself having kids with? the one who goes above and beyond for any and all events while maintaining a full time job as a paralegal? the one person that no matter what could put a smile on his face, and garner a chuckle from even after the most brutal of brutal losses. how could he lose the one that he believed was created for him and vice versa? who's hand fit in his or the way their arms felt like home to one another? how could he give up that for a life of unknowns and one where he goes back to the drawing board?

◦

'Cause what about, what about angels? They will come, they will go, make us special, oh

◦

maggie was his angel, and he was her's they always liked to say. heck, they were even named that on their phone's. he knew that he had met maggie and created a life with her, for a reason. there was something deeper and more meaningful in knowing her and loving her than mat could ever decipher. those three months of holding on only to let his angel go, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, and hoped that it would be the only hardest thing he'd have to endure. he watched as her body gave up on itself, and the smile that usually was plastered on her pale skin- gone. wiped clean and stripped. he watched as she lost her hair, and her sense of confidence was swept away. the love for life slowly crumbled for the frail girl. her sense of days and time blurred together, resulting in anger, grief, and confusion for her. mat always there to pick her up, help her gain a sense of reality and come back to the present. and then for her to enter hospice for only a few days, spawning in one last sleep together. one last goodnight kiss for his fiance.

he would go back in time to redo the last two years. he would give up anything in this lifetime to have more time with her. he would do anything to hold her close once more.

◦

Don't give me up

◦

maggie made mat promise that he would move on with life, he would move on with hockey and move on and find somebody else in this lifetime. she begged and pleaded, to not walk through life alone. that he was far too young and had way too many years left to be alone. mat couldn't get her to understand that he would never want anybody else. that there would be no other woman that he'd fall in love with. he also would not allow himself, in respect to her. maggie said that he could fall in love again, and that it would be ok. that he could still live his life and hold her in his heart forever, all while creating a life with somebody else. somebody else should be so ever lucky to know him and love him, and gain his love in return.

"matty.." maggie whispered, one cold winter night. mat's sleep schedule non existant since taking a leave of absence from the team. his sleep being short and light, with every move or sound maggie made. he quickly opened his eyes, looking down at her as she turned around in his arms. her soft green hazel eyes, puffy and encircled by bags. "whats wrong? do you need anything?" he questioned beginning to shift but she shook her head. "i just-i cant sleep." she murmured, biting her chapped lip. "what are you thinking about?" he questioned softly, pushing the few strands she had left. she clasped her eyes shut in embarrassment and guilt that was coursing through her veins at this point. "im sorry." she hummed, as she let a few tears fall. "what are you sorry for?" he questioned, wiping them gently. "im sorry for everything....im sorry that this happened...you don't deserve this at all. you shouldn't have to watch me falling apart like this. you-you deserve to be playing and developing your career, not be here with me." she said and mat shook his head. he couldn't think of any reason why she was thinking this, or any reason why she thought it to be true. but he knew why. "no. no. please don't say that mags. there is no way under any circumstance that i would not be here. no reason. i would -" he paused knowing that the next few words needed to send the message. "i would kill myself if i couldn't be here. i wouldn't be able to live withmyself and go on with my day to day or life for that matter if i wasn't here, because you'd be my every thought and concern." he paused as she looked up to meet his eye. "i vowed two months ago that i would be here through everything and i meant that. don't give me up maggie, because ill be here no matter what. ill be stubborn as hell if you banish me, you best believe." he said a bit cheekily at the end. she swallowed hard, her throat dry like the arizona desert at this time of the night.

she brought a soft hand to his cheek, and he closed his eyes savoring the feeling and the cold that oozed from her. when he reopened his eyes, he saw the tears that were still in her eyes. "whoever is lucky to find you in this lifetime, is one incredibly lucky girl." she hummed and he felt his heart break even more.

◦

How unfair, it's just our luck Found something real that's out of touch But if you'd searched the whole wide world Would you dare to let it go?

◦

maggie was adored by each and every person that came across her. her midwestern people pleasing and kindness made her somebody that people flocked to. that was partially why he was enamored the moment he left her apartment after the two spent 6 hours talking.

his grieving was stemmed in anger and frustration, that somebody so sweet and loving and a pearl in this world, could be taken away so quickly. her dreams and wildest ideas that would never come to fruition. mat would go to the ends of the earth just to be with her again. he'd never let go, in another lifetime. in another lifetime they were married and had kids and had the life they dreamed of; together.

◦

'Cause what about, what about angels? They will come, they will go, make us special, oh

◦

trigger warning: death.

mat and maggie lay in each others arms, as the nurse had just left for the evening. maggie had some inkling that tonight would be her last, as maggie had just entered hospice in their home a few days prior. her days had been filmed with a nurse coming in the morning to administer morning meds, they'd leave and come back in the afternoon for more meds and then come back in the evening to take vitals and more meds.

mat basked in these quiet moments when she wasn't vomiting or shaking with chills from the side effects that the meds gave her. he'd been able to savor and cherish these small moments when maggie's true self came through. he savored her little giggles, rambles, and her humor come through before she'd fall asleep.

maggie looked up at mat and smiled. "what?" he said grinning, her smile sending butterflies from head to toe. "i was just thinking..." she paused frowning slightly now, "i hope that-that in every other universe or lifetime, we got one another. perhaps in those ones...we got more time together." she said beginning to cry. mat pulled her in closer, joining in now. he sobbed into her neck as she cried into his chest. "every single one, mags. every one." he whispered loud enough for her to hear and that made her sob even more.

mat knew as soon as she fell asleep, she would not wake again. he didn't sleep one second that evening, watching as her chest rose and fell. fearing that if he did, she would slip from this world. it was around 5:34 when the sun was beginning to rise, he saw her chest fall for the last time before the machine went off. he pulled her in as tears fell, not wanting to let go for the final time. her parents ran in at the sound, her mom going to shut the machine off whilst her dad called 911. his parents came in and quickly went to console maggies parents before all of them took their final moments with her, with mat not wanting to let go.

◦

"she was the love of my life, since the moment i saw her. the very first word out of her mouth, i knew she'd be mine. we were destined for each other, and liked to say we were made for one another. she was my angel and i her's." mat paused, sniffling. "magdalene harper, was an angel to everybody that came across her. no one had anything bad to say about her, always going above and beyond; all with her incredible midwestern accent that i absolutely adored." he said pausing to smile. "she was always there to put a smile on my face, to make me crack even after a brutal loss, always ready to tickle if i didn't budge. gosh...she always knew how to make me gain perspective and understanding. always coming in with an angle on life, that i would have never thought of without her." he paused, wiping his eye. "that's what i loved most..was her keen ability to make sense of life and what it had given her, us, me. you name it, she always knew how to take the bad and make it into the good. i believe that the universe placed her in my life for a reason, one that i may never understand or figure out. and ill never understand why she was taken from us far too early, but i know deep down she was here for a reason. she was one of those persons in life, that you wanted to know. she left you with something each and every time you conversed or shared a moment with her." he paused to sniffle once more. he bit his lip, wiping a few tears. "before my grandmother passed on my dad's side, about 4 years ago now she had said something about maggie." he paused to smile, "my grandmother said, people will come in and out of your life, for whatever reason but only some will leave you with something to hold dearly for the rest of your life. and in the next moment, she said that i had to marry this one, that i cannot let this one go. i told her not a beat later, i had the ring. that i had had it for a few weeks at that point. that i was just waiting for the right time, and my grandmother said she felt at peace knowing that i had somebody in my life at such a young age to go through life with. she felt better knowing that i'd be loved for the rest of time, by an angel." he paused briefly before his final sentences. "she loved selflessly. she loved me without hesitation, she loved everybody selflessly even on the hard days, even when she was frustrated with the world, even when i was in a rut, she'd be there with that smile on her face that gave me butterflies from head to toe. that was the hardest thing I've had to grapple with and work through is that how could somebody that loved me and so many others, leave so soon? im afraid me nor anybody in this room will ever know that answer. but like my grandmother said, "people will come in and out of your life, for whatever reason but only some will leave you with something to hold dearly for the rest of your life". though i may not have gotten the lifetime that we vowed to one another, and one that we yearned for; i will forever hold the time, memories, and the love that we had for one another; forever." he finished, leaning away from the stand just a bit silently crying for a few seconds before wiping them away. everybody that was there, watched with sadness and despair.

mat did not deserve this. maggie did not deserve the pain that she went through. none of their inner circle deserved it either.

◦

mat went to bed most nights, in hopes of seeing maggie in his dreams. and for a long while she was there, but as time went on, his dreams turned and changed as the years went by. though, every once in a while if he saw something or heard something that reminded him of maggie, she'd plague his dreams like never before. and when he'd wake, he'd smile as his heart was a little heavy but smile because in his dreams, she was pain free and exactly who she was before cancer.

and he would always remind himself that at some point, they'd be together again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Hope you enjoyed, please like and reblog if you did (:

tags: @cuttergauthier @hockeyboysarehot @nicohischierz @fallinallincurls @bitchinbarzal @jayda12

[doomzday-zone]

waitrr sorry kind of william ask I guess but I need to know more about also vanessa and the scary nightmare bunker What r they doing🙏🙏🙏

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE 😈 *rubs my little paws together evilly*

this specific bit takes insp from a few places but the main one being Amnesia: The Bunker, for the obviously reasons(bunker) but also !!!!! THERES A GIANT PREDATORY RABBIT THERE HUNTING THEM BOTH💖💖💖💖 ill get to what this and other shit means from a thematic n whatever standpoint later but just know its awesome and immm insane<33

also side note i say bunker but its not even The scary bunker its more like a basement/cellar-ish thing connected to a shed he has somewhere in the woods. nawt to be confused w the actual Evil Bunker dw abt it 😁

ANYWAYS, initially william takes vanessa there to, dispose of her so to speak slash keep her there until he can find a good use for her or until he decides to straight up kill her. heart<3 smth smth vanessa ended up seeing smth she wasnt supposed to LOL(you can imagine) anyways while hes throwing her down there one thing leads to another and they both end up getting trapped in there, at the beginning theres this like slow creeping dread when they both notice smth is not.... right..... here. like the place is WAYYY larger than its supposed to be and theres strange holes in the walls n shit (😳) which eventually turns into full on monster horror once they realize theyre both being Hunted 😈 and theyre in what is basically a maze of rabbit tunnels and burrows, HERE IS WHERE THE INTO THE PIT AND IN THE FLESH INSPS COME INNNNN<333333 obv the maze is a kinda reference to the game in the in the flesh story, and the time loop/warping is a reference to both in the flesh and in the pit<33 speaking of which is a really important element, neither of them can die Down There and yes they both die at least once and not just at the dreaded claws of The Rabbit😏 once they both die tho the loop officially 'resets' and they end up in the middle of the burrow again, their main goal is to obv get Out lol. the ending of which is kinda sad and takes insp from fazbears frights in general w a classic cliffhanger conclusion, they eventually find the exit but william isnt just gonna let vanessa leave even after all that ..... he closes and locks the door w vanessa still down there</3 the last scene being her crying and sobbing for him to let her out as faint sounds of scratching and growling is heard from behind.............

OKAYYYYY HEEHEE now onto the MEANINGS and THEMES<3333333 The Bunker and Rabbit kind of represent the same things as The Rabbit and The Pit do in into a pit, its a representation of all of wills sins n shit festering and creating smth monstrous. that darkness only growing and further rooting itself further into william and others around him, being shown here in the form of a huge predatory rabbit digging maze-like tunnels seemingly endlessly. all this eventually coming back to (literally) bite William in the ass lmao, and vanessa...... ouuuuuu vanessa😫 williams obv in here as a form of punishment (even if he does eventually get off scott free AS USUAL smh) but so is vanessa in a way</3 she didnt physically KILL anyone but like he does with michael(albeit in a different way) he forces 'the gloves' so to speak onto them (think about in sister loctaion how the animatronics think mike is william, onv in universe theyd probably look fairly similar but thematically speaking... you know</3 the fct ues down there because his dad told him too😭) so while vanessa didnt do anything herself her hands are bloodied by proxy...... :((((( SOBS /

anyways..... i thunk thats it yea. explodes**

Edit: OH ALSO . SMTH I DIDNT MENTION BEFORE BUT IS ALSO IMPORTANT IS THAT IT LIKE. THE ENVIRONMENT IS A MIX BETWEEN DIRT RABBIT TUNNELS N BURROWS AND FREDDYS THEMED HALLWAYS N ROOMS N SHIT <33 SO LIKE THEYLL BE IM A DURT TUNNEL AND END UP IN A FREDDYS ROOM N WHATEVER Y GET IT. GRINS 😁😁😁😁

and and im this case by 'forcing the gloves' onto vanessa i mean he . william literally forced her to help dispose of a Body 💔💔💔

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Meant to Happen - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: Mostly just fluff, brief mention of drug use, Santiago is kind of an asshole (sorry, Santi, I love you), mentions of mental illness, nothing too crazy on this one friends Word Count: 2k Prompt #68: A tender kiss on your lover's chest a/n: My schedule has been nothing short of pure insanity, and my brain is doing that thing tonight where I’m convinced I’m not good for anything, so here’s a Drabble I’ve had in edits for ages about Frankie feeling kind of the same way. Mostly it’s just exposition with a tiny bit of fluff but sometimes the brain writes what it wants to write.

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

It was never really meant to happen. 

Frankie had been Santi’s best friend since their days in special ops, but you’d been friends with him even longer. As kids, you and Santi had raced around the block on your bikes, and as teenagers he’d taken you to every dance with the very clear stipulation that you were not dating. Not that you thought you were; things had never been like that with him, and up until several months ago, they hadn’t been that way with Frankie either. 

When Santiago returned from service, a whole handful of new friends came along with him, and you fit into their little group with ease. You knew they’d seen some shit, every one of them, but it was Santiago’s behavior upon their return that was the hardest to ignore. It was clear that where Benny found his focus in the ring and Frankie found his in little white lines on the kitchen table, Santiago liked to drown out his demons by focusing all his energy on one particular task. 

Finding you a date. 

It was all in good fun, although you’d punched him more than a few times after he’d texted you about meeting up only to never show, leaving you alone with some sleazeball he’d met at the gym. He’d introduce you to every eligible single at parties like you were on an episode of the Bachelorette, and he’d purposefully make sure that there weren’t enough seats in the living room at game night whenever he brought someone new for you to meet. You always sat in Benny’s lap instead, just to spite him. 

He had your best interests at heart, you knew that, so it didn’t bother you too much when it became an ongoing joke, one that was only encouraged by Will and Benny, who were quick to point out that they were single too. Tom usually took your side, coming to your defense when you reminded them that you weren’t really looking for anything. And Frankie…well, Frankie was usually quiet. He’d watch from the sidelines as Santi went on about how you’d never want to date the likes of them anyway. 

But then they left. All five of them, heading to South America for a mission that they didn’t want to talk about. You knew Santi was behind it, and that the others weren’t keen on going, but it was apparent that everything changed while they were gone. 

You only knew what happened in general terms - hard not to when Tom didn’t come home - but no one would tell you the full story. Santiago ignored your texts, and then he left for months without telling you where he was headed. Will and Benny came around to check on you, kept up with weekly get-togethers, but deflected whenever you asked how they were doing. 

Frankie was the only one to confide in you. You weren’t quite sure how the conversation started, but you do remember the way he let you pull him into your arms and the way he cried against your chest. His nose had been tucked into your neck, tears wetting the collar of the old t-shirt you wore that night as he finally purged the emotion pent up inside him. 

Later, when you settled him in your bed, you held him as he slept the whole night through, for what you suspected was the first time in months. It was like a switch flipped, and while you’d spent years telling yourself that Santiago was right, that Frankie wasn’t your type, you had to admit that it was much harder to deny your feelings once he was laying in your arms. 

What followed was a hurricane of secrets and stolen moments. You suspected that Benny figured it out after a couple of weeks, when you’d chosen Frankie’s lap over his at game night. Santiago hadn’t been there, still off in God knows where, and you’d naturally gravitated toward the man you tiptoed on calling your boyfriend. But if he did notice, Benny said nothing. Neither did Will. 

Frankie had practically moved in within the span of a few weeks, and you relished in the little life you were building together. Mornings filled with blueberry pancakes and quick kisses on the way out the door. Afternoon rendezvous in the cab of his truck that left you both on the brink of quitting your jobs, just so you could stay a bit longer. Evenings spent together, lounging on the couch as you introduce each other to your favorite shows and movies. All leading to late nights that felt too easy, even amongst the horrors you both struggled to cope with.

His struck often, and you had your own too, things from your past that you shared with him in the comfortable darkness of night, blankets wrapped tightly around you both. And as one night turned into another, and then into weeks, followed by months, you wound yourself tighter around each other until you were nearly inseparable. 

And then Santiago returned. 

For all the guilt and shame that weighed on the shoulders of Will, Benny, and Frankie, you were certain that Santiago felt it all and then some, but he acted as though the past eight months hadn’t happened. But you knew him, and you knew that the dark circles under his eyes, overgrown hair, and half-hazardly trimmed beard were all signs that he was still struggling to deal with the loss of one of his best friends. The rest of your boys had each other, had you, but he’d been dealing with it all on his own.

And you just had to go and make everything that much harder.

It took Santi all of five minutes to figure out what was going on. You thought you’d been subtle with your stolen glances, waiting for the right time to tell him, but he’d picked up on the way you easily maneuvered around one another in the kitchen, as though you’d done it hundreds of times. And he’d been right - you had. 

You’d discussed on occasion how you thought Santiago would react, and while Frankie had been hesitant, you’d been steadfast in your opinion that your friend would be happy for you both. Happy that Frankie was showing you exactly what it means to be loved, and happy for him that you were quieting his nightmares - the ones that came in the dead of night and the ones that haunted his waking hours too.

But as it turns out, Frankie was right to be skeptical.

Whatever insecurities Santiago was facing, they came out disguised as warnings about Frankie. Mostly things you knew already, about his drug use and the loss of his pilot’s license, failed relationships and Frankie’s lack of a secure financial situation. For every rebuttal, he had another argument lined up, and at some point, you’d stepped in between him and Frankie, certain that even if he lashed out at his friend, he’d never take a swing at you. 

But that didn’t stop your knuckle from making film contact with his jaw the second he told you that Frankie would never amount to anything. Frankie was pulling you back immediately, arms secure around your waist as Will pulled Santiago outside and forced him into his truck to drive him home. Benny quietly made his way to the kitchen to clean up so you wouldn’t have to, and Frankie followed him after encouraging you to retreat to your bedroom.

You’re wearing a hole in the floor when Frankie joins you a few minutes later. Your hand hurts, but anger is still coursing through your veins, so you barely feel it. In fact, you’re barely paying attention as your boyfriend slips through the door, slowly closing it behind him.

“I can’t believe him,” you shout as you pace away from Frankie, your feet carrying you toward the bed and then back toward the door. “Some best friend he is if he can’t even be happy for us.” You continue your routine. “He’s one to talk, after all, disappearing from the face of the Earth, leaving us all here without a clue as to where he is, or if he’s even alive, only to come back and pretend that he knows what’s best for us.” 

When you turn back toward Frankie again, you realize that he’s still standing at the door, his forehead resting against the wood, and your anger is quickly replaced with concern. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask, the gentle whisper of your voice a stark contrast to just moments before. He flinches lightly when your hand runs up his back, and you instinctively pull away. “Frankie?” 

When he turns, you know he’s the furthest thing from okay. His eyes, which you now know to be so full of life and love, look cold and distant. He’s frowning, the creases in his skin more apparent than usual, and you itch to smooth them with your fingers. He reaches for you this time, and suddenly you’re in his arms, his body melting into your embrace. 

“I’m worried about him.” 

His voice seems small when he speaks, but you know that the depth of his emotion is anything but. Your brow furrows and you sigh, running a hand down his arm to tangle your fingers with his, pulling him toward the bed. Frankie follows without protest, allowing you to settle him between your legs so his body rests on top of yours, head tucked into your neck the same way it had been that first night. 

“He’s going to be okay,” you reassure him, although there’s a significant part of you that doubts your own words. He doesn’t respond, and you press kiss after kiss to his skin, whatever you can reach. When his tears start to dampen your shirt, his quiet sobs shaking his body, you only thank whatever gods might be out there that he trusts you enough to be this open. 

Time ticks by, the evidence of such reading on the clock next to the bed, but you pay it no mind. Your fingers have been locked in his hair for ages now, tangling in his curls and tugging in what you hope is a comforting motion. And it must be, because neither of you move until his breathing has evened out, the only remnants of his tears the occasional sniffle. 

“What if he’s right?” 

You barely hear his whisper, but anger flares in your chest nonetheless. You hate that Santiago did this. “He’s wrong,” you state firmly, hoping that he’ll believe you, even though you know he won’t. Not at first, at least. 

Frankie, predictably, shifts away, rolling off of you and to your side as he runs a hand over his face. “Everything Pope said is true, though.” 

Your body follows his, seeking out his warmth as you ease a leg over his thigh to tangle your limbs back together. 

“Like what? Tell me exactly what he said that’s true, because I don’t believe a word of it.” You accentuate your words by kissing away the remains of his fallen tears. 

It takes a bit for him to respond, but his thoughts are so loud you can nearly hear them. Still, you wait, and when he speaks his voice is quiet. “He said that this was never supposed to happen.” 

You know he’s referring to you, to whatever this between you might already be and what it might still become, and you make a mental note to kill Santiago later for putting doubt into Frankie’s mind. Doubt about himself, mostly, but also about you. 

You reassure him that you love him, because you do, and you’re pretty sure you always have. For every date that Santiago set you up on, for every new suitor he brought home, your happy ending had been there all long. And as you press a soft kiss to your lover’s chest, right above his heart, to prove to him that you’re here, you remind him of the one thing you’re more certain of than anything else. 

“That’s where he’s wrong. I think this was always supposed to happen.”

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

[ocie-vt]

Thoughts on ARCADEA / AWOL

Quite a while ago now I played the ARCADEA demo on stream with my good friend Purea Patel… I'm only writing this review(?) so much later because Ive just uploaded the VoD.

To get things started, ARCADEA Is an upcoming RPGmaker game in which you take control of Maisie, a mute girl on a quest to find her brother Jas. To do this, we must go through the world of Arcadia. It should be noted that Arcadia here does not refer to the Greek province, but instead refers to one of the interesting phenomena that can be found here: you see, In everyone's dreams lies an Arcade machine which represents their innermost psyche or something. It seems that we can go into these arcade machines for… reasons. Something to do with a cat? Here's the problem with writing a review of sorts from memory months after I've played something, A lot of the exactitudes of the game story have become hazy in my mind. For instance, I remember there was a talking cat who acted slightly sinisterly and seemed to be important somehow… The only other thing I remember about him is that we made him Australian for some reason. A lot of my recollection is like this, so from now on ill just mention the stuff that's stuck with me the most about the game.

Firstly, I must mention the art here, especially the character portraits. It's very good, I feel like all the main characters have very distinct designs, they're all vaguely colour coded in these nice lighter colours which both makes every character easy to tell apart which also giving them a nice sense of cohesion. It's all very cute, and this carries over to the level art, which also has pleasing pallets whilst keeping a good sense of variety between zones. Secondly, I must mention the minigames: they are of paramount importance in a game literally structured around arcade machines, and they most certainly do not disappoint. Even this demo has quite a few varied little gameplay segments, and it honestly does better in them than even some other extremely well produced or popular RPGmaker games like Pocket mirror, which relies a bit too heavily on variations of the chase sequence. Of course ARCADEA isn't exempt from having one or two chasers, close to the end there's a chase sequence against a paintbrush monster thing… but at least there is a mechanic there where you can leave bait for the monster to stall it a little. The other games are a bit more interesting though, for instance there is a puzzle in which you have to stand on a certain spot and then line up a piece of paper to reveal a symbol that tells you what direction to go next. It's a bit like that one forest sequence from Metal Gear, except in Metal Gear, the devs just left you to flounder until you got out. There's also one or two quick time button presses that I was very bad at… but it's also an interesting change of pace from other games I've played.

Last thing I'd want to mention here is that in one scene you are put in a greenhouse and told to draw one of a few plants highlighted in the room, except there was also a random set of vines highlighted that had nothing to do with this, and I was very disappointed when I couldn't try to select the random set of vines over all the pretty flowers to draw.

Anyway, all in all I had a very good time playing ARCADEA, and I'm excited for the full release. I would highly suggest that you play the game for yourself, you can download it here.

After we finished that demo on stream, me and Purea still had a fair amount of energy left, so we decided to look at the other game that the ARCADEA dev has worked on, A Wave Of Lights (AWOL). It's a cute little visual novel about a shut in girl meeting an alien girl and then, like, being gay for two hours. I've not much to say on the actual game itself since it's relatively short, It's just well written and the art is also cute. I will say that, uhh, I made some choices on the stream's end that might have impacted the drama of it a tad… When we played it we decided to voice one character each and whilst Purea gave a pretty neutrally toned voice to the main character, I heard that the other character was an alien and like… I can only decide the voice I went with as somewhere between Skeletor and a Dalek, because alien. It was really something going into the more dramatic or serious scenes with the characters opening up to each other and whatnot, where Purea was playing it 100% straight, and I was doing the silliest goddamed voice I have ever attempted.

to close this out, I should say that the Dev for Arcadia is named Aishin, and you can find them here on tumblr @arcadea-rpg.

Whilst Aishin was the artist for AWOL, it seems that the writer and lead dev listed was Tabby Wright, who you can find here.

AWOL itself can be downloaded from here, and finally you can find the VoD for my stream here.

[runawaymun]

this ask game is so cool! if this isn't too much, 1, 4, 20, and 23? and maybe 9 if you'd like? :>

1. Is there a favorite character or title you enjoy writing for the most?

Easily Elrond. He just comes so naturally to me and I find him so comforting to write. Nothing puts me in a better mood than writing some Elrond fanfic! I've also started poking at some Baizhu stuff when all my other projects are done for the day. He's from Genshin Impact and of course I imprinted on him because he's a very similar character to Elrond. Self-sacrificing healer who cares about literally everyone around him and spends his whole life trying to heal and protect others. Good dad Baizhu. <3 He's a bit more morally complicated and definitely has something sinister about him (unlike Elrond), but...mostly he's good. He can just go from pharmacist to harmacist in about 2 seconds flat, but honestly that's part of the appeal. Plus he's chronically ill, so...haha yeah. He comes very easily to me on the page and feels super natural.

4.  Where did you get your inspiration from?

I really don't know. Scenes and characters come full-formed in my head and won't leave me alone until I start chasing them around with a pen and paper just so I can feel some semblance of peace and sanity again. I often also get inspiration just by talking to my friends and going "wouldn't it be absolutely fucked up if...?" or, "wouldn't it be really cute if...?" or, "wouldn't it be so cool if...?" etc etc.

20. What’s one thing you want your readers to know about you?

Answered very longwindedly here :) thank you for asking!

23.   Most memorable review/comment on a fic?

Answered here, thank you!!

9.    Care to share a sneak peek of a WIP?

From And we are, an atom and a star:

“What does it feel like?” Elrond asks softly at last. At some point he had tucked his knees up to his chest in the chair, and now he cradles his coffee cup in his hands: a warm, grounding comfort.  There is curiosity swimming beneath the surface, Celebrimbor is happy to see. Elrond has not rejected the idea.  “It feels like…the first few glasses of a good wine,” he decides to say. “I feel happy, and relaxed, and very safe. You know how fast and loud my mind is,” this is said with a smile. Elrond has heard it firsthand many times. Celebrimbor goes on: “It’s like stepping into a quiet room to get away from a too-stimulating party. It’s a sense of focus. None of my cares and worries matter. I am at peace. There is a sense of…security, especially with you, for I can be entirely myself with no fear of what anyone else may think. Does that make sense?”  “I— I made you feel safe?”  “Yes, Elrond.” Celebrimbor reaches for his free hand again. “You did. You do. I felt very well taken care of during the game, and after it.”   A smile finally ghosts across Elrond’s mouth. It’s a relief to see it.

writing ask game

[ndrogyny]

@transfemswagbracket tagging you in a post about my oc mortis sofia fiorentino, they/them, nonbinary transfem

they're an oc for the 4v1 survival horror game identity v, a game with supernatural elements(this becomes relevant later), and their story is set in the early 20th century

having moved from italy to new york city at a young age in the wave of italian immigration, mortis realized shortly after that they didn't feel at home in their growing body. they went to their gay neighbors/uncle figures for advice, and they let them know that being trans was a thing, though in terms relevant to the time. they would identify as nonbinary in current times. and, luckily, their parents were accepting- after all, they're still their child no matter what. things seemed to be going well!

of course, this is an oc for identity v, and no character in that game has a pleasant backstory. only a few years after coming out, their father fell ill, and it was up to 16 year old mortis to get a job to help support their mom. so, they went out and landed a job as an exterminator, fumigating houses and becoming very efficient, even being touted as one of the best in the area. despite a tragic loss, things started to look up again, and they and their mom could continue living fairly comfortably. and in the 1920s, this was during an economic boom, so things were going great! until they were sent on a job up north that no one else wanted to take.

the job site was an old house, even by their standards, with poor ventilation, rusty hinges, the works. but the people living there wanted to have it fumigated so they could renovate. so, mortis and three other people took on the job, inspecting thearea and fumigating the house. unfortunately, a freak earthquake happened, and the way the bookshelves fell trapped mortis in the room they were tending to. banging on the window did nothing. the rusted joints wouldnt let them open it. the last thing they saw of the outside world was their coworkers running out, leaving them behind, even when looking back at the pounding on glass. the support beams fell on them, breaking their bones and their gas mask, which caused them to ultimately die from a combination of the fumes and the house collapsing on them.

but wait, remember when i said that there are supernatural elements? their soul was so full of rage and betrayal, that their ghost possessed their now dead body. they went on a search, hiding in the shadows of the night, to find these three and confront them about leaving them behind. in fact, a mysterious letter came to them, sending them to oletus manor, with the promise to get the confrontation and closure their soul needs to pass on, and also to give closure to their mother, who never saw them again... after all, they're very much a momma's kid, and they miss her dearly.

despite everything, they're a kind soul to most everyone, and just want the world to be happier. they pride themself on trying to be the best they can be, even if it doesn't always work. they can get extremely petty at their worst, but to get that side of them you'd have to piss them off in the first place. they're as gentle as possible, which is especially important when the same supernatural stuff that made them undead also made them 9'10"(300cm). they may beat themself up over a failure, but it doesn't last forever- that gives them motivation to get back and do things right. most of all, though, they're just sweet, doing nice things for people in general, but also just making little gifts for those they care about- even if they're not the best artist. but the love and care they put into things for those they care about is palpable.

why should you vote for mortis? well:

-they're a genuinely good person despite the trauma, heartbreak, and dying horribly

-they'd punch a bigot without hesitation

-theyre as open as possible in the 1920s which is an impressive feat

-theyve been through so much

-you can call them the "extermitheytor" bc they're an exterminator who uses they/them and the pun is too good to pass up

second image was drawn by my friend spookykinzie

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #47 (part one)

previously - Journal Entry #46 (part seven)

Victor

Hey, everyone.

So, it's been a while, and I'm not even sure where to start. Things have been... chaotic. I guess Yuri's been keeping you up to date, and I'm sure he's told you all about my accident and everything that's been happening since, so I won't go over that again. Living it once was enough, and I'm still having nightmares about it, so... yeah. I'm trying to keep my waking hours as free from it as I can.

I haven't felt like recording anything up to now. I mean, I obviously couldn't while I was in the hospital, but since I've been home again, I haven't had the mental stamina for it, or the physical stamina either, really. Being in pain is pretty exhausting, honestly. I think I probably already knew that from taking care of Yuri, but now I understand it from personal experience. I'm not used to feeling like crap and having hardly any energy, and it sucks.

I’m confident that my arms and rib are slowly getting better, and Mom says the bruises I had on my face and shoulder and down my side are totally gone, but I'm still having brutal headaches and I still can't see properly. Julian had to set up my phone for me so I could record this. If I'm not looking right into the camera, I'm sorry, and if I'm accidentally giving all of you like, a thousand-yard stare or something, I apologize for that too.

Sometimes I think my eyes are improving, but then I'll blink or I'll try to focus on something and it's just gone again. Mostly, everything's all blurry and indistinct, as if I'm looking through one of those frosted glass shower doors. It's frustrating because not only can I not play games on my Switch or text on my phone, I can't even do stuff that doesn't require major use of my hands and arms, like watching videos or practicing my reading or even picking out audio books by myself. I have to get help finding an audio book to listen to, or a movie. I basically have to listen to movies too, which is annoying.

When I'm not in too much pain, I get bored, and without being able to do anything to distract myself, all I can do is think. I don't like that. It's too scary and depressing, especially when I start worrying about whether my life really is going to get back to normal.

I realize it's only been a little over a week since my accident — this is Monday night and it happened a week ago Friday — so I shouldn't expect too much, too soon. The doctor did say it might take a few weeks or maybe up to a month for the worst of the symptoms to resolve, after all, and I might be dealing with some aftereffects for months. She said it was a grade 4 concussion, which is the most severe type because I was unconscious for more than a full minute, and she said I've got mild swelling of the brain. That's the explanation for the bad headaches and dizziness and of course the vision problems. I'm not supposed to be doing anything strenuous, or even remotely active, really. I'm not even allowed to climb the stairs by myself until the doctor clears me to do it. Not that I can actually climb the stairs by myself anyway, but you know.

Earlier today, Yuri's dad arranged an appointment for me with the oppthalmologist that he and Mrs. Okamoto, Yuri and Yuki all go to. Her name is Dr. Ishida, and she's going to see me this coming Friday. Exactly two weeks after the accident, if you're counting. I'm hoping she gives me better news than the ophthalmologist at the hospital did.

Yeah, you didn't hear that wrong. Mr. Okamoto arranged it. Yuri was going to do it himself, but he's actually sick right now and he's not up to making important phone calls. Like, he's sick enough for the hospital, if you ask me, but I think somebody would literally have to carry him out to the car to get him there.

Managing at home when he's this ill is not ideal in my opinion, but he says he doesn't want to go to the hospital because he doesn't want to leave me. I totally get that. I don't want us to be apart either, but I'm also freaking out because I can't take care of him like I usually do, and he's not comfortable with Mom or Julian doing what I normally would. Plus, they don't know everything they should be doing for him anyway, and it's super difficult for me to explain it.

All I can say is, thank goodness for Yuri's dad.

I know what you're likely thinking. Up to now, Yuri and his father have been on really bad terms and barely spoke to each other, and Mr. Okamoto hasn’t exactly been my biggest fan either, so why am I saying I’m grateful for him? Well, the thing is, he’s surprised us all during the last several days, and not in a negative way.

Let me try to explain.

Maybe people think Yuri’s not interested in a relationship with his dad, and I guess I wouldn’t blame anyone for believing that, considering how tense things were in the past. Yuri does actually want a relationship, but he and his dad are both so stubborn that once they started resenting each other for whatever real or imagined hurt they'd caused, neither one of them was willing to let go. I think Mr. Okamoto was more at fault than Yuri for the problems between them, mostly because he didn't know how to deal with Yuri not living up to his unreasonable expectations, but to be fair, you can't have a disagreement by yourself. Yuri isn't just an innocent victim of his dad's difficult personality and crappy communication skills. He had his own part to play.

But, since my accident, we're seeing a side of Mr. Okamoto that we've never seen before. It started with him coming to the hospital right after it happened, to sign consent forms, talk to the doctors and generally deal with stuff until Yuri could get there. Then, he stayed here with Yuri while I was in the hospital, which I was grateful for. I didn't like to think about him being alone. He said it was awkward, having his father here, but also kind of reassuring in a way.

I'm glad they both seem to be softening up, at least for the moment. Yuri really needs his dad in his life, and seeing Mr. Okamoto ready and willing to help us says something about how much has changed between them in a short time.

I want to be optimistic that things are going to get better between them going forward. Anyone who didn't know the whole story would probably be inclined to be positive in this situation, and maybe I should be too. I promise I'm trying, but knowing Mr. Okamoto, I have my doubts. He's not great at consistency and he hasn't shown much interest in the past, but I guess there's always a chance this time it'll be different. For Yuri's sake, I hope so, but I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Anyway, on Saturday night after dinner, Mr. Okamoto came over to get the stuff Hana left here that morning. Apparently, Yuri had called or texted him to pick it up because he didn't want her coming back here for it herself. I'm pretty sure nobody wanted her to come back, least of all me, so I was relieved when my father-in-law took the bags and made his exit.

I'm not sure I was quite so relieved when he returned about two hours later, with bags of his own, and with Yuki in tow.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was thrilled to see Yuki. I just didn’t know what to expect with her and her father planning to stay here.

When Yuki first saw me, she ran to me and hugged me so hard that I thought she might break a few more of my ribs. Then we both cried a veritable flood while she told me she loved me and that she was glad I was alive.

I hadn't realized she was at the hospital with my friends on the day of my accident, and my heart hurt when she told me how worried she'd been. Nobody would tell her anything, she said, and when she wasn’t allowed to see me, she’d feared the worst. I said I was sorry for saying I didn't want anyone to come and see me in the hospital, and she said she understood, but I wondered if she did. In hindsight, I should've agreed to let her visit. I might've felt better after a hug from my favourite local super spy and internet personality, Yuki Okamoto.

Yuki and her father haven’t left here since Saturday night. He brought the smallest shikibuton for Yuki, and of course a normal sized one for himself, and the two of them have set up camp in the laundry room, of all places. Mom and Julian are in my room, Yuri's in his own room, and of course I'm still in the dining room, so it was the only spot left.

Mr. Okamoto said he was here to help. Nobody questioned him, not even Yuri. Since then, he's been doing all kinds of things around the house, including cooking and baking, which he's good at, and housecleaning chores, which he's not good at. Most importantly, he's doing things for Yuri, like helping him in the bathroom, and making sure he stays as nourished and hydrated as possible. Mom said he even gave him a bath this morning, which in her words, "left the upstairs bathroom looking like a small tsunami went through."

While Mom mused aloud about how he could've gotten so much water everywhere and why there were so many wet towels, and complained about the disaster area he'd left behind, I laughed so hard it hurt. I was trying to picture it, and all I could think about was the time me and Ellie were babysitting her cousins, and the four-year-old decided he wanted to be a sea monster while in the bath. We even got water on the ceiling that day, although we never mentioned it to Ellie’s aunt and uncle. I guessed Yuri probably hadn’t been anywhere near as lively as that kid had been, and it was much less likely that he’d wanted to play a game and splash around for fun, so it left me curious about the mess, too.

Bathtime tsunami notwithstanding, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thankful for Mr. Okamoto's help right now. I doubt he's anywhere close to my standards when it comes to Yuri's care, but far be it from me to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. That he's even here at all is astounding, and the fact that he basically rolled up his sleeves and plunged into the current state of madness in our home is a super big deal.

On a connected and somewhat lighter note, I'm pretty sure Julian and Mr. Okamoto are besties now. Mom still seems a little cool toward him, but he and Julian have instantly bonded over their shared interests. They both play the piano, they both love art, and apparently Mr. Okamoto is as big a science fiction and fantasy nerd as Julian. Not gonna lie, listening to the two of them geek out over video games, role playing, Llama Man comics, and classic sci-fi B movies like It Came From Sixam and Day of the Plant Sims was kind of surreal.

It was highly entertaining, having an Uncle Kaz movie marathon with them on Sunday night. We watched some of Uncle Kaz's older Japanese-language films, with English subtitles, and me and Mr. Okamoto tried our best to help Julian understand the jokes. It was fun and felt weirdly comfortable, and by the end of it, my father-in-law and future stepfather were on a first-name basis. I'm not even allowed to call my father-in-law Kenji, so obviously Julian has made a great impression.

Wait... let me backtrack a bit. Like, a lot of stuff happened before the movie marathon, and it's way more important.

On Sunday, we all slept in. Once everybody except Yuri had finally gotten out of bed, Mr. Okamoto and Yuki made rice, eggs and grilled fish for breakfast, and it was so good. Mom had to feed most of my meal to me, but Yuki and I figured out a way for me to grip a spoon without using my thumb, so with her guidance, I was able to feed myself a bowl of rice. It was strange not using chopsticks, and I still feel embarrassed about getting help to eat, but I'm learning to accept it. It’s only temporary, and things could be a lot worse, right?

But, I digress.

After breakfast, Julian helped me upstairs so I could lie down and cuddle with Yuri for a while, and try to figure out just how ill he was. I knew it was serious the night before, when he didn’t come downstairs to share my mattress in the dining room, but I didn’t know the extent of it until I could see him and physically touch him.

To my dismay, it was way worse than I’d expected. He’d been unwell for a couple of weeks before my accident, and I realized he’d been declining, but this was really bad. It blew my mind how he’d managed to hide the true severity of his pain from me, but I reminded myself that I hadn’t exactly been in a fit state to notice every little nuance of his demeanour and body language like I normally would.

Obviously, he’d been forcing himself to do everything he thought he had to do instead of resting and taking care of himself, and by Saturday night his body didn’t have enough fight left in it. His immune system is weak at the best of times, and it’s like he’s constantly pushing through a state of nearly always being mildly unwell, but this had clearly been a headlong rush into a full-on crash. There was no way he hadn’t seen this coming, even if I hadn’t.

Once I was settled in bed with him, I let him lay on top of me the way he likes, even though it made my cracked rib hurt like hell. It was pointless to say anything or to try stopping him. He was so out of it, he probably didn't even realize what he was doing and just instinctively crawled onto me, seeking any bit of familiarity and human closeness he could find. I felt bad for him because even though I was in discomfort, I knew he was in far more pain than I was. I could feel heat radiating off his skin, and every time I moved even slightly, he whimpered.

I wished with every fibre of my being that I could make all his suffering disappear. I hated that he was so sick, and that it was at least partly my fault for not paying better attention to him and letting it get to this point without insisting that he needed rest and medical attention.

"This isn't good, Yuri," I told him, after I’d inadvertently shifted my weight, and he literally cried out from either the movement itself or the abrupt change of pressure against his stomach.

“Don’t… don’t do that,” he gasped. “Hurts. Gonna make me throw up.”

Normally, I might make a joke about him throwing up in bed, but this was not a laughing situation. “If you have to, tell me. I’ll yell for your dad.”

“Please… don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. His tears were soaking through my t-shirt, and I felt helpless to comfort him. “Do you want to lay a different way? It might be less uncomfortable if you’re lying on your side or your back.”

“Wanna lie like this. With our whole bodies touching.”

“We can do that with you on your side,” I said. “You can be the little spoon.”

“Don’t wanna be the little spoon.” And to prove how adamant he was about it, he curled his fingers around a fistful of my shirt, as if daring me to pry him loose. I could feel his little hand trembling against my shoulder .

I rubbed small lines on his back with my fingertips. It felt inadequate, but it was all I could do with my arm in a cast. “Yuri,” I said. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Yeah,” was the weak reply.

"You need to see a doctor.”

“Don't want to.”

“You can’t go on like this. You need help, and you need to be somewhere where somebody can take care of you properly.”

"No..." He dragged out the single English syllable in a long whine before continuing in barely intelligible Japanese, "Want you to take care of me."

"I can't, sweet baby," I said. "I love you so much and I want to do everything for you, and I really I wish I could, but this is too much for either of us right now. You need to be where somebody can tend to you night and day, and I think you're gonna need medicine and intravenous fluids to help you get better."

"No," he repeated.

"Yes," I insisted. "Remember last time you were this sick? You needed fluids and antibiotics, and your doctor said the hospital was the best place for you."

"Don't want antibiotics. Make me feel worse."

"I know, but only for a short time. After that, you'll start feeling better a lot quicker. Let your dad take you to the hospital so you can get better?”

“No.”

“I’m worried about you, Yuri. Please.”

"Don't wanna be alone." he said.

"You wouldn't be alone. Me and Mom and Julian would all take turns staying with you. I think even your dad would. He's really stepped up lately, you know."

"Gotta tell him..." Yuri said, but then seemed to lose the thought, and mumbled something that sounded like, "My violin."

I smiled despite the circumstances. "You have to tell your dad about your violin? What about it?"

He let out a little grunt of frustration and tugged feebly at my shirt. "Victor!"

"I'm here."

"Listen."

"I'm listening, love."

"My violin case. Tell Papa..." He trailed off momentarily, as if he was trying to think of how to make the most impact with as few words as possible. "In my violin case. Look. It's important."

"Okay," I agreed.

"Thank you," he whispered. And then, "Love you. Just... wanna protect you."

"I know," I said. "I love you too."

"Please... tell Papa. Promise."

"I promise."

That satisfied him, and he let out a long, shaky breath that was half sigh and half moan. "Gonna sleep," he murmured. He was still clutching my shirt, but it didn't take long before I felt his fingers relax.

I lay awake, thinking. I couldn't imagine what would be in Yuri's violin case other than his violin, and why it'd be so important for his father to see it, but he was so insistent that I figured I'd better not ignore his request. Besides, I promised, and you guys know how I hate breaking promises, especially ones I've made to Yuri.

When I was sure he was sound asleep, I eased him off me as carefully as I could, and then climbed out of bed. It took me a second to orient myself, and then a few more seconds to crawl my way over to where Yuri usually keeps his violin case, on the floor next to his dresser. I could make out the shape of it, and to my surprise, the distinct shape of his violin on its stand next to it. He almost never leaves his violin out for long periods of time. I didn't know when he'd practiced last, but it definitely hadn't been since I got out of the hospital. He wouldn't have left it out since Thursday, so I guessed he must've taken it out sometime on Saturday.

But why?

Cursing my clumsy fingers, I fumbled with the latch of the case for a minute or two. I let out my breath when I finally got it open.

What I found inside was something I totally did not expect. It was a beige file folder stuffed with papers.

I didn't dare try to lift it out by myself, fearing that I'd end up spilling the contents all over the floor. I knew I wouldn't be able to read anything, but I had to soothe my curiosity anyway, so I hooked my fingers under the cover of the folder and flipped it open.

I'll admit, had no idea what to make of it when I thought I saw two passports inside. Why would Yuri have our passports in a folder like this? He’d said he wanted to protect me, but surely that didn’t include leaving the country? Neither of us were in any shape for that. I didn’t understand.

I probably would've panicked if my bruised brain hadn't suddenly registered the fact that both passports were red. The covers of Canadian passports are dark blue, so neither of these could've been mine, and if mine wasn't there then Yuri's wasn't either. Even if either of us could travel, he wouldn't go anywhere without me. I was sure of that.

But, that only begged the question, whose passports were they? And what was Yuri doing with them?

Obviously, it wasn't something he was trying to hide from me, or he wouldn't have directed me to them and asked me to tell his father. The thing was, there was no way in hell I was going to show anything to Mr. Okamoto until I knew what it was myself.

Since I couldn't read the papers, and I couldn't ask Yuri about them, I decided there was only one thing to do. I made my way the short distance back to the bed, and then felt around carefully on the nightstand to locate Yuri's phone. I was glad we'd activated voice dialling on both our phones a few days ago, as that was going to make my mission a whole lot easier.

I had to concentrate to remember how Yuri had listed my mother in his contacts, but once I got it, I said aloud into the silence of the room, "Hey, Siri. Call Dr. Grace."

Mom answered on the second ring, and she sounded both confused and worried. "Yuri? Is everything okay, sweetheart? Why are you calling me from upstairs?"

"Mom, it's me," I said. "Yuri's sleeping. Everything's pretty much as you'd expect, but... can you come up, please? I need your help with something important."

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'll show you in a minute. Please, just come up. I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”

That last sentence came out weird, like a line from a badly-scripted TV show, but I didn’t waste brainpower stressing over it. I had a feeling I’d need to save my mental energy to deal with whatever I was about to learn about the passports and Yuri’s folder full of mystery papers.

"Okay," Mom said. "Hang on. I'll be right there."

[more-than-a-princess]

Thirty minutes (as of the time I'm writing this) until midnight on Monday isn't too late for a Munday post, is it?

A few activity and life updates under the cut.

It's been a bit of a ride these past couple of months for me, and my blog interest check has come at a good time.

The tl;dr - I'm likely going to have to keep my activity at one reply/starter/IC post per day for the foreseeable future. I'm doing my best to keep to that but there are some days I just can't manage it right now, for a few reasons:

Work - I'm in the process of getting a promotion! This has been a long time coming, but my job duties will require me to be in the office more, which means more commuting time and less energy to keep up with the dash on my end during most weekdays. I'm moving up into a role that requires more meetings and I'll have people who will report to me (which is a tad frightening, introvert that I am). Unfortunately for me and my RP time, I'll have a bit less autonomy to do my work whenever, wherever, so my weekends will be very valuable for writing time, as I just don't see myself being able to write every weeknight right now. Due to this and...

Health - Back in the spring, I started working with some medical specialists to take care of some health issues I've had for years using previously unavailable treatments. I'm happy to say that they are working with weekly medication, but I also have to deal with the nausea and fatigue side effects that come from this medication. It leaves me tired and feeling ill pretty often, especially in the first few days after each dose. This has also slowed down my writing speed and being able to keep up with the dash.

I will also likely need minor surgery on one hand in the upcoming weeks/months, which will temporarily impact my typing abilities as well. Not looking forward to this, but one of my hands hasn't healed properly after my fall and I don't have full use of it.

Other hobbies - Dragon Con is soon! One of the biggest fan conventions in the world, I am attending Dragon Con at the beginning of September (with a ton of non-anime/game costumes: my spirit says I can wear 10 costumes in 5 days. My body may say differently) and an anime convention at the end of October, which is taking up some time as I work on finishing/prepping costumes, planning photoshoots, etc. I'm in the final stages of finishing up costumes for September at least, but some of my weekends between now and then will be spent painting, wig styling, makeup testing, and applying about a thousand rhinestones to a dress.

That is to say: I'm still here, I'm still responding to and wanting to write threads, but my ability for checking the dash constantly and sending things like memes/dashcomm as I see them is going to change a bit during the work week. I am always happy to chat and plot threads with mutuals, though! I may just need time to reply to messages. But messaging me directly here or on discord, or tagging me in posts (not hashtag in tags but tagging me in the post directly), are the best ways to make sure I don't miss your notifications.

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #03 – Part 1

Introductory post

Masterpost

🛶🥫👒 Five Run Away Together / Le Club des Cinq contre-attaque

Original publication date: 1944 (UK), 1955 (France)

(Original cover art by Simone Baudouin, 1955)

Sadly, this is the one book for which I haven’t been able to find all the illustrations online, and which I don’t currently own a copy of. I’ll update this post if I ever get my hands on an original copy and find the full set of illustrations, but until then that's it.

I am very happy to report that I have now found a copy of the book with the original Baudouin illustrations. It was all the more frustrating not to have an original copy of this particular book because 1) both as a kid and now, this book was and remains one of my favourites, and 2) once upon a time, I DID own this elusive book: it was among those that belonged to my mum when she was a child; unfortunately at some point, I exchanged some of the FF books with a friend who lent me some of hers in return, the idea being that we would switch back all the books to their original owners after reading them, but time passed and we never made the switchback :(

I was so giddy to finally get my hands on a copy that I couldn’t resist including some of the black and white illustrations as well as the full-colour ones!

~~~~~~

Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

Julian, Dick and Anne arrive in Kirrin Cottage to stay with George for the holidays. They discover that Aunt Fanny and Uncle Quentin have hired a temporary cook because their regular help Joanna [Maria] had to take a few days off. The new cook, Mrs Stick [Mme Friol, later Mme Friot] is decidedly unfriendly and comes accompanied with her equally unfriendly husband, their nasty, tiresome son Edgar (Emile) and their mangy-looking dog Tinker [Théo], soon dubbed Stinker [Fléau (scourge)] by George.

(George living the good life… and bored out her mind waiting for her cousins to arrive)

(Edgar the brat)

(Julian uses a water hose to separate the two dogs who have been fighting, and can’t pass on the opportunity to douse Edgar)

The Five plan to spend time exploring Kirrin Island but their happiness is spoilt when Aunt Fanny falls ill and has to leave with Uncle Quentin to be treated in a far-off hospital.

(Julian [dark-haired, as he is always depicted by this illustrator] comforts an uncharacteristically weeping George, upset about her mother’s illness)

With George’s parents away, things soon escalate between the Kirrins and the Sticks, as Edgar keeps on mocking the kids in general and George in particular, and Mrs Stick delights in denying them tasty meals, only giving them just enough to get by. The kids retaliate as much as they can, but they don’t want to antagonise the Sticks too much while Aunt Fanny is still ill.

(Julian gives Edgar his just deserts when the brat mocks George one time too many)

(A triumphant Julian and Timmy bring back the Sticks’ dinner after the Five have been denied anything but bread and cheese)

(A quiet card game in the evening)

Mrs Stick repeatedly tries to poison George's dog Timmy, prompting George to hatch a secret plan to run away to Kirrin Island. When Julian catches her leaving, she decides to allow the other children to go with her.

(Preparations for an exciting trip!)

(A surreptitious walk to the beach)

The children settle on the island, reacquainting themselves with the place, but realise they can’t sleep in the ruined castle because the roof fell in. Unsure what to do, they decide to check out the wreck to see if it could make a decent sleeping place. It doesn’t, and they finally settle in a cosy little cave in the cliff.

(Climbing the wall outside the castle to get a good view on the wreck)

(George masterfully throws a rope around a post so they can climb aboard the wreck)

(After settling in the cave, the kids spend a nice day relaxing and enjoying the island)

While exploring, the children find evidence of other people visiting the island and suspect smugglers. The discovery of a young girl's toys and clothes point to something sinister going on. They decide to set up a watch and hide their presence as much as possible. And indeed they soon discover that none other than the Sticks have come to the island and intend to stay!

(Hiding the boat from unwelcome prying eyes)

(The aforementioned unwelcome prying eyes 😠)

The children discover the Sticks have imprisoned a young girl, Jennifer Armstrong, on the island and are holding her for ransom. After tormenting the Sticks into a retreat, the children rescue the girl and take her to the police, who are amazed to see the child "the whole country is looking for."

(The children make animal noises to frighten the Sticks in the echoing dungeons: Dick is the cow 🐮, Julian the sheep 🐑, and George the horse 🐴!)

(Edgar unexpectedly falls into the cave where the Five have been camping)

(Anne “plays house” and tidies up the cave)

(Jennifer meets some chivalrous rescuers!)

The police accompany them back to the island in time to trap and arrest the Sticks. The kidnapped girl's father allows her to spend a week with her new friends on Kirrin Island.

(Goodbye, Famous Five (+ Jennifer)!)

~~~~~~

Cover art through the ages:

...will be posted separately because that's too many images for one post, oops!

Cover art here!

[gainaxvel3o]

Volume 9 was great! Right up until the last two episodes, where they rush some stuff through, but it’s still pretty good.

I love this take on Alice in Wonderland and its exploration of stories. The Ever After is an assortment of bright colors and unnatural environments, which gives it an inherently surreal vibe that I like. Its citizens are one note to serve the “story” of the Ever After is both an example of how otherworldy the place is and an interesting exploration of a supporting cast in the story. They get tired of their roles as any person, and they use Ascendance to transform into whatever their desires wish them to be for good and for ill. We get a glimpse of this with the Red Prince, where the Red King was so distraught with his loss to Alyx he became someone who’d do anything to win the game, and it really comes full force with the Curious Cat’s curiousity eventually revealing him as the villain trying to break the characters in order to escape the Ever After to find new things to do.

It’s a much lighter Volume at the start, which was good. We got entertaining and funny moments with the cast interacting in this bizarre environment they’ve found themselves in, and some positive developments on the side. Blake and Yang finally get together, and its incredibly wholesome to see them as a couple. We got some hints of them in Volume 7, but they’re very lovely sweet now that they’re official, being supposrtive and cracking jokes at each other. it serves a nice contrast to the darkness that reaches the final few episodes, 

Ruby and Jaune go through a parallel arc that drives them new dimensions. Ruby, a character who’s had to push aside her pain the whole way through to this point, finally breaks apart for real the weight of her massive feelings of failure. Being surrounded by constant reminders of her failures, such as Penny’s sword, or jabs made by Jinxy or Neo’s illusions, she furiously lashes out n a moment that felt a long time coming, her bitterness driving her further to the edge of despair, When it seemed lost, Ruby learns a lesson in self-care, realizing even though she feels like a failure, that doesn’t mean she is worthless. In a moment striking in its beautiful simplicity, Ruby realizes she is enough, for herself and her friends, and comes out with a new version of Red like Roses that I NEED TO HEAR YESTERDAY. Jaune arrived earlier than the others as the Rusted Knight, “protecting” the Paper pleasers in an effort to stay sane, but not taking the time to understand their perspective due to his own traumas. Similar to Ruby, he tries to compensate for failure by acting as a hero, but the way that manifested was in prioritizing his own wants over others needs, which he learns a lesson in valuing. His return to who he actually was upon leaving the Ever After felt perfect in that light, ditching the weight he placed upon himself to be more at peace, much like Ruby had learned to do. 

There is a lot to sink your teeth into, in terms of analysis and character development. It makes the last two episodes feel strange in retrospect. My understanding is that two episodes were cut from the Volume, and it feels that way once we reached the finale. The fights were still incredible, but story elements feel rushed. Neo in particular feels extremely underdeveloped. Her backstory is briefly and barely hinted at, but as at least two commenters pointed out to me I didn’t understand what actually happened due to not reading the Roman Holiday novel. All well and good, except the show should be able to stand on its own, and it didn’t do that properly. Neo commits some heinous acts in this Volume, but I feel like that is kind of glossed over due to a rush to get to the next plot point. The lack of real anger or acknowledgement from the heroes about what she did bothered me, I won’t lie. The reveal behind Alyx was good and tied with the themes, but could have been fleshed out more in retrospect. The final fight I wish was longer as well. 

Overall a solid Volume, and one of my favorites. The ending where Vacuo’s forces arrived is a great note to end on, the promise of hope after the characters struggled through the volume with their feelings of failure and change. I wish it had more episodes to flesh out its ideas more, but I’d say it did a good job regardless.

[rahkshirock]

Hypognosis short story

hi, decided to write a little story from the perspective of someone who *could* be a playable adventurer. in a following post, I'll go into how this little backstory could be used in the game itself. but I think it stands well enough on its own.

Imagine this: there was a man walking to the city gate with a letter in his pocket. While this wasn’t an odd sight, and in fact it really just appeared that a man was walking down the road, by looking at him you’d assume he was doing something wrong. He alternated between glaring ahead with a “don’t bother me” strut, and looking around nervously as if expecting someone to recognize him. There was no reason for this, of course. It was just a letter in his pocket.

The letter was written on fine paper and good ink, but the ink was smudged in a few places by an unpracticed hand. This man was not very used to writing letters. Filling out forms, writing reports? Every week. Punctually. He was the sort who would get frustrated enough with his fellows that he’d do their forms for them. As such, his fellow guardsman took this service for granted, and did their own work even less. When he left the city, he brought down his unit like a removed load bearing wall. He didn’t know any of that yet. He’d been preoccupied with the worry building up in his lungs. 

The gate was closeby, and even though he’d seen it a half-dozen times, it always filled him with vertigo. A migraine started to tap behind his brow. Snow dusted on his shoulders, but the air coming from Gate Street was warm and muggy.  The winds coming to and fro were like oil and water, refusing to mix. And the swirling of those two around his head was sickening. It was *wrong.*

Now there was a crowd, not just other people going about their day to day. He looked for the queue and had to walk back a few paces to get into it. In the crowd he felt a little better. However he was about a head taller than most other people present. So there was still a chance someone could… but that’s not an issue, he insists to himself, he wasn’t going *through the gate* after all. 

The gate didn’t shimmer or glow with magic. It was a towering stone pillar set in the center of a wide street as if growing out from it, though of course this town was built around it. It had a wide opening, and a tall one. Ramps and steps lead up to a second, elevated walkway to allow more travel, though today it was host to people sight-seeing, looking down at the work below.

A massive cart was being slowly filled full of packages and mail. It was hooked to ropes which would pull it along toward the gate, and on the other side a similar cart could be seen. In a few minutes, the carts would swap places, be unloaded, and then the process repeated until the day was over. Crowds watched and chatted, many surely feeling that this song and dance was entirely unnecessary, since on any other day you could simply walk from one city to the other.

But for the people of Faith, given stewardship of the gates one day out of the week, it was very important to make sure every detail was accounted for and every package checked. For while correspondence between the allied cities was crucial, it was equally crucial that not one of the Faith or any living thing crossed over, lest they leave their soul behind.

The letter burned in the man’s pocket. His name was Estver, and even standing this close to the magic made him ill, though he mostly seemed like the only one affected in such a way. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The Faithful who made use of the gates allowed themselves to come far too close to the forbidden. In some cases one of the people pushing the carts had gotten their leg caught in the ropes and been horribly maimed, and what’s worse, dragged right through to the other side. 

Estver’s teacher would have his hide if he found out, and so his eyes scraped nervously over the crowd, despite knowing his teacher would never, himself, come this close. The line moved slowly. Sweat from the too-hot air started to trickle down his neck, but it was far too cold at the same time to remove a layer. Estver reached into his jacket to place a hand on the envelope, and the smooth, dry paper under his fingertips comforted him. 

He *could* just run right through. He thinks, and he felt guilty, but he really thought about it. It felt like the idea caught him like a fish on a hook, and he couldn’t break free of it. 

Then he thought, ‘what if Lee were over on the other side, and he saw me?’ and this made him stop, and his heart dropped. ‘It’s all stupid,’ he thought. It’s only a letter, and a goodbye. He was going to be traveling after all, and the long trip will be better for him than some hasty flight. Should he run off right now and hurl himself through the gap, he’d not be able to face the other man again, so full of shame and pain, and, he guessed, suddenly without a soul. Though the other travelers didn’t seem to mind that threat so much. 

Supposedly, Lee had been without a soul when they met. Though Estver hadn’t known at the moment he’d been through the gate the day before. Furthermore, Lee was a magician. Estver had already gotten an earful from his teacher for speaking to the man. But Lee had been full of life. His smile was easy and his eyes kind. He’d smelled faintly of cologne from his homeland and was always sharing stories about the beauties back home. 

Far from the boastful excesses of magicians abroad, Lee had never used so much of a spark of magic outside his circle. And Estver had learned that circle magicians always only used their sorcery in harmony with each other, never falling out of balance. Lee had been sure that *imbalance* was the cause of evil magic, not that magic itself was unnatural. Lee’s specialty, he’d learned, was in water. This somehow seemed fitting to Estver.

Somehow, Lee had decided to write to Estver once he’d returned home, though the guard thought himself rather plain and uninteresting. He kept every letter in a folder buried amongst his work, and he often thought of where else he could hide them, though he never actually moved them. Sometimes he would read one of them over again, from months ago. It didn’t impact his work. 

When Estver had eventually responded in rough, ugly sentences, Estver had never felt more lowly in his life. But he continued to write regardless, as every letter he got in return was a revelation. For one, he learned that Lee had a sister. He shared in turn that his family mostly lived on a farm a few miles from the walls.

Lee had always known better than to invite the devout guardsman to the other side of the gate. He was always considerate of everything. And yet every letter was full of the sorts of details that made Estver’s tedium-dulled mind spin suddenly with creativity. The colors of festivals, descriptions of food and drink, sometimes pencil sketches of ships. Lee wanted to see him again, but was simply too busy to travel. 

And so, Estver eventually wrote one last letter, and prepared to leave his home. He retired from the guard station and when asked why, he had simply said “I am going on a pilgrimage.” and now, the man was here. He set his letter into the cart and stepped back. He wished, in passing, that he could have felt it between his fingers a few more times, but in the moment he’d forgotten. The woman behind him had seemed impatient. He suddenly felt as if he should stay, to make sure everything went alright. 

Estver watched as the crowd was pushed back, and the workers pushed the cart to where they could hook it into the ropes. Then behind the gate, oxen started to pull, and the cart sped away down the road as the pulleys amplified the force. Even nonliving objects should spend as little time in the gate as could be helped. On the other side, Estver saw the other cart speed toward them, and his heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly *sure* he was going to be crushed. A yell left his lungs, but was lost in the crowd’s cheer as the cart was caught and brought to a halt by the upward curve of its track. Estver shook in his boots, his mind having to cope with the perfectly fine terror it had just summoned up going entirely to waste. Estver needed to rest, he decided, though he wouldn't have the chance to nap that day. 

He didn’t wait to see if he had a new letter from Lee. he knew that if he did, he would never end up leaving. And that was how it happened that Estver Plainter started the road from the city of Buldren to its close-knit ally Sedrai half-way across the world, though he could have arrived that very day. It would take him three years of travel, a great many lessons, and a few injuries before he eventually arrived only slightly changed. Lee was there to meet him, and after Estver made a quick visit to the shrine he’d traveled half-way around the world to make pilgrimage to, Lee brought him to his house by the sea. He’d arrived with a letter in his pocket. Lee never needed to read it.

Estver did not end up marrying Lee’s sister, though they got along reasonably well. His teacher back home thought very highly of him, thought the letters were very slow to reach him since they were not delivered through the gate. And when Lee’s circle left the city on some assignment, Estver traveled with them as a guide. 

There are a great many things he never learned about the world, such as the nature of the stars, or what great openings yawn beneath the earth. But his road took him through countries where craggy mountains would rearrange itself like water into new forms without any landslides, or where gates like the one back home allowed one to supposedly travel to the surface of the sun. Estver always thought such things were ludicrous, until he saw them himself. And even after his journey was done, he still tried to keep an open mind and collected stories from all over the world.

[throwsahammer]

Back when I worked the night shift in-office, the lads and I would constantly be on the lookout for internet content to keep ourselves entertained. This culminated in my buddy and I playing Oregon Trail Deluxe via the Internet Archive and getting into increasingly bizarre competitions. We initially started out with a simple race to the finish, but after a while, we were regularly trying to see who could have everyone in their wagon die of the same illness or seeing who could complete a run with the least amount of starting equipment. We'd see who could survive the longest off of a single bullet with no trading, or who could ford the most rivers with at least one survivor.

With all that in mind, it may come as a shock to you that by far, the wackiest competitions were the ones where we were trying to go for high scores. For those unfamiliar, the Deluxe edition of Oregon Trail would award you points at the end of a successful run for everything you had on you, including surviving party members, oxen, sets of extra clothing, leftover supplies, and cash. If you played the game as intended, you would typically have to make strategic decisions about whether to spend your meager starting funds on essentials or on score-enhancing items.

We were most definitely not playing the game as intended, and by that, I mean we were abusing the absolute shit out of the game's broken trading mechanic. See, instead of engaging with the game's actual economy, you could simply keep inputting a desired item and pressing a button until someone offered you a favorable trade. If you knew what you were doing, you could stretch your starting funds to a ridiculous degree, or even (slowly) generate infinite wealth. The game had hard limits on how many of a specific item you could actually have at a time, so usually, these runs would consist of trading in Independence until you had a full team of oxen and enough supplies to make the trek a cakewalk, traveling to just outside of the Willamette Valley, and then trading until you got tired and decided to just end it, which made Oregon Trail Deluxe high score competitions into tests of physical endurance.

I learned a lot about the game's underlying systems during this time and realized that I needed to test its limits via the ultimate test: could I have an entire wagon die of old age before ever even leaving Independence?

I quickly set to work, repeatedly swindling the locals out of the same ox and set of clothes in order to make enough money to buy food. Due to the fact that we weren't moving at all, I was able to set rations to bare bones, as the health penalty from starvation was almost entirely offset by the bonus from resting. I settled in for the long haul, resting for 9-day chunks of time (the most days it will allow you to rest in one go) and only interrupting the hibernation to trade whenever food stocks got low. Every few months, I would set rations to full for a few days to replenish everyone's health to the maximum before returning to the usual routine of slowly starving to death in a wagon on the outskirts of the city.

I kept this up for an ungodly amount of time. Years passed. I eventually did some googling and made the horrible discovery that there is no such thing as death by old age in Oregon Trail Deluxe, but by then, the challenge had already transcended its original concept entirely. I no longer wished death upon my little party of immoral wagon-dwelling scam artists, and instead decided to just see how long I could keep their little routine going. I set a soft goal of making it to 1948, a full century after the initial expedition's "departure". Alas, it was not meant to be. I only made it to the 1880s when a companywide hardware update erased all of my stagnant progress. I told myself that I would resume the experiment at some point, but I never did.