#the only way anyone in my family has gained a significant amount of weight was when my mom was pregnant with me

[panuccispizza]

i wish there were easier ways to find exercises & diet plans online that actually promote weight gain and muscle growth and being fat and happy in my body. but instead everyone is so miserably fatphobic I can't stand to interact with their content at all. youre not "healthy posting" you have a toxic mindset that's killing you and I want thick wrists thick waist and good strong joints with fat tits. fuck you health bloggers I hope you rot in hell with your eating disorder keto diet

[enjeolmii]

coffee - s.jy

genre: mostly angst, a little fluff towards the end

word count: 1.7k

warnings: overdose on caffeine, passing out, i think that’s all :))

"Y/n, you should stop drinking coffee. You have to watch out for yourself, too," Jake says slowly, sitting his hand on your shoulder with the other one on the heavy cup you are holding. "Four is enough."

Your eyes shift to his expression, one that conveyed clear emotions of concern. This was supposed to be your fifth cup of the day.

Studying for the exams has never been so stressful. The amount of pressure dangling on your shoulders is much unbearable than how you expected it to be. Having parents who never supported your dream certainly took a toll on you, and living with a flawless sister all your life was never any help for your self-esteem. Being the low-grade sister between you two gave you comparisons aplenty. Everywhere you look, no matter where you go, you always find taunts and mockery preying on you. All your life, you got discredited by most of your relatives in light of your sister.

And you want to prove them wrong.

Getting higher grades is what it is. All she's ever good at is cheating off of her friends' answer sheets. It's a secret she threatened you to keep. Ever since she saw you and Jake hanging out alone in the swimming room, a picture she'd taken is all it would take for your parents to wash their hands of you.

And then, there's also getting the favor of all your family. She's prettier, sweeter, hard-working, and smarter. Everyone is biased on her nonexistent efforts, yet you - who has tried everything she can do to show her utmost best to be acknowledged by the people around her - were forsaken and left overlooked.

But it wasn't until Jake happened.

Only he saw the struggles you faced and outweighed. He conceded how far down the road you'd made it yourself and never forgot to make you feel worthy of his praises. He is the only one who understood the motive behind your desperation, and he is the only one who supported your dream.

So you wanted to make him proud. This exam will serve as the last movement to get into the performing arts school you long sought to join. To lose this opportunity means losing all you endear, and you wouldn't be sure how well you will hold up if you let this chance slip away.

That is all you can say for five cups of coffee.

"As much as I would love to stop, I'm not yet done studying. I need to ace this test." You peel his grip off of your cup, squeezing it as you offer a hesitant smile of reassurance, and he lets out a sigh.

"You aced all your activities and went home bringing the highest grades in your class," His palms find purchase on your shoulders. "You are doing so well now. Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" A short silence follows your sigh.

"Jake, I have only been compared to my sister all my life. This is the only time I can prove them wrong. I want to feel incomparable, too. I want them to know that I am not a punching bag that they can just play around with," You clarify through clenched teeth, a recollection of all the memories flashing past your eyes. "You know that better than anyone."

Your boyfriend couldn't help but feel bad for you. He understood. All those times you leaned on him when you felt like giving up, every moment you called him and texted him asking for motivation, he knows how much you went through, and it casts him down that you never acknowledged how much progress and improvement you have shown.

You became more assertive and bolder, and he is happy that you are finally standing up for yourself. However, he couldn't learn to accept seeing you lose long hours of sleep over studying. For days, you ran on caffeine to help you stay awake and scan through your textbooks as long as you were satisfied. You pushed yourself to the limits, bypassing the pleasure of taking a rest and instead etching all significant terms on the topic of your exam in your mind. You disregarded the accomplishments you made for yourself and went on thinking that you never achieved enough to get a compliment from your loved ones, which is what Jake could not understand.

"Yes, I know that. But drinking more coffee isn't going to help you, is it?" He signifies, and you let a dry laugh through your nose.

"Give me one reason caffeine doesn't help." You smirk at him. Sure, your method is trash, and everything about it is not entirely definitive. But, can you really do anything about it? No, well, not that you know of. Your sister is studying in the same field, and it is only a matter of skill to win against her. If you gain a point or two higher, it is more than enough to crush her pride and bring yours up. The hidden thirst you have for acceptance is slowly showing, and you all but feel determined to see how far you can take it to get the better of her.

"Too much of it doesn't bring you to the top. It brings you to a hospital bed."

Your smile vanishes at his answer. What he said is true, but to hear an accurate response to your insincere quest only irritates you. You set the mug down on the countertop before crossing your arms, feeling the weight of his hands on your shoulders disappear, and you poke your tongue to the side of your cheek. "So what do you want me to do?" You assert, voice laced with irritation and disinterest.

"Take a break. Continue studying when your mind's not exhausted."

"My mind is not exhausted."

"Babe, you've been in front of your books since early sunrise. It's already two in the morning." He protests, and you look at him with a tinge of bitterness.

He shoots you worried gazes as his hands travel to yours, squeezing and swaying them side to side, and you sigh. "I don't care what time it is. I can take a rest tomorrow after the exam." You retract his grip from yours, taking the coffee cup back in your hands before stepping back into your room. "I need to study."

"Y/n... Please!" Jake follows close behind you, continuously begging. Suddenly, your head becomes heavy. Pain strikes your upper nape every time he calls for your name, ears abruptly ringing at the volume he whines. Black spots appear in your vision, along with the feeling of getting lightheaded. Your eyes shut tight in discomfort. As though your head will fall off the moment you move it around, you lose all senses, the sound of him calling you blurring away.

One moment, you groan with a hand rubbing slow circles at your temple. And another moment, the shattering sound of your mug against the floor reaches your ears, legs giving out as you feel your boyfriend's arms supporting your fall.

Panic replaces the distress in Jake's expression. Frantically, he lightly shakes your body in an attempt to wake you up, and when all taps and raps decline, he locks his arms around your arms and knees, hastily lifting you towards your bedroom.

Through the piles of answer sheets sprawled on the floor, he tiptoes his way to gently lay you on your bed, snatching the pillows under your head to pile them beneath your feet.

A heavier sigh escapes. He moves to sit by your side against the headboard, looking down at your vulnerable form as he sweeps strands of hair away from your face.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He utters through whispers. "You just never learn to give up, even when you know it's going to be hard on you."

Running his fingers gently through your hair, he frowns. He admires it of you - how you always manage to get what you want.

It's how he fell in love with you. It's how you caught his heart. The confidence that inclined his interest when you represented the class's agitated thoughts towards your unqualified professor, not a single fear of the consequences ahead.

Then, having made known that you were never able to use that confidence in front of your family hit a soft spot in his heart. So he wanted to help you get the recognition you desired, stayed with you in your highest and lowest, up until now.

"Why can't you see the significance behind everything you have outdone? You've fulfilled enough to show your family that you are incomparable, yet you're never satisfied with yourself," The air grows silent. "I guess you want to hear it directly from them. Is that how you're going to be? Thinking of yourself the way others think of you... Do you know why I love you? Because you are a kind, persevering, and confident person. I didn't love you because you are smarter than your sister. Hearing confirmation from others isn't everything, love, there are still other people who think you are flawless."

A few more minutes of stroking your head and one good look at your subtle breathing are all it takes for Jake to get up from the bed before bitterly watching the spilled coffee wither onto the corridor floor across the open door. "Now, look at the mess I'll have to clean," He stressfully stretches his neck, eyes closed. Just as he takes a step away to tidy up the mess, a hand reaches to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, eyes still closed. "I was getting too competitive I didn't realize you were here for me. I didn't mean to get mad at you," You tug at him. "Stay here, I'll clean that later when we wake up. For now, let's go to sleep." You make space for him on your bed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he gladly lays down beside you, setting his arm under your head while you wrap an arm around his body. "Thank you, love."

Jake looks at you, smile growing wider before placing a long kiss on your forehead. "I'll always love you no matter what."

You mirror his expression, snuggling closer to him as you say, "I love you, too."

a/n: i saw that there are lots of you who are preparing for exams right now... if you are one of them, then thank you for reading this and procrastinating a lil bit :D i wish you all the best!! drink your water and stay healthy always!!! 💖🥰

[crusherthedoctor]

Can you list anything you unironically like in the games (and cartoons and comics) that you don't like?

I won't bother mentioning music, since that goes without saying and is to be expected for a Sonic game... unless you're Chronicles.

Sonic Adventure 2 (mixed gameplay-wise, annoying story-wise) - While I prefer Sonic's SA1 levels for a number of reasons, I still think his and Shadow's gameplay in SA2 is fun on its own merit. I also don't mind the treasure hunting gameplay returning or how big the levels are this time around, since Knuckles and Rouge are still fast and not '06 levels of slow. It's mainly the gimped radar that creates the unfortunate domino effect of making them a problem.

- Introduced Rouge, one of my favourite characters for how playful she is and how she's a lot more nuanced and intelligent than you'd expect.

- Some genuinely good scenes, like Eggman's trap on the A.R.K and Sonic escaping from the G.U.N. helicopter.

- Had some good ideas going for it, like the Pyramid Base and the Biolizard as a scientific monster instead of an ancient one.

- Despite my thoughts on the backstory itself (or rather, its execution), Shadow has enough depth and subtle qualities and occasional unintended hilarity to stand out from the typical dark rival characters you see in media.

- The Last Scene's music in particular is one of my favourite cutscene tracks in the series.

Sonic Heroes (mixed gameplay-wise, loathed story-wise) - The gameplay is fun when you're not being screwed over by repetitive combat, overly long levels and/or ice physics.

- Boasts some of the most consistently Genesis-worthy environments in the 3D games, up there with SA1's and Colours'.

- The in-game dialogue that isn't the same tutorial drivel repeated ad nauseam can be interesting, funny, etc.

- Reintroduced the Chaotix, which provided me with another character I quite like in the form of Vector.

- Bringing Metal Sonic back in full force and front and center in the plot after a long absence (not counting cameos and the like) is a perfectly fine idea. Just... not like this.

Sonic Battle (decent yet repetitive gameplay, mixed story-wise) - Emerl's arc is compelling, and it earns the emotional weight of having to put him down at the end.

- While some characters are iffy (read: Amy), other characters are extremely well-handled. Shadow is probably the prime example.

- Gamma's belly dance healing animation is fucking hilarious.

- When I was young, and the game was first announced, I was really excited about being able to play as Chaos. This proved to be my downfall when it turned out he was arguably one of the worst characters in the game due to being slower than me during the writing process, but I still recall that excitement fondly.

Shadow the Hedgehog (comedy classic) - The sheer amount of legendary stupidity this game has going for it makes it practically impossible to actually hate. It helps that it's not quite as white-knighted on the same level as '06... usually. You know you're in for a unique experience when you hear a gunshot every time you click something in the menu.

- By extension, Black Doom never gained an unironic fanbase like Mephiles/Scourge/Eggman Nega did, which means I'm a lot more willing to take Doom's dumbass brand of villainy in stride. He even has a unique design... a terrible one that rips off Wizeman granted, but alas, even that is a step-up from Fridge Shadow and Bumblebee Eggman.

- Despite being... well, Shadow the Hedgehog, some of the environments would fit right in with any other Sonic game, like with Circus Park, Lava Shelter, and Digital Circuit. Even the Black Comet levels look pretty cool.

- This game understands amnesia better than IDW does.

Sonic '06 (what do you think?) - The obvious one: Shadow's character was handled pretty well, even if it came at the cost of everyone else being a dummy and being forced to interact with Mephiles.

- Like SA2, there are some good moments, like the Last Story ending sequence with Sonic and Elise.

- In the greatest form of irony ever, I like Solaris as a concept and design(s), and its backstory has potential to serve as a parallel with Chaos without being a complete ripoff. Iblis sucks, Mephiles sucks, but I'm fine with Solaris.

- Introduced legendary characters like Sonic Man, Pele the Beloved Dog, Hatsun the Pigeon, and Pacha from The Emperor's New Groove.

The Rivals duology (apathetic outside of Nega-related grumbling) - There were some cool zone ideas in both games that were sadly let down by the restrictive and limiting gameplay. I particularly like Colosseum Highway for thus far being the only full-on Roman level in the series instead of merely having a couple minor hints of Roman, and Meteor Base for the unique scenario of the space station being built into an asteroid. These level concepts and others deserve a second chance IMO. (At least Frontier Canyon got a second chance in the form of Mirage Saloon, amirite?)

- Ifrit has a better design than Iblis. Not saying it's amazing, but the Firebird motif it has going on is a lot more interesting for a fire monster than the Not-Chaos schtick they had with Iblis.

Sonic and the Secret Rings (a very frustrating gaming experience) - Erazor Djinn, A.K.A. Qui-Gon Djinn, A.K.A. Dr. N. Djinn, A.K.A. I'll Take It On The Djinn, A.K.A. Not From The Hairs On My Djinny Djinn Djinn, is one of the best villains not associated with Eggman in the series. He's a Mephiles-type character done right, and there's actual weight and reason to his actions, however sinister or petty.

- I don't have strong opinions either way on Shahra as a character, but the Sonic/Shahra friendship is sweet and well-handled.

- The ending is one of Sonic's greatest moments. The sheer contrast between how ruthlessly he deals with Erazor and how comforting he is towards Shahra speaks volumes... Still gonna make fun of the mountain of handkerchiefs though. (Before anyone lectures me, I understand the significance of it and can even appreciate it from that angle... doesn't mean I'm not allowed to poke fun at it. :P)

- Another game with some redeeming environments. I love the aesthetic of Night Palace, and Sand Oasis looks gorgeous too.

Sonic Chronicles (my personal least favourite game in the series) - Uh...

- Um...

- Er...

- I like Shade's design?

Sonic Unleashed (overrated game and story IMO) - The obvious two: the opening sequence and the Egg Dragoon fight deserve all the praise they get.

- Seeing Eggmanland come to life was an impressive moment to be sure. While part of me does feel it didn't quite measure up to what I had in mind (ironically, the Interstellar Amusement Park ended up being closer to what I had in mind), it still looks badass and works well for what it is. I also don't mind the idea of it being a one-level gauntlet... key word being idea.

- Obviously, the game looks great. Not a fan of the real world focus (real world inspiration is fine, but copy-pasting the real world and shoving loops in it is just unimaginative), but it can't be denied that the environments look good.

- This game pulled off dialogue options a lot better than Chronicles did, since they didn't rely on making Sonic OoC.

Sonic and the Black Knight (just kind of boring all around) - Despite my gripes with the story (Merlina wasn't nearly as fleshed out as her unique anti-villain status deserved, which ends up severely undermining the ambition of the plot in more ways than one, and the other characters go from being useless yes men for King Arthur to being useless yes men for Sonic), I will admit it provides interesting insight into Sonic's character.

- Like '06 and Secret Rings, the ending is very nice... well, aside from Amy being an unreasonable bitch ala Sonic X at the very end.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 (apathetic) - The admittedly few new concepts sprinkled within had promise. They may not have been as fleshed out as they could have been, but level concepts like Sylvania Castle and White Park, bosses like Egg Serpentleaf and the Egg Heart, and story beats like the Death Egg mk.II being powered by Little Planet, all could have been brilliant had they been better executed.

SatAM (apathetic outside of SatAM Robotnik-related grumbling) - I'm not a fan of the environments on the whole due to them looking too bland or samey, but there are some exceptions that look pleasant or interesting, like the Void.

Sonic Underground (apathetic) - The character designs make me feel better about myself.

- Does "large quantities of unintentional meme material" count as a positive?

Sonic X (mostly apathetic outside of Eggman's handling) - Helen was a better human character and audience surrogate in her one focus episode than Chris was throughout his entire runtime.

- Actually, most of the human characters not named Chris were legitimately likable. Including everyone in Chris' own family not named Chris. Hilarious.

- Despite arguably having the most Chris in it, I actually don't mind the first season that much, partly due to slight nostalgia from seeing it on TV when it was new, but mostly because Eggman actually acted like a villain for the most part, and certain other characters weren't quite as flanderized yet. It's season 2 and onwards where things started going off the rails IMO. (Incidentally, Helen's episode was part of season 1...)

The Boom franchise (apathetic) - Along with Chronicles, the games provide yet more proof that just because someone isn't SEGA/Sonic Team, that doesn't mean they're automatically more qualified to handle the series.

- The show had some good episodes here and there, and Tails' characterization was probably the most consistently on-point out of the cast.

- Despite not exactly being favourite portrayals for either character, even I'll admit that many of Knuckles and Eggman's lines in the show on their own were genuinely funny.

Archie Sonic (pre-reboot is mostly terrible, post-reboot is mostly... bland) - Whenever I doubt myself as a writer, I think back to Ken Penders, and suddenly I'm filled with a lot more confidence.

Sonic the Comic (apathetic) - Fleetway isn't a comic I tend to recall much of aside from how much of a loathesome cunt Sonic is, but IIRC, Robotnik's portrayal is pretty good. Different, but good.

IDW Sonic (stop pissing me off, comic) - Putting their handling aside (and being too obviously "inspired" by MGS in the latter's case), Tangle and Whisper are good characters IMO.

- Same goes for Starline, before he was killed off-screen and replaced with Toothpaste Snively.

- Execution aside (noticing a pattern?), the zombot virus was a fine concept on its own and an interesting new scheme for Eggman.

- I get to remind myself that I've never drawn scat edits and posted them publicly on Twitter.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

MAKER'S SCHEDULE, 631, BRIEFLY

I'm a writer, and writers always get disproportionate attention. How did they stand it? Their main expenses are setting up the company, which costs a couple thousand Altair owners, but without this software they were programming in machine language. Those ideas are so rare that you can't find some way to reach me, how are you going to create a successful company? For a startup, managing them is one of the first 10 employees you'll have almost as much.1 Families are entitled to their own traditions, and who the competitors are and why this company is going to beat them.2 In the late 90s my professor friends used to complain that they couldn't get grad students, because all the undergrads were going to let hosts rent out space on their floors during conventions. Part of the reason I can't believe it will be more like being able to play the two firms off each other as well as talent, so this answer works out to be important, because a we invest such small amounts, and b we think it's better if startups operate out of their own premises, however crappy, than the offices of their investors.

If you're a freelancer or a small company doesn't ensure freedom.3 What makes a good startup idea, it's sort of like having a guilty conscience about something.4 There's an idea that has turned out to be a startup. For a lot of work.5 Which is exactly how I'd describe the way lions seem in the wild seem about ten times more alive. You probably can't overcome anything so pervasive as the model of work is a job. Don't sit on their boards. What really bothers parents about their teenage kids having sex are complex.6 It's not so much as that they never pander: they never say or do something because that's what the audience wants. So if you're going to optimize a number, the one to choose is your growth rate to compensate. In social settings, I found that I got over 100 other responses listing the surprises they encountered. If you don't understand YC.

At the time any random autobiographical novel by a recent college grad could count on more respectful treatment from the literary establishment. The angel now owns 200/1200 shares, or a job. The kind of question on the application form that asks what you're going to clear these lies out of your head, you're going to clear these lies out of your head, you're going to do, at least, nothing good.7 I often recommend that founders act like consultants—that they wanted to.8 In a startup, you don't even know that.9 If these guys had thought they were starting companies, they might have been.10 Viaweb entirely with angel money; it never occurred to us that investors were too conservative here—that they do what they'd do if they'd been in Nebraska, like Evan Williams was at their age? The saddest windows close when other people die.

And when you propagate that constraint, the result is that each species thrives in groups of a certain group, that seems nearly impossible to shake. Someone who's figured that out will automatically focus more on the idea. The only explanation is: by definition. It's not just a figure of speech to say that the outcome is zero. The artists who benefited most from this were the ones who had preserved a child's confidence, like Klee and Calder. Once you have all the college students, you get rich is that there are many degrees of it. It could be replaced on any of these axes it has already started to be on most. When you're a little kid and you're asked to do something differently.

But not all waste is bad. Later I learned it hadn't been so neat, and the three founders each get 25%. Along with such outright lies, there must have been told a lot of economic history, and I understand the startup world is evolving away from their current model.11 If you seem really good we'll accept you anyway. Even in the rare cases where a clever hack makes your fortune, you probably have an idea.12 At least, that's how we'd describe it in present-day languages, if they'd had them. The way you get taught programming in college would be like teaching writing as grammar, without mentioning that its purpose is to make me feel better. After two years, the un-rapacious that you only extract half as much from users as you could. If you have something that no competitor does and that some subset of users urgently need, you have to seem like you understand technology.13 On that scale, every negotiation is unique.14 I was cynical about VCs, but the way he composed them into molecules was near faultless.15 But unfortunately when you graduate, as long as you want.16

Notes

Thanks to Daniel Sobral for pointing this out. Make it clear when you ad lib you end up reproducing some of the things they've tried on the LL1 mailing list. What you learn in college or what grades you got in them, initially, to sell earlier than you expect. But while this is also a name.

In fact most of them. But try this experiment is that if you conflate them you're aiming at. The worst explosions happen when unpromising-seeming startups do badly.

Y Combinator certainly never asks what classes you took in college. This approach has not worked well, but this would work better, and that modern corporate executives were, we try to accept a particular number.

Aristotle the core: the editor in Lisp, they may try to accept that investors are induced by the surface similarities. Com of their assets; and with that additional constraint, you can't help associating it with such a statement would merely be eccentric.

Most word problems in school math textbooks are bad: Webpig, Webdog, Webfat, Webzit, Webfug. Without the prospect of publication, the assembly line, the closest anyone has come is Secretary of Labor Statistics, about 28%.

I think the usual way to fight. The next time you raise as you can see the apples, they made much of it, and no one who's had the discipline to pull it off. Successful founders are driven by people trying to decide whether to go to college, they would implement it and make a lot of investors caring either.

P nonspam are both genuinely formidable, and the exercise of stock options than any preceding president, he was otherwise unoccupied, to get into the heads of would-be startup founders who had been a good idea to make more money. The best thing for startups is very long: it might take an hour over the Internet, like hedge funds, are available only to buy corporate bonds to market faster; the Reagan administration's comparatively sympathetic attitude toward takeovers; the crowds of shoppers drifting through this huge mall reminded George Romero of zombies. That it might take an hour over the Internet. Yes, I had zero effect on the relative weights?

The VCs recapitalize the company, and yet managed to screw up twice at the data, it's probably good grazing. I should add that we're not. They did turn out to be a win to include things in shows that people start to pull ahead in the field.

Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives would work so hard to mentally deal with the founders gained from running through their initial attitude. Sparse Binary Polynomial Hash Message Filtering and The Old Way. One thing that drives most people emerge from the moment it's created indeed, from hour to hour that the worm might have done all they could be overcome by changing the shape of the bizarre consequences of this: You may not be far less demand for them.

Indiana University Bloomington 1868-1970.

Trevor Blackwell points out that taking time to come up with an associate cold-emailing a startup could grow big in revenues without including the order of 10,000, because investors already owned more than their competitors, who may have realized this, but simply because he was skeptical about Viaweb too. See Greenspun's Tenth Rule. We just store the data, it's software that doesn't seem to want them; you have significant expenses other than salaries that you decide the price, and for filters it's textual.

P 500 CEOs in the sophomore year. It was only because he had more fun than he'd had in school, and philosophy the imprecise half. The philistines have now missed the video boat entirely.

As we walked out we ran into Yuri Sagalov. Emmett Shear writes: I'd argue the long tail for sports may be common in, you'll have to replace you. It took a painfully long time.

The reason Y Combinator.

This is an instance of a safe will be coordinating efforts among partners. In practice it just feels like a loser they're done, she doesn't like getting attention in the definition of property.

The thing to do sales yourself initially. 5%. At first I didn't care about GPAs.

Thanks to Paul Buchheit, Gary Sabot, Trevor Blackwell, Tiffani Ashley Bell, and Jeff Arnold for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hi I read in the faq your answer to someone about top surgery for fat ppl and I just want to ask for a bit more info... do you think i should wait until I lose weight first? Like I’m worried that even if I get surgery... I’m still going to be fat and then I’ll just have breasts still? Thank u! Sorry if this is a dumb question!

Lee says:

As long as you don’t have any serious health complications because of your weight, you can get top surgery.

Fat folk are probably going to have to get double incision top surgery, since their chest would be too large for a keyhole or periareolar, but they can get just as flat as anyone else with double incision.

It’s more likely you’ll get “dog ears” at the end of your scars towards your armpits, but that can be dealt with by getting a revision which is often free. Make sure you ask your top surgeon what their policy on revisions are, and what fees you’d have to pay if you needed one.

There can be some fatphobia when you’re looking for a top surgeon- there can be some increased risks for overweight people going under anesthesia, and some top surgeons use that as an excuse to turn down a patient even when it is possible for them to get surgery safely.

You may have to “surgeon shop” a bit to find a surgeon who is competent, capable and willing, but it’s possible and achievable! I have two fat trans guy friends who got top surgery in the past year, and they’re totally happy with their results.

Cancer-related mastectomies remove all of the tissue, while top surgery only removes like 90-95% of the breast/fat tissue and the last bit is used to create a “masculine” contour. So a complete mastectomy for cancer would result in a very flat, almost concave chest. You can see some examples of what “going flat” after a breast cancer related mastectomy looks like here.

There are some fat folks who choose to leave in a little more fat in their chest because they feel like the extra fullness fits their body type because some fat men have “moobs” but that’s a personal aesthetic choice and not required or something, and it’s possible to get a flat chest with top surgery if you tell the surgeon to make you flat. I do think the majority of folks choose to go fully flat, but there’s nothing wrong with choosing otherwise.

Because a typical trans double mastectomy leaves about 10% of the tissue in for contour, and a few fat folks opt for even more (although this isn’t common), it’s still possible for post-top surgery folks to get cancer in that tissue. That means top surgery may decrease the risk of breast cancer, but it won’t prevent breast cancer.

So you should still get mammograms if you are the age to start getting mammograms, or you should at least do self-checks. This is something you’ll have to talk to your doctor about, and see what they recommend!

On the website of one top surgeon, they said they took off enough tissue it was unlikely you’d get breast cancer, but another top surgeon’s website said that it’s still possible.

“Is top surgery the equivalent to a mastectomy? In short, NO. At least 10-20% of normal breast tissue is preserved in most patients, especially behind the central pedicle (by necessity), and peripherally by design, to avoid unnatural contour irregularities. In addition, the female genotype is generally still at play, and there is no evidence in the literature that the use of testosterone is protective against breast cancer. Therefore, we uniformly advise that all patients engage in self-breast exams (generally easier with less overall tissue remaining) and start getting mammograms when they would otherwise be recommended (generally starting at age 40), especially (and occasionally earlier) in patients with a strong family history of breast cancer, or positive genetic testing. If a breast cancer were to develop, this would likely be managed (by a surgical oncologist) as it would in any smaller-breasted patient.” -Source

I think it depends on what procedure you’re getting as well, like how an inverted-t incision might be a bit fuller than a double incision with grafts. This article says you might also want to be tested for BRCA gene mutations to help decide what kind of surgery you’ll get if there has been breast cancer in your family.

If you’re worried about getting breast cancer because you’ve tested positive for BRCA gene mutations or family members have gotten cancer, you may want a cancer preventative mastectomy where they take out all the tissue instead of a cosmetic mastectomy like they do for top surgery. If you don’t like that look, you may be able to get silicone pectoral implants once you’re fully healed. But the procedure and your options should be discussed with your treatment team, and this whole thing really only applies to folks who are at a high-risk for cancer so it’s something you could talk to your surgeon about at your consultation. 

Anyway, that’s a lil tangent. Top surgery (via double mastectomy) is pretty customizable in the amount of fat you choose to keep, so you can choose if you want a very flat chest, a more contoured chest, a breast reduction or “moob-like” chest because they’re doing large incisions which means they have lots of room to work with when it comes to excising the fat and using liposuction.

If you gain a lot of weight after top surgery your chest may get a little larger, but it won’t regrow to whatever your pre-surgery size was because the breast tissue has been removed.

You can see an example of a larger fellow who got a flat chest here, and another example here. It’s definitely possible for fat folks to get flat chests after top surgery if that’s what they want from the procedure! 

Trans Bucket has a ton of pics of this, but right now folks say the website seems to be acting up so your mileage may vary with getting an account.

The Facebook groups Top Surgery Support (removal/reduction) and Non-Binary Top Surgery both have a ton of pictures uploaded as well, but you can’t see any “before” pictures there because of Facebook’s NSFW ban. They’re still worth checking out though for the personal experiences, community, support, and post-op pics.

There are a lot of folks who find it really hard to lose weight even if you’re eating healthy and exercising and all that because the body really doesn’t want to lose weight, so waiting until you’ve lost a significant amount of weight might not be an ideal timeframe for getting surgery because you might find it really difficult to lose weight which means you’ll keep pushing back the process of getting surgery until an undetermined date in the future, and not having surgery or an idea of when you’ll be getting surgery can be bad for your mental health if you have a lot of dysphoria. 

And it may also be easier to start getting active when you’re healed from top surgery because you don’t have to worry about wearing sports bras or hiding your chest while in the gym and stuff.

Personally, my advice would be to start the process of getting surgery now if you know that it’s what you need. So that means finding a surgeon, getting your WPATH-compliant letter or whatever else your surgeon/insurance needs to perform/cover the procedure, and schedule a consultation. 

If your surgeon tells you at the consult that they are requiring you to lose weight before you get a surgery date, at least you’ll have an idea of how much weight you have to lose which can help direct your goal and keep you motivated. 

And you may also want to consider getting a second opinion with another surgeon too, which would be my recommendation if the first surgeon has a weight-loss condition before they’ll operate and you don’t think that goal is possible within a reasonable timeframe, because the second surgeon may be more comfortable with the risk and say that you can get surgery with them without losing weight.

Anyway, what you choose to do is up to you, but I’d try to get a consult ASAP and go ahead with surgery because if you don’t get completely flat after top surgery and you end up with dog ears or something, you can always get a revision.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to lose weight at the same time (in a healthy way with the guidance of your doctor) if it’s something you want to do, and trying to get started on both goals simultaneously is possible, but even if you don’t lose weight you can still get great top surgery results.

So you definitely can get a flat chest after top surgery even if you weigh a lot pre-op and have a big chest- I’ve seen it myself a ton of times!

[leahazel]

More about my morally-grey heroines and their messed-up relationships

I wanted to elaborate on this post I wrote about D&F and BFS, but it turns out that adding readmore links to reblogs is a PITA, and I just now that this is gonna turn into a fucking novelette. 

So here we go.

Time to go into some detail about this!

Let’s define our terms:

“Decline and Fall” is my 120K+ series of loosely chronological, interconnected short fics, set in a tiny fandom for a visual novel that’s been in alpha development since 2015. For the record, the word count disincludes unfinished drafts, and stories that I’m holding back because they’re based on canon spoilers.

“Blood from Stone“ is my 100K unfinished Skyrim WIP, which began as a response to a kink meme prompt, and is not so much a rarepair as a non-existent one.

Both of these stories centrally feature young female protagonists and their sexual relationship with a much older man. Both heroines are... “grey” to say the least.

Let’s compare our fandoms, shall we?

Skyrim is a juggernaut fandom for a super-popular RPG which is part of a 30-yo franchise. The setting is moderately dark and casually sprinkled with murder cults, cannibalism, secret police death squads, and the prison industrial complex. The player character can be a thief and a murderer and everyone just learns to be okay with it because the only alternative is a fiery apocalypse. They also rob graves for the lulz.

Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem is a pinkie-toe-sized fandom for a hybrid RPG and dating sim where attractive young people flirt and date for the purpose of brokering world peace. The setting is one where you can actually broker world peace effectively. The player character can perpetrate a fair amount of proxy violence, but maintaining a good reputation dishonestly is legitimately difficult.

Now, let’s compare our heroines:

Corinne is a 24-year-old bounty hunter who became a folk hero, a soldier, and a cult assassin. She’s living alone and working for a living since she was 18. She’s never been in love, but she’s had multiple sexual and romantic relationships in the past. I deliberately wrote her as being very sexually confident and self-assured. She also has combat training, magical training, her special Dragonborn powers, and an incalculable amount of social clout. By every metric, she’s a powerful character. Though she can talk her way out of a tight spot (all my favorite characters can), she can also fight her way out.

Verity is (at the beginning of D&F) not yet 18 years old. She’s a princess from a very conservative kingdom who was raised to become a barter bride in a diplomatic marriage. The values that were passed to her were duty, tradition, and absolute obedience. Her primary skills are social, charisma, eloquence, and persuasion. Then she was dropped into the deep water of a diplomatic summit and had the weight of future history put on her shoulders, without ever having been taught how to make her own decisions or live with her regret.

To sum up, we have one hyper-competent, confident, and independent badass, universally recognized as powerful and dangerous, and then we have someone who’s basically a deconstruction of a traditional fantasy princess.

Okay, what about the more specific setting within the game world?

BFS is set in Markarth, arguably the most corrupt city in Skyrim, and the site of a localized war, on top of the 2-3 other wars that Skyrim has going on. The city is controlled by the cartel-like Silver-Blood family, and their enemies are swiftly and brutally eliminated. The rule of law is a joke. When the player character arrives at Markarth, they witness a chain or murders and are drawn into a conspiracy that sees them sentenced to life in prison for a crime they didn’t commit. The ruling elite suppress the native underclass by a variety of inventive methods. The roads into the city are controlled by the remnants of a violent but failed uprising, and this uprising is actually the origin story of Skyrim’s entire civil war storyline.

D&F is set in Revaire, explicitly the most violently war-torn of the seven kingdoms. Once the epicenter of a conquering empire, it was a country full of arts and culture, until a bloody coup slaughtered the entire royal line and instituted a new and more brutal regime. The new regime is on shaky grounds and foresighted people predict its imminent fall to rebel forces. So much, so canon. In D&F, I made a point of developing the new royals and their small coterie of supporters, as well as illustrating their constant struggle to conceal how widely reviled they are by the populace, and most of the former nobility. Their apathy to the plight of the common people is underscored in contrast to Verity’s compassion, which is ridiculed as a sentimental feminine affectation.

I’m attracted to certain themes, as you might have noticed.

Now, we get to talk about love interests.

Thongvor Silver-Blood is rather anemically characterized in Skyrim’s canon, so much of the information that I include in BFS is inferred. From his limited number of dialogues in the game, we know that he’s politically ambitious, a Stormcloak supporter, easily angered, and that he has one legitimate friend in the city. Like most Skyrim characters of his age bracket, he served in the Great War. He’s defined by his relationship to his generational cohort. In BFS, he’s def8ined in contrast to his brother. Thonar is comfortable being thought of as a villain. Thongvor still needs to believe that he’s the good guy. And I’m gonna get more into that in later chapters, too.

As a love interest, he’s initially in awe of Corinne, and always genuinely adoring, but more than a little jealous and possessive. BFS is not a story about love redeeming bad men (don’t get me started), but Thongvor shows different sides of his personality to different people, and the side that Corinne gets to see is much nicer than what most people do.

Hyperion Asper is a character of my own devising, whose existence in 7KPP canon is purely implied. We know his children, Jarrod and Gisette, and we knew that he organized a coup to seize the throne. I posit him as a tyrant and unrepentant child-killer (not directly stated in D&F, at least not yet). He’s ruthless and manipulative and his sole purpose is maintaining a sense of personal power. I structured him as the bad example that Jarrod tries -- and fails -- to live up to.

As a love interest... look, he’s a man who’s cheating on his wife with his son’s wife. He seduces Verity and manipulates her, and takes a special delight in pushing her buttons. All his compliments to her are mean-spirited and back-handed. He’s also jealous and possessive... which is especially pathetic, since he’s jealous of his own son, whom Verity doesn’t even like. His rage is a constant implied undercurrent in the narrative.

And the relationship dynamics themselves?

Corinne kisses Thongvor, proposes marriage to him, and then sleeps with him before riding off into mortal danger. She’s fond and affectionate, but she shies away from intense emotions, whether negative or positive. Since they spend most of their time apart, their marriage has been defined by Thongvor yearning like a sailor’s wife, while Corinne ran around doing violence and crime. They only just had their first fight. It will change when they get to spend some more significant time together... but on the whole, their marriage is fairly happy, and the emotional dynamic favors Corinne -- so far. It’s not a pure gender reversal, but that element is definitely dominant.

Hyperion starts seducing Verity on their very first meeting, and relies on a combination of magnetic attraction and Verity’s inexperience in life to keep her coming back, against her better judgment. Their relationship is mutually defined by a combination of attraction and resentment of that attraction. The danger of the situation is an essential element, to the point where it’s hard to imagine their affair would survive without it. It’s a puzzle and a battle, a source of fascination but not of comfort. There’s lust involved, and curiosity, but not a shred of love or even like. The closest thing to genuine affection is when Verity briefly imagines that there could be a version of Hyperion she actually liked, cobbled from his various, hidden good qualities. Any trappings of a genuine relationship are deliberately discordant.

I have tried, more than once, to imagine an alternate universe in which these two could be happy. It can’t be done. they are a study in dysfunction.

So where’s the similarity, with all these differences outlined?

Corinne’s choice to marry into the Silver-Blood family makes her complicit in their rule of the Reach, corrupt and reactionary as it is. Her reluctance to accept being called by their name reflects a reluctance to confront unpleasant truths that’s fundamental to her character. Choosing to be one of them affects and will continue to affect how other people see her, mostly negatively, and mostly without her being aware of it. Being Thongvor’s wife has gained her enemies. The fact that she doesn’t share his more reactionary views is something that they’ve both chosen to elegantly ignore, but the rest of the world won’t be so generous.

Verity’s choice to marry into the Revaire royal family makes her complicit in their violence against the forces rebelling against them, albeit in a more subtle way. Her personal dislike of Jarrod and the fact that their marriage was purely political will not absolve her in anyone’s eyes. Neither will her compassionate and charitable character, which can only be seen as a fig leaf to the Revaire royals’ general brutality. She has lost at least one good friend -- who will never see her the same way, since she chose to throw her lot in with his enemies. She will go down in history as an Asper wife -- but if she’s lucky, not just as that.

Both Corinne and Verity choose to accept some of the violence of the system that they live under, in order to serve their own lofty, long-term goals. Both of them are more image-driven than they care to admit, and though they are genuinely caring and compassionate, they will readily sacrifice compassion in service on their goals. They are queens (or queen-like figures), one-degree-of-separation members of the ruling class, implicated but not directly in control.

And their relationships serve to highlight what they are willing to accept, even though it goes against their conscience.

Is there a conclusion to be drawn here?

Sort of. I want to write about power, compromise and complicity. For whatever reason, it turns out that yw/om relationships are... a really good vehicle for exploring that. I can’t really explain why that is, just yet. I just... have had these thoughts floating, unstructured, in my head for months on end. I needed to get them out on paper, and give them some semblance of order.

I don’t even know why anyone but me would read this, as long and meandering as it is. But having it accessible might be of use to me.

[thaisibir]

La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink)     Rating: T (for character deaths and language)     Chapter 8/10 - Searching For Pink (length: ~7k words)     Summary: Bede doesn’t get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth.

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

When Opal returned to Ballonlea Town to bury Roger and Jasper, she didn’t take time off from her Gym Leader responsibilities or close the theatre. She kept both open, showed up promptly as she always did, and carried on as if she didn’t carry the weight of grief on her shoulders.

Bede knew, however, that her facade fell apart every time she stepped foot inside her house. Her smooth brow and stiff upper lip would crumple, then her Pokemon would run up to her so she could hold on to them for support.

“The hardest part of the day is coming back to an empty house,” she whispered to them.

Empty as in no more Roger and Jasper. The Pokemon were always around, but she would no longer see her husband working on scripts over the dinner table, or hear her son’s laughter fill the house.

“I suppose I better get right on to clearing out their things,” she said, and at that, her eyes filled up with tears.

Opal emptied the closet of Roger’s ties and suits, Jasper’s little shirts, sweaters, and pants. Boxes of toys and picture books became boxes destined for donation. Bede wanted nothing more than to help her—just as he had done for a much older Opal when she desperately needed to clear up the clutter in her house—but being a traveler from another time, all he could do was stand by and watch helplessly as frequent pauses to collect herself and choke back sobs kept Opal from working as efficiently as she could have.

She didn’t clear out everything from the house. She couldn’t bring herself to toss out Roger’s incomplete scripts. Instead she kept them in a plain, unlabeled binder which would sit next to her mother’s manual on Fairy type Pokemon. She stripped the nightstands, counters, and walls of framed snapshots of her family. Pulling the pictures out of their frames and compiling them into stacks, without regard for any sort of order, Opal tucked them away deep in the attic. Bede knew that she wouldn’t be seeing those photos in a long, long time, until he would stumble on them by accident.

“She’s cleaning up the evidence,” Bede said to Celebi, “like she’s trying to wipe out any sign that Roger and Jasper were ever here.”

He wasn’t speaking out of judgment. He knew where she was coming from. When his parents fell behind on their debts, and literally couldn’t afford to support him anymore, they dumped him at the orphanage. The hand-made clothes they left him, their attempt to give him something to remember them by, were insult to injury. The first thing Bede did was chuck his clothes in the dumpster, so that the caregivers at the orphanage had to give him new ones, and he did not talk to anyone for a week.

Once Opal ended the taxing, thankless task and ruefully rubbed at her aching back, she went outside to spend the rest of the night smoking from her armbench. That became her new evening habit. Smoking. No more reading bedtime stories to Jasper. No more bouncing ideas with Roger as he labored over writing a new play.

Holding Celebi’s hand, Bede was taken through a sad, bleak timelapse as Opal sank deep into her smoking habit, burning through up to three packs of cigarettes a day, all from her armbench, and contributing significant weight gain to her Weezing, which ate up the smoky air she’d make. Bede sat down beside her, and though he wouldn’t call himself a hugger, he wanted to give her one now. A frown seemed to set deep into her face, like etching on a stone, and her hooded, unfocused eyes didn’t register the forest’s charm and beauty surrounding her.

One early evening, Randall arrived at her house by car—the same car she had taken to see him at Wynwall. His arrival took her by surprise, but only for a moment, and her eyes returned to distant dullness.

“Evening, Opal.” He tipped off his tophat to her in greeting, then knelt down to her sitting level and took her hands. “How are you doing?”

“Randy, what are you doing here?” She didn’t answer his question. Trying to dodge either an obvious lie or the hard truth, Bede guessed.

Her twin brother made a small smile. “I thought you ought to be the first one to know. Rather than giving you a call or sending you mail, I ought to tell you in person.” The smile lingered on his lips, like good news sat on the tip of his tongue, and when he paused for effect, Opal beat him to it.

“You have a date for the wedding, don’t you? And I’m invited?”

Delight lit up his face. “Why, yes. Sharp as always, Opal. I figured you would know.” Guilt flickered in his bright blue gaze as he turned it from her face to her hands. “I...I almost didn’t want to tell you, because...well...” He trailed off as he stared at the healing scar on her right hand.

With her left, Opal gripped his shoulder. “Congratulations, Randy. Really. All my best wishes for you and your fiancee. I appreciate you coming to tell me yourself. Whenever that wedding is, I’ll be there. What kind of sister can’t come to her own brother’s wedding?” Her smile told Bede of a brave, sincere attempt to muster happiness for Randall despite the grief she wallowed in.

He stood up and turned to sit on the bench beside her, and Bede was quick enough to move out of the way. “There’s something else I need to tell you, too. Marion wants me to move to Kalos with her after we get married. I...I’m thinking of selling the family estate in the process. I wanted to run that through you before I do that.”

“You’ve been in charge of that place for the past five years now. My home is here in Ballonlea, not at Wynwall. Not anymore, not for a long time, anyway. You don’t need my approval.” She tilted her head at him. “I feel like there’s another reason you’re thinking about that, even without your fiancee’s conditions.”

Randall nodded. “The Rose family gets more rich and powerful with each year,” he admitted. “They’re talking big plans—renovating Wynwall from the ground up, mining the region for new sources of energy, and of course, repurposing the Gyms for Dynamax battles.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard,” Opal said. “My Gym’s next for reconstruction soon.”

“It’s just me against an entire family of businessmen, philanthropists, and entrepreneurs. I can’t keep up against them,” Randall went on. “Better to bow out now on friendly terms than go on to become bitter competitors and fight a losing battle. Besides, I fall in love with Kalos more and more every time I visit. It’s time to set my sights on a new land and a new life.”

“Your heart is leading you somewhere else. You should follow it.”

He smiled at her. “I’m beginning to understand why you left Wynwall and came here all those years ago.”

“I wouldn’t trade Ballonlea Town for any other place in the world,” Opal murmured. She stared off in the direction of the trail leading to the cemetery, where her spouse and child were buried.

Randall followed her gaze for a few moments before he went on, “I didn’t come here alone. When I released all the servants from my service, I made sure that they found work or retirement. Most chose to be transferred to the Rose family estate, but there are exceptions.” He gestured at the car, and Bede recognized the elderly gentleman who stepped out.

“Winston,” Opal exclaimed.

He bowed at her, then straightened up with an awkward tug at his collar. “My apologies, ma’am. No longer being a butler will take a considerable amount of adjustment.”

“Winston wanted to move to Ballonlea,” Randall said to Opal. “Proper retirement doesn’t suit him quite yet, so he’d like to work at the mart in the Pokemon Center, or at the inn, or the Dancing Impidimp. You know, somewhere that would benefit from his services. I approved the idea wholeheartedly. I thought you might appreciate having a familiar face around here.”

Opal didn’t quite smile at Winston. Having her family cruelly ripped away had also taken away her ability to properly smile and laugh for five years now. Despite that, fondness for the former butler still showed through her tone. “You are more than welcome to stay. I’ll look forward to seeing you wherever you’ll be working.”

Randall rose from the armbench, tucking the tophat under his arm. “Well, Opal, I’m delighted to hear that you’ll be coming to the wedding.” He froze midway in turning around, and returned to face her. “Ah, I almost forgot. I...” He cleared his throat. “I visited him in prison. He’s wondering if you’ll...” Randall trailed off, unable to finish.

Opal shook her head. “No,” she said in a low, tight voice. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I see. I’ll give him my regards the next time I see him, then.”

Bede was sharp enough to figure out that they were talking about Kestrel, who wondered if Opal would ever come visit him. The way they dodged about uttering his name told of how cut off he still was from the family. It had been five years since Roger and Jasper died, so Kestrel was halfway through his sentence. Bede doubted that Opal would ever want to see him around Ballonlea Town again, if he would be released in the next five years.

With a gentle hold of Bede’s hands, Celebi pulled him forward in time to the day that Opal and Randall bid each other farewell at the Wynwall airport.

Randall’s newly wedded wife from Kalos, along with his Pyroar and Boltund, stood respectfully to the side as the siblings shared a tight, long hug.

“Will you really be all right by yourself?” Randall asked.

With her chin on his shoulder, Opal mustered a smile. “I’ve already told you a hundred times, Randy. I’m not alone. I have my Pokemon. They’re—”

“Your family, I know.” He pulled back to hold her at arms’ length and return her smile. “I’ll try to call and write to you as often as I can.”

“Likewise.” Opal beckoned at Randall’s wife to come up, and she held their hands. “Go make the most of your marriage for me, okay? I know I already said this at the wedding, but I want you two to love each other with each day to the fullest. Smile at the smallest things and laugh at each other’s corny jokes. Never go to bed angry. You never know when you’ll wake up and find that it’s too late to say sorry.”

Grief and loss had given Opal weighted wisdom beyond women of her age. Looking at her brother and sister in-law, she was probably trying her hardest to recollect her own newlywed giddiness with Roger. She tried to end on a happier, more hopeful note. “If you ever plan on starting a family, I want to be the first to know.”

Randall pulled her into another hug, tears thick in his eyes. “My big sister, always leaving behind advice more valuable than pearls and golden nuggets.” He chuckled and wiped at his tears. “This is the best advice you’ve given me so far. Every other one was about warning me to stay out of trouble.”

“You better keep a close eye on him, Marion,” Opal said as she winked at his wife. “He used to be quite the troublemaker when he and I were little. He didn’t listen to me about shaving all the hair off our father’s Pyroar, and that earned him a spanking of the century.” She chuckled in what must have been the first time in a long time as Randall sputtered in embarrassment, and Marion put a hand to her mouth in mock horror.

Bede didn’t get to hear more of the conversation as he felt Celebi’s fluttering touch and warm light.

#

Brought back inside Opal’s house, he jumped at the sound of something scattering all over the floor. Something like heavy papers. He peeked into the kitchen to find that Opal had swept a stack of mail off her table. They fell like dead autumn leaves. One letter she had unfolded trembled in her hand, then it crumpled under her grip and she flung it down.

“Are you kidding me?” She burst out. “They could’ve told me in person, or at the very least with a phone call. Not through fucking mail!”

Bede flinched and pressed himself against the wall as she paced between the kitchen and living room swearing up a storm. At Celebi’s prompting, he crept over to the scattered letters and lowered himself on all fours to peer at the one Opal had been holding.

It was legible, and not too crumpled, for him to make out the fine print addressed to Opal from the Wynwall Correctional Institute. He pulled back in shock, almost hitting the back of his head against the tabletop right behind him. “Kestrel hung himself in prison.”

There came a loud, heavy crash as Opal flipped over the coffee table in the living room. Bede ducked under the dining table, hugging Celebi to his chest. He wasn’t alone in his fear of this unhinged Opal. Her and Roger’s Pokemon nearby made no effort to hide it. Alcremie ducked behind a partly open kitchen cabinet door. Mawile fixed its large jaws on the legs of a wooden chair. Togekiss hunched over the sofa, its white feathers puffed out and eyes scrunched shut. Mightyena and Obstagoon pulled back their ears and let out strained growls.

Opal knotted her hair into both fists and sank into the living room sofa with a scream. Her hands slid down to cover her face and she went silent for a while. Finally she lowered her hands to reveal wet cheeks, and horror plain in her eyes, as she took in the mess she had wrought in her house and the Pokemon cowering before her.

“Oh...oh, my darlings, my dears...I’m so sorry.”

Togekiss was the first to approach her by settling into her lap and pressing its soft weight against her. The other Pokemon were quick to join in as Opal held out her arms to welcome them into her embrace.

“I’m terribly sorry to give you all such a fright,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d trash the house and act out like this. I feel like Roger and Jasper took away the best parts of me when they died. You have the misfortune of dealing with the mess I’ve been.” Opal tightened her arms around Togekiss, pressing her cheek against its white feathers. “I was supposed to visit my brother today, you see, but just before I could, that letter from the prison came. Back in Wynwall, when Randy told me that Roger and Jasper had died, I told Kes that I would kill him. And I did.”

Something in her must have snapped that day. That news of her brother’s death was the straw that broke the Camerupt’s back. Since that day, her Gym challenge became a merciless one-sided Gym throwdown.

Bede remembered Opal being always consoling and encouraging to challengers who would lose against her. But here and now, in the darkest time of her life, she would do no such thing for any kid unlucky enough to set foot in her Gym. She spared no time nor mercy for the challengers whose Pokemon were beaten to the ground and League dreams were dashed. She kept a stern tightness about her face and posture, both hands clenched and white over the handle of her parasol. She would make no move or show of sympathy to tears of defeat and humiliation. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Matches against Opal lost their entertainment value. They became plain painful to look at. Rumors and gossip spread like wildfire among spectators.

“Poor kids. They run out of this Gym absolutely crushed.”

“Poor Opal. She’s being like this to the kids because she lost her husband and son.”

“That’s terrible, don’t get me wrong. But if you ask me, I don’t think she should be running the Gym with the way she is now.”

“I can’t watch these matches anymore. No one’s having fun.”

“I heard that the League’s going to do something about that. About her.”

Something or someone had to step in and correct her streak of ruthlessness—Bede hated to admit it, but he had to agree. She was showing no signs of stopping herself, no signs of veering off the self-destructive path she was blazing on. He saw himself, his own pain and rage, in Opal. He wanted to be the one to reach out and stop her before she destroyed herself.

“Of course, in the bid for regional championship, you give it your all and show off your true strength,” Opal once told Bede over tea and scones. “But as a Gym Leader facing challengers with stars in their eyes and dreams flying to the moon, there’s a fine balance between testing and nurturing their potential. You don’t want to be a pushover, but you don’t want to be impossible, either.”

“Sounds tricky,” Bede had said, and that made her smirk behind her teacup.

“It’s an art, my boy, one I know you have what it takes to master.”

Bede had the benefit of coming from the future to know that Opal would return to the art of being a good Gym Leader again. But how?

His question was answered when a black-haired teenage boy stepped up to challenge Opal. Though that boy wore the neutral-colored jersey, he was ablaze with boldness and determination as he sent out an entire team of Fire type Pokemon against her.

The fall of his Arcanine, Torkoal, and Ninetales left him with only Centiskorch, but this didn’t seem to deter him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Opal, but your reputation doesn’t scare me,” the teen declared. “You’ve been giving plenty of challengers a hard time. I’ll do my best to turn the tables on you!”

She didn’t respond with a jaunty smile and a witty comeback, as she usually did during matches. While the boy’s eyes were alight with the thrill of battle, hers were dark with bitter anger. She too was down to her last Pokemon—something that Bede and the audience hadn’t seen in a while. Her tightened lips only loosened as she barked orders at Alcremie to attack.

“Alcremie, use Draining Kiss!”

“Here it comes, Centiskorch. Counter with Fire Lash!”

“Alcremie, Acid Armor! Take whatever move’s coming next and get that health back with Draining Kiss!”

The Gym challenger put up a good fight. He set the whole stadium on fire with his tenacity and spirit. Bede could feel it singe the tips of his hair and his skin.

In the end, however, Opal’s experience won out. Against her Alcremie bulked up on its defense, plus her favorite move, the health-sapping Draining Kiss, Centiskorch couldn’t last. Its long body hit the ground with a heavy, undulating thud. The boy took his defeat hard. He sank to his knees and his gaze dropped to the stadium floor. A rousing applause from the spectators jerked him out of his stupor. He staggered to his feet and blinked in a stupefied daze at the show of support for him. Of all the Trainers who challenged the Ballonlea Gym since the loss of Opal’s family, this scrawny kid came the closest to defeating her.

He probably didn’t know that, though. He continued to look glum as he emerged from the Gym after a change of clothes. He was still crying, and he stopped every few steps to wipe his face on his sleeve.

He was about to cross the bridge that connected the Gym to the rest of Ballonlea Town when a slide of the automatic doors revealed Opal.

“You there,” she called to him, “remind me of your name again?”

He whirled around, then dried his face with one more wipe of his sleeve before replying. “It’s Kabu, ma’am.”

“Oh, I thought he looked familiar,” Bede exclaimed to Celebi. “I should’ve guessed from all the Fire type Pokemon he had.”

Opal approached him and jerked her head toward the path opposite of the cottages. “Come take a walk with me, Kabu. You don’t seem like you’re from around here. You should check out how beautiful these trails are. They’re the pride of this town.”

Kabu obliged, clutching at the towel about his neck while jogging up to her. Once he caught up, he matched her stride.

“I guess you’re from Hoenn?” She asked.

The look he gave her was wide with surprise. “How did you know?”

“My husband was from Hoenn. It’s the accent. That’s how I could tell.” Opal shot him a curious glance. “What do you plan on doing now?”

“I was thinking about heading back to my home region since I lost.” Kabu kicked a pebble out of the way, his eyes downcast. “I’ve grown to really like it here. I was hoping to stay in Galar.”

“You may have lost against me, kid, but don’t give up on your Pokemon League dreams just yet. You’ve got potential. Gym Leader potential.”

Kabu almost lurched to a halt in disbelief. “I-I have what?”

“You heard me right.” Opal looked him up and down. “You’re not the one I’m looking for. You’re not pink enough. No, you’re...red. A fiery, indomitable red. The kind of red that refuses to be extinguished, like a fire that doesn’t want to be put out. That was some match we just had back there. You almost gave me a run for my money, you know.” She turned her attention back to the trail ahead of her and resumed walking. “Do you always use Fire type Pokemon?”

“I try to, even though it’d make more sense to have a balance of types. Still, I want to be a Fire type specialist.”

“I see. Then I’ll put in a good word for you to Oswald, the Gym Leader in Motostoke.” She aimed a smirk at him. “He’s hard to impress, but I know that you’ll win him over with your passion, plus a little help from me. I hate to see talent being wasted. You’ll put it to good use through training with good old Oswald, I’m sure.”

“You...you’re endorsing me even after I had lost?” Kabu bowed low at the waist before her. “Ms. Opal, thank you very much for your support.” He lifted his head and tears dotted the corners of his eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

She smiled. “You already have, Kabu.”

Opal returned to the Gym stadium, which had been cleared of spectators since she had finished her match with Kabu. With both hands propped more loosely over the handle of her parasol, she took in the space and silence of the empty stadium.

“That was quite the match,” boomed a man’s voice from above. “You had me at the edge of my seat, Opal.”

She looked up and smirked. “Oh. It’s you.”

Standing not too far away from her, Bede gasped. “Celebi, I know that guy!”

As someone who was hell bent on becoming a Champion, he had taken it upon himself to know about every past Champion of the Galar region. Of course he knew the man perched on the spectators’ bench. He had just never seen the man in his younger years.

Mustard, the reigning Champion before Leon, jumped nimbly into the arena, followed by his two Urshifus. He straightened up to his full height, which turned out to be a head shorter than Opal. Nonetheless, the strength and confidence emanating from him was palpable to Bede.

Opal quirked a long dark eyebrow. “You didn’t come just to watch things heat up in here, did you?”

Mustard stuffed both hands into the pockets of his green jacket. “Well, no,” he admitted. “I’m here on League orders. You’ve sent enough kids running home crying to get the League’s attention, and not in a good way. I was supposed to warn you if you didn’t let up.”

“Warn me of what? Of being relieved from my Gym Leader post?”

Mustard put up his hands before returning them inside the pockets. “Hey, the committee takes care of all that stuff. I’m just the messenger.”

She smirked. “You were going to warn me with a battle, weren’t you?”

He winked at her. “You know me so well.” He cracked his knuckles. “I don’t talk things out—I fight them out, with my Pokemon!”

“Oh, so you want a match now?” Opal’s hand flitted to the Poke balls strapped to her belt. “Very well. I’m having my best winning streak yet. Maybe this time I got a shot at knocking the Champion off his pedestal.”

Mustard belted out a hearty laugh. “Don’t count on it, Opal. I don’t plan on breaking my winning streak, especially to you.” He chose his rapid style strike Urshifu to take on the first Pokemon Opal sent out: Weezing.

With its telekinesis, Celebi pulled Bede up to safety on the spectator benches. The stadium became alive again with the clash of opposing Pokemon and their attacks. Bede realized that at this point in time, forty something year-old Opal was like the Raihan of her day—a force to be reckoned with, the best among the Gym Leaders, and a worthy rival to the Champion. She was good, but not good enough to beat Mustard.

Despite the type disadvantage, and half the amount of Pokemon, Mustard ultimately won the upper hand and defended his Champion title. Even at Gigantamax proportions, Opal’s Alcremie fell in defeat to blows from his single style strike Urshifu. She withdrew her fainted Pokemon into its ball and handled her loss with a graceful nod.

“You still got it.”

“So do you,” Mustard said. “This is the closest match we’ve had yet.”

Opal hooked the ball containing her ace Pokemon back to her belt. “You know, Mustard, fighting that kid Kabu today reminded me of why I love being a Gym Leader. Finding kids with talent, and lifting them up to fulfill their potential, is a reward in of itself. I used to live for that, but I lost sight of it after Roger and Jasper...” Opal looked away. “Losing my son that young...he was only five. He never got the chance to turn ten and become a Trainer and have his own Pokemon. Meanwhile there are kids running around the region, set loose by their mums and dads to go on all sorts of adventures. Those kids probably don’t know how good they got it, how lucky and blessed they are to just be alive.” Her eyes grew wetter the more she blinked. “That felt so unfair. I would get so angry when I think about it. I took out my anger on all those poor kids coming to challenge my Gym. They didn’t deserve that. I want to tell them sorry for being a bad Gym Leader.”

Mustard closed the gap between them in a few strides and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Opal, you’re not a bad Gym Leader. You’re a damn good one who’s been through hell. I’ve never married, never had kids, so you’re going through pain I can’t even begin to imagine. What I do know is that sometimes it helps to take a step back and take a breather for a bit. Get a few days off from the Gym. Get some rest.” He cracked a wry grin. “You might think that I train myself and my Pokemon by punching rocks all day. But punch that rock too many times and too hard, and you’ll come away broken and bleeding.”

The Champion left Opal with that, and she seemed to consider his last remark as she stared after his retreating back.

#

Since her match with Kabu, and with Mustard, Opal relaxed the standards of her Gym challenge and her own battling style—not enough to be a walk in the park, but certainly not the approach that had steamrolled on the hopes and dreams of children, either.

She cut down on her smoking habit significantly, and forced herself out of the house more often to go on walks with Mightyena, to the grocery store, to the Gym, anything to get her moving.

Through that, she seemed to forgive the world for what it had done to Roger and Jasper. And she seemed to forgive herself, too, for what she had done to Kestrel.

For the first time since the funeral, Opal visited Roger and Jasper at the Ballonlea Cemetery. Though there was no third headstone, she left an extra bouquet of flowers for her unborn, unnamed child. Instead of standing over and before the burial sites like most people would, she would sit down and lean her back against the side of the headstone, and talk aloud as if her family was still alive to hear her.

“Another day gone by with no successor chosen,” she said with a sigh. “The next Gym Leader after me was supposed to be you, Jasper, darling, when you got older. But I suppose we can’t do anything about that now, can we?” Opal reached out with one arm to touch her husband’s name etched on the headstone. “I’m holding auditions, just as I did with you, Roger. I’m not just fighting the challengers, but testing them to see if any of them have what it takes to be a Gym Leader of Ballonlea Town. So far I’ve had no luck. Do you suppose I should lower my standards?” She paused, as if listening intently to a reply Bede couldn’t hear. Then she chuckled. “No, I better not. I’ve never been one to settle for less. That’s how I roped you in to act and sing at the theatre, after all. Speaking of ropes...” The smile died on her face. “I wonder if Kes is with you now, wherever you are. He left a note addressed to me in prison before he...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. She started another: “The prison sent it to me, but I haven’t opened it yet. I don’t know if I ever could.”

She let out a shuddering sigh, closed her eyes, and fell into a somber silence, which was gently broken when a young red-haired woman approached the graves on soft, tentative footsteps.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here,” the newcomer remarked.

Opal opened her eyes, briefly startled by the voice, but that was quickly replaced with a smile. “Mag, long time no see.”

Magnolia had grown up to cut a smart figure in the white lab coat. No longer the girl Bede had last seen, she now looked every inch the Pokemon professor everyone remembered her to be.

Magnolia bent down to add her bouquet of flowers to Opal’s. “I come every month to leave these,” she said. “I haven’t seen you around until now.”

“Yes, well, this is the first time I could bring myself to visit them.”

“I don’t blame you at all,” Magnolia said with sympathy. Opal continued to lean against the headstone, while Magnolia knelt down and removed her glasses to dab at her eyes. “I think of little Jasper every day. Sometimes I wish I could have visited you all more, be a better godmother for Jasper...”

Opal clasped Magnolia’s hand. “Don’t feel bad, Mag. You’re a very busy woman doing important research and good work for the region. I always appreciated it when you could drop by for a visit and play with Jasper. He absolutely adored you.”

The younger woman dropped her gaze to the burial sites just past her knees. “I still feel guilty. I can’t help but look back and think of the what ifs and should haves.”

Opal closed her eyes and her voice softened to a murmur. “I’m with you there. Sometimes, on the worst nights I can’t sleep, it’s not from nightmares, but from wishing that I had gone with Roger, Jasper, and the baby, so they didn’t have to leave me behind.”

Magnolia returned Opal’s grip with a squeeze.

Opal clearly tried to steer the conversation to a lighter note as she said next, “How’s your family doing back at Wedgehurst? Your daughter’s about to turn four soon, right?”

“Good memory. Yes, I’ve got to plan her birthday party when I get back.”

Opal rose to her feet and brushed bits of grass off her skirt. “Before I forget, come with me to my house so I can give you some of Jasper’s old toys. I say old, but they’re still in excellent condition.”

“My daughter would love that. Thank you.”

Opal and Magnolia left the cemetery together, and as Bede tried to follow them, Celebi led him with both hands not just through the cemetery, but through the currents of time.

Now, instead of Opal leading Magnolia into the house, Magnolia was leading Opal out of it.

“Just tell me already, Mag. Where are you taking me?” Opal asked. “What could be so important?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” the younger woman teased.

Opal’s show of anticipation and impatience made Bede crack a smirk. “She did the same to me. Got a taste of her own medicine back then, huh?”

Bede trailed after them, in the dark as much as Opal was. That is, until he realized the route he was taking. His eyes went wide as he weaved through the dense undergrowth. “Celebi, I think we’re—“

The time-traveling Pokemon nudged him further in the direction Magnolia and Opal had taken, then drew away from him and danced several figure eights in the air.

Bede frowned. “Huh? What are you trying to tell me?”

Celebi pointed after the two women.

“Okay, follow them. And then?”

Celebi didn’t make any more gestures. Instead a brilliant light engulfed it, and was gone in another blink of an eye.

Alarm spiked in Bede’s chest. Where the hell did Celebi just go? Did it just travel in time without him? Did he just get left behind in a time he didn’t belong in? He always had the Pokemon to guide him. Now what? He tried to take in deep, long breaths to calm himself. Celebi made it pretty clear to stick with Magnolia and Opal, but didn’t indicate anything else after that.

All he could do was trust that Celebi would appear to him again, whenever that was. Hopefully soon.

Bede tailed Magnolia and Opal for several more minutes, hoping with each minute that Celebi would come back for him. The two women stopped at a clearing. A clearing Bede recognized, because it was ringed with yellow mushrooms.

Opal looked around with uncertainty instead of familiarity flickering in her pale blue eyes. “Mag, where are we? What’s so special about this place?”

Magnolia didn’t answer Opal’s questions. Instead she produced a handful of cheri berries from her bag and held it out. A few feet before Magnolia’s extended hand, an orb of light materialized out of thin air. And from that light, Celebi appeared.

Everyone in the clearing reacted differently. Magnolia greeted Celebi with a warm smile, Opal gasped, while realization hit Bede like a clout to the head. Celebi traveled through time to meet up with Magnolia and Opal! When it had been accompanying Bede, it remained invisible to Pokemon and people of the past. Now it was present in that past, really present.

Opal evidently struggled to get over her shock. “I-I’ve only heard about this Pokemon in stories. Could this really be...”

Magnolia looked over her shoulder. ���Yes, this is Celebi, the Pokemon that travels through time. While conducting research over Dynamax energy in Ballonlea, I stumbled upon this charming, elusive creature. After much convincing with cheri berries and my promises to bring it no harm, Celebi was kind enough to let me study its abilities. It does more than time traveling. It can show you timelines that have yet to exist, or never would. In other words, it can show you the future that could have been.”

“It can really do that?” Opal breathed. She tread on light feet closer to Magnolia and Celebi, who was eating the berries out of her hand.

“Opal, you must have lots of questions,” Magnolia said softly. “The what ifs and should haves. Celebi is here to help you answer those questions. But only if you’re okay with that. I brought you here so you could have the chance to see, but I don’t want to cause you more pain and grief if you’d rather not.”

Opal looked away for a few moments, then back at Magnolia and Celebi with conviction. “I...I want to know. I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if that day had been different.”

Finished with Magnolia’s offering of berries, Celebi flitted up to Opal, who reached out with a trembling hand. “Celebi...please show me the future that could have been,” Opal whispered. “The future that will never be.”

“Bi...” Celebi peered down at the puckered, star-shaped scar marring the palm of Opal’s right hand. It touched the scar with its small hands, tickling Opal as her fingers twitched in response. Celebi raised its hands to touch the dark hair of her temples. It pulled back to draw out a shimmering stream, and flung its hands upward to open that stream into a pool hovering above everyone.

In the depths of that shimmering pool were glimpses of faded images, voices in faded echoes. Kestrel steered his Corviknight, without a drink beforehand, safely to Wynwall. Randall greeted everyone happily at the family estate instead of the hospital. Jasper grew up, and on his tenth birthday, received his first Pokemon: a Togepi. He was showered with hugs and kisses from his parents before embarking on his adventure as a Pokemon Trainer. More years passed. A teenage Jasper won the championship tournament, but chose not to defend his title as he returned to Ballonlea Town homesick and wanting to spend more time with his mother and father. While working at the theatre and learning the ropes of managing a Gym, Jasper met an up-and-coming actor, who he fell head over heels with. A colorful, flowery wedding followed soon after that. There were smiles all around the house when Jasper and his husband proudly presented the baby girl they had adopted. More years passed, more grey found its way into Opal’s hair, and the baby girl grew up into a woman with curly blonde hair and violet eyes.

Bede’s hair and eyes.

“Whoa, what?” He blurted out. “That’s my mum.”

He didn’t care if he sounded like an idiot talking to himself. The pool kept shimmering and unraveling the nonexistent future. That woman, his mother, got married and had a baby of her own. Opal, now white-haired and stooped but still quite spry, was delighted as she got to hold her great-grandchild for the first time. Roger, looking even more wizened and elderly than his wife, leaned in for a better look. She pulled back the blanket to kiss the top of the baby’s head. That baby was Bede himself.

The pool stopped shimmering. It thinned and trickled into a river that ran down between Celebi and Opal to vanish into the grass. No one said anything for a long time. Tears had run unchecked down Opal’s face as she had looked upon a future when the lives of her family were allowed to run their course. When a tragic accident hadn’t cruelly cut them short. Finally, as if broken free from a spell, Opal stirred and wiped a sleeve over her face. Magnolia rested a hand on her shaking shoulder.

Opal lowered her arm to meet Celebi’s large, ringed eyes. “Thank you for showing me all that,” she murmured. “And thank you, Mag, for bringing me here. Some people might’ve not wanted to see a future that can’t be theirs, but I...I feel more at peace now that I’ve seen it. Now I feel like I can move on. Move forward to try and make my own long, happy future.” A thoughtful expression made her brow furrow a bit. “Those people who came into our lives...who’s to say that they won’t exist someday? Maybe I might run into any one of them in a different way.”

“You’re right, Ms. Opal,” Bede said softly. “You’ll see me again.” He noticed how young she still looked at this time, when her hair hadn’t even turned grey yet. “It’ll take you a while, but I know you’ll wait and wait for as long as it takes until you and I find each other.”

Celebi departed from Magnolia and Opal with a flash of light, and with another, it reappeared before Bede. It reached out to touch one hand to his face, and he realized that he too had been crying. Bede sniffed, hiding a small smile behind his sleeve.

“I get it now, Celebi. What she meant by her story becoming mine. Our paths have crossed before. We’re connected way beyond accident and coincidence. Ms. Opal and I...we are so alike. We’re meant to be each other’s family. And I’m meant to succeed her as the next Fairy type Gym Leader.”

“Bi!” The Pokemon nodded in affirmation, happy that the journey through time, as long and difficult as it was, led Bede to this understanding. It made a wide sweep of its arms, as if drawing out a rainbow, then offered its hands.

Bede tried to figure out what it was saying. “We...we’re going back now? Back to the present, I mean?”

Celebi nodded again. Before taking its hands, Bede snuck one last glance at Opal, who stared up after where Celebi had disappeared from her sight. The smile on her face may be faint, but it brimmed with hope.

It was time to head back where he belonged, where he and Opal would see each other again.

Notes: Musical inspiration (especially the future scene): “Time” from Inception. This wraps up Bede’s blast to Opal’s past. On to the final stretch in the present!

[sasorikigai]

A Manifesto to My Experiences in 2019. 

This year has been a ride; for I lost and gained a lot of things and I think, and I believe that I somewhat changed my perspectives in life. As an eternal student of life, I tend to believe that I know something when in fact, I know nothing, even myself, and that mystery, that unknown makes life great for I am able to challenge myself. So many questions and the answers provided by this year helped me to grow and certainly have guided me upon growing. Am I really going to do it? Are those worth pursuing? Does it make me great if I do this and that? These kinds of questions have fueled me to change and challenge a few significant things in my life and I will be eternally grateful for that. 

First, I would like to address the things I have lost; the first thing I have lost in 2019 was my faith. 2019 began, and I was doubting everything, from myself, to the completely different mindset I had when I transitioned to move back from Ohio (where I have been living with my brother) back to Florida (where my parents live) and got a new job. In that transition I had gone through numerous times before, I learned to accept my flaws, my mistakes, and turned that into something great, as I have grown mature, understanding and less emotional and impulsive. 

In that transition, I lost my faith towards God, my dignify, my passion to name a few, but I have gained so much as well. Upon moving back to FL and struggling with my creative outlets - certainly writing, but not limited to drawing, painting, collaging in my sketchbooks, bookmaking, etc. - I have worked extremely hard to gain those outlets back. The earlier part of the decade only brought depressive streaks akin to deadened winter wastelands, but through roleplaying, writing and reconnecting with my creativity, I truly believe I have found something that I could latch onto for the entirety of my life. 

___

The start of it all was my Tumblr blog’s transition from a multimuse blog to a dual-muse, Hanzo Hasashi and Kuai Liang, the Mortal Kombat poster boys whom I dearly love and treasure more than anyone else. And through the rebranding, I have met so many excellent people, including @heamatic​ / @desxderium​ / @akanenxmai​, @paindealt​, @pxlariis​, @sonxflight​ and so on. Being on Tumblr and writing as Hanzo and Kuai has been a profound part of my life and I could never trade it with anything else. It is cathartic and therapeutic for me, and I absolutely love the challenge of learning English, being able to manipulate and sculpt it, and befriending so many talented people who are so dedicated and enthusiastic not only of their muses, but have been showing consistent interest in my own as well, and I could not be more thankful and grateful for that. 

I would especially like to thank Jester, Wikia, Sofi and Dari for your continued interest, passion, enthusiasm and support. You know it would have never been possible for me to reconnect with Tumblr and loving roleplaying and writing again if it weren’t for your friendship. 

I would especially like to thank Jester for literally giving me the best relationships my muses have ever had on this platform, as even all the non-canonical ships we currently have are my ride-or-die otps because we have developed their relationship through numerous months - nine months and still going strong - and you literally have been there every fucking step of the way and my words have limitations as you have been nothing, but kind, compassionate, mature and truly understanding. I admire not only your writing skills and such excellent and phenomenal grasp of all of your muses, but as an artist, a fellow gramma and most importantly, one of my best friends ever. You literally have revived my dying passion and I fucking owe you so much for that. And regardless of our numerous verses, you have shown such fervor and passion and you definitely have challenge me not only to better my writing, but my storytelling and plotting skills. I keep thinking about ‘what if’ scenarios and I truly enjoy talking to you daily and connecting with you further. 

And others for being so open and receptive of my ideas, my opinions and supporting my analyzations and headcanons of my muses. It means so much that you appreciate my time and effort and I sincerely hope that our strong collaborative partnership continue throughout 2020 and beyond. I especially love it when I can literally perceive just how much love and dedication you have of your muses and it really makes me happy to see you all on my dash. Keep being awesome and keep providing such remarkable content on my dash. 

___

This manifesto serves not only as my reflection, but also my resolution. I am really not fond to admit to this, but I know that I am still improving, and is willing to improve, in order to attain the goals. 

First, I must know how to speak up and express my thoughts better, no matter how much I loathe it. I know how to listen to different perspectives and understand where they are coming from, but often, it’s my bullheaded stubbornness and past traumas preventing from changing that first initial inception as I often have tendencies to isolate and seclude myself, instead of talking things out. 

Second, I would like to be more open to my family, especially my father. I grew up loathing my dad for so many different reasons; foremost me not being a son, and how most Asian families are male-dominant and still, females are considered ‘inferior’ to males as I was differently raised and treated compared to my brother. I still have a rough time opening up to my father, while I am more than fine in the terms of my mother, whom I consider as my closest friend. I would at least like to give it a try, to open myself up more and be candor and honest in my communication. 

Third, I would definitely like to maintain healthy lifestyle by eating healthy and working towards completing another half-marathon with a solid plan in my mind. Since 2018, I have been running 5K and 10Ks and have been trying to lose weight. I may have been slacking off with eating healthy, but in 2020, I really want to shed some more pounds and regularly work out (which I struggle with work and being on Internet), but I am going to considerably cut time on Tumblr and remain exclusive with selective mutuals for the sake of quality and aesthetics - because I’m extra af - and concentrate on the threads I truly have passion, interest and muse for). 

And fourth, be more understanding, kind, sympathetic and mature person. To make scars into beaut, as I carry all the baggage from the past decade to learn and grow, so I can offer my family, friends, coworkers and students my insights and knowledge. I have accumulated a detrimental amount of guilt, sadness, contempt and hate towards the things I have endured - through bullying, attempted sexual assault, loss of numerous friendship, family members’ death and so on - and I would really like to work on them. 

I know this is really long, and has literally has nothing to do with being a RP blog, but it needed to be said on this last day of the year and the last day of the DECADE. This decade hadn’t been a kind one for me, but I truthfully believe that if I work on those four profound things that have been gnawing in my mind, then I would become a much better and sophisticated person in general. Thank you very much for reading, and thank you so much for my mutuals for following me and appreciating the content I provide every day. 

And most importantly, I hope you to wrap up this year and decade well, and HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR. 

[scripttorture]

Hi, lovely to send an ask to your blog. I have a character who's been kidnapped and kept in a cell for an unspecified amount of time. The cell is the size of a spacious room, with a mattress, sink, and toilet, the victim has access to move about as he pleases. The abductor kept my victim well fed, didn't physically harm him unless he had to (ie. Victim tries to escape, attack, bite back with words), he wanted him in good shape. (A)

(B)Whenever my victim acted up, other than sometimes having tophysically restrain him (roughs him up in a corner and leaves), hepunishes him by turning the electricity off, leaving the victim inpitch darkness and icy weather, and with no sound source but his ownbreath. Regularly, the abductor comes at least once everyday (or asoften as five days a week), sits with the victim for a few hours, andeither talks about his life, tries (and fails, at the time) to softenvictim's heart...(E),...left him food and left. Either until he got bored, or when victimcracked and broke down begging for any stimulation and company. Themental breakdowns increased in intensity when the victim lost accessto the TV, he'd unconsciously hurt himself, cry and scream until hepassed out, refuse to eat or move from his spot in fear of themonsters lurking in the pitch blackness in the room, and will justsit stuck listening to his violent hallucinations until the abductorput mercy on him.(F)At the end of the abduction time, Victim starts to show new symptoms,he rather becomes"animalistic" in someway, he loses(forgets temporarily) the ability to put words together, so hesnarls, whimpers, acts physically his needs, becomes very aggressiveand uncooperative, lost a drastic amount of weight, refusing food,tried on multiple occasions to hurt himself for the sake of feelinganything but the emptiness of his cell, and in a psychotic outburst,destroys the TV, and...(G)(oh man I forgot where I left off... please bear with me if I mistookthe paging) He spent the next few days mourning the TV, missing thecharacters he used to obsessed over as much as the family he slowlystarted to lose memories of. It was a pitiful sight. Since thebeginning of the abduction period, the abductor has been feedingVictim lies, from the reason he kidnapped him (preserve his amazingabilities, keep him safe from others who were after his skills, noone appreciated his...(H)His skills as much as he did, and it was obvious b***) but the damagecame when he gradually convinced him his family didn't care, that'swhy he was trapped for so long. And victim was convinced his familyloved him above all else, but as time passed and hallucinationsbegan, he lost that conviction, not at all helped by abductor'sconstant false reassurance. Abductor also lied about the time frame,coming down with cake to celebrate their one year anniversary whenit's been a few months.  (I) Little did victim know, his family werekilled the night of his kidnapping. Finally, at the last day, or afew days after he lost the TV, abductor has moved the broken pieces,only to miss one screen glass shard that victim hid under hismattress. And it happened as victim tried to stab his abductor, inself defense, the abductor threw the victim off, and his head hit thesink. Cue panic stricken abductor, not thinking straight with theamount of blood, and wrapping the victim up...(J)... wrapping him up and throwing him in an alley across the citybefore fleeing the country. Now my biggest dilemma lies in twothings! One: I need him to have amnesia for plot related reasons,very important, but I'm afraid that will make all of what he wentthrough redundant, so the list of after effects I made him have is..Severe anxiety, depression, anger management issues, avoidance ofdark places (full blown panic attacks if forced into an sort of darkroom)… K) Vague, abstract night terrors, extreme loneliness even inthe company of friends, and fear of neglect. He has a few namelesstriggers, any show on TV like the shows he used to watch, not feelingclean, showering more than once a day as he lost that privilegehaving to use the sink to clean up, horror movies for all thereasons. Two: how does the state (any) and hospital actually dealwith this situation, I realize this is out of your expertisepossibly, but I'd appreciate a nudge… (M) A new cycle of abusebegins between him and his boss, manager and unit mates, but I'llleave that for another ask ^^; This got so long, I'm sorry, but I'dlike your criticism and input on my story so far, it actually takesup two other victims of abuse and my MCs road to recovery. I'm veryadamant on making this right. Thank you!!

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This is a follow up to a previous ask. Honestly- I’m still finding the question a little confusing. I’ll answer to the best of my ability but I may well have misinterpreted it.

 That said- I think you need to do a lot of reading and completely rewrite your story if you really do want to make this realistic and respectful. At the moment I think it’s a very long way off.

 I think I said that last time so this time I’m going to be blunt. I do not think you are ready to write torture.

 Firstly, specify the amount of time this character is held. Decide. Don’t keep things vague in the hope that it’ll seem more realistic.

 You don’t have to tell your readers the detail of how long your character is held or every detail of what happens to him but if you don’t know then you can’t work to show the effects realistically.

 I can’t decide what your plot should be for you. And if you’re unwilling to define what you’re putting your character through and for how long I can’t give a reasonable estimate of how likely he is to survive.

 Memory loss in torture scenarios does not work in the way you’re describing. That kind of ‘amnesia’ and losing old, established memories of family members does not happen. Not without significant, disabling brain injury that effects other things like being able to move and breath.

 If you want to know what memory loss in torture survivors is like I have a post here that covers it.

 Torture survivors do not regress into some sort of savage ‘animalistic’ state. They do not forget how to speak.

 Frankly I think these kinds of unrealistic tropes are incredibly insulting to survivors.

 It’s saying that torture has ‘made’ the survivor dangerous and unreasonable. Those are exactly the kinds of arguments people use to stop survivors getting treatment in real life. Don’t add to that.

 Hallucinations in solitary are not common.

 They become more likely if a person is held for a long time (over a month), but since you are not giving me a time frame I can’t say whether this is likely or not.

 If the character is held long enough that hallucinations and a psychotic break become likely then- given the conditions you’ve described, the character is likely to die from cold, starvation or disease before the captor dumps them outside.

 People can die from the cold very very quickly. If the character is repeatedly subjected to freezing temperatures for a long time then they are probably going to die of hypothermia.

 Additionally the phrasing throughout this sounds as though it’s taking the abuser’s ‘side’ over the victim’s.

 No one ever ‘has’ to abuse anyone else. It is never necessary.

 On a related note- I think you’re severely underestimating the damage caused by beating. It is very easy to beat a person to death. The way I’m interpreting the question it sounds like the abuser beats the victim when he tries to escape. It sounds like the abuser beats the victim until he stops moving every time this happens.

 There isn’t much difference between beating someone unconscious and beating them to death. If the character is regularly being hit until he passes out then he probably wouldn’t live for more then two weeks.

 Which is not long enough for the extreme effects of solitary confinement you’re describing.

 I think this scenario is a very strange mix of treating people as too resilient and too fragile. The physical abuses you’re describing seem really like to kill the character. At the same time the mental health issues you’re describing are completely unrealistic and-

 Well honestly? As a mentally ill person I think this depiction of mental illness is insulting. It is degrading. It shows no understanding of mental illness and no compassion for people who are mentally ill.

 I struggle to speak sometimes because of my mental illness. It does not make me an animal. It does not mean I can not think. And it certainly doesn’t mean I can’t describe what I was going through when that moment has passed.

 The list of ‘severe’ symptoms you’ve given isn’t what you’re actually describing the character having. Your description does not sound like mood swings, anxiety and depression with a few triggers.

 If you were writing these symptoms accurately I would tell you that your list is not enough. If I was just relying on that list I would suggest more symptoms and writing them to a greater severity.

 But I can’t just rely on the list. Because your description of the character’s mental state and what he goes through contradicts your list. Which suggests to me that you either haven’t decided what symptoms the character should have or you don’t understand what mental health problems are like.

 I do not think you are ready to write mental illness.

 I could go into more detail. But I don’t think it’s going to benefit either of us if I go through this and tell you why every single detail here is wrong.

 My job here is not to write your story for you. And it isn’t to make moral decisions for you either.

 If you are serious about writing torture or abuse respectfully then for now you need to stop writing. Instead I need you to do some reading. Because if you want to do this ‘right’ then you need to gain an understanding of what torture is, what it does to people and how they cope with it afterwards.

 So I’m going to give you a reading list. I think you should read each of these books carefully.

 Why Torture Doesn’t Work by S O’Mara

The Question by H Alleg (if English isn’t your first languages this is available in other languages, pick the one you’re most comfortable with)

A Darkling Plain by K R Monroe

A Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement by S Shalev

To the Kwai and Back by R Searle

 I think you should also read Black Jacobins by C L R James.

 Take your time. Make notes.

 When you’ve done that I think you should go to Amnesty International’s website and look at their recent interviews with torture survivors. Pick two or three large studies. Read detailed accounts from at least fifteen different people.

 Then I think you should come back to the story and completely rewrite it based on what you’ve learnt.

 I am not saying that you should never write torture. But it’s obvious from the plot and characters you’ve proposed that you don’t know enough to write it well yet. Take the time to gain that understanding before you write. You will write a better story for it.

 If you don’t want to do the research don’t write about torture.

 It’s a difficult topic to engage with. If you try and fail then that isn’t your fault. Reading about torture is upsetting. Not every one can deal with it in depth. That isn’t anyone’s fault or failing.

 But if you can’t cope with reading about the reality, if you can’t educate yourself, then you can’t speak on behalf of torture survivors.

 If you can’t listen to them then you simply don’t know enough to tell their stories.

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[thenerdparty]

Avengers: Endgame Film Review

Written by Shawn Eastridge Has it really been 11 years since the first Iron Man? The Dark Knight might have taken all the credit that year for revolutionizing the superhero genre, but Iron Man’s legacy has proved just as important. While other films in Phase One hobbled somewhere between decent and mediocre, Joss Whedon’s first Avengers exceeded any and all expectations. To this day, it stands as one of the greatest superhero films ever, and it paved the way for the remainder of Marvel’s Cinematic Universe.

Over the course of the past decade, the MCU has seen its fair share of highs (Anything directed by the Russos), lows (Thor movies not directed by Taika Waititi) and everything in between. But through it all, Marvel Studios has maintained a consistent level of quality, conjuring up box office numbers that made Warner Bros SO JEALOUS they ruined Superman in the attempt to catch up. (Hey, WB: I’m still available to help get you on the right track with the Man of Steel. Call me.)

But now, twenty-two movies later, it’s all come down to this. We’re in the Endgame now, the long-awaited BIG FINALE to Marvel’s Cinematic Universe.

Let’s be real, though - we all know this isn’t really the finale. The MCU will chug on and on forever. In fact, we’ve even got another Marvel movie right around the corner. (That would be July’s Spider-Man: Far From Home) And while that knowledge does dilute Endgame’s overall effectiveness - can anyone ever stay dead in the realm of comic books - it seems foolish to recognize Endgame as anything other than a monumental success.

Seriously, this ‘conclusion’ to the MCU’s recently dubbed ‘Infinity Saga’ satisfies on nearly every level, fulfilling arcs set up in prior films and providing proper send offs for characters we’ve come to know and love over the past decade. Instead of collapsing under the weight of its ongoing 22-film arc, the Russo Brothers, along with screenwriting duo Stephen McFeely and Christopher Markus, rise to the challenge and then some, wrapping things up with style, grace and a surprising amount of emotion. That is perhaps the most pleasant surprise: Endgame is genuinely touching in the way it thoughtfully concludes this ongoing story arc. You may find yourself dabbing the corners of your eyes more frequently than expected through the film’s brisk three-hour runtime.

This isn’t all to say that Endgame is without its fair share of flaws - and there are plenty that I’ll get into during the spoiler section of this review - but honestly, the nitpicks feel so minor when compared to all the things that work. Marvel Studios hasn’t just raised the bar for superhero filmmaking and ‘big finales’ in general. They’ve obliterated it.

There. That’s my non-spoiler reaction. MASSIVE SPOILERS await you ahead. So, do yourself a favor: if you haven’t seen Avengers: Endgame already, see it. Immediately. If you have any fondness for any of the films in this massive franchise, there’s no way you’ll be disappointed. Once you’re in the know, come back and check out the rest of this review.

Sound good? Okay. Let’s push forward.

. . . . .

Where Infinity War brought the comic book action early and often, Endgame’s opening moments are more meditative and somber. Our heroes have just faced a crushing loss. They’re still reeling from the devastation of Thanos’s infamous Finger-Snap Heard ‘round the Universe. Nothing will ever be the same.

After staging an effectively heart-wrenching opening scene, giving us a brief glimpse at Hawkeye’s family life before his wife and kids fade into ash, the Russos keep the mood low-key and mournful for the duration of the film’s first act. Then we get one of Endgame’s earliest and best twists: within the film’s first twenty minutes, the Avengers find Thanos and discover he’s destroyed the Infinity Stones to prevent anyone from undoing his monstrous deed. In an empty gesture, Thor chops off the purple dude’s head. It’s a brilliant way to kick things off, throwing the audience for a loop and suggesting an ‘anything goes’ vibe to keep us on the edge of our seats.

The story jumps ahead five years(!!) to find our heroes scattered and broken, attempting to mend together the pieces in a world still devastated by its new reality. I loved that the Russos let us wallow in our heroes’ misery for a bit. You really get a sense of the loss they’ve experienced, that the entire world has experienced. These scenes offer some wonderful character beats and conversations, something that has always elevated Marvel above the rest of the pack.

Scott Lang, a.k.a. Ant-Man, escapes the Quantum Realm (you saw Ant-Man and the Wasp, right?) to discover a significantly altered world. But he brings a message of hope with him: the duration of time he experienced in the Quantum Realm was only 5 hours, suggesting the potential for time travel. Maybe they can find a way to fix the devastation Thanos has wrought by traveling back in time?

P.S. Can I just take a moment to talk about how much I love Paul Rudd in this movie? Ant-Man has been on the periphery of the MCU’s big events and to see him take on such a big role in this movie was a huge thrill.

This glimmer of hope inspires the band to get back together and it’s genuinely surprising where some of them have ended up. Bruce Banner has finally made peace with his meaner, greener side, resulting in Professor Hulk, a version of the character that maintains Banner’s intelligence and personality. Thor never overcame his grief and has spent the past five years descending into drunken slobbery and gaining a significant amount of weight in the process. This provides one of the film’s best sight gags. Plus, it’s maintained throughout! Kudos to you, Russos!

And then we have Mr. Tony Stark himself, the key to figuring out how to make time travel work. But he’s moved on. He and Pepper have an adorable daughter. He has absolutely zero desire to lose what he has. Ultimately the realization that he can save the lives of countless billions - including one surrogate son Peter Parker - drives him to support the cause.

Endgame’s 2nd act centers around the newly reassembled Avengers time-traveling into the past to gather the Infinity Stones, bring them to their future and use them to ‘un-snap’ their fallen comrades. These sequences are fun and light on their feet. They’re especially effective in lieu of the grim opening scenes.

Here’s the thing, though: As much as I love this portion of the film and the way the time travel stuff is handled, I couldn’t help feeling there was a general lack of consequence to everything that happened during this sequence. Even when things skew from the team’s set plan, it doesn’t feel like a significant snag or an insurmountable obstacle. These moments are treated as minor annoyances before our heroes carry on with a new solution, nary breaking their strides or a sweat in the process.

It’s all fun in a Back to the Future Part II kind of way, but it’s treated more as an extended comedy bit than anything else, and to a certain extent, this robs Endgame of some level of suspense. Plus, it’s time travel. Once you throw time travel into the mix, all bets are off, and I couldn’t help shaking that feeling. After all, what’s to stop them from using this plot device again and again in the future, consequences be damned?

At the very least, the wackiness of the time travel sequence is balanced with some great character beats. I loved Thor’s tender moment with his mom. I loved Captain America vs. Captain America. I loved that Tony gets a sincere heart to heart with his dad, offering some much-needed closure. Robert Downey Jr. has never been anything less than wonderful in this role, but his performance in Endgame might take the cake. Honestly, everyone brings their A-game to the table and these moments ground the sequence, keeping it from getting too bonkers.

This sequence is also balanced with a genuinely tragic moment: Black Widow sacrifices herself to get the Soul Stone. I don’t know why this scene has been stirring up some people, because here’s the thing: this moment works perfectly. Natasha (Black Widow) and Clint (Hawkeye) travel to Vormir to obtain the Soul Stone. As established in Infinity War, the only way to obtain said stone is to sacrifice the thing you love most. Clint’s willing to take the plunge. He’s become a monster in the five years since his family’s disappearance (but an awesome, katana-wielding monster) and he doesn’t feel he deserves to see them again. Natasha knows this isn’t true and she’s willing to sacrifice herself to ensure Clint gets his happy ending. After all, he saved her all those years ago. It’s time to return the favor. It’s heartbreaking, but it feels right and Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner sell every minute.

The plan is a success, but it's not without its snags. Past Thanos ends up getting involved when past Nebula tunes into future Nebula’s wifi and begins broadcasting everything future Nebula has seen, including the Avengers’ time travel plan. Thanos gets worked up into a tizzy and he and past Nebula devise a plan to get him into the Avengers’ future so he can ensure everyone snapped out of existence stays snapped out of existence. Also, why not wipe out everyone else in the process just for good measure? Because that’s what big, angry, purple maniacs do. Don’t question it.

Is it a bit weird that the Thanos the Avengers face isn’t the same Thanos so carefully fleshed out in Infinity War? Yeah, a little bit. To be honest, it makes things feel kind of impersonal. This Thanos feels more like the mysterious being teased in dozens of MCU post-credits sequence than the layered, thoughtful villain of the previous film. It’s a bit of a bummer, but it is what it is.

Ultimately, my biggest gripe with Endgame is the same gripe caused by Infinity War’s conclusion. We already knew the disintegrated heroes were going to come back for their obligatory sequels. Their arrival during Endgame’s epic battle to end all epic battles feels inevitable more than surprising.

And, look, let me be clear: Endgame’s climax is the ultimate superhero big battle you’ve been dreaming of since Nick Fury first name-dropped the ‘Avengers Initiative.’ I went nuts with the best of them when all our heroes returned from the abyss for this ultimate showdown, so understand my next criticism comes from a place of love. Once all the heroes show up, the stakes disappear. I didn’t have any doubt the Avengers would win. As a result, the climax is robbed of its suspense. It’s basically fan service to the nth degree, which again, I’d like to emphasize I was totally cool with. It just prevents the battle from conjuring up any emotional depth.

This isn’t The Return of the King. It's not the Battle of Hogwarts or the Death Star trench run or even the first Avengers' Battle for New York. It’s a big, flashy special effects extravaganza overflowing with crowd-pleasing beats, but lacking in genuine (here’s this word again) consequence. Again, I want to emphasize that I loved every second of it, but there’s a significant lack of loss during these scenes. Ultimately, Tony Stark sacrifices himself to save the universe and it’s absolutely BRILLIANT and heart-wrenching, but no one else seems in danger. Iron Man dies so that dozens of franchises can live on.

The remaining twenty minutes or so of Endgame are low key. We witness Tony’s emotional funeral, torches are passed (go, Sam Wilson, go!) and some unexpected-slash-exciting team-ups are teased (Fat Thor with the Guardians of the Galaxy? I am SO in.) But it’s during these quiet scenes that the Russos skillfully remind us what has always mattered the most: the characters. And I’m not going to lie, it’s difficult not to get choked up when Steve Rogers, a man who has sacrificed so much for the greater good, finally gets his happy ending, dancing the day away with the love of his life.

Big finales don’t get much more enjoyable or fulfilling than this. Marvel’s Cinematic Universe will go on and on and on. Inevitably, its quality will wane and fade, but we can rest easy knowing that the heroes that kicked everything off got the send-off they deserved. It might not be perfect, but it’s pretty damn great. Most importantly, it’s satisfying.

With the Infinity Saga, Marvel Studios has accomplished something extraordinary. They’ve touched countless millions across the globe without compromising the artistic quality of this multi-billion dollar franchise. We can rage on and on about Disney’s domination and how everything is just a corporate product and blah, blah, blah, but we’d be ignoring the fact that they got to where they are because they honored their source material and went out of their way to give the fans something special.

So to Kevin Feige and the entire team at Marvel Studios, cast, crew, writers, bean pushers, etc., I’d like to say thank you. You’ve earned every record-breaking penny. We love you 3000.

Now can someone please un-cancel Daredevil?? Come on!!

[ontheedgeofrecovery]

What was different?

Hang tight, this is going to be a long one. I hope it is worth your time to read. Also, I put a hell of a lot of time into writing this, so I really hope it is helpful for someone (anyone!) out there.  

So, I was messaging with a friend the other night (and by the other night I mean a few weeks ago because this took me forever to write) who I met a long time ago in treatment (you know who you are and I miss you and love you!). As we were talking about how hard it is to be in treatment, I started thinking about my own last experience in treatment. What made it stick? Why was it that time that I was able to stop the cycle of going in and out of the hospital? I have struggled with anorexia and restrictive eating since about the age of 7. It didn't turn into a full-blown eating disorder until I was 13, but the seeds were there around 7ish when I started to become very rigid about what and when I would eat. Anyway, it's been a long struggle. And then from 13 to 31 I cycled in and out of treatment. I literally have lost count of how many times I have been admitted - I don't say this to brag (I have noticed this is a thing in treatment), but rather to emphasize that clearly something was not clicking for a long time. In the summer of 2014 my treatment recommended palliative care and to stop trying to get better in the hospital. Basically, let nature take its course. 

I pretty much accepted that the only thing left to do was die, but then decided to give it one last go and embarked upon one of my longest stays in treatment ever (October 20, 2014 to August 22, 2015). Although to be fair, I "left" many times. Usually for a day or two and then I would come back and resume my stay. I am so lucky I found a place and a treatment team that was willing to put up with my flight impulses and always accepted me back. I went from inpatient to PHP to residential to PHP to inpatient to PHP, and then finally IOP. I really hung in there and allowed myself to get to about 90% of my ideal before I discharged. Which I don't think I had done since being 15 and being at Remuda. While I clearly think this is one of the bigger players in how I got myself stable, there are others. 

What was different? How did I allow myself to stay that long in treatment and sit through the discomfort of gaining almost double my body weight?

Well, there is no one simple answer, but I have been mulling it over in my head the past few days and I thought I would jot down my thoughts 1) because I feel stuck where I am at in recovery and maybe this will be motivation and 2) I don't have many readers, but for those of you who are out there maybe this will be helpful? So here they are in somewhat of a particular order (though these have changed over time in how they contribute and maintain my "recovery" (I hate using that word, because I still struggle a lot with food, but I am so much better than where I was and maybe this is what recovery looks like for me?).

Anyway.

1) Cannabis -  This is kind of what kick-started the whole journey. I was 31 and had NEVER been high. Not edibles (well, obviously), not smoking. Nothing. I was absolutely terrified of getting high. I had heard so many stories of people getting paranoid and having panic attacks. I am already so anxious that the thought of something making me more anxious was an absolute no go. In addition to that, I am a rule follower and smoking weed was definitely against the rules. 

My brother came to visit in March of 2014. I was not in a great space. This gets confusing because my brother and my ex are both named Nick, but we called my brother Nicky growing up so that is what I will call him here in order to differentiate. Nick had been trying to convince me to try smoking for years, pretty much since we started dating in 2008. I was steadfast in saying it was a no-go. However, Nicky made a compelling argument that I had tried everything else and was dying anyway so why not try it as a last-ditch effort to save myself. Or at the very least make the time I had left enjoyable.  

I did and it opened my world in so many ways. It made me feel more connected to a greater whole. It made me realize that I am not alone in this world and I felt less isolated. Coming to terms with this made me realize how insignificant I really am in the overall scheme of things. This really helped me put into perspective the amount of time and energy I was putting into something that was not contributing at all to the betterment of society, my relationships, and I was not okay with this. 

It also reduced my rigidity. Things just seemed clearer when I smoked. It was kind of like a veil lifted. I had more room for flexibility. Smoking also fills me with a feeling of hope (similar to my feelings of connectedness). Things just don't seem so dire and pointless when I am high. It seems like things could be different, that I can choose a different reality. 

And finally (I don't know why this is, but I would LOVE to do research on this someday), I saw myself somewhat accurately when I smoked. For some reason when I am high I am able to see myself more realistically. My distortion doesn't completely go away, but how I see myself is definitely closer to what is real. I would look down and see my body and be like, "oh shit, this is really bad”. This even happened to me tonight when I smoked. All day long I was feeling really uncomfortable in my body and seeing myself way bigger than I actually am. I hate to say "fat," because I don't see myself as fat, I just see myself as a little above average - which everyone tells me is not true. Tonight though, I looked down and was like, yeah, I am at a normal weight, but I am on the low side of normal and I could see it for a little while after I smoked. 

I don't know if that makes sense, but basically starting to use cannabis made me see things from an entirely different perspective. Throughout the summer of 2014 I gradually began to believe that things could be different. That maybe the amazing clarity I had when I smoked was how things were supposed to be. Maybe if I could get to a better place I would feel the happiness and hope I felt when I was high. Maybe if I gained weight things would get better. And for the first time in a long time, I believed it. 

2) My (now ex) husband drew a hard line in the sand - This was a huge influence as well. I started my treatment journey at Princeton (which I chose because I had never been there before - I also knew they had private rooms and that was a huge draw. Also, to be totally honest, I had been essentially banned from a number of other treatment centers for being a repeat customer and always leaving before I was ready). However, I signed myself out after a month.I had a million reasons - I was the oldest one there, they were making me gain weight too fast, I knew everything they were teaching me, it was depressing, I was sick of being on bedrest, it wasn’t fair, the staff sucked... on and on. 

Nick was PISSED. He had finally reached a point where he couldn't do it anymore. He told me I was not allowed to come home. He said if I came home he would either move out or that he would file for divorce. 

I was devastated. Nick had never done this before, he was never thrilled when I left treatment, but he also was a little happy to have me home and doing marginally better. I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I knew there was no escape, I had to go back to treatment. I chose a place near my family so I would a) have the support and b) if I stepped down I would have a place to stay. Nick made it clear I was not allowed home until I had put on a significant amount of weight and my treatment was onboard with a discharge from care. 

I knew if I was going to save my marriage and get home, I had to at least stay long enough to be appropriately discharged. There was no escaping it. Also, this didn't happen until a little while after, but when Nick did ask for a divorce, it hit me that I had become my dad. My father has a lot of mental health issues and my mom stuck by him through the years. But at some point, he stopped being an active participant in his own care and health. My mom couldn't do it anymore and she left him. The quote, “watching someone drown in a puddle and all they need to do is stand up” comes to mind. She just couldn’t watch him refuse to stand up anymore. 

It completely devastated him. I have always been afraid of becoming chronically mentally ill like my father and losing everyone in my life. By continuing to go in and out of treatment and cycle in and out of doing well enough to maintain relationships I was going to follow in the exact footsteps as my father. I see how miserable his life is and I continue to use that image to push to not listen to everything the eating disorder tells me. 

3) I wanted my dogs back/needed to get out of where I was living - In May of 2015 (when I was in PHP and living at my mom's boyfriend's - his name is Don - house) Nick asked for a divorce. I was doing pretty well in treatment, still struggling and being non-compliant at times, but continuing to attend every day and slowly weight restore. I still don't know entirely when the scales (no pun intended) tipped, but they did. I don't know if Nick realized how much more peaceful his life was without the eating disorder or if he just didn't believe things would change. Regardless, he said he was going to file for divorce. 

I went from "staying at Don's house" to living at Don's house in one phone call. To say I was devastated is an understatement. In fact, I am still devastated. I saw my parent's marriage end because my dad couldn't get sober and now I had done the same thing in my own marriage. I lost the person I was closest with because of the eating disorder. I guess, in a way, this was part of what kept me at treatment as well - the hope that I would get well and Nick would take me back. I still hope this will happen, but I know it won't. Anyhow, I digress.

Living at Don's house sucked. I was living with my mom again at age 32. I felt like such a failure. It wasn't even my mom's house I was staying at, it was her boyfriend's. It was not comfortable living there, it was awkward. It was awkward sharing a space with Don and his son who has a lot of anger issues. My bedroom was uncomfortable. I slept on a twin bed for the first time since I was a teenager and it was lopsided. It was out in rural NH and I hated that all my friends and anything to do was a quite a drive away. Everyone in the house smoked cigarettes and I hate the smell. But what I hated most was I was not allowed to have my dogs. 

My dogs are the most important thing in the world to me. I love those little beasts so fucking much it hurts at times. And I hadn't seen them in 7 months. I absolutely needed to get myself out of that house and get my dogs back. However, I could not do this without a job. And I could not get a job while I was still struggling so much with eating and reliant upon the structured schedule PHP was providing for me. I made it my mission to get to a point where I could hold a job and get my own apartment. If I was going to stay well long term and not have to be re-hospitalized, I knew I had to give myself more cushion room in terms of weight gain than I ever have before. 

4) Yoga - Yoga has become really trendy lately and with good reason. There are so many benefits to yoga that go far beyond the physical. For me, the primary thing I learned in yoga is that if you stay persistent, the uncomfortable gets more comfortable. And things that seem impossible become possible. 

I have a very special relationship with avoidance and perfectionistic behaviors. I tend to avoid things I am not good at or not even try at all. I hate being uncomfortable. Like, no one likes being uncomfortable, but I have a particularly difficult time with it. Not being good at something and building the skills you need to get better is often very uncomfortable. I pretty much have always shied away from things that challenge me to the point of being uncomfortable. This is for a couple of reasons 1) I hate not being good at things 2) It doesn't seem worth my time if I suck 3) Getting better at things requires being uncomfortable at some point and I don't like it. 

I often do not stick with things that I am not good at or require discomfort on my part. I will try to pick up a hobby and not be good at it and quit. Or I will try to get myself in better shape by trying to lift weights or run and it makes me feel discomfort, so I quit. Although I go to the gym every day, I will not do anything beyond walking because pushing myself physically is uncomfortable (though I will walk 7 miles in a go, I hate breaking a sweat). I don't like to eat because I have a nauseous stomach and that is uncomfortable. I don't like to try new things because the unknown is scary, so I avoid it. Basically, what I am saying is I never stick with anything long enough to see the discomfort dissipate and the rewards of tolerating the discomfort come through. i.e. weight restoration, facing fear foods, sitting with the feeling of food in my stomach, making choices about what to eat, physical activity, anything I am not immediately good at. 

Yoga at first seemed like a thing to get into because I wasn't allowed to really exercise and at least it was some physical movement. I was so desperate to be able to move more that I didn't care that I wasn't very good at it. Also, I went to a gentle yoga studio and everyone there was so accepting and welcoming to people who were just getting into yoga. I kept going to yoga and I actually started to get better at it. I didn't feel any pressure to be getting better, but I began to see it happen anyway.

I started taking harder classes. I started to learn to breathe through the uncomfortable poses. That they would end and that next time I did them they would be easier. A friend of mine sent me a yoga sequence and it was hard. Like, an hour long with a million chaturangas (when you lower yourself like a pushup, into up dog and go back into downward dog). The first couple times I did it I couldn't do all the chaturangas, so I skipped a lot of them. But as I did it everyday, I was able to do more and more. Eventually, I could do the whole sequence and even the jump back from crow into chaturanga! 

Committing to doing yoga every day was the first time I really stuck with something through the uncomfortable learning period and allowed myself to see the benefits of my practice. It started t make sense to me that other areas of my life could be similar to yoga - that if I didn't focus so much on the discomfort in the moment and rather on the fact that it would pass and I would be better for tolerating it that I would gain skills. I finally got that part of growing and evolving involves a certain amount of discomfort and acceptance that you won't see results right away. Yoga has taught me so much. To accept my limitations and also to push them, to breathe through discomfort, to not be so hard on myself, and that I am capable of growth and change. 

Here is a great little blurb on Reddit about discomfort and yoga: https://www.reddit.com/r/yoga/comments/5hc0b2/yoga_has_taught_me_to_welcome_discomfort_into_my/ 5) I agreed to medications - I have always had a not so great relationship with medications. I have a ton of side effects and I just really don't like taking them. Over the years I have gone on and off medications so many times. I will take them for a while, go off them, fall apart, go back on them, not really get better, have side effects, go off them - you get the idea. Even when I found something that helped I would frequently go off it after a time because I really didn't want to be on meds. 

I finally got desperate enough that I thought, hey, it improves my quality of life, fuck it. Even if the medications shorten my lifespan (worst-case scenario) then at least I had some years with decreased mental health issues. I started to really talk to a psychiatrist about finding something that worked. It was trial and error and took a little bit of time to find the right meds that a) helped and b) didn't cause horrible side effects. The two medications I am on certainly do not get rid of the obsessive thoughts or the anxiety, but they certainly make it way more manageable. 

I don't feel as much like a prisoner of my brain or that my brain is a prison - either or. And I have remained compliant instead of being like, "oh things are better, I don't need these!" Because I do need them. I have a brain-based illness and I wouldn't turn down medications if I had any other disease of the body, so really this is no different. 

6) I went slowly but surely - I stayed in treatment for a loooonnngggg time and took weight restoration pretty slowly. It sucked and I so wanted to get back to life, but every time I have done weight restoration the quick and dirty way in the past, it didn't stick. I would either leave treatment early because it was happening too fast and I was too uncomfortable. Or I would leave treatment and be unable to adjust to my new body and rapidly relapse. I knew I had to do things differently. I was very lucky I had good insurance and a treatment that was willing to work with me. Also, not lucky, but I have comorbid mental health issues (anxiety and OCD) that helped keep insurance covering me. 

7) I gave up trying to eat intuitively - This is a big one too. I always thought that recovery looked like eating normally. For me, it doesn't look like what most people would classify as normal. It is very regimented and I eat a lot of very safe foods. And I used to think that meant I wasn't in recovery and why keep trying. I might as well go back to listening to what my brain tells me and not eat. I mean, if I couldn't eat normally, why even bother?

I decided to try something different than what is encouraged in treatment. I began to eat the same thing every day. The same exact thing at the same exact times. No matter how I felt. This helped me for many reasons 1) I got used to the foods I was eating and desensitized myself a little 2) It took the overwhelming choice of what to eat out of the equation. Deciding what to eat is really stressful for me and so I often avoid it. Eating the same thing every day meant I didn't have to make decisions 3) I could stop counting calories. If I eat the same exact thing every day there is no reason to count calories. I did at first but eventually seeing the same number every day seemed like a waste of time and unnecessary. 4) I am super routine, so once I get in the groove of something, I stick with it. Now even when I feel nauseous or I had a rough day and don't feel like eating or I am having an uncomfortable body image day I still eat at my scheduled times, because, well, routine. It is more uncomfortable for me to break my routine at this point than it is just to eat what I have eaten every day for 3 years. 

I am not saying this is a great long term solution, but for people with chronic and severe anorexia, it is better than anything else I have found in managing a healthy weight. Like I said, maybe this is what recovery looks like for me right now. I hope it gets better in the future, but I am just happy to be participating in life.

8) I eliminated almost everyone I was in treatment with from my social media - Well, not everyone, but other people who were cycling in and out of treatment like I was. It just wasn’t healthy for me to see their posts. People would post how they were going back into treatment or pictures of them that were incredibly triggering. So, I didn’t want to see that anymore. It made me feel like there was no hope when I would see someone doing well no longer doing well. Or to see the constant treatment posts. Some people glorified being sick or seemed to take pride in how sick they would get or how much weight they had lost. It was just a world I needed to step back from. For me, I experienced a lot of competitive and self-destructive feelings when I would see people thinner/sicker than me. I would feel either a) I wasn’t really sick enough to need help and b) jealous they were thinner than me (I hate this part of the eating disorder and I am kind of ashamed to admit this here). 

I also needed to build a community that wasn’t treatment based so I wouldn’t miss it. I grew strong relationships in treatment that I had a hard time finding in the real world. Treatment and the community within it didn’t consciously keep me ill, but when I wasn’t there and I would see group pictures. It made me feel as though I needed to go back to the safety and community of treatment. Again, I just needed to focus on something other than anorexia to escape the cyclical pattern I was in. 

I certainly kept in touch with some people who continue to struggle, but these are the people I regularly talk to and have authentic, real friendships with - not people I just followed because we spent time in treatment together. It was sad to unfriend these people, but I just needed to build a life outside of treatment and to focus on my friendships that had nothing to do with eating disorders. It helped me regain an identity outside of anorexia. I needed to be exposed to normalcy around eating after being surrounded by people who struggled with food/weight/body image. I needed to start to have conversations outside of my obsession and dysfunctional relationship with food. 

Anyway, that was long, but I hope there were some nuggets in there that helps someone. Thanks for sticking with me through to the end if you read this! 

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Altruistic Endeavors | Inktober 2020 - Day 21: Sleep

When the door closed behind the woman’s departure, Bethany turned a disappointed and confused look on him. “So what’s so significant about this echo thing?”

“It…” But he found that he didn’t actually know. He frowned, gaze drifting down as he searched for the information he could have sworn had just been there. When he came up with nothing, he turned his gaze to Tolnoran. “Have you seen anything like it before?”

Tolnoran shook his head. “That was a first for me.”

Elias spoke up. “I know most if not all the creatures in the Second Plane but I’ve never seen anything like Tolnoran described, nor anything called an echo.”

Frustration churned in his chest. “It’s the translation of the name. It has one like Dlmor or Kret but I don’t know how to say it.”

That drew Elias’s curiosity. “Can you spell it?”

He gave the man a flat look. “I can hardly say it and you expect me to know how to spell it?”

“Then how…”

“I’d heard it. The thing had spoken it.”

Bethany placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel her trembling and he wondered if it was out of some fear or exhaustion. “What do you mean the thing spoke it?”

He shrugged. Her hand didn’t move. “It had spoken it.” He met Elias’s gaze. “Or, at least the name had been spoken. Everything else is kind of just…there.”

“Transference?”

“I don’t think so.”

Elias’s gaze moved to Dlmor. “Did you hear it?”

“No.” The creature’s gaze moved to Artemis. “Try repeating the name. I want to hear what it called itself.”

“I’m going to butcher it,” he warned.

Elias waved his concern off. “It’ll be close enough.”

He pulled at what he did remember of the encounter and brought up the conversation. At first he couldn’t make out the name enough to mimic it but then it was like someone whispered it clearly in his ear and it fell off his tongue with ease. “Olnvorox.”

The reaction was immediate. Both Elias and Tolnoran’s eyes widened in shock, color draining from both their faces as their creature companions hissed and reared back. Even Dlmor growled at the word but Bethany withdrew her hand as she shook her head in denial even as the fear drained the color from her face.

It worried him that even she knew what it was by its proper name.

“Are you sure?” Elias whispered, voice strained.

“Very.”

“But you’ve never heard of-” Tolnoran stumbled over the name- “of those until now, right?”

He gave a cautious nod.

“But why?” Elias pushed, sounding on the edge of frantic. “Why did it tell you its name if you didn’t know? Wouldn’t it have benefited if we hadn’t known?”

He frowned at that. “I don’t know the answer to that. It just did, along with the knowledge of what that thing had been and the significance of it being here.”

“Significance?”

He didn’t clarify at Elias’s prod. Instead, he turned his gaze onto Dlmor. “Are you sure a Kret attacked me back in the camper?”

Bethany took a step closer. “Artemis, what are you-”

“Of course,” Dlmor assured him, sounding affronted even as confusion molded its expression. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think it was.”

Elias caught on to his thoughts. “Artemis, if it was one of those, you would be dead right now.”

It dawned on Dlmor and Tolnoran at the same time. The creature’s eyes widened before drifting as if its thoughts were racing. Tolnoran shot him a look of pity and terror. He ignored it in favor of holding Elias’s gaze. “I was unconscious for three days here,” he stated. “Before that I slept through the entire day and was left with a fog filled brain when the pain wasn’t there to disrupt my thoughts instead.” He pulled in a breath, letting that settle around them. “Far more damage than any Kret can cause. Or so I’ve been told.”

“Elias,” Tolnoran choked. “Elias, if that was a-” a shuddering breath- “if it was one-”

Elias shook his head as he took a step back, turning to look at Tolnoran. The disbelief was quickly masked by determination. “Go warn Cass and Col. Conner. They’ll pass on the word if we’re believed.”

“Is there a chance you won’t be?” Artemis asked, watching Tolnoran rush out the door with Ysle at his side.

Elias’s haunted gaze landed on him. “There’s always a chance for every possibility but in this? No. This is very serious and even the Council - though they’ll deny it - will still follow the proper procedures for the situation.”

“We can’t stay here if there’s a…” Bethany started but the words died at the name. “We have to run.”

Elias shook his head. “We have to lock down. If there are more here, there’s no telling who they’ve attached to, let alone who they’ll attack.”

“What is an Olnvorox?” he put in. He watched the fear race through his family. “Why the fear of it? Of the name?”

“Artemis, do you remember the story Mom used to read to you for bedtime before I left? The one of the Evershadow?”

The nonsequential question didn’t make sense but he answered it anyways. “Barely. The one about the human that couldn’t get rid of the shadow haunting him until he pulled a star from the sky and gave it life?”

Bethany nodded. “It was one Mom shared with me as a kid. I had always thought it was just some obscure children’s story she had found but even fairy tales are based off of some truth. The Evershadow was based on this being, based on the…” she took a breath, looking pained, “Olnvorox.” She shuddered. “But the difference between the Evershadow and those is that the Evershadow was just a shadow. These things are real and will tear you apart in every way possible. And no one knows how to get rid of them. Whatever the star getting life represented was lost to the story’s origin.”

Elias stepped closer, a thoughtful frown on his face. “But that’s not quite accurate anymore. Tolnoran told me Artemis had destroyed the…” his pause was much shorter than Bethany’s, “Olnvorox with his Dlmor.”

Artemis looked to Dlmor. “Do you remember what had happened?”

His heart sank when Dlmor shook its head. “I remember even less than you do and in all honesty I had thought I had passed out when you pulled its claws out of my side. I don’t remember anything after that point. Well, except for Elias and the healer arriving but I’m not sure if it’s an actual memory or a fever dream.”

Bethany spoke up, her voice tight. “I’ve never seen one and I don’t have Toley anymore. Surely there’s enough time for me to get out of here at least.”

“If there was, I would send you home in a heartbeat,” Elias assured her, “but right now the risk is too high until the compound has been checked.”

“Is there really no way to keep anyone safe?” Artemis asked, looking between the two of them. “I don’t remember the specifics but didn’t the Evershadow story have other people in it outside of the main human? Ones that were harmed by it and ones that weren’t?”

Elias shifted his weight, offering, “I doubt having everyone sleep like in the story will protect any of them. This isn’t the Evershadow.”

“But the story held some truth, right?” he countered. “What if some of it was literal? What if it really was sleeping that protects us from an Olnvorax?”

“We can’t risk that.”

“But-”

A scream from the hallway cut through the door, startling all of them. Dlmor pressed into his left leg between him and the door. Elias turned around, muttering something to the creature draped around his neck. Artemis picked out the creature’s name from the muttered sounds before it did as requested. Trevak slid from Elias’s shoulders and glided down to the floor, growing in size as it went. By the time it was half as thick as Dlmor was round, Trevak’s body filled a large amount of the room. Feathered wings carefully tucked close to the scales. Elias let a hand rest on the snake’s body as Bethany wrapped her hands around Artemis’s shoulders.

“Artemis,” she whispered. “Please. You can’t trust him.”

He looked back at her, letting his hurt show at that. “I can’t not right now. Not when it means life or death for far too many.”

“Artemis,” she tried again, voice strained and pitched too high, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by another scream.

Elias didn’t look back even as he spoke. “Artemis.”

“I still trust your word to keep me safe if I followed what you said,” he acknowledged before the other man could continue. “I’ll only leave if you tell me to.”

He gained the man’s gaze before it moved to Bethany. “The smart thing would be to hunker down and wait it out but I have people out there that I need to check on and help. I can’t ask you to come with me.”

Artemis offered him an amused smile. “Well, it’s a good thing I was already planning on helping.”

“Artemis…”

He shook his head, giving the man an out. “Lead. We’re right behind you.”

Bethany’s grip on his shoulders turned painful. “Artemis, I don’t have a companion. I’m of no use out there and will only be a sitting duck!”

He looked over his shoulder at her, covering one of her hands with his. “I haven’t forgotten.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Stay close. Dlmor and I will protect you.”

“And when you two are too busy?”

It was a challenge but the fear cut through the sharpness of it. He gave her hand another squeeze. “There will be someone to take my place. I promise.”

The sound of running feet went past the door. There was another scream but it was faint. Elias moved towards the door, stating simply, “Time to go.”

Artemis gave her hand one last squeeze before slipping out from her touch. “I may not remember Toley but I remember my sister,” he offered her, holding her gaze. “I remember how strong she was when I was still too young to stand strong on my own. I remember her prowess as a person, the burning fire that had been there even after Toley vanished. I don’t remember it clearly but I remember it like I remember Mom’s hug and Dad’s prickly kisses. I remember it like I remember the happiness I had when you were around.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I know you have so much more to lose now so let me protect you this time. Let me stand strong where you can’t- where you shouldn’t have to. I’ve got Dlmor now.”

“But I’m the older sister,” she tried using as a counter. “I should be protecting you, not the other way around.”

“You are protecting me,” he informed her, amused and mildly confused by that. “It just happens to not be in the way you want to.”

There was a new set of running feet and by the time they were at the door, he could make out two different sets. But unlike the last set of running feet, this one actually stopped at the door and yanked it open. To Artemis’s surprise, Lora was standing on the other side. Her Belvren was barely taller than her and looked like it was made out of some sort of pale rock. “Oh, thank the Divine,” she sighed as she looked between the three of them. “A man named Tolnoran said you would be here. He said to bring you all with.” Elias was out the door and down the hall with Trevak leading the way before Lora was done talking. She glanced at the man disappearing down the hallway as Artemis and Bethany stepped out of the room. “They’re needing all hands for this.”

Artemis touched Lora’s arm. “Stick with Beth for me, yeah?”

Lora gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Be careful.”

Dlmor’s form shifted at the edge of his vision as he returned the sharp nod. As Dlmor settled into something large enough to carry him and still run on all fours, Bethany pulled him into a tight hug. “Seriously. Please don’t do anything stupid.” She pulled back enough to cup his face in both hands. “Elias likes to talk about Ylmra and Walkers and their strengths but he forgets we’re still human, that we break.”

Her hands were warm under his as he wrapped his fingers around her palms. He gently tugged her hands from his face, giving them a squeeze as he did. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Bethany withdrew but not fully. She sent a glare at Dlmor. “Don’t you dare get him killed, Dlmor. I will end you myself if you do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Artemis grabbed fistfuls of fur and hauled himself onto Dlmor’s back. The creature took off down the hallway before he was properly seated but he didn’t care. With his sister safe with someone he could trust - with nothing more distracting him from what he was rushing headlong into - the information from the Olnvorox came back to nip at him, bringing with it a rising fear that wanted to choke him.