#{how embarrassing}

[rooted-clangen]

dawg my discord got hijicked and sent out fuckin spam links... ive fixed it and still have access to the account but ughhh i now have to see if i cant get the guideline strikes off.

i cant message on there till the 15th tho

[allastoredeer]

Forever amused that Vox suckered 2/3 of the Morningstar family. Thank goodness Alastor was there.

[rennerei]

bruh

[chaoswritesthemultiverse]

In my recent game I came across some dialogue from Gale I've not seen before, despite this being my 500000000th romance with this man. So we meet Lorroakan for the first time and convince him that Aylin is dead. Speaking to Gale, I think, ok, he's going to be like "hey what a shit wizard" or "what an arrogant little twat" because we've already seen his rubbish projections and it's Lorroakan, come on. Then Gale says this:

Yes, he falls short of - wait. What? Gale is roasting Lorroakan not for his magical skills. He is incensed by his inability to use multiple sources to verify information.

This absolute nerd is more pissed about having too few citations than the fact that Lorroakan is an amoral little jerk that wants to torturously leech off of an aasimar's soul for his own immortality.

I -

Gale, please never change. I love you, you ridiculous dork.

[snoruntpyro]

this guy fucking sucks at megaman

[cup-o-stars]

I'll have sheep Abel pls

I can't design furries if that's what you meant, but it seemed like a good time to draw this, ha

[inkskinned]

it became like a point system, i guess.

it wasn't that he never did anything romantic or wonderful. he would do these things for me on occasion almost ritualistically - after i'd exhibited about four or five different breakdowns. he would finally book tickets to the symphony. we would finally spend a weekend in the mountains, drinking wine and listening to audiobooks. we would finally go on some serious expedition somewhere - no longer than a week, but it was felt. and those things would be 500, 700, 9000 points.

(at the time, as you know, i hadn't realized yet that it was always things that pertained to his interests. we did not go to poetry slams, we went to long and weird contemporary music festivals. we did not go to my places or be with my people - it was his places, his people. as ashamed as i am to admit it now: when he did begrudgingly allow me to cart him to my things, it still somehow became a point in his favor. that i brough him to the beautiful, sacred place of Acadia National Park earned him the 500 points - for his patience. for his willingness. for his sanctimony.)

and then he would cash in on those points and do virtually nothing. meanwhile, i'd buy dinner or send a card or call first or send a loving text or bring him little gifts. and these were all small things. they were 100, 200 points. i'd do this stupid, feminine, evil little domestic labor: the socks off the floor or getting groceries or remembering to turn the lights off or putting the seat down or whatever. the small "oopsie" partner things that you are supposed to accept. and those were all valued very low, as if i was in some kind of emotional arcade game. they'd be 5, 10, sometimes (in particularly rough moments) up to 50 points, if i was very generous with my cleaning and/or emotional supporting and/or romantic effort.

but the whole time, like clockwork, he'd call in on the points. remember when we went to new hampshire? or babe i just planned a date for you last month. on one very sweet moment, i remember him saying, without irony - why would i plan your birthday. i got you what you wanted for christmas. i am born in july, on the first. it had been 7 entire months. i had sent him the gift i had wanted - on reflection, had i not wanted him to "claim points" on something he hadn't put effort into? or was i just scared i'd be confronted with that same knowledge we've all had when opening a lackluster, terrible gift - this is fucking nothing. he claimed the points anyway, and i let him.

i don't know why i allowed it. i'm a feminist. i was already actively writing about emotional labor, all of that. but when you are raised in a house that loves anger, your whole body becomes an echo. you can't hear your own pain over the ache of your history. maybe it's just that it did feel - through catholic guilt or though my past or through my own passive and stupid fawning nature - like it made sense. yes, he did take me on a date last month! so what if he said i looked like a sausage in that dress (fully knowing of my eating disorder)? he had taken me on the date, which was kind of him.

i keep remembering how confused he was each time, holding up these little points in front of me. other men do it too sometimes - the men who assume they've earned enough "friendship" points to fuck me - but he was just so earnest about it. he didn't need to support me or hold me or be kind to me - he had already been kind, at one point, and now that job was over.

and i would stand in that little arcade of our lives and see my own score, bright and blazing above me. millions of points ahead of him, somehow, just because i was constantly trying. and i'd try to point it out to him and i would feel sort of dumb and obvious doing it. who can say i do your laundry is equivalent to we went to disney. but there it was, and there we were: him asking to win the biggest prize. the bright green monkey. and me, begging him - i just need you to show up for me consistently.

[sirshankss]

Cricket and Misuta for my poor little heart…

Characters belongs to @/venomous-qwille