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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Incandescent Rage

The second season of His Dark Materials has completed and, as with the first, it was truly excellent. I reviews the first season and since this is mostly just a return of that level of excellence, my opinion of it hast really changed so, if you wan a proper reviews about this show, search for that one. I will say this; The second season is much better. The first was excellent, don’t misunderstand, but the return to this world of Dust and Daemons really felt like everyone understood who their characters were, where they needed to be. Seriously, this second season solidified the pure love, passion, and reverence, hinted at in the first season. Since i can’t really be objective about this show any longer, it’s just too good, here are the things i loved the most from this exceptional second season.

Dafne Keen comes through with another devastatingly inspired performance. Her lyra Silvertongue has been a standout for this show and it would absolutely not work if Keen wasn’t up to the task. She’s stealing all of the scenes and this is HER show!

Amir Wilson was excellent as Will Parry. The little bits we saw of him in season one seeded a level of confidence in the kid for the character but he rely gets to show his ability in this new season. People are talking awards for said performance and, while i agree he was very good, there are just too many other people, just in this how, who overshadow him. Still, he was much better than in the first.

The very best thing about this show, for me, is Ruth Wilson. She is brilliant in everything she ever does but her take on Marisa Coulter is just scathingly horrifying but, at the same time, desperately heartbreaking. She was my favorite character in the first season and that love was proven true with this second. That scene she shared with Miranda? I felt that. The rematch between Daemons she lost against Lyra? I felt that, too. That look of utter disgusted malice when she made it to Will’s Oxford and talked to Mary? That one cut stupid deep. very revelation, every realization, every devastation, conveyed beautifully, depressingly, despairingly, by Ruth. F*cking chef kiss, all season.

Marisa was my favorite character in the first season. I identified with her aloof calculation and focused resolve. Underlying that was someone with real passion, even is she dd everything in her power to keep those volatile emotions in check. I knew that archetype and i knew it well It reminded me of me. Her interaction with Lee in that cell explained to me exactly why. She’s a product of abuse, just like me. Her parents were cruel to her, for a long time, and she coped by turning into a monster. Just like me. Marisa is a sociopath. She is cruel. She is inhuman. All of that stems from the inhumanity she suffered as a youth. Marisa isn’t unhinged. She knows exactly what she’s doing to the letter. Marisa is, however, unbound and when you have no moral compass, can justify anything through your smothering intellect, and have absolute control over creatures that eat souls, a reckoning for all those who have slighted you, is on hand.

Andrew Scott makes a fleeting but memorable appearance as John Parry, Will’s long searched for father. Scott is, of course, great in the role, as he is in most things, but we don’t get to spend enough time with him to really see him build this character. It’s a small but integral part but i just wanted more. Andrew Scott is as good as Wilson in their craft an it seems like a missed opportunity that he was only around for such a fleeting amount of time.

While I'm gushing about performances, Lin-Manuel Miranda actually surprised me in this season. In the first, it felt like he was stage acting, probably because this thing is shot on a sound stage and he fell back into the training he was familiar with. That as not the case this go around. No, Miranda’s Lee Scoresby was a full realized person an he played well off Wilson, Scott, and Cristela Alonzo. I actually felt bad knowing how this season was going to end.

I understand that this is the second book, the All-Falls-Down moments. This is when everything spirals out of control an our protagonist take massive losses. This is the part where the obstacles that need to be overcome, finally crystallize and impede our heroes. That said, Lee and Hester died. I am incensed.

Imagine feeling such malice toward the divine design for man that you manifest a means to cross into heaven for the sole purpose of punching God in the face with your own two hands. This motherf*cker Asriel has that Vayne Solidor energy. He got that Sosuke Aizen focus and I am here for all of it. Lord Asriel Belacqua, the man who showed up on god's doorstep and sh*t on his porch. This guy is my f*cking hero.

I have to say, His Dark Materials makes Christianity far more palatable than Christianity on it's own. It' no secret I'm a man who lacks the capacity for faith so i approach this religion stuff like a narrative, a myth, not the Word. In that regard, the Jesus folk have one of the best mythological narratives out there. His Dark Materials does an extremely good job kind of grounding that theology in a workable, understandable, fringe science. i am very impressed with this level of writing and am having a blast with all of these second season revelations.

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leconcombrerit · 6 years

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Lloyd made me love Sorey.

He really did, going through Symphonia again. I’ve been in a ranting mood recently, and there might be spoilers for Zesty and Symphonia ahead. You’re warned !

Lloyd gets on my nerves. At times, at least. And far from enough to keep me from enjoying the game, but I still rolled my eyes and sighed a goddamn lot throughout Symphonia. It was quite the contrary with Sorey, and seeing them side by side makes me realize how much I love our kind Shepherd. Let me explain.

Lloyd is such an idealist. Other characters point this out, in case anyone hadn’t noticed. Not that I have anything against idealists. I’m quite cynical, so I tend to find them annoying most of the time, but I recognize that we need people like that too. Idealism can be nice, if paired up with empathy. Otherwise, the character just becomes a self-righteous brat that makes people facepalm hard enough to lose all the remaining neurones their cheesy speeches hadn’t killed yet. And Lloyd had the empathy of an especially unsensitive duck. Okay, maybe not that much. But you get the idea.

Arguable? Maybe. But how did he treat Dorr, when he learnt that he hadn’t stepped up to the Desians? Colette had to stop him and kindly remind him that not everyone was strong enough to stand up to their tormentors. Same with Mithos. A little piece of me died when he told him that he could live anywhere he wanted. “Not everyone can be strong”, as he said. Not everyone feels and reacts the same. “You don’t understand anything”, well no, he doesn’t. But Lloyd insists that he does. Despite their experience and hearts being entirely different, Lloyd feels entitled to tell him how he should feel and react. In that sense, the main antagonist of the story, the very one who wanted to make everyone the same, acknowledges difference better than Lloyd. Ironic much. You could argue that the thing with Dorr happened at the very beginning, but the fact that he acts the same with Mithos at the end (minus the anger, he gained some tact) shows that this peculiar trait of character remains.

He sees the world in black and white, probably because of his idealism again. Mithos points yhis out very clearly too, referring to a “game of good and evil”. This lack of nuance makes him the right guy with right answers for everybody. “The Desians are bad guys, let’s kill all the Desians, regardless of their condition and why they were treated like that”. Well, my bad, he does wonder why they do that. For a split second, before casting that aside to focus on his killing spree. “Kratos betrayed us, he’s a traitor, a bad guy, let’s not even wonder why he did this, we just have to stop him!”, “the Cruxis is horrible, let’s kill them”. I mean, yeah, they’re bad, same for the Renegades at first, but he killed many guards? Who mentioned, in Triet, that they had kids?

This statement isn’t absolute. He learns a lot during his journey, and that’s for the best. But he still assumes that his strength and values should be shared by everyone. He’s like a stubborn kid who’s ready to play dice with the world’s fate, the entire damn world’s fate, just so that he can save everyone, postponing the regeneration over and over to do stuff, and saving Sheena against all advice, and manages through his shining plot armour to survive and. I just can’t. I’m not saying he’s cruel or anything. You could even say that he has a sh*t ton of empathy for the people in the farms and the world as a whole (that he quickly dismisses to save Colette), but even then he mostly says “not another Iselia”, so… His feelings again.

Sorey on the other hand starts off as this young, innocent and sheltered boy. He’s naïve and tries to help too, but when Lailah (who gets Raine’s role in the sense that she warns him of the consequences of his actions times and times again) talks to him, he understands. He does say he’ll save Eizen. But he also understands when he can’t. He’s focused on his task but doesn’t forget what’s important to him. He chooses to make a huge sacrifice to save the world instead of being a kid and say “I won’t sacrifice myself or my friends, who could die if we do this, we’ll find another way”. The whole concept of malevolence makes it obvious that people can be “weak hearted”, and Sorey doesn’t yell at them for that. He understands, or tries, or acknowledges that he can’t understand. That’s extremely mature for a 17-year-old boy.

People call him bland, and I can somehow get why. He’s not all that expressive. He doesn’t say things, they’re implied, and I would have liked to see more of his emotions on display too. But it makes his fists of fury even more impressive.

They’re entirely different characters and comparing them might be as stupid as comparing a spoon with a fork, complaining the latter isn’t useful for soup. This is just my opinion and interpretation of the characters, to each their own.

Tl;dr : to me Lloyd is a self-righteous kid who can’t take no for an answer and forces his own emotions and strength onto others. Sorey is more reserved and grows an awful lot, and puts so much efforts into understanding other people and finding what’s the best thing to do is. Which is why I love him more. But I still like Lloyd.

He’s just way more of a kid to me.

#tales of symphonia #tales of zestiria #toz #tos #this rant is so long and useless but I needed to write it down #it's clearer in my mind when I write it am I the only one #lloyd irving #sorey #sorey (toz)#shepherd #video game #rant #character developement #tales of series #I can never make things short #I still love Lloyd but #Sorey appreciation post

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kasprak · 7 years

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and what you don’t know can’t hurt you (x)

→ word count: 2,279

→ prompt: three anonymous prompts asking for stenbrough fluff (sort of, it’s mostly angst, please forgive me), stenbrough appreciating each other’s perspectives, and stenbrough’s first time holding hands

→ warnings: spoilers for part two, angst, swears

It was one of those days again. One of those bitter autumn days where the chill in the air reminded Bill just how empty the Barrens were. Reminded Bill that the Losers club had grown fewer and farther between since the summer, cogs in a machine falling apart piece by piece. They all knew but didn’t mention how the good times just weren’t rolling quite like they used to. Beverly had already moved, and the boys never seemed to find the time anymore to all be there together. Two or three usually, sometimes six on a good day, but how good could it really be if they were still only six sevenths of a whole?

That day was a two-Loser kind of day, but he didn’t know that yet. He didn’t think anyone would come at all. He was skipping stones as best as he could across the shallow waters of the Kenduskeag, his eyes glazed, contemplating just giving up waiting and going home. It was getting late, anyways, and his dark green fleece and jeans weren’t enough to keep him warm when he was sitting idly like this.

“Bill?”

Bill started and whipped his head to the source of the voice, missing the fact that his last throw had actually skipped. “S-Stan! You s-scared the shit out of m-me…” The relief was evident in his voice. He missed Stan a lot, he came by the least. Stan gave him a half-smile, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He was dressed as neatly as usual, with his pants longer to suit the weather and an unzipped burgundy jacket.

“Nobody else here?” His voice was shaky.

“J-j-just us,” Bill said, “Mike was g-gonna come by b-but he had chores.” He looked back at the stack of smooth, rounded rocks that he’d picked out for skipping. He picked up another, glanced at his friend, and held it out to him. “I-is everything-okay?”

Stan seemed caught off guard, even though it would have been easy for anyone to tell, let alone one of his best friends, that he was on edge. “Of course it is, it’s just…” Stan folded his arms tightly, his fingers drumming against his own bicep, listlessly tugging at the fabric of his jacket, “do you… want me here?”

“Why w-wouldn’t I w-want you here?” Bill asked, his tone soft, good-natured. To emphasize his point, he shook his still-outstretched hand in the air, encouraging Stan to take the rock and sit beside him.

“I just. I guess I thought you’d be pissed off at me for being scared this summer,” Stan said as he did, his rock skipping twice, “and I don’t want you to think I didn’t want to help you, or Georgie, or the other kids. I know that’s what I made it seem like.” Bill was watching him intently now, but Stan couldn’t meet his eyes. He drew a long breath and let it curl in a wispy cloud of white from his lips. He looked like Beverly when she took a drag from her cigarette, and he felt a pang of hurt at the thought. Maybe that’s your type, he thought to himself. And then Stan was speaking again, and looking at him this time with earnest, “I really wish I was braver for you.” A hint of embarrassed realization in his eyes, a cough, and then a correction: “For all of you.”

He was sorry. He was sorry? This whole time Bill’s guilt over driving someone he cared about quite a lot into the arms of his worst fears had been gnawing away at him like termites, and Stan was sorry?

“Fuh-fuh-fuh…” The word he was searching for was ‘funny’ as in ‘har-har, funny you should say that’, but when it didn’t come, he settled for a defeated “fuck.” Har-har, funny how things worked out, because that fuck said everything. He grit his teeth, frustrated that his sentence was already all muddled in his throat before he was even a word in, but Stan gave him a patient, reassuring nod, and his frown weakened. Out of all of the Losers, Stan was always the one that made him feel the least pressured to ‘spuh-spuh-spit it out, Buh-buh-Billyboy’. “I thought y-you were m-mad at me for d-dragging you into all this sh-shit. It was s-selfish.” He threw a stone. Just threw it, didn’t even try to skip.

Stan’s concerned eyes searched his face. The crease in his brow said ‘I had no idea you felt like this’ without needing to say it at all. He shook his head, causing a curl to come loose from where it had been neatly combed to the side. Bill’s eyes focused on that curl. “It was not selfish, it was selfless. You were trying to do what nobody else in the town had the guts to do, which was anything at all,” he said, and another stone skipped along, “and it was fate, I think. You know? We’re the lucky seven, Bill. We needed all of us.”

“Shu-sure.” Bill gave up on the stones all together and braced himself instead, already knowing his stutter would wreak havoc with what he planned to say next. “B-b-but f-for the record, yuh-you’re not a cuh-coward. You’re one of the b-bravest puh-puh-puh…” Ah, crumbs. Bill clenched his fists, his mind briefly flooded with his mantra: He thrusts his fists against the posts. Posts. Posts. It’s a p-word, close, but not what he wanted to say. He wanted to say person, and even that wasn’t all he wanted to say… Stan, oh god, Stanley, you’re so much more than you think you are. You’re smart and you’re strong and I don’t want you to leave like she did, not when I’ve always felt for you what I felt for her. There’s a start. And fuck, even if his stutter had magically lifted, he couldn’t have brought himself to say that. He’d never get the chance, but he didn’t know that yet. “Puh… puh…” Spittle bubbled on his lips and the cords of his neck strained visibly as he tried to force the words out of him.

“Person?” Stan offered. His smile was already appreciative. It wasn’t hard to predict what Bill was trying to say.

Bill nodded gratefully. “Y-yeah. Thanks.”

Stanley’s warm smile lingered all too briefly, and then it was gone. Like his own half-finished sentences, Stan’s expressions were easy to read: He doesn’t mean it. He’s just saying that because he’s nice. I’m not even half as brave as Mike or Richie, or Bev for that matter.

And Bill thought ‘he’s wrong about himself, he just doesn’t know that yet’.

“I wuh-went into all this because of Guh-Georgie. And B-Bev, because of her d-dad, I think. A-and E-Eddie’s mom. IT wuh-was already i-in the p-people in our lives, so w-we didn’t really h-have a choice. W-we were all ruh-ruh-running from something. But y-you had the choice t-to walk away, a-and focus on the puh-pressure you were under, and your bar m-mitzvah.” A flicker of hurt crossed Stan’s eyes at the mention of the ceremony, the one Bill had been too proud to attend. “Buh-but you decided to help us. N-not because you h-had to, but b-because you could. I don’t nuh-know about you, but that seems p-pretty brave to me.”

There was a clatter as a pebble tumbled from Stan’s limp hand, and when Bill looked over at his friend, he saw his eyes were red and brimming with tears. He wiped at them desperately with the sleeve of his jacket pulled over the palm of his hand. He had angled himself away so that Bill wouldn’t see.

Bill already knew exactly why he was crying. He knew that Stan was losing sleep. Hell, maybe he hadn’t slept at all. It wasn’t just in the circles under his eyes or in the way he would stare off into nothingness when conversation lulled, but in the fact that Stan’s smiles never reached his eyes anymore. Not since the blood oath. Only Bill had noticed.

Stan said something, but it wasn’t really Stanley, was it? That voice sounded too broken, too empty and quiet and distant. It sounded like a ghost (still insists he sees the ghosts, still insists he sees the ghosts), and for some reason that sent waves of hot dread coursing through the redhead, crawling just beneath his skin. And the ghost said: “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Go to him, god fucking dammit. You’re losing him and you don’t know it yet. Bill climbed closer until he could place his arm around the other boy’s shoulder. (he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees) The ghost of his friend shook in the autumn air, in the grip of his sadness, in the warm embrace. That ghost of his friend melted into the touch, his head collapsing into the crook of Bill’s shoulder.

Bill thought maybe this was one of those times where saying nothing was actually better. Instead he let his hand slide from the shoulder and down in search of Stan’s trembling hands. When his fingers found purchase, Stan’s squeezed back tight. Don’t you dare let go. (he still insists)

They stayed that way until the tears stopped.

“I’m s-s-sorry I didn’t guh-go,” Bill finally blurted, “to your bar m-mitzvah.”

Stan sniffled, not lifting his head when he replied. “I’m not still mad about that.”

Bill grinned, knowing how stupid this sounded. “Ruh-Richie went! Richie.” This caused Stan to laugh silently, the vibrations spreading from his chest to Bill’s arm.

“You’ve got a point.”

“I wanted to be there for you.” Stan glanced up, and Bill nodded. “I did.”

Stan’s smile widened. “Honestly, I think Richie had more fun than I did, because I-” The Jewish boy interrupted himself with a sudden, uncharacteristic gasp of laughter, “I-I, uh, I held the Torah upside down.” He was grinning as he stared across the babbling stream into the growing shadows. Bill realized with a giddy sort of awe that the fact that he was grinning meant that he was smiling ㅡ the sort of smile that touched his eyes.

“T-Torah? Is that the book?” He made a square shape with his pointer fingers and thumbs.

Stan nodded and wiped his eye with his free hand, the other gripping Bill’s just a little tighter. “I was at a really easy part, too, but I messed up a lot because I was so anxious. You should have seen my dad, he looked about ready to disown me.” He fell silent for a few moments, still smiling contentedly. “And then they cut my dick off.” He punctuated this with a swift, downward chopping motion through the air.

Bill stared at him, wide-eyed with awe, honestly believing for a brief second that he was telling the truth (Bill’s knowledge of Jewish culture was… questionable, mostly because it all came from Richie). Then they both broke out in simultaneous howling laughter.

It was so easy to forget that Stan was just a kid. A kid who dressed and usually acted like a pocket-sized adult but could laugh at his own jokes until he cried. A sad, scared, incredibly brave kid.

When they did stop laughing, it died down to little wheezing, teary-eyed chuckles in between stretches of content silence. Stan forgot all about being scared. That fear was replaced by the pleasant roughness of the hand resting intertwined with his.

That was nice while it lasted, and then it was gone. A biting chill in the air chased them away from the Kenduskeag, just in time to find their way out of the Barrens in the last fading glow of sunset. It painted them orange and red, made everything seem fuzzy, not quite of this world. As they set off down the road together, their hands never left each other. It got dark.

Bill realized pretty early on that he had left Silver behind, but had half the mind to say nothing. He knew if he mentioned it, Stan would insist they go back and get the bike, and then he would have to wheel Silver home, but he couldn’t very well wheel a bike twice his size and hold hands with Stan at the same time, now could he? Silver could be missing by tomorrow morning for all he knew. Bill chose Stan anyways.

Even as they reached Stan’s house, they lingered for a while, careful to keep out of sight.

Don’t you dare let go, Bill.

“I should probably go,” Stan finally said, “… but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Bill smiled thinly, sadly. “W-will I?”

Stan took a few steps, walking backwards, his hand sliding out of Bill’s and immediately missing the contact. “Where else would I be?”

Bill didn’t answer. He just shook his head, shrugged, and shoved his now-cold hands into the pockets of his jeans (he thrust his fists).

“G-good night.”

“Bye, Bill.”

He leaned (against the posts) against the street lamp across from Stan’s house for a while, just thinking. Every time he found himself saying goodbye to Stan, he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that this was the last time he’d ever see him. It wasn’t, of course, far from it. But the feeling persisted (and still insists).

Stan would lay awake that night missing the feeling of Bill’s hands in his. But Bill lay awake with that awful, sickly pit in his stomach. The feeling remained (still insists) through every goodbye for days, for weeks, months, years.

Until one day, when Bill was right, and it was the last time (he sees the ghosts).

He just didn’t know it yet.

#aaaaaa so sorry this took so damn long #i finally broke my writer's block #i really really hope you guys like this #stenbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #bill denbrough #bill/stan #stories never change #it 2017 #it stephen king #it spoilers #angst #long post

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1358456 · 7 years

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SA Complaints

I find it VERY amusing that this appears NOW. SA ended a long, long time ago. Looking at the date of the very first review for the SA2 Preview, I can see that SA officially ended in December of 2013.

And I just got a couple of amusing complaints NOW. Heh. From someone who apparently only read the first half. Given how most of SA's stuff happened in the second half... Like I said, amusing.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't bother at all, but in the event that there are those with similar thoughts for Destiny/Legacy, I think it's worth taking a look at the complaints and my responses to them.

Now, since nothing will change... there's no real reason to take a look. So... continue only if you wish. Meh, I say.

1) Ok I have read till half of the story upto chapter 26 This story seems too female oriented I don't think Blue is so strong if you don't agree you check her pokemon levels in the net. Sapphire doesn't even compare to Gold's pokemon majority of his team is in 80 levels whereas all of her pokemon are only in 50 levels. And all those moves Platinum performed against Red, will a sheltered rich lady able to do that (I mean pokemon battles she has talent but fighting not really). Male Dexholders are portrayed too stupid it is not like that they perform really well in all the crisis in the manga. Most of the time they are only there for shipping moments not doing anything worthwhile.

Female oriented. As mentioned at some point a long while ago, my stories generally have female Dex Holders in the main focus as compensation for them being screwed out of it in actual Pokemon Special. Main two examples are Sapphire and Platinum. Sapphire got sealed in a car at the end of RS, and Platinum literally did nothing in the end of DPPt. And THEN there's White. Though recently, thanks to Y and Moon, the balance isn't that disrupted anymore. Sort of. But in ORAS, it was mostly Ruby and Emerald doing everything, and Sapphire was just sent through one wormhole after the next.

Again with the levels. Yellow's Pokemon can reach the 80s. Does that mean she's stronger than Blue? Pff. Nope. Besides, Blue's Pokemon levels were taken in FRLG, where she was 16. LOTS of time has passed. So what, Blue, who is about... 22-ish in SA, should still be just as strong as she was at 16? She would have improved. The example you've conveniently provided proves MY point. Gold's team being in the 80s are from HGSS. 16 years old. Sapphire's team being in the 50s are from RS (11 years old) and did not get updated in ORAS (15) with the exception of Gallade being added. Easily noticeable when you compare Ruby/Sapphire in RS and then in ORAS. Ruby's team got a lot stronger. Sapphire's team remains the same. Did not get updated. Given RS, those two should be very similar in strength. Especially considering... if a CONTEST focused dude got that much stronger between RS and ORAS, shouldn't a BATTLE focused girl get even stronger than that?

Of course 16 year old Gold would be a LOT stronger than 11 year old Sapphire. But that's not their actual age gap, now is it? I also have no idea how old they are in SA, but I'd imagine that they are both old enough that their teams would not be that far apart in levels. At a certain point, leveling becomes very hard. And this is why levels don't make any damn sense in a story setting. A 30 year old Red would just be as strong as he is when he's like 75. Because he hit the level cap. And at that point, even Moon would be just as strong as he is, since she would've also hit the level cap.

Platinum vs. Red. ... Um... hold on. Which one is this... Oh. The Unown thing? Would a sheltered rich lady be able to do such a thing? Who knows. They're ordinarily never in a situation like this. In SA, I had Platinum be quite physical at times, because she copied such a trait from Sapphire. Mostly for shock value, really. And also so that she doesn't DIE. ... Until the time came. It's either she does nothing like in DPPt, or she tries and dies immediately, or tries and survives by mimicking Sapphire.

Males being stupid and not doing anything? Clearly you have not seen the second half of SA. And in the actual manga... of course they perform well. THAT is the point of the female focus in my stories. The males generally hog the freaking spotlight.

2) In chapter 26 eight year olds just killed a bunch of ppl I mean that is insane how can they do that they are freaking kids

In a world where a bunch of RANDOM 11 and 12 year olds stop multiple doomsday events one after another, having a group of already-rowdy 8 year olds being forced to kill to survive in an apocalypse-setting doesn't seem that far-fetched. I mean, Groudon/Kyogre incident (RS, 11 years old), a literal doomsday cannon about to fire (XY, 12 years old), Legendary cryo cannon (BW2, 12 years old), space/time deity conflict (DP, 12 years old), etc. Not to mention in ORAS, a couple of 15 year olds went to SPACE to destroy a doomsday meteor. All that spatial radiation... and g-forces. To 15 year olds, who did not even PASS OUT. Bullsh*t. And also, it's very, very cold up there. And yet...

First you complain about the male Dex Holders who aren't being as amazing in my stories as they were in the actual arcs, and now you complain about kids being overly mature for their ages. Be consistent. The male Dex Holders in their own arcs were VERY young for all the sh*t they've done. So complaining about kids being too mature for their age is self-contradiction.

I'm more curious as to how the hell you managed to leave two signed-in reviews for the same chapter. I thought the site blocks you from doing such... unless some data got corrupted or something. The alert I got was that I received reviews for "SA chapter 26The Package". And "The Package" is chapter 1, not 26 (24+2 intermission).

So. In relations to RECENT stories...

Female Focus. - This will always persist, given Pokemon Special's initial imbalance. But for the most part, Destiny and Legacy will have joint focus. Especially later on in Legacy once... something happens.

Levels. - By the time of Destiny AND Legacy, the Pokemon Special arcs' levels are completely invalid. I have no idea how old Platinum is in Destiny (forgot), but probably around 16? And the last time we had a level update from her was when she was 12 in DPPt. 16 would be her approximate age in a theoretical DP remake, and given how everyone in the remake arcs were about 20~30 levels higher than they were before... ... Is her Empoleon going to be level 90? She's stronger than Red! ... Of course not. Red's last levels were taken in FRLG, when he was 16. In Destiny, he's like... 24. 50% older! - And in Legacy, Platinum is 18 and thus even stronger. And already there have been complaints. And I've already responded a few times. Would you still complain about Platinum being too strong, even if I kill off the first 10 Dex Holders thus she is the strongest one left alive?

Physical Activity: - Well, Platinum no longer has any reason to do what she did in SA. Y will now do that for her. ... Unless Platinum mimicks Y now. Which could happen, but in Legacy, she's a bit too mature for such a thing. She's not going to be kicking down doors and people. She'll order Y to do it for her. And Moon too. Platinum doesn't need to be aggro. She has people to do that for her. - And if I recall, no one ever complained about WHITE getting screetime doing things she normally would not be able to do. Like in SA. She did a LOT of work against the enemy... A LOT more than what she did in all of BW. And people just complain about Platinum. Come on. White is RIGHT THERE. Do you know what she did in all of BW? Fall off a ferris wheel, got a bit stronger, and then got kidnapped.

"Dumb" Male Dex Holders: - When has that ever been a thing to begin with? With the exception of Gold who's supposed to be a BIT like that, and MAYBE Black when a certain pink blob isn't munching on his brains. Besides, for the Dex Holders, the girls are generally smarter than the guys.

#qna #sa #destiny #legacy

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simplymorganunedited-blog · 7 years

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A Double Whammy: Strawberries, Yogurt and Alphabet Soup

A double whammy of appointments today.

I feel very refreshed. Meeting with my team always leaves me feeling positive, feeling brave, feeling like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Update: Mondays have officially become my favourite day.

Here is what this particular Monday brought me.

Dietician Talk:

Blind Weight:

Third one folks.

I don't know what it is. I don't really want to.

I just wanted you to know it happened.

Morgan Gets Shut Down Part One:

“Gym?”

“No.”

Sh*t.

Hunger and Me:

I’ve been feeling hungry recently.

Surprise right?!

Actually, yes.

I’ve been feeling hungry lately, right after I’ve eaten a “well-balanced, well-portioned meal.” (My dietician’s words; this isn't even Morgan’s Brian talking folks.)

Thus, anxiety. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety.

So, what is going on?

Apparently, this is normal. Apparently, “some recovering ED patients can eat a large number of calories, up to 5,000....”

*Jaw Drops. Morgan’s Brain preps her temper tantrum..

Ummmm excuse me??????? What??

“....and barely gain any weight.”

Double what???

Bodies are weird.

Bean Talk:

I received a lovely lesson in carbs and protein today, so I thought I’d pass the information along.

Beans: Both carbs and protein.

Quinoa: Mostly carbs.

Cool right??

Menopause:

I feel like I’m going through menopause.

Like hot flashes. Serious hot flashes.

Side Note: I would like to formally apologize to Karen Jenkin. Mom, I’m sorry for every single time I laughed at you for stripping down in the kitchen when you were sweating your face off. I understand now. Like seriously, I’m so sorry.

Just kidding. Not menopause.

Basically, my body’s metabolism has a heyday every time I nourish it.

Hence, a speeding up of my metabolic rate.

Hence, the hot flashes.

Cue sweating.

Strawberries and Yogurt:

New snack.

10:30 am: Strawberries and yogurt.

I’m actually pretty okay with this, much to the dismay of Morgan’s Brain. (More food equals more calories which equal more fat which equals imperfection), but let’s just forget about her opinion for a while (like forever), cause honestly it doesn't matter.

I have really been enjoying my snacks. They are mostly fruit, and yogurt, and granola, which are safe foods for me, and foods that I really enjoy. Moreover, I think this will help the intense hunger/anxiety I feel around lunchtime, which causes me to panic during my lunch prep, which can equal an unplanned purge if the panic-meter gets too high.

So yeah, strawberries and yogurt.

I’ll keep you updated.

A Positive Reminder:

“Look at where you are now versus one month ago.”

One month ago I wasn't eating. One month ago I was dying.

I ate soup today. And liked it.

Enough said.

Wizard Talk:

Continued Homework:

Watch Brene Brown’s video at least once a week. Glean something new from it each time.

(Not) Pathological Lying:

Real Talk: I thought I was a pathological liar.

Honestly, I did. (No pun intended).

All my life I have lied. It started when I was a child.

“Morgan, why did you lie about that?”

“Honesty is the best policy.”

It only got worse as I grew up. It happens all the time. I don't even mean to do it. I just do. It just slips out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I spend the next however long (days, weeks, months, years) trying to cover it up.

Real Talk: I feel so much shame about this. Like, At-The-Core-of-My-Self-Hatred kind of shame.

Realest Talk: It is the biggest strain on my relationship with my Dad.

My father operates on truth. Honestly, he is the most honest person I know. (Pun intended). Yet, I lie. I lie to him constantly. But here’s the thing. I don't do it on purpose. I don't do it to be malicious, or mean, or unkind. I do it to make myself look better. I do it because I don't want to let him down, because I want him to be proud of me.

I do it because I want to look perfect.

“Morgan, you are not a compulsive liar. You are a compulsive people pleaser.”

Yet again, the Wizard has outsmarted me. I crave approval. I crave approval in every aspect of my life. I crave authenticity, and just want people to think more of me. So I fabricate more. Or I avoid what I can’t perfect, what makes me look bad; the things that scare me. I look at myself, and see that I am not enough, and create more to cover it up.

“Compulsive People Pleaser.”

That sounds a hell of a lot better than “Compulsive Liar.”

Real Talk: That doesn't mean it’s okay.

New Homework Part One: Realize what situations I feel anxiety about. (This usually triggers bulimic urges, but I’ll get to that in a minute) Make a deliberate effort to tell the truth, or correct myself if I do lie.

“Be a flawed human being like everyone else and you’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”

Okay Wizard.

Alphabet Soup:

“I don't want to give you alphabet soup, but you’re on the OCD Spectrum.”

Side Note: On top of being a genius, the Wizard is also funny as hell.

But anyway. I digress.

I’m not surprised. Like, not one ounce of me is surprised.

I know I’m OCD. I am perfectly aware of how perfectionism rules my life, right down to the tiniest detail. If I notice something is out of place, I HAVE to get up and fix it. Everything in my life has to be in its place. Everything has to be just so.

Side Note: It’s honestly so exhausting. I feel like I’m on a hamster wheel, constantly trying to make things perfect, constantly searching for control.

I beat myself up if I don't go to the gym, if I don't clean my room on the day I decided I would, if I don't finish everything on my to-do list. Basically I beat myself up a LOT, cause let’s be real, we’re all human and stuff doesn't get always done.

Except, I don't allow myself to think that.

Except, I think its my fault; that I am a failure, that I am imperfect.

Hence, bulimic urges.

I had a moment this week. I had a moment this week, where I was working on my bullet journal, and I hit a road block. A book. I couldn't draw a book.

I should go throw up.

I’m not joking.

It’s usually like that. I think most people assume that when I need to purge, I’m thinking about my Mom, or school, or life, or him.

Nope.

Stupid sh*t like cartoon books.

I wish I was joking.

So what do I do?

“Control avoidance, rather than let it control you.”

Fun Fact: Bulimia equals avoidance. Throwing up is a release, a way to escape a problem (however small), rather than face the thing that’s actually bothering you. Or, in other words, a coping mechanism. A sh*tty one, but a coping mechanism just the same. Unfortunately for me, it’s the one I’ve been relying on for the past 3 years, whenever there’s a bump in the road, or things don’t seem to be going my way.

Time to find a new one Morgs.

New Homework Part Two:

Watch Reed Wilson’s series, “Tolerating the Discomfort”.

This will serve to build what the Wizard calls an “active toolkit”; strategies that I can use to deal with anxiety, rather than going to toss my cookies.

Watch “Living Brave” with Brene Brown and Oprah Winfrey.

Oprah for homework?

Yes please.

Morgan Gets Shut Down Part Two:

“Gym?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sh*t.

BUT.

Strength training is okay. Kind of. Well, not the kind of strength training Morgan’s Brain thinks is okay, but the kind of strength training that is okay for Morgan right now.

Cue the 8 lb weights.

I’ve also been cleared to maybe join a therapeutic yoga class. This may be something fun to do with friends.

A social event that doesn't involve food?

Double win.

I really hope this helps with my anxiety. I also just really don't want to lose muscle tone. I think (and I hope I’m right) that focusing on getting stronger will make the prospect (reality) of gaining weight less daunting. By focusing on my body’s strength and abilities, I can focus less on the aspects of my body I don't like, or flaws that I (Morgan’s Brain) will inevitably find with weight gain.

It’s funny. He brought it up months ago. He’s going to say “I told you so.”

He should.

He was right.

For once.

Weight Talk:

A goal weight.

120 lbs.

Real Talk: I am completely, utterly terrified.

I know its necessary, but still, the word TERROR lights up my brain, in blinking red, with fire and lights and lasers.

Neural pyrotechnics.

F*ck.

“You still have a LOT of weight to gain,” says the Wizard.

Real Talk: I’m happy about this. Not the gaining weight part, but the fact that I’m so thin.

I don't really know how to feel about these thoughts. I know they’re ED thoughts, but I also know that they are a part of the recovery process.

I just cant let them win.

“No negotiating.”

You hear that Morgs?

Just because you’re feeling better, just because you’re less tired, doesn't mean that you can stop trying.

Just because you feel bloated, just because you’re gaining weight, doesn't mean that you can give up.

Cause you wouldn't be gaining anything.

There is nothing to gain on the scale.

There is nothing to gain in front of the toilet.

There is nothing to gain by dying.

Here’s what you’ll gain by living.

The chance to teach, to touch hearts and minds.

The chance to travel, to expand your horizons.

The chance to laugh, to love and be loved.

The chance to be happy, to love yourself fiercely, to celebrate you and you struggles, each and every day.

Seem worth it?

It is.

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