thinking about the wire and omb in context with in purgatories shadow and dbip...
garak was fully seen and understood and forgiven in the wire, which in turn made him fall hopelessly love with julian for all time, as we all know.
but julian is so terrified of being clocked as other in way that he doesn't play some active part in contriving, and so as much as he is comforted by it, he's also scared of how easily garak can understand him. he is both afraid of what garak can see and what he sees in himself, especially when he shot him (which garak, meanwhile, views as a physical mark of their trust "i thought it was a magnificent moment. he showed me that he had the spine to play the game as it ought to be played.") and so he pulls away.
but then once garak allows julian to sit in on tain's shri-tal...i mean, he is all but telling julian that he is his, he is practically handing the reigns of his devotion over from tain's dying hands into julian's. and he is begging him to take them.
then just a few days after theyre back on the station after all of that, julian's secret that his entire life hinges on, that he thought he would take to the grave, comes out. and he stripped and exposed for all the galaxy to see...and garak has to find out. he gave over all of himself on a silver platter for julian. and he had to find out. and he can't even blame him, because he knows exactly what it's like to live with the poison. but it does put into stark context exactly why he loves him.
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large part of garashir’s appeal for me is that garak is roughly 50 years old, traumatised, bitter, reliant on drugs to keep himself from being actively suicidal and/or homocidal, and he saw this fresh out of the academy idealistic bright eyed young man and tried to hook up with him on sight—
but now it’s 7 years later and the same young man is now in his mid 30’s and depressed and increasingly cynical and pragmatic and bitter and also traumatised and crumbling.
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You are an unreliable narrator because your coping mechanisms for your deep-seated trauma forbid you from acknowledging the reality of the situation. I am an unreliable narrator because I sincerely have no idea what the fuck is going on.
theres too many pokemon games where you play as a kid whos full of life and full of potential. there needs to be a pokemon game where you play as a college dropout who lives in a shitty apartment
your starter pokemon are trubbish, rattata and glameow. which symbolise the trash you keep forgetting to take out, the rats living in your walls and the stray cat you keep trying to befriend but it keeps hissing at you.
you guys dont get it its not supposed to be dark and edgy its supposed to be living in a mundane setting and slowly rediscovering the wonder in the world by going on a journey with a magical trash bag that is your friend, its about love and recovery and coping with the stress of your adult life with your friend who is made of sentient garbage
You get home from work. Finally. The sun's already set outside your apartment window. At least your apartment has a window.
You discard most of your work uniform in the corner with the other laundry and click on the TV before landing in your couch with a heavy sigh. The blue light of the TV floods the otherwise dark room.
"Joining us today for an exclusive interview is Red, four time Pokemon League Champion, who also famously disbanded criminal organization Team Rocket at least twice! Thank you so much for tuning in."
Pokemon league champion, huh? You think to yourself. You used to want that. A child's dream - it was silly, really....
You'd heard of Red - of course you have, you don't live under a rock - but this was the first time seeing them up close, no filter. They looked tired. They actually looked about your age.
"Now Red," the reporter continued, "You've already told us about your travels through the world, your experiences as Champion, and your fight against Team Rocket and similar criminal organizations. I know we're almost out of time but there's one last thing we'd like to hear from you - do you have any words for the future generation of Pokemon trainers? Any advice for those just at the start of their journey?"
The Champion waited a moment before answering: "Yes. I meet a lot of people. A lot of people who used to want to be trainers. And I understand, it's not for everyone. But, people say 'Oh, you're still going at your age?' or 'Oh, I wanted to when I was younger,' or 'Oh, I couldn't now, I'm too old.'" Red shook their head sadly. "These people are my age, maybe even younger. They're wrong. It doesn't matter how old you are and it never did. It doesn't matter if you never got a Pokemon from the local professor at ten years old. It's not just for children. It's for everyone. The bond between people and Pokemon is not something you miss out on just because you had to grow up."
Red pauses again, and you realize you're paying more attention to the program than you thought you were.
"Pokemon are everywhere. The world is filled with magic. It's never too late."
"It's never too late..." you repeat under your breath. Something about the Champion's words clicked inside your brain. The world is full of magic....
As if on cue, sounds from within your apartment catch your attention: Rustling in your garbage can, scrabbling inside the wall, clawing at your window.
Cautiously you approach your trash can. It smells terrible, but then again it always does. You slowly lift the lid, and the rubbish inside shifts to reveal a green bag with white eyes. You knew that Trubbish were born from waste and preferred unsanitary environments, but you didn't think it'd been that long since you took the trash out.
The Pokemon shuffles to try and hide and knocks the bin over in doing so, spilling itself out onto the floor. You chuckle a bit.
"I guess now the trash can take itself out," you joke. The Trubbish seems upset by the quip. "Oh no, no, it's ok," you correct yourself, trying to spare its feelings. You find this creature, born of rubbish against its will, to be relatable. After all, you didn't ask to be in this trash heap either.
"It's ok," you repeat, more softly this time. "I'm. I'm trash too."
The stench from the trash can starts to dissipate as the Trubbish's... bag ties? ears? perk up at the attempted sympathy.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WALL]
You'd always blamed the noises coming through the walls on the neighbors, but this is too close to deny: it simply isn't a human-made noise. You locate a crack in the wall that you hadn't noticed before. The sound is getting louder. The sound is getting closer.
A piece of drywall crumbles away. You have just long enough to think Damn, I'm not getting my deposit back, before a very startled Rattata leaps through the newly made hole and bowls you over. You land badly on your ankle and let out a cry of pain, crashing to the floor.
That's definitely sprained... you think, holding your injured foot as you lie there in temporary shock. The Rattata seems apologetic. It vanishes back into the wall for a moment.
You swear. At least you have a compression bandage in your first aid kit. While you contemplate how best to stand without putting yourself in further pain, the Pokemon reappears, carrying a small blue fruit in its mouth. It drops the fruit beside you and rolls it towards you with a paw.
An Oran Berry, you recognize. Of course - Pokemon eat berries when they're hurt. Touched by the gesture, or perhaps not wanting to hurt the little creature's feelings, you take a bite.
It tastes terrible, but you power through it; you've eaten worse. Either by the berry's healing properties or the Pokemon's kindness, your pain eases a little.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WINDOW]
You go to your window and struggle for a moment to pull up the tattered blinds. You see two glowing eyes in the darkness. A Pokemon? They certainly don't look human, anyways. As a matter of fact, they seem familiar. The impatient scratching continues.
You open the window. A small, cat-like Pokemon hops inside, as if indignant at being kept waiting. You recognize this pokemon by the notch in its ear as the stray Glameow you've been trying to befriend.
It hisses at you. Which, for this particular Pokemon, is typical. As you go to shut the window you notice that it's favoring one of its legs while it walks.
Is it injured? Did it come to you for help? You were pretty certain this pokemon hated you. But, sure enough, you notice a cut on the Glameow's leg as it hops up onto your couch, as if it already lived here.
The Glameow seems to be avoiding eye contact. It occurs to you that it may have had no where else to go. You rummage through your cupboards to try and find a remedy. You remember seeing on the news that lemonade can be used in place of medicine for Pokemon who are injured. Moo Moo Milk is better, but you don't have any. You stopped buying it because it always spoils before you remember to drink it.
You had exactly one can of lemonade left. You crack it open and pour it into a bowl. The Glameow hisses again when you offer it, but soon gives the liquid a sniff before drinking it slowly.
You never realized how quickly Pokemon could heal. After it finishes its drink, it allows you to pat it on the head...
... for about two seconds before it hisses again. Still, the little Pokemon doesn't try to escape. It simply curls up on your couch and falls asleep.
Always really funny when you're sat up with the cat in your lap and you start making motions toward getting up, and the cat is Aware but is pretending Not to be Aware and also not making eye contact with you in the hopes that you will in fact NOT get up, bc the cat is comfortable
I'm so glad the process of domestication involves a lot of co-evolution of certain social signals bc. Its really fucking funny
Like i don't need my cat to be able to speak english. The fact that she is avoiding eye contact and feigning a lack of knowledge of my behaviours is way funnier
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For anyone who's interested in this obscure Doctor Who book series. It's practically a precursor to Modern Who in its ideas and themes, it's also surprisingly gay at times.
An older Doctor Who animation but I'm not sure if I'll ever finish it soooooooo...!
I always love when the Eighth Doctor writers disagree on the colour of Paul Mcgann's real human eyes or just straight up change them in the middle of a book :]
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i know that “don’t harass people for being weird, they might be autistic!” is a fairly popular take on here. but as a Certified Autist, i’d like to add that harassing allistic and/or neurotypical people for being weird is also bad, and should not be done
and before you come in with “yeah, you never know who is and isn’t autistic, and you shouldn’t force people to out themselves!” i want to say two things: one, i agree. and two, even if you could magically avoid ever harassing a single autistic person, it still wouldn’t be okay to go after NTs for being weird. they’re people, janice. they’re allowed to be really invested in naruto
#stop playing the game of ‘who is it okay for me to hurt?’ #the answer is no one #the answer is ALWAYS going to be no one #none people is the correct number of people to hurt [X]
Hot take: there is no valid reason that official government ID should have either a sec or gender marker on it. First name, last name, dob + up to date image will suffice. Address, if relevant.
I'm always confused by why people seem to think that there is some sort of Penis Emergency that will kill you if paramedics perform the Vagina Procedure on your fully clothed body.
Hospital spoilers btw: blood isn't sorted by sex, it's sorted by type. The sex of the blood donor doesn't factor in at all when receiving a transfusion, and you will not be harmed by receiving blood from a donor whose sex is different than yours. Saying this because it's another misconception that I've heard.
if you're unconscious at the hospital and they need to operate and insert a catheter in your urethra, don't worry! they'll figure out if you have a penis or a vagina without having to look at a laminated card in your wallet
