Okay wait before I read one more thing let me get this out there (under the cut because spoilers of course):
I don’t think Amelia was in your bed because of any nefarious purposes or because she thought she could trick your boy into thinking she was you.
I have absolutely come into my room late at night to be surprised by my sister in my bed in the dark after a hard day for her bc she just needs some comfort from her sis. And that’s just between a big and little sis, ones that don’t get along about half of the time.
If my sister was my twin?? If it were me and my sis in there Jamal could’ve had Amelia’s bed to himself bc she would’ve just been bunking with me anyway.
I really do think Amelia just had a rough day and was looking for some familial comfort. She’d already been reminiscing about how close y’all used to be, it’s that hard of a logical leap.
And Fb has spent the past three weeks setting your LI up to come off like he’s doing shady shit at the end of every volume so you as the player have the chance to be (semi justifiable) mad about it.
Long story short: It’s honestly just a series of unfortunate accidents. I know personally I told Jamal to surprise me with cuddles, so that’s what he thought he was doing. Amelia just wants some comfort from her sis, and was probably thinking the person crawling into bed was us. FB didn’t let us see her reaction to the person joining her in bed, just that she was there. It’s pitch dark. They’ve played their “twin switcheroo” card.
P.S. even if Amelia was trying to steal our man, I can guarantee she would want the LI to know he was choosing her. If you’re purposely pursuing someone take, it’s 1000% more satisfying for that person to actively choose you than it is for the LI to fall for a case of mistaken identity
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So Pixlriffs’ finale is a masterpiece and I’m experiencing a lot of emotions right now ✨🌻✨
For my own reference I made a transcript of the monologue and thought I might as well share it! It's under the cut to avoid spoilers but the whole first 8ish minutes of his video are typed out. I recommend watching at least that much, if you haven’t yet, because it’s really something worth hearing.
We are not done.
Not yet.
Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But before they fade into obscurity, as so many events do, there is one more story left to be told.
[It is the Story
of
the World.]
It’s important to remind ourselves that history is an account of events remembered—and there are so few left who remember, so it mingles with myth and hearsay, folklore and fireside stories. This is the account of just one man, and others may recall the tale differently. Others still may decide to change the narrative to suit their own ends. And this, it must be said, is no bad thing. So it goes.
[Sun setting
over
our Creation.]
—
In a long-lost age before records truly began, our world was built by Titans (or so it is said). The lands they created became home to people who would seek to emulate and even to surpass that act of creation, and that would eventually bring about their destruction. But destruction is simply part of a cycle. Nothing is ever truly lost.
Those who foresaw the destruction fled before it could bring the walls of their homes down around them. And many who had been downtrodden and overlooked saw it as their chance to find a new life for themselves.
Thus began a great migration, leaving behind the old nations of the world and striking out for somewhere new, a life untethered from the follies of their former state. And though the road was long and treacherous, and many fell behind in the wake of such an awful endeavour, new bonds were forged in the fires of adversity.
As time passed, and more joined the great caravan, the host became a nation of its own, a glorious congregation sharing one purpose, singing the same resolute song. Though the road was long, they were homeward bound.
And a home they found nestled in a mountainous landscape, one that might have been carved by the very bones of the gods themselves. There they planted roots, drank deep from the water, and continued to grow. The farmers sowed new fields and raised new flocks. The work of many hands turned to building a new city. And together the architects conceived a castle upon a great plateau that would stand as a monument to their past apart and their future together. To them, the castle itself would tell the Story of the World.
Stone-whisperers from Mythland and the Grimlands, well-versed in masonry of all kinds, sculpted its walls from the abundant rock of the nearby mountains quarried for the glory of their new capital. They wrought rock and iron, carved and timbered their great halls, and raised mighty towers to stand atop the grand cliff.
The mages of the Crystal Cliffs brought knowledge of magic and the beauty of gemstones, and theirs was the sanctum at the heart of the castle, ever-seated at the Ruler’s left hand: their shield and protector.
A tribute was raised to Gilded Helianthia, whose ruler was still revered in the hearts and minds of many, and in time she became their warden against the spectres of the past, carrying the twin burdens of light and shadow on her shoulders; a burden with which the people of Rivendell were all too familiar.
And below, far below, the engineers of Pixandria sought to reproduce the jewel of their empire. A mechanism that would surpass the work of the Copper King himself.
Not all who came to found the Ancient Capital remained for long. Like dandelion seeds, the people of the Overgrown were scattered on the wind, alighting on the mountaintops and valleys. The vast majority of them came to settle in the rolling meadows of Chromia, which was renowned for the richness and beauty of its dyes for lifetimes after.
In the absence of their king, the nation of Mezelea resettled in new badlands, establishing laws and ordinances of their own. Many of them had been armour stands before the king imbued them with life, and some found this a hard habit to shake.
The people of the Cod and Ocean empires, bereft of the waters that gave them life, took to diving in the rocky pools of vast caverns and their affinity for stone grew. Over many generations they adapted, becoming the green-skinned race that folk came to know as goblins—their pointed ears the only remaining vestige of the fins they had once had.
For the gnomes of the Undergrove, this was a homecoming! They had long dwelled here before their exodus through the Nether and the fairy circles of the Evermoore welcomed them with open arms.
And the villagers of the Lost Empire, hiding in plain sight amongst the caravan of peoples, sought to find a place where they would be unburdened by this facade of humanity, standing at last on their own two feet.
But the boundaries of this land were ever-changing, and the nations soon found the cataclysm they had left behind had weakened the walls between their world and others. Waters rose and fell unpredictably; incursions from other realms were possible, bringing chaos in their wake. The tide of history churned and rippled.
None now remember how the Capital fell, only that its remains have lasted: an epitaph to all they had achieved together.
And just like before, new nations would arise. The pirates of Eversea ruled the waters from their secret cove. The inventors of Cogsmeade arrived sailing in from the air on their skyships—only to find whole buildings floating in the golden kingdom of Stratos. Rumours abounded of a Sanctuary hidden in the deepest jungle for those who knew the way.
Their tales are better told by those who knew them well. Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But for this tired historian, it is perhaps best to leave these things in the past and begin to look towards the future.
For whatever comes next, we who have sown the seeds can only hope for a bountiful harvest.
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hey. Sleepyheads. c'mere a sec
when I say I have insomnia or that I can't sleep I mean for real. I mean. I have chronic insomnia. so all the normal things you could do to help induce sleep (peppermint or chamomile tea, melatonin, dyphanhydramine however you spell that, no blue light, warm milk, asmry beloved, rain or white noise, etc) they don't really do anything for me. they might make me feel sleepy, but nothing helps me actually sleep. whatever phase my insomnia is in is however I'm sleeping. so either wake up every hour or so, sleep through but only get 2-3 hours, sleep through the normal amount (5 hours) but have vivid dreams, wake up only one time but I'm awake for ages, I only want to sleep at 7pm, I literally can't sleep at night, etc. and I can't change that.
I'm mentioning this because my boss knows I have chronic insomnia and still asks me if I can take melatonin or whatever to help. I mean, sure. I could take it. But melatonin is weird to me and dyphan-whatsits might work but only the one time and I can't use it again for like a month. tea is nice but it's just nice.
caffeine does not necessarily keep me awake unless it's coffee caffeine, but I do avoid that. blue light from my laptop or phone does not affect me. I mean. it probably does but not my sleep. it's a wonderful dream to think that if I just didn't use screens before bed and drank chamomile tea and went to bed at exactly the same time every night that I'd get good sleep. but uh, I've tried that. and my insomnia doesn't care. it does what it wants.
at the moment I am following up my least favorite phase with my second least favorite phase: vivid dreams was last week and this week I've slept 7 of the past 76 hours. this happens. I can't change it. I just live it until the cycle switches out.
so um. this isn't even a rant, really, it's just a hopefully one-and-done post because people are very nice, but while taking magnesium will probably be good for me, it's not going to cure my insomnia, random customer. it might’ve cured your son's regular, temporary insomnia, but it will not cure my chronic condition, the one I've had since birth. just ask my mom.
okay so this was a rant. forgive me. I haven't slept.
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