#Servers Memory

[tomfrogisblue]

i forgot to post this during june but i think one of the reasons qsmp was so important was how unapologetically Gay it was

for starters, the number of creators and admins involved who are irl queer of some variation, just chilling in a place where any kind of phobia would get Philza's legendary ban hammer faster than you could say "rainbow jelly"

and then the characters.

i remember showing up that first day and being shocked that somehow foolish had an ex-boyfriend already (I had missed the squidcraft lore apparently)

that server. gay. all the gay. all kinds of gay.

govermentally assigned platonic husbands that stayed together the whole time (despite one of them being gone for months at a time), not a chance in hell of infidelity. Proud fathers of two wonderful children.

governmentally assigned partners who yelled full volume at each other about cheating any time they were in the room together and between the two of them killed two children.

a grieving father and ex-convict becoming one of the most solid couples in the server, with a beautiful wedding and consistent public displays of affection via the in-game chat.

a demon ashamed of who she was and a lonely detective struggling with family trauma, now with a lil girl of their own, to love together and take care of, with more moms than could ever allow the little girl to ever be lonely herself.

a 2b2t warrior coming to terms with his sexuality with the support of his beautiful baby boy at his side, slowly but surely opening up to his eventual Brazilian Boyfriend. Where they went from the most cautious couple (baby steps) to the most sickeningly sweet couple on the server.

- and this list doesn't even scratch the surface.

gay characters, trans characters, ace characters, aroace characters, gender fluid characters, all kinds of relationships and families.

all presented without negativity or shame.

the point of the server was to exchange languages and cultures, without the biases and barriers seen so much in both the content creator scene and the wider world.

it also had a beautiful little side effect, practically by accident.

our lgbtqsmp.

[critifull]

AH!! AAAAHHH!!!

[svtskneecaps]

i also just want to point out the qsmp members' commitment to like never letting the inactive members die. like dantdm logged on twice and is canonically dead and everyone continues to blame mysterious happenstance on him. spreen is canonically dead and yet people are still like namedropping him even tho the house façade he built has been demolished and also probably consumed by a mountain. they meme on kameto who's barely been on except that time he was a fed spy that was iconic as hell. they just immortalize their members and they're always so happy to see old faces come back and it lowkey makes me emotional lmfaoo like missa barely logged on for a while but goddamn nobody forgot his name bc philza can't go one day without mentioning him and mariana barely logs on but every time fit saw the homeless mariana in roier's city no matter what he'd stop dead and tell it "come home" and when slime came back to the server for elections after having logged off for the last like two months everyone was still excited to meet him bc the others had kept his memories on the server fresh and alive, maxo died canonically in the nuke and pierre pasted his face all over the server, luzu vanished for months and we never forgot him either thanks to the computers and foolish's wack ass family tree. like when purgatory teams were chosen and team red constantly joked about how it would be so over for the other teams once germán logged on despite the fact that germán had only ever logged on ONCE, the way they cheered when they snatched rubius in the split of green despite the fact that rubius hadn't logged on more than twice since march. they just keep the names alive all the time and it's like

it just makes me really happy to see. like it makes me really happy. like the admin team and the members alike are like 'no way in HELL are we letting your memory go' like damn once ur on isla quesadilla you really are stuck as an islander forever :D

[psyscha]

Just a little Kario Mart and Chill. - Ghostlight

Connected fic!

[bzlgrmpf]

Hi, So I was kinda annoyed, that there is no easy way to get into the qsmp lore at the moment.

So a few days ago I made this video (there really isn't a good way to summarize everything in under 10 min, but I tried my best):

And here are some of the many (manymanymany) drawings I made for it:

[smilepilled]

syscord did serious damage to my perceival of things, discussions, and people's lives/identities. it forced me into condenscendingly correcting and brutally "educating" people who weren't aware of every little thing. it made me a much more abrasive and cold individual on the basis that i should always be correcting everyone on everything at all times and enforcing the same one-size-fits-all mold of "morality" onto them. it made me angry, aggressive, frustrated, isolated, scared, and it was absolutely not worth it.

with this post, i hope to help other people realize how a lot of syscord spaces manage to radicalize people into being aggressive, extremely demeaning and bitter people, by default. this doesn't apply to every system-based discord server, but the big ones where you get dogpiled and then shittalked for anything wrong you do — instead of, you know, being properly talked to like you're a person

it is a terrible place to be in for anyone, let alone people struggling with their mental health. do not force yourselves to stay in syscords for templates or decor, its genuinely not worth it. extremely harsh environment; namely the syscords where its filled with exclusionist 15 year olds who constantly pick at everything and anything to make you problematic. do not stay in these spaces, its not worth it. i promise you there are many resource servers where you won't feel like you're in a killing game with five hundred people at your neck

[camilaelisa]

Splatoon 1 servers are getting shutdown and this silly little game really changed my life in such a dramatic way. I've made so many friends through it and have spent countless nights and mornings just hanging out in calls with them. These nights were so formative for me, especially being post undergrad back then with not a ton of hope at landing a job. Things are much more different now and even though I don't play or keep up with them anymore, I cherish those memories deeply. I even met my current partner through it! We've been together for 6 years and now have our own place. Anyways, Splatoon rules and online friends are valid.

[royalarchivist]

Although this looks very similar to the original QSMP announcement video, this video QSMP Global just posted has a different (glitched) ending. Is this meant to be a soft reboot...?

[awesamforehead]

[mynarco]

noir bouquet chaco cutscene leak (real) (not clickbait)

[missriggie]

DreadRook Week 2025

Day 2: Memories

//"You are ever in my thoughts" @thelighthouse-server

Leading off from the last entry, Solas invites himself into Rook's dream, noting the murals on the walls - the fragments of her history. As he learns more about Rook's past, he provides insight into one particularly traumatic vision, one that triggers the storm within her.

CW: Brainwashing, mentioned/implied SA & non-con

Registered users can read 'What Was Stolen' on Ao3 here: [LINK]

EXCERPT (2/2) of CHAPTER 17: A DEBT TO PAY

“These remind me of the ones in the Lighthouse. They yours?”

   Solas glanced ahead past her, scanning the space before shaking his head. “I am physically bound to this prison. I cannot see what you do,” his playful smile turned a little cocky, “That is, unless I do this.”

   Solas closed his eyes and breathed deep, head nodding as his body behind the barrier fell into a meditative trance. A shiver shot up her back as his voice hummed in thought from behind her. “Fascinating…”

   A figment of his spirit, far more pristine than his sleeping body, strolled about the room like a viewer in a gallery, head turning from painting to painting. Rook bristled at his spirit appearing beside her, uncertain if it was a trick of the Fade or him purposefully invading her mind. She watched him warily as he continued to assess each painting.

   “You could do that the whole time?”

   “Not necessarily,” he said as he continued to assess each painting, “I risk myself by doing so. However, the energy has softened the more we have spoken, and you have piqued my curiosity.”

   “What do you see then?” she asked.

   Solas smiled at the first mural, tracing a spectral hand over the image. “I see a child learning the bounds of her innocence, and a curious friend to help guide her along. This wolf, you saved it from a hunter’s trap, correct?”

   She reluctantly nodded, the sound of her innocent laughter echoing out of the stone.

   “Howl. You gave it a name.” he deduced, head tilting up to the darkened ceiling and squinting, “it seems such a connection has attracted a spirit of Loyalty to you.”

   Rook looked up where Howl had pushed her in, her heart almost breaking as the memory became clearer to her. It wasn’t just a dream, then.

   “It’s fuzzy, but I think I really did love that wolf…”

   “It must have been a powerful friendship indeed, to have a denizen of the Fade so eager to imitate it.”

   Rook felt the weight of her reconstructed arm on her body, seeing it more as a gift now more than ever. A friend. She had a friend back then. Before…

   Solas strolled over to the next one. “Ah~ a thunderous triumph; channelling the storm and claiming its power to break her chains rather than drown in its chaos. Inspired.”

   Rook cleared her throat of the feeling that particular painting summoned, hearing the echoes of the storm battering against the hull of that ship, and almost tasting the salty burn of sea water scraping at her lungs.

   “Inspired a heck of a lot of anxiety around water for a while, actually.”

   As he made his way over to admire the next painting, Solas’s frown deepened, his chest tensed as he gasped in recognition. The scene portrayed younger version of herself lying face down on an altar with needles coming out of her back. Just being near it was enough to conjure the familiar feeling of her spine being sapped of energy, a feeling she fought to conceal. It disturbed him just as much as it did her, but he did not look away, inching closer to the painting. Rook tried to read his expression, but whatever thoughts or secrets he carried in his sudden rapt fascination in the mural, she could not place. Instead, his eyes fell upon her apologetically.

   “Who is the mage that conducted this ritual?” he asked.

   She was reluctant to confess the name, taking another pained glance at the memory. The faded colours of red and black enrobing the magister, the whispers of his incantations mixed with gentle encouragement for the necessity of this, promising to take the pain away.

   “Lord Cassidus,” she spat out, “he was my master before I broke free.”

   He glanced, nose scrunched in disgust, then softened his expression when casting his attention back to her. “He did this…to you?”

   Solas sighed, shaking his head at the cruelty of this scene. His frown one of both anger and understanding, of a puzzle revealing more of itself, unveiling a truth he deigned to see come forward.

   “It is an old ritual,” he explained, “one that was practiced by many of the Evanuris before our numbers grew into an empire, but none were so enthusiastic as Elgar’nan. It was how he had swayed the followers of his enemies into willing slaves of his own – separating their loyalties and replacing it with utter devotion to him. He’d found beauty in defiance, any who challenged his rule he sought to break like wild beasts.”

    He paused so suddenly, head bowed and eyes as solemn as a Rivaini seer prepping a body for a funeral pyre.

   “I’d witnessed many victims of this ritual, and the cruelty he had bestowed upon them thereafter, the unspeakable acts he committed when their minds were too altered to object. They were…his favourites.”

    As his spirit exhaled deeply, his body behind the barrier did the same. Rook saw the blood on his face streak with the tear that slipped out, the sorrow to his voice was not one of grief but of guilt.

   “Tell me, if it is not too difficult or painful to recall, what did this Cassidus make you believe? What did he make you do?”

   She could only stare at his seriousness, the bounds of her memories tied to the magister still a blurred mess of images lumped together, something she tried to forget herself and leave behind. But there was no denying her curiosity that locked in on the eyes of the Dread Wolf. Whatever answers he could have about the memories that were stolen from her, she would take anything at this point.

   “He made me believe he was my father,” she confessed, “said he was a friend to the Elves and took me in when my mother was killed. He’d convinced me his research was for the benefit of children like me, reconnecting us to our birthright of eternal life, so long as it served the Imperium first. He made me his student in private, and an obedient little doll to show off in front of his friends, just to save his seat in the Magisterium. Can’t let them see his delusions of treating an elf child with any care, not that he did in the first place.”

   She hovered by the scene of the ship caught in the storm, her body draped in rags, her neck bound with an enchanted collar, one hand reaching into the sky for salvation, the other guiding the strike through the heart of Lord Cassidus.

   “We were on a ship sailing past Rivain, I don’t remember where we were going, but on the way, we found more children that ‘needed to be saved’ and ‘deserved a better chance’ like the one I got. Then the storm came. Something happened to the Veil that day, might have been around the time of the Breach, everything changed, but it awakened something in me. All that energy dusted off the things he wanted to keep locked away in me, I remembered all ten years of it, rushing out of me. Everything he made me do to conduct his experiments, the poisoned ‘medicines’, learning how to pronounce all the incantations, the exercises and tests to make sure my body was fit enough. ‘You are my greatest creation’ he always told me.”

   She glanced down at her hands. Though she was merely a soul walking the Fade in this dream, she still felt the ache where her scars began. Scars that were now painted on these walls. More memories flashed behind her eyes, symbols stretching from the murals onto the columns and ceiling and floor. The blur of words sprawled over large tomes of arcane knowledge, sketches of the anatomy of all manner of creatures. In the roil of the sea she could hear the chime of piano keys playing the same melody over and over again.

   Her fingers remembered the high-quality leather fitted around the hilt of a blade, the way it glided across throats, how it sparkled like rubies. Her cheeks ached from how she used to smile up at her ‘father’ for approval. This bundled mess of shameful, violent memories only being half the picture ignited something sinister inside her, scratching, clawing, hammering against the walls. The gong of a bell, the rattling of chains, somewhere up above, deep below, or far away, but here, always here.

   “How…? How much of this is real?” she said, her voice cracking, “How much of this was me or because he made me?”

   Rook could taste the dense storm cloud gathering, the rush of electricity brewing within, tingling with gooseflesh up her spine until it hurt. The energy in the air shifted with her as the sweeping wind of a budding vortex swirled around her.

   “Rook?”

   How faintly his voice brushed against the edges of her focus. The roses and vines climbing up the walls trembled as the wind picked up. Her hands shook with sparks of energy as they went clammy, wet with rain, sweat, blood. Hers and not hers, from many, many innocents.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed at the faces appearing in the leaves along the vines, their eyes rolled back and mouths wide open as they wailed and choked on the slaughter she wrought, “I did it because I had to. It’s for your own good. He said so. He promised.”

  “Rook, listen to me. Focus your mind,” Solas’s gentle hands reached for her shoulders, “You are no longer in that man’s thrall. Your spirit is free. It chose to come here; it can choose to silence this storm.”

   His voice echoed around her like a salve upon a stinging wound, cooling the burning anger, holding the edges of her hurt and patiently guiding her to seal it. She bowed her head, following his instruction as she controlled her breathing, synchronising it with his.

   Rook opened her eyes again, returning into a calm centre as his spirit’s hands held hers. A glowing energy flowed from his essence into her, humming with soothing, almost divine warmth, his shining eyes fixed on her as they dimmed, a halo of roses wilting behind him, spent of energy.

There was a tragic kind of beauty to him, now that she saw this vision of him up close and remembered the tale of how he came to be, how he had chosen this form so long ago to join the living among the first Elves. A focused brow, eyes that still carried kindness and wonder despite the years that would have worn them down, and delicate and full lips designed to whisper words of understanding into a lover’s ear. She blinked and snapped her hands back to her sides, Solas’s projection disappearing once the connection broke.

On the other side of the barrier, his physical body woke up.

[lorenzonuti]

Memory reading.

[thebroccolination]

KRISTSINGTO’S ICONIC PERFORMANCE AS EXES

So there’s a larger than zero chance that this specific performance is going to end up referenced somewhere in “The Ex-Morning”:

It’s an extremely dramatic performance about exes. There’s no way they’re going to miss a chance to put this into their meta series about themselves in which they play exes.

Their “Dum Dum” performance from Peraya Party Begin Again last year is my current favorite of theirs, but this is a veeery close second. I watched it the year I became a fan, so it’s got deep roots in my brain as the quintessential KristSingto performance.

Krist chose the song and, if I’m remembering correctly, choreographed Singto’s entrance specifically to make Singto look all alluring and gorgeous as he sauntered down the catwalk toward Krist.

If you’ve never seen a KristSingto performance before, I’m giving you a gift.

Let this be the first. \o/

All hail the lionturtle, amen.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

THE METATRON IS THE FIRST VOICE I HAVE ANY MEMORY OF. HE'S... DEREK JACOBI NARRATED IN THE NIGHT GARDEN. MY EARLIEST AUDIO MEMORIES INVOLVE THE METATRON SAYING "MAKKA PAKKA APPA YAKKA MIKKA MAKKA MOO."

I HAVE MEMORIES OF HIS VOICE BEFORE I HAVE MEMORIES OF MY PARENTS' VOICES.

I JUST FOUND THIS OUT AND I'M GOING TO SCREAM. HE NARRATED THE SHOW THAT PUT ME TO SLEEP WHEN I WAS A YEAR OLD. I STILL HEAR IT IN MY HEAD WHENEVER I'M TRYING TO SLEEP, TO COMFORT ME.

THIS IS NOT OKAY I'M NOT OKAY I'M NOT PROCESSING THIS HELLO I'M SURE HE'S A LOVELY GENTLEMAN I'M JUST NOT PROCESSING IT

THIS IS ONE OF MY DEEPEST AND OLDEST CORE AUDIO MEMORIES, THE ENTIRE NARRATION OF IN THE NIGHT GARDENS, A CBEEBIES (BBC'S KIDS CHANNEL) SHOW AND NOW @CHAOTICGENDERFLOOD HAS TAMPERED WITH CORE MEMORIES AND THE LOVELY AND MOTHERFUCKING @good-usernames-were-taken CURSED US ALL WITH THIS:

[nxhna]

i finally played ms director not so long ago and enjoyed it so much, its such a wonderful game absolutely loved the writing, visuals and the characters (I LOVE YOU IDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) if youre into noir or YURIIII please give it a try, its free on steam!

[horridwizardthing]

in the end, I wish that I could say sorry to you