#and the stories created by the very people in the communities that are most silenced are always the first ones to be

[whalesfall]

btw. your search for the most morally upright and ethical piece of media that has the most correct “representation” will destroy your ability to find the most profound and beautiful and human of stories. and may even destroy the stories themselves before they are created. if you even care.

[ghibli-collector]

Another interesting article about the new Ghibli film Boy and the Heron with great insights into Miyazaki’s relationship with Joe Hisaishi and Toshio Suzuki making films over the years. Again it has a few spoilers

What’s it like to work with Hayao Miyazaki? Go behind the scenes.

News of Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement can’t ever be trusted.

The Japanese animation master’s repeated claims that he’ll give up filmmaking are a response to the strain that creating each of his largely hand-drawn universes entails. At least that’s what Toshio Suzuki, a founder of Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki’s right-hand man for the past 40 years, believes.

"Every time he finishes a film, he’s so exhausted he can’t think about the next project,” Suzuki explains. "He’s used up his energy physically and mentally. He needs some time to clear his mind. And to have a blank canvas to come up with new ideas.”

A decade after 2013’s "The Wind Rises” was heralded as Miyazaki’s final film, the 82-year-old auteur’s newest feature, "The Boy and the Heron,” is being released in the United States after major success in Japan over the summer, where it opened without any traditional publicity.

Though the director hasn’t given any interviews about "The Boy and the Heron,” Suzuki, 75, who is also a veteran producer, and Joe Hisaishi, 72, the longtime composer on Miyazaki’s movies, describe in separate video interviews the master’s working process and how their collaborations have evolved — or not — over the years.

Suzuki is casually dressed and speaking, via an interpreter, from Japan, where he sits next to a pillow emblazoned with Totoro, the bearlike troll that serves as the studio’s logo. He says the new fantasy film is Miyazaki’s most personal yet. Set in the final days of World War II, the tale follows 11-year-old Mahito, who, after losing his mother in a fire, moves to the countryside, where a magical realm beckons him.

"At the start of this project, Miyazaki came to me and asked me, ‘This is going to be about my story, is that going to be OK?’ I just nodded,” Suzuki recalls with the matter-of-factness of someone who’s learned it would be futile to stand in the way of the director.

For a long time, he says, Miyazaki worried that if he made a movie about a young male, inspiration would inevitably be drawn from his own childhood, which he felt might not make for an interesting narrative. Growing up, Miyazaki had trouble communicating with people and expressed himself instead by drawing pictures.

"I noticed that with this film, where he portrayed himself as a protagonist, he included a lot of humorous moments in order to cover up that the boy, based on himself, is very sensitive and pessimistic,” Suzuki says. "That was interesting to see.”

If Miyazaki is the boy, Suzuki adds, then he himself is the heron, a mischievous flying entity in the story that pushes the young hero to keep going. Director Isao Takahata, Studio Ghibli’s third foundational musketeer, who died in 2018, is represented onscreen by Granduncle, a wise but weathered figure who controls the fantastical world Mahito ventures into.

Suzuki first met Miyazaki in the late 1970s, when the animator was making his first feature, "Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro,” an amusing caper. Back then, Suzuki was a journalist hoping to interview him.

But Miyazaki, who was working on a storyboard, had no interest in talking and ignored him. "Out of kindness, I thought it was a good thing to introduce his works to my readers, and for him to be very cranky and disrespectful, I was very angry,” Suzuki remembers.

He stuck around the studio for two more days of silence. On the third, Miyazaki asked him if he knew a term for a car overtaking another during a chase. Suzuki’s reply, a specific Japanese expression for such action, finally broke the ice and kick-started their long-term relationship.

"Miyazaki still remembers that first meeting, too,” Suzuki says. "He thought that I was a person not to be trusted. And that’s why he was very cautious about talking to me.”

Over the years, Suzuki has become increasingly indispensable for Miyazaki. "He always tells me, ‘Suzuki-san, can you remember the important things for me?’ And then he feels that he can forget about all the important things not concerning his films. I have to remember them for him,” Suzuki says.

Best friends more than mere collaborators, Miyazaki and Suzuki talk every day, even if there’s nothing urgent to discuss, and make it a rule to meet in person on Mondays and Thursdays. "What we talk about is very trivial most times, I guess he feels lonely or misses me, but it’s always him who calls me. I never call him,” Suzuki says, adding with a laugh, "Sometimes he even calls me in the middle of the night, like at 3 a.m., and the first thing he says is, ‘Were you awake?’ And obviously I was not. I’m in bed!”

In contrast, Hisaishi, the composer who first worked with Miyazaki on the 1984 feature "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind,” has a strictly professional relationship with him.

"We don’t see each other in private,” Hisaishi, wearing an elegant sweater, says through a translator. "We don’t eat together. We don’t drink together. We only meet to discuss things for work.” That emotional distance, he adds, is what has made their partnership over 11 films so creatively fruitful.

"People think that if you really know a person’s full character then you can have a good working relationship, but that doesn’t necessarily hold true,” Hisaishi says. "What is most important to me is to compose music. The most important thing in life to Miyazaki is to draw pictures. We are both focused on those most important things in our lives.”

On "The Boy and the Heron,” Miyazaki didn’t provide Hisaishi with any instruction. The musician watched the film only when it was nearly completed but still with no sound or dialogue. At that point Miyazaki simply said to Hisaishi, "I just leave it up to you.”

"I feel he was just thinking that he could rely on me and expected me to come up with something,” Hisaishi says. "I feel like I was very much trusted to do this.”

For all of their previous collaborations, Miyazaki would bring on Hisaishi to discuss once three out of the four or five parts of the storyboard for a new film were ready. That the process changed this time was possible only because of their shared history.

"It’s as if we’ve been Olympic athletes making a film once every four years for 40 years,” Hisaishi says. "It’s been a long time of training and performing. When I look back I’m amazed that I could write music for these very different films.”

In his contemporary classical work, Hisaishi had been working on minimalist compositions with repeating patterns, and he took that approach to the new film.

While he maintains they are just colleagues, every January for the past 15 years, Hisaishi has composed a small tune, recorded it on a piano and sent it to Miyazaki as a birthday present. This tradition has now become the seasoned musician’s lucky charm.

"After about three times I thought, ‘This has probably run its course,’” Hisaishi recalls. "I didn’t send one the following year. That whole year I wasn’t able to work very well. It was sort of a jinx that I had not sent him something, so I started sending him the music again for his birthday,” he adds with a laugh.

Both Hisaishi and Suzuki say their interactions with Miyazaki have not changed much over the decades. On the contrary, the men have become staunch creatures of habit.

Asked why his profound connection with Miyazaki has endured so long, Suzuki says: "I don’t necessarily agree, but he once told me, ‘I’ve never met someone so similar to me. You are the last person that I will meet like that.’”

BY CARLOS AGUILAR

THE NEW YORK TIMES

[jewishvitya]

Tal Mitnick, an 18 years old Israeli that refused to serve in the military:

It's not just a couple of soldiers that are bad soldiers or that enact violent occupation on Palestinians, it's actually a whole system of violence. Of pulling people into the army and making them work for the occupation and for oppressing Palestinians.

Militarism in Israel is very entrenched in society. And the military is some golden goose that you're not allowed to touch. You're allowed to criticize the government, you're allowed to go out for gay rights, for women's rights. But when it comes to criticizing military action against Palestinians or other oppressed communities, this is totally out of the norm. You cannot speak against the military because it's so entrenched in society.

A lot of conversations start with the military, and because most people did serve, it's seen as this kind of thing that everyone needs to pass in order to become an Israeli.

So. Yeah. When you're older you don't feel ostracized as much because after a while it's less relevant to daily life. At least in my experience, I didn't serve and it's not really talked about much at this point.

In Jewish Israeli society, the military is trusted more than most other institutions. Tbh, more than any other institution I can think of. And it's seen as a right of passage. Some people will be okay with you if you volunteer for a social service instead - work at hospitals, schools, etc. Others think you shouldn't get the choice, and unless there's a medical issue you should be going to the military.

The narrative of self defense is absolutely believed, so by refusing to serve, those kids are seen as saying "I will enjoy the sacrifice made by others, but I will not contribute myself." It's seen as ungrateful. But that's if you don't express a moral objection to the military.

If you challenge the military itself, you're challenging Israeli society. And that's how it's taken. "I refuse to participate in the occupation" - "So you're saying I did something bad by serving. You're saying I'm a bad person." And when most of Israelis served in the military, and those that didn't serve often still support it or have loved ones that did or still do, this is challenging the moral character of pretty much all of us. Which, it should.

The military nurtures a mindset of dehumanization to a scary degree. I listened to a few interviews with stories from Breaking the Silence, an organization meant to bring to light the way the military abuses Palestinians, and there's something described by Yehuda Shaul.

He tells the story of serving in Hebron, in the West Bank, and he describes the daily stated mission of soldiers there.

While on patrol at night, they pick a random Palestinian house - explicitly one that they have no intelligence against, a civilian family - and they get in, wake the family up, separate men from women, search or something, get on the roof, jump to the next roof, get into that house, wake that family up, treat them the same way.

Again, at random. And he described two goals for this:

One, to create the feeling of being persecuted, and two, to make our presence felt.

They want Palestinians to feel beaten down and powerless, and they want them to feel that the military is everywhere, so they're too scared to resist.

This isn't random rogue soldiers, this is what the military does there on a normal day. And he said it's impossible to treat a population this way without seeing them as less human than we are.

I don't know if I can just say that the military is another tool for indoctrination in addition to everything else it does. But as a kid, I had a left-leaning friend from the Tel Aviv area, and we'd argue a lot. Because you don't need to be a full on leftist to disagree very strongly with a teenage settler. And as I was going through the process of changing my mind, I saw him going through the same process in the opposite direction - he became way more right wing during his military service. He told me the stories of why, and all those stories did was make me feel like I don't even know this person. I wonder sometimes how many young people go through the same.

[tiny-tini-imagines]

Hi, read your headcanons about the fellowship and wanted to ask for some HC's about Legolas being in love with an elf reader. Preferably female, if that's possible. THX

Re.: Of course, Thank you for asking. I often thought about that, so I hope it's alright.

Headcanon Request - Lord of the Rings summary: Legolas is in love with a female elf

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Stolen Glances: Legolas can't help but steal glances at you when he thinks no one is looking. His eyes find your effortlessly, and he cherishes the moments when your gazes meet, a silent exchange of your affection.

"In your eyes, I see a world of wonder and courage, and in your heart, I find the most beautiful melodies of love and strength."

Whispers in the Woods: You often communicate through soft, whispered conversations in the heart of the forest. The tranquility of the woods mirrors the serenity of your love. Although you don't need words at all to comunicate.

Language of Flowers: Legolas memorizes your favorite flowers and leaves them where you'll find them, each bloom carrying a message of his love and admiration. (And he definitely knows the meanings of every single flower, everytime you get a bouquet it's like a poem)

Hidden Keepsakes: In his private quarters, Legolas keeps small trinkets and tokens you've given him over time, treasures he holds dear and takes comfort in during lonely nights, or when your away/ when he misses you.

Stargazing Together: One of your favorite pastimes is stargazing. You find constellations together, creating your own stories in the night sky and lay there for hours.

"Among all the stars in the night sky, it is your radiance that guides me through life's journeys, and I am forever grateful for your presence in my world."

Comfort in His Presence: Your presence brings Legolas a sense of calm and contentment. He often seeks solace in your company during moments of reflection. (You'd often find youself with him in your arms, stroking his hair, comforting him - especially after disagreements with Thranduil)

"My loyalty to you and our people remains steadfast, but my heart has found a home in a world beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm." Legolas to Thranduil

Loving Affection: He expresses his love through affectionate gestures, like gentle caresses, forehead kisses, and tender embraces. He's very soft, always making sure you're comfortbale

Your Laugh: Legolas adores your laughter. He often finds ways to make you smile, cherishing the sound as one of the most beautiful melodies in Middle-earth. It is not just the sound but also the sign, since he loves to see you smile. (He goes to great lengths to bring joy to your life, whether through humorous stories or playful antics.)

Shared Silences: You're comfortable in each other's silence. Sometimes, words aren't necessary as your presence alone brings peace and contentment. You just need to know that you're close.

Fingers Intertwined: Legolas has a habit of gently intertwining his fingers with yours whenever you walk side by side, a silent declaration of your connection. He'd also do that during audiences and other commitments he must attend.

Attentive Listener: He's a patient and attentive listener, valuing your words and insights and seeking your opinions on important matters. However sometimes he just enjoys listening to your voice, that gives him a sense of comfort

Your Elegance : He admires the way you handle your bow and arrows with such grace. It's a skill that he finds endlessly captivating. He'd often say that you're much better than him (something he would tell no one else).

Pride in Your Strength: He takes great pride in your strength, both physical and emotional, and often tells you how impressed he is by your abilities

Gentle Respect: Legolas treats you with the utmost respect, always considering your thoughts and feelings in any situation.

Secretly Protective: While you are a formidable warrior on your own , Legolas can't help but be secretly protective, always watching your back in battle and ensuring your safety. (You're definitely more important than him)

Your Name in Elvish: He often murmurs your name in Elvish under his breath, finding comfort in the way it rolls off his tongue. You can catch him smiling whenever your name is said.

Eternal Commitment: Legolas contemplates the idea of eternity together, envisioning the ages you'll spend side by side, facing whatever challenges comes your way.

Confidant and Supporter: You're his confidant, and he turns to you for advice and solace in times of uncertainty. Your unwavering support is a source of strength for him.

Shared Adventures: He involves you in his adventures, wanting to create memories together and share the thrill of exploration.

Unspoken Promises: You share unspoken promises of a future filled with love, adventure, and unwavering devotion, with every glance and touch reinforcing your commitment to each other.

"Every day by your side is an adventure worth cherishing, for you bring light to the darkest of places and joy to my soul."

[snake-and-mouse]

Regarding the issues surrounding the Kindergarten Mafia discord server, a large fandom server mostly dedicated to the kinnporsche fandom. It is an issue that encompasses multiple events and many other people have been hurt who I do not want to speak for, so this will not be the full picture, just a part of my part. If anyone reads this and has questions, they can reach out to me.

I am Will/Logan, also known as Sweet-William in fanfic circles, and I am not making this post because I have a vendetta, or to be malicious, as some of my previous actions have been called by the moderators of the server. I am making it because I have the right to speak on my experiences (as others I hope will speak up and share theirs, now that they know they are not alone), and because I want to warn people so what happened to me does not happen to them.

I am also making this post because @accal1a aka Hann the admin of the server has refused to delete content created by myself and many of my friends from the server, all of who left because they like me felt unsafe. The original request was sent by proxy as Hann has me blocked, and though they said they would unblock me so we could discuss it, they never did. As a writer I take it seriously when my work, and also details of my personal life, are taken. When I even offered to go through and delete it all myself if temporarily given access to the server, my messages were completely ignored.

The server is not a safe place for people of colour. It is not a place safe from racism, or xenophobia, and its leadership has historically been and continues to this day, to perpetuate racism in fandom spaces and shelter people who have hurt others with no real repercussions, accountability, or transparency.

The original issue was the result of this conversation between myself and Rachael, one of the moderators. I earlier stepped into a conversation where several microaggressions occurred regarding native american culture. As a Native, it was my right to speak up.

After this conversation I was urged to bring the issue directly to Hann, and from there the issues spiralled out of control. Hann originally was very supportive, and we became what I thought to be close friends. They made many reassurances Rachael would be held accountable, and changes would be made to the server to make it a safer place for pocs.

Rachael was never actually held accountable. Even when it came to light she had messaged me to issue the warning while lying to the rest of the mod team that she had "checked in on me" to see if I was alright after the incident. This was not the only time she secretly issued warnings to people, usually to defend her friends.

She was "demoted" but in actuality, the entire mod team was restructured and she simply was not on the top rung. Over the next two months many things happened, most of which are not my story to tell, and then it came to light Rachael had even further lied and never issued any warning or otherwise spoke to the person originally being racist in a mod capacity, this person being her friend, and refused to show what messages she did actially send.

To avoid any punishment she tried to "step down" as a mod before a choice could be made. And this was allowed. She was allowed to step down and continue to be in the server with no one knowing the actual story or that she couldn't be trusted and had abused her position.

After an incredibly vague statement was posted by the mod team regarding Rachael no longer being a mod, I broke and posted the conversation publicly and laid out the actual events. This was met with an overwhelming negative backlash, where it became clear to me this was a community where I was not safe, and any poc speaking up and calling for accountability would be seen as malicious and rocking the boat unnecessarily, while the moderators just watched on in silence.

The few moderators who were advocating for the poc server members were promptly fired, and though at one point a timeline vaguely outlining the events was posted, it and all evidence of what happened to me has since been deleted. And while Rachael originally left saying I was obviously trying to run her off the server, she has already returned at the urging of Hann.

Protecting people of colour and standing up to racism and xenophobia was never a priority in the kingergarten mafia server. And now that Hann has escalated to stealing work from people of colour that they have absolutely no right to, I am speaking up.

Respect us, be an ally, or face the consequences of what your community looks like with us gone.

[takenbypeter]

Hiii! Could you do 19. "You moron... Why are you so careless!?" with Matt Murdock? Thanks in advance! 🥰🥰🥰

Tale As Old As Time

Matt Murdock x reader

Words: 712

Number 19: “You moron…why are you so careless!?”

Author’s note: reader does not know Matt is daredevil, also thank you from requesting! Love you!

Matt swallowed hard as he focused on trying to subtly take control of his breath. It wasn’t new that he got bruises and cuts, but most of the time they were ones he could hide, this…you couldn’t hide this. His ears were ringing, not too heavily but just enough to deter his focus.

But, despite the ringing and the pain that was successfully fading, he tried hard to focus on your footsteps that were in the other room. He heard your footsteps move then pause, then move again.

Along with your steps he heard you grumbling not so under your breath, “you moron…why are you so careless? Making me worry…should’ve called me when it happened.”

He sat in silence unable to argue with your words until eventually you came back to him.

“Here,” you pressed something cold lightly against his shoulder and he took it, appreciatively, “thanks.”

You shook your head and crossed your arms as he pressed the item against his cheek, blinking at the chills that were created because of the ice pack.

“Tell me, how did this happen again?”

“I told you,” his hand dropped down with the ice pack and you lifted his hand back up enforcing him to keep it in place, “I ran into a pole.”

“That’s it? Are you sure? Because it looks serious,” you say, moving his hand slightly to gain a closer view at the bruise but he inches away, pressing the pack over where you were just trying to look.

Your arms dropped down at the distance now created between you two. You wanted to believe him but it was just so strange and very unlike him. Sure he was clumsy but running into a pole?

Sensing your uneasiness with his answer he added a little to his story, “okay I didn’t just run into a pole.”

You breathed in through your nose, happy he was finally giving you some information.

“…I was in such a rush earlier and I bumped into some guy who shoved past me. When he shoved me, he shoved me right into the pole.”

It was a ridiculous lie he knew, but he was hoping that it was just so ridiculous that you just might believe it.

After a brief pause you exclaimed, “that jerk!”

His chest relaxed knowing that you believed him. I mean it wasn’t a total lie some guy did shove him, just not into a pole. It’s not like Matt enjoyed lying to you, he did feel bad, but he just couldn’t tell you the truth.

He couldn’t.

“I wish you had eyesight so you could point out that bastard to me and I could beat him up. God, how rude can people get?”

Although the whole story was a fabrication, Matt still appreciated how sincere you were about defending him, and you taking on some guy for him was nice in theory. But he wasn’t going to let some imaginary guy ruin your day.

“What’s done is done, let’s just forget it. Please?”

You don’t want to forget it, you want to be pissed. But if Matt wants to move on, there’s nothing you can do. Accepting defeat you sit down on the spot next to him, “you still should’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt scoots closer to you and you lean your head on his shoulder trying not to put too much pressure on him just in case he was hurt in any other area that you couldn’t see.

You shrug, “it’s alright, things happen. Just please…be careful and communicate with me when things happen.”

Matt nods in response and you turn your head planting a little kiss against his shoulder.

That kiss right there. That small act of endearment…yeah that just added to the guilt he felt about hiding everything from you. And for a moment his grip against the ice pack hardened as he felt a wave of truth hit him. Truth about how deep you’re in already without knowing. Truth with how hurt you’d be when you found out.

But another kiss from you pulled him out from that thought.

“Okay let me get you something for that cut, I feel like that was the first thing I should’ve done,” you said, pushing yourself off of the seat.

-

Dialogue Prompts

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Sometimes Love Stops In Its Tracks

You love your man, but sometimes, it can lead to a breaking point.

Includes: Victor Creed (Sabertooth), Loki, Thor, Steve Rogers (Captian America), Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Clark Kent (Superman), Arthur Curry (Aquaman), Orm Marius, Joker, Duncan Vizla (Polar)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Quill Imagine

Victor Creed

Living the way of mutants and humans was a thin line to follow. Victor felt that he was an animal, proud of his lone wolf ways, finding solace in the hidden corners of the forest around the globe as he traveled from one mission to another. Being on the side of power that wanted to bring respect to mutants, even if their ways were questionable at the very least. And now, it was gone, traded from a role as a teacher, educating younger mutants, having battle quips with some of the twerps that think they are brighter than the 200-year-old Sabertooth. Little things like that stuck in his brain, bits and pieces that he most of the time brought home to his lover and partner. Which, after a while, bred new arguments and fights. Something which both sides did not like. Tension bubbled, and Victor felt himself dive back into his ways of thinking.

'You would NOT understand my pain!!'

'Of course, I do not know since you don't communicate anymore. Victor, please, this has been going on for way too long; talk to me! ...Tell me so I can understand.'

'Even if I told you your human brain is too stunned to comprehend.'

'What?! Why are you talking like this? Do not talk to me like that.'

'And what are you going to do?! You are no match for me.' with that, Victor knew he had crossed a line he didn't think he would cross, ever.

'I will not be treated like this! You are on your own now.'

You spoke, starting to distance yourself away from the raging mutant. Placing permanent distance between each other, leaving love to stop in its tracks.

Loki Laufeyson

For him, his heritage was a silent trigger in his mind. Whenever his blue skin showed itself unexpectedly, his manners would shift, not speaking to anyone not even his love. Which would, in return, create silence so loud it could break your heart. And it did. The silence brought no mature way to deal with it. You tried to comfort him, offering hugs, kisses, and soft touches to the broken god, but each time at the offer, Loki would pull away and even sometimes roar at the devotion. 

'Do not touch me! How many times do I have to tell you?!'

'I am just...trying to help.' The last part can be only whispered at the raging man

'Do not help me. Leave me alone.'

Loki turns away, walking away as you tried to do it to your best ability, but if he wanted help, he would accept it. Maybe it was time to leave him...alone. Sometimes the best thing you can do is remove yourself from the situation and let love stop in its tracks.

Thor Odinson

Thor fancied traveling, exploring new places, and new people, and having exhilarating adventures. Thor would leave on a whim sometimes, even most of the time, without saying where he is going or when he is coming back. Each time Thor would come back cheery as ever, retelling his stories to you with the same gleam, not understanding what he left behind and expects when he came back. You would communicate what you felt, from the sudden 180 from having him in youR arms to an empty apartment and waiting each day and night, wishing that this is the moment when he will come back. So when he came back, Thor did not read the room.

'Do you not like the story?'

With a heavy sigh, you hoped that it would be obvious. 'No-no, the story about you riding a giant goat sounds like great fun. But, Thor, do you know how I feel? Waiting for you here? Hoping that you will arrive, hoping that you will send a message that you are okay? At least that...'

Thor treks back, his eyes widening in puzzlement. 'I do not understand, dearest when I was in Asgard, my family would not grumble regarding my adventures.'

Relying back upon confusion from your side, they speak with a sharp tone, 'Thor...I know that. But this is not Asgard. This is our home. I know that your family got unfortunately reduced to myself, but what we have is a relationship. And our relationship should be based on communication. Therefore when you leave at the very least, very minimum, let me know.'

Thor took one more step back, feeling his confusion start to simmer. 'What do you mean? I thought that our bond was powerful.' Thor withdrew, looking at his lover.

'It IS strong, but this, like this, your last-second adventure, are things that can chip away at this life we have. I don't want that.'

Thor looks at you, seeing the ping of confusion on your face now 'I am a god. A god goes whenever the path takes them. My heart told me at that moment to go and explore a new corner of the realm. Experience a new life there, fresh cultures, exciting quests and help the less fortunate there, to let them know they have a god...' Thor started to ramble on his reasons for making such a bold move, and in a second, he struck in the wrong path '...explore new lovers there.'

What?

You and Thor look at each other, and you feel a small ping in your heart. Not wanting to say it out loud, but still going to walk in your truth. 

'While your heart told you to do all those things.... did it ever think of me and my heart?' Standing up, you spoke into the viscous silence that started to settle heavily on Thor's shoulders, 'Me and my heart won't take you back. Our love has stopped because of your adventures.' 

Steve Rogers

Steve was continuously on a mission, rarely home. And when he was home, it was almost a designated time for him to do all the things he couldn't do back when he was living, meaning going to 1900s museums, dinners, activities, and so on... but one thing Steve was always stuck with was Peggy. More times than not, Steve would catch himself saying Peggy's name instead of yours. Which would create disharmony. Steve would play it off, hoping you would understand where he is coming from. Creating fights and blowouts as you were trying to get your point across to Steve. 

'Steve, I understand that Peggy was your girl then, but now I am here. Don't call her name when you call me. We don't even have similar names.'

'You are telling me to suppress an important part of my life. You, of all people, should understand what kind of pressure I go through when I am on a mission. So when I come here, I mostly blow off some steam, and my brain mixes everything. Hence, the name mixing.' Steve argued his point coming across less and less, dipping more into the black hole that was forming between the lovers. 'What if the roles would be reversed Steve, hm? What if I said my ex's name instead of yours?'

'Oh, for the love of god. Please, not that gender-role-reversal crap. Back in my day...'

'Stop!' It roared in Steve's ears, the way the word just shouted in his ear, halting his words.

'If your brain is still in the past. Then you can live through it by yourself. As much as I give myself to you and your activities so you can "relive" your "golden days," even though you have been willing and ready to make a life together, you still want to go back. And that is completely fine, but you could have told me that and not strung me along all this time.' 

Steve sat back, hearing and feeling the wave of emotions falling into a black hole, growing more and more and very soon encapsulating Steve, losing himself forever. 

Bucky Barnes

Bucky consistently feared everything and everyone. Not a lot of moments in his lifetime offer solace and peace. But you tried your best to give him a piece of the comfort and love you felt for him every day. Bucky tried to dissociate from everyone, including you, and the moments you shared with him, cooking, knitting, reading, you name it, his brain was always halfway turned off, and you really can not blame him. You tried your best to understand the poor soul; you really did! But when he was zoned like that, he tended to be more jumpy and scared, resulting in a fiery shout directed at you.

'Dammit! You scared me!'

Turning into a frigid zone, no talking, no touching for 1 hour, as Bucky instructed. And that rule made it hell for you; you thrived off of physical touch! 

'I am just saying that I am here, Buck. You do NOT have to be alone. You have me, for crying out loud.'

'You would not understand what I went through. And with all my scars, I am fearful how I will live like this.'

'I can not phantom what you went through, Bucky. But the reason we are in this relationship is to be with each, enjoy each other's company, touch each other, and just- just let everything be, no past, no future-just us; together.'

Getting your point into his thick skull, Bucky's eyes winded in anger and misinterpretation. 'So what you are saying is to forget myself. To be no one?! To be just an insignificant speck on this planet and forget my hurdles and trauma. Like you?!'

Looking at him, you felt the ripple of sadness coloring your veins; there was no way Bucky thought that about you, someone who he loved, cherished, and most importantly trusted, was he?

'Is-is that what you think about...me?! '

'Yes!' He boomed the answer without a second thought, sealing this chapter for the both of you. Looking at him, you come close to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek respond in a hush, loud enough to be engraved in his brain.

'Remember this kiss, because it is the last sincere thing you will feel. Until you come to terms with yourself, James.'

With that, you left the room knowing that the best option was to leave him if he wished so letting your love stop in its tracks.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce always thought that he wasn't made for relationships, the man dressed like a bat, for goodness sake. Therefore, when you two got together, you raised Dick from a small baby boy with the fattest cheeks that were just screaming to be pinched to a teenager going through his phase of 'begging secretive,' although I don't know how much you can get secretive if you are a superhero and being mentored by Batman. A few years perished, you would have thought that Batman was more open to having a partner in his house, not ours, his. But no. Bruce would hole up in his cave and not talk to anyone, not even Alfred, if he was working on anything. And that fueled sleepless nights resorting for you to give him the cold shoulder but masking it in front of Dick to appear as if everything is okay. Which in hindsight, would bite you in the ass when you would feel yourself crack under the façade. 

'Alfred? Why is Mom crying?'

'That... Master Richard is hard to explain. The best we can do is give her a hug and reassure her that everything is okay.'

The hug would help in a 'band-aid over a bullet wound' type of way, but nonetheless, it helped. What didn't help was Bruce and his stoicism. No matter what emotion you chuck at him or say, he would just stand coldly. 

'Bruce! Just come out of this forsaken cave. For one hour! For Dick! For me! For Alfred!'

'I told you. I have a case. I can not leave the cave just yet.' He spoke in a stern tone, not moving an octave higher or lower.

'You have been in here for 6 days. This is borderline madness. I forgot your touch.' You responded, feeling your body tremble with unhappiness and uprising anger. 'I have been nothing but patient, but nothing can make you move. I tried, I really, really, really tried. But you gave me nothing!'

Stepping away, you see Bruce's eyes dilate slightly at your discouraged-filled sentences, but now it is too late. As you were going up the stairs, Dick stepped out of the shadows looking at his father.

'Are you just going to stand there?'

Bruce looks at the boy feeling his heart twist in the same way yours was feeling your shared love stop in its tracks.

Clark Kent

Clark moved on when Lois found a new guy to be with. By finding you. Being with you, making a life together, living together in Metropolis. Finding yourself with him. Clark was a sweetheart and still is, to the bone. But when you are such a sweetheart, there are bounds where you will trip up because of your niceness. For Clark, it would be the ability to say no to Lois when she calls for help. Be it a heroic save from a no-name villain to a minuscule task such as carrying furniture up 5 flights of stairs, where she moved in with her new boyfriend.

'Clark, you have to stop helping her so much.'

'I couldn't say no. When she asked me so nice-'

'She has a man! He can do all those things. You are my man!'

'What are you saying?! I should have let her plummet to death when she was falling?'

'That's not my point, Clark. What I am saying is... she is your past. I am your present.'

Clark stood up, hugging you gently, reassuring you with a soft touch, 'You have to understand that she will always be my past. Someone I still very much love.'

Hearing that you pushed him away, you felt a coil snap in your heart, nudging you in the direction where you opted you would not go. 'What?! Lois broke your heart and left you all alone to pick up the pieces, and you still love her?'

'She didn't know what she was doing. I told her how I felt, and we mended that.' More actions came to light 'When?! You never mentioned that to me. Clark... what are you hiding?!'

Clark moved away, seeing what effect all of this had on you, heartbreak in sight. 'Nothing! Just Lois and I talked it over and decided to move friends. Nothing more!'

Looking to the side, you could not see him anymore; your emotions got the better of you. 'You are saying that just now. Do you understand how much jealousy and insecurity I have to press down when I see you going to Lois first and not me? Have you tried to think how I would feel?! All the time, I was really supportive and understanding, but I am human, and my other emotions would boil if this continued, and it did. I gave you so much grace hoping you would understand by yourself. But you did, and look where we are now.'

Looking at him, you saw his eyes dim with hopelessness. 'So what are you saying? That we-' '-yes, we have no future. But maybe your past can help you pick up the pieces.'

Arthur Curry

Arthur is a hunk of a man. He attracted people of all genders and orientations. He is a beef magnet. Arthur knew his charm, but he was oblivious to how it affected you. Whoever was flirting with Arthur, it made you a bit mad when Arthur would return the flirt even when you were with him.

#154th time

'Babe, if I am nice to the barmen, we will get free drinks.'

#484th time

'No worries, toots. The woman there is smoking hot, but I am still yours.'

Arthur tried to reassure you, but all that would fall on deaf ears by the time you saw it for the 500th time.

'Arthur, you have to stop. I am uncomfortable seeing you flirt with other people while I am with you.'

'When did I do that?' He would ask as if all of that did not happen 3 hours ago, 'You are messing with me, right?! You were flirting with the girl outside the bar while I was getting the car!' 

'Oh, that?! That doesn't count.' He retired, saying a small pfft.  

'Sorry? And when "does it count"?' You asked, feeling genuine curiosity mixed with rage

'Only when I get something free out of it.'

it took you a second to comprehend was he was saying and what he was speaking

'So you mean you do it all the time, but most of the time, you do it to gain something you can very easily buy?'

Arthur takes a second to realize and says deadpanned, 'Yes.'

Losing all hope in the merman before you, you just left, leaving him to his own consequences. Letting your silence speak louder than his words could ever, letting him know that your love has stopped in its tracks.

Orm Marius

Orm never would have thought in a million centuries that he would leave his birthright of being a king to be with you. That decision weighed heavily on his shoulders and heavier on yours. As you were described to others as 'the reason Orm left him throne' sometimes it was spoken with a devoted ping but sometimes with a bitter punch. And that decision was not yours; it never was. It was his. Orm just wasn't ready to admit it. Creating a toxic atmosphere in your household. You were mostly quiet on the matter, hoping that Orm would digest it like an adult man, while Orm was boasting about his accomplishments in Atlantis and always ending with a bitter 'And now I am here.'

'Orm, if you feel that way. You are free to go. I am not some anchor that will keep you here against your will. Plus, we all know YOU chose to come here. I did not put a gun to your head and force you to come here. I had no problem having a long-distance relationship. YOU were the one who wanted to escape that throne and those responsibilities.'

Orm strode to you, feeling disassociated with himself. 'I beg your pardon! The reason I came here was to be with you! Because I love you.'

'I know you do. But every time we talked about your royal duties, you always mention what kind of mental toll they had on you, so much that you started to lose your hair from the stress.' 

Orm looked at you as if a film playing before him; you were right. But he was not ready to fall back.

'You are the one at fault!' He argued, trying to stick to his points that stood on wobbly legs. 'Me?! How??!' You rebutted, ready to stand your ground firmly. 'You and your heritage! Why did you have to be a surface dweller?! Why did you even have to be born?!' He screamed at you, unleashing the avalanche he formed 

'How-how can you say that? You said you loved me moments ago,and now you don't want me on this earth?'

Pacing back, you turn towards the balcony overlooking the ocean, just a few steps ahead. Opening the balcony door, you step aside, saying with a bittersweet sound, 'Here! You can go! I won't hold you back, Orm. It was never my intent to make you so miserable. But when you realize that I was right, don't come back running to me.

Joker(Suicide Squad)

J never intended to have you in his life, someone so typical. Not corrupted, not willing to rob a bank or squishy an ant. You were an angel, and he wanted to corrupt you, but then he knew it would lose parts that made you so distinct and memorable to him. J never tortured you or forced you to do anything. But he did leave you alone while he wreaked havoc in the city. Locking you in the "safe" castle prison while he rampaged Gotham. At first, it wasn't a big deal; after a while, it was like a panic attack that you had to suffer alone in the ample lustrous space. 

'J, can you not lock me next time. It really weighs heavy on me. Please stop.'

'Angel, you being locked here is for your own good. What if someone tries to take you away?'

'And me being locked away will keep them away?'

'You are right! From tomorrow I will add a safe and code lock on the doors and windows.'

'No! J! You can not do this to me! Every time you leave, you lock me in. I feel like I haven't been outside for days now.'

'It was exactly 6 days.'

'J, you have to let me out! I am not someone who is okay with staying in here.'

J started to laugh uncontrollably, looking at you like you are the crazy one 'You are acting like you didn't know, pet. HA! Did you seriously think you would not have some "conditions" to be with me???!!!'

Looking back at him, it dawned on you just now. J wasn't the one going mad, you were. Being locked up in here like some twisted life routine. You had to cut this twist now and forever. 

'I do not wish to be with someone who gives me solitude J.' 

Standing up you walk out of the room, hearing J yelling at you, 'Do NOT forget how good of a life you had with me and in this golden cage!' 

Trying to assemble his thoughts, J halts all his actions feeling his love stop.

Duncan Vizla

Duncan looked at the snow-covered window watching as you walked out of your truck and into your shared home with the retired assassin. 

'Hey, Donut! I'm back. I found the cutest dog ever, a mix of poodle and french bulldog; his name was Mocha. So freaking cute.'

As you explained your day to Duncan, he asks you, cutting the cheery atmosphere short 'No one was following you, dove? Did you check your surroundings?'

A little stumped at the change of atmosphere you spoke with a tint of lie 'Yes. all clear.'

Duncan raises an eyebrow seeing your smile drop 'Liar.'

'Fine, yeah. I didn't check my surroundings but I was extremely careful and I only went to the famers market and petted Mocha.'

Duncan sighs loudly filling the room with his anxiousness. 'It was fine and-' 'It's not fine. You could have been hurt. Someone could have taken you.'

Placing your hand on his you try to soothe him 'IT WAS fine, Ducan. No one is after me. No one is after you. You can relax. We are together here now.'

'You do not understand my fear. Every time I walk out I feel their eyes on me and I do not want you to feel that. I just want you to be safe.'

'Duncan, and I am. When I am with you. Please calm down and let us just enjoy this day.' you talked to him, trying to reason with him but not much was going up his walls.

'Do not downplay my emotions. You would not understand the fear I have to harbor to keep it away from You. To keep you happy and live in this fantasy.'

'What?! How can you say that?? All my feelings towards you are sincere Duncan, I have told you many times that we can talk whenever and about whatever you wanted. I gave myself to you and help you overcome your past life.'

You rebutted looking at him, trying to get your points across and into his thick skull.

'Don't downplay me, little girl! You watch who you are talking to.' Duncan shouted, making you come to a standstill. 

How could he talk to you like that? And downsize you to a small girl. You aren't helpless. You aren't dumb, far from it. You are more than capable of walking away right this instant. 

'You will not talk to me like that Duncan. And you will not minuscule me. I do not care what you have gone through if you will tear me like that, and talk to me like that. No one will talk to me like that and you will finally learn that what you say hurts far more than a weapon can.'

Walking out, you look at the snowstorm coming in, sealing your fate far away from Duncan.

[fluoricacid]

Idk if anyone will even see this but this entire situation makes me so sad. I have truly enjoyed being able to watch the QSMP and see such diverse multicultural fan and creator community flourish for so long. It was so fun to see streamers interact and create stories with people they otherwise would have never spoken to. The fan community is awesome as well. I will miss the people (both streamers and admins) who will not be coming back to the server because of this.

And it really is frustrating, because a lot of this seems so avoidable. Really, seriously, on so many levels, actions could have been taken to fix this situation, even after the situation was initially exposed. I'm disappointed in both Quackity and the higher ups at Quackity studios for not communicating with the admins who have suffered the most from this situation. "Not wanting to raise false hopes" is not, in my opinion, a justifiable reason for complete radio silence for the people working or volunteering at QS. At the very least there need to be updates that inform them that solutions are being worked on, and that the admins are being considered and listened to. Even a general "We cannot give details at the moment, we will update as soon as we are able, your role in the project is being put on hold temporarily" would be better than the absolutely nothing that they received (especially true for Pomme). You can't just do that to people. They are owed the bare minimum of respect.

As for the union, what???? It is their job to advocate for the people they are protecting. That involves contacting and making demands of the companies they are opposing. Posting to twitter/x and waiting for the company in question to reach out is not at all a reasonable or common thing to do. To defend people, you actually need to put some effort in to confront the company you are facing. I think the union also claimed they were investigating and interviewing people, but given their level of professionalism thus far I can't trust how much of that is true.

I really, really hope that the community and server can recover from this. I genuinely really enjoy being here, even through the tough and dramatic times. I hope creators who met on the server continue interacting and being friends. Sorry for the sort-of rant/vent.

[the-new-kiddo-on-the-block]

Heyo guys!

Since my friend made a post about it, I figured I should make a separate post of it as well that could hopefully grab the attention of more of you out there. Especially since it's now not only become a recurrent issue for myself, but millions others like me; whose voices and pleas for help are often met with silence and no aid when it's needed more than ever.

My friend made this with the hopes it would get the attention of a lot of people. And the few that have so far responded, with boosting my signal, it's truly appreciated.

So, I figured I'd best give my story here.

For those who know me, they know that I've been through this before, not that long ago. For those that don't:

This isn't my first rodeo with my dad. This isn't his first offense, and I doubt it'll be his last. But, even my boyfriend commented that it's really like I'm Cinderella.

Which, would make my family Lady Tremaine and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella.

Surprised?

Yeah, not the most fun people to have in your life as family, let alone be analogous to your own.

But, for at least my brother on the matter, he doesn't mean to intentionally be cruel- if anything, he is just trying to survive from becoming the next target. Which, I get entirely. I oftentimes do the same for when a fight breaks out between my bio father and my stepmom.

But, that's besides the point-- the fact that they are even akin to that family dynamic is absolutely atrocious.

I'm often seen as a black sheep in my nuclear family- a dark horse, a scapegoat, pariah, outcast; hell, I'm almost synonymous to fucking Bruno Madrigal from Encanto, with a little bit of even Luisa for that matter with how bad her anxiety is.

Sure, that sounds pretty awful, but that's like, a surface-level perspective of who I am and what I've been through. And I'm not gonna give you my whole life story here, but, as my grandma would always famously say:

So, here are the said facts (bullets are Bruno related, indents are Cinderella)-

People used to see me as a gifted child when I was little, y'know? Like, my talents had no bounds. My way of being so empathetic and friendly to even the most awkward stranger was renowned by my extended family. I was awkward with communication, and often was very blunt but honest when talking to people, but I was a happy kid. And it's not like I'm not seen for my talents now, but they're brushed to the side more now as an adult because "you can't be living in a fantasy".

Since my dad and stepmom started living together, I've been made to become the maid of the house, doing most chores because the boys won't do it and my stepmom is incapable of handling all the chores and dishes on her own, so she's dumped most things onto me as a "way of covering for part of your rent". Which, I still have to pay upwards of 660-880 a month for. For one small room and a bathroom. For wifi use. And I still have other bills to pay, like for my car, insurance, credit cards, and stuff like that.

It wasn't until I was starting in my teens that my dad saw me very differently. I would often lie to try and keep the peace, because I feared that telling the truth would only hurt everyone more.

I started failing in math; I never got a grade higher than a C-average after sixth grade, because the teacher that year not only made me look like an idiot, but several times painted me as a villain and treated me like I was evil. Simply for standing up for myself amongst a group of classmates who would often bully me

I have little to no privacy in my own room. The only time I do is when I sleep, and that's even temporary at best. My father will routinely inspect my room and if it's not meeting his standards, he has me clean it or threatens kicking me out onto the street because he won't let me live in this house if I can't "do what I am required to do in order to keep living here" shit I wish I actually wish I had recorded him saying fr

He's taken off my door several times in the past as a punishment for not "adhering to his rules"- not okay as a teenager, even more not okay as a fucking twenty-four year old adult

(literal screenshots from conversations with my dad below)

My bio dad started seeing me less as an honest and good person, because during my sixth grade years and beyond I'd struggle with being honest with myself, let alone my parents, about my personal and educational issues.

I've had to be the one to call out when things aren't right, and be shut down for it. I've been the one to call out my family's bullshit, only to get side-swept with the realization my perception of how they treat me is cuz they do believe something is inherently wrong with me for retaliating.

I'm often accused of mishearing things- like, my parents will say one thing, and then the next day, or weeks or months later, when I repeat that statement, they go and say "Oh, I never said that."

I've walked out of my parents' lives once. It only lasted two weeks, but I did have to take a step back from it all. Because I could see what it was doing to everyone in my family. And I love my family, despite their shit. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna walk out again- in fact, I'm working on a way to do so.

I relate more to pets and small children and even teens than I do older people.

I still have anxieties and fears over my talents and what I'm capable of, thinking I'm not good enough or that it's just the same old thing. The difference is I know it's not, and I know I'm worth more than this.

I have always liked the color green, and it was always a more mysterious color more than an evil or menacing color.

I often have had foresight of future events and get deja by when they do happen. Though, other times I just notice things going awry and I try to warn others of like, a possibility that they don't want to accept.

I lost friends and people who I actually enjoyed being around because of how I was growing up, and it was until I became an adult that part of it wasn't even my fault. A lot of the kids noticed my parents and didn't want to be around that kind of behavior with adults, because they could sense what I couldn't at the time, which was that my parents' behavior towards me was absolutely uncalled for, and rather controlling.

I was only recently properly diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder and ADHD; but before then, as an adult, I had more difficulty talking. Difficulty expressing how I felt. Trouble with finances. Being in the right headspace. Being able to take a step back and be like "whoa, now hold on- pointing fingers at me is only going to point three right back at you, let's not assume shit here". And it took a lot of support from my support systems and my boyfriend- @constant-state-of-self-discovery - to get a truly more accurate diagnosis. Cuz I've had three different diagnoses over the years, with the third being my most accurate one but I digress

I have echolalia and repeat funny phrases, hum music, etc.

When my brother was born - and I hate to use this comparison, but - almost immediately he became the Golden Child of the family dynamic. I was ten when he was born- and yeah, that's unfair for a baby, toddler, and little kid. But flash forward to when he's a bigger kid, when he's in his pre-teen stage and now a fourteen year old, who's gotten more educational advantages than I was ever offered or even given when asked. Who has had more positive experiences with his parents than I ever did. Who got the chance to actually go to the highschool he wanted to without having to worry about who I was really zoned for. Who is getting to work on his passion and talents. Yeah, that's totally not favoritism there.

I draw. I write. I legitimately can see myself voice acting one day.

I have often proved my family members both right and wrong about things in their lives, but I'm still the bad guy. Interesting how that works.

--------

See, these are the facts that just have me relating to just Bruno and Cinderella alone, with how my life is. There's plenty of other shit to add on about my stuff, but that's enough dirty laundry to get the ball rolling.

The fact of the matter is this: I cannot live in such a place like this anymore. And if anyone can help, I'd seriously appreciate whatever cash, boosting, reblogging, sharing that can be done.

I'm tired of living a life like this. I want to move forward. I want to start my next chapter, away from abuse.

And I'm really hopeful for the first time ever that something good might come out of this.

(thank you @savythenillerwaffer , @nystiaa , @oswinunknown , and @anne-of-crows for reblogging along with the others who have spread the word.)

[lily-orchard]

I was recently introduced to you after watching the Sarah Z video on bad media criticism which is a surprise since folks I talked to expected a different direction. I'm not sure how to explain it since I rarely watch YouTube essayists or take their word as gospel. This applies to hbomberguy and Lindsey Ellis. Ellis in particular has made some videos *cough* Jack the Ripper *cough* which doesn't deeply engage in the real-life event and the very problematic ways these adaptions retell the story that reveal a much darker truth. It supports an industry where Jack the Ripper stands triumphant over the corpses of women and gives him a medal for misogyny while the victims are silenced. The Five by Hallie Rubenhold is a book I highly recommend but it wasn't published until 2 years ago so I can let certain videos slide but not Ellis. Instead, I get a summary of multiple movies and a few sentences on how they engage in conspiracy theories. With a joke gag at the end. *sigh* What makes it worse is that most of them don't really publish any sort of bibliography or citations. How do I know the information you give me is reliable? Is it fact? An opinion? Or interpretation. Yet friends of mine, take whatever they say as truth and well-researched opinions. Aside from forming parasocial relationships, they act like videos that popular YouTubers publish are new and revolutionary. When hbomberguys video dropped people acted like this was going to change the YouTube platform but the reality is, this was something people on Youtube have talked about for years but because they don't have as big of a channel or their professionalization is super niche nobody is aware this was a frequent issue unless you were in those type of communities. The Youtuber Veritas et Caritas does a good breakdown of how this is a particular problem in HistoryTube and how the platform including the audience create these bad habits.

After I watched her video I went to see how her analysis stood up with the content she referenced and after watching hours of content and constructing a timeline, I saw she made several mistakes regarding her examples which is how I ended up watching your content. I have problems with the way she described good-faith criticism because it can be easily weaponized to discredit someone without engaging with the argument or understanding why a channel is designed that way to ride off trends or reinforced by the platform so they end up missing a large chunk of their problem. Her analysis on Hollywood is not great, despite how people laud it as a liberal place of diversity and progress. In reality, they are closely tied to the military "Salute those female patriots Ms. Marvel!" and love their copaganda, reinforce the status quo, and are run by some very conservative individuals behind the scenes. Remember Greenbook? As bad as people criticize your content and interpretation compared to similar videos by other content creators, your stuff is far better than most. Someone tried to make me watch all 5 hours of The Admiral's Analysis and that is one of the worst things I've seen. It's soo easy to debunk I could pull a Youtube video from several professional creators like writers or filmmakers discussing media. The whole animation is not for kids crowd is a legitimate problem that Alan Moore, yes that Alan Moore discussed how juvenile and childish it is. I turned to my friend and said, "Wow this was 1 hour of my time wasted! Out of all the things to die for, why this show when there are more pending things outside?" Overall, you are doing great.

Thanks

[edge-oftheworld]

you know i don't really talk about it on this acc much, but i find myself in a lot of various neurodivergent spaces. hearing stories of people desperately trying to communicate their needs, being invalidated, or forced to jump through hurdles they're unable to in order to get help they need. thinking about how as humans we have so many differences in communication, yet so many people are silenced when using theirs, struggling and invisible, blamed for their own difficulties, for not measuring up. people's experiences being pitted against finite resources, victimised by systems many of us can't thrive in, burdened with more than some can keep up with, it's the nature of being disabled, unable to empower themselves. and there's only so much legislation and that can do, as good as it is. good systems need to be put in place, but those systems need to be backed by the support of people--not just those who are vulnerable but a whole tribe of us in solidarity. we need that love, and to build it, we need connection and understanding that simply being told 'these are people with needs' isn't going to evoke.

and for that reason i really love writers and artists. i think as humanity we owe a lot to them. i love a talented writer who can get into someone's head, be they real (with consent) or a fictional amalgamation of the characteristics of people, and share their writing far and wide, so people can feel and learn something from it and be a little more understanding. you don't need buckets of empathy necessarily, just a perspective, that window into how someone or a group of people experience life. and to use that new information to choose to be an ally. i love you, fanfic writers, for doing this and building the skill to take beyond fanfic if you choose. i love artists who create art that give us insights into perspectives, that capture moments and feelings and really make us question how we do things. it's very punk. artists of all kinds, i love you.

and this is a music blog. i have to mention songwriters especially. because i've spent my life looking for songs that convey experience in the most real way possible. i've chased perspectives and representations of my own in artists' music. you can learn to see things a thousand, a billion ways through music, both in the lyrics when they are present, and in every musical element put together. it all creates a picture. it presents something. it communicates on a much more primal and validating way than just using words, facts, demands. it allows us to see much more intimately and intricately ourselves and each other. it is absolutely necessary in our activism for vulnerable people, invisible for one reason or another, disabled, neurodivergent--you name it. and it is a really beautiful statistic for me to see, that so many songwriters are neurodivergent. this allows a kind of communication that might be difficult to have otherwise. it is something people of all neurotypes accept. we all, to some degree, love music. and we can (and do, often without realising) use it to do just this! to communicate, as songwriters, our own experiences or those of whoever inspires us. we see souls and we see lives through it. and music has no real categories and labels, just a new piece for us to connect with, maybe deeply, or maybe just witness for a moment, and see something we usually wouldn't.

and so i have a dream. a dream where we can channel the often accidental (but also, often so purposeful) activism of music into the causes we care about, thinking about which voices are centred, and making sure whoever is sidelined gets a chance to be heard sometimes. a dream where we don't just have lists of how to be better allies and legislations we vote yes or no to, but we can educate ourselves on all these diverse and different experiences through music as well as specific, measurable, often emotionless data. because i've spent the last six years trying to figure out how i exist in the world. why i am the way that I am. if that sounds familiar. i've come across an encyclopedia's worth of knowledge on diversity. on neurodivergence. that I had to sift through to see what fits me. but in the process i can see the experiences of so many people, all of whom I see a little bit of myself in, and I've learned how accommodations work and sensory profiles and how there is so much injustice in the world most of us aren't even aware of because people's pain is invisible. and they're often not given the tools, the labels, the words to use to describe it because people simply don't think about it. they don't know. they don't know how to see it in someone until they're told. until that person has nowhere else to go, if they're lucky they'll find the blueprint for their life and their brain before living without it destroys them. and work back from there.

isn't it good that scientists and those experiencing these things have put together categories of human for the kinds of specific blueprints we might need? yes I know there is problematic history of exclusion and many other things--that still influence stigma today and why we don't ever think of neurodivergence or disability when someone is what we class as successful--but we've figured some things out!! we can help people with them!! we can combine our winnings!! science and labels and lists of accommodations that come with them, with personal art about experience from people who are in some of these categories, people who aren't, every kind of unique experience you can think of. imagine it. a world of people with so many resources they need to feel better. some of them make art. some of them enact legislation. all of this goes back to helping each other!!

i could probably look at every artist i know well and have a guess at how their brain and nervous system would be categorised. i have the confidence by now to say that i would for the most part, be right. or at least very close. if i had the chance to do this i could tell them i love them and i desperately want them to be okay and of the impact of their art. i could be part of distributing that validating or experientially educational art to those who most need it. I already do that, to the extent I am able at the moment. and i try to be a good activist. i've seen a lot more awareness of things i've been talking about over the last 2-3 years. we're getting better. but sometimes I do feel like i'm posting bits and pieces of information through the entire internet with part of my goal being hopes that this person i care about whose art i've consumed and loved and benefitted so much from, might put the pieces together and figure these things out for themselves. we're getting better. i still feel helpless when i encounter some content some artists i love put out.

i don't think it's respectful to be like 'i hc this person as this' all over the internet, so i'm not gonna do that, and i ask that you also think of the implications of what you theorise as well--99% of the time it's fine. i know that. but i also know the stigma around neurodivergence that exists still is there, and also what labels people use publicly are their own choice and this should never be taken away from them. but we don't have to be detectives without filters to simply talk about our own experiences with neurodivergence, with whatever things we struggle with, to each other in the fandom, and build a culture of creating awareness. we can do that. without taking away anyone's autonomy or anything like that. so talk to me about this stuff!! please. always. i always want to hear it. and i wanna hear what songs you relate to because of it!! that's what i'm here in the fandom for. i love you guys. i'm being vague on purpose but if you catch what triggered this spiel (and it's a recurring pattern. every time something new comes out) i salute you. we can bond over it. please bond over it with me. i try to be an activist, yes, but really, i need connection and validation of my experience just like I think all of us do, and deserve to have. small conversations are part of creating this vision <3

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 7: Gray

The vastness of the Starfinder setting cannot be exaggerated, an entire galaxy of mystery and exploration. It is so big that it’s no wonder that there are plenty of things left undiscovered out there.

Unfortunately, some of those mysteries are not content to wait to be discovered, and instead come to do some investigations of their own.

A classic staple of alien theorists in the real world, the grays, the slender creatures with short statures, large heads and eyes have been lingering in the pop culture zeitgeist for decades, and have in fact already appeared in one of the later bestiaries of Pathfinder First Edition, alongside the likes of reptoids, hobkins gremlins (based on the Hopkinsville Goblin), the mothman, and other aliens and cryptid homages in the system and setting.

However, whereas the grays and other alien beings are often a case of fantasy having to face off with sci-fi in Pathfinder, Starfinder is a game of science fantasy, where the characters are packing spaceships of their own.

Even with that, however, the grays remain mysterious, hiding their activities from the rest of the galaxy. In fact, most do not know if they exist at all, almost all of the knowledge about them is hearsay and rumor, with anything concrete carefully guarded by powerful organizations.

What exactly the grays want, if they indeed act under one banner, is hard to say. Most seem content to observe and test, abducting people to run tests and returning them with modified memories, though nightmares and strange surgical implants or scars tell a different story of otherwise seemingly uneventful nights.

Which is why it’s actually a bit weird that they grays are a playable option! Having a gray actually be playable would imply that the answers to these mysterious beings can be in their hands… But unless the GM comes up with some answers, they don’t exist in any one consistent answer in the setting so far.

As such, playing as a gray should be done with some forethought. The easiest answer to a gray living among a typical band of adventurers is that they do so in disguise, their allies not realizing what and who they travel with. If they do know, the gray might be under a vow of silence to not reveal their people’s secrets, else the GM will have to answer those questions.

 Much of gray outward appearance is similar to the classic stories. Short, slender, with large round heads and eyes, with small, nearly atrophied mouths. Beyond that, very little is known about their physiology, though some sources claim that their flesh is mostly undifferentiated, that they have no discernable organs or even muscles or internal tissues. How exactly their biology functions if this is true is unknown.

 Much of their society is unknown as well, though they do have leaders that command research teams and such. While there have been some groups primarily interested in researching other species physically or with psychic probe interrogations, others have canonically attempted to create conspiracies of cloned replacements within the infrastructure of the Pact Worlds. Regardless, it is abundantly clear that as a general rule, the grays have little understanding or concern for the autonomy of other sapient beings. Perhaps they believe they are above them, or perhaps they simply have no conception of it beyond the general unwillingness to cooperate with their tests and tasks?

Additionally, the strange out-of-phase nature of the grays and the abilities that it grants them suggests they might be from a parallel Material Plane, or their homeworld might exist in some sort of dimensional flux.

 As their tiny slender bodies imply, grays are frail and weak physically, but their minds are quite powerful.

They also have surprisingly good night vision as well.

Additionally, their minds are powerful weapons, letting them daze and communicate long distances with others, as well as mentally assault foes.

Being partially out of phase, while not as strong as others of their kind, means that these mysterious beings can sometimes let attacks pass right through them, though it’s a fairly low chance.

Naturally, they also have limited telepathy, which they favor over speaking audibly whenever possible.

 With their high intelligence, grays are well-suited for any science-y role you want to put them in, making biohacker, mechanic, and technomancer natural choices, especially given that most encountered in the setting are researchers. However, others might choose a different path. Those in a bodyguard for such expeditions might have any manner of combat classes, though they’d naturally favor ranged options such as ranged soldier and solarian, as well as vanguard. Nanocyte and evolutionist feels a bit thematically off since they typically experiment on other species, rather than themselves, but the possibility is there with their advanced tech. Additionally, the usefulness of gray operatives and stealthy envoys cannot be understated. Finally, they can make use of the mystic, precog, and witchwarper classes with not inhibitions, and would represent powerful psychics among their kind.

 That about does it for today, but tomorrow, we’ll look at our final entry of the week, another callback to Golarion and human folklore in one package!

[rockislandadultreads]

Into the Stacks: Fiction Picks that take place in a Library

The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki

After the tragic death of his beloved musician father, fourteen-year-old Benny Oh begins to hear voices. The voices belong to the things in his house--a sneaker, a broken Christmas ornament, a piece of wilted lettuce. Although Benny doesn't understand what these things are saying, he can sense their emotional tone; some are pleasant, a gentle hum or coo, but others are snide, angry and full of pain. When his mother, Annabelle, develops a hoarding problem, the voices grow more clamorous. At first, Benny tries to ignore them, but soon the voices follow him outside the house, onto the street and at school, driving him at last to seek refuge in the silence of a large public library, where objects are well-behaved and know to speak in whispers. There, Benny discovers a strange new world, where "things happen." He falls in love with a mesmerizing street artist with a smug pet ferret, who uses the library as her performance space. He meets a homeless philosopher-poet, who encourages him to ask important questions and find his own voice amongst the many. And he meets his very own Book--a talking thing--who narrates Benny's life and teaches him to listen to the things that truly matter.

The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections by Eva Jurczyk

What holds more secrets in the library: the ancient books shelved in the stacks or the people who preserve them? Liesl Weiss has been (mostly) happy working in the rare books department of a large university, managing details and working behind the scenes to make the head of the department look good. But when her boss has a stroke and she's left to run things, she discovers that the library's most prized manuscript is missing. Liesl tries to sound the alarm and inform the police about the missing priceless book but is told repeatedly to keep quiet to keep the doors open and the donors happy. But then a librarian goes missing as well. Liesl must investigate both disappearances, unspooling her colleagues' pasts like the threads of a rare book binding as it becomes clear that someone in the department must be responsible for the theft. What Liesl discovers about the dusty manuscripts she has worked among for so long—and about the people who preserve and revere them—shakes the very foundation on which she has built her life.

The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams

Widower Mukesh lives a quiet life in the London Borough of Ealing after losing his beloved wife. He shops every Wednesday, goes to Temple, and worries about his granddaughter, Priya, who hides in her room reading while he spends his evenings watching nature documentaries. Aleisha is a bright but anxious teenager working at the local library for the summer when she discovers a crumpled-up piece of paper in the back of To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s a list of novels that she’s never heard of before. Intrigued, and a little bored with her slow job at the checkout desk, she impulsively decides to read every book on the list, one after the other. As each story gives up its magic, the books transport Aleisha from the painful realities she’s facing at home. When Mukesh arrives at the library, desperate to forge a connection with his bookworm granddaughter, Aleisha passes along the reading list… hoping that it will be a lifeline for him too. Slowly, the shared books create a connection between two lonely souls, as fiction helps them escape their grief and everyday troubles and find joy again.

The Night of Many Endings by Melissa Payne

Orphaned at a young age and witness to her brother’s decline into addiction, Nora Martinez has every excuse to question the fairness of life. Instead, the openhearted librarian in the small Colorado community of Silver Ridge sees only promise. She holds on to the hope that she’ll be reunited with her missing brother and does what she can at the town library. It’s her home away from home, but it’s also a sanctuary for others who, like her brother, could use a second chance. There’s Marlene, an elderly loner who believes that, apart from her husband, there’s little good left in the world; Jasmine, a troubled teen; Lewis, a homeless man with lost hope and one last wish; and Vlado, the security guard who loves a good book and, from afar, Nora. As a winter storm buries Silver Ridge, this collection of lonely hearts takes shelter in the library. They’ll discover more about each other, and themselves, than they ever knew—and Nora will be forced to question her brother’s disappearance in ways she never could have imagined. No matter how stranded in life they feel, this fateful night could be the new beginning they didn’t think was possible.

[heredis-sanguinis]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

- Tagged by: @piltover-sharpshooter & @shimmerbeasts -

-Under 'Read More' for length-

What made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? He's one of my absolute fave League champions. There were hardly any out there and I dipped by finger in that sanguine pool for a moment and got pulled in instantly. To me he has a ton of potential to be fleshed out, that I hope to put down in writing. Riot seems to forget the 'unpolished' gem they have created at times. Especially since he seems to always end up as a joke to people in the community and even the playerbase, and easily gets ignored that way. Or at least in my experiences. The amount of times I've heard jokes like 'discount-ripoff-Lestat/Dracula/vampire/-clown are too.fucking.many...

Is there anything you don’t like to write? Slice of life stuff... I just don't get any motivation to keep anything going in that genre. The same goes for modern verses? I just don't get inspiration for anything on my muses for this either. And not even because I dislike them or anything, it just doesn't mesh with my brain.

Is there anything you really enjoy writing? A n g s t It comes naturally to me, with little effort. And considering how swamped my schedule is, this is a blessing. Though I am not that fuzzed about what genre I'm writing in. I enjoy most things, as long as there is something that moves forward. Development and something to work with to continue that pace and progression are absolutely <3

How do you come up with headcanons? Inspiration from other sources Trying to look behind the basic lore and colour stories, but also look at any potential related characters or other sources and see if anything meshes with Vlad. Like, besides his own lore, I also looked at Noxian lore, Camavoran lore, Viego/Kalista/Hecarim, the Blessed Isles, Ruination, the Darkin and so on.

Do you write in silence or do you play music? I write mostly with something playing in the background. This could be any relatable music to my muses. Or just any of my playlists. A Youtube series I'm watching/listening to. While at work I tend to write down keywords if something comes to mind, and then at home I'll see what comes out of it. (if I remember that I wrote something down)

Do you plan your replies or wing them? I wing them, 99%, mostly. I don't really enjoy planning out every step of muses interactions and relationships. And besides, Vlad is not one to let his life and actions be dictated as easily. He does as he pleases and so too do I write him.

Do you enjoy shipping? I am a shipping whore, but I am very passive in seeking anything in this regard due to really bad experiences where I got accusted of only seeking out interactions for ships, just because I like some characters together. Like, my absolute otp is VladVayne, but I never interacted with any Vayne for the shipping reason. I enjoy their antagonistic dynamic potential a lot too, but yeah stuff happened and now I just tend to not bother to seek interactions. It's a good thing Vlad is not an easy character to ship with, so that saves me a lot of issues as well in this regard.

What’s your alias/name? Cella

Age? 36

Birthday? May 20th

Favourite color? I have several: Black, red, green and purple

Favourite song? This changes whenever it does, But currently it is 'The Skies Above' by The Black Mages

Last movie you watched? I can't remember. It might have been a horror movie when I went to my bestie, sometime last year, to watch 'something'. But I have slept since then, and just don't remember a title.

Last show you watched? I think that has to be Hazbin Hotel? I don't watch a lot of series or shows. Heck, I haven't watched TV properly in a decade now. And rarely go online to watch anything.

Last song you listened to? 'Oblivion' by Masayoshi Soken (Yes, it is another Final Fantasy XIV song)

Favourite food? Listen, I love food, so I don't really have one specific dish or type that I consider a 'fave'. So I'll give a couple: sushi, steak (rare, I need it to bleed), chips (fries for you USA lot), kebab and ice cream (lemon being my absolute fave flavour)

Favourite season? W I N T E R No sun, no spiders (severely arachnophobic), no skin-blistering heat. What's not to love? And if I'm cold, I just. wear. another. layer. of. clothing.

Do you have a Tumblr best friend? Quite a few. Shoutout to @angelicxlly @piltover-sharpshooter @thegoldentigress @weapon-turned-jack These four have been with me through thick and thin for several years now. I love them dearly and they're precious to me. Heck, Monkey-brain-sharpshooter is practically my clone. Literal spiderman-meme stuff there and it gets creepy at times how much we act and think and say alike...

Tagging: You, yes you! I don't know who has been tagged or has done this already. But consider this your tag now~

[foultastemusic]

EP Review - Here, Hear. IV – La Dispute (2024)

This EP was the best gift that 2024 could give me, and we're still only in March. A game between the traumas in the stories recounted in La Dispute's first "great" albums - Somewhere at the Bottom of the River Between Vega and Altair (2008) and Wildlife (2011) - revolutionary for the experimental world of midwest emo, post-hardcore and the underground community in general, and the latest works of art that are most listened to and reflected on, which tell us through the details of everyday life, feelings, landscapes and images open to the listener's imagination - Rooms of the House (2014) and Panorama (2019) - when recitation becomes part of the post-hardcore trends.

Despite the pained voice and the contrasts that create the perfect synthesis of the guitars and bass, the rhythmic coherence of the drums and the literary personality of the band that has always been faithful to us from the beginning until today, elements that have created the "brand image", I notice that these geniuses of emo music don't mind experimenting with new electronics, the absence of screams and distortions, love, new ways of saying things. The fact that we can't catalog and put aesthetic labels on certain artists, because they are constantly metamorphosing and contradicting themselves with the genres given by fans and record companies, certain types of festivals and events, algorithms of streaming platforms, etc., is a proof that the post-hardcore of these bands that continue to record over the years is maturing as a movement. And this EP has made me reflect on my generation, which adapts to trends by not adapting to it at all. Perhaps silences and improbable harmonic resolutions are the oxygen pump for artists and listeners of music created in a studio as if it’s a laboratory.

Here, Hear. is a collection of four volumes, the first of which was released in 2008, the band's big bang year. In the four volumes, we can see that La Dispute exploded at the beginning and took their own advantage of the sounds in a very genuine, pure and direct way, unashamed to use unconventional instruments such as pianos, maracas and “folklorized” melodies - always recognizable on a timbral level, anyway - but it was in this last one, sixteen years later, that we see the band flourish, not in an explosive way as before, but always pure and honest. They reinforce simplicity and the timeless stories. Sixteen, the fourth song on the EP, and one that had been released before on Spotify, marks a new life of La Dispute: it reminds me of the walks I had to school when I was fourteen and of my first crush had dedicated the song Such Small Hands (2008) to me in anonymity; of the song Woman (In the Mirror) (2014) when I was always at home trying to discover my own way of (always hidden) teenage happiness. Today I've discovered how happy I can be and that the nostalgia for the sadness, heartbreak and melancholy that went on in the corners of my neighborhood while I listened to La Dispute's entire discography for most of the years I lived there is part of it. We were sad listening to sad music, and happiness, today, is based on that. This single, according to my empirical experience and to the community of fans writing online as well, reminds us of those nostalgic times.

And the group's aesthetic minimalism continues. Not just in the music, but in the band's overall image. And I'm enjoying watching it. The lyrics and stories increasingly make sense, since the instrumental part of the EP makes them prevail. In the song Reformation, which concludes the EP in a mode of ecstatic tranquillity, we have a beautiful guitar that harps along with Jordan Dreyer's unsung and unshouted voice. Just like that. Everything that the music of sensitive people needed to offer about the art of growing up and noticing life's little symbols, even when you drink your coffee in the morning before facing the life of an adult who is emotionally trapped by the years that have passed.

«You awake at 3AM to the soft voice of her dream, saying

"These are the people who said that you like him would never die

Until you do and you will and I will too

Just like this, baby, but longer, forever

And there's nothing past that door, I know it"

Before she drifts back to sleep where you can't now and it's okay

Peace be with you»

Reformation, La Dispute (2024)

[allegra-j-joann]

The Will to Write

My writing life is such a strange concept to try and summarise. My Writing life, my inspiration and will to write, is like a cat, fickle and demanding, it’s always been such an enormous part of everything I did, and yet it was so inconstant. It shone in the starry eyes of a four-year-old, learning in the early morning to read of the lands above the Faraway tree, it mirrored the Cheshire grin of a six-year-old falling in love with the land down the rabbit hole, it pawed at the heart of a fourteen-year-old hiding notebook under her pillow, throwing herself away in favour of a fictional personality, and purred in the arms of a sixteen-year-old with more stories than friends. It was there, warm and soft through some of the worst times of my life, baring its claws as I brought myself to the brink of disaster, yet abandoned me when I wanted it, leaving me with notebooks full of scratched-out lines, scribbles in the margins, and undirectable rage.

My first novel was Enid Blyton’s whimsically beautiful ‘The Magic Faraway Tree’, I remember my copy, bound in gold and blue, almost as big as myself, I remember bouncing on the end of my parents' bed at 7 am on a Saturday, nagging them about the words I didn’t understand, about things, I couldn’t make sense of, I devoured that story, again and again, I read it until its spine gave out until I could near recite it, but it wasn’t enough, not for me. Barely a week after I started primary school, I had decided that I too wanted to visit the land of toys and the kingdom of pots and pans, and so I took to pencil and paper and wrote my first fanfiction. The story was a paragraph long and told the story of a kitten escaping his backyard to befriend the tree fairies and the man in the moon, that was the beginning of Will, the beginning of my life as a writer, but I wouldn’t meet him myself for another year and a half.

Not long before my sixth birthday, I received my mother’s copy of ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’ and it was love at first sight, that was the day I met Will, an ink-stained cat with a Cheshire grin, the embodiment of every story I ever had, or ever would write, an imaginary friend, true, but one who represented something very real to me, who I still see today. By this point in my life, I had been diagnosed with Severe Anxiety and Obsessive tendencies, I fixated more than a normal child, I found a single thing, a hobby, a colour, a concept, and devoted myself entirely, before returning to somewhat of a hollow state, I would spend hours, sometimes entire days, ordering and reordering my books, and even with counselling, I found myself unable to make friends, I couldn’t keep up with the other kids, they changed so quickly, but books, characters, they were so constant, I could come back time and time again and always know them, I prefer them to people, I started believing there was something wrong with me, defeated, I stopped trying to communicate with the people around me, it was in this state of radio silence that I came across the most life-changing quote I have ever read, in which the Cheshire Cat quotes “I’m not Mad, you see, My reality just differs from yours”. Enid Blyton may have led me to write my first stories, but it wasn’t until Lewis Carroll’s work that I fell down the Rabbit Hole, I realised that I wasn’t broken, there was nothing wrong with me, in fact, one of the most beloved books of all time was filled with characters just like me, I wanted to be part of that, I wanted to be like Carroll, I became obsessed with creating something that could reassure and inspire others the way Wonderland had for me.

My creative bliss managed to last several years after that, Will and I communicated freely, there was a lot of fanfiction involved, small scenes, and even the first draft of a novel, I even adjusted to being alone. It couldn’t be maintained though, Will abandoned me, I spent weeks being lost, I became angry and destructive, I shut people out, and I burned months' worth of notebooks and sheets. I’ve never quite been sure what possessed me to do it, but One day, when we had the bonfire in the backyard, I took my draft, I took my notebooks and pens, my sketchbooks, my references, and I threw them all in, I stood by, watching everything I loved turn black and disappear. I didn’t forgive myself for months, and I didn’t see Will for almost a full, icy, lonely year. I was about to finish year nine, I’d self-destructed and barely passed, I’d driven away my few friends, I was in a long downward spiral, and there he was, sitting on my arm, purring and grinning, the very next day, my aunt bought me a new notebook and pen, I remember staying up until three in the morning, writing everything I could remember, writing anything and everything that came to mind, I filled the book within a week, then another, soon I had a shelf in my bedside dedicated to notebooks.

Year ten was where things peaked, I stopped completing projects, I stopped doing homework, I stopped talking, I had more notebooks than I could count, none of them filled, none dedicated to a single project, written in fifty different pens, one page could have me in an epic fantasy land, the next I’m a sci-fi rebel on the run, the next I am a detective on a murder case, then nothing, another book abandoned, more cursing at myself at unhealthy hours of the morning, Will became bitter and demanding, he would lie across my shoulders and yowl, he’d fill my head with incomplete ideas until I couldn’t focus, I tried stringing them together, but they faded away, he stayed stubbornly this way for two years, trapping my in an inane routine, I began to wish for the days when he was nowhere to be found, and then, I graduated, suddenly I could be who I wanted, do what I wanted. Looking back on it, I realise how much damage Will caused in the first years of high school, and how much he saved me in the last few, I didn’t see him in the first semester, but then there he was in that first Tutorial, grinning his Cheshire grin anew.