#or develop my skills in my notebook

[dvasva]

One thing i think a lot of writers would benefit from is adopting the idea of a sketchbook into our brains. like, look at how artists use sketchbooks, draw in them, critique them, and replicate that but with writing. genuinely i think it helps a lot to write snippets or characters or random little things. not like a worldbuilding journal for only one idea or polished writing, or even a journal where you write 'chapter 1, chapter 2,' etc in a squence you can read back later. a journal or notepad where you can genuinely just write whatever you need to, where you can do writing exorcises or write that little bit of writing thats been stewing in your brain. Original work and fanfic sitting together on adjacent pages (even if you dont really write or read fanfic, its the same as an artist drawing kirby or sonic on their sketchbook), a description of the room you're in next to a dramatic monologue. its just a sketchbook for notes. A notebook if u will...

[orcelito]

Actually it is SO weird to me to remember that I was an engineering student and that later on I had been pursuing a minor in statistics

I may be a IT & com person in the end, but I do have the foundations of engineering and statistics in my brain too. Wild !

[ikeuki]

mama a riki behind you ! / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ grumpy x sunshine ; fluff — ( wordcount ) 811

ᯓ★ ikeuki’s note. fake emo alert ‼️ we all saw you giggling through the mirror… // this is my first post teehee ; i will post a proper introduction later on !!

synopsis. riki is so over today—picture day. he encounters someone who he thinks will only make it worse, but surprisingly makes it better?

picture day.

the most useless day, riki liked to call it. he would’ve ditched today but his friends agreed to just take the pictures in the morning and skip afterwards. now he was stuck, standing in this stupidly long line for a two second picture that would be going nowhere except the yearbook. if only he could prevent that from happening too.

riki just slouched against the gym wall, counting the minutes in his head before the period was over. the gym was filled with mindless chatter and camera shutters from every corner.

with common last names, all his friends texted him that they finished hours ago. they had already jumped the school fences and we’re hanging out, leaving riki to be stuck in this humid gym alone.

alas, he closed his eyes in an attempt to at least catch a couple minutes of sleep in these boring moments.

click. clack. click.

his eyes shot open. ‘what the hell is that sound?’ he thought to himself and searched for the maker of the sound.

he looked straight ahead to see you continuously tapping your shoe while holding a compact mirror. you applied a thin layer of lip gloss while trying to arrange your delicate curls in the perfect formation.

riki watched from behind as you panicked when a single strand went the other way. you then pulled out a comb and started fixing your part in a hurry as if this line wasn’t going to take another two hours.

then you began practicing smiles—a toothy grin, no teeth, eye smile, and so on! riki couldn’t help but laugh a little when he saw how seriously you were taking this.

he could tell you worked extra hard this morning to look your absolute best. even though he didn’t really know why you would for a school picture?

he had spotted you around school before, your sweet vanilla scent catching his attention when you walked past him. your curls bounced when you practically skipped to class, clutching your pastel notebooks to your chest and that charming smile you always had when talking and laughing to your friends.

wait. why did riki know that? he shouldn’t didn’t care about some random girl in his grade that smelled like sweet syrup!

nope! it’s just the sleep deprivation.

while posing into your small mirror, you caught the glare of riki, locking eyes through the compact. embarrassed, you shut the mirror and shoved it into your pocket. you refused to look behind you and kept your eyes on some random girl’s head in front of you.

you knew riki. more like you knew of him.

he always hung out with such a questionable collection of people—lee heeseung, park jongseong, park sunghoon, and sim jaeyun. always getting caught ditching class or smoking behind the bleachers. you knew better to steer clear of any of their ways. they weren’t even at school half of the time. spending it all in detentions if they decided to come once in a while.

but weirdly enough, you had a soft spot for riki.

only because you remembered him in elementary school, when he was a smaller, sweeter kid who was known as a ‘dance prodigy.’ your friend had attended the same dance studio as him, so you would always see him when visiting to watch your friend.

you had admired his skill and confidence back then, even developing a small crush on the boy.

but your dreams were soon crushed when you overheard him liking some girl in his dance class. therefore, you hadn’t interacted with him since, only a few lingering glances of acknowledging each others’ presences but avoiding anything more.

you think it may because you’re the only person that remembers him from childhood and who he truly is.

but you could just be thinking too much into it.

luckily, your name was called the next second and you quickly walk away from that awkward interaction. you sighed, fixing your hair for one last time and trying a couple more smiles.

“just smile like you always do.” riki whispered as he walked past you towards the exit.

your body tensed up as his shoulder brushed past yours and he turned slightly to look at you one last time before leaving the gym.

for a second, you thought you were imagining him saying anything but knew you were not hallucinating when he looked back. you stood there thinking of what he meant by ‘always do’ before the photographer snapped you out of your trance.

“ms. y/l/n, please sit in the chair.”

hurriedly, you sat on the little black stool and aligned your feet with the markers taped on the gym floor. you moved a couple strands to frame your face how you wanted it and looked straight at the camera.

���okay…now smile.”

and you did. like you always do.

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

what do you mean a fifteen year old girl is forced to answer to an absolutely vile man for her father's actions or her mother - her only fucking family up until literally that day - would be murdered and it would be "her fault" when she has fucking nothing to do with any of it. what do you mean this girl used to be incredibly close to her mother until she made a choice she can never take back and it's torn their relationship apart and they're both trying everything they can to fix it while neither one can bring themselves to even mention what happened. what do you mean she thinks her mother hates her now. what do you mean every single fucking adult in this story either hates her or places unbearable burdens upon her and the few adults who prioritize trying to keep this literal child safe are punished for it. what do you mean she has two love confession scenes and they're the first times in all her life that someone besides her mother saw who she was and still loved her and they're both awkward and clumsy confessions and it's one of the few instances in which the clumsy juvenile writing actually works because it emphasizes that they're literally teenagers in high school. what do you mean this girl endures fucking horrific and literally mind-breaking trauma to try to save her mother - a responsibility that never should have been placed on her - only to die on the blade of the one she'd been doing everything to save because she's literally thrown in the way of a weapon being drawn with the intent to save her. what the fuck do you mean. you literally threw in fucking hamilton and heathers lyrics five chapters ago WHAT DO YOU MEAN

revisiting a fanfic i wrote in high school is such an experience bc like. I can laugh at the pure "oh my god i really wrote like this" feeling i get when looking back on it because its a time capsule of how I wrote back then but like. the writing is incredibly juvenile and awkward (bc a teenager who was still in the early stages of developing her writing style while also hardly reading anything besides the books she had to read for class and living off of anime and musicals wrote it) and there's inaccuracy upon inaccuracy and huge inconsistency with the tone and there are fucking 2017 era musical lyrics shoehorned into like half of the chapters and some of the dialogue is like. Glee Levels of "oh my god how did this even grace a keyboard". I can't deny that. I also can't deny that this is literally the most devastating piece of work i have ever written

[wheeloffortune-design]

I think an important skill to develop is traveling alone. Or just doing things alone.

I often go to events or conventions in neighboring cities (neighboring in a canadian way, meaning 3+ hours of travel) and most of the time I do it alone. I take the car, bus, train, with my clothes and my books and my art and my cpap machine and always a book that I won't read, and I do the Event, sometimes I see friends, meet colleagues.

But there are many hours where I find myself in a new city, and I learned to make myself visit new places, go to cafés with a notebook or sketchbook, visit museums, get a pint in interesting pubs, eat yummy food at cool restaurants, visit the tourists traps. Take selfies and send them to mom.

And at night, I go back to the hotel room and I make myself a cup of tea (because I brought teabags from home), watch local tv, try to read the book.

Work made me travel to Ottawa, so yesterday I saw a friend but after I ate delicious fish and chips at an irish pub, today I went to a gaming pub and beat a childhood videogame for the first time, tomorrow I'll be flying in a WW2 biplane.

If I had to wait for the stars to align and for someone to do things with me, I wouldn't do anything.

So I guess as long as I can grab my little suitcase, my backpack and my cpap machine, I'll keep going to places. Qui m'aime, me suive.

[midnitetech]

Download All My Mods in One Zip!

This folder includes everything that is up-to-date!

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[glowettee]

the feminine urge to be that student effortlessly ✧˖°

there’s something undeniably magnetic about that student. the one who always has her life together; notes perfectly highlighted, grades effortlessly high, coffee in one hand, an annotated novel in the other. she’s the girl who glides through hallways with a quiet confidence, always prepared, always composed, always one step ahead. but the truth is… she doesn’t just wake up like this. she became her.

if you’ve ever looked at an aesthetic studyblr post and thought, i wish that were me, it already can be. being that student isn’t about obsessing over perfection, it’s about creating systems that make success effortless. and when you master that? discipline doesn’t feel like a struggle. it feels natural.

being that student sometimes is subjective, so take this post with a grain of salt, don't change yourself, but become the better version of yourself. this post is to give you some tips that i personally use to become "that student". academics is so important to me, and it always has been. i've always shoot for the highest, and honestly? even though i sometimes feel like "i hate studying" or "i don't want to go to school". i never succumb to it, i have a gravitation towards studying, and good grades. academics is not just about grades, but learning skills to improve your life, your career, relationships and don't forget, your brain! so please try to see school and academics as improving yourself, not just about using grades to define who you are. - mindy

☁️ how to become that student effortlessly:

✧ romanticize your study sessions – make your desk a space you want to be in. light a candle. play soft classical music. use a pen that glides smoothly. let studying feel like self-care, not a chore. pretend your rory gilmore, or even paris geller.

✧ develop signature study rituals – always start with a cup of tea/coffee/matcha/ANY DRINK, a five-minute review, or a fresh page in your notebook. habits make it easier to start, and starting is half the battle.

✧ master ‘bare minimum’ studying – not every study session has to be two hours long. learn how to get the most out of 10-15 minutes. review flashcards while waiting for your coffee, summarize a chapter in the notes app before bed, listen to an audiobook while getting ready.

✧ have a ‘default’ study outfit – cozy but polished. a chunky sweater, soft leggings, blue-light glasses, a sleek ponytail. when you dress like the kind of student you admire, you become her.

✧ use strategic aesthetic motivation – pinterest boards, beautifully organized notion pages, a soft academia playlist, these are not distractions, they’re tools. use them. let the aesthetic inspire action, not replace it.

✧ learn in layers – don’t cram. absorb knowledge naturally throughout the day. read your notes over breakfast. explain concepts in the shower. let studying weave into your routine like second nature.

✧ stop glorifying stress – good students don’t burn out. they rest, recharge, and protect their mental clarity. discipline is not exhaustion, it's balance.

☁️ mindy’s personal tips for being effortlessly studious:

✧ “the 2-minute review” – every night, spend two minutes looking over what you learned that day. your brain loves repetition. what feels hard today will feel effortless in a week.

✧ “the open book trick” – leave your study materials open on your desk, bed, or counter. you’re 10x more likely to glance at them if they’re already in front of you.

✧ “library aura” – if you struggle with focus, go to a place that forces you to be productive. a coffee shop, a library, even just a quiet corner of your room with your phone in another area. change your environment to change your mindset. i personally love studying during eating brunch and drinking frappes with my friends at starbucks <3

✧ “study like a writer” – instead of just passively reading notes, rewrite them in your own words. like you're explaining them in a diary or a letter. it makes the information stick. tip: one study method i loved using when i took ap art history, was writing an essay on each individual artwork, even if it was just 200 words long, i was able to write it in my words, it's another method based on active recall. it helped me so much, and i ended up getting a 5 on the ap exam thanks to this amazing method <3

✧ “live like a student you admire” – every day, ask yourself: what would the best version of me do? would she scroll mindlessly for an hour, or would she review her flashcards? would she procrastinate, or would she get started now? act accordingly.

☁️ the truth? being that student isn’t about talent. it’s about mindset. show up for yourself. build effortless habits. make learning part of who you are. and soon enough? you won’t just look like that student. you’ll be her.

xoxo mindy

[writers-potion]

What are some suggestions/plotting/planning ideas you have for plotting out your story and characters before you write it?

My Plotting/Character Development Process

Honestly, I don't do much character work before I start writing a first draft. I always feel like my characters do what they want anyway, so I'd come up with a brief character profile (like age, nationality, major likes and dislikes,etc) and let myself figure them out on the way.

Here's a brief breakdown of my plotting process:

Come up with a logline, usually using the format: When [something] happens, [MC] must [do this] in order to [achieve this]

Expand the loglin into a 500-700 word summary

Take the summary and divide it up to the 15 beats of a story from by Blake Synder. You can use any other plotting structure, at least breaking it up into the three acts.

Make some notes about scenes/dialogue if it comes to mind

Start writing the first draft.

Other things I would do:

Dedicate a physical notebook for diagrams/notes/scribbles for the story.

Talk to others about the story

I'm somewhat in between a plotter and panster, but I would have a clear ending in mind.

And a list of questions I use for character profiles (I won't try to answer all of them before I start, just pick and choose):

Name

Age

Height

Eye Color

Physical Appearance

Strange or unique physical attributes

Favorite clothing style

Where do they live? What is it like there?

Defining gestures/movements

Things about their appearance they would most like to change

Speaking style

pet peeves

fondest memory

hobbies and interests

special skills

insecurities

quirks and eccentricities

temperament

negative traits

things that upset them

things that embarrass them

this character is highly opinionated about

any phobias?

things that make them happy

family

deepest, darkest secret

reason they kept this secret for so long

other people’ opinions of this character

favorite bands/songs/type of music

favorite movies

favorite TV shows

Favorite books

Favorite sports/sports teams

Political views

Religion/philosophy of life

Physical health

Dream vacation

Description of their home

Description of where they sleep

Any pets?

Best thing that has ever happened to this character

Worst thing that has ever happened to their character

Superstitions

Three words to describe this character

If a song played every time this character walked to the room, what would it be?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!!, I wanted to request Damian Wayne reacting to finding out that the reader has an entire notebook dedicated just to his drawings, and also reacting to the reader being extremely embarrassed and shy when Damian discovers his secret.

Damian didn’t know what to expect when he had opened your notebook there you’ve been so secretive about, but seeing page after page filled with draft drawings he’s made and discarded when they didn’t exactly go to plan.

It didn’t matter if if was be sketches of his pets, siblings, his father, Alfred or even some of your doing your own thing, they were all there regardless of any deeper reasoning.

It was got obvious that the deeper Damian went he was greeted with older and older drawings back when he was just starting to get good at drawing and what style he was or wasn’t comfortable with. It was almost as though the notebook was a testament to his development as a growing artist.

So as he sat on your bed, making his way through the notebook and found more and more drawings he thought he discarded ages ago. He was flattered to say the least but didn’t understand why you’d dedicate an entire notebook to him and his artwork. Damian was certain that you had your own reasons for doing so, but until then he would indulge the feelings of nostalgia build within him as he recognised his growth in each piece he’s ever made.

It wasn’t long before you came back into the room from a quick trip to the kitchen for a drink, your breath had caught in your throat upon seeing Damian with your notebook in hand, looking as though he was at an interesting plot point in a book.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ���Why do you have my notebook? Where did you find it? Give it back.’

Damian shuts the book and sets it aside as he then looks you in the eye. ‘I should be asking you why you’re the one with an entire notebook dedicated to my drawings?hmmm?’ He threw back at you with a calmness that had you a little unnerved.

‘Drawings? Yours? Are you sure they’re not mi-‘

‘They’ve all got my signature at the bottom of the left hand corner.’ Damian interrupted you as you worry about his reaction. Did he think you were weird, a creep, a freak? You didn’t know as Damian had a great grasp at keeping his true feelings hidden.

You sighed, burrowing your burning face into your hands in embarrassment, not wanting to look him in the eyes as you admit your secret. ‘Fine. They are your drawings in that notebook but I only kept them because I really, really like your drawings and didn’t want them going to waste.’ You told him as you awaited for the worst, only to hear a bit a shuffling coming from him before a hand was placed on your shoulder.

‘I assumed that was the case.’ Damian said softly as he gently peeled your hands away from your face and held them. You blinked at him, not expect in this kind of reaction from Damian. ‘Your not creeped out? Embarrassed? Nothing?’ You asked meekly, still feeling a little embarrassed about the whole thing.

Damian sighs as a small smile tugs on his lips. ‘No, if anything it’s kind of…endearing come to think of it as it acts as a time capsule showcasing my development in skill, style and technique.’ He says before adding. ‘It’s an honour knowing that you admire my drawings so much to make a notebooks about them but I’ve got just one request.’

‘What is it?’ You replied, anxiety spiking back up once more.

‘Just ask me to draw something for your notebook rather than settle with half finished draft sketches.’ Damian said as he grabbed the notebook from behind him and found a blank page and dedicated the next hour or so sketching an utter masterpiece.

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 A Study on Afflatus (I)

Analysis and theories regarding the concept of Afflatus within the universe of Reverse: 1999

if you're from the old r99 news server or the current r99 rp one (or if you've talked to me at any point about r99) then you might know how obsessed I am with afflatus analysis!

so after going feral on my main account about it, and seeing my afflatus thesis drafts just catch dust on my wips, I decided to just open a discussion about it in the fandom! just little by little as I get the thoughts out of my brain!

so yes, this is very much an invitation for people to discuss and theorize about smaller details of the game such as afflatus, medium and other things--there are many fun ways to interpret the way afflatus applies to characters, I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts! ping me in your posts, go feral in the reblogs or comments!

as usual, transcripts were taken from the R1999 Neocities transcript project!

During the first few months of GL's launch, "Afflatus" was generally considered an extradiegetic aspect of the game--a simple mechanic meant to facilitate gameplay for the player, without any relevance to the lore or the plot. Throughout the course of the following patches, namely within the main story, this idea was disproved in many ways, and there were plenty of clues that reinforced its existence in-universe from the very beginning. For the sake of those who have never noticed, I'll do my best to be thorough, but there may be some instances of Afflatus that I missed, feel free to let me know!

The very first time Afflatus is mentioned is in the main story; Chapter 01 - Stage 4 "Chicago Rescue," Sonetto is the one to bring it up during one of the battle tutorials.

Sonetto: That's quite a lot of critters! Timekeeper, we must do something to turn things around now. Remember what the instructor said in class? "Afflatus is a way to hunt in the world." "Observations of the minerals, plants, stars, and beasts as well as our experiences with the spirit and intelligence let us better understand our own existence." Sonetto: Select a proper target for me, Timekeeper. Sonetto: Use an incantation that is strong against the enemy's Afflatus to defeat them more quickly. You can take it from here, Timekeeper.

The fact that this conversation takes place during a game tutorial doesn't instantly render the contents discussed as "just meta," since we've had many different instances of game mechanics being relevant to the overall history and worldbuilding of the setting; Artificial Somnambulism Therapy is both a game mode and a type of therapy developed by Mesmer Jr's family, used extensively within Laplace, as well as a key plot point in Chapter 3 "Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien"; Picrasma Candy is a way for the player to continue playing and an actual medicine for arcanists developed by Medicine Pocket that Argus heavily depends on to use her own arcanum. Bluepoch makes a point to further develop their story through these mechanics, thus it is impossible to separate them from the story itself--battle conversations, daily tidbits, loading screens, items and other details can all be considered canon! Afflatus is no different.

Another early instance of Afflatus occurs in the Tutorial Notebook, which disappears forever once completed--so the following screenshot was taken from this video!

The text reads: 

Sometimes, our Afflatus is strong or weak against an enemy. We need to follow this principle and select the proper arcane skills based on the enemy. Strong or weak? Like a cat to a rat? The relationship between different Afflatuses is like the ecological cycle. When your Afflatus is strong against the target's, your incantation will deal more damage. ─ On Afflatus, Chapter 1

The sticky note implies the existence of a book or research on the subject ("On Afflatus, Chapter 1") which, in turn, supports Sonetto's dialogue about the Afflatus lessons she received in SPDM ("Remember what the instructor said in class?"). With this we can understand that Afflatus exists within the world to a degree that allows it to be studied, also eliminating one of the earliest theories in GL about how Vertin is the only person who can perceive Afflatus due to her status as the Timekeeper.

To my knowledge, there are no direct explanations nor clues as to why or how one would discern Afflatus in others as of writing this. What is the point of assigning Afflatus types in-universe? How can it be done? Sadly, I don't have answers to these questions in particular!

But let's analyze our current examples so far.

According to Sonetto's knowledge on the subject, Afflatus encompasses "observations of the minerals, plants, stars and beasts as well as our experiences with the spirit and intelligence," that allows people to understand themselves. This serves as a list of both Natural (Mineral, Plant, Star, Beast) and Primal (Spirit, Intellect) Afflatuses, while hinting towards the purpose of Afflatus as a tool of introspection.

With this, one may theorize that Afflatus can apply to every living being, as it tackles observations with the surrounding world (Natural Afflatus) and one's inner world (Primal Afflatus). This is partially true, there is a small yet important distinction to be made!

The 1.5 "Revival! The Uluru Games" patch explored the physiological and social differences between humans and arcanists through Ezra and Spathodea, and a new batch of loading screen tidbits were added, such as this one:

The text reads:

The arcanum's Afflatus categories do not apply to humans. However, factors such as personality and preferred instruments may cause certain individuals to have a closer affinity to a particular type of arcane Afflatus.

This daily tidbit confirms that arcanum's Afflatus categories do not apply to humans. The rest of tidbits emphasize on the contrast between the two groups in different aspects; humans cannot cast arcane skills, they use technology and commands rather than incantations, they're considered rational instead of passionate, reason vs instinct, etc etc.

But I believe there is an important distinction to be made! The first loading screen tidbit mentions "arcanum's Afflatus categories," rather than Afflatus itself. There is an aspect of Afflatus that is directly linked with arcanum, and thus it makes sense that it cannot be applied to humans.

We can see this happening in Greta Hoffman's report from the Special Chapter - "The Star" in which she explains her interactions with 37's mother, 77. Here are a few excerpts.

Writer of the Report: I'm not sure whether she was making fun of me or being serious, but I had this feeling that she was eager to tell me how she was granted the secret through a moment of afflatus. It seemed she just saw through the laws behind all things instead of finding them through logical deduction.

"HER": "The rhombus can't be seen with eyes. You shall close your eyes, hearken to the teaching of the supreme existence, and seize the moment of afflatus!" Writer of the Report: Of course, I didn't see anything, nor did I understand what a moment of afflatus was. Perhaps it's just another privilege enjoyed by arcanists, just like their right to be lunatic. Nevertheless, she reached the correct conclusion in a completely wrong way. Is it really possible?

Writer of the Report: But, if there is a god, why are you playing such a prank on us, after we had suffered from the collapse of all the existing orders and the failure of all the great laws? If this is what she called the glimpse of the supreme existence, the moment of afflatus, do you have to present it in such a cruel way?

Even Matilda brings up afflatus during this chapter, in reference to her job monitoring new members.

Matilda: &$#% ... I know she's a rookie, but even so, she's way too unbelievable! "Guide new members with caution and patience. Trigger their afflatus at the right time." Oh, I have to admit, Vertin is doing it better than me for now.

Note the distinction between capital A "Afflatus" and lowercase "afflatus." In this context, the "moment of afflatus" exists as its namesake implies--as an inspiration, a moment of divine impulse that only arcanists can utilize and, therefore, cannot be explained nor proved through human logic.

That is the basis for the tension between Greta Hoffman (a mixed whose arcane blood has been so diluted she can easily pass off as a pure-blooded human) and 77 (a pure-blooded arcanist from an isolated and ancient arcanist society) as two characters from vastly different groups that cannot reconcile nor find a middle ground in their differences. This is the arcane aspect of Afflatus as the 1.5's tidbit mentions, the part that cannot be applied to mankind. But Afflatus also exists as a tool of introspection as mentioned before, which encompasses aspects that any living being can relate to--therefore, it explains why we have both playable and non-playable humans with Afflatus types.

To further understand how non-arcane living beings can still lean towards different types of Afflatus, let's examine the enemies in the game.

The main story is very consistent with how they portray enemies, if you pay attention to their battle information you can see all the deliberate details Bluepoch has added; every enemy comes with a short description that might evolve and change along the story in future renditions of their fights, there are different card sets for different factions (Manus Vindictae's deep black and blue cards vs the Foundation's white and light blue cards), each attack/incantation is uniquely named, giving context and insight into the enemy you're fighting, some even have uniquely named traits/buffs/debuffs!

And as far as I know, every single enemy in the game, regardless of whether they're arcane in nature or not, has an Afflatus assigned to them. Let's look at arcane beings first.

We see that all three examples match their respective Afflatus; a Mineral Carbuncle with a Mineral Afflatus, a Dryad, commonly associated with nature has the Plant Afflatus, and Druvis III, a playable character, retains her Plant Afflatus even as a mysterious NPC boss fight in which her regular incantations have been switched to Manus Vindictae.

And we can also see continuity in Afflatus in other bosses, such as Matilda and Lilya in later chapters--they both retain their own Afflatus as playable characters, and much like Druvis, Matilda's cards are concealed as the default Foundation set for the sake of keeping their identities concealed. There is a clear intent behind these choices.

In the Surface levels of Artificial Somnambulism, the ones that directly correlate to the main story, also feature many other playable characters with their respective Afflatuses; La Source in "Misty Lake a"; The Fool, Bunny Bunny, Pavia, Satsuki and Tennant in "Floating Park a" ...

And I do want to mention that there are instances in which the game allows us to fight playable characters whose Afflatuses have been changed--but there is still an clear goal behind this.

The beta levels of Artificial Somnambulism feature the same aforementioned characters as the alpha ones, but a few of them have different Afflatus. This can be explained within the main story as the direct result of Vertin's mind being tampered with, as we see her struggle to remember and forget things clearly during her AST induced coma in Chapter 3.

???: Her traumatic segment has been reactivated. Increase the power, stabilize her psychube. Try the next dream. Z: The artificial somnambulism therapy may not work on her, Mesmer.

Mesmer Jr.: It means she had suffered the same traumatic experience repeatedly. Even so, she showed no behavioral or cognitive impairment. Back then, as we held her down and put the helmet on her, she even advised me in an extremely calm manner … “I agree with your judgment, but it’s just for this time.” … She was the bellwether of the “break-away” incident after all. I’ll say she’s been well-behaved this time. Sonetto: … I-I thought … Timekeeper is receiving for her low spirit. But you said you held her down … Mesmer Jr.: Oh, that’s just another description of the method used for the same purpose. The aim was to ensure Vertin was unconscious and taken back. That’s the direct order from the vice president of the committee, Constantine. The order from on high was given on the premise of rational thinking and consideration over pros and cons─you are not questioning the reasoning of mankind, are you?

A similar situation happens during UTTU Week, which features playable characters as different characters within the story that UTTU is attempting to share. For example, in 1.2 "Nightmare at Green Lake," the playable characters you fight in UTTU Week represent various different archetypes and tropes in horror.

These inconsistencies are done on purpose, as they're not meant to reflect the truth 1:1.

Now, let's look at human enemies. Here are the two human children from the beginning of the game who disrupt the suitcase--despite being humans, they both have Afflatus assigned to them, and not only that but different types as well, Star and Mineral respectively.

So, to backtrack again! Afflatus cannot be applied to humans from an arcane point of view, simply because humans cannot cast incantations. Therefore, their affinity for a specific type of Afflatus is based on something else, something that they share with arcane beings--such as personality, experiences and preferred instruments.

I want to propose the interpretation of Afflatus being the totality of one's experiences in life; depending on your experiences, the way they've shaped your thinking patterns, your instincts and your personality, you may have an affinity for one Afflatus or another.

This ties in with a different aspect of Afflatus: the idea that one's Afflatus type can change, as the person goes through big changes in their life that influence them in different ways.

If we acknowledge that these battle details are all deliberate and meant to add to the narrative, there are two outliers whose Afflatuses change. The first one is Kakania herself; her debut in 1.7 "E Lucevan le Stelle" includes a fight against her in Stage 8 "Mirror and Lantern" which clearly states her Afflatus is Intellect.

One could argue that this is not the true Kakania, as the battle involves fighting mirror versions of her--but as a reminder, the true one is, in fact, hidden among them! And furthermore, if the reflections are exact versions of the real Kakania, it makes sense that they would have the same battle information as her.

As we all know, when Kakania becomes playable in 1.9 "Vereinsamt," her Afflatus is not Intellect but Plant--I'd like to explain this change as the development Kakania goes through in this specific arc of the story.

Her idealistic views and activism, both for her city and her patients, are directly challenged as the story progresses. She realizes that none of her friends within The Circle were the people she thought them to be, namely Isolde whose complex life and struggles were both overlooked and impossible to discern in Kakania's eyes due to their close relationship, and she also sees the town she acknowledged as flawed but still worth fighting for, turn into violent patriots. Everything that Kakania stood for is gone in an instant, and we see her fighting spirit turn into a desperate near-suicidal attempt at making up for her perceived wrongs.

Such radical events like this would warrant a change in Afflatus, as Kakania adjusts her views due to her experiences.

And then on the other hand, we have The Guiding One's Harbringer boss fight in 1.9's Stage 21 "A Homage Paid"--one of its core mechanics is to change Afflatus to that of the last attack it received. Here we see that distinction from before, the lowercase afflatus referring to the arcane aspect, rather than the experiences a person goes through.

As far as I know, this section of the game also becomes unplayable (or is currently unplayable, I can't seem to access it anymore) so the following screenshots are taken from this video!

Kakania's Afflatus change is something that seems to be directly linked to her evolution as a character, while the Guiding One's Harbringer's Afflatus change is directly linked to its status as an arcane construct, using it as a "mimic strategy" during battle. The psychological aspect vs the arcane aspect of Afflatus respectively.

Next, I'd like to discuss some assumptions made about the different Afflatus types; we expect that Beast characters must have an affinity with animals or be animals themselves (Darley Clatter, Getian, Medicine Pocket, Nick Bottom ...) and we expect that Star characters are all related to celestial bodies or the skies (37, Lilya, Matilda, Lorelei, Voyager ...) due to the naming conventions of the Afflatus. And yes, there are motifs within the Afflatus types that match their naming conventions, but a quick look through the character list prove there is much more to offer, as a good chunk of characters don't align with this initial read of their themes.

We have Pickles, a literal dog, and Kaalaa Baunaa, an astronomer, both with Mineral Afflatus instead of what one would expect of them. It's similar to how fandom perceives Awakened as the sole category for sentient objects, when we have characters like Door and Darley Clatter who are undoubtedly objects, implied to have been given sentience, and thus fall within the group of pure-blooded Arcanists rather than Awakened.

I would also like to point out that these initial motifs have nothing to do with a character's Arcanum--another theory I've seen around is that Afflatus types influence an arcanist's arcanum, which can't be further from the truth. One could argue that Kaalaa Baunaa's arcanum (the summoning of meteors and planets) is related to her Mineral Afflatus--both relate to rocks, after all--but just like the previous assumptions, this falls apart when you examine other examples. Jiu Niangzi's arcanum has nothing to do with rocks nor minerals, but liquor. Ulu's arcanum revolves around fire, yet she's still Mineral.

As far as we know, arcanum is something that can be inherited through bloodlines or lineage--think of Mesmer Jr's 01 Story in her Cover Profile, which states “Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her” in the context of performing AST, or Tennant, whose 02 Story hints towards her father performing the same type of arcanum she's known for--but it's also something that can be taught. We see this most clearly within students of SPDM such as Sonetto, as her skill set matches that of the SPDM students fought during Chapter 3, portraying the "standard" arcanum taught to all arcanist children.

But not only that, arcanum can be influenced by other factors, such as a character's situation and interests--Blonney's arcanum revolves around making drawings come to life, which correlates with her love for storytelling and horror as a child. Pavia's shadow arcanum is hinted to have been formed out of necessity or as a result of his childhood in a dark basement. Tooth Fairy utilizes the fairies she traps.

We also know that arcanists from the same family may not inherit the same level of arcane power, as seen in Shamane and Kumar; the latter was cast out of her family due to her weak arcane power. In all of these cases, Afflatus has nothing to do with arcanum.

So what exactly do Afflatus types tackle?

These are the Afflatus as I've analyzed them, as much as I could summarize it for easier digestion!

With this interpretation, we can see that Star relates to celestial objects and the skies, but also trailblazer geniuses and unstoppable forces, that which is out of reach for common people. Mineral relates to solid materials and stability in permanence, but also the rigidness of strict systems or traditions or stagnancy. Beast relates to wild animals and creatures found in the world, but also the survival of the individual, the struggle to find a place for oneself no matter what. And Plant relates to the flora and the natural cycles in the world, but also the safety of a collective, that which is inherent to the world such as community or change.

This is why these belong to the Natural category of Afflatus: they are concepts that already existed on the world or were manifested into it, from the ground we touch, the people we interact with, to the ideals and beliefs that influence and create societies or bring people together.

On the other hand we have Spirit, relating to the soul, the supernatural and the spiritual aspect of things, but also the unknown, to follow one's gut instinct or embrace the inexplicable. "The way I see the world is unconventional, because I feel these different things about why and how things are the way they are." And then Intellect, relating to the mind and the logical aspect of things, but also the different mindsets and patterns of thought one can have to rationalize things. "The way I see the world is unconventional, because I have these different rules about why and how things are the way they are."

This is why they belong to the Primal category of Afflatus: they are, as the name implies, ancient impulses and habits that mostly exist within ourselves, our thoughts and our feelings.

The Tutorial Notebook also mentions an "ecological cycle," there is a relationship between the different categories that explains why some are strong or weak against others. It's rather easy to understand for the Primal Afflatus, as it's the classic fight between hearts and minds, but Natural Afflatus is a little harder to grasp.

We see the relationship between Beast and Mineral; the former is weak against the latter, the latter is strong against the former. You may read the Natural Afflatus wheel clockwise or counter clockwise.

Using the previous explanations, let us examine this cycle!

Beast is strong against Plant, because it's the disruption of a community or the harmony of the world through a single individual desperately fighting to change their current situation. A desperate animal does not think about the consequences its actions has on the environment while it tries to survive. Plant is strong against Star, because it's a tight-knit collective that embraces change and thus, the lone genius cannot shine above the rest. In an environment that welcomes everyone and everything, there is no way to stand out. Star is strong against Mineral, because it's a single individual choosing to disrupt the status quo, the stability of their society, for the sake of a dream or ideal. A single genius can topple over entire societies. And Mineral is strong against Beast, because a rigid set of rules or traditions leave no place for those who don't fit inside of it or who oppose it. A government that advocates for mankind's superiority leaves no room for arcanists and their rights, it forces them to assimilate within their established rules.

And this cycle goes backwards and forwards!

But I would also like to propose a different type of relation: we understand the aspect of having advantage or disadvantage, but what about Afflatuses that directly mirror each other?

Beast and Star are two Afflatus that directly correlate to an individual against a collective, whereas Mineral and Plant are two Afflatus that directly correlate to a collective against the individual. They're foils of each other; Beast is the underdog, Star is the genius, while Mineral is the stagnant and rigid yet stable and secure systems while Plant is the ever-changing and adaptive nature of the world.

We may also see this in a more precise way: the ecological cycle and Afflatus relationships exist because someone of Mineral Afflatus who is stuck in their ways and refuses to change can be easily upset by someone of Star Afflatus whose nature is to radically change traditions and offer different paths. This is why Semmelweis, a Mineral Afflatus who is hellbent on clinging to the human aspect of herself and sticks to her stubborn mindsets, has such a fascination with Lorelei. Or rather, why Lorelei has such an effect on Semmelweis, as she is a Star Afflatus that begins Semmelweis' journey of self-discovery and acceptance within Series of Dusks.

We can also see previous themes discussed within this post here: one would think that such a radical change is enough to cause Semmelweis to change Afflatus, but we see through her gamemode and the different endings presented that this change is still very much in line with her mindsets and behaviour, Semmelweis remains stubbornly adaptive and pragmatic to the very end, and choosing to follow Lorelei has brought her a deeper insight to understand herself without radically changing who she truly is.

Another example would be Forget Me Not and Druvis III; we know that Forget Me Not is Mineral Afflatus due to his boss fight in Chapter 2 - Stage 13 "Documentary" and Druvis III is Plant Afflatus.

We see the foil dynamics of Afflatus that don't directly interact with each other: the reason Forget Me Not and Druvis III seem to have this type of relationship can be explained through their Afflatus, with Forget Me Not insisting that she perpetuates the very same cycle of revenge and pain, to never move on and continue in the same spot of grieving and mourning for her family. While Druvis III's entire development throughout the Chicago arc--and even leading into the next chapters--tackles her desire to grow and move on, to finally let go of the worst night of her life that took her family away and begin healing from it. It's exactly what Vertin notices within her, and why she's able to connect with Druvis III.

Vertin: Once you dispel the arcanum, it would not be what it is now. I think you are clear, Ms. Druvis, that … Every tree lives for tomorrow.

And that's where I'll leave this extremely long introduction to my study on Afflatus! I'm planning on discussing other themes in the future, such as the way a character's Medium serves as a bridge between their Afflatus and Arcanum, and analysis of the cover profule, but also proper in-depth analysis of each individual Afflatus!

There is so much to look at when discussing Afflatus, every single Insight material has its own description, and each stage for each Afflatus tells a story that relates to their themes!

Please don't be afraid to reach out with your own ideas or observations, I look forward to what everyone else thinks! And congratulations for making it this far <3

[azuraaass]

"Press Pass and Racing Hearts"

Content: Lando Norris x NewJournalist Reader - Fluff

The press pass felt foreign against her chest, the lanyard still stiff and new. First day jitters mixed with the humid Singapore air, making everything feel slightly unreal. She'd dreamed of this moment—standing in the paddock, notebooks in hand, finally calling herself a motorsport journalist.

She just hadn't expected to literally run into Lando Norris.

Well, not run into. More like... collide with his existence in the most embarrassing and clumsy way possible.

She was balancing her camera, recorder, and about three different notepads when she turned the corner too fast near the McLaren hospitality. Her equipment went flying, scattering across the concrete like confetti made of professional embarrassment.

"Shit," she muttered, dropping to her knees to gather her things.

"Language," came a teasing voice from above, tinged with that familiar British accent she'd heard in countless interviews.

She looked up. Lando Norris was crouched beside her, picking up her scattered pens with an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Up close, he looked younger than she expected. More real, somehow.

"Sorry," she said, face burning. "I'm still figuring out the whole... coordination thing."

"First time in the paddock?" he asked, handing her the pens. His fingers brushed hers briefly—warm, calloused from years of gripping steering wheels.

"That obvious?"

"The deer-in-headlights look gave it away," he grinned. "Plus, most journalists have mastered the art of walking and carrying things simultaneously."

She laughed, surprising herself. "I'll add that to my list of skills to develop."

"Lando," he said, extending his hand like she didn't already know exactly who he was.

"I know," she replied, then immediately felt stupid. "I mean—I'm covering the sport. For motorsport weekly. I'm—" She fumbled for her press badge, as if she needed to prove she belonged there.

"Relax," his voice was gentle, eyes kind. "Everyone's new somewhere first."

There was something about the way he said it—not patronizing, not rushed. Like he actually meant it.

"What's your angle?" he asked as they both stood up, her equipment finally rescued.

"Angle?"

"For your first piece. What story are you telling?"

She hesitated. The truth was, she didn't have some grand narrative planned. She'd spent months preparing for technical questions and race analysis, but standing here now, looking at him—really looking—she realized maybe the story was simpler than she thought.

"I don't know yet," she admitted. "Maybe... what it's like to be new to something everyone else makes look easy."

Something shifted in his expression. 

"Yeah," he said quietly with a soft gaze. "I remember that feeling."

-----------------------------------------------

Later, after the chaos of qualifying, after her first real interviews and the adrenaline of actually doing the job she'd worked years to get, she found herself outside the media center. The Singapore night was alive with distant engine sounds and the hum of the city beyond the track.

"How'd it go?"

She turned. Lando was walking toward her, still in his racing suit, hair messy from his helmet. He looked tired but content—like someone who'd just done exactly what they were meant to do.

"Better than expected," she said. "No one laughed at my questions, so I'm calling it a win."

"What were you worried about?"

"Everything," she laughed. "Sounding stupid. Asking something that's been asked a thousand times before. Feeling like I’m not belonging to this place"

"You know," he said, leaning against the barrier beside her, "everyone asks the same questions anyway. But the way you asked about the mental side of racing... that was different."

Her heart did something weird. "Different how?"

"Like you actually wanted to know the answer. Not just to fill column space."

They stood in comfortable silence, watching mechanics wheel equipment past. The night felt full of possibility—like standing at the edge of something she couldn't quite name yet.

"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.

"Go for it."

"Off the record?"

He nodded.

"Do you ever feel like you're pretending? Like everyone expects you to have it all figured out, but inside you're just... winging it?"

Lando was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than she'd heard it all day.

"Every single day," he said. "Especially the big moments. Everyone sees the confidence, the jokes, the social media stuff. But sometimes I'm just that kid from Somerset who can't believe he gets to drive these cars."

"And yet you make it look effortless."

"So did you today," he said, turning to look at her. "I watched you interview Charles. You were nervous, I could tell, but you made him comfortable. Made him laugh. That's not something you can fake."

Something warm bloomed in her chest. 

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being kind. When I was flailing around with my equipment earlier. You could have just walked past."

"Never," he said, and there was something in his voice that made her believe him. 

"Besides, I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

"Oh yeah?" her eyes widened

"Yeah. You're going to be brilliant at this. And I'm going to enjoy watching it happen."

The way he said it—like it was fact, not opinion—made her stomach flutter.

As she walked back to her hotel later, press pass still warm against her chest, she realized something had shifted. The paddock didn't feel foreign anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, neither did the idea of Lando Norris looking forward to seeing her again.

Because sometimes the best stories aren't the ones you plan to write.

Sometimes they're the ones that find you when you're just trying not to drop your notebook.

[sabrecrane]

Battling Writer's Block

Believe it or not there are people out there who believe that writer's block isn't a thing. Nope, I'm not kidding, that is what my lecturer said last year and I just want to assure anyone that may believe it doesn't exist/ or are thinking of giving up on their work, don't. It is a very real thing and is very common to experience especially if you've written so much that you've managed to burn yourself out. Also, nobody in my class liked that lecturer for the rest of the year after making that comment so if you don't believe it's real...I wish you luck is all I'm gonna say lol.

So how do you prevent this?

Well first of all, you can't, but you can decrease how likely it is to happen.

Organisation

First thing is first, get your notes and your characters down somewhere you can look at them. Organisation will help a ton. Personally I have notes scattered all over the place both physical and on a folder on my laptop. Ideas come at random so I jot them down and then always forgot to put the physical notes somewhere. This meant I got stressed because I knew I had a good idea but couldn't remember exactly what it was. I did end up finding the notes and have now bought a folder to store my papers in. But this disorganisation meant I spent a lot of time overthinking my skills as a writer which then affected my confidence and ultimately resulted in writer's block.

Create

The next thing you can do is relax and create. Plots will come in time, focus on creating -- that's the fun bit especially if you're working in the fantasy or sci-fi genre! Don't create your plots first because as soon as you create your characters you might realise those plots won't work with those characters anymore. While this may not directly contribute to writer's block it definitely could affect your confidence so if you already have a good plot idea but find your characters don't fit then store away the idea for later to use with characters that will work for it.

Also I know I only focused on the writing aspect of creation but if you want to create other things then do that, too! Draw, make models, maybe a small mistake you make might give you inspiration!

Take a walk

This is common advice I see and that is taking a walk. If you can't find the inspiration to work on your current project but want to write something, grab your laptop or notebook and just wander around in a park and focus on your senses. What can you hear? What are the conversations people are having? What can you see? Try and show it instead of telling. Is there wind, can you feel it?

Create Your Own Definition For Your Favourite Words

If you don't want to write something too complicated and can feel your motivation disappearing but want to try and regain it, search for words and show your meanings for it instead of what the official definition is. For example the word 'love', the official definition is generalised and always straight to the point but the word means different things for different people. So what is love to you?

Poetry

Adding onto the previous paragraph, maybe try poetry! Last year I was dreading my poetry module but I have actually enjoyed it so far. I never thought I would but at 3am I find myself drafting up a poem to work on the next day. I do have old notes somewhere so when I find them I'll post them here so you have a sort of visual for how some poetry forms work. My favourite type of poetry is freeverse so if you're wanting to create a story without necessarily rhyming but keeping within the poetry theme, that would be a great way to start!

Relax

Finally, read. Sit down somewhere with a cup of hot chocolate or your favourite drink and read. Take some time for yourself, your writing isn't going anywhere and either way it takes time. Writing is a skill to develop not something to rush. Rushing will result in confusion and you may miss out some minor plot points you wanted to add. Reading helps you learn so pick out pieces that you enjoy from the book and see if you can incorporate it into your own work somehow.

To all my fellow writers out there, take a breath. Everything will come to you in time.

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 3/28/2025 Issue ft. Fuyuno Mio & Shoji Kohei (translations below)

Publication: March 12, 2025

OneLog! Vol.1 (Fuyuno Mio)

-The Director's words to "capture the nature of my role" is what I cherish as I face Hoeru-

Everyone, it's nice to meet you! I'm Fuyuno Mio, I'm 21 years old and play the role of GozyuWolf and Tono Hoeru. For me, tokusatsu shows have been something I've admired since I was a child. "Engage!," the transformation yell for this work, is compact, yet so intense and cool, that I remember how excited I was when I first said it during filming.

As Hoeru's name suggests, there are many scenes where he howls, "Awoooooo!" In the beginning, my voice would sometimes give out as I wouldn't be able to hold it, but the more times I did it, the more people around me started to say, "Your voice is improving." I feel like my throat is getting stronger, and most importantly, I become more fired up when I howl.

I do my best with daily filming, but when I become anxious and wonder, "Is this scene gonna be okay?," Masa-kun always says, "Don't worry!" Masa-kun's been looking out for me since the script reading stage, and even gave me words of encouragement at that time. Masa-kun has really saved me, and I'm incredibly grateful to him. Also, while I was taking notes during the reading, Director Tasaki casually wrote the words "capture the nature of your role" in my notebook. Since then, I've come to cherish those words as I face the role of Hoeru.

Future episodes will feature Hoeru's past, so I hope that you'll pay attention to how Hoeru got to be where he is today. The whole year will be like a festival, with developments rapidly unfolding. Things are going to get more and more exciting from now on, so please make sure to look forward to it!

Q: In relation to Number One Sentai, what are you most into these days?

A: Lately I've been into baseball. I thought, "Wouldn't it be cool if I played baseball?" (laughs). I've been swinging a bat at a batting cage to get better at it, but I can't seem to hit the ball very well. I'm still working hard on it, so I'd be happy if I could show off my skills within the show someday.

Number One Shot!: This is the cutout used during the opening credits! We had a fun time filming with the life size cutouts of the five cast members! Shocking stuff has been happening since episode 1, but there'll be more exciting developments in the future, so please make sure to look forward to them. _

GavvPare! Vol.14 (Shoji Kohei)

-Using the phrase "I'm tired" in a natural way-

Since he started working part time at Hapipare, Lakia's state of mind has gradually changed. With Lakia originally working in the Granute world, I thought he wouldn't be that opposed to communicating with the people around him. I think he's able to talk normally with Sachika and the others in the human world simply because he just thinks that the people he's talking to are different. To better illustrate what I'm saying, the feeling is similar to experiencing culture shock when interacting with another Japanese person versus a Westerner, as the flow of the conversation and reactions you'd get are different. In that sense, my reactions to scenes such as eating ice cream and pudding or working part time aren't over the top, but are more nuanced like, "This isn't quite what I imagined."

I've always been conscious of not overdoing the "I'm tired" line, as there are times when I say "I'm tired" when he's in a positive state of mind, as if to say, "Alright, let's do this," but in other cases, I say it because he's too lazy and doesn't want to do something. However, I think that if I give each and every one of them meaning, the viewers will also stop and think "I wonder if there was any meaning to that just now," so I try to say it naturally and without it sounding forced as much as possible. Having said all this, I myself haven't developed a habit of saying it, but I was once teased when I casually said "I'm tired" while talking with a friend (laughs). It was pretty embarrassing, so I've been saying it less often (laughs).

Suga begins to make some major movements starting from episode 27. Through the incident with Koji-kun, Lakia's attitude toward humans has become softer, and while he's adjusting to the human world, he once again thinks about his reasons for fighting. Also, I hope you'll look forward to seeing if he'll be able to open up to Hanto, who he's still very much at odds with.

Q: When you hear "Spring," what comes to mind?

A: It's flowers. I started writing haikus last year, which led me to become more conscious of what catches my eye, but I think I'm now able to enjoy scenery on its own more than I did before. Cherry blossom season is approaching, so it'd be nice to go to a park with friends and enjoy the cherry blossoms and greenery together while drinking sake.

Off Shot: A picture taken during the infiltration of the dark sweets factory. Now that I think about it, my black costume in combination with the belt is a rare sight. Lakia's outfit will occasionally change from now on, so make sure to look forward to that too. It's already Spring!!!

[jealousmartini]

Any other manifesters and shifters manifesting art skills, styles and knowledge out here like me?

I am an artist, a creative writer, a musician, an amateur animator and a sucker for cinematography, and i just crave having the skills, knowledge and fundementals of art and animating in my bones already. Because I strive to understand and research for myself, to make up for my lack of experience. To explore and to know where to look to find the thing that will scratch that itch in my brain so i can develop my skills even more.

It's always been my dream since the womb days, to draw everything that came to mind... without the struggle. Like any other artist. I crave to envision something and put it on paper. To envision something and to put it on the screen. To envision something and to put it on a track. To be able to bring my art to life and to share my art with everyone, to impress everyone, to inspire others too and to help them find themselves with the knowledge and research I found a long the way. To speak through art when I can't find the words. To express my feelings when I don't know how to show them

Which is why, I am always an artist in every reality. Without fail, I script in my stacks of sketchpads and notebooks, my 2006 camera and my laptop on its last life like they are part of me. I script that I know everything i need to know to go crazy in the creative fields of art, music and cinematography. Which is also why I have an mha college au reality where I am taking a games and animation course, studying filmography as an indie animator and song artist just like I am here, so I can share my world and how I see the world through ink, pixels, music, lyricism and several different camera filters in another world that practically raised my childhood here.

I want to give back what "they" gave to me ‐ every single on of them ‐ through art, music and film. I don't just want to draw them, i want to capture them through my own eyes and present it to them as a thank you gift. Like i just blinked and told them "oh its nothing. thats just the way i experienced you". Without the stress. Just the flow. And I already know what i want to make. Please, I already have ideas on ideas of projects and pieces stored in this limitless mind of mine that im going to create for my audience, my close ones and myself. Which is why I'm done dreaming.

I'm embodying her. I'm embodying that version of me who already knows everything she needs to just go crazy on a project and be able to sit back after working on it for weeks on months, proud of the way it came out. Confident enough to submit her project, knowing she's got those five distinctions in the bag, like always. Confident enough to show it off to her audience, knowing they'll be amazed and inspired. Confident enough to present it to "them", ALL of them, and know they will be so so proud of me and flattered I made that for them.

Ofc, they don't know the full extent to why I put in all the effort for them. They don't need to. They just need to know how much they mean to me. And they mean months of restless nights, to make animation projects inspired by them that they never knew about, songs subliminally written about them which they also aren't aware of, stupid ideas I had of what they would be like inserted into my favourite media and a worlds worth of knowledge to get everything perfect, just right.

Did that even make sense??

[madaqueue]

conversations about love

synopsis: as a psychology researcher, your job is to understand the most complex human emotion: love

pairing: choso kamo x gn!reader

a/n: i am...not...doing....good ....anyways here's some sad fluff i wrote in 30 minutes bc i am tormented !

“what does love mean to you?”

your voice is clear as the sound echoes across the room, the question one you had grown accustomed to asking. over the past year you’ve posed it more times than you could count, now a routine part of your research work, striving to better understand the psychology of human emotion. as participant after participant entered your office you always began the interview the same, letting them take the lead on defining one of the most complex feelings the soul can experience.

your current participant, a man named choso kamo, sits across from you, his leg bouncing nervously as his shoes hit the dark green carpet of the interview room. his gaze shifts from yours down to his lap, absentmindedly picking at his nails while the question hangs in the air.

“i think,” he takes in an uneven breath, “i think love means sacrifice.”

tilting your head slightly you write his response in your notebook, hiding any reaction you may have, a skill you’ve been forced to develop as you’ve been working in this field. hearing innumerable answers to this question, choso’s evokes a pause, a novel and deeply personal confession.

“oh?” you hum, implicitly prodding for more.

your eyes are on him as he leans back into the couch, tilting his head and looking up at the ceiling, lost in thought. the sound of the overhead lights buzzing fills the space as he contemplates.

“i think love means being willing to do anything, give anything, for the people you care about,” he follows, his voice deep, soft.

another momentary silence falls between you two. “do you love anyone?”

at the question, one that is nothing more than a standard part of the interview to you, he freezes, breath catching in his throat. it was a necessary one to ask, imperative to investigate how each person views their own relationships with others, but choso nonetheless struggles to articulate a response with the weight of it. tilting his head down he finally makes eye contact with you, his dark irises deep set with tiredness.

“yes,” he states softly. “i love my brother.”

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips at the endearing sincerity. “tell me about him.”

a new steadiness enters his body, his eyes now focused on yours as a soft grin forms across his face. “his name is yuji,” he begins. “he’s a few years younger than me, and i’ve been taking care of him for a while now. he’s in highschool, and he’s gotta be the smartest kid i know.”

you can’t help but grin yourself as his adoration flows. “what do you love about him?”

his smile continues to grow, warmth encompassing his body at the opportunity to share his fondness for his brother. “he’s kind, and strong, a-and he inspires me to be better.”

“and how do you know that you love him?”

“because i would sacrifice everything for him,” he answers without a second of hesitation. glancing up from your notes you see a conviction behind his eyes, a reassurance that he completely and wholeheartedly would.

“do you think he loves you?”

again, a routine question, but something flashes across choso’s mind as he hears it - the tiniest, most hesitant, shred of doubt.

“i hope so,” he breathes truthfully.

something in you, some very human part, wants to reach out and hold him, to cradle his tenderness between your arms. instead, you offer him a smile, one he returns genuinely. you find yourself hesitating as you prepare your final question, not yet wanting your time with choso to end.

“do you think he knows that you love him?”

with a tired smile, his gaze softens. “i hope he does.”

[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.