#i hope that explains everything

[fireofjudgement]

Are you going to write mor for all of us are dead, sweet home and high and low? And also are you going to write for money heist korea?

Yes, to all of these! I actually wanted to address this sooner-if you've sent me a request for any of these, do not worry! I have not forgotten, I have not lost or deleted them, they're all safe in my inbox! I just tend to go through phases, and I'm currently (still) obsessed with Alice in Borderland (I'm not gonna lie, it'll always be my main fandom, my main obsession and the characters will always be my faves). I have so many ideas (and requests) for it still, so I want to write them out and post them as soon as possible. But I definitely intend to go back to writing for all my other fandoms, including requests and continuing the fics I've started. I'm not going anywhere, for as long as this blog is up, I will be writing, I just don't want to force myself to write something I'm not fully excited about at the moment. So, no worries, if you're not bored of my writing yet, you definitely will in the future 😅

[mossy-aro]

ultimately i think my insistence on aro positivity honestly is as much a political stance as a personal one.

when i say aro positivity is crucial and that i dislike doomer-ist posts that express sentiments like 'I hate being aro so much I wish I was dead instead’ it's not because I don’t think there can and should be a space for negativity and acknowledging self-hate, or the many ways being aromantic can really suck sometimes. i find that to be very important!

that being said. there is smth here about how self-hate posts are sometimes just arophobia that we inflict on ourselves. and when we put that out into the ether it (intentionally or not) can become arophobia that we inflict on other members of the community. i think there absolutely needs to be a place for negativity and the expression of anger and frustration and self loathing even - these are all good things to talk about because these are things that we experience. that being said, it can also be genuinely upsetting and triggering to people to have what is essentially arophobia shown to them and then have that be validated by other aspec people. your personal thoughts can affect your wider community on a level you may not anticipate. and i understand it i truly do! it took me so long to be able to recover from accepting being aroace - it threw my entire world off kilter and made me question everything about my place in the world.

but my insistence on aro joy and positivity is because ultimately i do believe that building is at the core essence of it all. that ultimately discussions and the purpose of community should be about construction, not destruction. and this is both a personal and a political stance. talking about how much you hate yourself and cultivating online discussions/spaces where negativity about aspec identity is the main and only theme is destructive - if that’s where we let the conversation end. these thoughts can and should be used as a vehicle to look for a path forward!

joy and positivity create a space where the focus can become on forging a path forward, on construction, on community building instead of tearing ourselves and others down with negative thoughts. it’s not productive or healthy when it stops at a place of negativity - it becomes actively destructive to the essence of community.

and i do think that this is especially poignant considering the fact that being any kind of queer, but especially aromantic (and/or asexual) means forging a path for yourself and making your own happiness where there is no obvious way forward. our communities exist mostly online (right now, anyway), there is little recognition of our existence in the real world, the effects of amatonormativity are both pervasive and actively dehumanising, and there are legal, economic and social structures in place actively making our lives more difficult. yes that all sucks! it’s good to acknowledge that. we need to in order to change it. but more importantly, that’s not the end. we are still here and our happiness, our future is for us to determine. even if we can’t change the laws or society, loving yourself and understanding aromanticism as a political identity (as well as personal), as a radical worldview, and as a protest against amatonormativity is essential for both community and personal well being. the personal is political.

tldr. i guess my point is that as a community, we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction. we should recognise aromanticism and asexuality as political identities as well as personal ones and rely on community and self-love in the absence of anything else as a form of protest and political power. destruction (the recognition of everything that is wrong) is essential as a starting point - but where do we go from there? we rebuild.

[sparxyv]

Mousey Student ID 💙🐭

NOW 😏 time for Mousey's official introduction.. get ready for another huge infodump! (this one's even longer than Milena's I'm so sorry 😭😭)

Template by @kiwiplaetzchen !!! (Thank you again 😙🫶)

Family

Mousey is the youngest of four brothers. Clyde, Lachlan, and Magnus.

His three big brothers have long since moved out of the McGregor house, going on to become very successful each in their own ways. They were all sorted into Ravenclaw, and were all part of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team at some point in time.

Mousey's mother - Florence McGregor (née Prewett) - is Leander Prewett's father's sister (so Leander's aunt lol). She was sorted into Gryffindor!

Mousey's father - Fergus McGregor - was sorted into Slytherin when he attended Hogwarts. Naturally, he is very prideful and ambitious - oftentimes (accidentally) placing pressure on his sons to pursue things that are not in their interest to impact the family legacy in a meaningful way. Fergus genuinely cares for his sons, he's just unaware of the effect his words have on their psyche. 🙁

Fergus McGregor was a keeper for the Montrose Magpies for 3 years before Magnus was born, and after that he decided to settle down for good. Quidditch was his passion, and he was ecstatic when all his sons shared the same love for it.

The McGregors have resided in Irondale for generations! They have a quite small house for a large family - but fret not, it's bigger than it looks on the outside.

Mousey is 5 years younger than the brother closest in age to him - Clyde - while his three older brothers are each only about two years apart from each other. This feeds into Mousey feeling like an outcast in his own family. (Clyde - 20, Lachlan - 22, Magnus - 24)

Life Before Fifth Year

Growing up, Mousey had always been an exceptionally anxious AND impulsively loud child, so he found it was a miracle he made friends with Anne Sallow during his first week at Hogwarts. Anne was always terribly kind to him, helping him out when he needed a shoulder to lean on, giving him lots of encouragement - which he so desperately needed. Anne, being extremely mischievous, self-confident, and empathetic, she made the perfect best friend for Mousey.

Mousey wasn't exactly a permanent addition to the Sallow Twins and Ominis' little group, but they would hang out with Mousey more often than not. Up until fourth year, they were practically his only friends. (We'll get to this in a bit.. 😙)

In order to impress his father - Mousey started training on a broom as soon as he first attended Hogwarts, but his heart was only half in it. Although he was very talented with a broom, it was never a true passion of his.

Speaking of Mousey's true passion - he is deeply fascinated by wandlore/craft. Ever since he recieved his first book on wandcraft at the age of seven, he quickly became entranced by it. Mousey absorbed all the information he possibly could and constantly visited Ollivanders in Hogsmeade in his free time once he was allowed to by the school.

Sometime at the start of fourth-year Sebastian and Mousey got into a HUGE argument that quickly ended their friendship. After this argument occured, Sebastian practically banned Anne and Ominis from speaking or interacting with Mousey in any way out of sheer pettiness 😒. Mousey was heartbroken. While he would swear up and down it did not affect him, he genuinely loved Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis.. losing their friendship was difficult on him. Although, sadness quickly turned to anger and he held a big grudge against Sebastian. After the big fallout, he vowed he didn't need them - immediately going on a quest to make as many friends as possible. And ultimately, he did.. but it never felt the same.

Relationships

Like Milena, I'm planning on creating a separate series of posts going more in-depth with his relationships w/ characters - so take this list of his closest friends!

Ominis Gaunt

Anne Sallow

Milena Chase

Amit Thakkar

Everett Clopton

Andrew Larson

Samantha Dale

Duncan Hobhouse

Garreth Weasley

Leander Prewett

Eric Northcott

Poppy Sweeting

Arthur Plummly

Unnamed Students

Personality

MBTI - ENFP-T

Alignment - Chaotic Neutral

Mousey is a complicated type of extrovert. He grew up constantly fighting for attention - he learned quickly that he needed to be loud and to stand out to be seen. Mousey is the type of person to only want a few close friends, but a large circle. He loves socializing with everyone, typically coming off as very cheery and playful, yet more snarky + sarcastic with people he's more comfortable with. However, he's also very anxious. He's quite the overthinker - yet never exactly thinks ANYTHING through at the same time. He's the epitome of impulsivity.

In addition to him being anxious - Mousey cares too much of what other people think of him, especially the people he loves/looks up to. He finds himself constantly trying to impress his friends and family because he craves external validation to feel good about himself.

Mousey is very sensitive, but can oftentimes be seen as apathetic when it comes to heated moments. He's very much controlled by his emotions and feelings, which has put a strain in a lot of his relationships. Mousey feels emotions more intensely than most of his peers, his mood also being affected by the people around him. (Although when he's not blinded by his own feelings, he is actually very sweet and caring person. 😞)

If there was one word to describe Mousey - NOSY. As a Ravenclaw, he's obviously inclined to want to know as much as he can about anything. With that being said, he's a NASTY gossip. Mousey knows everything about everyone, always around and listening in the background.. 😊

Just like how it is in other parts of Mousey's life, he feels that he's an outlier in his Hogwarts House. Other than being curious and passionate about learning, he isn't as clever as other Ravenclaws - not great at riddles, oftentimes having trouble even entering the common room. So he tries his best to make the best of it, befriending his housemates, joining the quidditch team, etc.

When it comes to being active, he can make an exception for Quidditch - for his father - but other than that, he HATES physical activity. Unfortunately he's a bit on the cowardly side as well. He could be reckless and get a burst of confidence, but in general Mousey is terrified of dueling, sharp things, large creatures, and especially cats. You wouldn't usually catch him out in the Forbidden Forest, or in any of the hamlets far from Irondale.

Additional Fun Facts!

The only people who don't refer to him as 'Mousey' would be Ominis, Imelda, and Milena - all for different reasons.

Mousey actually likes his nickname, not minding it one bit - although, he doesn't remember how he got it.. but even the teachers have called him Mousey since his first year.

He used to have very prominent buck teeth up until he was 13, having them magically fixed (by Anne Sallow) after his big brother Clyde had made fun of them.

Mousey is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and Keeper in sixth-year! 💙

Other than Sebastian, his nemesis at Hogwarts is Charlotte Morrison (whom Milena actually made friends with???). She just really irritates him in a way he can't describe. The feeling is mutual.

He is very close with a lot of the teachers, most notably Professor Fig and Professor Garlick.

Mousey makes wood-carving animals representing the people he loves, and keeps them in his dorm. (Some would be: Ominis - Bat, Anne - Fox, Sebastian - Snake, and the newest addition.. Milena - Eagle 💜 I like to imagine Mousey came to terms with his and Milena's friendship at one point and secretly made her little animal to keep 🥹) No one knows the meanings behind the animals but him. They are his to keep and to protect.

Bi icon 💙💜🩷

Had a crush on Adelaide Oakes in third-year. (his type is blondes I guess?)

Was nearly sorted into Slytherin, but the hat changed it's mind at the last second.

Raphael is the only feline that tolerates Mousey. (And vice versa)

Knows about the Undercroft.

[owleics-fr]

Simple skin & accent tutorial!

I'm only familiar with making accents in CSP so some of the things you see here might be program specific, but for the most part it should be generally applicable.

Okay with that being said, here's a very basic tutorial, under a readmore because it got long (image heavy)

Assuming you already know roughly what you want to make and what breed pose you want to make it on, go to the custom skins page on the sidebar then download PSDs. For this step I'm choosing coatl F!

It should download automatically, the file will be compressed (zipped). I normally just open the folder and move the top file (without elements_friendly) to my accents folder to access it from my art program:

Open your preferred art program and open the file! It is a PSD file so it should be compatible with most art programs. When you open it, everything should look like this:

The layers probably look complicated, and it isn't super clear where you can and can't draw- but I promise it will get easier to understand! Before I even start drawing I do two things: I resize the image (changing the image resolution) to 700px by 700px. This means the image the resize better later on when I need to downscale it to 350px by 350px. Next, I make a new folder under both the existing folders with a single, full white layer in it. And set everything in "Through Skin Parts" to 50% opacity.

Lastly, put the bottom two folders completely out of your mind, we won't be touching them at all. The only folder that matters is "Through Accent Parts". As I'm drawing the accent itself, I make the lines and shadows layer invisible because they can just be distracting, like this:

That layer beneath both lines and shadows layers? The one labelled "Accent Goes Here"? That's where you draw, and you can make more layers to draw more on later. For now you can sketch your design on that layer. Here's my sketch for my skin Strawberry Pavlova:

It's pretty rough at the moment so I want to add another layer to draw my clean line art on, in CSP this means just adding another layer and turning off clipping which automatically applies as the layers above it have clipping turned on. When that's done it should look like this:

(You can absolutely use more layers for lining if that's what you prefer!)

Next is adding colour. An important thing to note for this step is to avoid using colours that are very close to black, and to avoid using black altogether. This is against skin and accent rules as you need lines and shadows to remain visible over your design, and very dark colours make this a lot harder!

When I typically colour my skins and accents I will separate out design elements (so for example all plants on one layer, all blue cloth into another layer, all jewellery on another, etc etc.) into different layers- this is purely to make recolouring easier and isn't necessary. In this case I didn't have my colours separated out as I had no intention of recolouring this skin! This is what this skin looked like when I was finished colouring:

Now I just need to do some final finishing polish on the design! For this one it involves adding a bit of pink transparent colour behind the strawberries, adding pale transparent colour under my lace and of course- adding sparkles! One of the final things I do is recolour my own line art to a red-pink colour (in this case I had it set to multiply as well- but this isn't needed!) this takes some of the harsh edges out of the accent and make the design feel more cohesive imo!

And the design is finished! The final step before we can submit this is a big one! We have to change the lines and shadows that we've been ignoring this whole time. For this I flatten all the art work into one layer, like this:

Why do we have to change the lines and shadows? Well...

The default shadows are pretty high opacity and very grey, they cover up my accent and make the details harder to see. And the default line art is black. You can edit these layers to make them much nicer. You can edit them manually- making sure to lock transparent pixels so you don't edit the coverage of the lines and shadows. Or you can do this: (You can ignore this next part if you're finding it overwhelming) Duplicate your accent design twice (so you have three layers with it on total), set both your lines and shadows layers to normal and unclip them. Your layers will look like this:

Ignore what the accent looks like for now. Next move the copied layers so one is above the lines and one is above the shadows, keeping only one in the original position. And then clip these duplicated accent layers to the layers directly beneath them, it will look like this:

Merge the accent copy layers with its corresponding lines or shadows layer, you should still have 3 separate layers when you're done: The lines, the shadows and your original accent design. Like this:

Then clip both of the lines and shadows onto your accent design layer and set both lines and shadows layers to multiply. Like this:

If you've done it all correctly your accent should now look like this:

This is a lot better than the default lines and shadows already! It's pretty dark in spots and my lines are definitely too light in other places though. So next I usually start by setting my shadows layer to 50% opacity and then going over both lines and shadows layers manually recolouring the lighter parts to a darker colour so they are visible on top of my final design. When you downscale your art to submit it, lines and shadows that were super obvious suddenly vanish- so don't be afraid to downscale it and keep editing the lines and shadows.

Here's what the final product, downscaled to 350 pixels, looks like:

This got accepted first try by skin mods (just in time for valentines!) Important things to note: places where my design is less opaque the lines and shadows are also less visible, this is completely fine! You don't have to fix this. Lines should always be visibly darker than the shadows they're on top of, this means sometimes they will have to be black to get them to show up or you may even have to make your accent underneath lighter to get everything to conform to the rules! Lastly, lines and shadows are subjective and you may end up getting rejected a few times before they're to skin mods liking. Its one of the harder parts of skin making and you won't always get it right.

Community feedback is your best friend, don't create in a vacuum! Go join discord servers where other people are making accents too, ask for help! Now go forth and make!

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

thoughts on 268 and megumi

This post is going to be a long discussion of how I interpret Megumi's situation with both Sukuna and with Yuuji. I do detail some of my own experiences with mental health and how my interpretation of the chapter and Megumi's characterization are influenced directly by it.

(tw: discussions of depression/mental health/suicide/suicidal ideation)

First of all, people respond and interpret and react to media/stories differently. Just because someone has a different take than you does not mean that they are wrong! Those feelings come from a very real place and it's important to process and converse about media with that sort of empathy in mind.

Moving on to the actual analysis part, there is one central theme and framing that I'm starting to believe gege has intended to use Megumi's situation as a metaphor/allusion for: mental illness/suicidal ideation.

Megumi is trapped within himself, stuck in darkness that he can't seem to find his way out of by himself. His condition only grew worse and worse the longer he spent time stuck in his own body to the point where we began to see a lot of self-destructive tendencies and suicidal ideation from him. He didn't care if he lived or died, the most important thing to him was to just stop feeling everything that was hurting him and for the others to stop working so hard and putting themselves in danger to help someone he believed wasn't worth the effort.

We see Sukuna trying to convince Megumi not to fight back and to give in to his control. He throws accusations at Megumi that we as the audience know are manipulations of reality, but they are the words that someone dealing with depression will hear from their inner worst self no matter how twisted they are from reality.

The twist here is that Megumi tells Sukuna that he has never intended on living a life he personally cares about, but that he's going to continue to let the people he loves anchor and tether him to life.

And then Megumi is literally pulled from the darkness through the actions of someone else/someone who loves him. Yuuji is fighting for Megumi and his words and actions have finally made an impact and helped Megumi fight back.

And the crazy thing is, Sukuna chases after him. Depression and mental health are constant struggles even after recovery. It feels like there's a constant pressure not to backslide into bad habits and spiral back down the depression rabbit hole. Mental health struggles will always linger, but that's why we have to fight back and choose to want to get better.

The biggest divide in the fandom reaction to 268 is Megumi's words "just once more, I want to try living for someone else."

Now, I think the words "I'm doing to live for someone else" have been taken so literally by people that they think it means "and therefore I am not living for myself." Those two things are not opposites, but go hand in hand!

I can agree this decision gege made for him is not as satisfying as Megumi choosing to live for himself, but I do believe this was a purposeful decision and that it is the most realistic choice for someone in Megumi's position.

Not to get too specific, but for a couple of years the only thing keeping me from a complete spiral into an actual contemplation of suicide was because of my relationships to other people. I stayed alive because of them. I barely took care of myself and basically forced myself to do the bare minimum because I knew that somehow there were people in my life who wanted me to live.

I could not live for myself. I did not care for or love myself in the slightest, so why would I try to make my life better? The only reason I actually started caring about myself was because other people cared for me first. They told me I was loved, that they enjoyed spending time with me, that I was someone who would be missed if things ever did go south.

That's why Yuuji being the catalyst behind Megumi's decision to fight was so impactful to me, because Megumi was me.

Megumi's decision being influenced by his relationship with Yuuji instantly reminded me of one of my favorite monologues from Fruits Basket where they discuss self love and how choosing to care about your own life isn't as simple as many neurotypicals often make it out to be. It's a scene that was heavily impactful to me when I was going through my worst times and I feel like it really puts Megumi's choice to live for the sake of others in perspective.

"There was a time when I stopped talking, like you. The reason was a little different, but I think the feelings of shame and self-hatred are similar. Your teacher advises you to “love yourself”. What does that even mean? “Look for good points"… how is someone supposed to find those? I only knew the things that I hated about myself. The whole reason we despise ourselves is because we can only see the parts we hate, so forcing ourselves to find good things feels pointless, like we'd just be making them up. It's a nice sentiment, but it’s not always that simple. Instead, I think it's when someone else says they love you that you're finally able to begin to love yourself. When someone truly accepts who you are, that's when you can start to forgive yourself and suddenly see the good things you've had all along."

This scene hit me hard when I first watched it. It was exactly what I needed to hear: that I wasn’t weak and pathetic for not being able to see a future for myself on my own. I wasn't weak because I had to rely on the support of others to keep my head above water. I wasn't weak because I needed their love and praise to enable me to see those very same aspects about me that they loved!!!

Living for the sake of others is not the end all be all of recovery. That is merely the first step: recognizing that you are loved and that you want to live because others want you to live. That is not where recovery stops! It's a long, arduous journey where you eventually have to choose to live for yourself because you want to. But sometimes that decision is so daunting and feels so impossible when you're in the thick of it that it can completely crush your spirit.

When you're at the end of your rope, it's the people you love who tie you back down.

In my mind, Megumi didn't choose to fight or live only because of Yuuji. Yuuji was the catalyst, but not the entire purpose. Megumi heard that he was loved by someone, and because he loved them in return he chose to fight. He wanted to experience that love and thus show Yuuji that he was loved in return by fighting to stay with him.

[samipekoe]

tips on drawing hair?

tried to make a little explanation of the two ways I like to draw hair, blocky and flowy!

sorry my examples are terrible LOL but that is kind of how I visualize things in my Mind Palace. for blockier shapes of hair I think of a sheet of fabric or a sheet of paper that's been cut into big strands. for flowier hair it's more like water flowing in every direction and it's more homogenous and fluffy in how it moves...am I making any sense!!!!!!

wavy hair is the easiest to me since nearly any shape you come up with can work, it's just a little soft serve shape 8)

[thepersonperson]

Since Sukuna still has that final finger. Maybe that’s where we’ll get an afterlife scene or even a backstory? Yuji basically confirmed Sukuna is only like this because of circumstances. So…I would like to be shown those circumstances.

I’m ok with Sukuna dying and all the students surviving. But the execution of that has been so poorly paced and unsatisfying. Can I please get a proper grieving scene? Megumi and Nobara being all smiles at the Gojo letters is...weird.

I think there’s something to say about a manga where overwork/exploitation kills people having its mangaka rush the ending because of overwork/exploitation.

[ninacarstairss]

there is a part of me that will always be a little sad when watching heartstopper. i didn’t really find a supportive group of friends who could watch me go through crushes and heartbreaks and fights and challenges. i don’t really have a little queer family to feel incredibly comfortable with. i never got to have all that in my teenage years, i hardly have it now. but heartstopper is also the reason why i know this is possible, that this kind of love and queer joy and pride exist. so there is a little part of me that will always be sad i didn’t get to live this slice of queer life, but there is a much bigger part of me that is so grateful for this kind of representation, for this kind of love and friendship, this kind of acceptance. there is a huge part of me that can never thank alice enough for creating this world that is now my safest place. there is the biggest part of me who will always turn to heartstopper to find comfort and queer joy

[chirpsythismorning]

“Mike said his life started the day he found El in the woods, which was technically the following night. What he said had nothing to do with offending Will because he went missing the day before.”

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

[thelonewolf48]

The most beautiful image in The Loyal Pin...

According to me and me alone!

If you want to dive into my overthinking brain and see me nerd about photography and why I think this particular shot is the best so far...

Then jump after the cut because it's gonna be a kinda long post!

Before episode seven falls upon us, I want to talk about one scene that makes me lose my mind and that previously commented on Twitter (because I refuse to call it X).

I’m sure there are more prepared people out there to talk about this, but my very amateurish ass can’t stop the word vomit I’m about to post.

I love photography and cinematography.

I love The Loyal Pin and, of course, FreenBecky.

I didn’t come here to tell you how beautiful TLP is, we all agree of its beauty. But, there’s a scene from Episode 6 that I can’t take out of my head for many reasons. If they did this fully knowing what they wanted from this, then they have all my respect! But even if it was a more instinctive choice, I still want to praise them for the shot!

I’ll begin by saying that movies and series can tire our eyes. We have less than seconds to react to the images thrown at us. Some directors make an effort to film in a way that we don’t get tired, that we don’t have to work much to focus on what they want us to see. I won’t go too deep into this topic because it is not the reason why I'm posting this rant.

I’ll try give a short explanation:

Here, we have a medium close-up shot, obviously the point is their faces and their feelings.

Then we jump to the next cut.

And here the magic happens!

Once the image changes, our eyes don’t move! We might not notice because it’s a cut instead of a fade, but this is what it looks like when we merge both images together!

With that our of the way, let’s get to the main point!

First, this is a beautiful Wide Shot! It contains so much more information than we can think. And I want everyone to admire it!

This one feels powerful and it moved us because they’re placed in one of the four intersecting lines when divided in thirds.

Second, we have frames!

And lastly, the image is also divided by 2 very contrasting color temperatures. Warm and cold!

This division is what I want to talk about.

We know why we are in this scene. Lady Pin is heartbroken because they don’t have much time left and they just finally confessed their feelings. So, she feels sad and in pain. She’s feeling blue… and blue is a cold color!

We have visuals of her feelings, not only for what we are seeing in the scene but also on how the cold of the room is trying to eat the warmth of the chandelier!

In contrast, we have Anil trying to give as much comfort as she can. She is hopeful of the future because she knows their love is real and because she will return so much faster than last time. Anil’s warmth is trying to conquer Pin’s cold.

But she is feeling sad too, although she tries to be positive about it, she doesn’t want to leave. I believe this also represents her own feelings of guilt for hurting Pin. Of course, we know it wasn’t her fault but the guilt is there too, she also feels powerless and I dare say even defeated.

That’s why the image isn’t divided in the middle, and both are on the colder side of the room.

You guys have no idea of what happened in my head when this image popped up!!

Maybe there will be other scenes that will make me go wild… But so far, this imagine right here is a masterpiece.

Or maybe I’m reading too much into it!

[ultaslodgings]

Here's a small rant about a fun thing I realised with the two TGAA games

[spoiler free]

———————————

Did you know that the two games have a colour motif to them? With Adventures being red, and Resolve - blue?

I'm sure most people are aware, as it is most apparent in their respective save files. (Excuse the crappy image)

And as most people are aware, these colours are HEAVILY present in the games, most notably to represent two of the main characters - Kazuma and Ryunosuke.

But the question here is WHY have this colour motif for each game? And more specifically, WHY is Adventures in red and Resolve in blue?

It's because it was Kazuma's Adventure that we embarked on in TGAA 1, and Ryunosuke's Resolve which we witnessed in TGAA 2.

I really find this detail poetic and quite beautiful even? It gives an extra layer to Ryunosuke's journey and arc, that didn't even need to be there, but it is.

There are so many little bits and details throughout the game, and I wanted to shout out one of them :)

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

the thing i love about bill cipher is that even after i've learned all of this stuff about him, seen him at the most vulnerable he'll ever get, seen him at his most innocent, i still can't give a flying fuck about trying to justify his actions. yes he's traumatized, yes he was twisted into what we know today, and while it gives a semblance of context to why he did what he did, it doesn't matter. he still ruined ford's life. he still drove and baited multiple humans to suicide. he still tormented every human he saw as his ticket out of the consequences of his own actions. he still took delight in his actions. he was willing to commit genocide for fuck's sake!!! (freezing all of the humans into statues). trying to explain away what he did does not get rid of what he did, but it certainly puts it in perspective. you won't be catching me being a bill apologist any time soon <3

[aq2003]

YOU think i hate shipping the doctor and donna bc donna isn't a 20 year old girl. ACTUALLY it's because i'm aromantic. Hope this helps

[fatuismooches]

Hello, Smoches!! It is I, 📺 anon, off of anon. I bring you another Dott rabbit

I'M EXPLODING!!!! I'M COMBUSTING!!!! I'M DISINTEGRATING!!! TOO MUCH CUTENESS!!! THEY'RE BOTH SO ADORABLE!!! and the pufflings being so joyous with them... THE FLUFFY TAILS... I NEED TO PICK THEM UP AND HOLD THEM GENTLY... ahh your art is so cute i need to eat it... THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!

[sciderman]

I swear I have read your big post regarding Peter Parker's neurodivergence and why it is best to avoid labelling him, but he definitely has a weird brain

Can't find it and feel kinda sad about it cuz I deeply related to it

i know exactly which post you're talking about and i can't find it either! i've raked through my archive, and it's just - nowhere to be seen. i think tumblr eated it (it happens.)

really, tumblr's search functionality is so so useless, i don't know what to tell you. there are plenty of keywords i can search to find it that post, but the search functionality actually just does not work!

undiagnosed audhd-addled peter parker, my darling, my light, my life, my everything.

i think peter parker's such an interesting creature to write, because a lot of people will point to a certain behaviour about him and say "this is an autistic thing, right?" but a lot of those behaviours are actually, in my head, tied to certain traumas in peter's life too.

people say "oh, the food thing, peter's a picky eater because he's autistic" and yes, absolutely. but also it's tied to his trauma with his parents.

peter gets overstimulated, and yes, it's an autism thing, but also he was bitten by a radioactive spider and his senses are dialled to 11.

it's a similar case i've found for myself, too – where a lot of friends i have kind of diagnose me because i have autistic traits, but actually - i'm hesitant to claim the label or pursue diagnosis because, actually, i know where these certain behaviours come from, and they come from certain traumas. there are events i can pinpoint in my life and say "yep. that's where this behaviour comes from."

so - i think there's a lot of overlap between trauma and autistic traits. the brain is very complex! i think the reason for that overlap is maybe as simple as the fact that people with autism and people with trauma are both doing the same thing - developing behaviours to protect themselves or soothe themselves. so - i think it's nice to be able to see a character like peter parker, who may or may not be autistic, but recognise behaviours in him and see yourself in him.

people who go undiagnosed for whatever reason - people who are really good at masking - so good, in fact, that they have no idea they might be on the spectrum - everyone and anyone at all can look at peter parker and recognise themselves. because i think we discredit the thought that every single brain does the same thing! develops certain behaviours in order to survive. every brain has that same software - we've just all been faced with different hardships that we need to overcome, and that's were all the differences come in.

autism is a spectrum, i guess - everyone falls into it to some degree. and i think events in your life probably push you along on it. but i don't know, i didn't study brain science. probably what i'm saying is very stupid and uninformed. of course there's brain chemistry involved. but i know people in my life living with autism and certain events in their life have exacerbated certain behaviours or made coping with it a lot more difficult. so maybe trauma is a catalyst.