#people nowadays really find it impossible to just. enjoy something for what it is.

[whereserpentswalk]

When you met your girlfriend in college she was studying to be a wizard. It didn't suprise you that much, there were a lot of magic majors at your school, and the city that your college is in has a lot of companies that hire wizards.

As time went on you started to realize she was become a very specific type of magic user. Her spells are long, taking yo hours of her time, longer then any other major user you know, and they're draining. She says she's always been interested in magic since when she was a kid, but this particular type of magic isn't something anyone gets into because they find it exciting, it's the type of magic you get into because it pays the most. You understand why she chose this, it's hard for wizards, for anyone really, to find work nowadays.

Your apartment isn't very big so you can hear her trying her spell from the other room every time, straining herself, sometimes screaming, spending the weekends of her youth alone in a closest trying to pull off these impossible spells, with purposes that normal people don't even care about. When you told two freinds you have who are wizards from diffrent specialties of magic, necromancy and illusion, what kind of spells she was doing, they became really afraid for her, and said that they hoped she transfered to a diffrent specialty before she was locked into this path. Every time you hear her screaming from that room you want to grab her and save her, let her rest and enjoy her world, but you know that you can't.

It gets worse once you graduate and while you start working as an artist, she gets hired on by a big company that could use wizards like her. You don't leave the city you went to college in so your freind group doesn't really change, but you realize that all of your freinds start talking about her in the past tense after that. You don't have to deal with hearing her funnel magic though herself in your apartment anymore, but instead you're spending days not really seeing her when she's at the office, and comes home later then you're asleep.

When you do see her, you notice her body getting worse. She was always skinny but now her body has lost so much weight you can see her ribs. Her skin is paler then it ever was before, and her eyes are almost bloodshot. Strange symbols even start appearing on her arms. You're starting to get really worried for her.

Most of the time you spend with her is just her recovering from her work. You'll lay with her in bed, and cuddle her, and let her rest her head on your breasts, and try to make her feel safe and warm, even though her body is so very cold now. You let her talk to you about the things she used to tell you about when she first met, she still loves telling you about video games, or obscure magic lore, though the latter is a bit more of a sore subject now. You watch cartoons with her a lot now, and old anime, they seems to be some of the only things that let her fully escape.

You have to be the one to cook for her, and to get her things, she's just to tired to do most things outside of work. But you still care about her, you try your best to comfort her, to pet her head, and to kiss her. She can't really have sex with you anymore, the spells have killed her libido, killed her ability to her physically aroused, but you end up wanting to cuddle her a lot, and hold her close while you have her. You try to ask if she's ok but she says that she is, that she can't stop doing this. Every time she leaves for work you want to save her, and every time she leaves she can't.

When you ask your other wizard freinds about what she's actually doing with her magic, to try and get some comfort about what's happening, they explain to you what it is. It's a type of magic their teachers taught about but warned agaisnt, that has to do with letting spirits and entities from other realms, sometimes really powerful ones, possess you for a long time, useally to talk and answer question. The necromancer specifically explains that it's useally used by companies to get knowledge about things that they want to know for their business strategies, it's why they pay so much for someone to be hurt like that. Knowing doesn't make you feel any better, it just makes you feel like she's being even more violated now.

Eventually your girlfriend tells you that she got another job opportunity out west, but it's somewhere she doesn't want to see you stuck living. She tells you to stay in the city, and that she'll text you and call you while she deals with this new job. She barely ever gets any chances to text while she's out there, and never calls. She's just able to communicate with you less and less, until she's fully gone.

You're working as an artist in the city now. You have a new partner. You sometimes think about what your old girlfriend is doing, you like to pretend that she got out of everything, that she doesn't talk to you because she found someone new. But you know that in reality very few people in that field actually make it out, and very few manage to stay fully human, it's quite unlikely she's any different.

[leggerefiore]

What are your favorite characters’ approach to New Year’s Resolutions. Opinions, what kind of resolutions they make, how long they keep it up, that sort of thing.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to everyone!

▲Ingo▼

● The older Subway Boss is a man who leans towards ideals. He sees the world he wishes to make in his mind and pursues it without hesitation… New Year's Resolutions are genuinely right down his alley. Granted, he usually only sticks to realistic ones that he thinks he can achieve within a year's time. The concept is something he finds quite enjoyable, and he thinks everyone should try something related to it. Really, there should be some goal one attempts in his mind.

● His resolutions are mostly related to battles and work. He wants to continue to keep the trains in time so that no one has to worry about being late. There should always be new developments in his battle techniques and keeping up with new trends that appear in the scene. It really should be no surprise that he keeps these up for most of the year – barring unforeseen accidents in the train schedules. The battling one he always sees to the next year and reissues it. A personal one he makes is to continue to live happily with his brother. That one, of course, is achieved with ease. (Until a specific unforeseen accident occurs there, and that task becomes impossible.)

▽Emmet△

○ The younger Subway Boss follows truth – thus, he finds the concept a bit goofy. Logically, most people will say they will do something and ultimately give it up. He finds the pursuit of goals healthy and good, but the pressure of setting them at the dawn of a new year can feel daunting. Especially with ones that can not feasibly be achieved within a one-year time frame. That being said, Ingo encourages Emmet to make some. Despite his personal beliefs, he does indulge his twin by committing to a few.

○ Most of them are simple things he thinks can be done. Improving in his battling technique, managing the Gear Station to the best of his ability, and… Well, enjoying as much of the sweets that Nimbasa has to offer that he can. Oh, and maybe getting along well with Ingo. That can be done without effort, he thinks, though. The sweets will require focus and discipline. Battling, he will inevitably do as he loves it, and the managing is his job (which he also loves). He finds them reasonable goals. Emmet meets all of them, naturally, and never gives up.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The concept of New Year's Resolutions annoys Cyrus. He argues that everyone should just aim towards improvement without the need of holiday to act as encouragement. Not to mention how ridiculous he finds some people's goals. Irrational in most cases, or lacking the discipline to see them through. He is quite harsh – His world view is quite grim, after all. He thinks the only logical way to go about it is to set rational, mundane goals that anyone can achieve within a year's time while maintaining the ability to keep up with it.

☄️ He sets no resolutions. Cyrus simply refuses. There are already general goals that he holds on his life, and he intends to continue to pursue them rather than setting fleeting, new ones that he would rather not give any of his energy. Basically, making a new world where he is a deity is more important than something like reaching a personal goal in his life. (When asked in a situation that he is forced to answer, he lies and says something related to meeting a fitness goal.)

👑Lear💎

🪙 The prince finds the concept oddly… romantic? He refuses to elaborate. The idea of setting goals at the start of a new year… He finds himself intrigued when one of the many people on Pasio explains it to him. Lear was too focused on his studies to have time for such frivolous things, but nowadays, indulgence was all too much at his fingertips. When asked what goals people usually set, he feels disappointed. The mundanity shatters the romantic view he held. What a bland idea. He huffs at the very thought.

🪙 He makes far too grand resolutions in place of boring ones about keeping a gym routine or doing well at work. Lear will be king in the coming year –This simply must happen. His true love will be found – This also must happen. These are irrational goals that he absolutely pursues without any kind of doubt in his mind about meeting them. It is almost inspiring how dedicated he is to them, however. He never once hesitates about them. This simply is something that must happen. Whether they do, however, can only be seen by the next December 31st.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 The idea of making a pledge towards something in the upcoming year tires him out. Why? He feels odd about making plans for a following day, much less the entirety of a year. It gives him a headache, and very much is not his style. Most of the usual kinds of resolutions do not interest him anyway. He lives to live most of the time, not much else to it. Though he supposes he likes hearing other people's resolutions. It gives him a bit of insight into what they are thinking.

🌑 Though, when Acerola asks him for one, he begrudgingly makes one up. Simple enough, to watch over Ula'Ula. When she huffs and demands one that he is not already going to have to do, he just shrugs in reply. Really, his time is mostly consumed with Kahuna duties and officer duties. He offers up helping more Meowth. That appeases her. With that, he supposes he will be helping more Meowth out. His horde grows.

🌿N👑

🟢 The green-haired man was deeply unfamiliar with this tradition, so having it explained to him made him curious as to what to do. The concept seemed nice to him. There was something genuinely nice about people making goals for the new year to often better themselves. N instantly wants to participate and probably will ask everyone what their own are so he can learn. Each and every one of them fascinates him to a startling degree. He thinks quite a bit on his own to make sure they seem to follow whatever guidelines he perceived.

🟢 To continue furthering the understanding between humans and pokemon, of course, is chief among them. It is his life goal, but it being a resolution here also seems to apply. To continue to travel the world and see many different places and pokemon also became another one. He never stops aiming for these goals and always makes some kind of progress. He feels that he met his resolutions by the next New Year's Eve.

[avocado-writing]

notes: i did this instead of anything in my inbox. sorry but it overtook me and became much longer than I thought. also I wrote raphael as the little sub he is teehee.

relationships: raphael x reader; enver gortash & reader (platonic, parent & child); eventual enver gortash x tav

words: 4k

rating: E

summary: a warlock of Raphael's, you visit the House of Hope one day and find a child. he cannot remain there.

Your life, really, is fine. Maybe a bit empty. But fine.

You’ve had Raphael as your Warlock patron for a while now. It’s fine too, he’s fine, there are definitely worse devils to be indebted to - the fact he’s attractive isn’t so bad either. You started fucking a few years ago and he’s basically wrapped around your little finger at this point. He’s still annoying as all hells but he bottoms well enough and the two of you enjoy being on each other’s good side, so it works out. Mostly what he has you do is track down and kill people who’ve pissed him off - and a lot of people have pissed him off, he’s very piss off-able to be fair, so there’s always plenty of jobs and you come to the House of Hope often, in between the mercenary work you do to survive.

This time you just finished hunting down someone who tried to weasel out of their contract. Raphael had you bring him the man’s head as proof of your work, and then you made him give you head after. Par for the course nowadays.

You peel yourself out of Raphael’s embrace as he bathes in the afterglow of getting spoiled in bed by you. You throw on your pants, and go to grab a bite to eat. Your patron always has a feast ready. It’s something to keep his servants distracted with, the constant cooking and replacing of dishes, and it’s nice to never be hungry when you’re here. You saunter into the banquet room and go to pick up a fistful of grapes…

… pausing when you see something utterly fucking shocking.

A little boy. Making himself as small as possible, dark messy hair and darker sunken eyes, all curled up by the fire. He looks at you with terror and you yelp in surprise, grabbing a spare tablecloth to quickly cover yourself with.

“What the fuck?!” you manage, looking around for answers to the unasked question. Nobody is here to give you any. Fucking lost souls, never here when you need them. You turn back to the boy who looks utterly terrified. “Are you meant to be here?”

He visibly swallows, nervous, and nods. Okay, right, great. Kid in the middle of hell. Of course. You're about to find Raphael and give him a grilling, when you hear a little stomach rumble.

You freeze, raise an eyebrow. Almost impossibly he shrinks further into himself.

“Have you eaten, kiddo?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. Oh, well, that won’t do.

You grab a plate and begin to load it up with food for him. He looks hopeful though he tries not to show it too much, as if you’ll punish him for the very idea of it. Gods it must have been torture for the child, sitting in front of a banquet with no invitation to gorge. 

When the plate is so full that it threatens to spill over, you squat down and put it in front of him. The boy stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you.

“Go on. Dig in.”

It’s all the permission he needs. He tears into the food you’ve presented as if he’s never eaten before. As if it is ambrosia. You watch him wolf down chicken thighs so fast that he threatens to choke on them, and you feel your heart ache at the wretched sight.

“This really isn’t a place for kids. What’s your name, lad?” you ask, absent-mindedly swiping some greasy hair out of his eyes. You wonder when was the last time he washed, poor kid. He flinches at your touch a little but doesn’t stop eating, somewhat aware you’re probably the first person he’s met here who doesn’t mean him harm. 

“Enver,” he says through mouthfuls of bread. You tell him your name in return, though you aren’t sure if he really listens.

“I didn’t say he could eat.”

Raphael’s voice cuts through the moment, severe, and the boy freezes mid-bite. Terror floods him. He begins to visibly shake.

Oh, no. No. You won’t be having that.

You speak aloud, voice firm.

“Well, I said he could. Ignore him, kiddo.” 

You stand and put yourself between your patron and the child. This little boy has no idea who you are, but he can sense that you have some sort of power over the demon who’s walked into the room. Timidly he continues his meal. When you’re satisfied you turn to your devil, thunderous.

“Raphael? A word.”

Your tone leaves no wiggle room. He harrumphs and follows you far out of the boy’s earshot, where you unleash your fury. 

“Why is there a fucking child here, Raphael?!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, his parents sold him to me. Well, to one of my other warlocks, actually, so through the upline he’s mine.”

He speaks as if reading from the paper, not discussing a child’s life. Your blood boils. You want to slap him, but he’d just enjoy it.

“This is no place for… well, fucking anyone, let alone a literal kid. What were you thinking?!”

He shrugs. For a devil meant to be full of cunning, Raphael rarely actually thinks through his short-term impulses into long-term plans. 

“Torture him, I suppose.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you say, hand instinctively summoning your blade. Raphael narrows his eyes. 

“Be careful when you reach for your sword, warlock, lest you forget the person who gifted it to you.”

Fuck. Shit. What an arseache. Okay, you can’t go about this by violence, he’s right. You need to be cunning. You let yourself soften and approach him, laying your hands on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows you to caress him. 

“Raphael, come on. You really want a child hanging around here? He’s going to ruin all our fun. I was going to have you on the banquet table later. You don’t want me to ride you while feeding you slices of apple? You enjoyed it last time…”

Your devil huffs but softens under your touch. Gods he really is easy to manipulate when you know which buttons to press. 

“You’re really up in arms about him, aren’t you? Look, they gave him away for a reason. He’s not some sweet innocent. He’s a little bastard, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Please don’t do anything too harsh to him? For me? For your favourite warlock?” you ask, pouting, sliding down Raphael’s body to your knees, ready to nuzzle into his cock in exchange for his agreement. 

He sags, weak for you. Got him.

“Ugh. Fine, you win, kitten. Spoilsport,” he mutters, and you slip him out of his underwear.

The next time you see Enver, it’s been a couple of weeks. You’ve just finished up a hunt and are reporting in - but he’s the first thing you check on. You find him sweeping one of the hallways, eyeing a wailing lost soul warily. 

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He jumps a little, however he looks genuinely pleased to see you. Not enough for him to smile but at least some of the tension leaves him. 

“I’m alright,” he says quietly. He still looks sort of greasy. You’ll have to tell Raphael to let him bathe. 

“The boss been treating you okay?”

Enver nods. 

“Doesn’t really talk to me. Just tells me to do chores.”

Well that’s better than torture, you think. You reach into your pocket, root around for a bit, and hand something to him. His eyes go wide and then narrow in suspicion, and you have to reassure him that it’s not some sort of trick.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A sending stone,” he says, confidently, weighing the blue rock in his hand. You grin.

“Look at you! Clever kid. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. So I take it you know how they work?”

“Each holder can send a message of twenty-five words a day, and the other can reply with twenty-five. Total of fifty each.”

“Precisely! I’m giving this to you for if there’s an emergency, okay? If you’re in trouble, I want you to give me a message and I’ll get here as quickly as I can.”

He eyes the stone. It’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe that someone genuinely cares about his wellbeing.

“Why?” he asks, after a while. 

“Because you shouldn’t be down here, and Raphael can be an arsehole. But don’t worry, I can sort him out,” you say with a grin, and for the first time, Enver chuckles. You hear the sound of Raphael calling your name from down the corridor and you roll your eyes.

“Speak of the devil. Take care, Enver, alright? And remember, let me know if there’s a problem.”

He nods, tucking the stone into his pocket before you head off to tie your patron up.

You don’t hear from Enver for a week or so, but one day, when you’re on the road, you get a message coming through.

“Hello. It’s Enver. Are you having a good day?”

You look confused and reply, “Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. Is there something the matter? Nobody’s hurting you, are they?”

Then, because it is the nature of the stone, you add: “If they are then you just say, I’ll come and set them straight.”

There’s a beat. You can imagine Enver considering his response.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

That’s as much communication as the day will allow but it hits you hard. Oh. He’s lonely.

And from that day on, you have a sort of penpal.

Enver messages you everyday without fail, always excited to see how you’ve been doing. He has very little to report, which you’re thankful for, because you live in fear that he will need to use the stone for its intended purpose. Occasionally he lets you know that Raphael has said something cruel or Haarlep is teasing him, and then it’s just a matter of heading to the hells and setting them straight. Haarlep is like a cat, difficult to make to do anything, but to be honest he’s your friend and will usually acquiesce after some teasing. Raphael is always a bit more difficult to persuade. He still sees the boy as his property, his thing to treat as he’d like, so you have to pull out all of your best tricks in order to convince him.

You always end up coming out on top, though. Funny that.

Your visits to the House of Hope get more regular. Enver greets you with smiles and then with laughs and then with hugs, and you find you’re growing fond of the kid. Every now and then you see a bit of the little bastard Raphael warned you of - you’ll catch him tormenting one of the damned souls down here, or attempting to trap and harass some sort of insect who accidentally crawled through one of the portals. But a soft but firm hand to turn him in the right direction is enough. He’s a boy with a bright future… if he’s nurtured.

And this place has no time for that.

You make the pitch to Raphael one night at the end of a long weekend in hell. You’ve been doing everything he’s asked of you, indulging his every whim, being ever so sweet and obedient for your master - and fucking him within an inch of his life. You relax in his bed, cuddled up to his chest, walking your fingers along the expanse of his pectorals.

“Raphael…” you say, dreamily, and he hums.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to push your luck?” he chuckles. You rearrange yourself to look up at him, eyes wide and wanting.

“Me? Push my luck? Never…” you run your tongue over his nipple and he groans.

“Spit it out then, kitten.”

“It’s the boy, Raphael. Can I have him? Please?”

He huffs.

“Why?”

“Why not? What does he do around here apart from take up space and eat your food? Surely you don’t really want him hanging around, do you? I’d like to be able to ride you and scream your name without the fear we’ll be overheard.”

Raphael considers this for a long time, and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait.

“You’ll extend your pact with me. I want your soul. Forever,” he decides. 

Ah. That’s quite the price. You consider it for a moment.

“...You never get to interfere with Enver’s life again,” you reply, because this is how you deal with devils. Your bargain to gain their respect. He laughs.

“Fine. The boy is off the hook.”

“Done. And I get to take him out of here and do what I want with him, no questions asked. He’s free. And I’ll do that thing you like, right now.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Deal.”

The next morning, body aching, you read through your new contract. You make some amendments in blood but sign it. The rest of your existence signed over to this damned devil. Raphael kisses you on the lips, long and languid - and when you walk out of the House of Hope it’s with Enver’s hand in yours.

“Where are we going?” he asks, quietly. He’s scared. You squeeze his fingers in reassurance.

“Well, I’m on the road a lot. We’ll be travelling. Is that okay with you, kiddo?”

He nods, excited, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since you first met. He’s more than a head taller - gods, how long has he been down here? It’s not worth thinking about. He’s still pretty skinny, but you’ll fix that. Now you’re in charge of feeding him, you'll make sure he gets a good meal every night. Make sure he walks with his back straight and chin up.

Make sure he never has to feel small again.

It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s a damn sight better than what he had to put up with in the Hells. He smiles now, every day. Isn’t scared of people. Slowly grows confidence in himself because he knows that you’re in his corner, come hell or high water (literally). One day you see him drawing in a little notebook you got him, some sort of diagram far more complicated than you can understand - he explains the intricacies of the machine, so you get him some spare parts to start tinkering with. Gods the kid is a natural. So intelligent. Far smarter than you, and you’re worried you’re letting him down because you can’t keep up - but every time he shows you a new invention he seems so pleased when you compliment him.

“Look at you, kiddo! You’re amazing! I bet there’s nothing that you can’t do.”

And he looks like for the first time in his life that he believes what you’re saying.

Life isn’t easy, but it is worth living. You’re on the road more often than not. You don’t have a home to call your own, but you make sure your mercenary work is well-paid enough that you can put the two of you up in inns overnight, keep you both fed and entertained. Enver seems happy and that’s what matters.

You go back to the House of Hope as little as you can, now, reporting in when you do a job and fucking Raphael into submission. He asks you about the boy every once in a while and you palm him off with a laugh, acting as if you barely care about Enver rather than the truth: you’ve been actively putting money away towards a fund for his future.

You come back from one of your meetings late one night. You’re exhausted from what your patron has put you through and are looking forward to sleep. The portal opens into the inn you’ve booked for the night. You expect Enver to be dead to the world, but instead he’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up so late? Is everything okay?” you ask, surprised. Enver fidgets with his fingers.

“Does Raphael hurt you?” he blurts out. You’re shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want to be in a contract with him? Because if you don’t, I promise I’ll find a way to free you, like you freed me! I’ll get strong, really strong, and I’ll kill him for you.” His hands are balled into fists, jaw gritted. His eyes are dark in a way that’s troubling and he drops his gaze to his lap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this coming from? Kiddo, nothing is wrong. Everything between me and Raphael is fine. I’m not unhappy or being forced into anything, I promise. What’s the matter, Enver, eh?”

When he looks up at you, there are tears pooling. He launches himself into your arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if you’re his anchor to this plane.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I love you…” and then there it is. He calls you ‘mum’, or ‘dad’, or some other word that settles what you already knew: he’s come to think of you as his parent now. He freezes when he hears himself say it and you think back to when he was that scared little boy, longing for a bit of food by the fireplace.

You hold him back.

“I love you too, son,” you tell him, and the two of you stay like that for a long while.

He asks if his last name can become yours. You introduce him as your child. You are a family. 

You’re right. He’s far smarter than you are, and you can’t keep up with him. It becomes more and more obvious as he gets older. He goes from brilliant teenager to incredible young man, and you’re glad that you have the funds to be able to send him to a good college and nurture his spark. You’re aware that you’re beginning to slow down a bit now. Your joints aren’t quite what they used to be, and though Raphael still covets you, he’s not oblivious to the fact that you’re getting on. His contracts for you become less vigorous. He likes to have you in his bed more than on the field. You don’t mind it, being pampered by your patron. It isn’t a bad life.

Enver doesn’t need to become Gortash. And what use has Bane for this man, this good man, this man who has made something of himself despite all of the odds stacked against him? None whatsoever. He never becomes the chosen of Tyranny. He is safe from the person he might have been.

The day he graduates at the top of his class is the proudest day of your life. You clap and cheer for him until you are hoarse, and he pretends to be embarrassed as you give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of all of his friends, every inch the glowing parent.

He becomes chancellor because of his own merits, not due to any underhanded trickery. He is a master when it comes to machines. He never invents the Steel Watch because he does not have the warped mind to create them. Instead he focuses on technology to help the city of Baldur’s Gate: cleaning machines, security automatons, things which help with the admin of running to place so those in government can focus on supporting Baldurites. 

He buys you a house in the upper city. You settle down there as you grow older, make friends, get plenty of visits from your son. Everyone knows how loved you are. He eventually hires a young woman named Karlach as a bodyguard who you grow fond of: she makes up in brawn what he lacks, and she always puts a smile on your face when you have the two of them around for tea.

The Absolute comes. Raphael is poking around because of course he is. He’s got some new toys by now but you’re still one of his old favourites, and a couple of his most loved tricks with your tongue mostly keep him out of the way. Plus he promised not to interfere in Enver’s life, and he’s bound by that, the tricky bastard.

Some other person is Bane’s chosen, but it is not your Enver. Instead he fights for the side of good against the Dead Three and the mindflayer invasion, an ally to this Tav, the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Through their trials the two of them end up falling in love and it’s all you could ever want for your son. When the city fights against the Elder Brain you pick up your pact weapon for the last time despite his pleas not to: you’re a Warlock, damn it, and you’re going to defend your home until your last breath.

You don’t die, which is a nice bonus.

Enver and Tav help rebuild the city once the invasion has been stopped. Not too long in the future you have grandchildren, and they are the light of your life, always silly and giggling and joyous to hear the remarkable stories from your mercenary years.

You help out where you can but your age is weighing on you. One day, you take a tumble, and suddenly you’re bedbound; Enver and your family are visiting you every day as you get weaker, and you know that your final days can’t be far off.

He sits at your bedside, your hand clamped in his. Ah, a workman’s hand. The hand of a man who is constantly inventing and working and making himself useful. The hand of a good and decent man.

“The little ones go back to school tomorrow,” he says, fondly, “Tav is relieved. They’ve been rushed off their feet during the holidays– so many years since that Absolute business, yet the legislation is still going. They need a break, really.”

“It’s exhausting being a parent, isn’t it?” you ask with a grin, before being interrupted by a rattling cough which you can’t seem to shake. Enver lifts a glass of water to your lips and you drink, thankful. “Eurgh. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’ll call the doctor again in the morning, see if she can get you any more of that tincture. Or maybe Halsin might have some ideas…”

“Oh, Enver, don’t go through all that fuss for me. Just sit here with me, kiddo.”

When you call him that, he knows he has no choice. You are still his parent, after all. He shifts to make himself more comfortable in his bedside chair, never letting go of your hand.

“I want you to know,” you say, voice soft, “everything has been worth it, Enver. My whole life was made better because you were my son. You’re the thing that I’m most proud of.”

His eyes go wide and glass over with tears, jaw grits.

“I… don’t say things like that, please,” he says, because he’s scared of what will come after.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here.”

He rests his head on the side of the bed, and you can see his shoulder heave as he cries. You bury your hand in his hair, smiling when it’s still a little greasy, and then you close your eyes.

When you open them again you’re in the House of Hope.

Your body feels lighter than it has in decades. You look down to see the wrinkles and liver spots in your hands are gone. You’re wearing what can generously be called an outfit, though it’s more straps of leather criss-crossed over your body.

“Well, did you have fun? Was your deal worth it in the end?” Raphael asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, swirling wine around in a glass in his hand, another held out to you. You take it and frown.

“Were you… were you just standing here, waiting for me to bloody die?” you ask. He harrumphs.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten.”

You take the wine, quaff it, then pull him into a kiss. He moans into your mouth in surprise and rapture.

“Yes,” you answer, honestly, because it was worth it. You’d never have made a different choice, “now, are we going to bed, or are you just going to stand here being smug for the rest of eternity?”

Raphael grins and pulls you to the bedroom.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[crustless-toast]

Screaming Your Name

Here is Chapter 1 to Screaming Your Name! An Oc x Daryl Dixon story! I'm gonna really try to not make the story too cringy and if I am please let me know so I can fix it lol. I hope you enjoy it either way!

I'm a little new to posting on Tumblr so I hope to be able to link all the chapter together properly as I post them. Until then, Enjoy!!

Raven was like any normal person. She worked a boring retail job that paid close to nothing. Just to go home to an empty house, pay bills, eat and sleep. Nothing exciting really happened in her life. She was just different than the average person. She enjoyed the little things. She was more of a glass half full kind of gal. Always enjoying the little things in the world. Unfortunately, the world came to an end. She wasn’t the athletic type but when monsters are chasing you down to eat you alive the only thing you can do is run. Running is what led her to her new life with people she never thought would enter it. She found friends, family, and love. She learned to fight, to face her fears, and to keep pushing forward even through the dark times. Out of everything all she wanted was to get one man to open up to her more. To show him the good that was left in the world. For Daryl Dixon to see there is still hope in the world. That life is still good. 

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

Gripping my blanket closer to my body, I shiver as cold sweats soak my body. I don’t know how much more I can handle this. My cold that I've had from the start of this, has turned into something much worse.

 What medicine I did have is gone. Finding medicine is close to impossible nowadays. A few Advil here and there, as well as a bag of cough drops can only get you so far. Everywhere I’ve looked has already been picked through. The more populated areas are hard to look through. Too many of the dead filling those areas. I can't look through them on my own. It’s close to impossible. 

The summer heat had no effect on my cold body. The warmth just feels like the blanket. The slight breeze just makes me shiver more. If it was a normal day in the old world, people would think I was insane having a thick blanket wrapped around me with the sun beating down on me. But in the old world I’d have medicine and I'd be fine in a few days.

The sound of the dead was behind me and there was nowhere to go. No place to hide. I looked around to maybe find something, but there was only an empty road surrounded by woods. I grip my knife, deciding my only option was the woods. 

My legs were getting so heavy. I was having a hard time staying ahead of them. I needed to keep moving but I had to stop. My throat was burning from the sickness and the heat. I need to stop and to drink some of my water. Quickly getting back up. The sun was starting to set and it was getting too dark to see. 

I was getting too tired to keep going. My eyes feeling like someone is pushing them closed. I drop my bag, dropping to my knees but I kept a tight grip on my knife. Taking deep breaths that end with me coughing. I covered my mouth with my blanket, needing to keep quiet incase any of the dead were near. 

I jump at the snap of a twig not that far from behind me. Looking around, seeing if there was anything up ahead. I didn’t see much, but there was something ahead of me. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. But what light was left I could see something reflecting. Like a window.

Grabbing my bag, I moved ahead, dragging my bag next to me. Not having the strength to pick it up. As I got closer, I could see it was a cabin of some kind right in the center of an open field. Abandoned before the world ended. 

Growling was behind me. Staying here was my only option. 

Throwing my bag on my shoulder, almost making me fall. I raised my knife and slowly made my way to the cabin. I head up to the steps of the porch, listening closly to see if I could hear anything. So far nothing. 

I closed the door behind me, locking it with its old rusty padlock and placed a chair in front of it that was close by. Moving forward once my eyes were adjusted to the darkness. There was another door in front of me that led to the other side of the cabin. I drop my bag, heading to the door to close it as well as put a chair in front of it. In case something comes in I could hear it first.

To my left looked to be some kind of dining room with a table flipped over and chairs thrown all over. As well as the kitchen that appeared to be cleared out with every cabinet opened wide.. To my right I think it was a living room. It was empty with only a couch that looked so comfortable. The livingroom appeared to have a small hall that lead to other rooms. Each was empty with nothing in them but some old furniture that was rusted and destroyed. 

Grabbing my bag I made my way to the couch. My body relaxed as I sunk into it. Not caring about the dust. Exhausted from having to run all day. 

Reaching in my bag I grabbed my water, but it was empty. Just my luck. I didn’t realize I drank it all already. 

My body was so cold. I could see the bottle shaking in my hands. I dropped it, not caring where it went. Gripping my blanket even tighter around me as I lay down, my knife still in my hand. Finally being able to rest my head on something that wasn’t a hard floor. I don’t care that I can feel the springs in the cushions. I was so tired and sick. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more. No matter how hard I fought it. I needed rest so I let myself sleep.

~~~~~~~

A loud bang woke me from my sleep, but I couldn't move. My body was so heavy. I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to see if it was one of the dead or not. I was still shaking to the point where it hurt even more. My bones are sore from, well, everything. My knife was no longer in my hand. I must have dropped it in my sleep.

I could hear footsteps getting closer to me. I opened my eyes just enough to see the sun was up, shining through the windows. A figure walked into the door frame. I can barely make out a man holding something. It was pointed at me. 

“You bit?!” The voice was stern, southern and loud. 

I close my eyes, not able to keep them opened any longer. “N-no. Sick.” 

“Sick, how?” 

My lips quiver as I try to speak, “Fr-from a cold. I-i had fr-from the begin-beginning.” 

“Is it just you?” He was demanding an answer. 

I nod, too tired to answer. 

I felt a hand being placed on my forehead. His fingers were cold and rough. 

“Ya burin up.” 

I grip my blanket closer, “So-so cold.” 

I hear things moving around. I couldn't tell if he was taking my stuff or looking around the place. I didn’t care either way. 

“My camp has a Doctor. ‘M take ya to him,” Before I could answer him, I could feel his arms snaking under me. He grabs my arm and places it over his shoulder. Picking me up from the couch. With my blanket still gripped in my hands, I wrapped my arms tighter around him. Scared to fall. 

“Gonna make me hot,” He says in my ears.

He started to walk. I opened my eyes enough to see who this man was. His face was a little dirty, with some facial hair around his mouth. His hair was short and filled with sweat. His eyes were sharp, looking at everything around him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

He looked down at me for a second, and his eyes were a sharp blue that when the sun was shining just right, it made them shine a beautiful sky blue. 

My eyelids were getting heavy again so I closed them and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing and the morning birds chirping.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Is that Sophia?!” A women screams, waking me up just enough to hear whats going on around me.

“Nah, just some girl I found. She sick.” I hear from above me. The man that was caring me.  

“Bit?” Another man spoke.

“Said it’s some cold.” He held onto me tight as he got closer to the people

“Bring her inside. I’ll take a look at her.” 

I was still too tired to speak. I fell back into my deep sleep. To a place that was safe. 

[likeadevils]

I trust your opinion. If you were making bets about what TS11's themes, concepts and sound would be like.. What would you like& prefer? and what would you think Taylor would do?

thank you for trusting my opinion but i am god awful at predicting what taylor is going to do next. that being said:

i think something taylor learned with all too well, anti-hero, and cruel summer is to… trust her instincts, i guess? not that she hasn’t in the past, but she’s mentioned that those songs were her favorites of their respective albums, and she didn’t expect that the general public would enjoy them as much— at least, not to the degree that they have been. but they’ve all been #1s, and more impressively to me, they’ve all broken through into wider pop culture in a way that’s super hard to do nowadays. like can you tell me what’s #1 right now because i can’t. but anyways i think she’ll be following what she wants to hear a little bit more, and trusting that her and the general public’s taste is pretty aligned at the moment. so like, to boil it down into a bingo card prediction, the lead single is going to be taylor’s favorite song on the album

also, bingo square, the color will be white. no evidence just vibes

i think another thing taylor recently learned is trusting that not only her fanbase, but the wider pop landscape would accept complex ideas delivered with a complex vocabulary. in some ways i think she was really burned by me!— she had been taught that it’s the we are never ever getting back together and shake it offs that you send to pop radio, not the all too wells. and then me! got torn apart (deservedly or not), and then the world shut down and it’s not like she needs to find a tour off her next album so what the hell, let’s take out the immediate hooks and replace it with flowery language. and it was a massive hit! twice! but it’s not the kind of music she wants to make forever. so midnights was an added gamble— can you marry the hooks with the collegiate vocabulary? and you can! anti-hero was her biggest chart success ever! so i expect more dictionary/thesaurus starter pack memes in our future, no matter what genre it’ll end up in

that being said, i think she’ll be staying in pop. i maaaaybe could see a kind of pop rock thing happening— think like, the electric guitar she adds to don’t blame me when it’s preformed live.

regardless i do think she’ll be pulling in more rep influences— i’m not super in the buisness of trying to track down when exactly she’s been re-recording, so this is coming from swiftie brain rot not timeline brain rot, but if i had to guess i would say she was mostly recording rep over the summer and with the occasional ts11 track thrown in as well. but i could be wrong maybe she has three albums recorded. idk. i am very interested in what the rep sounds like though, i think that’ll be the biggest clue to what ts11 will sound like

i’m curious how auto-biographical it’ll be. honestly, i could see taylor creating a single character to inhabit and tracking their story throughout an album, which would parallel the emotions she’s going through, but not the exact situations. but that’s me projecting what i would need to do to process the fucking year she’s been through, and taylor has consistently been saying how much she gets from having people sing back the words thought she must be alone in thinking, so like maybe it’ll be intensely About Her, who knows

as for release, i’m a big post eras tour believer. like i know it’s been said a million times but god how impossible would it be to add another set to that thing. like we might get the announcement and lead single while still on tour, but not a full album

i’m also expecting a more talk-y rollout. i would bet we’re getting a couple of print interviews— not anywhere near 1989 or lover levels, but like, you know. rolling stone, vogue, maybe another time, that kind of thing. and in front of camera stuff too— zane lowe, a bbc live longe, some late night appearances, maybe going on kelly clarkson’s show. and maaaaybe a hot wings episode. maybe. i think taylor got a bit burned by the long roll out for lover, and regardless she had other priorities when it came to the midnights release, but it’s been a while and she does like to surprise people by doing something completely predictable. but also this is totally me being like pleaseeeee give interviews they help me with timeline research so much

i predict this every time but visual album!!! if i keep saying it one day it’ll be true!!! it just makes sense she’s been getting so into directing!!!

while we’re in the realm of things that would make me specifically go insane i just think it would be funny if she got paul mccartney to feature on a song. just to be petty. imagine your ex is releasing an album and she gets one of your favorite musicians to play on it. and after the sweet nothing debacle too. oh. so ouchie. also she would have paul fucking mccartney on an album that’s insane in its own right

while we’re throwing spaghetti at the wall. two word title. let’s get crazy maybe 3+ words why not (this is by far the least serious prediction if the title is more than one word i’ll lose my mind)

maybe some religious imagery for the visuals? i’m trying to think of aesthetics taylor hasn’t thoroughly explored. what’s coming to mind is stained glass windows and like, the wild west. this is not at all influenced by me being raised catholic in the american southwest what are you talking about

so to sum up i think i want a pop rock opera with a title along the lines of “the blank of firstname lastname” about a woman in the wild west that has climatic scenes in a cathedral?? i guess that’s the shape i want?? i was not aware that’s what i wanted when i started writing this post okay

[fitzrove]

Shamelessly stolen from seeing it on someone else's blog... Create a fanfic tropes tier list

Here's mine:

Some thoughts under the cut xD

All of these come with the caveat that it has to be well-written, basically. The older I get the less patience I have for stuff that's low-effort or just not to my taste hshhd. However, I see the tiers as something where I can pretty easily be convinced to read fic with tier S tropes, whereas getting me to enjoy a tier D fic would be difficult... Anyway, comments on individual tropes:

pwp - The best kind is where it's unapologetic kinky sex but a somewhat plausible scenario that's deeply in-character (or at least tries to be) >:))

a/b/o - This is a very very mixed bag for me... Contrary to what many people say, I don't actually enjoy plotty longfics (or the idea of reading longfics) talking about the societal aspects/worldbuilding implications of it. Also, the more focus there is on um... animal traits.... the less into it I am HFDHFHHJ. BUT I've sometimes liked the work of mandarin language todolf oneshot fanfic writers on ao3... I have no idea what the fuck is going on half of the time because google translate is imperfect, but those sure are some Fics with Stuff Happening in them xDD my favourite ones are rudolf x stephanie ones though because they're pretty much the only rudolf x stephanie femdom fics out there.........

soulmate au - I know this is super controversial for how it portrays relationships, but I actually find it okay :D When I read them I always interpret it as taking place in a much more deterministic world than our own... and I actually think that pure angst fics about the premise are rather interesting too. But I do think it has to be done quite well to work!

Royalty au - I'm such a whore about historical research so this has the potential to really irritate me xDD And for my current main fandom activities it's redundant... But idk, it's fine I think.

Fluff - This is one I've changed my mind on quite a bit over the years, namely in terms of actually kind of disliking pure fluff nowadays. I really prefer hurt/comfort and other fics where there are some stakes at play, or fics where the "fluff" is actually straight up emotional abuse HSDHDSHDHFSH (it's ok you can say todolf<33). It's just a lot more exciting to have setup + payoff vs pure fluff. I don't really experience the urge to read fluff fic as a response to the original media being emotionally charged/sad, I want fix-it fics to start from the standpoint of that negative emotion and have ups and downs before getting to the happy ending!

Crossover - hate crossovers where characters from multiple unrelated media interact, do sometimes enjoy crossovers where characters from y are in the universe of x (or experience a phenomenon from x). I mean, I've written a tdv au ahshshsh so I can't complain too much xD

Pregnancy fic, baby fic - no. This is a very hard if not impossible sell for me. I've written a longfic where the main characters have kids during it, but I never focused on the pregnancy and baby parts per se. I just don't like it haha

High school au, fairytale au, college au, coffee shop au, amnesia fic - I do NOT understand the appeal of any of these lmao

Humor, crack fic - Has to be done really well to work and most of the time it just doesn't for me ajdjjsjd. Humor is so personal and individual, and a conscious attempt to be funny as the main point of a fic falls flat so easily...... I like witty writing, but crack fic per se doesn't work for me unless it's crack treaten extremely seriously (implausible tropes and scenarios can be fun!! Buuut I do have pretty high standards for suspension of disbelief hshsdjdj. So it needs a lot of work put into it basically)

[winwinwrites]

Not Addicted

Pairing: Reader, The Dealer - No Relationship really

Word count: 1.5k

Summary:

You are making your way to the club. You can't help but go there, can you?

Tags: Gambling Addiction, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Self-Hatred

TW: Death

Read on Ao3 || My Ao3 || Other Mike Klubnika Games fics

Even before you managed to enter the establishment you already feel the overwhelming atmosphere surround you. To call it an establishment and not a run down unstable industrial building used for clubbing is a hysterical way to talk it up to something that it is not. Pathetic really, but nothing else than that suits you.

Your hands are clammy against the steering wheel. Of course you already have a parking spot picked out, it isn't your first rodeo here. Each time you find yourself in your car you are worried that you might end up here, just by pure instinct. It is an interesting sensation to say the least, to be drawn to a place which makes you want to peel back your skin. To flee whatever this place holds. But you don't.

Instead you casually make your way through the streets, at least you try to appear that way, the walk would have been more calm if not for the buzzing sound of the club you are closing in on. The night is fresh and young, you should savour it before entering inside, yet you don't, instead feeling yourself picking up in pace. Not letting yourself be distracted by anything.

The only thing illuminating your way are the streetlights, the start lost their shine decades ago, exactly because of said streetlights, they make it impossible to even catch a glimpse of the specks of light, making you feel smaller than you actually are.

Not that it matters now, it being cloudy.

Almost representative of your desperate hope you had in the beginning, which was already diminished from the start. Even though it wasn't that long ago you first laid foot through that horrid door, it already feels like months away.

You wished it was that way, but you are a pathetic fool, not even lasting a week before making your way back like a desperate whore. And the sickest part of it all is that you find enjoyment in it.

Shaking your head, trying to rid yourself of distracting thoughts, you enter the club. People dancing, if one could even consider it that, it appears to be more so a crowd of bodies looking like they were grinding against each other for more space. The air stuffy to the point that you feel like you yourself are smoking yourself. Sweat mingled with all kinds of overpowering perfumes and smokes of all kinds, you could vomit.

You don't, because as much as you hate the smell you can't help but feel calm. The calmness mixed together with a sense of fight or flight, it is exhilarating.

At first you would at least pretend to be there for the party, walk up to the bar, more like squeeze to it, and take some of the disgustingly overpriced drinks there and sit around for a while, maybe enjoy the looks of some people, but nowadays you skip the whole ordeal, it is useless to waste hours on end, it just makes you more antsy and puts you on edge, which doesn't help your odds at all.

Not even looking at the few appealing bodies moving against each other, lusting after them like you did before, you climb up the creaking iron stairs, one foot after the other. Your jaw tenses and you continue on your way. The bathrooms are on the left side, but that is not what you are looking for.

Instead you walk straight ahead, right past a smoking person, not even daring to look at them. It doesn't matter if they don't perceive you, don't care what you are going there for, or maybe they know and don't care, you couldn't bare if they did indeed judging you, not like it would change your resolve, but it would get in your head needlessly.

The door closes behind you, the booming of the music seeming just as loud as before entering the small room, no doubt being used as a storage room before.

Not even caring about the noticeable specks of blood littered around a few places where the Dealer, or whoever gets rid of the mess afterwards, forgot to clean up, you sit down in front of the table. It is actually quite an interesting set up, you wondered before how the other has created it, but never voiced your fascination, neither of you much for conversation.

The Dealer, already familiar with your visage, hands you over another contract. You want to make a snarky remark each time, that there was no real use for you to sign a contract if the other knows that you will keep returning. But the words always die out on your tongue.

Messily your name decorates the page and quickly it is put away.

It wasn't happiness, nor relieve you are feeling, it was a mix or thrill and a fear for your life. Somehow you feel just as much as a fish out of water as the first time you have been here. Though this time it is different, each time it is a bit.

When you first try to hold your breath your body screams, commands you to fold to your instincts and gasp for air, at first you succumb to it pretty quickly, but the more you do it, the more with ease does not breathing become. Breathing drifts back to the background of your thoughts, slowly but surely the lack of breath manages to get you less and less.

When will it be until you asphyxiate?

Just as quickly as your thought appears so does the gun and the bullets which will enter it. With learned precision the Dealer shoves in the bullets, without a care in the world. The mask they are adoring not letting you read their emotions, but even without you can almost tell by their body language that this doesn't affect them much, perhaps you are imagining it. But it manages to irk you nonetheless.

Since your last visit you have become more iritable, you don't know why. Only now after grasping the shotgun do you realise with which desperation you are doing so, your pulse already quickening, but somehow gaining a sense of calm with it.

Methodically you go about each round, almost as if this was a game of chess and not one of life and death. It doesn't matter to you anymore. It stopped as soon as the first hit of dopamine hits again.

You were never much of a gambler, especially when it comes to your life.

But after this sick version of Russian Roulette, you tried other methods to gain this high with less risk involved, just so you didn't end up back here like a lost puppy. Though loosing and winning money wasn't half as thrilling as betting your life. It is sick. You are sick.

And you are enjoying every moment of it.

You managed to be a lucky soul with a patient guardian angle it seems, seeing as this is more than your third time being here, but you are aware that your chance of winning are getting slimmer each time, a loss was bound to happen one way or another. That is not a worry you dare to touch on for long, you don't even ponder about your death, dissociating from the concept you have managed to come closer to more than a few times.

You don't really want to die, you value your life, especially now that you can live semi comfortably with the money you acquired , but without the thrill to back it it just doesn't seem worth living. Mundanity and boredom are your poison which appear to kill you more than the bullet in your face.

You need another shot, be it at the target or yourself, you need to know what lays behind yet another bullet, you need to know if you walk out alive again, back to your horrid life.

You need, you need, you need, you need, you need.

Shots fire through the room, short but effective, you wonder how the others down bellow don't notice it, or maybe just don't care.

The rounds feel short, the money in your hands weightless and with all the weight in the world at the same time, but it doesn't even compare to the endless weight on your shoulders, as if you had lost it all. It was probably at least half an hour you played, but it felt like a blink of an eye.

There was no goodbye, no see you again, because he knows he will come back, he doesn't know how, but it is just the way his life is strung up in the stars.

And as you make your way back to your car, back home, you think to yourself, looking at the money, 'I am not addicted-'

[bandzboy]

it's a difficult topic but i personally feel like at a certain point, openly supporting the idols still makes you complicit in a way. there's degrees to this, of course, but kpop is built on fanbases' effort. personally streaming some songs might even have less of an impact than openly supporting idols, maybe even creating content like gifs and videos, and pulling in other fans to keep platforming them. kinda like not buying a product on a boycott list but still raving about it (and with idols their personhood/idol persona is so tied up into the end product of the music that it's basically impossible to separate). social media silence would be a lot more impactful than just limiting streams, but there's no way that's gonna happen.

this situation is not like the loona situation, because the idols are not the victims here, but are, to varying degrees, actively complicit/silent and enjoying the benefits from that (while people who speak out are being punished). this is a very harsh statement, but most people, and most idols, do care more about their comfort and careers than any social cause not directly affecting them and would rather not speak out.

it's an uncomfortable situation, but i think it's an extremely important conversation to have, and keep having, and keep in mind. even if you don't wanna completely boycott your idols, fans need to be fully aware of what that means, from both sides. even if people come to the conclusion to still openly support and promote their idols, even if they don't stop collaborating with zionists, they need to consciously know what that means and not look away because it's an uncomfortable truth.

i genuinely can see where you are coming from and that's maybe in part i have been feeling so disconnected from groups nowadays and it's because i do also think about this. i just hate that there are variables here which is like some of them might not support this and be against it but there isn't much they can do about it or they do and genuinely don't care my problem with all of this sometimes is not knowing what any of my faves actual stand for. this side of the kpop industry that annoys me severely it's how they essentially make idols to not be political or any of the sort so we don't exactly know what they stand for most of the time. i get some of them might make an effort but it's still not a huge display of anything if you get what i mean. and we always find ourselves thinking of whether or not we are supporting someone awful bc that has happened many times in diverse situations and then the fans feel bad for not knowing and like how can you feel bad when they are actively hiding that from you? and i mean it's insane how so many groups nowadays have international fanbases and these labels always are oh so proud of this but then don't care about what international fans have to say or how we feel especially fans who are targeted by their race and when these idols do something out of pocket and we want a statement there's no accountability or genuinely no effort on their part to make anything right. and this brings me to this like, it's obvious that are fans that are palestinian in kpop spaces and some of them are leading these boycotts and when these boycotts get bigger, which they will have no doubt in that, i wonder what they will do or if idols will say anything at all because how can something be so in their face and then don't say anything at all STILL? and that's when i will genuinely give up. but truly, there are certain things that should maybe be reevaluated about this boycott but truly i am just trying to especially hear what Palestinian fans want because their opinions matter the most here i don't really know what else to say or to add but i do agree that this is a conversation that should be brought up in this context because we have to evaluate all possibilities unfortunately

[vampwritersposts]

Eyyooo what's up my new fellas on this app, probably this is my second experience on writing, it's challenging me because i never thought that I'm gonna write 400 words and i got to write it with English 😵‍💫.

Speaking about my day was, it's terrible actually i have never feel extremely happy, you know everytime i feel happy suddenly i remember that i have make million dollar of money and travel the world before i turn 30.

Sooo how do you enjoy your day doul???

How do i enjoy my day well i work out at least 3 times a week but lately I'm soo broke to get a membership in a gym, soo yeah, i told you it's terrible right i have to make a million dollars but I can't even pay my gym 😭.

Also everyday that makes me happy is a cigarette and buying a coffee from my favorite coffee shop "nu sae" please endors me haha.

I really love my life, I'm grateful to have my ambition, i feel like i have a reason to fight all these terrible life.

Sometimes i envy with my friends that has a wealthier parents than me. but heii this is a blessing from god, because the time when I convinced my self to be a rich guy before i turn 30, shortly after our family business felt down and since then, i just realized when i have a money i don't fucking care about anything, i just spent it without thinking it twice, but when I'm broke like nowadays, i realized that there's alot of opportunities when i have it, i have to manage my money better than before, and spend it wisely, this is an absolutely god plans for me 😌.

When people told me that "bruh ur expectations is too high". Well i remember when nelson mandela was said "it's seems impossible until it's done". Yea there's alot of impossible things in this world that actually could happened, like a thousand years ago people may be laughing at the guy that says "i can talk with something from a mile away" maybe that guy could be the prophet because of his miracle, But look at the world today it's a possible right.

Everyone has a dream but no many people had a plan ( andrew tate ). when is the last time something fantastic an unbelievable things has happen on accident, like when you ask Alexander graham bell "how you make this happen" and he says "well i don't know it's just happened" it's an absolutely nonsense right, of course he plan it, he studies, he spent his night and sacrifice his sleep time to make it.

It's exactly the same way as getting rich you need a plan to get rich. You're not sitting there and then suddenly "oops I'm rich" NEVER. Find your plan, and make shit happen. If I'm still in my old college and just waiting for shit happen I'll never be a millionaire, i got to change my environment, change something that i had to learn, ( huft it's getting emotional )

I will continue my journal about the plan to be rich soon. Soo thank you for your attention to read this little diary with the worst grammar ever.

See you later~ ( abdul 31 july 2023 )

[void-speaks]

🌧"Hm, we don't really have those kind of luxuries nor the necessity for them, so I just dive head in even if its pouring. I do enjoy rain quite a lot. It's refreshing."

🍳"Well, I'm not exactly the best, but I do know how to make the most basic of things. Sigh, I do wish I had the chance to learn how to cook something more cool and interesting, but oh well. Oh, surprisingly enough, I do. I used to hate any and all kind of chores before, but now it's just something you can shut off your mind for and do on autopilot. Mmm, probabaly omelets. No particular reasons, I just think it's neat."

🧼"It's not like we get much of a choice. In this economy, we shower whenever we can. I do enjoy showering, but I haven't gotten many chances to bathe before, so I can't really tell anything. Again, it's a miracle if we find gel in this situation."

❌️"Obviously I would. It does depend on who is telling me what, but just in general, I would. Hmm... Probabaly Crane. He's seen some shit and has a good base of knowledge about the world, more than me and Aiden have."

🏳️‍"Well, it's hard to say right now. I can't really imagine anything that would make me give up, but there's probabaly something. Like, maybe if I was in complete despair? I don't know, hard to say."

📖"Gosh, don't even get me started on books! I really, really love books. I've always loved reading books even as a child. I mostly favored fantasy and detective novels and sometimes romance I suppose. Queer romance specifically because. Well. Guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of opportunities to read in that sense that new books that I haven't read are a rare thing to find right now."

⛸️"I'm not... too into sports, to be fair. Would parkour count as a sport? Probabaly not right now. Hm... I guess Carnage Hall fights would be considered a sport? In that case, I don't really follow that stuff at all."

😷"I have an average immune system, so I don't get sick too much. Well, 'staying at home' right now isn't exactly an option, however, when I get sick, I tend to not overwhelm myself with chores, but don't stay in bed all day either. Well, medical masks are surprisingly hard to find, and just regular clothing pieces won't do much, so I tend to stay away from people or be very careful around them."

🥼"No, I don't. Hm, what kind of uniform... To be fair, and don't quote me on this, but Renegade uniform looks sick as Hell."

🥂"Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess I just pat myself on the back or don't really acknowledge them at all."

🛴"Parkour. It's probabaly impossible to get around on a bike in this environment, but it would be nice if I could. Traffic rules aren't really a thing right now, so eh."

🕰"Hm... Now that I think about it, we don't do that too much? Or I suppose we just use the sun as our guide most of the time. Or Peacekeeper sirens or church bells if it's in Old Villedor."

🥰"There's many things that can make me... Well, not happy, but bring some kind of positive feelings for sure. As for loved... I don't know how to answer that."

🐇"I don't. I prefer to live in the now and here. Believing in this kind of thing would be an escapism method for me, and I prefer not to do that."

🎺"I'm getting tired of saying it, but there's not much choice we have nowadays. I'm starting to sound like my grandma... I think. But, if I had to chose from all the songs I know, my current choice would be that tape that Aiden showed me recently. I don't know its name, but it goes like... 'Some people cheat, some people sin, but ohhhhh I play to win, tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-u-u-u-u-u,' and so on. Sorry, I'm not the best singer. Mm, no, not really. Never had a chance to learn. Probabaly the violin. I heard it's a difficult instrument, which is one of the things that intrigues me about it."

💽"Yes! I like collecting books, newspapers from the 'old times,' audio tapes and stuff like that. Really to collect information. But especially books. There isn't a particular reason, I just enjoy doing it. Or I suppose the reason would be that I want to know as much as possible about Villedor and its life and how life was for other people in the hot of the apocalypse."

🧋"Tea. By God how much I love tea. Especially black tea with thyme. I can't even explain it, I just do. My second top tea is from a specific brand, but it's also black tea with apple and... and some other berry. I don't know its name in English. Oh, that entirely depends on the season and how I'm feeling. But generally, I lean more towards warm or hot drinks."

🌻 random in-character questions

an ask game where, instead of replying from your perspective, you answer as if it's your original character/muse/self-insert/etc. answering the question ✨

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

🍳 "Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? What's your favorite thing to cook?"

🧼 "Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?"

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

📖 "What kinds of books do you read? Do you have a lot of time to read?"

⛸️ "What's your favorite kind of sport? Do you follow sports closely or don't care at all?"

😷 "How often do you get sick? Do you stay at home when sick or do you end up going outside to, say, get some groceries? If you go outside, would you wear a mask?"

🥼 "Do you have to wear a uniform somewhere? If yes, how do you feel about it? If no, what kind of uniform would you love to wear?"

🥂 "How do you celebrate you accomplishments?"

🛴 "What's your preferred way of getting somewhere - own car, public transport, a bicycle, or something else? How well do you follow the traffic rules?"

🕰️ "What do you use to check what time it is?"

🥰 "What would make you feel happy and loved?"

🐇 "Do you believe in other dimensions?"

🎺 "What kind of music do you mostly listen to? Do you know how to play an instrument, and if not, which one would you want to learn to play?"

💽 "Do you collect anything? Why?"

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

[misguided-spiritcat]

For as long as I can remember I’ve felt alone you could say, and when I look back to as far back as I can remember I see the me who was alone, isolated even. It’s not like I was physically alone, I guess I did have some friends in school. But were they even my friends? Maybe, but I could never tell anyway. There is just some part of me that can’t understand why anyone would like me. I don’t have anything exactly special about me, and maybe others think the opposite but how am I supposed to believe that? I was always judged for my appearance, I don’t think I've truly gotten a break from it. My childhood memories, something that I should be able to look back on with a smile. Is that even possible for me though? All I think about is the countless nights I spent crying myself to sleep, feeling miserable everyday, and thinking that if I could pretend everything is fine then maybe I could actually run from my feelings. I would run and run and run from everyone, everything even. I didn’t want to face how I was feeling because if I did then that means that I would have to face the fact that I needed help. I never wanted to burden anyone with my problems thinking it’s useless to tell someone who can’t help me. Sure I’ve tried to be honest with others, yet I am still so incredibly empty. I could pour my heart out to everyone I know and I’d still feel this way. They tell you to keep fighting for the better days to come, but will they even come in first place? I’ve felt this emptiness practically my whole life. I just chose to ignore it so I wouldn’t have to confront anything, especially my own thoughts and feelings. I don’t even know where to begin on my farthest back memories that I can see in my mind.

I can almost clearly remember all the times my parents or dad would criticize me for my weight and appearance. It hurts more than anything to hear that from someone who’s supposed to care about you. Although I knew it hurt me, I still tried running away yet again. I hate this feeling of fear my brain wants me to face the truth, but as much as I want to recognize how I feel I just can’t do it. I used to think running away would solve all my problems because no one had to know and I could forget about the things that are “wrong” with me. It’s never that easy though and maybe if I could’ve realized that sooner I wouldn’t be here. It’s useless to think about what I could’ve done though because what’s done is done. We can’t change the past no matter how hard we try, and maybe that fact is what keeps me going. I find the guilt nearly eating me alive every single day, I can’t leave my bed, I can’t do my homework, I can’t eat anymore, and my brain feels no sense of urgency. I want to do everything like how I used to do it, but the moment things get hard nowadays I just try to run from my feelings. Run from the stress that eats me alive, run from the loneliness that tears me apart, and most importantly run from everyone and everything. I try to drown myself in the things that I enjoy hoping my feelings just go away, but no. It’s not how that works and I knew that, of course I did. But it’s not that easy to face the truth, especially for someone like me. It’s not as if I don’t want to do all those things I can’t, but for something that should seem easy it seems so. Impossible. Maybe it’s the exhaustion that swallows me whole everyday that causes this. Or maybe it’s the piles of work I have that causes me to feel this way, yet I feel no urgency to do them. Everything feels like nothing to me, I feel so empty that I can’t even find the motivation to do my school work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I wish I could have an answer that would solve all my problems. But don’t we all want something like that? I’m not very special and I know that much, I’m just one person in a world of billions of people. Sure maybe that’s what makes me special because I’m my own unique person, but is it really? I now think about if I were to die now would I be happy with the life I led? Do I have any regrets? Do I even wish I could’ve done something more? Maybe. But I don’t even know anymore to be honest. I’ve buried my feelings under the guise of trying to make myself “better”. I don’t feel better, not at all.

No matter how much I struggle everyday, the daily burn out that eats me inside out every.single.day. I told myself as long as I try to stay optimistic better days will come like most people say at least. When will that day even be? I feel like I’m constantly in and out of drowning in a big body of water. Like the ocean will swallow me alive at any moment of weakness. I hide away in my room to avoid all problems of stress or anxiety whenever I can, fearing the outside that I can’t predict. At least maybe then it won’t feel like I’m on constant alert to fix myself into something else I’m not. I’m my own best friend, my support system, and.. my own safe place. I thought that when I started taking this medicine to help with my depression I could get better at the very least. Sure, it worked at first and I thought that I finally had a reason to not feel so empty. Why did I have to be so wrong? I used to believe good things come to those that wait, now all I think of that is useless crap. I was too busy trying to distract myself into a weird fantasy place that doesn’t exist. Nothing works out in the way that we want it to, rarely ever at least. Now the daily burnout is the only thing that’s on my mind, after school, during school, before I go to bed, and wherever I’m relaxing in my room. I feel so tired all the time I just want to sleep and escape through my dreams. To live in a temporary place of no worries hoping I can pretend I’m everything I’m not in hopes someone will actually like me. It sounds better than the life I live right now anyways. I stare at my ceiling wondering about if I have even changed over the years, do I feel happier with my life? Or do I feel like shit as usual, there would be no change then. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a straight answer to that for anyone ever, it’s too hard to say for me. The ups and downs come and go, much like my own emotions. I have to remind myself it’s only temporary, everything will come as fast as it leaves me. All that I want is just out of reach to me, no matter how much progress I make it only stretches further past my fingertips.

Good things come when we least expect it is now what I would like to believe anyway. At least with this mentality I don’t have to constantly be wondering when the better days will come to me. I can feel a sense of freedom I never have before, so I don’t feel confined to my own imaginations but way beyond it. I hope that one day my words reach the hearts of others that possibly feel the same. I write and write away all my problems onto a page and type it out on a computer. Although it may feel better to get my every feeling and thought written out on a document or page it doesn’t feel enough at times. I just feel like I’m writing into the void, no one will read this anyway. I can’t seem to picture how others would react to my words in the first place. Will they seem surprised? Emotional? Maybe even upset? Who knows, I’ll continue writing for myself then. For now I’m the audience that I write my heart out to, and maybe one day it’ll be the one I trust the most in the world or even thousands of people. The only distractions I’ll need are my own thoughts that run through my head. I sometimes wish the sensation of exhaustion could overtake me so I wouldn’t have to wake up to this life. But since I’m still here anyway I’ll try my best to find this supposed purpose I have. Whether it be something, someone, or even just a fleeting idea. I’ll protect it with everything in me in hopes that I can live the way I’ve always wanted. And maybe then is when I can finally look back and understand it all. The meaning to my useless life will someday have meaning to me or maybe even someone else all I can do is wait. Patiently wait for my reason to come to me one day and give me the purpose I was looking for. And maybe all this struggle wouldn’t have been for nothing in the end.

[nizyboxer03]

I'm probably screaming at the void with this, but felt the need to put it somewhere.

Massive venty rant incoming.

I grew up on the dying breaths of the old internet. I used to browse the web for fun, played online games and my bookmark list was massive.

My teenage years were spent seeing the things I enjoyed and cared about die one by one.

My young adulthood is being spent watching the corpse of the internet being necromancied (sorry, I'm not AI and can't find a better synonym right now) and further destroyed and dragged through cesspool after cesspool.

And every single day I have to put up with the very same people ushering its end.

Apparently my biggest sin was making the mistake of getting into tech-bro hell, a.k.a getting into a STEM career.

Every day I have to swallow my disdain when they excitedly show me the newest AI thing or crypto scam and fake a smile and even have a small follow-up conversation so they'll leave me alone.

I am about to graduate as an electronics engineer, and despite essentially having a first row seat to all the latest technological advances, I have never wished more to go back to flip phones, mp3 players, PCs and simple consoles.

I really miss the garish, sparkly colors of the old internet. The ugly ass tiled Blingee backgrounds. The cringe worthy yet genuine blurbs people used to post on their personal blogs. The bad art. The janky games. I miss it all. And soon both my generation and its predecessor will become its archaeologists.

And yet... People today openly cheer about AI, not realizing how they're feeding it and making the internet a worse place. How their brains have been reprogrammed by algorithms (I myself am not exempt from this, even though I am desperately trying to escape its grasp). How they've been turned into dopamine addicts. And, worst of all, how they're unable to discern real from fake.

I don't know if you've noticed how it's pretty much impossible to hold a genuine conversation with other people nowadays.

I must admit social activities have never been my forte, but now it's impossible to actually talk to anyone (and, again, I know I am not exempt from this) because they're not actually present. They're there, in front of you, yes, but they have lost all ability to pay attention, and are just looking forward to their next dopamine hit.

And speaking of dopamine, I hate, hate, HATE, how I'm not able to enjoy anything anymore. I am an addict. I must scroll. I cannot bear the thought of not getting instant gratification. I hate it. I want my hobbies back.

I want my life back.

Anyways, I don't care what happens with this post. It'll probably get lost in the void, as was the intention. However, if it somehow ends up sparking *something*, like a conversation or a genuine response I'll be delighted. But I don't expect anything, really. This is just a dump of consciousness from a stupid human amidst an endless sea of sloppy AI generated content.

[riszellira]

Reflection: You Who Are Listening

There was a time when people sat down to listen, really listen. Listening to music, for one, was a ritual all by itself. You open the console, turn on the power, pick an rpm 45 or 33 (long playing) record, and willfully, consciously, and attentively listen to music. Nowadays, for many, people command Alexa or Siri to play something that will not be listened to intently but will only act as background noise to accompany one’s multiple tasks, including, but not limited to, studying.

The Lord’s tone of command reeks of both urgency and importance. “But I declare to you who are listening . . .” After getting their attention about what makes for authentic happiness, He seems to have some more attention-grabbing statements.

There are certain topics we’d rather not be listening to. When one is out enjoying the occasional good food, one doesn’t like to be bothered by discussions about calorie and cholesterol counts. I remember preaching once somewhere in the U.S. I happened to mention the word “abortion.” After Mass, I was accosted by someone who expressed her displeasure about a topic she’d rather not listen to.

Even now, what the Lord says about loving enemies is tough talk for me. It is hard to love people who have actively destroyed you and besmirched your name through fake news and unfounded accusations in social media. But tough and difficult do not make the teachings about truly loving any less true and valid. Above all, the Lord’s hard teachings do not translate to “impossible.”

I learn today that the capacity to truly love begins with the ability and willingness to “listen.” The Good News about love is not just background music to accompany whatever I do. Loving truly means acting well: doing good to haters, blessing others in exchange of curses, praying for abusers, etc.

~Fr. Chito Dimaranan, SDB

Which of God’s commandments do you find difficult to follow?

I am listening, Lord. I may not be able to promise immediate compliance, but here I am, Lord; I am listening. Amen.

Prayer

… for a deep and profound respect for life, especially for the unborn.

… for the strength and healing of the sick.

… for the healing and peace of all families.

Finally, we pray for one another, for those who have asked our prayers and for those who need our prayers the most.

GOD BLESS!

[msfbgraves]

I'm lucky enough to not have heard these sentiments too much myself, so I have no idea how widespread this attitude is. And goodness, you don't know you're growing up in a golden age of storytelling when it's happening, hm? People just release dozens of great series, complete seasons on the one streaming service for you to peruse for a really affordable price. No $100 to shell out for a box set of (1) great series, are you nuts? Waiting for anything? Huh? And of course stuff is good. Why shouldn't it be? And after 2007 Ao3 has always been there. And now of course you're so used to the fact that your attention means cash money, that you might not even realise that is what's happening. You might think it's simply your approval people are so desperate for.

Again, this might be a really small minority of people.

Good art needs to be nurtured. And sadly, the ones coming up with the newest ideas and concepts are also those paid the least for them. Because when they need art, they can just, like, make it. It's not fair, really! And of course artists are crazy people. They just... keep giving you stuff. Because they have to. Because they can't not. Well then maybe they should. It's only right? Because isn't it all about your approval?

The reason I make a lot of art is that I need very little approval to keep doing it. I don't, I get sick. That said, I need some, if I don't get any, I will stop.

But I also need to live, and if I need to spend a lot of brainpower to stay alive, well, that's a lot less art that comes your way.

But why should that be a problem? Isn't the world overflowing with great art?

Hm... is it lately? Is it really? Or do you find yourself wading through a lot of drivel looking for something good? There used to be so much of it, why aren't those creators doing their job?

Because they are, again, not being paid to do it. If they're being paid at all, they're paid to make a knockoff of a former success. Because too many people got stingy and greedy.

But there's even less good fic and fanart to go around, and no one is paying for that.

Yes. Good fanart needs good enough source material. Less of that nowadays. And oh yeah. That engagement you don't owe anyone? Not before it's completed and not after it's completed because in two years, it is old and stalkerish to engage with something?

Look, not all artists are as demented as I am, ok? Not everyone keeps slinging stories or songs (that I don't even record) into the void because they'd go insane if they didn't. Most people react to the message "apparently nobody cares" with "Ah. I will cease this activity, then, shall I. Yes. Let's make brownies, at least I'll enjoy eating those." My God, I have been writing in my second language for ten years because that is the only way to let people engage with what I make. I am a crazy person.

But not everybody is and they're not worse artists for it. They're very good and sorely missed, actually. If you don't engage with art you'll find yourself crying in some algorithm hellscape of shit and more shit searching for something good, please, anything.

That's what you get for not giving artists anything good. By and large, they stop giving back.

Because sorry love. It is, in large part, still about money. The only reason why your attention means money is because of fucking advertisers paying for your data.

You can't pay books and art in data. Even Ao3 needs money to run.

And I get it. Who has money? But if your engagement is all you have to give, give that - or there will simply be a lot less to go around. And finding the good stuff on project Gutenberg is not impossible, but it is work love. Work and the stuff is old af.

just saw someone reviewing the erin hunter books like, ‘they should publish the whole series at once, i don’t want to wait a whole year to read it’. like babe i hate to break it to you but,,,, go touch some grass and think about your relationship with consumerism okay, because it’s gotten really weird on you

[amereaardvark]

An important message from me

Hello everyone. You might have noticed that I have been streaming less often for a few weeks now. The only stream I planned very soon is playing the new Tintin game for a bit. So, allow me to go into an explanation into why it has been happening.

I have been streaming for 2 years and several months as of writing this. I started one August night in 2021 after I was inspired by a new friend at the time who was also streaming to start as well. It was not much, but I did something that I wanted to do. Around that same time, I was several months away from watching Twitch streams and stumbling upon the VTuber community. That was the inadvertent explanation for the PNG of a hand drawn aardvark head for the early days. As I watched more Twitch and found more VTubers, I was also crafting the experience for my own, creating several assets of my streams for, what it was supposed to be, an evolution of my streaming.

I was keeping it up for months on end, fitting them in beneath my college work and outside work at a restaurant that was increasingly becoming more stressful. It’s a tough balance, one that I still struggle with to this day. Part of the difficulty to balance became increasingly the relationship with streaming. While I oftentimes relayed the purpose of streaming is to enjoy myself doing whatever to any name that comes across, picking between various games that I was interested in, creating art live with an old and dying Chromebook, and whatever other activities, there were times which I felt dissatisfied. I was dissatisfied with my performance in providing commentary during gameplay, speaking clearly or being funny in general. If you know me well, you probably know that I have relayed all these issues onto you. Oftentimes, the answer is you just trying your best in beneath the unpredictable algorithm of Twitch, and I agreed, you know, maybe it was just a bad stream or not a good night.

However, it was increasingly hard to know when and why those bad nights occur. The unpredictable algorithm of Twitch feels like wrestling with inconsistency, and being razor tight with everything planned and ready for a broadcast that you don’t know if people will actually come or not. I am on the autistic spectrum, and one of the things about me is having a pattern or routine to go through, as a mental glue for the order that happens. It is often the same way with forming schedules and going through with planned streams. Sometimes it works because it feels like the right time and place, but due to the changing and arguably more capitalistic nature of Twitch, it felt as though those bad nights occur more often, either due to technical issues or just not being of massive interest. Something about me is that I play stuff that I am genuinely interested in, and that changes from time to time. You may have noticed that I was playing Sonic games and then later SpongeBob games, but they later appear to be mere hyper-fixations. The reason I started playing Undertale last month was because I thought that was fitting for October and because it was in my backlog- and I have yet to go back to it.

It's more present to me nowadays, that delving into things is spontaneous but spurred out of genuine interest in presenting things, whether it’s topics to discuss or interesting games like Jimmy Neutron vs. Jimmy Negatron, a game that I played in my childhood that I find really memorable. It was more of a disparity between wanting to stick to my guns and do whatever tickles my fancy and needing to grow and evolve the channel, eventually reaching affiliate- the goals and circumstances becoming more impossible without grinding, burnout or reaching an unhealthy mindset. There were some wins, but at what cost? At the same time, when I was writing about topics that are on my mind, I felt more engaged. Writing is more so an effective way to communicate my thoughts for me than speaking or even art. I thought I can do both and split the time, but as I watch more video essays or more informative works, those writings can eventually be those video essays, not just writings on a site.

And so, it comes to this. After the upcoming stream, I will no longer be streaming consistently and instead shift my focus to creating videos to YouTube. I have a poetry channel that I want to put work into creating art, while displaying video essays and more informative yet fun content on to my self-titled channel. I have been learning to edit gradually, and it has been a more of a challenge that I am proud to be taking on. I have already started drafting quite a few potential YouTube videos, but it is something that can suit my strengths while also improving in ways that are manageable. I want to talk about Tintin games in a more genuine fashion, not simply play them and attempt to be funny. I never had the strongest and most expressive voice, but I can work with the vision when reading a script.

That is not to say, that the Twitch streaming is all for nothing. In fact, I somewhat debate this being a decision I do not regret. The most valuable aspects are improving my art, both hand-drawn and digital, getting out of my shell in communicating, and more importantly, all the wonderful people I meet along the way- acquaintances, fellow mutuals, and the best part, my friends who I love dearly so much that I can’t even believe that I have and keep, all who have helped and supported me, and that I have helped back. Letting go of this almost feels like abandoning, and I apologize to all the people who haven’t been able to catch my stream who won’t see me live again.

I do not know how this will work out, and it scares me, the unpredictability. But I know a path through that that I will take. Maybe it will be a permanent decision, maybe it will not be. Maybe I’ll come back to streaming whenever I really truly feel like it, maybe once a week or two weeks or whatever. Part of this is the changing times, and the inner desire to ride those waves, despite the mental struggle to adjust or just wanting something to change and be new- and I think that I will be happy in the long term.

Thank you for reading this very long message (like I said, this is how I effectively communicate), but thank you for being there, whether you follow, talk or even share my stuff. For all I know, this is merely just a beginning.

Sincerely,

A.I. The Aardvark

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #572

Top Eleven Top Tens

So here’s a funny thing. I've been doing this blog for over ten years. I know that, because I know I was writing it before my eldest was born. In fact, 2012 was my tenth anniversary. And yet – and yet – somehow, in my idiocy, I missed it; I totally forgot about it. Despite frequently making a huge deal when I reach milestone numbers – 100th Top Ten, 250th, 500th, with my six hundredth blog going up this autumn unless I die or the world ends - I somehow, catastrophically, comedically, counter-intuitively failed to recognise when I'd actually been doing this for ten whole years.

I mean. You'd have thought the 520th Top Ten would have been a bit of a giveaway, y’know?

So having missed my proper anniversary I've decided to go on the hunt for another. Because doing this for as long as I have is quite an achievement, even if I do say so myself. I write these things every week for an audience of, like, four people maybe. But I enjoy it and it gets the creative juices flowing! And doing it for over a decade, whew. It's quite an undertaking, when I think back to what it was like at the beginning. I remember writing some of those early ones sat at my desk at Granada Studios. There was hardly any blurb, hardly any explanation; it was an exercise in list-making rather than creative writing.

Nowadays it’s more of an effort, in more ways than one; they take longer to write because I write more. But I've also ticked off a hell of a lot of things to make lists on; it’s increasingly difficult to find new things, or new spins on the old things. I make no apologies for going back to the well of Transformers, the MCU, or Xbox games; those are three pretty big things in my pop cultural life. I know barely anyone reads this thing, but I do hope I keep it entertaining and my lists varied and mostly interesting.

So how did this all start anyway? It was definitely the lists rather than the writing. I used to think how, if ever I was a columnist at The Guardian or something, I'd end my weekly column by just doing a random list of ten things. It could be anything; favourite Ninja Turtles villains, favourite BBC2 idents, favourite flavours of ice cream. I do remember distinctly one I thought of was favourite videogame weapons; that was always high up there. And then I got a Tumblr, and I decided – hey! – why not actually do that? Why not just write a list? Do it every week. Originally it was going to be “Friday Top Ten” but I very smartly realised before I even began that tying myself down to getting one of these out every Friday was probably impossible. And so it proved, because I tell ya, there have been a few weeks where it nearly missed Sunday. On the other hand, I don’t think I've ever missed a weekend since this began – with the possible exception of one list appearing on a Bank Holiday Monday. But really, eleven years, a number of holidays, work, kids, Civilization VI – and I've still got one of these out every week. That’s no small feet, as Bart said to Sideshow Bob.

So by my reckoning – which might be wrong – this week is the eleventh anniversary of my first Top Ten blog. And so, in lieu of doing a tenth birthday special, we have eleven. Like Matt Smith or Millie Bobbie Brown. And those guys both rock. Anyway, what we’ve got here is an entirely self-indulgent list of lists: my favourite of my own lists. I think I did this before, in the foggy mists of time, but one of the beauties of my Sisyphean quest to keep putting things in groups of ten every sodding week is that the number of weeks increases and stuff keeps happening in between and old lists are old now and I get to do the same thing but with new stuff. Like how every four years I list my favourite MCU moments. Like how I did Top Christmas Films again, a decade after I first tackled it. Like how many times I've managed to write about Transformers. Like how I accidentally did Best Films of 1999 twice. Like how every four years I list my favourite MCU moments. I get to go back and tweak things and make jokes that some people think are mistakes and not jokes! I get to change my mind and reflect on the passage of time. I get to fill lists with references to shows my kids are watching that, seven or eight years later, I have next to no recollection of.

Bringing us to this: a list of my favourite lists, a window through time. It’s in chronological order, from oldest list to most recent. So kick back and take a trip down memory lane: lines of dialogue, stuff to do with babies, Christmas, Star Wars, and my most popular Top Ten list of all time.

See you in 2032! Or maybe 2033, who knows.

Moments in Spielberg Movies (as Illustrated by a Line of Dialogue): the first ever list I did and already we’re into one of my ongoing preoccupations (Spielberg) and also a recurring “bit”: lists of quotes. Something I’ve tried to do a few times, although it’s not always easy. Not sure I agree with all of these moments; I must have really loved A.I. in 2012, because I barely remember that scene now.

Emotions After Reading About Disney Buying Star Wars: it was a big deal finding out Lucas had sold Star Wars, and that we were going to for-realsies get new films. Of course, there was a good degree of doubt and trepidation too; hence my simple but (if I do say so) rather witty reaction, ending with a cute Star Wars joke.

Things a Christmas Film Must Have to be Called a Christmas Film: my first Christmas writing these Top Tens and as you can see I’m already banging the drum for Die Hard. I like this list because, whilst I think I’d write it better today, using Die Hard as a template to explain what defines a Christmas film – rather than attempting to justify Die Hard as adhering to a Christmas movie template – is quite a nice idea.

Toy Story Questions: an example here of when I do a really deep dive into something largely because I have to watch it a lot with the kids (note the references to Brave and Frozen). So I seriously over-think the Toy Story trilogy (and there were only three back in 2015!) in relatively amusing fashion. I’ve since learned that loads of people ask these same questions. I did another similar list back when Daughter #1 was obsessed with The Snowman.

Gritty Films That Could Become Kids' Show: jumping ahead to 2017 and I attempt to unpick the whole “grim and gritty” motif that often sees ostensibly children’s properties get all serious, usually because their original audience are older now but still want to like the things they liked as kids. So I viewed it in reverse, and adapted some distinctly sweary and violent films so they were suitable for nippers.

TNG Characters With the Best Episodes: nothing too complex in this 2020 list, but I quite like the way I chose to look at The Next Generation; which characters are best served by episodes dedicated to them. Prompted largely, I think, by my realisation that Geordi is a great character but most of “his” episodes were a bit pants.

Characters Who Came Back From the Dead: this was to coincide with Easter 2021, and was an example of a list where, despite being a relatively obvious subject, I didn’t get round to it for ages for some reason. In this case I think it was partly an assumption that I’d already done it! But it’s an amusing topic, and I think relatively well-written.

Violent Moments in Transformers: still in 2021, and one of my recent favourites: listing the goriest moments in Transformers history. I’ve written about Transformers A LOT, often either quite simple lists or bigger, more philosophical things. This splits the difference by having an amusing topic and allowing me to wallow in depictions of rent metal and shredded wiring. But to be honest the thing I love most is the gif I found to illustrate it.

500 Films of my Lifetime: several times over the past eleven years I’ve done really big lists; Top 100 films, Top 100 games, that sort of thing. In those cases it’s really just a ranking job because, well, writing about 100 things would take a while. For my 500th list in 2021 – which I really made a bigger deal about than the tenth anniversary the following year, for whatever reason – I decided to just go utterly crazy and do a Top 500. I think the hardest part was just remembering 500 films that I’d seen without forgetting really obvious ones. Anyway, fun times.

Books That Could Be Muppet Movies: ah, here we are. Around Christmas ’21, inspired by the perennial Muppet Christmas Carol, I had a good long think of what other books could you adapt for the Muppets. They only did Carol and Treasure Island (and Wizard of Oz, sorta), but what else was there? Anyway, for whatever reason this took off. Now, look, nobody reads my blog, I know that; I’m not saying it was an intense viral sensation. But for ages I was getting notifications that someone had liked or reblogged it, and it even spiked a bit again last year.

Moments in the Lost Light Saga: and we return to Transformers, and one of the philosophical ones. But I’ve written so much about More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light, I had to include it. This recent (December ’22) list highlights my favourite moments, but also tries to go into why this run on the comic meant to so much to me. It was popular and shared relatively widely among TF fans, who are Quite Online at the best of times. But really it’s just a distillation of a terrific comic and a popular thread for my Lists. And it might be more-or-less my final word on it, too.

Well, there we are; the only Top Eleven I think I’ll ever do, so I hope you enjoyed it. We’ll be back to a regular number of items in a Top Ten next week.

This was fun but a little daunting. No wonder I’ve only tried it once before – and back then I only had 52 lists to choose from! But it was hard ditching some of my other favourites; how to tell if someone’s a geek, favourite Starfleet uniforms, useful superpowers for a parent, and arguably the list that inspired the whole thing, favourite videogame weapons (sadly a rather dry, pedestrian ranking compared to some other efforts). But it was good to see the evolution. It's interesting that some of the early ones from the first couple of years have really stuck with me, and there are quite a few from the last couple of years, but the sort of middle period – the 200s and 300s, I guess – fade from memory and didn’t really stand out. I think there are a lot of rather specific things going on there – stuff I was excited for then, stuff that’s less well-written – and maybe they’ve not stood the test of time. Or maybe next time I’m foolish enough to do this, I’ll find something to celebrate from 2016. That’d be impressive.