It's the first cool night of the season and I know I need to sleep cause it's almost 2am and I'm so exhausted but IT IS IN THE MID FIFTIES AND I NEED TO KEEP MY WINDOW OPEN 😭🥰

No Way To Get Help

@malevon​

Well... this was supposed to be about Jon, but it's about Tim instead. Under the wreckage of the wax museum, Tim isn't dead.

cw nausea, depression, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation (canon typical levels for Tim end of season 3), ambiguous mentions of injury, hospitals

Four more fics to go, and only one more prompt to send in, so if you have something in mind, get it in quick! I hope you know the drill by now!  Thanks @celosiaa​ for the wonderful card!

The silence is deafening.  Or would be if Tim wasn’t partially deaf already.  He hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids.  What would have been the point?  He knows the plan.  Daisy and Basira are ….were?  Hardly chatty.  He didn’t?  Doesn’t?  Didn’t?  Want to hear a single word that Jon had to say.  

God.  Tenses.  

Is anyone still alive?  Is it just him?  

He should clarify.  The silence is deafening after the explosion.  After the circus music that was somehow louder, possibly because it was at least partly inside his head.  There is probably the sound of rubble settling, and the groaning of burning building, and rushing emergency vehicles.  But… he can’t hear a goddamn thing.  Just that eternal ringing in his ears.  He has never been sure if that was tinnitus or just what silence sounds like.  Never thought it worth asking after he learned that people with tinnitus have higher rates of suicide.  And… well… if this stupid plan was nothing else, wasn’t it just some grand suicide scheme?  

One that looks to have spectacularly failed.  

Just him… probably alone.  In the dark.  

Then again, if he’s alive, maybe the others are too?  Does he want that?  

If he’s honest, he would rather just be dead.  

Not that that is a revelation.  

Then again, he could be dead in a minute.  

He can’t feel his legs.  Well… he can.  He wishes he couldn’t.  He wishes he couldn’t feel anything.  There is so much pain that it just… it’s too much for him to even register as pain anymore.  He just feels… cold and crushed.  Probably shock because there are actual fires burning around him.  He can smell it.  The burning plaster and plastic and wood and smoldering concrete… if that is even a thing?  Thick air.  He’s coughing.  And that hurts more.  

He can’t hear it, however.  

He can’t hear anything but that goddamn ringing in his ears.  

He thinks he might be crying.  

He can’t hear his own heaving sobs.  

Just that high-pitched whine of utter silence.  

Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That’s it.  

The only words his brain can find, as he grows ever more numb.  He has no doubt that darkness is eating at his vision, or would be if there was anything but darkness around him. 

Not even the words from the book.  Lines from the movie.   Which isn’t a bad thing…  He doesn’t even know his own feelings about his favorite book and his favorite movie.  

(That’s not true.  He was always a fan of the movie, but… he and Danny read the book to each other so often…  He has the work paperback in the pocket of his bomber jacket.  Wanted to die with it.  Ideally buried with it, but it’s not like he left a note.  Aside from that damn tape).  

The whine continues.  He doesn’t know how long it’s been.  

 Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That had been the first thing he had thought of when he first heard the worms.  

He curses the worms to the darkness.  If it hadn’t been for them… he could have lived in blissful ignorance about the darker nature of his job… well to some degree.  Sasha would still be here.  Jon wouldn’t have….  FUCK.  He doesn’t want to think about Jon while he’s willing himself out of existence.  But….

But Jon.  That little fucking moron.  Who he HATES.  Who he wants to hate.  

Does he hate Jon?  

Is Jon even still alive?  

If he’s dead, does he want to keep hating a dead man?  One who …wasn’t any worse than him.  

Which isn’t to say blameless, or not a twat at times….  But.  But not a monster.  And Tim can’t really blame him for not trusting anyone.  

Jon… was in the wrong, but so was Tim.  They have both been utter dicks.  Which has always been Tim’s least favorite plot.  God back in publishing… a Lifetime ago… he always hated books that hinged on characters fighting, not talking things out, not Understanding and that rift causing endless misery.  Has he really become something that he hated… still hates with every fiber of his being.  The number of books that set his teeth on edge from the first misunderstanding.  He actually hates most Rom Coms for that reason.  Which… surprised just about everyone he’s dated.  

He possibly groans.  He isn’t thinking clearly.  

He can’t hear himself groan.  

He really should give it up, and let himself pass out.  He hurts.  He’s tired.  If he wakes up… that’s a problem for later.  If he quietly slips away… well… maybe he’ll see Danny there.  Maybe he’ll see Sasha.  Hell, maybe if he sees Jon there, they can work something out.  If there is an afterlife… they’ll have all the time in the world.  (Or rather all the time in the next world).  And if not… well.  Eternal rest sounds pretty damn good.  

…But.  But Jon.  If Jon is alive down here… He should be close.  

And… Tim can’t let him die alone under this building.  He can’t lose someone else to the Circus while he sits idly by.  And Damn it, maybe he doesn’t want to meet Jon in the afterlife just yet, maybe he wants a break?  (And maybe he just loves him too much to completely give up on him… even though he knows he is far too late.  Too many bridges burned.  “We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”  A line from Jon’s favorite play.)

Tim tries to move his fingertips.  And almost screams.  It hurts.  It hurts.  It hurts.  

He thinks he might scream.  But he can’t hear a sound.  

He braces himself and tries again.  Stretching his arms out as wide as he can.  Moving dust and ash and rubble.  He almost passes out.  Or maybe he does pass out.  Time has no meaning in this place.  

He finds a hand.  Cold.  And limp.  And his heart stops, first for fear that this is another mannequin.  Then for fear that this is all that is left of someone who was… could have been… is?  Something to Tim.  Everything to Tim.  

Tim thinks he might vomit.  

He feels out a little further as his head swims.  He feels the stretched and puckered skin of undoubtedly Jon’s right hand.  Unresponsive.  Possibly dead.  

Tim coughs.  Choking on the soot and heat and fumes in the air.  A massive weight both metaphorical and painfully tangible on all of him.  Aching pain breaking him into little shards, which turn right around and skewer him.  

Tim loses consciousness.  Old and cracked and dry paperback of The Princess Bride in his pocket.  Limp hand of his… friend? In his hand.  

Tim wakes up in hospital.  

His lungs hurt.  And everything feels distant and fuzzy.  Probably being pumped through with a lot of painkillers.  Probably for the best, or he might be more upset for waking up.  He wants to ask after Jon… but he can’t get his mouth to open.  

And suddenly he’s thinking about Westley.  Mostly dead.  Revived.  Head flopping around on his neck.  Danny had lost his shit laughing at that… it always made Tim feel sick after… everything.  The imitation of life… couldn’t quite shake the image of… that night.  Christ if he was on less drugs, he would probably puke.  

He would shake his head if he could move. 

“You just shook your head, that doesn’t make you happy?”

He is also struck by the thought that this is Kill Bill in reverse.  Nearly died getting his revenge, and then ending up in a coma.  (He watched those movies on Bad days.  When he downs enough whiskey to drown a horse.  He can’t say he really remembers much of them, but they were always cathartic.)  

He tries to look at his feet.  But he can’t even lift his head.  

He closes his eyes again.  

When he opens them, he sees Martin.  Worn and tired.  Looking older than ever, more haggard than Jon.  

Shit!  Jon.  Is Jon here?  Is he dead?  

He still can’t move.  

He looks at Martin again.  Martin is… talking?  Tim can’t make out anything.  Just the dull murmur of meaningless sound.  

…But.  

Martin is holding a book.  

A sooty, singed book.  

Martin sitting between two hospital beds, holding Tim’s old copy of The Princess Bride, facing Tim presumably so if Tim were to come around, Tim could read his lips.  

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”?  You mean dies?

My father nodded.  ‘Prince Humperdink kills him.’

‘He’s only faking though, right?’  

My father shook his head, closed the book all the way.

‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry.  

‘I’m sorry,’ my father said.  ‘I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.”

Martin is also crying.  Just like Billy in the book.  

“’Who gets Humperdinck?’” Tim whispers.  Painfully aware of how dry his throat is.  It’s no more than a cracked whisper.  

And then he’s coughing.  

He can barely hear himself, but he swears he is coughing out a lung.  

Martin has dropped the book.  Staring in wide-eyed shock for a moment, before yelling something.  Scrambling up.  Probably getting a doctor.  Tim wishes he hadn’t gone.  

He looks are where Martin had been, but ends up getting a good look at the bed next to him.  And sees one, very still and very pale Jonathan Sims.  Very bandaged, and frighteningly still.  Tim can’t see breathing.  

And then he’s being poked and prodded and tested and Martin is talking to him.  And everything hurts.  Until it doesn’t and he’s lying still and Martin is smoothing his hair down and holding his hand and telling him that he’s been unconscious for a month.  That Jon is all but brain dead.  That Elias is in police custody.  

By the time Jon wakes up, five months later, Tim has decided to give him another chance, he and Martin are sharing a flat, there is another room ever hopeful that Jon will want to join then if- no, when he wakes up.  

Also.  Jon’s hair may or may not be dyed green.  

Maybe.  

No, Tim has no idea what everyone is looking at him like that for.  

Until Next Time || Yandere Todoroki x Reader

Warning: character death, reader death

A/n: @honeyyandere gave me mad inspo from a shoto ask and I had to go write some depressing nonsense for y'all.

Word Count: 962

“I found out that they reopened your case today.”

Your fork stops halfway into the piece of steak he cooked, you look up, feigning an appalled appearance. Desperately trying to hide the flash of hope in your eyes. “Why?”

“Someone gave a lead, they think it’s your ex.” You feel your heart drop and you wonder why you even let yourself feel elated at such a thing. You accepted that this was the rest of your life months ago but every once in awhile you entertained the thought of freedom. The thought of police storming the building, taking you far far away from wherever this was. It was just thoughts though, just thoughts.

The both of you continued to eat in silence, you considered stopping and going to bed. Being held captive unfortunately has its perks, you burned yourself once and since then he’s cooked and meal prepped for you everyday. You hate to admit it, but he’s a pretty good cook, but today it just wasn’t good. It was a pretty fancy meal, he even made dessert, but you just felt unwell.

“Shoto, I’m very tired today, can I go to bed?”

He stares at you, eyes glossy and wild. “You, you do know I love you right?” The air seemed cold and stagnant, your soul told you there was more to tonight then he was letting on. 

"Please tell me you know." 

"I know." 

"Okay, good.” He continues to eat his meal, still, the conversation has not progressed. He ignored your question, and you didn’t want to leave the table without permission and risk upsetting him so you stay. You pull together the face you know he loves, something in between a smile and a frown and you ask again.

“Sweetheart, can I go to bed?” Your fingers twitch at the endearing word; you hate how well you’ve become accustomed to this. Say what he wants to hear, hold him when he’s having a breakdown, love him and he is almost a good person. Almost. 

He looks at you from across the table, returning a loving smile to you, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. “You’re so beautiful y/n. I want to be with you forever.” You could see that he was shaking, and you weren’t sure if this was your cue to come to his rescue or leave. Cradle him and tell him that he isn’t a terrible person, or simply go to bed and listen to him cry in the living room before he undoubtedly demands your touch anyway. “I-, I love you so much. Ever since I first saw you I knew we were meant to be together. Why are there so many people against that? I just wanted to be happy once, and I’ll never let them take you from me.”

“W-What are you talking about?” You felt the unease in your stomach heighten, your vision was beginning to blur. 

“Your worthless ex put the pieces together, and I’m a suspect again. I wasn’t as thorough as I thought I was when I took you…” 

You said nothing, you stared at him through your straining eyes. “Shoto, can I please go to bed I feel sick!”

“I’m sorry if the meal wasn’t good enough, I just thought this was the best way out and seasoning couldn’t really mask the poison.” There was nothing but silence in the air, a looming, rancid silence. “Wouldn't it be nice for us to die together?” He seemed like he was struggling to keep himself seated, he smiled at you somewhat delirious. Your eyes tried to cling on to the house you've so desperately wanted to leave, trying to take in something that would still the spinning in your head.

He got up shakily, a glass of water falling to the floor. “Let’s go to bed love.” 

“I feel really sick, pl-please help me. Please. It burns.” He says nothing, just picks you up from the chair you were falling in and carries you down the hall. You felt like dough in his arms, your entire body was failing you. He leans against the wall, struggling to keep himself up and continues to the room. He doesn’t bother to bathe you or chain you up, you both just lay there in bed. “Shoto I-” Your sentence is interrupted by the involuntary expelling of your stomach's contents onto the floor next to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I still think you’re pretty.” His shaky hands pull you closer to his body, his quirk seemed to be malfunctioning. He was entirely too hot and cold to touch but you didn’t have the energy to back away. His kisses were sloppy and full of mumbles that you could barely understand. The room was getting progressively darker, and you clung onto the man you claimed to have never loved as if he was the only thing tethering you to life.

There was a loud knock at the front door, incredibly loud but so far away. To think salvation was this close but you were falling away from it faster than you ever had before. You look at him, trying to say something, anything, but all that came from your lips were blood and groans, and then nothing. He gave your forehead a kiss as the knocking on the front door turned into loud crashes. 

He wanted to scream from the pain but he was too satisfied with the knowledge that no one but him will ever have you. They were too late, you were already gone. He held you closer as his fire side activated unwillingly. The room slowly becoming engulfed by flames, he let out slow laughs as your face faded into darkness.

“Until next time my love.”

(Not all of this is reflected accurately on the wiki, friends. I intend to work on the wiki more soon, and change up a lot of things on it) 

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"Daddy?"

Sans, standing behind Aliza with a hairband between his teeth and a pair of slightly rusty but extremely sharp barber's scissors in his hand, raised a single brow bone, tugging on his daughter's ear gently with his free hand to stop her fidgeting.

"stop moving, precious, i don't wanna cut you. what'd you need."

Aliza, pouting out her lower lip but stilling obediently, folded her hands in her lap and twiddled her thumbs, letting out a soft exhalation.

"I was wondering if there was... more to the Underground. Besides in the places I came from. I saw the place you called the Ruins, and that old city, before coming out into the snow... saw all those empty houses in the forest on the road here... the road going out into the forest. Is there other stuff out there? Other cities? Other people?"

Sans, letting out a sigh of his own but quirking a small smile at her curiosity, set aside his scissors and picked up a comb, carefully parting the girl's hair evenly.

"there's a lot more. the underground's a pretty big place, and in it's heyday, it housed nearly five and a half million monsters. not nearly as many as there were above, but... well. the war was hard, and monsters take a lot longer to reproduce than humans do. that was after fifteen hundred years of rebuilding, and to be honest... it was a good thing we were close to escaping."

"Why?"

"we were runnin' out of space. not for monsters, but to support the economy. there wasn't always enough food in the poor seasons, when the water above froze and the crops withered, and even when things were going well, we were only scraping by at best. there was unrest, and panic, and a significant loss of hope... the thing that keeps monsters alive. in darker corners, there was talk of sending a monster to the capital to take one of the souls that the king was guarding and going out to find more... something another monster, long ago, had failed at, in an attempt to end our imprisonment. it never happened though. your mom came instead."

Aliza's eyes sparkled, jumping in place and upsetting Sans' careful parting.

"She made friends with everyone, changed their minds about humans, and helped find a new plan to escape! Right?"

Sans chuckled, smoothing her hair flat again with the palm of his hand, before sobering for a moment, reaching up to tap a single finger against the pendant of his locket.

"...right. but that's not what you asked about. you wanted to know what else is out there."

She nodded exuberantly, casting her father a sideways glance at his change in tone, but he turned her face away again with a gently curled knuckle and a shake of his head, resuming his combing as though nothing had happened.

"well. to start off with, there's four main sections of the underground, each named for its respective climate. you may've noticed by now, but the guy that named all this stuff... well. imagination wasn't really his gig. he figured it would remind people of things that they missed, above, make 'em feel more at home. nice sentiment, but it really kind of just made the ones that remembered sad. i wouldn't know. i've never seen the surface to miss it."

Something in his voice revealed a lie, but he pressed on before Aliza could ask about it, seeming to finally be satisfied with the part in her hair and setting aside the comb to take up the scissors again.

"first is the autumn refuge. you saw at least part of the ruins; they were here before we were imprisoned, an old, old city from an ancient civilization of humans and monsters. half the city was sunken in water when we arrived, the buildings all but useless. old home was made from the parts of the old ruins we could salvage. slowly abandoned, when it became too small, remote, and, honestly, depressing to contain the growing population of survivors and their needs. across the river are the fields and farms of fallholm, where most of the food and livestock of the kingdom was grown and kept. they get bits of natural sun, from cracks in the mountain, filtering through the barrier, and its one of the few places non-magical animals would thrive. the threshold of the bulwark, a sunken human fortress from an age before even gerson, our oldest monster, could recall, lies on the border between fallholm and the snow-locked lands beyond, where we are now. it was repurposed into a trading hub, most roads through the kingdom leading to and from it. last i'd checked, it's been pilfered clean."

With a clean snip of his scissors, Sans started to trim the girl's hair, holding the locks between his fingers to measure them expertly.

"which brings us to the frigid arboretum, encompassing all of the land frozen under the iceberg covering half of mt. ebott; name's a bit long, so most of us just called it the fridge. the fridge was the raw goods harvesting and processing center, producing lumber, ore, stone, ice, various consumables, and the occasional tourist location. the only monsters that lived outside of the largest city, winterrest, were workers, furry creatures tired of city living, and members of the kingdom's royal guard; it was just too cold for anyone else. we had a few small towns, lumberton to the north, ferron to the south, and snowdin, of course, a small trading post that sprung up around the ice machine required to cool the core in hotland. winterrest, like i said, is the biggest city, and drew in crowds of city slickers with its rustic "charm", along with students for our magic college, the one pap went to. it's up towards the cavern's northern wall, surrounding the edge of a lake of waterfall's runoff."

He paused for a moment to judge his cuts, tilting his head and stepping to the side to eye the rest of her hair, before continuing, tilting her head a little to the side with a light touch of his hand.

"waterfall itself is, objectively, the most beautiful section of the underground. the bio-luminescent fungi that grows on the roofs of the rest of the caves won't grow in the persistent humidity there; instead, a peculiar sort of crystal formed on its walls and ceilings, and they glowed, lighting the way through the maze of caverns. there's one room so densely packed with them that it was called the wishing room... monsters used to go there to make wishes. our form of prayers, to the only gods we've ever known. the stars."

He quieted, laying a hand on Aliza's shoulder, and she raised one of her own to touch it, leaning her head back against his chest. They stayed like that for a moment, silent and still, before Sans slid his hand out from under hers, squeezing her fingers appreciatively, and continuing her haircut.

"the, uh... the caves in waterfall range from entirely flooded to only slightly moist, but all of it is persistently wet from the runoff of the glacier, and so the plantlife there is not just abundant, it's kind of taken on a life of its own. it was home to the amphibious, the fungal, the amorphous, the weird, and the completely aquatic alike, and housed and grew our more water based crops, most especially echo flower. it had a city there that's completely underwater, coastharbor; had it's own economy and everything- no one really knows what happened to them, after the sickness came. besides that, there was a few smaller towns, puddlemire and tem village and backwater row, besides the major accessible city, springhaven. it was... a sight to see, precious. my favorite city down here. it's always raining in springhaven; it's right under the lake on the surface, and the entire thing was built up like a castle. you could see it from almost anywhere in the swamps, just... glittering like a jewel. ‘s where i went to college, an age ago, at the magitech university... your mom loved it there too. insisted on going to the wishing lantern festival every year, spending every weekend she could there. ...it's where we were married."

Aliza, sober and quiet, with crystalline tears on her lashes, tried to turn in her chair, shivering slightly.

"Dad, you don't have to-"

Sans coughed under his breath, shaking away his momentary melancholy.

"'m fine, aliza. 'm fine. sit still, or it's gonna be uneven."

She complied, though one of her tears streaked her cheek unheeded, staring at the light switch on the wall with a determined set to her jaw, as though attempting to keep from shedding any more.

"...where was i. waterfall, right. there's also an enormous garbage pile in a section of the caverns, below the humans' landfill above. it sounds gross, but it's how a lot of monsters stayed up to date on technology and things from above. some things we invented, but without the help of a book that fell around thirty years ago, we would never have had the undernet. i go out there sometimes, look for useful things for traps, packaged food, things that might entertain paps."

"...could I come next time?"

Sans blinked, scissors mid-snip, then smiled, smoothing some strands of cut hair from her overlarge, stained t-shirt onto the floor dotingly.

"course, precious. it's pretty safe, the only monster that lives there is scared stuffingless of me."

"Can't imagine why."

"i really can't. anyway... hotland is next. hotland is... a strange place. even back then it was. most of the monsters that lived there were caught up in what is considered high end business, like technology and entertainment. everyone was either a rising star, a wanna be, an agent, or someone making something for the stars, it seemed, and it was all drama there, all the time. the worst of them all, though, was mettaton."

Aliza perked at the familiar name, moving her gaze to the faded, ripped poster just in sight through the kitchen doorway, above the battered couch.

"I know him, Papyrus loves Mettaton~"

Sans made an audible sound of disgust, pulling a face and rolling the blue light in his whole socket.

"believe me, i'm aware. he commended himself for not just saving the core, the main power facility for the underground, but for keeping everyone in the caverns entertained, despite his abysmal reviews. ...i have to admit his buying and re-purposing the buildings around the core's facilities into his resort did bring it back from decommission. he was a flamboyant spectacle, and a constant nuisance, given your uncle’s obsession, but i can give him that much. didn't do much for alphys' career, or the trashed reputation of royal scientist, after what happened to... uh. the people that came before her. but, at the very least, the core survived."

Sans shrugged one shoulder, shuffling to the side to move on to a new section of hair.

"there aren't many towns or cities in hotland to speak of... most of it is too hot, or covered in lava. summerset city is the largest, the hub of most media and entertainment, like i said, and where most of the monsters lived... there’s another school there, the tech college; that’s where my friend alph went. there's the lab, where the royal scientist resided, supposed to be working on solutions to escaping the underground. the resort is part hotel, part apartment building, after mettaton bought the residences of the remaining workers still living there, so i suppose that counts. ...muffet's lair. muffet was a spider monster, and has a section of caverns pretty much to herself, holed up in the core's maintenance paths where no one can disturb her "genius". she was a baker, you see. insisted people were always trying to steal her recipes. she and her sisters all lived there. great pastries... but they cost an arm and a leg, heh."

With a final snip, Sans finished off her hair, and set down his scissors, picking up the comb again to brush away any stray clips of hair he might have missed.

"and after that is new home. the end of the underground, and where over half of us lived. it was one giant city, overlooked by the wealthy and the palace, and it's where, i have to assume, most of the monsters still are, honest. it's where everyone said they were going, at least. ...anyway. the palace is pretty grand, too grand for my taste, but i'm not a monster made for that kind of life. i had a job there, when they needed me, but mostly i was just there to report on things that went on in the other sectors. have some tea with the king, talk shop, that jazz. past the palace is the barrier room, and the only natural exit to the caverns that exists. we don't know when the one in the ruins opened; we were sealed and trapped inside with rocks when we were imprisoned. we only know it's too steep to climb to bother with."

Seemingly pleased with his work, Sans held out a mirror to Aliza, and she took it from him to inspect his work, admiring her, for the first time, even and trimmed locks. She'd never had a haircut that either she or gramma hadn't given to her, and neither of those had ever turned out well.

"Thank you, daddy, it looks great! How did you learn to cut hair?" she asked before thinking, holding the mirror behind her head to try to look at the back of her head, and Sans, putting the scissors and comb away in a drawer beside the stove, gave her an ironic look.

"your mom couldn't cut her own bangs either, and tori always gave her a bowl cut. so i learned how," he explained, and Aliza, setting the mirror down on the table, let out a giggle, spinning over to his side and, pausing a moment first (Sans nodded, looking appreciative), leaning in to wrap her arms around the monster's shoulders tightly.

"Well. Thank you for not giving me a bowl cut. ...and for telling me all that. It must hurt, to remember all that, and know its... gone," she whispered, setting her forehead against his arm, and Sans, raising his own arms to hug her back, let out a tired sigh, his sockets shuttered but his smile still present.

"it sucks. but it's been and done. ask me anything you need to know, precious. it's what i'm here for."

|| The Main Muses ||

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Name: Nox Hethaway Age: 25 (May 5th 1995) Immortal - Stopped aging at 21 Nickname: Nox Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Height: 5ft'4 Race: Demon/Succubus Ethnicity: British Looks: Short, messy raven hair falling into her right eye, Nox had the unique gift of having intense violet eyes that seemed to slightly shift in colour like the shimmering of liquid gold. The raven female mainly wears black, with articles of purple to accent her look. Whether it's a waterfall black cardigan with a purple tank top underneath which tends to be her signature look, or perhaps a purple plaid shirt, it seems that she truly favours darker shades of the spectrum that make up her 'aesthetic'. She might be seen wearing little red accents, due to her little crush for the colour.A purple, four leaf clover necklace hangs from her neck at all times, quite the important keepsake that she made with her own hands, and she has one ear pierced with a silver four leaf clover. Has the looks of a 21 year old. Key Personality Characteristics: Relaxed, Flirty, Sassy, Fiery, Enigmatic, Intuitive, Curious, Clever, Mature, Observant, Playful, Neutral, Thoughtful, Good Natured, Sympathetic, Faithful. About: Nox hadn't had the easiest of youths, and due to that case, in her younger days she was seen as a rather lazy and sassy female whom tended to throw insults at people, as well as ignore much of the population around her. However after certain events when she was eighteen, the female grew up to be a lot more mature and understanding to the situations around her. Perhaps whatever has happened, allowed her to open up to everything around her more? Nox is the type of a person that allows curiosity to get the best of her, yet she can be a delightful person to talk to at times. Having studied photography in University, Nox has a fairly keen eye to detail, seeming to pay attention to those around her more than the usual Joe. She can show a strong interest in things that catch her eye or amuse her, and her favourite past-time is playing her guitar. If you're a good listener and fascinated with life, it is very likely that Nox will take quite the liking in you. Likes/Interests: Night, Purple, Violets, Cats, Moon, Stars, Sky, Sunsets, Fire, Fireplaces, Music, Guitar, Hot Chocolate, Philosophy, Cafes, Streets, Photography, Darkness, Crows, Ravens, Streets, Heights, Cinnamon, Napping. Weaknesses: Cold! Nox can get very ill when in prolonged contact with cold, and any sort of frozen things, whether ice, icecream, or something like snow can cause her to get a fatal fever that can be difficult for her to get better from. Demons are known for their higher body temperatures, so imagine what happens when one goes into a feverish state! Suitable/Preferred partners: Angels, Fallens, Fair Folk, Vampires, Demons, Shapeshifters. Pets: N/A. Aesthetic Blog: https://noxhethaway.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Lord Kevins, Josefine Jonsson Bandclaim: The XX Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCKWly00BHM

Name: Charlavail Harelwood Age: 19 Appearance wise, 1,987-ish in reality. Nickname: Charlie, Charla, Char, Carla Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Height: 5ft Race: Fallen Angel Ethnicity: British Looks: With her long, beautiful white hair and stormy grey eyes, Charlie can oftentimes be seen in a light blue shirt that's covered in stains of paint due to spending a lot of her time, well- Painting, alongside her white jeans. Sometimes a black cardigan can be covering the shirt, or perhaps she's wearing a hoodie with jeans when not in her usual, 'casual' painting clothes. One of her ears is pierced, and a silver feather earring tends to decorate it. Key Personality Characteristics: Stubborn, Violent, Sassy, Angry, Fierce, Firecracker, Bashful, Demolishing, Irritable, Sullen, Creative, Capable, Colourful, Blunt, Quirky with a sprinkle of sweetness. About: You'd think with age comes maturity, right? Wrong. Charlavail is a spitfire that can surprise most with her vivid personality. She used to be a lot more violent when she was younger, her stubborn streak really affecting how she treated those around her, however over a certain amount of time she began to learn to control her emotions at least to the point where things weren't always flying in the air whenever someone said something she didn't like. She's a pretty touchy girl when it comes to people mentioning her height, and it is rather likely that she will cuss you out if you're not careful, but it's kind of her charm, no? However don't let her fool you, she might be a fierce female but she has her own sweet side, if one gives her the chance to open up to them. Careful though, that's not an easy thing to achieve and it takes quite the mighty patience and steady hand to get to that point with her. It's worth it in the long run, though. Likes: Art, Paint,  Art Supplies, Studios, White Roses, Paint brushes, Feathers, Spring, Winter, Blue, White, Pink Milk, Pastel, Skies, Clouds, Stars, Forget-me-nots, Colours, Paris, Afternoons, Creativity, Dogs.    Suitable/Preferred partners: Angels, Fallens, Demons, Werewolves, Pets: A white cat called Halle. Aesthetic Blog: https://charlavailharelwood.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Charlavail Effron Bandclaim: Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qePo_r1KXhQ

Name: 'Kassidy' Kassandrea Smith Age: 23 [Immortal] Nickname: Kass Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5ft'5 Race: Fox Shapeshifter/Goddess Ethnicity: British Looks: A very skater-girl style, Kass loves plaid shirts of all sorts and shades. Her long, dark red hair often covers one of her eyes a little, which have a fantastic and vivid green-y yellow tone to them that makes her stand out from the average 'human'. She has somewhat fair skin, yet not too pale showing that she perhaps spends a bit of time outside. On her left arm one can see two golden bracelets, which have interesting rune-like patterns on them, yet with no possible obvious way of taking them off. Perhaps hidden clips? Key Personality Characteristics: Easy-going, Playful, Witty, Daredevil, Boyish, Wild, Dynamic, Flirtatious, Bold, Smart, Likeable, Humorous, Frivolous, Genuine, Warm, Understanding, Optimistic, Protective, Non-committal. About: Kassidy is the kind of easygoing but extremely flirtatious female whom struggles with commitments. It's not easy for her to truly 'fall' for someone, and is often seen hanging out with different people over the week. She's simply not the type to sleep alone due to 'reasons', which may refer to the nightmares she tends to get at night when alone. She can be seen as a bit of a player, however Kassidy has a good-natured personality and often means no harm. Many people seem to like and gravitate towards her, perhaps because she's a fairly genuine yet playful person. She had a bit of a difficult past per say, but if questioned upon it, she might end up explaining why she's the way she is. Perhaps she'll settle one day, or maybe she won't; that's up to the future to hold. Kass does live a very 'All or nothing, nothing can bother me' sort of a life, however whether she truly feels that way on the inside or not, is up to one to find out by getting to know her more and perhaps spending more time with her than the usual person she hangs out with. Get close to her, and you might make a strong connection that you won't regret, but be prepared for moments of heat as well as seriousness. Kassidy after all, can be a little unpredictable. Likes: Coffe, Coffee Art, Cafes, Steamy Windows, Desserts, Forests, Skateboards, Wildness, Plaid Shirts, Animals, Sex, Music, Indie, Laughter, Good Atmosphere, Hippie, Bohemian, Sleep, Pizza, Red.  Suitable/Preferred partners: Shapeshifters, Deities, Demons, Pets: Maine Coon cat called Nala. Aesthetic Blog: https://kassidysmith.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Noukka Signe/ Amber Mccrackin / Littlemewhatever Bandclaim: Of Monsters And Men Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-Zszn3yQqw

Name: Harper Jane Bryant Age: 23 [Immortal] Nickname: Jay, Harp Gender: Female Sexuality: Demisexual Height: 5ft'4 Race: Witch Ethnicity: Irish Looks: Somewhat tanned skin hinting to spending plenty of time outdoors, Harper has lively auburn hair that matches wonderfully with her hazel eyes. Her style is fairly modest and she tends to stick to long sleeved shirts for one reason or another. As far as seen, she has no piercings and doesn't add too much to her clothing, preferring simple styles. She can however be seen wearing a Tree of Life pendant with a tiny pentacle in the middle of the trunk. Key Personality Characteristics: Calm-seeming from a distance, Delicate, Anxious, Weary, Hostile, Cautious, Nervous, Hard-to-Approach, Pacifistic, Selfless, Subtle, Timid, Dependant, Intelligent, Kind, Sweet, Humble, Peaceful. About: The epitome of gentleness, Harper is a very sweet kind of a girl who cares about flora and fauna incredibly so. She's not really a 'cute' or 'shy' type per say, however she struggles with anxiety enough that some people pin her to be so. As a witch, she feels very in sync with nature around her, however her magic comes at a cost. It causes intense waves of anxiety and depression within the female whenever she uses it, and due to it she takes medication, which in turn weakens the magic within her to something far more manageable. It doesn't help that the female had a rough past that involved abandonment issues in her past due to what she is, which causes communication to be incredibly hard with her unless one is willing to show her that she's safe and that they're trustworthy. She's truly one of the kindest person to be around though, and she has such a deep love for the world around her. She can be rather clingy towards Kassidy, whom she has known for a few years and had been looked after for the time, which the Goddess is rather fond of. Likes: Flora, Fauna, Herbs, Cooking, Kitchen, Gardens, Warmth, Sunshine, Tea, Quiet time, Books, Comfort, Notebooks, Windows, Seasons, Fairytales, Gentleness, Greenhouses, Trees, Crystals, Green, Outdoors.     Suitable/Preferred partners: Witches, Shapeshifters, Humans, Pets: Cats (?) Any temportary animals that she may find and take care of. Aesthetic Blog: https://harperjanebryant.tumblr.com/ Faceclaim: (c) Patrycja Dorynek Bandclaim: Said The Sky - Listen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbUK0XAbaow Voice claim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0--uTxz9ojk

2020 Life Olympics

The real Olympics may have been canceled in 2020 but the Life Olympics persevered like the postal service of Olympics. 

First, I’d like to apologize for my role in the chaos of 2020 because I think I had a slight miscommunication with the powers that be and I feel partly responsible. Here was my plan for 2020: 

My theme for 2020 is Intention because I want to take the energy I feel right now and deploy it with more intentionality next year - bringing increased mindfulness to how I spend my time, money, physical and mental energy. And because I love wordplay, I also literally want to spend more time camping “in-tent” to enjoy more peace and quiet and beauty in nature.

The universe was like, “Oh, she wants to spend less money and more time outside? Well, shut it down. Shut the whole planet down.”

I mean, mission accomplished, I guess? I did spend less money and more time outside and had to be VERY intentional with my mental energy to survive the day-to-day morass of 2020. Next time, I will be more specific with my annual manifestations. Sorry to all. 

2020 was brutal for pretty much everything and everyone. I don’t know anyone who isn’t in some state of grief right now, including myself. I debated doing a Life Olympics at all this year, feeling like-- what is the point? Hundreds of thousands of people died, our democracy is hanging on by a thread, and millions of people lost jobs, businesses, and homes. 

Like many people, I’ve been struggling with anxiety and depression this year which intensified as it got darker and colder outside. At a low point, I talked with my therapist about the struggle of just not wanting to do any of the things that usually bring me joy-- and how periods of relief were so fleeting. “But you have to keep doing those things,” she said, “even if they’re not working right now, you have to keep doing those things and trust the process; the joy will return.” 

So even though I don’t really feel like it and kind of feel like it’s dumb, I’m writing the 2020 Life Olympics. I’m trusting the process.

2020 Life Olympics Recap

Work - Participation Trophy

Starting a company is hard, operating a company is harder, but running a company during a global pandemic and economic crisis is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. 2020 was not a fun year to lead a business; it was hell. On March 15, the plan for the year pretty much went out the window and everything went into survival mode. I never take the company or my team for granted, but I’m particularly grateful to be able to usher this work into 2021.

Despite the craziness, we still had some big wins this year. We launched new product partnerships with PowerSchool and Amazon Business. We rebuilt our tool for equitably calculating district funding formulas. And I got to flex my creative muscles with EdFinToks! Throughout it all, I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a team of people who are as compassionate as they are talented. 

I’m worried about public education more than ever after this year, but I’m going to keep fighting every day to make it work better for kids. 

This is Work-Lite but I also spent a good chunk of time this year leading the modernization workgroup for Bill Henry’s transition committee after his spring primary election to become the new Baltimore City Comptroller, ousting a 25-year incumbent, Joan Pratt. This was an enlightening (and infuriating) experience for me that gave me a glimpse into the operations of a segment of the City government. This process also really helped crystallize how much I enjoy making public agencies function more efficiently; I’m excited to see what Bill does with the recommendations (some are already being put in action!)

Health - Gold 

This is the second year in a row (and ever) that I’m giving myself a Gold medal for Health. This was easily a year that I could have regressed on all of my healthy habits and no one would have blamed me. Instead, I leaned into protecting and improving my physical and mental health in 2020. It’s not an exaggeration to say that walking probably saved my life this year. I spent a lot of time walking around my neighborhood and various state and city parks-- walking is maybe not the best word; I stomp and charge around like I have a score to settle with the ground beneath me. My walking increased 370% in 2020. This is a habit of 2020 that I’d like to keep. My brain and body are happier if I can spend a little time walking-- stomping-- around outside each day. 

I also did a lot of biking this summer. My cycling increased 200% this year-- with much more time spent cycling outdoors. My crowning achievement this year was biking to and from Annapolis:

I spent a LOT more time outside this year which was critical for my mental health. On the downside, I only did 90% as much yoga and 60% as much strength training, so I want to try to be a little more balanced next year. 

I also invested a lot in my mental health this year. I kept up with therapy every 2-4 weeks and in October I decided to pursue a formal diagnosis for ADHD which I definitely have! Needless to say, staying in one place this year has been a special kind of hell for me. 

Home - Silver

Well, I definitely spent less money this year. And the way I did spend money made me (mostly) sad: 

Travel down 70% 

Auto & Transportation up 200% (boo cars)

Shopping down 60%

Personal Care down 35% 

Gifts and donations up 200% 

Food and Dining down 40%

Entertainment down 35% (I kept up my singing lessons virtually which accounts for a lot of this category) 

2020 was quite the palate cleanser from my 2019 year of hedonism but maybe we can go for a happy medium in 2021? Just kidding-- I will resume my hedonist ways the minute the world opens. 

I also redid my home office like every other work-from-homer on the planet and replaced my crumbling kitchen floor so the house got some TLC. 

But nobody enjoyed having me home all year as much as Darwin:

Relationships - Bronze

What a weird year for relationships of all kinds. I’m giving this a Bronze because while I invested a lot into a few relationships this year, there are also a lot of people in my life to whom I haven’t been able to give my time and love. 

One of the most important relationships in my life this year was with one of my former students. After bouncing around in the foster system for many years, we reconnected around the holidays in 2019 and he started crashing with me while we tried to figure out stable housing and employment. He was arrested in January and was incarcerated for the next several months awaiting trial. Finally, we were able to negotiate a plea agreement with the State’s Attorney and he came home around Independence Day. We spent the next several months getting him set up with a phone and various identification documents-- a nightmare in normal times and a total abyss during the pandemic. I got him registered to vote when we got his ID card and I took him to vote for the first time (a supreme treat for this former social studies teacher):

He’s now got a full-time job and stable living situation. Calling this THE success of 2020. Thank you to everyone who helped me with resources all year for housing, legal processes, and documents. It takes a village. 

It was a bizarre year for family. We lost my grandmother in September, so not being able to spend the holidays together felt like an especially cruel loss. Other big losses this year include a trip to France to celebrate a milestone birthday for my mother and my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding (Mosby seemed pretty ok with the alternative plan, though):

But in many ways, my family has been more together than ever this year thanks to prolific group chats and photo-sharing. Mostly, I’m just glad everyone else is safe and healthy. As my father often reminds me, “Our problems are small.” 

And dating? What to do with this weird Jane-Austen-esque dating scene-- as if modern dating weren’t fraught enough. Is this the universe punishing me for ending my 2019 dating hiatus early? I, for one, have given up. You win this one, pandemic. I’m just going to have my little Twitter crush and call it a year. Next year, though...

Horizons - Silver Gold 

You know what? It’s hard to expand your horizons without people or places. 

I did the best I could. I finally got back on track with my Goodreads challenge and actually had a really good year of reading, including finally embracing audiobooks through my Libro.fm subscriptions. I especially enjoyed Michelle Obama’s book Becoming and Mike Birbiglia’s The New One on audio-- both narrated by their authors. 

I camped in Pocomoke (MD), Western MD, Lake Michigan, and Ohiopyle (PA):

I explored over 30 new hiking/biking trails-- some favorites including the Youghiegheny River trail in PA, the NCR trail, Catoctin Mountain, the C&O Canal Towpath, Annapolis Rock, and of course, Stoney Run in my backyard. 

I left Facebook and started the Life Olympics newsletter. I’ll be honest, I don’t miss Facebook but I also don’t understand where that energy, time, and brain space went. I was spending cumulatively hours a day mindlessly scrolling Facebook and I quit cold turkey and barely noticed-- what black hole of our brains does social media occupy? I kind of thought that with all that extra time I would write the next great American novel or something. I’m probably spending a little more time on Twitter, which I could stand to cut back on. Other than that, I think I was just trying to process the shitstorm of this year. Maybe I’ll write the next great American novel post-pandemic. 

For the first time in my life, I feel somewhat ‘caught up’ on pop-culture. I finally watched Parks and Recreation (twice); I watched The Mandalorian and finally actually watched Star Wars (episodes IV-IX); I watched the final seasons of The Good Place and Schitt’s Creek; I’m caught up on Insecure; I watched The Prom and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom and Jingle Jangle; I even started Bridgerton. I know what everyone is talking about and I’m catching so many more pop-culture references these days. (I guess instead of writing the next great American novel I watched Netflix?)

2020 Lessons

I’ve spent plenty of time mourning the missed opportunities of 2020 and will probably always wonder what this year could have been in an alternate universe with a functioning government. But we only have this reality for now, and we made the best of it. 

I wanted to slow down in 2020, try to be more intentional, more mindful, and...

No thank you! I liked the pace of my life; it makes my brain and heart happy. I’m happiest when I wake up in a different city three days in a row. I like darting around every borough of Manhattan for nine meetings and three cocktails and then taking a red-eye to Europe. I want to run around to eight conferences for 18-hours a day for three weeks and then sleep for 22 hours. I miss overloading my brain so much that I need a deprivation chamber to sleep. This is who I am. This is how I like to live. And when I was locked down alone in the house for a year, slowing down, being mindful, I never once thought, “I should have... when I had the chance.” Because I always did. And I always will. 

2021

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.

What a time they have, these two housed as they are in the same body.

Mary Oliver

We’ve had enough grief. 2021 is going to be all about joy.

Universe, let me be clear: this is not a euphemism or code or secret signal.

I want pure, unadulterated, abundant, joy. I want multi-course dinners in restaurants with lots of close friends and good wine. I want the virus so far gone that I can make-out with handsome strangers. I want a rollicking good time in France and/or Brazil and/or Prague and/or New Zealand and/or Bali. I want to spend the day after Christmas in NYC with my father. I want to be a glutton for theatre and art and music. I want celebrations and parties and sequins. 

I want to shake with joy. 

If you’d like to receive the (shorter) monthly Life Olympics, subscribe here. 

Instead of doing another infographic, I thought I would tell you a spooky true story instead, one that changed my life forever. It has nothing to do with the history of Samhain or rituals or whatever, but it was the only verifiable experience I had ever had at that point in my life.

Here it goes, link at the bottom of this post for the local news article I ended up finding 8 or so years later as I didn’t think to do so at the time. Note the comment by the apartment’s previous tenant after the fact, describing ‘strange phenomena’.

It was early November, though all seasons seem to blend together when you live in Florida. I was born in St. Augustine, went up north to Illinois and Minnesota, coming back down here to Palm Coast where I’ve lived for over a decade. Full circle.

I was 19 and lacked the confidence to get a job in the fields that I got my certifications in as an Esthetician/Cosmetologist. I just wasn’t the social butterfly that I felt people expected from their hair stylist. I was also stubborn and wanted to do things my way, which I learned to not be eventually, but much later.

Needless to say, I spent the next year or so being a depressed drug addict working at a fast food place. The drug addiction wasn’t fully set in yet, only just beginning at this point. I still had actual friends that weren’t suppliers or people who just hung around because you got high together. One of them was named Cheryl.

Cheryl was in her late fifties and a former queen of the BDSM scene. How did I know that? She told me and, unfortunately, showed me a photo album once that I cannot unsee to this very day. Eccentric, yet worldly and intellectual. I enjoyed listening to Cheryl. She really didn’t give a flying fuck what other people thought of her because she thought she was great. And she really was.

I was driving her home for a while because she had been in a car accident.Hit by a car while riding her bike, as it that was the only mode of transportation she had. I felt bad for her, so I offered to give her rides home when I was working.

Home to Cheryl was actually a resort hotel that was coverted into fully furnished apartments when the European Village went on the decline due to its management being a complete crackhead. The place was well known as a luxury crack den and many people were always hanging around some drug dealer’s door. It probably had, and still does have, the cheapest rent in down. That’s also due to the fact that its had a fair share of overdoses and suicides in the five years total it had been standing at that point. I felt safe with Cheryl, but I was also naive. Thankfully, she wasn’t a junkie and never tried to rob me, kidnap, or rape so that was nice.

One night I didn’t have to close, Cheryl invited me in to hang out because I never felt like going home to my parent’s house. We would chat and she would show me old photos of her dressed as a dominatrix. You know, normal stuff.

At one point, the conversation turned to the spiritual. At that time, I was far from a spiritual person. I had never had much faith in a God and had lost all faith in my various Gods and Goddesses I had been communicating with for years prior, mostly due to be set in the dark pit of despair that was my mind when I was 19. I was, however, still intrigued by the concept of the paranormal.

Cheryl had a dog. The dog had randomly appeared in the living nook where were sitting and spontaneously started barking at the balcony door. I didn’t know Cheryl even owned a dog, so I was shocked immediately when I heard barking. Cheryl just smiled and started telling me about ‘Caroline.’

Caroline was a tenant that had allegedly killed herself on another floor, but rumors circulating around the resort referenced to her known to be abusive boyfriend actually being responsible for her death. She was a drug addict, which meant her death was swept under the rug and hardly acknowledged by anyone other than those who knew her personally or happened to be present during one of the frequent public altercations between her and her boyfriend.

Cheryl gestured to where the little Yorkie was panting excitedly in front of the balcony and told me that every so often, Caroline would come to her on the balcony, like a full body apparition. She said she would hear her voice and talk to her and expressed no fear at all. Cheryl said she knew that Caroline wasn’t a threat, she was just very sad.

I went home that night thinking nothing more about it other than it was interesting and I could only hope to be as privileged as Cheryl was with her ghostly encounters. I didn’t bother verifying the storyline because I had figured if her death had been ruled a suicide there wouldn’t be much on it to find.

The next night at work, I was set up to bring Cheryl home again but also had made plans with a new coworker who I thought was cute, David, that had taken a part time job on leave from the Navy. He was a good sport about making a pit stop at Cheryl’s and they seemed to get along, well enough that Cheryl invited us up to her apartment again but told us that she had to run to the second floor and feed her friend’s dogs who had gone away for a few weeks. After chatting for a bit, no one felt comfortable staying in her apartment without Cheryl there, so we followed her to the second floor, if not out of curiosity to see more of the building itself that was normally locked to those without key cards.

When we arrived on the second floor, I remember stopping at the end of the hallway where we exited the stairwell and feeling uneasy. This part of the floor seemed much darker than the third floor where we were, and when I looked up, I noticed that there was a light missing at the end of the hall right above a boarded up room at the very end, like something out of a movie. Neither I nor David asked about it, both of us could imagine a million reasons why the door would be boarded, but none of those reasons I thought up correlated with what Cheryl had been telling me the night before. I kept staring at the boarded up door at the end, my eyes scanning over the walls around us. What I saw looked like blood spatters on the wall that had long set in there, but I refused to accept that as truth.

I turned to look at David who had been taking in the scene as I had been. We were both tired. It was well past midnight and from the look on his face I couldn’t read what was going through his mind.Then, everything suddenly shifted.

I couldn’t tell if something had walked past us in the hall or something had happened outside to make the lighting change inside, but the entire hallway seemed to lose the dim lighting it had. It became very cold, briefly, instantly- as soon as it occurred, everything was normal again. I thought I heard someone whispering, quickly. I looked at David again and could tell now that he had experienced everything I had just experienced. I stood there for a moment, my mouth hanging open, all I could come up with to say was,

“You saw all that right?”

David nodded. He knew exactly what I meant. There was no question, but the look on his face wasn’t one of fear. I didn’t even feel fear. What I felt was a sense of sadness and dread so profound and consuming that to this day I don’t have the words to describe it. Like being told you were fired, your lover dumping you, and your whole family dying in a car crash at the same time.

Cheryl finally emerged from the apartment and saw us both standing there. We attempted to describe what we saw to her and Cheryl just cracked a small smile as she was locking up.

“That room down there? Yea that’s where Caroline died,”

David had no knowledge of Caroline. He hadn’t been there prior, he didn’t hear any of the stories that Cheryl had told me about this apparition on the balcony of a girl whose death remained a mystery to many of the tenants. I would explain it to him and tell him what Cheryl had told me the night before, wondering if she had mentioned it in passing knowing what room was going to be at the end of the hall, of which she didn’t alert me to. Maybe she had an agenda to prove she wasn’t insane and to insure I would have my own experience with Caroline.

8 years later, I would look up the name Caroline in conjunction with European Village and found this article that doesn’t seem to give much more than the bizarre way she allegedly killed herself. If you wish to read that article and the bizarre comment from the apartment’s newest tenant, click here

Sound familiar? If you frequent /r/no sleep you may have read a version of this story written under my creativity handle, HereInTheNight.

so here they are.... my revamped darlings. naohiko, rika, amane, and maya are new! im going to put all their bios under the cut, they’re mostly copypasted from the old ref though except for the new kids :P i really like naohiko, he’s basically an amalgamation of every percussionist i’ve ever known lmfao

basic premise: 16 fresh-out-of-highschool prodigies are invited to star in well-respected and widely-watched big brother-esque reality tv show, which takes place on a cruise ship. what they weren't expecting was for the show's 25th season to be a killing game! the students: CHOUMI YUKIYAMA: exceptional among even her fellow shsls, choumi made her historic mark on ballet by becoming the world's youngest ever prima ballerina at the age of 13 and japan's first ever prima ballerina assoluta at 18. fans flock to her ethereal, angelic grace on stage as well as to the percieved sense of otherworldlyness surrounding her albinism. on the darker side of her popularity, repeated sexual harassment from fans and male dance partners alike has hardened her world view to make her not quite cold, but definitely reserved in her emotions. she adapts fairly easy to stressful situations and pushes through pain with almost no visible outward struggle due to her all too common experience with dancing through foot and ankle injuries. because of this she usually ends up taking initiative in difficult scenarios if no one else steps forward. she is also a quite talented hobbyist figure skater and is fluent in both english and russian. REN KIKUHARA: a fairly odd florist in that instead of ordering flowers to arrange into bouquets, every flower he sells is grown himself. although this means that his selection is seasonally and fairly regionally limited, he has an incredible talent for working with plants and can even sometimes coax out-of-zone flowers to grow. he's fluent in hanakotoba and is surprisingly good at flirting through flowers without it seeming cheesy, although he doesn't do it very often. people often remark that his bouquets often seem to have more love and life in them than store-bought ones. ren is a calm and kind soul and prefers listening to talking, with what he does say always seeming to be just the right words for the situation. MARIKO MIKAMI: mariko was a sickly child, and spent a large part of her elementary school years in hospitals. around the age of seven, she began folding paper cranes as something to do, and wished to live normally after she folded her 1000th. she soon recovered, and feels that she owes her life to origami. she is precise and calculating in everything she does, which shines through in her art: every delicate, artful piece of origami that she makes is creased and folded perfectly. she also dabbles in wet-fold origami. she's most famous for her dry-fold though, and her pieces are well known for their complex, precise, mathematical beauty. she refuses to fold paper cranes anymore, feeling that they are too sacred for her to touch after they saved her life as a child. a calm, slightly disconcerting smile is always on her face, no matter the circumstance; her manner is polite for the most part, if i a little aggressive. MOMOTAROU KOBARA: momotarou, born into a rich family that fufilled his near-every want, made a name for himself in the world of collecting at the age of just eleven by, through luck and love for the series, collecting every pokemon card. from then on he set onto collecting just about anything non-perishable: pins, collectors set bandaids, vinyls, etc. he has exceptional luck in finding deals on ebay and other sites. he cant really be called a hoarder, since he likes to have just one of everything; he resells, gifts, or uses any duplicates. his mood swings between a dreamy, chilled out, flirtatious persona and periods of numb depression when it hits him that his whole life revolves around material possesions and that he has no real human connections. SARA KUROKAWA: a talented young woman from a long line of popular backalley tattoo artists. she combines traditional symbolism and youthful influence in her designs to make something new and more appealing for the younger generation, and is a huge proponent for tattoos being shown off for fashion rather than hidden away in the traditional style. sara does have (illegal) tattoos done by her older siblings on her arms despite the minimum age being 20, although her being homeschooled, looking older than her actual age, and having a tendency to wear long sleeves year round has led her to encounter few problems. she and her family are among the many who simply choose to ignore the statute requiring a medical license to tattoo. sara is a fairly rude person in a backhanded way, acts stereotypically catty and even a little deranged sometimes, and enjoys making herself the center of attention, whether through her appearance (dyed pink hair and white contacts) or the things she says. the only two things that can break her shell and make her excited and genuine are tattooing and piano, which she has played from a young age and loves. NAOHIKO KINZUMI: the son of a concert pianist and a professional jazz drummer, naohiko shortcutted the usual pots-and-pans percussion stage most children go through and spent most of his childhood hitting actual drums. blessed with perfect pitch and a natural feel for rhythm, his parents enrolled him in private music lessons at age five, and he joined onto his first indoor percussion ensemble at age 13. a fast learner, naohiko can play most all percussion instruments at a professional level, including both tuned and auxiliary. he is especially known for his drumset skill, specifically being able to match the speed and complexity of most double kick pedal rhythms with just one foot, and his delicate grace at bowed vibraphone. naohiko is loud, brash, and fun, with an infectious smile and sense of humor that draws people in. despite the flashiness of his drumset playing, his favourite instruments are actually the weird obscure ones, like the waterphone, mahler hammer, and "bucket of loud objects to be dumped on the floor". HARUMI HAMANAKA: harumi is a sweet and bubbly girl, if almost cloyingly so. her good luck is a fairly stable force (nowhere near as chaotic as komaeda, for example), generally acting in the favor of wishes of people around her. her mother intensly wanted for her to be on the show because of the exposure it provides, and this is what harumi attributes to her being selected. despite the way her luck operates, shes no doormat and in fact has an overwhelming force of personality, and her sweet demeanor can become rather passive aggressive if challenged on pretty much anything. SHOU KATSUKI (PROTAG): pushed to succeed in the game from a very young age, shou is japan's reigning chess champion, a FIDE-certified grandmaster, and went to international competition the year before the killing game. he played through to the finals with influenza, which worsened through the matches due to lack of treatment and culminated in debilitating pneumonia that left him in the hospital and unable to play for first. because of this, he's cultivated a sort of inferiority complex that he tries to cover for with self-confidence, which actually comes off as condescending rudeness. he has a natural talent for cause and effect analyzation and is good at planning ahead. he gets flustered easily over trivial things and is a sore loser, but tends not to crack under actual pressure. shou doesn't like to be associated with his family due to the intense pressure they put him under only to steal his winnings the second he began to succeed and thus prefers to be referred to by his given name, even by near-strangers. he does genuinely love chess, but his favourite board game is actually risk. (no one ever wants to play with him, though.) RIKA FUJIMIYA: originally scouted as a young child for her unique eyes and birthmarks, rika's first minor film role at the age of nine left the director stunned at her acting capability. as someone who grew up with a very murky self image and a difficulty interpreting social situations, rika lived most of her early life essentially "acting" the way she believed others would respond well to, which resulted in her easily adapting to doing the same for the cameras. she went on to have a very prolific child acting career without really settling into a niche. As a teenager she took her first steps into stage acting, playing juliet capulet at 16 in a moving and extremely impressive performance, and later at 18 performing a striking and memorable female hamlet. her deep and rich voice has also landed her several voice acting roles. her personality offstage has solidified a lot more since her younger years, although she doesn't go out of her way to talk to anyone, fan or otherwise. when approached, she is polite, gentle, and humble, although she has trouble separating her image as a celebrity from that of her as a person and thus it is extremely difficult to get to know her. KENJI MINAMOTO: an eccentric and a bit airheaded olympic fencer whose strange insistence on not wearing protective gear during practice (he believes it makes him better by giving him a stronger motivation to not get hit) has earned him many a scar over the years, and has left at least half of his joints in braces at any given time. he follows his own bushido-esque moral code (the details of which he will not tell anyone), although he will not put himself above whapping the occasional really annoying person in the ankles. his épée is his best friend and he carries it most everywhere. most of the scars on his face and hands are actually from trying to put in his very sharp industrial piercings while drunk. despite his oddities, his light-footed and elegant ambidextrous fencing has been compared by many to a graceful dance, and although in many respects he comes across as dumb, on the court his mind is laser-focused and unbelievably quick and analytic. AMANE BECKE: a more lowkey type of talented than her fellow contestants, amane hasn't won any major competitions, been on tv, set any records, or anything of that sort. she does, however, run what is widely considered the best bakery in japan. based out of nagano and the daughter of a swiss pastry chef, amane has a natural talent for baking nurtured through over a decade of dedication and love for the craft. she excels at interesting flavor combinations, but her true genius is in her classic, feel-good baked goods. many say that the things she bakes just taste like home and warmth. amane is as warm and sweet as her creations, but with a spark of wit and mad-scientist-y genius that make her an entertaining joy to watch work, if a little overbearing to talk to. EISUKE ITOU: eisuke grew up sewing clothes for his younger sisters barbie dolls, and he particularly loved dressmaking. he gained exposure in his first year of highschool by handmaking gorgeous outfits for his class's booth at the school festival, and, through application to various junior fashion competitions, he was eventually noticed by a big-name designer in paris. however, he found learning french next to impossible and has spent the year prior to the game in relative isolation, unable to have any real human conversation. his psychological state was fairly severely impacted by his long hours spent sewing and designing on internship with no company to get him by, and he is now debilitatingly socially anxious and finds conversation difficult and awkward. MAYA HANABAYASHI: maya spent her early teens with only a passing interest in survival-based media, having enjoyed hunger games and similar media, but not to the point of obsession. however, when traveling on a plane with her father back from visiting family in las vegas, she found herself in a similar situation when their plane went down in a heavily forested area of california, leaving a seventeen year old maya as the only survivor. with only a swiss army knife and a lipstick-shaped stun gun gifted to her by her father to feel safer during their stay in vegas, she survived alone in the woods hatchet-style for six months until late fall, when the fallen leaves made her campfire coincidentally visible to a very observant park ranger on firewatch. after being rescued and returned home to japan, maya found it extremely difficult to readjust to normal life. her thick and warm camo jacket, more a fashion statement when she was wearing it originally, was lifesaver to her during the cold spring, and she she can't bring herself to separate from it even with multiple rips and burns in the fabric. she has refused multiple book deals due to still being heavily traumatized, but after a long period of deliberation decided to go on the show as a way of finally moving forward and acknowledging it. maya isn't exactly socially anxious, but rather closed off and disconnected. JUN TENSEI: born jun harada, many believe that his spiritual connection is the real deal, but a few critics hold that he is most likely just an incredibly talented bluffer. the real truth about him is unknown, but many say that his seances do accurately reflect the personalities of their deceased loved ones and help them feel at peace. he is deeply religious, but not to any one traditional faith (although he does use traditional christian symbols such as crucifixes and items such as holy water on occasion). he believes strongly in the power of the soul and its ability to exist beyond death. his voice is soft and almost hypnotic, and he has a penchant for gentle teasing and riddles. he comes off as pretty shady to most, but he's fairly harmless. TOMOKO KAITA: a peppy and outgoing astrology guru who can read your deepest flaws and strengths with just your date and time of birth. known worldwide for her extremely accurate personal horoscopes. despite this, she strongly believes in the ability of an individual to defy their fate through hard work and self improvement. she dislikes giving negative horoscopes, and does her best to focus on the positives that the stars hold in store. her smile brightens the whole room! she is intensely loyal to her friends, to the point of self-sacrificing emotional labor. YUU IROIKE: yuu iroike isn't even his real name, and it's a mystery as to how show staff even tracked down his mailing address to get him on the show. he's a well-known public figure for painting huge, sprawling, colorful murals in tokyo, yet who he really is remains unknown. he paints faster than his murals can be scrubbed away, and has somehow never been prosecuted for vandalism because his graffiti is generally considered an improvment. he's sly, mysterious, and teasing in person, and gets a bit of an itchy trigger finger when he hasn't painted in a while. His skill with spray paint is so great that it seems as if the paint bends to his very will.

Taking a mental health day from work today but was really conflicted about how to word it.

Last year I took a few mental health days but there were 6 of us so maybe it was less conspicuous

It’s only me this year and I for some reason keep feeling this push pull with my supervisor to be close and honest with her

Last night I was feeling ok about work. But after once again not sleeping properly I feel like somethings up with me

I’m feeling all the ways I used to feel about my mental health

Being small is not okay, it’s not okay to let go, I’m responsible for all of my clients progress and safety

Which is true in a way but

I also have beeen thinking about the difference between me and my supervisor

She’s the only person I see on a regular basis. Like I see her 4 times a week

So I don’t know how to be myself, a postdoc

I keep comparing myself to her

I wondered to myself would anyone else take a mental health day in my position?

Who cares, others aren’t me

It’s like I forgot I’m extremely sensitive and have been sobbing every day and not sleeping well at all during the weekdays

My nutrition and hydration and shit has been ok, so I’m not getting sick which is the weird part

Im so incredibly emotionally constipated

There are so many incredibly destructive thoughts in my head right now that haven’t been addressed

Things have just gotten increasingly harder for a long time now and I can’t tell where adjustment starts and my dysfunctional mental state ends

Is it really ok for me to say work is too much?

Does it make me pathetic?

Didn’t I feel this way in all previous years too?

2nd year, it wasn’t like this but at least I was more honest with myself about how anxious and nervous I was about work. I definitely took it easy and complained more often. I slept poorly frequently on clinical days and would feel really angry about it. I don’t think I got sick more than once that year

3rd year i wasn’t sleeping quite as poorly but still had sleep problems, hated my commute. That was the year I kind of had to start blocking people out of my life, like not completely but was so down and exhausted that I couldn’t function socially outside of work and school. I didn’t get sick much tho. Definitely noticed SAD symptoms starting this year but to be honest felt somewhat depressed on and off through early winter until spring which is I guess the colder darker months in OR. I think I had some SI but it was towards the end of winter

4th year was when I had more somatic issues. My sleep was honestly not bad that year comparatively speaking but when m and I broke up during internship application season I had a bunch of health issues that resolved shortly after my interviews ended. Tbh internship interviews were a nice reprieve from the dark slump that probably would have hit me if I had just done school in the winter. I had my first sinus infection in spring and went to see Slushii anyways Hahahha.

Internship year... I had a sinus infection too and got a cold maybe 2 other times. Last year was the most I’ve ever gotten sick. I took a mental health day maybe like 3 times and actually used sick days too. I want to say this was the hardest year for me mental health wise until this year in terms of symptoms but the best in terms of self care. By like April/May I was feeling really good about life. Maybe it’s the weather here too idk

This year feels so much harder than the other years combined. I’ve used one sick day and two mental health days and I’m having a hard time understanding where I’m at mental health wise in conjunction with who I need to be to do well at work. It feels like I’m growing at an unmanageable pace. I’ve had the most frequent SI I’ve ever had in my life which is somewhat alarming to me. I’m safe don’t worry but I’m just saying the thoughts coming into my head. My sleep is getting reallynfucked up over these last 2 weeks. I sleep like a baby on the weekends which makes me feel like it’s stress related. On one hand I’m acclimating to this insane amount of stress and on the other hand it feels like every day I’m being stretched open and carved out.

I’m not even ruminating that much before bed anymore. Like I’m not actively distressed like I used to be when things hit me hard last year. I’m just constantly unhappy and anxious this year which I feel like is my lot in life right now. My self care has gotten much better last year and this year, but this year it’s been harder to find ways to relax. Things went downhill really fast, when the seasons finally changed here and I started seeing 4 of my clients in the field. I am most definitely consistently working over 40 hrs a week now. I tried really hard last year to work less whenever I could and honestly the agency was pretty good about giving us a reasonable workload. But now it feels like I’m meeting the real world, where work just comes at you and never says sorry. You had to do extra and stay longer this week? Sucks for you. You have to completely uproot your already untenable schedule because one of your clients has really a really complex risk presentation? Welp that’s the price of doing this work.

Like when I was told the weeks here typically don’t go past 40 hrs I feel like I was lied to. I feel alone and singled out bc I’m the only postdoc this year. I want to know how C felt 2 years ago. If there were 2 of us I feel like I’d be having an okay time. Can you fucking believe they had a hard time building to full caseload last year? It cannot be just me in this position. I want to give up every day.

I don’t feel protected I don’t feel like I can ever let my guard down. There is no one I talk to regularly that I can be honest with. I don’t have the energy to relay this information to the people I do talk to regularly which at this point is my supervisor and M. And like hell im going to tell my supervisor this stuff.

Is this the real world?

Something tells me it is, but I have to find a way through it somehow

I’m still debating about this one client. She’s on my mind a lot and I’m scared which is probably a parallel experience to what her family is experiencing.

The fuck you mean our ethical duty? What am I supposed to take away from that convo? I know I have my own voice and opinion but that made me feel really bad for not doing exactly as you said. I know I tend towards the anxious paranoid side of things but that really scared me because instilll can’t think straight about this client and I sure as hell cant go to you.

The relationship between e and I has changed too, I think she’s overwhelmed too

Something that keeps popping up over and over again is- how fucking awful it would be for a client to complete suicide

I know it happens and it’s time I face that this could happen

It’s a terrifying thought and I almost don’t want to tell anyone that I’m having it

It feels shameful and dangerous to think about, because if I can’t handle it who could?

Who can contain this for me and tell me it’s okay? I don’t want to fucking hear that I should do more

It’s a complex mess of emotions inside my head. I understand why I would need to do more in this situation but there’s no room for it. I want help in trying to balance but my schedule is already unbalanced and bringing me into a dark place emotionally.

What if because I took today off no one sees my hospital patients all week?

Friday is going to suck ass if that’s the case

I could ask my supervisor directly to see them

But I want to be small today

And that would take a lot from me

How does the psychology service work at the hospital during Xmas break?

Uhhhh....

Shit.

I’m scared for some stupid reason that someone will make me stay during break or I’ll have to work some crazy stupid long hours on Friday

I hate ongoing patients bc they still need to be seen but it’s kind of your choice whether or not to see them

It’s like adding an automatic to do to the list every time I’m there but the task takes 2 hrs at least

I’m always scared I have to stay late at the hospital, luckily the latest has been 6:30 but I’m terrified every time I go in that it’s going to be longer

This is new for me and it’s ok to get freaked out

To not have a clear idea how much I am going to work each day and each week really puts me off

I feel pathetic because aren’t there a lot of jobs that are unpredictable like that? Especially once you become salaried ?

My stomach is starting to hurt

It’s weird because I haven’t gotten any somatic symptoms this year but I’ve also been sobbing my eyes out every day so maybe that’s why my body is feeling okay. I haven’t really cried the last few days because I’m just very tired of crying at this point, so maybe that’s why my stomach has been hurting a bit more

Every time m says something nice to me, hell anytime anyone says something nice to me I start to cry and I’m just so fucking done with crying and feeling out of control just to have nothing change and things even get harder at work

Fuck!!!!!

I haven’t properly dealt with this terrified feeling

I have to tell myself this feeling is informative but separate from reality

I’m so fucking scared.

Hi! I haven't followed you for long and I would love to get to know you better. So maybe you could talk about your favorite characters and what you love about them? xxx

Hey lovely! It’s great to hear from you! 

I have too many favourite characters to name so I’ll just choose the ones that come to mind:

Prue Halliwell (Charmed)

Anyone that’s been following me for a while will know Prue Halliwell is my favourite character of all time. I grew up watching Charmed and as a child I always loved how strong and badass Prue was. As I matured and grew up I realised my love for Prue went a lot deeper than that. I love Prue’s strength and resillience, her devotion and ambition, the way she took responsibility for her family and always prioritised the well-being of others above herself including strangers. She was never afraid to do what’s right or what she believed in no matter how hard it may be. She was confident, self-assured, loyal, intelligent, independent and courageous. I honestly just love everything about Prue’s character. I could talk about her all day, so I best cut it short. The main reason I love her is because I see in Prue Halliwell the kind of woman I would wish to be.

Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

I’m still very sensitive about Jon after the final season of Game of Thrones, just to pre-warn you haha. I love Jon because he was always an outsider and an outcast, even in his own home; someone that was unimportant and overlooked, but that through his skills and qualities was able to achieve incredible things. Just like Prue he always does what he felt was right no matter the circumstances or consequences of that (one of the consequences being him getting murdered). I love him because he is the one character on the entire show that didn’t give a shit about politics and titles because he could see the bigger picture. I love that despite knowing how impossibly difficult it would be and knowing that people would laugh and disbelieve him, he devoted himself to gaining allies and armies big enough to fight the army of the dead. Jon was always humble and grounded and never swayed by others. He knew his own mind and he knew what was right and he always acted on that. His heart was pure, he was courageous and loyal, and he fought for the honour and safety of others. 

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)

I love Sansa because she went on an incredible and inspiring journey. She began the series as a naive girl with dreams of living in a castle and marrying a prince and through the sad and traumatic experiences she endured, she developed into a new, stronger person. She was incredibly resillient and became the person she needed to be to survive in a cruel and unfair world. Despite the horrors she endured she never lost hope and she never gave up. She continued to fight and she took back her home by her own sheer will. Instead of submitting to the will of others she shrewdly and cleverly observed her enemies and captors, absorbed knowledge and skills from them and later wielded them for her own benefit. Her intelligence, grace, courage, strength and determintion led her to be crowned Queen of the North and I’ll forever be in awe of all that she achieved and the incredible journey she went on. Sansa Stark is an amazing woman. 

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings) 

What’s not to love about Aragorn, honestly? He’s a highly skilled soldier and fighter, intelligent, wise, steadfast, loyal and dedicated. He has an ability to lead and inspire whomever he’s with because of the charisma, skill and knowledge he has. He’s respectful, considerate and a true friend. The amount of courage and bravery he has is incredible and there’s no situation that you could put Aragorn in that he wouldn’t tackle head on with his shoulders back and his head held high. When confronted with the Ring he was never seduced or tempted by it because his restraint, inner strength and moral code was so strong. I honestly just love everything about Aragorn, I think he’s amazing. 

Angel (Angel the Series) 

Angel is my baby. I didn’t fully appreciate or understand him until I watched Angel, but now that I have I’ve fallen in love with him completely. He’s such a complex hero with so many layers to him. His story is one of a kind - a vampire cursed with a soul - and the way in which he selflessly dedicates himself to helping those in need is inspiring. There’s no end to the compassion and empathy Angel has for others or the lengths to which he will go to to help people. Even with those that don’t deserve his kindness, he’s able to show forgiveness and understanding. Yet he’s not perfect; he struggles (a lot) with his own conscience and past, and as a result he’s prone to depressive moods and feelings of hopelessness. But no matter how low he gets or how hopeless things seem he always finds the strength to carry on for the sake of those around him. He’s completely grounded and understands that he can’t change the world, but amazingly that doesn’t stop him from giving his all to helping those few people that he can and making a difference in their lives. And although at first he does it because he’s seeking his own redemption, it’s never really about that. He’s just so connected to humanity (which is ironic since he’s a vampire) that he can’t simply stand by and watch innocent people suffer and do nothing about it. He’s a hero in the truest sense of the word. A well-rounded, multi-faceted character who is flawed but always committed to being the best version of himself he can be and doing everything in his power to improve the lives of others. I also generally love his dorkiness and how funny he is. 

Jax Teller (Sons of Anarchy) 

I love the complexity of Jax. He’s probably the only character in this list so far that’s categorically a bad person. He’s a criminal, a gangster, a gun-runner, a murder, a brutal and aggressive man who will beat people within an inch of their life. But what I love about him is that despite that cold, ruthless, reckless and awful side to him, he’s also an incredibly sensitive, passionate and loving soul. Jax feels so deeply, more deeply than any other character I know, but the result of that is that he has all of these extreme sides to his personality. He feels something and he reacts. He does stupid, abhorrent, evil and unforgivable things, yet through all of that I see his soul throughout it all. A tormented soul which is all twisted up and shrivelled inside, desperately trying to break free. Jax is one of the most conflicted characters I’ve ever seen. On the one hand being a member of SAMCRO is who he is - it’s literally ingrained in his DNA - and on the other hand, it’s contradictory to the very foundation of who he is as a person. He’s empathetic, he cares about people and he knows right from wrong. At the start of the series he doesn’t kill and when faced with brutality he struggles to mentally and emotionally handle it. It doesn’t sit right with his conscience. And his love for his wife and his sons creates a constant inner-turmoil and war inside him. He feels the responsibility for his club weighing heavily on him, but at the same time knows how detrimental the club is to his family who he loves more than anything and wants to protect. No matter how hard he tries or what he does he knows he can’t strike a balance between the two and he can never find peace within himself. I love the very nature of Jax’s character in this sense, because it’s so damn complex. I also find it facsinating how deeply and dramatically his character changes throughout the seasons. He grows darker and darker until by the end of the series he’s practically a monster. And yet I still can’t help but love him because it doesn’t matter how far he does or how awful the things are that he does, I still see his humanity and see the grief he carries for the things he does. I guess a large part of the reason I love Jax is because he’s so different from me and so different from anyone I’ve ever known and I find that fascinating. 

Ben Mitchell (Eastenders)

Of course I had to include Ben on this list, how could I not? Ben is a character that snuck up on me. I’ve watched Eastenders on and off my whole life (it’s ingrained in me as a Brit haha) but I never really attached myself to Ben until Max Bowden took over the role. Max brings something to the character of Ben that enabled me to connect to him immediately. Ben is a tragic character. His back-story is so sad that it’s hard not to feel sympathy for him. His psyche is so twisted up (a lot like Jax) and he has a lot of complex issues that fascinate me. In many ways he’s an awful human being (once again, just like Jax he’s a murderer and a criminal), but he’s also very much human. He loves his father and craves his approval, he dotes on his daughter and longs to give her a better life than he had and be a better father to her than Phil was to him, he’s fiercely loyal to Jay who is his longest and oldest friend. Ben is a very loving and passionate character who feels deeply. In fact, he feels so deeply that he acts out because he doesn’t know how to handle those emotions. And the things he’s had to endure have also instilled him with an anger that he can’t control. He feels that he’s been stepped on his whole life and that he’s endlessly suffered (which let’s face it, he has) and he can’t help but take that out on the rest of the world. I love Ben because of the complexity of his character and because despite everything he’s done I truly believe that he’s a good person. He shows his capability for goodness in the way he is with his loved ones. All I want for him is to wake up and realise that he can’t continue down this path of destruction he’s on. He needs to start healing and move forward and make better decisions for the sake of his future and his daughters. 

There’s more characters I could’ve included on this list, but it’s already too long so I’ll leave it there haha. 

Thanks for asking! :)

Homph I finished tri and I wrote down my thoughts as I was watching because I had too many funny shitposts and nobody to share them with bc charlie hasn’t watched tri yet

PS i wont be reblogging tri spoilers (besides MINOR stuff like, digivolutions of already confirmed digivolution lines or non-spoilery shitposts, but I’ll try to tag shitposts as #tri spoilers anyways [digivolutions specific to tri ill tag as well but not ones that were already basically confirmed]) for a while so ur safe here!  I’m just gonna like everything/most things because then I can rb em to hisyaryumon lmao (also u should check out hisyaryumon....its me n charlie’s digimon blog)

EP 1:

- ok. alright. ok. good. they’re dealing with kari’s emotions now instead of just. nothing.  ok. alright. cool.  Still dont like how obscure/”artsy” they’re being with it, this is digimon not kagerou project, but ok.

- Also. I stand by tk and kari being one of the few good straight ships in digimon.  just saying.

- kari: this is my fault... me: god damn it shut up you little brat also me: god relatable ALSO me: ill take whatever display of emotions i can get

- I love how nobody believes tai is dead like.  They’re upset and worried but they’re also like “nah. he cant be. that fucking asshole just left us in our time of need” (actually only matt is the last one)

- Gabumon i would die for you also im crying and I think that’s the first time tri managed to make me fucking CRY

EP 2:

- I had thoughts but then the 02 kids happened and I entered another plane of reality.  I don’t feel real right now

- the only one I can remember is evil!gennai being a dumbass and being like “SUFFER AND SQUIRM YOU PATHETIC HUMANS AS YOU FIGHT OVER THE LAST SEAT” 1. humans are KNOWN for their ability to care for others you dumb obvious fuck and 2. is. is the entire tube going? because that tube can fit too people if they squish.  This isn’t a joke I’m serious it can.

- oh yeah also when i saw whomstever the fuck his name is (adult guy who i love but fuck names) and he was all bloodied i was like “its a cold day in hell when i see blood in digimon” (I think there was blood in an earlier ep but shh idc)

EP 3:

- didn’t nishijima start off as a fucking life coach to these kids.  What the fuck he was supposed to help them find a career not emotionally scar them by bloodily dying in front of one of them

- im realizing that the reason hackmon was always in his cloak, in the shadows, standing still is that they cannot animate him in any normal position for the life of him.  I drew him with better anatomy when i was 14 and didn’t have a tablet.  No seriously, look:

I didn’t say it wasn’t bad, you guys are just underestimating how bad the anatomy on this poor creature is.  Why cant ppl draw dracomon or hackmon correctly imma cry

- ordinemon has the best reaction faces

the best part about these two screenshots is that they literally cut one to the other, first the first one to the second one and then it cuts back to the first one.  They were really proud of these stupid ass expressions.

- I started overcoming my dissociation shock from the second episode and my hypercritical mind was analyzing the shit out of everything that happened (it is Not happy) but then evil!gennai called kari and evil goddess and idk if he’s exaggerating to make her feel bad or if she’s literally a fucking god of chaos and destruction and either way im like

she did kinda like.  Watch wizardmon die, watch tai die, watch gatomon get absorbed.  The dark ocean is just a metaphor for depression and honestly if 02 wasn’t all over the fucking place I think Kari would’ve had some pretty decent development in it.  Actually you know what, I’m using that as an angle to approach Tri at now, wish me luck bc i might actually give it more leeway now

EP 4:

- I’m not dissociating but I forgot to say anything again and I already forgot what happened

- Cant believe mei is fucking dead

EP 5:

- I like to imagine that Tai got there like a few minutes ago, but he was like “well damn guess yall figured it out without me.  alright ill just. see if I need to do anything” and then meicoomon was Still Bad so he waited for when she struck just to make the most badass entrance possible.  Fucking extra ass bitch

- I forgot to write anything again but uhhh I wasn’t satisfied so anyways lets just get into the Juicy Details

Originally I was actually planning to be kinder to Tri than I expected.  Was very invested during it.  ‘Round the end of the last ep I realized hmmm no this isn’t working out.  Where are the 02 kids.  You should’ve brought them in to save the day.  That would’ve been SO cool and SO fun.  Fucking cowards.

god I’m kinda tired so I’m going to address a couple things I still had problems with, note that this isn’t everything it’s just everything I felt comfortable yelling about without rewatching past eps.  Like I forgot nishijima was all bloodied and presumably died in the last part until they brought it up and I was like “????” ALSO DID THE LADY WHO WAS HIS PARTNER OR W/E KILL HERSELF WITH THE GUN SHE FOUND, I JUST REALIZED LITERALLY AS I WAS TYPING THIS THAT SHE FOUND A GUN AND THEN I THINK IT CUT TO BLACK AND I’M

DID SHE FUCKING KILL HERSELF WHAT THE FUCK

anyways my problems:

1. They did joe. really dirty.  I’ll write a more proper rant on this sometime later (mostly bc charlie is MUCH better at talking about joe than I am) but basically I can tell you that his character development in the movies squandered his OG character development.  He’s basically an entirely different person.  Like Tri joe isn’t bad, besides being largely neglected (yes he has a whole half a movie to himself, no that doesn’t make up for it all), its just...not OG joe.  He’s a fine character just not the same character, and its NOT fine when you put the two together.

2. THEY DID THE 02 KIDS EVEN DIRTIER IM SO BITTER sorry you nostalgia-blind, money-hungry fucks at bandai, but the 02 cast is PART OF THE ADVENTURES UNIVERSE.  The only people who hate 02 are ones who like the characters but hate the mess of the storyline at the end, or are completely irrational and elitist about their love of the digimon series and would greatly re-evaluate their opinions if they watched the original series and 02 back to back.  They couldn’t even show them in some kind of group montage at the end??? Standing in the background when they call Mei???  Why couldn’t they call mei from a home phone also, but that’s a less important problem idc that much.  It was a cute scene besides the lack of 02 characters.  Whatever.  AND THE PROBLEM IS LIKE kari and tk?  This entire time???  Were like “oh they disappeared. oops” instead of being frantically searching for their lost friends???  Like i get tk and kari probably have fucking ptsd and can’t express any emotions because they watched important people die in front of their eyes at an incredibly young age but also 1. they didn’t address the ramifications of ptsd, so fuck that theory/excuse and 2. THAT??? WOULD ONLY MAKE THEM LOOK HARDER??? and put on a brave face as they look, but inside they’re so scared and so worried.  Not just “oh sweet, they were found/saved, theyre in the hospital but that’s fine” like WHAT theyre fucking assholes if that’s what they’d canonically do lmao.  God I am SO bitter over the ENTIRE thing with the 02 kids, it would’ve been BETTER if they were deleted from the fucking canon entirely.  Would I have still been bitter?  Yes.  But at least I wouldn’t be madder at TK and Kari too.

3. I stand 100% by the notion that Digimon is not and will never be cut out to be an adults’ franchise.  It wasn’t designed for adults, and it can’t be skewered towards adults.  These particular characters were designed for kids to relate to and find entertaining.  They do not work when placed into an adult setting.  Like, can you imagine a character like Ed from FMA going to the Digimon world?  I guess in a way that’s just Marcus but like.  Just imagine the FMA cast in Digimon Adventure.  It doesn’t work.  Digimon Tri is basically that except real.  Also Data Squad was darker than Adventure so my joke doesn’t even work.

I guess my primary point is that Tri isn’t mature enough of a setup for an adult audience.  It puts a focus on being “complex” and “philosophical” instead of working within Digimon’s constraints and making something good and adult out of that.  Like!  Digimon is a fucking TOY COMMERCIAL.  Don’t give me messages about the futility of human life.  I want bad puns and emotional characters.  That’s what Digimon has ALWAYS been, and ideally always will be.  Tri could’ve made itself more mature by dealing with the ramifications of the Digital World’s events, how it affected the kids psychologically and dealing with healing old scars.  It would’ve been a more mature take on a story we loved and would use things we loved about the story already - the fact that it took so much time exploring characters’ emotions and was surprisingly mature for the time - to make itself better.  You need to take the aspects that drew adults to the show and amplify them, not just slap on a complex story and unfunny dialogue and be like “oh this is fine, right?”

It’s not that Digimon can’t exist as an adult property, its just that if it repeats what Tri did, it’s got no merit and in my eyes the franchise is dead.  If it survives I guess I’ll be happy that people can still enjoy it but I find it unsustainable and unsatisfying to fans of the older series.  Tri is just a fuckfest of highly specific nostalgia that tries too hard to appeal to old fans without capturing what made the original series so magical, and in part thats because the original series WASN’T FOR ADULTS.  I don’t know about the Digimon Story games, bc they’re T-rated so perhaps they’re a better take on an adult Digimon story than Tri?  But you either need to make your own characters and lore specifically for an adult-oriented Digimon season, or perish.  Also, please make it a series and not a group of movies.  Getting four eps every 6-9 months was hell.

I stand by saying Appmon is a more faithful Digimon season than Tri to Digimon’s original spirit.  I believe it holds more potential for success than Tri and better embodies the spirit of the older Digimon seasons.  It’s dumb, its corny, it has horrible puns, but I LOVE it because it also has a deep dark story and emotional moments.  If you dislike Tri and you agree with things I said that make it unlikeable, I highly recommend giving Appmon a chance - if you watch a few episodes and think “oh yeah, I guess this is decent” you’re going to like it.  It’s everything Digimon has always been and hopefully always will be, just with a different concept.  And hopefully the end of the series doesn’t leave a sour taste in my mouth and I have to redact this statement haha since I’m not done with it yet, but I’ve heard good things about it so I’m hoping not so.

Overall, if you watch Tri, don’t get your hopes up.  It resolves everything okay-ish but it’s a pretty forgettable anime on its own and simply doesn’t work as part of the Digimon franchise.

I am, however, pretty interested in what evil!gennai said at the end about Diaboromon and Daemon.  It raises interesting questions about the timeline too.  We know Daemon is in the dark ocean, so perhaps that’s a hint at a future project?  (They did confirm a future project btw, in conjunction with tri being over)  But what about Diaboromon?  I dont believe that Our War Game (I think thats what its called?) took place after Tri, based on the outfits and ages and stuff, but I also don’t remember the movies that well.  Could Diaboromon still be out there too?  It’s interesting.

However, because of the lackluster performance of Tri, I don’t have my hopes up and I really hope that this “next project” goes in a different direction.  Although I guess if they include the 02 kids, I’ll be somewhat less salty...

Side note, did they ever explain why the gennais went evil?  Like ?  That’s a pretty important thing.  The gennais helped SAVE the human world in 02.  And I get that apparently Tri is ignoring 02′s ending but still.  It’s shitty, because Gennai was still a good guy in the original too (and also they cant just keep is younger look and act like 02 never happened)  MAYBE its something I missed but I dont think so.  God there’s just.  So much wrong with Tri.  I’m very displeased and very bitter and I wanna get back to Appmon asap.

It’s got good moments, its got bad moments, I dont know, I don’t care.  There’s nothing wrong with you if you like it, there’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t, and there’s nothing wrong with you if you flip flop and are split like me.  I just wish Tri fulfilled its potential instead of becoming a boring mess.

welcome to me

I think it's high time I introduced myself. I know there are a lot of you out there who already know me. I mean, you know my name, you've seen my face. Our kids go to school together. We've exchanged smiles on Sunday mornings at church, maybe even shared a snippet of conversation. But not very many of you actually know me know me and this is entirely my fault. I'm a wee bit guarded (we're talking mile high walls here, people) and I have a history of choosing isolation over interaction. Like, ten out of ten times. The vulnerability required for real relationship has always scared the shit out of me and it's seemed safer to stay in hiding. No chance of being rejected or feeling like a burden to those around me that way. And, come to find out, no chance of experiencing Life in all its beautiful abundance. Going it alone has been both exhausting and straight up painful and I’m more than a little over it. So, here goes nothing…

Hello, I'm Emily. I am a beautiful, kind, lovable and loving soul, and also, I'm a bit fucked up.

I could easily be talking about my lifelong battles with an eating disorder and major depression, the hospitals and treatment centers and medications that mark my past, but I’m not. For many years I blamed these struggles for everything less than good in my life, until God called me deeper (that seems to be His thing) and I slowly began to realize they were more symptom than source.

I've always had the hunch that something wasn't sitting quite right within my own soul, and for most of my life I tried to keep the pain of "I am not okay" buried down deep so as to maybe lose it completely (fingers crossed). In a startling show of outright foolishness, I believed all would be well if only I could get my shit together, lose ten pounds and just be perfect already goshdangit. I also thought getting everything I ever wanted might go a long way in healing the parts of myself that felt a little less than.

Spoiler alert: it didn't.

I met and married a man who was more than I could have ever hoped for, and I don't mean that in any sort of rote, romantic way. My husband has flaws and an affinity for pushing people's buttons, but he's also hardworking, determined, loyal, positive to the max and pretty much the friendliest dude on the planet. We made two babies together (you're missing out if you haven't met them) and I was given the gift of staying at home with them while they grow up. But even with my dream life fully realized, I still could not shake the sneaking suspicion that all was not as it should be inside my head and my heart. Life was good but I was miserable, and I had no idea why. This tiny seed of awareness eventually led to the understanding that I needed to take a closer look at myself, that the pain I'd kept at arms length all my life had to be pulled up close and dealt with.

So I spent the next couple of years numbing out because fuck that.

I’ve always had a hard time with feelings, mostly because I just never really learned how to handle them. My growing up years, the ones that made me who I am, were filled with a great deal of goodness and almost no emotional support. There were homemade dinners, trips to the pumpkin patch, Sunday school lessons and Barbies by the boatload, but no one helping shape my sense of self or teaching me that I was loved without condition. At home the tension ran thick and left little room for any of my own thoughts, feelings and experiences. There were no arms spread open wide in my direction, no safe place for me to land when life got hard.

Somewhere along the way I learned it best to quiet my voice and keep my needs to myself so as not to be a burden.

I'd say I blame my parents, but after this last season of no longer avoiding the pain and instead wading through the muck of all my old, unattended wounds, the truth that I do not has settled into me both steady and deep. The ones from whom I come did not receive the love they needed when they were young and though they wanted to make things different when they brought me into the world, they never quite turned the tide. My parents could only give me what they had and so my own spotty self-worth and the holes in my heart make me ache for them as well.

Eventually the pain of staying the same and keeping everything inside became too great. A few years ago I determined to leave the darkness that walled my world in far too small and I stepped out into the Light. I claimed my voice. I claimed my life. I confronted past abuse and drew healthy boundaries. I took responsibility for myself and for my children and began the work of real forgiveness.

I had never been more vulnerable. Or powerful.

I was no longer in survival mode, barely holding on, just trying to get through each day. I was actually living and it felt like freedom. Even when the search for the bottom line of myself brought up some uglier bits (my piss poor coping skills say, or the staggering scope of my emotional stuntedness) it only led to deeper peace and joy because I had nothing to prove and everything to learn.

Then grief happened.

I saw it coming, the loss that pierced me to my core, and still the sheer force of its blow stunned me into a complete stop. Both in slow motion and all at once grief reared its ugly head, taking hold of my entire life. And then it swallowed me whole. Devastated, every bit of me that had been fighting for health and healing gave way to grief’s cold chaos, let it seize my every breath until there was nothing left of me. I was completely capsized, adrift in a sea of pain, lost in my loss. Grief left me deeply disoriented and struggling to fumble forward.

Which brings me to today. I wish I could skip straight to the good stuff. Summarize in neat little sentences all the ways in which happily ever after came true for me despite the shit beginning. Contrast the darker parts with a bit of magic or something. Abracadabra, everything is great now! But I can’t. The truth is that today the happy ending feels as far off as it ever has. I’ve tugged on my bootstraps and somewhat pulled myself back up, though there are plenty of days when I humor my heartache instead of moving on. I am still smack dab in the middle of becoming, a sputtering mess of fits and starts and gritty determination to keep on in the Light. The struggle is real and the journey is so terribly fucking long.

Turns out shedding an entire self, the one I was taught to be, the one that believed all kinds of lies and was filled with fear, and then learning a whole new way of being is tough work. And yet God continues to be near and lead me on.

Never-Ending Survey (Saki Edition)

Basics

Full Name: Rahelle, of the Nameless Clan

Alias: Saki Sakurai (most know her by this name)

Nicknames: “Saks” (only if one wishes to die)

Age: 20 (ShB, 17 in ARR)

Birthday: 4th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (4th of May)

Ethnic Group: Mixed Seeker/Keeper

Nationality: Sharlayan (technically)

Language/s: Common, “Bastard Sharlayan” (essentially pirate pig Latin)

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

Relationship Status: In a committed relationship /w Alphinaud (but not Eternally Bonded in canon... yet)

Home Town / Area: The Isle of Intense, in the Bloodbrine Sea

Current Home: Split between the Rising Stones and the Crystarium/Pendants

Profession: Scion of the Seventh Dawn, Inventor

Physical

Hair: Black, straight and fluffy. Mid-chest length. (This changes greatly depending on where in canon we’re talking about, or which AU, with most of them being impossible to portray in game. *laughs*)

Eyes: Large, upturned and green (like peridot)

Face: Typical chubby round Miqo’te face with age/clan marks (Face 4)

Lips: Chapped (but “pliable”)

Complexion: Not exceptionally pale but also not very dark, “medium” pasty

Blemishes: None

Scars: Too many to count, magic doesn’t heal everything. Somehow she’s avoided getting any on her neck and face, but her body (esp. her knuckles) are a battleground.

Tattoos: None

Height: 4 Fulms, 11 Ilms (4′11″, short even for F!Miqo’te)

Weight: She doesn’t track this, but she’s got a BMI on the higher end of healthy

Build: Short and curvy, with large breasts and wide hips

Features: Soft and rounded

Allergies: None

Usual Hairstyle: Worn down /w bangs

Usual Face Look: No makeup, messy eyebrows

Usual Clothing: Shorts and thighboots, jackets /w rolled up sleeves

Voice Claim: Laura Bailey as Lucina in Fire Emblem: Awakening (2013)

Psychology

Fear/s: Being worthless/insignificant (Enneagram), Losing her sense of self

Aspiration/s: To get the Scions back to the Source, to stay sober, to protect Alphinaud and Alisaie

Positive Traits: Observant, Tolerant, Creative, Honest, Loyal

Negative Traits: Overly-sensitive, Rough/Crass, Cynical, Aggressive/Violent, Distrustful

Temperament: Melancholic/Phlegmatic

MBTI: ISTP

Soul Type/s: Artisan/Warrior

Animals: Black Panther

Vice Habit/s: Avoiding eye contact, laying her ears back, exaggerated tail movement/whipping, crossing her arms and turning her back

Faith: Walks a weird line between Theism/Atheism, lmao. (Basically, “I know Gods (plural) exist, but I fucking hate them.”)

Ghosts?: Undecided. In the case of “hauntings” or ghosts that do not have a physical form, she believes them to be more like “shadows created by the minds of the living” instead of being actual spirits/souls.

Afterlife?: The in-game scientific explanation — that one’s soul is reincarnated without it’s memories after a time, but one’s aether dissipates and one’s body rots and returns to the earth. Generally believes, even so, that those we lose cease to exist as we know them when they die.

Reincarnation?: See above

Aliens?: I don’t... know? *stares at Hraesvelgr* (OOC)

Political Alignment: Mostly apathetic/semi-resentful about politics, but values individualism as a personal philosophy

Education Level: Severely basic formal education, years upon years of self-study and hard-earned experience

Family

Father: An as-of-yet unnamed Nunh, who challenged and overtook the previous Nunh because he fell in love with the man’s counterpart, the head female (who had already sired multiple children with the previous Nunh) and wanted to stand beside her as her equal.

Mother: An as-of-yet unnamed head female of the Nameless clan, who had seen several Nunhs come and go and had already given birth to many children. Despite being on the tail end of her mating years, she was impressed by a Tia who defeated her Nunh in order to win her heart and become her equal, and fell in love with him. Saki and her sister were this pair’s only children with one another, born only shortly before their mother went into menopause (personal HC about Miqo’te biology).

Siblings: Multiple half-siblings, all much older than her. Her only true-blooded sibling is Rehane, her twin sister, with whom she (quite literally) shared half her soul.

Extended Family: The Nameless clan itself, though they have been estranged for nearly a decade.

Name Meaning/s: No particular meaning, but her clan’s naming conventions are a mix of Seeker and Elezen due to cultural influence.

Historical Connection?: None

Favourites

Book: Until recently, she struggled with reading due to severe untreated Dyslexia, but the situation has improved as to where she can read some things. She doesn’t have a specific favourite, but she enjoys books about engineering and will read anything Alphinaud recommends (even if only to debate about it).

Deity: None, hates all Gods.

Holiday: Valentione’s Day, as not only is it close to the Twins’ birthday (headcanon), but she has fond memories of spending this holiday with her lover.

Month: Second Astral/Umbral Moons, because for those two short months, Alphinaud, Alisaie and her are the same age.

Season: Spring and Fall

Place: Ishgard, forever and always. Also very fond of Mor Dhona and Limsa Lominsa, all because of past history/memories.

Weather: Less particular weather, more about temperature. She likes things slightly chilly, but not too cold.

Sound/s: The click of a successfully-loaded firearm, the crackle of a hearth, the rustle of paper being turned, Alisaie’s laugh.

Scent/s: Cooking seafood or meat, warm freshly-buttered bread, vanilla, fogweed, leather, lavender shampoo, the natural scent of a very specific person.

Taste/s: Rich things (like cream-based soup), seafood, garlic bread, coffee (but only secondhand *wink*)

Feel/s: Silky hair, wood grain, textured paper, the feel of nails/teeth being dragged across her skin.

Animal/s: Completely and THOROUGHLY a dog person. No contest.

Number: Two.

Colours: Midnight Blue, Cactuar Green, Pure White.

Extra

Talents: Fixing things esp. mechanical things (magitek appliances, clocks, jewelry clasps, etc.) or taking them apart and somehow putting them back together so they work better than before. Cooks pretty well. Unexpectedly amazing at taking care of her loved ones when they’re injured/sick. Can look at ideas/situations from multiple angles besides her own, making her viewpoint valuable at times.

Bad At: Guessing other’s emotions/view points without conversation, verbal apologies, dancing, turning the other cheek, conveying a point without being misunderstood or obtuse.

Turn Ons: Delicate beauty, long hair, slender necks, but most of all, intellect and passion. Height difference (bigger OR smaller), being towered over/looked up at, and flat-out excessive and obvious attention and affection from her lover.

Turn Offs: Crass, stereotypical “macho” attitudes, being hit on instead of courted properly, people who fetishize Miqo’te, any sort of unasked for non-consensual touching, being patronized or looked down upon, being “coddled” or “handled with oven mitts” because she’s small and/or looks soft/weak.

Hobbies: Inventing (of all types), telling stories, cooking, learning new things in general.

Tropes: Little Miss Badass/Broken Bird, The Gunslinger, Sugar-and-Ice Personality, No Social Skills, Deadpan Snarker, Pragmatic Hero/Chaotic Good, Jerk with a Heart of Gold/Took a Level in Kindness, Two Siblings in One/Merger of Souls, etc.

Quote/s: “Quite honestly? I can’t be arsed to give a single swiving fuck about this good/evil, light/dark shite. We’re all painted in shades of grey, and if someone endeavours to understand me, then I’ll attempt to do the same — I guess. Whether or not they are friends or foes needs not apply.”

Mun Questions

Question 1: If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

Answer: Oh, Gods. Knowing her issues it’d probably be something depressing like Eternal Sunshine in a Spotless Mind or Requiem for a Dream. *pained laugh*

Question 2: What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

Answer: Early 2000s rock anthems. Green Day (esp. the songs from American Idiot), 30 Seconds to Mars, The Killers, Three Days Grace, The Fray. My Saki muse also really likes Kenshi Yonezu for some reason? (Uma to Shika, anyone?)

Question 3: Why did you start writing this character?

Answer: She evolved from an Raen Au Ra Samurai WoL from Othard, who had trust issues because her father had allowed a Garlean soldier to slit her throat (severing her vocal chords and making her permanently mute) instead of giving away the names of resistance operatives. Truth be told, they don’t have much in common anymore — the themes of trust stayed, but everything else is very different.

To tell the truth, I don’t passively create characters. I purposefully flesh them out and write backstory and indulge in their personal journey/story in order to enjoy the game, which is probably why the last game I actually finished was Mass Effect 3 the year it was released. ಠ_ಠ

Question 4: What first attracted you to this character?

Answer: Mostly the potential to explore darker themes and relational trauma of my own. She’s a very personal character (to me). That said, she also embodies some of my ideals, and we’re nowhere near the same (nor is she a self-insert).

Question 5: Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

Answer: The subtext. THE SUBTEXT. Saki is NOT a character who says what she means, often forcing the people around her to read between the lines and that’s so, so hard for me as an Aspie.

Question 6: What do you have in common with your muse?

Answer: Feeling disconnected and alienated from others, and having a lot of built up trauma surrounding connecting and interacting with them. Not going into much more detail than that.

Question 7: How does your muse feel about you?

Answer: She... doesn’t really... know I exist. I don’t really attempt to converse with any of my characters like that.

Question 8: What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

Answer: Alphinaud, obviously. Their relationship is strongly influenced by the “enemies to lovers” and “belligerent sexual tension” tropes, I think, since they don’t like each other at all at first but come to love one another through intellectual compatibility and conscious effort to understand each other. The rest came later.

Her and Alisaie have a strong sisterly relationship, one that eventually extends to include Ryne when they meet her.

In my Amaryllis AU she works alongside other WoLs, namely my sister’s character Syhrsyng Agatwyn and my friend Csilla’s character Csilla Beleth.

Question 9: What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

Answer: Everything under the sun. I’m always imagining her in situations I experience or see on the internet, only a quarter of which actually get written down.

Question 10: How long did this take you to complete?

Answer: ಠ_ಠ

got my full fanganronpa designed with names and backstories and personalities and everything... character info is under the cut! all the bios took about a week to put together so i hope you give them a look <3

basic premise: 16 fresh-out-of-highschool prodigies are invited to star in well-respected and widely-watched reality tv show, which takes place on a cruise ship. what they weren't expecting was for the show's 25th season to be a killing game! the students: TOMOKO KAITA: a peppy and outgoing astrology guru who can read your deepest flaws and strengths with just your date and time of birth. known worldwide for her extremely accurate personal horoscopes. despite this, she strongly believes in the ability of an individual to defy their fate through hard work and self improvement. she dislikes giving negative horoscopes, and does her best to focus on the positives that the stars hold in store. her smile brightens the whole room! she is intensly loyal to her friends, to the point of self-sacficing emotional labor. KENJI MINAMOTO: a formal and eccentric olympic fencer whose strange insistance on not wearing protective gear during practice (he believes it makes him better by giving him a stronger motivation to not get hit) has earned him many a scar over the years, and has left at least half of his joints in braces at any given time. he follows his own bushido-esque moral code, although he will not put himself above whapping the occasional really annoying person in the ankles. his épée is his best friend and he carries it most everywhere. most of the scars on his face and hands are actually from trying to put in his very sharp industrial piercings while drunk. despite his oddities, his lightfooted and elegant fencing has been compared by many to a graceful dance. HAZUKO KAGENO: a secretly sweet and polite orphan who took up puppetry as a child in an orphanage to amuse the younger kids. years of retreating into her puppets' personas has left her unable to communicate normally, and she prefers to talk through her puppets, her favourite being lady ravensdale, a proper lady in victorian fashion. she doesn't take very good care of her actual appearance, with long, tangled, split-ended hair and rips in her clothes. the only exception is her hands, which she keeps meticulously maintained and manicured, since they're the only part of her body visible during shows. her creepy smile and wide, glazed-over eyes are offputting to most she meets, but she is a truly kind and passionate person whose animated and lively puppet shows can bring a smile to any childs face. EISUKE ITOU: eisuke grew up sewing clothes for his younger sisters barbie dolls, and he particularly loved dressmaking. he gained exposure in his first year of highschool by handmaking gorgeous outfits for his class's booth at the school festival, and, through application to various junior fashion competitions, he was eventually noticed by a big-name designer in paris. however, he found learning french next to impossible and has spent the year prior to the game in relative isolation, unable to have any real human conversation. his pyschological state was fairly severely impacted by his long hours spent sewing and designing on internship with no company to get him by, and he is now debilitatingly socially anxious and finds conversation difficult and awkward. SHIN TOKUGEN: a silver-tongued and charistmatic human interest and general news reporter who specializes in getting personal accounts from those affected by newsworthy events. growing up billingual in english and japanese due to his american mother, language comes as easy as breathing to him. in addition to his mother tongues, he fluently speaks chinese, korean, arabic, spanish, and russian. news outlets pay hefty prices for his emotionally provacative and insightful interview stories, which covers all his travel expenses. he has a unique talent for getting complete strangers to reveal to him things that they might not even tell close friends. actual casual conversation with can be a little offputting, since it always feels like an interview, even when he's trying his best to not. MARIKO MIKAMI: mariko was a sickly child, and spent a large part of her elementary school years in hospitals. around the age of seven, she began folding paper cranes as something to do, and wished to live normally after she folded her 1000th. she soon recovered, and feels that she owes her life to origami. she is precise and calculating in everything she does, which shines through in her art: every delicate, artful piece of origami that she makes is creased and folded perfectly. she also dabbles in wet-fold origami. she's most famous for her dry-fold though, and her pieces are well known for their complex, precise, mathematical beauty. she refuses to fold paper cranes anymore, feeling that they are too sacred for her to touch after they saved her life as a child. a calm, slightly disconcerting smile is always on her face, no matter the circumstance; her manner is consistantly cool and polite. YUU IROIKE: yuu iroike isn't even his real name, and it's a mystery as to how show staff even tracked down his mailing address to get him on the show. he's a well-known public figure for painting huge, sprawling, colorful murals in tokyo, yet who he really is remains unknown. he paints faster than his murals can be scrubbed away, and has somehow never been prosecuted for vandalism because his graffiti is generally considered an improvment. he's sly, mysterious, and teasing in person, and gets a bit of an itchy trigger finger when he hasn't painted in a while. His skill with spray paint is so great that it seems as if the paint bends to his very will. MARIYA HAN: born and raised in rio de janeiro, mariya moved to her father's home country of japan at the age of eleven. inspired by the more vibrant trends in brazil as opposed to japan, mariya broke out of her mold at the age of 13 by experimenting with dramatic makeup and dying her hair blonde. she has adopted a delinquent-ish persona over the years due to general disapproval from teachers because of the looks she presents. her impeccable sense of all-around style has made her one of the very few half-japanese models to appear on the covers of magazines like kera and zipper. she has an uncanny sense of color and structure and is able to create attractive and stylish looks for almost any face. HARUMI HAMANAKA: harumi is a sweet and bubbly girl, if almost cloyingly so. her good luck is a fairly stable force (nowhere near as chaotic as komaeda, for example), generally acting in the favor of wishes of people around her. her mother intensly wanted for her to be on the show because of the exposure it provides, and this is what harumi attributes to her being selected. despite the way her luck operates, shes no doormat and in fact has an overwhelming force of personality, and her sweet demeanor can become rather passive aggressive if challenged on pretty much anything. MOMOTAROU KOBARA: momotarou, born into a rich family that fufilled his near-every want, made a name for himself in the world of collecting at the age of just eleven by, through luck and love for the series, collecting every pokemon card. from then on he set onto collecting just about anything non-perishable: pins, collectors set bandaids, vinyls, etc. he has exceptional luck in finding deals on ebay and other sites. he cant really be called a hoarder, since he likes to have just one of everything; he resells, gifts, or uses any duplicates. his mood swings between a dreamy, chilled out, flirtatious persona and periods of numb depression when it hits him that his whole life revolves around material possesions and that he has no real human connections. CHOUMI YUKIYAMA: exceptional among even her fellow shsls, choumi made her historic mark on ballet by becoming the world's youngest ever prima ballerina at the age of 13 and japan's first ever prima ballerina assoluta at 18. fans flock to her ethereal, angelic grace on stage as well as to the percieved sense of otherworldlyness surrounding her albinism. on the darker side of her popularity, repeated sexual harassment from fans and male dance partners alike has hardened her world view to make her not quite cold, but definitely reserved in her emotions. she adapts fairly easy to stressful situations and pushes through pain with almost no visible outward struggle due to her all too common experience with dancing through foot and ankle injuries. because of this she usually ends up taking initiative in difficult scenarios if no one else steps forward. she is also a quite talented hobbyist figure skater and is fluent in both english and russian. REN KIKUHARA: a fairly odd florist in that instead of ordering flowers to arrange into bouquets, every flower he sells is grown himself. although this means that his selection is seasonally and fairly regionally limited, he has an incredible talent for working with plants and can even sometimes coax out-of-zone flowers to grow. he's fluent in hanakotoba and is surprisingly good at flirting through flowers without it seeming cheesy, although he doesn't do it very often. people often remark that his bouquets often seem to have more love and life in them than store-bought ones. ren is a calm and kind soul and prefers listening to talking, with what he does say always seeming to be just the right words for the situation. JUN TENSEI: born jun harada, many believe that his spiritual connection is the real deal, but a few critics hold that he is most likely just an incredibly talented bluffer. the real truth about him is unknown, but many say that his seances do accurately reflect the personalities of their deceased loved ones and help them feel at peace. he is deeply religious, but not to any one traditional faith (although he does use traditional christian symbols such as crucifixes and items such as holy water on occasion). he believes strongly in the power of the soul and its ability to exist beyond death. his voice is soft and low, and he has a penchent for gentle teasing and riddles. he comes off as pretty shady to most, but he's fairly harmless. SARA KUROKAWA: a talented young woman from a long line of popular backalley tattoo artists. she combines traditional symbolism and youthful influence in her designs to make something new and more appealing for the younger generation, and is a huge proponent for tattoos being shown off for fashion rather than hidden away in the traditional style. sara does have (illegal) tattoos done by her older siblings on her arms despite the minimum age being 20, although her being homeschooled, looking older than her actual age, and having a tendency to wear long sleeves year round has led her to encounter few problems. she and her family are among the many who simply choose to ignore the statute requiring a medical license to tattoo. sara is a fairly rude person in a backhanded way, acts stereotypically catty, and enjoys making herself the center of attention, whether through her appearance (dyed pink hair and white contacts) or the things she says. the only two things that can break her shell and make her excited and genuine are tattooing and piano, which she has played from a young age and loves. SHOU KATSUKI (PROTAG): pushed to succeed in the game from a very young age, shou is japan's reigning chess champion, a FIDE-certified grandmaster, and went to international competition the year before the killing game. he played through to the finals with influenza, which worsened through the matches due to lack of treatment and culminated in debilitating pneumonia that left him in the hospital and unable to play for first. because of this, he's cultivated a sort of inferiority complex that he tries to cover for with self-confidence, which actually comes off as condescending rudeness. he has a natural talent for cause and effect analyzation and is good at planning ahead. he gets flustered easily over trivial things and is a sore loser, but tends not to crack under actual pressure. shou doesn't like to be associated with his family due to the intense pressure they put him under only to steal his winnings the second he began to succeed and thus prefers to be referred to by his given name, even by near-strangers. he does genuinely love chess, but his favourite board game is actually risk. (no one ever wants to play with him, though.) MIKI SHIMAZAKI: a child prodigy from a family of cheerleaders, miki learned to love the sport over years of family pressure. famous for winning back to back nationals from age 13 to present, she's well aware of the image of unintelligence and sexualisation that comes along with being a young girl in cheerleading, and these two topics are sort of trigger points for her. after a while she grew tired of people telling her that they were suprised she was nice and were expecting her to be a bitch, so she adopted a fake-nice, popular girl type persona to basically give people what they were expecting. miki trusts very few people due to the many creeps shes encountered, but her few friends are the most important thing in her life and she would stop at nothing to protect them.

Years in transit: Against the Current in Boston and a reflection on music, moods, and seasons

Note: Rarely, I opt to publish personal pieces in place of sonder’s traditional editorial content. With this, however, I wanted to revisit a show I already wrote about in an expansive retrospective that deals with music journalism and auto-biographical elements. Thanks for reading - Andrew

If you’re a regular sonder reader, you probably noticed something out-of-place last November when, out of the blue, I published features from a show in Boston that pop-rock band Against the Current played. Boston? Weird, considering sonder is based in south Florida, and that’s where the majority of the site’s content comes from. Right?

Actually, despite being sun-soaked for the past 17 years, I have northern blood running in me. Massachusetts is my home; roots I can’t ignore. I grew up in a small town called Grafton, toward the center of the state. Grafton is the epitome of small town, pacified New England: Quiet, wooded, outskirt suburbia rolls over a few creeks bridged by old stone masonry to our town center, a picturesque square with a gazebo, new stores in old buildings, and one of the local churches. 

The Grafton part of my life feels like a long time ago. It mostly just exists as dust and cobwebs filling rarely-explored corners in my memories. Scattered in those cobwebs are pieces of small town New England in the 1990s, a decade that already feels hauntingly distant, lost in the blurry whirlwind of time. My childhood home was a two-story house on a massive corner lot with a hill in the backyard. All that space and gradient land meant I got to have fun as a kid. When it was autumn, I’d sprawl across a pile of crunchy brown and orange leaves I had assembled from the side yard. When it was winter, I’d get to rocket down the back slope on a sled or build up little forts with the huge snow banks that would accrue. During summer, the air was so clear and refreshing. The family would go to Swirls and Scoops, the local ice cream place, or Art Bradish Snack Bar, the local cheap and tasty dinner indulgence. They still make the crispiest chicken sandwich I’ve ever had.

Summer was always so pleasant and mild, with rich greens cascading across lawns. There was a huge tree at the corner of our property, surrounded by a half-circle of piled stones (who knew who put these here?), and that was prime territory for hanging out with my friends. All these little details kind of tumble around in my head when I think of Grafton. I relish them. Chances are, you have your own set of memories like these, and once in a while you might come upon them and bathe in their familiarity and warmth. Because that’s what nostalgia does – it comforts you, no matter if it’s accurate.

“It's been a minute

Everything's the same, but different”

Against the Current, “One More Weekend” / a song about re-visiting things and people in your past and tapping the well of nostalgia

After being transplanted from the north to the south in the middle of my childhood, I rolled with the punches (”the punches” being Florida). When you move from a place like Grafton – or, as I imagine, nearly any town defined by rich, varied culture – to the endless sprawl of southwest Florida, it’s a stark change of scenery. If Grafton was authenticity, then southwest Florida was shtick. In Grafton, we celebrate colonial history. In Fort Myers, we celebrate developing condos.

The mental weight of these differences on me never really showed up until my trips back to my home town in recent years when I realized, almost all at once, how much I missed it. Of course, that’s unsurprising. I was nine when we moved, and as a kid, you’re generally not acutely aware of how huge life changes like that can affect you on a deeper level. I was just sad that I had to leave my small number of friends.

But, I realized later the old cliché of “home is where the heart is” screamed in my face. Cliché, as it turns out, is overused for a reason. Who would have thought? I didn’t realize until my young adult years that, while I have many pleasant memories of New England, I had next to no similar memories in Fort Myers. In Fort Myers, no matter how hard I tried, nothing felt as close and tight-knit as things did in Grafton. Most of my good memories in Florida are, rightfully, from concerts I’ve been to or photographed.

Despite the build-up, there isn’t some overly dramatic point to be made here. Florida is where sonder has been built. It’s where I run into people at shows who recognize me and chat with me. It’s where I’ve met all my peers in concert photography. It’s where you, my readers, have said you like what we do. It’s where everything happens for this site. There’s a couple blocks in downtown Orlando, stretching from The Social to Backbooth, where sonder has basically been nurtured. I could recite half the restaurants and bars in that area and probably identify which brick goes where. It’s where I’ve photographed and interviewed bands for years.

That’s a general rule of thumb, anyway. Sometimes, when I get bad wanderlust, I end up far away. The most extreme example of this was when I was traipsing around the east coast for 13 total dates of Vans Warped Tour 2012. Going to many Warped Tour shows during the same year means you get to explore the detail in what that tour does, and it was in Connecticut when I met up with a young band named Against the Current. They weren’t playing. They were just hanging out. And it was during their early days: They were still a five-piece and only had one song (“Thinking”) and a cover out under their own name (both released the same day). I met them all, but spent most of my time talking to singer Chrissy Costanza before leaving, knowing that, at the very least, it would be a long while before I saw them again. The debut song was good. Good enough to get a footing, anyway, although in retrospect, you can really tell how the band has progressed. But this is the case for pretty much any new band, isn’t it?

Despite those glitches in the Matrix, Florida is mostly where sonder operates. But Florida could never come close to the feeling I feel from Grafton, or from Massachusetts in general. I have a love for the whole region. The northeast. New England. Etc. Amazingly, though, I had never really been to the seat of what makes New England, New England: Boston.

I wanted to change that last summer when I was spending a lengthy amount of time in Massachusetts on vacation (and, incidentally, feeling intimately re-connected to my home). So, being the day tripper I often am, I got a ride to the local MBTA station (our commuter rail, referred to as “The T”) and took a train to the coastal metropolis for the day. I watched my home roll by me in a blur as I explored Paramore’s self-titled album, and now, whenever I hear the positive chords of “Daydreaming,” I think of that trip. Cheerfully apt. And now, cherished.

It was one of those pleasant New England summer days, right in the dead of tourist season, so there was a lot going on. I ate, had a beer in the oldest tavern in America, visited the Holocaust memorial, and took lots of photos, as I often do. I didn’t seek much out. Instead, I let the atmosphere come to me instead – a mark of the fly-on-the-wall behavior in me that’s part nature, part journalistic nurture. My goal for that day was to get to know the place, even just a little. It was just a day, though, and I didn’t think I’d be returning for a long time.

I went back to Florida. Summer ended, but before I knew it, a family emergency had brought me back up in mid-November – the first time I was returning during fall since I was a little kid. The first shock I had was at 5:30 a.m. in the parking lot of a hotel in Delaware. It was 32 degrees outside, I had my tank top on from the previous day (because it was around 85 when we left Florida), and I was dying just to get into the car and hit the seat warmer button. Brr. I blame Florida for thinning my blood. I always blame Florida. Smooth.

See, part of the chaos in my head that Florida has nurtured is inability to cope with non-sunny weather. Even in Florida, I’m the type of person who will be in the dumps all day if I wake up and it’s raining. I’m embarrassingly sensitive to this stuff. And it’s because I’ve lived most of my life in a place that, for the most part, just shines.

So you can see potential problems about returning to Massachusetts during the tail end of fall. Which, don’t get me wrong, I was enthusiastic to see. It had been 17 years since I had seen a proper autumn, with leaves falling off of the trees and forests turning into splotches of brown and orange. We were going up toward the end of the season, so the vivid colors were less common, but some of it was still around. And just this change of pace and scenery allowed me to reconnect more with my New England nostalgia, something I desperately wanted. As of late, I feel like I’ve been floating through a perpetual identity crisis, so feeling connected to who I really am was cathartic. And there is some innate soul nourishment in New England autumns, from going to apple orchards to feeling the crisp, cool air to finding a cup of hot chocolate the most relaxing thing at the end of the day.

Rural Massachusetts under the cover of late autumn

Florida is a land of perpetual daytime and perpetual bloom. Even in December, our days are long, hot and super sunny. Now, me and my sensitive little self were heading straight into color-drabbed cold bookended by perpetually-encroaching darkness.

If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of seasonal affective disorder (the “S.A.D.” acronym is just life smiling down at us), here’s the crash course: It’s a psychological thing where the shorter, darker, colder days of winter basically hit the “on” switch for temporary depression. Now, remember those bits about how Florida doesn’t prepare you for different weather and how sensitive I am?

Yeah. Connect the dots.

The first day we got to Douglas (the rustic town where we were staying, not far from Grafton) after our drive up, I fell asleep at around 10 p.m., which is a record for a recovering night owl. I collapsed straight into a deep, blunt sleep, and when I woke up at around 9:30 a.m. the next day, I barely had any energy. H-E-L-L-O, S.A.D.

This is all a little gloomy and is partly exaggerated for the sake of narrative. But, you know, if I can deal with Florida for 17 years, I can deal with some blues for the week I was there. That week, by the way, happened to criss-cross with the touring schedule of Against the Current, who would play their very first show of their latest headlining tour in no place other than Boston. I didn’t even realize the coincidence until I was already up in Massachusetts, and if I wasn’t catatonic, it probably would have excited me more.

As you know, I first met them in 2012, and here I was four years and some months later, ready to see them headline a tour in support of their first album on a label. A lot happened in those four years – again, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing them for a while after my first meeting, but it was in late 2014 when they finally came down to the sunshine state.

I brought my camera to that show and have since managed to see them at every show in Florida they’ve played – sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. But always happily. There’s a decent amount of bands who receive repeat coverage on sonder, and generally it’s because I have a sense of admiration for those bands, but Against the Current are a little different. The combination of being there at the beginning (or nearly the beginning), having met and spoken to them enough times, genuinely enjoying their music and keeping up pace with photographing their shows, has instilled a sense of stewardship in me. And they were part of the inaugural class on sonder – sonder had existed in several different forms over the years prior to 2014, but 2014 is when it really coalesced and defined itself. At this point, having photographed them at nearly every Florida show (including a non-show – a standalone meet and greet), plus up in Boston, I feel the part of a documentarian, at least partially, and that compels me to follow them through to wherever they go. When I see the band playing to festival crowds in the U.K., or opening to 20,000 people on One OK Rock’s bill, or surrounded by thousands during a Q&A in the Philippines, I think back to that first meeting and bubble with pride.

With all this in mind, the opportunity to cover them in Boston, on opening night, was something I just didn’t want to miss.

So, on a dreary Thursday, I found myself once again on the T heading to Boston, again watching Massachusetts roll by.

Eastbound to the coast

Getting ready every day of that week was an effort. I woke up each morning in a gray catatonia, and that Thursday was no different. I let the hot water of the shower toast me because it was nice insulation against the encroaching cold outside. I slowly packed my bag because the blues were making me run at about 30 percent efficiency, and I had to zone in on every little thing I was doing to make sure I didn’t run out of energy halfway through. On the way to the Grafton T station, I got a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, which is basically the state drink of Massachusetts. I sat there, relatively calm, and learned that the train was delayed, which didn’t cause as much anxiety as I thought it would.

Almost instinctively, I reached for Paramore when it arrived and enjoyed the tunes again. But this time, it was cold, bleak, and I had a lot on my mind. The weight of the seasonal depression acted as an emotion inhibitor, stripping away the intense anxiety I typically have before a concert and rendering everything neutral. A few ups. A few downs. But I felt way more level than I normally do. And level is a bizarre state of mind for me, as my mental states usually aren’t restrained; they usually catapult wildly from one spectrum to the other without apology. And feeling level is striking considering my struggle with anxiety and that I had no idea if I would even make the last train home – something that, in previous years, I wouldn’t be able to reconcile and would have shut the whole trip down.

Much of my mental workouts earlier in the week revolved around processing all the bleakness that was swirling around. There was one particular day that I stared out at a dark, rainy Worcester through a crying hospital window and saw all the naked trees and cars sloshing through puddles. I don’t think there was a single time that week that I felt a bounty of energy – even when I drank coffee, it was more like “whatever, this is caffeine.” I’m helplessly in tune with metaphors manifesting themselves in real life – I can probably partly blame all the literature courses I’ve taken in my life, but more likely it’s about the lens of extreme emotionality I experience life through, feelings that I’ve never really been able to properly convey or dial back. So, for example, summer in New England is a time of liveliness, vividness and in my recent case, adventure. But fall is about that life and vigor petering out, settling down. I think about stuff like that religiously, and it’s probably a contributing factor to why I’m susceptible to S.A.D.

Regardless, what eventually poked through that shell of the seasonal depression that day was realizing I was photographing a band I admired on their opening night, in my home state, surrounded by my personal nativity, during an actual change of season.

Everything was different from Florida.

And that is powerful. Even with the S.A.D., I felt things that hadn’t stirred within me for a long time or just not at all. Being in my mid-20s, the fervor of the late teens and early 20s has died, and it’s easy to fall into relative normalcy and consistency. Which is fine, but sometimes you don’t experience things raw as often. On this day, everything was basically flying at me raw: I overdrank on coffee (and could actually feel it), so my bones felt electrified, and when I spend enough time outside in cool weather, it naturally energizes me. I ended up walking all the way from the center of the city to the Cambridge area because I had just downloaded Uber, had no idea how to use it, and couldn’t get it to actually call a ride. So as I walked, my mind raced, and I thought a lot about things in my life that had led up to that moment. I was taking in a part of the city I didn’t make it to last time, so it was new to me, heightening the sense of discovery. And in the back of my head, I prepared for the tone of how I would write about Against the Current for the fifth time and reflected on their youthful exuberance and open pushback against systematic norms, a message preceded by a long line of punk ethos – even if Against the Current’s musical style was glossier than your traditional punk band.

Walking through the city during autumn was different – for one, the scores of tourists were far less pronounced, and it being a Thursday afternoon, it was much quieter than my last venture. During that week, I was on a mission to find at least some vestige of colorful autumn vibrancy, and it hit me out of nowhere. I rounded a corner into a plaza, and suddenly, what I was seeking leapt out at me. No holds barred, either – rich reds, browns and yellows. Even the park grass was vivid. I took in for a few minutes because, in all likeliness, it will probably be many years before I see it again.

And I got a really nice view when crossing the Charles River into Cambridge – these views invigorate me and make me feel like just a small cog in our beautiful world, a feeling I embrace. I like insignificance. It keeps me grounded and objective and nurtures the fly-on-the-wall instinct.

Pretty much every normal circumstance I knew whenever I photographed a concert was replaced with something new, with the slight exception of the band itself. But even then, it was different, as Against the Current were touring in support of their debut LP, In Our Bones, for the first domestic, non-festival headlining tour of the record cycle. I felt a rush of life on my walk there, ironically born underneath the thick shell of temporary depression. For the record, the melancholy really tried to bring me down, but little did it know that I’m too good at discovering meaning in misery.

One thing that helped this night is the whole “addicted to travel” thing – interestingly, I’m the happiest when I’m tired and at the end of a 13-hour drive. That was, by the way, part of my reality when I first met Against the Current those years ago, and it’s why I never balk at long-distance anything. Not that an hour-long train ride is harrowing road travel, but I was pretty far from home and on my own. If something went wrong, I would have been stuck in the city overnight by myself. For the record, going for a day trip on public transportation by myself is something that, years ago, would have stirred up such violent anxiety that I wouldn’t even dare. Anxiety is one of those things that you suffer through that either gets marginally better over time or just bowls you over. More likely, both, at different times, but that’s not really here.

Like I said, it was dreary all day, and the days were short, so it was dark before it made sense to be dark. One of the luxuries of going to shows at 24 is being over 21, so to kill time between sundown and doors opening, I had a few beers. An hour later, I was there in line freezing (because I underdressed and have thin blood, i.e. the “I Blame Florida” thing), but it was then that I realized, “Hey, I’m cold, depressed and a little tired, but I’m somehow still quite happy.” The irony is that a mixed tempo like that is not what culture generally props up. People like to talk about highs and lows, but as if they’re separate, not existing in the same space. Because it’s easier to qualify. But I’m obsessed with the gray that exists between black and white, and the tendency toward exploring subtlety is what drives my passion for this very site. It made sense for me to be both melancholic and happy in that moment – in fact, it made more sense than a lot of other things that go on in my head. By this point, cognizant of what was happening (again, I’m painfully self-aware), I let the feeling steep within me because I knew it would be helpful in a weird way.

The show was a textbook example of a good time. It took place in an almost literal den of comfort, a basement under a bar where the shared body heat of everyone kept the space toasty and insulated from the brisk autumn on the ground level. When I close my eyes and remember that night, I relish in the community of music and how comfortable I felt even though I was there by myself and far from home. I knew no one there except the performers, but I had been “there” before, absorbing the atmosphere and culture that comes with club shows. This is one thing you will never feel at an arena show, even if every single person in that basement room was there with you.

Even better, it was a photographer’s dream – never before have I experienced such helpful and bright front lighting. You could see people’s faces! Amazing!

I fly-on-the-wall’d myself pretty hard, keeping quiet and getting a sense for the venue and eventually just sticking toward the side of the stage for Against the Current’s set and taking photos for the entire hour or so. That photo above, by the way, is one of the very few I have framed to capture both the band and their fans. I like to look at photos like those and scan faces, try to get in the heads of people through their expressions. There’s admiration and excitement. And it’s a reminder of when I was that kid, right up in the front row – music journalism was always a natural segway from me, to transition from being in the crowd to trying to explain why it matters. Because that’s 100 percent something I believe in: That the alternative music and community matters, and that belief is pretty much the foundation for sonder.

More to the point (an interesting choice of phrasing considering we’re thousands of words in), as I discussed in the premiere feature on the night, this was one of the finest times to see Against the Current because In Our Bones really got to breathe. There was also this interesting moment when the band broke out into a cover of “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance and reached backwards in music history to a song off an album that defined a generation. I found myself singing along to this one more than the band’s own songs, not because I’m a massive fan of MCR or not that familiar with Against the Current’s songs, but because the song is that catchy and significant.

Anyway, as the star of the night, they played most of In Our Bones, which is good pacing for the band. I’m a perennial hipster in this regard – in all the years I’ve been watching music, I often yearn for the earlier days of bands’ careers when they get to play most of their catalog. This is because it’s so more likely they’ll explore deep cuts, and anyone that’s a well-versed fan of a band knows the deep cuts are often what give you your sense of relation to the group. For Against the Current, deep cuts mean “Fireproof” (from Gravity), any of their older covers or a song such as “Something You Need” off of Infinity.

This would be one of my favorite live concert shots if the focus wasn’t off ever so slightly. That being said, it’s still a photo I enjoy a lot. I love catching performers lost in what they’re doing, when the true enjoyment really comes out. It’s a rare example of an on-stage shot that captures both the essence of the performance and a sense of intimacy.

Infinity, for the record, is the defining moment for my own experience with Against the Current. Infinity was the product of years of waiting. When the band released “Thinking,” I gave it some coverage and waited for what felt like forever for the band to get an actual record out. Then, oddly, I didn’t even pick it up at first. When I did, it hit me like a blockbuster. Infinity is one of my favorite collection of pop-rock songs in existence – it really shows the cohesion of Against the Current’s individual members. It goes for a big, booming, almost arena-ready sound and hits it out of the park. Will Ferri’s drums are explosive. Dan Gow’s guitar work is crisp, and he has a knack for delicious, spirited hooks and leads. Chrissy is youthful and owns the poppy nature of these songs. Vocoder effects and layered secondary instruments are drizzled into these songs and give them a shot of depth. These songs reek of penultimate youth and love; in my initial review of it, I said that they would be the perfect choice for a contemporary remake of Fast Times At Ridgemont High, and I still stand behind that. The classic and timeless nostalgia of things such as summer break and young love are embedded into Chrissy’s intonation and lyrics. And the duo of Dan and her aren’t just cohesive – they positively feed and flow from each other; the two detonate together, guitar leads blasting to uppity choruses that she soars into. I listen to and cover many bands for sonder, and it’s only once in a blue moon that you find debut records cut so skillfully, even rarer that they’re instant classics. Part of the magic was also the cooks in the kitchen: Zack Odom and Kenneth Mount, who are responsible for some of the most timeless pop-punk records ever (Mayday Parade’s A Lesson In Romantics, Cartel’s Chroma, All Time Low’s Put Up Or Shut Up), were the production brains for this record. Infinity was an awakening for me, a collection of songs that lit a fire in me, something not too common in my music consumption as of late.

Some years ago, I had a Nissan Altima (my first car) that my brother and I installed a sound system in. It had an amp and a sub that really kicked, and it was around the time when Infinity first came out. I would drive around town and crank it almost to the max, relishing in the explosive tones, bass, and energy in these songs. Just five songs, but I had the album nearly on repeat. It was a pleasant getaway to peter around town taking in these songs that felt eternally vibrant.

Back to the show: Even as it was happening, that nagging feeling of woe that had been wafting inside my head for the week kept at it, regardless of stubborn pockets of resisting happiness. In what’s perhaps a desired curse, such melancholy intensifies my fly-on-the-wall instinct. Sort of like this: Oh, wow. Look at everyone enjoying themselves. That would be nice. But I know I couldn’t fully immerse myself in that feeling, so I’ll just document it.

Actually, regardless of hilariously inept mental state, I generally purposely distance myself from being in the middle of fandom because it helps sharpen my editorial eye and maintain subject/journalist separation. But I love seeing others experience fandom. Of course I enjoy concerts. But I also flirt with classic objectivity, so I try to observe more than engage. At the same time, considering the long history I have of observing Against the Current, it’s hard to not feel some sort of wistfulness, to root for them. I find this to be a fundamental paradox in music journalism, kind of in the vein of the observer effect in science: By covering a band, you naturally draw closer to them. After all, when music comes across my desk to review or cover or take photos of, something about it needs to be an experience I enjoy or, at the very least, is something I can convince myself others will enjoy. But it’s so much easier to do good music journalism when you care about what you’re covering, least of all because the closer you get, the more intimately you know the music and will be able to talk about it better.

This conundrum reflects part of the core experience of music – the fact that, at base level, it is an emotional experience, and the more you cover a particular band, the harder it is to divorce yourself from that emotion. Covering a press conference is fairly straightforward. Covering music is wading waist-deep in the emotion of the moment and trying to come out without feeling heartbroken, happy, enthused, motivated, or any of the very emotions the musicians are trying to convey. How is that a sensible process? I mean, I just spent a whole paragraph raving about the band’s debut album. How would I have reviewed that music without getting in the weeds and not getting grass shavings on my socks? I’m not saying it’s impossible or that it’s even hard to take a step back from an emotional experience with music in order to write objectively, but I think there’s room for thoughtful, impactful music journalism that is both informative and emotive.

If you haven’t realized it, the concept of internal conflict is wreaking havoc throughout this piece. Happy v. sad. Past v. present. Childhood v. adulthood. Objectivity v. emotion. But, like I said earlier, it isn’t actually stark, distinctively separate differences that define our experiences. It’s often the nuanced in-between that makes actual sense. We yearn for the distinct, so it is often hard to confront the gray area that’s actually behind most things. This is, at its core, one of the uplifting thing about music – it has this ability to override things and dunk you into environments, sort of like the memory triggers I talked about in the beginning of this piece. Theoretically, anyway. Have you ever had a really bad day, but masked the negativity by reminding yourself there’s a show you’re going to see soon? That thought is merely a root. Dig it up, and it leads to so much more. This is part of the magic of music. It’s a reverberation of some of the psychological phenomena that defines the human experience, and most of the time, this effect can be in full blast, and we don’t even realize it. Music reaches so deeply into the human experience in an animalistic way. It floods into you. Remember: I can listen to “Daydreaming” and somehow, in my mind, be transported back to that train to Boston, even though I’m physically in my room thousands of miles away. I’m sure you have a song like this. And chances are, if you listen to a song you heard a lot growing up, you’ll feel traces of a memory from your childhood. This is why it seems so difficult and nonsensical to strive after true objectivity in non-hard news music journalism, and this is also why people who make the effort to be actively negative about bands seem pretty dull.

Part of the mission of sonder has been to bring the inward reflection that has made this piece (and all of music) possible to your brains in a percolated way, to try to unravel the machinations of why bands make you feel certain ways. As far as Against the Current goes, despite writing about them half a dozen times, I still haven’t fully grasped what it means to hear them. I’m confident I can bring a piece of them to you every time I write about them, but I’m not sure if that piece is even a fraction as meaningful as what it’s like to be in the room. To be in that Boston basement where the sonic energy is floating around the room, rushing through everyone, making strangers into friends. It’s kind of like that blunt feeling you get after a good movie when the credits roll and you walk out awash in the emotion of what you just saw. It’s non-transferrable, but other people who were there get it.

Probably my best photo of the entire band all in the frame at once. Unfortunately, it’s tough to get everyone in focus when you’re dealing with long focal lengths and the wide apertures used for dark settings, but this is genuine Against the Current.

The discomforting thing about this is that writing about music is impossible. You know how the very notes and structure of instrumentals (let’s not even talk about vocals and lyrics) can make you feel something intense, something that, despite your best efforts, you just can’t relate to another human being? As in, “the tone of this guitar lead makes me remember the feeling of when I was 16 in Ohio in July falling in love” or “this keyboard riff puts me right back in downtown Orlando seeing a friend I haven’t seen in years and laughing at his joke” or whatever other combination of specific emotions you get from music that you can’t relate? Writing about music is like sticking your fingers in your ears and saying “la la la” to that; to boldly be stupid. But I try anyway because it’s so unifying, and because it means something to me, too. Again: Why fully divorce yourself from the emotion?

This story wouldn’t have been as cohesive if even one part of the situation was different – if it wasn’t Against the Current, if it wasn’t Massachusetts, if it wasn’t autumn. Which is a little weird because, on the surface, none of those things seem integral to the narrative, until you acknowledge that these things are all influenced by my emotional interpretation of them, and that this interpretation is part of the same human experience that makes music so intense. The seasonal fluctuation of New England, if you haven’t realized, is the absolute catalyst going on here, not because it has some sort of intellectual significance, but because it goes straight to the core of who I am as a person. It’s something I experienced in my youth, didn’t experience for 17 years, then was suddenly dunked back into. It sounds silly, but I was surrounded by who I am. And then the band was the topping to that because, damn it, I haven’t managed to maintain objectivity about them, and I personally care about them and their career. How couldn’t I? Has this ruined a sense of objectivity? Does this make my words here cheaper?

In March of 2015, the Nissan Altima, with its nice sound system, became a heap of twisted metal after a reckless driver pulled right out in front of me despite having a blind spot. I crawled out of the wreck with, luckily, nothing but a broken clavicle. Later that year, after I was healed up but still didn’t have another car to drive, I posted an article on sonder highlighting bands we wanted to see on Vans Warped Tour 2016. Chrissy randomly replied to it and asked if I was going to be at their upcoming Orlando show. When I responded and told her I had gotten in an accident and wasn’t sure if I could make it, she sent her well wishes and said she hoped to see me there. It was out of the blue, appreciated (during a time when my mood was in the gutter) and one of the things that cemented the bond I feel for the band.

Chances are, you have your own version of Boston or Against the Current, something that means something to you because it intertwines with your history in a meaningful way.

I did not manage to slow down very much for most of that day. The only way I made it back to South Station for the very last train back into Grafton was thanks to leaving the exact second Against the Current finished playing “Gravity” and getting into an Uber, since the app actually decided to cooperate. At that point, I got to see Boston float by at night, gleaming under the rain, and there was this tune that crept into my head – a tune I first became familiar with a few years ago, a tune that I have a deep emotional connection to. It’s a connection that I can’t explain very well, for the reasons I’ve outlined. No – it’s not Against the Current or Paramore or a band from years ago. It’s by a band named Transit (an apt name for this story).

It is “Young New England,” and it has become a part of how I filter and process my past. It’s managed to bring me closer to my home, even when I’m in Florida. It’s a folksy drinking song, but it’s not just that. A few lines repeat through the song:

Oh, Young New England.

Over and over again, Young New England.

New England, in a photo.

When I first got into this song, I played it on repeat like people often do when they find a song they like. But I didn’t get bored. I kept playing it. I was driving home once from a show in West Palm Beach. It was the dead of night, and I was taking the roads through the middle of the state, so I was basically alone on the roads, creeping through Florida’s desolate, sad sugar roadways. And I must have played “Young New England” 10 or 15 times in a row. I have heard those notes so many times, and over time, I attached part of myself to them, part of my youth and love of New England. So now, those feelings are inseparable. Go listen to it. You won’t feel those feelings. You might not even like it. And, that’s part of the struggle of what I do on sonder. I listen to the song when I want to feel at home. It’s a cradle. But you probably won’t get that.

I was exhausted by the time I got back home, but unlike earlier in the week, I had re-gained some motivation and mojo. I was wiped out, but it was underscored by being fueled by doing what I love to do. It helped that I got some of my best photos of the band that night.

I thought hard about how I wanted to end this piece, but there are so many moving parts and tangential discussions that it seems impossible to tie it up. And more to the point, a wishy-washy, up-beat “and here’s why all this matters!” ending would be a disservice to the grayness clouding most of this piece. In a short word, the psychology of nostalgia and memory is fascinating to me, and being as awkwardly self-aware as I am fueled this. This piece began as impulses in my mind maybe three months after the show, but it took me a while to get it down on the page and flesh it out. Even then, though, I had the feeling that that night in Boston had been important to me on a deeper level. Hell, I might have even known that the night of, and it just took a while to uncover it.

If there really is a bigger picture here, it has to do with how and why sonder operates the way it does. After all, Against the Current, the other bands we cover, our Orlando HQ, our home town – these are insignificant details to you, but they’re part of our identity. The theory behind sonder wouldn’t change if you swapped these elements out, but the character would. And that’s, of course, because emotional connection to everyday things affects everything. And I just hope that, even if you don’t identify with mine, you have your own and you never let anyone belittle that or take it away.

Because the things that define you aren’t just things out there in the world – they’re your things, pieces of the world that you turn into a home.

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Article, photos, and excessive self-reflection by sonder editor Andrew Friedgen. Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

THE WAITER - AFTER A DECADE OF BIDING HIS TIME BUSING TABLES AND POURING DRINKS, RED-HOT ACTOR MARK RUFFALO IS FINALLY STARTING TO CLEAN UP.

September 4, 2004

Author/Byline: William Booth - The Washington Post

Mark Ruffalo is sitting alone in the back of Victor's Deli in Los Angeles in late afternoon sun, a weekday, the place dead. He is wearing a blue velour jacket, jeans and a loose, white button shirt. The silver chain around his neck holds a St. Christopher medal, patron saint of protection. He is rumpled, hair and clothes, like he just came out of the dryer. He waves hello.

Not too long ago, during his decade as a struggling actor, this was the kind of place where Ruffalo punched a time clock. He was a busboy at the faux-'50s malt shop Ed Debevic's, where 10-year-old girls have their birthday parties. He was a waiter, doorman, caterer, bartender at a series of now-shuttered watering holes where he slung martinis and Midori cocktails to the Hollywood swells. He painted houses. And dug holes and stuck plants in the ground, and thought a lot about going back to Wisconsin to work for his dad, where he would make a new life sandblasting water towers. He acted in more than 30 plays in 10 years. At the bars he worked, Ruffalo would hand fliers to customers; they never came to see him on stage. "You're totally invisible," he remembers. "You're just a conduit between them and a drink. Like a drug dealer. Of course, 99 percent of what people say in bars is absolute crap. Girls come to understand this rather quickly." Ruffalo laughs; he laughs a lot, a slurry heheheheh. It's a good thing he didn't quit because now he's one of the most interesting actors working in Hollywood -- appearing in both the thriller Collateral and We Don't Live Here Anymore, an intense film opening Friday based on the short stories of Andre Dubus in which he cheats on his wife (Laura Dern) with his best friend's spouse (Naomi Watts). Maybe because he was trained in the theater, Ruffalo, 36, can actually act, and his work in even mediocre films is often singled out. He repeats a mantra: You serve the material. He possesses the craft to disappear into his characters, and some of them are not very appealing, but they are not dull. Ruffalo -- say "rough," not "roof" -- broke into the public consciousness by going east, earning an off-Broadway rave as a slouchy, funny, nihilistic brat in Kenneth Lonergan's 1997 play This Is Our Youth. A New York critic compared Ruffalo to a young Marlon Brando. That's the kind of press that changes a career. Ruffalo followed it with the lead in Lonergan's film You Can Count on Me (2000) for his turn as Terry, a boy-man, lost but redeemable. The kind of man women cook eggs for in the morning. Then he worked beside Robert Redford in The Last Castle and Nicolas Cage in Windtalkers. Then, just as he began to orbit, Ruffalo plunged back to Earth. It was almost like a movie: The talented young man had a very bad dream that something was growing inside his head. And when the surgeons laid him out on the cold table, and opened his skull, they found that he was quite right. He had a brain tumor that was, mercifully, pronounced benign. He's OK now. But he is also a changed man. And, he thinks, probably a better artist for it. But what a way to learn. He orders lemonade with iced tea. "I can't bring myself to call it an Arnold Palmer," he says.

A STREET-FIGHTER TYPE

To describe Ruffalo as good-looking doesn't do it. He is handsome in the Italian way, lean and lithe and hairy, dark meat to Brad Pitt's white, with a Roman nose and a full mouth and emotive eyes that, in his movie roles, register confusion and wound and hunger. "For all those years it felt like Los Angeles just didn't get me," he says. "This one casting director told me they don't look for guys like you out here in L.A. They look for guys like you in New York. ... Out here, maybe episodic TV turns out a beautiful, easily accessible type. I was blue-collar, street-fighter type. The darker tones, you know? That's what they said." He pauses. "Although you never really know what anybody is talking about. That's one of the problems with language." In his press clips, he's often referred to as the thinking woman's sex symbol, and as the New York detective in Jane Campion's kinky In the Cut (2003), he gives good reason for the rep when he sets upon co-star Meg Ryan like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Ruffalo didn't go to college, instead attending the Stella Adler Academy, the well-regarded Los Angeles acting school that trained Robert De Niro and Chris Cooper. Benicio Del Toro was the star pupil. Ruffalo estimates that he went to more than 800 auditions in eight years. "I wasn't getting anything. I tried for voice-overs, commercials, TV, everything," he says. What he eventually got was a Clearasil commercial. Then he won a couple of parts in little horror movies. They were not good films. "It is so hard. Not a good job for depressives. For manics it's OK. I'm really envious of the manics," Ruffalo says. "I only got one-half of the equation." His talent agency dumped him. "I wasn't making them any money, so who could blame them?" he says. "I was doing whatever I could to get before a camera, even to the point of lying to do a non-SAG, nonunion movie so I wouldn't get bounced out" of the Screen Actors Guild. "But I got thrown out anyway because I didn't pay my dues for two years. I went to them and threw myself before the board: Man, I haven't been working. I'm starving. I'm depressed. They were like, cough it up." Ruffalo must have thought of quitting. "All the time," he says. "A lot of times where in the darkest night of the soul, you wanta give up everything. You work so hard, it means so much, and so little return, or encouragement, and you're just, screw this, I can't go on like this. It's too hard on me. Something about it, it's maddening. I mean, you go a little crazy from this total absolute wall of rejection." But Ruffalo kept working in his little plays. Twenty people in the audience, half of them friends. Casting directors would promise to come, then blow him off. He wrote; he directed. He says he isn't bitter. "Frankly, I probably wasn't very good at that time, so there was probably a reason I wasn't getting parts," he says. "I often think back to what would have happened if I had gotten all the things I wanted. I wouldn't be the actor I am today. I tell you, it was 10 years of acting before I began to have any sort of -- I don't know really -- interesting stuff going on in my work. It was only out of really difficult times that I grew the really deep roots I needed to be the actor I was hoping to become."

THE THING IN HIS HEAD

He never experienced headaches, blurred vision or problems with balance. There was a slight, almost imperceptible hearing loss in his left ear. He was newly married to the French actress Sunrise Coigney, and they had a baby, Keen. One night, "I dreamt I had a brain tumor, of all things. It was such a real dream, I followed up on it, and wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," he says. "I thought that was it for me."

The operation lasted 10 hours. He reacted badly to the anesthesia. Six months of recovery. He lost 40 pounds. Another 10 months before he worked again, in In the Cut.

"All these crazy things go into it when someone tinkers with your brain. What if they took away something important, that was talent? What if that was what made me special? I wasn't sure I still had it."

In many interviews now, he declines to talk about the brain tumor, saying he doesn't want to be seen as some kind of medical miracle. "But it is part of my life, you know? A big part," he says. "It focuses your attention and your intentions. It makes you aware of a lot more. The choices. The way you appreciate things."

It made him focus on what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. "If, you know, I survived and everything." Then the laugh again, heheheheh, and he exhales a long, drawn-out expletive.

STEADY WORK AT LAST

In the past few months, Ruffalo has appeared as Jennifer Garner's dreamy boyfriend in the frothy 13 Going on 30, the tech geek bouncing on the bed with Kirsten Dunst in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the cop Fanning in Collateral, and now the cheating heart in We Don't Live Here Anymore. His performance in 13 was actually a challenge for him. "I usually play parts where I'm able to hide behind the character. I can disappear. But in that one, I was this nice, stable, normal, decent guy. And that was hard, man. I kept wondering, what do I do with my hands? Do I just keep them in my pockets?" We Don't Live Here Anymore is more of a Ruffalo movie. Took 25 years to get made. "The subject matter scared them," Ruffalo says. Originally, Dustin Hoffman was signed to play Ruffalo's part -- back in the 1970s. The movie is brutal. There are scenes that may remind some couples of their worst moments; but there is also something almost funny in the struggles of these mortals. "These humans are raked over the coals," Ruffalo says. "Can two people come back from such painful misdoings? This season of infidelity? I felt it was an honest and mature look at marriage in crisis, and everybody is afraid to make these movies nowadays. Everyone wants to be entertained, to make things easy." This was a chance to make a movie that is very much like the plays he spent his decade performing. "It's a script and it's acting. There's no tent pole, no set piece, no action sequence, no mystery, no suspense, and so I'm really proud of it as an acting piece. It had to be pitched just perfect. "What I like about it here are these people. The characters. The actors. They're on the line. They're vulnerable, out there, in the moment, no safety net. And what they really have to do is count on each other."

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Forgot to make a note on a needed correction in the article.  Ruffalo GAINED 40 pounds during his recovery from brain surgery, not the opposite.  It was a side effect of the steroids the doctors put him on.  Of course later, he had to lose the 40 pounds....