(putting my very long, very personal ramble under a readmore so folks can avoid it) (this won't include any of my plans for going forward or for my writing but I'm not going anywhere so don't worry about that. love to you all.)

A little disclaimer: If you have zero context for what I'm talking about, apologies for not explaining in depth, but this post won't be relevant to you otherwise. All you really need to know is that it seems that Wilbur Soot is an abuser, and Shubble came forward and talked about it recently. He was not named, but from what she shared, I believe that was who she was talking about. I don't say this to speculate, and if you disagree, I'm not here to argue over it, but it's enough for me personally to not to want to support him indefinitely, save for Shubble explicitly saying she wasn't talking about him.

Additionally, these thoughts are some incredibly personal and self-centered rambling. It does not reflect where my priorities lie, with supporting Shelby for coming forward above all else, but other people have said that much better than I have, and this post is really just a place for me to vent some of my feelings.

I prided myself on not falling prey to “parasocial relationships.” I didn’t get invested in the personal lives of content creators, only in their creative works. I thought this protected me somehow. I knew next to nothing about Wilbur Soot’s personal life, but I admired him deeply as a writer and empathized with him as an artist. I projected so heavily onto his character and did so for over three years. When I waited for his final dsmp stream, I felt panicked. Like my survival hinged on how he ended this story, and then he ended it in a way I could live with, and I thought I could go on loving this story and these characters for what they had been, no matter how messy the rest of the endings to follow were. His character was mine in so many ways. He had some of my problems and I gave him some of my own. I used him to process quite a bit. And now that part of myself is irrevocably tainted.

When the stuff came out about Dream, I was upset, but not betrayed. I never followed the creator and he existed only as a character to me. All I grieved then was the community his actions destroyed and most importantly the people he hurt. I planned to continue writing for the DSMP, even as I refused to follow any content involving him. It felt like a pause, not a full stop, while I ensured what I was doing did not show him any support. I also gave that character no pity and therefore the man behind him no pity, I had no personal investment in his character.

Now my response is visceral and bitter and I don’t know how to go on writing, because this character meant the world to me. I don’t know how to write about a character I truly love and see myself in, knowing the person who also loved and saw himself in that character, who created that character, has done horrible things. I don’t know how to write any of these other characters I have loved and cared for for over 3 years because he has poisoned them. All of it turns my stomach now and I feel so betrayed. The thought of his character is tainted because it’s connected to his voice and his face. I cannot separate the art from the artist both because it was the inclusion of the authorship within the story which affected me so strongly, and because there are things within the text that I look back on now and can only see that this person was always this way. I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of c!Wilbur’s line when he found out about exile, “he didn’t actually hit you though“ and his horror when c!Tommy responded that he had, that for some reason that was the turning point. The implication that it was only crossing that line, that particular type of violence, which made something wrong. Fucking disgusting.

I’ve tried to find another story before now. For the last few years, honestly, I’ve looked for something to latch onto the way I have with this one, but nothing feels the way this did. I know I’ve been clinging to something gone or at least mostly gone, both the community and the story, but I haven’t known how to let go when nothing makes me feel the same way, even when the feeling has faded and changed so much with time. This was never supposed to go on this long. Honestly, the reason I started posting mcyt stuff to my sideblog instead of my main was because I assumed I would get over it in a few weeks, delete the posts, and move on. Three years. 40 works. Over a million words. Just. Fuck.

I loved these characters so much and I’ve wrapped up my writing in them for so long it’s hard to separate the two. At this point, it feels like these characters are what allow me to write, separate from the main story, but a place where I could work things out for myself as a person and try new things as a writer. And I’ve tried so hard to feel the same way about the QSMP, but maybe it’s because we’re out of lockdown so I don't have time to watch much, or I’ve just changed more than I’ve thought, but I haven't gotten attached the way I did even when I look at the stories being built there and can see the heart in them, the storytelling, the care, just as much as the DSMP if not more. There’s no good reason for it, it just hasn’t locked into place the way this story had, having been the perfect storm of circumstances. The DSMP came to me during one of the worst years of my life, and I have loved it so much I miss that time even with all the bad it carried too.

And now this thing I have been holding onto can only make me angry, hit me with grief and disgust. Fuck, the only plan I’ve had for an original novel in years is a loose adaptation of TDDD. My senior thesis was largely a novella about two siblings with a complicated relationship, the older fatalistic, the younger brave to the point of ignorance. So even that original project has poison in it now. All of it, all of my fucking work, all of my growth as a writer, all of my writing for over three fucking years has poison in it.

I’ve felt lost as a writer for a long time and the only thing keeping me anchored was these characters. And I don’t know how to cut them away from myself and I don’t know how to cut him away from what’s left when his writing, his character, undeniably gave me so much of a spark. When I’m happy, I write. When I’m sad, I write. There's so much bad in the world right now, but I could always fall back on writing. And now my main means of escape is the grief. Far more than ever before. I know this too shall pass and all that, and this hasn’t actually stolen my ability to write, but right now it all feels so ruined. I don’t know how long it will take for me to be able to look back on what I’ve made and not feel like this. I'd maybe moved on in some ways, but not all. There was so much left I wanted to do.

If you’ve somehow read this far, know that I love this community with my whole heart. I never quite made friends with any of you, even as I wanted to, and it's felt too late for a long time now. My beloved mutuals (and followers that are mutuals in all but name) I have found so much joy with you, in what all of you have created. I wish I could hold onto that above all else, even if I’m not quite sure how. I’m not going anywhere, to be clear. I won’t delete my blog and fall off the face of the earth or anything. I still love what all of you create and care about, even if things have changed and our interests don’t always align anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to detach this story from the creator, to love any of it the way I did or even love what I myself created again. I don’t really know why I’m writing this or if I’ll even post it except for the fact that you all are the only people who could understand.

Again, this was a deeply personal rant, not a statement about the situation as a whole, nor do I think this situation's impact on me takes an ounce of precedent over the person actually involved. The most important takeaway from this is what Shelby has shared, the importance of believing victims, to do what we can to protect ourselves from abuse that doesn’t seem obvious, and to look out for each other. Take care of yourselves, everyone.