After Year Six, Chapter 19 Note: My primary exposure to the Hogwarts Mystery game was through Will Bits’ Playthrough. My personal canon is essentially that character, with his voices. Thanks to Akemi StormBorn’s playthrough for catching me up on the tragic events near the end of year six. The courtyard was silent, save for the distant hoot of owls and the heavy stomping of boots. Merula was here, in her usual bad temper. At least this time she had reason to be. “Go away, Bits. I don’t want to talk to you.” “But I need to talk to you,” Will said. “You don’t have to respond, but you’re the only one who’s here who’s been through… Everything.” “What about Copper,” Marilla asked, pausing in her stomping. “Dumbledore arranged it so that he could go home to his parents for the night.” “Well bully for him. And I suppose yours are on their way, too.” “Actually, they’re out of the country. They won’t be back until next week, so I’m stuck here. What about your aunt?” “She wrote to the
The Element of Control - Prologue - The Interview by Osquevel, literature
Literature
The Element of Control - Prologue - The Interview
"I can't believe you missed the girls' first day of karate!"
The tram shuddered as Rose gestured to move the video frame to the periphery of her glasses. She didn't need to see Amelia to know her sister would be scowling. She could hear the whir of the washing machine in the background, which meant that Amelia would be in a particularly bad temper.
"We've been over this, Lia," Rose said, bracing herself against the wall of the tram as it rumbled again. She could see the lower city stretched out below her through the car's translucent windows: a sprawl grown from generations of poorly planned development, covered in smog and chemical exhaust
The monsters rise
From every dark crevice
Where we dare not shine a light
For we will see, and we will know them
And they scratch and claw and swell
To drag you down into that black abyss
Inch by inch they will take
the songs from your ears
the light from your eyes
The air from your lungs
Until the shell stands naked
Drained
And worst of all to see, behind the eyes
The prisoner: trapped, twinned
In one: hammering, digging for release
In the other: bound, chained, meek
And not to know which is real and which is ghost
And of the body, which is host
With blade and fire they will come
To drive back the beasts another day
But it will not be eno
Most of my experiences interacting with people vis a vis my disability have been positive and helpful. I am extremely thankful to all those I know (and those I don't) for approaching those interactions with respect and helpfulness in mind. I was involved in an incident yesterday that -- to borrow a phrase from Peter Griffin - grinds my gears.
I was waiting for the bus yesterday, and when it pulled up, the driver announced that several people were about to exit. I stepped back and a woman exited. She asked me if I was waiting for the bus, to which I replied, "Yes." She then proceeded to grab my cane and attempt to drag me the two steps to the
I originally wrote the below essay last September as an attempt to distill a bunch of things floating around in my head and to find a succinct way to communicate some of them. I've happened across a couple of personal stories people have posted and realized that this document was doing no good just sitting in my google drive. Maybe someone will stumble upon this a year from now and feel a little less alone, as I did last week with the aforementioned stories. Anyway, enjoy!
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Every time I see my first grade teacher, she asks me, "How are the wife and kids