Please save and share this info where possible. This report has since been removed by Amnesty International due to legal threats of libel from JK Rowling. This information is no longer easily accessible.
I maintain that the best summation of my feminist beliefs are that men and women are not fundamentally different. There are a few quantifiable differences if you average out every woman and every man, but they are not qualitative. And most of them are socially constructed, and would be fixed if we started treating men and women the same. Neither is inherently smarter, neither is inherently kinder, neither is inherently more stoic or stronger or angrier or softer. Everyone is obsessed with the differences between women and men, with finding them and creating them and distancing themselves from the "other half". It's fucked up
Happy disability pride month to everyone with ptsd, happy disability pride month to everyone with complex ptsd, happy disability pride month to everyone who questions if their problems are big enough to count as a disability, happy disability pride month to anyone who questions if their problems count as a physical or mental disability, happy pride month to everyone who has a disability that causes people to stare, and to those whose disabilities are hidden, happy disability pride month to everyone who deals with any kind of disability physical or mental, you’re all badass and I want you to remember that this month okay
well said my friend! Happy disability pride month to those with neurodivergent disorders, happy disability pride month to those who have been through ableism but continue to live as themselves today, happy disability pride month to families of disabled people who lost their lives, happy disabled pride month to those denied reasonable adjustments or assistance for their disability, nd happy disability pride month to those of us privileged enough to be capable of celebrating disability pride month! Love yourself!
Ashleigh and Lilibet went about preparing the hot air balloon for a descent. Their next step, of course, was to share their discoveries with the people of Polirris, which both had certain reservations about, but the knowledge couldn’t exactly be stifled forever.
“You Will Return Soon, I Hope?”
“Of course,” Ashleigh responded, “It’s rather beautiful up here.”
“Good. Clear Days Are Rare, But I Would Like To Show You Both The Clear Sky Of The Day, And The Night.”
Lilibet tilted her head, “I’m quite curious what those will look like.”
“Something To Look Forward To.”
Lilibet nodded, and they started moving packs of their supplies back into the basket.
“Probably ideal if we get some food, too,” Lili remarked.
“And maybe some seeds! Make use of that book.”
“Oh yeeah. We’ll have a lot to read up on when we get back.”
“Why Not Take A Few Books With You? I Am Not Exactly Using Most Of Them.”
Lilibet blinked, “Really?”
Ashleigh laughed, “Go pick a couple out. I’ll be along to do the same in a minute.”
Science textbooks, records of the missing years, artistic tutorial, they were spoiled for choice. Lilibet leaned towards accurate information, historical and scientific, while Ashleigh leaned more towards missing pieces of fiction and artistic tutorials. Between them, they gathered about ten books apiece, and loaded them up onto their vessel.
Lilibet searched the lanes for a few minutes, peering between the titles, but seemingly without success. Merlin called from across the way, “Are You Looking For Something Specific?”
“Yeah, um… I found this, and I want to find a copy that isn’t falling apart.” She held up the cover of The Space Race (1955-1975), and Merlin regarded it carefully.
“Ah, I See, Unfortunately, I Do Not Have Another Copy. My Library, What They Left Me With In Any Case, Was Always Rather Sparse.”
Lilibet nodded, “I see. Well… Thank you, anyway.”
“I’m Sorry I Cannot Be Of More Help.”
“Could you tell me about it?”
“About The Space Race?”
“Yeah.”
“I Could, But It Would Be A Long Story, And Not One I Was Personally Witness To.”
Lilibet nodded, “Perhaps when I come back, then?”
“Absolutely.”
Lilibet gave Merlin a polite bow, which they returned gracefully.
“I hope to see you soon, Merlin.”
Ashleigh piped up from by the balloon, “Same here, it was really cool to meet you. When we come back, we’ll come prepared for a long stay.”
“I Look Forward To It. It Was A Pleasure Meeting You Both, As Well.”
Farewells and adieus were traded and parted, and in none too long, Merlin helped them shove off the edge of the balcony, drifting off into the air, on the way back home.
The descent was, thankfully, uneventful — at least in the category of unexpected and dangerous things, though Ashleigh still found herself engrossed in the strange and wonderful view of the skyline. They descended from the level of the Stars, caged beauties that gleamed and shone above the soft and rolling layers of clouds, falling gently through the haze before they broke through, inch by inch, and saw their world once more. The metal Sky terminated far in the distance where it and the surface appeared to collide in the brilliant light of the horizon. The drop was slower than the ascent to avoid a crash landing or losing control, falling like the leaves of autumn.
The base of the tower was just beneath them and Polirris was now visible some ten miles away. Reaching the ground, the balloon settled with a rustley thunk, and our heroes disembarked. Ashleigh took the staff from its make-shift holder, and they made way to seek the car. Nearby, they spotted the expeditioner’s cabin, which had smoke billowing out of its chimney, though the surrounding area was vacant.
“Can we visit?” Lilibet questioned.
“Visit the expedition? Why?”
“I’m just… very eager to explain everything.”
“Ah, yes,” Ashleigh said, donning a strange accent, “Friends, travellers, adventurers, let me spin you a tale— Ah!”
Lili pushed her playfully, “Shush, I would not sound like that!”
Ashleigh giggled in turn, “Are you sure? I think it’d be hard not to!”
“Regardless, are you okay with visiting them?”
Ashleigh paused, “I… don’t know. The Preservationists aren’t exactly jazzed with people being outside the city normally.”
“Right, but they’re the expeditioners, aren’t they? They’d be far more sympathetic to the idea.”
She shrugged in response, “I don’t know. I hope you’re right.”
“So… can we?”
Ashleigh let out a slow sigh as she brushed a hand through her bangs, “…Sure, we can do that before heading back. I wonder if anyone we know is on this expedition.”
Lilibet nodded, and they made their way over to the cabin before the Tower Entryway. It was a modest thing, surrounded by pine trees, like something out of an ancient painting. The logs which made up the walls stood strong, the structure itself a recent upgrade from what could be presumed to be a camping site of old — the signs of hammocks, tents, and a campfire still stood, long unused, in the region before it.
Lilibet strode and Ashleigh walked up to the engraved door with the simple golden plaque that read, unsurprisingly, ‘Expeditioner’s Cabin’.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door was opened, and a young man with half-moon spectacles and braided hair over one shoulder peered out the gap.
“Oh, by rot, I had wondered if bears had learned to knock.”
“Bears?! Do you get bears often?”
“No, no, very much not. But I did not realize anyone would be out here.”
A voice called from deeper within the cabin, “Who is it, Simon? Have we stayed too long?”
Simon turned, but questioned the two with: “Are you expeditioners?”
“Um—,” Lilibet started, “By definition, but not by appointment.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose, and he called back into the room, “No, we’re not overdue. Some other travellers.”
“Well let them in, man!”
The door was pulled open and allowed our intrepid heroes into the rather cozy space. One wall was covered in sets of bunk beds accommodating the rather populous expedition party that was present. Along another wall, sat tables and shelves which held items new and old clearly valuable to the expedition, including a set of long-discarded boxes covered in cobwebs. The center of the room was illuminated by a small fluorescent light — a startling sight so far from the city — backed by an empty fireplace, and adorned with a small table, around which a few members of the expedition not upon their bunk and not answering the door were sat playing cards.
The expedition team was made up of six persons, each a bid-for position by finances or between academic or social standing. Or, in the leader’s case, theocratic standing, often given to a High Archivist of the Preservationists. As each expedition only happened once a year, spots were well-coveted in some circles and totally useless in others.
Simon, who bore a nervous energy about him shivering beneath his deep purple vest, turned out to be an enthusiastic and well-regarded historian. Rather befitting since he seemed almost a caricature of one.
The gruff voice that welcomed them in turned out to be the property of Givs, a mechanic who’d wanted to see the tower for himself, or more appropriately, to discover if it was worth salvaging.
“Hm, well isn’t this a surprise,” said he after introductions, “You both from the city? Ground-layer folk?”
“That’s right,” Lili said, “And you?”
“Maintenance.”
“What… brings you both out here?” Simon inquired, “It’s quite a long journey from the city, and I’m sure the Forum wouldn’t authorize a second expedition. Er, second… within a year, of course.”
Ashleigh shook her head, “No, we’re not expeditioners. We’re explorers.”
“Scientists!” Her companion added, proudly.
Simon’s expression seemed intrigued, if a bit doubtful, but Givs was scowling. “Right, then what gave you the right to come out here?”
The two exchanged a look, because any plausible explanation of honesty would mean leaving the city via a breach, and that was unacceptable. But what else was there to say? Glancing about the room, there wasn’t much else to approach.
Givs stood up, and what had at first appeared to be a large and bulky form had turned out to just be layered in warm clothes, as his gaunt face and gaunt figure visible within the layers, giving the impression of a skeleton rising from the grave of an old west town.
He lifted one sharp finger out of his cloak, palm-up making it more puzzled than accusatory. “You’re Horace Ladane’s kid, aren’t ya?”
“Niece.”
“Ah, right. ‘Spose he’s never had much time for a wife.” He rubbed his left temple, eyes closed, “You probably got here on one of the antiques, huh? That’s Horace’s department, and you don’t look like you’ve been walkin’ for a day.”
Ashleigh took a wary step back, and Lilibet took a cue, eyeing the door.
“Now, now,” said Givs, holding up his hand in surrender, “I mean you no harm. Just tell me why you’re out here, how you’re out here, and everything will be green.”
Simon turned to Givs, “How long until Thei gets back?”
Givs provides Simon with a look that silenced him.
Lilibet took a slightly shaky breath.
“We came out here to see about climbing the tower,” Ashleigh shot her a fearful look, but she pressed on, “We took a pair of bycicles and made our way here over a few hours.”
Givs seemed to slide his hands in his pockets. “Ah. That’s understandable. Any luck?”
Lilibet shrugged, “No, the tower was unclimbable. Too much decay.”
Givs nodded, understandingly, “Right, right.” He adjusted his coat, and waited silently. In the pause, Ashleigh felt herself bump into the front door.
“That’s alright, isn’t it?” Ashleigh ventured.
“Well, maybe, maybe. And where’d that stick come from?”
“A walking stick? Helps with mobility.”
He nodded, “And that… balloon,” he gestured broadly, “That was just a coincidence, yeah?”
Click. Ash turned the handle be hind her back. “The big patchy one? That wasn’t you all?”
Givs’ eyes narrowed.
“Nice try, kid.”
The door was open before Ashleigh thought too hard about it, and Lili stepped through the door, rushing away. Givs’ hand grabbed Ashleigh’s wrist, cloaked in Lili’s jacket, from which she twisted her wrist out, abandoning the coat and slamming the door shut behind them and she and Lili turned and booked it.
A gruff voice shouted and the cabin door was thrown open, before a parade of footsteps could be heard following them as they ran between the trees.
We've reached chapter 20 on this draft I'm posting! Things are slowly accelerating and I'm hoping to have the draft done and start posting edited chapters to my blog in none too long. I'm very excited.
Deleting twitter and living mostly on tumblr and my own blog has made me remarkably good at avoiding The Discourse of things when I can't handle them.
On twitter or youtube, given enough time, my fuse will blow from multiple different small things and eventually either online or in my own life that will bleed out and cause issues.
On tumblr, especially because of the kind of people I follow, when I have the resolve to go "I shouldn't be focusing on this", rather than being inundated with more of the same, I instead find some adorable artist talking about how sparkly they make their OCs and all is right in the world.
Despite my every effort to do this right, I have somehow made something with a quarter inch more thread than I started with. It is impossible. It is absurd. And yet when I check and unthread and try again, and again, and again, it is always the same. 9.75" of thread, 10" when sewn. I must be crazy. Maybe my math is wrong. Maybe my ruler is broken. If I get something with an inch diameter it doesn't make it perfectly ten times around. And yet if I wrap the sewn hem around, it is perfectly ten occasions-
Ah, hell.
"‘This I choose to do,’ she croaked, her breath leaving little clouds in the air. She cleared her throat and started again. 'This I choose to do. If there is a price, this I choose to pay. If it is my death, then I choose to die. Where this takes me, there I choose to go. I choose. This I choose to do.’" - Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith
Mislaid Diaries Of A Storyteller @mysmistree - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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