#because that’s what happens when a fantasy world dreamed up by a random person comes to life

[lilnasxvevo]

You CANNOT just smush together SVSSS and MDZS worldbuilding in your fics willy-nilly!! There are many aspects in which they contradict each other!! Not least the fact that “demonic cultivation” means two incredibly different things depending on which book you’re talking about!!

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[drdemonprince]

TV Glow was devastating. incredibly effective visually, thematically, and performance-wise. Schoenbrun has leveled up in a major way since World's Fair, which I felt like I was five years too old for, both in terms of references and from having seen too much weird shit in this life to be impressed by her version of what's "scary" online.

This movie was far more creatively ambitious and emotionally resonance -- it having a bigger budget certainly helped stretch its legs, and Schoenbrun used it to its fullest.

Justice Smith's acting made me want to cry. He shows a true reverence for the material that few cis actors would; far from viewing the character as a little exercise, he transforms into her discomfort and sadness. His little voice warbles and the way his face softens with hope at a few crucial moments made my heart break for him, knowing already that the dreams he'd barely let himself hold onto would never come true.

I can't believe an Emma Stone produced wide release movie is about transgender egg drama here in 2024. jarring for something that once felt so private and esoteric to be broadly relatable to audiences now. it's fitting, given the movie is about a mass-release TV show that a handful of tender freaks think must be about something so much more than this world would ever let it be. kind of a funny trick there.

is this a movie about depressed isolated queer people whose minds curdle around a random media property because loneliness makes the brain turn inward and eat itself? or is it the tragic tale of a woman who never realized her destiny and allowed the matrix to keep plugging her repeatedly back in?

you can read it both ways at once and it's best if you do. some equipped with fandom goggles with elect to see it only in the more fantastical light.

There are already dozens of people coming out as transgender for the first time in their lives in the Letterboxd reviews of this film, saying they recognize their repression in Owen, their egg at last busted open by this heartbreaking tale of a life unfulfillingly lived. I get it -- before I transitioned, the same thing happened to me with Casey Plett's incredible story collection, A Safe Girl to Love. There is something painfully enchanting about the forever-unrealized trans person whose suffering we imagine would be escapable if only they could admit who they are.

But what do you do when you have overcome your fear of being "crazy," left your old world behind, and passed through that veil to become the person you were always meant to be, only to find that you are still stoop-shouldered and awkward, still overlooked with your heart cut out of you, apologizing to others for your asthma in between your death rattles? What if you never get all the poison out? After you figure out you're a hero from another dimension, what will you do if you can never get back?

I find myself asking these things, as a person who used to fantasize that transitioning would solve all my problems. The imagined future transitioned me felt so distant that it was easy to push him off. And then after years passed, when I finally reached out to claim him, I discovered he was just as awkward, lonesome, insecure, and unhappy as I was, because he was just me. If i'd always been transgender, then I'd always been unhappy for deeply transgender reasons back then, too, and I'd already known a whole lot more about what it meant to be me than I'd thought that I had. Fantasies had been a seductive distraction from the world that was trying to kill me, and they suffocated me whether I denied them or if I believed in them.

This is a movie about fantasies, and the suburbs, and about being transgender. And it's bleak, but I think some who are on the cusp of making the same realizations as Owen can't fully know why yet. Life on the other side of knowing is more liveable, but I can't explain why. It didn't make things better. It wasn't the great escape I had hoped. But it did force me to confront who I was and how many monsters there always had been all around me. And that's better than living in a fantasy.

[dearunreliablenarrator]

I'm here, queer, and highly likely to disappear*; but here's a very unreliable introduction to this narrator.

Hi, I'm Saturn (for now at least, i think.)

I'm a black 20-something year old writer with a imagination that happens to be active at the wrong times. When I'm not writing, you'll find me struggling through classes and holding my cats in air jail for chewing on my clothes. and you probably thought a college dorm dryer was bad...

I often use music as a progression for my writing, using it to build the personality and lifes of my characters, cause I think you can tell a lot about a person with the type of music they listen to. This goes the same for food, whether they're cooking (or lack thereof), eating (which there'll a lot of and not just food), just for the sake of storytelling. Cause food can tell a story too!

You'll also see the use of Sims4 in these posts, there's nothing better to me than to be able to build my world from the ground up even if it is tedious. I often burnout myself out between both writing and building so its nice to be able to switch between the two! here's a small character visual as a start!

it's also nice to watch my characters evolve real time, they tend to outgrow some things faster than i can keep up.

As a current researching and scrappy practitioner, you will see hints of practical magic(k)/workings/information in my works. Influences from traditionally african american practices will be underlying themes in this world of mine; within my scope of course. How my characters navigate through a world that is both mundane and spiritual is something they'll have to overcome in all aspects; and how they affect future lives and timelines is all hanging on the fading tradition of storytelling.

follow, share, and embrace their stories; because there's only one way to keep them alive.

as for what i write or rather my niche: the unreliable multiverse

genres: (comp) (hist) (queer) romance, urban/southern horror, urban fantasy, and apocalyptic sci-fic.

topics/tropes: religious deconstruction, religious trauma, witchcraft (mundane, practical, scrappy, cultural, A(A)TRs.) anti-racism/racism,politics, social structure,found family, star-crossed lovers, childhood friends to lovers, ancestral/familial secrets, morally-grey protagonists,coming of age, the anti-christ, HEA, small town horror, mental illness/disorders, philosophy.

for some these topics may be a lot, and while i want my writing to be a source of escapism...fiction will always be influenced by reality, and that is something that will be in my writing (just not to the extremes), expect CW and TWs but they will not always be there.

CURRENT WIPs: the big three

Where The River Bends:

Bored of modern romance and her own life, Elaine Brown suffers from being a daydreaming, skeptical, hopeless romantic. In a plead to the Universe to grace her with a new addition to her routine, she finds herself stumbling into spell unlike her very own. Warren Soo has be dreaming of a life where days can feel like a breath of fresh air. When a random chance driven by his choices puts him in the space of unsuspecting Elaine, he can't help but be bewitched by the ease in which her days go by. Together, they navigate the modern world of romance with just the sprinkle of magic.

theme song

tag: #goddamnitsamson

Aletheia:

Sanctum, place of human design created to preserve those who survived the last of nature's destruction. When humanity was suddenly reckoned with the damage of over creation they are forced to pick between two things.

Stay or leave.

For those that had the ability to leave, Sanctum embraced them with open arms; promising a generational haven within their walls. Here, the people are communities; removed from the worries of past plagues and mortal insecurities. But all peace must follow order.

Questioning the world she's grown in , Emilia Porter has wanted to escape the stone boundary of Sanctum. Taking a chance to explore the land beyond, she registers for the Vanguard; the exploration and task forces that protect and serve the lasting stand of humanity.

Now away from the containing hands of those who seek perfection, she must weigh the truths; both tailored and unwritten.

theme song

tag: #findthetruthyouseek

Cherries Under The Sun:

A southern gothic horror that follows Grace Davis even in her dreams. Stuck in a constant cycle of despair, Grace often finds herself living in a loop of a forgotton past, wondering about the should've, would've, and could haves of her life. When her small college town of Marietta is shaken by a rise in missing cases, her hollow world soon becomes a flash of white papers and bloody lines. Now that her daily life of being ignored comes to halt and the lives of those around her are blurring together, they must now find a way to get their world back to normal. Before it is erased altogether.

theme song; intro; taglist

tag: #howsweettheesound

I don't know what else to put here, but that my characters are much like myself. Weird, witchy, creepy, romantic, sensitive,sarcastic, inquisitive (that's a big word for elmo), and a range of clumsy that only a handful of people can enjoy sooo...

IF you've found me or my wips to be interesting, please feel free to follow, ask a question or comment. Thanks for reading all this and from reader to another, create the book you've always wanted to see. Edison out!

i also don't really know how taglist work but if you wanna here's where to keep up! #theunreliableverse

1.* psst...you can find me and (to be)published works here!

[virgo-mess]

The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

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And we've finally made it to part 2 of Chapter 2... Good grief I was hit with the most random wave of productivity. I'm making this post at 2 AM after writing for four hours. Sorry if there's any typos, this was honestly a product of me seeking comfort for my own inner turmoil and the result was FLUFFFF. So let me know what you think in the notes pleaseee, I beg. 👀

TW: Panic attacks, Kissing, and fluffffff. That's really it guys, enjoy!

The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 2

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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather

Shay’s POV

The hours ticked by as Shay and Cash rummaged through boxes full of forgotten memories and unpacked feelings. Any lingering awkwardness from Cash’s prompt proposal for Shay to move in with him was long forgotten by the time Cash slipped away to get them takeout from the Trails End Bar in town. That intimate moment of fellow feeling they had shared had done a great job at prolonging the inevitable conversation they were bound to have for the time being. They spent the rest of their cleaning sipping on glasses of red wine and reminiscing about the happy carefree days of their youth. A prospect that usually had Shay in tears of hopeless yearning was currently filled with bashful giggles, rosy cheeks, longing glances, and fluttering butterflies. Shay supposed drinking wine with Cashton Ewing was a bad idea from the get-go, she was sure the consequences of such an act would be coming back to bite her in the ass soon enough. But she couldn’t help but want to enjoy a face paced blunder with her long-time crush while she could.

“I remember this sundress; you wore it on the last day of eighth grade” Cash mused pulling Shay’s old white sundress with sunflowers stitched on the bodice from one of the boxes with a soft smile on his face. Shay eyed the dress wearily; she remembered that unguarded garment and the scarring memory attached to it very well.

“Yeah, I did…” Shay mumbled before focusing her gaze back on the TV, she’d plugged in 13 Going on 30 not too long ago. The scene of Jenna’s less than stellar thirteenth birthday party was quickly unfolding on the screen. Shay couldn’t help but think about the last day of eighth grade, the day she’d tried her best to forget. Part of the reason she latched onto 13 Going on 30 was because she saw both herself and Cash reflected in Matt and Jenna. Shay felt like the movie was the closest she’d ever get to living out a romantic fantasy with Cash. Sometimes she’d forget she was watching a movie because there was a degree of mirrored likeness between her life and the world painted on the screen, from Jenna and Matt being best friends and neighbors, to Matt taking pictures like Cash, right down to Shay’s vexatious run ins with her own personal mean girl, Opal May Stevens. Shay had her fair share of mean girls throughout their childhood, that could only be expected when you were best friends with the prettiest boy in school. None of them were ever quite as mean as Opal May Stevens however, who had seemed to make it her mission to make Shay’s life a living nightmare about a month or two into that school year. Cash never seemed to notice of course and why would he really, Shay had all but figured out he had a thing for Opal May when she turned up at the movie theater that Valentines Day, she locked herself in a bathroom stall to cry. It wasn’t the first time Shay cried over Cash and Opal May nor would it be the last or even the worst. The worst breakdown she had in relation to her first crush and her childhood bully was reserved for the last day of eighth grade….

 “You do always look great in a sundress you know that, Cherry Blossom. What happened that day anyway?” Cash’s voice lulled through the air, pulling Shay out of her dark inner ruminations quite suddenly. Shay’s green eyes strayed from the screen for a split second to see Cash’s ocean orbs gazing at her intensely.

“What?” Shay asked, her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to recall what it was, they’d even been talking about. She’d gotten lost with the dull echoes of taunting children’s laughter reeling in the gloomy memory bank of her mind and the tiresome chanting of Opal May’s odious voice ringing in her ears. Shay felt Cash’s finger gingerly brush against her forearm, and she finally let her green eyes meet his blue ones. They gazed at her in a way that made her feel like he was trying to ground her and anchor her to him all at once. She always wondered how he could tell when she was being swept away in the murky currents of the more melodramatic waves of her angst filled musings.

“…The last day of school that year, I asked you to meet me out on the school lawn, near the gardens after school, remember? I waited for you, but you didn’t show and by the time I made it to your window it was locked, and you were hysterical…” Cash trailed, his thumb was now drawing soothing circles down the length of her arm so tenderly Shay thought her heart might burst. Shay found herself leaning towards Cash the way a moth is drawn to the light and warmth of a candle despite the way her brain was telling her it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her usual thoughts of caution were being overpowered by the shrill, odious singsong of Opal taunting “TWIRL” repeatedly.

People always talk about the prominent events in your life that change you for the better or for the worse. The ones that stick with you long after they’ve happened and even longer than you’d like them to. They’re pesky shadows that cling to your every move, tethered with you from the green cusp of adolescence to the weathered qualms of adulthood. Silently lurking, endlessly twisting, constantly weaving their influence over your unconscious thoughts and actions day in and day out.

Well, Shay’s earthshattering, life altering moment occurred on the last day of eighth grade and prompted her very first mental spiral. One that was bad enough for her mother to send her away for the summer and stick her in a therapy center in California. Of course, it was a long time coming at that point with her parent’s contentious divorce, Opal May mockingly reciting her end of the year English assignment to a group of her peers was just the final nail in the coffin that year. It only hurt all the more that the muse of that assignment was sitting right next to her now. Shay couldn’t help but assume Cash had something to do with Opal’s cruel joke to some degree…

“I didn’t show because Pete told me you wanted me to meet you by the science hall instead, remember? And I’m sure you know what happened and what Opal did, you had your fun joke let’s not rehash it.” Shay said dismissively, letting out a long sigh she busied herself rummaging through a box once more to take her mind off the memory fighting tooth and nail to free itself from the murky bank. Cash let out a sigh of his own, his fingers found their way to her thigh and resumed drawing soothing circles, but this time Shay found it more tantalizing than anything.

“Pete told you that… I never told him to tell you that Shay, I swear.” Cash’s voice was soft, but Shay could hear the overarching note of sincerity in his deep vibrato. Shay didn’t respond as her hand clutched a hard, glossy, and slightly weathered book and pulled it out of the box with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her thumb glided down the picturesque lighthouse on the book’s cover, situated in front of a purple, pink, orange sunset.

“What’s it really matter now anyway Cashton? We can’t change the past and I don’t fancy dwelling on it all that much either.” Shay said again dismissively, her eyes were still trained on the book in her hands intently, Cash had given it to her as a gift one year. A photo guide of the most beautiful lighthouses the world had to offer because Shay loved them so much at the time. She still did, while she was living in New York she often wished the Statue of Liberty was a lighthouse instead. Shay felt Cash place a finger under her chin, gently urging her to meet his gaze and she did. Shay met his gaze with sad green eyes and a surprisingly heavy heart, despite the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the intimate action. She wished he would stop doing this stuff, touching her this way especially when it was clear it meant more to her than it did to him. Especially when it was clear it would always mean more to her than it did to him.

“It matters because you were a wreck that entire week Cherry Blossom, seeing you like that hurt you know. You were my best friend, you were so sad, you looked so broken, and for the first time ever I couldn’t fix it. Then you just went away for a whole summer, didn’t call, barely answered my letters, you shut me out and came back a different person Shay, that was scary” Cash admitted in a heartfelt tone, his thumb gently caressed her chin and his blue orbs bore into hers with an unreadable sort of intensity that Shay couldn’t place.

“Please don’t act like you don’t know what happened Cashton, you and Opal May spent the entire summer together while I was gone, and I know she couldn’t resist telling you about it. You didn’t miss me that much and it’s fine, really, I don’t care about things that happened when we were fourteen anymore, alright. I forgive you, let’s move on.” Shay lied, forcing a smile on her face, so she didn’t look as bitter as she felt inside. Cash’s expression hardened a bit, but his eyes looked as intense as ever before.

“Well, if you don’t care Shaylee Rose why is it you can’t tell me what happened or what happened to you that summer huh? I don’t appreciate you accusing me of doing something to intentionally hurt you, I’d never do that so would you please explain what it is you’re passive aggressively forgiving me for. Please… what did Opal do, did she hurt you?” Cash coaxed softly, Shay let out a sigh but made no effort to turn her face out of his grasp or move her body away from his tethering pull. She knew it was the wine talking for the both of them right about now, loosening their inhibitions enough to let his touches linger and to let her heart hope his touches meant more than they did.

“We need to talk about this Shaylee, I think we’d both feel better if we did…” Cash said in a gentle but serious tone, holding her gaze as his thumb trailed from her chin to her cheek. Shay let out an almost defeated sounding sigh, she knew he was right, she would feel better if she could find it in her to utter a word. She didn’t think she could, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to.

“Cashton Micheal, I don’t think I can talk about it, so can we please just keep going through this stuff… please” Shay pleaded feebly. Her panic at his prying was evident with every shaky syllable she uttered with tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over any moment. Shay inhaled sharply and tried her best to blink the tears away, but a single tear broke free, rolling down the length of her flushed cheek seemingly in slow motion. Cash’s expression softened at the sight of the lone, melancholy drop of water almost immediately.

“Alright…shhh, we don’t have to talk about it. Don’t cry it’s okay.” Cash said in a low whisper. He wiped the lone drop away with the pad of his thumb tenderly before placing a kiss where it had just been. Shay fluttered her eyes closed and let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against her wine flushed cheek. It surprised her how delicate his lips seemed to feel in contrast to his now giant muscled appearance. The gentleness reminded her so much of the Cash Ewing she knew before things changed so dramatically between them that fateful summer. Shay opened her eyes as she felt Cash start to gently toy with the ends of her hair.

“Maybe we should call it a day for now Cherry Blossom? It’s not like your mom is going to be back anytime soon. Why don’t we head out to the beach for a bit” Cash said in a soft tone, Shay felt a pang of guilt in her chest at the obvious sadness swirling in his blue eyes. Though his fingers were still toying with the ends of her blonde hair tenderly, Shay could feel him retreating from her on an emotional level and she couldn’t help but hate herself for it. That wasn’t her intention, she craved his vulnerability more than anything but only because her vulnerability was so difficult to articulate, so hard for her to put into words. She wished it wasn’t.

“Sure, I could go for a swim right about now. Let me just put some of this away first, remember this Cashy?” Shay asked, holding up the book with a trace of a genuine smile on her lips in an attempt to snuff the rising tension in the air. Cash’s blue eyes trailed over the lighthouse on the book’s cover with an almost melancholy expression on his face. Shay wasn’t sure what came over her but before she knew it her fingers were intertwined with Cash’s once more. Much in the same way he had grabbed her hand down in the kitchen though that somehow felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had played out between the two of them since they wandered upstairs. The wine was indeed a bad idea but at least they were holding hands again, Shay knew it wasn’t much but at least it was something. Cash’s expression softened as his eyes glanced down at their laced fingers before meeting Shay’s gaze with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Of course I do Cherry Blossom, I gave you that book for your tenth birthday. You were obsessed with lighthouses back then but judging by the dust on the cover I’d say that’s been up here since you got back that summer, huh” Cash said in a tone that he clearly wanted to sound nonchalant, but Shay could tell by the way his tongue glided over his inviting lower lip, it bothered him. A soft sigh escaped Shay’s lips and she found herself tightening her grip on his large hand quite suddenly. Partly to comfort him and partly to keep him from slipping away from her again.

“It wasn’t like that Cashy, I promise. I love this book, that empty book stand on my shelf was always meant for it, but my mom couldn’t remember where she put it when we started redecorating.” Shay said sincerely, it was true after all. Her mom had misplaced it shortly after they started painting over the pink clouds on her ceiling that September and Shay hadn’t seen It since then but, she looked for it every month for a year. “I have no idea how it ended up in the attic though. I swore I put it in my closet that day we started moving things, but you know my mom. Too nosy for her own good.” Shay tacked on jokingly, Cash chuckled softly with a sheepish grin still plastered on his face, but Shay could tell his blue eyes were searching her green eyes for something.

“So, you never looked inside of it then…” Cash trailed in a way that made Shay think he knew something she didn’t. His eyes quickly darted between hers and the lighthouse situated in front of that picturesque sunset several times before settling back on her face with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“No, why, did you put something top secret inside of it? Am I going to find the map to DeDe Green’s missing gnome collection in here or something” Shay said in a teasing tone, Cash rolled his eyes, and another sheepish chuckle escaped his lips. Shay looked over at him curiously. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sheepishness, but she could only assume the two empty bottles of white wine they’d shared was the driving force behind the emotional roller coaster they’d taken the other on in the past few hours.

“Pete and I never touched those creepy gnomes Shaylee, I assure you. I don’t know why everyone always assumes we’re behind most of Plymouth’s long-standing mysteries, if anything you and I would be the more likely culprits. We were quite impish if you recall” Cash said with amused blue eyes, now it was Shay’s turn to roll her eyes though she now found herself eyeing Cash up in a sort of bashful curiosity.

“Well, if it’s not a map, what’d you put in here Cashton Micheal?” Shay asked, eyeing him up in lighthearted suspicion through her thick lashes. Cash bit down on his lip sheepishly, drawing small circles on the back of her hand so delicately it had Shay’s stomach swirling with bashful butterflies.

“Just a love letter or two… or fifty. Didn’t you notice it was thicker than usual” Cash said nonchalantly, Shay rolled her eyes at him once more, but they were still very much amused as they gazed into his deeply.

“Fine don’t tell me, I’ll just have to look for myself then huh” Shay said pointedly arching her eyebrow at him. Cash chuckled again; his cheeks were still adorably rosy under the golden hues of afternoon summer sun streaming in through the attic’s window. Shay stared at him for a long while, just admiring how pretty he looked wrapped in golden beams of light and felt her cheeks heat up for about the millionth time today. Still, she was happy most of the intense, mildly bitter tension that hung between them had dissipated even if it wouldn’t last long.

“Why don’t you believe me when I say these things Cherry Blossom, have I ever lied to you?” Cash asked in a teasing tone of his own, but his eyes were surprisingly sincere and undoubtedly vulnerable as they stared back at her intently.

“Probably because you’re Cashton Ewing, one half of Plymouth’s dynamic joking duo” Shay said pointedly, Cash let out a long sigh and resumed toying with the ends of her blonde hair. His thumb continued drawing circles on the back of the small hand that was still intertwined with his larger one. Shay inhaled sharply, having the sudden feeling Cash was going to kiss her though she wasn’t quite sure why. He hadn’t even inched closer to her, there was just a sudden shift in the air and a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite explain.

“You know, Pete and I only became close because I thought you read those letters I stuck in that book while you were away. So, I thought you just didn’t want me around you that much anymore” Cash admitted, his eyes were incredibly sincere, and his expression was quite serious with the afternoon gold dancing on his face. Shay looked at him in suspicious disbelief, searching his eyes for a tell or a ‘got ya’ of some kind but she couldn’t find one nestled in his orbs of ocean blue. Instead, they silently flicked to the thick book sat atop her lap, urging her to open it and find out the truth for herself. Shay wasn’t sure what to think, let alone do with herself if there was really a long-lost declaration of love nestled within the pages of the book he’d given her for her tenth birthday. She found herself replaying parts of the heart-to-heart mother daughter conversation she had shared with Maggie Harris before Cash came clambering through her bay window.

“…take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t…”

Shay swore she felt her stomach do a dozen flips as her green eyes settled on the picturesque lighthouse floating upon purple, orange pink hues and wispy clouds for a long moment. They flicked back to Cash momentarily, spotting the obvious sheepish grin still sat on his face as he gazed at her, and her heart knew he was telling the truth. Still, Shay found herself more conflicted than ever before, all the answers she yearned for from him her whole life were most definitely sat on her lap at this very moment. And yet part of her didn’t want it to be true because that would mean having no choice but to dredge up memories of that lonely summer. It wasn’t like she didn’t think Cash deserved to know, he did but part of her knew he deserved better than her. Shay didn’t want to admit everything wrong with them now, was her fault. She’d felt the pang of guilt in her chest more times than she could deny or play off in the last few days, and most especially in the last few hours. That deep seeded truth that she had quite possibly hurt him way more than he ever hurt her was too much to bear, too much to acknowledge. So, she bottled it all up and shielded herself behind plausible deniability. Habitual late-night mantras to try and convince herself that what she felt for and from him, wasn’t real. That the blushes, butterflies, and giddy hormones were never and could never be reciprocated because guarded, lonesome pining felt safer than unbridled love and passion. But now that Shay knew it was a tangible possibility, she found herself wanting it and him more than ever.

“Here” Cash all but crooned, lowering the hand that had just been toying with the ends of blonde hair he grasped her free hand and guided it to flip the book open. Shay felt a plethora of aroused giddy goosebumps prick her skin at the tenderly adorable action and found herself resisting the urge to crash her lips onto his more than ever before. The book now sat open on her lap and her green eyes instantly recognized photographs of smaller versions of Cash and her cuddled up under bright summer rays and blue skies. She remembered that day in Cape Cod quite clearly, they’d been looking for seashells in heaps of tan grainy sand the first summer after Huck Ewing left. Cash was notably happier that summer, Shay couldn’t help but smile at the memory despite how hard her heart was pounding at present moment.

“I remember that summer” Shay said in a soft breathless sounding tone, finally finding it in her to move and speak. She flipped through the pile of photos with a small smile on her lips, recalling every memory with a wistful feeling in her chest. One lone photo caught her eye, an old polaroid of Cash cuddled up in her bed asleep with the stuffed horse he’d won at the state fair for her the summer before eighth grade. Shay gingerly picked up the photo and closely inspected it with knitted brows. She couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever gotten out of bed before he did, even back then, she wasn’t an early bird like he was. She could tell by the soft glow spilling in through her smaller bedroom window, the picture was taken in the early hours of the morning.

“I don’t remember this one, when was this taken Cashy? We both know I’m never the first one out of bed” Shay said curiously, gingerly picking the picture out of the book and holding it up for him to see. Shay watched as Cash eyed the picture and swore, she saw another dusty pink blush sweep across his cheeks. Cash met her gaze with that emotion she could never quite place swirling in his eyes though her heart now told her what it could be, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. At least not until three words rolled off his tongue and hit her ears like a warm lullaby, but part of her still felt like she’d never hear them. The nagging thought that his advances were purely sexual and nothing more had been nestled in the back of her mind since they had lunch with Pete and Daisy. Along with the even worse realization that she’d definitely allow it to happen just to finally have him, even if it was just once, even if it was just for a night and even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it would her. She’d handle the anguish of that earthshattering truth the morning after because she had to. Because, if his lips even brushed against hers, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to stop…

“That summer you went away I still slept in your room sometimes…all the time really. Your mom didn’t mind; I missed you and you weren’t answering the letters I mustered up the courage to send. I thought about flying out to California everyday just to see you, you know, but you said you needed space, and I didn’t want to intrude on your summer fun.” Cash admitted wholeheartedly, without even a hint of hesitation for Shay to fall back on. Shay took a deep breath, finding it in her somewhere, she turned to face him completely and with the action Cash’s thumb increased the pace of the circles he’d been drawing on the back of her hand. He was trying to sooth her in a way that made Shay feel they were on the same wavelength for the first time since they were thirteen. Shay found herself fighting the almost primal urge to capture him in a kiss once more because their eyes locked with such an intense familiarity it had her feeling breathless. As the first string of pure vulnerability rolled off her tongue with more ease than she thought she was capable of, since that morning they shared brunch. Even then she only scratched the surface, now she supposed she could say more without even going into the deepest crevasses that negatively shaped her woeful adolescence.

“I lied Cash, I didn’t want space, I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to write back but I didn’t know what to say. I was so confused about everything that summer, that whole year really. I just… didn’t know what to do, it definitely wasn’t fun, I was miserable without you, but I didn’t think you’d miss me that much because you had Opal.” Shay said, her voice was soft and trembling with every word, but her tone was perhaps the most honest it had been in years. She knew the confession wasn’t much in comparison to the things she held the closest to her chest, but she did see something within the blue orbs in front of her change. A look resembling realization but of what she did not know. She didn’t really have time to think much about it either because before she could register the fact that Cash’s face was inching closer to hers. Their lips brushed, in a way so unbelievably fleeting, yet so incredibly tantalizing, Shay thought she must have imagined it. In one of her daylight musings about amorous trysts with the boy next door, the only man who ever truly had her heart.

Shay gasped, gazing up at Cashton Ewing flushed and utterly dumbfounded when she realized he was so close to her, his handsome face was out of focus. All she could make out was a mess of blurry blue and the feel of his warm breath waltzing over her plump lips when the thought finally dawned on her that she hadn’t imagined it. Cash had in fact kissed her for the briefest of moments and with that realization, what was left of her faux resolve shattered. Shay didn’t give it much thought before she launched herself into Cash’s arms and crashed her lips onto to his, latching onto him like he was the only life preserver out in a sea of deep blue. Almost as if he was the only thing keeping her from being swept up in a tidal wave, the only thing keeping her from floating away, in a way he was.

Cash let out an audible groan that sent shockwaves of both arousal and pleasure radiating to Shay’s warm core. She felt dizzy as his strong arms snaked round the small of her back, carefully trying to pull her small frame even closer to his than she already was. Shay let out a breathless groan of her own as she tangled her small fingers in his soft grey tendrils the way she’d been dreaming of since they were teenagers. The kiss deepened in a way that teetered on a gentle, demanding sort of synchronized hunger that made everything around them seem to fade away. It was perhaps the most in sync, the most in the moment, Shay had felt with Cashton Ewing since that Valentine’s Day they laid on a frozen pond, staring up at the stars and feather like snowflakes. Shay had thought nothing could top the way she felt that night, lying next to him on a sheet of ice while he stared at her like she was the center of his whole world, but this moment took it all. It almost made the twelve years of silent pining and sleepless nights worth tiresome treading up a slippery slope, worth it. At least before reality set in and Shay found it in herself to let them both up for some much-needed air. They sat there in silence for what felt like forever. Eyes closed, panting, unmoving, and still clinging to each other in a sea of blue seemingly trying to process what had just happened. Shay immediately found herself wishing she hadn’t dared to come up from something as silly as oxygen because the act of doing so, brought her back to earth.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Cash’s POV

            Cash wasn’t quite sure what he had done to get to this moment. With Shay, the love of his life wrapped up in his arms. Kissing him the way he had only ever dreamt of for the past twelve years, part of him still couldn’t believe it was real. Not even when she pulled away to catch her breath, Cash found himself just staring at her. Taking in the way her perfect chest rose and fell while she sat straddling his lap, eyes closed, and cheeks tinted the most adorable shade of pink. It was moments like these Cash wished he had his camera; he’d take pictures of Shay all day if she’d let him the way she used to when they were free spirited kids running along sandy shores. Cash could never quite pinpoint why those days felt so far away. Perhaps it was the weight of getting older. The inability to block out the anxious internal ramblings that plague the dreaded period of one’s coming of age only seems to get harder as the years tick by. It’s only when you muster the courage to no longer let those anxious Broadway shows in your head no longer rule your life. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done but for reasons Cash couldn’t understand everything about that kiss felt easy, freeing even. The last time he’d felt this uninhibited was that summer before eighth grade, the last true summer he had Shay had spent together. Sometimes that summer felt like a lifetime ago, but this one kiss somehow made it feel closer than ever before, he could almost see it now. With the late evening sun streaming through the attic window, cascading over Shay’s sun kissed skin and short, bouncy blonde hair. It always seemed to frame her heart shaped face to some sort of ethereal perfection.

            “How are you even real…” Cash breathed out just above a whisper, more so to himself than anything. His tone was soft but somehow still managed to make Shay jump in surprise where she still sat on his lap as his vibrato cut through the silence they’d fallen into. Cash held back an amused chuckle watching her pretty green eyes fly open to meet his smiling gaze. His smile faltered slightly as he quickly assessed that her green orbs were flooded with a stream of fear. He couldn’t remember the last time Shay had looked at him with anything other than what he could only describe as a cute sort of annoyed look on her face. Sometimes she put in the effort to hide it behind a tight smile that never quite reached her pretty eyes. Cash had grown to appreciate the effort because it meant maybe she thought about him half as much as he thought about her.

 “Didn’t mean to frighten you, Cherry Blossom” Cash cooed, reassuringly tone running his hands down the small of her back in soothing motions with a bashful, yet comforting grin on his face. Shay wordlessly stared back at him for quite some time, her face and eyes were unusually expressive for the first time since they were hormonal teenagers.

“…I’m so sorry…” Shay finally croaked with tears brimming her eyes, her small arms wrapped around her torso in a clear effort to comfort herself. Cash couldn’t help the way felt his heart drop to his stomach at how frail her voice sounded as it floated out of her now quivering lips. This wasn’t the reaction he was hoping to get after an earth-shattering kiss like that, but it certainly put things in perspective for him. Shay’s inability to recount what really happened that day she refused to open her window or why she went away for a whole summer was one born out of anxiety and fear. Fear of judgment, the fear of Cash’s judgment to be exact. Cash watched Shay’s chest heave rapidly up and then down with soft blue eyes, a mix of sweat and tears fell from her rapidly moving eyes. They scanned the room, refusing to meet the blue eyes sat before them, searching for an exit the same way they had that last Thanksgiving they’d seen each other …

            “You don’t have to be sorry, Cherry Blossom. I’m not…that was perfect” Cash said in a soft but careful tone, reaching up to wipe away tears rolling down her cheeks tenderly. He knew what he had to do now. It was something he should’ve at least done that Thanksgiving everything went wrong. Looking back at it now Cash could see that was the day Shay had tried to open the window for him again. He tried to convince himself she was just “asking for a friend” but he knew she wasn’t. Cash would be lying if he said his guilt for that wasn’t what spurred him to beat Tyler half to death in a hotel lobby that snowy day Shay called him in tears. A night Cash was most certain Shay didn’t remember but that was a conversation for another day, for now he’d comfort her in all the ways he wished he could over the last twelve years…

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve ruined everything… I’m so stupid!” Shay said between gasps and soft sobs. Cash shushed her, tightening his gentle hold on her now trembling body as she attempted to squirm off his lap. Cash knew what this had seen her like this only twice before. She was pulling away from him again both physically and emotionally the same way she had back then, and he wouldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her do it at least not now that he saw a possibility of this ending the way he’d only ever dreamt of… He just had to get her out of her head long enough to see that he’d loved her and always had.

            “You didn’t ruin anything, Cherry Blossom, you’re not stupid. I’m going to take you downstairs it’s okay” Cash said calmly, still wiping away hot tears from her flushed cheeks with determination in his comforting blue eyes. Shay didn’t respond, her eyes seemed to still be looking for a flight-based exit strategy part of Cash wasn’t even sure if she heard him over her hyperventilating. Still, he guided her small trembling arms to grab hold of his neck.

“Hold on to me Cherry Blossom. You’re going to be okay; I’ve got you” Cash cooed in her ear reassuringly, moving his hands to grip the back of her thighs. He slowly rose to his feet taking great care not to jolt her already form too suddenly as he weaved his way through half unpacked tattered brown boxes. Shay seemed mostly unaware of what Cash was doing or where she even was until he made it to the top of the stairs, her small arms tightened around his neck greatly.

“I’d never let you fall, Cherry Blossom, you know that” Cash cooed along with an unrestrained string of sweet nothings. They poured out of his mouth the way waves crash on the sandy shore, smoothing her over with everything he had in him. And for once it felt easy, showering Shay with praise and care the way she’d done for Cash every night he’d crawled through her window battered and bruised. That feeling he had for her on those nights, that level of reverence he held for her even then at the ripe age of 7 never went away. It only bloomed, blossoming the way a cherry blossom does in spring with dazzling hues of pink.

            “My chest hurts, Cashy, I can’t breathe…” Shay finally said still struggling to catch her breath when Cash finally strode into the kitchen. Her face was pale, and tearstained as she gazed up at him with the most helpless green eyes, he’d ever seen on her in his life. Cash gently shushed her once more, planting a tender kiss in her soft blonde curls, part of him wanted to cry right along with her. There was so much pain in her eyes and Cash didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before but now that he had he would do everything within his power to snuff it out.

            “You’re having a panic attack, darling. Just breathe honey, I’ll get you some water and your snacks and we can watch some Harrison Ford movies” Cash crooned, attempting to set Shay’s shaky form on the living room sofa but her grip on his neck only tightened. Where she even found the strength to cling to him this was way beyond Cash right now.

            “Please don’t let me go, Cashy” her shaky voice hit Cash’s ear like some soft lullaby, but it was enough to deter him from setting her on the sofa. Cash nodded, silently plopping down on the sofa with Shay gingerly cradled in his arms; the action was enough for Shay’s breathing to slowly even out. Her green eyes were still clouded with a subtle amount of fear as they gazed up into his timidly.

            “I told you, no judgment on my part Cherry Blossom, remember?” Cash said placing a few more reassuring kisses into her soft curls with the same matured reverence he’d harbored for her since his youth. Before he softly wiped and kissed the few lingering tears on her flushed cheeks. It was hard to believe they’d had that conversation some hours ago a few feet from where they were no because it felt like they’d moved mountains since then. Cash felt Shay truly relax into his touch for the first time since they were kids. Smoothly melting into him and his comfort the way sand smooths under crashing waves of blue. Cash was sure it wouldn’t last too long; Shay had made it clear she was going to need a lot of reassurance if this thing between them was going to become anything like the way he hoped. Anything like the way he dreamed but for once Cash felt confident in his ability to get her there and that was more than enough…. That was everything.

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

[that-one-odd-shipper]

🍒 . New Fic . 🍒

Beautiful, ik ik 😋

🍒- You guessed it, this fic is a Bsd x Heathers au! The musical, however.

🍄- With the formatting of this fic every chapter will be one song written as a story, and include some extra scene I decided to add. I am going off the off-broadway script however Never Shut Up Again and Your Welcome will be present. The only chapter that doesn't have an extra scene is the first, because beautiful is a REALLY long song.

🫖- When writing I tried to mix the personalitys and motives of the original and Bsd character, so some things may be slightly changed. For example Fyodor and Nikolai are Kurt and Ram, and the original actions of the two might come from a completely different motive or idea. They aren't less of assholes though 😔.

🥀- And now, I'll give the first couple paragraphs to the work and then a link. Updates on what's happening will be posted right here!

September 1st, 1989

"Dear Diary."

Atsushi believes hes a good person, y’know, he thinks there's good in everybody! Or at least he used to always think that...but here they are. First day of senior year!

And uh… Atsushi looks around at these kids that hes known all his life and asks the world, what happened? This is not the happy, fun place he dreamed high school was as a kid.

Right on que, hes suddenly slammed against the lockers by someone's shoulder. The person walks in front of him, screaming back.

"Move, Freak!"

That was a usual expression to be heard, not as bad as the many others he's been called. 'Slut, burn-out, bug-eyes, poser, lard-ass,' you name an insult? He's been called that.

He misses when everyone was so tiny, happy and weirdly shiny with old fashion. Playing tag and getting chased was the most important thing on their minds.

"Freak, slut, loser, shortbus!" Came from the halls, directed to multiple people. At this point, it's hard not to get used to the constant name calling.

Back then, it was never like that. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, Baking cookies, eating paste! How much better could life have gotten?

"Redneck, stuck-up, hunchback!"

Then they got bigger, that was the trigger that ended the whole fantasy of happiness. It was basically like the Huns invading Rome! Uh... Sorta?

"Ugh!"

"Oh!! Sorry!!"

He apologized to a random girl he bumped into during his internal rant, accidentally making her drop her books. She rolled her eyes and promptly ignored him, muttering something- probably curses under her breath.

So with that opening welcome to his school! This ain't no high school however, more like the this is thunder dome of his life. All that's left to do is hold his breath and count the days, at least Atsushi is graduating soon!

"White trash!"

Atsushi groaned at the berating noise going on behind him. He lives on two statements currently, one is they are graduating soon. The second is that college will be paradise, it has to be.

If he makes it to college, not dead by June...

But he knows, and knows and knows, life could be beautiful. And he prays, and prays, and prays, for a better way.

If they changed back then, they could change again! Who says change is impossible? Everything could be beautiful again...

Turning the corner, he walked into the annoying area of the hallway. Of course, the one with all the jocks and jerks every step you go. Atsu is lucky he doesn't get bullied as bad as some other kids-

"OW!" Just not today.

________________________________

And that was the first couple paragraphs! I hope you'd like to check it out :)

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56530051/chapters/143669353#main

My ao3 acc:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Odd_Shipper/pseuds/That_One_Odd_Shipper

[autumnalwalker]

Writeblr Intro v3

Updating the pinned intro now that it's been a year and my (now previously) main WIP is complete as it's going to be.

Me:

I write as a hobby. It's something I do for fun and first and foremost for myself. But if other people happen to actually like what I write, that's pretty cool too.

I try to keep this main blog primarily writing-focused. I've set up the side-blog @traversedmiscellany for reblogging/posting any other random stuff that happens to catch my interest.

I tend to prefer to keep my online and offline lives separate so I rarely say much about personal details aside from what inevitably winds up leaking into talking about my writing.

I am open to tag games and ask games. Or just general writing-related asks.

If anyone would like to be added to a tag list (whether for WIP updates or tag games), please feel free to send me a message or reply to this post, specifying what you want to be on the tag list for.

My WIPs:

Completed (Is it still a "WIP" at this point? Either way, it's fully online and available to read for free.):

The Archivist's Journal:

A slice-of-life story about waking up on a fantasy tropical island told over the course of a year in the form of daily journal updates. Mostly fairly chill, just living life one day at a time, but with some occasional angst, social anxiety, and supernatural spookiness.

The whole story (just over 330,000 words) is posted on my side blog @thearchivistsjournal. Or if you want to read from the beginning, here's the chronological posting. Or if you prefer to read in a format other than Tumblr posts, it's mirrored over on my ScribbleHub.

Also, here's the post I made when the project was completed for some more meta background on it and what I mean when I call it "complete."

I may eventually make additional scattered journal entries as a sort of periodic epilogue, but Day 380 should be considered the end of the "main story," so to speak.

Ongoing:

Empty Names:

My current main project. Also freely available to read in full as chapters go up.

A bit of an episodic urban fantasy moster-of-the-week sort of deal that's mostly an excuse to have a cast of OCs that I like interact with eachother. The basic premise is a world-hopping adventurer attempts to set up a sword-and-sorcery style adventurer's guild in a modern world where "adventurer" isn't considered a legitimate profession. Has what I suppose one might call "genre-typical violence" with fighting monsters and such, and individual chapters are tagged with more specific content warnings where necessary.

Here's the masterpost for it with links to chapters and to several standalone side stories set in the same world/setting.

I'm much more casual with my update schedule on this project, but it seems to be coming out to posting weekly chapter updates for a month or two at a time and then taking a month or two off from posting while I rebuild my buffer queue for the next batch of chapters.

Also, while it's not exactly a focus, the five characters of the core cast are all some flavor or another of LGBTA+, if that's a selling point for you.

The Witches' Testaments:

A prequel to the currently-hiatused "Solarpunk Witch Story" below that I wrote the loose framework and beginnings of in a sudden fit of inspiration that I may return to sporadically.

The idea was to focus a bit more on the "punk" side of Solarpunk and paint a picture of the effort and rebellion that went into how that world transitioned from Cyberpunk dystopia to Solarpunk... well, not utopia exactly, but something better than it was and striving toward that dream.

And because that sort of thing is bigger than any one person and I had multiple worldbuilding concepts I wanted to touch on, I landed on the idea of writing it in the form of a series of interviews with various characters who lived through that period of change.

Here's the masterpost for it.

Indefinite Hiatus:

Untitled Solarpunk Witch Story:

A project that I absolutely intend to return to one day once Empty Names is finished, but that's going to be a good long while yet.

The story of a freshly-minted "witch" and her AI familiar traveling from town to town in an ecologically-recovering post-capitalism future, providing highly-specialized tech support and environmental consulting wrapped up in enough mysticism and aesthetics to blur the line between what's purely technology and what might possibly be some kind of magic. I only ever wrote a prologue and five chapters worth of an initial arc/town/problem to solve, but I liked what I wrote well enough to share all that online. Ultimately this project going on hold was a matter of it being one project too many for me to handle simultaneously on the time combined with a desire to get more experience at traditional prose writing (as opposed to the epistolary format of The Archivist's Journal) so that I could better do the concept justice when I do one day revisit it.

In the meantime, those initial rough chapter drafts are all up online here: Solarpunk Witch Masterpost

Miscellaneous other writing:

On most Thursdays I'll post small (couple hundred words at most) pieces based on various interesting dreams that I've had. Being based on dreams, the content is a mixed bag. Those are tagged under #my dreams. These now have a compilation Masterpost that I'll do my best to keep updated.

Alternatively, if you just want to browse semi-random excerpts and snippets from the above works, I post a lot of that under #tag game.

Some Standalone Short Stories:

(Stories that were either written to be standalone pieces, or appear within something else but worked well enough by themselves that I gave them their own separate posts.)

The Tale of the Merchant and the Blacksmith's Daughter: A sapphic fairy tale (and, in retrospect after writing, possible trans allegory).

The Melts: An attempt to shift what would normally be body horror into the genre of slice-of-life. "What if your body slowly melting over the course of the day were treated as no more serious than the common cold and you still had to go to work?"

Kindly Basilisk: A human mech pilot who wants to be a machine, an AI who wants to be human, and the relationship they form.

[sunny6677]

Ramble about my day today + Photos

FACE REVEAL BELOW IF YA DONT WANNA SEE, KINDA VENTY AT SOME PARTS

Morning was about the same, but it looked pretty as always. Cloudy sky's, humid air, the sound of crickets. I saw my friends cat outside her house this morning so I pet him again and even took a video of him I posted a while ago. I ended up taking the bus like usual, listened to some music on the way, took some photos, and when I got to school, I just ended up having Gatorade again for breakfast as my friends talked and also complimented my new haircut./lh

(One of them said I looked like a Victorian woman lol)

(New haircut—)

Psychology came once again. I got kinda scolded for having my headphones on without realizing, but it's fine kdndnsn. I didn't have a dream last night, so I fortunately had nothing to write down for my assignment regarding my dreams this day. We ended up just having some light hearted banter though, and were told to write about something we like and why. So.. I ended up writing a (technically) two page essay about spooky month that I finished in like fifteen minutes. And then just spent the rest of the time playing roblox on my phone during advisory because the site I use to work on Geometry stuff was being laggy.

Spanish came around after—and we didn't get much done, but we kinda just went over the stuff we're gonna be doing to help us learn for the subject itself and weren't able to go over a story in Spanish our teacher was gonna read us. I also said hi to my Geometry teacher during the beginning period of second period, and my Spanish teacher complimented my haircut./lh

Chemistry came around, and not a lot happened aside from filling out a bunch of notes and cutting out stuff we're apparently gonna use later. But it was fun since I was able to listen in on some funny conversation, and also one of my friends only just now noticed my spooky month hoodie./lh

Technology came around. We're supposed to be coming up with concepts for an animation movie, so I wrote a concept for an animated movie where the main character is a sassy sarcastic easily anxious female cashier who gets isekai'd into a stereotypical fantasy world (the cashier is inspired by Kevin kdndndn). I finished rather quickly, so I spent the rest of the time working on the Hot To Go comic.

Didn't do much for lunch, aside from play roblox and eat some chips while my friends talked. They were saying some pretty bad stuff though like usual, so I kinda tuned em out. I know they're just teens like me and act all edgy and will one day learn their lesson, but Jesus fucking christ it's really hard to remember that sometimes. The only reason I haven't said anything about it is because I'm scared of what they might do to me if they don't take my concerns that well.

English came around—we read our books for a little while, and ended up playing a somewhat stressful but rather fun game where we have to circle a bunch of tiny/giant numbers on a paper in order. And my team ended up being the winning one. We weren't able to read the book we're supposed to be reading cuz of how long the game went on for tho.

Theater also came around—where we were all grouped up into four, and because my table had six, I split up to a different table with this guy, his partner, and some random dude. The assignment was to do our skit, and our prompt was someone being pulled over by a British journalist (changed to a cop for our skit). We weren't given enough time to prepare so we had to improv, and I was the British oddly gruff uncomfortable police officer who basically interrogated this guy as his cat just wondered around the car. We played 'Freeze' during the last minutes of class, and I got to change the three 3 times—with the scene changes being me as a arrogant classist person accusing someone of not being good enough for their daughter, a Disney channel bully, and an eldritch crab entity that growled and chased people around. The random dude I partnered up with said I was just too good for everyone since they kept kicking me out like a few seconds in and seemed to find me funny.

Geometry was kinda boring as per usual—with me just working on different Geometry stuff online as my teacher sort of bothered other people in an attempt to be friendly and ended up just arguing with some random student because he accused him of 'doing nothing all day'. And he also started getting really political for some reason. And going on about how much he loves America.

The last period was World History, where I joked around with one of my friends and finished an assignment I was working on with him. Then we filled in some notes about what we learnt so far, but we didn't have much time left, so we're just gonna be working on them tomorrow.

..today was kinda meh.

Photos I took today:

[roydeezed]

Dungeon Meshi Thoughts 05

I think this will be the last of these Dungeon Meshi posts before I catch up because I’m finding it very hard to put down. Judging by the names of the next few chapters I’m on the edge of the fight with Thistle The Mad Sorcerer so I thought I’d stop off here and leave my thoughts before continuing. So this post is going to cover chapters 51-67. My spoiler filled thoughts down below past the “Keep reading”.

Last we left off, our intrepid heroes had just learnt of Senshi’s backstory and helped him overcome a great trauma in his life, the belief that he might have eaten his comrades in order to survive. Now, having been changed into different races because of the changeling mushrooms, the group talks about the differences in the ages of the races, which in hindsight after learning of Marcille’s desire, makes me realize how important this conversation was. It also makes me wonder how old Marcille really is. The story at multiple times obfuscated attempts at learning about her age. Has she somehow already learnt the way to increase her own lifespan as her worries about people dying on her due to age seem a little too real to be just worries for the future. And her traveling around picking up random bits of knowledge while also landing on forbidden magic screams someone who’s lived so long all they  can do now is gather knowledge. Marcille’s backstory, for being supposedly so old, is still so vague.

Getting back to the story, the main draw of the cooking in a fantasy setting has been the fact that they get to try all these sorts of wild creatures that would never exist in our world. But leveling that up and creating a whole new method of cooking, through changing things with the changeling mushrooms is such a great evolution of the lore of this world and classic fantasy staples. 

We also learn quite a bit about Laois and Falin’s backstory over the course of these chapters. The key motivation of Laios leaving his hometown was that he was sick of the people there, namely his parents with how much he didn’t want to look like his dad. His main regret was leaving Falin, which is why he’s trying so hard to get her back. His motivation, of wanting a world of harmony speaks to more of a desire of adventurers, to see a world that they haven’t seen before through Laios’s kindhearted view.

It’s a much vaguer wish, with an emphasis on discovery than someone like Marcilles wish, which, while grand, is very concrete. Maybe that’s why the Lion chose him, as such a vague wish is easy to manipulate. One other thing that stood out to me was that both Laios and Falin were engaged before it fell through. In between the cracks of what we know they have a whole set of lives and personalities. I want to know what Laios in love looks like so bad. The little scene of little Falin eating alone is so precious and heartbreaking. I just want the best for these siblings. 

Sharing food as a form of love, for both of the siblings, shows how much they both care about the party. Two small moments that followed this revelation that I loved were Marcille crying because she realized how much Falin loved her and Izutsumi acting literally like a cat as she comforted Marcille.

Izutsumi should be the blueprint for all catgirls going forward, the authour really hit a homerun when they made her.

The group also comes to the conclusion that they can eat her to fix her, calling upon the help of all their allies so far. With where I’m at now, with the characters as divided as they are and the Lion manipulating Laios, I can only say this was an overly hopeful dream. 

We then go over to what I now consider to be the manga’s secondary protagonist, Kabru. Who once again, I dearly love. I love all of the characters but Kabru is just great in so many ways. And we see his determination in not letting a repeat of Utaya, his hometown, happen again. We see how the dungeon has corrupted others and in an effort to drive out campers and get Thistle to come to them, the canaries incite desire in people by flashing money. Originally they seemed outright evil, but I should’ve known better as it’s never that straightforward with Dungeon Meshi. The Canaries are either royals or criminals who’ve meddled with dark magic, signified by clipped ears. This makes me wonder if Marcille has any relation with the Canaries because is she somehow authorized to learn forbidden magic? The Canaries seem like a lifetime membership though. 

Misurn and Kabru manage to get one over on Thistle and just as Misurn is about to end Thistle, Kabru realizes that he needs answers. A bad faith take of this situation, upon learning of the demons and the dungeon mechanics, as well as Kabru’s later desire to stop Laios, would be to say this was just extending the story through a plot convenience. And it really very easily could have been. But this goes back to the systemic issue of the older races, dwarves and elves, not trusting the younger races. Seeing them as naive and impulsive. Kabru forcing this information out is one of the reasons I love him so much. 

While I think some naivety is needed, Kabru looks forward to a world like the one Laios and Marcille look forward to but in a much more realistic sense. He understands the first thing that needs to happen, even before a magical resetting of the race’s ages, is that they need to trust each other. And that’s something we see happen on a smaller scale with our party.

Next, we learn Chilchuck’s backstory. He turns out to be a father and a husband, and through Marcilles incredibly empathetic prediction, we learn most of how the separation with his wife went.  After Senshi, Chilchuck comes in as the second most known about party member, though we still don’t know why or how he got into adventuring. While filling out the role of the rogue in the party, he is also the most wholesome, having raised his daughters and loved his wife.

Next we learn about Marcille’s backstory. And even though we learn quite a lot about her, by the simple virtue of being an elf, there’s still a whole lot more we don’t know about her. This also drives home Marcille’s desire to eliminate the differences between races. With Chilchuck and Senshi, them belonging to a younger race and being younger respectively, we’re able to learn their backstories quite fast. Marcille, being an elf, has that much more of a distance between her and her companions as she has so much more ground to cover on formative memories and motivations. Also on a personal note, finding out that Marcille got into dungeon crawling because she’s basically that world’s equivalent of a flatliner is the dorkiest, stupidest, and funniest thing about her. She’s such a loser(affectionate), I love her so much. Her being into a dorky prince like person as her one true love comes second to that. But going back to it, Marcille is so intrinsically tied to the siblings that it’s just as much her story as it is theirs. 

The next little bit has a few fun moments I want to mention. One is that the Dullhan looks like such a cool monster that I hope we see it again. Another is that I love how the story of the succubui helps Izutsumi come to terms with her animal nature so organically. It’s such a brilliant use of monsters to help realize the protagonists character arcs, you know I’m writing this down for future TTRPG use. Also Chilchuck’s wife is blonde, that’s so wholesome, he’s such a good husband. Them losing to the succubi because of Marcille’s lame taste is also so on brand. Though I would’ve thought Marcille would’ve seen Falin with how much they seem to care for her. I thought the story was alluding to a romantic relationship between the two of them but I guess I’m wrong as it sets it up that Laios sees Marcille as his type. Also Izutsumi is god tier ace rep. 

We then meet the lion, who looks adorable by the way, and we learn that it wants to help Laios become the new lord of the dungeon and that Thistle is keeping it trapped. From what we learn later, it looks like Thistle was able to keep the dungeon safe for so long because he locked up the lion, preventing it from feeding on his desire more. The lion also probably manipulated the people of the kingdom to make them aid Laios in such a specific way. As we later learn from Kabru's perspective, Demons are beings from a dimension of infinite energy that grow strong by feeding on people's desires. 

Here's where I think Dungeon Meshi delivers another masterstroke of storytelling. All throughout so far, we've been very clearly watching the world through our characters' eyes, learning what they want to learn about, being curious about what they want to be curious about, and more specifically learning about the characters themselves from little moments of dialogue to big chunks of backstory. And this has gotten us invested in the characters without much thought to the world. But now the world is developed in such a major way through the Canaries and The Demons and especially our characters' relationships with these two, specifically the Demons, that we can't help but care about the world as well. The main crux of the demon's powers being gained through desire lets the story function through the wants and needs of our main characters, making us, the audience, at the very least, understand, if not root for their desires. Desires that could very well destroy their world. It puts us at odds with the story as much as our characters are. It's genius.

Going back to the story once again, we follow Kabru as they tail Laios along his journey and we once again see that Kabru makes a quick and impulsive decision to follow Laios so he can speak with him one more time. Kabru is always quick to come to conclusions; we saw as much from his first interaction with Laios, where he chooses not to blame him for his party's death and gets a read on him instantly. It's one of his greatest strengths, but also could become one of his greatest weaknesses. Thankfully, up until now, it's worked out, but going forward, it could very well backfire as Kabru doesn't second guess himself enough to fully consider his assumptions.

Finally, on to the last stretch of events before I put it down to write this, our heroes come across Thistles cabin and partially free the winged lion after eating some phoenix.

The birth of the lion from the book as well as the whole sequence with Misurn and the goat are incredibly horrific.

As a horror fan, my love for this manga increased tenfold with the recent developments. The lion also looks like a biblical angel after it’s birth.

The imagery is absolutely breathtaking here.

Also I really like Misurn as both a character and a plot device. He’s so single minded about revenge but he also has a lot of personality even if that comes from having his desires taken away.

I also love how Kabru as a human matches wits with these supposed mature races. He meets them equally and I couldn’t be prouder of my boy. 

Our heroes also attempt to kill some rabbits for Falin and things go horribly wrong with Marcille being the only one left to fend for herself in one of the funniest moments in the series where she has a ghoulish dance troupe with dead rabbits and her fellow party members.

Speaking of the rabbits, if anyones watched Re:Zero they reminded me a lot of the snow rabbits but like a 100% more messed up.

But here we get another moment that makes me wonder what Marcille has actually gone through.

She talks about how it would make her feel if everyone died like she has some experience.

I’m still mad that the story skipped over her age. Is she like a thousand years old or something? What’s your deal girl? How’d you get so adorkable? But really. Marscille’s actions make me feel like she’s not that old but hints to her backstory suggest she is. It’s so weird. Going into this next part, Kabru is still my favourite but with how much of a loser she is Marcille is a really close second. And the fact that she’s such a capable wizard makes it a hundred times funnier. We love emotionally unstable dorks here. 

Also, I absolutely love the crying faces in Dungeon Meshi, they pack so much gentle emotion into them.

Anyways, they feed Falin and take her out before getting ready to fight Thistle. That’s where I stopped reading and right after posting this I am going to go back, I’ve been away from this for way too many days. With Kabru also converging on this point I don’t think this fight will turn out like a typical fight. There are way too many factors involved to accurately predict anything. Though it would be wild if Laios becomes the lord of the dungeon. Knowing how subversive and nuanced this story gets I wouldn’t put it past it. Our heroes have suffered so much, I just want a win for them at this point. With being on what I feel like is the precipice of a major plot point, I can’t really speculate much or analyze much as it all feels like it leads to the immediate next part. Like all the build up has been for a very specific set of circumstances that I probably won’t be able to predict. See ya next time when I've caught up! Unless something happens where I need to stop and gather thoughts.

[larnax]

ok i have. i have more disgaea thoughts. my girl fuka what did they do to you

ok so the thing abt d4 is that overall its story is quite fun, it's peak disgaea because it is wacky in a way where its absurdly exaggerated literal events are used to represent emotional conflicts ie a character's dad shutting himself away in his lab for her entire childhood who reveals it was to fulfill her dream of taking over the world by developing machines that she can command to take over the world as an allegory for a dad doing his best to provide for his kids at the expense of being there for his kids so they grow up without feeling like he loves them, and it legitimately is the only story i think really intertwines serious and batshit to make "WE HAVE TO POWER THE MECH WITH LOVE SO IT CAN STOP THE MOON FROM CRASHING TO EARTH, QUICK, PRAY TO YOUR PARTNER BECAUSE WHILE YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN GOD YOU HAVE FAITH IN HIM!" instead of in d1 having the story be wacky with occasional stops to tell a standard story with normal emotional stakes and etna is there to tell jokes, or from d5 onwards basically just being standard fantasy stories with normal emotional stakes but theres wacky backgrounds.

the actual main story of d4 is all bangers, there are a lot of great heels to keep the story interesting and although they all come around to val in the end they don't all become his bff which avoids the d7 problem of "you made a new guy up just so we would have anyone to fight and nobody we do recruit puts up an interesting struggle and therefore none of us have an interesting reason we're still here beyond inertia". i do wish artina got to do more stuff i think she's way too fun a character who is way too important in the story to be relegated to third wheel as often as she is, but to fix that i would just give her most of axel's stuff. she becomes president and then is absent for the moon episode on intel that she'll meet "someone she doesn't wanna see" and then when she radios in for the roll call you have a little joke about flonne being that person.

usually i really like flonne being a straightforward heel in her adult appearances. shes the whitest woman in existence and shes very nasty when she thinks she's doing the right thing, which is always. i support women's wrongs and her stealing billions from the netherworld(which celestia already exploits in a lot of ways/sometimes just decides to destroy) to fuck around with by forcing an underling who actively does not want to do it to shake down random civilians and public infrastructure, all to fund her stupid ass mech shaped like her who's powered by prayer? thats horrible! shes so nasty! it's really funny and them being forced to deal with That being their only way to keep fenrich from having the most important thing in his life(after val) fucking exploded leads to one of the reasons they should have won that fucking noncanon gayest ships tournament FUCK those community bitches.

HOWEVER. the fuka dlc is so bad. or let me rephrase: the fuka dlc is transcendantly good until the ending at which point it becomes the worst thing that happens in disgaea 4.

bc ok ok ok. so fuka is dead. that's her story, after a childhood of being neglected by her always busy dad she breaks into his lab and finds his evil scientist lair full of mutant constructs, one of whom kills her. she doesn't accept that she's dead because she's only 14 and her life hasn't even started yet and on top of that she's been sent to hell despite being a normal ass 14 year old whos biggest crime is being a teenager. so she deals with it by denying it and deluding herself into believing that this is all a dream and someday she'll wake up in a happy life she's just starting and she won't have to confront the terrible fate she met with. so the solution is obvious, right?

after the main story resolves and fuka has a group of friends and caretakers who love her and she's patched things up with her dad, fuka needs to accept that she's dead. disgaea uses a reincarnation system as a core part of the series mythology and gameplay. reincarnation is good and necessary. fuka, eventually, needs to let go, and stop haunting the world she did get cheated out of a life in.

so in the dlc, her friends and family help her. val puts her through the toughest puzzle course he can because he's her teacher and he wants her to prove that she's strong and resourceful and capable, and she does! she passes all his tests and he gives her his formal blessing. then her secondary father figure, her bio dad, finally delivers on his promise to help her take over the world, they like. rent out a city and give her a bunch of crazy machines to go wild on with the power she's worked so hard for and the allies she's found so much support in, including her little sister who she only recently got to meet and connect with during the main story and her surrogate reluctant little brother, The Grim Reaper, who is the one guiding her through the mechanics of reincarnation in the first place as a sign of his own personal growth that he's now mature enough to handle this difficult case.

and it works! fuka accepts it! she accepts, sadly, that she's dead, and she should move on. she'll lose this life, which is sad! they're all sad about it! but it's okay. and then-- it's an ending, right?

it's going to be an ending, you think. disgaea has a bunch of specific endings. there's one for completing a single optional stage in d1. it would make perfect sense narratively and gameplay wise to have an ending with fuka reincarnating, then just. introduce a bill to resummon fuka from an alternate dimension or time travel shenanigans or literally whatever other funny joake you can think of this is a comedy series and doing it this way doesn't undercut the emotional part While Its Happening. because if that happened itd be Bad.

enter flonne. because it is not an ending. flonne barrels through the fourth wall at the last second and, dead vfucking serious, CONDEMNS FUKA TO ETERNAL HELL WITH NO CHANCE OF REINCARNATION because she "tried to take over the world" by fighting in a stage consisting of like three blocks her dad set up for her where no civilians were even present. also bc shes the ruler of heaven this is the character who condemned her to hell originally when she was FOURTEEN because when she was six she wanted to take over the world.

which is a baller heel move and i would be so so so so into it IF she was a boss fight. if they had to defeat her before she was forced to reluctantly give fuka her very well-deserved reincarnation. but, uh, nope, last minute twist, Moving On Is Bad Actually and fuka is still condemned to eternal hell. fuck you. sure its technically a sentence that lets her spend time with her besties forever but like. at what cost. flonne only works as a heel if the other characters clash with her instead of valvatorez and emizel of all fucking people being like Woof so glad we don't have to say goodbye, i guess our entire characters and the things we find important and the reasons we were doing this do not matter and all that shit about caring about fuka and wanting her to find peace was Bullshit. have fun being 14 for the rest of your life, Dumbass!

← literally what its like to be 14 years old

[kpopfanfictrash]

Hi Shanna!

Hope you're doing well.

I'm so excited for elemental 😍🤩. When it comes to fantasy au, I know every part of the plot and back story will be well thought. I don't know how you come up with this stories overall, do you just mix ideas together, or do you get inspired by movies.

Is fantasy your favorite genre to write?

And also, how do you keep yourself motivated to keep writing the story, I'm asking because I see all these writers get inspired and have this amazing ideas, and they start posting, but eventually quit or take too long to continue the story. How do you deal with 'time pressure' (i mean from yourself, not others)

Hello and good morning! I'm so glad to hear you're excited!! I'm super excited to post, as well. Have been making good headway (although this feels like I'm jinxing by saying LOL)

Putting the rest under a cut because how did this get so long?

I actually don't watch a ton of movies or TV, but I do read a lot! My favorite genres to write (and read) are fantasy and romance... which probably shows in the types of AUs I post lol. It kind of depends on my mood/appetite which one sounds most appealing. For me, writing fantasy is more time-consuming/exhausting because not only are you keeping track of the plot and the characters, you're also creating an entirely new world/magic system and then, depending on whether you're writing high fantasy or modern fantasy, there's wholly new countries, governments, religions, politics, etc.

There are certain types of fantasy I've always been interested in and love to write about. Heaven/Hell mythology. Greek/Roman mythology. Celtic mythology. Fey realms/AU. Dragon lore (mostly Western, although I've recently become super interested in Eastern). You've probably seen a lot of those concepts pop up in my writing, as well!

All of my fantasy ideas tend to start with a what-if. Sometimes that comes from a movie or book. Sometimes that comes from an MV (wink; Elemental), or sometimes it's just a weird dream or tweet or random thought that popped into my head. The brainstorming process afterwards usually starts with me asking myself questions: what's the main conflict? what are the motivations of main characters? where does the story begin? how does it end? And so on, and so forth. I could probably write a whole TED talk about random writing observations LOL

One thing you mentioned is backstories in writing. This is something I find gets hammered out in my editing process. Usually, I know my plot before I start to write but character motivations/backstories are trickier. I need to wait and see what my characters say and do before I can smooth out their backstory and make it consistent. Usually, by the second or third edit, their character lines have fully filled in for me.

And lastly, oof, motivation. This is one of the trickiest parts of writing in my opinion. I'm a big believer motivation doesn't just happen. You need to sit down and start writing; motivation will follow. I know this sounds counter-intuitive and I'm as guilty as the next person of saying, "I don't feel like writing today," but tbh, you're never - or rarely - going to feel like writing until you actually start.

Now, with that said, I have gotten a lot better about putting pressure on myself. In the past, I'd churn out these gigantic one shots every month (or few weeks) and it took a massive amount of time and energy. I didn't give myself time to recharge, and I think I burned out much faster. Now, I'm more of the mindset that this is my last priority. Work comes first. Friends and family come first. Errands and taking care of myself come first. Writing is important, but it comes after all that. As long as I'm making some type of progress, I try to be content with this. Even if I don't post as often as I used to. I think this is a much more sustainable process and gives me content ideas for the future (how can you write about life without living?)

Phew! Hope that answers all your questions. Have a wonderful day/night and stay safe/healthy!

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

“No sane human being ever trusts someone else's version more than his own.” “What cannot be cured must be endured.” “We all owe death a life.” “What's real and what's true aren't necessarily the same.” “Most of what matters in our lives takes place in our absence.” “Children are the vessels into which adults pour their poison.” “Reality is a question of perspective “ “Nobody can face the world with his eyes open all the time.” “Perhaps, if one wishes to remain an individual in the midst of the teeming multitudes, one must make oneself grotesque.” “Things, even people have a way of leaking into each other like flavours when you cook.” “I admit it: above all things, I fear absurdity.” “Unless, of course, there's no such thing as chance; in which case, we should either-optimistically-get up and cheer, because if everything is planned in advance, then we all have a meaning and are spared the terror of knowing ourselves to be random, without a why; or else, of course, we might-as pessimists-give up right here and now, understanding the futility of thought decision action, since nothing we think makes any difference anyway, things will be as they will. Where, then, is optimism? In fate or in chaos?” “What you were is forever who you are.” “For every snake, there is a ladder; for every ladder, a snake” ”Silence, too, has an echo, hollower and longer-lasting than the reverberations of any sound.” “Optimism is a disease” “We must live, I'm afraid, with the shadows of imperfections.” “This is not what I had planned; but perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.” “You got to get what you can, do what you can with it, and then you got to die. “ “You can lay your strategies as carefully as you like, but women will undo them at a stroke.” “Reality can have metaphorical content; that does not make it less real.” "I found it easy to be brilliant, I was always confused about being good.” “When you have things, then there is time to dream; when you don’t, you fight.” “Nothing comes out right in life, unless it's forced out.” “I rode the night-streets of the city, looking for death.” “When thought becomes excessively painful, action is the finest remedy.” “Please believe that I am falling apart.” “I should never have dreamed of purpose” “All Americans need a frontier” “There is only money-and-poverty, and have-and-lack, and right-and-left; there is only me-against-the-world!” “I had learned that secrets were not always a bad thing.” “The ice is always waiting, just under the water’s skin” “Unity is invincibility.” “People are like cats you can’t teach them anything.” “It's a dangerous business to try and impose one's view of things on others.” “When you’re five and you hurt, you make a big noise unto the world. At ten you whimper. But by the time you make fifteen you begin to eat the poisoned apples that grow on your own inner tree of pain.” “You be respectable. Me, I’ll be alive.” “In my life, fate has never been unwilling to lend a hand.” “Our names contain our fates.” “Since the past exists only in one’s memories and the words which strive vainly to encapsulate them, it is possible to create past events simply by saying they occurred.” “No dominion is everlasting.” “All children have the power to change their parents” “Those who would be gods fear no one so much as other potential deities” “A person must sometimes choose what he will see and what he will not; look away, look away from there now.” “There is no magic on earth strong enough to wipe out the legacies of one's parents.” “Hell is other people’s fantasies.” “I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I'm gone which would not have happened if I had not come.”

[albino-whumpee]

Finished watching the space kitties movie and I got thoughts.

I hate the story of avatar. It doesn’t make sense! Compels me tho.

I have said this since I watched it the first time. What I liked about the movie was the world. I guess that’s the only thing the narrative did for me. (Think that the world was that captivating)

Anyways, I watched this movie last time when I was like 15? 13? However, don’t be fooled. By then I had already watched it more than 50 times. 50 of those from a terribly recorded pirated movie my parents bought me. So I know the story inside and out, but I was a kid and holy fuck, I would throw that kid off a cliff anytime. I wanna think my critical thinking has improved since then.

The Pocahontas storyline is absolutely true, in the same amount that it is a fantasy for the main character. New world, new body, new people to make an impression on. Kinda isekai ahahah.

The way things fall in the best course of events to have a dramatic twist later is like patchwork for a story full of holes. I mean, the movie has the “i see you” and “open your eyes” motif all throughout it, but what do they mean inside the story itself?

Connection.

This is so blatant in everything from the way the protagonist gets into the program, the function of everything in the planet, to how the avatars work. To how the protagonist, an alien puppet, becomes a part of their people.

That is the dream of one Jake Sully. His dreams of flying were about fleeing? About being free to do as he pleased? About stopping being “himself” and be something else entirely and yet be seen as who he was?

It’s funny a story that is about connection relies heavily in the question of “who are you really?” And runs with the option “I wanna be the second version of myself that’s completely fake”

Escapism.

No wonder I loved this movie when I was young.

To me, the story is one big beautiful dream that has the potential to become a nightmare.

But if we kinda dig deeper into some things, there was so much wasted potential.

- The avatars are created using dna from humans and the kitties. But there’s really never information that talks about the avatars state when not in use. It’s taking a big ass leap to say “neural connections is what makes a consciousness a person. How that synapses happens is unique to each individual and can be recreated even in another brain”. But running with it…

- Avatars are an incredible project if thinking about permanently switching the brain where the connection happens. Imagine that. A new body to transfer your consciousness to. Forever. Blue kitties is just a form you could have.

- Avatars are incapable of forming their own consciousness? Can they wake up from their dream? The movie shows the death of an avatar controller but doesn’t show what happens to the avatar. Did it die of natural causes a few days later? Or did it die alongside its controller? It’s so creepy to think it’s a biological suit.

- That brings me to another thing. The native kitties knew about the puppets and were disgusted by them, butttt, they don’t really act logically when the protagonist says “I wanna learn” because they go “…we wanna learn from you too. Come! Be part of our tribe! :)” like..??? Where is the hostility??? It pops on and off as the story sees fit and that’s so annoying. (And the trying to upload all of someone into another body? I mean, I would have loved to see the thought process for that)

- It’s kinda awkward to see the “let’s learn from you” phase of the story be written like that after so much whump reading. As if the character was trusted from the beginning, he wasn’t observed. He was literally pulled to learn from them rather than them learn from him. It’s such a big loophole and I think if it had been exploited a bit more, giving time and more thought to the protagonist actions to get their trust, it would have been great. Maybe even showing more than a one second attempt to reach by some random kiddo being intercepted by her parents would have been amazing to show this. (I’m aware that this was supposed to be shown with the other guy, but the lack of solitary moments because the girl was always with him muddled it up)

- People don’t blend in into the culture like that and I hate there was no cultural shock shown in order to keep the escapism motif. Like damn, that’s the best nonverbal way to show someone has to wake up!!!

- Also, the protagonist is supposed to be no much brain only brawn and with a big need to escape his life. So his actions make sense, but in a way, gah, an smarter protagonist would have been cool to see. Our regular guy trope is not so fun when our regular guy is modeled after a mediocre white man.

- No, but the fact that the guy’s personality was a big part of the conflict pisses me off. If you wanna show there’s an amazing world you wanna and should protect that’s ~real~ then why cater to this specific dude’s fantasy? Because he is owed that much? Because he is the protagonist?? His problems got solved too easy to be satisfactory. (Even in the war?!)

Sorry for the word vomiting but if anything this movie has left me with yet another great idea for a puppet whumpee horror story. :D

[broodygaming]

So I hit play on my headphones and instead of playing the YT video I was watching i played a random song from Dear Evan Hansen on my phone and it got back on a kick of listening to the soundtrack and I just wanna say I'm still SO upset by how the movie changed things.

And like, full disclosure, lol, I haven't seen the movie so fuck me I guess but the second I heard they cut Good For You I felt 0 interest in watching it.

So much of that song and other songs that were cut (Disappear and the opening song with the moms) are the CORE of the story and the thesis of the piece. Without those it becomes this weird story about a guy who "did something bad for a good reason". Which is just NOT what it's about.

To me DEH is about someone who is deeply, deeply broken and is hoping that someone comes and rescues him. He wants someone to just show up and be the other person in his fantasies. He isolates, he feels left out in the cold, he dreams, he floats through his days. And the first time he has a chance at connection, it feels a little safer because it's not Real connection - the other person is dead. He can have all you get from real connection, without the actual connection. His stories, his fantasies, his tales, his FRIEND, can all be real now. Pulled into existence just by his words.

He's not doing it to help the family, he's not doing it to help the world or to spread a message about mental health or whatever else. He's creating a hero for himself. A friend. Someone who came and rescued him. Someone who was THERE when he fell from that tree. Someone who listened to him talk about trees and spent time with him, knew his name and cared when he was no one. He's doing all of it for himself. To save himself.

And for me, Good For You is SUCH an integral part of that journey of realizing that all of this WAS in fact, just about Him. Evan. It wasn't about Conner or his family. It wasn't about the people in the school he's now using. It was always about Evan. And I think it's important that Good For You is happening in his head. That these aren't what his mom or school "friends" really think, it's what EVAN thinks of HIMSELF and more so, what he FEARS they all really think.

So much of his fear, so much of his self hatred and being outside, waving through a window, was all just in his head. He really did, ultimately, just need to speak nicer to himself. Talk himself down from the tree. Get himself help. Be there for himself. No one is coming to rescue you and that's okay. That's OKAY. You have time. And you do have people who love you.

[seeminglyseph]

Sooooo I may have made a deal with Auntie Ethel, just to see what would happen… so far not a lot, but it looks cool.

So far my adventure in Wizard Hubris is going great. Got completely thrashed by some spiders and I might open the Necronimicon. Not sure yet. Did munch a slug exactly like Animorphs told me not to once the deal with Auntie Ethel fell through and I chatted with the Dream Warriors. Did make that guy hot though, even if I did not get a screen grab of him, so I guess it’s my own fault for falling for hot Dream Guys who show up and tell me the need me to eat slugs to save the world.

He is a hot Drow dude with like the chin strap marking and the burn scar across his face and the like long hair draping over one eye style while being the more muscular build with potentially Lolth Drow red eyes. I do not know who the fuck the Guardians are yet but I think I was playing on randomized and things started coming together well enough to build off of and I made Dream Warrior. Here to known as DW. Because when there’s trouble you call DW.

I do not know how old any of these jokes are from fandom since I’m avoiding being too spoiled because I wanna experience the game myself since it’s been so fun. But that does mean I’m not really participating in the fandom actively. And I don’t know the jokes people are already making.

But I also didn’t play the first 2 Baldur’s Gate games, but like. I’m not much of a Gamer period so I haven’t played most games and since most games are sequels, there has to be a point where you can just jump on. I appreciate that. But since like the only other major game series I’ve ever been seriously into has been Dragon Age, there are aspects of the series that feel like home, add on to it that DnD is what it is at this point and even not being familiar with the Forgotten Realms, I still have a Player’s Handbook, a Dungeon Master’s Guide, and Monsters Manual. I’ve seen Critical Role. Honestly the fact that I haven’t bought a new video game since Dragon Age: Inquisition and basically held off on BG3 just long enough a) to afford a computer that could run it, like it was literally outside my control that I couldn’t play this game. And b) it’s kind of the driving motivation for me to upgrade my computer when I did? Like I would have dawdled a lot longer if I hadn’t been this impatient to play BG3. I just wanted to get to it.

I suppose there’s been talk about whether one or the other is better but personally I’m of the “holy shit two cakes” mentality. And I like seeing the influences and reminders in the other. I like elves and magic and fantasy. Why wouldn’t I want more of that to thrive and survive and do great things? I love BioWare for being those local heroes which biases me a little, but it just makes me wish they had more of a chance.

[yoshimonster]

Blog #11: Reaching Next Levels of Existentialism

This past week and a bit has been so strange. I believe I started it by doing a hackathon – which, if you don’t know, is basically a weekend long challenge where you have to make a product or even propose a product by the end of the 48 hr time period. There are also random mingling activities hackathons do, typically a getting to know you type event or trivia nights etc. It’s not a bad idea at all, but typically if you apply with a group you just stick with that group over the next couple of days. I think the socialising towards the end of the hackathon is when things get actually interesting and connections form. Forming new connections always takes time.

I also, since Monday this week, have been watching so many geopolitics of the world videos and it’s gotten me to recalibrate part of my life. I believe I was just looking up some random Kpop news which turned into me googling North Korea, which then turned into looking up world news. A lot of the videos are super history-centric and focused on the aftermath of a series of events … yep I can relate to the aftermath of a series of events a lot. It touches on what I said in earlier entries, where I talk about the exhaustion of navigating through tough situations/putting up a front and how draining that can be. It’s been really interesting how certain world events that happen, especially the really major life changing ones, and then decades later the effects would be felt or people would continue to be hung up about them. I reckon that’s a part of life.

I really used to dismiss the long-term impacts of my decisions which I’m sure is clear from everything earlier and treat life sort of like a video game. You have a challenge you overcome it and then you move onto the next challenge. Despite this, I’ve always been such a fantasy lover and Harry Potter was my entire childhood – I just loved the idea of some mystical external being coming over and whisking me away to a land where I wouldn’t be so hopeless and in fact people liked me by default. Though, I’m not sure that I would’ve handled things are gracefully as Harry did back then – I was given way too much lenciency and freedom as a child that I was almost paralysed with the freedom I had.

I feel like this is quite privileged thing to say; people sacifirce their lives for such freedom and ability to pursue their dreams. But, regardless, that was my experience and it feels wrong to discount the fact that you kind of need a balance between firmness and freedom to deal with things as they come. I remember after a long time of being so confused and not sure of anything, that I got to see people living under such harsh conditions. I, in a weird twisted way, wanted me to live under those conditions … ultimately I would be so much more productive than I currently was. I followed this feeling with the sheer amount of workload I had, but this caused me to fall back down mostly because of having a pretty weak foundation and I really started hating the time that I had lost where I could’ve spent building that foundation. Now, I have considerably less workload and such limited guidance … and I have to forge my own path ahead which is just something to dislike given a still weak foundation. At this point, I’m just convincing myself that this is possible despite everything and I hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me at all. It’s such a hard balance of believing in yourself and also strengthening your base.

I do see these sort of crises effecting other people in my life, but probably to a lesser extent because of a relatively stronger foundation. A lot of my friends at this stage have their careers sorted out but their personal lives are minimal. My parents have pretty much everything they wanted on an individual level anyway and are feeling the effects of mid-life crises – caught in between helping their daughters and needing to set themselves up for a post-employment life. They are simultaneously trying to enjoy their lives while they still feasibly can, look after the family and make a last hurrah in their places of work, given that my career is not sorted out at all. I also see other people my age that have gone through such hard times and have such expansive visions. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, a lot of those circumstances were more resolvable than mine mostly because the skill gap was considerably less. I don’t know how to feel about it, like on one hand I’m definitely really particular about everything for obvious reasons and definitely thinking more forward than ever, but this isn’t impossible to do if many other things in your life are sorted out. So I believe it’s best to diversify as much as possible, and that usually means there does have to be a semi-strong foundation at the very least. Even though I have nothing, at sometimes it feels like I have so much because of these pains – like some unseeable emotional energy where I can’t afford to take anything for granted (I am still guilty of this somewhat). A nice, cliff-falling type feeling.

-yoshimonster-