#i strive to create more sillies in the coming year

[spottedgardeneelstan]

(1) new message from svsss cast

[punchliiine]

how to have a better reality shifting experience

hi! i'm bad with introductions so here's a quick guide on how to elevate your reality shifting experience if you feel like yours is boring or you don't really know what to do once you successfully shift + tips, examples, and disclaimers if needed.

I - scripting

should i really explain this one? script that you have everything you want. script unusual quests. unheard of music, new colors to see for the first time. no matter how crazy or otherworldy it seems. it's your reality, your rules (as long as you're not doing anything immoral)

- a warning disguised as a disclaimer:

if you intend on scripting crazy scenarios and 'unimaginable' stories, please remember that they're real, and that they will feel real, because they ARE real. i feel like that's something that always slips away from shifters' minds.

and sure, you may script that these situations won't affect you as much or that having your cc/s by your side will make it better (which is true) but don't hurt yourself or others in the process of it all. be smart about every decision you make. and remember there is consequences. (i'm aware that infinite realities exist, and there are realities where there are no consequences. still, choosing that path is not excusable and is morally wrong IF you intend on doing awful things)

II - do not limit yourself

do you want to be the main character in your favorite show? do you want to create a silly world for your oc/s and live amongst them? do you want to be in your favorite games? do want to be unfathomably overpowered in your dr? do you want to have the knowledge and wisdom of a 10000+ year old being?

whatever you can possibly imagine // want, give it a go! (again, as long as you're not doing anything immoral)

do not limit yourself to your cr's laws of physics or how life generally is in your cr "like the amount of money you get per hour working at a certain cafe in singapore" and stuff like that.

there are no limits but the ones YOU set yourself!

III - set goals

setting yourself goals can motivate you to shift when you feel like you're at the lowest of lows, even when you feel like reality shifting isn't real (it is)

what do you wish to achieve by this shift? is it fun? is it to learn a dead language or is it to learn how to swing a katana? is it to reminisce about your past? is it to gain balance? is it simply just to say 'oh yeah i've experienced this'?

what do you wish to achieve by your shifting experience as a whole? healing your trauma? having a family and finding a place you can call home? or maybe finding someone that'll lasso the moon, stars and every celestial being for you?

by setting goals and achieving them, no matter how big or small, you will gradually build confidence and find purpose, which i find to be one of the most important things anyone, and in this case shifters, can strive for.

no like really imagine finiding your purpose alongside your cc/s, isn't that just the dream-come-true type of life? :')

IV - be open

be willing to try things outside of your script. some shifters seem to have an obsession with control that it sometimes feels unnatural (i'm talking about ones that make you feel like there's no way anything can go SLIGHTLY different), which is not wrong! i do it sometimes too, but doing that to every part of your script and in every dr feels exhausting and robotic almost (it's not though, because infinite realities exist, but you get what i'm trying to say)

be open to try to shift without a script, IK it is scary but try it out at least once in your journey. it'll shock you with how fun and crazy it is, you might even learn about things you'd never dreamed of knowing.

- disclaimer more like warning:

AS FOR SAFETY, please always script yourself safety measures no matter where you're going, idc if your dr is sunshine, rainbows, and happiness infuesd air. always script safety.

- tip:

you can always have a theme for your dr "to enhance the journey and better your chances of going somewhere fun". just have the key elements for the story.

- for ex.

"in a cyberpunk city in the year 3766, just beyond its borders lies a city abandoned due to radioactive fallout from a forgotten war. its secrets remain unknown, hidden within the silent remnants of a bygone era."

this way, you only know what the story is about, but you don't know how it ends, who will accompany you, what will happen.. etc.

- another tip:

for extra fun, you can script in characters that you already know from other dr/s, like the blue blazes from bubble!

V - reflect

taking your time to reflect is important because it allows you to understand what happened, how you felt, what you learned, where you slipped up.. etc. therefore grow and make better decisions. it's like looking in a mirror for your mind, helping you see yourself more clearly and make positive changes.

you may reflect by asking yourself questions like; what did you learn from your recent shift? how do you intend to improve? what were your weak points, and how can you strengthen them? was it something external or internal? and whatever other questions you resonate with.

- for ex.

let's say you shifted to BNHA/MHA, and you were assigned to have a training session with one of your classmates, tokoyami, for instance. and he happened to dominate that fight and ultimately win it (despite what you may have scripted)

now, ask yourself; what are some things you wanted // needed to improve on during the fight?

as for when to reflect, you may do it in so many different ways and to give you a few examples, you may instantly reflect which'll happen in your dr, either right after you finish the fight or during the fight if possible. or you may go to a wr where you watch an analysis of the fight by one of the heros or just a general analysis. or you may go back to your cr and try to remember what happened and note it down.. etc.

these are just a few i've tried and they've all worked wonderfully, (especially the second one)

- disclaimer:

as for the last one, i don't recommend it as much as the others, and it's coming from experience. i remember my memory betrayed me one time when i was analyzing a villain's quirk and i ended up with an injury due to it. yes, the injury was small and i ended up recovering in 3 days but it could've been avoided yk?

now, i must say that i realize we will have our own unique experiences, and my memory may not match yours. and i acknowledge there were things i could have done differently, but you live and you learn! ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

[qwertyprophecy]

The Illusion of Aggravating Player-ness

Pictured above: demo footage of me attempting to hit the Hero when their dodging program is turned to maximum. (I can only test this for so long before getting annoyed, which is exactly the vibe I'm going for.)

More about the feeling that has inspired The Dark Queen of Mortholme under the cut:

A couple years back I happened upon a tumblr post identifying a surprisingly common sentiment when playing Pokémon. The player has an edge over NPCs in battles for basically the entire game, because unlike those silly programmed losers we've figured out how to use healing potions. So upon getting to end game and witnessing our first case of the NPC trainer healing their Pokémon to full with a hyper potion, it feels like such bullshit. How come they get to do that? Only I get to do that!

There are instances of little details in many other games that evoke a similar emotion, like this one boss in Sekiro who can sneakily counter the player's charged attack with a move that till then only the player has been using. (Please let me know if you personally recall any examples!) The sheer audacity of non-player characters using player-only moves, being annoying as I am! It's a deliciously strong reaction that goes beyond the game's difficulty ramping up; I think it's about recognising ourselves, the essence of distinctly player-like behaviour in this fictional entity made from code.

While thinking about that I also happened to be mulling over what I considered a huge missed opportunity in the end boss of the game Katana Zero. Without spoilers, let's just say that it made me consider whether it would be even remotely doable to create a narrative boss fight against a player-like entity who appears to get to save and re-try the fight by themselves. In Undertale there's a brief illusion of a NPC saving and loading game states, but they don't quite do it like a player would.

The illusion would have to include a feeling that your opponent not only gets to try again but is learning from their mistakes. Furthermore it's specifically an advantage they have over you; you don't get to try again, nor do you get room to improve. And unlike them, your preprogrammed skillset is designed to have exploitable weaknesses and a static power level which can be surpassed.

No matter how skilled, you'd be doomed to lose against an opponent like that. The bosses we beat have it rough, huh. I myself am not particularly good at video games–when I try to get past a difficult boss fight in any game where those are designed to take a fair amount of attempts and learning, I feel in my bones that meta-level story of striving to overcome a seemingly impossible obstacle. It's a journey through various emotions from eagerness to frustration, culminating in the triumphant success.

But from the boss's point of view, that story takes a very different shape, involves different emotions, and (assuming the player keeps playing) invariably culminates in a predestined loss. Sounds unfun. So obviously, that's the experience I aim to provide! (Unfun games really are my forte, with my previous work simulating jubilant experiences such as job hunting blues! anxiety! exam anxiety! trying to fix a spaceship engine that's killing you!)

Who wouldn't want to enjoy being the most powerful being in their universe until some little dipshit bursts in and locks you in an unending battle till they’re satisfied and you’re dead?

[rrxnjun]

when nobody's watching ;; hrj

pairing. huang renjun x fem! reader genre. high school au/university au, cheerleader! reader | coming of age, platonic, angst, fluff warnings. alcohol and weed mention, swearing wc. 11k (10.932) a/n. no plot, just identity crisis.

playlist. idontwannabeyouanymore - billie eilish ; patterns - sarah close ; lonely - the maine ; rare - waterparks ; always forever - cults ; snow globe - waterparks ; hope ur ok - olivia rodrigo

where renjun can't seem to figure out who he is when nobody's watching and where you carefully examine and amire each version of himself he creates along the way.

When you’re 14, you watch Mean Girls for the first time. In the dark of your bedroom, with your childhood best friend Jung Sungchan huddling all your blankets to his side, your laptop illuminates the midnight with the gorgeous face of Regina George as both of you awe and giggle at the silly script. When you’re 14, watching Mean Girls for the first time, you are very aware of the fact that after summer ends and you turn 15, you’re going to high school– and the image of having to live through the fate that met Cady, you shiver with horror. That night, you are determined to live through high school with a smile on your face. Too blinded by the dramatized image of the high school experience, you decide that you have to be one of the nice girls everyone likes, because if you’re not, you can’t imagine having to ruin someone’s life just for popularity. You don’t really strive for popularity, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you’re simply too terrified of high school before it even starts.

When the time finally comes and you turn up to the building with a tall, lanky Sungchan by your side, you realize too soon that life is, sadly, not like Mean Girls, and while you’d love to wear pink on Wednesdays and walk around in designer clothing, your small high school in the tiny, microscopic town you’ve grown up in, is too old-fashioned to have their roles divided this way. Sure, the hierarchy is there, and the cafeteria sure does have assigned seats for all the different friend groups and extracurriculars, but it’s not as serious as the story you watched all those months ago with both terror and excitement, making you quickly realise that you don’t have to try hard to fit in with the populars, because it’s truly not that big of a deal.

And so, in the spirit of the new realization, you join the cheerleading squad. I know, it sounds ironic. All this fuss about the fact that Mean Girls wasn’t actually as realistic as you thought it was, all for you to end up with the popular girls anyway. In your defense, it wasn’t that serious. You weren’t even that good at cheer. Jung Sungchan just made you join so you could be at all his soccer matches so he could boast about his abilities the moment the match is over. Curse the boy and his athleticism.

Standing in the heat of the sun, droplets of sweat appearing on your forehead as you tug down on the short cheer skirt, you huff as the cheer captain– Ryujin, as you learned only a few minutes prior– walks around and yells at you with what you presume is supposed to be support and excitement. 

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?” she asks you, her voice genuinely concerned, but also laced with a bit of annoyance. This is the third time you’ve messed up on today’s practice, and while you don’t really mind that much, you think your teammates are close to breaking down.

“Uh…”

“You’re supposed to be all the way over here!” she reminds you, pointing to the spot next to her on the freshly mowed grass, making you smile at her with tight lips and jog over there, nodding. Of course you were supposed to be there. You knew that…

“What’s going on, Y/N? You did great yesterday,” she sighs, making you roll your eyes. Yes, you did well yesterday– that’s because the formation was still fresh in your brain and the choreography wasn’t as complex. Also, yesterday was much more casual, since it was the first practice of the year. It was spent getting to know each other and sharing snacks in the locker room. On top of that, it’s only been 24 hours and your brain adapts slowly. There’s no way you’d remember the formations you learnt yesterday, when the sun is glazing your high, slicked ponytail, making you think you’re going to overheat and fall to the ground any second.

“I just… kind of forgot the formation?” you smile innocently, making the older girl look at you with wide eyes and an ironic smile, the despair clearly written on her face. 

“Don’t even try to tell me-”

“But I’ve got it now!” you say, showing her thumbs up, trying hard to calm the cheer captain down. You don’t really know what she’s like– from what you’ve seen, she’s nice, yet a little scary when she gets frustrated– but you can only imagine how she’s going to kick you out if you don’t manage to get your shit together and remember all the choreography you were taught yesterday. It’s just cheerleading, for god’s sake! You always liked gymnastics…

“Okay,” she huffs, shaking her head as she faces the front of the soccer field you’re currently training on, making you do the same as you notice the flood of your school’s soccer players get out of the gym, one of them being your dear friend Jung Sungchan, carrying the ball. “From the top! 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Your body moves almost on auto-pilot. Now, I’m saying almost– you don’t really remember the formation that well and you have to keep glancing to the girls around you to match their movements, but you seem to be in the right places at the right times, so Ryujin doesn’t really notice, which saves your ass, if you’re being totally honest. Curious of the sight in front of you, your eyes scan over the crowd of boys laughing to themselves as they kick the ball around, ready for their soccer practice.

You recognise some of the upperclassmen. Yuta is the team captain, and if your high school was like Mean Girls, he’d for sure be the Aaron Samuels of them all. He passes the ball almost gracefully to his best friend Mark Lee (you only know his name because one of the girls from the cheer is into him. He seems a little goofy, but you guess Jisu doesn’t really care), who passes it to another boy, whose name is either Jaemin or Jeno. You don’t really know which one is which, because they always go everywhere together, and when you asked Sungchan for their names the last time you saw them in the halls, he just told you it was ‘Jaemin and Jeno’, and so did everyone else you’ve ever inquired about the two. Nobody ever really specified which is which. 

Making a swift turn with confidence– because this is the only part of the choreography that you actually remember– your eyes are met with Ryunjin that is now opposite of you, wearing a focused smile that only reaches her eyes when you look at her. You suppose it’s a form of encouragement, a silent praise that you didn’t fuck it up yet, and it makes you strangely comfortable. Turning back to the soccer players– because the formation requires so– your eyes continue to watch the small crowd on the other side of the field.

“Chenle, pass to me!” you hear someone yell out, making you giggle as the boy holds up a middle finger to his opponent that was trying to trick him with a childish stunt, passing to his teammate. Stepping from one foot to the other, continuing to half-focus on the task you’ve been doing, you watch the boy that’s now in charge of the ball, your eyes almost falling out of your sockets.

The boy now running around the field with the ball is fairly short compared to the rest of the team, his jet black hair flowing in the wind as he charges through the field. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him before, because you’re fairly certain you’d remember the perfect curve of his nose and the focused pout on his lips if the encounter between you two did happen, the white of his ankles captivating you in a manner you’ve never experienced in your all 15 years of life. 

Yells and curses are thrown across the soccer field, the boy not really knowing what to do as he looks around in confusion. He looks like he’s just as good at the game as you would be… except with your eyes closed; so you don’t really know what he’s doing in the team. But hey, you can’t judge. Maybe he just really likes soccer and wants to learn. Everyone starts somewhere. Focused on the soccer practice, another sharp voice pierces through your ears– the owner of it being your cheer captain, Ryujin– making you halt in your movements and hide behind one of the girls in terror.

“Y/N I swear to fucking god if you mess up this formation one last time, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows in your sleep!” 

There goes your daydreaming. Strange– you thought you had this part of the choreography down, you were 100% certain you were doing the right steps and that the timing was sharply correct. You must have been distracted…

“I’m sorry-”

“The practice is over for today, I genuinely don’t have the energy to deal with this anymore,” Ryujin huffs out, making the rest of the cheerleading squad take their duffel bags off the grass, scattering back inside of the school building.

“I promise to get it down before the match, Ryunjin,” you peep as you catch up to her, trying hard to regain your position as a reliable cheerleader. You were told your smile was quite captivating, something a good cheerleader should never lack, so you suppose you can’t really let that quality go to waste so soon.

“You better, or else I’m kicking you out,” she glares at you, and you can’t really tell if she’s joking or not.

Squinting at the sophomore, you hum. “Are you serious?”

“100%.”

Nodding, you clear your throat. Taking a glimpse behind your shoulder, looking at the boy that made you so distracted in your routine, you take notice of his lost expression and the aimless posture of his hands by his side. He’s almost a little too far behind the whole team, and while you don’t really know how soccer works, you really think he’s not playing the game right, but you don’t pay more attention to it as you look back at your captain with a warm smile.

“I’ll do better.”

This is your first encounter with the boy named Huang Renjun. You learn his name through your best friend Sungchan, and while you were teased for hours about the intentions of knowing it– because Sungchan is one gossiping fellow who lives for drama– you don’t back down and fulfill your plan of learning something about the boy. After stalking the soccer player on instagram for a bit, you learn that he doesn’t quite live on social media (and good for him, honestly), making you curse as the only pictures of him you find on your feed are the ones his mum posted on his birthday. He’s a baby on those and he didn’t even like the post, not paying attention to it from what you presume was pure embarrassment. 

The soccer match is in two weeks, and while you’re not exactly living the plot of Mean Girls, you sit at the cheerleader table for the time being. You suppose getting closer to the rest of the girls can only serve you– you’re a 15 year old with a dream of having the wildest high school years, after all– and it’s also good to hear all the gossip about the soccer team. You finally learn which one is Jeno and which one is Jaemin, and you also learn that Huang Renjun is a freshmen like you–, and while you learn that everyone thinks that he’s insanely pretty (which makes you frown, because you selfishly wanted to be the only one), he’s also insanely quiet.

You tried to bug Sungchan into befriending him. It didn’t work– he already befriended the talkative Zhong Chenle, telling you that Renjun is too quiet to strike up a conversation. You just think he chose Chenle for his big house and the fact that he has his own basketball court he gets invited to four days a week, but you won’t say that aloud for the fear of sounding jealous of the fact that you can never tag along.

The weeks before the match finally pass and you’re at your first high school soccer game. Dressed in a skirt that just barely covers your asscheeks (you complained to Ryujin about it. She told you to deal with it– you’re exceptionally tall for your age), you twirl around with pompoms in your hands, cheering for the team you know by their names now. You quite like the feeling of having the whole school looking at you when you perform your routine in the half-time break, the formation now permanently glued inside of your brain, muscle memory trained hard now as you were watched by the stern eyes of your cheer captain the remaining cheer practices. Squealing and cheering for the team, you get so into the whole process that you feel like the main character of a movie (so glad it’s not Mean Girls), ready to watch the game when the routine is done and you can take a break on one of the bleachers.

Your eyes involuntarily follow Huang Renjun across the field. He does look a little out of place, you must admit. You wouldn’t really call him the sporty type either– his body not as chiseled and firm as his teammates, although you’d say that’s partly because he’s still growing and in puberty– but there’s something about him that makes you magnetically pulled to his presence, not being able to take your eyes off him. 

So when the ball is finally in his charge and he runs around with it, looking like a lost puppy when you play fetch with it on its afternoon walk, your eyes light up, you almost even let out a happy squeal when he charges forward, the last few seconds of the match passing by as the crowd yells out a countdown. The whole thing is so intense you think you could pee yourself, if you’re being honest, and as you stand up to get ready to cheer for Huang Renjun’s goal– the one that could make your team win– the excitement dies down when the boy kicks the ball forward with no real intention, the opposing team instantly taking charge and striding towards your school’s goalie.

You may be a little obsessed with Huang Renjun, yes. But even you can admit that he messed up the match pretty badly, earning your team the first loss of the season, making the following matches end just as badly with the bitter essence of a bad start.

You’re just 15 when you first notice Huang Renjun trying to desperately fit in to a cafeteria table, the only thing that reminds you of your favorite teenage movie that you watched with Sungchan in the middle of the night. You’re just 15 when you see the first version of the boy, not knowing that the next four years spent watching him silently will be just as eventful and interesting, keeping you on your toes the whole time. 

Sungchan would say you were just 15 when you first got a crush on Huang Renjun. 

You’d disagree. Not because it’s not true,

just because you won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.

At 15 years old, Huang Renjun leaves the soccer team after two lost matches (which were, admittedly… both kind of his fault). Cheerleading isn’t as exciting anymore when he’s not there, but at least you get to watch Sungchan… am I right?

You’re already a sophomore when you finally share a class with Huang Renjun. You’d think this fact would help you get closer to him and learn something about the boy, but the opposite is true as your object of interest doesn’t really interact with anyone outside his circle, keeping to himself. Truth be told, you’d do anything to fit into his circle– but with the company he chose for himself in the sophomore year of high school is nothing close to what you represent, the science kids so far away from the cheerleading status you still hold.

While you’re still stuck in your Mean Girls arc, Huang Renjun switched to the Harry Potter universe, it seems. Or maybe it’s just your sudden obsession with the books that’s making you feel this way… Nonetheless, Renjun now reminds you of the Ravenclaw boys in Potions class, except this is reality and you’re only sitting in Chemistry, watching over his every move as he moves through the room and focuses on the experiments.

Sungchan nudges you with his elbow, scowling. “Stop ogling Renjun and fucking do something, I think this is going to blow up any second!”

Hissing at him, afraid his mean comment could be heard by unwanted ears, you grit your teeth at your best friend and roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it, though, I think this is going to blow up-”

“I’m a cheerleader, Sungchan, I don’t know Chemistry, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, fully commiting to the social norms you were put in. The soccer player only glares at you more after your comment, deciding to take the boiling mixture and spilling the contents of it into the sink with one swift motion of his hand, hopefully not burning the drain in the process and getting you in trouble. You never know with Chemistry. One wrong step and the whole school is on fire. On one hand, you’d love that, but on the other hand, you’d love to experience your first kiss before dying, so you really, desperately hope nothing goes wrong this time.

“Great, now we gotta start over,” you shake your head in disbelief, already taking another cauldron into your hand and putting exact measurements into the flask. 

“As if the last mixture was salvageable,” Sungchan mutters, making you kick him into his shin for being annoying.

“Maybe you can befriend Huang Renjun and he can help us with the experiment,” you suggest innocently, watching your best friend melodramatically scream at your premise. This is not the first time you tried to make your friend to get to know Renjun, but it’s also not the first time he’s declining. You don’t know what’s so hard about being Renjun’s friend, you suppose he has a lot of them– from the looks of the group now standing around his small frame– Sungchan could easily sway the quiet boy with his charm and get him to your side.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not befriending Huang Renjun? You can do that yourself, if that’s really all you desire,” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But-”

“No buts, for fuck’s sake,” he cuts you off, already knowing the contents of your rambling, “sometimes you gotta do the first step, if you want to cuff a man!”

“I’m old-fashioned, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s just… simply not true,” Sungchan grins, making you sigh.

“I mean, yeah,” you agree, feeling heat rising to your cheeks as you speak the next words, “I’m just shy.”

“Y/N,” Sungchan sighs as he looks you dead into your eyes, seriousness dripping off his tongue, “you’re like… the least shy person I know.”

Offended at his comment, because in this exact moment, you feel nothing but shyness when the topic of your conversation is Huang Renjun– your classmate you’ve never even talked to in the first place, but somehow grown interested in the first moment you’ve seen his face for the first time– you shake your head in disagreement. “You know that’s not true!”

“You made friends with my teammates even faster than I did! Don’t try telling me you’re shy when you were playing Call of Duty with Mark in his dorm room the first week you met him,” he rambles, making you grin at the comment. You knew he was jealous of you being friends with his older teammate– it didn’t matter that the boy was more awkward than anyone you’ve ever encountered (while also simultaneously being the most social human being on the campus, somehow. You’d say he’s so socially awkward and so social that it’s awkward at the same time.). At least you have revenge for not being invited to Zhong Chenle’s basketball court (yes, you’re still salty about that. You were decent at basketball. Well… more decent than Sungchan, at least.). 

“That’s not the same, though,” you roll your eyes, making your best friend suggest something that is already known between the two of you, but never truly solidified in words.

“Because you like Renjun?”

“He seems interesting-”

“Because you have a crush on Renjun?”

“I do not!” you scream out, making the rest of the classroom look at you, resulting in you hiding behind your giant friend in shame. You only hope the rest of the conversation wasn’t heard by the whole classroom. You’d pack your things and move away to Nebraska if it was.

“I suppose the two of you are done with the experiment?” the professor inquires, making all blood leave your face as you vigorously shake your head in disapproval, apologetic smiles sent her way as you promise you’re almost done and that you’ll be quiet from now on. Truth be told, you don’t even know if you’re almost done. You don’t know how the experiment is supposed to go. You can only hope the period ends before you have to show the results.

Reading over the manual again, with Sungchan standing behind you and looking onto the white sheet of paper over your shoulder, you try hard to succeed in your assignment. 

“I think I’ve got it,” he mumbles under his breath, gathering the things needed and finally getting to work, motioning for you to get closer and help him. 

“You’re actually smart for a soccer player, you know,” you grin at him, the annoyed look on his face being the result of your successful teasing. Sometimes it’s fun to poke around with social norms and stereotypes– mostly because they’re kind of true. 

“Just watch over the caldron and make sure it doesn’t bubble. If it does, turn the heating down, okay?” he urges you, earning himself a focused nod.

Now, the task at hand is easy. You just watch the caldron– it’s not difficult at all. But as we already established, you’re an individual that gets distracted really easily– especially when Huang Renjun is present in the same room as you, breathing the same air and looking insanely gorgeous even when he’s boredly looking at his own tools, seemingly done with the experiment with his head rested on his plopped-up hand, dissociated and uninterested. The group of boys around him– Shotaro, Jisung, Doyoung and Shohei, the proclaimed class geniuses at Science– look excited and immersed in the conversation, giggling at jokes and playfully smacking each other’s shoulders in fits of laughter when someone says something exceptionally funny. You imagine it’s Science jokes you wouldn’t get. You do fit the stereotype of a cheerleader, in a way– you’re not stupid, but you’re also not that smart in Chemistry, so you couldn’t indulge in their jokes even if you really wanted to. 

Renjun looks uninterested and left-out. You feel the sudden urge to take him into your small circle, to ask him about his day and about his interests. He seems so different to the boy he was last year– while he did hang out with the soccer boys a few times after quitting the team, you didn’t really see him around. You suppose that the first impression you make on people is usually how you stay fixated in the minds of the general public, and while he used to be a soccer player for a while (two months, to be exact), he then lost the status, resulting in him being just… simply invisible for the rest of the year. 

You were glad to see him with a new group of friends when you arrived in Chemistry class for the first time in your Sophomore year. While you didn’t really know how he ended up with them and what they do for fun after class, Renjun was now a part of the Science kids (this is your Mean Girls arc showing through. He does sit at the Science table in the cafeteria, though, so no one can really blame you for stereotyping.). 

In this exact moment, though, he seems to be collectively excluded out of the collective. It’s frustrating– for this is the second time you’ve seen it happen to the boy– but you suppose there’s nothing you can really do or say to make it change.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N! I told you to look after the caldron!”

“Oh shit!” you yelp out as you see the mixture boiling, the liquid inside turning black with steam, making the whole experiment fail for the second time. 

Sighing, the boy only shakes his head at your distracted figure, taking the flask into his hand and once again, dropping the contents of it into the sink. Looking around the classroom, desperately trying to find something to anchor to so you can fix the situation, the bell rings and you’re left with the relief of knowing that the class is over and nobody can tell that you failed the assignment miserably.

“You’re lucky the bell rang, because this failure is completely your fault and I wouldn’t waste any time burning your skin off if we were called to show the results to the class,” Sungchan mutters, gathering his things.

“You’re not scary. I saw you shit your pants when you were eight.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes, leaving you behind to pack your things and silently ogling Huang Renjun on the other side of the classroom. The small circle of his supposed-to-be friends is now standing with the teacher, excitedly nodding as you hear them talk about a competition in Chemistry that is taking place next week. Interested in anything that includes Huang Renjun, you eavesdrop until you realize the boy was left out of the event– the four names scribbled down onto an application paper by their leader Doyoung left on the teacher’s desk, Renjun’s name nowhere to be seen. 

You don’t think he did anything wrong to get left out. Looking at the neatly done experiment, you’re fairly certain he deserves to be on the list of applicants.

Looking at the group, you just think he didn’t fit in with them.

Huang Renjun leaves the classroom alone, his backpack thrown over his shoulder. After the year ends and he no longer takes Chemistry classes, you never see him with the Science kids again.

“I can’t believe you dragged me to the play just because you didn’t want to go alone,” you whisper to your best friend, staring forward at the stage. It’s almost over now, you can tell because you read the book it’s following– you were always a big Oscar Wilde fan– and you can’t help but giggle at the state of Sungchan. The poor boy isn’t used to having friends outside of the soccer player circle, and while he’s sociable, the image of showing up to the play completely alone, just because his friend Guanheng asked him to, is truly terrifying in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you only agreed when I said Renjun’s in the play,” he responds to you with a snarkier comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shh,” you put your finger against your lips, subtly telling him to shut up, “I’m watching the play.”

“Sure…” he mutters, making you smile in satisfaction, for you managed to silence him and keep Huang Renjun out of the conversation.

You’re 17 now. You don’t know much more about Renjun than you did when you were 15, and you no longer share a class with him anymore, so you doubt you’ll ever really get to know him. You rarely see him, since you have no mutual friends or mutual interests, and so your silly crush started to subtly fade into the background. You must admit that you don’t look away when he passes you in halls with the group of drama kids he hangs out with now– you’re a weak, weak woman, after all– but the silent obsession with him is not your main personal trait anymore, and you can tell that both you and Sungchan are more than happy about the fact.

When the play ends and the whole cast scatters onto the stage to bow– you recognise Guanheng, Dejun, Kun, Sicheng and the director, Ten– all smiling brightly beside Renjun in the very corner, who only gives the crowd a shy grin as he bows down with the rest. Truth be told, you never expected him to get into the drama club. He always seemed quiet and reserved, but you suppose this is him experimenting with what he likes, finding the outgoing side in him and getting into more social circles. 

After the lights turn back on and the school theater empties itself out, you find yourself waiting outside with Sungchan. The boy scratches the back of his neck in nerves, stressed from the sudden interaction with the drama kids. Your best friend is quite popular within the school, so you’re not really surprised that he and the charming Guanheng hit it off right away after meeting in Physics class. The sudden blush on his cheeks whenever you mention his new friend makes you strangely suspicious, though, but you won’t get deeper into it.

“Sungchan! Y/N!” you hear cheers from behind you, making you turn around and greet the cast of the play you just watched. Guanheng offers you a welcoming hug that you gladly accept, the rest of the friend group just as friendly to you as their connecting link is. Somewhere in the back of the group, you see Sicheng– the charming senior– trailing behind with Renjun. Too shy to look at him– because you still have the hint of the silly freshman on the inside– you avert your gaze off him and focus on the rest.

“We’re actually going to McDonald’s to celebrate the premiere, are you going with us?” Kun asks, a warm smile playing with his features. 

“I- I mean-” you see Sungchan stuttering, shaking your head in disbelief at the hesitance he shows when he gets too much attention. Jumping in to save the boy, you quickly agree.

“We’re down!” you nod, seeing the man gratefully smile at you as you follow the drama club through the center of the town, towards the closest McDonald’s.

Throughout the whole journey, you’re painfully aware of Huang Renjun’s presence. You two haven’t even said hi to each other, and while you didn’t expect for that to happen, you still feel a little awkward to be invading his space. He’s in the back of the group with Sicheng, the two of them perhaps the closest of the whole club, and you wonder if it’s your fault for making him so distant himself from his friends right now. Did you invade his circle? Did you make him feel uncomfortable? You’ll leave, if that’s what he wants…

Arriving at the McDonald’s, you all order yourself your fast food of choice, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily after Sungchan gets accommodated to the new section of friends around him. Sliding into a big red booth in the corner of the room, you’re pressed between your best friend and Dejun, who can’t stop talking about the new Avatar movie. You almost agree to go see it with him in the cinema, from how desperate and excited he sounds, but then you’re reminded by the fact that you haven’t even seen the first part and you actually kind of hate sci-fi… 

The whole time, your eyes don’t leave Renjun. Old habits die hard, you suppose, but you’re happy to see him genuinely laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that on him before, and the sight of his eyes crinkled up into moon crescents and glittery stars in his dark orbsmakes your heart swell with fondness for the man. Still, though, you can’t help but notice the exclusion from the group– maybe he just doesn’t do well with crowds– as he sits in the corner of the booth with Dong Sicheng, while the rest are indulged in a shared conversation.

You don’t dare to try to include him in your conversation. Frankly, you think he isn’t interested, and it’s also not your place to organize a setting you were just tagging along to, only being invited because of Sungchan. 

In the back of your mind, you think this is it. You think that Renjun’s battle of fitting in is finally over and that he found his place. He looked so familiar with the boys, so eager in the conversation with Sicheng– you’re happy he finally found his place in the world. It’s an unexpected one, to say the least, but you’re just satisfied with watching him be happy from afar.

You pay your goodbyes to the rest of the group after your meals are finished and the clock strikes 10. You’ve never been this close to Renjun before, and you don’t think you’ll ever grow closer. It’s fine with you, though. You’re always watching him– even when nobody else is, interested in knowing about his well being and the trajectory of his life. It’s strange, but it’s natural for you.

When you’re 17, you think Renjun finally found his place in the world– you think he’s finally satisfied with his table at the cafeteria, with the social status he has, with the group of friends around him; although still a little distant with most of them except for one. When you’re 17, you didn’t know you couldn’t be more wrong.

When junior year ends, Dong Sicheng graduates.

Renjun never hangs out with the drama club again.

When you finally turn 18– the birthday party with baby pink party hats and champagne all over the carpet of your teenage room– it seems like everything takes a sharp C turn. You’re a senior now, and while you got admitted to your dream university after many hours of stress and days spent filling out the applications with your best friend Sungchan late in the library, you don’t think you’re ready to leave your home yet. 

It’s kind of weird that you realize the fact at a goodbye party thrown by your classmate Donghyuck. You’ve never really talked to the man before– you just shared multiple classes with him and he offered you weed outside of the gates to the building once– but there’s something about the aroma of the liquor he serves in his kitchen that makes you reminiscence about all the years you’ve spent in the cheer team or sitting at your little desk in the classroom, listening to only some of the lectures, because you didn’t really mind the rest. You also get back in your memory to the spacious cafeteria– the soccer team and the cheer team have joined their tables together after some months, and while it wasn’t like the Mean Girls, you still felt lucky to have such a big supporting system. 

Your cheer captain– Ryujin– graduated one year before you, the role of the most responsible one falling onto your classmate Jiwoo not long after, since they were always friends and you all wanted to lead the team in the fierceful manner Ryujin always has. You swear you saw the ex-captain somewhere in the house a few minutes ago, though, carrying a bottle of vodka under her shoulder as she twirled her slim body around one of the guys that graduated two years ago, the one you always saw Donghyuck hanging around with in the backs of the school halls, wearing leather jackets and snickering with smug grins.

Twirling the liquid in the red solo cup around, standing alone in the corner of the living room (Sungchan left you stranded a few minutes ago, when he spotted Chenle and Guanheng in the crowd), your brain takes you back to all the memories you’ve made in the last 4 years.

You remember celebrating one of the only wins your school’s soccer team got in your freshman year with Sungchan, the tall boy carrying you on his back as he ran around the field in the lights of the reflectors. You remember blowing up the Chemistry lab with him once or twice, and you also remember the whole classroom giggling at you when you had to clean it up, accompanied by the horrified screams of your professor. The memory of the winter formal in your junior year is the most vivid in your brain– you went with your cheer friends, while Sungchan finally scored himself his first date. Her name was Lily and while you found the girl to be quite nice, the memory in your brain is so bright mainly because your dear best friend was so drunk out of nervosity of being with a girl that he puked in the school yard, leaving you to laugh your ass off until tears were streaming down your face. 

Your whole four years were consistent. With the same group of people, in the same school halls and bedrooms of your friends when you had sleepovers as a cheer team building. You always had fun when new freshmen joined the team, making sure they know which Sophomore and Junior boys to be wary of, and while you’re excited for university, you don’t think you’ll get to replicate this carefree and silly presence of high school ever again.

“You okay?” you hear a voice call for you, making you snap your head up and see one of your classmates, Seunghan, staring at you with glittery eyes and a warm smile. You always perceived the boy to be quite the shy individual, but you think alcohol always helps everyone to get out of their shell.

“Yeah,” you nod, quick to make his worries fade away, “just lost in thought.”

“I get that. It’s surreal that we’re graduating, isn’t it?” he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. You didn’t expect anyone to get your feelings, but here you are– you guess you’re never as alone in your views as you think you are.

“It’s crazy…” you mumble, finishing up the cup and looking around, catching the boy staring at you constantly. Not really seeing your friend Sungchan anywhere, you decide the second best thing to do to pass time is to catch up with the boy right next to you, and so you lean closer to him and ask him if he wants to get out for some fresh air.

After seeing him nodding eagerly at your suggestion, you find yourself trailing out of Donghyuck’s house, straight to the backyard, while passing some of his friends on your way– their irises were twice as wide as a normal person’s would be and you swear you sensed the sweet, disgusting smell of weed resonating through the walls, so you were glad to get out before the essence got so deep inside of your nose and make you want to puke. 

As a cheerleader, you were a regular at those parties. You’ve seen enough of Yangyang, Donghyuck, Eunsok… and Renjun getting so high and mixing the drugs with alcohol that it left them out of it for hours, and you don’t really need that for yourself right now.

“Finally,” you gasp when you reach the backyard, leaning on the wall of the house. Seunghan follows you with a cup in his hand that you’re not sure when and where he’s gotten on your way out, sipping on the alcohol as his eyes never leave your frame.

“What are your plans after graduation?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“University,” you say, letting your eyes travel through the backyard, finding multiple people sharing cigarettes and pipes in the bushes, giggling to themselves. “You?”

“Same,” he nods, “I got into the town’s uni, so I’m just gonna stay here, though.”

Humming, you take a short glimpse at him. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Hong Seunghan. All you know about him is that he’s super nice and he always greeted you when you passed each other in the halls, despite not having many shared classes or social circles. Your friend Yeri once told you that he’s got a crush on you when you got an anonymous Valentine’s day card in your locker during junior year, but you dismissed the thought quickly as you realized you’ve never really had a coherent conversation with him. Looking into his starstruck eyes right now, though, you can’t say that you wouldn’t believe it now…

“I’m moving across the state, actually,” you grin, desperate to hide your despair behind a smile. Sungchan got into a university only an hour away from yours, which is the only thing that’s keeping you going right now– while you will be so far away from home, at least you won’t be completely lonely. If you ever feel like it’s too much, you can just catch a train and meet your childhood best friend in the next town. It’s easy. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“Why so far away?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, taking your eyes off him again, looking through the crowd in the yard and finding a familiar figure, sitting lonely at the edge of the empty swimming pool, his legs dangling inside as he leans back, supporting his weight with his arms and looks towards the sky, “they had the best History courses, I guess…”

The conversation you’re having with Seunghan is only a background task now, a side quest in your game, as you focus on what you’ve been doing in the back of your head for the last 4 years. You monotonously reply to his questions and hum at all the right places in the dialogue to seem interested, but your eyes are focused solely on the man sitting at the swimming pool, looking more lonely than ever before. You’d make yourself feel silly for paying more attention to a man you’ve never spoken to than to the blushy classmate standing to your left right now, quietly obsessing your whole teenage years with a stranger, but for all you know, this could be the last time you’re seeing him in your life, so you let your inner little crushing-on-Huang-Renjun self have it, at least one last time.

When you turn 18, so does Huang Renjun. He finds enjoyment in all the possibilities now open to him with the new status of an adult, his Fridays spent drinking away with his new group of friends. He wears leather jackets and ripped jeans, and while you find it quite attractive, you don’t think it’s what suits him the most. Hell, even the soccer jersey looked more fit on him– and he played for the team for a total of two matches. His hair is bleached blonde and you once saw him with red, puffy eyes and a little fucked-out smile accompanied by his sketchy friends in the park, so you can only imagine what he’s been doing his whole senior year. You’re surprised he even managed to graduate.

When you turn 18, it’s when you worry most about him. He doesn’t seem himself, and quite frankly, he never has, but this is the most unpredictable and unexplainable version of himself that he managed to craft. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh. And yes, you don’t know the boy, but still, you kind of miss the earlier versions of him, because at least those weren’t as self-destructive and damaging to his health. 

You wonder why he’s not inside with his friends. You wonder why he’s so alone in the backyard, why he’s sitting at the empty swimming pool with a bottle of liquor next to him, why he’s not laughing at stupid jokes and dancing to bad EDM music in Lee Donghyuck’s house like the rest of his circle is. You wonder what made him hang out with the crowd for the last year, what made him let his grades slip and why he never seemed to stay with one friend group for long. 

You guess it’s hard to be his friend. 

Or maybe, he just finds it hard to be other people’s friend. 

Changing himself up just to fit with the others, carefully crafting and molding his personality to have at least someone match his current energy– you wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier for him to be himself and let someone discover the true him for once. Because this surely isn’t him. And the soccer player, running aimlessly around the field wasn’t him. The kid that was good at science was never a good fit for the nerdy crowd either, because it wasn’t him. The drama kid that was decent at acting, but never really talked with anyone from the club other than Dong Sicheng (because even after all this time, you think that was his only real friend), wasn’t the real Huang Renjun either. And now, after the four years of admiring the mystery he is and examining him each passing day, you can for sure say that the version of himself that smokes and drinks in dark alleyways isn’t the real him at all.

After reminiscing on your four years of high school with a smile on your face, you wonder if Huang Renjun could do the same. If he smiles about the many twists and turns, or if he thinks of his high school years as a waste of his youth, a time he can only be reminded of with a bittersweet feeling, never fitting in despite trying so hard over and over again.

The boy at the swimming pool chews on the inside of his cheek, scoffing as he points his eyes towards the ground. There’s an urge inside of you to walk over to him and be a shoulder for him to cry on, be someone to finally offer him some comfort, to let him talk while you listen. 

But you don’t do any of that. 

You keep standing there, watching him, as Hong Seunghan talks your ears off about everything and nothing, making your confused heart simmer with despair at the broken look on Renjun’s face when he looks around for the last time before he takes the bottle standing next to him into his hand and smashes it into the pool with full force, the piercing sound of the glass shattering making your ears hurt as you jump up in surprise.

The boy stands up from his place as he storms off, your eyes meeting only for a mere second before he’s out. 

“Are you okay?” Seunghan asks again, for the second time this evening already, while you look at him with a tight smile and nod your head at the question.

“Yeah. Just… got distracted.”

When you’re 18, you believe this is the last time you’ll ever see him. When you’re 18, all you do is wish him well. 

Walking out of your trashy university accommodation, locking the door behind you– although you think it does nothing for the safety of your living space, considering the door is paper thin and anyone determined enough could get inside in two minutes, if they wanted to– you put the keys into your coat pocket and jog down the stairs, because you fear the old elevator ever since you heard your neighbor getting stuck inside of it one day when the power went out. Checking the time on your phone screen, you walk your way to university.

You always wanted to live somewhere far away. It’s not really about cutting people off or about starting new– Sungchan visits you every other week when he’s bored, after all– you just think you like the comfort the big city brings you. The architecture of the town is beautiful and your university’s History course is the best one in the country. You almost feel a little proud of getting in, moving out of the small hell hole your hometown was, and being competent enough to live on your own at 19, cooking yourself bad pasta for dinner every evening and posting instagram stories of the sunset with the song stickers from your playlist every other week. It’s a little surreal to live the life your younger self always dreamt of, for it doesn’t feel as strange and so brand new like you expected it to. You can’t say you don’t enjoy it, though.

Walking inside of the university building, still not used to the white modern walls and tall glass windows in the lounge area, you check the time and realize you still have at least 25 minutes until your lecture starts. Coming from a small town, you never really learned how to time your departure from home. You always arrive either very late or very early– it’s hard to calculate how long the walk is, when everything is within a 10 minute reach back home.

Deciding to spend some time in the lounge area before the class starts, because you don’t really feel like spending time in the lonely classroom and you also suspect someone’s having a class in there still, you walk towards the crowded place, adjusting the bag strap that’s sneakily slipping off your shoulder.

The view in front of you catches you off guard, the amount of students doing things to your little, anxious self (in moments like these, you wish you had Sungchan with you here. Despite being quite social in high school, it’s hard to make friends when he’s not around to be your isle of comfort; but you guess it’s time for you to be a big person and find friends on your own now), and as your eyes scan the place for an empty space to sit, your mouth drops agape in shock and surprise.

There is a boy with mousy blonde hair sitting at one of the bean bags, down in the university halls. He's surrounded by people, all typing away on their laptops, occasionally glancing up to their friends and talking in hushed smiles and cheery giggles. The boy is alone– scrolling away on his phone, earphones in his ears as the slight movement of his leg matches the beat– though, he doesn't seem lonely.

There are plenty of people around him, all with their kindred spirits, yet, the boy makes no effort in trying to fit into a circle; he doesn't try to match anyone's energy or to desperately make someone like him. In a way, the sight makes you sigh with relief. 

Huang Renjun has finally stopped trying, and while this sentence usually doesn't have a nice ring to it, this time, you don't think there's anything more positive about the fact that he simply just has no energy to change himself to fit the vision of himself that is kept by others.

Taking a few deep breaths in and out, you contemplate on your next step. Is this really how you get to know your high school crush, after so many years of thinking of him? Is university really the time for your first real meeting? It makes you feel kind of silly, the tingling sensation in your fingertips making it hard for you to stay grounded as you shake your head to clear your thoughts, deciding.

Wiping your hands onto the fabric of your jeans, taking another deep breath in and out, you walk up to the boy with a hesitant smile and drop your body to the bean bag next to him, accidentally bumping into his outstretched legs. The action makes your cheeks heaten as your whole body feels hot with uncertainty, but you don't back away as he looks up to you with an uninterested look, merely just wanting to know what bumped into him and made him lose his focus and switch his attention to the world around him instead of his phone.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to quirk up the corners of your lips into the most welcoming smile, greeting the boy you know so well, but also don't know at all. 

“Hi,” you utter, seeing the boy glance at you with pure interest now, eyebrows furrowed as the gears in his brain work by themselves, trying to sort your face. When his thoughts are met with recognition, his irises widen as he works out a subtle smile, the one that reaches his eyes and makes them light up with a glittery sparkle, soft voice echoing to your ears.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, putting on an awkward smile, “from high school.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he nods, staring at you, as if to wait if you have anything else you want to say. 

The encounter must feel strange to him. You've never really talked, and when you did, it was only when it was necessary. You were just a side character in his life– the one you pass in a game in a very unimportant side quest and never meet again, forgetting about it in an instant– however, to you, Huang Renjun, although he was never the center of your universe, was always there, somewhere in the back of your mind, as you looked after his every move and paid attention to every shift in his existence. To you, he was like the musician you fall in love with when you're a kid, and even though you don't listen to them anymore, you still have their account followed on instagram, keeping track of their every move, making sure they're safe and still loved by many.

Staring at you still, your throat gets dry as you have no words to say. Somehow, you always had so many things on your mind that you wanted to share with Huang Renjun, in each and every passage of his life. But now that you finally had the courage to walk up to him and talk, the words were stolen from the tip or your tongue and it's useless to try to search for them in your brain.

Maybe it's the boy recognising your hesitance, maybe it's his brain reminding him of all the times he's walked up to a new group and tried so hard to fit in with them, maybe he knows the lost look in your eyes all too well from how many times he's seen it in himself when he tried to make new friends; maybe it's the fact that he knows how stressful it is to walk up to someone and try to be their friend– nonetheless, for a reason to you unknown, he does something no one's ever done for him when he was in the position you are in right now, because, truth be told, this is the first time he's been in the position of being walked up to and interrogated with a premise of new friendship. And it's all thanks to you– so he takes the lead and warmly smiles at you, striking up a conversation.

“What's up? I didn't expect to see you here,” he says, taking his earphones out and putting them away to his pocket, turning slightly towards your figure and paying full attention to you.

Playing with your fingers in your lap, you turn your gaze away from him and master up a response. “I didn't expect to see you here either, actually,” you say.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I guess I just wanted to start over somewhere far away. It felt… a little claustrophobic back home.” 

The two of you share a look full of understatement, because in his eyes, as his classmate from high school, you must have noticed at least some of the glimpses of his numerous friend groups over the time. And while none of them really worked out for him, since none of them ever really felt as if they were right for him, now, in the university halls, although a little alone and a little too ordinary, he seems like himself for the first time.

“I get that,” you nod, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long in fear of hitting a painful spot in him or exposing that you’ve been watching him the whole time, “what do you study?”

“Art,” he says with an excited smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up a little and his expression is full of undenied joy and excitement, the one you’ve seen on him for the last time in junior year, talking away with Sicheng in a red McDonald’s booth– hinting that after so many years of changing himself up and trying to fit in with the rest, he's doing what he really wants and desires, with no expectations and harsh looks of others.

“That's so amazing,” you hum in amazement, offering him a genuine smile.

“It's very exciting,” he nods, glad he no longer feels like he’s been made from a broken mold, glad he no longer feels aimless and unarmed with everything he encounters, just like he did in high school in the sports teams and drama clubs, hating each passing second he’s spent doing something he despised, wasting away his life. “What about you?”

“Oh, I study History,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, “doesn't sound as exciting as Art, to be honest, but I've wanted to study it for the longest time, so…” 

“No, that's great,” he assures you, “although you don’t seem like a History kind of person,” he says, although he doesn’t know you that well– he can’t quite put a finger on when you two have met, and if you’ve ever even talked. Looking at you right now, though, he must have registered you, at least, because you seem too familiar in the foreign place and he finds himself silently holding on to the feeling of recognising at least something in the wide unknown.

Squinting, you curse the cheerleader stereotype for the first time in your life. “Is that supposed to be a diss?” you grin.

“God, no,” he shakes his head in disapproval, quickly leading you out of the misjudgement. “I just didn’t expect you to study History. I don’t know you that well, but you’re like, the furthest away from my image of a History major… but I guess my expectations can be wrong,” he defends himself, palms raised in defeat.

Humming, you still squint at him in uncertainty. “Well, I guess I get that. You seem like an Art major, though, to be honest.”

“Do I?” he asks, a tone completely different to yours– he looks grateful for the comment, his eyes shining with appreciation and maybe just a hint of pride. 

To be honest, it's not really about the way he dresses that makes him seem like he’d study Art– his black high-top converse, beige pants and an oversized brown flannel could be worn by anyone– but his aura, the energy he gives off at first glance, is something that gives it away. This is the first time someone's ever affirmed Huang Renjun's identity, the real one, on top of that– the one he spent his whole life carefully crafting and creating, picking away the bad parts as he tried and failed to fit all the other categories he didn't like– and it feels truly euphoric to him, like he fulfilled his life-long goal and finally found his purpose. "Well, thank you," he says, and you can tell he means it.

You want to tell him how glad you are that he let go of trying to please everyone. You want to tell him how it's great that he finally found himself, how amazing it is that he finally let go of the desire to be liked for something he wasn't, just to be popular or have someone by his side. You want to tell him how you appreciated his existence all those years, how you watched over his every good and bad step, how proud you are of him for the journey he's taken and how amazing it is that he finally reached the final destination. 

That would be weird, though– he doesn't even know that you’ve selfishly watched him all those years, tumbling and turning in the background of the mess his life had always been. So, instead, you mumble out a sweet: “You're welcome.” 

By the way he looks at you, you almost think he understands your intentions. You almost believe he can read your mind and find the pictures of himself in your memories, each and every single one carefully preserved with his essence, although it was different each time and never really stayed the same. 

But he can't. He can’t read your mind and he can’t tell that you know all about him, so instead, he thinks this is the universe rewarding him for being so patient, rewarding him for always trying, and that’s why he feels that he can’t let this opportunity get away from him.

“Do you want to hang out later? I have a class in 10 minutes, but I'd love to walk around and explore it here a little in the afternoon, if you're down,” he suggests, taking you off guard.

The new version of Huang Renjun that's in front of you is confident– something he always lacked, for it was never really him that he was showing to the world– and the new Huang Renjun is charming and magnetizing. You can't say you never felt like this about him before, because of course you did– you wouldn't have known so much about him and his various phases of life if you weren't interested in the boy, but the way you feel about him now feels more real– maybe because it's finally the authentic version of himself that he always was so afraid of showing to others. Electrified by his eyes, you bring yourself to nod.

“Of course I'm down,” you agree, smiling. 

“Great,” he laughs airly, the sound making your smile widen even more, “I'll get your number, then?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, taking his phone out of his outstretched hand, typing the number into his contacts list. Walking up to him all those minutes ago, this wasn’t how you expected the encounter to go. You expected to say hi to him, to maybe hear him tell his major to you before he turns his back to you and walks away, never talking to you again. Instead, you get an invite, a premise of something new, a meeting that excites you and makes you feel all giddy inside, just like the first time you’ve laid your eyes on the boy in high school and decided to secretly hold your heart out to him, if he ever wanted to take it. It makes you feel like you should’ve done this long ago, like you should’ve walked up to him during high school, when you noticed him struggling, but perhaps, this is how it was always supposed to go, how you two were supposed to end up in each other’s lives and how you were always made to finally know Huang Renjun for real.

“Good,” he nods, locking eyes with you, “I have to go now, because the class is on the fifth floor and the elevator is broken, and I also don't really know my way around the building yet, but I'll definitely text you later,” he giggles.

Laughing, you shake your head in disbelief. “Of course. Good luck on not getting lost,” you say as you wave at him, his figure already standing up tall in front of you, his eyes glazing over your features for one last time.

“Thanks, I'll need it,” he tells you, “I'll see you later, then.”

“Later!” you nod, the smile never leaving your lips as you watch him leave and take a shy look at you over his shoulder for one last time before he takes the stairs up, eyes quickly drifting away when your gazes meet.

If anyone was watching you for the last few minutes, they'd think you were old friends. They'd think you were just catching up, accidentally bumping into each other and talking about the struggles of university life, bitching about the accommodation and how the professors seem uninterested in the topic of their courses. The reality is different, though, and although you and Renjun were just acquaintances meeting in a big town, miles away from the home, you can already sense that you and him were meant to have a storyline in each other's lives eventually. 

This was Renjun's first time to be walked up to with a welcoming smile. It was also your first time to reach out and offer your friendship to someone. You changed your roles, in a way. 

And while Renjun continues to find himself more and more each day, the true and real identity deep inside of him, he finally has someone by his side assuring him that it's enough and that he never has to change a thing about himself to be liked. No more masks and no more acting. 

For the first time in his life, Huang Renjun knows who he is, even when nobody’s watching.

[pitiplush]

Hi, I know I've been MIA for a while, but since the news about the cancellation of Shadow and Bone broke I've been sad and I need to let it all out. I've come to think of my blog here like a safe haven, so there's no better place for this.

These photos are of the very first original amigurumis I've ever made (sorry for the first photo, I hastily put it together just for this post because none of my photos seemed good enough). As you can see they are some of the characters of Shadow & Bone: Alina, the Darkling, Inej and Kaz. This was back in 2021, when the show premiered. Back then I had never heard of the Grishaverse, but when I saw the teaser my curiosity was piqued so I gave the books a chance and I LOVED them. After so many years on a reader's block and at a time in my life where I was struggling to get by, I had something new and exciting to look forward to. I loved the show (watched it twice in a row, actually), I loved the cast and I loved everything surrounding the Grishaverse. I even convinced two of my friends to read the books (and I regret nothing) 😂

I was so thrilled I HAD to do something, to create something new inspired by the Grishaverse. At that moment I had been crocheting only for a year but I thought I could try and see if something came out of it. That's how I crocheted Alina, my very first bookish amigurumi. It's not my best work, sure, but till this day I'm so very proud of the result. This was my first attempt at designing an amigurumi, I felt like I was improving my craftsmanship while honouring one of my favourite fantasy sagas. So I kept going, I crocheted the Darkling, made changes to get a better design, started putting more effort into my photos, even replicating the show posters. I kept growing my collection, adding Inej and Kaz and taking fun photos of all of them.

I didn't get far in terms of interactions and likes with them but I didn't care that much, I was just genuinely elated that I was creating something new with my bare hands and that was my priority.

And after them, I stuck to the book amigurumis. Created new patterns and characters, got more involved in photography and photoedition, and strived to do better with each new amigurumi. I got happier too, the thrill to create and share not only my craft but the books I love the most has been the best part of these last three years. And none of that wouldn't have existed without Shadow & Bone, without Leigh Bardugo and her universe, without that amazing cast and all of the writers and staff that have worked tirelessly to bring the Grishaverse to life.

So yeah, I'm heartbroken it has come to this abrupt and unfair end, especially when there was just a season left. In a way it feels like putting an end to a part of my journey as an amigurumi artist, this first part in which I was fumbling to learn and create something new. And as sad as it is, I want to say thank you too. It's not much, but it feels right to use my small amigurumi kingdom and reach to say thank you to everyone involved in the Grishaverse. You've made me unbelievably happy in so many different ways that I have trouble putting it into words.

Thank you as well to everyone who has taken a bit of their time to like, share and leave comments about my Grishaverse amigurumis. You helped me believe in my work and gave me strength to keep crocheting.

I will always remember the first time I showed Alina and the Darkling to my best friends and we talked about how I could crochet the rest, and which ones they wanted to see the most and "omg what if one of the actors noticed your work?????". It will never happen, but imagining the possibility still makes me feel a bit giddy even after two years.

If you've read this far, thank you to you too and sorry for my silly ramblings ♥️ If you love S&B too I'm free to cry together about all of the things we will never see on screen anymore.

P.S.: who would've thought that little me having a crush on Prince Caspian (aka the great Ben Barnes) would have ended in crocheting plushies inspired in book characters??? Not me for sure 😂

[nalascat]

Barbie Fairytopia and Barbie Mariposa - A Timeline

This is. A really rough concept of my Barbie Fairytopia timeline, which I made to help my brain understand WHAT is going on in Fairy Princess. The barbie discord I'm in has probably heard a ton of my complaining about my confusion but.... too bad here's more

Note! This is just my theory/headcanon and it very likely contradicts canon SOMEWHERE, but I don't really care >:))))) forget CANON /j

I'm also. Working on a fic based on this heehee... watch me take 30 years tho

Most of it is... the fact that the flight across Fairytopia in FP confused me so bad. As far as we know in the Fairytopia films, there are seven provinces that the Enchantress Rules over. Shimmervale is likely not a part of that, although the Magic Meadow is literally outside their castle. IF they were a part of that, Shimmervale would have had some sort of Guardian, perhaps Amethyst or the Indigo fairy. We don't see this, so it's a question of is Shimmervale actually a part of fairytopia.

ADD THAT to the fact that the castle in Magic of the Rainbow seems to be close-ish to Shimmervale, primarily through the waterfalls. It's even named the Crystal Palace, and we know that Shimmervale is very protective over crystals... ????

SO my basic idea is that the Mariposa films take place HUNDREDS of years (maybe even more) before the Fairytopia films.

This is literally how I think of this at this point. There is so much to go into and there's probably much more that I haven't looked at.

We are starting from the BEGINNING besties

Flutterfield and Shimmervale are established. Possibly from earlier fairies, and there is a tentative peace between the two kingdoms.

The Crystal Fairies accuse Butterfly Fairies of attempting to steal their crystals and the rift is created.

Flutterfield is the unlucky recipient of the Skeezites and that cuts them off even further from Shimmervale and the eventual Fairytopia.

The rift is heightened by legends. (Maybe even some fairies blame Shimmervale for the Skeezites?)

A long while passes, many years, and at some point Marabella does come in with her powers and drives away the Skeezites for the time being. (Powers that perhaps a section of Butterfly Fairies have?)

The events of the first Mariposa film happen. The Skeezites are driven away and Flutterfield is safe again. If any legends come back, it is very easily ones about Shimmervale.

(Silly PLAUSIBLE addition) Henna ends up on the mainland of Fairytopia, through an accident that involves the powers that Marabella has (although much weaker) and scaring off the Skeezites. She ends up finding fairies and showing off these powers, bringing forward possibly the Sparkle fairies.

Fairy Princess happens and the kingdoms are no longer fighting. It's the first time anyone in Flutterfield makes the journey over the ocean since before the Skeezites. Mariposa and Catiana bridge the kingdoms and everything is getting better! Fairies begin to travel back and forth and settle in the future provinces of Fairytopia.

Catiana becomes the first "Enchantress" of Fairytopia, as she strives to get rid of the old feud and to just make life easier for a lot of fairies and try her best to keep them safe. She assigns the first few Guardians and draws her power lightly from a crystal around her neck and the flower from Flutterfield. Her and Mariposa remain great friends.

Through either a mistake or on purpose, something happens to the Heartstone and it becomes the first Blush of Spring. Whether it be them connecting the two kingdoms and transferring the magic to a flower that becomes a symbol, or it broke, the magic is the same, protecting the Spring and such. (Because both of them, when hurt, create cold and snow)

Over many years and renovations, the castle and the city around Shimmervale starts to become the Crystal Palace from MOTR. They begin to use the Crystallites a lot more in their building and it starts to become. More crystalline, I guess. Over this time frame, a forest begins to replace this meadow as fairies come and go, possibly planting or accidentally leaving seeds, haha.

Fairytopia slowly becomes the land we know in Elina's films. Flutterfield, and in turn Mariposa, starts to become more of a legend than anything else. Most fairies don't want to travel the distance much anymore, plus a lot have moved. It's unknown if any remain there, but some likely do.

On Mariposa, too, she is mostly forgotten over a long bout of years, Catiana is soon enough only remembered as the first Enchantress. There are scholars who MAY know mentions of Mariposa, but most of her things have been lost... :( - THAT and she likely spent the rest of her days in Flutterfield, her home.

Elina is born without wings, a small connection to Catiana just not flying at all, with the rainbow in her eye. (Could Catiana or Mariposa had it at some point? Likely Catiana- could be a possible Enchantress thing perhaps...)

The events of Fairytopia 1-3 happen, and then as time goes on, things change... Elina starts training 2 become Enchantress and suddenly she's beginning to learn a lot more about Mariposa, possibly through memories (of Catiana's?), or through Scholars who have grasps on books long forgotten. (Or an Enchantress lesson!)

Elina then tells Bibble Mariposa's story, calling her "her friend", knowing of Flutterfield and the whole thing. (She might also feel as if Mariposa IS a friend after gaining so many memories...) It's a story she has grown familiar with and wishes to share!!! AND it helps out Bibble, so it works out.

Elina could even BE a descendant of Mariposa, finally linking Mariposa and Catiana after hundreds of years.... and that thought just makes me 🥺🥺😭💕💕💖💖💖💖

Elina becomes Enchantress, one of many in a long line, but the closest one to Catiana, in a way. She still longs to see what's on the other side of the ocean. She longs to know if Flutterfield still remains.

ANYWAY. That's pretty much all of it!! Like I mentioned above, there is probably so much more that could be gone into and explored, especially as I just skimmed past the fairytopia films, haha.

This idea is one I have fallen in love with and will not let go of. Also. This could make Bibble a descendant of Zee and Anu and I think that's really funny.

Anyway. I'd love to talk about this idea a lot more, so if anyone is interested, heehee..

[sotwk]

hello! I hope this message finds you well.

I wanted to reach out to you to express my gratitude for being you. In my eyes, you truly are a Naneth in the LOTR fandom and it means so much. Fandoms are places where people some to relax and heal as well as enjoy the creation of stories and characters. I find that most of us have felt lost or hurt in some aspect of our lives. And honestly, I feel as if we occasionally need a mom that won’t judge us and would support us. I don’t know you as well as I would like, but I do see you as that person in this fandom. You feel safe to me. I appreciate you creating the space for people to feel cared for and comforted.

With much love,

An anon who values you 🩷

Darling Anon,

This could possibly be the sweetest and most gratifying message I have received in the entire 15 months of my Tumblr existence. <3 Bless your heart for taking the time to tell me these things!

Everything you said helps justify the amount of time I spend online, writing fanfic, and just hanging out here. I am at a life stage where adult responsibilities (my career, my husband and kids) need to take priority. I am 38 now, but I have been writing fanfic (on paper!) since I was about 10, and engaging in online fandom communities since I was 16 (with dial-up internet!). Online fandom spaces were a refuge for me during the most challenging periods of my life.

Even though my life is pretty great now (though not without its pains and heartaches!), I can never outgrow or leave the things that give me the most comfort: creative writing, my favorite fandoms, and online friends. These have always been very therapeutic for me, so I believe they've grown vital to my mental well-being!

The "Naneth"/"Nana"/Online Mom title was started by my dear friend Callon @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog when she remarked that I reminded her of her mom, and our other friends from SHHEEP just kind of picked up the nickname as well. As a real mom, I wish everyone could have a loving relationship with their own mothers (I truly believe all moms have genuine, fierce love for their children in their hearts--but moms are fragile humans just like everyone else, life is rough, and things can go very wrong sometimes). But whenever that is not possible, I am more than happy to act as a stand-in to whoever wants that support.

I do strive to make my blog a safe space for everyone (so it would only ever block "bad vibes"), because we have all suffered enough, and there is enough stress and fighting out there everywhere else. HERE, we just come to have fun and be silly and share and exchange things that give us joy and offer each other comfort. We all just want to be carefree kids again who can make friends with anybody in an instant--that's what we all have in common and that's all that matters in the end.

Thank you again for your kind message, Anon! I appreciate YOU so very much and I hope you have a wonderful start to your new year! <3

[greghatecrimes]

I like you and i don't think you're a bad person but I feel like you don't understand Thirteen as a character, you seem to idolize the hollow caricature of her you've created that allows you to insert yourself inside. I'm telling you, you don't need to look like Olivia Wilde to talk about your passions and interests!

You don't have to attribute these things to a fictional person, you can let go of the mask and just be truly you! I promise you will find a new appreciation for Thirteen, and more importantly yourself. I wish you all the peace and love in the world, and I hope my words help you find yourself. Take care 💖

Wow, this was so enlightening for me about my insecurities and the inner workings of my psyche! Even more than five years of therapy, EMDR, and an entire psychology degree!! Anon, I’m assuming you’re the same person that sent me the ask I answered this morning. I see now that I assumed wrongly when I answered that ask under the belief that it was just genuine curiosity. The huge irony here is that I’ve grown a lot over the past five years, and lately I’ve been reflecting on how I’m in a place now where I’m perfectly happy to be who I am, to love what I love, to be unapologetically me. As a follower of my sideblog on tumblr (not even my main blog!!!) you’re only seeing a tiny portion of who I really am as a person (because I KNOW you’re not someone that knows me in real life). Having said that, it certainly takes a HELL of a lot of audacity to come into MY inbox and tell me on anon that you think you know me and my insecurities and how I think about Thirteen better than I know all of those things about myself. 

This is actually HILARIOUS to me, because I WISH the things I “hide behind a character”, as you would say, were as simple as passions and interests. When I was talking about attributing emotions to fictional characters, I didn’t mean silly things like the fact that I like video games, or being a cat person, or even deeper things like being autistic/ADHD (which I 100% admit, when I headcanon the House characters as neurodivergent, that is me projecting because I wish we had more ND representation in media. And you know what? PROJECTION IS OKAY. this is TUMBLR. I reblog fucking pony versions of my favorite characters! I write crack headcanons! Bestie, I’m just trying to de-stress on this blog. 95% of the stuff I post here is not as serious as you’re trying to make it.) Here’s the short version of my REAL “insecurities that I project into a hollow caricature of Thirteen” for you: I grew up being abused. I wasn’t allowed to express any emotions. Ever. I wasn’t allowed to have any needs. Ever. Now I have post traumatic stress disorder and my life is a mess. My life kind of sucked for the first 21 years and guess what? It still kind of sucks right now! I write and think about Thirteen processing trauma she might have faced in her life because it’s cathartic to me as someone who is healing from their own trauma, and to help myself cope with living in an actively stressful/shitty environment. (And guess what? It's a clinically approved coping mechanism. I highly doubt my therapist of five years would let me invest so much time and effort and emotion into a hollow caricature of a person that leads me to lose sight of who I really am!)

This is fanfiction and tumblr headcanons, not a published writing gig. You clearly care too much about my characterization of Thirteen aligning with yours, and unfortunately for you, I don’t. I write what I write because I want to read it. If you want to write her a certain way, no one’s stopping you! Make your own tumblr posts! Write your own damn fanfics! I’m not the authority on Thirteen and I’ve never pretended to be. If you don’t like anything about my characterization of Thirteen, then fucking move on. I’ve put way too much time and effort into giving everyone in my life the benefit of the doubt and striving to be the bigger person, to be the nicest person. And you know what? I’ve spent my entire life being ashamed of what I think and doubting everything I feel. I’ve already got five years and counting of working to undo that damage. I’m not about to let an anon on tumblr make me feel the same shame and doubt about my thoughts and writing for one of my favorite characters.

[mecenvs3000w23]

Unit 10

It has felt like this semester has gone by so incredibly fast, and I cannot believe that I am writing my last blog post already. I originally registered for this course for a few reasons. First, because it was offered as an online class, and throughout covid, I realized that I loved the added flexibility you have in online classes. Second, this was one of my restricted elective options and third, I love all things about nature and had been planning on taking this course since my first year. I am incredibly happy that it finally fit into my schedule during my last semester.

Throughout this course, I have learned a lot about interpretation as a whole and have thoroughly enjoyed the opportunities I was given. For example, I found Tumblr blog posts to be much more enjoyable than regular discussion posts on courselink. Likewise, although we did generally have prompts, I loved the weeks when we could write about whatever came to our minds. As well, I loved reading other classmates’ blogs and enjoyed seeing the cool pictures that classmates shared. Additionally, the podcast assignment gave me the opportunity to try something completely different than I had before. It was my first time creating a podcast, and it was an enjoyable experience overall. I would love to hear your thoughts about the course in general and the assignments we were given!

Now, I would like to discuss the beliefs, ethics, and responsibilities that I may carry as a nature interpreter. To begin, I believe that every individual on this earth should have the right to see, enjoy, and immerse themselves in nature. Although this may not happen for every individual due to factors such as privilege, it is something that we should strive for. As a reminder, privilege can be defined as “a right or immunity granted as a peculiar benefit, advantage, or favour” (“Privilege definition & meaning, n.d.). Personally, I would define privilege as an individual or group that has an advantage over another individual or group of people. Privilege is frequently associated with factors such as gender, health, race, and economic status; all these factors play a role in the opportunities provided to specific individuals. Like privilege, it is important to consider the barriers that some people face such as, economic, cultural, communication, lack of knowledge, and fear (Beck et al., 2018). Overall, there are many factors at play that affect what opportunities are given to which individuals, and I believe we should strive for a more even playing field or at the least give children the opportunity to see, enjoy, and immerse themselves in nature. For example, incorporating this into the curriculum and having field trips and activities that are based on the idea of allowing children to see and enjoy nature, regardless of family status. In addition, I believe in respect and kindness when it comes to interpretation. Trying new activities can be scary and intimidating; therefore, I believe that all individuals should be treated with kindness and respect and be given help and guidance when trying new activities in nature. For example, canoeing can be tricky for beginners as can backcountry camping. Throughout my summers living in Algonquin, I have seen many individuals go camping for the first time or try canoeing and oftentimes I watch people tip their boats right at the docks, or leave garbage behind in the backcountry, or something silly like not hanging their food and scented items correctly. It is easy for outsiders to laugh or joke about these beginners’ mistakes, or even be annoyed. But we must remember that it may be their first time and maybe they have no idea what they're supposed to do in the backcountry or how to even sit in a canoe. In these situations, kindness, respect, and a willingness to help and inform beginners could go a long way. This leads to my next belief, which is that I believe in sharing knowledge and experiences. Beck et al. (2018) explained that using a storyline approach while interpreting can be beneficial, as is using the resources and facilities accessible such as visitor centres. Having knowledge about a topic and being passionate about it, as well as having personal stories and experiences to share with an audience is essential.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi,

I'm asking you this 'cause you are one of my fav writers on this app and I'm too embarrassed to come off anon.

I used to be confident in my writing a year ago. The words used to flow into my head freely as I write and not even once I felt like it was a chore to me. I didn't doubt or fuss over stuff I write until one day I got criticized very badly. I received a huge feedback on how much my writing sucked (literally a page).

Now, every time I sit to write stuff i love, i fall into the pit hole of self doubts and start to loathe the style of my writing.

I know it sounds pathetic that one bad criticism has changed my mindset. And, writing stuff is my only outlet....

Today, I run a small blog on this app and so far the response for the stuff i write is so positive yet I can't shake away this insecurity and it is starting to take a toll on me.

How do I overcome this? I would appreciate any tips on getting better at writing and finding a unique writing style. Please ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfy tho. Again, I'm so sorry if I troubled you.

hello anon!!

aa… i'm really sorry to hear that this happened to you, unsolicited criticism can already be discouraging, but that sounds infinitely worse ?? i don't think you sound pathetic, it's pretty natural for people to remember negative experiences over positive ones. it just sticks in the brain longer. i'm a pretty sensitive person myself so i can see where you're coming from. i think one of the things that's helped me a lot is basically going 'so what lol' whenever i'm confronted with stuff like that. we're writing self-indulgent stories for fun (and free!), it doesn't need to be this generation's war and peace. it's okay for your work to be 'messy'. writing is like any other hobby, what matters more is enjoying the creating process rather than arriving at a super polished piece that's-100%-without-flaw-god-tier-ready-to-be-accepted-in-the-canon-of-the-bible level stuff. there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting what you work on to be good, i absolutely strive for that myself, but when it feels more like a chore and i'm agonizing over it, i take a step back.

i didn't feel right giving you a watchmojo top ten tips to improve your writing reply in response to this. i was too busy going >:( at the thought of an absolute troglodyte thinking their silly one page of feedback that no one asked for was warranted. like. the world is on fire. we're seeing a surge in cash grabs that have absolutely zero soul behind them. creativity is constantly shoved to the side for a quick buck (hbo max flipping off their animators, ZA/UM booting the minds behind disco elysium who spent literal decades working on the game, the list could go on forever). create what you want and what you love, if someone tries to come @ you with rude feedback, that's cringe. 'you forgot to collect the homework' type energy. zero bitches. lame. zzzzzz.

all this to say . i want to encourage you to not feel burdened that you need to improve your writing PRONTO, because if that's hovering over you, it'll sap away your joy while writing. the thought alone makes me sad. there is no person on the planet who has experienced the exact set of circumstances that you have, meaning you have something to contribute that's entirely unique to you. you can describe things in ways people could never think to because they aren't you, you can infuse your distinct personality into your work, create something from nothing. you already have your own unique writing style; everyone does.

i'm sorry if this isn't coherent or useful, i just ended up getting heated HJTKEMG please keep writing anon!!! but remember that it's okay to take breaks when the negatives outweighs the positives during the writing experience. in fact, it's perfectly normal across the board for any hobby. i'm wishing you the best of luck.

[hoontsart]

I haven't drawn anything since I was a little kid and stopped drawing because I was bad at it. I am far worse than every sample of "I started out here, look where I am now!" I've seen. As near as I can tell I could learn how to draw if I invested an hour or two a day for a year, but whenever I do an exercise I am overwhelmed with self-hatred and have to stop within minutes. I don't think I can endure this for a week, let alone a year.

Are there any paths where I can at least learn something relatively quickly? I know that anything good takes time and I'm probably a horrible person for wanting skill to come quickly, but I think if I can see some progress, create something which at least looks something like what it's supposed to look like, I'll be more willing to put in effort to get better.

There are a lot of different paths you can take to help improve your drawing skills quickly, some more difficult than others. However, getting frustrated and overwhelmed is a big obstacle to learning that has to be overcome first.

I think the first thing you should do is find something art related that's fun. Coloring books, paint by number, any sort of little craft thing that you don't have to think very hard about and you just get to make. Hell, even something like those super simple "how to draw [animal]" step by step guides for little kids. You could also just do little doodles, like drawing circles and turning them into silly cat faces or frogs or flowers. Meditation drawing is also an option.

My suggestion would be to take that invested hour per day and spend half of it trying to follow some kind of art course like Draw-a-Box, doing figure studies like on Line of Action, or tutorials on one subject at a time, like drawing just eyes or just hands, etc. Then, after that half hour, or sooner if you start to feel frustrated, switch to your fun craft and just enjoy the process of coloring or doodling something. 50% Study, 50% Play. I think the Draw-a-Box lessons will suggest the same thing.

The most important thing when it comes to art isn't being good at it, it's enjoying the process so you not only want to learn more, but strive for the challenge of improving. It's never going to be perfect at the start, but that doesn't matter if you're having fun.

[nickcarr-scoutstories]

Scouting the Future

I’m scouting for the future and I can’t seem to find it.

When I look through the viewfinder of my camera, the location I’m shooting certainly looks like the future. When I think of how it’ll be portrayed in a movie or TV show, I know minor visual accents could make it feel like it’s hundreds of years from now.

But when I put down my camera and look around, it instantly feels decidedly like … now. The underwhelming, every-day present.

It’s frustrating. Because the places I’ve been visiting are about as futuristic as modern day architecture will allow, and I’m desperately waiting for the moment when I feel like I’ve stepped into The Jetsons.

But maybe that’s simply not possible.

By total chance, the past three movies I’ve scouted for have all been period pieces. The first was set in the 1940s, the second in the 70s, the third in the 80s. All came with the usual frustrations of having to be sure both the construction date and subsequent renovations were (relatively) period correct.

But despite the research, I love scouting such jobs for the numerous instances when I’d walk through a door and feel as though I’d traveled via time machine. A nearly century-old bar, an apartment that was straight out of the days of disco, an office building that Patrick Bateman would feel at home in. Time and again, I found myself drifting into the familiar fantasy of What It Must Have Been Like.

And then, in a whiplash of job transitions, I’ve been tasked with scouting the most ultra-modern buildings Los Angeles has to offer to appear as locations in the future. I’ve seen unbelievable properties awash in glass and dark polished concrete. Towering ceilings, audacious swirls of neon lighting, steel catwalks…

And try as I might, it never, ever feels truly futuristic. It’s like my mind instantly zeroes in on the seams, the underlying framework, the common building materials, and disassembles it all to be easily processed and digested by common, mundane standards.

It’s reminds me of the old Carl Sagan quote, about how any suitably advanced technology will be indistinguishable from magic. I always feel like the part that’s left off is how the human brain is atomically hellbent on trying to understand the underlying nature of magic, and in doing so, ultimately rendering the fantastical commonplace.

At best, the locations I visit feel like the most stunning contemporary architecture and design as of today, and that’s certainly nothing to sniff at. But more commonly, it almost seems dated by a few years. As if by striving to be futuristic, it demands a closer analysis, one it will ultimately fail.

Then I think that maybe it’s inherently impossible for a modern location to feel truly futuristic. There is fine line between achieving something ultra-contemporary versus falling into a version of Disneyworld’s Tomorrowland, where everything is cartoonish spectacle and speculation, removed from any sense of a natural evolution of form and function.

Of course, it’s a silly complaint. Because by definition, I am indeed shooting the present. I suppose that’s our curse: to dream of the future while being forever doomed to the present.

For the meantime, I’ll allow my camera to create the fantasy.

—

Hey, big announcement coming tomorrow! Stay tuned!

[lizzybeth1986]

It Takes A Village

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: None. Kiara with her family, and maybe a little bit of Hakim x Joëlle.

Rating: G

Summary: A young Kiara Thorne has something important to say to her parents.

Word Count: 2,234+ words

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW.

A/N1: This fic takes place in the universe of my series featuring Hana x Kiara, Petals and Thornes, but will precede the events of that series. Because of this, the family name is written as Thorne, not Theron. Kiara is 15 years old in this fic (and is 17 by the end of it).

(Gif is from GIPHY)

"Something the matter, ma fée?"

Kiara jumps with a start at the sudden break to the silence. Guiltily, she realizes she's been picking at the same merguez sausage for the last ten minutes - the poor food item is now mutilated beyond recognition. Kiara has somehow managed to create a well in the middle of the subtly spiced couscous without eating any of it too.

Right next to her, Ezekiel raises his eyebrows. Well...you telling them today?

Kiara remembers what she'd confessed to her brother two days ago and sinks a little further in her seat.

She isn't sure why this feels so hard to do. It's not like Castelserraillan is a place that will not accept this...nor like Maman and Baba will throw a fit over it. In fact, her home has attained worldwide fame for being Cordonia's "LGBTQ+ capital" - the first place in Cordonia to publicly celebrate Pride, and the first to have an internationally known queer community and events of all kinds, year round.

Every October, her parents throw themselves headlong into organizing and supporting Pride, getting exhibitions ready, screening films, informing their friends at the press in advance so the events are covered with all the style and pizzazz they'd need for promoting. Every year, they fund more groups and organisations in the duchy, striving to ensure that the queer community in Castel lacks for nothing.

Yet somehow, telling her parents that not only does she find herself attracted to boys and girls, but that she still isn't entirely sure what she should label herself as...somehow the prospect of opening up to them about that is turning this normally-delicious sausage into dust in her mouth.

It had been easy enough with Zeke. It usually is - he accepts just about everything with the same laconic nonchalanance, the kind that makes you wonder if you were the one being melodramatic.

"You're bi?"

"Oui...non...ugh!! Je ne sais pas!" Kiara groaned, throwing her hands in frustration, "Sometimes I think I am...I mean right now I have a crush on that new artist Maman is mentoring..."

"Chantal Bachelet? The cubist?"

"Oui. Her."

"What's there to get confused about! Three months ago it was that stable-boy from the royal palace -"

"He's not a stable-boy. That was for just one summer! Drake lives there!" Kiara hissed, uncomfortable at the warmth creeping up her cheeks again. She was grateful her brother thought this one crush was recent...but it really has been going on for five months and shows no sign of subsiding. Maybe in another five...

"Fine. Whatever. I still don't see why you're so confused."

Kiara pursed her lips in annoyance, too tired and confused to explain herself any further. This isn't what she imagined being bisexual to feel like (not that she'd seriously dwelled on it before). Somewhere she'd imagined it would be a perfect split - that one would likely be attracted an equal amount to both. Yet most of her crushes since age 13 have been boys...and Chantal is the only one so far who has made her rethink things.

They're questions that keep her awake some nights, and make her feel a little bit silly on others. Would calling myself bi make me a fraud? Is it too early to tell either way?

What if I come out, and it turns out I was straight the entire time?

Kiara sighs, trying to make the best of the sausage she'd just mashed to oblivion. It had been far easier to come out to Zeke because he hardly seems to have an opinion on most things. And even if he does - he won't show you one way or the other. There are times she wonders if he deliberately strives to make himself a mere sounding board whenever she wants to hash out things.

Her parents, on the other hand...she suspects they'll follow the revelation up with a hundred questions. Questions she's not entirely sure she has the answers for, yet.

"Kiki," her father begins, his voice warm and gentle. His mouth twists a little in amusement when she frowns at the nickname. "if something is troubling you, you know you can tell us, don't you?"

"Um..." Kiara swallows. "Maman...Baba..." Damn this sudden dryness in her mouth.

Her mother takes a deep breath, trying to follow the advice she's about to give. "Prends ton temps, cherie... don't rush."

And as it always seems to happen since she's turned thirteen, Kiara does the exact opposite of what her mother says. "MamanIthinkI'mbi."

Silence. Confusion.

"Pardon?" Baba says.

Kiara tries, and fails, to clear her throat. She winces as she hears her voice, speaking its truth in the most embarrassing squeak. "I...I think I might be bi...but I'm not sure." She covers her face, cursing the Fates for making this Big, Super Important Moment into such a colossal dud.

"Not sure?" Maman echoes, a frown burrowing lines on the fine skin. Kiara can just see her mother's brain scrambling to pick the right words, her voice tentative and her words unsure. "I don't understand. You are attracted to a girl, I take it, yes?"

Kiara bites her lip, trying to gauge from Maman's face how this conversation will go. "Yes, Maman."

Maman fingers a stray ringlet of hair by her ear, as she often does when she gets a bit confused or agitated. "... shouldn't that settle it then?" She picks a piece of invisible lint on her dress. "I'm sorry - I think I don't entirely get how this works."

Kiara feels a small rush of relief at the words. " I don't know if I really get it either."

"You're young yet," Baba says, his deep voice an oasis of calm rippling around herself and her mother. In another ten minutes they will both wonder why they agonized over this so much. "No one ever knows everything at 15, not even smart young girls fluent in four languages or who can best Auvernese princesses even when they cheat at chess." He chuckles, Zeke hides his giggle behind his hand, and both Maman and Kiara can't resist a tiny smile.

Her parents think she won't notice, but she detects the slightest movement of Baba's hand, presumably covering Maman's. Maman likely places hers over his.

Kiara is half-sure this gesture might prelude a discussion. A discussion involving her. That she may not be a part of.

Yet.

Normally, she would hate that. But today - her own head too muddled and thoughts too scattered to think further without getting a headache - she feels a bit more relaxed.

It would be nice to let her parents do thinking for her once in a while.

--

By tacit agreement, Kiara's mother and father choose to skip their afternoon siesta, preferring to sit in his study and ruminate over today's revelations with a potful of mint tea.

"I don't see why you're so worried, Joli," Hakim tells his wife, his knuckles absentmindedly brushing over hers. "I mean...you're not against her caring for women, are you?"

Hakim won't lie: there were moments at the dining table today when he wondered whether his daughter's truths made his wife uncomfortable. He's heard about it before - parents and loved ones who will genuinely believe they support queer people, yet struggle when they find them in their own families. He won't deny he's still getting used to Kiara's revelation himself...but over here in Castelserraillan, they always come around. They always work on their discomforts themselves, because they know it's their loved one who needs the most support.

It's just that Joëlle - who usually moves through her life with confidence and pizazz even when she doesn't completely know what she's doing - seemed so unexpectedly unsure of herself.

Hakim steels himself against the possibility. Surely even if Joëlle did feel that way, she'd try to process it in a way that wouldn't hurt Kiki. That much he knows about his wife.

"What! No!" Joëlle bursts out. Hakim lets off a stuttering laugh, feeling ten times lighter. "It's just... I know it's silly, but I'm worried. For her."

Hakim runs a hand lightly, slowly across her hair, running a small curl through his fingers just the way she likes it. "What's there to worry about, bonbonayet albi? She has us."

Joëlle looks him straight in the eye, her own dark and wide-set on a heart-shaped face. "But will that be enough? Are we enough?

His hand stills. "What do you mean?"

"She has us today, yes," Joëlle says, covering his hands with her own. Distractedly her long fingers twist slowly over his wedding ring. "But we don't know what it's like, do we? Even when we host events, we are at best on the outside looking in. Sooner or later she's going to want guidance from those who have gone through it too, won't she, mon bijou?"

Hakim's answering smile is one of slow recognition. "You're saying what our Kiara really needs...is a community. A community of people who may have been where she's been, who might give her the answers we won't always have."

Joëlle rests her head against the crook of his neck, breathing in the spicy-sweet cinnamon scent of his cologne. Suddenly she is not only grateful for this man she married, but this place she married into. Because her mind may be a maze of doubts about a lot of things, but the one pillar of certainty she can cling to is that Castelserraillan is a safe place for children like her daughter. A safe, welcoming, accepting place. "Maybe we should start small. Baby steps."

Hakim nods. They saw Kiara's face at breakfast today - no matter how confused they were now, she had to feel twice as much. Push her into finding answers now and their daughter is bound to shut down.

"I trust you, ghazali. Absolutement."

Joëlle smiles, already feeling optimistic about her daughter's future. "And I you, cheri."

--

The gallery has never been this packed, Maman had told her just the other day. Kiara's feet feel worn and tired from standing and walking all day, but she's never felt more invigorated. It's been two years since Maman had brought her here, convincing her without much fanfare to volunteer at an art exhibition they run every year during Pride month. She and Baba never told her why, never made it a priority - just put forward the offer and let her choose.

No assumptions, no unnecessary fanfare, no pressure to figure out who she was or what she identified as. In retrospect, Kiara thinks as she approaches a newer, more nervous face, it was the best thing her parents could have done.

They knew they didn't know everything...had no ego acknowledging that fact...and eased her into a community she knew deep inside would accept her but still felt afraid to approach.

"New here?" She asks the new girl, who wraps her shawl around her thin frame tighter, struggling to look Kiara in the eye.

"Yes," the girl says, "Bethany, from Cormery Isle. I'm...here to support a friend."

The brief pause tells Kiara straightaway that Bethany may be hiding a detail or two, but that possibility only makes her own smile grow wider.

When Kiara finally came out as bisexual in public, a year after that suggestion from her mother, it had felt natural - like it was time, like she was ready and felt safe to tell the world who she was. She had agonized over the decision in the months before, wondering if her new friends would turn away from her for lying...whether they would even believe her...whether she was bisexual enough.

But no. People around her embraced that news with the same warmth that they showed when they knew of her as Duke Hakim's straight-ally daughter, not a trace of surprise in their eyes when she told them she wasn't straight after all. And not a single question about whether she really was what she claimed she was - just acceptance and whispered promises to lend an ear if she ever needed to talk. Promises that she took up, figuring out more and more about herself in the process.

She would learn from several of them, much later, that she wasn't the only one.

Kiara doesn't know what the journey of the girl standing before her - 15 just like she was, afraid just like she was - is going to be. Maybe she'll find herself here. Maybe she won't. Maybe she'll discover she's straight, or not. Maybe she'll recognize she's cis, or not. Maybe she'll realize labels were never for her. The possibilities are endless.

All Kiara knows, is that an entire community of people once enfolded her within their wings, gave her time and made her feel safe about exploring what she wanted. And the only reward they would ever ask for, is that you pay that guidance forward.

That's the way Castelserraillan is. That's the duchy her parents are so proud of running, that she and her brother are so proud to call their home.

Kiara calls Mlle Bachelet, the star artist for this year's exhibition, for an introduction (she notes with faint regret, a slight dull pang that she thinks one feels when a crush is over), and grins at how starstruck Bethany looks. I think I'll leave them to it...for now. And come see Bethany later.

Kiara walks away from the two, footsteps light as air. As she passes paintings and portraits chronicling journeys as vast and diverse as Cordonia itself, charting personal and communal histories, she can't help but remember a line she's heard from the grandmothers in both sides of her family. It takes a village to raise a child.

Smiling, she wraps her arms around herself. Safe in the arms of a community that quietly let her blossom, secure in the promise, that they trust her to do that for so, so many more people.

--

Notes:

French:

Ma fée - "my fairy" in French.

Oui...non...ugh! Je ne sais pas! - Yes...no...ugh! I don't know!

Prends ton temps - Take your time

Pardon (in this context) - Excuse me

Mon bijou - My jewel

Darija/Arabic:

Bonbonayet albi - my heart's bonbon sweet (an endearment)

Ghazali - literally means deer, can be used as an endearment for a female loved one.

A/N2: One of my earliest HCs about Castelserraillan, after TRR3, was that Castelserraillan which was a hot-seat of culture, had one of the most chill Duke and Duchess in Cordonia leading it, would have a vibrant LGBTQ community and culture. I tried to incorporate that into this fic.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bendy and the dark revival part 1

Thonks

No I'm not playing it but watching Mark play it because I am a sucker for horror and a bitch.

So here's my werid ass thonks thro it.

.

June 18 1973

We got a definitive date whoop

Audery looks amazing she seems like she'd be sweet I already like her.

.

"Only 800 frames more frames to go"

If that isn't the biggest mood.

Animators, artists ya'll deserve all the good in the world.

I hope your pillow is always cold and your favourite food/drinks in reach.

.

Archgate pictures

Oh so this isn't Joey Drew studios?

Nathan Arch

Guessing he's the guy in charge, wonder if this is before Joey than? Or if the company got bought out.

.

Red alarm

Are we... Not...??? Okay guess nothing to worry about.

They nailed the atmosphere here I swear.

.

A pretty girl like you shouldn't be wandering around all by yourself...

Get back fucker I got hands and I ain't afraid to throw em!

.

Red alarm blaring lift crashing

What did I say bout the alarm!

.

"Old Wilson will protect you"

... Can be bring the ink demon out?

Please.

I'll even give him a sacrifice.

Audery hun we are getting you a thermos so you don't have to do all this for coffee.

.

Arch gate pictures presents Joey Drew and the Ink Demon

Ohhh so I'm assuming the company was originally Archgate pictures and Joey worked for them before taking over the company?

Maybe?

.

Statue of Joey

... Man's got issues.

.

... Nevermind I found a plaque that explains things

Joey Drew

1901-1971

Joey Drew was the founder of the studio and the man who created Bendy. One of the most beloved cartoon characters of all times.

In 1929 with his partner Henry Stein, he created Bendy's first short "little devil darling" as an early talkie cartoon.

As his entertainment legacy grew over the years, Joey's optimism and pioneering spirit never wavered. Starting with just a pencil and a dream he created this studio.

Here at Archgate Pictures we strive to continue his dream and see Bendy live on.

Dreams come true.

So... Joey's dead.

And he created this studio, so this was initially Joey drew studios and than became Archgate Pictures after his death?

He died 2 years ago so it wasn't that long ago.

... I don't trust that he's actually dead.

Man spent too long going on about being immortal to just die.

And also obligatory "Oh they were partners 💅"

.

Silly vision sounds fun for something that ends up being so sinister.

.

Good to see we're bringing back the pedastels of imporant random stuff.

... Call me sweet Audery one more time Wilson...

All this and no coffee.

I don't even like coffee but for fucks sake.

.... And there's the ink machine...behind him.

Oh boy.

.

Soo book, inkwell, plushi, wrench, cog, I think it's the same as last time I might be wrong.

.

Ink is covering the floor and Wilson is talking about how "the ink is calling us"

This is still less creepy than the lift scene.

.

"Come find me and I'll show you your purpose"

That and the "you'll forget this whole thing" is getting creepy again... Like I'm so glad this is about ink and cartoons and shit.

This whole bit of Wilson grabbing Audrey and get backing into a corner... Yeah this is creepier without context.

.

And we're dead?

Title screen

👍🏼

.

WE'RE BAAAACKKKK

And... Audrey's inked?

But also human.

We got a Fusion on our hands? Or the ink processes was incomplete.

.

Poster reads RELAX Wilson knows your purpose, the man who killed the ink demon.

Nothing about that man makes me relax.

Also this guy is really trying to hammer home he knows things which... Good for him but nah I'm good.

And I highly highly doubt he killed Bendy, or that he even could.

Also poster Wilson is missing his eyes. Not like real Wilson who only has one but he has 2 empty eye sockets.

I'm sure that won't be plot relevant.

.

Even the wall says welcome home but something tells me this isn't just the game being meta.

.

To Grant Cohen, accounting:

Please inform Mr Drew that despite his instance that the rumours of Joey Drew studios going bankrupt are untrue, i want to remind him that if his studio does indeed fail.

All equipment and experiments produced through our partnership, by contract, these belong to the Gent Corporation. We will reclaim these assets forcibly of necessary.

- Alan Gray, CEO (property of the Gent Corporation)

Okay so we've got Archgate Pictures, Joey Drew studio and now the Gent Corporation.

Who were working with Joey to produce the whole living ink situation.... Jeez.

So is Archgate under the Gent Corporation now Joey is gone?... And are they the reason joey is gone 🤔.

Because I'm pretty sure the studio does go bankrupt if I'm not wrong and Joey wouldn't have let his beloved creations go without a fight.

Large corporation V Joey Disney

Fight of the century I tell ya.

And all this right infront of my bacon soup smh.

.

Looks at Ted Wester memo where the "bank takes the goodies back"

Oh yeah they definitely got bankrupt. I'm sure somewhere ol Bertram Piedmont is laughing in his grave.

.

Wilson really doesn't know what no means does he?

So he's apparently "killed" bendy uh huh and it's been 211 days since Bendy was seen.

He calls himself a friend a protector.

Shudders.

And calls the rest of the ink creatures, children of the machine.

Despite them all being adults.

And he's put a manhunt on us.

Great.

.

The ink drips

Darkness has spread through his studio.. The reaching shadows creep around you. Something hungers for your corrupted flesh.

It is close. So very close.

It strains to grab you, choke you from behind. You will feel its breathe upon your neck.

It is close

Oh wow they found one of my poems from when I was 14.

.

Mutilated butcher gang member hangs out of a vent.

... Totally didn't jump.

Man he's been thro something, his eye has an X on it on rope. Something is in his mouth and he's bound by his wrists.

... What happened? Did he disobey the self proclaimed lord and saviour Wilson?

Because I believe the Butcher gang were on Bendy's side so they might be treated as the enemy.

Would explain that.

.

Annd yeah Audrey's like half ink half human with glowing eyes.

Cool.

But bizarre because no one else looks like that.

Why is she different?

.

So Nathan Arch was called about Joey's death. He hadn't heard from him since last April and sounded happy the last time they spoke.

... Oh yeah this is sus.

.

Ayy the toy bit, Heavenly toys.

Looks... Different. Got posters hanging of Bendy, Boris and the Butcher gang.

.

... So that's why there's so many hideu holes butcher gang jumped out.

I love how they just waddle away like fuck can't do ought.

Ha ha

flops scared me

.

ALICE!

Alice Angel aka Alison Pendal is here yess.

She's so sweet and poor Audery.

Alison confirming the machine can really spit u out as any of the cartoons.

I have a wolf he doesn't care for strangers

... 👀Sci Boris?!

Aka... I think Thomas Conner?

Stay away from the ink demon

He likes to smile and kills anything that moves.

So bendy is alive knew it

Also Alii you are not good at comforting.

.

We keep getting notes from our best pal and I am hoping it's Boris.

Not Sci Boris who hates our guts but sweet kind lovely Boris.

I miss Boris 🥺

.

A new terror has descended I go our lives.

This man named Wilson

Ever since our world feels strained, like a great beast held in chains.

The Ink Demon hasn't been seen in a long time. Many of us refuse to believe he's really gone.

But what does it matter? Down here were all sinners. Children of the machine all have the demon in our inky blood.

Ooo so these aren't written by Wilson.

I'm guessing Sammy than, especially with all the talk of sinners and such.

We all have demon in our inky blood... Wonder if that's the whole ink creatures are connected to each other.

The whole in the ink there's multiple souls what other Alice called "a buzzing screaming well of voices" in the og game.

Or Sammy's just crazy.

Probably that.

Wiggles to the jukebox

.

So Wilson was there when the ink machine was put up? And he wanted it's secrets.

Werido.

.

Wandering into the caution lock door room

This seems like a good idea.

Wonder what monster lurks behind these sealed walls.

... Ah the break room

Truly terrifying.

....wtf

Oh yeah just soups and drinks and a butcher gang member stabbed into a wall!

Bucket on his head, ink splattered on the wall he's stabbed into.. I think with the wrench?

And ink follower written beside him.

So looks like I was right, they do follow Bendy and someone, Wilson most likely is making an example of them.

Of anyone who follows the ink demon.

.

So Nathan decided to go into animation after Joey he died.

To resurrect the past.

Slow clap

.

Searcher enters room "if I find you on going to rip your face off!"

... Am I stupid because I didn't know searchers could talk.

I have never heard one talk as far as I can remember.

But no apparently they can talk.

.

Casually takes pipe out of beaten up butcher gang member

Pfft he don't need this.

[secretlywritingstories]

On weekdays I usually get two automated e-mails around noon, one on my work e-mail and one on my private e-mail. The first is a reminder that I have to go in to check and approve invoices, and the second is that I have recieved kudos on my fanfics. 

It’s like clockwork and I never really considered it before but today it made me amused. I’ve got to approve and attach the right accounts on the invoices of our whole department before they come by the boss for final say. I’ve got to just look at which of my fics had a new reader who enjoyed enough to press a button to let me know. 

I don’t really mind that little invoice task as part of my work day, it’s usually relatively quick and easy, but it is obviously not in any way fun. It’s a task that needs to be handled, and it represents part of the administrative side of my position. And then there is the kudos e-mail which feels like a virtural hug or a little thumbs up. 

I scan the usernames to see if I can see anyone familiar, or I will delight that a new one shot or a new chapter posted bring in a little couple of lines. I also love to inspect the fics and there’s also a special joy when it’s one of my older fics (my oldest on AO3 are 6 years now) get a little love tab. 

In some ways though the e-mails remind me how I am kind of pulled in two directions at times. Writing is my beating heart and while I like my job for the structure, the money and the colleagues it brings me, I feel like I am still trying to figure out how to be an adult with a full time job. I am also still trying to work out how to allow myself to be creative and have fun with my job since I have to spend so many hours at it. 

A tiny part of me wants to savour the creative juice for writing my silly little stories. To guard it like it is sacred and special, becuase it is. I get grumpy when I am too worn out from a day at work to actually sit down and write. I need to be allowed that space to just play around without any barriers or expectations. 

I read a lot about work life balance while I was at university, but there was always this underlying notion that it was something to strive for because it made people more effective workers. It always irked me just a little, even though I understood why they had to frame it that way for the bosses to actually understand that people worked productively when they were also given air to be human. 

But I don’t really want to be a worker first and a human later. It feels like the balancing act should be fitting work into your life and not structure your life around your work. Maybe if work is what you’re passionate about, it would be a different story. I also do hope and believe that most work should have both fun, challenges and monotony in the ideal world. It’s allowed to suck sometimes, just not the majority of the time. 

Humans like to feel productive too, and my work helps with that. It gives me a reason to get out of the door early in the morning, it provides me with tasks that need to be solved, and creates a sense of community with my colleagues. But it is still not the unbrindled joy of seeing my bleeding words poured onto pages are liked and appreciated. 

Though I find it hard to believe anything can really compete with that. Writing is quite special to me, and while I write first and foremost for myself, it is a pleasure getting to share my stories and have them be appreciated. 

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Sarah, do you identify as a workaholic, and if so…do you have tips for workaholics who find it hard to stop working?

Hi! Oof. This is such a hard question for me because it's something I've been suffering a lot from over the past year as I took on another job and more responsibility in my current full-time role. I have consistently been the Type A overachiever type who strives to have it all put together on the outside and often feeling like coming apart at the seams inside.

It's super fun!

To that, I was kindly reminded by my best friend that 'If you don't schedule a break, your body will take one for you. And it probably won't be at a convenient time.'

I'm kind of learning that firsthand.

Basically, learn to take care of yourself by choice as you go or your body will do it for you by force.

For me especially working from home the last few years the delineation between being 'on' and working and turning 'off' and relaxing at home has gotten so much thinner.

Having a work space that I can "put away" and not have to look at when I am done for the day.

Lean into the unfamiliarity and the discomfort of boredom. Overproductive workaholic types (my fellow people - I say this w love) have no idea what boredom even is. What a stretch of open space looks like in a calendar. This comes from someone who has literally scheduled 'do nothing' time. Creating space for inactivity and doing nothing stretches your concept of measuring your value by your productivity. And it also gives you the opportunity to space out and let uninhibited ideas and feelings flow. It's wild what can happen out of nothingness.

Establish boundaries for yourself but have people around you remind you of those boundaries when you forget or are inconsistent in applying them and who care about your well-being is key. Especially when you're learning how to unplug.

Limit screens. This kind of goes hand in hand with the boredom thing above but because my job touches on marketing etc - looking at my screen often makes me think of things I could be doing or implementing the next day when I start work again. Create space for nothingness.

I am a work in progress and I am by no means good at - or even following - my own advice. But I'm trying and recognizing that I often girlboss too close to the sun and burn up my own energy resources out of a silly desire to be good at/do everything.

Thinking of all of you who might be in the same boat. <3