#i think people need stories because the world is sad and hard and boring and we want to think about something else for a while.

[yellowocaballero]

Been a fan of your fics for YEARS. I was just telling my friend how despite how much I read fics I never actually love them, with some of your fics (especially TMA) as the exception. Felt the need to reread some of them and saw you reblogged some ISAT fanart. So. Any thoughts on ISAT you'd like to share?

Hope you have a wonderful day!! So happy I found your fics again!!

I avoided answering this for a while because I was trying to think of a way to cohesively and coherently vocalize my thoughts on In Stars and Time. I have given up because I don't want to hold everybody here all day and I have accepted that my thoughts are just pterodactyl screeching.

I love it so much. I have so much to say on it. It drove me bonkers for like a week straight. I have AUs. It's absolute Megbait. They're just a little Snufkin and they're having the worst experience of anybody's life. Ludonarratives my fucking beloved.

I am going to talk about the prologue.

The prologue is such a fascinating experience. You crack open the game and immediately begin checking off all of the little genre boxes: mage, warrior, researcher, you're the rogue...some little kid who's there for some reason...alright, you know the score. You're in yet another indie Earthbound RPG, these are your generic characters, let's get the ball rolling.

Except then you realize that these characters are people. You feel instantly how you've entered the game at its last dungeon, at the end of the adventure. They have their own in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They get along well and they're obviously close, but not in a twee or unrealistic way. They have so much chemistry and spirit and life. I fell in love with them so quickly.

But Sif doesn't. Sif kind of hates them, because they will not stop saying the same damn thing. They walk the same paths, do the same things, make the same jokes, expect Sif to say the same lines. They keep referencing a Sif we do not see, with jokes we never see him make and heroic personality he never shows - they reference a Sif who is dead - and Sif can't handle that, so he kills them too.

They become only an exercise in tedious frustration. Sif button mashes through their dialogue, Sif mindlessly clicks the same dialogue options, Sif skips through the tutorial, Sif blows through the puzzles. Sif turns their world into a video game. Sif is playing a generic RPG. Sif forgets their names. They are no longer people with in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They're the mage, the warrior, the researcher, and...some random kid.

I did not understand the Kid's presence at first. I had no idea what they contributed to the game. They didn't do anything. As a party member in a video game, they're a bit useless. Why is the Kid there?

Because Sif's life isn't a video game. Because the kid isn't 'the kid'. They're Bonnie. Bonnie, who the party loves. Why is Bonnie there? Because they love them. There is no room for Bonnie in the boring RPG that Sif is playing. And then you realize that Sif is wrong, and that they've lost something extremely important, and that they'll never escape without it.

Watching the prologue before watching ISAT gave ISAT the most unique air of dread and horror, because you crack open ISAT and you see the person Sif used to be. You realize that Sif used to be a person. Sif used to be the person who made jokes, who gave real smiles, who interacted with the world as if they are a part of it. And you know you are sitting down to watch Sif lose everything that made them a person, to lose everything that made them a member of this world, and turn them into a character in a video game who doesn't understand the point of Bonnie at all.

At the climax of the game, when the others realize that something is deeply wrong and that Sif physically cannot tell them, they realize that there is nothing they can do. So Bonnie declares snacktime. And for the first time they have snacktime.

What is snacktime? Classic JRPGs don't have snacktime. There's literally no point to a snacktime - not in a video game, and not in Sif's terrible life. It's not fixing this, because nothing can fix this. But Bonnie gives Sif a cookie and Sif eats it.

It's meaningless. It's a cutscene. It didn't save Sif and it didn't change a thing. It will make no difference in the end.

But it did make the difference. It made all of the difference in the world. Bonnie is a character who you really don't understand the point of before you realize that Bonnie was the entire point.

ISAT is about comfort media. Why do we play the same video games over and over again? Why do we avoid watching the finale of our favorite shows? What is truly comforting: a story with no conflict, or a story where you always know what is about to happen? Do you want to live in a scary, uncontrollable world, or do you want to play Stardew Valley? Do you want a person or a character?

When I beat Earthbound for the first time (and if you don't know, the prologue/ISAT battle system is just Mother) and watched the ending cutscene where the characters part ways and say goodbye...I felt a little bit sad. I wanted them to be together forever. But that's something only characters could ever be.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴘɪᴘᴇᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ (J.M)

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

Pairing: football-player!Joel Miller x golden-girl!Fem!Reader

POV: This story is told through the POV of high school senior Joel Miller

Summary: Joel's girl lives in his dreams and in the house next door. He's always known her, and he's always wanted her, but in ApplePine, whose dream does she not haunt? Now He has a chance that He's been looking forward to all his life. This can't fail. He won't let someone like her slip away.

Warnings/tags: Kind of toxic undertones, mentions of a bad home life (reader), church, idolization, nerves, kissing and making out, small Texas town with very traditional values, climbing and watching people through windows, Joel is a Lil bit of a stalker, BAD American football talk. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 4.5k

On most Saturdays and after church on Sundays, she could be found working at the local ice cream shop. Occasionally, if there wasn't a football game, she would also work on Fridays. She was a well-known figure in our small town - being the girl next door, head cheerleader, and leading member of the student council. Her many accomplishments included winning the title of Little Miss Apple Pine, which only added to her popularity. Many of us admired her from afar, watching her ride her bike with friends, interact with the little kids in the neighborhood, or simply be in her element with a book in hand and a Walkman playing some music.

It was difficult to tell what music she listened to, but I'd like to think it was hard rock, maybe Guns N' Roses. However, her sweet nature suggested it was more likely to be Bon Jovi or AC/DC. Despite her bright persona, we all knew that she had a tough time at home, our houses were right next to each other too It was sad but there's only so much a loud TV can cover.

We attend the same school and ride the same bus together. We have chemistry class as well as lunch B together. Additionally, we share gym and math classes. I have noticed that she is quieter in math class and doesn't answer questions as quickly. In math class, she sits three seats ahead of me, and during lunch, she sits six seats away from me. Her round lunch table is located ten tables away from mine, and it's always occupied by a few cheerleaders and jocks who are considered acceptable, unlike me who often gets thrown off the field for hitting refs because of not knowing if  I'm coming or going. Compared to them, she seems to be in another world, like a cool autumn day in the middle of a hot Texas summer.

As the chemistry class began, Mr. McMory walked into the classroom with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. He had only undone the top button of his shirt, showing some long curly grey chest hairs — utterly gross if you ask me. We all watched as he walked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stopped before turning to face the class.

"Now, as most of you probably know, we will need to form a new set of lab partners for this semester. However, to keep things fair so everyone gets a chance of getting matched with whom You would prefer, I've decided to have you all write your names on a small piece of paper and put them in this box. Once I've finished passing them out, I will draw two student names from the box at random, and those two will be your partners for this semester."

Without having to pause, Mr. McMory spoke clearly. This routine was something he did every marking period, four times a year, for 30 years. The memories of the previous marking period memories flooded my mind, where Jason Duly and Billy Holiday tried to bribe Gaby Michelle to give up her seat so that they could sit next to our classmate, the charming "I trust that you all understand the process now?" Mr. McMory continued. Once no one raised their hands to question what he said, he walked back to the front and handed out the small pieces of paper to everyone. "Now you have two minutes to write your names on the paper, then place it into the box. Once you are all finished, I will begin the randomized selection."

Chaos began to take place across the room with various bets being placed and trades being arranged like a market in the middle of a jungle, I wrote my name on the slip of paper without a thought. It was a meaningless task to me, as I would have been fine with getting anyone as my lab partner. In the middle sat our Pipe Dream, seemingly clueless to it all, while these students scrambled like mad to gain the favor of their desired partners, and the professor seemed unaware of all the action taking place in the classroom.

The chaos of the class was suddenly drowned out by Mr. McMory yelling out to have students start putting their slips into the box. As the box was quickly getting more and more full, the class started to become more and more silent and calm as no one wanted to be one of the ones not getting the partner they wanted even if they all wanted the same one our darling Miss pipedream isn't only perfect in every way but she's also incredibly smart.

Mr. McMory walked to the front of the classroom and stood in front of the whiteboard. He held the box and a red whiteboard marker. "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement," he said as he paused and placed the box on a stool in front of him. He then pulled out the first two names. "Gaby and Hannah," he announced, causing a small gasp from some students. Mr. McMory placed the paper down and wrote the names on the board. There was a moment of silence before a low murmur began to spread throughout the classroom Mr. McMory then pulled out another two slips from the box and announced the next pairs of names: "Billy and Jillian, Jason and Cory." As each pair was announced, the two people were immediately surrounded by cheers of excitement or groans of disappointment. Some students could be overheard saying things like "no way!" and "I can't believe this!" and "Are we sure it's fair?" There were a few complaints here and there that their partner was not who they wanted, but Mr. McMory quickly cut them off, saying, "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement, understood?"

As I stood watching the chaos break loose behind me, I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly everything was unfolding. However, my laughter came to a sudden halt when Mr. McMory announced me and a stranger as partners.No, not a stranger, It was the girl who seemed to have it all, the girl who had effortlessly made her way through every aspect of the school and had become something of a legend. She was the girl next door, the one every boy wanted, and the only one I was enamored with at the slightest glance in her direction. My heart skipped a beat as I looked over the crowd and saw her smiling brightly at me. Time seemed to slow down as the rest of the world faded away. It was as if the universe was just waiting for us to get to know each other. My nervousness quickly turned into an adrenaline rush as I became more and more excited. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, a chance to turn my dreams into reality and finally figure her out.

On the bus, I noticed her again. We made eye contact but didn't speak. She sat with her friend Sally Handson until she got off at her stop. However, I didn't expect her to move over and sit in the same seat as me.

"You're Joel, right?" she asked me before kindly offering her hand to shake.

"That's me," I smiled as I gently took her hand in mine and shook it. Our skin connected, and I felt a slight tremor in my hand before letting go, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward. I looked back up to see her, and she seemed to be just as nervous as I felt. The silence seemed to linger on for a moment before she spoke again.

"I just wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look at the assignment yet?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "No, actually, I'm not very good at chemistry. I was probably going to copy off of you, to tell you the truth," I said, trying to make a joke, but struggling to hide the fact that it was true.

She smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Like all football players. It's okay though, I can help you study sometime if you'd like?"

As she spoke, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. The offer of her help flooded my mind with different scenarios, from spending time with her after school to studying together at the library or even hosting study groups at our houses. I chuckled nervously and nodded my head.

The sudden stop of the bus snapped me back to reality, and a thought raced through my mind. Should I ask to walk her home? The offer seemed so appealing, and I was filled with possibilities of getting to know her even better. It was time to take the chance, but I had to fight the nervousness building inside me.

"Hey, are you walking to your house? Because I was just going to ask if...if I could walk you home?" I spoke the words carefully, fearing that I might mess up and ruin the moment. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I waited for her response.

She smiled kindly at me. "Yes, and I would love that. Do you know which house?"

"I do," I said with a slightly more confident tone than before. I felt myself calming down as the idea of walking home together became more real. She began to take in the neighborhood around us, and I thought it was a perfect time to start a conversation.

"So, this is where you live?"

She giggled, and her laughter was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. "Joel, you and I have lived in the same neighborhood since we were newborns. We're neighbors for goodness sake, no need to be so formal with me."

She was right; I was overthinking our interactions. We had been neighbors for as long as I could remember. "Oh yeah...I suppose you have a point. I guess my nervousness made me go blank like that. I'm just not used to seeing you when you're not out on the field with your cheer squad." I chuckled, feeling my nerves die down even more as I looked over at her and relaxed a bit more.

"I understand it's hard not to picture me like that, and you as well, Joel. You're violent on the field. I'm pretty sure that referee from Tentown had a broken nose," she tries to make conversation. 

The mention of the game in Tentown makes me chuckle a bit. That was the first game in the league where I was allowed to play, and I suppose my desire to prove myself ended with me getting a bit carried away. The thought of the ref's nose makes me chuckle a bit more as I couldn't help but feel bad for the ref. 

"Yeah, I think you're right about that. But that's just how it is, right? The game is pretty brutal. I can't play without getting a little carried away." 

She thinks for a second and then says, "Maybe that's why you're always benched, along with Tommy? Speaking of your brother, where is he? Oh, and how are poor freshmen? I heard the older football players are being a little mean."

The question about my benching for games suddenly brings back my nervous energy, and I immediately feel uncomfortable talking about it. "That's probably one of the reasons for it, yeah..." I sigh as the mention of my brother and some of the team's hazing of the freshman brings a frown to my face.

"It pisses me off how they treat some of the freshmen like that. I don't see why they can't just treat them like the rest of the team..." I pause mid-sentence as the thought comes to my mind.

"I feel so bad for the poor freshman. They do the same thing on the cheer team," she said. We stopped at the crossing signal, and I was surprised by how well she could relate to what I was describing. It dawned on me that she may have experienced it more than I had considering how involved she is in cheer. We waited for the light to turn green, and I smiled at her.

"We should set up a study date sometime soon. After all, you said you're not that good at chemistry?" she said as we got closer to her house. I was thrilled at the possibility of spending more time with her.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'll certainly need the help," I chuckled. She walked ahead of me with a sweet little glide in her step, making me have to catch up to her as we continued walking.

"Which days work for you?" she asked, opening her backpack and taking out a pen and paper. "Oh, and write down your landline number." I replied, "I'm pretty much free all week, so just let me know what works for you." Her request for my landline number made my heart skip a beat as it reminded me of when she offered to help me at her place.

"How about Friday after school since there's no game? We can meet at my place," she suggested as we stood outside her front gate. "That works great for me! We can discuss our study plans and maybe even study together if you're up for it," I replied excitedly. "Your place sounds perfect, and I just want to say thank you," I added, feeling grateful for her help. She smiled and said, "Of course, Joel." Then she walked into her yard and house, waving goodbye.

Friday couldn't come any quicker in my mind. I couldn't get Miss Applepine, Cheery Pie, Pipe Dream out of my head at all. The more we talked in class, the more I fell under her spell and the more I wanted to know... She was a mystery, and I wanted to be the first to hear everything she was willing to tell.

now stand at her front door. I rang the doorbell eagerly waiting for her to answer. She opened the door; she looked so pretty. "Come on in, Joel," she opened the door to let me in. In all my years of being neighbors, I always wondered what her house looked like, and to be honest, her house is less organized than I thought.

"Sorry about the mess. You know, it's just me and my dad, and I'm a little behind on chores... um... studying," she began to ramble but stopped herself. It was rather cute; it made me smile even more.

"Come on upstairs to my room. I have all my books and everything up there," she led me up to her bedroom. It was so normal - band posters, photos of her family, school items, her numerous awards, and her window looked directly into my room.

As we entered her room, I couldn't resist glancing over to her window again. It felt like this was the closest I could get to seeing inside her home for A Long time and now I'm inside the looking glass. I took a seat right next to her bed as she went to her bookshelf to collect her textbooks. As we started reviewing the material, a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I occasionally stole a glance at her while she flipped through different articles, but I couldn't hold my stare for long.

"Are these all the books we're going to be using?" I asked as she placed her biology and chemistry books on her desk. I watched her lean over, her eyes almost glued to the books as she read through them. "Yeah, these are the ones. I just want to make sure that we're both prepared for this project. It's about how we think the universe began, so lots to cover" she replied with a soft smile that brought me back to reality for a moment as I gazed into her eyes.

"I'm ready to start studying. So, what do you want to start with?" she asked as I sat down. She looked at me with a sweet smile and thought for a moment before responding, "Do you think we should start with chemistry? I know it's the one you struggle with the most."

"Sure, that works," I replied excitedly she remembered that from the walk my cheeks got a little pink as I opened the book and looked over her shoulder to find the section she had mentioned. I was determined to pay close attention this time, feeling more relaxed thanks to her calm and collected presence.

Every little gesture or movement she made caught my full attention like a spark in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she played with her hair made it difficult to resist complimenting her. When she asked if she could ask me something, it snapped me out of my trance for a moment. I replied with a simple "Yeah, sure."

As she playfully hit my shoulder, her touch felt light as a feather. I couldn't help but smile, sitting up and crossing my legs like she was doing. Moving my book from my lap, I placed it on the end of her bed. "Why can't you focus?" she asked, and my heart started racing. I didn't want to tell her the truth, so I lied, "No reason..." Trying to act casual, I could feel myself blushing as she hit my shoulder and called me out. It was because of her - her sweet smile, small gestures, and the way she sat cross-legged on her bed - that I couldn't focus. But I couldn't just outright admit that I had a massive crush on her.

"We can take a break?" she offered, and I felt even more nervous. The idea of taking a break meant a chance to talk about things other than studying and a chance to just hang out with her. I was hoping that she felt the same way and that she also couldn't help but notice the tension that was building between us. I sat back up and joked, "You're saying that as if I would deny the offer." My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel the same tension I did.

As we continued to talk, I made sure to continue moving closer to her every chance that I could get. The heat coming from her body filled me with a new sense of boldness as I tried to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean who can blame me, when I'm sitting across from someone so charming..." I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"Have you been studying for long?" she asked me as she laid back on her bed, making it clear that she had no plans to get up anytime soon. As the conversation shifted towards more flirtatious topics, I started to blush slightly. "Do you mean studying?..." I replied to her, but even I could hear that my voice had taken on a flirty tone.

"Yes, studying, or are you just as brain-dead as the other football players?" she joked. "Hey now, what are you implying?" I responded teasingly as I moved closer to her. As we talked more, the tone of the conversation became increasingly flirtatious, and I struggled to hold back my blush. "You're the one who keeps saying we should take a break. Sounds like you don't want to study..." I said, trying to pretend to focus on a book.

But even as we continued discussing the material or pretending to, I noticed her eyes drifting toward me as she glanced up and down my body. It made me feel a little uneasy, but also excited as I wondered what she was thinking. Could she feel the same tension between us that I felt?

"Hmmm, maybe I don't. But you're the one who said yes to the break." she grinned mischievously as I scooted slightly closer to her, looking up and staring into her eyes. "You make it kind of hard to pay attention..."

As we continued to talk The heat coming from her body filled me with a sense of boldness as I attempted to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean, who can blame me when I'm sitting across from someone so charming?" I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"I'm flattered. I'll take that as a compliment since you're also very kind with your words," she said as I moved even closer to her. We were almost too close for comfort, but I couldn't resist getting even closer. "I thought I was charming, but you are even more charming than I imagined," I told her, leaning in even closer until I was practically touching her. I felt like I was crossing a line, but I couldn't help myself. Her eyes seemed to be blushing, and I felt a sudden burst of confidence. I brought my hand up to her side, almost touching her waist. "You are an interesting girl," I whispered.

"You find me interesting?" she asked, smiling shyly and looking down. I could tell she was blushing and feeling a little embarrassed, but I decided to take a risk and leaned in even closer. Our faces were almost touching, and I could feel her breath on my face. I looked up at her and felt a rush of emotions.

"I didn't know you were so easy to read," I said as I leaned even closer to her, this time the tiny distance between us was nothing but air. I couldn't help but feel that feeling building inside me again as I watched her face grow redder and redder as it appeared to be a little closer every time. "I'm sure most guys would be more than happy to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

“Are you most guys? Should I be worried? I'm not a one-and-done girl, Joel…” she said, showing insecurity for what seems to be the first time. As she asked me if I was 'most guys', I couldn't help but feel my heart sink for a brief second as I heard her insecurity, but I quickly recovered and smiled as I looked down at her. My hands slowly wrapped around her waist as I leaned even closer. "Oh please, you think I'm going to leave someone as beautiful and kind as you just like that. You aren't a one-and-done girl, you're... you're an angel." I slowly leaned forward so our faces were just a hair's width apart. I gazed into her eyes, lost in the moment, when she suddenly exclaimed, "An Angel?" Her voice was soft, yet full of wonder, as if she had just seen something magical. She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face, and I couldn't help but notice the way her face immediately flushed up with red. Her eyes quickly looked down, as if to distract herself from her sudden burst of emotion.

I kept looking at her, waiting for her to look back up at me. I leaned down just a bit more, my heart racing with anticipation, as my lips were barely an inch from hers when she finally decided to look back up. I couldn't help but feel the surge of joy rushing through my body as I saw the way her eyes slowly opened and she looked back up to face me.

The way her cheeks were still flushed and the shy, but happy look on her face was exactly what I needed. It was the perfect moment as I leaned in for the kiss. Our lips met in a sweet and simple embrace, and I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was like time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in the world except for that moment. I held her close as we kissed, and I knew deep down inside that this was the start of something special.

The kiss started gentle but with each second that passed it started to become more intense. The heat of her body and the way her hands ran through my hair was making my heart skip a few beats as I started to wish I could pull her into an even deeper kiss. I didn't want to overwhelm her though so I tried to keep it simple, although it was hard to keep my hands from finding every part of her body that I could. She's not someone who wants a one-time thing and I'll do everything I can to make sure she doesn't think all I want is sex.

We disengaged when we heard her front door slam shut. "That's my dad!" she exclaimed, her urgency evident. "He can't know you're here." She swiftly rose, pulling me up with her, both of us breaking away from the kiss as she hurried us along. Her pace was so brisk that it took a moment for me to catch on before I scrambled up. "Why can't he know I'm here?" I whispered, trying to avoid any noise as her dad ascended the stairs.

"Because he'll flip if he finds a guy in my room. Though, it's not like it's the first time I've had a guy over," she rushed, steering us towards her bedroom window. "Seriously? You've done this before?" I questioned? but that conversation could wait as we reached her bedroom window, which she promptly opened, urging me outside.

"Well, there was this one time Dad caught me, and he nearly lost it. I promised I wouldn't do it again, and he dropped it," she explained hurriedly, her insistence on getting me out the window starting to concern me. I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.

"Are you seriously making me climb out your window?" I protested.

"Don't be a wimp. You'll be fine. You're not the first guy I've had over," she reassured, though her words didn't ease my nerves. The distance from her window to the ground seemed to grow as she tugged me closer to the edge.

As I began to climb out, my foot slipped, and I fell with a hard thud and a loud squeak.

Despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, the walk home afforded me ample time to ponder, and my thoughts continuously circled back to her. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, as if she was keeping something from me. If she's had numerous guys over before, why the sudden worry about her dad catching her? Was I just another casual fling to her? My mind brimmed with inquiries for my elusive "little miss pipedream."

[queerjesusthelord]

Sometimes I think about how depressed and lonely Villanelle must have been her whole life. The only thing she was passionate about was killing in her artistic way and wearing fancy clothes. Luxurious things. Adrenaline and fast endorphins.

Before meeting Eve she had felt bored and numb. When she wasn’t doing her job she needed to stay low, invisible – to be invincible. She could afford everything but still – it was crucial to be a loner. Those brief sexual encounters could hardly be counted. Even in the books, her character was constantly disguising herself, making "friends" to seem like a socialite and occasionally having sex to control these people who might be useful. She even seduces her therapist to feel power over her. 

But as soon as she gets what she wants, she gets bored and doomed again. It's very sad and depressing to be rejected by the world, by her family, by society. Deep down, she knows that even by controlling things, she can't be happy. Eventually she admits that this isn't the life she wants, that she feels like shit all the time, and the only person she feels something with is Eve.

It's actually Konstantine too, so we have to admit that Villanelle isn't just obsessed with Eve, she's actually capable of being in relationships with a few people. It doesn't have to be a crowd, a small family is enough. Konstantine is family. And Eve is her passion and love, her soulmate, her crush who actually turned into a real thing.

I love that even in her boredom and depression, Villanelle admits that she has feelings for Eve, and she tells her the truth, all the time, since her hilarous breaking and entering in Eve’s bathroom. She doesn't lie to Eve, she doesn't need to, because she believes that Eve can really understand her on a deeper level. This means hope, and hope means the future. Villanelle believes in her future, in their future with Eve, and it's wonderful, isn’t it? It's her way of accepting life, embracing her feelings, and her ability to love someone else. 

There’s nothing like “playing cold” in their story like in most of the movies and romances. It’s just Eve being in denial, processing feelings she has, having a hard time embracing her shadow part (and she prefers things to be buried, as we remember). Well, this process needed time, and Villanelle was waiting. It was hard for her too, because sometimes she felt disappointed and hopeless and god, she hated that so much! That’s why she tried to run away and get over Eve several times. She’s only a human, after all. 

But in the end they both “get the achievable”, after they work on their relationship. Finally they can be happy together, left alone in a room and be committed to each other.

And that's exactly what Eve is talking about, using the metaphor of Kintsugi on that damn ship.

[scarrletmoon]

i cant wait until i fully make sense so izzy thoughts below the cut

it's just SO REFRESHING to know that i -- and others in the same boat (ha) -- actually got izzy. got that he's the antagonist, that he's there to cling to the old guard as ed tries to escape it, that he's the representation of toxic masculinity and white supremacy and self-hating queer people

the thing that made him interesting was that he held so tightly onto one version of piracy (and masculinity) even as the world changed around him. he thought he knew what he wanted. he thought that if he could steer the ship -- steer blackbeard -- back to a bygone era, that would fix everything. izzy is every conservative who thinks that the world is falling apart bc we've lost sight of tradition. izzy is the person who doesn't realize that their hard-headedness is what's causing them misery. izzy is every person so afraid of change that they think their ultimate mission is to go back to what once was. izzy is doing this for YOUR own good

except the show doesn't think that way. at every turn, this show says "there's more than one way to be a man". it says "people can change if they want to". it says "there are people out there who want to forgive you, if you stop hardening your heart". it says "you've built this wall that you think is protecting you, but it's actually the reason why you feel unloveable"

izzy had to change in order to reach that point. he's so stubborn that he had to fall especially hard to even be receptive to it. i don't think he was always kind deep down -- i think he had to be broken down to almost nothing, until his old crutches literally broke beneath him, before he could accept that the world isn't a cruel, selfish place, or that he needs to be cruel and selfish to survive in it

and as he changes, he no longer functions as the antagonist. as ricky says, he got "boring". he's served his purpose. and unlike ed, that's not terrifying to him, because he knows it's true. serving his purpose doesn't mean he has nothing left to live for. it means that when he's finally on his deathbed, he's the old man who had a full life of regret and sadness but also love and joy, and he's finally happy. he finally likes who he is. and it's like his entire life was leading up to a moment where he realizes his true mission was to find love. he's found it, so unlike ed who had to shove himself off the ledge, he lets go by himself. he's not screaming and begging for death like he was in episode 2. he knows that he's leaving behind a man who doesn't need him, but who he loves, and who he knows loves him. and that love isn't possessive and cruel anymore.

i think there's a way the story could've ended without izzy dying, but i think it's very symbolic that in his last moments, he finally accepts who ed wants to be. he was the last one clinging to blackbeard, and he had to let that go for the story to continue. djenks has literally said izzy is the mentor who has to die in act 2 so the protagonist can actually grow into what they need to be.

and i know there are a lot of people who relate to izzy, and i know they don't want to hear it from me, and that's why they lash out at me. they think i've never done this introspection myself, that i've made excuses for my favourite characters (i read this as projection). and i'm hoping that some of them DO that introspection and realize what the show is ACTUALLY trying to tell them; not that you deserve to die for being who you are because fuck, by the time izzy dies, he's NOTHING like what he was. what the show is ACTUALLY trying to tell you is that even if your past is full of cruelty, even if you've hurt others, even if you feel like the world is against you, you can still change. you can become someone you actually like, and who others also like, without losing the parts of you that feel like YOU. YOU can realize all of that before you're on your deathbed finally apologizing for all the shit you did. i'm not saying that everyone else is better than you bc they might have reached that conclusion already. but i AM saying that maybe it might make you happier to be a little vulnerable and a little more accepting of things and people who you thought were against you

i imagine there's a trove of izzy fans who're going to leave the fandom now and do their own insular thing. and i'm not going to pretend that i'm going to miss the people -- regardless of which side of fandom they're on -- who have been shitty to me and others. but if even ONE person realizes that maybe they got izzy wrong? that's good. i'd like that

[natduskfall]

I’m not good at putting my feelings into text, nor am I a writer, or good at literature analysis, but I do have thoughts.

I never liked SSO’s writing to begin with. The writing of SL was okay for a game of that scope. I loved the mystery of a seaside town and strange powers that be. But SSO’s writing is confusing to me.

Dialogues almost always try to be funny, relatable, and it comes across as shallow or boring. I try to read all the dialogue because I am invested in the universe by now and I want to know everything about the events of the world and it’s characters. But lord is it hard sometimes to not skip the repetitive, shallow dialogue.

The characters lack debth and it is hard for me to like any of them. It feels like the Soul riders are just written as stereotypes. Don’t know something? Talk to Linda, she knows everything and loves doing research! She’s a nerd! Alex is the hurr durr let’s do shit without thinking anything over. Haha, Lightning goes zap zap!! Elizabeth is our teacher. A druid. And? Fripp? What even is Fripp? “Mysterious” leader who I don’t know anything about or don’t spend any time with. Who comes across as emotionless and disinterested in his charges. Avalon? Recluse who barely shows up and when he does, he always disagrees with everything.

I like that SSE has been trying to focus on the characters more. Elizabeth’s death didn’t make me feel anything because I just didn’t know her, didn’t have any attachments to her. If anything I laughed during that scene because of the way she ass slammed Darko like that Ground Slam Ash of War from Elden Ring, then got turned into Annie from Attack on Titan, and then blew herself up. That scene should have been an emotional story beat that should have gripped me and made me sad. Red Dead Redemption does that so well. I cried a lot during that game. I wish SSE took the characters seriously tho. It’s like every quest is an episode of The Simpsons where shit happens, it never gets acknowledged after, the characters don’t change. Every episode is a new start. I really like that they commited to the darker and real events, such as Lisa losing her mother, Alex having a dysfunctional low income family, and Anne getting over the real trauma of Concordes death, her kidnapping, and isolation. BUT THEY DON’T GO ANYWHERE WITH IT.

I want to love these characters and I want them to feel like real people, but it’s hard when they get treated as a joke, or the real and traumatic things that happened to them never get acknowleged and have no impact on them or the story. What about Linda and the betrayal of the Baroness? What about Meteor being lost. She didn’t even mention Meteor until the spymaster sent MC to tell her where Meteor was. And I am still waiting for the new Fort Maria quest to see the dynamic between the druids and the Soul Riders after the events of Justin’s rescue.

And the story…. Sometimes it just feels too whacky to me. I don’t know if the witches and golden apples are some folklore from Sweden, but I did not expect that when I first played through, and I did not like it. It felt like the game was spreading itself too thin? It felt out of place to me.

And sometimes, the quests feel like they have no impact. We need to do a difficult thing. Ha let’s do it this way. Go there. Click the ground. Done, we did it, yay!! It just feels very childish, lacking weight. I’m not sure how to put this into words, and I think there are people out there who are much better at this then I am.

I disliked the new Alex quest and felt unsatisfied. The whole questline had me anxious because the job of an event planner is so hard for me as a person with zero organisation skills and confidence. I am sure it is a very important and difficult job, and I was waiting for how SSE handled it. The entire time I felt like MC and Alex were not making any actual tuall progress. Then the whole thing got derailed to “let’s record a narrated tour of the CIty”. And when the quest ended, I was like “that’s it?”

The cinematic for Alex shows a resourceful, hard working and strong individual who got delt a bad hand, but found hope in Elizabeth. But the game keeps treating her like a stupid comic relief character who can only do one thing, and that is use her lightning power no matter the occasion. Even the Freeing Anne quest felt off to me. Why would Alex chose to go back and face Darko alone, when they keep rehashing the theme of “we’re stronger together”. Her power can be fueled by anger, but her main thing is to protect her loved ones. They got Anne, her priority should have been to get Anne out of there, not come back alone for Darko. It just felt like the writers did that because they needed Elizabeth to die, and MC getting stranded in Pandoria so that Lisa could use her singing power. And how would getting blown off a cliff into a bottomless space get rid of a powerful individual who can easily teleport himself and other people?

I really wish SSO would hire actual writers do deal with their story, the structure of the story, and the characters. Helena did such a good job making the main cast feel real, and structuring the story.

TLDR: SSE please hire a writer, and stop treating your characters like stereotypes. Stop treating Alex like a stupid person who goes zap

[bropunzeling]

11, 22, 37!

11 Three tropes that are fine but overrated

oh gosh hmm. some of these are gonna come across as hypocritical lmao and also insert a healthy dose of "for me specifically" but: (1) i think soulbond/soulmark tropes can be done well, but mid executions of the trope focus a lot on ~finding~ the person rather than interrogating what it means to have bonds or marks or things of that nature, and leave a lot of interesting nuances about choice and free will and conflict between romantic relationships and other things you might want (career, friendship, autonomy, etc) on the table. i wish more takes on the trope let it be messy! (2) hurt/comfort done well is really fun but when people are just like. aggressively making their little guy sad and pathetic and a poor little meow meow whose never done anything wrong it gets grating. i love a sad guy but i prefer when they're sad because of shit they did to themselves instead of external factors. (3) curtain fic/established relationship stuff can be fun sometimes but like. there still needs to be a smidgen of conflict or growth or change or a shift for me to be interested. there has to be a point imo! even when i write my silly self-indulgent post-fic time stamps its important to me that there's a point to it beyond just "im love them" (though im DO love them)

22 What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

i think the thing is, there can always be a new dimension to how these two idiots fall in love!!! every story is an opportunity to get at some new nugget of like, how people are, or what it is to be vulnerable and open and willing to risk heartache. with two different people you have so many opportunities to look at different shades and facets of their character. especially with rpf where real life events can shape characterization in real time. The Trade opened up a whole new dimension of matthew that creates new angles to investigate matthew&leon and what it means to fall in love with someone thousands of miles away and who you see even less (or, someday, for my break up/make up agenda)! jamie getting dealt to philly opens up new ways to poke at the jamie/trevor relationship by adding distance and tragedy and the potential of falling for other people! even picking a new trope or time period is just so fun for being like, now how would they be under THESE circumstances? also like, i LOVE flip-flopping who gets to be down bad immediately and who is oblivious because it's not only a fun creative challenge but also just opens up new worlds. idk! there's so many possibilities and so many facets to explore and to me that's delightful.

37 Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

id say i do some up front, just to nail down the broad beats of the story and to minimize how much reworking i have to do later on (or for period type fics, to make sure that i dont introduce plot points that simply cant have happened in that time frame!), and some i do as i go -- for example, for a while there i just HAD the battles of alberta in 21-22 down pat because i was using them so often to shape story beats, but the games in between i had to look up as i went. i also am constantly pulling from new articles or features that offer new bits of characterization i want to use. tbh with the current wip i DO feel very wobbly because i don't have my normal anchors of the schedule/have to make things up, which is simultaneously freeing and hard because it's so much easier for me to write about sports games that really happened than the fake ones im constructing for the narratives 😂. but yeah id say mostly i research as i go!

[helyiios]

Bedside lullaby

(Brandt/Hunley, 1.5k hurt/comfort drabble. Pre-relationship, but if you squint real hard it’s here)

One shot. One bullet, straight to the stomach. There had been blood, of course. A lot, he’d heard. They’d kept Luther close to him until backup had arrived, and by the time they were there, their Secretary was covered in gore.

Serves him right for trying to be a secret agent à la Ethan Hunt, he thinks, grumbling to himself as he throws his shitty coffee cup in one of the hospital’s bins, leaning back against the corridor’s wall. Some people are meant to give orders from the comfort of an office, there was no need of changing the order of things.

One of the doctors suddenly catches his attention, nodding to him as if to make him understand that he could finally come inside his superior’s room. He’d been waiting for around seven hours, had visited approximately all that a visitor could, had seen the different wings of the buildings at least twice, and had had the time to count the amount of ceiling lights in wing W, which were at a total of 247. How fucking peachy.

“He’s awake,” the man in the white coat tells him, but truth be told, he’s barely listening to him, “he’s extremely numb and vulnerable, so try not to push him too much. The bullet barely grazed his stomach, a few millimetres more and he was a gone man.”

That’s great, thanks a lot.

“Alright,” William Brandt says instead, offering him a tight lipped smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. We usually only allow family, but the man who was with us in the ambulance gave us your contact info. We assumed he had no other next of kin.”

“Yeah I’m…we’re coworkers,” he defers, technically not lying. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks again.”

The doctor nods curtly, exiting the room quietly. Brandt watches him disappear around the corner of the corridor before inhaling deeply, smoothing the lapels of his jacket, trying to pretend like he hadn’t just spent the most boring and stressful day of his life. And anyway, his face and the dark bags that adorned it would probably tell the story for him. No need to play pretend.

He makes his way inside the hospital bedroom, taking in how spacious it was. The bathroom was wide, and there was a small couch near some sort of diner table. He almost wants to roll his eyes at this—how many missions had he gone through, waking up in the world’s shittiest and least clean hospitals he’d seen ? Talk about special treatment.

His superior is in the bed, one arm hooked to a catheter, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the bipping of the machines, eyes closed. He looked almost peaceful.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” Brandt groans, grabbing a chair and letting it drag on the floor with an uncomfortable screech, “asshole.”

“Ow,” comes the immediate reply, “you could afford to give a little more sympathy to a wounded man.”

“If you had stayed in D.C, you wouldn’t be here.”

“One has to make sacrifices, in this line of work,” Alan Hunley retorts, but his voice isn’t either playful nor amused. He sounds extremely tired, and he has difficulties speaking. “It’s fine. I made it out, in the end.”

“Barely, yes.”

“Yes, sorry about that, I’m sure you learning of my demise would’ve brightened your day considerably,” Hunley offers, finally daring to let humour slip through his words, “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

“I don’t fucking feel like joking, Alan,” Brandt almost spits, fists closed in anger, “this isn’t funny !”

“No, it’s not.”

The Secretary closes his eyes again, sighing deeply as he let his head sink deeper into the hard pillow. The drops in his IV were falling almost in synch with the beating of his heart.

“Why are you here ?” he asks then, turning his face a little so they were looking at each other, “don’t you have mission files and reports to fill ?”

“I’m here because you’re a lonely guy whose closest next of kin is his subordinate,” Brandt icily replies, locking their gazes forcefully. “That’s a little sad, isn’t it ?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sure your mother is fond of coming to your bedside everytime you hurt yourself on missions.”

“Okay, funny guy. Hilarious. Just—that was a really close call. And I don’t feel like joking about it, is all.”

“I’m not making jokes,” Hunley notes, “I’m deflecting. The mood of this place is daunting enough as it is, no need to add your forever gloomy face to the mix.”

“My face isn’t gloomy. I’m—concerned.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m alright, I’ll be good as new in a few months, ready to overwork you and your team of self sacrificing idiots.”

“Unless you’ve forgotten, you are part of this team too,” Brandt says, “and anyway, talk about self sacrifice when you’re the one who jumped in front of a bullet.”

“How sweet. Just what I needed,” the other mocks, the shadow of a smile still appearing on his bow shaped lips. “I may be the one who has gotten shot, you don’t look too well either. Did you run into a wall, perhaps ?”

A scoff, and Brandt’s crossing his legs self consciously, tugging at his loosened tie.

“I’ve been here since 1AM yesterday,” he mumbles, running a hand through his short hair, “there isn’t much to do, in a hospital.”

That seems to take Hunley by surprise.

“1AM ? But it’s early morning.”

“Yeah, Sherlock. It’s almost 9AM.”

A frown.

“Why on Earth would you stay the night ?” the older man asks, clearly confused, “that seems counter productive.”

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me ?” Brandt frustratedly exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “because someone needed to check on you, is why ! Because there needs to be someone to tell the IMF if their Secretary General fucking died in surgery !”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m sure doctors would’ve notified you all the same without you having to stay here,” Hunley remarks, raising his index at him. “All I am saying is, you could use some sleep. That look on you is…ghastly.”

“Honestly, go fuck yourself,” the other annoyedly replies. “I stayed because I wanted to. And yes, I look like shit, but at least you’ve got someone to talk to while you’re waking up from your surgery, and you’re not staring at the ceiling waiting for God knows who until God knows when.”

“Mm. That would imply that I want to talk to you.”

“Well, you are. Aren’t you ?”

A huff.

“Alright, sure. You look jumpy, though. Are you sure you’re alright ?”

“Am I sure I’m a—fuck, Alan !” Brandt can’t help but yell, face in his hands, “you almost died ! What is it about that that you don’t understand ?!”

“No, William, I understand the gravity of my situation quite well, thank you very much. What I do not understand, is why you seem so worked up about it.”

The younger man lets out a high pitched scream inside his palms, shaking his head dejectedly. His shoulders are shaking.

“Brandt ?”

“I guess I got scared, alright ? I got—I got scared you really were dead,” he finally says, defeated. When he raises his head again, his eyes are wide. “I panicked, and I felt helpless. I knew I should’ve taken the job with the rest of them. Fuck.”

“Well, I’ve made it out, haven’t I ?”

“A few millimetres to the left and you wouldn’t have,” he continues, parroting the doctor’s words. “I don’t know, okay ? I was scared. Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m admitting this to you, it’s going to inflate to huge ego of yours.”

Hunley lets out a soft laugh at this, clenching his fingers as his catheter slightly shifted on the sheets.

“I’m touched you seem to…care so highly of my person to worry that much. But I promise to you, William, that I am quite alright. Nothing I can’t recover from, at least.”

“I know that,” Brandt mumbles, averting his eyes. “It’s whatever. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” the other jokingly remarks, “but really, you should go home and rest, now that you know that I’m okay. You really don’t look good.”

“‘s fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“My, are you playing bodyguard ?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to stop putting yourself in stupid situations you aren’t used to tackle, sure,” Brandt says, shrugging stiffly as he took his suit jacket and tie off. He folds them on the back of the chair neatly, patting them for good measure.

There’s a slight pause, and the muscle in his jaw visibly tenses. Like he’s thinking about something.

Finally his hands rises, barely, landing on the other man’s, palm warm.

He gives a soft squeeze, something that’s barely there.

“It’s good to have you back, mister Secretary,” he settles on saying, the corner of his mouth curling until what could be considered a smile. “Don’t go dying on me while I sleep.”

He takes his hand off, and Hunley finds that he misses its warmth.

The other’s snores keep him awake.

[alluraaaa]

46. For everyone

46. the person they most admire

this question is so fucking hard, but i mean that in the best possible way. this team clearly has so much affection for one another, but admiration is a specific word and hard to work with, in a way. no lie, my process was staring at my phone, typing something out without thinking, and then realizing what the answer is

shiro: hunk. as team leader, he makes it his responsibility to look after the team’s mental health and let them use him like a therapist. once he makes that known, hunk is very open about how anxious and scared he is, how he’s kinda always been like that. hunk wasn’t studying to be a pilot, doesn’t have anyone in his family who are pilots. he’s young, and he has no idea what he’s doing! he wants to go home!! but he keeps going, not because there’s no other choice, but because he wants to help people more than he wants to see earth. for shiro, who only survived the pits because it was either kill or die, hunk is endlessly inspiring.

keith: shiro. not a lot of explanation is needed here, it’s the obvious answer. while the garrison trio also look up to shiro as a teacher and pilot, keith looks up to shiro for everything. without shiro, keith would be in some juvy on earth instead of getting to save the world. keith owes everything to his brother, who won’t give up on him, no matter how many times it takes.

pidge: lance. she spent the first months knowing him trying desperately to push him away, because it hurt to look at him. he’s just like matt, and she doesn’t wanna just replace him even if it is nice to have someone who shares his jacket and ruffles her hair and cleans her glasses without her asking. but when she spat vitriol at him, he retorted with something just as piercing, not letting her get away with it. and he stayed. despite the war, despite her, he’s still here, blowing raspberries at her and wading through fountains to collect change. so when their barbs got more and more affectionate, she wanted to be mad at how he wormed his way into her heart. but she’s not replacing her big brother, she’s gaining another.

lance: keith. the infamous rivalry was born from admiration, after all, even if he didn’t know it. he was hoping one day he’d be the better pilot, the better paladin, but once he actually was keith’s equal, he found he actually liked it. them butting heads worked in a way nothing else did. it wasn’t hunk’s hugs or pidge’s snark or coran’s stories, it was difficult. there’s pushing and shoving and hair pulling and wet willies and it’s so fun. in a nearly empty castle with only six others, you get bored. having someone who doesn’t look down on you as a person while wrestling over the remote is really nice. not to mention, keith isn’t nearly as perfect and lance thought. to learn that someone he put on a pedestal has flaws and weaknesses that lance compliments? kind of life changing, to say the least.

hunk: pidge. she’s so little and he’s so big but she keeps up with him easily, and sometimes he’s the one who has to keep up. absolutely nothing stops her once she puts her mind to it, and has a way of thinking through things that just eliminates any possibility of anxiety. if there’s a pidge, there’s a way. there are also times, though, when she’s sad or scared or small, but trusts him to not hurt her, despite him being big. she knows he won’t judge her for not understanding a formula, or needing help with a line of code, or crying on his shoulder when she misses her family. he realizes, one quiet night, that she trusts him not despite his size but because of it. she finds comfort in big brothers.

allura: coran. she turns to him for anything and everything, gives orders and trusts he’ll follow them, and he’s the only parent she has left. she knows that he’s suffering just as much as her, but he doesn’t let it stop him the way it stops her sometimes. when it stops her, he’s the only one who can get her going again. she doesn’t know how he does it. and she offers to help, she’s not stupid, she knows he’s keeping the hard parts to himself while also helping her, and she says it’s not fair. she wants to help him too, what can she do to help? but he just brushes the hair away from her face, kisses her forehead, and tells her all he wants is for her to get a full night’s rest. and… she can’t say no to that. when they’re in her bed and he’s serenely narrating his way through a story of his past, she can curl up to his side, close her eyes, and know that no matter what, he’s the constant in her life.

coran: allura. she used to be so happy, and she’s so young, and so hurt, and so tired. but despite it all, or maybe because of it all, she works so hard to fight a man who betrayed them so harshly. if anyone deserves to shirk the responsibility of voltron and live out their days on a peaceful remote planet, it’s the two of them. but she refuses to give up, so neither does he. he does all he can, despite the weariness in his bones, to help her. he’ll polish her helmet visor, braid her hair, wipe away her tears. he’ll polish the ship’s controls, groom his mustache, wipe away his own tears. he’ll do it all, so she doesn’t have to. and when they find out that they weren’t the only alteans left, when they found a new altea, she doesn’t want anyone else officiating her coronation, and he doesn’t want anyone else as queen. they both cry during the ceremony, and he hugs his daughter, holding her close.

(send a character + a number)

[fractalkiss]

fic commentary/notes for the year you thought you were dying.

trying this thing where i do fic commentaries here instead of on dreamwidth since most of my recent dw posts will be private now.

influences:

there was this BL titled "my 40-year-old prostitute" in english or something like that that a mutual from twt recommended. look, it was good. im so fucking serious. the yaoi art was beautiful and sexy and it started out so well with compelling characters. but the translators ceased uploading translations by just chapter 2 in 2020 on [redacted] site. which effectively meant the premise never left me for months and i was so sad.

joke's on me tho all of this really became serious after i wrote tumblr ficlets of 1418 hooker au in response to some fun ask prompts in the summer, which are in my fic tag somewhere.

some quotes from more influences:

"It’s obvious that the range of people who sought out sex for money would change dramatically in a kinder, gentler world. [...] Sex work would also attract stone butches of all genders and sexual orientations—people who want to run the fuck but are not interested in experiencing their own sexual vulnerability and pleasure. Often these people are the most adept at manipulating other people’s experiences. They are more objective about their partners’ fantasies and do not become distracted by their own desires, since their needs to remain remote and in control are already being fulfilled. - pat califa, 1994, 2000

"You. What will you let yourself become for me?" - dorothy allison, her thighs, 1992.

the essay "her thighs" is about lesbian power play and so influential to me. i think dorothy allison is a very powerful writer and i love her poetry.

this is an allison excerpt from jane ward's the tragedy of heterosexuality:

i kept this in mind too while i was writing manuela's short backstory.

the process:

i wanted crazy thangs with the structure. i wanted most of the sexual intimacy to be revealed much later to the reader, after we go through mostly the companionship aspect of the service -- which i realise now is not crazy but a boring approach and would really change the story so i didnt do it.

sex pollen fic done this way is my fave tho. helenish wrote this sga fic called This Gun for Hire with sex amnesia in it where everyone is in denial in the aftermath about the kind of sex that was repeatedly happening. there are other fic examples (can't quite remember or have bookmarked) where the denial and delusion is so completely off the charts with a character in trying to get through the aftermath of the event without a freaky sex trope involved.

so i wondered if i could pull off that kind of blurriness and denial in the structure for a character who KNOWS what is happening but thinks they're still straight and will die straight lmao. but fernando in this story is just jaded, retiring and isn't cripplingly repressive.

the notes from my word tracker doc that i had to do to be able to write long fic. i laugh at this every time:

my projected word count for this was 20k, which was so off lmfao.

i put off getting them to have sexy fun in italy at one point because i didn't know yet what emotional point they needed to get to and what grounds they'd be on then. i wrote a bit of a very different scene to lead up to it, but then scrapped it. and then i wrote the auction night and the morning-after scene. tension and conflict (without having to use miscommunication as the necessary crutch) is always one of my most favorite things to write about so i was so glad i got to this point LOL. the payoff of reaching a compromise and then an emotional release later is so rewarding to me! i love that shit

emotionally i just knew i needed it to be like the mindy nettifee poem i grabbed the fic title from.

figuring out how to write lance in this fic was really hard ngl since i went into the story almost blind. cofi made me realise this blind spot when i showed her an early wip and i was like hold awn.... if i wasn't sending @strulovic broken drafts and doing lanceology consultations with her, i wouldn't have gotten anywhere in the story.

alonso being a divorcee irl is so important to each and every one of my agendas thank god for the gay uncle. i did a lot of google searching to be able to write fernando's approach to sex and relationships outside of the job. i knew what i wanted to take away, like the difficulties with intimacy that former workers have had, and still have after the industry sometimes. fernando scrubbing his hands clean at lance's place after the auction despite not having sex with the auction client, his views on wanting the sex with his ex-wife and other exes to be "acceptable and proper" in contrast to whatever he's done for work, and how the internalised homophobia warps this for him while he tries to play the gentleman with lance in italy (and lance being able to read through him and understand that fernando DOES want to fuck him nasty ‼️ though lance doesn't understand the extent of fernando's issue with it). there are also accounts where sex work gave a worker the experience, space and autonomy they needed to slowly heal from prior traumatic and/or abusive experiences. the research was very interesting.

relied on music A LOT. an honorary ldr song [hears collective groaning] that didn't get included in the fic playlist was Love song. lance was in that passenger seat beside fernando in their sleek '67 restored fiat on the way to umbria wishing and wishing to get railed.

ALMOST FORGOT TO INCLUDE: ferrari to mclaren 2.0 fernando was the print here. he keeps the ferrari depression beard ofc.

truly not an overstatement, i think this fic was what made writing smth as long as this quite enjoyable and bearable for me. dare i say fun! haha

[sing-you-fools]

you mentioned your character sheet having the fields "what kind of story do they think they're in" and "what role do they think they're playing in it"

i think this is awesome!

what else is on your character sheet?

oh my gosh. i was in the middle of answering this when i went to check something and clicked a link without realizing it was a tumblr link. it's gone. and. well. i'm sure you were not expecting as MUCH answer as i was putting there, anyway, so maybe it's for the best.

my character and worldbuilding sheets have an unhinged level of detail, because i use them not as a "fill this whole thing out before you get started" tool but as an "organize the information you include and thoughts you have so you can reference them later" tool, because (1) audhd and (2) i'm hoping the book i'm working on is the first in a huge expansive world that i'll still be playing in when i'm 70.

the character sheet is broken down into Basics, Role in the Story, Appearance, Communication, Backstory, Family,* Relationships, Personality and Psychology, Just for Fun, and Other (which is just a spot for if i need it, it doesn’t have any questions or prompts). and each of those has a ton of questions (except Other, as established in the previous parenthetical aside).

it's hard to say what i have in there that's the most important, or my favorite, or whatever, because it all depends very much on the character's answer. for example, most of my characters don't think they're in a story at all, they would say "this is my real life what are you talking about i'm not playing a role i'm trying to get to tomorrow," which means the questions you mentioned aren't all that fun for them, but they become very fun for a couple i'm writing, because Nat thinks he's living his best gay musical romcom life and Zari is convinced down to his bones that he's a lead in a deeply tragic romance - in reality, they're more like Merry and Pippin, and if they'd stop for a brief reality check maybe they'd reconsider picking up the Palantir.

these questions fall under "Role in the Story," which also contains fun gems like: personal goal, interpersonal goal, and team goals, because i get annoyed at character sheets that act like people just have one goal. and the full list of D&D skills and sets, even though i've never played D&D, because they seem useful. it also has "how much do they know about what's happening?" and "are they having a good time?" as some more example questions.

i have a lot in the sheet that would probably seem repetitive, but having similar questions in different categories means i think about them differently. i have "health" under Basics, for example, and that means if someone's using a cane it'll probably get mentioned there. but i also have "medical devices and mobility aids" under Appearance, because it tells me one thing that House has a bad leg because of muscle death and uses a cane, and another thing that the cane has flames up it and a skull handle and he uses it wrong. (if i'm misremembering House's cane please don't come for me it's been over a decade since i saw an episode of that show he's just still the most recognizable character i could think of with a mobility aid which is kind of sad)

possibly my favorite part of my character builder is this:

a cartoon by Tom Gauld (@myjetpack). it's right in the middle of my "personality and psychology" section. it's important for me to define what my characters do and don't know about because otherwise i end up with them knowing everything, and that's so boring. this comic just perfectly broke it down for my brain, so i plopped it in.

and a lot of my favorite questions focus on the contradictions and tensions and perception gaps inherent in being a person. what do they hate about the people they love, or love about the people they hate? what do they bring to their relationships, and what do they think they bring? what do strangers/authority figures/children/etc think of them, and what do they think people think of them? what's their biggest flaw and what do they think is their biggest flaw?

i could honestly go on forever about these; in fact i think this is still shorter than my answer that got deleted. so i'm going to cut myself off, but i'm happy to share more about them, and someday i may even post them for anyone else who might want them. i want to use them a bit first, though, to see what can be fine-tuned. in addition to character sheets, i've got sheets for Setting, Species, Religion, Nation, Magic System, Subculture (any group smaller than religion/nation/species that might have its own culture), and Scene (less worldbuilding, more to keep the details and goal of a scene straight in my own head, but still). these are all significantly less detailed than the Character one, but significantly more detailed than any one site i could find included when i was searching. and all my sheets, questions and prompts are gathered and compiled from all over the internet; i would not be able to provide sources because i did not bother to record them.

[altraviolet]

This is less about TEG and more about you as a writer, I hope that's okay!

What do you do if you lose motivation to write for a story? How do you keep yourself interested in your plot for so long? TEG has been going for years, but I can't seen to write a month's worth before I get bored of the plot and go pick up something new ;-;

Questions about writing are fine, no worries =)

Motivation... that's a hard one to answer, because my motivation really waxes and wanes. In fact, I posted about the anon box being open because I wanted to write, but I didn't want to write TEG. I thought if peoples' questions prompted me to write about TEG, that would motivate me to go write it. So, I suppose, if you have friends you can talk to about writing, that might help xD

As for ongoing motivation... yes, it is hard. I've been writing this story for almost 4 years. Perhaps if I were more motivated, properly motivated, it would've been done by now. But all I can say to that is: it's work to write it, now. Not always fun. There are no deadlines unless I impose them. Real life is *waves hands at the world*. So... so motivation comes and goes.

I can tell you what I find motivating:

1) Comments. Comments for sure. Hellllll yeah. Actually sometimes the thing that lights the fire is this odd feeling of viscerally wanting comments. I will write the chapter to get those comments. And I know that sounds bad or like an 'impure' motivation ("write for the sake of writing!"), but I'm not able to explain the feeling very well in words. It's kind of like dangling from the edge of a cliff by a bed sheet and watching, with growing horror, the woven fibers split apart. There is a desperate need for action. It's frantic. It's an odd drive I get every once in a while and, regardless of what it is, it does work. I do write.

But I suppose that answer isn't very helpful to you.

2) The last sentence of the fic motivates me. Ohhh I am excited for the last sentence. It's been written for years and it brings the fic together in a way that feels amazing. I'm so excited for people to read it. The only way they'll get to read it is if I write the story up to that point. Yes, I do get a little sad that the story will end someday. But sometimes I get a very "I wish it was over with already!" feeling. I just want to shake it, like, "Why aren't you done yet!!" Either way, when it ends, I will have a feeling of accomplishment. I've never written anything that long before. What will it feel like when it ends? I need to end it to know. I have predictions. We will see.

But if you're having trouble on the time span of a month, that answer probably isn't helpful, either.

Hmm...

Veering away from myself, I have some suggestions for you. Try any or all, at your own discretion:

-can you identify why you're getting bored with your plots? is it more fun for you to write a two sentence synopsis of the plot than to flesh out the story for it? if so, you could consider doing drabbles or short stories instead of worrying about completing long fics

-when you think of a plot you're excited about, write an outline for it. as detailed as possible. that way if you run out of steam, you still know what you want to do with it, and you can pick it up later

-if you have any writer friends, you could try a 'quilt story.' you write the first few pages and pass it on. they write the next few pages. maybe a collaboration would keep you interested

In the end, if you're not having a lot of fun or investing in a story, you can abandon it. No one is going to punish you for moving on. There is a lot of value in completing a fic- you learn more about storytelling and you get practice. There's also value in moving on if what you're doing just isn't working at all.

That said, it could be a matter of discipline. So it's boring... so what? If you really like the idea but you're bored, work on it anyway. Skip to the scenes that are fun to write. If you're bored because you got stuck on a scene and couldn't figure out how to progress, go back and brainstorm some solutions/alternate paths. Writing is work. Fanfic is a place where you can either flit from idea to idea having 100% fun, or you can practice writing in a serious manner. Maybe the fun is only 25%, but if your goal is to master storytelling, you are certainly practicing. What is your personal goal with fanfic?

I guess that's the best question, to be honest. Do you want to finish fics? Are you willing to put up with some boredom to do so? Or do you just want to have fun with some of your favorite lil guys? Both are valid ways to fic :)

This kinda went all over the place. I hope it was helpful. If there are any points I've made that you'd like me to expand on, just let me know. Personally, I would encourage you to finish ONE fic, no matter the length. Maybe shoot for a super condensed 200 word character study on your favorite character. A simple, but distinct, beginning, middle and end.

Either way, best of luck writing, and thanks for the ask =)

[cuervolyx]

I wonder in a non-canon situation, if Aera and Seoltang talk to each other about their unit. Let’s say they are at non-canon world peace conference and happen to sat next to each other:

What would Aera deduced from Seoltang’s appearance?

Would Aera start the conversation?

How would Aera introduce herself?

How would Aera explain her organization to Seoltang?

How would Aera talk about each of her agents and officers?

I thought it would be fun if the two units have non-canon interactions through their leader but please feel free to decline if you are not comfortable with it. \(^^ )

I don't mind actually. Sounds fun. But, I would need to warn you that I am pretty bad about understaning other people's characters for a reason. The reason is something I would rather keep quiet because I once told someone and it completely went over their head. I felt pretty disrespected about it since they wanted something out of me that I cannot control.

Anyway, enough of that. Let me answer your questions.

——————————————————————————

Aera is someone who always wants to see the best in others. And looking at their ages, she would definitely be respectful to those who have more years in service/who are older. Therefore, she probably would think Seoltang is a respectful and diligent individual. A hardworker too especially with how his uniform looks. But, his smiles sometimes feel off... nah, it's probably nothing.

Surprsingly enough, Aera is a bit shy herself. But, doesn't mind starting conversation if she's bored or has been next to someone for a while. She's feel that if she doesn't introduce herself then it would be disrespectful. Though, she would wait until someone else spoke first or if there is a chance to say something.

I would imagine she would introduce herself formally unlike back at her unit. Normally in her unit, she just tells them her name. It thinks a minute for people to realize that she's the Chief and not just some random military police officer. So, it would be somethng like this: "Hello, I am Chief Aera of the Nisara Military Police in the Raelian Mountain Crescent base. It's the base that's really hidden in the inner parts of the mountains." (I know boring name for a base. I might change it in the future).

Now, I am not sure if she has an organization? Or I am mistaking myself on wording? Anyways, she's would just be blunt on what it is. She'll mention the arresting of enemy spies or troublesome soldiers. Describe imprisoning them and interrogating them. Also how they police the mountains since there are no formal police departments there. And how the MP in Crescent base operates differently from other, she won't mention the intelligence department unless if at the time there are more MP intelligence departments or the government allows it.

Aera always has something to say about her agents and officers! And now, I guess it's the best time to show her opinion on each and every one of them:

"I have a Deputy Chief who works alongside me. He's very good at his job! Very dependable and he has an eye for detail. He's very quiet though and sometimes I tend to lose him in the base. But, half the time he just moved to a different part of the room."

"One of the older of my agents is Siwoo. He's a hardworker! Always on top of duties and always willing to guide those around him! I wish he got more sleep though. I don't think I would ever see a desk full of coffee mugs in my life. Even his own friend had to force him to sleep..." (Call back to that short story I wrote some time ago)

"Speaking of his friend. His name is Eunkyu. He's a bit hard to understand because of his accent and he slips into the regional dialect a lot. Though, he is a warm and kind hearted. He smiles a lot too. Despite being new, he does his best to complete his duties. And with psychology knowledge, he's done some excellent work. But, I feel worried about him because I can still see how sad he is."

"Lastly, I have "Haoyu". He's... energetic. Sometimes I feel that I should never put him in guard duty on the watchtower without someone else there. Let's just say he may or may have not attempted to jump off of it in order to help someone else because they were in a fight with a enemy soldier and our comrade... However. he's like the sun. Bright and always full of life. His immatureness sometimes helps brighten the atmosphere!"

——————————————————————————

However despite all of this answer, I am not sure they would be talking since Aera would most likely be in part of security of the conference rather than be a part of it. Unless she is talked to, she may just be a face seen wandering around or even personally be guarding the conference doors.

[racfoam]

any harry and Voldemort being parents to Harrison snippet please

Absolutely, anon! I'm sorry it took a while, but here you go! Some snippets

Lord Voldemort both killed his son's parents and became his son’s father in the timeline of an hour.

Fifteen days into his fatherly duties, Lord Voldemort considered throwing his adopted son out the window.

The brat was mostly pleasant, and seemed quite taken with his new parents. Those big green, vibrant eyes that were uncannily identical to Harry’s stared in wonder at Voldemort the most. It was like Harrison thought Voldemort was not real, and constantly had to remind himself Voldemort existed by reaching out his tiny hands for Voldemort out of his crib whenever he saw him. Voldemort did not blame the boy. In fact, he praised the boy's intelligence at recognizing Voldemort was an otherworldly wizard, one of a kind.

Harry doted on the boy, cooing at him, blowing raspberries into Harrison’s stomach that caused him to shriek with laughter. She treated him like he was the most delicate thing in the world. She was a natural at being a mother. Perfect, in fact. The first five days, she was nervous but grew more confident each day until she stopped thinking so hard and let her instincts lead her. Harrison listened to Harry without question, did whatever she expected him to. Whenever he was crying and bawling his lungs out (a small probe of Legilimency confirmed he had nightmares of the night of Halloween) it was in Harry’s arms that he stilled, stopped crying the quickest as she rocked him gently, holding him against her chest, until he fell back asleep.

Harrison enjoyed whenever Voldemort read him bedtime stories, the boy satten in his lap looking at the pictures of farm animals of the book Voldemort was reading. The book was charmed to have the animals move and audibly create their calls at the tap of the wand. Whenever Harrison wanted to hear a sound, he tapped the animal to let Voldemort know. He never made it all the way through an entire book in one sitting. He fell asleep ten minutes into Voldemort reading, snuggled against Voldemort’s stomach and clutching at his robes.

The thing about babies everyone should know. They can never get bored. It is an advantage as much as it is a disadvantage. A double-edged sword, one could say.

They are never bored. Which means they need to be constantly entertained. This was not a problem, since Harry was home the entire time because of the war, the house surrounded by strongest protection wards and charms Voldemort knew — and he knew many.

That night, Voldemort knocked on the doors as he always did. Four times.

At the sight of Harry, holding Harrison, Voldemort felt some buried instinct and need to protect them. This was not new with Harry, but it was with Harrison.

It was the first time Harrison was here. That must be it.

Whatever the case, he bent down and kissed his wife, a sweet, tender kiss that he would have gladly continued had he not heard a baby babble.

“I think he missed his papa,"

Voldemort hummed, studying the green-eyed boy. Harrison was tidy, wearing a green sleeping onesie. Voldemort reached with the edge of his fingers to the boy’s head, caressing through Harrison’s black tufts of hair. Harrison reached his tiny arms out toward Voldemort, an unspoken plea to be held.

Harry looked tired, but happy, even as they ate. His sweet, kind Harry.

Harrison was in his own chair, playing with his porridge and the big spoon that he could not accidentally swallow.

“He was acting strange today. I checked he wasn’t sick and his temperature was all right. But he was very quiet.”

The word Harrison and quiet were antonyms of each other. However, if Harrison suddenly turned quiet because he was trying to copy the surroundings and people around him, it wouldn’t surprise Voldemort.

“What if he’s sad?” asked Harry, turning her eyes to Harrison.

“Why would he be sad?” asked Voldemort. “He has everything he needs here.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “I think... I think he's realizing they aren’t coming back.”

Voldemort looked to Harrison. Indeed, the boy’s round face was that of a confusion rather than tiredness. He spent his days with the Potters and now, suddenly, he realized they were no longer there. Voldemort wondered whether Harrison felt abandoned by them, confused that they were nowhere around.

“He isn’t that intelligent at this age,” said Voldemort.

Harry looked insulted on Harrison’s behalf, because the boy could not comprehend what they were talking about. They were just words to him, sounds he was trying to catch to one day speak.

Harry opened her mouth to defend Harrison’s intelligence. In that same moment, Harrison dropped the spoon into his porridge.

Harrison cried for the rest of the night.

Voldemort never liked to hear babies crying. It reminded him of the orphanage. The babies there always cried... and cried... and cried...

Therefore, the urge to throw the boy out the window. Instead, knowing Harry would keep trying to soothe Harrison until she collapsed in exhaustion and knowing she wouldn’t be convinced this early, Voldemort decided to go outside and check all the wards were in place.

When he came back ten minutes later, he found Harry sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery, Harrison bawling into her shoulder as she tapped his back. All her words must be wasted on Harrison, because she was silent.

The one thing Voldemort hated most in the world was seeing his wife sad. She looked sad, her eyes lacking that usual warm light.

He didn't need both his wife and son sad. That was unacceptable. It was... Wrong.

“We’re going to bed,” he said firmly. Harry didn’t move from the chair. Instead, Voldemort approached Harry, and picked her up in his arms, carrying her while she held Harrison to her chest.

He placed Harry on their bed, and she placed Harrison beside her. She looked exhausted.

Harrison soiled himself twice by now. Voldemort lifted him into his arms and headed to the bathroom to change his diapers.

In that moment, he thought of killing the boy. Why would he want a child that makes his wife cry? Why would he want an ungrateful child who couldn't accept his real parents were dead and decided to make it all about his pain?

What about Harry’s pain? What about Harry’s tears? They were much more important to Voldemort than the Potter boy's tears.

Harrison Potter is a spoilt brat who didn't know or was aware Voldemort had spared him only because he saw a potential of getting a child that looked exactly like Harry without having to see his wife go through childbirth. Here was a perfect little boy, without any parents, and Harry always wanted a child. Here was an orphaned boy, a child that can be theirs. A child Harry always wanted to have with him.

Why was the Potter boy such a disappointment? All the Potter boy needed to do was live. The Potter boy wasn't supposed to somehow subconsciously remember his dead parents.

How could Harry be a mother to a child that didn’t consider her his mother? That was worse torture for her than cutting her stomach open.

Voldemort pulled the bawling toddler close to his chest. He wanted this boy to be theirs. He wanted this boy to be their son.

It was strange, this cloying, heavy feeling.

Maybe he should just kill him. What use was the Potter boy if he couldn’t be what Voldemort wanted him to be?

He closed the doors, placed the boy down. Pulled out his wand. Voldemort never cared about any other life except his and his soulmate’s.

This insolent boy, after Voldemort spared him, here he lies, kicking and screaming just like all the spoilt pureblood babies Voldemort met in his life, thinking only of himself, after making Harry cry. How dare he?

If he missed his biological parents so much, then he could join them in the afterlife. Voldemort had no use of a weak boy to disgrace him and make his wife unhappy.

But then, just as he was about to cast the spell, the boy opened his red-rimmed, green eyes, his wet ink-black hair sticking to his forehead.

The Potter boy vanished and all Voldemort could see were Harry’s features on a baby boy and suddenly he is trying to kill Harry's son, he is trying to kill his own son.

All Voldemort could see is his and Harry’s son.

And yet, the boy did not see him as his father.

Ah. That’s where that cloying, rotting feeling is from.

Exhaling, Voldemort lowered his wand.

Harrison kicked his bare legs, face scrunched as he cried and cried for dead people. Voldemort cast a washing and drying charm on him, then changed his diapers and dressed him in the same onesie, now clean and smelling fresh, on mint.

He brought Harrison out of the bathroom. Harry looked better, her lovely face clean, wearing a white, long nightdress. His wife was the strongest woman he ever met.

They laid down, pl Harrison between them; Voldemort conjured a small pillow to support Harrison's head.

Harrison stopped kicking up a fuss once Voldemort’s fingertips brushed over his hair and Harry’s fingers settled on his back. He still trembled, his little shoulders still shook, he whined occassionaly but at least he wasn’t bawling his lungs out.

Harry wiped away the fat tears rolling down Harrison’s pudgy cheeks with a soothing, kind hand.

Soon, Harrison rolled on his back, sniffling one final time, pouting up at the ceiling in confusion, most likely realizing it wasn’t his room. Green eyes blinking, looking from the same pair of green eyes and then looking to a pair of crimson ones.

“Yes,” said Voldemort, placing his chin atop Harrison’s head to be at the same level as his wife. “He is holding mine, too.”

Harry beamed at him, angelic and bright. There was no more beautiful sight. Voldemort inched his head closer to Harry, and pressed his lips to her smiling ones, kissing her.

Their free hands interlaced, entwined, below the toddler’s feet.

Harrison’s emerald eyes slipped closed, and his fingers squeezed around Voldemort’s index finger tightly. Voldemort curled his fingers around the boy's hand, wrapping his little hand in his palm.

Harrison appeared to do the same with Harry's index finger, squeezing it tight in his grip. Harry did the same as Voldemort, curling her fingers around the boy's hand, wrapping up his little palm into the safety and warmth of hers.

Harry’s fingers squeezed Voldemort’s. Voldemort squeezed back.

Lord Voldemort officially signed the papers to adopt Harrison Potter, the sweet orphaned boy (do not be fooled, this boy is as sweet as Lord Voldemort is kind), three months later, on January 17th, 1982, after the Ministry fell under his regime. After the paperwork was filled and signed by both Voldemort and Harry, Harrison was officially, in all manner of law in the wizarding world, their son.

Harrison’s thought process through the first week is: 1) New people that take care of me. Red-eyed man, nice woman that has same eyes as mummy. 2) Mummy and daddy have been away for a long time. The new people are very nice to me. I like them. I’ll be good until mummy and daddy come back. 3) Where are mummy and daddy? Why aren’t they coming back for me? Are these people my new mummy and daddy? 4) I miss mummy and daddy. I think they aren’t coming back. I remember mummy laid down to sleep after the green light. 5) Mummy and daddy are gone. They aren’t coming back. 6) I'll be okay with these people. I’ll be okay with mama and papa.

I didn’t mean to turn it into angst. Hope you liked it.

[laysdimplesareillegal]

Character Development: Chapter 6

Some Days in the Life

Pairing: Monsta X Changkyun x Reader

Word Count: 

Warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping, general delusion, angst

Character Development Masterlist

Everyday Changkyun and I found a new topic to fight about.

Day 2 with Changkyun

I was sat down on the couch flipping through TV channels. Changkyun messed around in the kitchen before coming to stand behind the couch, hands resting on the back. I continued browsing the channels. We fought over the remote when I landed on the news because, “this is boring and depressing, let's watch a drama!”

But I needed something to connect me to the outside world. Changkyun wandered around behind me opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen, probably looking for a snack. And then I saw it—my picture was blown up to fill the TV screen. It shrank down as the newscaster broke down the story of a young woman—me— “proclaimed missing three days ago.”

If I was standing, I would have been knocked off my feet. A fire re-ignited within me; I wanted to turn around and lunge at Changkyun. The police have probably already given up hope looking for me. What was everyone thinking right now—never mind, I knew. At this point, people are thinking I’m buried in some shallow grave. I could envision people crying, and people who barely knew me reminiscing about “that time.” Sure, I’d thought about this before, but I was also so wrapped up in the fact that, at first, I was more or less safe.

“That’s a nice picture of you,” Changkyun muses, “when is that from?” He was sick and callous.

“Did you know this was on the news?” I screamed at him. I didn’t wait for his answer. “This is you! You’re a criminal and this is your crime do you know that? People think I’m dead and you stand here casually asking when I took this picture! You’re soulless!” I felt angry and sad and cursed, and I wanted to run all the way home Surprise, my accounts got hacked or I went camping or some excuse that could cover up being off the grid for 10 days so I wouldn’t have to ever think of Changkyun again, let alone relay the story to someone. Changkyun stood there, arms crossed. Are you done yet was visible on the tip of his tongue while he waited for me to finish.

Day Three with Changkyun: Family

“Just let me tell them I’m still alive!” I begged. “A text or a letter.”

“No.” I imagined Changkyun wearing a cloak and flourishing it while he walked away, I imagine he would be that melodramatic given the chance.

Soon he got sick of me pestering him on this, opting to blow up at me. “Why do you care about them so much? If they really loved you, they would have found you already! I had to search everywhere for you when you left school!” after pointing this bullshit, he stopped yelling. “Besides, no one just runs away for a couple weeks. We’ll go see them once you’re settled here.”

“You mean once you've finished brainwashing me?”

“You’re just scared of change.”

I threw my hands up in frustration, “Stop acting like you know what I’m feeling. I’m scared–” I growled “–of you!”

Promptly, Changkyun delivered a hard slap to my face. “I’m protecting you" I looked at him. “You’re absurd, what was that then?” I held my cheek

“There’s a lot more than that waiting out there for you.”

“Are you threatening me? You make no sense” I yelled. Again, he held up his hand prompting me to shut my mouth.

“I did it to show you what it feels like when you say such mean things to me.” Changkyun had big sad eyes as he soothingly rubbed the hand he hit me with, still red from the impact.

Day Four with Changkyun: Going Outside

“I want to go outside.” I stood in front of him while he lounged on the couch.

“No.” His favorite word.

“Just in the backyard. I’ll stay on the patio.” He ignored me.

Trailing behind him all day, begging, whining–even crying, all amounted to nothing. I felt like a toddler.

“I want to go outside!” I slammed my hand on his desk, not missing a beat, Changkyun grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me down. Losing my balance, I dropped hard onto the desk while he pulled my arm taught to his side. “My niece understands no better than you do.”

It crossed my mind that he’d never mentioned having siblings, nonetheless nieces or nephews, but his family tree wasn’t my first priority at the moment.

“You never even asked if I’d go with you.” I open my mouth, but he cut me off, “I won’t. Maybe if you were good, sweet, obedient for more than an hour I’d reward you and we would go outside. Together.” I debated if this trade-off was worth it. Obedience or House Arrest? He watched me weigh the two in my mind. “We’re a long ways away from going outside. That’s more of a…” he guided my hand back between us “final reward for you.” I jerked my hand back and stood up fully. “Now, stop asking.”

Day Five with Changkyun: Sleeping Arrangements 

“I hate waking up next to you.” I threw out while eating breakfast. He was not impressed, and knew where I was going with this conversation.

“You’re not staying in one of the other rooms.”

“Why?”

“Because we love each other, and when people loved each other, they share a space.”

“I don’t–” Changkyun’s glare cut me off. “I don’t want to live with someone before we’re married.” I deterred.

Changkyun scoffed. “Come on, I know you.”

After that, we ate quietly. It was surprising Changkyun hadn’t exploded already. On cue,

“Why does nothing satisfy you!?” He hit the table. Silverware rattled “I could give you the world and you’d still ask for more.” I cringed, was I really that selfish? “Can’t you let me have one thing?”

“I’m right here.” I murmured sarcastically to myself. He’s asking a lot from a prisoner. He wasn’t meant to hear me.

“And I’m asking you to see me and understand that everything I do is for you. Please stop antagonizing me.”

Then stop being an antagonist I huffed. Maybe I could stand to complain a little less, then maybe I could get one of those rewards he’s always holding over my head.

Day Six with Changkyun: Activities

“I’m bored.”

Changkyun looked up at me from his phone. We sat together on the couch, my legs across his lap as his CD played. He claimed he was responding to work emails, but that couldn’t be all he was doing on his phone. My fingers itched, I craved it like comfort food, like a breath of air after drowning. Of course, he noticed my eyeing his phone. Smoothly, he turned it off and slid it into his sweatshirt pocket.

He rubbed my leg “I can think of a few things to do.” he wore an indecorous smile.

“No.” I pulled my legs in, he playfully tugged them back, yet not moving to do anything else. “What do you even have do here?” I tried to change the subject.

“Well, when I’m not learning about you,” ah yes of course “I work, make music, I work out.”

And I could tell.

While Changkyun typically wore sweatshirts and large baggy hoodies, he also wore his fair share of compression shirts that stretched tight over his chest and arms. Not to mention how they accentuated his small waist. Changkyun saw my eyes trailing to where the zipper of his hood stood, exposing his collarbone but little else.

“Should I take it off, Changkyun challenged.

“Shut up. You never even leave to go to the gym.” I don't want to admit I’d even spared a glance at him.

“Why would I when I have one here?” He l took his phone back out.

“What? Where?” I wasn’t convinced.

“Through the kitchen.”

“The garage?”

“I just wrote that so you wouldn’t try to go in there.”

[moonshinemagpie]

in which I see Real Movies for the very first time

When I looked back on the movies I watched in 2023, I was a little sad to realize I had only watched a bunch of Scooby-Doo movies, Barbie (which was stupid), Jennifer Lawrence's comedy No Hard Feelings (which was also stupid), and Die Hard (which I hated).

Near the end of December I was trying to force myself through the Mario movie, because it was on Netflix and a bunch of people had told me to see it. And I was about 15 minutes in and found myself thinking, I wish I were dead. There's more than an hour left and I have lost my will to live.

And then I remembered: I did not have to watch the Mario movie.

I can't explain this. It was like waking up from a spell.

I stopped the movie. I thought, Movies are for normalizing exploitative, hypermasculine violence and selling toys. I will never watch another movie ever again.

Then I thought: Is it movies I don't like? Or is it corporate, militaristic americana bullshit?

I did not know the answer. I decided to try to find the answer by starting my New Years resolution: Stop Watching Bad Movies I Hate and Watch Good Ones Instead.

Here's what I've seen so far, in order:

14 movies. 4 languages. 4 new releases. 1 classic. 5 women directors. 1 rewatch. An unexpected number of anti-imperialist Irish movies.

Yeah, so. I like movies. A lot, maybe. This month I felt like I traveled to London, Belfast, Lima, Tehran, Kampala, Mexico City, Paris, and New Zealand, and it was awesome.

Mini reviews:

Tar: Literally the best movie I've ever seen. Psychological, surreal, intense. A++

Hunger: Says "fuck you" to traditional storytelling arcs and also to the British. A+

Skinamarink: It didn't scare me but I respect its decisions. C

Charade: At one point Audrey Hepburn dips her finger into Cary Grant's chin cleft and says, "How do you shave in there?" At a later point Cary Grant says to her, "Hasn't it occurred to you that I'm having a tough time keeping my hands off you?" These moments were A+, but: This was like a proto-action movie, complete with chase scenes and shootouts, and I was so bored despite Audrey Hepburn being in it. It made me wonder: What if I refuse to watch any more movies that use violence for entertainment for the rest of 2024? What if?? Who can stop me???

The Wind that Shakes the Barley: A young Cillian Murphy fights the English in 1920's Ireland. Lots of violence but none of it for entertainment. A+

Kneecap: The true story of 3 Irish-language rappers from Belfast. I forgot how fun it is to watch high people perform on stage. A hilarious, well-written, well-plotted middle finger. A++

Don't Worry Darling: This deserves more acclaim than it got and I blame misogyny. The Truman Show but more thoughtful. A+

Lord of the Rings: You don't need me to review LOTR.

Sujo: About the son of a Mexican cartel gunman trying to break a cycle of violence. Slow, well-shot. B

Sebastian: About a gay writer in London who uses sex work to inform his fiction. Overlong. I recommend the French film Eastern Boys instead. B-

Reinas: About a Peruvian family in the 1990's trying to emigrate to the US. Made me remember my own childhood and also made me desperately want to visit Lima. Bright, beautiful, touching, with a dope soundtrack. A+

No Bears: Meta, fourth-wall-breaking Iranian film about a director named Jafar Panahi who's in trouble with the authorities. Directed by Jafar Panahi, who was shortly after imprisoned. A+

Belfast: About 1960's Belfast. A little simplistic. Not as good as the other Irish history films I saw this month. B

Queen of Katwe: Based on the real-life Ugandan chess champion Phiona Mutesi, who recently said she unreservedly loves this film. It's better imo than The Queen's Gambit. Chess isn't about making it to the world championship. Chess is about what keeps you afloat when your house floods. Chess is about showing up even when it's hard. Chess is about fulfilling the dream of one day buying your mama a home. A rare "inspirational" Disney film that didn't feel fake. A+

Going forward:

I want to watch more world cinema! Guys! I'd only ever seen one other film in Spanish in my whole life. This was my first time seeing an Iranian film. This is mostly because I didn't watch many movies to start with, but, again, maybe I would have watched more if it had dawned on me that I don't have to see cars driving fast after other cars in the last 30 minutes of every single god damned film.

I don't want to watch any action films this year. I'm so exhausted. I'm so tired. Hollywood, I think I hate you.

I want to watch weird whacky Japanese New Wave films and films about the Spanish Civil War and films that remind me of parts of my own childhood I haven't thought about in 15 years.

I feel so alive!!!

[casp1an-sea]

Star Wars But Better Part 5

here’s the link to the master post so you can get part one: Master post

———————-

(Meanwhile on a star of death somewhere in space. The following part is really simplified because I don’t care about it (FOR THE SAKE OF THIS STORY) and neither should you. JK I don’t care if you care about Alderan or not)

Tarkin: Bla bla bla tell us where the base is

Leia: No

Tarkin: Then I’ll blow up your family

Leia: You wouldn’t

(Revales they’re in front of her home world Alderan)

Tarkin: Hm think again

Leia: Fine, Dantoonie

(Tarkin blows up the hole planet)

Tarkin: You were lying. Go lock her up and plan execution.

(Back in the falcon Obi-wan sits down suddenly looking very sad)

Luc: What happened did someone’s Loth Cat Die?

Han: (Laughs) You know you might be annoying as Hell but you got  good humor kid.

Luc: I know I’m just cool like that!

Obi-wan: I just felt a disturbance in the force like millions of helpless people were crying out in pain, and then death.

Luc: Man I’m not sure I want this force thing.

Han: If you ask me It’s just nonsense.

Luc: Well I wasn’t asking you!

(3PO, R2, and Chewie are playing Dagerik (Basically space chess) R2 takes one of Cewies pieces and Chewie angrily growls)

C3PO: He made a fair move, there's no use screaming about it.

Han: Let him have it. It’s unwise to upset a wookie

C3PO: But sir nobody worries about upsetting a droid. (Yes he actually says this)

Luc: Wow 3PO, need to talk about something?

Obi-wan: When will we reach Alderan?

Han: Oh about two-hundred hours.

Obi-wan: Ah good, (Turns to Luc) that should give us sometime to begin your training!

Luc: Training? That sounds like work.

Obi-wan: It takes hard work to become a jedi.

Luc: But what’s in it for me?

Obi-wan: Well you shouldn’t become a jedi for personal gain but there are always perks, such as reading people's minds, and moving things without touching them.

Luc: Hmm… fine I’ll play your game but if it’s boring I quit.

Han: Reading minds? You seriously believe this is possible?!

Luc: I don’t know but if it’s a possibility might as well try right?

Han: Okay whatever kid.

Obi-wan: Do you have a remote

Han: Actually yes

Luc: Why would you need a remote

Han: I don’t know why I have it. (Points to helmet) I mean like why do I need this I don’t own a one man fighter.

Luc: So your a hoarder?

Han: No it’s just writing convenience

Luc: Sounds about right, (Turns to obi-wan) so what do i need to do with this remote?

Obi-wan: (Hand luc their saber) Block the blasts!

(Suddenly the remote starts blasting a Luc hitting them in the face)

Luc: (Ignites saber) Hey a warning would be nice!

Han: (Laughs) This is gonna be fun!

Luc: (glares at him and then gets shot again in the back) Okay I’ve had it with you! (Swings their lightsaber to cut the remote in half but Obi-wan uses the force to pull it away)

Obi-wan: No luc! Don’t give into your frustration!

Luc: Don’t tell me what to do!

Obi-wan: Put on the helmet. (Hands them the helmet Han had mentioned earlier.)

Luc: I said don’t tell me what to do (Does it anyway) Now what?

Obi-wan: Pull down the blast shield

Luc: (does that) Great advice now I can’t see

Obi-wan: Feel the air around you reach out with your mind and see the remote. Feel it.

(The room disappears and now all Luc can see is the remote the block every shot then the reach out their hand controlling the little robot with the force and making it shoot Han in the face)

Han: HEY!  What the hell!

Luc: That’s for laughing at me! (shuts down the lightsaber and throwing the helmet to the floor.)

(Chewie laughs)

Han: (To chewie) Yeah think that's funny? Maybe I should shoot you in the face.

Obi-wan: (To Luc) Jedi don't value revenge. You must learn to forgive and hold no grudges)

Han: I’m done with this Jedi nonsense. (Stands up and turns to leave) Trust me kid, hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match when you have a blaster by your side. (Pats his holstered gun and walks toward the cockpit) Hey chewie get up here looks like we're coming up on Alderan.

(Everyone piles into the cockpit)

Han: I said Chewie not everyone!

—————————————————————————

@xen-blank, @thehollowwriter, @l7k-a, @ferris-the-wheel, @keii-starz

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@theosb0rnway

I excluded anyone who didn’t specify a fandom let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

@sunshinechildskywalker, @xentari94 your not on my tag list but it’s Star Wars so I thought you might like it