#live laugh love sand amirite

[xenon-moth]

day 3 no eating sand, my digestive system actually works now!!

[fandom-rants]

Plotholes, Story Rushing, and Shoddy Writing In Keyblade Graveyard, Pt. 1 (p.s. there are SEVERAL issues to unpack here)

~~~~THIS CONTAINS COUNTLESS SPOILERS FOR KHIII~~~~

PLEASE NOTE that this will not be in perfect order; there are so many things wrong with the story in the Keyblade Graveyard that I struggle to balance it all without having a raging meltdown. As someone who adored the Kingdom Hearts franchise (yes, you read that right; past tense) and memorized all the lore and played all of the games (save Coded; I just watched that one because it does not look to be worth it at all) and loved the characters, I can only express deep and profound disappointment in the story. The rushed, chaotic garbage mess of a story.

And those who say otherwise? Have chosen to ignore the story for the sake of the ‘happy ending’ (which is a farce; a happy ending doesn’t include Sora sacrificing himself again for the damsel in distress trope).

If you thought some of my other rants were long, you aren’t ready for this one. It’s so long it needed to be split up into parts.

1. Aqua and Ven

a. Firstly, it’s good to know that Nomura is literally incapable of writing a female who isn’t a damsel in distress. Good to see Aqua go “I’m gonna prove how strong I am,” only to need immediate rescuing. Brilliant.

b. So it’s that easy to wake Ven up, huh? His heart’s been linked with Sora’s for Sora’s entire life, it’s been sleeping in Sora’s for so long that Sora has taken on Ven’s mannerisms, but they can just separate without a single hitch, huh? Just like that, huh? And there’s no problem waking up, it takes no time at all, and he can move in his body without even remote difficulty, huh? Basically, there are no repercussions to any of this, huh? I call bullshit.

c. Going back a page, it’s good to know that these guys all showed up at Castle Oblivion and didn’t even bother clearing the place to ensure there weren’t any enemies around to - /snorts with laughter/ - immediately try to kill Ven while he was still vulnerable. Who could have ever expected such a thing, amirite?

d. Why aren’t Riku and Mickey there?!?!?!

e. This was actually so anticlimactic and boring. Why wasn’t Terranort/wtf-ever there to add some drama and tension? Why was it simply ‘grab Aqua, which can be done merely by having Sora show up and beat her up, even though Riku and Mickey got their butts kicked by her,’ ‘arrive very quickly and suddenly at Castle Oblivion,’ ‘unlock it,’ ‘go inside and wake up Ven’? Why was it so boring? It’s something we’ve been waiting for since 2010, and our reward for waiting 8 years is ‘ta-da! Boom, bam, done!’ Did a child write this?

2. The Requisite Romance Scene Before the Final Showdown

a. We have to really sell this romance, or else people will be pissed about the ending! Quick! Let’s have Sora and Kairi share a paopu fruit and leave their friend completely out of it! Riku doesn’t really matter, anyway. He’s not integral to the entire storyline like Kairi!

b. To make it clear, Riku was integral to the storyline while Kairi was not. Something I’ve already mentioned several times. So why in hell did Sora say he wouldn’t have gone through the things in the games if it wasn’t for Kairi, when that girl hardly entered the storyline at all? It was Riku who started the whole story off, Riku and Kairi both whom Sora was looking for in KH1, Riku only whom Sora looked for in CoM, Riku only whom Sora looked for in KH2, Riku only whom Data-Sora cared to run after, Riku only whose concerns made Sora go through the Mark of Mastery... but yes. It was only for Kairi that Sora went through the things he did. Riku, keep sitting on the sand all night while these two pretend you don’t exist. Perfect.

3. We Arrive and Everyone Fights Against Heartless

a. Is this what we came here for? Is this what Xehanort planned when he told us to come here? To sic a bunch of heartless on us? How does this in any way complete Kingdom Hearts? How does this in any way help Xehanort’s overarching goal? Hell, ignoring that, why would he sic heartless on us when we’ve defeated them a million times? How in god’s name do we fail against them this time????

b. Can I just say that it is beyond suspense of disbelief to have Kairi and Lea finish their fights before Sora? Or that the entire group would finish, see Sora still fighting, and then just run forward without him???

4. Terranort

a. How is he back? No, seriously, let’s look at this. He was brought from the past. But when you defeat Young Xehanort, he says he’s going to return to the past and live his life up to the present. But Terranort can’t do that! Which means Terranort can’t go to the past and stay on as Ansem the Wise’s apprentice. Which means he can’t trick the other students into becoming nobodies - so how is Saix there? How is Axel there as Axel? How do the others retain their memories of being Nobodies? He also can’t become a heartless or a nobody himself, since he’s not returning to the past to do so (because we save him instead of killing him)! So how the hell could Ansem and Xemnas exist??? You can’t argue about alternative universes because those haven’t been introduced in the plotline, and even if they had been, that still wouldn’t explain how this universe had an Ansem who took over Riku and a Xemnas who existed whatsoever. What the fuck.

b. Why in five flaming hells is he just waiting there at the beginning? No, again, I’m being serious. Why? To defeat the seven keyblade wielders? Why? They’re apparently needed to clash with the thirteen Xehanort clones, so why on earth is he there? For sad plotline feels? 

c. Even that doesn’t make sense. After all, Aqua had all night to warn Ven about the state she’d last seen Terra in. Apparently, that was not a topic she thought necessary to bring up. Go figure.

d. How the fuck does Xehanort even have him??? All those who played Birth By Sleep, I can only assume you all have dealt with the same frustration and confusion as me. How did Xehanort retain control over Terra’s body after Lingering Will defeated him?? Because I did. Allllll the way back in Terra’s storyline, I defeated Terranort. So how did he show up in Radiant Garden? The blast of light (or whatever) from the end of the storyline should have, at the very least, turned him into a heartless. Right then. From the start. So how did he even survive long enough to get to Radiant Garden, let alone return to the Keyblade Graveyard? What had been the point of that final battle?

5. Lingering Will

a. I was waiting for him to show up. It makes less than no sense to have him only do so at Namine’s behest after Ven has already been KO’d by Terranort. That entire debacle in the Final World should never have occurred, simply because Lingering Will should have shown up the first time.

b. I laughed in disbelief when I saw Terra’s keyblade turn into a hooked whip and then a giant fuck-off gun. I already thought the transformations were pretty random, considering a keyblade is supposed to serve its own purpose and strength without needing to turn into a door or a frying pan or a pair of yo-yo’s, but to see Terra’s do the same thing when no one else’s had? Oof. Painful.

c. Lingering Will was Terra’s mind, but apparently he doesn’t need that to reconnect with his past body! (Even though it was never with said body; it was always separate, so...?!?!?!) Instead it disappears from the plotline (like so many other necessary details) and acted as KH’s version of Fallout’s Mysterious Stranger, apparently deciding to disappear to wherever said stranger goes after doing its duteous cameo.

6. That Entire Debacle With Everyone’s Hearts

a. There’s just... so much to unwrap here. The fact that it even happened, which I’ve already noted the plot failure there. The fact that Kairi needed protecting not once, but twice, only to fall, anyway. Is she even capable of being something other than a damsel in distress? (Looking at the rest of the story of this world, I can do nothing but snort at the fact that I even bothered typing out that question.)

b. The whole shit with Chirithy. We get it, KH. You want to peddle your stupid mobile game. (A game I’ve been playing for over a year now, like a good, dutiful KH player, only to find that the plotline shows up roughly once every 300+ “chapters.”) This Chirithy shit isn’t plot; it’s bullshit. Nice to know Kairi’s heart was definitely lost, though, because bullshit on that, too!

c. Why on earth are everyone’s hearts just hanging out on other worlds? Why are they in worlds I’ve specifically already gone to in this game? Why not any other worlds from any other previous games, or worlds I’ve never been to? Oh, yeah. To bring back the annoying shit from KH1, where you enter fragments of worlds for no reason in order to fight some random heartless. Is this plot?

d. The whole ‘Dive Into the Heart’ thing being the equivalent of ‘the power of waking,’ which is also apparently how Mickey could get into the Realm of Darkness (and here I remember Mickey saying he could only do that by being in a world when it fell to darkness! Silly me). Just admit you had no idea what the hell you were doing when you made up that ‘power of waking,’ Nomura. Shit.

e. Let’s go a bit farther, because the whole “Dive Into the Heart” thing was awful. Why is that a thing? Why do you need to ‘dive’ into a heart (which, he didn’t, he didn’t, he just dove into different worlds to find said hearts, wtf) in order to save it from... what? Death? Darkness?? What the hell even happened here-

f. How is Kairi fine and waiting for us??? This actually made me think Sora had fallen to darkness (or dreaming, or what the fuck ever), because how in hell was Kairi okay? Namine said flat-out that Kairi’s heart had been lost like the others, and that such was the reason why Sora had found her in Chirithy-Verse (it isn’t any ‘Final World,’ just as it isn’t anything I’m ever going to take seriously). So how was she perfectly fine and, uh, able to... uh... meet with him??? In some sort of... Heart Realm Between??? What happened there?!?!

g. I get that this floaty, hand-holding scene was supposed to once again peddle the romance in some last-minute bid to make us okay with the bullshit self-sacrifice move Sora bounces into with all the finesse of a Sequel Coming trailer, but all it did was piss me off (as every romance scene did in this shithole of a game). There has been next to nothing on the whole ‘romance’ thing other than us being told ad nauseum that it is a thing. If you can’t even give me normal, non-romance scenes between the two, then all it’s going to be is forced trollop that you expect me to swallow simply on your say-so. If you can’t give me a lead-up to the romance, don’t be surprised if you fail to sell it to me. And if you fail to sell the romance to me, then why the hell should I ever find any part of that ending all right?

7. The Time Ret-Conning

a. This one’s a minor gripe, so I’ll just say that I despised the multiple times the game acted as if the previous failures hadn’t happened. ‘Here you go; try again!’ It makes no sense when you realize Sora actually did things to ensure we got this second chance, even less sense, somehow, when you see that neither Sora nor anyone else acts any differently to rewatching the same thing happen all over again - like, what the hell kind of time travel bullshit is Nomura writing here? Is there any rhyme or reason to this shit whatsoever?

8. That Entire KHUX Fuckery

a. I honestly cannot believe we had to watch Sora get saved by Ephemer. A lot of people loved the cameo, but the cost to the storyline is far too high. Our main character needing rescuing in his Final Battle is always bad writing; what’s the point of watching the main hero’s growth if it turns out he still needs to be protected? This other character should have been the one we followed, not the one needing rescuing! And hell, what was the point of all that growth if, in the end, it still wasn’t enough? Simply based on storytelling, it was poorly done. But the fact that he got rescued by a long-dead (I hope; everyone has a bad habit of just living forever through Bullshit Time Mechanics) character from another KH game? Disgustingly shoddy. Thanks for nothing.

b. What the fuck was that triangle spam for??? I was there when the challenge came to KHUX, for those with the highest scores to appear in the game. I honestly thought their names would just be in the credits or something, because how could you possibly add them in without making it the most horrendous bullshit possible for a video game? Answer? You can’t. That entire thing is something I’ve been trying to delete from my memory since I saw it. What a fucking travesty.

9. "I Can’t Do This Alone”

a. You are literally talking to someone, your best friend, and saying you’re alone. What the FUCK.

b. What strength did you get from Kairi, you twit? Riku, on the other hand...!

TO BE FREAKING CONTINUED... Edit: I know Nomura is BS-ing some answers to pretend he didn’t fuck up. I don’t care.

[monotonemanday]

Star Crossed Entertainers - Part 17

Taking a break from the angst!! But just because it’s Valentine’s day. ;) A little bit of lovin’ for the happy couples. They deserve it amirite? Enjoy!!! 

Sun was barely peaking through the slit between the closed curtains. The room was warm and had a euphoric scent. Where he would normally be sprawled out on the bed, Zen found himself compact and curled up with the feeling of someone else’s warm skin pressed against his. He opened his drowsy eyes further to see his little blonde pixie wrapped up in his arms. Thinking back on what had happened the night before he was overcome with emotions. The love he had felt for her reached an apex last night. He had proudly taken her in his arms in front of people that he should very much fear. He had beat and threatened someone who was very much a threat and yet he didn’t have a single worry. All he could see in those moments of rage, passion, and directness was her. Kaeli. He held her tighter and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead, the sounds of his lips releasing from her skin, the only noise that rang throughout the room. That was until he heard a soft hum. He looked downward and was met with bright blue eyes.

“Jagiya, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mmmm, but I’m glad you did.” Kaeli’s voice was groggy but it rang out like a soft melody. She tilted her head up and gave him a slow gentle kiss, reluctant to release, but eventually parting their lips subtly. Just enough space for her to mumble words back into his mouth. “Is the beast back in it’s cage?”

“Kay!! Don’t talk like that. It’s early and last night, I just…I-” Zen’s cheeks were a cherry blossom pink and he suddenly didn’t know which way was up. Unlike Jumin and Samantha who got to float around in a ball gown and tux, laughing and dancing the night away, Kaeli and Zen hadn’t received that luxury. So they had made it up in the bedroom, ten fold.

“Don’t get so flustered, babe. I like the beast and I want to see more of him.” The tiny blonde nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck, starting to lightly pepper kisses on shoulder. Zen was becoming, a healthy level of enthused and decided they should hold of just for a little.

“Jagi, before we get too excited, how about we go out for breakfast? You still have some clothes here. Get dressed. Let’s go out.” Kaeli stopped her teasing and let out a weak whimper accompanied by a tiny pout and fluttering of the eyelashes. “Kaeli, stop that. I don’t have any energy after last night. You were wild, absolutely starved for my hands, my touch, every time I moved in-”

“Zen!!” Now it was Kaeli who was wearing a lovely shade of pink. “I get it! I’ll get dressed!” Kaeli threw the covers off of the two of them and quickly made her way to the dresser Zen had cleaned out just for her to keep spare clothes in. She threw on a simple outfit but when she went to spruce up her hair she felt arms encircle her waist. She let her hair back down and turned around staring at Zen who was still not completely dressed. Held in his arms she ran her hands up his torso to his shoulders, tracing his defined peaks and valleys all the way up. “We better hurry and get to breakfast. I have a beast too, Zenny. It’s a lot cuter than yours, but it’s not patient.” That was enough for him. He threw on the rest of his clothes and pulling her by the arm hard enough to possibly pull something out of place, the two made their way to breakfast.

The two found a small local shop that had a cute and quaint outside eating area. They weren’t planning on stopping there but the aroma coming from inside had enticed them. They were obnoxious. Feeding each other, stealing food off of each other’s plates, licking food off of extremities and faces. They were being somewhat cautious being in the public. They were both wearing sunglasses and baseball caps. They had unintentionally  matched and Kaeli honestly thought it was the greatest thing. She could barely even get Sam to wear the same color as her and they were inseparable.

“Kaeli, isn’t today the day you are supposed to move back into your old place? Do we have time to walk around town or do we have to get back to my place and let the beasts out ASAP?” Zen gave her a coy smile and Kaeli began to run her foot up and down his leg underneath the table. Her hand was resting on the table and Zen set his on top of hers, lightly running his thumb back and forth.

“Actually, I don’t have to go to the manor today. Last night Sammy told me not to worry about it. She said she wanted you and I to spend time together. She said there are plenty of movers to help out. She tried making it seem like she won’t be lifting a finger, but I know her. She’s going to send them away as soon as everything is unloaded and then she’s going to be unpacking all of the stuff herself. I know she won’t let us help no matter what. That should clear my guilty conscious, right?”

“Ha, Why does Samantha do the things that she does? Okay, how about we do something nice for her in return? What is something that Sam would want?” Zen was perplexed, fishing for ideas. A gift for Samantha wasn’t an easy task. Kaeli however knew exactly what she wanted.

“Babe, can I borrow your phone?” Kaeli gave him a toothy grin and he complied. Minutes later she handed it back. “All taken care of! It’s starting to get hot out. I really need a shower.”

“Well I didn’t take one either so, how about we conserve water and take one together?” The handsome actor winked at the pixie trying his best to put on irresistible charm.

“I can not believe you just used that line on me.” She scolded, giving him a very unimpressed look. “I’m fine with showering together, handsome. But the real question is, before or after?” It was her turn to wink.

“Why don’t we do both?”

“Zen, I thought we were trying to conserve water?”

“Next time, Jagi.”

Kaeli’s inclination about Samantha was no doubt, correct. Sam had spent the night in one of the spare rooms of the manor that had remained untouched. The rest of the common areas and the girls specific bedrooms all had to have furniture and boxes delivered. She had woke up bright and early, in an incredible mood. She greeted the trucks and movers with extreme pleasantries. And why wouldn’t she? She had fallen in love with a man she had no business being with and the love wasn’t unrequited.

She had put in hours of work checking off the list of furniture and boxes being unloaded off the truck. She was constantly joking around with the movers, lending them a hand and giving them lots of praise. Once the last box was off the truck, the crew lead attempted to gather further instructions for Sam on how they should start unpacking. Instead he received a hefty tip and was sent on his way home with the rest of the crew.

Samantha had started to unpack the boxes in the main living area, scouring for the sound system. She couldn’t work without blaring her music. Half of the day was gone and she had shown no signs of stopping. She had the windows open letting the golden rays peak through and form shadows all over the marbled floor. A gentle breeze airing out the dusty place and keeping her from warming up too much with all of her exertion.

She was sliding around in her socks, running up and down the large stairwell, just because she could. Dancing with floor lamps, singing to picture frames, working hard, but hardly working. In the midst of her foolishness she had felt a pair of  eyes watching her from the front doorway. Without giving that feeling her full attention she spoke to it, rummaging through a box of rods and curtains.

“I know, I know. ‘My music’s too loud, the floor isn’t sparkling enough, who taught you to dance.’ I know the way I’m working is killing you Vanderwood but observing from afar isn’t going to put you at ease.” With no response Sam walked over to the first large window where she had set up a ladder and began to hang the sheer curtains. “And further more, Mr. Clean, instead of silently mocking me you could at least come and hel-aahhh!” Climbing up the ladder Samantha had tripped on the curtain fabric and began to fall backwards. Bracing herself for a hard crash and hearty laughter from Vanderwood, she was surprised to find herself cradled in a familiar embrace. Her eyes were shut tight, but at the inviting warmth she opened them to meet charcoal eyes with raven black bangs hanging in front of them. Speechless she stared at the man as he pulled her up to stand, their bodies pushed up against each other. She hadn’t blinked, only stared at him wide eyed in surprise. A gentle smile fell on his lips.

“…Hello.”

“…Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“I…I’m fine. Jumin, you…wait! You were the one watching me?!” She jumped back. Now at arms length but still holding on to him.

“I stopped by to see you. I figured I would see you hard at work and I’d be able to offer you a bit of a break. But what I came across instead was simply, well, actually no…it was insanely adorable.” Dressed in his normal 3 piece suit, he pulled her back into him. She was sweating, wearing a tank top, running shorts and  mismatched socks.

“Jumin! This is embarrassing! How did you even know where the manor is?” She was trying her hardest to distance herself but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Although she was extremely embarrassed about what the man had just witnessed, instead of burying her head in the sand she chose to bury it in his chest. Now wrapping her arms around his broad back and pulling him close.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You really are so very cute. Kaeli had told me earlier that she was worried you might be working yourself a bit too hard and suggested I stopped by. And it’s a good thing I did.” He had rested his hand on the back of her head and was slightly scratching it. You could swear she was almost purring. “Why were you doing something so dangerous by yourself, Kitten?”

She broke the embrace and looked up at Jumin. “Kitten?”

“Oh, I’m sorry did you not like that? I apologize if that was inappropriate in anyway or-”

She held a finger to his lips, easing his worry. “No, I loved it.” She gave him a warm kiss and ran a hand through his raven locks. “And you have a very weird perception of dangerous, my love.”

“I think that you are just a bit of a daredevil, Samantha.” They pressed their foreheads together and began to chuckle but it was quickly cut off by another kiss.

“I’m sorry you came out here all this way and I’m a mess. I have a lot to unpack here.”

“Why don’t I help you, Kitten?”

“Jumin I couldn’t possibly have you do that. Plus you’re in a suit, dear. It wouldn’t be proper to have you dancing around like me.”  She winked at him and another kiss ensued. They couldn’t quite tell who was initiating the kisses but it was as if each sentence had to be punctuated with their lips touching in some way.

“Why did you send the movers away, love? You know they were paid to do this for you, correct?”

Samantha sighed and walked away from him as she answered, back to rummaging through boxes. “I know they were, I just…I’m not ready to get completely back into this life. Being waited on, throwing money at people to get things done for me. Things that I could so clearly do myself. I feel like I lose my independence in a way.”

“I hope you don’t truly feel that way. I’ve never met someone as independent as you, love. I honestly wish you would be a little more dependent.” Jumin had found his way to Sam again and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I know how strong and capable you are, but you should let others take care of you every once in awhile.”

Samantha closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. He let her go and removed his suit jacket, tossing it aside. “Now,” he began to roll up his sleeves, “What are we doing here?”

“Well if you really insist on helping, big strong man, I need to finish hanging these curtains.”

“If we hang the curtains, you will let me take you back to the penthouse for dinner, deal?”

“Oh sweetheart, I really don’t think I should leave th-”

“There will be time for discussion after the curtains are hung.”

“Jumin Han…” Samantha blinked at him rapidly and then beseechingly smirked at him. “Was that an order?”

He gave her a slow lingering kiss on the cheek and then whispered in her ear. “It was.”

The two had hung the curtains and somehow managed to take 3 whole hours doing it. They were a fumbling mess. The pair was laughing at each other when one would mess up, hiding behind the curtains, chasing each other through them, stealing kisses from each other, laying in piles of curtain fabric pretending to be exhausted so that they could cuddle up to each other instead of just getting the work done. The sun was starting to set. Jumin and Sam had found themselves sitting on the middle of the stairwell, Sam leaning her head against his shoulder.

“It’s seems it is later than I anticipated. I suppose I don’t have to bring you to the penthouse, however,”

“However?”

“Perhaps I’ll call the chef and have him fix dinner here.”

“It’s really okay sweetheart, I can fix something for myself, there’s no need to call him. You should probably get back to Elizabe-” She found her back being pressed against the stairs and hands on either side of her head being pinned down at the wrists.

“Samantha.” She had seen passion in Jumin’s eyes before but it had never been like this. Her body was hot, and her stomach had dropped from a great height. Her heart was performing coronary somersaults  and her breathing was rapidly speeding up. “We’ve come so close, and I can’t take it anymore. I’m not letting you sleep alone tonight.” He kissed her deep, parting her lips with his tongue, twirling it around in her mouth, inhaling her quick short breaths. “In fact, I’m not letting you sleep at all.”

Sam wrapped her arms around his back, running her nails from his shoulder blades down to the small of his back, then in a swift motion pinning him on the stairwell and straddling him. Open mouth kisses on his neck and under his jaw. He grabbed her waist and pulled her body so close to his there was absolutely no room for the lord. He sat himself up and took her by the hand. Samantha was giggling, being pulled up the stairs, both their feet going as fast as they could take them. Once they reached the top Jumin lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, clumsily waltzing around jamming each others tongues down their throats like horny teenagers. Jumin found his back pinned against a door. Praying it was to a bedroom he fumbled around to reach for the door handle only for Sam to stop him.

“Jumin wait…”

“I can’t Kitten. I really can’t.” He was pleading with her. If he didn’t have this woman he was going to implode.

“Honey, this is serious.”

“What is it?”

“Soooo…No calling the chef or?”

Jumin bit into her neck like he was taking a bite of the sweetest peach he had ever eaten and the couple retreated into the dark room. “Now you’re really in for it, troublemaker.”

[a-cai-jpg]

let’s go on a rly badly made rollercoaster (hopefully you’ll make it back home)

So throughout the day, as I took breaks between my angry typing in response to some videos I had to watch for work, I thought about what I wanted to write about today. 

I wanted to write about something I wanted to write about if that makes sense. For so much of the past few years, I've written things that other people wanted me to write about, in a mannerism other people preferred. Something vaguely academic and smart-sounding, with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Here is my thesis, here is how I'm going to prove that I'm right and you're wrong, and here is me making a half-hearted effort to consider your obviously incorrect opinion before reasserting the fact that I am right.

(i kid, i believe that intelligence is the ability to consider multiple realities. i grapple too often with the notion of absolute truth, breathless and terrified of falling into a great, black mindhole. of course i don't actually believe i am Right.)

But honestly, I like writing that meanders, that starts somewhere, and then goes somewhere far, and then ends up right next to where it first began. Why measure displacement when you can measure distance?

(I say all of this, but the most common criticism I have of anyone's writing is "your purpose is unclear and you barely made an effort to achieve it. highly recommend re-thinking your thesis.")

And I had things I wanted to talk about. Like, what watching television means for me and why it's so difficult to commit to a show. Or, what about why I hate it when people ask me, "How are you?" as a conversation-starter after months of not-talking. Or, maybe the very firm stance I hold that Les Miserables is a far superior musical to the Phantom of the Opera (again, I respect your opinion and probably think you're wrong if you think otherwise but hey, what is absolute truth amirite?).

And all of those things will perhaps one day make its way onto this webpage, a data cache amidst billions, trillions, I don't actually know how the Internet works, and I find it so fascinating that I am writing these words into existence and releasing it into the universe and one day it will make its way into someone's mind lifetimes later and--

I do this thing a lot, where I feel something very strongly, for no apparent reason. And then, I pull out the notes app on my phone, and I write.

And I've written about this notes-app-writing-thing that I do...on the notes app. And a lot of it is quite nice, and a lot of it will never be read by anyone else but future me. And I expect, a lot of it will make its way onto this very same webpage because everything I'm writing is everything I've written before.

I used to have this idea, definitely inspired by a movie but I can't quite remember the title, about how your dreams are always constructed of people, things, and places you've seen before. Then a friend was like, "Ok, then how does anyone get a new idea?" And then I was like, "Yo, fight the movie, don't fight me." (No, actually, I was like, "But reality and dreams are different" and then the conversation just spiraled.)

But this idea that everything in your dream is everything you've seen before makes me wonder if everything that will be created has already been created. After all, how does time work for a supreme being or Supreme Being (capital S, hello)? Like, is the universe's space and time laid out flat like a globe if you cut the seams or like--

(I think I'm going off track.)

(What I meant to say is--)

So, instead of writing about things that I have half-formed thoughts about, I'm going to write about something that I have definitely talked about but never written and/or thought about writing about okay here we go--

We used to talk about which one we liked more: the sunrise or the sunset. We had all ubiquitously said something like, "I know most people pick ____, but I think I like the ____ more."

And see, time has passed in a way that's rubbed sand over the words you said, and I can't quite remember which one was which. 

We talked about many things, mountains and gallons of words spent between us, spiraling from our lips like they were on the urgent journey to create something greater. Someone might have thought that these words would make their way into a future for us, a novel written so that we only have to live through the pages, but did you know that the words you speak write only your past?

And I think I lied when I said this is something I talked about but have never written about, because I choke on the words when I try to describe you and my head becomes fuzzy and I can't quite remember, but when I write about you, you become clear, melting into letters that flow from my chest to my fingers.

Look, this is the unfortunate truth. You have become simultaneously more and less than you. In my reality, you are who you have been in the past, when I still knew you, and that "you" has been embedded in my writing. You have become a theme, a string of motifs, a character sometimes, or even entire stories. 

And in your reality, you are becoming someone that I will never get to know.

(I am not talking about a person, I am talking about a collection of abstract ideals.)

Recently, I watched a Korean drama about characters in a comic book. It got me thinking about what happens to the stories we write, the stories we brew in our minds. When I was in middle school, I used to write stories in my head all the freaking time. I remember I couldn't finish the story, I was terrified of finishing the story, because what happens to the characters after the story ends?

(I came to terms with my existential crisis at the ripe young age of 7 years old, so why were the aftereffects catching up to me in fucking 7th grade?)

Cue character development--I'm still dealing with the fear of not living with my head in the clouds, but hey, at least I know how to end stories now.

(Not in the technical sense, in the literal sense. I once ended a story by adding another paragraph, and then another epilogue, and then another paragraph, until I finally closed the Word document and submitted it. Thus, effectively ending it.)

But I still wonder, what does happen to a story once you let it go? I've created countless worlds, drafted enough conversations to make my mouth go dry, seen the lives and deaths of enough people to be some sort of supreme being (lowercase s) in my own sense, but where does it all go?

I really try not to, but sometimes I entertain the idea that somehow, it goes on without me. A half-formed world with a crumbling sky and a cliff that falls into absolute oblivion, but there, underneath the sprawling tree, the heroine is.

She is.

And maybe then, we are.

We are, in the future that we had planned but isn't quite the one we're currently living. We are sitting at that lake I told you about, drinking cider and eating onigiri and watching the sunset. We are driving up the mountain, but really, you are the one driving because you were the one who got your driver's license first, and the rest of us are sprawled in the backseat screaming at your headrest as you nearly kill us by scraping our rental car against a railing. We are planning your wedding, looking your partner up and down, ignoring you when you say, "No really, they're my soulmate, I love them, god, Annette, can you believe it? Soulmates are real" and we are--

Man, we are all those things, but we never thought further beyond that, huh?

So maybe, we are ends.

And so maybe, all those stories ended too, when I closed the chapter in my head and put the metaphorical pen down and took a deep breath and lived my life, this real one where things hurt and things make me cry and laugh and love. But then, hey, maybe, we really did write the future. Because we are and will continue to be everything we had planned, 11 years old and sitting at my Windows XP. Until we are not. 

But even if we are not, you still are. And I still am.

Daily song rec:

Saturn by Sleeping at Last

This song fucking gets me man. Sometimes I feel something deeply sad well inside me when I hear the lyrics. But also, is this not the most beautiful melody ever written?

(The Korean drama is “Extraordinarily You.”)

[ersonist]

title: much too fast (my love)

rating: m (adult themes)

word count: 1.631

summary: 3 ways Cassian Andor didn’t die.

a/n: This desperately needs a beta. Wrote it on a trip back from holidays because there’s nothing better than contemplating death on a long flight, amirite or amirite? It was supposed to be for RebelCaptain Appreciation Week, Writing Prompt: Hope but it might be too late now? Let me know if it’s too late. Title’s from Jaymes Young’s One Last Time.

Warning for the first one because it can be upsetting.  Frankly I was upset by all of them and I wrote this crap. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

1.

At 8, he still has his head filled with big dreams, high in the clouds.

One day I’ll be a hero, he tells his mother with all the confidence a child could have. I’ll take out the Empire all by myself.

She gives him a smile but it’s sad and tired. His dreams have changed in the past couple of years. He never begs for sweets anymore and he doesn’t mention wanting his own droid.

Surviving a war is heroic enough, she gently explains to him with a small kiss to his head.

He’s not allowed into any combat but for two years he’s been carrying countless messages and secret packages from his parents to the nearby settlements and beyond. His father has an old blaster hidden under the kitchen floor and he now takes it with him, its weight adding to the already heavy winter parka he’s wearing. Nobody notices a scrawny local kid running around but there are some strict rules that Cassian obeys. Always take a different route. Don’t tell anyone your real name. Destroy the package if needed. Run and hide if you think you’re being followed. (Don’t get caught.) Cassian is good at it. His father affectionately calls him the Resistance’s best spy, pride almost veiling the fear in his voice. Cassian knows it’s not a game, he understands how many lives are at stake.

What he doesn’t understand is why someone would betray them.

When it happens it feels like an avalanche, not unlike any real ones he’s seen in the surrounding mountains. A sudden danger you can’t avoid appearing out of nowhere, destroying the ground under your feet and overwhelming you with its ominous noise. They come to their home, tearing it apart, leading them all outside. Cassian squints his eyes - everything is white for now, the snow barely glimmering under the setting sun but they always brush this with a streak of dark red. His father is pleading in a voice he’s never heard before. Not him, he’s just a child. Cassian clings to his mother’s leg, his vision suddenly blurred with tears that won’t stop and he’s trembling. It’s the coldest he’s ever been in his life. He wants to fight and he wants to live but war has its way of taking hopeful children.

He becomes one of nameless billions.

2.

She squirms under his touch and lets out a heavy sigh that is more of an urgent command rather than a request. He smirks at her in that arrogant, possessive way of his that appears only deep into the night in the stillness of his quarters. She’s too selfish to fight it - that smirk is always a harbinger of great things that leave her boneless, mad with pleasure. Besides, she’ll have her revenge.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” he later admits, just a soft whisper in her ear. She huffs annoyed. She hates when he does that, when he only admits to a mission in the afterglow. It always makes their night seem like a goodbye. She turns her head away from him, angry at herself for not realising it sooner. There was too much desperation in his kisses.

“Jyn,” he pleads in that quiet voice of his he uses for this special occasion. He’s so resigned to his fate, to this role that the universe forced upon him, she sometimes wishes she could convince him to leave with her just to prove a point. 

“Where?” she asks even though she knows already what he’ll say.

“Classified,” he replies apologetically and she mouths the word along. She rolls around and swiftly pushes him onto his back, pinning his hands over his head, her mouth leaving a trail of small bites on his neck.

“Routine mission. I’ll be back in a week,” he finally concedes, inhaling sharply when she starts to slowly slide down his body. She lets go of his arms and grins at him triumphantly.

She never goes to the hangar with him, there are too many rumours about them as it is. This war already took so much from her and Jyn wants them just to be hers. She never misses his departures though. She always sits on a crate nearby right before his ship takes off, wondering if he’s aware of her presence. That morning he’s running late though and she bumps into him when she nonchalantly comes over to her usual spot. Before she can say anything he grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze. She smiles, as discreetly as possible, and stays until the silhouette of his U-wing disappears completely into horizon.

A week later Cassian doesn’t come back. It’s happened plenty of times before but Jyn still takes the longer way to her quarters, the one that passes by the hangar. She lingers in the corridor, silently observing the shuttles coming and going. Three weeks after that she puts on his jacket and plants herself in the corner of the docking bay. She sits there for a few hours, silent and unmoving. She comes back the day after. And the day after that.

“He’s coming home soon,” she stubbornly repeats to herself ignoring people’s worried glances.

He never comes back.

3.

They fill their days with political meetings and diplomatic duties and missions that are becoming scarcer and scarcer until they realise it truly is the end of the war. They wander aimlessly then, too lost in the world that they were never meant to witness. One planet after another, one temporary home after another. They never looked this far in the future. They’re too damaged; the things they did making their bodies ache, haunting their minds, never letting them to move on. They finally settle on a small moon near the borders of the Outer Rim Territories. The hills around are green, soothing them with their gentle rustling sounds and offering some peace they’re so desperate to find. They have nothing but time on their hands now, so Cassian decides to rebuild K2 from scratch, his last back-up still safely tucked in his old uniform and Jyn starts learning Festian. It’s not enough but it’s more they ever hoped for.

They go to celebrations, weddings and funerals. They always sneak out early, unsure if they’re able to keep ignoring how achingly empty everything seems.

“There’s something wrong with me,” she whispers one evening, soft words contradicting her fingers furiously scrubbing her shirt. She spilled a glass of Coruscant wine earlier that day when Kes’ kid enthusiastically shoved his X-wing toy into her chest. “I should want it, right? A child with you.”

He stills her hand and entwines their fingers.

“I don’t see it,” she admits with a slight tremble. “I close my eyes and I only see you. I don’t think I have enough love for someone else.”

He kisses her gently because it’s fine. It really is. He can’t see it either.

She fucks with him against the wall that night. It’s rough and fast and she leaves angry scratches on his shoulders. She’s trying to prove him something but her eyes betray her. They never talk about it again.

They hear rumours of the new evil powers, first shy whispers in the crowds.

“Not again,” Jyn mutters rolling her eyes and Cassian can’t help but grin. She suddenly looks 30 years younger.

“Told you we should’ve kept up the trainings,” he tells her jokingly.

They’re not even surprised when Leia contacts them a few weeks later requesting their assistance. Their ship is packed and ready and they don’t look back when they leave. She gives him a soft kiss, barely a touch of her lips on his cheek and he knows. They won’t be coming back from this war.

(+1)

She leads him outside, broken and useless, each breath more difficult than the last one. His legs drag, he’s shaking and he wants to laugh at his lack of balance. He’s never been in this much pain before. He’s never been this proud before. He’s never been to a planet this beautiful before. There’s a long list of nevers forming in his tired mind.

For a second he can pretend - that the bright sky soaks softly into white waves, that the gentle sway of the surrounding trees is nothing but a breeze, a relief on a hot day. (But he knows the universe whispers to them, enticing with a charm of graves, ghosts around them waiting already like birds of prey.)

He can pretend - that there will be sunburnt fields and frozen shelters, and more time for them to create something for once. (But the sound reverberating announces nothing but destruction.)

He can pretend - that he’ll put his mouth on her and she’ll tremble, eager to a new caress, scattering around him like a shimmering dust she’s been called in another life. That she’ll sigh his name and it’ll sound like a plea for a different kind of mercy. (But he can smell the sweat, the burnt flesh and their fear coated thickly with blood - his, hers, people they lost and people they killed.)

He can taste the clotted salt on his lips and a copper sweetness in his mouth, mocking him with a sharp sample of regret. He can feel silky sand that gets warmer and warmer until he knows there will be nothing left, not even ashes to dance across a disappearing horizon.

He doesn’t know how to trust the Force. He just barely learnt how to trust. There’s nothing left for him but these last seconds, fleeting so inexorably. No after, nothing but eternal oblivion. He wants more but their chances are spent.

And then she holds him tighter and he has hope.

What a beautiful way to die.

[righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver]

Hispanic Dads

Alrighty so there’s the joke among Hispanic millennial sand gen Zs about Hispanic moms; they’re feisty, don’t take any shit from anyone, and have given you ptsd about flip flops. However, no one really mentions Hispanic dad’s. (Also I’m a girl so like keep in mind this is probably more of a DLP kinda situation [the p does not stand for princess] also I have good parents so I’m probably biased)

Hispanic dads:

Roast you constantly

Seriously. You say anything about anything not being particularly attractive or having a less then perfect smell and all of a sudden you are the source of the grotesque item of conversation

Don’t wear shirts

This is more of a just-got-off-work/just-woke-up-on-Saturday thing but is still inevitable. I can’t count how many times I’ve gone to the living room at 8am to see my dad sprawled out in the couch like a four year old who didn’t want to get dressed. The best part is this doesn’t stop when you have guests over. You could have a friend stay the night and wake up to your dad toga-ing around with a sheet because he’s only in shorts.

Get hella heartburn

You’d figure being Hispanic would give you some sort of immunity to acid reflex, but no. Every night is a battle to eat as early as is ordinarily possible to avoid getting taco heartburn. The whole four-year-old couch spread is usually a result of this.

Lapse into Spanglish* when flustered

Ok so my dad grew up with three sisters and a heck ton of female relatives. Having said this, he still blushes when he accidentally bumps into my Tia’s chest or elbows my sister or I. However, this is more of a we-give-him-shit-for-it response. One jokingly accusation later he purses his lips like an old lady and calls us cabróna lovingly.

Are against any boy in you life other than your cousins (bear with me)

This is more of a joke but the common line of my dad’s and my uncles’s opinions as far as the whole love thing was ‘you can’t date until your married’. I wish I was joking, but no; my 8 year old self was existentializing over how to marry a guy I hadn’t had the benefit of dating first. My mom of course comforted me by saying just wait until you’re 16 (let’s pause to laugh at the thought I’d be dating by now) so at least there was that.

Anyway there’s prolly way more stuff that I can remember but yeah Hispanic dads amirite