#I Am going to go outside and discover the 'normal' for myself

[tokencisgirl]

i'm not sure if i really want more online friends outside of the people already inside my circle atp honestly because tldr; Discourse

[patricia-taxxon]

I want to address what’s being said about me regarding my behavior as a teenager, because some of it is true. However, more of it is greatly distorted, and some of it is false. I won’t be reproducing the video that was made about me, the creator has acknowledged the misinformation present in it & has unlisted it, willingly ceding ground for me to give my own testimony. Some of it will require me to admit to things I am still ashamed of, some of it will require me to revisit a traumatic time in my life that I have mostly blocked out. The short version is that I believe I was being groomed at the same time and in the same place as many of the people who came out against me, and my ultimate goal is to find solidarity with those people and begin the healing process. 

When I was 18, and just beginning to accrue an audience, I created a discord server. For a lot of external reasons, mainly spending my entire life up until this point being shuttled around different special ed schools, this ended up being the first real social circle I ever had. It represented the first positive attention I ever received from strangers. It’s a time where I made a lot of mistakes, it’s a time where I was gravely vulnerable. In all honesty, I was too young to manage a community of any kind, I was hot off the back of being desensitized in my adolescence by unrestricted access to early 2010s internet. I knew well enough to create special NSFW rooms, and was advised later to create further division by requiring users to self-apply for a special NSFW role to access those rooms This extra layer meant that the rooms wouldn’t even show up for people who didn’t have the role, which led to some believing they didn’t exist. 

However, I did not intuitively understand the “meaning” of sexual content, I didn’t understand the baggage that came with it. I used cropped fetish porn as emotes and indiscriminately showed the source to anyone who asked, sometimes outside of the NSFW rooms, because I found niche fetishes to be amusing, and since it was “funny” and not “sexy” it didn’t have to mean anything. The worst consequence of this happened when I was first formulating the ideas for my video about youtuber Rags, and I discovered that his youtube avatar was cropped from a NSFW image he had commissioned of his feral dog fursona. I sent this image to just about anyone who seemed interested, and this included a then 13 year old. I’m going to apologize just like I did when this first came out, but I will not be pressured as I was then into assuming predatory intent in myself. I’m not making excuses when I say that I had been a legal adult for under a year and thought of it as just an interaction between two teenagers, a kind of interaction I had with many of my friends (and some adults) before I turned 18. It was a misunderstanding, *and* I hurt you, and I’m deeply deeply sorry. 

There were some moderators besides myself, two were teenagers around my age, early adopters of the server who I felt I’d become friends with. One was a woman in her late twenties, who I won’t name simply because I’m not in the business of offloading my misery onto other people, but she knows who she is. She contacted me with a shower of attention & adoration, she left positive reviews for my albums when she noticed I was upset at their critical reception, she oversaw me as I posted my nudes in that server and later on my main twitter account. She encouraged this behavior in myself and others and participated in it too.

I want to make this clear, the bulk of the allegations against me boil down to punishing me for failing to surmise I was being exploited by the first social group I ever had. I jerked off in voice chats. I remember the day I started, I was surrounded by people older than me who were encouraging me to post my first nude pic in the self-nsfw channel, and I had to get hard for them first. I then considered this normal and did it often. At one point a 15 year old entered the room while I was doing it, and I went quiet until she left. I reconvened with this 15 year old recently, and she told me she only remembers being promptly told to leave. The claim that I “regularly jerked off in voice chat with minors” as if it were an orchestrated and habitual activity is an outright falsehood.  

I remember posting my nudes on twitter in a fevered haze of dissociation and dysphoria after being goaded by other users in my discord server. I remember doing it again and again, so that it could maybe eventually feel normal. I was 18, going on 19. I had twenty to thirty thousand subscribers, I was hot off the heels of being given 150 bucks for making thirty minutes of music for a much bigger youtuber. There are others who were in that server who were similarly exploited, and I am not here to contradict those testimonies, but I was uniquely denied the ability to understand what had happened to me as grooming, because I was technically of age and I had the very beginnings of a youtube audience. However, 20k subs didn’t give me more power than someone over ten years my senior. 

I was groomed, and just as I was beginning to understand what happened to me, the shame threatening to overtake me completely, I was slapped with the supposed news that I was the sole perpetrator of the entire situation that traumatized me so, that what I thought of as my first friend group all remembered me as a loathsome creep. The apology I wrote in abject panic was dissected and used as a cudgel against me in police-interrogation fashion, so I became afraid to say anything. A year and a half later, I made a post saying that I had been “groomed by a portion of my audience” and this immediately provoked a youtube video callout. I feel as if I have been beaten into silence and complicity, unable to form thoughts of my own regarding my experience. I am terrified, right now, writing this story that I firmly believe no one on earth will buy, because I have come to routinely doubt my own testimony.

Some accusations being made of me are so foreign that I have trouble piecing together what it could be referring to. I commissioned a NSFW size difference piece from dramamine, one where my lover is 11 feet tall, and I was pre transition at the time so I wanted a flat chest to help me feel feminine in my current body. It was wrongly tagged as “cub” (furry child porn) on E621, which I vocally protested at the time. This is the only thing I could point to as evidence for the claim that I commissioned cub porn of myself. I do not know how to convey the feeling of being flooded by accusations that require me to ponder what it could even be referring to, or to see my accuser insist that she’s receiving dozens of new horrible scoops on me without being able to see exactly what it is or what happened. I’m open to apologizing personally to anyone I ended up hurting in my adolescence who reaches out to me, I was a victim of grooming let off into a public space with a few thousand followers after all, but I’m not apologizing on behalf of people who might have heard something bad about me.

I am going to restate, my accuser has *of her own volition* unlisted the offending video & understands the misinformation she spread, there is nothing to gain from seeking her out and letting her know your opinion on the situation. I waited until this agreement was reached to make any statement at all for this exact reason. 

I am staying offline for about a day after posting this, I am under a lot of pressure, I am very tired.

[angel-in-your-basement]

Hi, i Hope to not disturb you, but I'm discovering new things about me with your blog, the problem is that I always feel guilty, and disgusted by myself even if i find It okay or attractive when other Person share It.

Any advice on how to deal with this senseless emotion? 🤡

Thanks to you in advance even if you don't answer, love your writing and your blog, big hug if you are comfortable with them <3

Hi!

Sorry I wasn’t able to get to this sooner! This is gonna be a long one, so I’m gonna put it under the cut. Let’s talk about one of my favourite topics: kinks & shame/guilt/disgust 🥰

So in my experience, over time your brain will get used to the ideas, and the disgust level will go down naturally - especially if you talk about it with other people who are into it, because that helps to normalize it.

But that’s not an 100% fix, so let’s talk about some things you can do to actively manage the icky feelings.

First of all, guilt + shame + disgust are all feelings that are intended to protect us from doing bad things & being bad people. When you start doing or wanting to do something that you’ve been told is “bad”, it’s normal to feel bad! It makes a lot of sense, actually - it’s our brains trying to keep us on track with our values & maintain our relationships.

But, of course, what we’ve been told is bad is generally not objectively bad, it’s heavily influenced by opinion, unprocessed emotion, politics and a whole bunch of other shit. So what we want to do is identify what we’ve internalized, and whether that actually fits for us.

The single best thing you can do is to get curious & (gently & non-judgementally) question those thoughts.

So here’s some questions to get you going & explanations to go with them:

Why is this kink “bad”? Where is that idea coming from? Do you 100% agree with this? Why or why not?

Often, it’s something very black & white like “hurting people = bad”, but when we actually unpack it, there’s a LOT of nuance to it. Like, what counts as hurting? Emotional? Physical? Is someone being hurt always a bad thing, or is it sometimes necessary in order for us to learn/hold boundaries/etc.? What if someone wants to be hurt? Is there any situations hurting someone might be okay in?

What do you feel like it says about you that you’re into it?

Generally, this comes down to something like “if I am into this, I am a bad person��. So I would question again: what’s a bad person? How do you know if someone is one? What is the exact criteria and cut off point for being “bad”?

One particular point to mention here is that it is my very strong belief (guided by research + my job + personal experience) that thoughts, feelings, urges etc. are not “you”, and they are not bad. Where we get into “bad” territory is in how you deal with them. I am a big supporter of identifying the core needs behind your thoughts & urges, and meeting them in healthy ways, like kink! Which leads us to…

What are you getting out of this kink?

For instance, a lot of my kinks, both sub and dom, come from my need to be wanted, and exploring the extremes of that (what if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything to have me? What if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything I tell them?). Other common themes are control, exploration of insecurities, exploration of shame/taboo, and so on.

Do you want to be okay with this kink? If yes, what boundaries do you need in place to help you feel better about exploring it? If no, why not?

This one is important because you don’t HAVE to be okay with a kink. You don’t have to engage with it, even if your horny brain thinks it’s a good idea. If you don’t want to engage with it, set out a plan outside of horny time for how you will hold that boundary. If you do want to engage with it, what parts are most uncomfortable? Do you need to engage with them in order to engage with this kink? Again, if you DO want to be okay with stuff, ease yourself into it. Go slow.

And most importantly: connection

Nothing helps more with shame than to talk about what you’re ashamed of with someone who you know will be kind, non-judgmental and can relate to you. That’s what kinky friends are for!

One final note:

If you are worried that you are a bad person, it’s extremely unlikely that you are. Bad people don’t sit around worrying that they are bad.

[nanowrimo]

When Is a Small Press a Good Fit?

When it comes to publishing, many writers will think about big publishers first. However, there are a lot of different publishing options out there to explore. NaNo participant and author, Clara Ward, talks about their experience publishing with a small press and gives you questions to consider while you think through your publishing options!

NaNoWriMo inspired me to write. Signing with a small press gave me the support I needed to publish a book I love. 

I’d published books before—starting with NaNoWriMo sponsor deals in the early days of online publishing—but I never had the right skill set to promote those books. As a result, they never truly found their audience. 

In November of 2020, I poured my heart into a genre-blurring near-future tale of sailing across the Pacific and building a neurodiverse, queer, and possibly magical chosen family. In 2021, I titled it Be the Sea and asked myself: What am I going to do with that?

1. Are you looking for fame or family?

Small presses are as varied as the people who form them. If you read widely, you may already have a treasured book on your shelf from your publisher-to-be. Try asking NaNoWriMo friends who share your interests if they’ve discovered any surprising or emerging sources for great reads. (At the very least, you may find books you’ll love in unexpected places!)

Admittedly, a small press doesn’t have a fortune to spend on paving your path to fame. But I have never felt as seen as when my soon-to-be publisher, E.D.E. Bell at Atthis Arts, wrote back, “I’m really in love with what you are doing and would like to talk about it.” 

2. Do you have the bandwidth for working with others?

Even with the most supportive small press, you may have to push outside your comfort zone. I know authors who love the absolute control and freedom of self-publishing. For a time, I felt very comfortable just posting my NaNoWriMo fanfiction novels on Archive of Our Own. At most, I had one or two beta readers to offer feedback on those works. Whereas E.D.E. told me in one of our earliest conversations that in addition to our three rounds of editing we’d need “a good number of betas” to cover the range of topics we were working on together.

I was delighted! I knew what I’d written was ambitious, and I welcomed all the feedback I could get. But it turns out, each extra person in a process adds new challenges and delays. I had to stretch my empathy as well as my publishing timeline because, to quote E.D.E. again: “It’s a lot of emotion (as well as brain cycles) to go through...” Outside perspectives will only improve your writing if you are willing to work with them, to truly listen and learn.

3. Can you handle the two-way commitment?

No form of publishing is easy. The myth that authors write while others handle business and promotion is not true at the top, and certainly not with small presses. In my experience, working with Atthis Arts was like joining a team or chosen family. Beyond certain paid tasks, such as editing and sensitivity reading, I discovered a community of authors who freely offered coaching before my first public reading, social media boosting, tips for author webpages, and an extra pair of eyes on letters requesting bookshop readings or other events. While not all small presses work the same way, this supportive culture proved to be an excellent fit for me. Naturally, I wanted to give back whenever possible.

Small presses can only succeed with community. This month, as I promote the launch of Be the Sea at bookshops in Mountain View, Davis, and Sacramento, I will be introducing many Californians to my Michigan-based small publisher, Atthis Arts. When I stand up as a panelist at Norwescon in Washington state or at various science, library, or Pride events later in the year, I’ll be promoting more than Be the Sea by Clara Ward. I’ll give back by sharing my appreciation for small presses, the supportive and inclusive practices they can normalize, and the opportunities they open up for future writers and readers. 

Clara Ward lives in Silicon Valley on the border between reality and speculative fiction. Their latest novel, Be the Sea, features a near-future ocean voyage, chosen family, and sea creature perspectives, while delving into our oceans, our selves, and how all futures intertwine. Their short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Decoded Pride, Small Wonders, and as a postcard from Thinking Ink Press. When not using words to teach or tell stories, Clara uses wood, fiber, and glass to make practical or completely impractical objects. More of their words along with crafted creations can be found at: https://clarawardauthor.wordpress.com

Photo by Hümâ H. Yardım on Unsplash

[theangelcatalogue]

Saw you request post could you write some Yandere Scott Summers for us please. I love x-men evolution and there is only one other person who writes for them and I am at my wits end trying to find more x-men content, thank you have a good day.

୨ৎ��PROTECTION(AND JEALOUS) ꩜ .ᐟ || YANDERE SCOTT X READER

୨୧┇ Oneshot!

୨୧┇ Romantic/Platonic!

୨୧┇ Gender Neutral!

୨୧┇ Pov character(s): Scott and Author(me :D)!

୨୧┇TW: JEALOUS BEHAVIOR, PROTECTIVE BEHAVIOR, BAD GRAMMAR, BAD ENGLISH , POSSIBLE OOC AND MADE BY A MINOR!! TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!

ˏˋ⋆ SUMMARY ⋮.. !?

๋୨୧┇Scott is and always was a protective and strict person with his loved ones, that's not a surprise

୨୧┇But with you, he was more! Like, REALLY

୨୧┇It was no surprise he liked you

୨୧┇But It had a thing, sometimes he felt another thing for you, no, for people next to you

୨୧┇Jealous.

ˏˋ⋆ AUTHOR ⋮.. !?

If Scott got a nickel for every time you went out with Duncan, he would have two, which isn't much, but it's strange that it happened twice, since seeing you talk and go out with Duncan was too much for him.

Duncan asked you out once, and you accepted out of politeness? Genuine interest? Boredom? You don't really know, but you accepted and discovered that Duncan wasn't so bad to hang out with (despite being the perfect jock stereotype), and after that, he wanted to interact with you more, and yesterday you went out with him again.

Was Scott jealous? Yes, after all Duncan and Scott don't get along.

But it got to the point where Duncan was sending you flowers! Always with a little note from him, which Scott was happy to give you (the flowers, without the note).

Now waiting for you outside the school to leave as normal is something he enjoys (not that he didn't before), even though other people left with you, it was just you and Scott, without Duncan.

He looks around, no sign of you, you're just taking a while, that's all, then when you arrive, everyone will leave for the institute.

He looks around again, it wasn't you, but it was Kitty, you two talk a lot so maybe she knows why you're taking so long.

"Hey Kitty! Have you seen Y/n?"

Scott asks calmly, a simple question

"Ah! She's going somewhere with Duncan! "

Kitty replied, getting into the car

Ah.

So you're going out with Duncan? Really?

Scott felt his blood boil, jealous? Why? You and Duncan are just two colleagues going out together.

Plim

New message, Scott picks up his phone

New message from Y/N, the app shows

He opens the message

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Y/N: I'm going out with Duncan! No need to worry, he'll take me to the institute later, we won't be here for so many time!

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott thought about what to say, how he wanted to say that you couldn't go out with Duncan

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott: Really? Duncan?

Y/N: Yes, why?

Scott: I don't know, he's a bit of an asshole

Y/N: Yeah, I know, but he's kind of nice to hang out with when he's not an asshole!

Scott: Him not being an asshole? That's rare.

Y/N: I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Scott! It was last minute, I couldn't say no to him! He insisted a lot, and I'm a people-pleaser...

Scott: Oh, you could have said no.

Y/N: Did something happen? I feel you're in a bad mood

Scott: It's just that I don't trust this guy, what if he tries something with you?

Y/N: He wouldn't, I think! You don't have to worry, if he tries I can defend myself

Scott: But I don't know, what if something goes wrong? I worry about you

Y/N: If something happens i will deal with that, relax! Also i can't go away now, we're getting there

Scott: And where are you two going?

Y/N: Oh, we're going to that hill with the nice view, you know? It's a really relaxing place!

Scott: Oh, Okay

Y/N: Don't worry ok? Bye!

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott put the phone back in his pocket and finally got into the car, turning it on.

ˏˋ⋆ SCOTT ⋮.. !?

" Hey man? Are you okay? Did something happen?

Evan asks me, was I so distracted that I didn't see Evan coming and got into the car?

"What happened? Don't make us curious! "

Kurt also asked, is he already here? I was distracted talking to Y/N

"Nothing."

I replied, nothing's happening, everything's normal

"Y/N is going out with Duncan and he doesn't like it! "

Kitty answered Evan and Kurt, I didn't like it...

Okay, I don't like it, but Y/N and Duncan? Going out together? Why?

They even likes him?

" Oh~! I think Scott is jealous! "

Kurt said playful, i'm not jealous, i am just a little protective, because what if that asshole hurts Y/N?

" Hey Scott, relax! Y/N can defend themself, also you should be less protective! "

Really Evan? I don't think

I mean

Being protective is not bad.

୨୧┇ NOTES ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

୨ৎ Erm, here it is, bad i know-

୨ৎ I LOVE X MEN EVOLUTION SO MUCH I-

୨ৎ I am writing for Brotherhood too! (they are so silly)

୨ৎ Damn i had a HUGE crush on Scott when i was a kid (maybe i still have)

୨ৎ Sorry if this is short, OOC and dind't make any sense-

୨ৎ Idk what to say now, but ily you guys

[mothertoall2]

Part of Their World (RE Age Regression)

A/n- This is a age regression book about Resident Evil Village, I will be making one that is not age regression shortly but the first few chapters are the same anyway so until t picks up it will be the same book.

Description: This story takes place in a world where Age Regression is normalized and accepted. As a child you were taken by Mother Miranda and experimented on with the T virus, after years of captivity you don't show responses to the experiments and are sent to be a maid at the Dimitrescu Castle. None of the other maids like you, and Lady Dimitrescu always keeps a close eye on you. This is a little gn reader story and if you don't like it you may respectfully leave, this is not a fetish book and is sfw, thank you and have a splendid day.

Warnings: Childhood trauma and neglect

Y/n's POV

I open my eyes from a sudden jolt of the carriage as it hits a particularly large stone along the uneven path. The carriage is going remarkably slower, the horse having become beyond tired from the long journey to it's destination. Shortly after the second hour I had fallen asleep while counting trees as they pass by one after the other. While I rarely have the luxury of carriage rides such as this, they always had the ability to make me fall asleep within minutes. I find something soothing with the way it moves along the dirt or stone roads. 

Another jolt of the carriage snaps me out of my thoughts, I sit up from the window to see if we are any closer to where I'm being taken. I wipe away the fog from my breathe to clear the glass, though it does very little with the freezing temperature outside. I look around trying to see past the thick powdered covered trees. The snow covering the ground appears grey and unearthly, clearly holding a past in which I am now determined to discover. There is not a building in sight which just leaves me to wonder where I'm going. I can't help but think the worst, maybe she's taking me to be killed, I can tell I haven't met her standards of what she wants from me. She's expressed her disappointment with me, it wouldn't be a surprise if she's taking me to be left up to fate of the beasts that roam the village. I've never seen them but mother tells me all about them and how she protects me by keeping me inside. 

The next jolt of the carriage catches me off guard and I fall onto the seat. "Sit up Y/n, I have raised you better than that" she says coldly. "Yes mother" I reply without looking her in the eyes, I won't make that mistake again. Mother isn't always this cold, only when I don't meet her expectations, which has been frequently as of late. I sit up and adjust my position so I won't fall over again. As I move to look out the window I catch a glance at my reflection in the cold frosted glass. I try to avoid looking at my reflection, I asked mother to remove all mirrors from my chambers. I was tired of looking at myself and questioning why I'm not enough for her. Why she isn't proud enough to show her child to the lords she speaks so highly of. 

As I observe my reflection  I see a stranger gazing back at me. I am trapped in a body that has never been my own. I study my distant blue eyes, inside them I see a soul wanting to be freed, a soul that is forever trapped inside a cage, the key no where to be found. I see the freckles that litter my face, mother has always liked them...which I realize has made me hate them. Anything mother likes about me I find myself hating more, I wish for nothing more then a different body to feel myself in. I had hope when mother told me her experiments would change my appearance, but after many trials there has been no change. That must be the reason mother is sending me away, I wasn't able to give her the results she wished for. I doubt she has ever noticed how much I try to please her and be as she wishes of me, but it is never enough for her. I must accept that fact.

I am once again ripped from my thoughts when mother calls out to me. "How many times have I told you to stop chewing on your fingers. You know better child." I hold back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I respond to her. "I apologize mother it will not happen again." All I get in return is an inaudible mumble under her breath as she turns away. "Are we almost there mother?" I ask as politely as I can but receive no response in return. I turn back to the window in defeat as I rest my head against it. I find myself slowly drifting off into a slumber once more, only to be awaken what feels like only minutes later. 

As I sit back up straight with my hands resting in my lap, just as I was taught, I speak, "What is it mother?" She speaks clearly and hesitantly with her next sentence . "You have permission to look at me for our following conversation, it is important and I need your full and complete attention. Have I made myself clear?" I nod and lift my head to look mother in her eyes. I have never had permission to do so before, in fact last time I had done so I hadn't received meals for two days. 

"Y/n, before we arrive I must inform you of what is going to happen. As you well know I have raised you for the past 23 years out of the kindness of my heart. I have fed you, clothed you, bathed you, and taught you manners because you were my child." When she said the last part my heart shattered. She is having me killed, I knew it. "All I had wanted in return is for you to be successful, even through my generosity you couldn't provide me the one thing I asked. Do you know the pain that causes me? You have failed me Y/n, you are a disappointment and a disgrace." Every insult mother gives me causes another tear to fall. "That is why I am sending you to work as a maid for one of my most trusted lords. You will be working for Lady Dimitrescu, you will do as she says, she has my full permission to punish you as she sees fit. Do you understand child?"

With a simple nod of my head my fate is sealed. I can't help but feel shattered by the fact that she was able to pass me off so easily. My thoughts and insecurities all come true at once. I am worth nothing in this world, I never will be. Yet again I am removed from my thoughts, this time by a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. There I see it, a grand Castle with a tall gate surrounding it. Hearing it slam closed behind us is as finalizing as the last chime of midnight. I exit the carriage after mother, stepping into the frigid powder that covers the ground. I walk behind mother as I follow her up the snow covered path all the way to the large doors of the castle. As I stare up at the doors I wonder what fate lies for me behind those doors. I wonder to myself, what more do I have to lose?

[sirwow]

I need to get out my bleeding heart for minecraft because man this game basically created the foundation and growth of my brain however rocky and I need to tell the world because I said so.

This game is a canvas. Not a empty one mind you but a canvas nonetheless. The one presented to all to begin being a world in which they’re left to learn and discover and build or destroy all on their own. Or maybe with a friend, or many. Someone’s first experience with Minecraft likely isn’t picking it up randomly but rather being told tales by others of what they weaved with the canvas they were given.

Weather that person was as quaint to just add a few additions to the canvas; a small wooden house situated inside a cool looking cave with some silly story about a creeper and a fire. Or if this person was someone you don’t really know but they put themselves out there to show their work to the world. A completely blank canvas with only one block? Why not? A downright ridiculous looking building with the sole goal of getting melons? Sure.

These stories and art is what makes this game so special. Something so stupid and mundane like a bunch of 1 block jumps with a goofy voice over and sound effects can still be such a great and beautiful thing with heart and care. We can’t understand every work but damnit I have respect for every last aspect and one. The depths of this game truly allowing everyone have some place, from leisure to mastery. I can not mention everyone but I will cover the broad strokes and their wonders.

Firstly to the builders of Minecraft. You are the forefront and most clear of your art. It is art within the most literal sense of the word, weather it is a building with intricate detail in every crevice and corner thought out meticulously. Or those of the larger then ourselves works. Organic mythical works of dragons, people, animals and more. Builds only made to be viewed once at one angle akin to a real painting. The recreations or creations of yours dreams and hopes. Or even just the humble home and village to create a story of as you survive. Creative, builders tools, survival, challenge play throughs. You’re all artists.

Redstoners. Though siblings of builders, your work lays in numbers, timing, mechanical works. Fixing issues you created for yourself when trying to achieve a goal. It may just be making the fastest door, or the largest and you’d still manage to break so many boundaries with time. Or it is those beyond my personal comprehension. You make machines capable of manipulating the behavior of the game itself by going through the cracks found over the decade of redstone. As much as it is wizardry to myself I wish someday to learn this as well if I ever choose to go down such a path. However as of now my eyes are set on another unexpected and undermined path that is next.

PVP. One much loathed by those outside it and I am guilty of such for almost a decade but as now Iv become knee deep in the waters of it myself I also see how it’s an art. Maybe more in the martial sense as obvious but it’s still very impressive what I see and understand in it now. The functions beyond “swing sword good”; a much deeper phycological game aspect to it then seen outside and understanding the intricacies of mechanics you generally give little thought to playing normally. Just how much health does each weapon do- crit or not. How fast can a crossbow reload, watch your sprint or you might just lose. On and on. Iv gained a lot of respect for it.

Parkour. Get your parkour civilization jokes out of the way- this is probably the MOST fundamental part of the game and I find it downright magical what can be done with it. I realize I’m saying that a lot but it’s 1 am shh. Anywho it’s got all its ins and outs. The ice parkour, neos, fences, drip leaf, combined redstone and timing, trapdoors and more. I’m missing about 50 here but that just goes to show how deep it is.

Off of parkour comes our good friend Speedrunning!!! Dedication and time in its most raw. Triangulation for college? Wrong! Block game. It’s a mental load to take on and the aspect of random chance and taking everything on your shoulders is persistence and patience.

And the best part of all of this? They all come together in their own ways for hundreds nay thousands of ways to play. All without touching on the deep deep well that is servers. Skyblock players, pvpers, ice boaters, niche specialists games (Cops v Crims, Bedwars, party games, tower defense, MMORPGs, one in the quiver for my old chums out there, ect) you all have my undying interest and respect in the details and depths of what you love.

So now you have the little canvas before you. Make what you wish no matter how bad. No one will create something identical to what you choose and it’s your story to paint- no matter how lame, small, boring, bad, or ugly you might claim it to be. I want it to still be made and for you to explore whatever depths you choose. Weather that be the simple literal ones, finding a neat cave or what have you, or finding a passion buried under the rubble.

And me? I guess I’ll keep doing my thing of watching and learning about all the silly little corners this game has and mastering what I can even if that takes another decade to do. The universe loves me and it loves you too, go and create.

[portlandwithyou]

Fraser/Vecchio- A Personal Reflection

Now I came to Due South on the trail of the killers of my father-- wait, no, that's not quite right. Let me try again. I came to Due South on the trail of this gif set. Eaion sold me the instant I saw it. I knew I had to see these two guys who were stuck in crevasse together.

One slight problem- the gif set is from the very end of the show and I had a daunting sixty-some-odd episodes, and a whole different partner, between me and it. It's fine, I told myself; I'll check out the first guy, see if he's worth it, and if he's not, I'll move on to the main attraction.

So I started at the beginning--and that's where I fell in with the show, the characters, and a brand new ship. These are my thoughts about the Due South pilot, written out while I re-watched the pilot.

I liked Fraser instantly. It's not hard to in those first few minutes; he's a grieving son who is searching for his father. He's sweet, he's polite, he's dedicated to justice-- literally what more could you ask for?

What I didn't expect was to like this first Ray so quickly. When he strode down to Fraser doing statute duty, shirt open, chain visible, loud mouth going, I knew I was in love.

But I hadn't yet spotted the ship on the horizon. I was simply enjoying the burgeoning friendship as we met Diefenbaker and began our investigation.

I started to see the glimmer of something in the scene where Ray find Fraser reading Bob Fraser's journal in the diner. I adore that we see Ray opening up to Fraser about his no-good father, and we get that sharp contrast between the two.

But the ship finally took form during the dinner scene. I am a complete sucker for the way the Vecchios immediately take him in as one of their own. I mean, the way Ma Vecchio says she likes him because he's polite-- does that not read like something you would say if he brought a girlfriend home?? It's so natural for Fraser to be there. It's like he was always a missing piece in Ray's life.

Just, oh gosh, the way Ray so clearly trusts Fraser (he brings him into his home!) and the way they're already falling into place makes me grin like a total fool. That's literally what I'm doing as I write this!

Then, we get to see them track down a lead together. Now, this is an integral moment in a buddy cop dynamic. They have to have some chemistry as they solve cases, and by god, Due South delivers in spades when the time comes. Fraser trying his hand at one of Ray's hunches! They're already rubbing off on each other. And Ray gets a great moment of comedy as he reacts to Fraser's first licking scene.

So here's another thing that kills me-- Ray calls them friends as they walk to the Chinatown apartment! They have an immediate connection! I'm screaming! They are meant to be together!

After they establish that they're friends, we get to see some angst—beautiful, wonderful angst. Everyone is at their lowest, and circumstances are pulling Ray and Fraser apart. Tell me this isn't just the normal 2/3rds point in a romance novel where our couple is pushed apart.

But that makes their reunion so much sweeter. Ray came all the way up to bumfuck nowhere NWT after solving a case he probably wasn't even on anymore! He was that eager to come up there and tell Fraser what he'd discovered.

And then, of course, they look you right in the eye and have Fraser ask, "Can I help you out of that?" I AM SCREAMING! Literally kicking my feet up! They know what they're doing!

Next is the big fight/chase sequence where Fraser gets to drive Ray around on a dog sled which is cute and sweet.

Special mention here of Diefenbaker, as I've mostly been glossing over his cuteness. And he's a poor baby at the end.

Finally, we have the ending. Not Ray riding off into the distance together-- I'm talking about when Fraser is standing guard outside of the consulate again, and Ray is already back prattling at his new best friend. ❤️

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Am I enough - Bowser x GN!Reader fic

This fic has been one I've been working on for ages but I finally felt it was time to post it. Because deep down writing this has really helped me

Warnings : Heavy angst, talks of burnout, psychotic meltdown. Happy ending.

It’s true what people say about giving your all but it just not being enough. I knew being among that of Bowser’s castle staff would be a very difficult and demanding job. That was partly the reason I took it in the first place.

As my life in the real world just wasn’t right for me. So, you can imagine when I discovered an oddly large green pipe one day hidden away in an abandoned alleyway I cut through that night to prolong getting back home. I chuckled to myself at the thought of going through it and wondered what it would be like if I found a way into one of the many Super Mario worlds. My curiosity got the better of me. I got what I wished for and more so.

I’ve been living in the Darklands for a few years now. After I was found near the castle of King Bowser. I chose to work for him. Rising steadily up the ranks to a place where I was the caregiver role to the children of the king. This meant taking each day as it came because no two were the same. I was a platform for their pranks until they saw I wasn’t going to be scared away by them. Soon after that, the wee koopalings really grew to like me. They came to me with their problems. When they wanted an outside look at projects they were working on and even let me in on the newest revenge prank in the works. We grew into an odd sort of family dynamic. I would even at a push say that Bowser was more a close friend than my king.

I was known for my kind smile and caring nature to all who needed help. But lately, I felt the wild spark that fanned my bubbly personality had dimmed to a low flutter that threatened to extinguish leaving a husk of smoke behind to fill and suffocate my soul. I tried that much harder to act like all was well but when the big man himself kept trying to gently approach the subject of my recent spout of sadness. I found that the phrase “I’m fine really I am.” And a soft smile that had become the lifeline I clung dearly to was just enough to brush away any concern he had or so I thought.

----

I had barely managed to get through the day with my mask of normality not slipping and shattering to the ground But oh how it fell freely as soon as I shut the door to my quarters. My body sank in on itself with the weight of utter exhaustion finally being allowed to take over once more. Jr had noticed I had zoned out for the 5th time today when we were painting this afternoon. I told him that it was fine. I’m just a little bit tired. He looked at me for a second more before shrugging and going back to his canvas.

I know that I really need to sleep but right now I know if I went to bed I would just not want to wake up for the next day and the day after that and so on. I can’t worry my king or the koopalings. I think that is why I find my way to my ensuite bathroom in the darkness of my room. I didn’t want to put any lights on but when I got to the large tub and start to fill it. I set about lighting candles but only in the furthest corners of the room. It was better than nothing. It was just bright enough to see a silhouette of the bath at the center of the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness now that I just stood and stared at the water slowly rising up higher and higher. I normally would get undressed at this point. But what was the point.

I let the water rise higher transfixed by the sound of running water. My limbs moving on autopilot. I just climbed in completely clothed, shoes and all, leaned back, and finally closed my eyes.

I wanted to slip under the water and just drift away. People in my old life didn’t care but in the one I made here, I was wanted. Dare I say loved?

‘Am I enough?’

Thoughts swam frantically around in my mind. Each lasting a split second but long enough to make itself known. I don’t remember crying but it felt good to let it all go. The bath water was spilling over the sides now. I hadn’t turned the taps off. But it was okay. I let it run on. Flow over and pool beneath the tub. I let out the most guttural scream. Expelling all the negativity out of me. I just needed it gone.

“(Y/N) CAN YOU HEAR ME.” His booming voice split the air. I heard his heavy footsteps thud closer to the bathroom. The door broke into splintered pieces on the wet ground. “(Y/n)!” Bowser runs to my side. His large, clawed fingers turned the taps off, partially breaking one in the frantic movements. He scooped my sodden body out of the bath and cradled me close to his warm skin.

“Please talk to me.” He scanned me body to see if I was hurt.

I could see him talking but all I could hear was a high tinny white noise. I couldn’t get my limbs to obey me. I just hung there limply in his arms.

“I got you. I got you now.” He clings to me like I might fade from his grip into nothingness.

“B-bowser.” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try to speak again.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He sounds so small. Not like the fierce king everyone else gets to see. I’m crying again at the fragility that I’ve forced upon him.

“I-I’m so sorry sir.”

“No don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. When Jr came to me today telling me he was worried about you. I should have stopped everything and gotten here sooner.”

Oh no. I scared Jr why didn’t I hide this better. Why didn’t I do something sooner?

“I’m frightened.” I choke out another sob.

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” I hit his chest. “This is my fault. I let it get this bad. I kept pushing people away.” I keep thumping my fists against his chest and he just lets me. I’m begging him to just do something. Stop me. Just do something.

“I’m so tired. So damn tired.” I hit his chest once more before slumping against him again. He pulls me close. I can hear his heartbeat. It’s frantic, it’s worried. I nuzzle closer maybe if I get close enough it will calm down again. Even though I have clearly gone through a meltdown. I want to help him.

“I know you are. It’s been blatantly obvious that you were burning out before our eyes but you are so strong and caring you kept putting others before yourself. I need you to remember that you are enough. That you matter and you deserve to rest. The children will be fine for a few days if you take that time to rest up. Please let someone look after you for a little while. Please let me help you.”

I reach up and cup the side of his muzzle. His hand rests on top of mine like we are sealing a bargain. I smile weakly, to which he returns. He stands up, still holding onto me. As he walks us both back to my large bed. I’m starting to drift off to sleep but I needed to stay awake just enough to change into dry clothes that Bowser helps me into. Before lifting the covers and tucking me in. He looks down at me all curled up and slowly falling asleep. He moves off the bed but I grasp at his hand.

“Stay.” My voice is so small but he hears me. When the bed dips behind me I feel him pull me closer to his chest again. I finally let exhaustion take me but not before I felt him kiss the top of my head. A real smile tugs at my lips.

Maybe I am enough.

--------

This is my first fic in months and Bowser has been a real comfort character for me recently. So I hope people like this. Even if it was more of a personal idea.

[immortaltale]

klopp on his instagram:

Ed Sheeran wanted a photo with me! (laughs) It sounds strange. I know Ed Sheeran, crazy ... I was quickly told that my public relevance would quickly dwindle, which I viewed rather positively. And I told myself it would be good if the public knew something every now and then. Then, you have to pay attention to what you say. At the same time, we hired a media lawyer to tell everyone, people, to leave your private life alone. We had drones over our house. All that nonsense makes you think, guys, you can't really be interested in this. So you have to give everyone a quick slap on the wrist and say, is there no such thing as privacy. But then at the same time you go to Instagram. As for me, you can still take pictures of me in swimming trunks, which would be uncool, but I think it's still allowed. But not family at all. That's why we had to follow a few rules. It's funny, the real news is that over the last 25 years, we haven't changed at all as a family other than getting older, but the world around us has gone completely crazy. And for a while I didn't notice how the world had changed. When we returned to our private lives, we realized, oops, we have to set up rules, and at the same time show we are still alive. And that happens via Instagram. Then I discovered that José Mourinho also has Instagram, and then I wanted to grab him. And then he moves to Fenerbahçe, the scumbag... so you can't get it anymore. I'll have to get in somewhere again. Otherwise, I have nothing to do with it, as we clinically clean it 35 times before anything comes out.

klopp on his private life:

We are looking for peace, we are looking for normality. We have to get used to the people and the people [have to] get used to us. 9 years of Liverpool means you drive two routes in your car: the training ground and the stadium. My car doesn't know any other routes. We're just now getting people used to us, we get out normally. I just have to get through it now. I haven't given many autographs for a while now, which was absolutely pleasant. Autograph hunters just waiting for me to come, oh God... And that's also a reason why I don't do it anymore (laughs). It can be said that autograph 1 is a little more fun than autograph 8 million, 267 thousand. It's a [gesture of] appreciation, it's all cool, I get that too. It was time for me to step aside, the last 4 months in Liverpool were just too intense, the attention I got was way too much. People camped outside our farm gate, throwing teddy bears over the fence, that's a really big [show of] appreciation. This is super difficult for a person to understand, digest, process. That's why the relief that it was over was great, and not because I wanted to leave. The situation simply had to be resolved. The farewell took a relatively long time and was very intense.

klopp on his life's structure:

I am a very structured person, I get up early, and then I'm really happy when I can do something. I have a personal trainer. That means it starts at 7 or 8 AM for me. I just want to take another look, give this old body one last push. Not to look better, but to be upright... I met a lot of people last night who were upright at 80 years old. Erich Rutemöller will soon be 80, we were so happy to see him. Many people have obviously managed it well and that is the plan for me too, it's a little bit about that now. The structure is there. But usually [there is] none, because the grandchild somehow decides when he sleeps and when he can be played with again. And that's why it's all good, no one has to worry about it.

[mysticbewitched]

have u ever shifted to another reality? if yes did it feel overwhelming or normal like u always been there? im manifesting living in another city and i just want to wake up there in a new house. for me its just like shifting but my logical side gets in a way sometimes telling me i need steps or movement.

I have experienced parallel realities in my waking life and "reality shifting" in my lucid dreams.

The only reason I experienced it for myself was because at the time, I was an absolute hardcore believer in the concept of infinite/parallel realities.

I completely believed in all of that and accepted that to be the true nature of reality.

As the creator of my reality, I witnessed those beliefs manifested in my experiences. It was wild, and I felt as if I was in the Twilight Zone.

I was amazed each and every time.

I experienced those beliefs being manifested over and over again on repeat simply because I believed in those concepts without question.

After I discovered Nondualism, I realized that the philosophy of nonduality teaches that there is only one reality, and that is consciousness, which operates above your awareness. There is only one reality, and you are it.

You are the only reality there is and that is meant to be taken in a literal manner.

I know that some people want to pick and choose which beliefs they want to accept, and that's understandable.

On a more personal level, I am only interested in knowing the fundamental truth when it comes to truly understanding the true nature of awareness itself and how that ties into states of consciousness.

I had an epiphany that hit me out of nowhere and I had a ground-breaking realization that lead me to see things in a different light.

I completely Iet go of the belief of infinite and parallel realities because those beliefs no longer resonate with me or serve me on my journey.

Let me break this down for you:

As the creator of your reality, you are essentially warping and shaping one reality (the expression of from your dominant state of consciousness) by your inner beliefs, assumptions, and expectations since you are the creator.

What you believe to be true about the nature of reality is what you experience.

Think of this as reality warping instead of "reality shifting." You are molding the one reality itself into whatever you want it to be as the ultimate creator.

You are not "shifting" to "another reality." That would make zero sense because you are reality itself, and nothing is outside of your state of consciousness.

If you believe in infinite realities/parallel realities or the concept of "reality shifting," then that is what you will inevitably experience. You are the creator.

In your specific case, you can wake up in the city because there are no limitations or fiction.

Your only limits are the ones you impose upon yourself. You are reality itself.

When you truly understand your true self as awareness and realize that anything is possible for you to experience, then your perception of yourself as the creator transforms.

Understanding yourself as the only one reality then allows you to be able to completely warp and shape your physical experiences into absolutely anything you command for it to be as the master.

Because you are reality, you are the absolute sole master and creator of it all.

[natbat666]

Blog Post 10/12:

I SHIFTED AGAIN YESTERDAY!!!!

This is how I did it!

Why? Because shifting is easy and if you think that you can then you can. Sometimes I feel like that’s frustrating to hear. It was for me anyway to hear it over and over again and not understand.

I hope this is motivation to someone out there but I’ll try to break down what happened and what I think made a difference this time!

To set the scene it has been a couple of months since I have been successful and it has really been eating at me. To the point that I was having such doubts that I wanted to quit quit. Every time I tried I was either too tired or not in the right mindset.

But for the past couple of days I’ve been really thinking why? And honestly I think it’s because of the lack of content that I’ve been getting. I’ve escaped shifttok, plus no one posts good content anymore. Also I’ve been wanting to shift but have been teasing it to myself, letting the anticipation grow.

And I’ve also discovered what the law of attraction really means!

So there I was, laying on the couch with my family around me making noises. Normally to any shifter this either means two things 1. Omg I’m never going to shift with all of this or 2. These are sounds from my DR 🤓. But I honestly just zoned them out. I kept thinking to myself “I’m grounded in my DR right now, the universe knows this. I’m shifting right now at this moment to my Hogwarts DR. It’s going to happen I know it!” I thought this over and over again till it was stuck in my mind. Visualization is something that I am good at and I thought about what my emotions would be like to see Hogwarts again! Would I be happy? Sad? Nostalgic? But I let that feeling take over as I fell asleep.

I feel like this is a lot of build up for something small but everything counts when it comes to shifting.

I woke up again but I heard the sound of heavy rainfall, and the sounds of the drops hitting leaves. But my silly self thought that it had just started raining in my CR

Side note: it literally has not rained in over 2 weeks

So I went back to sleep, without opening my eyes!!!!! WHY WHY WHY

After I woke up again I opened them and found that it was still just a dry outside:(

But I hope this gives some insight to people and some motivation on how easy shifting is!

Go shift!

[sawyerquinnbrown]

My neighbor upstairs runs an Airbnb out of his apartment, which has led to many interesting and exciting situations for me. Well, I say ‘exciting’, mostly I mean ‘inconvenient’ and sometimes ‘hilarious.’

Last month I discovered that, while I on the ground floor have a one-bedroom with a tiny office, my upstairs neighbor has 4 bedrooms on two floors that he rents by himself for about a billion US dollars, so it makes perfect sense that he would run an Airbnb, to recoup some of his costs. I imagine it takes a strength of character when you live in an Airbnb, because personally, I don’t want people in my house. That’s why I moved to my own place at 36; I’d had enough. My only roommates now are two very attractive and high-quality felines, who will be introduced in more detail in a later blog post.

Anyway, the Airbnb. The first thing I noticed once this started was that I was constantly jumping whenever someone was coming through the front gate and tromping up the stairs, which was frequent. This is due to my anticipation of my many online purchases. (I purchase many things online because 1) it’s fun to receive things in the mail and 2) I don’t like to leave my house—there’s weather out there, and also bugs.) So: many comings and goings and creakings of the gate.

The second thing I noticed occurred one day when I heard some rattling outside my door. That’s odd, I thought, I’m not expecting any guests. Actually, my thought process was more like Aaaaaa, someone’s trying to break into my apartment! (My upstairs neighbor had been robbed a couple months prior, so this was a totally rational and normal and not-overreactive thing to panic about.) I am Extremely Brave™ (No.), so I went to the door and opened it to discover a hapless traveler with a large rolling suitcase attempting to open the lockbox I hung outside my door. Much relieved, I informed the traveler that the lockbox he was looking for was upstairs.

(Sidenote about the lockbox: I hung it up shortly after moving in because of the time I locked myself out. I was trying this cool thing called “Carrying stuff in my pockets like a dude” due to extreme gender dysphoria, and I left my keys inside my apartment. My landlord was kind enough to charge me $25 to unlock my door, and I ordered the lockbox as soon as I got inside. $25! ::snarling noises::)

The third point of excitement occurred late one night when a knock came at my door around 11:30pm. At the door stood an older butch woman who had run into the same problem as I had: she’d locked her keys inside the apartment, in this case the Airbnb. Unable to get in contact with my neighbor, she was trapped outside. I volunteered to text him and in exchange she offered me a beer. I feel guilty about not offering to let her kip on my air mattress, but, as previously stated, I don’t like to have people in my house.

Finally we come to the real issue of neighboring an Airbnb: too-generous guests. This sounds counterintuitive, so let me explain. As I mentioned, I like to receive packages in the mail so I can open presents I ordered for myself. However, due to Chicago being weird (in my experience as a former Bostonian), my ground floor apartment being a “1” and the upstairs apartment being a “2” is apparently unusual. Typically, I’ve been told, “1” is upstairs. So despite the very clear and large numeral “2” on my neighbor’s mailbox, everyone likes to deliver my stuff up the stairs. The too-nice Airbnb-ers see these packages and say to themselves, Aha! A package for my host! and without checking the name on the package, helpfully carry them inside and lock the door. I am left bereft, knowing my package has arrived but unable to access, for instance, a box of lightbulbs (listen, I know. Adults get excited about the weirdest things).

If you liked this post, please check out my Wordpress blog or buy me a Ko-fi!

[circumlocutive]

whats the biggest safety hazard you've committed in any lab?

This is a very funny question, and a little bit up to interpretation of the question?

For safety hazards I have personally been harmed by/exposed to, these come to mind:

1) exposure to silica/glass dust at my advanced manufacturing internship (sorry, not technically a lab) where I cut and laid up structures made of layered fiberglass and resins, we had a shop vac set up by the CNC machine drill bit to suck in the dust but yknow. It wasn't perfect. And I also had to clean out the shop vac during the internship. Permanent glass dust in the lungs is a bit spooky.

2) cutting myself on the (used) razor in the cryotome when I was sectioning rat brains for an internship in a translational medicine lab. Pretty gross because of the biological contact but the cut itself was small and tbh lab rat tissues are way cleaner than most food meats so maybe this one wasn't actually that bad.

3) exposure to solvent fumes/powderized toxic chemicals while setting up reactions or doing workups, or OH DEF WHILE MAKING SDS PAGE GELS. But like, one day I was rotovapping like, liters of DCM and methanol which are p carcinogenic. Rotovaps don't normally live in a fume hood, but the air flow in my lab is poor and the air is way too hot so stuff readily vaporizes and every time I swapped out the collection flask some stuff would drip onto the bench and go into the air. Water also kept condensing on the outside of the cold finger, and while I was swapping the flasks, it would freeze on the ball/socket joint and fuck with proper sealing. So during rotovapping some vapors continued to escape. Oh and in the biotech lab at my community college we had ethidium bromide like. fucking everywhere. But that's not actually as bad for you as people make it out to be (otherwise there would be a lot more dead undergrads in the world lol)

There were some scary hazards in theory- like discovering after we moved my current lab that there were a bunch of water reactives/pyrophorics/self reactive chemicals that were previously kept in the inert gas environment of the glove box and for about a month lived on the bench top, maybe parafilmed or in ziplock bags but otherwise fairly exposed, while we organized and sorted all the chemicals into proper storage locations. I've had some glass explode on me under pressure or crack under heat, but usually within a fume hood (and I have goggles on whenever I am in lab). I work with liquid nitrogen fairly often now and scare myself overfilling Dewars and getting it on my gloves.

In a NON lab setting, my dad and ex gf had a blacksmithing shed in the backyard. So, heat hazards, sharps hazards, gas hazards, etc. Some acids for etching damascus that were left out in unlabeled containers. I've burned myself grabbing steel I assumed was cold (because it was black), but was several hundreds of degrees. The WORST thing is we used to have a wooden support table underneath our home built forge. The forge was fairly well insulated but ig it ran too hot for too long one day and at night the table started smoldering. It caught fire, right next to a bunch of propane tanks. We wouldn't have noticed either if my friend sleeping over that night- he left to hookup with someone off of grindr in the parking lot next door, came back, and saw the fire when he came back in the apartment. Woke us up and we put it out lol. Replaced that fucker with a welded steel table after that.

And then my dad is a weapons manufacturer/engineer so I've grown up around tons of guns and explosives and leaded ammunition and blah blah blah. So I guess those were safety hazards too.

[icaruswasadreamer]

If We Were Villains: a book review

Or, the power of environmental storytelling, amazing characterization, theatrics and what it does to a STEM student with a passion for the arts

A/N: This is my first time writing a book review, and I decided to make up a little formula for myself to follow for the rest of my reviews. Truthfully, IWWV is not my first book, but it has defintiely inspired me enough to write something for it that isn’t fanfiction so here it is. Feel free to share your thoughts and bring up discussions, as this book is dear to me in many ways and it deserves to be talked about. Do note all of this is my opinion and that is all it will ever be. Hope you enjoy this review/semi-analysis of IWWV that I am less than qualified to talk about, but that is the beauty of self-expression. Please be warned of spoilers which will be marked as to where they Start. 

How I was Introduced to the Book

I first learned of the book through booktok. And I know the implications of that statement and the reputation of booktok in the bookish community. I, myself, don’t think too highly of booktok (as it is where all the colleen hoover fans worm about), but I have to admit that it is, by far, one of the best avenues to discover authors and books, no matter the romanticization of reading as a hobby or the misinterpretation of these books. Truthfully, without booktok, I would not have asked my friend to buy me a copy of If We Were Villains for my birthday and I wouldn’t be enamoured by its narrations and characters as I am right now. There was a specific tiktoker that I followed for the fact that they have read a lot of dark academia books – which is a genre that I’m getting into right now! If We Were Villains was introduced to me as a really great book with a lot of twists and turns, and I went into it with that expectation.

The Book Itself in My Own Words

Imagine that one picture that comes up whenever you search “dark academia aesthetic” on pinterest. There is a manor at the far end of the photo, distant and castle-like. Vines and greenery cling to it as if it were the old cobblestone shrine of a forest God and its windows are hauntingly grey with dust as if it were lived in by no one except ghosts. You are only outside looking in, and there is no scene you can manage from the manor. What you can observe, however is a lake. It reflects the greyish bluish white sky above it and it does not move against the life, the nature that surrounds it. It is ever present and everlastingly still; ultimately very boring to the people who spare it a glance, but go beyond depths you and I can comprehend or imagine. Think of that image, but in book form. Oh and add several other complicated things in it too, just for flavor.

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio is a hauntingly, tragic mystery about 7 friends who made the mistake of being gay theatre kids. It’s the found family trope in reverse as you watch as their life fall apart in the incident of a murder that no one is really sure who did. We follow Oliver Marks, essentially the main character and the narrator of the story as he describes what his life is like and how it’s about to be ruined because some guy was too petty to accept that he isn’t always the star of the show. Watch the 6 of them go through the motion, pretending everything is fine and that they’re all not mentally ill in some way while quoting shakespeare that no normal person does. 

As sarcastic as I sound, it is genuinely a wonderful, captivating story about grief, friendship and art. Everything is so complicated (in a good way) and you’re not really sure what to feel about all of it, but at the same time, you stay for the ride because the feelings are worth it, just to see this show to the end just so these characters can reach their epilogue finally. The way I would describe it is imagine all those reading assignments and book reports you had to do in your english class about a sonnet or play, then mix it with all the gay fanfiction one would read in the witching hours of 3 am as you sob quietly to yourself because you know your ship will never be canon. It is a culmination of these two things, and it’s awesome. 

First Impressions/Last Impressions

I struggled with getting through Act I of IWWV. And I do genuinely believe that this was not at all the fault of the author or the story as the set up was interesting and mysterious and curious enough for me to get hooked. It just so happened that the fish was uninterested and busy with other things that I did not get into immediately as I would have hoped. Despite this – and after several months of not reading – I managed to pick up the book again and return to where I left off.

Perhaps it was the fact that there was a large gap of me not reading IWWV and then the sudden bolt of me reading it religious explains why I found the first parts of IWWV quite slow. I do recognize this as a part of the set up and exposition of the book and was entirely necessary for the emotional impact that it would give me by the end, but prowling through those first few chapters was hard as someone with a short attention span and have several hobbies aside from reading and writing. 

But now, after almost a year of trying to finish this book properly, I have to say that I am wrecked and I will never be the same again. I thought I was going to hate the endng, truthfully, as its implications was bleak and somehow, undermines the efforts of its characters. But, the epilogue had me pleasantly surprised and relieved, that I would have to say that the ending was exactly my cup of tea. I’m still not sure on where I stand with happy endings or tragic endings, but I do in fact love open endings – endings left to interpretation, the kinds that will make you tear your hair out because where is the rest of it? Why is the book just- done? And here is where fanfiction comes to play, my friend. 

The journey has been a journey, and I definitely have to say that I have learned a lot from this book and that it was easy to fall in love with the book despite the rough beginning. 

//SPOILERS START HERE//

How I fell in Love with It

The atmosphere IWWV gave me which was extremely immersive and can only be described as delightfully haunting. It is peak gray – and gay – atmosphere that I really enjoyed as it felt like the right amount of theatrics to not be too dramatic and satirical. Something also surprising is the fact that it is oddly humorous despite being a book about murder, shakespeare and what makes a tragedy. Actually, considering it is inspired by shakespeare, the humorous aspect is not so surprising if you take into account some shakespeare being pretty absurd as it is. The unironic things these characters do like randomly quote shakespeare out of nowhere is so pretentiously funny, but also contributes well to what the book is going for. 

As unnatural as that would be for like a normal person, because Oliver and his friends are so deep into the shakespeare of their classes, they make it feel natural and you get used to that as the story progresses. Oliver had a really good justification for this which he explains to Colbourne in a way that I truly resonate with. This book, as well as the characters, are so in love with Shakespeare’s words that it’s hard to not find yourself enamoured by it to. I love the way they describe taking art like this as I feel, as an artist and creative, that this is an artist’s ulttimate purpose. To capture the things that cannot be said properly through ordinary words, and to encapsulate those moments of heightened emotion and feeling. Any piece of art is an attempt to reanimate emotion, and we use art to deliver those emotions that we, ourselves, cannot fully comprehend. 

This is what I love about this book, aside from its brilliant storytelling and interesting and raw characters. It feels like it was made with the intention of appreciation for art, and I really respect that as art means so much to me. This book is art and it is about art as much as it is about this specific friend group dealing with whatever just happened, and I really really love and appreciate that about this book. 

Strong Points/What I learned from It as a Writer

IWWV is genuinely a master class in environmental storytelling. The Castle, where everyone stays at during their time in Dellecher is the most effective use of environment I’ve seen in a book (which I’m sure there’s more, I just haven’t read it yet in which I will at some point). The way the castle has a place for everyone, and the scene wherein Oliver is seen cleaning the different rooms of the Castle goes to show the amount of detail the author puts into each little cranny of their descriptions of the Castle. One specific detail I remember was in Richard’s room where a chess board was described with one horseman toppled over and another missing. I may be tweaking, but that might just imply something about story. Aside from the environments, IWWV also makes good use of its inspiration material which is shakespeare.

I definitely should have gone into IWWV with some knowledge of shakespeare and I would encourage anyone who wish to read IWWV to read at least one shakespear book, because I didnt and I am incredible lost on how IWWV uses those narratives of Shakespeare’s plays to reference its own tragedy and characters and I am extremely upset that I didn’t get to experience that other narrative of the what the play were trying to tell the reader. But of course, you don’t have to have a background in theatre or shakespeare to read IWWV. It would extremely as they constantly quote shakespeare and if you don’t know what those quotes mean, you will get lost at some point, but you can manage through it (as I said, the book does well with these quotes that it starts feeling natural enough that you, too, would start to make sense of these quotes even if you would struggle at first). But, from what I have heard from people who have read the book and Shakespeare, the plays do reference and foreshadow the story within IWWV. 

The play Ceasar directly reference how Richard is going to die and who’s going to kill him. Like Richard is the modern Julias Ceasar, he is someone who has caused tyranny in their group of friends and provoked James to hit him on the head which led to his friends eventually leaving him for dead. I still struggle sometimes with that betrayal because in truth, Richard was their friend for 3 years and then they’re just gonna throw him away like that? I think it’s just how I view friendship, but to be fair I don’t like Richard enough to be angry that he died. And that’s a good way of utilizing source material! Because who killed Ceasar if not his most intimate of friends. 

This is kind of like Chekhov’s gun in a way except we’re talking about multiple guns and you’re in a gun shop and the fact that the guns are constantly being fired. Everytime the environment is being described, it doesn’t get boring or go into super great detail. I’m always seated for those descriptions of the environment because at some point one very specific detail will mean something to the story more than you expect it would. Otherwise, it contributes to the atmosphere and helps you feel incredibly immersive. I think much of what I read are heavily character-driven (which isn’t a bad thing!) and IWWV is also heavily character-driven in terms of plot, but it uses its environment well. Like it exists and isn’t just an extension of the actors themselves, but it doesn’t just exist as a setting, it exists as a plot device. A carefully crafted set for a performance. IWWV was a wonderful case study for me to be able to spot those little details in the environment and try my hand in interpreting what they mean, like a detective looking for clues – which is very fitting!

Characters and characterization was also very good in IWWV. Every character was equally flawed and all of their actions warrant a “What the actual fuck?” from me. The amazing thing about IWWV is that despite its title, none of these characters are bad people, just very flawed with poor decision-making skills. Even Richard, I would argue, is still a gray character despite being an asshole! It was entirely his fault for becoming needlessly petty and aggressive towards his friends, but I don’t really think that undermines their 3 years of friendship together. I genuinely believe that Richard was just a guy with a big ego that was too fragile for his own good and he did really dumb and shitty stuff about that. He isn’t your 2D Villain, because his actions were triggered by the event of something – being casted as someone that wasn’t the main focus of the play. And his friends and the reader have in their every right to be angry at Richard for the shit he’s done, but you have to admit he wasn’t always like that. He changed and that is the most admirable thing about the character writing in IWWV.

Everyone is very dynamic, but not too drastic for it to be jarring. They fit well together despite having contrasting personalities and all of them have something going on in terms of their personal life. It’s a shame we don’t exactly see ther perspectives as we are limited to Oliver’s narration, but we do get glimpses of it and I believe that is enough for the characters to feel real. My favorite character, Filippa, is the most mysterious one from the group in terms of backstory, but I know enough that she is willing to do everything – even hide a murder – just to protect her friends, her family, probably because she doesn’t have one of her own in more ways than one. And I got that from a single line that she said to Oliver when he asked why she hid the fact James did it. 

“You all were the only family I had. I’d have killed Richard myself if I thought it would keep the rest of you safe. [...] I was terrified you’d do exactly what you did.”

Each main character of IWWV have their own tragedy to their character which is rooted upon the “type” of character they are in the beginning of the story. They all both defy and fit perfectly in their own roles in the narrative and that is their tragedy. Oliver is the sidekick who became the center of attention by his arrest, James is a hero who murdered a friend, Richard is a dead tyrant, Meredith is a temptress who wishes she was seen as anything but, Wren is the broken and frankly, no longer as innocent as she ought to be ingenue, and Alexander is the villain with good intentions. Filippa is the curious case as she does not have set role, this does not excuse her from being tragic, but it does makes sense how she is the only able to stay relatively stable throughout the story. In the very beginning we were already told of what tragedy these characters would have and it is all connected to their role in a stereotypical narrative, how they are type-casted in their plays.

I would go into each of the characters and their own personal tragedies and flaws, but that would be really long, so I won’t. But these characters and the play on the type-casting of these actors are perfectly executed. I would like to cite James’ arc for this as he is described as being the hero, but slowly, as we see how he and everyone else copes with Richard’s death and how he gets casted into the villain role, we saw how this changes him and how his archetype of being the hero slowly crumbles to make way for a darker James filled with immense amount of guilt that only perpetuates with Oliver’s arrest. We see how it breaks him as his hero persona is no longer his. He takes up the role of the villain, and that kills him because he was never meant to play that role. Everything about him screams hero and I think he himself believed that, so his sense of self crumbles away as it is slowly revealed that he is in fact, the villain of this story. And yet, what makes him the villain is still technically a heroic act. He killed a tyrant after all. And that is just hella clever.

IWWV almost reads as really complicated fairytale if you think of it as these characters as the archetypes of their roles. It is definitely the most fascinating and creative way of character writing I’ve ever seen and that is a feat on its own. It follows a formula, yet it defies the routinely-ness of that, the audience can understand what’s going on like in the middle of the book and I think that serves well in this scenario because now, it’s only a matter of dread and waiting for the final act to commence. I never felt like I was reading an intermission in any parts of it as everything, both character and environment, serve the plot really well. 

Criticisms/Pet Peeves

But of course, despite all my praise, this book is not free of the criticisms and I did feel frustration for some parts of it whether it was good or bad frustration. It’s not a perfect book and I have a few gripes with it. 

The way it treats Meredith and Wren specifically is appalling. It, sadly, goes into that really bad trope in some queer books of the women getting in the way of the men hooking up. I really feel bad for these women because, even if they still have their own things going on and they are able to be their own characters, they somehow become extensions of the men that they are involved with, and everytime, it is extremely unfair. 

I’ll just say it, Oliver is just using Meredith to forget about James. I don’t doubt he loves her or doesn’t think of her as attractive because he does, but there is an aspect to their relationship that they both don’t deny is really connected to Oliver’s and James’ relationship. This is a flaw of Oliver’s character that I don’t like because it’s so unfair for Meredith and the way they started their relationship is also kind of dubious? I mean, Meredith went for Oliver not only because he was “nice”, she also went for him because he was the only one available and the complete opposite of Richard. Meredith had no interest in Oliver in the first few scenes of this book and Oliver also didn’t really think of her much because she was already with Richard, but he couldn’t deny she was pretty. I just don’t like the implications of their relationship to Meredith’s character and her struggle with objectification and her constantly being sexualized by the men around her. I know Oliver wouldn’t do that, but at the end of the day, isn’t he just using her? 

I desperately want to believe in their love and I do! But it gets so bad when you mix in James because suddenly, Meredith no longer exist to Oliver. He literally went to jail for the guy, of course, his love for James isn’t equal in any way to his love for Meredith. I also just don’t agree with how the ending has Oliver and Meredith together only for Oliver to essentially leave Meredith because he finds out that James might still be alive. He admits that he was still in love with James! I understand that polyamorous relationships are a thing, but clearly Oliver has shown to be neglecting of Meredith whenever James comes to his peripheral vision! I just think that, maybe, Meredith deserves better than how Oliver is treating her. 

And god, don’t get me started on James and Wren. They, frankly, came out of nowhere! I think its because we are limited to Oliver’s perspective so we don’t see how their relationship developed and how their dynamic would go. I do see that James cares much for Wren and vice-versa and that they could totally work, but god, when you mix Oliver into it, Wren just doesn’t exist. I am extremely upset about the part where James gets incredibly drunk and then drags Wren to sleep with him for the same reasons Oliver sleeps with Meredith! And I hate it.

It’s very messy, and very well-written and very in-character, but god the implications. The way these women are being treated in the relationship drama is just to serve the men’s own relationship and how they totally belong to each other, but somehow they’re not together and they have to stay with the women and it’s really messy and Oliver is a disaster bisexual. Maybe I just don’t like love triangles or love squares, but this is just a prime example why you shouldn’t date someone in the same friend group. It’s messy and sometimes, I debate with myself if it was necessary. Either way, it happened and I can’t do anything about that.  

Overall Thoughts/Scoring

I have a lot of thoughts about IWWV and the book itself has a lot of themes and messages that really struck me. One thing that I really liked about IWWV as an aroace-spectrum person is the friend group’s relationship because despite all the tragedy around them, they manage to be really wholesome and there examples there of platonic intimacy that I don’t usually get to see in books. I love how Oliver and Filippa are essentially like siblings with how they are always there for each other and Filippa is always looking out for him and their other friends. I love the brotherly relationship between Oliver and Alexander. And despite my gripes, there are moments in Oliver’s and Meredith’s relationship that remind me that they were friends first and lovers second, and I really appreciate that.

I didn’t mention Oliver’s and James’ relationship as much because I’m pretty sure that’s what you would expect for me to say. It’s a good relationship, I like it since I’ve always been a fan of that kind of dynamic where they transcend the meaning of best friends, they’re gay essentially, but they are also each other’s person and their intimacy is beyond physical. I’m just describing sexual/romantic tension here but everytime they are in screen together, you just know that they are looking at each other with so much emotion. And of course, what Oliver did for James was incredibly stupid, but also just states what James is to Oliver. And it’s really codependent, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a kind of love that makes you feel thing.

I also would like to comment on how it tackles grief and guilt as those are major themes in the story. I appreciate how despite being dead, Richard is still ever-present in Oliver’s mind and everyone else’s that no one even bothers to go to his room aside from Oliver who just has to because he has to clean it. Guilt haunts everyone in If We Were Villains and I feel for that, especially when it comes to grief. It captures perfectly what mourning for someone who did some really bad stuff to you is like with the added guilt that you somehow contributed to his death. And it’s cruel how these people just have to deal with that major change; nothing is ever the same when someone dies and we can’t do anything about it. The show must go on, unfortunately. And that’s what happens to these characters, on or off the stage, life will continue with or without them and they have to go with out, otherwise they might end up drowning in their own misery. I think that is much the moral we can find in IWW, if it even has one.

//SPOILERS END HERE//

My scoring would be an 8/10. It’s really good and I recommend it to anyone who’s a fan of shakespeare or really into dark academia. I wouldn’t say it would be the best introduction book for this genre, but it got me into it so maybe it could work for you too!

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.4

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n I know some idols have no siblings but pretend they have in this one because I am lazy, still all credits to ''every day'' by David Levithan meow

Day 5999

My mind is thoroughly wrung out, but I can tell Haruto Watanabe has gotten a good night’s sleep.

Haruto is a good guy. Everything in his room is in order. Even though it’s only Saturday morning, he’s already done his homework for the weekend. He’s set his alarm for eight o’clock, not wanting the day to go to waste. He was probably in bed by ten.

I go on his computer and check my email, making sure to write myself some notes about the last few days, so I can remember them. Then I log in to Minji’s email and find out there’s a party tonight at Huh Yunjin’s house. Yunjin’s address is only a Google search away. When I map out the distance between Haruto’s house and Yunjin’s, I find it’s only a ninety-minute drive.

It looks like Haruto might be going to a party tonight.

First, I must convince his parents.

His mother interrupts me when I’m back on my own email, rereading what I wrote about the day with Hanni. I very quickly shut the window, and oblige when she tells me that today is not a computer day, and that I am to come down for breakfast.

I very quickly discover that Haruto’s parents are a very nice couple who make it very clear that their niceness shouldn’t be challenged or pressed.

“Can I borrow the car?” I ask. “The school musical is tonight, and I would like to go see it.”

“Have you done your homework?”

I nod.

“Your chores?”

“I will.”

“And you’ll be back by midnight?”

I nod. I decide not to mention to them that if I’m not back by midnight, I’ll be ripped from my current body. I don’t think they’d find that reassuring.

It’s clear to me that they won’t need the car tonight. They are the type of parents who don’t believe in having a social life. They have television instead.

I spend most of the day doing chores. After I’m done with them and have had a family dinner, I’m good to go.

The party’s supposed to start at seven, so I know I have to wait until nine to show up, so there will be enough people there to hide my presence. If I get there and it ends up being open to only a dozen kids, I’ll have to turn back around. But that doesn’t strike me as Minji’s kind of party.

Haruto’s kind of party, I’m guessing, involves board games and Dr Pepper. As I drive back to Hanni’s town, I access some of his memories. I am a firm believer that every person, young or old, has at least one good story to tell. Haruto’s, however, is pretty hard to find. The only tremor of emotion I can find in his life is when he was nine and his dog April died. Ever since then, nothing seems to have disturbed him too much. Most of his memories involve homework. He has friends, but they don’t do very much outside of school. When Little League was over, he gave up sports. He has never, from what I can tell, sipped anything stronger than a beer, and even that was during a Father’s Day barbecue, at his uncle’s prodding.

Normally, I would take these as parameters. Normally, I would stay within Haruto’s safe zone.

But not today. Not with a chance of seeing Hanni again.

I remember yesterday, and how the trail that got me through the darkness seemed to be attached in some way to her. It’s as if when you love someone, they become your reason. And maybe I’ve gotten it backward, maybe it’s just because I need a reason that I find myself falling in love with her. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I would have continued along, oblivious, if I hadn’t happened to meet her.

Now I’m letting my life hijack these other lives for a day. I am not staying within their parameters. Even if that’s dangerous.

I’m at Huh Yunjin’s house by eight, but Minji’s car is nowhere in sight. In fact, there aren’t that many cars out in front. So I wait and watch. After a while, people start arriving. Even though I’ve just spent a day and a half at their school, I don’t recognize any of them. They were all peripheral.

Finally, just after nine-thirty, Minji’s car pulls up. Hanni is with her, as I’d hoped she’d be. As they head in, she walks a little bit in front, with her a little behind. I get out of my car and follow them inside.

I’m worried there will be someone at the door, but the party’s already spiraled into its own form of chaos. The early guests are well past the point of drunkenness, and everyone else is quickly catching up. I know I look out of place—Haruto’s wardrobe is more suited to a debate tournament than a Saturday night house party. But nobody really cares; they’re too caught up in each other or themselves to notice a random geek in their midst.

The lights are dim, the music is loud, and Hanni is hard to find. But just the fact that I am in the same place as her has me nervously exhilarated.

Minji is in the kitchen, talking with some guys. She looks at ease, in her element. She finishes one beer and immediately goes for another.

I push past her, push through the living room and find myself in the den. The instant I step in the room, I know she’s here. Even though the music’s blaring from a laptop connected to some speakers, she’s over by the CD collection, thumbing through cases. Two girls are talking nearby, and I have a sense that at one point she was a part of their conversation, then decided to drop out.

I walk over and see that one of the CDs she’s looking at has a song we listened to on our car ride.

“I really like them,” I say, gesturing to the CD. “Do you?”

She startles, as if this is a quiet room and I am a sudden noise. I notice you, I want to say. Even when no one else does, I do. I will.

“Yeah,” she says. “I like them, too.”

I start to sing the song, the one from the car. Then I say, “I like that one in particular.”

“Do I know you?” she asks.

“I’m Haruto,” I say, which isn’t a no or a yes.

“I’m Hanni,” she says.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks. I used to hate it, but I don’t so much anymore.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a pain to spell.” She looks at me closely. “Do you go to Octavian?”

“No. I’m just here for the weekend. Visiting my cousin.”

“Who’s your cousin?”

“Yunjin.”

This is a dangerous lie, since I have no idea which of the person is Yunjin, and I have no way of accessing the information.

“Oh, that explains it.”

She is starting to drift away from me, just as I imagine she drifted away from the girls talking next to us.

“I hate my cousin,” I say.

This gets her attention.

“I hate the way she treats girls. I hate the way she thinks she can buy all her friends by throwing parties like this. I hate the way that she only talks to you when she needs something. I hate the way she doesn’t seem capable of love.”

I realize I’m now talking about Minji, not Yunjin.

“Then why are you here?” Hanni asks.

“Because I want to see it fall apart. Because when this party gets busted—and if it stays this loud, it will get busted—I want to be a witness. From a safe distance away, of course.”

“And you’re saying she’s incapable of loving Kazuha? They’ve been going out for over a year.”

With a silent apology to Kazuha and Yunjin, I say, “That doesn’t mean anything, does it? I mean, being with someone for over a year can mean that you love them… but it can also mean you’re trapped.”

At first, I think I’ve gone too far. I can feel Hanni taking in my words, but I don’t know what she’s doing with them. The sound of words as they’re said is always different from the sound they make when they’re heard because the speaker hears some of the sounds from the inside.

Finally, she says, “Speaking from experience?”

It’s laughable to think that Haruto—who, from what I can tell, hasn’t gone on a date since eighth grade—would be speaking from experience. But she doesn’t know him, which means I can be more like me. Not that I’m speaking from experience, either. Just the experience of observing.

“There are many things that can keep you in a relationship,” I say. “Fear of being alone. Fear of disrupting the arrangement of your life. A decision to settle for something that’s okay, because you don’t know if you can get any better. Or maybe there’s the irrational belief that it will get better, even if you know he won’t change.”

“He’?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

At first I don’t understand what she sees—clearly, I was talking about her. Then I get where the pronoun has led her.

“That cool?” I ask, figuring it will make Haruto even less threatening if he’s gay.

“Completely.”

“How about you?” I ask. “Seeing anyone?”

“Yeah,” she says. Then, deadpan, “For over a year.”

“And why are you still together? Fear of being alone? A decision to settle? An irrational belief that he’ll change?”

“Yes. Yes. And yes.”

“So…”

“But he can also be incredibly sweet. And I know that, deep down, I mean the world to him.”

“Deep down? That sounds like settling to me. You shouldn’t have to venture deep down in order to get to love.”

“Let’s switch the topic, okay? This isn’t a good party topic. I liked it more when you were singing to me.”

I’m about to make reference to another song we heard on our car ride—hoping that maybe it’ll bring her back in some way—when Minji’s voice comes from over my shoulder, asking, “So who’s this?” If she was relaxed when I saw her in the kitchen, now she’s annoyed.

“Don’t worry, Minji,” Hanni says. “He’s gay.”

“Yeah, I can tell from the way he’s dressed. What are you doing here?”

“Haruto, this is Minji, my girlfriend. Minji, this is Haruto.”

I say hi. She doesn’t respond.

“You seen Kazuha?” she asks Hanni. “Yunjin’s looking for her. I think they’re at it again.”

“Maybe she went to the basement.”

“Nah. They’re dancing in the basement.”

Hanni likes this news, I can tell.

“Want to go down there and dance?” she asks Minji.

“Hell no! I didn’t come here to dance. I came here to drink.”

“Charming,” Hanni says, more (I think) for my benefit than her. “Do you mind if I go dance with Haruto?”

“You sure he’s gay?”

“I’ll sing you show tunes if you want me to prove it,” I volunteer.

Minji slaps me on the back. “No, bro, don’t do that, okay? Go dance.”

So that’s how it comes to pass that Hanni is leading me to Huh Yunjin’s basement. As we hit the stairs, we can feel the bass under our feet. It’s a different soundtrack here—a tide of pulse and beat. Only a few red lights are on, so all we can see are the outlines of bodies as they meld together.

“Hey, Yunjin!” Hanni calls out. “I like your cousin!”

A girl who must be Yunjin looks at her and nods. Whether she can’t hear what she’s said or whether she’s trashed, I can’t tell.

“Have you seen Kazuha?” she yells.

“No!” Hanni yells back.

Then we’re in with the dancers. The sad truth is that I have about as much experience on a dance floor as Haruto does. I try to lose myself in the music, but that doesn’t work. Instead, I need to lose myself in Hanni. I have to give myself over entirely to her—I must be her shadow, her complement, the other half of this conversation of bodies. As she moves, I move with her. I touch her back, her waist. She comes in closer.

By losing myself to her, I gain her. The conversation is working. We have found our rhythm and we are riding it. I find myself singing along, singing to her, and she loves it. She transforms once again into someone carefree, and I transform into someone whose only care is her.

“You’re not bad!” she shouts over the music.

“You’re amazing!” I shout back.

I know that Minji is not coming down here. She is safe with Huh Yunjin’s gay cousin, and I am safe knowing that nobody else will interfere with this moment. The songs collide into one long song—as if one singer is taking over when the previous one stops, all of them taking turns to give us this. The sound waves push us into each other, wrap around us like colors. We are paying attention to each other and we are paying attention to the enormity. The room has no ceiling; the room has no walls. There is only the open field of our excitement, and we run across it in small movements, sometimes without our feet leaving the ground. We go for what feels like hours and also feels like no time at all. We go until the music stops, until someone turns on the lights and says the party is ending, that the neighbors have complained and the police are probably coming.

Hanni looks as disappointed as I feel.

“I have to find Minji,” she says. “Are you going to be okay?”

No, I want to tell her. I won’t be okay until you can come with me to wherever it is that I’m going next.

I ask her for her email address, and when she raises an eyebrow, I tell her again not to worry, that I’m still gay.

“That’s too bad,” she says. I want her to say more, but then she’s giving me her email address, and in response I’m giving her a fake email address that I’ll have to set up as soon as I get home.

People are starting to run from the house. Sirens can be heard in the distance, probably waking up as many people as the party has. Hanni leaves me to find Minji, promising me that she’ll be the one to drive. I don’t see them as I run to my car. I know it’s late, but I don’t know how late it is until I turn on the car and look at the clock.

11:15.

There’s no way I’ll get there in time.

Seventy miles an hour.

Eighty miles an hour.

Eighty-five.

I drive as fast as I can, but it’s not fast enough.

At 11:50, I pull over to the side of the road. If I close my eyes, I should be able to fall asleep before midnight. That is the blessing of what I have to go through—I am able to fall asleep in minutes.

Poor Haruto Watanabe. He is going to wake up on the side of an interstate, an hour away from his home. I can only imagine how terrified he’ll be.

I am a monster for doing this to him.

But I have my reason.

Day 6000

It’s time for Yoon Kee Ho to go to church.

I quickly dress myself in his Sunday best, which either he or his mother conveniently left out the night before. Then I go downstairs and have breakfast with his mother and his three sisters. There’s no father in sight. It doesn’t take much accessing to know he left just after the youngest daughter was born, and it’s been a struggle for their mom ever since.

There’s only one computer in the house, and I have to wait until Keeho’s mother is getting the girls ready to go before I can quickly boot it up and create the email address I gave Hanni last night. I can only hope that she hasn’t tried to get in touch with me already.

Keeho's name is being called—it’s church time. I sign off, clear the history, and join my sisters in the car. It takes me a few minutes to get their names straight—Pam is eleven, Lacey is ten, and Jenny is eight. Only Jenny seems excited about going to church.

When we get there, the girls head off to Sunday school while I join Keeho’s mother in the main congregation. I prepare myself for a Baptist service and try to remember what makes it different from the other church services I’ve been to.

I have been to many religious services over the years. Each one I go to only reinforces my general impression that religions have much, much more in common than they like to admit. The beliefs are almost always the same; it’s just that the histories are different. Everybody wants to believe in a higher power. Everybody wants to belong to something bigger than themselves, and everybody wants company in doing that. They want there to be a force of good on earth, and they want an incentive to be a part of that force. They want to be able to prove their belief and their belonging, through rituals and devotion. They want to touch the enormity.

It’s only in the finer points that it gets complicated and contentious, the inability to realize that no matter what our religion or gender or race or geographic background, we all have about 98 percent in common with each other. Yes, the differences between male and female are biological, but if you look at the biology as a matter of percentage, there aren’t a whole lot of things that are different. Race is different purely as a social construction, not as an inherent difference. And religion—whether you believe in God or Yahweh or Allah or something else, odds are that at heart you want the same things. For whatever reason, we like to focus on the 2 percent that’s different, and most of the conflict in the world comes from that.

The only way I can navigate through my life is because of the 98 percent that every life has in common.

I think of this as I go through the rituals of a Sunday morning at church. I keep looking at Keeho’s mother, who is so tired, so taxed. I feel as much belief in her as I do in God—I find faith in human perseverance, even as the universe throws challenge after challenge our way. This might be one of the things I saw in Hanni, too—her desire to persevere.

After church, we head to Keeho’s grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner. There’s no computer, and even if it weren’t a three-hour drive away, there wouldn’t be any way for me to get to Hanni. So I take it as a day of rest. I play games with my sisters and make a ring of hands with the rest of my family when it’s time to say grace.

The only discord comes when we’re driving home and a fight breaks out in the backseat. As sisters, they probably have closer to 99 percent in common, but they’re not about to recognize that. They’d rather fight over what kind of pet they’re going to get … even though I’m not sensing any indication from their mother that a pet is in their near future. It’s an argument for its own sake.

When we get home, I bide my time before asking if I can use the computer. It’s in a very public place, and I will need everyone to be in another room in order to check my email. While the three girls run around, I retire to Keeho’s room and do his weekend homework the best that I can. I am banking on the fact that Keeho has a later bedtime than his sisters, and in this I am correct. After Sunday supper, the girls get an hour of television in the same room as the computer. Then Keeho’s mother tells them it’s time to get ready for bed. There’s much protest, but it falls on deaf ears. This is its own kind of ritual, and Mom always wins.

While Keeho’s mother is getting the girls into their pajamas and getting out their clothes for tomorrow, I have a few minutes on my own. I quickly check the email I set up in the morning, and there’s no message from Hanni yet. I decide it can’t hurt to be proactive here, so I type in her address and start an email before I can stop myself.

Hi Hanni,

I just wanted to say that it was lovely meeting you and dancing with you last night. I’m sorry the police came and separated us. Even though you’re not my type, gender-wise, you’re certainly my type, person-wise. Please keep in touch.

H

That seems safe enough to me. Clever, but not self-congratulatorially so. Sincere, but not overbearing. It’s only a few lines, but I reread it at least a dozen times before I hit send. I let go of the words and wonder what words will come back. If any.

Bedtime seems to be taking a while—it sounds like there’s some argument about which chapter their read-aloud left off on—so I load up my personal email.

Such an ordinary gesture. One click, and the instant appearance of the inbox, in all its familiar rows.

But this time it’s like walking into a room and finding a bomb right in the middle of it.

There, under a bookstore newsletter, is an incoming message from none other than Haruto Watanabe.

The subject line is WARNING.

I read:

I don’t know who you are or what you are or what you did to me yesterday, but I want you to know you won’t get away with it. I will not let you possess me or destroy my life. I will not remain quiet. I know what happened and I know you must be in some way responsible. Leave me alone. I am not your host.

“Are you okay?”

I turn and find Keeho’s mother in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” I say, positioning myself in front of the screen.

“Alright, then. You have ten minutes more, then I want you to help me unload the dishwasher and head to bed. We have a long week ahead of us.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I turn back to the email. I don’t know how to respond, or if I should respond. I have a vague recollection of Haruto’s mother interrupting me while I was on the computer—I must have closed the window without clearing the history. So when Haruto loaded up his email, it must have been my address that popped up. But he doesn’t know my password, so the account itself should be safe. Just in case, though, I know I need to change my password and move all my old emails, quick.

I will not remain quiet.

I wonder what this means.

I can’t forward all my old emails in the ten minutes that I have, but I start to make a dent in them.

“Keeho!”

Keeho’s mother calls me and I know I have to go. But clearing the history and turning off the computer can’t stop my thoughts. I think about Haruto waking up on the side of the road. I try to imagine what he must have felt. But the truth is, I don’t know. Did he feel like it was something he had gotten himself into? Or did he immediately know that something was wrong, that someone else had been in control? Was he sure of this when he went to his computer and saw my email address?

Who does he think I am?

What does he think I am?

I head into the kitchen and Keeho’s mother gives me another look of concern. She and Keeho are close, I can tell. She knows how to read her son. Over the years, they’ve been there for each other. He’s helped raise his sisters. And she’s raised him.

If I really were Keeho, I could tell her everything. If I really were Keeho, no matter how hard it was to understand, she would be on my side. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

But I am not really her son, or anyone’s son. I can’t disclose what’s bothering Keeho today, because it doesn’t have much bearing on who he’ll be tomorrow. So I brush off his mother’s concern, tell her it’s no big deal, then help her take the dishes out of the dishwasher. We work in quiet camaraderie until the task is done, and sleep calls.

For a while, though, I can’t go to sleep. I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling. This is the irony: Even though I wake up in a different body every morning, I’ve always felt in some way that I am in control.

But now I don’t feel in control at all.

Now there are other people involved.