#I had to really come up with a realistic reason for Bai He to be at Pigsy's Noodles but even then I bent the rules the tiniest bit

[jxsterr]

back at it again but this time i’m worked up thinking about zelink and sleeping as a way to deal with all of the trauma of immediate post calamity.

because, realistically, they are both going to be beyond exhausted. that fight took everything they had within them and more—link had been preparing for it for months on end without so much as a proper night’s rest, and zelda had been slaving away for the better part of a century using every ounce of energy within her to keep this beast at bay. so it’s pretty reasonable that the first thing the pair of them are going to yearn for is a bed and some damn good sleep now that blood moons won’t be knocking on the window every few days.

but just hear me out. for the first couple of days going on weeks link’s only priority is making sure zelda is okay. he cooks for her, makes sure she’s drunk enough water, and keeps the bedsheets clean and comfortable for her to collapse into them whenever she wants. she’s essentially bedbound for the first week, only ever able to really sit up to eat for a bit before the waves of exhaustion call for her to come crashing back down against her pillow—whether or not she wants to. she’s in no fit state to do anything, bless her, and he recognises that. he’s exhausted beyond reason himself but someone has to be the one sat beside her bed, ready to soothe the night terrors that inevitably creep their way into her unsuspecting mind. he doesn’t really care either. the woman who has haunted everything he’s come across in this world, whose presence has touched almost every memory he can conjure up, whose spirit he just can’t seem to shake because he knows there’s something there, a reason as to why he can’t help but heed her call no matter what he does, has just returned to him. the only surviving remnant of his past, the only face he so desperately wanted to see smile again for reasons he couldn’t dig up—of course nursing her back to health is his first priority.

but she worries about him too, about her knight turned friend who just won’t stop doing things for her despite the fact that she can see the very consequences of his fatigue etched deep into his skin. she wants so desperately for him to stop for a moment and sit with her and let her do something in amongst it all. he’s so much lighter than he used to be before he died but by hylia herself has he not shed the skin of a warrior. he laughs more, talks with a little less restraint, and pulls out all sorts of ridiculous things he’s accrued across his travels for her to marvel at while sat up in bed—all for shadows to have set so deeply under his eyes and his face to have lost a little bit of that roundness she’d grown so fond of. she can see how much he needs to sleep too, to rejuvenate again even though he would simply argue that all he’s done is sleep. she sees it when she peers over the loft banister and finds him, face against arms, asleep at the kitchen table, or when she wakes up and realises he’s fallen asleep sat on the floor with his head against the mattress again and all she can do is feel guilt that she has his bed and not him.

so one day she has enough. she waits until she’s settled into bed with him on a stool at her side, book in hand, otherwise he’ll fall asleep himself, and she plucks it unceremoniously from his hands and discards it on the bedside table. she waits until he looks at her thoroughly bewildered for her to finally muster up the courage to say, “i need you to sleep, link. i see how exhausted you are, i see how much you push yourself. i feel awful for being the only one in this bed, so please, do me a favour, and sleep beside me,” and stares at him with enough conviction to move mountains that her own eventually concedes and climbs in next to her.

it’s nothing more than two bodies sleeping next to one another for the first few days, but it’s enough that it makes a visible impact on the pair of them. zelda sleeps better, more soundly, with a considerable dip in the number of night terrors, while link himself finally just sleeps for the first time in what feels like years. it does them wonders. so much so, in fact, they sleep away the first two days entirely. link wakes up, groggy, and turns over with the intention of getting out of bed because goddess knows what time it is and she probably needs something to eat—but a sleep-ridden hand moves quick enough to land on his shoulder with something mumbled about ‘don’t leave’ and it’s so sincere and desperate that he gives in and turns back over, only for said hand to only still once it nestles itself against the palm of his hand. he’s too drowsy to even think much of it so he just curls his hand around hers in return until that signature hum of hers rings out to signify that her wants have been quelled.

it continues like that, small increases in physical affection, until it’s the norm to absolutely entangle themselves in one another. until zelda is able to do more around the house but potters down the loft stairs in search of him to tug gently at his arm and tell him that she’s tired—a silent ask to come to bed with her even if it’s the middle of the day—and he obliges every time. it’s nice, being this useless to the world, enough where they can gather as much of themselves as they need to by merely sleeping the days away. until their mornings are signified by the raise of the moon and the slow bleed of pinks and oranges into the sky signalling their retreat to bed.

every nap goes the same, too. zelda scoots herself into the inner side of the bed and lays with arms outstretched, waiting for her knight to come clambering in between them so she may wrap them tightly around his warm body and pull him close until his face is nestled deeply into her chest, protecting him the way she’s always wanted to. she may not be able to wield a sword, but she can protect his open heart for as long as her hand weaves through his locks until she feels his body go slack against her. she likes her corner, he likes the safety of her arms, it works perfectly.

impa doesn’t appreciate just how long it’s taken them to realise they’ve been sleeping away the days for over a month now, and thus are visiting late, but it’s hard to object when her princess is sparkling and link looks more like himself than he ever has.

[verdantwyrm]

Stepping out of my cage to say; Curly didn't know Anya was raped.

WE KNOW. As the player, Curly wasn't told. He was only told that a pregnancy occurred between her and Jimmy, but the actual details of the event- what we know, is not something that Curly knows. We're able to pick up all the signs and see the language and imagery used, but to Curly, it just sounds like they had a hook up and it ended up in a pregnancy.

Curly never asked, and he was never told. This isn't trying to say that because of this, he's free of his sins. But it is very annoying to see people write Curly as this monster that knew 100% that Anya was raped and was just, fine with it.

And plus, when Anya asks what Curly would have done, people seem to be ignoring (or just plain outright not even noticing) the language used. She's asking him what he would have done. The event is already over, it happened, she is asking what he would have done if he had been there, or if he knew earlier; or maybe if he knew at all.

Looking at this the most realistically one can, Curly isn't a knowing enabler, he's unknowing a bystander. He genuinely does not know the actual depth of the situation, and this also alludes to the very vague response he gives to Anya when she asks about the locks on the door.

For safety, for whatever reason the cockpit has locks, whatever reason the Meday has a lock, but not any of the bedrooms. Curly acknowledges the absurdity behind the decision, but he doesn't quite understand or grasp why Anya could be asking such a thing beyond simple curiosity because of course someone like Anya would be pointing out something like this, she spends the most time in the med bay, and Curly likewise with the Cockpit.

AGAIN. This is not me absolving that responsibility from Curly, he still failed to protect Anya, and he should have attempted to do more. But he is not a willing and knowing enabler. And if he was truly told the situation, would it even benefit anyone if were to react "accordingly" ?

When Anya tells Swansea about it, he is holding back, he's resisting the urge to confront Jimmy about it, and when he's finally pushed over the edge, he goes full axe swinging on him. No questions, no interrogation. And this pulls more into the question of doing something because it is right, and doing something because it is the right thing to do. Anya could have done the same thing with Curly if she told him, because what good would come out of escalating a situation with someone who proved on the psych evaluation, something Curly did, to not be very enthusiastic about being there or not very happy.

There are a ton of nuances that go into play when trying to realistically picture what could have or what should have happened on the Tulpar with Jimmy, and I really wish more people were willing to understand that it's not just as black and white, and not people that end up enabling said abusers are not always a willing and knowing crowd. And start maybe thinking about the fact that maybe Curly really did not know the depth of the situation.

[dalekofchaos]

My thoughts on the Pricefield break up and why I think it's for the best

Now that the smoke cleared. Here's my take on the break up.

It's realistic. People change and people grow apart. Even Max and Chloe.

However. The reason for the break up they provided is bad writing.

Before I continue, apparently it was revealed that the reason for Chloe's omission was this was originally a Bay centric game only, The decision was a Zak Garriss decision before he left D9 and they refused to course correct to satisfy both endings. And Deck Nine's refusal to keep them together and the reasons why is terrible fucking writing.

"Chloe is a free spirit" and “she can't stay in one place for long”

You're not describing Chloe, you're not even describing Rachel. You're describing Cassidy from LIS 2.

Also. This one bit of Max's journal from the Bae timeline is not only cringe, but completely out of character for both Max and Chloe.

Not in Max's art style. Did they even PLAY LIS1? Max has her own unique art style.

What they chose to put in here is style over substance. Just because you can make hyperrealistic art, DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD! Life Is Strange had a unique art style. There's something so charming about it's cartoonish art and has more appeal than the crap we've been spoonfed since D9 got their hands on the franchise.

And another thing is how Chloe talks. Joking about a three way(despite Chloe's a lesbian) it fetishises their sex life, Chloe acting possessive, toxic and joking about murder. You can clearly tell this was written by a man. Chloe has never called Max a bitch. She has never once claimed Max as hers. Not even in a BDSM way. She respects Max too much. Chloe wasn't even that possessive when Max answered Kate's call or told Warren she was on for going ape. "you're mine bitch" hahaha who wrote this shit? Cause that's not Chloe.

Not even when she was with Rachel was she like that. The writers are thinking of Cassidy, not Chloe. Chloe is like me in the sense that she loves deeply the people she's attached to.

Chloe is REALLY attached to the people she loves deeply because of her trauma of being left by the ones she loved.

To me it works because guilt, trauma and what happens after you survive, but your mother doesn't would really fuck a person up. You can try to make the relationship work and you can try to pretend everything is okay. But it's not. People grow up and people change. So realistically I can see Chloe ultimately realizing she can't continue the relationship, maybe Chloe talked to Steph, found out about Steph's mom/Drew and the guilt just consumed her and she just couldn't lie to herself anymore and chose to leave Max. And if we talk realistically, it is very obvious that such a decision as letting an ENTIRE community die, was not going to be a decision that would make a relationship last forever. It is just logic.

And honestly? Max and Chloe learning to survive without each other is a much more compelling story.

Max having to start over in Vermont because she has no one. Bae Max... is left with no one NO ONE, not Kate, not Warren, not Joyce, not even Victoria... and not even Chloe... she's ALONE! Her new life at that university is completely understandable.

But I can also see Max in this timeline coming terms of the guilt of her own decision. If Bay Max still struggles with sacrificing Chloe, I can't imagine the weight of the guilt that Bae Max struggles with. Her decision killed her friends, Joyce and at least 1000 people. Like you can say they are okay with each other, but it's not realistic.

And Chloe learning to live a life without Max, her family or Rachel. Getting her education, getting a job, setting her new life up, living off the grid and learning to cope via therapy and learning to be a better person.

Maybe they get back into contact eventually, try to get back together or at the very least try to be friends or part ways mutually.

I've learned the hard way that those old friendships don't always last. Things change, you drift apart and despite loving each other or things going wrong, you know it always won't work out and that's okay. That's life.

But in my honest petty opinion? This is karma. Before I continue I must preface my statement by saying not all Pricefield shippers, just the toxic ones.

Karma for having a fanbase acting like the biggest bullies in the world. Karma for victim blaming Rachel instead of her groomers. Karma for having a fanbase acting like the biggest whiny self-entitled brats that would make Dudley DUrsley go "wow, maybe 36 presents IS ENOUGH" karma for harassing Warren's voice actor to the point where he didn't appear at the Blackwell reunion nor was he mentioned. Karma for harassing Grahamfield shippers to the point where there is barely any content over the last fucking decade. Karma for flooding the Max/Warren ao3 tag with rape and murder fantasies and calling anyone who dares to like them together r-slurs and f-slurs. Like I'm sorry, I'm not trying to lump the whole fandom together, but when you harass me, my friends and harass Warren's and now Amanda's fucking voice actors over a fictional ship(Max and Chloe would hate these types of fans btw) sorry but not sorry.

You reap what you sow for acting like horrible bullies and believing a capitalistic company gave a shit about core spirit of LIS 1 and Max and Chloe as characters.

and The fact that some of ya'll can’t appreciate Max unless shes with Chloe says more than you could imagine if I'm honest

and at the end of the day, the fandom found more of a problem with Chloe's omission and Pricefield's breakup than Deck Nine cultivated a toxic work environment, rampant sexism, homophobia and transphobia and protected a fucking Nazi. Like how is Max and Chloe's break up MORE OFFENSIVE THAN PROTECTING A FUCKING NAZI???

Okay, rant over, just needed to get that off my chest.

It's clear this was a Max Bay centric game, but they were afraid of the backlash and kept up the suspense for as long as they could, now the cat is out of the bag. What they should have done was say "This is a continuation of the Bay timeline, if this does good we'll do a game about Max and Chloe in the Bae timeline." but they didn't and lied about respecting the endings.

I also feel like Ashly Burch being a SAG-AFTRA VA is mainly why Chloe's not in the game. SE doesn't want to do business with union actors and would rather reuse old voice lines or hire Rihanna than honor any of Ashly's requests.

Also? Max still hasn't learned anything. Max apparently formed another codependent relationship that she couldn't let go to the point where she's fucking up reality by creating yet another parallel world. Even in the bae timeline, Max choosing to use her powers to save someone she grew attached to, something that drove Chloe apart… That's bad writing.

I do think Max having a story to herself centered in the Bay timeline is a good idea, however. Making Max look unrecognizable, erasing Warren, Kate,(I literally just wanted to see Max and Warren Go Ape and Max and Kate having a fucking tea date) Victoria and anyone else from Arcadia Bay, Hannah not convincingly sounding like an older Max, the sterile change in art direction, turning a passion project to just "another franchise" and oh yeah keeping A FUCKING NAZI employed for a franchise that is supposedly a diverse celebration of queer people and POC. Prevents me from enjoying what would be the next chapter in Max's life.

At this point I just want the franchise to crash and burn with Deck Nine and Square Enix's terrible decision making. Not really respecting either ending, erasing the importance of Warren, Kate, Victoria, and Joyce, removing Chloe and not giving us the chance to save Rachel. Just a copy paste of LIS 1 in a more boring whodunit with forced love interests instead of giving us more time with Chloe or Warren. and oh yeah, PROTECTING A FUCKING NAZI!

I hope SE/D9's greed kills the franchise.

[dreamyyesenia]

The Joy of Life - A season comes to an end - Part 2: Trouble in Paradise

As mentioned in Part 1, Rosemary closed up the bakery early to spend time with Jasper. The day before, the agency had called Jasper and asked him to come to Del Sol Valley asap to fill a missing main role. This was not fitting for their plans for the weekend. Rosemary had been looking forward to celebrating New Year’s Eve and Jasper’s birthday back to back. He’d told her about the role right away and that he’d already accepted. The teens would be attending prom anyways, so in Jasper’s mind, they’d just celebrate the following day. Maybe he’d even make it back in time. He didn’t understand why Rosemary was so upset and wanted to make it up to her with wohoo which riled her up further.

They ended up getting in a big argument and Rosemary told him he didn’t even need to come back in the night. She’d make sure to have a good time without him… This really hurt Jasper and he left for Del Sol Valley early. Rosemary was never happy when he left, which he knew of course but he didn’t understand why this would be such an issue for her then…

Side Note: Rosie had never been supportive of Jasper’s career as an actor. Main reasoning was the company he had at work, which was no one else than his past flirts Judith Ward and Jillian Kraft. To top it off, Brian Blake (her ex) would frequently be a part of Jasper’s actors/actresses hangout group too… Jasper hadn’t taken part in as many projects as he’d have wanted, which was all to keep Rosie at bay. Rosie wasn’t a jealous person but she still feared the influence the other celebrities might have on Jasper.

Finn and Briar had a blast at prom. Most of their friends didn’t attend because of New Year’s Eve and it wasn’t their prom anyways. But Briar enjoyed slow dancing with Aden and Finn got a strong attraction sentiment to Bria. They came home right before midnight though to celebrate with their mum 🩷 Who was sitting in the living room alone and waiting for a message from Jasper.

Side Note 2: This entire dispute was not staged by me! Rosie started arguing autonomously, so I went with that. Their relationship changed from “wholesome” to “strained” unfortunately 😕 One of Jaspers traits is hot-headed and though Rosie is compassionate, she can throw a little temper tantrum too! So they do fight from time to time and I wanted to display that. It’s not about who’s wrong or right in this either. I like cozy gameplay but all my stories have some kind of little or big conflicts they need to overcome. I want my gameplay to feel cozy but still realistic, you know? But one thing is for sure, there’s always a Happily Ever After because I need some fairytale vibes 😄🧚🏼‍♀️

[g0ldgauntlet]

Webtoon Readers Are Very Harsh on Black and Brown Female Leads.

I've had this thought for a while, and I'm likely not the first to voice it, but I do want to talk about it. It's certainly not a coincidence to me after seeing it happen multiple times. For you to understand my frustrations, I'm going to focus on comparing the female leads from 3 comics: Let's Play, Late Bloomer, and Brimstone and Roses.

(Quick Warning: Let's Play did not originally market itself as an 18+ comic at the start of its publishing, but it very much turns into one after Season 1. Please read at your own discretion.)

(Image description is in the alt text)

Here are the 3 leads of each Webtoon:

Let's Play stars Sam Young, a 22-year-old White woman.

Late Bloomer stars Mai Rose, a 26-year-old Black woman. (Mai is pronounced as "May")

Brimstone and Roses stars Beatrice "Bea" Rosario, a 24-year-old Mexican-American woman. (According to the author, Bea can be pronounced as "Bee" or "Bay-uh")

Let's start with Let's Play.

As a former reader of Let's Play (I read through all 3 seasons), I did observe how this story was perceived by others. The White main character was constantly coddled by readers in the comments section. I would argue that Sam has stunted mental and emotional growth because of her upbringing, and this stays relatively consistent throughout the comic. Her dynamic with Charles wasn't healthy, nor did it actually lead to any significant growth for Sam's character, and it took 3 seasons for people to even realize that. Sam is heavily dependent on Charles, who is way too possessive over someone who isn't even his girlfriend. Sam even acknowledges that he's too pushy for her liking.

There's also this:

Which is just a visualized way of saying "I can fix him." It's set up like she thinks that she alone can help unpack all of his problems if she just gives him some of her own love and care.

The author wants her audience to believe that Sam is manipulating Charles during some points of the story, as Charles makes that point twice (Although, one of those moments is honestly just the author speaking through him), but Sam is portrayed similarly to that of a naive child who Charles takes care of at the same time:

(Context: She drank Irish Coffee sometime before this scene. She did not ask the waitress to elaborate on what it was, and for some reason the waitress herself didn't even tell her that either when she asked for coffee, not alcohol. Charles was left taking care of an intoxicated Sam from that point forward, and the question of whether he'd accept her offer to sleep with her was Season 2's cliffhanger.)

Sam is 22 and Charles is 26-30 (Confirmed in "Questions and Answers II"). They're both adults, obviously, but the way they act led me to believe that their mental and emotional maturity gap is significantly large (Meaning that I can more realistically buy Charles being 30 instead of 26). Sam is frustratingly naive, but someone who's been portrayed as having less power and awareness in the dynamic is a person who I have a harder time believing as being manipulative, compared to Charles, who is much more experienced than her and knows better. He admitted earlier in the story that their relationship was unprofessional and questionable, yet continued it anyway when he could have firmly said no.

Sam also is shown to leave her apartment door unlocked twice, despite knowing that a stranger could walk in. The first time Sam did it, she did it because Charles was coming over and she was going to take a shower, so she told him to let himself in once he got there. The second time was also because she expected Charles to show up, and she was relaxing in her bed while she was waiting for him.

Aside from Sam's character consistently being this glorified portrayal of innocence (seen through the lamb symbolism she has and how much Charles fawns over her because of it), she also isn't really relatable, something that the author tried to portray her as (given that she wanted a relatable and realistic story). Sam's dad is the founder and CEO of a software development company called Young Technologies, and her mom is a world-renowned model and actress. Sam herself is supposed to be a struggling game developer, but she also works at her dad's company as Charles's assistant. From a design standpoint, Sam is conventionally attractive just like her two friends, Angela and Vikki, with all three of them (and most of the women in this comic, honestly) having hourglass figures.

I'm not saying that pretty people can't be insecure or have problems, but every trait added together showcases that Sam, in comparison to most of her friends (Especially Dee, for example. Dee is a dark-skinned, plus-sized Black lesbian, and she works at a coffee shop), is insanely privileged. Given that she comes from a rich family that also has a high social status, with a dad who doesn't even take much convincing to do something when asked by his wife or daughter, Sam has no shortage of money to fund her game and can easily find help with marketing it as well (I'm aware that part of the story's conflict is that Sam doesn't want to take over her dad's business and wants to pursue a career in game development instead, but her dad's backbone is so non-existent that I doubt it would be that hard for her or her mom to get him to contribute towards Sam's games).

Next is Late Bloomer.

I read this comic before Let's Play was first published, so seeing the feedback between that comic and this one was like constantly being given whiplash. Mai works at a place called Galivoyage Travel Services. As the comic goes on, readers referred to her as lazy, spoiled, whiny, unsympathetic, desperate, inconsiderate, and horrible at her job (She is actually bad at her job, but I'll get back to that later). She was called shallow in Episode 8 for turning down Zander, a guy who admitted that he got himself arrested for attempted robbery at a pet store because of his fish obsession (she was also accused of hypocrisy for being put off by Zander's habits, since she has a trait that causes a rose bud to grow on her stomach).

Before this, Mai dated a blind guy in episodes 5 and 6. Because of what happened in Episode 6, readers later accused her of having a judgemental streak for turning down both Zander and this blind guy, claiming that she rejected the latter just because he was blind.

That was not the reason why Mai declined on taking the relationship further. The date was a bust, as neither parties were being fully honest with one another (Mai didn't even know that the guy was blind because he kept that information from her). The blind guy took her to a candlelit dinner that was pitch black, and he had his friend coaching him the whole time. Mai picked up on how sketchy he was acting, and things started to escalate. Her outfit caught on fire because the blind guy accidentally knocked over a candle, and Mai was drenched in water that was thrown at her via a bucket to put it out. Mai did not blame the guy for anything and even acknowledged that her friend, Flora, lied about things on Mai's dating profile while creating it. Mai simply wanted to forget that the night happened and hoped all parties would put it all behind them, but as she's leaving, the blind dude reveals his true colors: He's an asshole. He gets mad at her for leaving and insults her appearance, then proceeds to victimize himself by blaming her rejection on his blindness.

Readers were asking for Mai's character development by Episode 10. At the time of when I read this story (2017), I remembered readers also threatening to drop the comic if development didn't happen after this point in the story. Those comments may have been removed by now, but there are still others who say that they find it hard to like the comic with such a frustrating main character.

Onto Brimstone and Roses.

I'll admit that I'm a new reader for this comic. I'd heard that it featured a bisexual woman of color as a main lead, and the story deals with her personal struggles alongside a demon that she summoned. Bea is a very flawed character, and I appreciate that about her. She has flaws that revolve around the career she wanted to pursue, her complicated family life, and her romantic relationships - Aside from her having a demon, there was nothing really out of the ordinary all things considered.

What shocked me was that it only took 8 episodes for the readers to completely turn on Bea (though negative reception already had quickly built up to that point) and call her all types of names. The readers deemed her unlikeable, selfish, petty, stupid, childish, and a pathological liar. One person stated that they were now only reading the comic for Lazareth, the demon that Bea summoned. Others stressed that they wanted to see character development from Bea as soon as possible.

We are 8 episodes into the Webtoon. That was all it took.

Are you seeing the problem yet?

I need to stress that I'm not saying that Mai and Bea are above criticism just because the former is Black and the latter is a brown Hispanic woman. Far from it, actually.

Mai's work ethic is, like I mentioned earlier, not great. She prioritizes dating over her job, and consistently gets bad reviews from her clients. She and Flora are called out on this multiple times, and are both implied to be dragging the rest of their team down.

Bea, on the other hand, is desperate, selfish, and jealous of her ex-girlfriend despite pretending that it's the opposite. Lazareth calls her out on her behavior, and she comes to accept very early on that he is right. Now she has to deal with the consequences of summoning a demon for petty reasons.

These two leads being called out for their actions isn't the issue. The problem is that Sam constantly gets passes from readers despite having glaring flaws and little to no actual character growth, yet she is praised for having an "empowering" and "relatable" story. There is nothing relatable about a daughter of a CEO and model who has three conventionally attractive male love interests, and whose initial story about becoming a game developer is sidelined after Season 1 in favor of her pursuing her horny, BDSM-loving boss (No shade to anyone who likes BDSM, it's not inherently a bad thing. Charles is just very unprofessional and his unhealthy sex habits are part of the reason as to why). Sam's "empowerment" comes from her changing herself to please a man. Everything that Charles tells her, from how she should act to how she should dress (Wearing revealing or skintight clothing does not automatically make you a more confident person), is based on what he personally likes. Sam even bases some of her own choices on what she thinks Charles would like as well, rather than what she likes.

Sam does not learn much of value from Charles despite her initially claiming that he is the only one who's helped her improve. Her development is mostly stagnant until Monica and Marshall are around, as they're the only ones in the comic who give Sam actually decent advice (I'd count Olivia as well, but she hasn't been relevant in so long that I forgot she even existed). Sam's flaws are usually glossed over, and when she is called out, it's not for the right reasons (i.e. victim blaming, as she is somehow the real manipulator and not Charles).

Mai and Bea are much more heavily scrutinized in comparison, and in Mai's case, not all of it is for the right reasons either. As stated before, Mai did not leave her blind date because he was blind, and the guy's friend even calls out his behavior. The friend states that, because of him, Mai nearly received burn injuries and had her entire appearance ruined when the fire was put out. All she wanted was to go home, and she was within her right to do so. Again, Mai also acknowledged that she and her date weren't completely honest with one another about their identities. However, even though what happened was an accident, the blind guy's lies and planning caused more harm towards Mai compared to vice versa.

Mai was also within her right to turn down Zander. There's nothing wrong with him dressing up as a fish if that's an interest of his, but robbery and crimes are a dealbreaker for multiple people in the dating scene. It's not her job to help him through what's clearly a deep-rooted problem - as readers had claimed she should - since they'd only been on the second date thus far. None of this makes her shallow or picky, and it baffles me that the author of Late Bloomer was shamed by readers for writing this.

Sam's arc and initial plot can remain mostly static and many readers won't complain, but they turned on Mai and Bea because their character arcs weren't moving fast enough for them. Why is Sam's character allowed to move so slowly for multiple seasons, while Mai and Bea have a time limit of about 8 to 10 episodes to receive character growth before readers get bored or angry? If their arcs had moved that fast or been completed in that amount of time, their stories would be rushed.

It's explained later on in Late Bloomer that the reason why Mai is bad at her job is because she never received proper training, and Joune (Pronounced as "June"), a manager at a different branch in the company, shows her what's she's supposed to be doing. The audience is also shown that Flora is one of the main reasons why Mai continues to be distracted from her work. Flora is the one who came up with most of the dating plans for Mai, and constantly has her running around with her to go places. Mai obviously can say no to her, but Flora is characterized as being pushy and dragging multiple people into her antics. Readers knew that Flora was a bad influence and still put most of the blame on Mai anyway.

Eprille (Pronounced as "April"), Mai's boss, is one of two characters who chew Mai out for her unprofessionalism and bad work ethic, but he's shown to be a hypocrite throughout the story since he's just as unprofessional as Mai is, if not more. Eprille is insanely petty, using work as a means of getting back at his ex, Marche (Pronounced as "March"). Both Joune and Cloud (Joune and Eprille's friend) call Eprille out on this, and he's also playing favorites with Mai at work. It's later revealed that the reason why he was so interested in Mai, and the only reason why she didn't get fired from her job sooner, is because he's been fetishizing her rose bud. That bud is part of a process that Late Bloomer calls "Botanical Development." Mai's family line on her mother's side has a symbiotic relationship with a plant in their body, which grows more when it detects their destined partner. If the person chooses to sleep with that partner, the fully grown plant will fall off. Eprille knew about people with this trait, and he had been pursuing Mai solely so that he could have sex with her to see if her plant would detach (assuming that he's her chosen partner). By this point in time, Mai had also found out that Eprille had hooked back up with Marche, but Eprille didn't tell her as he had been pursuing her. He then proceeds to blame her for flirting with him despite him leading her on the whole time.

It was also Eprille's responsibility to train his employees, but he never did. The irony of him chastising Mai for not being a good worker is that her being that way is his own fault, because she improves significantly after Joune shows her the ropes.

Eprille is later demoted from his position by his grandmother (the founder of Galivoyage) for his consistently bad management, and Marche is also fired for being irresponsible at work and causing drops in sales.

As for Bea, I've heard plenty about how her character gets better and even more interesting as the story goes on. Although I haven't read much myself, I consider the author to be very talented for being able to get me hooked after 6 episodes while setting up the trajectory of Bea's journey towards healing as a person. That leaves plenty of time to carefully unpack her baggage and tackle her emotional instability instead of rushing through it just to get to an ending.

I focused on just 3 comics for examples, but I could have mentioned more, such as Haxor and Lookism. Some readers of Let's Play have actually referred to Haxor in the comments as a series where you can find "sjws,"-

oh man if you guys wanna find the Tumblr sjws just read big jo or haxor. the comments on the 1st ep of the latter is YIKES

-which I suspect is because of Iso, the comic's Black female lead. The "yikes" comments being referenced were part of a conversation that happened because non-black readers didn't understand why some people were genuinely ecstatic about seeing a Black girl as a main character in a comic. As a result, Black women ended up having to explain to White people why this was personally important to them, and the author himself was glad that Black women were enjoying his comic.

I didn't get very far with Haxor, but from what I did read, the audience would point out that Iso has a huge ego, and that she needed to be humbled. While being too confident is certainly a character flaw that is acknowledged during the story, as I was reading, I couldn't help but wonder if some readers would be this critical if Iso was White, since many White characters who have her traits are praised for being who they are unapologetically. Iso canonically is a young prodigy in the story, and several people depend on her for support. Obviously she isn't perfect, but it's easy to understand where her overconfidence comes from.

Lookism was a completely different case, featuring Park Hyung-Seok - known as "Daniel Park" in English - the comic's light-skinned Korean male lead. Daniel, for all intents and purposes, is a pathetic and unlikeable (though somewhat sympathetic) character when he is introduced to the audience. He disrespected his mom in the very first episode, as well as Episode 2, because he couldn't bring himself to admit to her that he was getting bullied and also prioritized how he was being perceived by his female classmates (who he repeatedly objectifies). Daniel did this while knowing that his mom was working hard at her job to provide for him, and also knowing that she was trying to defend him against his bullies. Despite this, Lookism is one of the most popular Webtoon comics, as many people kept reading and got the chance to see Daniel grow as a person. Daniel is referred to by readers as having a "great personality" (which I agree with, his character development is great).

If these readers have White and light-skinned characters with similar flaws and circumstances to that of some Black and brown characters as their favorites, but they react more negatively to the Black and brown ones, then they need to ask themselves why.

Why did they dismiss Late Bloomer's Black female lead as just lazy without knowing the full story? Why did they shame the comic's Black female author for not having her character settle for the first two men that she went on dates with?

Why is Brimstone and Roses's author not allowed to let Bea take her time to grow? People with her issues don't change in a day, or even a few. Why are readers less patient with her in comparison to White or lighter-skinned Webtoon leads who are just as flawed?

I am asking Webtoon readers to please give these characters the same grace and patience that you would your favorite White and light-skinned characters. If the story or characters aren't for you, that's ok. I've dropped plenty of media that I wasn't interested in after watching a few episodes of a show, or reading a few chapters of a book. However, when it's the very beginning of someone's story, you very well could be missing out on something great if you're disproportionately judging these women of color far too quickly, especially when many of you will sit through Webtoons that contain hundreds of episodes in them (As for the Let's Play fans, many of you guys sat there seeing nothing wrong with what was going on with Sam and Charles's entire dynamic until the second to last episode in Season 3, when Charles searches through her phone when he thinks Sam is asleep).

I'm not even saying that these stories are perfect, either! I had plenty of criticisms surrounding Late Bloomer as I was reading it, but I still love it despite its flaws. I'm saying that if you can enjoy flawed stories with heavily flawed White and light-skinned leads, you can do the same for flawed Black and brown female leads as well.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello I was wondering if I could request a fluffy wrecker x gn reader that includes Lula? I have my own Lula Plush and yes I have become attached.

this did get slightly angstier than i originally intended, but there is hopefully still enough fluff for you :)

words: 1,332

summary: after a bad dream wakes you up in the middle of the night, wrecker comforts you.

clone troopers masterlist

Nightmare Repellent

“You are a traitor to the Republic,” one of the troopers was saying, his blaster raised high and directly at your head. He had no helmet on, and there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t recognize, despite having worked with him since the beginning of the war. You couldn’t help but selfishly hope that there was a way out of this where you didn’t have to hurt the men you formed battlefield bonds with, but as more of your battalion raised their weapons and joined the droning chant, you had to be a little realistic. You clutched your lightsaber, trying to figure out a way you could back away and not have to hurt anyone.

Using Force to pull a blaster away from one of the men, you quickly set it stun before firing. They began to fire back at you, but the rounds coming from their blasters were not as kind as the ones coming from yours. As more and more of your men dropped the floor, you desperately began to race through the cruiser. There were a few ships that you could escape in, and once you got to hyperspace things would be a little easier, the most intense danger abated for a little while.

Your lightsaber deflected their shots as you ran, and you continued to stun the troopers as they surged closer and closer. It was a stroke of luck that this cruiser was only operating on a skeleton crew, because you didn’t know what you would have done if the entire battalion had been coming after you at this point.

“Stop right there, Jedi.” The cold and steely voice of your commander filled the room. He had apparently been missed in your stunning, and run to meet you by the landing bays. Your heart clenched at the way he addressed you. Despite the fact that he no longer spoke in the fun and carefree tone you were used to, the lack of your name in his words was what really broke you. Now, you were nothing but another Jedi to him, and you had no idea why this was happening.

But you knew enough not to listen to him. The sound of a blaster firing filled the room, and you felt the burn in your lower leg. Right as you turned to face him, lightsaber in one hand and blaster in the other, the whole world went black.

Your eyes opened with a start, and you immediately took in your surroundings. Your bunk on the Marauder was a lot more comfortable than the cold durasteel innards of the Republic cruiser you had just been looking at. It was all just a dream.

It made sense now, because that wasn’t how the story ended. You had ended up escaping (you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t), and you had managed to stun your commander before escaping into the vast expanses of space, your life now completely different and the family you had before the war completely gone.

Your breathing was heavy and you could feel the sweat on your body, despite the fact that space was usually cold and the blanket you had was not that thick. You closed your eyes and tried to remind yourself that you were safe, that you weren’t actually on that cruiser, and that there was no reason for you to be afraid right now.

Hoping that no one else had heard your heavy breaths, you got out of your bunk and walked over to the small chiller on the other side of the room, where you pulled a small canteen of water out and downed the entire thing. When you finally pulled the container from your lips, you heard a voice break through the raging thoughts in your head. It took you a few moments to realize that someone was speaking to you, and you turned a bit sharply in the direction of the sound, only to see Wrecker sitting up in his bunk, a slightly confused expression on his face. “What did you say?” you asked softly, knowing that you probably had the expression of a tooka in headlights right now.

“I asked if you were okay,” he responded, voice uncharacteristically soft.

There was no doubt in your mind that Wrecker was your favorite member of the Bad Batch, and you were already harboring a bit of a crush on the squad’s demolition expert. Now, wrapped in a blanket and with a worried look on his face, you only felt your affection for him grow.

It took you a moment to decide what to even say to that, and eventually “I will be,” is what you settled on. “I just had a nightmare, that’s all.”

Wrecker nodded. “Do you want Lula?”

You shook your head at the offer, not wanting to take Wrecker’s beloved tooka doll away from him. “No thank you,” you said.

“Come on, she has magical nightmare-repelling powers!”

“Exactly, what if you have a nightmare while I’m borrowing her?”

Wrecker laughed, then quickly went quiet as he realized his brothers were still sleeping. “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I don’t have nightmares often anymore.”

“But still,” you said. “With my luck, this would be the one night.”

“I’ve given her to Omega before and everything’s been fine,” Wrecker said. “Or we could always share her power.”

It didn’t take you long to catch on to what Wrecker was suggesting, and your mouth dropped open. You desperately wanted to say yes and crawl into his bunk with him, but something still stopped you. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said softly, looking back towards your empty bunk, the blanket balled up from where you had practically ripped it off you after the nightmare.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know what it’s like to have a nightmare,” he said. “Maybe if you’re in another bunk, it won’t come back.”

Eventually you knew he wouldn’t let this go, so you nodded and tried to hide your smile at the grin that stretched across his face. Or at least, that’s the reasoning you gave your pesky internal monologue when it started to point out that you would most likely be fine in your own bunk. No, this definitely wasn’t because you had feelings for him, shut up! You walked past the rest of the sleeping batchers and tentatively got into Wrecker’s bunk, settling under the blanket as he laid down after you. Lula was gently placed in your arms and you squeezed the doll gently as you closed your eyes and tried to go back to sleep, the comforting presence of Wrecker beside you.

The next morning, you opened your eyes to see that you moved a lot closer to Wrecker during the night. His arm was slung over your abdomen while you curled into his chest, still tightly clutching Lula like she was going to fly away at any moment. He didn’t appear to be awake yet, so you decided to revel in the warmth and comfort for a little while longer. Reality could wait.

Right as you closed your eyes and started to drift back off to sleep, you heard the frantic voice of Echo in the background, and you could have sworn you heard your name. Before you could make any noise or move to show them that you were in fact still there (and that nothing bad had happened to you), Hunter took care of the issue. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

“But-”

“Trust me.” Footsteps echoed across the floor, but you kept your eyes closed and your body still the entire time. You were still tired, and you weren’t really in the mood to answer questions about why you and Wrecker were cuddling. “Let’s let them sleep for a little while.”

Echo mumbled something in agreement, and the two sets of footsteps moved away, leaving you to finally fall back asleep, the nightmares long gone and never coming back.  

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[analogskullerosis]

4, 7, 42 !!!

4. what are you looking forward to?

Going back to school so I can enjoy my first full year as a high school library assistant and do all the fun things I have planned for the year (I started last December so I only got a half year).

I'm also planning on going to a few shows in September. I'm excited to finally get to see Magdalena Bay (a synth-pop duo I've loved for a while now) and I'm catching Electric Light Orchestra one more time in Philadelphia before Jeff Lynne hangs it up. I'm sure there are other things I'm excited for, but that's all that's coming to mind currently.

7. what was your life like last year?

I had just finished earning my master's degree in English Lit, I finally left retail for good (although it would be months before I would start my current job), and was enjoying the summertime. My father was still alive and little did I know that he would be gone in three months. Still strange to think about sometimes. But I was happy then and I'm still relatively happy now! Just some things are different now :)

42. favourite book(s)

Oh jeez! This is a hard one. I don't know if I have a definitive favorite, but I can name a bunch of ones I really love!

The book I've probably re-read the most is The Great Gatsby and it's my go-to example of a breezy story that's just easy to go back to and just holds up well. Very few people can be called "The Voice of Their Generation," but I think F. Scott Fitzgerald really captured the world around him and his specific moment in a way that few others could. I think The Beautiful and Damned also does that really well.

I've always loved J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey (to the point where I wrote my undergraduate thesis about it). The way he writes character dialogue is simply unmatched. Most of that book is conversation, but it never feels like it's dragging. You feel like a fly-on-the-wall listening in on two characters talking about heavy stuff that maybe you shouldn't be hearing, but you can't resist. I know Catcher in the Rye has a reputation and stink surrounding around it, but Holden Caufield is such a fully realized character by the end of the second page and his narrative voice just jumps off the page. Salinger's characters have always felt like real people to me and it makes for incredible reading.

Two recent favorites of mine have been Reaper Man and Soul Music by Terry Pratchett, two of the many books in his Discworld series. I love them for different reasons. Reaper Man explores why Death himself feels its important to give a shit about the humans he's tasked with taking to the afterlife ("What can the harvest hope for if not for the care of the reaper man?") Soul Music is just a great demonstration of Pratchett's humor, his ability to weave pop culture and music references seamlessly into his fantasy, and present a fun and heartfelt story that explores what happens when his characters are introduced to something from our world (rock n' roll in Soul Music's case). Terry's "Death" series of Discworld books kept me laughing and kept me going when my dad passed (don't ask me what attracted me to the "Death" series during that time hahaha). Different Seasons by Stephen King has always been one of my favorites (it got me back into reading in tenth grade). I fell in love with "The Shawshank Redemption", really enjoyed "The Body" (which became the movie Stand By Me) and loved the realistic horror of "The Breathing Method." I'm currently knee-deep in his Dark Tower series, but that's one of my favorite King works because the horror is understated and not supernatural based. He uses the four novellas in that work to explore realistic characters and real horrors (prison, how easy it is to fall into fascism, learning about your own mortality, and the fear that comes with difficult pregnancies and the unknown-ness of whether a mother will survive the delivery). I love it! I revisit it every couple years.

I could shoot your ear off about books forever, but I promise I won't do that! :)

Anyhoo! Thanks for submitting some questions! This was fun!

From this post. Feel free to submit a number, if you so choose!

[blindrapture]

july 30 and 31.

so, let's talk about the seventh cipher.

in earlier drafts, this was The Easy Final Level of the Realm King, a much simpler trek through a snowy environment. there were 8 challenges, ranging from "eat a pot noodle" to "play this song on the clarinet," a silly variety of challenges that fit more in line with cipher 6. and there were 5 mini-fights, mainly being the four bikers. a lot of that log was just Having To Walk Big Distances, and so it stretched across two logs. the final boss, on July 31, was just... The Realm King, a big blue guy who sat on a throne and was defended by waves of golden knights. again, more in keeping with cipher 6.

it was like this because I was still not in the right place to write Rapture. I had just returned home to England, in December 2011, returned back to my parents after trying to run away, after that blew up in my face. I came to Rapture because it kept me busy. and while this was at least more creative than the original San Francisco, it was absolutely anticlimactic. and I did at least turn that into a strength: I played on this being an easy final level, a real type of video game trope that usually is not intentional. I played on the strangeness of this for the protagonists, and I turned it into characterisation for this big mythical "Rapture" itself: Rapture gave us an easy final level because Rapture wants these ciphers done. admittedly I am not unhappy with that idea. (it's in keeping with MOTHER 3, in fact. a lot of the interesting ways Rapture plays with video game expectations pretty much comes from MOTHER 3-- when it doesn't come from secretcity. seriously, oh my god play MOTHER 3. it is so worth it. one of the greatest video games ever made.)

but this isn't 2011 anymore. this is 2024. this is Rapture's eighth draft. this is a new Act 2, this is DJay writing at age 29, showing what he-- I-- can do. since early in the rewrite process, a theme has been emerging: "I have to do it right this time, I have to put the work in and make a long story much denser." while I had forgotten about just how empty San Francisco was, I was very conscious of the seventh cipher and the opportunity it presented. to write a new cipher log... god, I've been dreaming of that all throughout my most unproductive years.

so.

I did the work. I put the work in. I took a few days to write this. I think I did two days per log? my first day was pure planning. my first day was this:

I planned out the level, making a map. had to stretch it across two sets of pages, but here I've arranged it so it lines up.

in the July 30th log, we start at the very top-right. we see the destination across the sea of lava, and have to travel our way around the bay and round up to the castle. the july 31st log takes place entirely in the castle on the top page.

a lot of this came rather naturally, as I was inspired by the map design of Elden Ring, how progression feels so driven by the arc of the coastline even when you're exploring these landmasses atop massive cliffs. and I was especially inspired by the layout of Castle Stormveil, which is incredibly imposing on the outside but quite based on a realistic castle inside. all I really had to do was draw a coastline and find the best place to put a defendable castle; the rest came from that.

then I just had to write it.

I was keeping the 8 challenges and the 5 fights. I was keeping the general snow-kingdom aesthetic. making the challenges and fights more cohesive was a matter of finding a unifying Scheme, and for that I chose to base them on Buddhist concepts. the 8 challenges loosely represent the Noble Eightfold Path, and the 5 fights are based on the Five Hindrances. the hardest part here was writing Jordan and Donnie's little Socratic reasonings for the eightfold riddles, though once they enter the castle the riddles are replaced with direct and immediate challenges of staying mindful in an atmosphere of extreme horror, repulsion, and despair.

I quite enjoyed fleshing out the lore here, giving the kingdom its own implied backstory, the tale of a world that could not defend against the Rapture. but of course, the Rapture is different for every world, so we can't even use this world to predict what our Rapture will be.

one of the most important steps in all of this planning turned out to be the simplest. I didn't want this guy to be called "the Realm King" this time. I was prepared to spend a while coming up with a whole new name, but naturally my first instinct was to flip the name around. King Realm? ....King Real? it's a simple name. almost feels trite, something out of a fairy tale. but something about it cut right through my core and spoke to something I wanted to bring out of Rapture this time around. I don't see it as a fairy tale name. I see it as intimidating and holy. this story has something to do with the many different "realities," the relativity of "real." a King gets to enforce a reality on his kingdom. a King enforces it because a King believes in it, that is an important part of how power works on those within the system. this King Real is not a bad guy. in fact, we end up feeling a lot of sympathy for him and his people. but Rapture is not a story where the good guys are named The Good Guys and the bad guys are named The Bad Guys. Rapture is a moral tale, maybe even moralist, but it's excruciatingly modern. it's maybe the "tale" part that's most modern. Rapture is a modern kind of tale. or, really it's ancient. it's an epic. but it's an epic translated into modern techniques. a post-Ulysses epic that is not waiting for readers to catch up with what that means. so. he's called King Real because he was named by a tradition that is not our tradition. if it sounds like a fairy tale name to us, we're still struggling to understand the implications of relativity. ....it's hard to put all this into words right now. but I felt it all in me when I saw the name "King Real."

I wrote the July 31st log while listening to music from the DOOM 2016 soundtrack on repeat. that also feels important. Doom is embedded in my subconscious by now. the original Doom, and the existence of the franchise. this is.. admittedly a really rich subject, ripe for rambles that directly connect to Rapture. just, we absolutely would not have Rapture without Doom. I think even the naming conventions are relevant here. my story's full name is OGTRIB, but I refer to it colloquially as "Rapture." there's even a section of story, currently nebulous, called "Final Rapture," which is absolutely a reference to Final Doom. Rapture and Doom. it's no accident. or, at most, it's a happy accident. why? what similarities do they have? what is it I got out of the Doom games? other than a love affair with midi rock music and the sensibilities of open source communities. a comfort in first-person video games, a love of mazes. firm confirmation that one must face injustice with the stubbornness of a shotgun. I dunno. that's something that'll take a lifetime of interpretation to work out.

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

then there's the "other half" of this log, really more like the last fifth of it. I will say a lot less about this section, because this is the beginning of something Rapture will take a long time exploring.

the A-plot has moved out of the ciphers and into what comes next.

Guitar Hero is involved now.

and we finally meet Bones... as well as Fentzy and Danny? in earlier drafts, we actually met Fentzy and Danny way earlier. we met Danny on July 4th, the end of Act 1, and we met Fentzy on July 5th, the start of Act 2. the decision to move their introduction here, towards the very end of Act 2, was significant. it changed many things about Act 2 and basically facillitated the heavy rewrite to begin with. we needed more time with just Jordan and Donnie. that was worth it. but now we have the full party.

who is Fentzy? who is Danny? who is Bones? how will the kids all get along now? these are important questions!

you'll have to wait and see. :3

see you tomorrow.

[itsbowbi]

tagged by @penglue

Are you named after anyone?

A saint I think. Or my parents just liked the name and came up with that reason after.

When was the last time you cried?

I cry a lot I think I cried watching the new Godzilla movie because I'm easy and a sucker. Like CRIED cried? I think my birthday but it was actually a pretty great night.

Do you have kids?

Hell no.

What sports do you play?

None. Too busy and tired. Been thinking about finding a baseball league or something to play in because I miss it. I was a terrible hitter tho. I'm in better shape now and I learned about my fucked up eyeballs so maybe I'd be better.

Do you use sarcasm?

I don't think so. I have a very cynical sense of humor but sarcasm to me just comes off as being mean. Pretty sure I avoid it almost always.

What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

Looks? I mean literally first thing I notice is what they look like. And yeah I usually decide if I think they're hot right then but that doesn't change much about how I treat them. Otherwise just general vibes I guess. Sense of humor, manners, etc. Ooh I guess I really notice if someone is being at all superior or condescending. I fucking hate that immediately.

Eye colour?

Baby blues.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I like both, but I definitely watch horror movies more often. I think it's funny when movies get the super happy ending like Wayne's World, which seems to be happening more and more often in the movies I watch. I do think I've been avoiding dramas because they can be draining to watch and I don't feel like putting myself through that sitting here alone in my room. And bad horror movies are easily the best thing to watch with friends.

Any talents?

I'm very good at guessing people's middle name. Also I have insane memory when it comes to movies. You can name like one small detail about a movie you can't quite remember and I can probably name it. Good at trivia too.

Where were you born?

Bay Area. Zero memory of California since we left when I was a baby.

Hobbies?

Uuggghhh this is where I really start to feel like a nolife degen. Video games mostly. I'm decent at overwatch. Have a quitar but haven't had the energy or motivation to practice in a while. I really want to pick it up again. Just got an iPad with the stylus so that's been fun getting back into art. People say I can draw good so that's cool. Also I technically got my first commission since my buddy gave me $10 to recreate a doodle I made for him at work in a full piece because he loves it so much. Gotta get around to that soon.

Any pets?

My leopard gecko Heybaby! I love her. Also my mom has 2 cats that I still consider mine and I love visiting them. Yoyo and Mimi.

Height?

6'

Favourite school subject?

I guess history. I think history has better stories in it than any fiction so I love reading about it and listening to audiobooks and podcasts. Chose that as my major in college since I didn't know what to do with my life and it was the one subject I was able to tolerate. That was a very bad decision and I honestly should've never gone to college or just gone to a community college while I figured out what to actually do. Still waiting on that last part.

Dream job?

I really don't have a realistic one. I have hated every job I've ever had and any work that was assigned to me in school or therapy or whatever instantly made me hate it. I have crazy fantasies about what I could still do with my life but most of them involve doing little to no actual work. Like being a streamer. But I guess I'll go with what I would've said 20 years ago and say baseball player or rock star.

GET TAGGED @conkedcrete @spylarman (or don't sorry to bother u)

[thegapbetweengalaxies]

Promise Me This (II)

word count: 2.3k

previous chapter

next chapter

Satoru had never thought of a world without his abilities. It was impossible. He had thought even of a world without Suguru, especially when he was forced to live in one, and yet he could never think of a reality where he was no longer the strongest. 

His mind falls back to a familiar Shinjuku crossing, the place where they had last seen each other as inseparable in his previous life, and the place where they had first called each other the same thing in this life. He remembers the words Suguru had left him to ponder, his voice still clear in his head.

Are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest?

He found himself unable to answer back then, even ten years after the question had been asked. He and his power were inseparable from birth, born with bright blue eyes that saw everything and hands that could shape the world. But who is he, now that his blue eyes and hands remain the same save for their power? Is he still Satoru Gojo, then? 

Satoru finds himself still unable to answer. He may have the same name and appearance, but he certainly doesn't feel the same. 

He can’t even fathom how killing curses came so easy to him before. It was all he ever knew, all he was ever taught to know, and he never even thought to ask the question that comes so easily to him now: Why? Now, Satoru actually has to work. He has to practice with his cursed shotgun, the only gun able to deal damage large enough to kill even a grade 2 curse in one hit, because his hands can’t conjure reality-defying strikes with a snap anymore. He has to practice avoiding attacks because he doesn’t have his infinity to keep him safe anymore. He has to practice moving without his glasses sliding off because he actually has to move around to be able to fight now. Hell, he even has to practice running because he always seems so out of breath here and can't even fucking warp anymore. It really makes him wonder, how the hell did Maki do this? 

Satoru presses the trigger of his gun, the bullet shooting right past the frog-curse and into the forest. Perhaps he should try picking up the katana again, the weapon he chose to study when forced to learn one as the foolish honored child. It wouldn’t be easier, no, but maybe it could make him feel less talentless since he already knows how to use it.

As he avoids the human-sized frog’s extending and retracting tongue, he tries to think about how he ended up here in the first place. He remembers that the last thing he tried to do back in the other universe was try to claw his way out of the box. The only realistic reason he finds for suddenly switching universes is not even realistic at all: That he ripped right through the fabric of reality and slipped into an alternate universe. One where he didn't have any cursed energy because he had used it all up in the process.

“Aren’t you done yet, Satoru?” Suguru calls out from the engawa behind him, a plastic bag in his hand. “What made you want to practice fighting my curses all of a sudden anyway?”

Suguru waves a hand and the frog-like curse that Satoru was fighting disappears. Once the adrenaline of the fight starts to wear off, he realizes how heavily he’s panting. He takes a seat on the engawa as he wipes the sweat from his brows. Suguru silently sits down beside him, waiting for him to catch his breath. The world seems to go silent with Suguru around to keep the droning of his thoughts at bay. The tips of their pinkies touch but neither move their hand any closer.

“I want to get stronger,” Satoru replies, staring off into the sunset above them. 

As strong as he could possibly get in this state, at least. 

He watches the sky turn orange and eventually red, as if it were bleeding into the blue sky. He knows best that hard work can only go so far when compared to the talent you’ve been born with. But he doesn’t like the thought of being so weak and disposable, to not even be able to make a dent on sorcerer history. So he tells himself that he’ll try, no matter how tiring it gets since he isn’t used to working hard at all. But he ignores how something else within his heart urges him to keep trying, something stronger, something that was never there even in his other life. 

Satoru jumps as he feels something cold against his nape.

"Are you actually thinking about something right now?" Suguru smiles innocently as he holds his weapon up, a can of cold coffee. 

Satoru pouts. "I'm always thinking!"

Suguru only chuckles before reaching into the plastic bag and tossing him a carton of strawberry milk. "I have to talk to Sir Yaga. Want to come with me?"

Satoru happily obliges, nearly tripping on himself as he gets up. It’s as if all of the exhaustion from his training simply washed away, and he hadn’t even drunk the milk. The two walk through the school's narrow corridors, the setting sun outside seeming to be the perfect lighting to frame Suguru. Satoru starts to regret spending so much time staring at the sun earlier when Suguru was right in front of him. And he almost feels disappointed when he’s forced to stop staring as they arrive in front of Sir Yaga.

Suguru speaks first and Satoru follows his gaze to the man in front of them. "What did you want to talk about, Sir Yaga?"

Satoru idly opens his carton of milk and takes a long sip, not knowing what else to do. He tries to ignore the way Yaga eyes him, like he were a bug on the wall.

Yaga grimaces. "I said I have to talk to you, Suguru. Not Satoru."

Satoru nearly chokes on his drink. For the first time in his life, he actually feels his presence to be genuinely unwanted. He feels himself shrink a little, too weak to be able to do anything else.

"I only go on missions with Satoru," Suguru argues and places a hand on the other's shoulder. It makes Satoru grin, like a child after being acknowledged by their parent.

"Not this one. Satoru, you can't handle this job." Yaga sighs and tries to explain further. "This is the star plasma vessel we're talking about. She's going to have a lot of powerful sorcerers after her." 

Satoru remembers how this conversation went in the other world. The mission sounded too simple for both him and Suguru to go, the two already over qualified for the bodyguard position on their own. But now, he's nothing but a nuisance, a burden on the back of the most powerful. Satoru nearly laughs. He would leave if it weren’t for Suguru’s unwavering grip on his shoulder.

"How can we protect a person who doesn't trust us?"

Yaga raises an eyebrow at Suguru's words.

"Satoru has the uncanny ability to get along with anyone. If we don't want the star plasma vessel rejecting our protection, then we have to show her that she can trust us."

Satoru spares Suguru a glance, looking to see if there was any hesitance in his face. Even Satoru had thought that he was lying, just saying anything that comes to mind to be able to bring him. But he found only a genuine expression on his face, finding it comforting that Suguru truly thinks that. The man fully believes in his reasons and genuinely wants Satoru to do this job with him, not at all seeing him as a burden. 

Satoru rolls his eyes while grinning from ear to ear. He's always been so damn clingy.

"Fine," Yaga finally grumbles. The two grin victoriously at each other. Yaga turns his back to leave but pauses half-way through, turning to look at them and speak with genuine concern. "You two, be careful."

-----

Reality only catches up to Satoru later on.

Toji Fushiguro, the man who managed to kill him in the other universe, back when he was the strongest, was coming to kill the star plasma vessel. If he had even a shred of his power, killing Toji would be child's play as he already knows all of his tricks. But here, he doesn’t have even a hint of power. 

Perhaps Yaga was right and he shouldn't have gone with Suguru. But he quickly shakes that thought off. He can't handle the image of Suguru being the one killed instead of him, laying in a pool of his own blood as flies land on his lifeless face.

"Thinking again?"

Suguru breaks Satoru out of his daze and walks beside him. The morning sun beats down on them as they make their way to meet the star plasma vessel. Satoru's feet are crying, having walked through a seemingly infinite number of stairs and pathways already. It would have been trivially easy to teleport just as he always did before.

Satoru hums in acknowledgement. "You seem pretty busy yourself." 

"I mean, this might be our biggest mission yet. Whether we fail or succeed would dictate the future of the world, both for sorcerers and non-sorcerers." Suguru shrugs in an attempt to play it cool. But just one glance at his stiff shoulders tells Satoru all that he needs to know. 

Satoru stares at his expression, sinking deeper into the trance that Suguru both constantly puts him in and takes him out of. Oh, how he wishes to lift his shades just to see Suguru without its dark tint, lighter than that in the other world but still dark enough to obscure Suguru’s light. 

Suguru himself dons a pensive expression, his fingers fidgeting beneath the cloth of his pockets. His lips form a thin line, the ends curved slightly downward. 

"That's not the only thing that seems to be on your mind," Satoru sighs, reading the other man like an open book. "What's really bothering you, Suguru?"

Suguru chuckles, his laughter a sound that Satoru dearly missed. He also keeps his eyes on the ground, unable to shoulder the feeling of Satoru’s piercing gaze directly. "Those damn eyes of yours, always seeming to see right through me."

Satoru grins. Even without his six eyes, he can always tell what the other man is thinking just by the shape of his lips. That’s how it’s always been, from the moment they first met in the other world, until now. It only ever failed him once, when he was too busy staring at the corners of the man’s lips to notice the bags that had formed under his eyes and the hollowness that was quickly settling in his cheeks. By the time he looked up, Suguru was no longer looking at him. Instead, he was looking at a far away future that he was willing to do anything to create. Including, leaving Satoru, and everything else he ever knew, behind. A brave move, some would say. But Satoru could never see it that way.

"The star plasma vessel is just a child,” Suguru starts, his expression darkening. "You know that her merging with Master Tengen would result in her death, right?” Satoru nods. “I don't know anymore, Satoru,” Suguru sighs. “I feel like I’m walking her down the aisle, sending her off to marry death with a smile. I don’t think I can do that." 

He lowers his head and Satoru gets the sudden urge to cup his cheeks in his hands and kiss his forehead. Satoru takes another second to stare at him, his expression now shadowed by his dark hair. He had always thought Suguru to be too soft, too kind, for the world of sorcery. He always had a spot too soft for people younger than him, his urge to protect the people he saw as truly innocent simply too strong. He was never evil, could never be in Satoru’s eyes. He was only ever too kind. "Then we won't."

Suguru finally turns to look at Satoru and, god, he could sink into the depth of those eyes forever.

"Should the star plasma vessel refuse to merge," Satoru continues, pushing his glasses up his nose to further emphasize his point. "Then we call it off!" He says it like it's obvious, like it's an option that shouldn't even be given thought. But one look at Suguru tells him that he hadn't even considered it before. Satoru can’t help but chuckle. He always thought that Suguru was too respectful of the higher-ups, even willing to let himself get hurt just to follow their orders.

"Will you be fine?" Suguru asks, more as a joke than out of actual concern. "We'd have to fight Master Tengen, you know." 

Satoru grins, his smile as bright as the sun. "You worried about me?" 

Suguru scoffs, reflecting his smile the same way that the moon reflects the sun. They both know that he'd protect Satoru anyway. 

As they walk, Satoru takes his time to watch Suguru's every movement and every breath. He watches how the stray hair on his forehead that he insists on calling ‘bangs’, bounces with every step. He watches how his eyelashes flick with every blink and how his lips slightly part with every breath. He stares and watches until he’s satisfied with how deeply ingrained it is into his head. He watches until he thinks that he’s ready to see them for the last time, to say goodbye for the third time now.

After all, though this is just another mission to Suguru, this may very well be his last.

next chapter

[foodandfolklore]

Jar Folklore - Magsawi

Anyone else here guilty of jar hording? You finish a jar of pickles or jam and you're just like 'That's a nice Jar. I'ma keep that jar.' This seems to be a universal thing across witches and people just looking to reduce waste. Fun Fact, it's actually really hard to recycle glass. Not for the same reason as plastic; it's all the same material that can be melted down again and again. The problem is the colour. Clear jars are always made with new material because recycling can't realistically pick out the coloured bits. So reuse your clear jars!

One part that can be frustrating is the labels. Some peel off real easy once wet, others you swear were stuck on with rubber cement >.< You don't need a lot of stuff to get labels off of a jar. Just a decent amount of time.

Rinse out your empty glass jars. Begin to fill your clean kitchen sink with hot water from your tap. Apply and saturate your jar's labels with liquid dish soap. You can also add a little soap into your hot water if you want. Place your jar in the sink on it's side and continue to fill with hot water until covered. Leave your jars to soak for several hours; maybe overnight.

Once soak has completed, take jar and begin to pull label away. Label should come off easily with minimal force. Use your thumb nail or back of a wooden spoon to help with scraping. Scrub remaining bits off with wash cloth or sponge if needed. Once label is completely gone, give your jar a proper wash. I stick mine in the dishwasher. Now it's ready for use.

Tips: Don't put the jar in the dishwasher before the label is off. It will just seal it on harder, like stuck on food. -If the label is being stubborn, redo the soak. Or try letting it sit with a baking soda paste for a bit. -Do not give into temptation and try using something abrasive to scrub the label off. Steel wool and SOS pads can scratch glass.

I found a Filipino Folktale about Jars. Or rather beings in jars. It brought back memories of the days of making fairy jars or spirit jars. But it's always a good reminder about how Jars can contain great power. Even if others don't always understand it.

A great many years ago some Tinguian left their little village in the valley early one morning and made their way toward the mountains. They were off on a deer hunt, and each carried his spear and head-ax, while one held in leash a string of lean dogs eager for the chase.

Part way up the mountainside the dogs were freed, and the men separated, going different ways in search of game. But ere long the sharp barking of a dog called all in his direction, for they believed that he had a deer at bay. As they approached the spot, however, the object did not look like a deer, and as they drew nearer they were surprised to find that it was a large jar.

Filled with curiosity they pressed on, but the jar evaded them. Faster and faster they ran, but the object, disappearing at times and then coming into view again, always escaped them. On and on they went until at last, tired out, they sat down on a wooded hill to rest and to refresh themselves with betel-nut which they took from brass boxes attached to their belts.

As they slowly cut the nuts and wrapped them in the lime and leaf ready for chewing, they talked of nothing but the wonderful jar and the mysterious power it possessed. Then just as they were about to put the tempting morsels into their mouths they stopped, startled by a strange soft voice which seemed to be near them. They turned and listened, but could see no person.

“Find a pig which has no young,” said the voice, “and take its blood, for then you will be able to catch the jar which your dog pursued.”

The men knew then that the mysterious jar belonged to a spirit, so they hastened to do as the voice commanded, and when they had secured the blood the dog again brought the jar to bay. The hunters tried to seize it, but it entered a hole in the ground and disappeared. They followed, and found themselves in a dark cave where it was easy to catch the jar, for there was no outlet save by the hole through which they had entered.

Though that was many years ago, the jar still lives, and its name is Magsawi. Even now it talks; but some years ago a crack appeared in its side, and since then its language has not been understood by the Tinguian.

Sometimes Magsawi goes on long journeys alone when he visits his wife, a jar in Ilocos Norte, or his child, a small jar in San Quintin; but he always returns to Domayco on the hillside near the cave.

[funnel-webbed-au]

A Shiny New Royal Heir

Riley's Notes: Nezha and Lian have a very cute platonic dynamic. Also, RIP Nezha. Welcome to paperwork hell, bud, same hell Erlang Shen has to deal with. Also, this post was written by Onyx and proofread by me. Onyx highlights their titles in pink.

To say that the Deity was bored would be an understatement. He was completely and utterly devoid of stimulation, not a familiar soul in sight to help him manage his strict and stressful duties. The issue was how ready he had(n't) been to take up his father's mantle, and there was not really any other solution to it than let him learn on his own, which was how he found himself in such a tricky situation in the first place. Prince Nezha, heir to His Highness Yang Jian was unhappy.

Unhappy in his role, unhappy without his beloved snake and certainly unhappy with how many imbecilic Celestials felt the need to send their complaints straight to the palace instead of using their brains to sort the issues out themselves. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently so. He had never known just how infuriating some people could be until he was already far too deep to escape his anxiety riddled torture, so he was stuck listening to the high pitched whine of whatever citizen was giving him a headache at any one time. Anything would be better than that.

Alas, he knew he could not leave his duties to collect dust. He would let his love for a special Storm Deity motivate him into keeping his childish habits and behaviors at bay for long enough to prove that he could handle the weight of his new, freshly polished, gold crown. He dreaded what may happen if he didn't... which forced his posture straight and his chin up, his façade no longer that of a traumatized child, but instead one of a war-hardened, invulnerable soldier. Soon enough that would no longer be an act, but instead the whole, undeniable, truth.

A long sigh left his lungs as he moved on to the next stack of written requests, the piles of paper slowly becoming painful to deal with and simultaneously getting taller every time he looked at them. When three-year-old Nezha said that he wanted to be a war general when he grew up, this was almost certainly not what he had meant. Ah, how present Nezha longed to regain that childish innocence. Realistically, it wasn't going to happen, but a man could hope, right? That wasn't really the prince's style even though he'd been shifted to different views a little.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the entry of his beloved peach blossom, her footsteps near silent but loud enough to his overly sensitive ears that he knew she was coming. Hurrah! A savior! The tea that she was carrying with her smelled absolutely delectable, and the sweet treats that he knew his 'mother' had made almost rivaled it. "Nezha, dearie, you need to take a break. You will burn yourself out otherwise, and we can't be having that." Her soft, mellow tones were enough to convince his tired mind nigh on instantly, so he took the tea.

She seemed relieved that he hadn't fought her gentle orders, and it shone in the way she happily joined him behind his desk, resting on the hanging chair that he'd commissioned specifically for her. For some reason, any room that she was in almost immediately lost any tension that it had been carrying. It was weird, but Nezha wasn't about to complain, her presence lifting so much stress off of his tired shoulders. She was not even doing anything, just sitting behind him and sipping at her tea, and she was, miraculously, still the only medicine he would ever need

"Thank you, Lanhua. Your efforts in assisting me are appreciated and certainly do not go unnoticed. I do not know how to repay you, but I promise that It'll happen at some point." She clearly wasn't in the mood to be serious, as his words only elicited a giggle and a slight head shake, but even still, her point came across clearly: her kindness was free, he did not owe her anything. Upon Nezha figuring out what she meant, another sigh left his mouth but this one was just somewhat exasperated, all stress gone from his systems for a time

It was astounding, how she knew exactly what to do to get him to relax, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. He loved cared for her.

Author's Note!

I am incredibly sorry about the poor quality of this one! Wrote it late at night and almost fell asleep before finishing it, so it isn't my best work (Have a future!Nezha design as an apology). Thanks everyone for your support!

[jodilin65]

**Political:**

It still never ceases to amaze me how many people support Trump. He could rape women and kill people right under people’s noses, and everybody would still love him. WTF is wrong with people?!

Everybody’s sorry he was shot at, but sometimes, in order to fight evil, it must be eradicated. Period. Sometimes there really is no getting around that because it cannot be reasoned with or kept at bay in any other way. No, it wouldn’t get rid of all the poisonous people in the world, but one less delusional extremist vying for dictatorship is better than nothing.

Even Biden is condemning the attack. But why? Trump has had nothing but shitty things, true or not, to say about him.

And then there’s Andy. Dear delusional Andy. He thanks his god for blessing Trump with extended life and says he would say that even if it was Biden or any other politician because violence has no place in his life. For the most part, I agree that violence isn’t a solution. But sometimes extreme situations warrant it. Also, it’s funny how he praises God for saving Trump’s life but doesn’t condemn that same god for the fact that the guy behind him died. God is exactly what many people want him to be. It doesn’t scare me per se, but it disturbs me that people like Andy can put such stock in something that’s never been proven and likely never will be. It’s okay to have hopes and lean toward a particular belief, but it’s important to remain realistic and accept the fact that none of us can ever know anything for sure. Sort of like those who are really into role-playing. It’s fine to fantasize as long as you know it’s just a fantasy.

**Health:**

Tom came hobbling into the room yesterday and said, “Well, I thought you were gonna be wrong this time, but I tweaked my back, so your dream was a premonition.”

Yeah, it’s shitty to be psychic in this way.

My ear and jaw have been driving me crazy. We’re thinking that due to the high pollen count and my slacking off my nasal spray for a while, I’ve got allergies built up, and it puts pressure on the damaged nerves around my ear and flares up my TMJ.

**Neighbors:**

My suspicions were correct. The redneck did call the county. The latest post says they argued with the nut job about her “garden” and are waiting for a callback about their complaint.

Also, it looks like Mr. No Poop across from Toni is having gravel put down on the front corner of his place, so now that’s one more thing I have to stress over: being woken up by the truck that comes to bring it, and then pick up the metal bin it’s in.

**Hobbies:**

Finished the challenge a couple of days ago, and now I’m doing random rides until the mood strikes to do the next long ride I created.

As I feared, cross-stitching is going to be very hard for me because of my shitty vision. Also, the back of the canvas isn’t marked, so when I’m pushing the needle through from behind, it’s hard to see where I’m going. I really wish the mystery girl could magically appear to help me. I asked her a question on an old account of hers, but I don’t know if she ever logs into it. Oh well. It won’t be much money lost if I don’t end up doing it.

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME. tuesday we kicked off s2 of voy with "the 37s" and "initiations" and wednesday we did voy's "projections" and "elogium."

the 37s:

pretty sure i read somewhere that this was originally either filmed or written as the finale of s1 and they moved it to the s2 opening for scheduling reasons...IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE FINALE! it was very very good and actually made me CRY??

firstly, lmao that this ship can land. we were so shocked by this. like watching tng split the saucer section off. "can you DO that?" i guess they can

amelia earhart perfect choice for janeway's little dyke crush...normally this kind of concept would have set my teeth on edge for being tngcore but i liked this one actually

the only problem is that after the 37s got out of their tubes we spent a HUGE amount of time just trying to convince them they were in the future. which was dumb when the way to convince them was to show them the ship, which is ultimately what happened. this suspicion doesn't fuel the narrative at all and doesn't even really serve the ideal of "realism." realistically they'd all want to leave. all it served to do was make us really hate the guy earhart came out of the tube with and waste time that was DESPERATELY needed to do other things - that misue of time was also very tngcore and took this episode down from a "must see" to a "watch."

things i wish we had time for in this episode: earhart taking a spin in the spaceship, earhart getting any screentime at all, those very impressive cities they mentioned but never showed us, the ethical debate

the major emotional beat of this episode relied HEAVILY on setting up staying on this planet as not only a viable possibility but a desirable one. we laid out that it was similar to earth culture, and a nice place to live, but why was it BETTER than earth? why might people facing a potentially 70-year journey, even with star trek's longer human lifespans (i looked up and the average is 120 years, though bones hit 137 and still managed to walk around on his own), choose not to spend quite literally half their lives aboard a starship?

i mean, if you're in your 20s, sure, you'll have some time to enjoy being back on earth, though admittedly not as much time as you spent on the starship. but if you're 40 or 50 and you can expect to die around age 120, 70 years is almost all of the journey, or all of the journey. janeway is 35. if she gets home in 70 years, she will be 105, and have perhaps 15 years left to enjoy being on earth. and almost everyone she knew that was 50 or older will be dead - many people younger than that will be dead - her home will be unrecognizable to her. anyone her age is facing the same predicament. and that's IF they get home...they could very well perish on the way. voyager wasn't built or launched with the intention to send it on a 70-year journey without pit stops. it's not a generation ship. there's nowhere to have or educate children, they didn't even send a medic besides the hologram. the earth being totally alien and unrecognizable to them is the absolute best-case scenario here

it is, in essence, the exact same situation that awaited the 37s if they chose to go back home, and why THEY chose to stay, and the fact that he could have been leaning on those parallels and doing cool emotional development at the same time as cool scifi stuff and then...didn't, because we had to do ha ha quirky guy waving the gun around. is a major mark against this episode

that said, somehow i still wasn't expecting the beat at the end. chakotay and janeway talked so much about the people they'd be sorry to lose that the cargo bay being totally and completely empty of people wanting to leave managed to surprise me AND move me to tears. i honestly don't know how janeway walked back onto that fucking bridge without losing it

this is the first time that you feel like the crew are in it for keeps and really care about each other, despite them coming from different places and political opinions...that they're loyal to janeway and trust her to get them home and not to face 70 years aboard this ship instead of with their families. it was genuinely touching!!

initiations:

ok, we got racism bookends on this episode, but other than that it was pretty good

i do wish the kazon weren't...like that. they feel like the klingons of this show in that their culture is razor-focused on being warriors and then also as a simple coincidence we're putting them in what is borderline brownface. like, sure, it's "orange." like you'd make an orion green or an andorian blue. but also you have these guys wearing loincloths and killing children for being weak. pick a different fucking color.

THAT ASIDE. i recognized nog's voice before his face. it was nice to see him even as a different guy, but i'm cracking up at the idea that he's supposed to be 13 when i'm sure this actor was pushing 30 by then

it was nice to get a little something for chakotay that didn't totally involve the bogus that guy was feeding them...i like him a lot, so it was about time. he values life and he's very compassionate but he's also very stubborn and not afraid of tough love. i cannot BELIEVE he was gonna die for that kid.

it was about time we got some good action sequences w him too!!!!

LOVED neelix's little moment giving the kazon a hard time. ostensibly this IS why he's here so it was nice to actually see it come into play. my good friend neelix <3

plot twist at the end w the kid killing that guy who was trying to kill him was soooo smart and clever. didn't see it coming but it made total sense AND demonstrated that this kid wasn't being handed something he didn't earn - even chakotay didn't think of that solution

projections:

i was sooo nervous about this one because it was a barclay episode.........but all in all, i gotta say, this was, weirdly, the most tolerable barclay has ever been. i didn't love the PLOT of this episode always, but barclay himself was fine and actually even made me laugh one time (when the doctor asked if he was having a psychotic episode and barclay rapidfire went "no! yes.")

like, it's not as if i'm suddenly a barclay stan, but if he was like this all the time i wouldn't mind him nearly so much. i think the big difference here is that nobody has to hold his hand to get him to do basic tasks...in fact, he's sort of holding the doctor's hand, and he's also doing a comically bad job, so the energy is WAY different

that said. barclay being the one to test the doctor's personality parameters is probably why he's like that

dream within a dream was pretty weird...i DID like the callbacks to the pilot (this also would have made a decent s1 finale), but since we KNOW the doctor is really a hologram and that he's not gonna blow up the ship it didn't hold much suspense for me. it was nice to see him get to go to other parts of the ship though!

did NOT like the fakeout wife kes thing. first of all, she has a boyfriend. second of all, no hologram has ever been gayer than this little doctor. i'm not prepared to deal with unrequited love for kes plotline. so i was glad when it turned out to be a false ending or whatever, even though the false ending was scary. i would never trust reality again lol

and i liked kes asking him if he was sure he knew who he was at the end...give him room to GROW. i know she leaves eventually and im gonna miss her so much

also lol him sticking his arm out at the end. good for him

elogium:

ELOGIUM MY BELOVED...initially this ep also scared me really bad because of neelix's jealousy problem...there's being insecure and then there's being possessive, and the former is ok esp if it's in small doses, which it has been so far, but the latter is WAY over the line. shocking and upsetting behavior from my new friend neelix who is normally so chill.

also did not love him mentioning so many times about kes being young and naive. like ok then why are YOU dating her? tbh if she's only two and we're in the second season they CAN'Thave known each other long before the pilot...initially was also upset by the idea that he was dating someone who was prepubescent, but technically speaking, spock was also prepubescent until season 2 of tos. alien puberty works different. that's what i'm telling myself anyway bc i like neelix and want to go on liking him, even if this episode made it hard

ALSO, BUGS?? NO BUGS. NO EATING BUGS. PLEASE STOP THAT.

AFTER WE GOT OVER THESE HURDLES THOUGH. wow what an episode

firstly, kes going through pon farr. i love scifi. she literally was eating flowers and mashed potatoes like a crazy person. neelix bodily carrying her to sickbay with the flowers still falling out of her mouth was genuinely very funny

also, janeway's mom hug for kes. wonderful

the doctor giving kes a FOOT MASSAGE? idk why that struck me as so funny but it did. star trek is at its best when it's wildly horny i think and somehow this foot massage being totally platonic made it hornier

and let's not forget the protozoa, which i initially mistook for sperm, given the content of the episode, which can eat at 3000mph, and which gave us such amazing lines of dialogue such as "it seems we've lost our sex appeal captain" and "next time i need mating advice i know where to go" and "we have to make voyager submissive and breedable" that last one isn't a real line but it is essentially what they said

anyway, i was feeling ify on janeway/chakotay until now - like i think any two people on this crew could get it as long as one of them wasn't tom paris, but i wasn't like OH WAIT OKAY but now. i am. good for them.

TONIGHT: ds9's season 4!!!! probably.

[thefuckihatenakingusernames]

So sometimes I would dream that I was watching courage the cowardly dog in an old room. And I would always get worried asi bunged all the episode cause there was this one episode I feared where, instead of the beginning where it says 'amd her husband Eustace Bay' it would instead swelitch the name to 'Christine Bale.' I don't know who that is

I would get really upset and frantically wipe the screen, feeling the static underneath when this happened cause whenever this opening was said outloud things would change. I would look around and realize I was in the attic of courage. But inside of it being an old cartoon room it would slowly morph to realistic, becoming dilapidated with creaking old floors and broken windows and whispers in the walls. I would then sneak out only to be met with murial. She would look at me with such hate in her eyes cause she knew I wasn't courage. And I was the reason courage wasn't there but I didn't even know why I was there.

And then it would began, with me avoiding the husband and wife because the wife looked at me with such hate and Eustace laughed at first cause courage was gone, but then got upset because Muriel was so upset. And every night a new demoncor ghost or cryptid would come and they would actually try and kill me. So by day I tried to hide and b6 night I was fighting for my life. At one point I was looking out the broken window I'm the attack when a black shroud flew towards me, the whisks of its cloak just missing me. I then looked it up on the talking computer and apparently this is such a foul and evil demon that just looking at it meant death, and that my eyes would rot first before the rot would spread everywhere.

I spent the entire night trying to find ways to stop this, I even begged on my knees for Muriel to save me cause one small hidden source on the internet said having someone love you would help save at least one of your eyes. But Muriel just looked down on me and said nothing before slowly closing the door.

Time was almost up for the night and I held out hope for so long that Muriel would come save me but then I realized she was watching me from the window with a blank face. She didn't xare what happened to me. The wind picked up and the shroud came back and I was so scared of dying that I did the only thing I knew that would help.

I lucked out my eyes. I could feel the nervs and end pull as I tig them out, my one eye being the most difficult to get out, I had to use my fingernails to get the near holding it in place. I threw my eyes at the shroud and they rotted but because they weren't in my head I was fine.

I was so devastated that after the shroud left I spent a week of staring at nothing and doing nothing. That is before the computer told me that hidden under the floorboard was eyes I could use. It directed me to them and I pried the board up. Just touching them I could see through them, and saw my eyelets face looking down in my heads with tear. I didn't want to put them in cause they were eyes but they weren't my eyes. They weren't even the same color. But eventually the computer talked me into it. Saying 'those who have suffered are the most keen to suffer again. For they feel like they deserve it. It feels like home to them. But you cannot choose to suffer like this and also wallow in sorrow. It would be your choice. You cane either put in the eyes that are not yours and will never be yours, or you can choose not to. But you cannot sit here feeling sorry foe yourself without them when you have a way tk change it. Even without your eyes you have to move around, you have to continue this adventure. Nothing will progress if you don't, and you will be stuck here forever. You don't want thst now do you?'

So I put them in and continued, fighting through the visions that would sometimes come from whoever eyes this qas before.

More and more monsters came and the computer became better at helping me deal with and survive these creatures. I became paranoid on why he knew so much about that, and what tipped the scale for me was when this undead human was banging on the windows and doors. I asked what it was and he answered clearly 'a man who became so drowned in his own emotions that he can no longer control himself. A man that lost himself.' Except he didn't take the time and search it up like he always did.

The computer never browsed the web, he could inpy look up things when asked so his knowledge was limited on that. I turned and ask why he knew the answer so quickly and he paused. Before saying thst it was a guess based on a previous monster that was eerily similar. I asked him to look it up so we knew foe sure. It took a while before the computer answered with the same answer.

I got real paranoid after that and the visions of waling down the halls in the farm house became worse, with the added visions of the creature outside trying to attack me. I thought it was a premonition but nothing in my vision was happening in real life. At one point Muriel sent me out to get water from the well, hoping the creature would get me. It did, and whole on my back, trying to help its head in place as it tried to bite me I had a vision of the same place and same creature. Only in this I used a stock nearby and put it in the creatures mouth. Breaking off another half to shove through its head through its throat. I was hopeful until I looked around and saw there wasn't a single stick around me. I only got away but letting it scrape my arms with jts teeth as I used momentum to bash its head against the wall. Blood got in the well and Muriel was more angry with me for contaminating the water.

The computer saw the scape and was very concerned. He made me bring him to the bathroom so it could teach me how to clean and bandage the wound

I was so exhausted of living this life. And I was losing hope because, with each and every creature I had not a single chance to search how to get home. So I point blank asked the computer what it was hiding. He tried to brush the topic off amd read off that my symptoms might kiss with my head. I got so angry that I just reached over and typed on the keyboard

'Where is this computer from? What is it hidjng?'

And because it was the computer it told me everything. The eyes I got were actually the computers eyes. And the computer was once a person. They lived in the farm house with their lover until the lover lost who they were and became a creature. The creature then torn the Hyman computer limb from limb and hid a body part in the walls all around the house. This was because the ex lover wanted to be fully surrounded and enrolled by the love the human computer had for him. He wanted to feel him all around.

The ex lover was also the brother of Eustace.

He then lost his mind more as the computer began haunting the place as a poltergeist. The ex lover escaped and became wild. When Eustace and Muriel came to take the house their energy was too pure, and the computers soul became corrupted because he choose vengeance over moving into the afterlife. Therefor their engery pushed his out until he could reside in the only place they rarely entered or interacted with.

The computer.

We made up but not really cause the computer was so made thst I looked this up and made him admit it that we both lost trust in each other. I found out that the only reason he gave me his eyes was because he wanted to slowly build me up and 'make you into a strong enough being that could kill the creature once and for all, so no one else had to suffer. Or add so many body parts that I could possibly take possession in your body and became a living again. You know, whatever cones first.'

After that my next fight was with Muriel. She kept treating me badly and doing things to get my killed. After a giant creature that took the form of a flood came, she pushed me out the window and into the water. The only way out was to except the flood and let it into every orifice. I did thst and turned my brain off so that water could explore every part of Mr until it was satisfied. When it pushed my to Muriel door I stood there soaking wet and Muriel lashed out at me for jgetti g her floors wet.

I lost it and began snapping at her. Telling her that I know she's hurting but so am I and it wasn't my fault I was here, and if I had the chance I would go home. She was having none of it and told me that because she sisnt know whose fault it was she could only blame me and I needed to stop trying to through that burden on someone else when it was mine to bare.

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 13: Quiet

SATURDAY - SPRING 27

It had seemed like forever ago when Emily had invited Achilles to her birthday party at the saloon—in fact, despite jotting it down in his planner, in his present condition, he would have forgotten about it completely had it not been for Shane. 

The three days following the Flower Festival had been rough, to say the least. Desperate to find something to do, to plan a new project—or, at the very least, brainstorm a list of things to do Next (with a capital “N”)—he had plunged himself into “work.”

And by “work,” he really meant (if he were actually honest with himself) immaterial, made up chores to ward off the restlessness barging at the gates of his antsy brain. At this point, Achilles could have likely won Zuzu’s annual Home & Garden Landscaping contest with how polished his grandpa’s old property was. But although Achilles firmly believed there was always room for improvement, in this specific scenario, one could only realistically polish something so much before it reached its maximum shine. 

Somewhat unsurprisingly, his anxiety could see through the sham of odd tasks and disingenuous jobs—it didn’t matter how many DIY shelving tutorials he watched or how often he scrubbed the floors. How many times he moved the garden gnome or how many one-sided conversations he was having with the junimos, who were now visiting him with increasing frequency.

Or perhaps he really was now going mad. 

With each day, he could feel that itchiness, that irritating, antsy static, begin to creep further and further into his skull. The voices in his head asking asking over and over and over again, louder and louder What’s next what’s next what’s next? The only thing that managed to keep it somewhat at bay was his morning jog, which was becoming increasingly longer with each day. Didn’t someone on some TV show once say that, really, as long as they kept moving and kept their mind occupied at all times, they would avoid falling into the bottomless pit of despair? Well it was true, although for Achilles it was more anxiety right now than depression. 

He had even considered braving his anti-group-fitness-stance and heading back to Zuzu for another class at Orange Grove for this very reason (well, among others)—it would give him something to focus on. But with the commute time, he just couldn’t make his mind see it as immediately “productive” in the wider scheme of things, as stupid as he knew this was. But anxiety wasn’t logical and thus, he abandoned the plans. Besides, Alex didn’t need to see him sweaty and anxious… 

So instead, he had continued to invite Shane over for breakfast, under the pretense that he was simply getting farming advice to pass on to prospective buyers. But he knew in his heart it was mostly just another flimsy excuse, especially as he found his jittery self lulled by the man’s silently sullen disposition into chattering at length on nonsense completely unrelated to farms. 

“You wanna come to Emily’s party tomorrow night? I don’t think she’ll care if I invite you, just sounds like you need a distraction,” Shane had finally grunted, which honestly was the politest way Shane had ever asked somebody to shut up. 

“Hmm? Oh—yes.” Achilles had taken the hint, gulping down the elderflower soda he was now somewhat addicted to (he did not provide Shane beer anymore, although that hadn’t stopped the man from bringing his own) to give his mouth something to do besides talk. “She actually invited me.” 

“Huh. Even better. Now I won’t get in trouble.” 

Fuck. He had forgotten. But hey, a real something-to-do, if a relatively quick one. After scouring the internet, he had put in a call to his mother who had in turn gotten her contacts to overnight Emily’s gift, which he delicately wrapped in periwinkle tissue paper. 

And so that was how he started his penultimate night in Stardew Valley. It was to be a long one. Standing in the living room, tapping his foot a mile a minute, barely comprehending a word of Joseph Queen’s latest novel, and rubbing circles into his wrist as he fidgeted with the gift bag handle, all while waiting for 7:30 to arrive. 

*****

But at a certain point waiting became too hard and, eager to do something instead of sitting around the immaculately clean farmhouse, he had decided to leave for the saloon early and simply take the long way to town, through Cindersap. It was an unusually cool evening, fresh and breezy, and no signs of rain, thank Yoba. 

He bumped into Leah, dressed for the weather in a beanie and a spritely green jacket that reminded him a bit of his garden gnome. 

“Hey there.” She nodded at the gift bag in his hands. “Going to Emily’s? What’d you get her?” 

Achilles shoved his ear pods into his windbreaker and handed the bag to Leah who promptly removed the tissue paper and peered inside. “Nothing much, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what she’d like.” 

“Nothing much?” Leah had stopped, one hand balancing seven spools of thread, the bag, and the tissue paper Achilles had so particularly arranged; the other holding up a 12 pack of markers. “Achilles, these are Tannics.” 

Achilles’ nose twitched. You idiot. An oversight—of course Leah, as an artist, would recognize the brand. What to do… He chose to downplay.

“Ah, they’re the brand my mom uses and Emily’s a fan of her work. I just figured they’d be good.” 

Leah returned the items to the bag, stuffing the paper unceremoniously on top, and they resumed their walk. “‘Figured they’d be good…’ They’re the best. That pack must’ve been $70—and you yourself just said you barely know Emily.”  

“I didn’t say I ‘barely know’ her, we’re friendly—” 

“You pretty much implied it when you said you weren’t sure what she’d like. Who gets a $70 shot in the dark gift?” 

“She likes designing clothes, I grew up around fashion designers. What’s wrong with getting tools you know are nice? At least I know she’ll put them to good use.” Achilles tone was growing sharp as the ants in the back of his brain began to wake at the rumblings of a row. He took a deep breath through his nose, flexing his fingers in attempt to calm himself and the incoming anxiety.

She whipped her red braid over her shoulder and half-shoved the bag back into Achilles’ hands. “Yoba… must be nice…” 

Achilles knew she wanted him to respond, he could feel her eyes on him as they walked, but he resolutely bit back his tongue. He knew it was nice—to have money, to come from money—of course it was nice. 

“Explains a lot, really. Your mom’s in fashion, your dad’s in television, and Elliott says you were a writer before all this?” 

A short, rather jerky nod. “Wasn’t for me. More of a… hobby, I suppose.” 

“Hmm. Must be nice…” 

He took another deep breath. Just one foot in front of the other…

“For sure. I’m very lucky and exceedingly grateful to my parents, I doubt I would be here without them.” 

“Yeah… but you don’t really get it, do you? You know, just… being able to quit your day job and get the fuck out of town for a season to just do something you’ve never done before for shits and giggles? You’re going to, what, sell the new farm for a cool couple million, and then what are you going to do after that? What’s your plan?” 

Achilles new it would be better to stay silent, but the mere presence of ants in his brain was a reminder of the truth, and the words spilled out before he could bite them back. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know.” Leah shook her head—was she merely irritated or incensed?—and flipped her  braid to her other shoulder. “The fact that you can say that is just… so fucking unbelievably crazy to me. That there’s a world where people just… don’t know. People who don’t need to know.

“Writing didn’t work out for you long term—like you said, it was a hobby, sure, so you went into corporate, and clearly that wasn’t for you either, so you just… moved on to the next thing. 

“Art isn’t just a hobby for me. For Elliott. For Emily. It’s not something we can just abandon and pick up or move on from without a plan. To be able to just… take a break? We don’t have something to fall back on. We have to worry about our literal survival.” 

“Leah, I bought Emily some nice markers for her birthday. That’s it.” Achilles struggled to keep his voice even, even as Leah’s had rose in urgency. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand what you want me to say.” 

But even as he said it, as he heard Leah’s sharp inhale as she geared up for the next round, he knew there was nothing she wanted from him, specifically. This was a vent, it was clear as day, and unlucky timing for Achilles, he seemed to have been the unlucky trigger of it all. 

“I just… to be able to blow $70 on somebody you barely know without a second thought while the rest of us are choosing between next week’s groceries and tools… ”  

The pseudo, and mostly one-sided, argument carried them to the saloon where, as politely as he could, he excused himself to the restroom as Leah all-too-gladly made her way to the room Emily had reserved. 

It was a private stall, thank goodness. He stumbled over to the mirror, his hands grasping the sides of the porcelain sink. The gift bag swayed, again chafing his wrist as he leaned into the cold water flowing from the faucet. 

He hated not knowing, he hated the unknown, he had done everything in his power to never have to feel that way for the past six years—but he couldn’t tell that to Leah because the truth was, in the grand scheme of things, it was fine that he didn’t know. That he didn’t have next steps planned, that he wasn’t thinking about making next month’s rent or next week’s groceries. 

He hadn’t had to use his parent’s money since he was 19—that was something he could confidently say. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t, if he needed it—and he knew his parents would help him in half a heartbeat if it ever came to that. And despite what Perry had insisted, Achilles had known that his last name had gotten him his agent much faster than it would’ve taken someone whose father wasn’t the show runner for primetime’s longest running procedural. 

In a way, the pressure of his parents’ success and the career expectations they had unintentionally set were likely what was feeding his next step anxiety. It wasn’t anything his parents had demanded from him, not at all, they had always been nothing but supportive, and for that, he knew he was lucky. But he had always been haunted by the pressure to make a name for himself, to achieve a level of public notoriety, much like his mother and father had. And for most of his life, that idea had constantly sent him running down the road trying to commit fully to all sorts of different projects to find something that he wanted—or, at least, was “supposed” to want. 

The realtor was coming tomorrow, and from his copious research he had deduced the farm wouldn’t stay on the market for long. So really, what was next? Looking back, this “excursion” to Stardew Valley was always going to be a temporary thing. The clock had really been ticking the moment he had quit BRLO and left Hyacinthia. He had just refused to listen to it. 

*****

When he eventually found his way to Emily’s reserved room, he had nearly succumbed to the ants crawling in his head, to the voices penetrating his mind, to the coldness that was seeping into his core, and as he took his third, his fourth, and his fifth shot, he told himself the only way to win this mental battle was to drown them out. 

“Are you all right?” 

The voice, soft but firm, managed to pierce the warm haze of alcohol. There was a hand at his back—Alex, of course, they had been next to each other most of the evening. 

“Yeah, why?” he murmured. He was fine. Totally fine. Better than some of the other folks here, right? His eyes searched wildly for the Shane, desperate to prove to himself that there was someone, always someone, worse off than he was. 

But instead, he found Shane somehow laughing, his hands clasping what must’ve been his sixth beer of the night, sandwiched between Emily and a pink-haired woman who had introduced herself as Sandy. Did anyone in this damn town have a natural hair color… 

Achilles glowered, but forced himself to quickly recover—this was a party, he couldn’t be upset. 

Someone—maybe it was Leah—broke out a deck of cards. 

Why not? he thought to himself, pulling up a seat to join the game. You’re good at these things… 

Not good enough, it seemed. He lost—fast, too. And while he forced himself to laugh (get the stick out of your ass, what will people think), inside, he cursed himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So tight he was gripping the handle of his drink that his fingerpads had grown numb against the chilled glass.  

God, why do you care so much about a stupid fucking game. Stop. Just stop. Get yourself together. 

Someone made a joke. He laughed. Someone told a story. He asked questions. Someone stood to leave. He stood to say goodbye, and immediately the world tilted. 

Fuck. It had been six years since he had been drunk, it must have snuck up on him. But it was fine, he just needed a minute… or twenty… 

“Achilles, are you ok? I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” 

He looked up. It wasn’t Alex after all, but Leah. Or perhaps, it had been Alex earlier, and now it was Leah? How much time had passed? 

She took a seat next to him—where had she been sitting before? 

“Achilles, come on, I said I was sorry…” 

He mumbled something indecipherable. 

“Come on, man, let’s get you back.” 

Someone was taking his arm, but he shrugged them off. He was fine, he could still walk for Yoba’s sake… 

“Happy birthday, Emily!” he said as he stood for the door, giving the willowy blue-haired girl a hug. 

“Thank you for coming, Achilles! And thank you so much for the gift, I can’t believe you’d do that for me, you’re amazing.” 

He smiled, glancing smugly at the figure waiting for him by the door—take that, Leah—and see, everything was fine. Emily probably didn’t even notice he was… buzzed. Well, maybe a little more than buzzed…

“Let’s get you some air…” 

In the dim lamplight outside the saloon, he could just barely make out the flash of a green jacket and red braid. Ugh. Really not who he wanted to be with right now, but he wasn’t in much condition to escape. 

He stumbled a bit, but her firm hand held him steady. He considered shaking off his arch-nemesis, as he was apt to calling Leah now as of three hours ago, but the world was already spinning enough, and he rested his eyes half-closed and let himself be guided along the path. She really must be feeling guilty. Not that anything she had said had been false, per se… 

Soon the crumbly cobblestone turned to sand, and whether it was the sudden drop in temperature or overwhelming smell of salt, he wasn’t sure, but he bent over and immediately began to dry heave. 

“Oh fuck.” 

The beach? Of all places… leave it to fucking Leah to choose here of all places… 

She dragged him into the water, despite Achilles’ protests, her hand rubbing his back as he vomited into the ocean. 

“I’m so sorry fish, I’m so sorry.” Achilles groaned. Fuck, he loathed the feeling of nausea, and watching the black tides churn under the weak moonlight only made him more dizzy. He stumbled backwards in the shallow water, trying to make for shore, but his stomach seized again and he had to close his eyes as he bent over to throw up, one hand begrudgingly flailing for Leah’s jacket for support. “The fish…” 

“It’s ok, I really don’t think they mind. But we could ask Willy if you—” 

“Hey now, what the fuck?” 

Achilles looked up from the spray and saw Alex standing next to him, jeans rolled up in the shin-high water. The letterman combined with the red scarf tied loosely around his neck—he must’ve mistaken it for Leah’s red braid. Wow. Perhaps he really was drunk. 

Dulled as his reflexes were now, he still managed to recover (with the darkness’ help) fairly swiftly from this stomach-flipping surprise.

“Better you than her,” Achilles grumbled while simultaneously waving him away. 

Achilles turned and sloshed his way back up shore and onto the boardwalk. The sturdy wood was steady beneath his feet, grounding him as he watched the waves through half-closed eyes. Lulled by their crash, he lay on his back, face up towards the half moon. 

“Hey, let’s get you back up, you don’t want to throw up and suffocate on your own vomit.” Alex was still there, apparently. 

“What the fuck, man?” 

“Sorry, I… saw that on TV once.” 

Achilles managed to clamber back up onto his elbows before painstakingly lifting himself to sit at the edge of the boardwalk. He leaned his head against the post as Alex took a seat next to him. A water bottle was in his hands, as well as a small bag of crackers. 

They sat in silence. Achilles likely would’ve fallen asleep had his doze not been punctuated by two more bouts of vomiting. It splattered grossly into the water ten feet below. The sound really only made Achilles more nauseas… but at least Alex seemed unbothered. Oh, but the fish… 

A half hour after the the second attack, when it seemed like Achilles’ stomach (and most of his mind) had settled, Alex handed him the water and crackers. 

He had little energy to refuse—it was getting colder and he was shivering—and so he accepted it wordlessly, taking a long sip after wiping off the salty spray that had accumulated on the cap. The pressure in his head was building, a dull thrum beating rhythmically with his heart. 

After a minute, he closed his eyes and once again rested his head against the wooden post. Even with nothing to see, he could still feel the world spin. 

In a forced conversational tone, Achilles broke the silence. 

“Well. This has been an embarrassing evening, and I pray thee, never speak of it to me again. Please send dear Emily my deepest apologies for ruining her party. She shall never have to see my face again, for I depart with the Spring.” 

From somewhere on his left, he heard a dry chuckle. 

“You didn’t ruin her party, don’t give yourself too much credit. She probably didn’t even notice— it’d take more than one drunk little man to ruin Emily’s mood. I mean, she’s friends with Shane after all, isn’t she? Besides, if it makes you feel better, half the people there were more wasted than you…” 

And yet he was the only one Alex had chosen to help? Achilles bit back a lazy smile, though Alex wouldn’t have been able to see it in the dark anyway. The sharp pain in his lip helped clear his drunken cloud for just a second.

Eh. Maybe Achilles had just seemed the most pathetic. That was the more likely scenario. 

You dumb, drunk bastard…  

“Can I lie on my back now?” 

“Do you think you’ll throw up again?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm. I’ll allow it.” 

Achilles bit back another laugh as he collapsed backwards. He was still lightheaded—a peculiar sensation against the incoming migraine—but he loved clouds, and those currently illuminated by the moon were traveling slower than the waves. As he tracked their movement, the world began to slow back to its usual speed. A dull thump announced Alex had lain down as well. 

“You’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow, my friend.” 

“Fuck…” Tomorrow. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth shot, he had somehow forgotten. He rubbed his eyes, tempering his groan into a sigh. “Realtor is coming tomorrow morning.” 

“So you’re really going to sell the place?” 

Achilles turned and could just make out Alex’s face peering at his. If he reached out, he could probably just barely touch him, a few feet or so away he was. Instead, he faced the sky again. 

“I’ve been saying it all season, you didn’t think I’d commit?” 

“I just… I guess we all hoped you’d change your mind.” 

Achilles sighed through his nose. “I don’t know what else to do.” 

And suddenly, there it was—the burn surging up his neck, the sting behind his eyes, the lump in his throat. But he refused to cry. He loathed crying—especially in front of other people—so he bit it back as he bit his tongue, stubbornly, mechanically, again using the pain to keep control. But the pressure was too much, and while he successfully fought to keep back tears, words broke through his damn, spewing out in an explosive rush. 

“I didn’t know what to do after I decided I’d stop writing. It was very abrupt. The decision, that is. 

“I thought I had had my life all figured out at 17. Sure, I started in kiddie lit, but I had it all planned out—I had mapped out stories for the next decade, I’d make the jump to real shit before 25, get a film adaptation, maybe win a Pulitzer. Yeah, I know how that sounds. Listen, I was young, dumb, arrogant, and ambitious. Great combanation. 

“Obviously, that didn’t happen… like I said, the decision to stop was… sudden, to say the least. I wasn’t prepared for it. 

“I went to BRLO, eventually, of course. But the year in between—when I was trying to figure what the fuck I was going to do next—was, I think, the worst fucking year of my life.” 

Achilles paused to swallow the catch in his throat. He was sure even the smallest voice crack would invite sympathy, and that was not at all what he wanted. Taking a deep, and only slightly shaky, breath, he continued. 

“And I’m scared it’s going to happen again. The situations aren’t… identical… but they’re similar enough that even just thinking about tomorrow, about what’s supposed to be next, I just want to scream. I don’t what else to do.” 

 It was Alex who broke the brief silence. 

“You once told me you came to Stardew for a fresh start—” 

Achilles cut him off with a scoff.  “And a start was all it was ever destined to be, see that’s my whole fucking problem here. I didn’t leave BRLO with a real plan. And I… I need a plan. 

“You know, I don’t even know what in the world I was trying to achieve at all coming here. The cover of Better Gnomes and Farmin’? Let’s be honest, as I’ve already been reminded this evening, I don’t need whatever money the farm is going to bring in. Looking back, the farm was never going to lead to anything, at least, not anything worthwhile, not anything particularly noteworthy. The farm just… is. 

“I couldn’t admit it to myself until these past few days, but coming here—it was always a distraction. A pretty good one, I’ll admit it, but a distraction all the same to keep myself from, I don’t know, going insane. But cleaning up a farm was never going to keep this feeling at bay forever. There was always an expiration date. This was always inevitable.” 

 He paused again, this time to lightly lick his pointer finger. He had rubbed it raw tracing it against the damp grain of the dock.

“Would you ever consider going back? To BRLO?” 

Achilles snorted. “BRLO… I hated it there from the moment I arrived. But I refused to believe it. I told myself, you’re 23 can you really not handle a 9-5 job? Look at all the other people in the world that have to do it, how pathetic are you? And it was better than doing nothing. So I stayed. 

“To be honest though, looking back, it was probably exactly what I needed after everything with Apparition. The stability of just something… linear, something always present, something I was actually good at, that I could focus on.”

Achilles shut his eyes and paused to chew somberly on a bit of cracker. Alex said nothing. 

“But, as I said, I hated it. I had jumped into bed with something I knew I didn’t love, but by the time I finally let myself take a step back and see the bigger picture, it was too late to just… let myself let go. All sunk costs, sure, but… still.

“You know, I was the youngest executive BRLO had ever had in 50 some years? I won two CLIOs.” 

It felt hollow to say that. He had worked hard, that was indisputable—too hard, really. It was a title he had achieved mostly because he had been willing to give up any semblance of a personal life. Nevertheless, he had always liked titles. Like awards, he found them to be more tangible measurements of success. 

“And how many people actually love their jobs anyway? How many people are actually doing something they want to be doing? That’s what I kept asking myself, day in and day out of pitches and brainstorms. I thought, maybe, if I just really… dove into it all, really committed, I’d eventually find something that I liked. Just something to latch on to that would help make all my success there taste more sweet than bitter. 

“So I just digging myself deeper and deeper into this hole in the hopes that somewhere at the bottom I’d find… something.

“Some people have epiphanies. You hear about those lightbulb moments where they’re sitting in their office and just suddenly realize they’re being crushed by the burden of modern life, they realize they’re spirit is fading, that this isn’t the future life their six year old self had envisioned and they needed to drop everything now and head for the hills that are calling for them and become a farmer and be one with nature. 

“I didn’t have that. That… yearning for something else. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it—I mean, I still want it, a sign, anything, to just point me in the right direction of what the fuck to do—but I didn’t have it.

“No. I think I just hit a wall one day. Finally hit the bottom of that hole, I guess, and saw that there was nothing there. There had never been anything there. I had a title. I had money. I was doing shit. But I didn’t want it.” 

And how privileged it was that you could just leave. And here you are… ready to do it again. 

“And so I turned in my two weeks notice, and that was it. Leaving was all push for me, no pull.” 

He had eaten all the crackers and was now thumbing the bag between his numb fingers. Alex hadn’t said a word. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. Achilles wouldn’t have blamed him. Nevertheless, the floodgates were wide open now. He kept going. 

“If I had learned anything from BRLO it was that there’s no sustainability in hate. I know it’s obvious. And I know it’s stupid and selfish and entitled, but it’s why I was so against farming, against those fucking strawberry seeds, I didn’t want to waste another six years going down a path that was doomed from the start. I hate worms, Alex. I hate them. 

“I loved writing. I did. And when I switched to advertising, well—I wanted to want to love it. So, so badly, you don’t even know, I think that’s why I was trying so hard. Diving in all the way, full commitment to things, it’s... it’s important, because how else can you make adequate progress? How else can you maximize what you’re trying to achieve? 

“But I think at some point in my life, it became difficult for me to distinguish between being busy and being content. I learned you can’t force how you feel. There’s no sustainability in artificiality either.

“I’ve always just wanted to do something important. Like my parents, just be someone… have an impact, a real impact. Is that pathetic? Probably. Maybe I don’t deserve it.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, I don’t know why I ever thought I’d find whatever that is out here painting farmhouses. Regardless, whatever it was, that’s all done anyway, and now I’m at an even bigger loss of what to do because I still don’t know what the fuck is next and I’m… tired.” 

Achilles stopped. The only sound he heard was his own breath, rapid and weary and, he hated having to admit it to himself, whiny. For a few minutes, all was quiet. Perhaps Alex really had fallen asleep… but then—

“Why don’t you just stay?” 

“I just said I’m never going to farm—”

“Well, you don’t have to farm. You just said you don’t need money. You can just… stay. And, I don’t know, wait—”

“—fuck no, waiting is the last thing I want to do. You can’t just wait around and count on success finding its way to you, and besides, I don’t do well with waiting, and I don’t do well with quiet, and that’s two things this Valley’s got going for it. 

“The city—and I mean, the real city, not like Zuzu—it’s loud, it’s fast, it’s always demanding something from you, and I think all that chaos, all those distractions… some people find it draining, but the horns and the yelling and the sirens, I found it all comforting, I think it helped me… focus? Commit? Helped sideline those voices in all our heads that ask us, what else is there? What more could you be doing? What more should you be doing? 

“The Valley here, it’s so quite. So, so, quiet, you all may call it calming, but to me it’s maddening. There’s just too much empty space; anxiety and dread, they thrive here, and it’s like they’re pushing me out. I don’t feel comfortable, I don’t feel welcome.” 

“Everyone here likes you though. Do you not like us?” 

Achilles rubbed his eyes again until he saw double the number of stars in the sky. “It’s not the people that’s the issue. It’s, I don’t know what you want me to say, the general environment? There’s just… not enough here. Just all the voices in my head that are now free to take center stage and tell me that I’m nobody. Let’s be real, Alex, why am I even here? What am I doing here? Nothing. 

“I mean, who knows, maybe I’m just burnt out, and that’s the real reason I’ve felt like shit. But at 27? Again, that’s so incredibly pathetic. And yet somehow, I still feel like I’m running out of time. 

“My parents are so, so passionate about their work, and they’re both so good at what they do—both their careers have long grown to something beyond them now in society. And they both started when they were way younger than I am now, and for them to be so incredibly successful for so long, and here I am just… I don’t know.” 

“You really don’t think you’ve succeeded at anything?” 

“Not in a way that means anything.” 

Achilles immediately regretted snapping at Alex—it was rude, and the kid didn’t deserve it. Needlessly aggressive, much like Leah had been earlier that evening… in fact, Leah’s own words were now pounding in his head, and, after a beat, Achilles continued in a more meditative tone. 

“What do we do with our lives when we don’t have to worry about our survival? What do we choose to do? To work towards? What motivates us? I have money, fuck, Alex, I have so much money. I’m well aware I’m exceedingly lucky to be in a position where I don’t ever have to do anything I don’t want to do for the rest of my life. But I still want to do something. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to want to do anymore.” 

Achilles paused again, wishing he could take back the words, words that reeked of entitlement and privilege. But he attempted a wan joke instead. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?” 

He tore his gaze from the clouds and glanced towards Alex, but his quote received only a blank stare. 

“Titanic?” 

“…the boat?”

“What—no, the movie. Jimmy Cameron?”

“Haven’t seen it.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Grandpa always said it was for women.” 

“For women—?” 

“Have you ever thought about writing again? You said you loved it…”

“You promised me you wouldn’t ask that.”

“Hey now, I don’t remember saying promise…” 

“I had wanted to be a writer since I was quite young. I was lucky—in a number of ways—to have briefly found success, and it turned into something bigger than me. But then I let it turn into something I did for me. I started listening to the wrong things, to the wrong people, the whole thing just… became selfish. I was selfish, Alex, I know I am. And that, I think, is why it failed. In the end.”

It wasn’t the only reason what had been admittedly quite a strong start to a career had been violently derailed, Achilles thought wryly. Some of the blame ought to go to a Mr. Eddie Bloomsbury—although, if he were really honest with himself, even the consequences of that had really just been rooted in his own selfishness and pride. 

Isn’t that what it all came back to in the end, though? His failed writing career. Staying at BRLO. Leaving BRLO. Even his absurdly intense dedication to fixing a farm he’d never call home. Sure, that was to keep himself busy, but was it also not partly motivated by a nagging self-interest, by his overwhelming preoccupation with controlling how the world perceived him? All in order to—hopefully—find and earn his place in some faraway spotlight. 

Regardless, wherever it was he was meant to be doing, he had surely taken 3 steps back with this silly little detour to Stardew Valley. He lay his hand over his chest, tight with unease, feeling his heart pound through the fabric of his windbreaker. Yoba, what was he supposed to do next… He thought back to his grandpa’s letter, the one that sent him to Stardew in the first place. Honor the family name… Bullshit, with every project he poured his heart and soul into, he still wasn’t on track to honor anything. 

“I think you should stay.” Alex’s voice was soft, but Achilles still jolted with a start. Nearly ten minutes had passed and he had been halfway to finally finding a minute of peace in sleep.  

“I know it’s probably not the same noise you’re used to, but I’ve never found the Valley to be all that quiet. I think you just have to learn to listen to a new kind of sound.” 

Achilles closed his weary eyes again, allowing Alex’s words to settle in the air for a minute before finding himself surrendering to their proposition. 

The soft buzz of the fireflies darting about the boardwalk. A cawing seagull or two, back from a late night snack above the roaring waves. Cattails rustling in the sea breeze. He could even just manage to make out Willy drunkenly bellowing late night sea shanties from his cabin, and maybe, if he listened really, really closely, he could hear Alex breathing. Soft, peaceful, steady. Calm.