#New record timing on writing

[angel-wings-storys]

Layers of naturalistic hell (TW warn: dark topics, death, mutilation)(kinda based on the Devine comedy)

Titus Marcellinus, once wrote in 20th century (pre-communist era)

"what if hell had layers? Each one having a different sin associated?"

Each layer has different biomes that belonging to mother nature"

"limbo is the least harsh, being an almost Erie and lonely looking

"place, you won't meet much people here, but if you end up here you

"were either: a baby who died young, an unbaptized person, or someone who had never known god nor Jesus"

"wandering the lonesome, almost familiar planes despite never setting foot until this moment"

"layer 2 is for lust, you are surrounded people of your interest but, you can never talk to them, in a park filled with empty feeling plains"

"never getting to interact with them, they're like ghosts, you can't touch them either, interaction you never get to have, yet no matter you're personality you feel alone and ignored"

"layer 3 is a place filled with wild animals, all wanting a taste of you're flesh, this agony is caused because of gluttony, constantly chased, and you slowly starve and get weaker until they finally get to you"

"it takes place in a dense jungle, once you get caught by the animals you get devoured alive, and then you come back to life in different spot as if nothing happened, but you keep the memories of what took place"

"greed is a cold landscape filled with people of whom you hurt for short-term fulfillment, all mutailed, bodies frozen and dead way beyond saving, the more into you're past you venture the more mutilated and rotten the bodies get"

"but no matter where you venture, you can see them frozen in time with anguish & pain on their face upon realizing you used them"

"you slowly freeze you're self, getting frost bite and nasty cold related diseases, once you die you come back to life in a different spot to begin the spectial again"

"layer 4 is rage, in the tree tops there are birds nests, but they are everywhere, if you crush them you will either be electrocuted by a demon or you get swooped by the mother leaving big cuts or even picking you up, if you fall to the forest floor there are thousands of eggs making it almost impossible to not eventually step on one"

"layer 5 is wrath, a field filled with untamable fire, and you are stepping on glass, the glass cannot be melted by the flame of hell, you suffer from fatal burns and wounds, yet you never die, just a consistent suffering"

just got writer's block, so I'm going stop it here, got 440 words, and 2,465 characters, which is on the lesser side of essays, in like 4 hours +creative block and minus writer's block it was 2 or 3 hours, edit here's some music to listen to while reading this

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[chalkrub]

so i remembered daily comic day this year and i am paying for it

[sweetteaanddragons]

Second Age De-Aging AU

(Title is a work in progress.)

The workshop looked as if it had recently contained a small to medium sized explosion.

That concerned Gil-Galad a great deal less than what had been left in the wake of that explosion.

Namely, a very small peredhel currently perching catlike on one of the few sets of shelves still standing and who was hurling every throwable object in reach at a wincingly placating Annatar.

The thrown objects were accompanied by what he first interpreted as a yowl, which was really only reinforcing the cat impression, right up until he belatedly realized it was actually a wail, at which point he had to remind himself that it was not at all appropriate for him to throw things at an emissary of a Valar. 

Even if he was almost entirely certain that, despite the seeming impossibility of the thing, the very small peredhel in question was Elrond.

Still. He was king. Kings did not throw things. Kings very calmly and not at all frantically demanded, “What happened?”

Elrond’s wail at last became intelligible words. “He lied!”

Gil-Galad switched his gaze to Annatar.

The maia was holding his hands out in a conciliatory fashion. “Dear Celebrimbor and I have been working on some things to better help Men preserve their minds as they age. Perfectly safe for both elves and Men, I assure you. Lord Elrond expressed a natural interest. I had no idea that with his . . . unique nature . . . it would react this way to his touch.”

“It exploded,” Gil-Galad said flatly.

“Not at all!” Annatar assured him. “It merely . . . affected his fea in an unexpected way. And it seems his hroa followed. At which point, he was unsurprisingly distressed . . . “

Gil-Galad reconsidered the explosion in the context of a highly frightened descendant of Luthien.

“ . . . and I am afraid that the resulting . . . incident . . . led to it . . . ”

Gil-Galad redirected his attention to the scorch marks on the workbench as Annatar very visibly searched for a word that was not “exploding.”

“And at which point in this process did you lie to him?” he asked pleasantly.

Annatar winced even more deeply. “He asked where his brother was,” he said apologetically. 

Gil-Galad went very, very still.

He remembered, very clearly, just how closely the twins had stuck to each other in the early days of their being sent to Balar.

He remembered, very clearly, the grief on Elrond’s face when Elros had sailed.

And he remembered, very clearly, the grief that even still had not vanished when the bond between them at last had fully snapped.

“I’m afraid in my distraction that I said that was an interesting theological question.”

And Elrond, even at this age, had put the pieces together between that statement and the aching void Gil-Galad was sure he still felt in his soul when he reached for his brother.

Maiar, he had to remind himself very firmly, did not view death as Men or elves did. Annatar had not intended his statement to lead to . . . this.

This was even now changing. Whatever expression was on Gil-Galad’s face must have convinced Elrond that it was not a lie after all because there were no more objects being thrown from the shelf.

Unless, of course, you counted Elrond himself, who was slowly but surely turning the color of bleached bone and sliding inexorably off the shelf.

Gil-Galad sprang for him, catching the far too light body just in time.

“Fix this,” he ordered Annatar, clutching Elrond to his chest. Elrond had gone deathly quiet, and he had to move his hand on Elrond’s back until he could feel the heartbeat through the ribs just to be sure it was still pumping.

It was not the correct way to talk to an emissary of the Valar.

Gil-Galad did not have enough left in him to care.

. . .

Several hours later, he still had not determined what precise age this version of Elrond was.

This failure was mainly because of what else he had discovered. Namely, that this version of Elrond did not want to talk.

Or eat. Or sleep. Or do anything, really, but curl up into the smallest ball he could manage and block out the rest of the world.

He did not object to Gil-Galad talking. Or singing. Or pacing.

He did object, after those first few moments, to being touched. Gil-Galad had set him down in the window seat of his borrowed office the moment he could. As far as he could tell, Elrond hadn’t moved since.

He also objected to Annatar’s entrance. At least, that’s what Gil-Galad assumed the infinitesimal tensing of his shoulders meant. It was tempting to drag Annatar into the hallway to just meet there, but that would mean leaving Elrond alone, and Gil-Galad felt . . . uneasy about that.

(The window was narrow. The window was covered with beautifully stained glass that some of the artisans here had apparently been experimenting with. The window was not that high off the ground, really, as elves usually considered things.)

(On the other hand: Elwing. Maedhros.)

(Even if Elrond currently remembered only one of those formative experiences, Gil-Galad was not in the mood to take any risks.)

“You have a solution?”

Annatar shook his head mournfully. “I have a better idea of what went wrong,” he corrected. “A solution will likely take weeks. Longer, perhaps. It is a good thing you accompanied Lord Elrond on this visit; I am not sure a messenger could have found Celebrimbor in time.”

Gil-Galad paused in his pacing. “In time,” he repeated.

“Since the dwarves have been so reluctant to share the location of their sacred places to others in the past . . . ?” Annatar’s voice hinted gently, embarrassed to repeat what Gil-Galad already knew.

He knew full well why a message might take a while to find Celebrimbor; the complications of Celebrimbor’s expedition with the dwarves of Khazad-dum falling, he was assured unavoidably, in tax year, coinciding with a few mix-ups in delegation and communication . . . 

But “in time.”

Were the effects going to get worse or - ?

“He’s a child,” Annatar said, very slowly, in response to the confusion Gil-Galad feared was on his face. “His fea will need to be nurtured. Preferably by a relative.”

“That’s just superstition,” he protested.

Annatar looked at him very oddly.

“ . . . I’ve heard,” Gil-Galad tacked on, like an elf who had certainly had two very present and alive elvish parents to nurture him throughout his childhood, and not at all like a feral former fugitive who had been raised by human bandits in the woods.

“From whom?” Annatar asked incredulously.

“Elrond,” he said after a slightly too long pause. He flicked his eyes hopefully to the child on the window seat; Elrond hadn’t so much as twitched. “He survived the first time around, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Annatar agreed after an equally baffled pause. “Forgive me for any indelicacy here, but you do realize that no matter how forsworn the sons of Feanor may be, they do still count as relatives . . . ?”

Right.

And Gil-Galad . . . did not.

Which shouldn’t matter, he told himself firmly. He had survived, hadn’t he? And he was perfectly fine.

Perfectly alive, at any rate. And any of his various moral shortcomings were just down to his personal failings. And the more practical side of his upbringing.

Definitely.

His eyes flicked worriedly to the very pale, very still, very small figure in the corner.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice in that direction?”

(Annatar did, as it turned out.)

(It did not turn out to be enough.)

. . .

He had felt guilty before about lying about his place in the Finwean family tree.

None of it came close to what he felt watching Elrond slowly wasting away.

He had lied and cheated his way to this point, and if this point got Elrond killed -

No.

He could stay here and pray Annatar finished fixing the device before his own deficiencies got Elrond killed.

Or he could take his company and ride hard for Galadriel.

Probably that would be the end of his masquerade; probably all that sharp edged suspicion in her eyes would turn to certainty and that would be that. Definitely of his career and possibly of his life.

But Galadriel was Elrond’s cousin; Galadriel was a mother. Galadriel would know what to do. Elrond would be alright.

(“I’m sure this isn’t necessary,” Annatar said as Gil-Galad’s guards prepared the horses. Elrond had let himself be hauled like a terrifyingly heartbroken statue onto one of them. “You must be a closer relative to him the sons of Feanor were; surely with a few more days of trying to bond with him - ”)

(He considered just blurting it out. ‘No, actually, he might be more closely related to you, considering that maiar blood.’ ‘No, actually, I wouldn’t know Finwe from a dead toad on the ground.’)

(‘No, actually, there’s something terribly wrong with me. Possible more wrong than there was with thrice kin slaying Feanorians.’)

(He smiled, instead, with a closed mouth. “I’m really not father material,” he said. “Lady Galadriel, I’m sure, will prove as ferociously competent as always in my stead.”)

(Annatar did not argue with this.)

. . .

(There weren’t any Feanorian guards with them. Gil-Galad had insisted after what had happened the last time he had let Elrond bring Farande to Eregion. He wasn’t sure if that was for the better or the worse now; if Elrond would be relieved to have a face he recognized or terrified due to how he recognized it.)

(At least that might be better than the terrifyingly hollow look that was currently in his eyes.)

(But it would be better soon, he assured Elrond. They would reach his cousin Galadriel soon, and wouldn’t that be nice?)

(Elrond remained curled in the tightest huddle he could manage by the campfire. He no longer bothered to wince when he was touched.)

. . .

Galadriel met them at the edge of the forest she had made her new home in, so at least the messengers he had sent had managed to find her. She gave her usual shallow courtesies to her nominal king, but her eyes were locked on Elrond.

Now, at last, was the moment to confess.

Gil-Galad slid from his horse. Carefully, oh, so carefully, he helped Elrond down. 

His ribs had been less prominent when the Feanorians had sent him to Balar.

“I couldn’t help him,” he said, his quiet voice sounding like the crack of doom through the silence.

“Of course you could not,” Galadriel said. 

Of course.

“His fea was orphaned once; it will not accept a replacement again. Not - ” And here, in the face of Elros, even she faltered. “Not under these conditions.”

A different, more dreadful doom wrapped around his heart.

If Celebrimbor had been deemed too difficult to find -

He noticed, dully, that Galadriel had come alone.

And that despite wearing a fine woven cloak against the snap of the late autumn chill she was carrying another one.

And a flute.

“Lady Galadriel,” he said slowly.

“Do you want to help him or not?” she snapped. She paused. “My king.”

“Oh, I want the help,” he said instantly, fervently. “I’ll welcome him into Lindon with open arms if he can do this.”

“Well,” she sniffed. “I don’t know that you need to promise that.”

“Especially since it seems you came well prepared with bribes yourself,” he said, nodding with considerable relief to the goods in her hands.

She looked down at them. “ . . . Yes,” she said. “Bribes.”

[campbyler]

ik part of it is that life and work just Be Like That sometimes, but every time i check back on your blog it seems yall are going through chronic ao3 author syndrome. sending love and good vibes your way i hope all three of you are doing ok and can catch a break soon!! (ik suni and thea yall are the ones writing the rest of it but sending love to andi as well)

also any tips on writing longer chapters without them sounding like they’re dragging on? i’m a (more casual) fic writer and my chapters always end up a little shorter than i usually hope they’d be

awake at 3am in a fit of jet lag and laughed aloud upon reading this bc you’re not wrong 😭 i feel like part of it is just timing, like thea’s work has a big busy season during the fall every year and her schedule also varies week by week and even day to day so i know some stretches are more difficult than others by default (rn she has been having to work from home on her weekend or after she clocks out which has been extra rough). my work tends to have bursts of insane work days every few weeks or so, and i just have a shitty daily commute on top of that and will sometimes get home like 12 hours after i left in the morning or something. so honestly there is a nonzero chance one of us is having a subpar time on any given workday i fear, and that schedule is pretty unpredictable given the nature of our very full time jobs. i also think it’s just statistically more likely that when we are active there is a reason for our Grievances to be brought up, either organically because we are coming out of a slump and are complaining about the Horrors or because someone checked in on us in a period of absence and we are giving a quick update, but either way, thank you so much for your wishesssss! thea will be getting a break soon (thank god) and i’m actually entering a bit of a busy stretch at work for the next week or so because we have a grant deadline to meet, which always means 10000 last minute experiments that i have to work into my schedule in the middle of the week and it’s really fun and lovely and great. woo hoo. 🙂

as for chapter lengths, i wish i had more solid advice but my problem is genuinely that i can’t for the life of me seem to trim them down 😭 i guess a part of it is largely how your chapters are structured — i only have a couple chaptered fics outside of acswy, but all of them are planned so that each chapter is quite meaty in terms of content or what i want each scene to accomplish. i will say that the singular thing that consistently drives up my word count is DIALOGUEEEEE!!! a blessing when i’m in a rut or have writers block and am trying to get something down on the page, a menace when im editing a scene transition i left to fill in for later and my wc is right at 29k and im sweating watching the number tick up. i find there’s absolutely nothing wrong with shorter chapters if it’s accomplishing what you hope for and i honestly am working really hard on trying to be more concise, but i do find dialogue to be a good way to slow down a scene that’s maybe rushing or is paced a little quicker than you intended. real conversations often stray off topic, people ramble or get sidetracked or get interrupted by things they’re doing — i love describing people talking while doing chores or eating or whatever because you can break up the dialogue with bits of action — and at least for me, it’s a lot easier to work in some narration or description in with dialogue than it is to just write a couple paragraphs of it straight up, which also sometimes feels a little more blunt and Quick than i intend it to be. one thing we both do a Lot is script out dialogue between characters and then go back in to fill in things like speech tags, action descriptions, inner monologues and thoughts, etc. literally just like:

character 1: ___ character 2: _______ 1, (note on how it’s meant to be said or what they’re thinking/intending to say to cue us in later): _____ 2: _____________ (small description of them moving around/something happening in the background to give a visual for describing later)

so on and so forth. it helps a lot either when we want to establish the setup of a dialogue heavy scene before we forget our inspiration, or we’re feeling a bit too blocked to be able to write more descriptively at the moment, etc etc. it’s a really natural way to focus on the flow of conversation without getting caught up in transitions and repetition of dialogue tags and stuff, and usually is the culprit for a scene taking way longer to finish than expected for me.

all that being said, the times i have actually felt like a chapter is paced too quickly is usually either when the dialogue exchange is too fast and feels like the conversation could be more fleshed out, or maybe likeeee a transition happens a little too immediately and it reads a little bit like one thing happening after the next after the next without much of a pause for expansion. if you’ve managed to get your point across in fewer words and your main concern is driving up the word count, i really wouldn’t worry about it! you could always have someone look at it with a fresh pair of eyes and ask for places they feel could use more explanation or detail (maybe describing a setting more vividly? or giving more insight to some of their thoughts at a certain point?) but genuinely — conciseness is a Skill, and seeing how i have once again accidentally answered an ask with one million words, i’ll actually just trade you some of my internal word vomit right now. here you go -> 🎁

[stealingyourbones]

I’m so glad I started to listen to Star Trek audio dramas. The silver age comic levels of whimsy and shenanigans in them is incredible.

[pinkshiftbites]

nothing (in my head) - the deep dive podcast

premiering 9.26.24 on patreon

[nevertheless-moving]

But Peter Parker (no not that one, the other — yeah that guy) does actually have an OnlyAdmirer’s account though.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he started it — sometime after losing the job at the pizza place and before picking up the tutoring hours; he remembered he was short for one of Aunt May’s prescriptions that month, but isn’t sure anymore which one it was. Sometime during college.

Low ebb on crime that week, which meant he wasn’t making much from the Bugle, but he did have some extra time, enough to take a deep breathand set up the encyptions on his account (he should probably go this hard for all his spiderman stuff too, but eh, it had been fine so far).

He wears a mask (no not that one, though he did consider it because, you know, it would be freaking hilarious).

He pulls...a grand, whopping total of.... $100 a month. Wahoo.

Ok, maybe a little more on average; and sometimes its up to $200! It’s just worth the fees and the time, and after a while he has to admit it’s less stressful than any of his other gigs.

At first he’s paranoid about someone finding out, both in his personal life and his superheroics (he has, like, 10 self righteous rants prepared about the moral neutrality, nay the moral Good of sex work).

(He’s a little disappointed that it never comes up.} Eventually he doesn't think about it, especially not on patrol, not any more than he thinks about the taco shop, or the GrubHob gig, or any of the bazillion odd jobs that come with working class heroics. Eventually he doesn’t think not to mention it, and the set-up was perfect for him to — ok— sue him, he might have been trying to sound cool in front of an X-Man who was laughing at his jokes— He, uh. May have forgotten. How much X-Men gossip. It’s not like it would have been a big deal had the press event not happened two days later, and— why do other people always get a laugh when they repeat his jokes anyway!

Plus! He was on maybe two hours sleep when the tabloid asked him point blank and for a moment he was so wrapped in the euphoria of a non-Bugle rag interviewing him, and also not yelling at him for damages or anything serious, that he forgot he lived in a world where sex-work was stigmatized so— yeah. Good news! His secret identities are still fine, no-one’s even figured out which OnlyAccount is his. Bad news! Because his secret identity’s still intact, and noone’s figured out which twink is spiderpowered, he’s still only going to make $134 this month, which is barely more than minimum wage when you include prep time.

Other good news! Most fun he’s ever had explaining something from the internet to Jonah.

[enbeemagical]

Okay so I did try to rickroll you guys yesterday (sorry) but I did actually create a youtube channel a couple days ago, and I did write three songs for a 10k fic (let your star shine, written for the femslashbigbang challenge)

If this post gets 1,000 notes by July 30, 2025, I'll post recordings of me singing those three songs to my new channel (!) before the story itself goes up on ao3 at the end of August. I'll also post recordings of the song snippets I've written for Shadowbird when they become relevant (u can read it on royal road or tapas btw)

fair warning I'm not a trained singer and do not have proper recording equipment. this is not an apology, just a notice that my singing won't be as good as my writing or my characters' singing

[thevioletcaptain]

I know the ask is about ships but could you make a non ship one with Dean and Carlos from the Winchesters? I can't think of an exact thing for Dean to say, but the first sentence can be what Dean would say for their first meeting. Thank you if you can (*^‿^*)

"I like your hair," Dean says, staring up from where he's clinging to the bottom of Mary's winter coat, and Carlos grins wide when he adds, with all the breathless gravity of a four year old eager to impress their opinions upon a new friend; "It's swooshy and it's pretty like Mommy's hair, and your-- your beads are pretty and shiny and shiny is my favorite color."

"Swooshy and pretty and shiny is exactly what I was going for, so thank you, little buddy."

Even with almost six years between now and the last time he'd seen Mary, Carlos is relieved to find that they still have a good sense of one-another -- can still communicate silently, swiftly, like they used to when it was life or death. He meets her eye, and her face softens, and understanding passes between them before he slides one of his lucky beaded bracelets -- the bloodstone one -- free.

Dean's eyes light up when he takes it.

When he smiles, he looks just like his mother.

[for this askbox game if anyone else wants to send me a prompt]

[nidbaesenpai]

I'm laying in bed sicky and sleepy so I'm jotting down my ISAT squeakel thoughts because I don't want it to stay on a Google doc forever. Gonna tag as "everything stays sequel", uhhh everything here as two hats spoilers whoopsies what can you do

The basic gist is that this mainly takes place from Loop's perspective where they live on and not sure what to do afterwards. "I'm back in the blinding building" kinda attitude.

Which Loop "makes" a third wish to know what the future holds for them. A light yanks them to the Change God where both of them have a very long talk about everything that has happened and what could. Change God kicks them out of their domain and Loop spends the next year learning to be a person again on their own away from Siffrin and friends.

And it is precisely a year that Loop meets everyone again, doing okay and cherry as can be while Loop looks on as a homeless alcoholic bard telling the same blinding saviour story again and again because it's popular. For a reason! And reuniting with friends and their copy slowly motivates them to curb some of their bad habits.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish things ~

[hosuuuus]

i'm gonna try something new a bit. and that something is giving johan a simp personality that's the literally embodiment of this emoticon:

:((((

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[novelconcepts]

the truly problematic thing about having insanely vivid dreams just about every night--and i mean the kind of vivid where you remember details days or even weeks later, like it's just another normal-ass memory--is that you wind up losing track on an emotional level of what's real. like. i know that was a dream. obviously it was a dream. but some part of my brain misses it like it really happened. i am painfully, achingly nostalgic for people i've never met, places i've never been, shit that literally could not ever happen--but i feel as though i remember. which is just the most unhinged thing, right? like, i remember going on a run that took me over a fence into Disneyland, and i remember having to take a shortcut through a Chinese restaurant, but it was fine, because Erika Ishii was there, and they'd done this before, so no worries. right? no! obviously not! why do i remember this with such visceral clarity three weeks later?

oh, what's your favorite episode of this TV show? the one i dreamt. yeah, don't worry about it, it didn't make coherent sense, but it was in the feelings, right? my ship had the best fucking scene. no, of course i can't explain it to you, that's madness. it involved a rocking chair. don't worry about it. it's fine. it's super important i don't accidentally reference this in a fic someday, though.

this shit is deranged, dude. missing people who are quite literally my own brain's invention with an actor's face. missing places that are a meld of a movie i saw once, my childhood bedroom, the second floor of my high school, and inter-dimensional space. like. no! no, this shouldn't be a thing! is, though. the clarity of it. just fucking bananas. this has been happening to me my whole goddamn life.