#and Cynthia gets this shit too to an extent

[pauls1967moustache]

What do u think of beatles fans who hate yoko? Personally, I genuinely don't understand what yoko has done to stand out in the beatles lore as a particularly heinous character in the story. Had to unfollow several authors on Tumblr bc they usually gas john up and put yoko down, like they didn't come in a set.

I don’t think anyone’s required to like Yoko but I also agree that many people seem to hate her for behaviour that they’d happily overlook from any of the Beatles. The main problem here is no one is typically joining this fandom cause they’re interested in Yoko, ykwim. They’re here because they liked the Beatles and all the lore comes after that, so naturally everyone’s going to have a bias for the boys themselves. Yoko did do some insane shit to John (and is also within the Beatles narrative in an antagonistic position to Paul) so it’s natural that people who love John will find that off-putting, even if it’s not necessarily a fair way to view her, but they never really look at the crazy shit John did to her or anyone else in the same negative way. Plus, as with any fandom, there is racism and misogyny at work.

But there’s plenty of people in this fandom who do like Yoko, which is good! I think her position in the Beatles story is so fascinating because she is in this weird confluence of like getting blamed for shit that isn’t her fault while also doing some absolutely fucked up stuff herself. She’s not an easily definable character in the lore and she’s not ���relatable” the way, say, Linda is relatable, so you sort of have to do some work to make sense of her. I think my main gripe with Yoko haters is they don’t give her the grace of trying to understand her the way they do for anyone else in the Beatles story.

[menlove]

hey there! i’ve very recently gotten into the beatles and have been exploring their history/lore in my spare time and accidentally spiraled down the mclennon rabbit hole. reading your posts has really got me interested but i’ll admit i’m a bit conflicted, so i hope you don’t mind me asking a genuine question; how do you reconcile john’s horrible behavior to cynthia/others while also shipping mclennon? (this is genuinely not from a place of malice, i’m already attached to mclennon myself but knowing john’s past has put me in a weird headspace about the whole thing and i don’t know what to do).

oh I get that. I've definitely been in a weird headspace about the whole thing before too. recently and then it's also part of why I deeply pretended I didn't still like the beatles after my first obsession as a kid

for me personally, I think there's several ways I come at it? (and disclaimer: this is as a fan who's already decided to interact w him/his work in a fannish way. I'm NOT saying any of this is necessary or that people who can't stand him are obligated to do these things. and that's not @ u anon, I've just gotten some odd responses any time I talk about this)

first one is just that he's already dead. not just dead, but brutally murdered. he was murdered when he was 40 and so the question is like.... what Else can really be done ykwim? like there's this sense in social justice circles that people must be made to Suffer for their actions and I'd say getting murdered is right up there

I'd also say another Big One for me is that it's not my place to forgive him or not forgive him or whatever. I never knew the man, his actions didn't impact me personally. but those that they Did impact (cynthia, yoko, may, paul to an extent, etc) still deeply love the man and Have forgiven him. which obviously isn't to say that means anyone else has to, but just that like. at the end of the day, if the people he hurt have moved on & view him in an overall positive light, I don't feel like. as bad about it?

I'm trying to explain this in a way that doesn't sound like I'm excusing anything, bc I'm really not. just that To Me the most important goals of holding famous abusive people accountable is a) justice for those they've harmed and b) letting their wallets feel the consequences of their actions by not giving money to their shit. both of these points are... pretty much null with john. he's dead, in one of the worst ways possible, and the people that he hurt aren't calling for any sort of action against him bc they've already forgiven him.

ultimately I think just like....... as long as you tread a lil carefully and keep it in mind it's... the damage was already done, the people he hurt have already moved on, and the man's already dead. writing about him fucking paul mccartney isn't going to Worsen anything. as long as we aren't like. denying that he was abusive Or trying to deify him.

and like I said, this is literally only about ppl who have Already chosen to still interact w him in any fannish way like you and I. I'm in no way demanding anyone else view it like this if they don't like him or the beatles bc of his actions

[torterragarden]

Cynthia for the character ask

First impression: idk who this elegant goth queen is and idk why she just gave me an egg but I think I'm in love with her

Impression now: man like what is there even to say about Cynthia. She's one of the most iconic champions in the series, her design is top tier, she was our first female champion (which I was very happy to see when I was young), she's got that super menacing piano music before you fight her, she's really sweet and likable but also just terrifying lmao. I always really liked how when you meet her she says that she's "a trainer like you" and then you find out later she's champion of the fucking region but like. She's just a trainer like you! Idk it's cute. Also while people obviously exaggerate her difficulty for the sake of memes/jokes she does have that reputation for a reason she is one of the harder champion fights in my onion. Her Garchomp is infamous but the rest of her team is pretty good for gen 4 too, girl opens with a Spiritomb and that was back before Fairy types existed to give it a single weakness. The only other champion with a lineup as intimidating as hers is Leon an entire four generations later (challenge mode Iris isn't really a fair comparison). Cynthia just fucking rules I love her and I wish she would spit in my mouth

Favorite moment: I liked when she told Cyrus to fuck himself and then let the twelve year old beat him because she couldn't be bothered

Idea for a story: All right despite what I said up there it is a little disappointing that she follows you into the Distortion World only to like... not really do anything there. I wish she was a bit more active in the plot but like, just about every champion has that issue to some extent (Leon is unique by being active to the point that he doesn't let you do shit and the plot mostly happens without you lmao). And like I get it, it's to let you do things yourself and it's still better than what they did with poor neglected Diantha but like. idk at least have her fight Team Galactic with you sometimes

Unpopular opinion: idk if I have one

Favorite relationship: also don't know if I have one actually

Favorite headcanon: I do enjoy the headcanon that she and Volo are the same person she just transitioned and calmed down in the time since PLA

[in3ptbean]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆

Lost Boys x Reader

Platonic

Summary: You’ve lived in Santa Carla your entire life, yet you never stepped foot on the boardwalk. After meeting the boys, you now know why your parents have been painting such a violent image of  the California beach town. 

Warnings: The works (barely though) 

Masterlist  

(Not My GIF) 

Santa Carla. 

A summer night Wonderland or Murder Capitol of the World? 

You’ve been living in the shanty California town for your entire life, yet you never set  foot anywhere near the Boardwalks direction; until now. 

Your parents had painted a very dark, vivid image of what resided there; from drunk teens to high punks and even creepers from the next town over. It was safe to say, you weren’t very keen on visiting any time soon. Despite your protests, your friends wanted you to live a little, something about ‘how are you even alive right now?’ and ‘what have you been doing your entire life?’. 

“I really think I should go back. You know, my parents will kill me if they found out I was even here-” Your protests were cut off by the short redhead to your left, 

“Nonsense!” Cynthia cried out, tightening the hold she had on your hand while Bailey grinned as her cheery and uplifting mood. Despite their smiles and reassurances, the heavy feeling in your chest didn’t go away; not even a smidge. 

You opened your mouth to respond,  but was cut off once again. Your pupils dilated, taking in all the bright neon lights and the mirages of flashing pinks, blues and greens. The sweet alluring smell of cotton candy and funnel caked overwhelmed the stench of pot,  gently soothing your nerves until you sported the same grin resting on your friends faces. 

The atmosphere rivaled Disneyland. sike 

“You were being serious about never coming here, huh?” Bailey asks after thanking the ticket booth worker. 

“Completely,” You uttered, staring in awe at the game booths, shops and plush prizes.   

“Come on then! We have a lot to show you!” 

Your heels no longer scraped against the rickety floor of the boardwalk; the excitement of finally being able to experience what you had been shielded from your entire life finally taking over your entire being. Cheeks hurting, legs aching, eyes burning; these were all the symptoms of running around the boardwalk all night. Not that you cared. At that moment in time, you had truly found your freedom, and you wanted to live that night to the fullest extent. 

all good things, however great, come to an end. 

And that came in the form of  five surfer Nazi’s surrounding the three of you by the carousel. 

You would have been scared shitless if it wasn’t for the tourist and locals sticking around. Hell, you were pretty sure Bailey was close to passing out. 

“How about you girls come with us?” One asked, a malicious grin rising to his lips. Your own pressed together on a thin line, hand tightly grasping Cynthia’s own. “We can show you a good time,” The group laughed, nudging back Bailey who had attempted to slip between a bald and muscular surfer. 

“Maybe some other time,” Cynthia responded with a shaky smile. She nudged you before continuing, “We have to get home-” 

“Oh really? But the party’s just begun!”  They all laughed once again before an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You ripped yourself away, glaring at the surfer. Cynthia and Bailey watched you with wide eyes, surprised that you hadn’t been so easily swayed by the punks. “Don’t be like that girly-” 

“Then don’t touch me,” You spat out, swatting his hand away from your arm. 

By now, a midsized crowd had formed, watching  the interaction with prying eyes, and a sense of self-preservation.  Unbeknownst to the surfers, the Lost Boys were in the crowd, ready to step in once things got heavy. 

David glanced at Paul, who was pushing his way past some of the locals, then at Dwayne, who stood beside him. Marko stood by you, eyes locked on the Surfer’s in case they decided to get handsy. 

It wasn’t until Bailey cried out that that party got started. Out of the corner of you eye, you managed to see Bailey push Cynthia away from one of the handsy surfers, kneeing him between his legs  before screaming. The muscular surfer moved to grab you, but was met with knuckles hitting his nose before he could even touch you.

You reared back, suddenly forgetting the good time you had prior to now, before yelling at Bailey and at Cynthia to run. You doubted they could hear you. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from becoming pulp on the ground. 

The heavy feeling in your chest grew when you realized arms had wrapped around your waist and over your arms. A fist rose to meet your face, yet you couldn't bare to see it. If the surfers didn't kill you, your parents surely would for disobeying their ‘orders’ to stay home. 

The punch never came, and an eerie silence had enveloped the crowd.  You slowly opened your eyes, only to be met with dirty blonde locks and a colorful-patched jacket. 

“Didn’t you know they were with us?” A chill, yet spine-tingling voice asked. Your head snapped towards Bailey and Cynthia, whom were nearly on the verge of passing out before noticing that another blonde had come up to your side, pulling you towards him and away from the surfer constricting you.  

You found yourself unconsciously leaning against a Twisted Sister look alike, eyes drooping heavily, giving into the sweet lulling of Nyx’s lullaby. Their words were a buzz in your ear, echoing heavily against he thudding of your slowing heart. 

You awoke with a start, sitting up as soon as your  eyes snapped open. Your forehead smacked against another, a sharp cry leaving your lips in surprise. 

“Holy fuck-” The swear was cut off by a smack, soon followed by laughter. 

“Shit! I’m sorry- fuck- are you ok?” You failed to notice you were the one with a bandaged hand. The blonde from before grinned before offering his hand. 

“You’re asking me?” You nodded, eyes quirking up before smiling at him. 

“Yeah, we just smashed forehead, and it hurt like hell,” 

A squeal cut you off, and soon, you were tackled to the ground by none other than a smiley Bailey and  Cynthia. 

“You’re alright!” Bailey laughed as she spoke, poking your ribs with every other word. “You were so bad ass yesterday-” 

“What?” 

“You broke the guys nose!” Twisted Sister exclaimed,  wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Nearly knocked him out too,” He gave you a slight squeeze before helping you off the ground.

You found yourself staring at the cave you had been taken to, eyes widening before taking in every little detail of the old, caved in hotel. Remnants of wall paper and tacky graffiti covered the wall, a once extravagant fountain holding a fallen chandelier  resting in the middle of what was once the main lobby.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The same, cold voice from yesterday night spoke, nearly making you jump. 

“Breathtaking,” You replied, smiling at the boy.  He sat confidently on the wheelchair, hands wrapped around a bejeweled wine bottle. Twisted Sister’s words quickly came back to you, causing you to turn to the boys. “thank you-” 

“For what?” Mullet asked, a smirk etched into his features. 

“For yesterday. I wanted to thank you,” You glanced at Bailey and Cynthia, who were laughing and dancing with Twisted Sister and Patches; looking as care free as always. “I know it’ doesn’t seem like a big deal but we would of probably been dead, or worse-” 

In an instant, Mullet had  stood and offered you the bottle. His icy blue eyes bore into you, watching as you hesitantly touched it, “You are one of us,”  

“I really shouldn’t. My parents are probably worried sick-” 

“We told them you’re with us!” Bailey said, smiling as she was swung around by Patches  “You’ll feel great! I promise!”  Cynthia nodded along, eyes widening before she suddenly sat up.  

“I totally forgot to introduce you to the guys!” You smiled at her antics, opting to ignore the feeling of  a cold arm wrapping around your waist. She swung her arm around Patches, before taking your hand and pulling you to the ‘make-shift’ dance floor. “This is Marko,” Patches grinned at you, thumb soon finding it’s way to his lips. “Twisted Sister look-alike is Paul,” 

“I do NOT look like Twisted Sister!” He exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest in faux-mockery. 

“Yeah! You can’t disrespect Dee Snider like that!” You chimed in,  laughing when Paul playfully shoved you.  

“This little prince is Laddie!” The boy smiled shyly at you, before turning his attention to his brother, “ Dwayne,” Said boy smiled gently at you before you were once again facing Mullet. “And this is David!” He held the bottle out towards you, now uncorked, and grinned when you gently took it. 

“You’re one of us, (Y/n),”

You smelled it; a sweet copper scent fulling your lungs. Pressured by the cheers of your friends, you placed the opening of the bottle to your lips, and took a long sip. 

[notafraidofstopping876]

Just some random thoughts on the Dear Evan Hansen movie...

Below the cut for anyone who cares to read....

So I’ve listened to the cast album several times and watched a slime tutorial but have yet to see it onstage....and I have a very long history of mental health problems both within myself and within my family, so that’s where I was coming in...

Overall I was pretty happy with it and definitely cried, this is just literally a random thought dump 

*Seeing Evan at the beginning with his twitching and racing thoughts and nervousness made me feel SO SEEN.(I have severe anxiety and depression myself)

*Was Ben Platt probably too old for this role? Probably. But his performance was truly incredible and I’m glad it was preserved in this way.

*Honestly I did not feel as bad for Evan as I thought I would....really and truly after the lies began I didn’t feel hardly any sympathy for him at all. I didn’t even cry during “Words Fail” just because I felt zero sympathy for him after the lying and manipulating.

*Sincerely Me was very well filmed.

*Alana was a lot more sympathetic. I loved her new song, Amanda did a killer job. And I understand more now why Alana posted Connor’s letter, but it still doesn’t excuse it.

*Acting was good all around. Best performance I’ve ever seen Amy Adams or Julianne Moore give. Singing was also good all around, usually once Hollywood casting takes hold of a musical there’s one “singer” who sticks out like a sore thumb (looking at you Russel Crowe and Pierce Bronson) but everybody sounded good.

*I cried for the first time during “Requiem” just because that song always hits way too close to home. Long story short a family member was in and out of the hospital after multiple suicide attempts in a two year period so....yeah 

*LOVED seeing Demarius Copes, even briefly. I’d met him several times because of Newsies on tour and I loved getting to see him on the big screen. 

*Second cry was “You Will Be Found” just seeing how many people were bonded together and uplifted

*When Cynthia said to Larry “Because he wasn’t yours” I audibly gasped. Like, shit. 

*Third and biggest cry was “So Big So Small” because of course it was. May have reminded me too much of my Mom caring for me during my episodes. 

*The resolution of the movie was SO WELL EXECUTED. It solved my biggest problem with the stage show: that Evan never faced consequences for what he did. The fact that he openly admitted what he did and was shunned for it, and then the fact that he actively tried to make things right as best he could by getting to know who Conner really made him a lot more redeemable to me.

*THE VIDEO OF CONNER AND THE GUITAR I LITERALLY GASPED. THAT WRECKED ME. 

Overall I was pretty happy with it....but I will say that while I think it’s great that Dear Evan Hansen is bringing up conversations about suicide and mental health, and I think it’s great that so many people find hope/catharsis in it....I don’t know if it necessarily does that for me.

That’s just me personally, I’m not saying it’s bad. But even when the musical came out, even in that Tony season, there were shows that I found even more cathartic and beautiful (like Come From Away) and shows that I also felt dealt with trauma and mental illness in a meaningful way (Bandstand and even to an extent Anastasia) and it irritates me that so many of those shows were brushed aside because of Dear Evan Hansen’s popularity.

So while I don’t think I’ll ever go out of my way to see the musical onstage, I’m glad the movie exists and I’m glad I watched it. But I don’t think I’ll ever rewatch it multiple times like with the Come From Away proshot.(For the record that musical made me UGLY CRY and belly laugh and made me feel every human emotion that is possible in a ninety minute time span)

[a-chrome-disguise]

I got bored and decided to do one of those character building quiz things. I’m thinking of filling these questions out for the li’l shits over at @another-bloody-multimuse, too.

1. what would completely break your character? Probably another significant death. One of his Pokemon, his grandfather, and where applicable, a friend or lover. 2. what was the best thing in your character’s life? His Pokemon, hands down. And depending on the verse, his partner. 3. what was the worst thing in your character’s life? The death of his brother, and the resulting emotional abuse from his parents. Followed second by his plans failing and getting dragged into the Distortion World. 4. what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? Probably memories of people he used to know, in school and university. Just suddenly pops into his head and he's like "oh yes, that person exists" for a bit before moving on.

5. does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working? Working is his hobby. This boy is borderline self destructive in his work ethic. Someone please tell him to take a nap and eat every once in a while. 6. what is your character reluctant to tell people? That his emotions exist. Any sort of hint about his past. He doesn't even like telling people things like when his birthday is, or where he grew up. 7. how does your character feel about sex? Depends on the verse. Single Cyrus? It is a thing that exists. Taken Cyrus? Hell fuckin' yeah bang his brains out. 8. how many friends does your character have? Uhhhhhh. Well. He doesn't have any contact with his commanders anymore, despite him having (mostly) good relationships with them, so... again, depending on the verses, either: Summer @hero7of4oblivia, Petrel @petrel-station, or Jaideep @eternalr0ses Basically this guy needs more friends. 9. how many friends does your character want? Just a couple. Two or three people, tops, to chat to without overdoing it, but to still keep his (admittedly minor) need for socialisation filled. 10. what would your character make a scene in public about? He would try not to. Because he's always had issues repressing his anger, that would be the thing most likely to make him cause a public scene. Maybe his Distortion World meltdown isn't the typical idea of a "public scene", it was still in front of people he doesn't trust or particularly like very much (Cynthia and Ksenia/any other DPPt protag), and was far too public for his liking. Other than that incident, the thing that would most likely cause him to create a scene would be if his parents found him again. 11. for what would your character give their life? His Pokemon is the closest there is to an answer. Cyrus kind of wants to die on the down low, but is only sticking around for the sake of his Pokemon. Also any friends/partners that exist depending on the verse, but mainly his Pokemon. Any people in his life he thinks would get over his death easily enough over time, regardless of how true or false that may actually be. So since he's hanging on for his Pokemon's sake, he's going to stick it out as best he can, unless it was a choice between them or him. 12. what are your character’s major flaws? How long have you got? He's repressed, depressed, hates emotions, hates people, hates the world, hates life, hates himself, works too hard, doesn't eat healthily, doesn't sleep regularly, etc etc. 13. what does your character pretend or try to care about? Nothing. He either cares or he doesn't. 14. how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project? Actually capable of some small, basic emotions. Depending on how far in treatment he is, who he's around and how much he trusts them etc etc. He cares for his Pokemon - though that is more relevant when Team Galactic was still around. Post Distortion World, he's more open about loving his Pokemon. 15. what is your character afraid of? Publicly emoting. And to an extent, seeing his parents again. Though that would quickly give away to anger.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Bonus Round: Hybrid, Again

Yeah, I lied XD Christmas Eve bonus round! And because everyone seemed really enthusiastic about this fic, I picked two chunks of Hybrid for you all. (And if I were to consider Fic-Mas: NYE Edition, I’d definitely like to know what you would all like more of - your choices are more Hybrid, any of the Unexpected Second Life fics, All These Broken Things, or seeing if I can dig up something from Memento Mori.) 

Onwards!

(This happens before Jasper bites Alice, after Alice’s first day at Forks High.)

Dinner that night was quiet – Dad and Simon seemed worried about my first day of school when I hadn’t reported making loads of friends, and loving everything about Forks High; I had chosen to omit my interactions with Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale when they asked.

Cynthia did most of the talking during the meal, and was slowly painting me a picture of her life – she was a good student, very popular, and loved any sort of club or co-curricular. Definitely a joiner. And absolutely bursting with excitement to start ninth grade next year, and finally be in high school.

“So, who did you hang out with today?” Cynthia finally turned to me. Her dinner plate was barely touched – she’d been talking too much to eat – whilst I was on my second helping.

“I didn’t,” I said, stabbing a piece of carrot.

“Really?” Cynthia frowned. “Who did you sit with at lunch?”

I wanted to smile at her middle-school view of the world. As if there was nothing more horrifying than sitting alone at lunch. And then I wanted to punch something because in a town this small, Cynthia probably had more friends at Forks High than I would ever have, and she was only fourteen.

“I went to the library. I need to catch up in a few subjects,” I shrugged. “And the cafeteria food was really bad.”

“It’s nice to know that things don’t change,” Simon chuckled. “Forks High always made the worst mac and cheese known to man. That stuff was a hate crime.”

“You said you weren’t behind in your classes,” Dad said to me, frowning. I guess as a teacher himself, the idea of his own daughter failing her classes was a pretty bad one, though I was a little curious why Cynthia and I attended a local public school when Dad taught at a fancy private school.

“Just a chapter or two in Algebra, and I think a little in Biology,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t get caught up in.”

“Okay, but if you find yourself overwhelmed or really behind, we can get you a tutor over the summer,” Dad said. “I looked over your transcripts, there are some gaps in your schoolwork we’ll have to address at some point.”

That was a polite way of putting it. There weren’t gaps in my schoolwork, there were great gaping holes. Even from before Mom died. But afterwards, there was foster care, time on the streets, my time at the hospital – I don’t think I ever technically attended sixth or eighth grade.

“You have your doctor’s appointment in the morning, Alice,” Simon jumped in. “I had an in with the best doctor in town, and he agreed to see you tomorrow first thing. Just so we can get your medications sorted.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Another doctor, paging through my endless file claiming I was completely bat-shit nuts. I knew I’d been living on borrowed time as far as medical intervention went. There was an entire pharmacy of psychiatric meds locked up in Dad and Simon’s room that the hospital had sent with me.

Simon had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the three pages of contradictory instructions, that he’d decided not to drug me until we spoke to a doctor in Forks. Which was definitely a good thing, since the medications the hospital had me on left me drooling into my pillow most of the time.

Or screaming for help.

“Carlisle is a really good doctor,” Simon said kindly, obviously seeing the look on my face. “Actually, an amazing doctor. Way better than we should be able to get out in the sticks. And he’s a good person – he won’t do anything that doesn’t sound right to him, and you’re comfortable with. I promise.”

“Everyone says that,” I said, suddenly full and wishing I hadn’t eaten quite so much. “They say, ‘We just want what’s best for you, Mary-Alice’. Then they find out I stabbed a doctor and they can’t sedate me fast enough.”

Rice fell out of Cynthia’s mouth when I said that. “You stabbed someone?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Cynthia,” Dad warned, but all eyes were on me.

Cynthia ignored him. “Why?” she asked, leaning forward. And I felt it, like something physical that wrapped itself around me. The memories; the fear and complete hopelessness. It was like I was being smothered. As if my ghosts weren’t already carved into my skin permanently, where everybody could see.

“Cynthia, enough,” Simon said sternly.

“No one ever cares about the why,” I said softly, looking at the placemats, a swirling pattern of orange and red. I remembered doing it, grabbing the little plastic scalpel, slashing from his ear to his chin, and being dragged away. Being drugged, strapped down and ignored, like some kind of animal; nobody ever asked me why I’d done such a thing, just assuming that it was my fault. “Can I be excused?”

“Certainly,” Dad said, looking worried. “Do you want us to bring you up some dessert?”

“Key-lime pie,” Simon offered. “My mom made it, so not quite as good as mine, but still worthy.”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

I slipped out of the dining room and upstairs, pausing on the stairwell to hear Dad and Simon lecturing Cynthia about pushing too hard and asking too many questions. That I had had a very hard life, whilst hers had been comfortable and happy.

Sometimes, everything that had happened hit me like a truck, and I just… I kind of just went through the motions. Locked every emotion down so that I didn’t have to deal with any of it. The pain, the terror, the complete misery. It was easier just to feel nothing.

I showered and climbed into bed, the scent of flowers wrapping around me. I thought about asking Simon for one of my sleeping pills, but that required energy and interaction, neither were things that I was up for.

Instead, I just curled into a ball and pretended to sleep when Dad and Simon checked on me, separately, later.  I didn’t manage to fall asleep until much later, after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping into soupy dreams of white rooms and not being able to move.

And then the dreamscape changed, clicking into place.

A vision.

There was no specific way I could tell the difference between a dream and a vision of the future, but I always knew the difference. I had no control over them – some nights, it would be an unending string of visions to wade through, and then nothing for weeks at a time. Mom had tried everything, but there was no way to instigate them, or to choose who or what I would see. Whatever my gift was, it did what it wanted.

I was in a living room with fancy art on the walls, and a piano in the entry way.

The vampires were gathered there – Rosalie Hale and curly haired bear-man were seated on the couch, though she looked agitated enough to jump up and pace at any second. A slightly older woman with light brown hair was seated at a small writing desk, tapping away at a laptop absently, with her attention on the group; Edward Cullen was standing with a light-haired man in front of an actual marble fireplace. And the blonde-boy was sitting in the window, staring out into the night.

“Does she know?” the man asked the red-headed boy with a gentle, patient manner that I wanted to like immediately.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, looking frustrated. “Her thoughts jumped around a lot. She never thought ‘vampire’. But she was alarmed by us.”

“What did you hear?” the woman asked, closing the laptop.

“At lunch, she hated the food, wasn’t particularly impressed with Forks in general, happier to be with her father and his family that she’d admit to herself. Then it was alarm bells, her trying to work out an escape plan. She was very, very concerned about Bella and her safety.”

“She warned Bella, verbally,” Rosalie pointed out. “To be careful.”

“Hm. And you had a class with her? Was she well then?” the man asked Edward.

“Distressed. She had scars that were seen by others when she was changing. Bella said that they were ‘bad’, over her back and her thighs. The other girls were focusing on a particularly nasty one on the back of her leg, so I don’t know the extent. I heard something about a hospital, and when I mentioned hospitals in passing, she became agitated.”

“I spoke with her step-father, and he expressed concern over her psychological state. Apparently, she’s had a history of mental illness and abuse, and he wanted someone he trusted to see her and work out how to help,” the man said. “From her records, she’s quite disturbed, though he repeatedly assured me that her behavior has been absolutely normal since she arrived.” The man looked over at the boy in the window. “Jasper, did you notice anything?”

He looked over. “Curiosity, agitation, worry, depression – the usual teenage maelstrom,” he said slowly, disinterestedly.

“If she’s mentally unbalanced, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ‘accident’,” Rosalie said archly. “We wouldn’t even have to move; it could just be one of those things. She wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Would be pretty rough on her family,” the big guy murmured, holding his hands up when Rosalie shot him a look. “Just sayin’, Rose. She only just got here.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about her that much, just yet,” the man said finally. “It’s always a possibility, but Edward, you didn’t hear her identify us; some humans are just more in-tune to their instincts. And there’s a possibility that her medical status can be used to our advantage if she becomes a problem.”

“What about Bella?” Edward asked immediately.

“If Bella could befriend her, that would allow you more access to what she’s thinking. That would be enough for the time being,” he concluded. “At a rough guess, I doubt Mary-Alice Brandon is going to pose much of a problem.”

Edward spun around to Jasper, a glare on his face. “Really?” he snapped.

“What?” the woman stood up, looking worried. I wondered if that was her default state of being.

“He thinks she smelt delicious,” Edward spat.

“Another singer?” the man stepped forward, looking downright alarmed.

Jasper heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said, in that slow, dull manner. “Just a stray thought. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

“Maybe Bella should stay away for a few days,” Edward said grouchily, still giving Jasper a filthy look.

“Leave him alone, Edward,” Rosalie snapped.

“Please, like you wouldn’t break him into little pieces if he slipped up again,” Edward snapped back, and Jasper rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.

“Are we done?” he asked, and when the man nodded, he left the room, leaving the others to bicker in peace; everyone slowly faded away as my vision turned back into my dreams.

//

(This scene is far in the future - like Ch 13. This thing is The Slowest Burn.)

My pitching was clearly stronger than they anticipated; at least, the surprise on Emmett’s face as the ball smacked into the palm of his hand implied so. It obviously wasn’t as impressive as the pitches thrown by Rosalie or Jasper, but still better than they expected.

Of course, once all the Cullens acquiesced to my participation in the baseball game, Edward vocally encouraged Bella to join in as well.

“If Alice is playing, Bella can play,” was his argument, whilst Bella stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. Hell, she always looked uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to the concept of sweatpants and ice cream.

“Alice is less likely to drop dead if she takes a fastball to the face,” Rosalie scowled. I eyeballed the blonde; that statement felt very much like Rosalie was trying to work out how to dispose of me.

“Fractured skull at best,” I agreed serenely.

“Bella is still rehabbing her leg, Edward,” Carlisle said gently.

--

It happened in a second; the ball sailed from Edward’s hands, and Bella swung. She swung too early, and the ball flew past and cracked her across the face. I heard her gasp of pain, of the blood that seeped from her nose instantly, the sound of the bat hitting the soft ground.

And I looked around to see five hungry vampires staring at the blood that was pouring from her nose, Bella’s hands cupped over her face.

Esme and Rosalie were backing away; Esme’s face was concerned but strained, whilst Rosalie’s was blank – her attention was on Emmett, who had taken two steps forward before retreating, his eyes completely black.

Edward and Carlisle were focused on Bella – a broken nose was one of the few injuries I hadn’t sustained over the years, but I could tell from Bella’s reaction that it was excruciatingly painful.  The smell of blood was beginning to affect me, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for…

For Jasper.

I looked over and he was still standing there, completely still.

If I had thought that he had looked feral the night that he attacked me, I was mistaken. He had still looked human then – sinister, terrifying and dangerous but still essentially human.

Now I was glimpsing the monster behind the man.

His eyes were, somehow, blacker than Emmett’s, and dull. His face was completely devoid of any kind of emotion, his gaze focused on Bella. I could picture his muscles tensing for the attack, and with a sick feeling, realized that Bella probably wouldn’t be the only one hurt today. No one else had picked up on Jasper’s intentions yet, and I was incredibly aware that I couldn’t stop him.

But I could certainly slow him down.

I darted across the field, my hair whipping across my face, and flung myself at Jasper, my arms wrapping around his waist. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the closest we had gotten physically, and I was trying to stop him committing murder.

“Please don’t, please don’t,” I chanted to myself. “Jasper! Stop it!” I finally cried out as he began to move forward, dragging me with him, and Edward finally looked up at the sound of my voice.

Jasper shook me off fairly easily, without looking down, and I knew I had to go into full fight-mode; it didn’t matter who or what Jasper was to me, I had to pull him back from killing Bella.

My leg shot out, and whilst Jasper stumbled for a second, but righted himself. I could hear Emmett and Rosalie yelling in the background, and when I looked around, Jasper’s fist came out of nowhere and caught me in the side of the head. For a second, I was seeing stars, and then I was back – Jasper had managed to get Emmett and Edward tangled in each other, Rosalie and Esme were hovering between where Carlisle stood with Bella.

[losergeekvvhatever]

hey hi who wants some thoughts on deh

okay so. i made a smaller post abt the moral of deh but i kinda wanna expand on that so ayy

big long rambly and probably partially-nonsensical deh-loving rant under the cut

here’s the thing about dear evan hansen (and to be clear, “you” is used pretty generally here, obviously this doesn’t apply to everyone but this isn’t fucking MLA so i can write how I want):

the way that a lot of people first get into deh is through the music. no knowledge of the plot, no context, but maybe you listen to the music and you relate to it and you relate to evan. the message, on the surface, is “you will be found.”

and then maybe you find a bootleg, or a plot summary, or maybe you read the script or something. and you realize that all Evan is doing is lying to everyone. you realize that he’s actually kinda being a horrible person!! he’s lying to the Murphy’s about being friends with their dead son, for his own sake.

maybe you get mad. maybe you’re annoyed. maybe you kinda hate Evan now, you think he had what was coming to him, that he deserved those consequences.

but like. you’re supposed to.

cause that’s what this musical is about. cause like, you, the audience member?? you were lied to too. you know nothing about the real Connor, ever. all you get is a couple scenes of him being an asshole and making people hate him and then he’s gone.

so maybe you feel sorry for Connor after he dies. but like, before you found out about that, you probably didn’t care much. maybe you were annoyed with him or you hated him.

... and then he dies. he kills himself.

and then you realize he was struggling.

then, and only then, do you give a shit.

and it’s the same damn story for every person at his school, for every teacher, for his family, for the random people on the internet who had never even heard his name before. they only bother to care when he’s gone.

and i mean, honestly?? they still don’t really give a shit until Evan starts lying. they don’t give a shit until they think there was a ~sweet kind boy~ who was just struggling and lashing out. they don’t care until they can think he’s a good person.

the musical is about mental illness, and it feels real to me. it doesn’t portray it as a beautiful tragedy, it gets ugly and messy.

connor is violent. he is aggressive. he self-medicated because it was literally his only option, cause Larry refused to acknowledge how bad Connor had gotten and nothing Cynthia would do could change that. she tried getting him into therapy and on meds, and Larry took him out of that.

and like, i’ve known people like connor. and it’s pretty damn accurate honestly.

and then there’s evan, who lies because his anxiety gets the better of him and he’s too scared to let the murphys down. and like damn if i haven’t been there. not to that extent but i’ve been there. it sucks. and then things spiral out of control for him, and the lie gets so big that eventually telling the truth would have devastating consequences, so he keeps lying.

but then the truth comes out and he has to own up to that shit. nobody’s gonna accept “sorry my anxiety” as an excuse, no more than they accepted connor’s mental illness as an excuse for his shitty behavior.

know why?

cause it’s not an excuse. it’s a reason, but it didn’t excuse any of it.

so like. there’s two main messages to glean from this:

mental illness is a reason, not an excuse; you still have to apologize for and own up to your shitty behavior.

people often don’t give a shit about someone who’s struggling until they die, and that’s something that really, really needs to change.

taken out of context, “you will be found” is a good song with a good message. and like, i don’t wanna take that away from it. it’s a song that’s helped people; it’s a song that’s helped me. it’s still an important message.

but like, if you think that’s the message of the musical?? then you’re ignoring the fact that it’s literally evan’s speech. as in, the one where he lies.

anyway i feel like a lot of the people who think dear evan hansen is a shitty representation of mental illness are the ones who also take you will be found at face value, and like. there’s so much more than that.

so hopefully i made this make sense.

[pokeau]

Cinderella cage

Original post date: October 16th, 2021

Tensions are running high. OC-tober day 13/14 mixed prompt: burn/cage (which i am late for lol)

Characters: Zinnia/Aster, Cynthia/Orchid

Warnings: aster literally kills someone

Wordcount: 2,064

Vibe: Dramatic:tm:

Original AN:

idk what this is aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa im a bit rusty orz

i took the prompts too literally sorry

tldr aster kills a man everyone freaks out mother daughter bonding

takes place literally the night before joe stone is arrested (so like... 2010)

unrevised bc who cares

~~

"It's getting late." Orchid huffed. "Shouldn't she be back by now?"

"Dunno. Maybe she got distracted."

"That's not like her. She seems very dedicated."

Zinnia just laughed. "You've known her for like 2 weeks, I'd say she stopped in at an antique store."

Orchid didn't laugh.

It was odd. Ever since the investigation started, Orchid's spirit had been inhabiting Cynthia's body... and seeing her different reactions and mannerisms in Cynthia's face put Zinnia off for some reason - though it was easy to tell who was in control of the body at any given time because of it. Still, it was nice to spend time with both of her mothers at once, even if it wasn't quite under traditional circumstance.

Circumstance being investigating Orchid's own death - which quickly turned into a horrifying rabbit-hole of Joseph Stone's various crimes. Orchid was already aware, Steven was too, to an extent. But all of this was new to Zinnia, who didn't want to admit she wasn't taking it the best.

There was just shuffling, reading, and sorting through archives and files in silence. It was late, and they'd been doing this all day for the past two weeks, so Zinnia and Orchid had no words to exchange.

Zinnia felt her attention blurring, but perked up as she heard the lock on the front door turn. Spinning around with a smile, Zinnia was excited to greet the woman she expected to enter - before her expression twisted to one of horror.

"I think we've been found out." In the doorway stood Aster, her voice frustrated and tired - but that wasn't what caught Zinnia and Orchid so off guard. It was the fact that Aster's clothes were covered in fresh blood.

"ASTER?? HOLY SHIT??" Zinnia exclaimed, getting to get feet as fast as she could and running towards her girlfriend. She found herself tripping over her words trying to form a question, which was entirely incomprehensible to Orchid; but it seemed Aster knew what she was trying to say.

"It's not mine."

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT ANY BETTER??"

Aster wanted to calm her girlfriend down, but felt it would be inappropriate given her hands were stained with blood.

Orchid cringed for a second, then in a more familiar tone, Cynthia took her turn to speak.

"Aster, do you need a moment to wash up before explaining what... happened while you here out?" she asked, and while she attempted to keep her tone calm, it was easy to tell she was also panicking inside.

"I feel like it's too important to wait." Aster said, shaking her head and stepping inside. "I'll... spare the details, but all that's important to know is the assassin we've been referring to as 'Doctor'... found me. Needless to say, I'm fine. They are not."

Zinnia looked a little dumbfounded. "What... do you even mean by that?"

"I mean they're dead, Zinnia."

"Right..." Zinnia shuddered. "Are you sure you're fine though?"

Aster paused for a second and sighed. "I'll admit having what appeared to be an old woman pull a gun on me wasn't exactly pleasant. But I'm more worried about what this means."

"Means what?" Cynthia asked from the background.

"He wouldn't send his hit of choice on someone out of the blue. He has to have found out somehow. We need to work quickly." Aster said. "But the scene has been dealt with. There are no traces, except for this."

Aster fished a bloodstained phone out of her pocket and placed it on the nearest table.

"It's a burner, so there's not much of use on it. There's evidence of a call with Joseph's number though."

"Whatever." Zinnia sighed. "You can wash up and I'll deal with it. It's a shame though, I always thought the outfit you're wearing was cute... not sure if that's gonna wash off."

Aster playfully bapped Zinnia on the head with her clean palm before heading upstairs to the bathroom.

There was silence until Aster had gone upstairs, and a tone switch indicated Orchid was back.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Zinnia exhaled loudly and slumped over.

"Last thing I'd want to do now is call Steven. Poor dude would have a panic attack, straight up." she said, running her hand through her hair. "I'm just glad he went for us and got Aster's wrath instead of targeting Steven. I... have enough guilt about that type of thing already."

"What?" Cynthia suddenly came back to ask.

"Nothing." Zinnia said, pausing. "We should probably gather everything together. Tomorrow's gonna be hell."

The two spent some silent moments piling together the remaining documents and journal entries together, though Zinnia's mind seemed preoccupied - as she kept glancing towards the stairs.

Eventually, Zinnia got up.

"I'm gonna check on Aster." she said, her voice an unusual tone.

Cynthia and Orchid collectively nodded, though Cynthia was curious.

'She's hiding something.' Cynthia told her wife in the headspace.

'She's probably just going to check on Aster, Cynthi.'

'There's no harm in a little eavesdropping now and then.'

Orchid yielded, and allowed Cynthia to move to the base of the stairs to see if she could overhear anything - because admittedly, Orchid was curious as well.

"I don't think it's safe."

"Dude's only got one hitman and you-"

"Do NOT recount that. Whatever. I know you're stressed out, just don't do anything more stupid than normal."

There was a pause.

"Wh... what is this? Some kind of old wicker birdcage? Where do you even get this shit?"

"It's easy to carry and it'll be quick. I don't have an endless supply of old chairs, babe."

"Fair enough! Can't see this thing properly containing any bird pokemon, anyways. I won't be gone long. I love you."

The old house creaked as Zinnia exited the bathroom, prompting Orchid and Cynthia to dash back to their seat. When Zinnia returned, she was, indeed, holding an old woven birdcage loosely. It looked worn out, and was broken in multiple spots.

"I'm gonna go for a quick walk! I'll be back." Zinnia said with a wave. When she reached the door, she backtracked to pick up the hitman's phone before leaving for real.

Neither Cynthia or Orchid had anything to say - on the exterior, at least.

'I think we need to follow her' Orchid stated.

'Agreed... this doesn't feel right.' Cynthia replied.

The two got up, put on a light jacket, and headed out the door.

Thankfully, Zinnia hadn't turned a corner and was still visible. So Orchid and Cynthia began following their daughter, illuminated by the dim streetlights.

Orchid moved away from Fallarbor when she was just a baby, so she had no memory of these streets - despite her family growing up in that same house for generations. It was quiet, in a combination of calm and eerie. After so many blocks and turns, all while keeping a distance, Zinnia stopped at a fenced in empty lot. She tossed the birdcage and phone over the chain-link fence, before climbing over it.

Now Orchid and Cynthia were truly lost.

'She's not... burying the body, you think?' Cynthia asked.

'...I hope not. Didn't Aster say she cleaned up?'

'How on earth do you think she could've done that with the mess on her clothes?'

'She's a god, honey.'

'Emerald couldn't do that.'

Cynthia's remark managed to get a small laugh from Orchid. Even though times were tense, Cynthia was so grateful to banter with her beloved again.

But there was no time to wait - curiosity overtook both of them. They snuck up to the empty lot, to see Zinnia sitting on the dusty ground in the middle holding something that gave off a glowing light. She tossed it towards the birdcage, which was sitting a good meter away. Almost instantly, the birdcage exploded into flame, causing Orchid and Cynthia to jump.

It seemed Zinnia was content watching it burn, and both Orchid and Cynthia were confused. While they knew climbing the fence would probably alert Zinnia, they just had to know what she was doing.

Despite the clattering of the chain links, Zinnia didn't turn around. Her gaze was fixated, even as her mothers approached her. At this point, Orchid and Cynthia could better see her outline, as well as that of a red gasoline tank.

"...What are you doing?" was all Cynthia could say.

"Isn't it obvious?" Zinnia replied, not at all surprised by their presence.

"Ok, ok, different question. Why are you burning something in an empty backlot?!"

"..." Zinnia moved her lips as if mumbling, but neither Cynthia or Orchid heard anything. "Aster didn't like me burning shit in the backyard."

Orchid tugged at the reins of the headspace, which Cynthia handed back over to her. She sat down on the ground next to Zinnia and looked on to the fire, avoiding eye contact.

"I know this investigation has been putting a lot of stress on you. What you said earlier confirms it."

Zinnia said nothing in return.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Orchid asked.

Zinnia hummed a little.

"Not like I have anyone. Renee doesn't need me weighing her down right now. Steven's already too panicked. Aster doesn't understand." she said, shifting around a little. "Man, if this isn't a shitty metaphor or what?"

"Hm?" Orchid responded curiously.

"30 fucking years. The moment I was born I was trapped. And I feel like everything I do to try and change my fate... is useless. He's going to get me too, I know it."

Orchid didn't say anything, only gave Zinnia some time to think and articulate her thoughts.

"All those people in the documents. Do you think they thought the same?"

Orchid was losing grip. The fate of those who attempted to rebel against Joseph Stone... Zinnia's words struck a nerve. Quickly, Cynthia took back control of her body.

"We're so close."

Zinnia's locked gaze of the dying fire shifted.

"All the spirits he's silenced... I don't think despair is what they'd want. I know it can be hard to see, but we've backed him into a corner."

"Until he pulls some last minute bullshit."

"I've had to deal with him ever since I got my position at the league. That old dog only knows so many tricks, and with you, he's run out." Cynthia sighed. "When you rationalize and realize he's just a human and not some kind of omnipotent overseer, you realize that defeating him is possible."

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"I desperately wanted to do something, anything. I just didn't have the proof. The most I could do was give Steven a place where he felt he was loved." Cynthia paused, then smiled. "I'm surprised it took us so long to reunite. Steven would tell me about you a lot - he never mentioned a name, but in retrospect it definitely was you he was talking about,"

"He's the only person I can relate to with all this."

"Then think of the future we'll all have once the birdcage he's put you in burns."

"Then I'd be dead."

"No, no! You've gone through fire before! Cage is burnt, you're not. I should've clarified."

"Right."

"You said tomorrow might be hell, but... I think we can mark it as the start on a path towards a new beginning." Cynthia stopped staring at the dying fire and turned her body towards Zinnia. "No matter what - Orchid, Steven, Aster, Renee, myself... we know you can go through just like you have before."

"...I'll let Steven know it's go time." Zinnia replied, and while she did her best to hide it, her voice was a bit choked up.

"It's best to get some rest then, we'll probably have to be up early for this." Orchid said, returning to the headspace. She got up and offered a hand to her daughter, which Zinnia accepted.

Before hopping the fence, Orchid remembered something she never got to ask.

"So wait, why did you burn the birdcage again? What it just to make a metaphor?"

Zinnia stopped to laugh.

"I'm not THAT deep, mom. I just like burning shit when I'm upset, Aster just gives me whatever random old furniture she has in the dreamscape." she said, dusting off her hands on her hoodie. "Though in the end, I think I liked your metaphor better."

[sindearlyconnormurphy]

Teach Me, Baby [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: Teach Me, Baby Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen Requested: Nah Summary: You’re tutoring Connor Murphy (your friend? Your neighbor? You have no idea who you are to him) at the request of his mother. While working on your Spanish homework, Connor asks if you wouldn’t mind teaching him something else with his lips :) Warnings: Connor has a potty mouth | first person reader A/N: This is my first time writing a DEH drabble. I didnt proof read. I’m taking requests ♡

“You ever think about what it’s like?”

His voice startles me from where I’m scribbling in Spanish on my notebook–Connor had been surprisingly productive up to this point. On most nights when I walked over to his house to work on homework, Connor was sprawled on the bed or the floor or the couch and complaining endlessly until I practically did the assignment for him.

Being his tutor was easier than being a friend, after all. But today, Connor had been oddly silent, asking soft questions every so often under his breath about reflexive endings and vowel additions. He ignored his mother as she passed by the open door every so often, smiling in fondly at what must be a very stock photo scene, declining with a ‘no thanks’ when she asked if they needed anything after looking at me expectantly.

We’re both cross-legged on the blue frayed quilt pressed neatly on his bed, the notes splayed messing between us. The door had been shut in frustration after Cynthia’s third check in, giving Connor enough pause to lean in hyperbole against the door, giving an over exaggerated sigh, pulling on his hoodie and tucking a stray strand of hair back into the bun on the top of his head.

He isn’t looking at me when he asks the question, he’s staring down at his workbook intently. From where I’m sitting, I can see his lips are pursed tightly, cheeks puckered from the effort, as if he wished he hadn’t said the words. I might’ve laughed given any other situation, at the cost of earning an outburst, but he’d been so quiet today I was worried my chuckle might make him feel…well, might put him in a place I didn’t want him to be in.

“What what is like?” I asked absently, making sure to seem nonchalant. I didn’t want to scare him away. Connor having a serious conversation about anything was such a rare occurrence I was terrified I’d discourage him from doing it in the future.

There was a beat of silence, then two, and I’d long since decided he wouldn’t answer at all when he blurts out: “kissing.”

I didn’t look up. My pencil, however, flew out of my hands across the bed, eyes wide where they were glued on my notebook which looked like nothing but white and black tv static at that point.

“Haven’t you kissed anyone before?” I asked, voice thick and terrified. I half prayed Cynthia would check up on us again, stop the conversation in its tracks. The other half was so terrified Connor would fly up from the bed and scream at me to get out and never come back–and I didn’t want that. I wasn’t so sure I was comfortable with this topic of conversation at all.

“Shut up,” he hissed, but it was half-hearted, so I knew he wasn’t upset. Curiosity always won out with Connor Murphy. “No, haven’t exactly had anyone wanting to take me up on offers.”

“I didn’t know you offered,” I joked, daring a smile out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me, I realized, half emboldened by my sudden shyness, but his gaze was soft, the smirk at his mouth playful. He wasn’t making a move, I realized with relief. He was just asking.

“I don’t, really, I guess,” he sighed, pushing the papers out of his lap and into the bag at the foot of the bed.

“Connor–” I scolded. We still had a whole other assignment to do.

“You ever kissed anybody?” He asked so suddenly, his head jerking up to state at me boldly. His stony eyes were wide, almost nervous,  and I watched his adam’s apple dip in the thin column of his throat.

“I, uh, no,” I sputtered, uncomfortably. His dark eyebrows lowered, mouth folding into a thin line.  “Why not?”

I shrugged. “Never, uh, found a guy I liked, I guess.”

He quirked an eyebrow, so I elaborated: “You really gotta trust a guy, you know? Because if it’s with a stranger then it means something and it’s weird, but if you already know the person it’s like 'oh, cool, bye, whatever–’.”

“You’re doing the Evan Hansen ramble,” he said with a wicked smirk on his pretty pink lips. I game a small smile back.

“Boys are weird,” I grumbled, focusing back on my Spanish, suddenly none of it making sense. I didn’t like the way my hair fell on my neck, making me too hot and my shirt suddenly felt too heavy and itchy.

“You okay?”

“Stop asking me weird shit,” I grumbled, folding in on myself around my notebook, shoulders hunched and knees high. Connor laughed–loudly, out of character, readjusting on the bed so that he actually faced me, the torn knees of his black skinny jeans brushing mine.

“’S not weird shit, dumbass,” he said congenially, tapping my leg lovingly with his pencil, before throwing it into his bag. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be curious?”

“Porn exists,” I reminded him cheekily, watching as his pale face flared red.

“Not the same!” He sputtered, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. “It’s not–”

“You would know,” I snorted, flopping back, slightly flustered, against his pillows to hide my reddened cheeks.

“Shut up,” he growled. “And scoot over.” I did as I was told, shuffling to the side and rolling onto my hip to give Connor room to slide up next to me, laying down and glaring at me.

“You’ve never thought about what it feels like?” He asked skeptically, eyebrows raised just slightly. I watched his hands to avoid his intense eye contact, the long thin fingers picking at a frayed quilt square between us.

“Course I have,” I muttered. “We were all fourteen once.”

“And you’re all grown up now, huh?” He teased, kicking me with his sock-clad foot. “You don’t think about boys anymore, huh? I don’t buy it. Don’t think Zoe hasn’t told me about the novels you stuff in your pillow case when you spend the night.”

“Traitor,” I hissed under my breath, feeling my whole face grow red.

Connor was still grinning widely, and it was such a rare sight that I took the moment to trace the crest of the apples of his cheeks, the deep lines around his smile, the cracks in his pink lips where the skin stretched just a bit too far.

“What about that Jake kid?” He asked suddenly, nudging me with his knee.

“Jake?”

“The kid that’s on the debate team? Really fucking obnoxious, always staring at your boobs, has the hair?”

“Josh,” I snorted, stilling laughing at Connor referring to anyone but himself as the guy that 'has the hair.’ “He’s cute, I guess. He just seems kinda skeezy. Like he’d take you to prom to feel you up and then dump you, ya know?”

Connor frowned, eyebrows furrowed and eyes unfocused with their gaze somewhere in the vicinity of my clavicle.

“You don’t like him?”

“Christ, no. I’m too busy to deal with boys, Con, end of story.”

“You wouldn’t even do like, uh, casual shit?”

“No,” I hissed, immediately becoming uncomfortable. “Connor, what’s this about?”

“I don’t know how to kiss a girl,” he sputtered, face red, covering it with his lithe fingers. His black finger nails left crescent shaped indents just above his eyebrows as I reached up to circle his wrists with my fingers, dragging them away.

“I’m asking you, as a friend,” he muttered, laying beneath me. He still wouldn’t meet my gaze, chewing on his lip thoughtfully, before eventually closing his eyes. His hair was fanned out against the baby blue pillow, the soft curls enticing and beautiful.

Connor, who was all angles and edges and frown lines, laying still beneath me, eyes closed serenely, pink lips slightly parted. I eased my hand onto his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing accompanied by his heart jackhammering in his chest.

It was stupid, and I shouldn’t. I trusted Connor, to an extent. Part of me was worried he thought he could woo me like this–take advantage. He was still a man, after all. The other half of me was worried. If I rejected him now or later on, he wouldn’t be okay and I wouldn’t be there to help him put himself back together once he fell apart. I wanted to half make sure he wouldn’t fall for me.

I reminded myself that Connor would probably never, ever be into me.

Connor rarely lied. He was blunt. Candid. It was admirable, if it wasn’t always so rude. I rolled over in the bed just a little more, slotting my knee in between his, brushing my hair back from where it fell in front of my eyes.

“This okay?” I mumbled, shifting closer, using the hand that wasn’t propping me up to scratch soothingly at his chest, the thick cotton of the hoodie soft against my fingertips.

He nodded, eyes still closed. I couldn’t bite back the chuckle bubbling in my throat.

“What’s so fucking funny?” He hissed, beginning to sit up, but I pressed him back down with my hand.

“You’ll kiss me back, right?” I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes softened immediately, reaching up to take my hand, surprising me as he intertwined our fingers. Our hands were sweaty. “You’re just laying there like sleeping beauty. I feel like I’m stealing your virtue.”

“You’re funny, kid,” he grumbled, but nonetheless grinned where his lithe hands reached up to take my shoulders in his hands, pulling me back down to the mattress with him.

“You can say no,” he whispered against my ear, surprising me by pressing a kiss to my jaw. “I won’t be, uh, upset or anything.”

“I wanna,” I sighed, feeling him shiver beneath me, bring his knees up to frame my hips.

His hands surprised me as they snaked up my back at lightning speeds, taking my jaw none too gently and tipping it back, forcing me to finally look at him. His expression, unguarded and raw, knocked my breath out of my lungs. I wasn’t used to this Connor. I didn’t know this Connor.

I liked this Connor.

He was rough, yanking me too forcefully up to his lips, his fingers knotting violently into my hair and tugging before slamming his mouth into mine, his nose digging into the apple of my cheek.

He was all teeth, knashing and pressing much too hard, and I tried and nearly failed at smothering a giggle. It wasn’t bad, though it wasn’t necessarily good, it was just too…Connor. Too much of him to take this seriously.

Still, he commanded my presence again by groaning hard into my mouth, snaking a hand down and pressing hard against the small of my back. I tried to mutter 'baby, slow down, slow down’ but it was muffled by his overzealous kissing. He didn’t show any signs of noticing.

By the time he’d finished, I’d wrestled my expression into one of neutral positivity–I would probably be chortling like an idiot all night.

Connor was breathless, his pink lips now red rimmed and swollen from the abuse, a little wet. His eyes were bright, excited as he mumbled a, “Well? Was it good?”

I smiled sweetly, raking a hand through his now tangled hair, leaning down to peck at his lips softly.

“Okay, for a first try,” I conceded with a smile. “Little rough. Not bad.”

His eyes furrowed, lips moving into a frown. “Oh,” was all he said, moving to sit up, pushing me back off his lap. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s nothing a little practice couldn’t fix,” I mumbled, teasing, tracing over the fabric of his jeans. His eyes snapped up.

“Practice?”

I nodded, leaning back onto my elbows before falling down at the foot of the bed, my hair fanned around me. “Do your worst.”

[sayonaramidnight]

"Big Ol’ Honkin’ OC Question List-- Long Post Ahead!" - for Yuki: A 5, 6, 8, 15, 17, 18, 23; B 9, 10, 14, C 1, 5; D 2; E 1; F 2; G 6; H 7; L 2, 3; for Soll: A 5, 6, 17, 19, 24; B 9, 13; D 3; E 6; F 2; G 2 ,4; L 3; for Noodles: A 13, 16, 17, 21; B 8, 9; F 9, 11; H 4, 7, 8. Enojy :D (also, apprently, I have a soft spot for that annoying little... I mean, Yuki)

Do you know how I missed them? Do you? I bet you do :D

Yuki

A5. Are they good at handling change in their life?

…Relatively? Most of the time she just goes with the flow, waiting to see what happens next. It wasn’t always like this - after her parents’ death she might have fallen apart if her surrogate aunt hadn’t been there for her (or maybe not - we’ll never know for sure), but she has hardened since then. And, well, getting involved with the Platinum Chip turned out to be THE change, the one she really looked forward to.

A6. Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

She always believes her interpretation of reality is right. And the most interesting.

A8. Is your OC a martyr?

No, hell no. She won’t sacrifice herself, she will play to win and probably outplay you.

A15. Is your character observant?

Depends. She does notice things, but often misinterprets them, especially when it comes to her friends. She pays attention to her surroundings though, and usually can see through someone’s bluffing.

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?

When she got out of Vault 34 alive. When she got out of the Securitron Vault and made Caesar believe it has been destroyed. Every time she wins a card game.

A18. Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

Not really and not really. It can be motivating at times, though.

A23. Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?

Yup. She knows how to move gracefully, how to smile and flutter the eyelashes, how to dress up. Both for her own  pleasure and to sway other people.

B9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

DeFiNiTeLy RaNdOm. Also, bad puns. And “subtle” mockery.

B10. Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?

Yes, she does. And dirty, too. Her incorrigible aunt Amy taught her to appreciate it.

B14. Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves?

Amy, when they meet (which doesn’t happen often these days). Cynthia - to some extent, especially when both of them get drunk. And Yes Man, because he’s enthusiastic about everything she says.

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Work for those who can pay (yes, satisfaction can be good payment too). Trick the assholes. And the boring people. Help the Followers and make Mum proud. Barter every time. Gamble for everything. Don’t hurt the innocent on purpose. Be true to yourself.

C5. Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

Will there be gambling?… But seriously, her morals and rules are flexible enough not to get broken. Much.

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

Yes and she’s pretty sure she’ll go to hell if she dies.

E1. Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree?

Her mind is really sharp in a scientific-verbal-practical way and she’s a quick learner. She also knows when it’s good not to show it. And she’s really confident about her interpersonal skills. For good reasons. Sometimes.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Oh, you know exactly where it is. The very place Cyn doesn’t want to visit.

G6. Do they have any favorite childhood memories?

Mum’s her fairy tales and dad’s funny stories from the road (mostly about the people he met). Time spent with Amy and her son Chase in their awesome car. Vast Wastelands and long dreamy nights.

H7. What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..)

This is quite hard to tell, for she usually falls in love with a moment rather than a man. Every moment is different and you never know what she will find interesting this time.

L2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Change. Luck and fate. Travel. Searching for a place to belong.

L3. Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?

At first glance, she may seem like me? Maybe? You know, a ball of fluff? But in fact, she’s rather different than me and that’s why I find her so fun to play.

Sollanthi

A5. Are they good at handling change in their life?

She accepts change peacefully, in the Jedi way.

A6. Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

She questions it and tries to learn of other people’s points of view.

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?

The day she became a Jedi. That was even better than saving the galaxy.

A19. What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?

More like “who”… Ezalb, her so-called rival who was Yuon’s padawan before her. She senses something ambiguous and unsettling underneath his calm façade - maybe it’s his tendency to mock a defeated opponent or his obsessive thoughts? She’s hesitant about whether she should help him or expose him. And that’s what irritates her the most.

A24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Vanity and pettiness? Those aren’t very Jedi-like traits after all… But while she tries her best to fight the latter, she can’t really help the former.

B9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Harmless pranks! And the fact that she doesn’t look like a prankster helps a lot. Also, inside jokes with friends and family.

B13. Do they have a large or small group of friends?

She’s friendly and charming enough to gather a large circle of friends around her. And a smaller group of close, fire-forged friends - her crew, master Yuon… hells, even Ezalb. And Junior, of course.

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

She’s a Jedi, so she believes in becoming one with the Force and finds that belief comforting.

E6. Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?

Ooh boy, she is… quite… geeky… More like frighteningly geeky, when given a chance. She believes everything could be useful at a right moment and simply enjoys learning new things.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

She’s never given it much thought, but she knows for sure it must be a sunny place with lots of plants. And clothes shops.

G2. Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

Her beloved cousin Shanandi and auntie master Yuon, and little sis padawan Nadia. And you can say her crew is like a bunch of weird relatives. She does her best to keep in touch with her parents and the rest of the family on Mirial, too.

G4. What kind of childhood did your OC have?

Definitely a pleasant one. She spent half of it with her loving family and another half in the Jedi temple where she wasn’t alone and learnt a lot.

L3. Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?

I created her so I could dress her up - while I don’t look good in dresses, she totally does.

Chalinda

A13. Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

She dislikes loud explosions. It’s an old war thing.

A16. Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

She learns best through trials and experience. I mean, she has learnt more as a young and frightened paramedic during the war than she could ever learn at the medical school. And her first years of smuggling, holy shit, what a sweet summer child she was back then. That was long ago, though. Perhaps she needs some new experience in her life.

A17. What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?

Every time she gets Nico out of trouble and not the other way round.

A21. Do they make excuses often?

Oh gods, yes. For herself, mostly. For others, not as often.

B8. Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?

She believes she’s the funniest person in the Republic. She considers visiting the Empire and becoming the funniest one there, too. But in fact… she is the funniest when she doesn’t try too hard and let things happen accidentally.

B9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

She likes situational jokes. And funny songs.

F9. Are they homebodies and enjoy being home?

She’s very outgoing. Home is mostly for sleeping.

F11. What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most?

Dancing (because she was born to it!). Playing with Polly (because she loves her). Watching silly romance holovids (because she’s romantic at heart). Adventuring!

H4. Does your OC believe in love in first sight?

Nope. Infatuation - yes. Lust - yes. But love takes some time.

H7. What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..)

Someone to laugh, drink and have adventures with. Basically someone like Mhyra, but in a romantic way.

H8.What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

Gourmet food, nice music, lots of dancing, fireworks.

[aurimeanswind]

Happy Easter—Sunday Chats (4-16-17)

WOOOOO IT’S EASTER! YEAH!

But for folks out there who celebrate, happy Easter. For everyone who saw family but didn’t celebrate, happy... non-denominational bunny-related holiday, and for everyone else, happy Sunday.

Let’s talk about Pasta Sauce.

Easter Sauce

About nine-ish years ago, my aunt, technically my Great Aunt, Bon, started making Spaghetti on Easter. What was really special about this, other than the separation from the standard holiday fare which I couldn’t care less for, is the sauce. The star of the show in any truly great pasta. It was amazing. Sweet, yet cheesy. Flavorful in every sense of a simple sauce. Not hounded down by tons of spices, but just delectable in every simplistic sense of the word. It stuck with me so much and eventually I’d look forward to Easter far more than any of the holidays just for the good food.

About 6 years ago, after I turned 18, I offered to help my Aunt make the sauce before Easter in exchange for learning the recipe. It was well worth it.

To get me more involved with bringing my own cooking to it, a couple years ago I even made chicken wings as a side dish for Easter, using my own spin on the same recipe Greg Miller taught the whole internet on an old Conversation with Colin.

We didn’t get together this year to make the sauce because of my work scheduled, but still, it’s a tradition that is really special to me. I’m not super close with many of my extended family members. It’s hard for me to get closer since there is such a political sphere there that is difficult for me to break in, because my Grandmother was part of local Politics for a time, so it’s obviously very important to that sector of my family. It just ends up being a wall I can’t get over most of the time. But this was different.

Getting together, talking about writing, and making pasta sauce together was a big tradition for me, for us, and it’s helped me become a better cook. The memories of throwing the meatballs together while listening to music, letting the sauce simmer, and running out to get Chipotle midday for lunch are all still really precious memories to me.

Plus holy god the sauce is damn good.

Here are some pics. One from a couple years ago the batch we made, and then a couple from today:

Mmm, nothing beats that sweet, sweet sauce.

Easter Conversations

The rest of my Easter was pretty meh though. There were a lot of passive aggressive conversations thrown around. Since my parents split up, and my mom/brother moved to Florida, there is a gap in the O’Neill-clan part of the dinner table. My other brother, who I live with, was also out of town this week because he is off at Coachella, doing god knows what, but having a good time enjoying his vacation.

Because of these recent gaps in the table, my Aunt and Grandmother who usually throw these kinds of events together invite a lot of extended friends and their families. Some of which I absolutely despise.

The person in question, let’s call her Cynthia, lovingly explained how the man dragged off a United flight is running some big scam, and that “he agreed to getting dragged off the plane if need be” when he agreed to the terms and conditions of his flight. Then things were brought up about his past and I decided to take the opportunity to just step outside.

I’m not looking to get into any fights at these kinds of family gatherings. I keep to myself, and though it’s hard sometimes, I just kind of take the brunt of it.

When sitting outside checking on the Twitters, Jackie, a friend who lived up the street from my Aunt came out and talked with me. We had a good chat, but she brought up something super interesting to me. She told me she was about 10 years older than my dad. She told me when she was younger and my dad was 16 or so, he talked ambitiously about starting a place where you could rent and sell movies, that would change the industry forever.

For folks who don’t know, my parents started a local chain of video rental stores called Video Magic back in the 80s, and it was a massive success at the time. A local VHS/DVD rental shop that would eventually be beaten out by the Blockbusters of the world, it was what put them on the map and got them to go to cool events like CES back in the day.

But hearing someone else describe my dad as the kid with wonder in his eyes and a dream to chase, that he achieved for some amount of time. It was... it was odd. My dad is one of those enigmas to me because we’ve never been super close, but after hearing that, I’ve honestly never felt closer to him. We were both kids, with dreams, and we will both achieve them.

That, I know for sure.

What’s On Tap

PERSONA 5 IS STILL SO GOOD YOU GUYS.

But I’ve also been playing Flint Hook, which comes out on Tuesday. My review probably won’t be up soon, because still Persona in my life, but I really dig it. The meta game aspects of Flint Hook remind me a ton of Rogue Legacy, and there is even a bit of Binding of Isaac in the way rounds will play out too.

It’s one to look out for when it comes out Tuesday.

Questions

If this is a subtly-veiled sexual innuendo, then yes.

If not, then yes. Always down with the sauce. Like a true sauce boss.

Aren’t CPAP machines super loud? Like, the sound of a car starting up all the time or something? 

I dunno Cam. What if you got your tonsils removed? That fixes snoring right? Barrett told me I’m not allowed to snore at his place or he’d smother me, but he is strangely okay with the face in my face.

I’m sorry you need a hug Xyger, only in that usually means you’re upset. I miss you too buddy, but presumably you get to see me in both June, and also in July, since I’ll be in Austin around RTX. I don’t know if you’re going to that, but hugs will most assuredly be had.

I liked the part where that bush burned.

#420onEaster

This is a trick, right? They’re the same person, right?

Goddammit Tony. What the hell is this anime shit in my Sunday Chats.

Messing it all up with anime and stuff.

Uh..

Uhhhhhh...

The second one is a better image? Why would you cheat like that?

The first one.

Good question. I like the bunnies in Super Mario Galaxy because they’re super cute. The rabbids are essentially the Minions of video games, but they were around before Minions ruined everything and society, so they’re okay in my book.

Full stop shoutout to Lola Bunny. I’m sure she was in some video games.

Alright kids, the “big fan” thing is cute, but you guys are my FRIENDS. But still. *hugs*

The thing about Persona is the brilliant way its systems interweave with one another. You got a social link with a person you really like, right? Well you have to have that social link up pretty high, so now go get a bunch of Personas, as many will fit in your inventory, and find a way to fuse them to get a Persona of that arcana. You get that arcana boost up really high and you’ll get a mega-powerful Persona out of it by the end. That thing will be able to hold you up in a fight, and your companion characters, swap them out all the time, keep them all up as high a level as you can get them, and fight everything in your way.

As far as time management, accept that you won’t be able to do everything in one play through, and just do the stuff you want to do. You do have enough time to do the stuff you want to, and you’ll get the most out of that stuff anyway.

And finish Marie’s social link ASAP.

Absolutely! Any Persona is a great one to jump into. Persona 5 has the benefit of being a very modern game, unlike Persona 3, which is way harder than the recent ones, and unlike Persona 4, which is still a PS2 game at the end of the day.

Persona 5 has the sensibilities of a PS4 game, even if its looks are a tad dated behind that. 

The game takes a bit longer to get into, but I also think the premise is positioned in a way that is really, really gripping. I think you’d love it Brendan.

I have heard really great things about it! That and Gravity Falls. I just have really fallen off the whole cartoon band wagon. I haven't found anything that’s made me want to get back in. People told me I’d love adventure time, but I tried to watch that and really didn’t get much out of it.

I also haven’t watched any new cartoons that I’ve loved. The adult cartoon series, Arthur, Bob’s Burger’s, South Park, have absolutely zero appeal to me, and I’ve pretty much fallen off of TV shows altogether.

But we’ll see. Should I go for Steven Universe, or Gravity Falls? That’s the question.

The Last Guardian.

Though I think I’d stand by The Last Guardian more than something like a Mass Effect Andromeda. The game is special. It’s something that matters, regardless of what the critics of it say. I don’t think it’d be a better game if it were shorter, in fact, it’s entire point and meaning would be taken away if that were the case. It needs to be grueling and agonizing to some extent because of the payoff at the end.

But even still, in the same family as like a Papers Please or the games of that same ilk, it delivers its meanings and points through its agonizing gameplay. And it works. But at a cost.

It’s a conflicting game, and months later I still find myself trying to narrow down how I feel about it.

Another game like this is Tales of Zestiria, which I’ve talked about plenty in the past, but I think is closer to a Mass Effect comparison.

In an ideal world, the text. The content. The thing you are talking about. But the reality is there could be a super interesting topic discussed by four hosts I don’t know or recognize, and I wouldn’t want to engage with it because I’d have no clue who the people talking were.

That’s why it’s a bit of both. You bring in the listeners, the folks out there, the wider audience, with the topics and conversations. You bring things that are new or at the very least interesting to say to a topic, and people will want to remember you and hear what you have to say about other things. Format is really important for this, and that’s why I like the formats that encourage discussions and digging deeper into conversations than the ones that jump around. Sometimes you won’t find those conversations every week, but you try and bring them to the forefront anyway.

It’s a balance. I know that sentence alone is not at all helpful, but it’s one each show needs to find on its own.

And to that same point, there isn’t one universal length that works for every show. Like, the Comedy Button is great at an hour, but a show like The GameOverGreggy show works at two or three hours just great. Personally, I like the longer show, because I like the narrative. I like the development and the revisiting of old jokes or bits in a single show. That makes that show stick out more as a piece of something, whether that be time, or a moment that that show reflects, like E3 or something like that.

But it also depends on the show, the hosts, and how long its been going. I like IP at 3ish hours because we have conversations, and we have a format that takes us to different places. I like the BrOC as a show that doesn’t overstay its welcome, and we record those three at a time, so it can get a little hazy.

Haha what is with these weird Easter questions?

I actually don’t know. I think there is an Easter Egg hunt mini game from the PS1 Rug Rats game that I really liked. So I guess that means I’m trash, right?

Shoutouts

A huge massive special shoutout to Danny O’Dwyer. Obviously, the dude is killing it, and changing the games industry one documentary at a time. But this week he put out a documentary on one of my favorite games ever, Spelunky.

It’s fantastic, and it’s the first noclip video I have wathced from to back. I know, I’m missing out here, but you should check it out.

Thank you all for reading. As always, I’m incredibly lucky to have you listening, following, and supporting me, and I appreciate every last goddamn one of you. This was a bit more heartfelt than maybe you expected, but I hope you liked it.

From me to you.

keep it real.