#anyway I think I just unlocked a new hyperfixation here

[djosephqueery]

That’s it. I’m shipping Eden and Chrissy and no one can stop me.

[stopeatingwhales]

second chance x damon albarn

i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x

i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho

Pairing: dilf damon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 2.786

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.

“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.

I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.

It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.

Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.

"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.

"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"

"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.

Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"

Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.

Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”

What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.

We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.

A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”

"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.

It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.

"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."

It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve been working on this theory lately about my own media consumption that I’ll call representational contrarianism because I’m tickled at giving it a fancy sounding name. And it’s like this: given the choice between media with canonical queer characters and media that has characters you could argue are queer, I’ll default to the latter nine times out of ten.

And it’s like. Why?

(And yeah, this is a post about Supernatural, but it’s not ABOUT Supernatural, you know? Also everything is about Supernatural except Supernatural which is about umm truly who fucking knows.) 

So, for me (and consider that the big disclaimer for this post) queer characters created by queer people either cut too close to the truth, or they’re disappointing. If they’re truthful, then the truth, through the warped lens of my own insecurities and uncertainties, becomes “yes Sarah this is who you are” or “no Sarah you ain’t this.” If they’re disappointing, if I don’t like them or I don’t like the romance or I like some other character better, I feel like I’m letting someone down--not always sure who, just someone, maybe it’s myself, maybe it’s the Community, maybe it’s this fictional person--and further, this becomes another tick in a column labeled “you’re straight and you’ve always been straight, you hurt gay people by thinking otherwise, and also everyone’s laughing at you.” Which is a lot of pressure to put on kindle lesbian romance novels I picked up for $1.99, but that’s what I feel. 

The important thing is, these characters and stories are tests I’m very capable of failing.  

And queer people created by straight people--look, it’s not universally true, but look at the shitty way explicit homosexuality is treated on Supernatural (a joke! flat! background! nothing!) versus the absolutely inadvertent queer-coding they did with Dean, Sam, and Cas. They wrote three distinct queer masculine allegories by complete fucking accident. They couldn’t have done that on purpose. They don’t think gay people are people in the same way that straight people are people. They think that they’re Gay and then a little later that they are people. (And does my hyperfixation on this issue mean that I approach gay characters the same way as shitty straight writers? Hahahahaha shut the fuck up I’m almost in therapy again, this is all on the docket.) 

Queer characters created by queer people are a litmus test, and queer characters created by straight people are pandering. And you don’t really know about the creators that often, and they shouldn’t have to list their identities on the back of the book (although catch me scanning acknowledgements for the words wife, partner, people thanked with love but identified only as an initial, like deciphering how this book might make me feel is a test I can cheat on, but what do you do with a writers room? Memorize the gay ones if you can, cross-reference who wrote what eps?). So I’m comparing myself against these characters (bad choice) in the hopes of learning about myself while also hyperanalyzing these characters in a way that would be insanely unfair to do to a real person (are they Truly Gay? are they Truly Good Representation? if I don’t like them, is it their fault or my fault or their story’s fault or God’s fault or or or or or or or). So I end up evaluating this central question about myself--literally the question Who Am I--against characters (again, a bad choice) that I swivel wildly between believing they are better at being gay than me (because they might have been written by queer people) or are worse at being gay than me (because they might have been written by straight people). 

(I know this is horribly reductive in regards to representation and own voices and good writing. You don’t want to see how long this post was with nuance.) 

And let’s do the ultimate thought experiment: let’s say they did Supernatural good. And now Dean is bisexual! Yay! Canonically! They decide this in season four and he comes out and maybe he always knew or maybe this is all new to him, whatever, it’s all handled fantastically. GLAAD awards for everyone. 

If Dean was gay, canonically gay, if he had what I do not--a cast of writers, a voice of God saying definitely, yes, yes, he is sexually and romantically attracted to multiple genders, he is Canon now, there was an interview in Entertainment Weekly about it and everything--then he is gayer by default than me--no writers, no God, no all hands meeting when everyone nods solemnly and concludes, let’s give the people what they want: this one’s a dyke. And he slips somewhere I can’t follow, into that tantalizing paradise called Certainty, and he learns the gay lingo, and he learns the hidden stereotypes only gay people get to know about other gay people, and he unlocks the Shared History and the Inside Jokes, and he speaks to the other people in the club with the knowledge that all of them deserve to be there because they know that they deserve to be there.  

(Meanwhile, I am not in the club, I am instead down at the courthouse where I get called forward before the Gender Judges who reviewed the emergency application I made in the middle of the night, and they ask, “It says here you want to change your name?” and I say, “Actually no, I thought about it but the idea of being called anything other than Sarah genuinely horrifies me,” and they ask, “But you did say you were considering experimenting with your pronouns?” and I say, “Again, no, I’ve toyed with the thought but the idea of me being referred to as anything other than she/her viscerally disgusts me,” and they ask, “Okay but what is it that horrifies and disgusts you: the thought of being identified as someone you aren’t, or making a fuss about your identity in a way that draws attention to it?” and being unable to come up with an answer, I throw myself out the nearest window and start running, also causing me to miss my scheduled meeting with the Sexuality forum where we were going to litigate whether I was allowed to use dyke like that a paragraph back.)

(We don’t have time to get into gender. Just assume this all applies to gender stuff as well, and we’ll move on.)

But. If he’s not canonically anything, then he is as gay as I make him. In this daydream or that fanfic, we make the subtext text and here is a queer story, a gay story, a story about me as I would like to be seen and would like to be, and when I am done, I spray him off with some windex and wipe him down to factory settings. And then tomorrow there’s a different fantasy where he’s gay in a different way, a nuance, a tweak, a thousand variations on the same basic premise (what if this guy liked guys), and if I don’t like one, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t stick. It’s a novel written in sand. The appeal is that it’ll wash away. Why should he be any more sure than me? 

Anyway, that’s why queerbaiting is good actually (joke). 

[thirstybtsthoughts]

Bunny I really need big sister advice here.

So, I'm in the bathroom and the door is locked, I went in to make some pleasure in this Tae professor fic I just read... and so I'm enjoying, as one would say, and then I search on twitter for bulges in suits coz thats a kink of mine and it kinda went with the taehyung professor theme... and so I'm scrolling and sprawled out with my hand in use, then my THIRTEEN year old sister says my name as she UNLOCKS THE DOOR WITH HER NAIL, AND straight up just strolls in and stares at me like a foot away. And in the panic, I closed my bare legs, sat there like I was peeing, and tried to not act suspicious.

I yell at her to stay out if the door is locked, and she gets mad at me and leaves. NO PRIVACY IN THIS HOUSE, SMH!!! But then I look down at my phone and realize I forgot something. I left my screen on. MY SCREEN ON. AS THERE'S SOME DUDE ON THE TIMELINE STROKING HIS BULGE,,, my eyes were scanning to make sure I hid everything that could look suspicious in under a second, so i couldn't see if she got a glimpse of it.

My sister is in this weird phase where she's hyper freaked out at anything that makes her think innapropriate thoughts. Idk, maybe its because she's going through puberty and it scares her because she doesn't like this new unknown thing (I was the same way when I was younger for some reason), and it also could be that we're in a very religious and conservative household, so she could be under some self-inflicted impression that its "dirty" or "wrong" to have innapropriate thoughts. But like... its the kid version of dirty. They don't even know what to think yet. For example, we don't watch aquaman anymore because she said to my mom that the shape of his pants makes her look there and it bothers her. This girl... *sigh*

So now I'm sitting here lowkey freaking out. I can't ask my mom to tell her to knock off just ENTERING THE LOCKED BATHROOMS whenever she wants, because then my mom would be like ??? Why is it bothering you extra??? And then she'd know thats usually where I'll go to have privacy so I can do things. I'm twenty years old.

So I tried to continue and refocus on the fantasy of professor Tae again when I was back alone, because I was literally just gonna climax when that scary interruption barged in. I was shaky and akward and felt exposed and so uncomfortable from it. And then my mom walks past, pounding on the door and giving me a heart attack. "Who's in the bathroom rn??" She shouts. Again, yanked my hand away, turned off my phone, and closed my legs JUST IN CASE. I weakly respond "me", and then I freaked out a little again, because my voice was kinda whimpery since I got close to climaxing again and had to panic and stop immediately.

My whole family is really comfortable and casual about just getting things when they need them from cubbords and stuff, but my sister doesn't even knock to ask if its alright. I swear, she does it just to bug me.

Gosh i'm getting off track.

Anyway, I'm scared that I scarred my sister, or if she's gonna hyperfixate and obsess about it in secret now. I don't want her to freak out more than she does. And I really don't want my mom to know that I'll occasionally watch things on my phone. She'll take it to "help me stop" probably, even if I'm a grown woman.

So like... any advice on how to adress this situation? I'm so sorry, I'm just so sick of this. There's NOWHERE I can have the full guarentee of privacy, not even my room. No locks on doors, everyone waltzes in because no one would think anyone is hiding something. but so far I've never been walked in on or caught until now. It felt exposing, even if she thought I was just using the bathroom, and I really didn't like it. I feel embarrased now, that could have gone so bad.

~ 🌸

Wow... I know privacy is hard when living with family but opening locked doors and walking into a bathroom when someone is inside?!... maybe it's a norm in some households, I don't know, but I do feel for you that you really do have no privacy at all.

About your sis - I'm sorry to say it but I kind of feel like she had it coming for walking in on you like that. She shouldn't have done it. Hopefully she didn't see your phone or anything, at 13 though, she's old enough to get a gist of what might have been happening. She will get past this phase of being uncomfortable with things like it, you went through it too, so you would know. I assume it's something she (and you) got from your upbringing around your family's conservative views. Try not to worry about her too much, she'll figure things out as she grows and learns more. If you really want to, you could talk to her about not walking in when people are using the bathroom, but that would involve the risk of her bringing up what she may have seen and thinking about it more. I don't know what else to say about it, it's how your family is, and I feel that if you were to bring up the topic of privacy in a conversation with them it would backfire on you as they would want to know why it's an issue and why you want more privacy.

Do you drive? Have a car? Maybe that's somewhere you could do it. I used to wait until there was no one home and then use those few rare times to play with myself. Otherwise I just restrained from doing so. I never really properly explored myself until I was 27 and moved out though. I also never had privacy, I shared a room when I was at home, have a big family, and our bathroom is too echoey for anything and there's always someone walking by 😭. So I get the no privacy thing. Another thing is to wait until the dead of night when you know they're all asleep, but I know thats risky as every sound at night feels loud af 😩. Your only other option may be to move out...but that's a big step to take just for the sake of being able to masturbate in peace. It's your choice how to handle things, you know your family best. 💜💜💜

[icharchivist]

Soo finished Autumn and will start Winter tomorrow so i can take a “slight break” in between those.

Then I have about 17 chaps of Winter unlocked and then i have... over a hundred of backstory to read a ha ha ahah

But anyway an Autumn billan is that i’m still so proud of them all. 

a3 works its characters development really well and it always ends up being a very emotional ride.

I guess i’m too biased bc I do largely prefer the thematics of the Summer Troupe so i cannot help but compare, but Autumn did a pretty great job with its own thematics.

Autumn was a bit more individualist than Summer or Spring was - which is fine, and was very well handled, and still balanced out with Banri and Juza’s dynamic of being always one against the other to finally being with each other’s tunes.

There is a bit of this always competition underlining theme that is well worked on with them.

Huuum the thing is that Summer was specifically about all the members coordinating with one another and specifically, Tenma learning how to lift up the others. He was the leader but he was so he could lead where the attention should be, on the others.

Autumn is a lot more individualistic even if they all work each other out. The idea was always about them being better than the other as individuals. 

Even Omi, who is clearly the one who cares the least about competition, is specifically in to develop his own individual sense of desire instead of living for the dream of a dead friend. 

Taichi’s whole storyline is rooted in his individual’s journey and ultimately it’s coming clean with the fact he wants to be in the group that helps him grow.

Likewise Sakyo had to grow on his own and specifically had to take steps to “embrace the stage”

But the focus was specifically on Barni and Juza’s personal growth and individual journeys and how they balance each other as individuals. 

Another thematic of Autumn is the one of regrets and i think it works too with the cycle of seasons going on so far. Spring was hopeful and blooming and discovering themselves. Summer was learning about oneself, connecting, having fun. Autumn meanwhile dwelves much more in the regrets of the past, of what the characters wishes they could have done or not.

And it works out well with their personal growth as it is.

In the begining of the story i admit i really wasn’t into Banri at all and i complained about it dljfd but his development was stellar and i’m very proud of him and now i can say i really like him. He’s grown as a leader the moment he accepted how regrets can lead you forward. Also accepted that he can still work toward something and all.

Juza comes as my unexpected sweetheart here since i’ve grown really found of him as it goes. He seemed a bit trapped into what society had forced into them... in fact, all of them kinda felt like they were trapped into what people forced them into. But they’ve all been actively trying to grow out of that and the thing is that almost everyone bring up Juza as being the motivation behind that.  and i find it fascinating.

Taichi’s story was heartbreaking. Omi’s backstory had me cry into puddles. Sakyo is a fascinating character. In a whole the Autumn troupe is made of interesting people.

It seems tho that most of the dynamic of the troupe was Banri and Juza a each others throats and the others doing damage control until near the end where it was all about them taking individual responsabilities. 

They’ve grown together, but i’m looking forward to see more in team development.

One of the highlights that i missed from summer (probably my only real pet peeve with Summer ahah) was... that we see more of Spring and Summer (yeah so in the end i’m still Summer biased huh).

Summer made me forget at time that the Spring charas were supposed to live with them and that was a bit of a problem :/ 

Autumn meanwhile really took a lot of time to have the two troupes be there in the background, even sometimes just to set the mood of a scene. Also extra-dynamic with the troupes with Itaru/Citron/Banri gaming together or all the plot around Yuki and ofc Muku and Juza. 

Which is very appreciated and felt refreshing. We’re really building a family there.

As a whole yeah i’m not as much of an emotional wreck as i was during Summer though but it’s because Summer’s tropes specifically talks to me personally as my fav tropes while i’m more interested to Autumn on an analytic standpoint than an emotional one.

Still, it was a great lot of fun and i loved every seconds of it!

Half of the Winter Troupe had been introduced now soo i cannot wait to see them. I’ve grinded enough the backstories to be curious about all of them and what’s to come, but i’m especially curious about Azuma bc,,,,, i’m v weak for him,,, And the play planned for Winter is actually one that attracts my attention the most... it seems so pretty and sad at once.....

That’s also from the season cycle right? Spring was youthful and friendship based, Summer was humouristic and escapism, Autumn was mature and action packed, so now Winter is coming and i suspect it’s going to be melancholic considering the plot of the play... and i can’t wait to see how they handle it.

Oh and the whole mess with the God Troupe: Come fucking fight me yourself Reni you bitch. 

That will be my concluding word on it *nods*

so, tomorrow winter *nods nods* 

...... and then backstories and i will have done the full content of the game......

ah a hahha funfact i had a one week “holiday” from uni that was done specifically for us to study and i didn’t work at all and it’s all subjects i’m a bit failing into so it’s Kind Of A Problem but just thinking about working on them froze me completely so ooops. Getting a new hyperfixation always stops me from being able to focus on anything else it’s terrible.

But here i am *finger guns*

Anyway Summer Troupe still best Troupe. Love u Autumn though. Love u Spring too. And I will love you Winter. I know it.

anyway now peace out sleep oy ✌