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manonamora-if · 11 months ago

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February Check-In

From here on out, we should be back on track - IRL be damned (crossing fingers with that). Unless someone throws another wrench...

Anyway, let's not think about the bummer stuff...

Here's to a hopefully "normal" month with stuff actually being checked off a list!

Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

IF Events in the Next Month

Plan for the next month

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head over to itch.io!

January Progress

Welp... there wasn't much of a list in the January Check-in, since it was the retrospective, which included the yearly plan. Still, I did make a mini one on itch. Put together we'd get:

Still play more IF and maybe review. ✅

Finish the edits of Harcourt Ch5 ✅ and coding ❌

Fix one of the semi-completed games: ❌either the Egg parser or TRNT (and make it a proper parser)

Complete the Seed/Shuffle-Comp entry✅

Honestly, not bad... The first one, obviously is done and dusted. IFDB says I posted 60+ reviews in January - covering the Short Game Showcase, the ShuffleComp, and the Recipe Jam helped quite a bit. And that also meant... I'm 3rd in the Reviewer ranking! Only 100 more to second place...

MelS and I finally stopped playing ping-pong with the editing of Harcourt (later than we wanted...), and I'm currently sitting down to edit the whole maze. I had hoped to be done by the end of this month, but it wasn't feasible... It was close - I only have half a dozen passages to code, to check it works, and do the formatting. I used to laugh at his complaining of working all the rooms for this maze (because he chose to do that many), but now I'm the one suffering... Don't do mazes... Or don't do 30+-room mazes... (I'm not joking here) Also: If all goes well, March/April should be editing of Chapter 6, June/July coding of Chapter 6 (+ re-edits of previous chapters), August/September beta/edits, October? completed game.

As for the ShuffleComp, I made it realllll close to the deadline. But (not so) strangers in the night was completed just in time! Aaaannnddd, got 1st place in the Use of Songs category! Yay me :D Also submitted to the SeedComp! and the Zach Jam.

As for fixing the parsers.... whomp whomp, didn't manage that.

Buuuutt:

I made another parser! Not Another Sad Meal is a slice-of-life cooking sim of easy difficulty (and clickable elements for help!)

Also made a Zine! CTRL+SHIFT+ZUT+ALORS Lost content meets weird technology. I probably will never make this game, but you can use it as inspiration if you want!

And spent a few days working on a collaborative virtual card for a friend. While that will never be made public (for obvious reasons), You can find the basic interface [here].

Also won kuddos of best puzzle for An Eggcellent Preparation (even though it kinda broken)!

So yeah... not huge updates for projects, but some good progress and a few mini-new games. I'm not expecting people to check those out... But it would be neat if you did!

What’s happening in February?

There's always something happening in the IF world. I don't think I ever find all that happens anyway... but. Here's the ones I know!

The Queer Vampire Game Jam ends in about three weeks. Got a vampire/human story with a LGBT+ cast? Then this is the event for you! (unranked) Also they are doing a fundraising/matching donation with submissions!

Obviously @neointeractives got you covered for Valentine’s with the Smoochie Jam: it’s all about kisses, love and romance (unranked) - Be also on the look out for the next Neo-Interactives mini-jam which is happening mid-March.

The SeedComp! (Sprouting) ends at the end of February. Come transform someone’s idea or asset into a new IF game! See @seedcomp-if for more info ;) (ranked)

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2024 se termine dans un mois! Viendez faire des histoires en français!! <3 (ranked, duh)

The Spring Thing is waiting for your intent to participate until March 1st! After that, the submissions are due in April (also ranked)

Got a cool talk idea regarding Interactive Fiction, narration, or gameplay? Consider submitting a proposal for this year’s Narrascope! They are still looking for people!!!!

Note: @neointeractives will have jams all year long. One a month/or so. And the next Planting Round of @seedcomp-if will start as soon as the results are dropped.

The PLANtm for February

Shortest month, and one busy months in events (I'm at the head of two... what am I DOING WITH MY LIFE....)... So much to do, so little time. But also, ONE EXTRA DAY THIS MONTH! :D

What are we hoping to do this month?

Play more games! Because there are a bunch of jams happening and a backlog of games I'm trying to clear. Also I want to get to that second IFDB spot! (1st won't ever be attainable...)

Finish the Code Ch5 of Harcourt. This is attainable. This is doable. I will finish... because I am already 80% done. MelS is working on Chapter 6 for this month - hoping to have a rough draft for me to check too by the end of the month...

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. This is your month. I swear I am manifesting it hard. This is happening. I will finish you. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you....

Jam Entry number 685470w8698... probably. Maybe do a Queer Vampire/Smoochie Combo. Maybe even a French Comp game?

ALSO: I will probably do an another AMA mid-Feb.

The 2024 To-Do List:

New year, new list. A more feasible one, according to January-Me.

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC + overall the French version to match

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces (giving up on the translation)

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent - this year should be it - for real)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm getting ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (2025? Might end up being a ST?)

#dev log #progress #update #check-in #february planning #AMA incoming yall

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space-blue · 1 year ago

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Welp, if the concept interests you, then I shall gift you chapter 2:

---

Lyle Wainfleet struggles with sleep. He's doing fine all day long. Does his job, supports his team, picks up for the Colonel here and there... He keeps busy. Heck, when there's danger of a lull that can't be filled with training or maintenance, he even turns to Spider, teaching the boy about cards and learning his Na'vi games.

The problem is that when night comes, there's nothing to do but shut his eyes and wait for sleep to come. Lyle's a dyed in the wool marine. He can fall asleep standing up if he has to. Or should, rather, because he isn't. Not any more.

Part of him doesn't want to look at the issue too closely. He's happy to blame his new body and keep counting sheep. Yet as he counts to increasingly complex numbers, the rest of his mind can't help but spiral, bringing in questions over the fence, rather than sheep. Stuff like "What if I wake up tomorrow back on the spaceship for round two?" or "What if it never stops, but like, not in a good way?"

Or far worse, "What if I feel like myself, but the old me wasn't like this? How do I know I am who I think I am?"

And that inner voice, that question-churning gremlin squatting in the back of his mind, it just won't shut up. It can be exhausted though, which is why Lyle is spending more time at the gym, staying there later every evening.

That's where he is when shit goes down.

'Mmh... L-lyle?'

He jumps off the treadmill, startled. It's Milley, the woman in charge of their support team. Except it's 0200 on a work night and the base is dead quiet, most everyone asleep. There's bound to be stragglers and night owls, but Milley's not been one of them so far. Nor would you expect her to be, when she's got her hands full with base-bound recoms all day long.

'What's up?' he calls, waving her into the room. He cracks a smile. 'Bold of you to come find—'

He stops himself short.

Milley is very tall, for a human. She'd have towered a full head over him if he'd met her in his past life. Which would have been hella hot. As it is now, she's just big enough that Lyle doesn't feel like he'd snap her in half if he were to lay hands on her. What with her voluptuous curves and soft brown eyes, he'd been unable to resist an off-colour joke about size when they first met. He can't even remember it, but he remembers how beautiful her blush had been. He'd thought to himself that he ought to invite her for a date at the cafeteria. Put the real moves on.

So, Milley, coming to him here, in an empty gym at two in the morning? The pick-up line just writes itself—except her skin is the colour of the wall, washed out grey. Her full, kissable lips are pinched tight and trembling. Her hands, so deft at braiding their hair, are balled tight in her uniform, knuckles pale and bloodless, like a little girl trembling from a nightmare.

'Hey, are you all right?' he asks, softer now. Her wide-eyed gaze slips past and through him, and Lyle has to gently approach and squeeze her shoulder to get her to refocus. 'What happened?'

She blinks and seems to get her bearings. She also starts shaking under his hand. Positively vibrating. Her teeth are clicking as she says, 'I— I— I need... I need y-your help.'

Lyle braces her, grabbing both shoulders in his enormous blue paws and rubbing his thumbs along her collarbone. 'Shh... I'm here, I'll help,' he tells her, blood already boiling as he wonders whose head he needs to bash in for this.

Milley hiccups. She grabs his left wrist, hands clamping down painfully, nails digging in. She looks stricken, like she can't believe what's happening to her, whatever it is. 'You should... The Colonel, he...'

'What? Quaritch?' Lyle feels his tail whip behind him, out of his control. 'Something's going on with him?'

'I— I... Think? I... don't want to... I...'

'Don't want to what? Did he— No.' He interrupts himself again, waving his own question away. 'Where is he?' he asks instead.

When Milley stutters too long, Lyle picks her up and darts out of the gym. 'Just point,' he orders her. 'Get us there.'

She whimpers, wrapping her arms around his neck like a scared child, but does as instructed. Lyle jogs down the corridors, keenly aware of how ludicrous the situation is. Running around at night with a hot woman draped over his shoulder and hanging on to him like some distressed damsel and her knight gallant... They must make quite the picture. Too bad it's not nearly as romantic as it must look.

This close, he can smell it on her. Acrid and bitter, stinging in his nose and sticking to his palate. Fear.

They don't go very far. Milley leads him back to the barracks, and points down the corridor. Not the wing for the avatar personnel, but the one across, down the hall. The one packed with SECOPS guys and gals. There's a few private rooms at the top for officers, then two large dorms and a smaller one near the end of the wing, for those who are neither guy nor gal.

There's nobody out and nothing amiss as far as Lyle can see. Milley starts squirming, hands digging into his throat as she pushes herself off him. 'L-let me d-down. Let me— Let me down, Lyle, I—'

'Hey, you're good.'

She scrambles back the moment she's on her feet. 'T-there. Men's dorm. I'll... I'll get you back up.' Milley shakes her head. She gives Lyle a terrified look, some dark realisation finally dawning on her, focusing her. 'I'm sorry. I d-don't know why I didn't think of w-waking anyone else.'

Lyle swivels his ears around, trying to pick up on whatever crazy shit has the woman as spooked as a deer in headlights, but all's quiet. Eerily so. He can't even pick up on a single snore. What are they doing in there?

'All right. Go wake Zdinarsk and Brown,' he tells her. 'And get Mansk up too.'

Lyle doesn't want to hear Mansk bitch and whine about missing out on action, especially if Z-dog is in on it. Everybody thinks the man's quiet, but that's because they don't ask him to spot them at the weight bench.

Milley nods furiously, gives Lyle a trembling, half-hearted wave, spins on her heels and sprints back to the Recom wing like there's a medal to be won.

Silence falls down like a blanket over Lyle's back, cold and clammy, raising the hair at his nape and giving him goosebumps. If this is a prank, some setup to jumpscare him as he enters the dorm, it's in serious danger of working. He squares his shoulders and makes his way to the door. He's careful, bare feet silent on the lino floor. He knows it's not a prank waiting for him. Nobody acts like that, and Milley's a tech, not an Oscar winning actress.

Anyway, something's off. It's not just the silence, or even the recent issues with the Colonel. There's something else on the air. A rank smell Lyle can't put a name to. It's heavy and cloying. Familiar, yet new. Revolting and alien. He feels like he should know it. It's on the tip of his tongue—and burning his nostrils. As he presses his hand to the door, it's like he's pushing through a film of it, a bubble that envelops him without popping.

Two things happen simultaneously. Or three. Or more.

First, a sound, at fucking last! A squelching, wet noise, rising over the soft hiss of metallic hinges. Then Lyle walks into something—tepid, liquid—and takes an automatic step back.

He tracks bright red across the corridor's floor and gets an answer to his question. That smell—that overpowering stench—is blood.

Human blood.

A gurgle makes him look up. His gaze follows the slanting blade of electric light cutting into the dark room. Past his own shadow, across mounds and troughs, a senseless mass of warped shapes, glistening pinks and ruby red, sharp white edges and the matte greens of RDA issued clothes.

His tail is rigid behind him, his ears strained against his head. His palm slides against the door, too sweaty for purchase. His breath rattles in his chest, each inhale punctuated by a stabbing pain between his ribs. Lyle is frozen in place, against all training he's ever had, against his own screaming muscles, desperate for him to move, to get away, even as blood pools between his toes.

There's someone squatting at the edge of the light. The only body that still makes sense, with all its limbs attached. A swishing tail catches the edge of the light.

'C-colonel?'

It makes no sense, but the recognition is there, grabbing Lyle by the throat and not letting go. The title echoes in the air as if spoken by someone else. The narrator of this sick joke.

Red, alien eyeshine pins Lyle down as the hunched shape twists towards him. Its attention feels like a greasy touch, tainted fingers smearing the inside of Lyle's skull. But his eyes are alien too, and already accustomed to the dimness. He tracks familiar features, hidden under sheets of gore.

'Miles...'

Colonel Miles Quaritch twitches at his name. A flash of recognition softens his features. He looks away from Lyle and down at himself. You can hardly tell he's a recom, even as he crawls towards the light. His skin is black, soaked with dark, venous blood from his nose to his knees. It cakes over his arms and hands, his throat, his shoulders, dimming his natural light. There's still a smattering of bioluminescence between and above his eyes, but that too, is now the wrong colour.

'Lyle?' Quaritch asks, voice croaking.

What's Lyle supposed to say? 'Hi'? 'Sir, yes sir'? A question, perhaps? 'You all good?' or maybe a statement like, 'I guess I'm dreaming'. That would be fucked too. Finally asleep despite all his inner turmoil, and this is the shit he'd get?

He fucking wishes. Lyle would take any nightmare or night terror over how real this is.

'What did you do?' he asks in the end, the question whispered on a shivering breath.

vampire Q? i think i recognized all your wips but that one

It's an Avatar story in which Q contracts a fucked disease after getting a cut from an arrow. The microbes react differently to the recom DNA and fuck with his mind. The issue is that I started with chapter 2, which is finished, and the first half of chapter 1... Then bailed out on the part where the fever should ratchet up and up, till Miles loses himself and starts feasting on some RDA staff :3

It all starts with the graze of an arrow, courtesy of Sully's woman.

The neurotoxin immediately gets to work, burning as it spreads. Miles reaches for the antidote on automatic, punches it into the side of his throat and tosses the empty canister aside. He discards any concern just as easily. They're pinned down, the hostages scattered, and this is the one fucking alien on this moon whose brains he most wants splattered on the greenery. He's not letting his chance slip.

His arm screams in protest as he signs for Lyle to go around dear Mrs. Sully, or when he grabs Walker and yanks her back behind cover. It shakes under the recoil as he fires into the canopy, half blind in the rain. It nearly gives out when he hoists the kid over his shoulder and clips into the lines.

They fly off and Miles presses himself into his seat, head spinning and an uncomfortable stinging sensation spreading down his chest.

It doesn't matter. He doesn't care. His son is safe in his arms. Bleeding and zoning out, yes, but safe. Kid could have had it worse. He could have eaten a bullet or an arrow.

'He'll be fine, he's probably concussed by the blast and fall,' Lopez declares after a cursory inspection. 'But sir, you shouldn't hold him that way. You could pop the seal of his exopack.'

Miles grunts and adjusts the kid's position, arm twitching in protest. Lopez catches it. Or maybe it's the blood, still sluggishly oozing from the slice in his deltoid. Lopez presses his fingers along the cut, pulling out his small torch to get a better look.

'You took the anti—'

'What d'you think?'

'I think it was a bit of a shitshow, sir. Wouldn't blame you for missing it.'

Miles can't exactly counter that. You don't lose half your team to three natives with bow and arrows and not call it a shitshow.

'I got it immediately,' he says, 'and I'll be heading to the medbay anyway.'

To deliver his unconscious son, if nothing else.

Walker leans into him and whispers an apologetic, 'That was intended for me.'

'And it got neither of us,' Miles mutters.

An easy half lie, but the arrow head and the yellow, striated fletching got under his skin, just in different ways.

That's what I have for chapter 1. Chapter 2 was in Lyle POV and much better imo buuuut, the entire story was hefty and long, with no way to shorten it significantly. I should yeet chapter 2 as standalone on ao3 and be done with it tbh.

Even made some doodles for this AU

One of these things about parasitism, building an organic convent, a sort of weird eldrritch horror competition to Eywa, leading the RDA and local tribes into uneasy cooperation.

It's a story that was discussed too much. It was fun to chat about, but my energy got spent on making the world, meaning I never got to sit to the writing fully.

I also had a really unpleasant interraction with some other fans around this particular story concept, so it really soured things, as often in Avatar sadly.

#and then Q would run out #and start infecting the locals #big chaos #much bad ensues #avatar #atwow #recom lyle wainfleet #miles quaritch

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oumakokichi · 8 years ago

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Hello! I would first like to say that I love your metas about ndrv3, they're really interesting to read and make me like ndrv3 a lot more than when I first saw spoilers about it, especially regarding the ending! Also, I was wondering who was Iruma close to (as friends or romantically) in the game, if anyone? Because I've seen some "spoilers" that say it's implied that Shuuichi liked her romantically, and that it's confirmed she likes Kiibo romantically, and I was wondering if that's true?

Thank you so much anon! I’mglad if I’ve been able to help improve people’s opinions on ndrv3 at all! It’sa really wonderful game, and while it’s not without flaws, I’ve really enjoyedbeing able to clear up false information and just let people decide forthemselves whether they like it or not once they have more of the facts!

As for Miu, haha, she’s…wellshe’s not exactly close with many of them. A lot of the point of Miu’scharacter is that she’s kind of hilariously disliked by the rest of the group,with even Ouma going as far to say when she dies that since she was “thesecond-most disliked person here” after himself, he doesn’t know why everyoneis acting super distraught.

Miu is not someone who canbring herself to trust others. She’s good at what she does—really, absurdlygood at it. Her talent is one of the most useful I’ve ever seen in the DRfranchise, arguably just as useful as Chihiro’s/Alter Ego’s, and it’s preciselybecause Miu is so ridiculously talented and such a forceful presence of brasharrogance and comic relief in the group that I wound up liking her even thoughI didn’t expect to at first. But precisely because of her personality, she’sreally not very well-liked at all.

This is played largely forcomic relief at points. Most of the group in Chapter 4’s trial with theexception of Gonta and Kiibo, kind of agree that even if they hadn’t been putinto a killing game at all, they still wouldn’t have been able to becomefriends with her. Miu is so loud, sobrash, and she puts on this huge arrogant façade where she talks down to peopleand acts like she’s better than all of them. She backs down when pushed at amoment’s notice, of course, but her arrogance still clearly grates on most ofthe group, moreso when she makes them doubly uncomfortable by bringing upsexual innuendos all the time.

Because she insults them andjust sort of grosses them out all around, no one exactly likes her, for themost part. Of course no one wanted her to die, either. Not even Ouma, as I’veexplained in previous posts. Though it’s true that I think if Miu hadn’t hadsuch a ridiculously useful talent he would never have associated with her at allbeyond the bare minimum of having to respond to her in the class trials.

As far as Saihara having romanticfeelings for her, this isn’t canon. Of course, you can still interpret thingsas you like! Much of the fun of DR rarely ever confirming a ship on both sidesis that it leaves a lot up to fan preference, and that’s why things like FTEsand bonus mode content exist, so you can get a feel of which ships you likepersonally and sort of roll with it. Personally, Miu’s love hotel scene made memuch too uncomfortable to ever consider shipping them—there’s a lot of grosspandering in the love hotel scenes in particular that’s pretty much just therefor sheer fanservice, and while these things aren’t canon, they do make meuncomfortable with quite a few of these types of scenes.

The only character Saihara hasever been confirmed to have romantic feelings for is Kaede. He definitelyremembers Kaede fondly the whole game through, and he and Maki both discusswhat it’s like to fall in love in the midst of a situation as ridiculous as akilling game.

However, there’s plenty of roomfor interpretation to ship Saihara with plenty of other characters. I will saythat I think it’s certainly canon that Saihara has a preference for verytake-charge personalities—he gets flustered and embarrassed by pretty much anycharacter who takes him by the hand and inspires him to improve himself, includingnot only Kaede, but Momota, Ouma, even Amami in some of their bonus modeinteractions.

As for Miu’s feelings aboutKiibo, this probably came about as a result of that one CG where she performsmaintenance on him. It’s pretty much just a fanservice CG, and there are loadsof comments from Miu about being very…uh, excited.She loves inventing, she loves mechanics, and she loves electronics, so gettingto actually add new features to Kiibo and perform maintenance definitely wasright up her alley.

There’s not really a lot aboutromance between them, but I’ll say that I wound up not disliking their interactionspecifically because Kiibo is one of the only characters after Chapter 4 whoremembers Miu somewhat fondly. While most of the group is just kind of agreedon the fact that, “Yeah, we don’t really like Miu much because she was kind ofan asshole to us,” Kiibo says he actually felt she was pretty nice, because shewas always doing maintenances on him and always helping him out, in a way. Hedefinitely is one of the few characters to express that he thought the problemwas with the killing game, rather than Miu’s personality, and I’d say thatpeople could definitely read into that if they want, even though it’s a far cryfrom canon.

And as for anyone else she was “close”with—ironically enough, there’s Ouma. I don’t mean this romantically so much asI mean they were close by virtue of having struck up a sort of semi-alliancepretty early on, much sooner than Chapter 4. They certainly never trusted eachother or were entirely open with each other, but the fact that they were ableto put aside their differences and work together to make some pretty incredibleinventions (inventions which became vitalto the rest of the group’s survival in Chapters 5 and 6) was always interestingto me.

In many ways, Ouma and Miu arequite similar when it comes to their inability to fully trust or open up toother people. While many things about each other grated on one another, I thinkthey did sort of subconsciously realize that they had that particular point incommon, and it’s one reason they were able to work together as long as theydid. Things only fell apart after Miu became much too scared to even keep inventingand much too determined that things were going to fall apart, she couldn’ttrust anyone, and she’d rather kill to get out. But while they certainly didn’tlike each other, I’d say part of the tragedy in Chapter 4 is that they didn’thate each other either, and they could actually understand each other quitewell.

Thank you for sending this in,anon! Miu is extremely fun as a character, and I wound up liking her quite alot despite myself, because even if she was certainly not the best person, shehad such a presence, and her role inthe group was fun precisely because so many people were either uncomfortable orannoyed when she was around. While I don’t know that I’d say she was directly “friends”with anyone, the most canonical evidence we have says that Gonta wasn’t closeto her but definitely didn’t dislike her like the rest of the group did, andKiibo was arguably one of the ones in the group closest to her by virtue of herworking on him quite a lot. I hope this helps clear up some of those rumors!

#ndrv3 #drv3 #new danganronpa v3 #miu iruma #iruma miu #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #miu grew on me so much #i wasn't expecting it but then the later chapters in the game happened and welp #anonymous

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Gimme Love, 6/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp, I'm back from travelling! For anyone interested to know how it went; it was great (if you love stress). Liverpool is a lovely place but I've destroyed my bank account :D

Anyway! We got 4 more chapters of this fic! This is where the conflict begins. I hope yall enjoy.

TW for this chapter: Homophobia, homophobic slurs

2020

The cake was in the fridge. We'd be seeing him later. For now, we settled for some spaghetti. It had become a sort of tradition for Jujubee and me for moments that needed celebrating. But we hadn't done it in so long, what with the stress of work.

"So, Juju, as you can see, I've labelled the pages you're allowed to read, so don't go looking at other shit, OK?" I asked, chopping up a red bell pepper.

"Why? If I do, am I gonna find some porn-y shit?" She quipped, running a hand along with the butterfly print book.

"Honestly, you know all of those details anyway." I gave her a smirk, taking a piece of pepper and throwing it over to her.

I almost expected it to fly past her head, but she caught it in her mouth. Skill.

"OK, but what's in the box, though?"

I almost forgot what she was even referring to. But following her gaze, I saw it, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. "Oh, that?" I scraped the peppers into the saucepan, "That is my memory box."

"Ooh, that's even more exciting." She beamed.

"No. We're not opening it." I moved on to an onion.

"Aw, why not?" Jujubee whined.

"Because I made my Mom promise me she wouldn't give it to me until I turned 50. But I was weak and begged her to give it back. So now, I've promised myself to not look inside until I turn 50." The air was no longer clean, poisoned with the acid from the onion. My eyes were beginning to sting.

"Aw, Brie, you don't need to get all emotional about it." She had to go and joke about the tear now trickling down my cheek.

"Girl, this is torture," I wipe my eye along my wrist, pretty sure my eyeshadow has been fucked up. "Did I fuck up the smokey eye?"

"Nope." I knew she was lying to me, but she couldn't take her eyes away, "You look absolutely gorgeous as usual."

"Not as hot as you, though." I sniffed. I needed her to focus on reading so I could finish chopping the onion as soon as possible. "Anyway, you wanna read something in there?"

Jujubee opened the book and immediately laughed, "Jesus Christ, Brie, bit dark."

She showed me the first page, childlike scribblings read 'Brianna's Diary. DO NOT TOUCH! Or this will happen to you!' An arrow led to a picture of a grave.

"I never even noticed that before," I chuckled.

"With a warning like that, I better find some crazy shit in here." she cleared her throat, "So starting in 1994, 'Diary Diary, Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'" Jujubee lowered the diary, "you bitch, why did you upset me?"

"I have no idea, girl. I mean, didn't we do that a lot back then?" I shrugged.

"I bet you started it though," She lifted the book again, a coy smile on her face. "OK, moving on to 1995," she cleared her throat, "'Dear Diary, today Mommy and Juju's Mommy took us to see Pocahontas at the movies. It was very good. Goodnight.'" Jujubee paused to giggle, "God, I love how detailed this is. You could have added so much more."

"Girl, I was 8 years old. Writing more than 4 sentences was like writing the bible to me." I countered, finally scraping the onions into the pan with the peppers.

"Yeah, but we did so much more that day. We went to McDonald's after, we found that little frog pond in the woods." She pointed out.

I hadn't even remembered that. Now I kind of wished my younger self would have pushed herself to write more.

I was too busy rifling through my messy cabinet for oregano to notice Jujubee just flicking through page by page.

"But, you wrote 3 pages worth of poetry to Blair St Clair?"

Once I found the spice, I spun around to look at her, "Juju, I told you to only look at the pages that were labelled."

She held a hand up, "OK, I'm sorry." She closed the book.

I felt bad, thinking maybe my harsh tone brought the fun to a grinding halt. Squeezing my eyes shut, releasing a sigh, I said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She took a sip of her water while I added the oregano to the saucepan.

"So, did you text her back?" She played with the glass in her hands.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Why? Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

"Nah, not really."

"Well, why not?"

Jujubee shrugged her shoulders and went to look at her nails. "Don't know."

I clicked my heel, my tongue running along the top row of teeth behind my closed mouth. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I mean, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I could be a bit more responsive."

She made a humming sound. I was unsure what it was supposed to mean.

"OK, what's going on?" I put both hands on the counter.

"I don't know. I just think…" she paused, trying to find her words, "I don't see the point because the same shit will just happen again."

"The same shit?" I repeated, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, her speaking all but 10 words to you and then completely ignoring your existence." She put a hand under her chin.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't happen if I actually spoke to her like I wasn't terrified for once," I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes together, "Oh no, Brie. I knew this was going to happen."

"What was going to happen?"

"The whole Blair thing. I thought you were over it. Well, until she messaged you recently, I had a creeping feeling that it was all gonna come back."

"Juju, listen to yourself. You're talking like this is an actual problem."

"I hate to say it, but it is. Do you remember the time she hung out with you in the library? You were so excited the next day. I hadn't seen you so happy in so long. You wouldn't stop talking about how she would probably be there again." She paused, "But she wasn't. And you were so disappointed."

"Yeah, but things could be different now."

"And how's that?"

"Well, I'm a different fucking person now, that's one thing. I'm successful, I'm smart, I'm hot as fuck, rich as fuck - -"

"And you think that's gonna be the game-changer for her? That she's gonna come running into your arms? Because if that's the case, that says a lot about her." Jujubee rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm a big girl, now. If it happens again, I'll just get on with things. I'll move on.

"That's a lie."

I squinted my eyes. "Why are you being like this right now? You're so salty just because I fucked wrote a private letter to her as a child."

"This isn't about the letter, Brie. You know why I'm being like this. You shouldn't need to ask." But she continued, "You've never dealt with never having parents. You think that if Blair was to suddenly be truly interested in you, you'd get over the feeling of being unwanted. Yet you're surrounded by people who love and support you, who'd stick with you to the end. But right now, you don't give two fucks about them because you're too busy panicking about some girl from high school."

I lift my head again, putting one hand on the desk and the other on my hip, "Well, congratulations, Juju. Sounds like you got me all figured out. Hey, you wanna talk about my Grandpa next?"

She only reacted to that with a scowl. And she spoke again.

"You remember the prom? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how she didn't do anything to stop Trevor?"

My eyes shifted away, just for a second. "She told him to stop."

"Which did nothing."

I wanted to argue how she was unfair. How it was so wrong to blame Blair for the prom incident. But I was distracted by a burning smell. Only now did I notice the onions and peppers blackening.

I quickly moved the saucepan off the heat, feeling it only radiating in my own face. I put a hand on the counter, the other on my hip. "OK, Juju, maybe you should leave."

It was safe to say Jujubee was taken aback. She remained still for a second before pushing her stool out. "So that's how it is? Kicking me out when you're faced with the truth?"

"Juju, just leave, please." I felt my hands clench around the edge of the counter, my nails digging into my hip.

"I am!" She grabbed her coat and stormed from the kitchen. I flinched upon hearing the door slam shut, and only then did it sink in - the dread, the feeling of regret.

I looked at the hob, the burnt vegetables unsavable. So they went in the trash. My stomach grumbled. But I couldn't bring myself to start over again.

Opening my fridge, my eyes were immediately on the cake. And I glanced over my shoulder, looking where she had sat, now feeling a sense of emptiness. Not in me, but the room. Like I was alone.

I was alone.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I repeated as my hand clenched on the door. The cool air from the fridge felt nice but not enough to stop my panic.

I looked at the cake again, feeling the urge to throw it out the window. Or maybe just send it back to her.

Bitchy, I know. But I couldn't help it. I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't acted the way she did.

I slammed the door shut, kicking it for extra measure. And in my heels, I almost tripped.

Filled with more anger, I paced around for a few minutes, aggressively cussing to myself.

Don't get me wrong, one part of me said she was right about Blair.

No. She isn't. I was going to prove Jujubee wrong.

I picked up my phone from the counter, found the message and began to type with trembling fingers.

"Blair…" I panted, "So sorry...for getting back to you so late... I'm a busy woman, as you...probably already know...Look... I'm just gonna say it...I really like you...I always have...You make me feel so confused...yet so happy at the same time...I feel a connection between us...I always have...I don't know whether you ever felt it or not...but I do hope so...I would love to meet up with you sometime soon...and maybe have a coffee...I don't know...maybe even some wine, if you want. I look forward to hearing back. Brie x"

My thumb hovered over the send button. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock. Not even my own breathing.

I pulled my thumb away, closed my eyes and breathed out. "Brie. You sound fucking crazy. You sound insane. You can't just send shit like that." I repeated words of the same nature to myself, trying to usher myself off the edge before I could do something idiotic.

"Jesus Christ." I opened my eyes again, which were now glossy with tears. I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't let them fall.

Big mistake.

I thought I tapped the chat bar, going to delete the message. But my blurred vision said, "haha, no."

I tapped the button next to the chat bar. The send button.

The little noise my phone made as it was sent may as well have been the same as a gun clicking.

"Oh, God." My eyes couldn't tear away from the small screen. My heart rate increased. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot!" I pressed my thumb down on the message.

There was a delete option.

I clicked it.

'Are you sure? The recipient may have already seen the message.'

I backspaced to check.

There it was, the tiny version of her profile picture falling to the bottom of the screen. She was reading it.

"Fuck!!" I blurted.

I put the phone down on the counter, began pacing for a moment, and looked back at the phone. This went on for a few minutes. I wanted to be as far from my phone as possible. But also needed to know if she had replied.

This was it.

Blair was going to know how I was weirdly obsessed with her.

She was going to know I was checking her out in the library that one time.

She was going to know that I had fingered myself so many times at the thought of her.

What were my options?

Suicide - Not gonna happen.

Running away - But the project.

Reply with 'Hey, sorry! My friend took my phone, haha' - did anyone ever believe that excuse?

Block her before she could reply - then she'd think I was even more crazy.

Call up her place of work and somehow get her phone confiscated - why, though? That would involve Facebook stalking her again, trying to think of an excuse. Even if I did so successfully, she still saw the message.

All of the options just lead to cons. It was hopeless.

With shaky fingers, I switched my phone off and practically threw it onto the counter.

My body sank to the ground, now holding my head in my hands.

What do I do? What do I fucking do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

I was shaking. Only slightly.

There was something about the prom that made me feel so on edge.

Maybe it was all the people, all together in one room.

Perhaps it was the fact the chess boys asked to make out.

Or perhaps it was the fear of missed opportunities. Opportunities that involved a certain someone.

I watched from the side of the room as Blair took pictures with her friends on her pink digital camera. There was a feeling of regret causing my stomach to twist, my fists clenching onto my purple dress.

That could have been me.

I felt a hand moving a curled lock of hair from my shoulder.

"Just think, girl; we're almost there," Jujubee appeared in front of my vision, "College is just around the corner."

"I can't wait to be out of here," I spoke quietly.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as Rosé appeared, announcing it was time to crown Prom King and Queen.

"Well, it's pretty obvious who our queen is." Jujubee crossed her arms.

I knew who she was thinking of. To be fair, it was pretty obvious. But I wasn't complaining.

Trevor was our Prom King, not my King anyway. I scoffed as he cheered, being pushed up to the stage by his team.

"Jesus Christ, who would have thought." Jujubee took a sip of her punch, spilling a drop on her lilac puffy-sleeved dress.

"And your Prom Queen is…" Rosé paused, pulling the result from the envelope.

3...2...1…

"Blair St Clair!"

I smiled for the first time since walking into the place. I applauded her victory as she walked up onto the stage.

Blair hugged Rosé and whispered something in her ear. I had no idea what it was, but I was too distracted as Trevor just stared.

"You wanna make a speech, girl?" Rosé joked into the mic.

Blair laughed, covering her face with embarrassment. She turned down the offer.

"OK. Everybody," Rosé held a hand to Blair and Trevor, "You're King and Queen of 2004."

Blair looked slightly uncomfortable as Trevor put an arm around her waist. Why couldn't he get the hint she was done with him?

The two got down from the stage, Trevor's gaze following her in confusion as she moved far away from him.

"Aren't they supposed to do a dance now?" Jujubee asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, Juju. I've only seen proms in movies, and they're quite obviously exaggerated."

My eyes landed on Blair once more. Trevor was whispering something in her ear, and she shook her head, rolled her eyes and walked away. Yikes, he was desperate.

"Jesus, I'm fucking nervous." Rosé was approaching us now, well, the punch table we stood beside. "Getting up on stage gets my body shaking, you know?"

"Wish I could do that." Jujubee replied.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do." Rosé replied.

I eyed her suspiciously. This was odd; she'd never really spoken to us before.

"But of course," she looked left, then right, before pulling a flask from her bra and pouring it into a cup, "this helps. You ladies want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jujubee made a stank face.

Me, on the other hand, having never drank alcohol in my life, piped up, "Actually, yeah. Could you just pour me a shot of whatever that is?"

"Yeah, of course," and she didn't lie. She poured me a shot of vodka. No spitting in the cup, no adding anything sneakily, no hostility.

She passed the cup to me, giving a mischievous wink.

Tossing it back, I was totally shocked by the burning sensation it caused to my throat. I began to cough and splutter.

"Girl, chill out, or you're gonna draw attention to yourself." Rosé looked around.

I placed the cup down on the table, the plastic practically crumbling in my hand.

"This is it. The beginning," Jujubee joked, dabbing the corner of my mouth with her pinky. I didn't even know there was a drop of liquid there.

And I didn't know there was a hair out of place either. Because she was stroking a soft hand down my temple to my cheek.

"Brie, do - -"

"Juju, I'm gonna ask her to dance with me," I said all too loud.

The hand dropped instantaneously, her smile falling in a matter of seconds. Of course, I expected this shocked reaction. Even Rosé had nearly choked on her drink.

"For real?" Jujubee asked after a silent moment.

"Yep," I answered proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

"I guess you've never touched a drop of alcohol in your life, loser." Rosé leaned close to me.

"Something like that." I felt slightly uncomfortable now that she was dangerously close to me.

She snorted a laugh, holding up her hands as she walked away, "I'm not responsible for this."

So this was what they called liquid courage. Yeah, it was one shot, but it was my very first. And I was already feeling it. The buzz.

I turned to make my way to the girl I loved when Jujubee grabbed my hand, "Brie, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied too quickly, tugging to pull away.

"Are you sure?" Her brows knit, "You're not gonna be upset if she says no, right?"

One final strong tug was enough to release her grip on me, "No, Juju. I'll be fine, just...stop questioning me, OK?"

She was silent, her arms dropping by her side.

But I continued on in my mission, vision slightly blurred, insides warmed.

Everyone around us was gone like they had just stepped into another world, leaving Blair and me in this reality. Or maybe it was the two of us who disappeared, somehow falling into the wormhole and ending up in the other world.

Or maybe it was just liquid courage.

There were only a few metres between us now. "Blair?"

She had been taking a sip of her coke when she looked up and noticed me. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she put the can down.

"Brianna!" She beamed. Her eyes looked me up and down, causing a brief moment of panic, "wow, look at you. You look great."

"Yeah, right, compared to you." I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked.

"So, um…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking away and to the ground, "I was just...wondering...if you'd wanna dance with me?"

I didn't lift my gaze. Only now did I understand what Jujubee meant. The girl hadn't even said no yet, and my heart was already sinking.

"It's just...this song is so good, and it's the end of the year, and we may not - -"

Before I could continue rambling, she cut me off.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll dance with you."

I lift my gaze to see her glittering smile. Like in the library, time didn't feel real anymore, and I needed to remind myself to breathe. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." She briefly knit her brows like it shouldn't have been questioned. She took my hand in her perfect french manicured one, "Come on."

As we made our way to the dance floor, I was only now reminded that there were people here. So, we didn't slip through a wormhole. This was real. This was reality.

Blair found a spot on the floor, turned to me and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck.

For a moment, I was unsure of where to put my hands. I glanced over her shoulder, noting the couple also slow dancing. She has her arms around his neck. He had his arms around her waist.

I was hesitant at first but eventually gave in. Blair didn't mind. And I felt myself relax.

She just stared at me, the sweet smile still on her face. The music echoed around us. The lights were low. Pink tinted.

"So, how does it feel winning Prom Queen?" I asked. Of course, it felt amazing for her, but I needed to find an excuse to speak. Anything to avoid the somersaults my stomach was doing.

"I mean, it's nice, I guess. But, it's all bullshit anyway?" Her smile faltered, "Not something anyone in the future will give a fuck about, right?"

I disagreed. If I were to win prom queen, I would feel validated. And I would make sure I'd bring it up to everyone I ever met. Pathetic, I know.

"Well, I can't think of anybody better," I admitted. "Maybe they could have chosen a better King."

"Agreed." She nodded. "You know, literally just now, he tried to use this whole King and Queen thing to 'try again'. Not even that long before you came up to me. Brianna, I've already given him another chance. And he blew it."

"During the Summer?" I recalled.

"Yep." She pursed her lips.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, he just had some major anger problems," her eyes widened for a moment, "He never hurt me, though. He just...got so angry over the dumbest shit. It was just too much."

She puffed out a breath, the frown on her face appearing.

"You don't have to tell me any more," I said quickly.

"Sorry, I don't wanna get emotional." She looked back at me. "It's just... it's hard not to. You're a good listener."

How should I have felt knowing that was her analysis of me from very little time spent together? She really trusted me. "Blair... I'm sorry about that time in the library. When you mentioned my Grandpa. I feel terrible now."

"Please, don't. You were grieving."

'Was I really though?' I held back from saying.

"I never really had a Dad," I smiled, seeing his stupid smile in my head, "But he was the closest equivalent to that."

"I know what you mean." She began, "My Dad…" she trailed off for a moment, "He wasn't the best. You probably remember that one time I ran away as a kid. When you walked me to my Grandma's."

I wasn't even tense in the first place, but my body felt like it relaxed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. It really meant a lot, Brie." Her thumb stroked the back of my neck. I don't know if she did this intentionally or subconsciously. Was she even thinking about it? "That day, I never went back. Ever. My Grandparents took full custody of me, and they became my second parents. The ones I always deserved."

I felt my body relax even more like this was normal. "Blair, I wanna carry on something my Grandpa started."

"What's that?"

"It sounds crazy," I pause, "But he wants me to find a parallel universe."

I paused to take in her reaction. She did look taken aback for a moment. Could you blame her? "Is it even possible?"

"I mean, at first I thought he was a bit out there asking me something like that, on his deathbed and all. But I've been studying really hard, and I think it's achievable."

"That's interesting." She nodded. "So, what are you gonna do at college?"

"Drugs." I giggled before the smile dropped, "OK, not funny. Bad joke."

"I'm laughing, though." She was.

"Um, no. I'm gonna do Astronomy and Space science."

"I didn't know that was a major you could do," Blair replied.

"Me neither. What about you, though? Something in theatre?"

Blair lowered her gaze for a brief moment, "I dunno, Brie. I honestly don't see college as a me-thing. I'm constantly torn between theatre, fashion merchandising, cosmetology, politics..."

"Politics?" I laughed and instantly hoped she didn't take offence to that.

"What?" She smirked. "What's funny?"

"I just…" I paused, feeling my heart skip a beat as a particular memory came back. "This is crazy. I can't believe I remember this. All I can think about right now is the day we met. Remember the first day of elementary? On the bus? I told you I wanted to be a politician when I was older, just 'cause they liked to shout a lot. And you couldn't say the word right."

"Oh fuck, now that you mention it, I do remember." Blair laughed, "That was such a long time ago. We were so little." She looked away as if her mind had transported her to that moment. Did she remember it like I did? Did she remember how she held my hand and told me she was my friend?

And then never sat with me ever again?

My eyes had drifted away, looking over her shoulder at nothing in particular. The bad thoughts were taking over. I didn't want them to. I wanted to enjoy this moment forever. Just swaying back and forth with Blair in the middle of the dance floor.

She stroked her thumb on the back of my neck again, causing a spark to course through me.

Blair's looking at me again. "Brianna, how come we never talked more?"

I don't know if it was just me fantasising again, but her face was moving closer to mine, ever so slowly.

I had the answer to her question. But it couldn't ruin this moment. "I don't know," I whispered.

She was closer now, head tilted to the left.

And I found myself doing the same.

This was another fantasy. This isn't real.

I felt her breath on the corner of my mouth.

It felt real.

It was.

There was a frustrated roar.

A tight fist clenched around my arm.

I was pulled back forcefully.

My feet gave way.

I was on the ground.

"Are you kidding me??" Trevor stood in front of Blair, his face red with anger, "You won't fucking dance with me, but you'll dance with her??"

Everyone around us was just standing there, too shocked to do something.

"Trevor, what the fuck??" Blair went to move around him, trying to get to me. He only pushed her back.

"Of all the people, why her??" He grilled Blair with more questions. She looked afraid now.

Why the fuck wasn't anyone doing anything??

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but looking around, I saw it was actually Rosé. "Trevor, what the fuck??"

He turned to look as if offended that anyone else got involved. How could they not? Seeing her helping me stand must hit a nerve. Because he's snatched a cup of punch from a bystander, "Why are you defending the dyke??" And he threw the cup forward, the liquid drenching my hair and splattering my dress.

That was the final straw. I could feel my chest heaving.

I ran to the nearest exit. Running from the school. As soon as I felt the cool air on my skin, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was bent over, throwing up all the panic. Sparks of the bile dotted the bottom of my dress and shoes. I didn't care. My dress was already ruined.

I heard the door open behind me and immediately began to move again.

I tried to run, but the heels made it hard.

The person was in front of me now, hands on my face, tears streaking her face.

I expected it to be Blair.

But it was Jujubee.

"Brie, it's alright. I punched him for you." She whimpered, her hands on either side of my face, holding me tenderly.

My breathing was rugged, trying so hard to listen to her reassuring whispers. But in my head was the sound of the crowd gasping and Trevor shouting.

No one was going to forget about this. I'd be reminded by the stares in the corridors, how they'd whisper to each other.

"Let's go to my house. You can stay over if you want." Jujubee's sweet voice brought me out of my thoughts.

Words still failing to surface, I nodded.

As soon as we got in, she ran me a hot bath. Whilst I cleaned myself of the sticky punch that covered my hair and face, she made chocolate mug cakes with ice cream.

Sitting there in her room, dressed in her fluffy pyjamas, eating her food, I should have felt better. I should have been happy. But I just stared at the mug in my hand, still thinking of Trevor's anger and Blair's distressed face.

Jujubee took the mug from me, set it aside along with her own, and enveloped me in a hug. "Don't cry, Bri. Please, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was crying." I wept.

"Don't apologise." She shushed me, "It's OK. You're OK."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2020

And even now, I didn't realise I was crying again. And as it was too late to stop myself, I remembered sobbing into Jujubee's shoulder, holding her tightly, like she was the only one who could get me through it. She was the only one who could get me through it.

The events of the prom left me scared, always so on edge when walking those school corridors. Just terrified that Trevor would round the corner and do something worse.

But Jujubee was there for me every time. She'd hold my hand, not giving a fuck about who looked at us weird.

I know I should have grown a backbone and defended myself, and what had actually happened shouldn't have been as damaging as it was. But, hey, I was only human.

Jujubee got in a lot of trouble for punching Trevor in the face. But she didn't mind. "Just as long as he got what was coming to him," she had said.

Hearing her retell the event, I wish I had been there. She had jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and punched him over and over again.

But as exciting as that all was, I didn't speak to Blair again. I didn't think about her. I didn't talk about her. I didn't even look at her. Blair wasn't the one to come after me that night. She never even approached me to talk about it. She didn't give a fuck.

So I kept my distance.

And just as life went on without her, she just had to go and message me. After years of silence, she couldn't have left well enough alone.

I finally lifted my head. I reached up and grabbed my phone. Turning it back on, I immediately deleted Messenger, hoping to never see Blair's response.

This would be the beginning of my journey toward happiness.

Yeah. That was it. That's what I would do.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw homophobic slurs #tw homophobia

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