#i'd failed that two years ago and look where that got me

[aro-lover]

got too into this for just tags so :3 hai :3

first things first fang finds me indistinguishable from my van, and i think he's a garden! or like a greenhouse. full of dangerous plants. smells weird depending on where you're standing. so much life surrounding you that it's overwhelming, with so many functions and so much to learn, so many things that want to bite you (really, want to stay alive and are doing it the way they know how). it can be foul or cruel but its all worth knowing and its all beautiful. meanwhile, aki is a balcony, with lights a sharp red and a cold white, beyond the thin railings crafted with painstaking love that you wouldn't noticed if you weren't looking, it's too dark to see how high up you are or what's below. it shimmers sometimes, so maybe it's water. the building behind isn't important, but you can still hear sounds from the room you walked out of. to her, i'm more like a box left in the forest.

to me the disciples can't be anything but a camp. sand or snow or mountain or field, they're the fire and everything around it. dito could be a crime scene, decadus could be old wooden floors, octa could be the path peacocks walk at the zoo, cent could be a dusty corner in an antique store, but above all they're still fire. i don't know how they see me

neal is a rooftop, with bottles that keep rolling down it and a starry sky that isn't the fullest you could find. still, it's pretty, and it's good for looking up at while the wind hits your face and passes between you and your friends. you got up and you'll find a way down when the time comes. he thinks of me as a hotel room.

kuprum's a computer desk covered in wrappers you haven't picked up, lights from indicators on the tower and the speakers and the mouse and the keyboard and the whole of the two monitors. it's not gonna take your breath away like a trip the grand canyon but it will do something a little like it when you cry laughing at your best friends. you should get up for a cup of water, though. to him, i'm an asphalt road. zebruh, on the other hand, is a chain cafe. what they sell isn't real coffee but it's close to home and it's full of people who smile at you, and sometimes there's even live music, so even though the plants are plastic, the time you spend there is real. i'm the couch to him.

hubert knows i'm a tower, cobblestone walls and dandelions growing at the base and representing something bigger but so abstract and maybe not more important. he's my bedroom, flowers on the windowsill, scattered papers on the desk, and failed attempts to keep up with making the bed. he's the little wooden animal and the glass of water on my nightstand and the spill when i knock it over fumbling in the middle of the night. i look at it and nod and smile because i think that i chose good curtains and a nice rug. i'd hate to sleep anywhere else.

she might not like me for saying this, but eq is an empty museum. the ceilings are high and the pillars are expensive and we finally have enough time to read every plaque. nobody's here, we can touch the bones like we've always wanted to, even though we know we shouldn't. we can stop and sit on the floor and point out every brushstroke, imagining how someone agonized over them a hundred years ago. the velvet they lay on is almost more exquisite than the gemstones themselves. it all makes me hope that nobody ever finds us, i wonder if anybody is looking. has anyone else seen this? she sees me as a grassy field with a single tree and a blanket of tiny flowers.

If you could describe your F/O(s) as a place, what would it be? A real life place you've been? A fantasy spot you imagine? Would it be something big like a whole city or countryside, or something very particular, like a specific style bench outside of a river at a particular time with a certain atmosphere? Maybe some sort of almost non-construct thing, like if vaporwave was a world, or like whatever is going on in the game Be Calm?

Maybe what about the reverse? What place would they assign/use to describe you?

[yureiyaps]

ִֶָ☾. See You Later!

cw: war au pairing: megumi x OC, dad!Satoru wc: 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 >>> coming soon!

I slipped through the broken door quietly, a bag over my shoulder and glancing at sleeping Megumi, smiling warmly.

"See you later, Gumi." Disappearing from the dimly lit room and into the cold, merciless shadows of the night, I vowed to one day return here and meet them, him, again. Mom died, Dad went away. Yuta was stuck outside of the country. Megumi was injured. I was ill, too. No one was okay. War took everything away. It replaced the sunny sky with dark fog, living with mere surviving - barely so. Survival was improbable. I had once known life the way it was supposed to be - carefree, colorful, joyous. Easy. I'd known what it was like to see my parents happy. The way Dad would hug Mom from behind while she made food, the way she'd soothe Dad after he'd return from work - tired, unwilling, frustrated, but safe and loved. No point in looking back, though. That was eleven years ago. War had taken place long ago. Back to the story. I snuck to the army base. I'm going to join them. The base was heavily loaded with ammo, iron and plank crates, guns, gunpowder, bandage, anything you could think of. Except food. It reeked of blood, rust and rot. I winced, pinching my nose. It was better than the stale stench of decaying bodies on every corner of the city, if anything. The rot was caused by bad water installation, I guessed. The facility was way too humid for a city with scarce rains.

I kept low, slipping between stacked crates and rusted barrels, the cold metal biting through the thin soles of my boots. The air was thick — humid and heavy — each breath like swallowing mold. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, not out of fear, but anticipation. This was it. No more waiting, no more hiding behind others. If I had to rot, I'd rot fighting.

A low whistle caught my attention. I paused, ducking behind a broken forklift. A patrol. One soldier, maybe two. Their boots scraped against the wet concrete, the sound magnified in the silence of the night. I held my breath.

"Thought I heard something," one murmured.

"Just rats. Big ones, maybe," the other replied.

They moved on. I didn’t. Not for a long minute.

The recruitment tent was near the far end, behind a half-collapsed watchtower. I'd seen it days ago from the hill, where I watched with binoculars too old to focus properly. I hadn’t slept that night, just planned. Rehearsed. Failed a few times. Got back up. Megumi wouldn’t have approved, but he wasn’t in a state to stop me. No one was. I had nothing left to lose.

I reached the edge of the training yard, where floodlights flickered over scarred dirt and crooked barbed wire. A few recruits were already lined up, half-awake and shivering. They looked younger than me. Or maybe it was just the hunger. War made everyone shrink.

A man in a tattered officer's coat stood with a clipboard, barking names. His eye caught mine.

"You. You're not on the list."

"I’m not. I’m here to change that."

He looked at me like I was a ghost. Maybe I was. A remnant of something this world tried to bury, still crawling back with dirty nails and a scorched soul.

He sighed. "Name?"

I hesitated. Then: "Akira."

He scribbled it down, like it meant something. Like names still mattered.

"Akira what?" the man asked, tapping his pen.

I blinked. Right. Last names. Those still mattered too.

"...Gojo."

He froze. His pen stopped mid-scribble, then snapped in half. I stared at it. He stared at me. Somewhere, a rat squeaked in the silence.

"Gojo?" he repeated, like I just told him I was a reincarnated deity or the ghost of war itself. "As in Satoru Gojo?"

"Yeah." I shifted the bag on my shoulder, trying to look casual. "He’s my dad. Tall, white hair, blindfolded, used to annoy the hell out of everyone with his existence?"

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer — or a curse.

"You're his kid?"

"Unfortunately," I said with a dramatic sigh, as if I’d ordered a salad and got a side of world-ending trauma instead. “But don’t worry, I’m much more tolerable. Slightly.”

The man gave me a look that screamed I am not paid enough for this. Then he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and motioned for me to follow.

“Fine. Get in line, Gojo. But if you explode anything in the next 48 hours, I’m blaming your bloodline.”

“Fair,” I said, grinning as I jogged to join the line of recruits. “But I only blow things up accidentally.”

The other recruits glanced over, sleepy eyes flickering with either fear or curiosity. Probably both. I stood next to a guy who looked like he’d been raised by wolves and caffeine. He side-eyed me.

“Gojo, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Your dad’s a legend.”

“Legendary pain in the ass, but sure.”

He snorted. “Cool. I’m Renji. Used to steal army rations and trade them for chocolate.”

“I respect the hustle,” I said solemnly.

It felt weird, standing here. Like I was part of something again. Not just a memory or a shadow. I wasn’t here because I believed in the system — hell no. I was here to find out what happened to my dad. He disappeared three months ago, and no one would tell me anything. Just vague statements and awkward silences. And now? There were whispers. About a task force reassembling. About survivors of missions that didn’t make it into the reports.

So yeah. I was going to find him. Or at least what was left of him.

Even if I had to sneak in, lie about my age, and fake my way through basic training.

Which, by the way, started at 5 a.m. the next morning.

Renji leaned over and whispered, “You ever shot a gun?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

We looked at each other.

“…We’re so dead.”

“Absolutely.” The barracks smelled like feet, disappointment, and regret. I hadn't even made it to the bed before I was assaulted by the rock-hard mattress, the paper-thin blanket, and the sound of someone snoring like a dying lawnmower in the corner.

“Welcome to hell,” Renji whispered as he collapsed onto the bed across from mine, arms spread out like a tragic corpse in a war documentary.

I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed, instantly regretting every choice that led to this moment. “I swear this mattress is harder than my emotional state.”

Someone in the room let out a laugh-snort. I cracked an eye open to see a girl with short-cropped hair and a scar across her jaw watching me with mild amusement.

“You’re the Gojo girl?” she asked.

I sighed. “Is that what I’m gonna be known as?”

“Well,” she said, rolling onto her side, “your dad once crashed a tank into the commander’s office because he was bored.”

I blinked. “That actually sounds like something he’d do.”

“Good luck living up to that legacy.” She smirked.

Fantastic. I hadn’t even held a gun and I already had a reputation to uphold. Or destroy. Either worked. -------------

At 4:55 a.m., the world ended.

I was rudely awakened by a bucket of cold water and a sergeant with the voice of a dying blender screaming, “WAKE UP, YOU USELESS MAGGOTS!”

My soul left my body.

Renji sat bolt upright beside me, eyes wide, mouth open, hair somehow more tragic than yesterday. “Are we being bombed?” he gasped.

I groaned, water soaking through my already-worn hoodie. “Worse. It’s exercise.”

We were herded out like soggy chickens, shoved into a formation that looked like it had been choreographed by a drunk goat. The yard was still soaked from last night’s sudden rain, and I promptly stepped ankle-deep into a mud puddle that smelled like expired regrets.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Renji whispered.

I flipped him off with a shiver.

A tall woman with arms like steel pipes and a glare that could melt steel stepped forward. “I am Lieutenant Arata,” she said. “I will be your instructor. I will break you. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Possibly spiritually. Any complaints?”

I opened my mouth.

“Don’t,” she snapped, before I could even get a word out. “I know your last name.”

Right. That was going to be a thing.

We started with running. Lots of running. The kind of running that makes your ancestors sore. Then push-ups, sit-ups, burpees—aka, the unholy trinity of “why did I ever wake up today.”

By hour two, I was rethinking all my life choices. By hour three, I was seriously considering throwing myself into the nearest ammo crate and living there like a gremlin.

“Hey,” Renji wheezed beside me. “You think if we fake our deaths, they’ll let us nap?”

“If you die, I’m stealing your boots,” I muttered.

“They have holes in them.”

“Still better than mine.”

Somewhere between dragging my body through an obstacle course that looked like it was designed by Satan’s handyman, and getting yelled at for breathing too loudly, something weird happened.

A commander in a clean uniform walked by and paused mid-stride when he saw me. He did a double take, stared a little too long. He scared the shit out of me. Dude was built like a mountain with a buzzcut and a voice that could shatter windows.

He stopped in front of me. “Name?”

“Akira Gojo,” I said, standing as straight as I could. “Sir.”

His eye twitched. “Gojo?”

There it was again. That look.

“Any relation to Satoru?”

“My dad,” I said. “Apparently he drove a tank into someone’s office?”

A beat of silence.

Then, like thunder: “HA! That bastard owed me five bucks!”

Everyone blinked. He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s see if you inherited his skills or just his attitude.”

“Is ‘both’ an acceptable answer, sir?”

More silence. Then, quietly, “…Smartass.”

Renji nudged me from the side. “You’re gonna get us all killed.”

“Better than dying of boredom.”

Renji sighed, shaking his head. “No offense, but your dad was like… a god.” "I'm the keychain version." -------------- By lunch, we were covered in mud, sweat, and possibly tears. Renji had been yelled at for holding his rifle like a flute. I tripped and took down two other recruits like dominos. The instructor muttered something about “cursed genes” every time he looked at me.

But I was still standing. Still breathing.

Still here.

And later that night, when the others were asleep and the base was quiet, I snuck into the restricted files room. Because behind all the yelling, training, and dirt-eating — I had a mission.

My dad didn’t just vanish. He left something behind.

And I was going to find it.

Even if it killed me.

…Hopefully after I learned how to aim a gun.

[kingdionra]

hi I've been trying to beg on the fediverse for a while but it's not going very well so I thought I would try here as well >.<

putting the teal deer up front, long explanation & images-for-proof under the cut: two traumatised and disabled queers have successfully run away from abuse but now have no furniture or other household essentials, looking for another €4000* or so to get everything we need + get out of our overdraft

GOAL: €1865/4000

throne link

£ paypal: diontheblackdragon@gmail.com

cashapp: £KingDionRa

DM for roommate's € paypal or my UK bank deets to do a straight transfer <3

also if you want you can get an album for your moneys, i have it up for free download on both my site and on bandcamp :3

*this is higher than the original goal I set on fediverse because I'm including the ebike and winter clothes and getting out of our overdraft (which is costing us a bit in fees every month)...but also this still isn't including new computers which we both need lol but this already feels like so much to ask for!

LONG ASS STORY:

okay so over a year ago i ran away from the uk in its entirety to stay with my internet best friend of over a decade in germany, because i'd been in and out of homelessness there for most of my adult life and just kept ending up with abusers (because that's what happens when you jump at the first chance you get to get out of a homeless shelter by moving in with people you don't know), and then running away from them because they tend to get worse and worse and eventually you'd rather be homeless again than live with someone who continually messes you up and ignores your boundaries and lies to you and bullies you and fucks with your health. and yeah after long enough of that i had zero faith in the system to help me or in local queer groups to do so either, because they're the ones who kept finding me white middle class assholes to live with who turned out to be classist ableist racist shitfaces who talked the talk but failed to walk the walk

anyway, this was not an ideal situation because my best friend was living in a very tiny (25 square meters TOTAL) apartment surrounded by asshole neighbours after also only recently escaping homelessness, but we both found our mental health was VASTLY improved by living together (see it turns out we're NOT the problem!! it was the abusers all along!!!!) despite the very cramped living space (we literally couldn't both stand in the kitchen at the same time and it only had a minifridge and a stovetop) and having to share a room despite NOT being a couple and having no privacy

but eventually that situation got worse and worse due to a literal nazi living next door who engraved swastikas in our mailbox and threatened physical violence on us (pretty sure he thought we were a queer interracial couple and was very mad about that), and things came to a head when he repeatedly called the cops on us for being too noisy at night (we LAUGHED TOO LOUD at gone 10pm omg how dare we) and kept trying to get us in shit with the landlord by making up lies about us

SO, we asked the internet (fediverse) for money to move, and managed to get enough to hightail it the fuck out of there (we actually left the country because neither of us like germany it's, surprise surprise, full of nazis) to a very cheap place in very rural finland where we can each have our own room and that we can actually afford the rent on ourselves but, being poor and desperate, we only asked for literally the bare minimum to move, and left asap, and got here with no furniture, no beds, no household necessities, no nothing.

we've been here 2 months now and have managed to acquire one (1) bed that we're having to share (again we are NOT a couple and the lack of privacy is driving us both up the wall) but we still need:

-a second bed so i can actually USE my own room that i finally have again

-bedding (inc. warm things before winter sets in! and additional covers so we can actually put things in the wash)

-winter clothes before it gets too cold

-a washing machine

-desks and chairs so we can actually sit somewhere and work

-a cargo ebike so we can get to the nearest town (7km) and buy food, rather than relying entirely on non-perishables that we can order over the internet (it's been 2 months since we've had any fresh food and that sucks)

-a new phone for roommate cause theirs broke

-a laptop or desktop for roommate cause they have nothing atm

-a new desktop for me because i only have access to an old shitty kind of broken laptop at the minute (one of the hinges is fucked and i can't close or open it without worrying it will break for good and it doesn't charge right half the time and usually takes multiple attempts to boot up and i'm scared every time that this time will be the time that it just Won't), because when i tried to fundraise for a new one like a year ago i was offered this and didn't think i could say no, but i am very worried it will break any day now, and it is Not Good for recording music on or making art or games (you kind of need to run the games to make them....)

current overdraft:

our very empty living room:

my very empty bedroom:

please help us actually get sorted out and set up in our new place, so that we can actually RELAX for the first time in our lives (i'm 35 and my best friend is 38 >.<)

we both really want to actually do good work and help the world, and i have so much creative shit that i want to get on with but that has just been like, put on hold constantly, for *years*. i have so many stories and games and songs and so much art and a whole-ass comic i want to make and just haven't been able to do ANY of it for so long! (i'm keeping track of all my creative ideas in a huge google spreadsheet that links out to google docs full of properly fleshed out plans for things though, so that i can get to work asap!)

we just need a little bit more help to get started and then we will be giving back SO MUCH, i promise! all my content is and will forever be free! so you can consider this an investment in future works that you will definitely all get access to! <3

thank you so much for reading this far, and for sharing and boosting and donating if you can, you're incredible and awesome and very much appreciated <3

[skzoologist]

Sunshine, I'll be honest with you, with how much I have and will create for Dal... He can be considered a real person soon. Oneshots, series, all kinds of AUs and art too; he's just someone who lives in my head at this point. I'll have to charge him for rent at this point.

ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ I have a request kinda, Okay hear me out I just my signed album the other day and I got chans signature 🤯 ( I'm still in disbelief... Like is this real life 🥲) anyway its got me thinking how the boys would act. With how much they like bae how would they act to receive his autograph. I feel like since their all in the same group no one would really think about it until their signing autographs for the albums, and person A says that some Stays are gonna be lucky to receive bae's autograph and then person B is like actually I have it and starts to brag about it. Then the chaos would ensues 😈 and or something completely different 😅 but after they have it how would they act??

word count: ~1.3

warnings: none

genre: crack

a/n: Hey-ho dear, good to see you again! I was worried something happened with how you disappeared. But oh my god, congratulations on your album! I'm astounded, just, wow. 🤯 Can't imagine ever holding one in my hands, you're so lucky! I would probably freak out like a certain weasel in this request, haha. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy reading it! 😊

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

With every release of a new album came the time for the idols to sign some of them, letting a few lucky fans get their hands on one. It had always been a fun activity for the band, having some leisure time that they could calmly spend in each others’ presence and simply chat or joke around. They would usually film it as well, or at least a part of it, eager to provide even more content to their beloved fans, showing them every single side of themselves, not just the one they showed up on the brightly lit stages.

Bae liked whenever it came to signing the albums, because with how focused most of the members became, the air around them quieted, letting the male soak in their silent presence. Don’t get him wrong, he loved them in all their loud glory, but sometimes his ears and mind needed a bit of an escape, if he wanted to retain the remains of his sanity at the very least.

The cover of one of their NOEASY albums greeted him, the black paper smooth under his slender fingers. With practised ease and carefulness, he lifted the first few pages, finding the perfect place for his signature. The black marker in his right hand rose, its mission now crystal clear. The lines formed on the hot pressed paper, touching each other at the correct places and curving into that familiar symbol he always placed into his signatures. He started implementing the little crystal star into it years ago, the fans absolutely loving it along with the other members.

Speaking of which, they had all been relatively silent as they sat in their seats, as expected. Only light chatter left their lips, a few of the answers even taking up to a minute or two to arrive. Bae merely hummed when he was dragged into the conversations, not wishing to disturb this rare moment. He even sneaked in a few glances at the others while taking a quick break, warmth dancing in his eyes as he watched them, adoration filling his entire being.

Felix once caught his gaze, breaking out in a wide smile in response and lighting up the whole room with his bright presence alone. Bae swore the room actually became brighter and it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him. The quiet idol watched his little sunshine finish signing the album he’d started on and close it, the marker now left alone on the table as the male walked towards him. Not knowing what the boy’s plan was, Bae silently observed, only a small head tilt indicating his slight confusion.

It didn’t surprise him when Felix stopped behind him, tiny fingers carding through long, black strands that were dusted with a tinge of strawberry blonde at their ends. The digits were careful in their fluid movements, twisting the locks in different directions, never tangling them up or ripping even one out accidentally. The notion was so soothing that Bae couldn’t help but let out a silent sigh, eyes closed in temporary bliss.

“Aw man, the fans who get your signed albums are gonna be so lucky.” - Jisung whined out, successfully breaking Bae out of his cosy headspace and stealing his attention. “Don’t even say it, I’m jealous just by the thought itself.” - Hyunjin replied, huffing in annoyance as he glimpsed at their pouting quokka. “Yah, don’t say that, STAY will think you don’t like them!” - Chan laughed out, amused eyes now watching the scene unfold after a quick glance at the still recording camera. “We DO, but still, it’s unfair they can have Bae’s signed albums and not us!” - even Changbin hopped into this circus, making everyone roll their eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

Felix’s giggles broke everyone’s bickering and sulking voices, garnering everyone’s attention as he just calmly continued now braiding Bae’s long hair, the strands weaving into each other and creating beautiful waves of midnight and sunset.

“You can just ask him to sign yours later, chill.” - he said, the atmosphere turning silent, as if a pane of ice had been dropped onto the ground, shattering, leaving everyone speechless in its place.

It took them a solid minute to boot back up, their system having done a quick reset. Seungmin and Jeongin just snorted meanwhile, amused by the stupidity of their hyungs. Minho wasn’t far behind, opting to silently watch it with a knowing grin.

“What do you mean?” - Jisung asked, disbelief heavily dripping from each syllable. “I mean exactly what I said? What, none of you asked Bae hyung for his signature before…?” - Felix replied, confusion clearly displayed as he tilted his head, hands stilling in the otter’s hair. “You mean, we could have asked him for it? Just like that?” - it was Changbin this time, hands firmly planted on the table, already halfway to fully standing up from his poor, knocked back chair. “...Yes? What? Don’t tell me you guys haven’t been asking him to sign all his photocards and albums?” “Felix, I am so honest when I say I love you, but I’m stealing all of them.” “What, Bin hyung NO-” “I agree. I’ll help steal them and we split them evenly.” “Sungie, you too?!?”

Bae watched the two chase Felix around, all the while Hyunjin was left freaking out in his chair, acting as if his entire soul had just left his body. Chan was shaking his head tiredly, but you could see he enjoyed it as well from the light smile dancing on his lips and the slight crease in his eyes. Minho grabbed a snack and happily munched on it, loving the show maybe a bit too much. Bae swore the man thrived on chaos, something that was both impressive and fear-inducing. The two youngest reveled in the situation the most maybe, openly laughing as Felix had been caught and held down, the quokka and dwaekki not granting him any mercy.

Not wanting to suddenly become a group of 8, the tallest member stood up with a silent sigh and a fond smile, ruffling a still dramatically unmoving weasel’s hair on his way as he walked towards the roughhousing trio.

“I’ll sign your guys’ stuff too, just let Lix go.”

The speed at which Jisung and Changbin turned towards his direction was worrying, a miracle none of them got whiplash in the first place. There was a dangerous glint in their eyes, telling of a hunger and determination that had Bae take a step back, right into someone’s chest.

“You’ll sign all my stuff first, right?” - Hyunjin’s voice brushed against his ear, toned arms circling around his waist and cutting off his only escape route.

“Hey, no fair, I want him to sign my stuff first!” “NO, MINE, I’M OLDER SO I SHOULD COME FIRST!” “DUDE, who cares, I love him more, so I come first!”

The bickering and shouting merely strengthened with each passing second, the trio at the centre of it all. Somehow amongst it all Felix and Chan joined in as well, the remaining three just watching in amusement and making sure the camera recorded every single moment from the best angle.

Amidst all that was Bae, caged in Hyunjin’s arms, forced to hear everything and be passed around like a child’s toy, everyone arguing about who loved him more. His arms hurt as they were grabbed and dragged into opposite directions, his skin flushed in embarrassment, the hue only darkening with each shouted declaration of love.

Maybe signing albums wasn’t as peaceful as he had thought before.

[kaytheday]

This idea has been bouncing around my head for the last few days so I thought I'd write it out and see if it's worth anything. I might write it when I have more time but I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts on it. It would be a long fic and it would start two-three yearsish after canon. Anyway... let me know what you think!

It starts when Sodapop gets his draft letter. From there, we get to see all the goodbyes and the heartache. Ponyboy is in college and he starts becoming part of protest groups. During this time in the Vietnam war, college campus protest groups were popping up all over the place. He joins one after meeting this girl in his political science class. Partly because she’s kind of cute and partly because he’s thinking of Soda getting shot at. Meanwhile he's sending letters back-and-forth with his brother anyway. 

As we know in American history, these protests quickly turn violent. For example, the Kent state shootings where four kids were murdered and nine were injured. These kinds of things are happening all over the country. Protests are becoming very violent as fights break out and kids get arrested. Ponyboy keeps going with it, thinking of his brother over in Vietnam. 

The first time he gets arrested is because of a protest. It got rather violent and he was trying to stop a cop from bludgeoning a friend of his to death. They take him down to the station and tell him to cool off in a holding cell. He figures he’ll call Darry in the morning or something because he doesn’t want to bother him. Darry finds out where he is through sheer worry because he never came home. Darry yells at him and stuff and Pony apologizes and promises not to do it again. 

Spoiler alert, he keeps protesting and Darry is always the one picking him up so there's some contention there between those two. Darry is obviously very scared for him and also for the person he is becoming and Pony wants to fight because Soda is still in Vietnam and he feels like it’s the only thing he can do. 

Then Soda dies, he gets shot and killed and that about kills Darry and Ponyboy. Ponyboy goes a little nuts goes a little nuts and Darry doesn’t see him for two weeks. In this time, Ponyboy tries to put together some sort of bombing/very violent protest. It fails and he ends up getting beat half to death and thrown in a jail cell. Darry picks him up from jail and breaks down crying begging Pony to stop throwing his life away. 

Ponyboy nods and smiles and sleeps off whatever acid tablet he popped the night before and gets it in his head that Darry would be better off without him. Realizing he hasn’t been to a single one of his college classes in nearly three or four weeks, he decides to drop out of college and move to New York. He tells Darry his plan and of course there is a full blown argument. 

“You’re just trying to give me what you never had-” and “My future isn’t yours-” Anyway, it ends with Ponyboy storming out and hopping a bus straight to NYC. 

He goes to Woodstock. He takes some acid off some guy and has a really bad trip during Jefferson Airplane's set. Maybe he sees Soda being shot over and over or sits with Johnny while he’s covered in burns. Possibly even seeing those two begging him to save them as they’re covered in blood and burns. Either way, it’s really bad. Some guy drags him to the medical tent where he is taken care of this really nice woman with a child that is three years old. He gets really freaked out by how much the kid looks like Soda. The kid's name? Rainbow Pepsi McGill. He quickly realizes that the woman taking care of him is Sandy. She did have Soda’s kid all those years ago. She never cheated, she just needed to go where Soda couldn’t follow. Maybe they go to lunch and talk about everything and Ponyboy deems it too painful to continue talking to her. Because of all the acid in his system, he keeps getting freaked out because of how much the kid looks like Soda. He ends up running out of the lunch and leaving Sandy alone.

After this, he heads back to NYC, crashing at some drifter friend's house to sleep off whatever happened to him. The next day the friend kicks him out because he wants to spend time with his girlfriend or something like that and Pony is left to wander the city. 

He’s wandering around (not using his head) when he wanders into a black neighborhood. He starts getting weird looks and even a couple of stray comments when he notices what he walked into. Right as he’s about to get beat up a woman runs in and intervenes. Who is it? 

Ace freaking Evans. Because apparently I can't write a story without incorporating her anymore because I love her so much. I literally wrote 60,000 words as a testament to how much I love her. 

Turns out she has been living in NYC since she graduated high school with a couple of girls she met at a church on the corner border of Oklahoma and Missouri. She just got back from none other than the Harlem cultural festival. She looks good in her mini skirts with a big afro and her girl friends surrounding her. She pulls Ponyboy into a tight hug, squeezing the living daylights out of him before promptly smacking the shit out of him.

“You know Darry is worried sick about you!” She yelled at him before he looks up at her meekly and doesn’t say anything. Ace then notices how bad he seems to look and she tells her girlfriends to take a hike before pulling him into some restaurant to cool off. They spend time reconnecting and catching up. They both didn’t know that the other made it out of Tulsa. Ponyboy didn’t think that Ace would take Soda’s death as hard as him but she did. I mean… she basically cuts off contact with the entire gang except for Steve at the point. 

Ponyboy hasn’t talked to Darry in about six months at this point, disappearing off the face of the earth. Darry had been tracking down every hood on the East Side to try and find him because we forget, Darry lost Soda too and he’s struggling. Right now Ponyboy is his only blood family left. Ace knows this, Darry calls her weekly to make sure he hasn’t seen him and also to make sure Ace is doing okay. He misses her a whole hell of a lot, even if she won’t tell him where she is. 

But anyway, Ponyboy stays at Ace’s for the night and she manages to put his head back on straight and get him to call Darry. He finally does, Ponyboy apologizes for arguing and disappearing and immediately Darry wants to see him. From here, it all gets wrapped up really nicely. Maybe Ponyboy goes back to Oklahoma or maybe Darry comes up to NYC. Either way they see each other and everyone can start to heal. 

[genericpuff]

alright so this is a post I've been wanting to write up for a little while now, but I was waiting on permission from a third party to post DM's (censored, of course). That permission has since returned with a yes, soooo

LET'S TALK ABOUT RACHEL'S HIRING PROCESSES-

okay this isn't gonna be as comprehensive as I'm making it sound BUT I've mentioned before on this page (albeit briefly and it's long since been buried) that I actually applied to be a background artist for Rachel a couple years ago, I think it was around the midpoint of S2, and it was (obviously) before I turned to the dark side of crit-n-shit-posting. I never got an email back, so that was that. I'd like to think there's a parallel universe out there where instead of joining the antiLO/ULO community, I became an assistant for Rachel and remained a fan. Enjoy that fridge horror thought.

That said, while I didn't get a response, someone on reddit mentioned that they did:

And they were kind enough to share further details with me in DM's.

Right off the bat, I'm fairly certain they were applying to the same ad I was (as it was a posting that Rachel had made on Twiter and the approximate years line up).

All that aside, considering what Rachel's process is like with her assistants (from what we've discussed here in GREAT detail), it's not shocking in the slightest that the vibe of working with Rachel from the very beginning was "IDK what I'm looking for".

Buuut that's not the end of the exchange because it gets better.

Mind you, this was back in 2019 and it was the experience of one user, so it doesn't necessarily reflect every assistant on the team or how Rachel does things down to the last detail. But it's pretty damning enough that you can still see the evidence of this kind of workflow in current LO 4 years later. If anything she's continued to operate with a rapidly declining pipeline because the art just keeps getting worse and worse.

Part me of wants to say that this could be on Webtoons, as they don't offer support to creators to have assistants. Creators have to pay for their assistants completely out of pocket, split from the income they make from Webtoons. This is why so many creators often don't have assistants or their 'assistants' are also their co-creators (see: Nevermore, which is drawn and written by two people working together).

But Rachel has an average of four assistants per episode, sometimes as many as eight in some cases (though it's been a while since that's happened so I won't really count it for this post).

That means Rachel's team is typically made up of five people, including herself, and that's not including the recent addition of copy editors (but that balances out with the times when Amy Kim isn't contributing , she tends to pop in and out).

Now, she's not the only person on WT with a team of this size, there are others with comparable teams if not bigger ones, but NONE of them seem to operate with as much inconsistency as LO does, and that's not on the assistants, that's on Rachel. She's said in interviews that she always wanted to be a director and that making LO on Webtoons was her way of achieving that, but she doesn't seem to have the integrity or leadership skills necessary to take charge when the team isn't working in sync. You don't see any of these insane art art inconsistencies in webtoons like The Kiss Bet or Tower of God (though they have their own problems, the art isn't one of them), and there are webtoons operating without a team at all that are drawing circles around LO right now, like Nevermore (which is, by the way, also edited by Bre Boswell, same as LO).

Now, that's not to say there isn't struggling underneath the surface, the creators of Nevermore have stated how difficult it is to work for Webtoons as it is, especially as creators who don't have assistants. But how is the #1 comic on the platform failing to meet the standards that come with its labels and awards? Why are the exceptionally better comics being drawn by 1-2 people not getting the attention or opportunities they deserve from the platform? And why does Rachel Smythe, one of the highest paid creators on the platform, still seem to struggle with managing a team of artists after five years of publication on Webtoons? Why does she choose to have a large team if she can't pay them adequately? Why have a large team at all if she's not going to utilize their skills properly? To further lighten the load of work onto others?

Really, it just goes to show the lack of care and respect all around - for the self, for the work, and for those who are pushing out the work and meeting the deadlines, whose reputations and potential are being dragged down with the comic itself.

[natureartisian]

Show Me The Way Home

Hi everyone!!! This is my first Bradley (Rooster) story and I am so so excited to have it posted. It has been something that has been sitting in my little brain for months and I am so happy to be sharing it with you. <3 This will be an 18+ story for both language, and mature content later on in the chapters...it will get spicy y'all.

next chapter

The summer had finally graced San Diego with the beautiful orange sky over the Hard Deck. My shift didn’t start for another twenty minutes so I decided to take a walk by the water. 

Across the bay I can see sailors boarding their boats in preparation for the upcoming season and the fishermen are getting an early start by mapping out the best spots to place their nets. 

“Andie, you’re here early.” I hear from behind me 

“Yeah, I… I couldn’t sleep so I figured I'd come by and see if there was anything I could do before my shift.” 

Penny noticed my stiff demeanor and placed a hand on my shoulder, “A shipment from Glenn’s was just dropped off, I could use the help if you’re still offering.” 

I nod my head and offer a smile, “Of course.”

I’ve been working for Penny at the Hard Deck for about three years now. I would visit frequently as a child prior to her being the head of business and it was always my home away from home. The Hard Deck is where all the kids who missed their parents would come so we could revel in their presence…even if it was just in the photos on the walls. Of course then we had to come in during specific hours, but once Penny got a hold of the lease, she designated a spot for us called the “Flight Crew Juniors”. I am one of the only few that still come around. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a “lucky one” but, my story hasn’t been as hard as the others that I frequented this place with. 

I run my fingers along the table that has signatures carved in it by knives. I pay close attention to two in particular. B.B. and A.K. 

“He’s supposed to be back, you know. His deployment ended not too long ago.” 

I let out a sigh, “Yeah, I heard that…we just…we never really kept in touch so…”

“There’s still time…”

Tearing my eyes away from the table I turn to Penny nodding, “Yeah, we’ll see. Anyways, was that the last box?”

She nods, “Yep, luckily it was mostly grenadine and toppings in that one so nothing too heavy. But, we gotta be prepared because starting tonight we’ve got new and returning sailors and aviators that are going to be busting down my door for some top shelf liquor that by next week they won’t be able to afford.” 

I let out a laugh as I can remember many nights when we’d watch new aviators try and buy drink after drink for a pretty face and then the look that rose on theirs when we rang the bell after the reader said, “declined”. They’re probably still fishing sand out of their shoes. 

Penny wasn’t kidding when she predicted we would be packed. It is 8:09pm and I have served enough mixed drinks to run out of a full bottle of Tequila. 

“Hey Pen, I have to run to the back and grab another bottle, are you going to be okay up here for a second?”

“Yes, can you also grab some more cherries? These kids keep running through them like it’s the nineties.” 

I mutter a “sure” as I watch three new sailors fail at tying a cherry stem with their tongue while the girl next to them does it in one go. 

Walking to the back I glance over at the pool table and notice the familiar kaki attire with the wings that sparkle in the light. Looks like Top Gun is going to be invaded by newbies, at least these ones I don’t have a history with. 

Grabbing three bottles of Tequila and the jar of cherries I push my way through the swinging doors of the storage when I hear, “Rooster, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

I stop dead in my tracks which makes the box wobble and one bottle of Tequila to drop flat on the floor shattering. “Mother fucker.” I mutter to myself angrily. I apologize to the couple that were splashed by the alcohol and tell them to get a shot on me at the bar while placing the broken pieces into my apron. 

“Andie?” 

The one voice I didn’t want to hear. 

“I’m fine, go back to your reunion.” I say as I continue picking up the broken pieces.

“Here, let me help..”

“NO Rooster. I said i’ve got it now just…OW fuck.!” Holding my hand I see the blood trailing down my finger.

“Andie really let me help you, you’re bleeding.” 

“Oh I am? I didn’t fucking realize that. God fuck. Can you just stand here over the spill and the glass so the drunk children of the bar don’t slip on it.” Not waiting for his response I speed walk to the back and run my hand under the sink

It just had to be Rooster. Bradley fucking Bradshaw. The one who was my best friend from the time we were six years old sitting in the back of my dads truck while he took us to see Maverick and him fly. We would spend days upon days together dreaming of being just like them. He wanted to live up to his dads legacy, and I wanted to live up to mine. That was all we ever talked about. The kinds of jets we wanted to fly, where we wanted to travel to, and when we would submit our applications. We had a solid fucking bond…until he decided to lie to me about his future and steer me completely off course. 

“Hey…Penny had one of the newbies clean up the mess, are you…how’s your hand?”

“Like you give a shit. It hurts, Rooster.” I roll my eyes at him 

He walks towards me and grabs my wrist gently, “Well to your surprise, I do give a shit. And running it under the water won’t really do much. The pressure is going to keep the wound open. Where’s your first aid kit.” 

Lifting my eyes up from my hand I point to the red box, “probably the box that says First Aid. But, that’s just a guess.” 

He turns and mutters, “smart ass” before opening the container and grabbing hydrogen peroxide, gauze and tape.

Placing my hand over the sink he pours the peroxide on my cut and it bubbles over. 

“So since we have time, how are you?”

“Seriously?” I snort out.

“What? I’m just…trying to make conversation.” Rooster says while measuring out the gauze.

“How have I been? Hmm let’s see. My father is terminally ill, my mother is barely leaving the house because she is terrified that if she does, something will happen to him. My siblings never come around much because they claim they have too much going on with their own families. And me? Oh well I'm stuck living at home, and working at this bar because well…that’s how life goes when your original plan just doesn’t work out.” I say while staring blankly into the mirror at his reflection.

His movements halt as he looks up at me in the mirror, “Look Andie…I…when he pulled my papers I thought that was it. I didn’t think there was anything I could do that would change how my career was going to pan out if i…” 

Shaking my head I grab the gauze and place it around my hand, “I’m not saying what you did was the wrong choice. You made the best choice for you, and I’m happy for you. I’m really fucking happy that after all that bullshit you were still able to be exactly where you are. What I'm pissed about, is that you didn’t have the fucking decency to tell me that you were getting a second chance.”

“What was I supposed to say? I mean you had already thrown out your admission I figured…”

“I DID IT FOR YOU. This was something we had wanted to do our entire lives. Seeing how devastated you were when you realized what Maverick did…how was I supposed to feel good going? I declined admissions because I couldn’t see myself in the navy without you. But, as I have learned, that was a stupid decision because, here you are a pilot and here I am…a bartender soaked in Tequila.”

Grabbing the first aid materials I stuff them back in the box and make my way to the back of the bar with the remaining ingredients.

"So...did you and Rooster have time to chat during your first aid lesson?" Penny smirks

"I really don't want to talk about it." I mutter close to tears.

She takes note of my emotion change and for the remainder of the night keeps the conversation to a minimum.

Once the final guy sways on out of the bar we close the doors and click the open sign off.

Letting out a huff I move towards the bar with a rag and a spray bottle.

"Nope. You sit and answer my questions while I clean." Penny says while tying her hair up

"What? Answer what questions? And Penny this place is a mess you're not cleaning it on you'r-"

"I didn't say I was cleaning it alone...you answer my questions and then after you can help. Now sit, and tell me what the hell is up with you and Rooster."

Letting out a defeated sigh I tell her everything.

"Okay...yeah...I can see where him coming back creates a bit of a spicy environment...but do you want my opinion?"

I nod gently

"Now...I'm not taking sides. You know I love you and I think the way that you feel is completely valid. I knew since the moment you walked into this bar with your daddies big aviator glasses and that Top Gun hat that you wanted nothing more than to be in one of these photos on the wall. You wanted to be a pilot, the Navy has been calling your name for years and... the fact that you declined your admission for Bradley...that's something that even shocks me. But it does show the kind of person you are and the heart you have, and you should be proud of that. Now, the other side of that...you're putting a lot of force on him for something that you chose. Again, I know that you didn't know that the admissions could be sent again at a different time, and I do agree that he should have called you and let you know...but also see it from his side. He let you turn down your dream for him. He watched you lose what you thought was going to be your future, and when he got a second chance, he probably felt so horrible in taking it but knew he wasn't prepared for anything else. Baby he doesn't have what you have. His family, is the Navy. That is one thing that makes Bradley Bradley. Now I'm not saying you need to make amends with him right now...I'm just saying, maybe it's time to let it go. You both had a beautiful friendship and I think right now more than ever...you deserve to get that back."

I sat on the barstool with tears streaming down my cheeks as I take in Penny's words. She's right. I have been sitting here for years, acting like a child. Bradley didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve the way I treated him. Am I still pissed at him for not calling me, yes. But, am I proud of him for going through everything regardless of what was done to his papers...yes.

Nodding my head I let out a sigh, "you're right. I just, I think when it happened I was just so blindsided by it. I mean he was supposed to be my best friend. I don't really know how I would have felt in the moment if he had told me that he was accepted again, but I think it wouldn't have been as long lasting as this has. I just have always felt like I did this thing for him and...if he knew that he could get a second chance why didn't he allow me one...and I know I have my family and you and Amelia and I'm so grateful, it's just...I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I am 33 years old, living at home, working at a bar and taking as many shifts as I possibly can so I can avoid being at home and waiting for the ball to drop. I mean I can't tell you how many of my friends save the dates I have in my top drawer. But I never go because I just feel so out of place and behind. I mean I can't show up to those things single and without a vision for my life. For fucks sake I just feel like I'm sitting in a glass jar trapped watching everyone around me achieve their goals and hit milestones and here I am with gauze on my fucking hand and sticky tequila on my jeans just...I remember being younger and saying you know if I don't have a partner by a certain age or kids, or if I don't have the house I dreamed of, it would be fine because at least I have my dream career...I don't know. I try and pretend that I'm fine and that things will workout and I can do this all on my own blah blah blah...but I won't deny that I'm just...I'm fucking tired. I'm tired of waking up and already feeling like I'm failing. Feeling like I just can't catch a fucking break. I just...I want it to make sense...somehow."

Laying my head on the bar I let out a very large breath and I hear Penny shuffling from behind the bar.

"Life is hard. It's never going to get easier, it is just going to be easier to handle. And don't for a second, think that you are just a woman that works at a bar. You are so much more than that, you have a big heart, a huge personality, and your life isn't over. You have so many years left to live and to figure it out. That's the fun thing about life. We are all doing it for the first time and we are all sitting with the same questions and the same exhaustions as you. I mean hell, I may have this bar in my pocket but I'm still a mother and I worry that Amelia needs more. She needs someone more present than me, and believe me, there are plenty of wine bottles that will tell you those stories. But, don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing the best you can with the material you are given and I promise you, making amends with Bradley...that could be a great first step."

She places her hand on my cheek and gives me a smile

"Now, go home. I'll finish cleaning. I want you take a bath, listen to your music and relax. Tomorrow is another day and I need you here with me when the boys come back."

Standing I take off my apron, "you sure you don't want me to help you clean?"

She nods, "Yes I'm sure. You go home and prepare that little speech for Rooster tomorrow." She sends me a wink.

I roll my eyes, "see you tomorrow Pen."

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I had a dream yesterday. And I've always had weird dreams. Creepy or bizzare or both. Though they've always told a narrative. They've always been long drawn out stories with dialogue and characters and a goal and a beginning and usually an end.

Yesterday I dreamt of walking down my street. It was dark and I was with an old friend. I knew in the dream they were an old friend, one I hadn't met since I was a teenager, maybe longer. But now, awake, I can't recall their face.

We were going somewhere to find something. In the dream I knew where we were going and what we hoped to recover. Now the details are murky.

I was apprehensive in the dream. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had tried this before, with more people, with more old friends, and that I had failed. And like a game resetting I had started at the beginning again. Except none of the others were given a second chance and I was here now with a new companion, walking back towards the same fate. My friend remained oblivious and happy. We were talking about the neighbourhoods and houses we were passing. I think I dismissed the flashing images of my 'first try' as deja vu or anxiety.

It was night when we started off from my street. No time passed, but it was bright and early a step away, on the next street. There was something safe about my small dark street with its one light, and I felt we had left that safety behind.

This new neighbourhood was idyllic. Sunny and green with little houses. But there were no people. I don't think there was any noise at all, aside from the two of us.

We passed a pair of cottages that were painted to look like little green frogs. They had one connected garden with a little fence and archways and garden seats painted to look like toadstools. I told my friend I'd like to live there. That when we got what we came for we should go see the cottages, invite others and have a lunch on the toadstools.

At the end of the street was a white wall and a large gate, behind it stood an old fashioned bungalow with a sprawling garden dotted by bushes. The bunglow's veranda wrapped all the way around it, all the doors leading to the inside of the house were open wide, and we could see a courtyard in the middle. There was antique furniture throughout the house, making it difficult to navigate through. But they made good hiding spots. We knew we needed to hide. That we weren't supposed to be there. That whatever we were taking, we'd be stealing. I think we got caught last time, my other old friends and I.

There was an older lady. A servant. I could see her from my hiding spot. She was talking to someone. I don't think I could make out what they were saying, can you hear noise in dreams? But I knew she was talking about us. Telling someone that we had come here.

I only ever saw who she was talking to through their reflection in the glass doors. Whoever it was she looked like my next-door neighbour who had passed away almost a year ago. The one who used to make little bouquets of this plant the cats liked, tied together with a red ribbon, and toss it into our garden for them to find. We never spoke much, but I miss her.

She looked exactly like her. Except her hands didn't make sense. They just kept going and going till they almost reached the ground. I didn't understand why at first. I had to keep staring at that reflection. I thought maybe something was wrong with it. That maybe it was distorted? It was her nails. It was her nails that were wrong. They were long and sharp and dirty and I knew I had felt them once, against my skin, against my flesh, tearing into me. Maybe it's just because it was a dream, but it's an odd feeling to know you had died once and you were going to die again, that even the extra steps you took to prevent it hadn't really changed anything. There was a strange disconnect to it.

We crept around the bungalow. It was really just one long circular corridor packed with furniture, with a courtyard in the middle. I think she knew we were there. I think she was hunting us. But whatever we came for it was more important than whatever fate had met my previous companions (Becoming a corpse? Becoming a meal?)

The more we stayed there, the more I just knew things. Like how that wasn't really my old neighbour. How whatever it was just looked like her. To appear safe and friendly and comforting, maybe, to me specifically. I knew why the whole neighbourhood was empty, of course. I knew what had happened to all the people. I knew why the houses were so well kept though, so welcoming, designed to draw people in.

We got what we came for. It was further than we had gotten last time. Or at least that's the impression I had. Then we ran. It, whatever it was, chased after us. We made it out of the gates and as we ran past the picturesque little houses, as we ran past the frog cottage I knew that one had been made just for me.

[sickofthistoxicshit]

Based on the last speculations (bi-Buck and probably him having something with a man), how optimistic are you for Buddie going canon? Do you think we’ll get some Eddie reaction/jealousy? I want to be optimistic but I’m scared they’ll do the same shit from last season…

Look, I said it before, Bi-Buck will probably be only with Eddie,

Buck is not who he was, Buck 1.0 AND 2.0 would have experimented his way through the greater male population of LA .

But this one? He will want the man who makes him feel like everything, who sees him, we know that's what his looking for, he said it in 6x15.

No one has ever seen him better than Eddie - Buck, imo, assuming he actually was just straight up until now, is probably more Eddie-sexual than anything else.

Now if you have asked me about Eddie, I could definitely see him, going through several failed male encounters, where the sex is great but it's not quite it, with Buck jealous as hell in the background not really understanding why - until he does.

You see, if the whole saying yes year (which was the dumbest idea ever and got executed so badly we hardly knew it existed) was this year where he says yes, and not to reproducing for others, I'd say maybe, but now, I don't think so.

My money is more on Eddie figuring it out first and him dating other men will kick Buck into motion.

Especially with Ryan taking a bigger role this season, this is right in his wheelhouse, and out of the two of them Ryan actually portrayed a gay character before.

I gotta say though, that while ABC have already done the Bi (both male and female) character arcs - it is still dependent on 911 creators to make that decision and I stopped trusting the showrunners a long time ago.

There's a part of me that is sure that the only reason buddie was not made canon yet is because KR was stuck along with FOX in the heteronormative narrative they kept shoving down our throats.

I want to believe that the move to ABC will allow buddie to become canon, but I am not getting my hopes up, and by the things I'm seeing so far, I don't feel very optimistic about it.

I do believe we'll get gay Eddie though, because that suit was screaming out and proud, the last groom I saw in this kind of suit, was divorced and out of the closet 6 months later, just saying. (by the way me and my gay best friend won that wager, but the original wedding was fun lol).

So, you know, glass half full and all that.

We'll keep our fingers crossed and hope for a fun ride.

[looselipssinkships-x]

fall out boy lyrics that make me think of the places i grew up

this town is wasted and alone -- death valley -- when i visit, if I'm lucky i get to drive around, and the nothingness is crushing. You go to school, you graduate, if you're upper or middle class you go to college, probably the local one an hour away. You have to drive an hour to get to the good grocery store, twenty minutes to the shitty one. You marry your high school sweetheart, or someone you met in college, you settle down and have kids. You have at least one family member who works for a company you're pretty sure is still just a factory, even though they have fancier names for it now. I look out the window of my parents' house and i can barely see the neighbors' house.

you were the last good thing about this part of town -- grand theft autumn/where is your boy -- i left my best friend in the city i moved from and god i miss her so fucking much. Every time i visit it's like we were never apart. Every time i leave we both wonder if we'd have made it had i not moved away.

i can't remember the good old days -- 27 -- your parents' house is supposed to feel like being a kid, running around carefree. I have not lived with my parents for eight years but every time i visit i wake up with that same chest crushing anxiety and it does not go away. Even when i get back out east it takes me days to feel like a person again.

every pane of glass that your pebbles tap/negates the pains I went through to avoid you/and every little pat on the shoulder for attention/fails to mention I still hate you -- chicago is so two years ago -- i did not visit for almost two years, and then only did so because my grandmother was dying. Had she not been, it would have likely been so much longer. I spent those two years hating that small town, because i thought if i hated it i wouldn't miss it, and it all hurt so much that it wasn't hard to try to hate it. (that didn't work, because even though it hurt, it was still home)

I know I should be home/all the colors of the street signs, they remind me of the/pickup truck out in front of your neighbor's house -- chicago is so two years ago -- it's the little things that get me, the parts that weren't so bad, the parts that were even good, the parts that killed me to leave behind. The first dance class i took out east i sobbed the entire two mile walk home.

whoa, can't do it by myself -- reinventing the wheel to run myself over -- this one gets me because every time everything just feels like too much, it's amplified by the fact that i did this to myself, i chose to move away from everyone and everything i ever knew, and it's therefore my responsibility to indeed, do it by myself

we're the kids who feel like dead ends//and the poets are just kids who didn't make it -- i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth (summer song) -- literally all of my friends from home don't quite fit the midwestern mold, and we're all mentally ill creative types. We're in our mid twenties now and have felt like burn outs for years

I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light -- sophomore slump or comeback of the year -- the same best friend from earlier. I worry the small town is crushing her and she's so, so bright.

the best way to make it through with hearts and wrists intact is to realize two out of three ain't bad -- i'm like a lawyer with the way i'm always trying to get you off (me & you) -- you make sacrifices to survive. Mental, emotional, physical, everyone's sacrificing something just to make it through.

it's all a game of this or that, now versus then/better off against worse for wear/and you're someone who knows someone who knows someone/I once knew, and I just want to be a part of this -- hum hallelujah -- the duality of living in such a small town where everyone knows everyone and still feeling like you have no place to belong

literally all of g.i.n.a.s.f.s. but especially: everybody wants to drive on through the night if it's a drive back home//things aren't the same anymore, some nights, they get so bad//i sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house//it's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you, I'm supposed to love you//I've already given up on myself twice third time is the charm//threw caution to the wind, but I've got a lousy arm -- ioh was my first fob cd, and i listened to it on repeat the summer i spent commuting from my parents house to the hospital in the city to camp until i finally got an apartment. This was also the year i spent coming out to myself, terrified of the future and expectations i knew I'd never meet. I was also in love with one of my best friends and god it hurts so much for your first love to feel so wrong

I will never end up like him/behind my back, I already am -- headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet -- when i first moved to the east coast i swore I'd assimilate and no one would know where i came from, but the second I'd open my mouth it would be "oh what part of the midwest are you from?" Over time I've learned to make peace with the parts of myself that are so unavoidably rural and midwestern, but there were parts i resented for a long time, because it felt like I'd never be free from where i grew up

I don't know where I'm going/but I don't think I'm coming home -- alone together -- i remember driving home from a college course i was taking my senior year of high school and just, dreaming of driving on, starting somewhere new

and in the end/i'll do it all again -- the kids aren't alright -- if things had been different, if i'd grown up differently, i wouldn't be who i am today. Also i almost got these lyrics tattooed on my thigh. Still might tbh

you were the sunshine of my lifetime/what would you trade the pain for?//and I just about snapped, don't look back//what would you trade the pain for? I'm not sure -- love from the other side -- leaving was, and is, so goddamn hard. Every time i visit my best friend, my grandparents, i have to remind myself why i left, and why i can't go back, and so much of that focuses on looking forward because if i look at the past too much i begin to romanticize the pain

scar crossed lovers, forever -- heaven, iowa -- i am so inexplicably, irreversibly bound to the people i grew up with like some sort of fucked up trauma bonding. Out here on the east coast, in the cities, it's just different. Even people who grew up east coast "rural," it's not the same. It's strong with friends from the city i moved from and even stronger with my friend who grew up in the same county.

[moonlit-tulip]

Recently, for the first time in about two-and-a-half years, I've been playing around on this one gamified-fiction-writing site—4thewords—which I first discovered back in 2018. During the 2018-2021 era, it was the single most useful tool I'd found with which to get myself to Actually Write; but now, after I've done a bunch of hacking to find it easier to get myself to write via pure internal motivation without the need for extrinsic deadlines of the sort it uses... it's still the most useful tool I've found with which to get myself to Actually Write, and has accelerated my progress at writing my current short-story-in-progress from maybe a few hundred to a thousandish words a week up to a few hundred to a couple thousand a day. Because, apparently, even if I'm way ahead of where I was a few years ago internal-writing-motivation-wise, I'm still not so high up that external motivation can't serve as a very high-powered force-multiplier.

This is interesting, because the vast majority of the gamified-productivity platforms out there just sort of straightforwardly don't work for me.

After a bit of introspection, I realized that the big important differentiating factor is: 4thewords, unlike almost every gamified-productivity tool I've tried to use, has actually-vaguely-complex gameplay. It's not, like, actively good, as a game; it's not something I'd play if playing it didn't produce writing as a byproduct; but it has any depth as opposed to no depth. It has, like, monsters which can be fought (by writing a certain number of words within a certain time-limit) and will drop items when defeated, and quests to fight monsters and/or retrieve items, and equipment which increases the effectiveness with which one can engage in this process via multiple different stats and is attainable via a mix of buying-from-shops and crafting-from-materials and getting-from-quest-rewards, and so forth. Plus the more-standard stuff, a daily-streak system and an XP system and a character-portrait-onto-which-one-can-equip-cosmetic-gear and so forth; but none of those things did anything for me on Duolingo, so I don't think they're the active ingredient, more of a side-benefit. But overall: moderately-many interlocking systems, as well-made games tend to have.

And that got me thinking... 4thewords is really not much of an RPG. Its story-writing is unmemorable (to the point where I literally do not remember anything about the plot, after my two-and-a-half year break), its gameplay leans grindy, et cetera. And it's still miles ahead of the more-traditional gamified-productivity platforms—it's the only one that's ever worked for me—just on the basis of trying at all, not entirely phoning things in with a superficial dress of game-themed-ness over an utter lack of functioning gameplay-loop.

And that, in turn, has me thinking: if that's really the operative ingredient, then there's a huge market-niche sitting there just waiting to be taken advantage of. Other, less-specifically-writing-centric, gamified-productivity tools along similar lines, building real gameplay into their gamification rather than just "look, here's an XP meter and a daily streak system, isn't this motivating?".

Possibly there's some reason I'm missing why writing would be particularly amenable to this and extrapolating it to other sorts of productivity-which-people-might-want-to-gamify wouldn't work. Or possibly there are other gamified-productivity tools with real gameplay in this manner, even if I myself have failed to discover them. But, if not, this seems like a very good opportunity, one which I'm even almost tempted to try to pick up myself despite this being in fact probably unwise with how many other higher-priority todos I've got piled up.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.76 Ain't nobody love

Sophia finally came inside, and Dad congratulated her. He showered us with praise, and his unwavering belief in us resonated in every word. I tried to imagine what that moment must have felt like. Soulmates and serious commitments were important to him, but he didn't find success in that area. He never pushed me and mostly stayed out of my business unless I requested his help. But I knew all he wanted for me was success where he had failed. Sharing that special moment with us, knowing we had a solid foundation, must have been such a relief to him.

He asked about the house, and I described it as a larger version of his with four very small bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room, an office, and a nice sized yard with a massive tree. The previous owners left a treehouse kit behind, and I asked if he would help me build it. Of course, he looked forward to it.

"I'd love for you guys to stay for dinner, but you know if you don't get to your mom's house soon, there will be hell to pay," he said.

He was not wrong, so we got parting hugs and I love you's and headed to snowy Newcrest. Mama was standing at the door watching television, so I didn't bother knocking since she could hear us on the porch. Sophia stayed outside, trying to convince the dogs to come out of the freezing cold and into the house.

Mama's hair caught me off guard. It was so bright. Like, really, really bright. That's when I realized it wasn't gray anymore.

"You dyed it white?"

"It's not white! It's platinum blonde."

"Oh... I like it. Kinda badass."

She was always so adventurous with her hair. When she turned up to her birthday party with gray hair, she honestly surprised me. I thought she wouldn't be caught dead with gray hair, but I guess she was just trying it on. Clearly, that color didn't speak to her.

"Thanks, buddy! To what do I owe this pleasure? You're spoiling me with these frequent visits!"

"I proposed!"

She screamed. I never heard her make that sound before, and I'd probably never hear it again.

"THANK THE WATCHER!!"

Sophia had just come inside—without the dogs—in the middle of that commotion and stood off to the side, smiling, while Mama began to squeeze the life out of me.

"Oh, I'm so happy!!! My little buddy is getting married!!!"

Just as quickly as she embraced me, she pushed me aside to see Sophia's ring. She grabbed her hand, oohing and ahhing, holding it up to the light to catch every glint and sparkle.

"You chose well," she said. "It's perfect! I can't believe this, but I totally believe it! We have so much work to do!"

And there was the Emmy I expected earlier that week. I raised my eyebrow at Sophia, signaling her to brace for impact, just like I told her.

"So, when is the wedding? Wait, where is it? Sulani is perfect this time of year! Are you doing a honeymoon? What about kids? Are you waiting or trying immediately?"

"Whoa, timeout," I said. "We literally just got engaged like two hours ago. We haven't planned anything."

"Two hours? And you're just now coming to me?"

"Mama, chill. I proposed in San Sequoia. We went to Dad's first."

"Hmph. Well, you can leave Sophia with me. We'll have everything all done and dusted by the end of the night!"

I shook my head, and Sophia's eyes bounced between the two of us, uncertain if she should interject and afraid of what "leave Sophia with me" meant.

"Uhhh...shouldn't Luca have a say in his own wedding?" she asked warily.

"Why?" Mama asked. "Everyone knows the wedding is all about the bride. I'm sure Mr. Cute Face will be fine with whatever you want."

"But...," Sophia said hesitantly.

Mama sighed, and relented.

"Fine. He can have some say. But this wedding needs to happen as soon as possible! Especially if you're waiting to have kids. You can't wait too long!"

Sophia smiled uncomfortably, but found a little confidence.

"How about Luca and I talk about it first, and then we'll let you know what we'd like to do?"

Mama glanced back at me with a serious look.

"I love her. You chose very well."

"I know," I said, matter-of-factly.

She turned back to Sophia.

"You always stand up for my son. You don't understand yet how happy that makes me as a mother. We raise these little sims, and pour our whole lives into them, trying to protect them from the world and everything in it. It's very odd when they grow up because you still want to be that person in their lives, and it's hard to let go. But at the same time, deep down, you hope one day they'll find someone who will love them just as fiercely as you do. Thank you for loving my son like that."

"He loves me like that," Sophia said.

Mama grinned at me.

"I know he does."

"Here's an idea," I said, attempting to end this Luca Love Fest. "We've been walking around San Sequoia all day. How about Sophia and I go grab dinner and celebrate? You can watch the dogs, and we'll talk about wedding stuff. We can discuss everything when we come back to pick them up. That sound okay?"

"That's perfect," Mama said.

[novelmonger]

1-4 & 10-12 for The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep, 9-15 for FMA, 1 & 16-18 for Anne of Green Gables, 8-12 for Half-Magic, and 1, 3, 19, and 20 for The Little Riders, please?

The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep by H.G. Parry

what got you into this story?

My dear friend @rainintheevening recommended it to me, and I'm so glad she did! I wasn't even 20 pages in before I looked up from the page and went, "Ohoho, this book was definitely written for me!"

2. describe it in one or two sentences.

Charley Sutherland has always had the ability to read characters out of books and into real life. But when Uriah Heep, the villain from David Copperfield, begins to cause trouble, his older brother (who is perfectly ordinary in every way) will have to go to great lengths to help him out of his predicament.

3. quickly list 3 things you like about the story!

IT'S ABOUT BROTHERS

IT'S A BOOK ABOUT BOOKS

It started to look like the ending was going to be tragic, BUT IT WASN'T I CRYYYYYYYYYY T^T

4. assign this story a hyper-specific genre name, e.g. "inspirational religious semi-horror sci-fi western" (yes, that's Trigun)

Speculative literary brother fiction crossover thriller

10. if you made an amv about this, what song would you set it to?

"Brother" by Kodaline

I mean, would you look at these lyrics?

Oh brother, we'll go deeper than the ink Beneath the skin of our tattoos Though we don't share the same blood You're my brother and I love you that's the truth

;aldksj;sdkfl;sdkfldslkfj TT___TT

11. if you were put in the main character's position, how well would that go for you on a scale of 1-5?

Umm...maybe like a 4? Rob is a very normal kind of guy, and while I'm not a lawyer like him, most of the things he does are fairly ordinary, all things considered. (Well, it's not an ordinary situation at all, but I mean he doesn't have hidden magic or anything.) There's nothing particularly special about him except the lengths he's willing to go to for his brother. And I'd like to think I would do the same for my siblings if need be.

12. assuming your loved ones would be there, would you want to live in the world of the story?

YES. A world where I could potentially meet my favorite characters from beloved stories? Yeah, okay, some of the more unsavory characters show up too, but...like...I could have tea with Dumbledore. I could share crunchings and munchings with Gurgi. I could hang out with Pippi Longstocking! Maybe I could even give Kaladin Stormblessed a hug :')

Full Metal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa

9. give the most UNHELPFUL and/or SILLY summary possible.

A fake human uses a double amputee, a tin can, a war criminal, a butcher, and some old guy to try to become God. He fails because he didn't brush up on meteorology enough.

10. if you made an amv about this, what song would you set it to?

Funny you should ask, because I've got several ideas floating around in my head that I could actually make a reality if I just sat down and took the time! The first AMV idea I ever got, years and years ago, was one set to "Memories" by Within Temptation.

11. if you were put in the main character's position, how well would that go for you on a scale of 1-5?

Lol. 1. I would die immediately. I don't have a head for numbers or science, so I would probably be horrible at alchemy. Even if I somehow got clap-alchemy from the Truth (though how I'd be able to manage human transmutation to get that far is anyone's guess), I would fail miserably to do the things Ed does, because I am very flabby and weak and cowardly. Also I don't think I would have the gumption to do half the things he does, like pushing through the pain of automail surgery. Yeah, sorry, the world is doomed if I'm put in Ed's place.

12. assuming your loved ones would be there, would you want to live in the world of the story?

As much as I adore this story, I think I'd actually say no. There's so much danger and war on every side, and I don't much fancy the thought of losing my soul to a whirling vortex (even if my soul does get put back!). I've already laid out how I wouldn't be an alchemist, so there wouldn't even be that to compensate. Maybe I'd visit after it's no longer a fascist military state, though.

13. tell me an out-of-context piece of worldbuilding or lore!

Did you know that Amestris was the wife of Artaxerxes, king of Persia?

14. how likely do you think this story is to break a reader's heart? If you're not done with the story, just guess.

I'm biased, but I think it's pretty much guaranteed. If your heart doesn't break at least a little bit at a certain little girl and her dog, I'm not sure you have one. And there are so many other parts where I cried really hard, not least at the ending of the first anime. All I wanted to do after I finished it the first time was lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out how to carry on with my life ^^'

15. what time are you most likely to be found reading/watching this story? (time of year, time of day, season of life, whatever makes sense to you)

ALL DAY ALL THE TIME.

Lol, that would have been my answer in my teenage years, but admittedly my attention has strayed to other fandoms more recently. I'm still down to read/watch FMA anytime at the drop of a hat, but these days I'm most likely to dip back into it this time of year, because I always try to have something to post for FMA Day on October 3rd. (Which reminds me, I need to get cracking on that D:)

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

what got you into this story?

I guess you could call it peer pressure, kinda? I just kept hearing people praising it over the years, until finally I decided I should probably see what all the fuss was about, rather than just writing it off as Not For Me because I decided that back when I was eight or something. And once I did start reading, it didn't take long for Anne to win me over ^_^

16. do you think this story has broad appeal, or is it meant for a very specific audience? if it's more "niche", what kind of person would most enjoy this story?

I do think it has broad appeal, though I'd still say it's not for everybody. Clearly, Baby Novie decided it wasn't for her because there wasn't enough high adventure in it. I think most people would be able to find something relatable or at least enjoyable about it, but some people might need to wait until they're mature enough to appreciate its merits ;)

17. compare this story to your usual tastes. how does it differ from what you've already enjoyed?

I usually prefer books with more fantastical elements in them, or at least adventuring, and that was especially true when I tried to read this book as a kid. I will certainly read the occasional historical fiction about ordinary, everyday ups and downs, but even so, I'm usually more inclined to reach for something like Austen or Dickens that has a more complicated, twisty-turny plot.

18. compare this story to your usual tastes. what parts of it are exactly the kind of thing you've always loved?

I'm actually kind of surprised this was never assigned for school, because it feels a lot like the kind of book I read a lot, and probably one I would have enjoyed more than some of the other stuff we had to read. If I'd only made the connection that it takes place around the same time as the Mandie books, I probably would have really latched onto it (even though Anne isn't about mysteries), because that was my bread and butter for several years as a kid. And Anne of Green Gables would have been much less embarrassing to return to as an adult ^^' Another element that is common to many stories I love is how friendship is treasured so highly.

Half Magic by Edward Eager

8. what questions are or were you most excited to learn the answers to while experiencing the story for the first time?

Oh man, it's been so long since the first time I read this book, I can't really remember. Especially because I was never really an "active reader" as a kid. I never stopped to ask questions, I just inhaled stories, and whatever happened in it, that was how it obviously had to be ^^' And by now, I've read the book so many times I know it back to front, and there aren't really any more questions that I care about.

At a guess, though, I might have wondered where the talisman came from and where I could get one :P

9. give the most UNHELPFUL and/or SILLY summary possible.

This book teaches you about fractions :)

10. if you made an amv about this, what song would you set it to?

Uhhhh...I really don't know. Probably some kind of instrumental track, maybe piano? And it would just be a montage of the whole story, I think.

11. if you were put in the main character's position, how well would that go for you on a scale of 1-5?

I'd say a 4 or a 5. I'd like to think I'd do pretty well at remembering not to say "I wish" out loud as much as they do, but that's never how these things go. But most of the times I say that, it's usually just things like "I wish I could remember..." or "I wish I knew why..." And I don't see how the consequences of that kind of accidental wish could be too dire XD

12. assuming your loved ones would be there, would you want to live in the world of the story?

A THOUSAND TIMES YES. How many times did I daydream about what my siblings and I would do if we got a wish-granting adventure like in the books? It might be a little annoying to have to put up with 1920s America or whenever it's supposed to be, but...wish-granting talisman. Come on.

The Little Riders by Margaretha Shemin

what got you into this story?

This was assigned for school. I don't remember when exactly that was, but I think it was a read-aloud rather than one I read to myself, so maybe first or second grade? And I just remember it being one of the books that stood out to me amongst all the others.

3. quickly list 3 things you like about the story!

It offers a unique perspective on WWII, humanizing the Nazi soldiers when most of the time, we're all content to just think of them as nothing but monsters.

It's tense and exciting - will the soldier find the little riders?!

Illustrated by Peter Spier, a staple of my childhood picture books!

19. pitch an idea for a sequel or spinoff novel for this story!

What about a parallel story about the soldier's family? What was their experience like during the war?

20. what's the WORST thing about this story, in your opinion? (feel free to be positive, e.g. "it's not longer", if you want!)

Okay, yes, I could definitely do with a longer version of this book. I would have liked more exploration of Johanna's experience of being an American girl growing up in Holland with her grandparents. Did she have culture shock at first? Does she feel more at home in Holland now? For the lack of exploration they do into her unique situation, I almost think it would have been better to just have her be a Dutch girl who's lived in Holland all her life. The extra details of her father being in the U.S. Navy kind of feels superfluous.

Story Ask Game

[beevean]

Something happened that lead me to think.

Yesterday, I read a long message that was left to me on November 24 (it was on Messenger and I don't use FB anymore): an old friend of mine, that abandoned me 10 years ago, wrote me a long, long letter of apologies for her past behavior.

We were close, although long distance, friends. I was 16-18, and she was two years older than me. She was a very intelligent, studious girl, and we could relate to each other for our shyness and lack of friends among other things. But she suffered from OCD and depression, things I honestly did not know how to handle at the time, and they interfered with our relationship. She was extremely insecure, constantly doubting that I cared about her, acting up if I invited my classmates over to study together, making me feel responsible for her staying alive.

Long story short, she eventually found herself a boyfriend and decided I wasn't worth the effort anymore. I think she said something like "being together with you isn't stimulating anymore".

(btw, in her letter she offhandedly mentioned that now she has understood her sexuality better, which doesn't surprise me - I can believe she had a crush on me and it manifested in a terrible way. I myself sometimes consider her my first girlfriend :\)

She and my father "abandoning" me at the same time caused me suicidal thoughts that to this day I'm battling with. But I eventually forgave my father: I think he paid enough for what he did. With her, I honestly thought I'd never hear from her again. I tried to learn my lesson, and honestly I strived to never become like her. Which I failed to do, sadly.

And I haven't responded to her yet because I honestly don't know where to begin. It's been ten years, and while I'm in a better place than where she left me off, I'm not exactly in a good place either. But... just the thought of contacting me after a decade to apologize? Was the guilt really that strong?

And then, today my boyfriend made a surprise visit to talk face to face.

I thought he was also done with me after we spent a month essentially making each other sick. I was trying to move on, because really, I'm not going to cry again for the umpteenth person who gets tired of me (a mentality I "learned" from this old friend of mine, that eventually I'll bore everyone away), but yes, I was thinking all this time "man, five years down the drain, what a waste".

And what does he do when he showed up? He apologized to me. He realized that I was right about some of the things I told him. That he gets passive-aggressive when angry, that he's excessively proud, that sometimes his advice got too insistent. He thought about it, and he drove to my house (it's an one hour drive) to speak to me with his heart in his hand, fully knowing that I could have said that I don't love him anymore or I found someone else.

We made up. I have made my mistakes, I need to change as a person, but I honestly, honestly appreciated that he made the effort to actually examine himself and ask for closure.

So... I guess the takeaway from this is that I, too, deserve to be apologized to. I always feel like I'm a screw up and everything I do is wrong and I need to constantly apologize myself. It's what I argued with my boyfriend over. So, as self-centered as this may sound, yes I do feel better about myself now.

But also, I'm constantly afraid of reaching out to people for fear of rejection, or that it's too late to make amends or anything. And yet look at this. An apology after ten years. I really should take this to heart.

[angelthefandomobsessed]

My Full Thoughts on Chapter 1 of Eden's Garden

When Chapter 1 was released, I told myself I would get to it eventually. These past 24 hours turned out to be 'eventually', so here I am, crawling from the woodwork to talk about Eden's Garden again.

If you kind of recognise my blog and don't know why, it's probably because I wrote the big animal symbolism post two years ago. Yeah, it's me, back at the conspiracy board again, painting on my clown make-up and putting on a tin foil hat...

Except not really, because some of my analysis on that post seems to hold some weight. I'll discuss my general thoughts first, then delve into the parts of that post that seem right (as well as observations I probably should have made...)

Spoilers ahead!

Where to begin... I think I'll just list things as they come to mind.

I loved the motive (personally, I think the secrets motive should have been a mainstay for the series), and I loved that we got to see a few of the secrets. Hopefully, we get more revealed later on, because I am very nosy.

The bunk-buddies scheme was also great. We got the unlikely beginnings of a friendship between Kai and Damon, as well as the 'one-bed' trope (the trope that sailed a thousand fics...)

Eva being revealed as the Ultimate Mathlete was... odd, but it added a lot of depth to her character. She's an awkward, paranoid nerd, not a cool, mysterious sort of character. That was really endearing, though the reactions of the others felt odd, because like... Grace is a golfer, I don't think she has room to look down upon the mathlete.

Ingrid really got to shine, she quickly became one of my favourites.

The Peggle-based economy is evil, but I got up to 70 maracoins after a few tries so I can't really complain (I am so bad at it, I fired so many directly into abyss...)

The set-up for the murder was compelling, and the mystery made a lot of sense... mostly. It was reminiscent of both the first and second trials from Danganronpa 2 (blackout, extension cord schemes, unwilling witness, drugging), but managed to feel unique and memorable.

I made a post last night with my prediction for the killer that read:

"Logically, I suspect Ulysses. Narratively, I suspect Eloise.

I am not confident either way, I will be amazed if it’s one of the tournament 8.

As for the method, I’ll go with this theory: Wolfgang was either called down to the boiler room through the note (OR he intercepted a summons meant for someone else), he arrived around 8:10, as instructed. He was knocked out with the rolling pin, the killer drew blood from his neck to splatter through the halls (falsifying evidence), and set some kind of bomb up at the generator. They put Wolfgang in the water, reversed the lock, locked the door. If this is anything close to the order of events, then I’m actually more suspicious of Jean.

Some kind of magic battery was mentioned, which Jett and Jean spoke about. If that was the basis for the destruction of the generator (or, if it was the cause of the electricity), that would implicate the two people who knew about it. Jean was late to the tournament, and knew that being there would give him an alibi. Wolfgang had burns on his hands - maybe Jett knows a thing or two about that specific burning and can crack the case open."

I came pretty close to unravelling the murder method. However, I forgot to consider a few things (the door being unlocked, the knife (which I had been thinking of, I'd just written it off as irrelevant because Wolfgang hadn't been stabbed), as well as other pieces of evidence).

I remembered the battery, which I think is at least a little impressive (even if I failed to consider that literally everyone else had heard about it).

The case was making total sense up until the battery hanging from the vents, which felt a liiiittle bit like a wild assumption. Like... sure, it does make sense, but I kind of don't buy it? That's where it started to lose me a little. And then Damon's like "Obviously you had access to the cameras", which sounds like something Hiro would come up with. When it came to timing it, my solution was that she just... looked at the time on her console. They tell the time, usually. They do that. She looked at the time, and assumed that Diana was going to the meeting because she implied as much the day prior. Having the camera thing be the smoking gun seemed a stretch.

And then, after the trial, Eloise refers to the device as a tablet, and then Tozu does, and then everyone else does when it was being referred to as a gaming console earlier. That was odd. Overall, it was a really good trial, but it ended up being just a little bit more complicated than it needed to be.

(Also, when they were talking about shortening the wire, the characters are like "Nuh uh, there's no way they could have cut it, nothing coulda done that!" when I got Genocider Sho's scissors from the gacha... if Eva gets a magic camera DS, I don't think scissors are that out of the picture, guys)

I didn't start to suspect Eva until well into the trial, so it made for a good twist. I liked the idea that she believed she was at risk because everyone hated her (not sure if the traitor perk time limit was needed, but it was fine).

I found the sword minigame kind of janky, sometimes I could break statements before they appeared, usually a sideways slash would insta-break them while a downward slash would be useless, and I found myself unable to progress because when you break yellow statements the opponent gains ground. That might be the case in Danganronpa, it's been a minute, and I don't think I read the tutorial as well as I should have, but I found these segments frustrating.

But dear, merciful Ullyses, nothing could prepare me for argument altercation. That game is BUSTED, it crashed four times and was only beatable for me by using the slow-down bug and through RNG luck. I want to know who on the team tested it and thought it was a reasonable difficulty spike, because I suspect they might be a competent Touhou player. I know that to some extent this was a skill issue, I was not very good at it, but the only way that I could prevent crashing was to stand dead still and wait for the death beam/crow attack to stop.

Which goes against the entire point of dodging the bullets, unfortunately. Presentation-wise, it's perfection, I love the look, the Biblical reference in the sprites (it's the creation of man painting), the music is great...

I think it could be fixed by reducing the quantity of bullets (I imagine the crashes were brought on by either the assets being funky somehow, as it was always the purple attacks, or by the sheer amount of entities on screen). In terms of difficulty, incorporating a healing mechanic (if you get bad RNG and she has a bad attack pattern you're doomed), or by removing the shield mechanic. Let me hit her outside of the big bullet, I beg, it makes gameplay feel slow and tedious, especially when she keeps dodging the big bullets.

It's hard to say how long I spent on argument altercation, but I think it was probably over an hour... Mostly because I had to replay a bunch of the trial after that first crash. That wasn't suuuper fun, but these things happen, and it didn't take too long to get back to bullet hell.

I experienced a slightly less devastating bug before the trial, in other news. I think it happened because I saved on a 'truth bullet get' screen. That one resulted in the image for 'Toshiko's Fetch Quest' being stuck on my screen... like, permanently. I was worried that I was going to have to redo the whole investigation (because it wasn't going away for the trial, and reloading wasn't helping), but selecting 'start from trial' on the menu fixed it, because it brought me to a refreshed state of the game.

The quality of the execution was really good. I don't think it's my favourite concept for a math's themed demise, but it was solid, and very, very brutal. Seeing Damon crying at the end kind of got me, he's going to be in for a rude awakening when he unpacks the realisation that he's as fallible as everyone else is.

Overall, it was a wonderful experience, and I look forward to what comes next!

Now, for the parts of my analysis that seem accurate...

"Interestingly, ravens are the natural enemies of farmers… and Wolfgang has a distinct agricultural reference on his lapel."

Look how the turns have tabled!

"Lawyer man is, quite literally, a wolf in sheep's clothing. His name has the word 'wolf' in it. He has a sheep on his clothing. Does Wolfgang obsess over justice due to a guilty conscious? Is it a cover to mask his deepest, most despicable thoughts?"

Not the craziest read on my part, the writing was kind of on the wall with this one, but it's neat that the idea was referenced specifically in his secret.

"Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character…"

His secret implies that he's devoted to another character, who I'm pretty sure is Eloise. They're always together.

"Also, chameleons are seen as 'not standing up for what's right', so I guess that's where Diana falls on the morality spectrum, maybe possibly?"

This kind of falls into the start of her character development. She didn't admit to seeing Wolfgang's death, and she didn't actually try to save him. Now, she's vowing to be a better person (transforming), and she even referenced the chameleon on her bracelet.

"Not much to say here, it could represent vulnerability (butterflies are fragile)"

This man is, indeed, fragile, wow, he loves to scream.

To harken back to the name post (which was less viewed than the symbolism one, but honestly, fair), I am SO mad I didn't make the connection between Eva (Eve) and original sin, her being the first blackened makes SO MUCH SENSE! I did mention Eve, but didn't touch upon her most defining moment, how foolish I was.

I think that's all for now. Good fangan, see you again in another two years!

[jessefandomunited]

I feel like every time I listed to an audiobook at work I feel the urge to write my own thoughts down . So this is that , nothing important is being said I promise you

I feel like my life has hit a bit of a comfortable stand still. Since I got involved in the furry community in my city I've felt like I have plenty to keep me busy as well as hanging out with family and such. I just feel like it's all moving so fast that I'm doing a lot and nothing at the same time. Almost as if anything I do or don't do has no effect and changes no outcome on my situation.

I say it's comfortable because I'm happy with where I'm at. I have a solid job I don't hate and am now in the party planning committee which makes me feel a bit of joy whenever we have meetings . I'm living in an apartment with my friend and we have a great living situation and rent isn't intensely outrageous. I have a solid relationship with my friends and family but still some things haunt me .

I've talked about my ex friend on here a few times and they come up once in a while in my dreams . I've tried so hard to forget them and move on , I even unfriended them everywhere and changed their name in my contacts from Sherlock back to their name . But still I get the dreams and they're always the same . I see them somewhere and they act like nothing has happened. It makes me so frustrated and then I look like the crazy person when I get mad at them for just being like " oh hey havnt seen you in a while". There was so much left unsaid because they didn't have the balls to message me first 12 + years of me being their friend and it seems like it ment nothing. I'm not saying I'd want to be their friend again, no way, they've proved to me that even if we were friends for 100 years they'd leave at the drop of a hat. But I guess it's just the lack of closure, a proper conversation , anything. And maybe it's not vindictive and they are instead thinking " I don't deserve you to forgive me" which is entirely possible, but that makes me feel even more guilty . But no , I can't reach out, I just can't . I've been the one to reach out in our entire friendship and I just can't anymore

Another thing is my lack of relationship. It's hard , because I'm asexual and half the time just like the idea of relationships, but I need that companionship. I long for it. My friend often calls me a mermaid because I am consistently wondering if my love died lifetimes ago and I was never ment to find love in this lifetime. I always get so dramatic when I'm sad . I bounce from being a realist to a bleeding heart romantic like a ping pong ball. It's almost like the two halves of me are constantly fighting one another like that song " forget about love" from the second Aladdin movie . That's how my brain is like. I just want to be loved so bad , and I want someone i can heap piles of affection on . I make all these fanfics about sweet get togethers that I've never felt myself. Cozy lazy Sundays I have never experienced. And while I know the struggles of relationships too, I so badly want that it hurts . I'm almost 30 and I only had one relationship, back in highschool then a gaggle of half failed dates . The dating apps are a scam and never give me results. I'm trying to go out and do more but my anxiety has been keeping me a bit more in the house than I would prefer. I know I need to put myself out there more . It's just hard to find the time. 

If any of you sat through and read all this , you're crazy and I appreciate you. If you just skimmed and leave a supportive comment I see and appreciate you too. I'm just in my head, will probably delete this later, just wanted to yell into the void for my lunch break