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kazumiwrites-fanfiction · 1 year

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“It Must Have Been Love”

SUMMARY: You loved Touya, sure. But fading love as well as some other stuff led to your eventual heartbreak. WORD COUNT: 900+

WARNINGS: Implied cheating, crying, more crying, basically you cry a lot (please drink some water [Y/N]) (my computer fell onto my face as I was writing this like it wanted you to not listen to my advice- rude), love dying away, Touya kinda harassing you in an alleyway (but like I don't think it's too bad), uh best friend Yuuma being amazing.

A/N: I'm scared that I won't be able to write a good angsty fic for Touya so uh yes- Let's see if I succeed (as I write this I have like... 1/4 of it done(ish)) Also this is for a collab with @okkatsudon for their Somebody New Collab. Also heavily inspired by ‘It Must Have Been Love’ by Roxette (link here (also yes 80s songs <33)) A/N PART 2: I was on a vibe while writing and then I wrote four words starting with h in a row- like- damn- lmao- A/N PART 3: Originally posted here.

You sighed softly as you looked over the photo album that held all the photos of the past year. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you scanned over the happy images. The ones with you and Touya.

You knew exactly why you two broke up. Your love slowly died away. Touya was away just too often. You knew why, he had to try to defeat his father. But still... You just wanted him to give you attention. Maybe that was clingy of you. But hey, everyone wants their love. You were no different.

But then one day, you came home to a... Scene. Him and some other person. You didn't get a good look at either of them, just slamming the door as a soft sob escaped your lips.

That was the last straw; you stormed out of your shared apartment, driving to your friend, Yuuma's house. Thankfully, he let you in, holding you and letting you know that you could stay for as long as you needed. A relief. At least he wouldn't leave you. He rubbed your back gently, comforting you.

You had spent the night there, before going back to your shared apartment the next day. You walked through the rooms, grabbing all of your things. You sighed softly, dropping down and sitting on the bed as you closed your eyes. Your body was trembling, soft sobs escaping you. You didn't even hear the door opening, soft footfalls walking over to you.

Touya himself wasn't sure what to do as he stared at your figure, curled up in yourself. He wanted to reach out to you, wrap his arms around you and hold you close, but... He couldn't. Why? It had been so, so easy before. As easy as breathing. But what now? Where was the love for you that he had held close in his heart? Gone? He wasn't sure. After a moment, he just rested a hand on your shoulder.

You just flinched away when you felt his touch, moving your hand to hit him somewhat hard. Ouch. "...Don't touch me." Your voice was harsher than he had ever heard it. "You- I just- no. I'm leaving. And I'm breaking up with you." You got up, sighing shakily. You looked almost... Broken.

The male stepped closer to you, mouth opening to speak, but you just fixed him with a glare. "No. I'm leaving. And don't try to do anything." You let out a soft huff, glancing away before he could see the hurt in your eyes. "Go. Have fun with that- that person you were with yesterday."

His eyes widened slightly. "[Y/N], I-"

"Shut up. I don't have anything I want to hear from you, Dabi. Now be quiet, and let me get out."

The use of his villain name was what had hit him hardest. He wasn't Touya anymore to you. Just Dabi.

You shook your head with a soft sigh, holding two suitcases and a couple more bags as you lugged them outside, into your car. You got them all in before driving away, texting your friend that you were all right.

The turquoise-eyed male just froze, shaking a bit as he ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't thought that you would actually leave... But now that you had, he felt almost... Lighter.

You, however, were not. You had been a wreck for so long. Seeing the news that a certain cremation quirk user had gone into the League of Villains soon after the break up. Yuuma was there for you the whole time, which you were grateful for. Without him... You would've broken into a million pieces, probably.

You let out a soft sigh as you got up, shaking your head to get rid of the reminiscing. Yeah, you missed him... Wanted to be with him even more. The hollow in your heart could never be healed. Not really.

He seemed fine, though. Dabi seemed to almost be having fun, from what you had seen on the news. So what? It wasn't like you were hurting. Hating that this villain work made him happier than you ever could have.

And seeing him on a date with some other person on the news? That didn't make you jealous either. The twist in your heart was just because you ate something bad, and the tears in your eyes were just from pollen getting in them in the middle of winter.

You tried so hard to convince yourself that you were okay. So what was this? You stared up at Dabi, back pressed against the wall of the building in a narrow alley. The one time you had to go there, he was there.

"Fancy seeing you here, [L/N]." His voice was carefully calm, staring at you. Eyes devoid of emotion.

"Yeah, you too, Dabi. Just let me go, all right? Give me a break." Your voice was sharp, blinking back tears.

"What happened to us, [Y/N]?" Dabi's voice was soft, almost... Gentle. You didn't miss how he used your given name, either.

"Well, it must've been love. But it's over now." You let out a soft sigh.

"Really." His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes, really. Now let me go." You grabbed his wrist tightly, pushing him away before turning around and walking away, closing your eyes and ignoring his gaze on your back. Ignoring how it made you feel. Because it really was over now. Whatever he made you feel. You could've been a perfect couple... But not anymore. It would never happen.

A/N PART 4: Kinda wanna write a Part 2 just to make this less angsty... But oh well. Because like I feel like Touya would've been sad as well (over time) so uh- yes. (But then again Yuuma was a very good "friend" (he likes [Y/N]) and the whole time I was writing this I was like "Dude go make a move??" but he was like "no <3" so uh- yes. My OC, he's a playboy, and he's like this. At least he's a good(?) friend?? What do y'all think-) A/N PART 5: Please don't go into alleyways because every time I write/roleplay something happening into alleyways, something bad happens- so yes. Please don't- A/N PART 6: Also what're the newscasters doing- they should be calling the police instead of taking pictures of the villain and his "hot date" </3 I'm crying over here please-

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ya-girl-static · 1 year

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My She-Ra naval aviation AU, Hornet Ball, is now far enough along for me to post Chapter 1, Tumbleweed.

I made this tumblr for the explicit purpose of nerding out and elaborating on things I think are cool or could use a little more info on but that didn't really fit into the chapter itself, so... without further ado, me being an airplane nerd about Chapter 1.

The chapter header image is actually a (somewhat edited) screenshot from a flight sim I play way too much, DCS. I do custom skins for the planes in that game and because I have too much free time made each squadron on the carrier.

I'm spelling things phonetically for this fic when applicable. 2-3 is said "two three," but with the hyphen there I didn't feel a need to specify that. However, for things like runways, standard notation is something like "14L", but you say "one four left" instead of "fourteen left", so I wanted to get that across. Basically, in this fic, if somebody is saying a number, they'll either be saying it like a normal person, or it'll be spelled out.

There's actually no carrier in Chapter 1, but they do mention the angled deck: In the 50s-60s, carriers started being made with the landing area slanting off to one side (it's the thing that looks vaguely like a road in that image just above). This has a couple benefits. Not only does it free up space on the carrier deck, it also means an airplane can miss the landing and just go around and try again. Before the angled deck, they had nets before parked planes at the end of the deck so pilots wouldn't run into them, and it was a huge hassle to take care of that when somebody missed the wires (and one other system, but that's not really important so I'm not getting into all that stuff unless somebody asks). It also allows the carrier to do takeoffs and landings around the same time during things like sea trials for new aircraft, or carrier qualifications.

Navy squadron designations start with a letter indicating what type of aircraft they are: "V" for fixed wing, "Z" for lighter than air (like zeppelins. haven't been any of those in like a hundred years), and "H" for helicopter. After that comes the role: For now, Horde is a fighter squadron (F), whereas Alliance is both a fighter and an attack squadron (so FA). You may also see electronic attack (AQ) or anti-submarine (S), although the fixed wing anti-submarine squadrons at the time were also responsible for providing tanker aircraft for air-to-air refueling, and the helicopter ones did search and rescue. After that just comes a number to distinguish it from all the others.

The Edge 540 I’m describing is specifically Melissa Pemberton’s Edge 540. Did she have her pilot’s license in the 90s? No. Do I care? Also no, it’s my 90s Earth/Modern Etheria mashup, I do what I want.

Tomcat crews, having a superiority complex the size of Texas, often referred to the Hornet as the more diminutive "Bug."

That's all I've got for this chapter (unless there are questions). It's kind of a prologue; Chapter 2 is going to be a time skip to near the beginning of the next cruise/deployment. That's already written, but I'm trying to keep at least one chapter ahead of where I'm at at all times, so not sure when it'll be out. Hopefully by the end of next month!

#somebody remind me to reformat this later now that tumblr is apparently going to be a big thing for me and not just supplementary

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meg-megbanom-ezt · 1 year

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The Four Horsemen of my Spotify Wrapped

As a last minute effort, I present my Spotify wrapped as my final post of this year, with a bit of illustration. The background of the image is, of course, not mine but Jason Galea's. Originally I wanted to recreate it myself but a) I couldn't make it half, no, quarter as good b) I can't be bothered by doing anything difficult for 2022. I've had enough.

The reason I don't post the original Spotify images like anybody else is... because my poor phone is so old and messed up that I was happy to be able to tap through at. all. I was like, "is there any cheat code for Level 2?", the app crashed OR skipped too much forward OR backward. So this is also a goodbye to Spotify on the phone because after I wrote(!) down(!!!) the stats, I deleted the app. Spoiler: it also crashed all the other times. I've bought an SD card and I'll listen to mp3s from now on. Soooo ~retro~!

To be fair, I used the Spotify browser edition, as well; more than the phone app version, I'd guess. Maybe I keep using that, but I prefer YouTube for listening for music (I know, I know), although it's not really the bee's knees either. Just still the better one IMO.

So if anybody persisted despite my rants or against the odds how much people usually care for other's music taste... HERE IS THE POINT:

Most common genres (in descending order, but fuck bullet points):

new wave - no surprise rock - broad category, but I can see this Australian indie - see later... classic Hungarian rock - hmm... I think this is a broad category as well early US punk - I can see this, too

How much I've listened to Spotify?

3493 minutes, which is ~58 hours - not even 2,5 days. I don't think it's too much. Still, I've listened to more music than 45% of Hungarian users! I'm so curious how would the distribution look like. And what about podcasts? I guess it's also a keyword here. (Podcasts are not my cup of tea, but I'd still love to see statistics. OK, I just like stats, OK?)

Top 5 songs:

Holiday in Cambodia - imagine this... this made it to the top with *drum roll* four repeats on a gray January day! Wow, just wow. I can't complain, tho - it's a great song. It just looks like I don't do that horrible number of loops on Spotify (unlike on YT). Also, now you understand the top left corner (even though, iirc, Jello gnawing the chord is in the California Über Alles video? anyway...). Pop Song 89 - Oh, I can explain this, it's a recent thing. I opened Spotify, I saw this song among top of the favourites, "oh, I like this", I played the song - and closed the app / tab. Hence, the top right corner (but poor Michael Stipe, I should've drawn him better in retrospect). Lonely Steel Sheet Flyer - holy shit, I didn't even remembered this song title. I guess I was like, "wait it's good!" and replayed a few times without recollecting. [these guys drugged me through their music: a story at 8PM] Swamp Thing - same as above, but it's by The Chameleons. But even worse: unlike with King Gizzard, I don't even really know the band! Put me in the *looks in the notes* pillory. Ez a város - the only reason it's this below because I listen to Európa Kiadó more on other platforms. :) I link this, because it's Hungarian and you'd find songs with the same title but shittier music if it wasn't for me. I biased but I don't care. ...OK, I care a bit. As much as I love this band, the lyrics make the difference here, so non-Hungarian speakers are inherently missing out and might just see it as any other new wave / alternative band. Still, recommended (of course!). Also, at bottom left quarter now you can recognize Jenő Menyhárt, the bandleader music director of the band.

Top bands:

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - surprise! Remember the above-mentioned Australian indie as the bronze-winner genre? King Gizzard single-handedly contributed to that. The funny - and maybe touching :3 - thing is that King Gizzard is actually one of my brother's favourite bands. The exception rule of my cynical take is that people might do care about other's taste if they are close friends or relatives. At least I do. So that's why I listened to the ABSOLUTE WHOLE FUCKING DISCOGRAPHY of the King Gizzard!!! And them being a really, I mean REALLY prolific band, it was easy to reach the top here. Their stuff is so diverse and energetic, but eventually... I like some of their albums, some of them I kinda love, even, but I don't think I became a real fan. I wouldn't go to their concert by myself but if someone important invited me OR I magically won a ticket, I'd gladly go. The Beatles - .......really?! - I muttered with a smirk. Honestly, fuck The Beatles. OK, I am just being edgy here. But they only finished on the second place because I clicked on a "basic Beatles for x hours" recommendation playlist and I complied, but wasn't impressed by the end. My point is, it's easy for a band to get a metric fuckton of hours if you binge them for whatever reason and then Spoti draws the wrong conclusion because quantity and preference don't necessarily correlate. (I guess I could've concluded already above but honestly, fuck the Beatles.) Európa Kiadó - I made my point above. One addition: their live stuff is often waaaay better than the studio stuff but those are available elsewhere, so the third place is reasonable. New Order - hmm. A band I kinda like, but don't like enough for the fourth place. Then I remembered that I binged two of their albums so I get it. The Smiths - well I wonder how come someone hasn't noticed that I'm dead these guys have only reached the fifth place? Kinda guilty pleasure, but I cannot not like the Smiths. So this is why we got Morrissey at the bottom right corner, not that he would deserve it, tho. Also I made his glasses with the anime school of obscuring glass because if I'm already embarrassed myself, why not top all of it with weeb shit.

Now peace out, I have to shower and go to the party where possibly better music is played (granted, my brother is also invited there). Happy New Year in advance for all my lovely mutuals and all the others passing by! <3

UPDATE: oh fuck, I forgot one more thing. I played King Gizzard for 728 minutes, which qualified me for the top 3% of listeners! Yeah, that's 12 hours and 8 minutes! If this doesn't impress you, nothing will.

#english post #saját rajz #drawings #music i like #spotify wrapped #possibly shitty takes #jello biafra #dead kennedys #michael stipe #rem #menyhárt jenő #európa kiadó #morrissey #the smiths #king gizzard and the lizard wizard #jason galea

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

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breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

#Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #pjjg fanfic

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

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[image description: a cropped image of a pink sky. on the right hand side is a bunch of darker pink clouds. Just left of the centre is a full moon. In the centre, in a white serif font reads "writing update" /end id]

july writing update

Hi friends! This writing update is me pretending I did Camp Nano and didn't kinda give up a week in! I had a proper goal and everything, but a lot of things got in the way that I'm not gonna talk about here because I already ranted about it in another update I'm drafting rn. Lets just say it's Disability Pride Month and being not neurotypical or able bodied in writing communities and their inherent focus on productivity is Hard.

But I did get some writing done and wanted to do a little Camp wrap up post regardless. And I'm doing it now because I'm cancelling the last week of July for some rest/self care and I do not want to think about writing for that time and if I write a tumblr post about July Nano being over my brain will think it's actually over <3 I will probably do updates like these for most months tho! Depends on how much I write lol! This one is not too long (by my standards) and has some Revelations, Revelations, Life Cycle of Massive Stars, Nocturne for the Holy and a new wip idea 👁️

excerpts under the cut!

general taglist ; ask to be + or - ; i only have one! ; @childhoodlovers @svpphicwrites @abiandwriting @kowlazovdi @avi-why @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @bijouxs @bookphobe @moonhungers @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdywrites @keira-is-writing @flip-phones @piyawrites @avakrahn @goose-books @finch-goes-write @ziyin @aphaimaniis @isherwoodj @laughtracksonata

I'm also editing this in to say I only just realised that July is my writeblr birthday month and that is very weird to me! A year and a couple days ago I impulsively turned an old blog into a place to document writing for me and ended up meeting people who now mean the world to me and my writing blossoming in a way I never thought it would. And the funny part is it doesn't feel like it's been a year, ever since I joined it's just felt like life has Always been this way and I cannot fathom that it hasn't. I'm sappy bc it's 4am lol but ultimately the friends I made (you know who you are) and the community I found is what retaught me the value of writing and helped me unlearn toxic ideas and whilst the last year was tough I wish I could tell July 2020 Dallon (who did not realise he was Dallon yet </3) what July 2021 would look like.

revelations, revelations ;

Oh the absolute state of affairs with this book rn. Nothing bad but I don't know when I'm gonna update y'all because sometimes I do not know where to start when talking about this wip lol! Currently on a break with it (but also my thesis work is on late 20th century queer lit/history rn so am ever really free of RR? <3) but had a lot of fun with it at the end of June/start of July. Anyway here's Dorothy finally revealing more of herself to me after a year. Dorothy as a character is like, I truly believe she is capable of killing a man but the story she is in just does not allow that so I am trying to grow her unhinged side a little bit in other ways bc I know she has it in her but I also really cannot deal with the plot repercussions of her actually killing a man! I'm sorry Dotty but this'll have to do!

(cw for groping/a man being creepy as hell, death/funeral mention, drug mention, drowning imagery kinda)

There’s too much to tell Felix. That his sister lives on the fringe of Castro and has attended three funerals since September; that it’s January 11th and she’s already attended one this year. That his sister drives through sunsets and imagines parties: the amber dusk, warm mosaic tiles, platters of Greek salad skewers and shrimp tostadas, and sometimes Jolie joins her and they share a blunt on the hill. That his sister bought an aquamarine body-length dress for six bucks in a thrift store sale bin, so when her and Jolie broke up for the second time, she waltzed into a sunset party, locked arms with a CEO’s son and gave him a fake number and plucked strawberries out of champagne and blended so well nobody noticed when she left. That during the summer of ’83, his sister walked a neighbour’s Golden Retriever on Wednesdays, and on the sixth Wednesday he gave her a wad of tens with one hand and palmed the back of her neck with the other, so she walked his dog to the beach and stole another hundred from his wallet. That his sister bombed an interview for a Nursing school and didn’t get home until night and missed their monthly call, and Jolie heard the phone ring and didn’t take a message, so his sister snuck into the CEO’s son’s villa and floated in the centre of their heated pool like a cloud. A pause, a breath, an Opheliean threat.

life cycle of massive stars ;

Switched to LCOMS this month because I was burnt out with RR and it made such the difference! I really love working on two novels at once because it keeps me consistently creative but also both of these books are so different so its always refreshing to bounce back into one from another. I have a whole update in the drafts rn for this so keeping this part brief but still love this book, still the best thing that has ever happened to me, me and this book will have a glorious summer wedding etc etc. These excerpts are from chapters that summarise the first semester of each character's first year and have to say it. has been Very Fun to get into the mindset of Freshers Melodrama. Here's Junie having a crisis and an unhealthy relationship with her hetero flatmate :( (alcohol cw for both excerpts)

In October you are drinking double espresso and trying to breathe normally in lectures and you are trying to figure out your favourite colour because Fleur asked and you stumbled out an answer (Purple, I think. Violet? Lavender? Indigo?) and it didn’t match hers (I like yellow. I like sunlight). You buy mugs from IKEA to paint you paint cats and fireworks and constellations and moon phases and daisies. You try to scratch paint stains off your desk. You do laundry at 2am. In October you colour code your notes with pastel highlighters. You go to the library at 3am. You paint your nails sunlight and hate it. You finish an essay that’s due in December. You knock on Fleur’s door at 8am so she makes her 9am. You wear off the shoulder tops and you let a girl dab glitter on your collarbones and you are watching Fleur kiss a boy from the neighbouring hall. You bite your sunlight nails. You break the handle off your IKEA constellation mug. You leave your keys in a lecture hall and stand at the reception for forty minutes waiting for them to realise that the keys on the desk have the moon chain you mentioned - or, you are waiting to say it yourself. You are watching the rain trail down your window. In October you get a halo headband tangled in your hair you are sipping a vampire themed cocktail that tastes like acetone you rip your heels off and you go home early and do laundry at 2am and you are waiting for the courage to tell Fleur you don’t like clubbing - or, you are waiting for her to ask where you are. In October you are many things / a good student a dancer a painter an angel a big sister an alarm clock you are nocturnal and a lucid dreamer and confused about your sexuality / and it’s still October but it’s not because it’s November now and you are still Junie but not because you don’t know who Junie is. It’s November, it’s September October November December. It’s 2016 2017 2018 2019. You are fragments and you don’t know if you are a kaleidoscope or shattered glass.

And here's first year Tomas being like I Moved Countries For University And All I Got Was Homesickness And A Crush On My Flatmate And Resurging Autistic Symptoms And This Lousy T Shirt (cw: vomit mention, injection mention, parental death mention)

Kristen is seven months younger and five inches taller than you. He’s the last flatmate you met and the only one you talk to beyond kitchen greetings and passive aggressive texts about dirty dishes. He is too quiet and too loud and not the type of person you befriend. The first night, he lost Ring of Fire and downed the concoction of Echo Falls, Dark Fruits, Jack Daniels and coke, vodka and lemonade alongside a cigarette and said he’d let God figure out the rest. He held your hair back when you threw up amaretto and held onto your knee when you first self-injected testosterone. He taught you Yorkshire dialect and you pretended to understand the Yorkshire dialect. He told you he got diagnosed at four and you told him you didn’t get past the first assessment but sometimes you flick the bathroom light on and it’s fire: the orange on the orange towel is louder, the white on the white tiles are louder, the colours and light and sink and showerhead are prickly and all you can do is blink and breathe until it fizzles out. You reminded him to take his meds and asked if you were weak for wanting to drop out and hop on the first Eurostar to Rotterdam. He reminded you to take off your binder and asked if he was robotic for not grieving his mother. You spent inky nights on the kitchen floor, counting the dead flies in the lights and scooping crumbly coconut ice cream out of a maker you got for half price in TK Maxx. You spent dusk-dusted afternoons at the global street food markets, at the vegan markets. Spent student loans on raspberry lemonade in recycled cups, veggie burgers in beetroot buns, got him hooked on poffertjes and advocaat and could’ve cried when the vendor spoke to you in Dutch. Sometimes you didn’t buy anything. Just liked hovering at stalls ambered with fairy lights, writing down Etsy stores on your notes app; just liked Kristen’s impulse to trek forty minutes into the city for a market he didn’t know existed until five minutes before; just liked how he always invited only you, cancelling your other plans last minute, the feeling of being ambushed; just liked how he stopped to take photos of dogs and the sunset; just liked how he looked haloed under lampposts waiting for Ubers, golden on golden.

This is also nearing creative nonfiction because Sheffield truly is a haven for just. vegan markets and cafes lol! I experimented with veganism there and never struggled to find something and at this point I call myself a fake vegan because it's too easy to be vegan in Sheffield and too difficult to be vegan in my actual hometown. And the global street food markets!!! SO GOOD! I miss pre pandemic days

nocturne for the holy ;

Giving her a little shout out because she does exist actually! I've figured out a really good system for working on two novels at a time, so my plan is maybe to start properly on this after I finish either RR or LCOMS. Idk I got 3 novels to pick from haha oops! I did do some free drafting back in April though and found it recently and I Like It! And I edited it so it counts as Something I Did This Month :) Also have decided that I loathe this working title <3 Okay see you with an update for this novel in like a year, sorry for the absolute zero context for this excerpt hehe

The morning I was due back, I hadn’t yet decided that this would be my last visit. I wandered between rooms like an overstayed guest, like I didn’t know which crockery lived in which cabinet and which bedroom had the best view of the overlapped hills. Dad would wake for his run in an hour, plastered to his twenty-year-old routine. Mum would pretend to be asleep until breakfast. Until then, it was myself and the house, hazed by sleepy sunrise. Downstairs. The peeling paisley wallpaper in the lounge, the lilies in the middle of the kitchen table, the vases of candy floss pink peonies wilting on every windowsill, the desolate double swing-set in the garden. The mist-clogged mornings. I stood outside in my dressing-gown until my fingertips felt numb. Upstairs. The sage coloured bathroom. The bathtub I’d laze in with my clothes on and no water because it was the quietest room in the house. The dusty dance trophies on the top of my wardrobe. Wine-flushed Jeanette in my teenage bedroom. The stale grey mum painted my teenage bedroom after I moved out. Minus their room, I stalked the layout of the house three times before settling back into bed - teenage Nora’s bed. Nora who cared for peonies and pushed her brother on the swing set and flung her ceramic ballerina at the wall and jogged with her father and collected wine bottles and acorns and kisses from girls who were supposed to visit for dance practice. Before I left, I’d have cycled each room another three times. And in every room he was there, hovered in the corner like black mould.

love this update bc it's like i've got my third person, my second person, my first person! collecting all the POVs like chaos emeralds :)

eulogy for our burnings ;

-looks away-

girl help I did it AGAIN!!!! Apparently Camp Nano is just the perfect time for me to get novel ideas. I made this post specifically to talk a bit about this because I have no idea when I'll draft it but it's certainly not soon. This is not me trying to doubt my own skill but I feel like I am not in the place I'd like to be as a writer to tackle this project with the zest it needs, however I am v excited by the prospect of it! Don't know how I feel about the working title bc I'm like "that doesn't sound right but I don't know enough about this wip to dispute it" but the only purpose my working titles serve is to sound pretty lol! But here's the tea:

1991, UK.

2nd person present + past. Very flexible form. I can't decipher how yet but I'm feeling interviews, newspaper articles, receipts, grocery store lists weaved with actual narrative, that kinda vibe.

Best summary is we follow our nameless narrator, a stealth trans man, as he becomes unhealthily obsessed with a man who "hires" him to photograph the buildings he burns

Very,,, isolated? Minimal settings, minimal characters, minimal prose etc. Almost claustrophobic

There's basically only two characters and they are probably the most morally deplorable, indefensible characters I've created which just means most of you are gonna LOVE this /lh I do too I do too

Only comp title I can give is it has the vibes/tone of Boy Parts by Eliza Clark (just with none of the nsfw content lol if you've read the book you know what I'm talking about) (also that book is great for morally deplorable women protagonists but omg look up the content warnings because it caught me off guard! enjoyed it tho gave it 4 stars)

The pinterest board is the best visualisation of the Vibes also follow me on pinterest lol

And that's all I've got today! A bigger Life Cycle of Massive Stars update coming in the next few weeks. Might do a proper intro post for Eulogy For Our Burnings but idk!!! It's a surprise :) Thank you for reading this far!

#also i have LOTS to catch up on so if u tagged me in anything im gonna do a big queue of rb's soon!#promise im not ignoring anybody!#just barely functioning <3 #atlastracking #writing update #revelations revelations #life cycle of massive stars #nocturne for the holy #eulogy for our burnings

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empressxmachina · 3 years

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Inquiries on WIPs, lore, and what to do with both

Hi!

I hope y'all are well! I didn't expect to make a journal today, but here I am! I do hope I get some answers because I do have some thoughts and questions.

word wall under the cut

First off, I've done a lot of proofreading and re-outlining lately.

How I keep coming up with ideas, I don't know. Why I can never sit down and write prose except for when I'm meant to be doing something else is even more unknown. But at least I'm thinking, I guess. I like what I'm pondering. I have done some intensive writing, though.

I made a manip that's been done and in the queue for months, and I liked it so much that I've made a whole novella (novel?) idea for it. If I do it right, then I hope to get about twelve (12) parts from it - they're all now planned - of which I've completed seven. I'm closer to eight (8) than not, so that's good, right?

Since the pic is done and so is its relative part in the story, should I just release it/them, or should I wait until it's all done?

I've even made a Wattpad/book cover for it; that's how much I like what I'm doing.

Regarding Welcome Home, Sasha, specifically, it's been plotted for months, too. But I'm having some issues with writing an expository soliloquy, aka the explanation of what the fuck happened to Earth.

The actual information is cut-and-dry, but I don't know how to best frame it. I find Ki to be an analytical person - sensible for a scientist, I suppose - but with a flourish. Putting his brotherly, almost fatherly love of Sasha on top complicates things further since he wouldn't want to break his heart... and the answer will definitely bruise at the very least.

Luckily though, how he'll react and everything after that is as straightforward as an apocalypse can be. Will I ever write it, though?

I technically have three (3) or four (4) continuations to long fics, but I don't know why I'm not releasing them. I want to, yet I don't? Is this my mediocre perfectionism in action? Is this normal?

Syntrophy has changed in my head, like, four times, regarding the relationship between the two MCs. Their separate stories have maintained but not how they connect to each other.

I wish I was kidding. There's so much I've deleted.

I've been adding excerpts to my manips and making visuals to go with stories. Read more about that in the next section.

Secondly, I've been conceptualizing visuals like mad!

Ideas just keep coming, and they don't stop coming.

The queue is probably at peak fullness, which is cool. I was hoping I wouldn't have to widen time between posting stuff because as much as popularity doesn't affect whether I make something, I wouldn't want y'all to just forget about me. You know?

I know some people don't even have a schedule or set up expectations, so I might just say "Fuck it," and leave submission dates to RNG. It hasn't been a problem, but I don't want pressure from time restraints to become a problem. We'll see.

Like the unnamed, new fic way above, some of my ready works are images from tales not-yet-released. I've done that before numerous times, but one in particular literally happens in what would be the literal next part to post, and I'm not done with writing it, yet, at least to where I'd like it to be.

Should I post the pic anyway, despite context being right behind a corner? I kind of want to, but I've already been putting it off so much...

I just really need to get motivated and focus using Pomodoro or something. Maybe I'd knock everything out if I did.

My most recent completion from literally this morning might just be my favorite in all my years of manip-making.

Meanwhile, the one finished right before it might be the worst thing I've ever made, and its excerpt just makes it worse. I enjoyed it thoroughly, though, which makes me question myself as I'm seeing patterns...

I want to draw/paint again. I've done stuff for IRL projects but not size content.

I need inspiration to just sit down and pen for hours or days.

Would y'all mind me doing sketches again? That'd be quicker.

Lastly, the real reason why I chose to make a journal:

I'm really considering putting expanded, not-yet-seen lore for my stories on my blog site (on WordPress), and I feel like I've pondered this before.

As repeatedly mentioned, I have too many ideas but not even drive to collect them all into something worthwhile. But I'd like to get them out there somehow so others can indulge in my babies as much as I do. Some creators have blogs just for certain stories and their characters, settings, etc. that I adore, and I want to feel that in a way, too. However, most people don't have ten (10) or more stories at once that they equally love. Fuck, I need to edit my blog with more pages for more things I've conjured but isn't there, yet.

I feel that by doing so on my site,

People who do want to know how a plot of a tale will go, because I write as quickly as molasses runs yet have an outline for everything, can know.

It'll be organized as I see fit but my own control (unless WordPress does something drastic).

In addition, the data wouldn't be directly attached to the works on other sites like here, either, in case ideas change or people are averse to spoilers and want to stay away.

Reading all this over, couldn't I put the same data/lore in DA journals, Tumblr posts, etc., too, adding tags or titles to mark what's what? Couldn't I also put the works themselves that are here or even the damn music list on my site, too? Should I?

Am I overthinking this? I think I'm overthinking this.

That's it, I think.

Does any of this make sense? Please let me know your thoughts on anything but mostly the blog stuff if you can.

(I've also put this on DA if you'd prefer to respond there.)

Stay safe, and Happy Equinox! I'm glad I'll see flowers blooming again soon.

#rambles #lore #blog #updates #ideas #journal

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

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[image description: a wideshot of the san francisco skyline, tinted orange by a sunset. Above the skyline, in a white serif font reads "REVELATIONS, REVELATIONS." in all caps. below, in lower caps reads "update #2" /end id]

Revelations, Revelations | Update #2

Hey besties! I've got a funky little RR update

I've had a little bit of a love hate relationship with this book in the last two months but I am loving it right now! I think my struggles came from how I didn't really accept that this book is Hard to write. like it's complicated! and it's set in another country in another era like idk what to tell you! And accepting that was such a weight off my shoulders because I'm not putting the blame on myself. I also was really stuck in part one's problems and I had to be like <3 bestie <3 abandon it til post draft editing. So right now it's like:

Part one: I see it as a little stray cat in an alleyway that I kneel down in front of like pspspsp :) and then it hisses and bites me because it is actually a feral raccoon. Definitely not where I want it to be but like I can fix him

Part two: super fun!! A lot of deeper (and messier) elements are introduced here and I feel like the story's ~vibes~ have clicked. It's a lot of fun and it's getting complex. Whilst there's conflict going on in part one there's definitely this false sense of stability and then part two hits all of them like a baseball bat

My drafting has been much more chill and non linear too, just writing the scenes I want to and then connecting them together. I've been focused less on rich prose/descriptions and more on prose that explores character and it's been very refreshing! I love my flowery prose but I think it's easy to get caught up in. I'm also no longer going to do chapter by chapter updates, both for plot privacy but also because this story is very delicate both in content and the drafting process and I don't just want to expose the bare bones of that, you know? So I'm just gonna do some sectioned rambles and talk about a couple chapters under the cut!

also no longer doing multiple taglists because i can't keep up so! general taglist, ask to be added or removed! ; @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdywrites @keira-is-writing @flip-phones @svpphicwrites

Only major change to report is I switched to alternate POVs instead of multiple chapters at a time in one POV because I'm insane <3 I had a lot of fun braiding POVs in Life Cycle of Massive Stars and wanted to try it here and it works much better! Though at this point I am simply ignoring the existence of part 1 because it really was the guinea pig part LMAO i experimented so much with structure and form and now it's a mess but it's <3 a future problem <3 i'd rather have one messy part than a whole first draft that's behind on my growing ~vision~ of the story.

[image description: a slightly purple tinted photo of two arms extending from the top and bottom of the photo, cropped to only show their hands. Their index fingers touch. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "dorothy" /end id]

Not a chapter, I had a lot of trouble with Dorothy in part 1 but I still love her so instead y'all are getting a mini character ramble! I felt really bad about her for the longest time because I've only been writing her since last summer whereas I've known Felix since like 2018 so there's naturally an imbalance, but I Do Not like that!! And she's really taken her time revealing herself, but I am ~fascinated by her.

I feel she's best summarised by this disillusionment for her life but mostly herself, because she's framed her whole identity by illusory perceptions of other people: a mother she doesn't remember, a girlfriend she breaks up with every six months but still shares a bed with, a twin brother she hasn't seen in person for four years and still sees as a teenager drenched in religious manipulation. It's a lot! She assumes that she feels dissatisfied with her life because she's without her twin, but then Felix returns to her life and shockingly this does not fix all of her problems??? She also doesn't know how to be alone, which definitely will not get better after Felix returns oop

The day her brother decides to leave, Dorothy is home alone.

Her San Francisco apartment is hollow like a hungry stomach. Three days ago, she drove Jolie to the airport then came home to cover the bathroom mirror with towels. On the first day she took an extra shift at the book store, drove through Sea Cliff at sunset, bumped into Mona on the stairwell and joined her and Margot for wine and slipped out when they began arguing over rent and office interns, started then discarded a portrait of a fictional girl and slept from two to five in the morning. On the second day she worked and spent an extra hour designing a window display on science fiction that she put together on the third day. Cut and painted a rocket ship on cardboard that she’ll have to scold kids for tugging, then get scolded herself by their mothers.

The day I finalise a design for their apartment it's over but I call this trick Trying To Get Around The Fact I Made Characters In Their Earlier Twenties Live In San Francisco (cw: drowning)

The apartment is nicer than her, but it’s been home for three years and they get $100 off rent each month because Jolie tends the garden and looks just like the landlady's daughter that drowned in the Pacific.

I don't think I've talked about Jolie much here which is funny because she is probably the most well-received amongst my friends! They love her so much and it's because she's a hot but slightly toxic lesbian smh, I'm like no seriously she does some fucked up things and they're like you promise?? Some funky facts:

Her real name is Jolene and she hates it except when the Dolly Parton song came on, that gives her a god complex

We are going to ignore how I accidentally named two characters after words for beautiful and pretty in French we are going to pretend it was intentional because when this gets published a uni student could get some good analysis out of that in their Intro to Literature class

She joined the cult with her mother at 13 and left as soon as she turned 18 LMAO. She was Dorothy's only connection to the "outside world" and the only reason she was able to leave

Her dream job is gardener/florist! We get it I watched Bly Manor last November. She's also a bartender

would probably have this on her car /j

[image description: a close up of a car sticker of a frog above "MILF" in green caps. below "MILF" reads "Man I Love Frogs" /end id]

Dorothy and Jolie have always been on and off and building tension but Dorothy realises this can't keep going when Jolie gets into a barfight at work and Dorothy feels Insane because she's the only one concerned?? (cw: blood, mild violence)

“You’re lucky it’s not broken.” She angles Jolie’s face, hand under her chin. Even with red blotted around her nostrils and lips, mulberry lipstick smudged, she still smiles like her bruises are a trophy. It’s a surprise she doesn’t dwell on it: it’s just some blood, doll, nothing to worry about. She didn’t even strike that good. Her technique was all off. If she shows her face back here I’ll just teach her how to punch properly. The worst part is over and I’m a big girl. Do I look upset? Am I crying? When they drive home, she’ll ask to stop and see if she can get free cigarettes or beer by holding her nose and making herself cry. She’ll probably ask Dorothy to hit her so it starts bleeding again. But she’s quiet, leans against the basin and lets her dab damp towels on her face. It doesn’t take long to clean up. It was just some blood.

“Nursing,” Jolie says.

“What?” “You keep saying you want to go to school but don’t know what for – nursing. You’re too good at taking care of people.”

That ending is like Top Three dialogue lines that made me really Concerned for how this character arc is gonna go :) but don't worry about it y'all. I do think Jolie genuinely loves Dorothy but that does not mean! the relationship is healthy!

Basically I love her a lot now that I know her better and I am excited to see where she goes! I think the biggest part of her arc is motherhood/daughterhood and TBH as a recently realised trans dude it took me a Minute to feel entitled to write her story? But being a cis woman shaped my life for two decades and getting to navigate that and being a daughter from a perspective that's totally distanced from myself is very helpful. It's about the inherent admiration and pain that comes from being a mother's daughter! (cw: blood, diet culture/disordered eating)

She lies next to the table and presses her forehead to the glass corner and imagines what would shatter first: the glass or her skin. And she imagines being a girl again, with French braids and too much baby fat in her cheeks and being picked up by a mother before the blood stains her hands and then her dress. She’d tell the mother she just wanted to read her magazines, the dog-eared articles about divorce and top tips for menopause and the benefits of eating half a grapefruit before your calorie-counted meals. And the mother would just brush the bangs out her face, press a pack of thawed peas on the wound and let her choose between the band aid with hearts or the band aid with flowers. And maybe the mother would know she did it for attention because they both know a daughters cry slices oxygen like glass to skin, but she’d still detangle her curls in the evening and kiss her forehead goodnight and serve her breakfast in the morning with half a grapefruit – the other half on her own plate, untouched and left to rot.

[image description: an orange firework exploding against a black sky. across the photo, in a white serif font reads "the last 10 hours of 1986" /end id]

This is technically two chapters, one in each POV and they close part one! Title is v explanatory and they're meant to be framed like a countdown - my plan was for the scenes to get shorter as it gets closer to midnight and that didn't really work but? The twins def get messier as the countdown goes down and THAT is what we like to see. This is also the only end of a part where the twins are separated but don't worry about it hehe :)

Dorothy

This chapter is like the First Time Dorothy does something for herself and. Good for her!

She’ll publish poetry under a pen name and horror short stories under another. She’ll paint indigo mountains and magenta oceans and not care when the colours stain her clothes. She’ll teach Felix how to blend acrylics and he’ll teach her how to remember piano notes and they won’t argue about who abandoned who. When Mona and Margot break up, she’ll go down to comfort Mona or Margot and then kiss Margot or Mona. She’ll move out and tell neither of them. She’ll find a landlady with a dead daughter and get a discount on an ocean view apartment with wall-length windows. Isaias will move in next door and they’ll have weekly dinner parties with wine that costs more than $10. She’ll go vegan. She’ll be so in tune with herself she won’t need to read magazine horoscopes or pay $50 for a psychic reading that assumes she knows her grandparents. She’ll know when she’s happy sad angry and why. She’ll take portrait commissions so she can afford a therapist. She’ll love her life and ignore that there’s no space for Jolie because she wants there to be. She’ll need nobody except herself. She’ll try and make things with Jolie work. She’ll kiss a random girl at midnight to see if it’s any different. She’ll go home after the countdown.

I had the revelation (aha) of Isaias and Dorothy as besties and I am OBSESSED! I love Isaias but struggled with his role so I'm really happy about this. Like he practices calligraphy and writes poetry titled after his favourite plants is he not the ideal character!! Hoping this will make it easier to learn about him so we can get that fun content

Felix

Felix's is fun because he makes the best decision of his arc but also the stupidest fucking decision of his arc. He truly has the range NOBODY is doing it like him. Here's a part that mirrors the excerpt above because even when they're apart Felix and Dorothy are like hmm we Will Be Intrinsically Connected (cw: drug, vomit and sex mention sorry he's going through it!!)

Two hours before midnight and Felix is alone in the bathroom. The party he abandoned synths through the ceiling. He plays Love My Way on his Walkman. Highest volume. Eyes closed. Imagines 1987 and decides he’s going to be honest about everything and nothing. He’s going to tell strangers at bars that he studies Literature at Stanford. He’s going to date a girl and pretend he has parents to introduce her to, that he grew up on a farm in Ohio and was secretly raised atheist, lie about what lies his parents told him. He’s going to grow out his hair and and blend cyan on his eyelids and send polaroids to his father with no return address; burn his fingertips on a candle flame like Michael will burn the photos of his son. He’s going to adore himself. He’s going to quit smoking and start jogging. He’s going to fuck Pacific Heights husbands whilst their wives sleep in the master bedroom and maybe they’ll angrily call him when they’re served divorce papers and hang up when he laughs. He’s going to get promoted to Assistant Manager and not care that his job is dead-end. He’s not going to kiss anyone at midnight because he doesn’t want to. He’s going to flush the cocaine because he doesn’t want it. He’s going to stare at his reflection until it moves for him. He’s going to vomit in a minute. He’s going to pierce his right ear with a sewing needle.

Felix at the end of part one: I give no more fucks!!! I am going to do whatever I want!!! Life is too short!!!

Felix at the end of part two:

[image description: screenshot of a tweet by @/idksomedumbshit. the tweet reads, "i can't mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one boys" /end id]

I do think it's iconic that this time last year Felix was a repressed Christian boy and now his dream is to be a homewrecker THAT is growth. I also got to write Felix and Jolie which was fun because they do Not like each other <3 but they respect each other <3 but only sometimes <3 They have their first little bonding moment where Jolie pierces his ear in their bathroom but then Felix says something to piss her off so Jolie is like hmm okay time to chose Violence. This dialogue is funny because Felix does not really hate himself at this stage Jolie just knows she's gonna fuck him up by saying that !! My life would be so much easier if these twins had a normal relationship with the concept of being a twin but also this story would be very boring

The needle pierces his skin and he doesn’t feel it. Only the tequila swirling behind his eyes. The sting of the light-bulb. Jolie speaks again, “but she looks just like you, doesn’t she? Not the same of course, but enough to see each other in each other. That’s the worst part, right? To see the person you hate on the face of someone you love?”

[image id: a photo of the ocean with cliffs in the background, tinted orange by sunset. in the middle, in a white serif font reads "1/10/1987" /end id]

This chapter is so CUTE and also my first successful attempt at a different form that I can consistently keep in the narrative <3 I really like the idea of a fluid novel form that's adaptive to how the character's perception of the world would change which? Idk how much I can maintain that but this definitely follows it. I need to fine tune the execution but the concept is shots and transcript from a camcorder recording and playing with what the camera sees/doesn't see. The title is what the tape would be labelled, and on 1/10/1987 (american dates throw me off omfg) Beau takes Felix to a seaside town for his birthday and yes it's gay <3 but it's also just a lot of stupid dialogue which was very refreshing because I overthink dialogue so much I always think it has to have deeper meaning when sometimes its like....characters can sometimes...have Fun together. They are simply displaying Relationship Dynamics!

BEAU: Okay, give me a second…(the camera zooms on Felix) There we go! Right, okay, so it’s Saturday, January 10th, 1987, what’re doing out here today?

FELIX: What is this, an interview or something? You sound like a TV host on those morning shows.

BEAU: Oh my God no they’re so annoying, don’t compare me to those.

FELIX: No but I can imagine it perfectly. You’d just be all (holding a pretend microphone) Gooood Morrrning from sunny San Francisco! My name is Beau Teixeira and—

Beau: (laughing) Shut the fuck up!

I love this chapter a lot because you can definitely tell that their dynamic has Shifted but also! They are still just friends being friends and I really want them to just kiss already but also I love the natural progression of friends to lovers....falling in love and not realising it and then suddenly it all makes sense...

BEAU: You wanna try filming? It’s easier if you hold it on your shoulder. Like this. Put your hands where mine are.

[How their fingers whisper against each other. How Beau’s cologne smells of lime and tangerine. ]

Beau steps back into view, runs a hand through his curls. Leather jacket flutters in salted wind. Behind him the sunset flickers over waves like a candle flame. He smiles at the camera.

BEAU: I think you’re a natural! You’re definitely gonna be first choice for cameraman on my shitty morning show.

[How Felix smiles at him.]

(cw: next paragraph talks about the AIDS crisis)

Whilst this is a Fun And Cute Chapter there is more depth to it since the last time we see Beau and Felix before it is the first time they open up about the AIDS Crisis and their fears surrounding it. I have a lot of complicated thoughts about writing this part of history that I could write about all day but it boils down to the fact that "so many queer stories are centred around queer trauma and tragedy and queer people deserve to read stories centred around love and happiness" and "with a queer novel set in 1980s SF it'd be just as bad to completely ignore what happened" are two things that can coexist. I definitely think stories centred around the crisis are necessary (recently read The Prettiest Star by Carter Sickels and highly recommend! Also has a similar camcorder function and an emphasis on preserving. Also made me cry) but shouldn't be the default, especially in a story that if published would have a queer readership, so whilst it's something I want to explore I want to do it in a way that ultimately celebrates queer happiness, love and life. Definitely way more that could be said about this and the function of queer trauma in queer narratives but! Both Beau and Felix feel a need to not only capture as much as possible, but to capture it specifically with the intent to look back in the future, as well as a general We Are Going To Try And Find Happiness Wherever We Can. Also feel like a lot of Beau's character clicked whilst writing it which was very fun!

[How Beau wouldn’t say where they were going but cracked before they left San Francisco because he had too many stories to tell: five year old burning his tongue on café tea, six year old falling into waves and being unbothered, seven year old plucking chrysanthemum petals from stranger’s gardens. How Beau has an orange car freshener and missing headrest on the passengers seat. How Beau drove a longer route because it was closer to the coastline. How Beau played Pet Shop Boys’ Please and knew the words to every song. How Felix realized that he did too.]

[image description: a man and a woman sit next to each other on a bench. the photo is taken from behind them. in the background, you can vaguely see water, hills and the golden gate bridge. across the image, in a white serif font reads "everything the same about dorothy and felix" /end id]

Little title explanation: part 1 has two chapters, "Everything Different about Felix" and "Everything Different about Dorothy" which introduce their relationship + impression of each other after not seeing each other in person for four years (and also how they have images of each other in their heads that are false but they're attached to and it's really not helping the whole complicated twin relationship thing but don't worry about it) and I'd like to expand on that in part two so! An attempt was made. This takes place the day after the above chapter on the twins' actual birthday, the first one they're celebrating together since they were 18 and the first one in the "outside world" so it's a moment!

I'm not happy with how this chapter came out but I think it's just because it's an important one to me! Partly because it helps cement the idea that in spite of their complex relationship, Felix and Dorothy never stop being twins and they never stop loving each other even on the days they dislike each other. But mainly because: these are two adults who lost their childhood to trauma and they finally have the freedom to live their life and! Sometimes that means living for the inner child that never got to be a child. As a certified Adult With Childhood Trauma having a chapter like this was v important because trauma never leaves you but that doesn't mean you can't be happy!! Also it's just. cute. They run around San Francisco, bake a really shitty birthday cake, talk about whether or not San Francisco is real, I want what they have. There is underlying conflict because hoo boy there is Shit simmering rn! But it was nice to have this and the previous chapter as just like. Two little golden moments you know. Calm before the storm if you will

Midnight. Dorothy lies on a mattress on the floor in an apartment in San Francisco. Her brother’s head in her lap. “You know what’s crazy to me? Nobody ever asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. That just wasn’t something we were allowed to think about. I know it’s depressing, I just think about that a lot.”

Felix keeps his eyes on the ceiling. The clock ticks. “Well, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

“Astronaut, of course.”

“I was gonna say astronaut.”

“You definitely weren't,” she says. “Besides, I already claimed it.”

He looks at her. “I was thinking it. Before you said it, I claimed it in my mind.”

“That’s not how it works. I can’t read your mind.”

Felix sits up. “Wait, you can’t? Gee Dotty, some twin you are.” He grins. So does she.

Usually I am like. I don't think they would care too much about the twin thing. But I also think they would definitely joke about it, like if someone asked a stupid question Felix would be like "well of course we can read each others minds, dont you know how twins work?? like right now my twin sister who is my twin is thinking about giving me, her twin brother, $200" But lets end this on an excerpt where Dorothy doesn't give him $200 but she does think Oh How Did I Spend Four Years Without My Brother

(cw: death mention + missing persons mention, plane crash + boating accident mention)

Dorothy is used to his presence, has been for a year: coffee stains on the table, cupboards left open in the kitchen, clustered ashtray in the living room, hair gel and Jazz aftershave behind the bathroom mirror, Queen or Bowie or Alphaville sifting from his room. His voice. How he always knocks on her door to say goodnight. How he weaved himself into the ecosystem like air but tonight she watches her brother do nothing but breathe and she remembers waking up every January 11th in 1983, 84, 85, 86, and chucking a towel over the bathroom mirror. How she told strangers at bars that she’s an only child; or that she had a younger brother, but he died in a plane crash or a boating accident or went on a hiking trip and never came back, was likely immortalised as a John Doe in Oregon or Nevada records. How she went four years without coffee stains and open cupboards and goodnight knocks and Queen or Bowie or Alphaville renditions when he forgets that she exists in this space too. How hollow those four years were.

And that's all I have to share! I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I much prefer this format of talking about the story! If you read this far I love u <3

#revelations revelations #atlastracking #writing update #i wrote most of this update at 5am so ignore any typos god bless

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