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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

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haunting thoughts on Silent Screams

read it here: SILENT SCREAMS IN WILDEST DREAMS

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, side of Steve Word Count: 8k Content Warnings: dark dark DARK tale, smut, main character death, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, talk of wounds, slight dub/con, elements of somnophilia

RECAP: A dark tale with an unhappy ending. Just when you’ve married the man of your dreams, only just closed the chapter of your honeymoon, happily ever after is wrenched away, and you’re met with a nightmare you never could have imagined.

I published this in late November 2022, but I worked on it on and off between other projects for about six weeks from concept to research to writing. I wrote it for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Hallo-Cream Extravaganza, which was a cool challenge because there was a collection of numbered images you could choose from, and then when my image was confirmed, there was a prompt to go along with it.

It was also my first time participating in a challenge since getting back into writing fanfic. When I thought I was getting the sun alone, I was thinking vampires, but when I got the phrase along with the image, it halted the vampire idea I thought I would go with, and since I was already going to re-evaluate, it got my mind going even more. At the time I was also redefining a lot of pieces in my life and I had signed up to go solo on this 5-day retreat to a cabin in the woods... I ended up talking about some of the research and concept ideas for this fic on the six-hour drive to and from that cabin with a girl I carpooled with (we talked about so many things as you do with a stranger you just met when you're both going to the same retreat and want to save on gas). But I'll put the rest under a cut so as not to spoil for those who haven't read it.

When I realized it wasn't going to be vampires, I really wanted to then get totally outside of the box of things we see all the time. I decided I wanted to look up Scandinavian folklore as I was also trying to throw off some of the USAmerican culture I'd just been sitting in my whole life and explore some of my ancestral heritage. I figured there had to be a ton of stuff I'd just never learned about or heard of before and of course there was. One of the ideas I have buried for another day is to do kind of a Grimm or Phillip Pullman thing and do an anthology retelling of some of Scandinavian folktales because they were fascinating, and there were elements I was familiar with alongside very new pieces. It was so cool to begin to uncover the stories there...

But I was looking for a story that would also fit my prompt and lend itself to Bucky x Reader application.

I found the Gengångare. The lore is that they're a revenant/walker, and particularly in the Swedish tradition they're a corporeal form of a spirit that comes back after death. The spirit would have been murdered or killed and came back for mixes of revenge or unfinished business. That I could give Bucky - going on a mission, being killed, and having both revenge he could seek (against still living HYDRA folks who tormented and used him) and unfinished business in a promise that he makes to you, his reader newlywed bride, to come back to you.

And so the story begins with what I was hoping to be this blissful newlywed haze - the first morning after your honeymoon. Bucky is leaving for a mission - he'd said they were leaving later than he's actually going to leave because he didn't want you to get up hours before you needed to in order to send him off, but he does wake you up to share some kisses and say goodbye, it gets a little more heated, but there's no time for smut since he has to go, but he promises to pick up where you to left off when he returns, and there we have the tie he makes to come back to you.

I listen to music heavily throughout the day, but I wrote this fic with some very specific music through different sections. And for the opening, I was listening to This Love by Taylor Swift because its very romantically evocative for me, but some of the lyrics I knew could also be ripped into the horrific elements of this story, and so I truly loved it for that even more! - this love is good/this love is bad/this love is alive back from the dead

Then there are some other deep musical cues that when I was writing the rest of the fic, I was literally listening to these songs on repeat - a track from Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, two tracks from Netflix's The Empress series, etc - and so I actually embedded the Spotify players for them at particular parts for the particular songs. That's the only fic where I've so heavily "scored" it.

I put into the narrative that they didn't recover a body from Bucky for what I never specifically defined but figure was an explosion or an accident of some sort where not finding a body would be believable - but it's the Gengångare Bucky escaping. His undead soul seeks some revenge first, then he's pulled back to your door, but I wanted/tried to imply that he moves by these motivations and doesn't really remember much until he encounters something. So he shows up back on your doorstep, and it's as he interacts with you that he remembers more and more pieces of himself that are added back into the primal gengångare motivations.

The sex after he returns is frequently more rough and desperate, but since you're just as desperate for him, you don't question that it's the fact that his nature has changed - no longer human, but a creature that needs to leech the energy of another living thing to survive. He doesn't realize it at first either. But the first night he returns, his body is very cold, and he gets warmer the longer he's with you.

His bruises haven't healed, and you notice that, but he brushes it off. There's an inadvertent pinching on your back that's the beginning of the marks he can't help consuming you. He's truly insatiable, but since you were so consumed with grief and so deeply and desperately in love, you don't question it. When you finally do bring up having Bruce examine him or bringing Steve into things, he doesn't want that and presents good reasons - not wanting to be a body poked and prodded, and not wanting to worry Steve until he has more of his memory cleared up.

There's only a little bit of Alpine in this fic, but Alpine can tell that something is wrong with Bucky and so she is not around when he is at all after he comes back. The sex is exhausting, but it's because it's with this creature form of Bucky taking more and more of your life.

And then the spill of the story/the reveal. And it's all discovered when you're basically doomed by your love. And he literally makes love and fucks you to death, and is still so in love with you while doing it. Very sad. And his goodbye is the same goodbye he said to you in the first scenes of the story.

This was the darkest thing I'd written up to this point, and I really just wanted it to feel gothic and doomed, but twisted up in this all-consuming love. As I knew where the story was headed, I sort of just took deep breaths and steadied myself to dive into letting it have its dark ending. And I loved taking it there even though it was kind of scary for my first time. It was very haunting to write and I really tried to convey that feeling and have it bleed through.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#writer commentary #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #aspen's dark forest fest

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nataly-gt · 7 months

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borrowers in music venues

building off my last post, i love love love the idea of borrowers being involved in human music spaces! here's a little story about it that i've had rotating in my head for a while -

a tight knit community of borrowers lives at a venue, n maybe it's a local place, smaller, offers them more leniency to mess around. they survive by collecting food scraps and extra concert items, either left behind by the audience or prepared in the kitchen / bar area.

so many bands and musicians cycle through the place, though most of them tend to be indie/ folk shows. even so, the huge crowds that they attract are seen as dangerous (rightfully so), and it's strictly prohibited for borrower folk to leave the walls during showtimes. but the constant noise into the late night makes it difficult for those living in the walls to rest - so of course, during those hours, a team of younger borrowers break the rules to venture out and see what it's all about. the only difference is that instead of an ideal laid back performance happening that night, there's a metal, hardcore band playing. this only excites the borrowers more, because- wow! all the noise, the aggression! it's so dangerous yet alluring to them.

one of them has a spot in the rafters, right over the stage, that they dare the others to go out onto. all their borrowing equipment is left behind, so in true teenager fashion they climb onto it without any regard for safety, eager to see the show unfold below them.

when the band starts playing something heavy, and the vocalist is roaring with an animalistic intensity, the swarms of people in the crowd moshing and shouting along, the borrowers realize - maybe their parents are right about humans being dangerous, evil creatures. as worried excitement begins to claim them, they realize this may be more than what they bargained for. one of them tries to leave, but is knocked off balance by a burst of noise from below. they fall the perilous height, landing next to the band's equipment in the center of the stage, injuring a leg but staying conscious. angst ensues!

it's so enthralling to imagine how the sensory aspect of a concert would be elevated at such a larger scale, the booming music engulfing the borrower completely, then the terrifying display of hundreds of giants, illuminated by flashing lights, brawling in front of them. immobilized by fear, the borrower would see the crowd ebb and flow with the music, controlled by the few humans on stage whose instruments now vibrate through their smaller form with an unbelievable intensity. they would attribute so much power to the band, especially the vocalist, whose voice becomes something out of their nightmares, their towering form commanding the mobs below the stage. guitars and drums clash around them as they lie motionless and wait for it to end, trying desperately to stay calm.

finally, when the set is finished, the borrower feels relief, hopeful that the band would leave and they might go unnoticed, but then the vocalist turns back to get their water or coat, and -oh no- they see the borrower! there's that initial phase of shock and disbelief, until they realize it's not just a tiny person, it's a kid, injured and gaping up at them with watery eyes. eager to leave, they scoop the borrower up, shielding them from all the noise and prying eyes until they find privacy backstage. their earnest attempts at reassurance have the opposite effect due to the immensity of their voice.

but following the trope of (most) metal bands being the nicest ppl ever- i imagine that they'd be so concerned for the borrower, putting aside their bewilderment to treat them with care and kindness, because obviously this tiny person is hurt and completely terrified of them. there would be so much fear to overcome, but eventually the borrower would trust them, grateful to be offered so much help by the (still very intimidating) humans who they thought would be their end. later on the borrower reunites with their friends - who were in the middle of planning a rescue mission - and they all hurry back to the settlement before the adults find out.

i like to think that both the borrowers and the band would agree to say nothing about the incident, and then part ways as if it never happened - leaving it as an ephemeral moment in time. eventually the humans file out and the venue is silent again, though an unlucky borrower's ears end up ringing for a few days after.

#g/t #borrowers #giant/tiny #g/t writing #giant/tiny writing #g/t ideas #felt so stupid writing this #but i loooove the idea so much!!#just throw a borrower into a situation where they need to be taken care of pls #definitely not projecting with this overspecific scenario at all

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year

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You know what, I've seen plenty of people throw their Spider origins tales into the ring so let me add my outlandish idea to the mix. For some reason in my mind I have created an elaborate au where the RDA are funded by some 1%-er back on Earth and create a test batch in order to perfect their recoms, only for the test batch they use random people's memories from throughout all of their memory research (no point in tampering with any important memories, after all) and these people eventually create their own sort of society in this cove and in order to remember parts of their human culture they put a heavy emphasis on, like, music and oral stories that range from classics like Lord of the Flies and Homer's Illiad and Odyssey to things like Peter Rabbit and the hungry hungry caterpillar and fairytales and basic nursery rhymes and other children's stories for the little kids to just fun folktales and whatnot to just everyday books we would read today (Twilight and Harry Potter, anyone?) and even poetry and comics. And the music is even more varied. Pop songs and lullabies and folk songs and hip-hop and way more, and as they get more adept at crafting they begin to try and make instruments from back on Earth (I just like to imagine the trail and error going on there) and eventually they get the hang of it.

I like to think all of these stories and songs and genres would just mesh together in the funnest ways possible (Peter Rabbit becomes Little Jack Rabbit, for example; this naughty rabbit who spends his time doing crazy shit like stealing a giant fox's golden goose and narrowly avoiding being beaten by a farmer when he's caught trying to steal his vegetables---instead of "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candle stick" it becomes "Jack is nimble, Jack is quick, Jack can dodge the Farmer's stick") and maybe even begin to evolve into their own new stories and whatnot with some Na'vi influence but that's an ask for another time because rn I want to get to the point lol. So a little before Spider is born (in this au Paz is one of these experimental driverless avatars, but unlike the others she remained stationed at Hell's Gate; and Quaritch has an avatar because I said so) Paz flees to these people and Spider is raised there and this brings me to the whole reason I've created this elaborate thing: so Jake is aware of these people and is on good terms with them after the war. They're a direct link to his past and much like him in the sense that they were once human and now walk in a 2nd body, so he often visits them when time permits it but never brings the kids along. Think of this group like Jake's one indulgence after doing his best to fully commit to the Na'vi way. He wants his kids raised in this way and knows he's already pushing it with allowing the scientists back at Hell's Gate re-opening Grace's school.

Now, all of this being said, Norm and the scientists are very interested in the society that has formed. It's not very often a scientist gets to witness the creation of a unique culture first-hand (and on an entirely different planet, no less) and they're curious to learn more about these people. The only problem is that Jake is really the only outsider they trust after all they experienced gaining their independence. Due to this Norm and Max invite some of these people's children to the school as a way to hopefully begin building a friendly relationship that will one day lead to them in turn being invited to their settlement.

This is how the Sullies meet Spider, who is the son of Paz, the lead "Priestess of Songs". Spider is next in line to carry on the entirety of all of the songs and stories both maintained and created by their people, and as such he is sort of the child who sets an example for all of the others and so him attending basically decides if any others will attend the school as well. I imagine this story to go one of two ways: nocorro or locorro, though either way I know he and Kiri will end up besties.

Will I end up writing this? Will I not? Idk tbh, inspiration is to me like a breeze is to summer. Short-lived and often weak. I just felt like telling someone and you're always super nice about this stuff. Anyways there's a lot more I feel should be said about my thoughts but I've already hit you with a lot so if you want to hear more just say the word lol, but I'll stop here.

What an interesting idea! I'm really glad you guys think I'm nice about your ideas, why wouldn't I be! They're always super cool! I love sharing ideas and working on the concepts and headcanons with you guys, shoot me whatever! I know I keep saying it, but we'll be able to go back and forth much faster in a couple weeks lol.

I am very intrigued by the idea of how fast this culture formed if Paz is one of the original test subjects. I know Grace herself has been on Pandora for like, thirty years, so it has been a while, but not long enough for them to forget songs and stories to the point they have melded yet. I'm also curious as to how they gained their independence! Also how did Paz become their leader if she joined later?

Nocorro is of course, fun in this because Neteyam and Spider are both young leaders. They can bond over that pressure and hopefully let loose a little together. It also creates an interesting tragedy, of who is going to sacrifice their place if they are going to be together forever. Damn nocorro always ends up a little tragic.

Locorro would be like, Lo'ak totally being annoyed by this perfect guy Spider coming in and being a perfect role model. Then idk, he tries to get him to crack that image by teasing him or trying to get him to laugh, annoying him until he breaks. Kiri and Neteyam are all "stop flirting with Spider" and Lo'ak is like 👀. Lol poor Spider, he's never had such a hard time being serious he wants to laugh and tease back and be equally as annoying. This is his kryptonite.

#lol #fun ideas!#always feel free to send me anything!#miles spider socorro #spider socorro #paz socorro #miles quaritch #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully #nocorro #locorro #jake sully #avatar #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron)

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sag-dab-sar · 5 months

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The Need to Recognize Christmas' Preferential Treatment 🎄

Christmas is seen as "stolen" from pre-Christian traditions or described as "not really Christian". Some of it is legitimate (e.g with specific local or national folk traditions), a lot of it is pseudo-history (e.g Mithras birthday, an entire Christmas tree, lights) but frankly neither actually matter. Because, in our modern world, Christmas holds a prestigious place due to Christianity.

.🔹.

Here are examples that showcase Christmas' ubiquitous, unquestioned place in many Culturally Christian nations and why we need to recognized its ubiquity:

Appropriation of Judaism, re-imagined for Christmas exists like this. @/koshercosplay has basically an infinite amount of examples to use for these posts and even gets sent asks of more examples.

There is no Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist, Hindu or other religions' holidays reserved as an official federal holiday in the US. So all non-Christian religious holidays are labeled as "accommodations" while Christmas is a given.

While my post targets the US because thats were I am from, this isn't US only. Christmas is a public holiday in a large protion of countries around the world (see map).

Hallmark Christmas movies, that are made by the dozens at this point and are a US Christmas staple, are propaganda longing for a better ""family friendly"" white washed Christian version of America that never existed.

Hallmark has added anti-semitism into it's Christmas movies.

A Hanukkah presentation was banned in a Florida school meanwhile the same school was celebrating Christmas activities and decorations. Justified by Florida's Parental Rights Bill ("Don't say gay" bill) "obligating us to follow the 5th grade standards [...] At this time, a Chanukah presentation is not in our standards." It was only reversed to to social media outcry.

Something similar also happened in a Vancouver school where Christmas decorations were allowed because they "aren't religious" while Hanukkah ones were explicitly denied.

Fasting and breaking for prayer during Ramadan is seen as an inconvenience to employers, who need "guidance" on how to "accommodate" their Muslim employees. And has led to Muslims being straight up fired. Whereas Christmas decorations, events, or music in a work setting is fine.

Universities won't hold classes on Christmas but will reverse their practice of not holding classes on Yom Kippur & Rosh Hashanah because not holding classes on those holidays is "intended to insure greater continuity in the academic schedule and minimize course disruption for students." Those two holidays are a debate at the university— Christmas is never a debate.

Not holding classes on Eid al-Adha is also controversial! This also included reversing the decision to not have classes. The decisions to not hold classes on the holiday is a debate at the school board— Christmas is never a debate.

To make it all worse in the US: Christian Nationalism is dramaticlly increasing x x x

.🔹.

No matter what pagan-ness or secular aspects can be found in Christmas it has a privileged special place in our culture— that is afforded to no other religion— specifically because it is Christian. There are a few examples where this isn't the case (e.g Japan) but those are very few and far between

In my strong opinion: if you choose to celebrate the holiday, as a Christian or non-Christian, you should recognize the special spot & privilege it has.

You shouldn't dismiss that fact and the above examples because "pagan origins" or "celebrating it in a secular way"

Maybe next time when your classmate, your child's classmates, or you sibling's friend want to put up Hanukkah decorations in school next to the Christmas ones you can speak against the school administration that bans it, or against the teacher who gets upset at the idea.

Or perhaps you can be the person at the school board meeting who points out that Christmas isn't any more special than Yom Kippur or Eid al-Adha so why are those debatable when Christmas isn't.

Recognizing these things is not raining on Christmas' parade nor does it mean you should feel guilty for celebrating, its simply a matter of expanding you view of the world and learning the obstacles other people face.

.🔹.

P.S

Recognizing its preferential spot is paramount imo but if you'd also like to touch on the history of the matter:

Here is some info on the "Christmas is stolen" argument, as well as tracing secular and religious history of the holiday.

The origins of Christmas and its traditions are marred with psudeo-history plastered all over news websites, blogs, and supposedly reputable sources. But many of this comes down to secondary sources citing each other in a loop without primary sourcing. Here is an example of how that can happen (not xmas related).

-Dyslexic, not audio proof read- | -repost-

#repost #paganism #pagan #polytheism #christmas #cultural christianity #christian #xmas #holiday season #hannukah #adding that tag since it has so many examples #and i suppose merry christmas if you're celebrating it #i say all this as a christmas lover #like a BIG christmas lover #xtianity #resources #celebration day

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glimeres · 3 months

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Hey, Joel and Ethan Coen: when are you guys going to produce an O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) stage adaptation?

There is no way they aren't closeted musical enthusiasts, not with having made movies like Inside Llewyn Davis, Hail Cesar! or the first 20 minutes of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs.

Why not ride the movie-to-musical wave, then?

OBWAT is already just much of a ""musical"" as the movie version of Cabaret - with most of the songs being diegetic.

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If there is one thing I'm certain if is that the youth loves a musical re-imagining of ancient greek mythology and literature.

And OBWAT is a (very loose) re-telling of an ancient greek tale, now set in America at the beginning of the 20th Century - with its cast of characters trying to survive the harsh realities of the late 30's and the world Post Great Depression by any means necessary.

Wait a minute...

Yes, this movie IS Tony Award™ Winner Hadestown's older, more character actor-y cousin! Just swap the New Orleans setting for rural Mississipi and the folk/jazz score with country/bluegrass/gospel.

There are others examples of ancient greek mythology/literature-inspired musicals in the last couple of years - like the indie musical role-playing game Stray Gods, the Lighting Thief adaptation to stage or the Disney's Hercules production in Germany set to debut later this year.

Watch out, though, because the team behind Epic: The Musical already got the ball running when it comes to making musicals re-imagining Homer's Odyssey!

I gues the whole point of this post...

Is that the reprise of Man of Constant Sorrow would look so cool on stage. Like, so cool.

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#this post has been brought to you by a bottle of wine #greek mythology #ancient greece #odyssey #joel coen #ethan coen #o brother where art thou #broadway #epic: the musical #musicals #hadestown #the lightning thief #musical #.txt #posted

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scotianostra · 8 months

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youtube

Happy Birthday singer Maggie Reilly, born in Glasgow September 15th 1956.

Maggie’s professional career began in 1970 when she recorded her first single ‘Imagine Me’. Shortly after, she met keyboard player Stuart MacKillop and formed the band “Joe Cool” and later "Cado Belle". In the mid-seventies they swiftly transformed from an insider act into a Scottish pop phenomenon.

After a time living and working in Ireland, Maggie Reilly formed her much acclaimed partnership with Mike Oldfield in 1980, producing such great songs as ‘Moonlight Shadow’, ‘To France’ . "Foreign Affair" and the Hall & Oates hit ‘Family Man’ for which she received an ASCAP writers-award in 1984. Worldwide hit albums include "QE2", "Five Miles Out", "Crises", "Discovery" and "Earth Moving"

After parting with Oldfield and taking time out to start a family, Maggie Reilly resumed her solo career and awards came with increasing frequency. She joined forces with the major German publishing house Mambo, producing the Album ‘Echoes’ in 1991 for which she wrote the massive worldwide hit ‘Everytime we Touch’ alongside the European hits ‘Wait’ and ‘Tears in the Rain’. The album went gold in several countries.

1996 saw the first of three albums for EMI, ‘Elena’ was a move away from the breezy pop songs of the Mambo period towards a more insightful songwriting style as shown on the atmospheric title track.

There and Back Again in 1998 gave Maggie a chance to re-record a selection of her best known songs to that date, including ‘Everytime We Touch’ & ‘Foreign Affair’.

The release of ‘Starcrossed’ two years later picked up the threads from Elena and provided more evidence of her subtle songwriting skills, particularly on the stunning single ‘Adelena’ (including an electrifying guitar solo by Chris Rea) and the beautiful ‘Half-light’

In 2003 Maggie Reilly took the opportunity to record an album of songs she’d long wanted to sing. ‘Save it for a Rainy Day’ was the first album recorded by Maggie to provide a download hit with the achingly beautiful Cyndi Lauper song ‘True Colors’ as well as other great classic songs by James Taylor, Chicago, Dusty Springfield, Neil Young and Heart.

2006 saw the return to her Scottish roots with the release of ‘Rowan’. This is an album of original songs, mixed seamlessly with traditional Scottish and English folk songs with the Reilly twist. The album won her much praise.

Maggie has had the opportunity of working with some fantastic musicians including her longstanding musical collaborator, Stuart Mackillop, who has now contributed to all of her albums since that first Cado Belle album in 1976.

2013 saw Maggie Reilly releasing her 10th album “Heaven Sent” to great success. Both singles “Juliette” and “Cold The Snow Clad Mountain” hit the airplay Top 20 in Germany while the album itself is hailed to be her best so far. A tour followed where Maggie played at sold out venues and festivals.

Maggie is due to perform a gig onight in Noventa di Piave a town in the Venice area of Italy, she is alos lined up for a 7 night tour of Germany, where she remains popular, the tour is in the last week in Fbruary.

Here she is at Dino Top Festival in Poland earlier this year

#scotland #scottish #Singer #singer songwriter #happy birthday #Youtube

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liesmyth · 1 year

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For once I am not sending cursed TLT sex asks, because that post about hobbies in the nine houses has got me wondering about something specific:

What do you think they get up to musically? There's a string quartet and a piano at the ball in the Divine Highness AU, but like, do the third house have an orchestra at all their parties or is there a DJ and some dirty stinkin' bass?

Are the fifth folk music nerds? Are they making classic rock? I feel like the Sixth would either do super technically complex instrumental music, really avant-garde jazz or the most intense math rock you can imagine (because half of them have ADHD and need the extra sensory input to focus)

What's fourth house music like, and why is the answer Carly Rae Jepsen?

Fuck me all the way up with these answers.

[sorry this has been in my inbox for Days the horrors start coming and they don't stop coming]

This is about by this post originally by @/thewinterstale.

The only thing I'm ABSOLUTELY sure of re: music in the Houses is that John saved 1) Carly Rae Jepsen (because she has only like 2% straight fans, which is about the % of straighs in TLT) and 2) Fleetwood Mac (self explanatory)

I think the Eight do both religious hymns AND sick metal music. Isaac gave me punk vibes and the Fourth is a House of teenage soldiers and orphans so they are very into pop punk, like, idk, space Green Day. You're SO right about the Sixth and also I think maybe they'd be into violin? Just for the technical proficiency. And also every kid on the Sixth goes through an amateur producer phase because the idea of playing around distorting sounds appeals to them. (Don't @ me but I'm thinking. Grimes)

The Third have really sophisticated ballroom music but also synth pop, electronic, dance pop. The Fifth are into waltz AND prog rock AND the kind of 70s rock you could have an orgy and/or summon spirits to. The Second are very basic, radio-friendly pop music. They absolutely do the thing where famous singers tour Cohort facilities for troops morale. The thing that immediately came to my mind was this iconic performance montage of kpop group Brave Girls (turn on english subs for max amusement)

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The Ninth developed a whole new musical genre based on bone instruments. Bone flutes, bone xylophones, bone organ pipes. Also they're big into power ballads. Think the kind of Epic Music that comes up in instrumental epic fantasy playlists, Scandinavian metal or, like. Blind Guardian.

#ask #lockedtombbrainworms #IM NOT SORRY FOR THE KPOP VIDEO #tlt headcanon

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softprettything · 9 months

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late bloomer, ch 11

AO3 | Previous | Next

Fandom: OHSHC

Pairing: Kyoya/Reader

Tags: 18+, A/B/O Dynamics, College AU, Fake Dating, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slice of Life, Eventual Smut

Taglist: @silverhetdanes @lampalooza

late bloomer, ch 11

“Olivia!” Reese goes over to her with a hug. “Perfect timing.”

“Now that?” Lou whispers. “That I will definitely not miss.”

"Does she—" You look from her to Olivia, back and forth. "I mean, do they come here a lot?"

"Oh, yeah. Look I'm all for uniting forces or whatever. And most of the Triple O folks are super sweet—"

"Plus, they can organize the shit out of a fundraiser," Regan adds.

"—True. But I went to high school with Livvy Freidmonte, and unless she's changed since then…" Lou shakes her head. "I know a first-class bitch when I see one. I wouldn't trust that girl as far as I could throw her."

"Really?" you ask. "What exactly—"

"Alright, everybody!" Reese claps their hands together, and the room settles down. "Let's get started. Re-started. For the new folks, this is Olivia Freidmonte; she's one of our siblings over at Triple O, and our head coordinator for collabs! Olivia?"

"Hey there!" Olivia is all smiles and pep as she waves at the crowd. "So stoked to be here. Now, as most of you probably know, the Winter Wonderland end-of-term music festival last semester was a huge success. Between ticket sales, merch profits, and voluntary donations, we raised twenty thousand over the span of two days, all of which went directly to fund arts education programs at high schools in the surrounding areas."

A round of applause, which you find yourself joining in on. Whatever your personal feelings on Olivia may be, twenty thousand dollars in two days? You can't help but respect it.

"Looking into the future…the good news is, we're less than two weeks out from our spring fundraiser! Bad news: thanks to a little fire snafu, Grand's is closed for repairs all month. So we're on crunch time to find another venue. It's a smaller event, very lowkey; ideally we want to find somewhere closer to campus, with a kitchen or at least a fridge we can use to store food, mix drinks, stuff like that." She scribbles a phone number on the board. "Just shoot me a text if you know of a place. This is a great opportunity to…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Regan whispers. "She seems super nice."

"You just think that because you're super nice, Ri," Lou whispers back.

"I'm just saying! High school was a long time ago."

"Yeah. I don't know. (Y/N), you're in the same year as her, right? You must have crossed paths. What do you think?"

As you open your mouth to say something, Olivia's gaze falls on you. You freeze. It feels as though time slows to a halt: she pauses in her presentation for a moment. Her smile falters. Her eyes narrow slightly.

Then, as though nothing happened, the smile is back on her face, and she continues on, just as peppy as before. You let out a breath, before remembering that Lou and Regan are still both looking at you, waiting for an answer. You give them a tiny smile. "No comment."

*************

As the evening winds down, you have to admit: you had a pretty good time. Olivia ignores you, to the point that you begin to wonder if you imagined her noticing you during her presentation entirely. You trade numbers with Lou and Regan, offering to answer any questions they might have about surviving senior year, and promising them you'll consider coming to the next Cozy Quorum. Overall, as you exit into the cool early-spring air, you're feeling pretty good.

"(Y/N)!"

"Hey!" You turn to Reese with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me. This was actually really cool."

"Not so bad, right?" You nod. "Now, listen, I swear I didn't have any ulterior motives when I ran into you this morning, but…"

You try to pay attention. Really, you do, but your head is too scrambled. If Haruhi isn't home (it's a Sunday, so probably she is) (on the other hand, she doesn't have any classes on Mondays…) (does Tamaki?) then you only have to worry about dinner for yourself, which means eggs. Or, no, you were supposed to pick up eggs today. Chips and dip, then. And then the paper proposal. Technically you have until the end of class, but you really should email it by morning—were you assigned an early morning shift at the cafe tomorrow? No, an afternoon one.

Your phone buzzes, and you can't help but glance down and see it's from an unfamiliar number, and you're suddenly too distracted to—

"—think?"

"Hm?" Reese is looking at you. Shit. Your cheeks heat up immediately, mortified as you are to be caught so blatantly zoning out. They don't seem to have noticed, though, so you take a crapshoot and give them your most enthused nod. "Right! I mean, yes, absolutely."

"You are a lifesaver." Reese claps. "This is perfect. Let me just put you in touch with—there she is."

Before you can stop them to ask whose life you're saving, and how, and what exactly you just agreed to, they tap someone on the shoulder. That person whirls around and—oh, wouldn't you know, it's—

"Olivia, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), Olivia. You're both first-year grad students, I think?"

"We've met," the two of you say simultaneously. She sticks a hand out, which you accept. "(Y/N) and I have a class together, actually. Some gender-studies thing."

"The Radical Dynamics of Jane Austen," you supply. This handshake is going on for way longer than is comfortable.

Reese nods, possibly sensing the tension, but eventually deciding to bowl through it anyway. "So. (Y/N) works at that incredible coffee shop on the corner of Oak and Whitley, and apparently it's free two Fridays from now, which means…"

Olivia's look of disdain explodes into an overenthusiastic smile. "Oh, my gosh! Seriously?"

Before you can say anything, Reese nods. "I'll leave you two to work out the details—but, (Y/N), seriously? Thank you. I owe you one." With a wink—to you? To Olivia? Who knows!—they're gone.

"Well." Olivia looks you up and down. Between the necklace and the blowout and the perfectly coordinated pink outfit, it’s like looking at Evil Elle Woods. “You’re just popping up everywhere, aren’t you?”

You meet her fake smile with one of your own. “Could say the same about you.”

“Oh, the Trips all love EpPhi. We throw mixers all the time. It was so awesome to have you join us last night!” The smile she gives you practically shows each and every one of her perfectly square, perfectly white teeth, making you feel even more like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. "I didn't realize Reese was finally able to get that due waiver program rolled out."

"Hm?"

"Oh, you know. Greek life can be so…you know. Old money. Reese is super dedicated to trying to diversify—" (somehow, she manages to make that sound like a bad thing) "—and I guess it's working."

"Oh, no. I'm not joining. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with joining." Why are you trying to explain yourself? If Olivia's decided to dislike you, nothing you say is going to win her over. "I just came to check it out. It was cool, though—your presentation was great."

She scrunches her nose at you. "Thanks. Well. Even if you're not pledging, that just makes it even nicer of you to get so involved."

"Oh, no, I'm not—"

"No modesty, please. You're a total lifesaver. Anytime we have insider contact for a venue, it's always, like, an executive whatever, and half the time they don't have any idea what actually goes into putting together an event like this. It'll be so helpful to have the perspective of, you know. A lower-level employee."

You are so, so tempted to just say it was all a big mistake.

But the cafe calendar is empty two Fridays from now. And Reese, who has been nothing but nice to you since you met, seems kind of desperate for you to say yes.

Not to mention, all special events at Ground Up get logged as overtime hours—meaning, double pay.

Double pay plus tips.

So, with no small amount of reluctance, you nod. "Mm-hm. Right." This fake smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks. You clear your throat. "So! We should, um, set up a time to talk through specifics, right? I have a shift at the cafe tomorrow afternoon after class, if that's a good time. That way you can get an idea of what the space looks like?"

"Perf." The gap between her words and the way she looks at you while saying them is starting to make your head hurt. She passes you a card. "Here's my number."

"Great." She's already halfway down the street, clearly just as eager to get away from you as you are from her. "See you in class!" you call after her. Your phone buzzes again—a two-minute reminder of the text from earlier. You swipe it open.

unknown: Shockingly, I did not get 'sexiled' tonight.

unknown: Hopefully this doesn’t mean you’re sleeping on the front porch.

A smile rises to your mouth unbidden. You create a new contact with the number, and then type:

Y/N: I have a bed of my own, you know.

*************

You're shutting the front door of your apartment behind you and kicking off your shoes by the time you get a reply.

Kyoya Ootori: I’m aware.

Kyoya Ootori: It’s a good one. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.

"You're home late."

You look up. "And you're…home." You toss your bag under a chair and tuck your phone into your pocket as you sit down across from Haruhi, who's typing away furiously at her laptop. "Rewrite?"

"Prewrite." She takes a sip of coffee, then goes back to typing. I'm trying to get ahead on work for the next two weeks, so that I'm not behind when I get back."

It's not unusual for Haruhi to be on top of things—but missing class? "Get back from what?"

"Tamaki's heat is coming up this week. Thursday, probably. Kiera's heats were always pretty long." Kiera…ah, yes, that was two ex's ago. "Tamaki says his usually only last a couple of days, but I want to be ahead. Just in case."

You feel like you're moving underwater. Even blinking seems to take twice as long as usual. "Can't hurt to be prepared," you manage.

"Mm-hm." She takes another swig of coffee, finishing the mug. You grab it and go to brew her some more, if only to get away from the table. Seemingly oblivious to your general state, she asks, "What about you? Good weekend?"

"Weird weekend."

"Weird? Huh." She chuckles, but doesn't press further.

The coffee starts to drip. "That's big," you say. "The heat stuff."

"Oh, this is nothing. I should have it all done by tomorrow."

"A big step in the relationship, I mean. Like, spending a heat together." You lean against the counter, chewing on your bottom lip and shooting another text to Kyoya.

Y/N: My halfprice preowned fb marketplace boxspring is honored

Kyoya Ootori: Hang on, checking my clothes for bedbugs.

Y/N: >:(

Kyoya Ootori: Just a joke. I promise.

Y/N: I know

Kyoya Ootori: Okay, good.

Y/N: That was just the face i made when i realized there isn’t a bedbug emoji

"I mean." You shake your head, bringing your attention back to the present. "Are you nervous at all?"

She stops to think about it, head tilted slightly. "No," she finally says, turning to look at you for the first time since you walked in. "Actually, this is the first time I haven't been nervous to spend a heat with someone new. Is that weird?"

"No." The way she says it, so matter of fact, sends an odd pang of sadness through you. You think of how Tamaki looks at her. The way she looks talking about him. Kyoya's certainty when he talked about what a good match they were. "It's not weird at all."

"Really?"

You pour the coffee, and try to smile as you bring it over. "You know I don't know anything about how all of this heat stuff works. But I do know this guy makes you happy, so. As long as he's treating you well, I'm happy." At least that much is true.

"Mh-hm." She gives a little smile, but you can tell her attention is firmly back on her work.

Which reminds you, you should be getting to your own work. You give her a pat on the shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the hay."

She nods. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime. Don't stay up too late."

"I will."

You share a chuckle at that. "I know," you say softly.

As you reach your doorway, she calls out, "Oh, hey—did Kyoya end up dropping off the vitamins the other night?"

You freeze. "Uh, yeah, actually. He did." She doesn't look up, and you decide to test whether or not she's actually listening. "I invited him in to hide from the rain, we split the bottle of vitamins over candlelight and smooth jazz, he ended up staying the night. Super romantic. We're madly in love now. Instead of fighting during class we just make out on the seminar table."

"Cool."

Yeah, she absolutely isn't listening to you. "Yeah. Cool." Probably this is some sort of karma, for how you did the exact same thing to Reese earlier today—mm-hm-ing and yeah, sure-ing your way through a conversation. But it still stings. "Night."

"Night."

Kyoya Ootori: You’re…sad that there’s no bedbug emoji?

Y/N: Thatss a lie, actually

Y/N: Id pay the emoji people every cent in my bank account to never ever create a bedbug emoji

Kyoya Ootori: Noted.

Kyoya Ootori: I hope you had a good day.

You smile.

Y/N: You too.

Y/N: Enjoy not being sexiled. I'll see you in class tomorrow?

Kyoya Ootori: Likewise. See you then.

Kyoya Ootori: I actually have something I want to talk to you about in person, if you’re free after.

But by the time that last text rolls in, you’ve already washed your face and brushed your teeth and started typing away at your own laptop, phone face down on your nightstand.

*************

Come morning, you've written a paper proposal that you're pretty proud of, actually. Abe was right—you are capable of more than that first effort.

Unfortunately, writing it did take you most of the night. Meaning you only got a few hours of sleep before your alarm went off. You skim your new notifications, only half processing them—until you see an email from TA Abe asking if you can swing by his office hours after class.

Shit.

Did he already read your proposal? Is it really that bad?

Whatever the verdict is, you’re not going to improve anything by skipping class. You drag yourself in and out of the shower, chug some decaf coffee—a placebo for dire situations like these—and run. When you get there, the seminar table is about halfway full. You slide into an empty seat by the windows. When Kyoya comes in, you give him a wave and a smile, which he returns. You're about to gesture that he should take the empty seat next to you—

When Olivia slides into it.

“Morning.” She pulls a lipgloss and tiny mirror out of her bag, touching up her already perfect makeup. God, you wish you were that put together. Even at nine in the morning, she doesn't have a single hair out of place. "Are you still free after class?"

"Yeah—I just have to pop by Abe's office hours super quickly, if that's alright?"

She gives you a thin smile as she snaps the compact shut. "Sure." Before you can respond, she's turned away from you. "Kyoya! Where did you disappear to this weekend? I was…"

You tune her out. It's too early in the morning to eavesdrop, you decide, especially on two-point-five hours of sleep. You'd estimate you have maybe five hours of awake time left in you before you crash, if you're lucky. And that's not even taking into consideration the sheer amount of energy you're going to have to expend trying to get through this meeting with Abe, and this meeting with Olivia, and your actual job.

Class feels ungodly slow. It's not boring, of course—how could it be? But your exhaustion makes you sloppy, combined with how on edge you are about your meeting with Abe. You try your best to keep a low profile. Kyoya must be able to sense you're a bit out of it, because he goes a little easier on you than usual. Or maybe that's just because he remembers your conversation from this weekend, and because Olivia is literally sitting smack in between the two of you.

In any case, you're relieved to make it through class more or less in one piece. When it's done, you stand up, ready to follow Abe and a few other students to his office elsewhere in the building. As you make it to the door, a wave of dizziness overtakes you, and you stumble.

"Woah." Kyoya is there, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." You blink. "Sorry, I just had to pull an all-nighter last night."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's nothing." You wave a hand. "I've been taking my multivitamin, so. Iron for days, over here."

He chuckles. "Glad to hear it." He sticks his hands in his pockets.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you glance a ways down the hall, where Olivia is giving you the death glare to end all death glares.

"—work?"

You blink again, and look up at Kyoya. You get the sense that he's expecting you to say something, though you have no idea what. You're about to ask what, but then, there, behind Olivia, Abe disappears into his office. "Work. Yes, office hours and then work. I have to run—sorry—but I'm all good, I promise!"

He says something else, you think, but you're too far down the hall to hear him. Oh, well. It probably wasn't anything important.

*************

You walk into Abe's office just as another student is leaving. Abe looks up and waves you over.

“(Y/N), hey! Great timing. Have a seat—this’ll only take a second.”

You drop your bag and coat and sit. He’s busy pulling up something on his tablet. You feel more and more like you’re about to throw up with each passing second.

“So,” he finally says. Your stomach clenches. “Got your email. I only had a chance to give it a cursory lookover this morning, but…” He turns off his tablet, puts it onto the table, and gives you a smile. “It’s really good work, (Y/N).”

Your heart leaps into your chest. “Really?”

“Really. Look, I’ve read all the JLT essays for years now, and you’ve always been solid. But this is a step up.” He gives you a thumbs up. “Good job pushing yourself, kid.”

There’s still a lot to do, of course—the deadline for the assignment, and the contest, is less than a month away. But it’s a step in the right direction. It’s amazing what the tiniest bit of academic validation can do—you feel like nothing could possibly bring your mood down.

Not even Olivia, who's in the hall when you come out of Abe's office, still chatting with Kyoya. When she sees you, she waves to you, then leans in closer to Kyoya to say one more thing, her hand resting on his chest. You do your best to look disinterested. The last thing you need to do is give her any more reason to think the two of you are fighting over Kyoya.

After a few more giggles and another long touch to Kyoya's arm, she bounds over to you.

"Sorry about that," she says. "Let's walk?"

You give her a nod, and a tight smile of your own. As she grabs her phone to shoot off a quick text, you can't help but take one glance back at Kyoya. Kyoya, at the other end of the hall. Kyoya, who you still can't quite figure out.

Kyoya, who's looking at you, too.

*************

The planning part goes relatively painlessly. Olivia might be the most organized person you've ever met, with an event binder perfectly sectioned and highlighted in a rainbow of sunset tones. She has all of the forms needed—some for you to sign, others for you to pass along to your upper manager—and knows all of the right questions to ask about time, spacing, cleanup, fees.

"You're really good at this," you tell her, and you mean it. With her help, you've accomplished in five minutes what would take most people hours—weeks, even—to get done. She shrugs. "No, seriously. It's really impressive."

"Oh, this is nothing. My mom is involved in, like, a billion different charities, and I'm the oldest, so I got roped into helping out when I was, like, eight. And all of the planning for this was done already. All there really is to do is transplant all of the catering and things to the new venue. Reese was right about using this place. It's cute."

Was that…a compliment? Not to you directly, but still. "You think?"

"Yeah! Tiny, but cute."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She turns a page, seemingly very interested in the binder as she asks, "So, like. How do you know Reese?"

"Huh?" You were expecting her to ask you about Kyoya. But in the twenty minutes you've spent walking to the cafe, and now sitting here, she has yet to bring up his name once.

"I mean, I'm by EpPhi a lot, and I've never seen you around there. And you said you're not pledging or anything."

"Right." This is still a territorial thing, then—just after actual territory, this time, not romantic territory. "No, yeah, I just—we ran into each other at a party, and I guess they were looking to recruit people for the open-night meetings?"

Before she can answer, you hear: "Livvy!"

Both of you look up and are immediately crashed into by a couple of red-headed whirlwinds.

"Hey guys," you say, once Kaoru has released you from his iron grip. "Oh, shit, am I late?"

"What? No way. You have, like, five whole minutes before our shift even starts." Kaoru says, ruffling your hair before turning to address Olivia. "Miss Freidmonte. Never thought we'd catch you on this side of campus."

You look back and forth between them as they start chatting. Before you can ask any questions, a new voice says, "I came here expecting to see one friend, and here's four!" Brighter than the twins, even. "What are the odds?"

Tamaki, radiantly cheerful as always. When he finishes hugging Olivia and each of the twins, he sweeps you up into a bone-crushing hug of your own. "(Y/N)! Long time no see."

"Oh!" You do your best to smile as he pulls away. "Hi!"

"I hope these three aren't giving you a hard time, are they?" He playfully bats one of the twins on the shoulder. You let out a confused laugh.

"No, we just—Hikaru and Kaoru and I work here, and Olivia and I were just going over a project—what brings you here?"

"Oh, Haruhi wanted some coffee, and I thought it would be nice to come say hello! Since I'll be stealing her from you for the next week," he laughs.

"Hi." Peeking out from behind him—Haruhi. She gives you a little wave, which you return. "I'll be out of the house tonight."

"Oh, yeah," you say, your brain almost entirely blank trying to process all of your different worlds colliding at once. "Totally. No worries."

"I picked up eggs, though. And some more tea."

"Thanks. That's—"

"Haruhi," Tamaki interrupts, "have you ever met Olivia?" As the two shake hands, he claps his own together. "So many of my favorite people, all in one place! And (Y/N), you said you two were working on some kind of project, right? Sounds fun."

"Yeah," Olivia says, flipping back a few pages in her binder. "The EpPhi-Triple O joint fundraiser next Friday? We're having it here—you guys should totally come!"

"Next Friday? I might be out—heat leave."

You're shocked once again at how casually he says it. Even more than that, how casually everyone else responds. "Oh, totally," Olivia says, with a sympathetic nod.

"First heat together, huh?" Hikaru says. "That's exciting!"

You are going to be ill if you have to sit through another second of this conversation. You glance at your phone, desperate for some excuse. "Two minutes! I should start getting ready for work." You grab the stack of papers to be signed. "Liv—Olivia—thank you for…" You wave the papers. "I'll email these to you?"

She nods, only half paying attention as she continues explaining the fundraiser. Good enough. You get up to go. Haruhi gives you another muted smile as you leave, and Tamaki another blinding one.

As you walk away, you turn your attention back to your phone, scrolling, scrolling…and see another text from Kyoya. One you'd missed, last night.

Kyoya Ootori: I actually have something I want to talk to you about in person, if you're free after.

Huh.

It was sent a while after his last text to you, too. You start typing.

Y/N: Sorry I missed this. I'll be at Ground Up until 5

Y/N: Is everything ok?

You backspace that last text, but send the first. Almost immediately, three dots pop up as Kyoya starts typing out his response…

Then the three dots disappear.

You stare at your phone.

*************

It can't be anything bad he wants to talk about, right? That's what you tell yourself as you go through the motions of manning the register, checking mobile orders, rinsing shakers. If it was something urgent, he could have told you as much. But you can't imagine anything he'd need to talk to you about that couldn't be discussed over text.

Olivia's still at her table, which isn't exactly helping your nerves. Not that she's looked your way since you went to go clock in. She's still pouring over her binder, cross-checking a page with something on her laptop, occasionally marking something in highlighter or Wite-Out. More fundraiser stuff, probably. Or homework. Tamaki and Haruhi are still here, too, on the other end, sitting at a table pressed up against the windowed wall. It's probably a bit creepy, you know, the way you can't stop sneaking looks at the three of them, but it's either that or keep thinking in circles about Kyoya.

Which you're still doing.

Maybe…maybe it's the breaking heat news?

That's the only thing you can think of. Yeah, surely that's it—you've set yourself up as someone he can complain to about Tamaki and Haruhi, after all. Maybe he just wants to have a vent session. God knows you could probably use one, too.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?"

"Hm?" You look over to see Hikaru putting order stickers on cups and sliding them over to his brother.

"You've been washing out that one shaker for, like, two minutes straight."

"Oh." You shake your head, grabbing a towel to dry it off. "Sorry."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Nickel?" Kaoru immediately tries to one-up him.

"Dime?" Hikaru counters without missing a beat.

"Quarter?"

You roll your eyes. "Livvy, huh?" They both just shrug. "So you guys just know everybody, now, is what I'm gathering."

Kaoru snorts. "We don't know everybody. You just happen to know nobody, which is why it seems like we know a lot of people by comparison."

"That's true," Hikaru says. "Although, she said you're helping her with this fundraiser thing?"

"Yep."

"(Y/N)!" He slaps you on the back so hard you almost drop the cup you're holding. "Look at you, going out and socializing! Trying new things! Can you believe it, Kaoru?"

"It's not a big de—"

Kaoru places a hand over his heart and sniffs. "They grow up so fast."

"You guys—"

"I'm just so honored we get to see it happen." They both step away from you, wearing identical expressions of mischief. "Although…"

You cross your arms. "What?"

"You still won't tell us who your mystery date was on Saturday."

"Oh, my God."

"You know, I just…" Hikaru lets out a huge, exaggerated sigh. "I thought we were friends, (Y/N)."

"No." You shake your head, turning away from them both, even as an unwelcome smile plays at the corners of your mouth. "None of that."

"I thought the countless hours we spent toiling away here meant something."

"I guess not."

"Kaoru, not you, too," you groan. "Guys. Seriously. We had this conversation. You thought it was Reese Barlow, right? So, sure. It was Reese Barlow."

"Nice try," says Hikaru.

"Yeah. No way we actually fall for that."

You press your lips more tightly together. They look at each other and sigh in unison.

"Such a shame," Hikaru says, shaking his head. "I guess we'll just have to ask Haruhi."

Your head snaps up. "Sorry?"

They both nod towards the far corner of the cafe, where Haruhi and Tamaki are still seated. Or no, sorry, just Tamaki is seated.

Because Haruhi is on her feet and walking towards the counter.

#late bloomer #kyoya/reader #kyoya x reader #kyoyaxreader #softprettything #kyoya fanfic #ohshc x y/n #a/b/o #ohshc x reader #a/b/o fanfic #chai.writes

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yoonjinkooked · 2 years

Text

it’s been a while...

I’ll try to keep it short, simple and not too sappy. 👋

yeah, this is it, folks.

I don’t think I will be coming back here anymore. I can’t and won’t say that staying away has been good for me, because in the grander scheme of things, was being here ever really bad? No, not really. It just isn’t me anymore.

I’m healthy, and in a very good headspace. I don’t need writing and imagines as an outlet to function. My creativity has been going into my career, into my plans for the future, and sure, here and there, I do write a bit, but without reason, deadline or outside influence.

What I’m trying to say here is, I’m good. For the first time, after a long time. I don’t waste my time, I don’t try if it’s not reciprocated, I don’t dwell on stuff I have no power over, and being like that, being that person, it kind of can’t co-exist with Neri, who I was here.

So, I’m leaving this account open, for you to revisit if you ever wish to re-read some of my work. Who knows, maybe one day it clicks and I decide to wrap up all the loose ends? I won’t be active in other bts fanfic spaces either, so if you see my story without my user, it ain’t me - do be a nice soul and report it, as I do like to keep what’s mine safe.

Stay healthy, peeps. Surround yourself with good - good vibes, good people, good music, good wine, good all around.

Wish you nothing but the very best and see you, maybe, sometime, somewhere.

Neri 🍉

#goodbye peeps #i'll really miss you

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litrouke-works · 2 years

Text

January Postmortem

(I know this is a Goncharov blog now, but i ought to wrap up my IFComp entry, I guess. Here are some of my thoughts on the game.)

THE SHORT VERSION

I’m not very good at saying things directly; I prefer to dress them up in stories and let people make of the anecdotes what they will. So we’ll open this postmortem with one such story.

Once upon a time, many bad things happened to me. When I was telling my friend about one of them, she said, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” And me being me, I replied, “Do you mind using a different phrase? Maybe, I’m sorry you had to deal with that or I’m sorry you went through that or wow that sucks – any of those would be fine.”

I’m aware that I’m not the hero of anyone’s story. But even if I’m not the hero, at least let me be the protagonist of my life. Let me deal with things; let me endure things; let me go through them. Don’t let them happen to me as if I’m already stretched out decaying in the ground.

And that’s pretty much all there is to the game. Could’ve saved myself a lot of hours by writing that instead! So thanks for reading, and as a special reward, here’s my playlist for January. Once again, me being me, it’s a playlist of poetry, not music. 😊 Enjoy!

THE LONG VERSION

Before we get into the meat of it, a clarification: I’ll use January to refer to the work as a whole (which I will also call a story, a game, a thing, whatever) and January to refer to the protagonist.

Also warnings for spoilers and for very frank discussions of suicide, gore, bodily functions, vulgar language, etc.

So January’s story has been kicking around in my head for some time, maybe 3-5 years, but I couldn't find a good reason to share it with other people. It was just another apocalyptic story about some sad guy, a genre woefully oversaturated and out of vogue even five years ago. Some of the scenes survived from early drafts nearly verbatim (including the opening line, which has never changed), but most did not. For example, in the canonical version of the story (yes, my personal canon is different from my published canon), January finds a dog as well, who is a perfect delight. But Dog’s arrival botched the pacing of the story and sweetened the scenes too much, so she had to be cut.

Anyway, while I was nudging the idea of January’s story around in my mind, two things happened. First, I was working on a research project about how people cope with major life shifts, especially illness, via storytelling and the re-imagination of self through narrative [see: The Wounded Storyteller by Arthur Frank]. And second, the many aforementioned bad things happened to me. Between my own experiences and the narrative theories I was studying, I felt that I could do something meaningful with January’s story. I wanted to use interactive fiction to show the linkage between moments across time and between the internal and external self, in ways that linear prose can't.

As a result, I think of the story as functioning on three-ish levels.

Level One

First, there is the literal plot. As many reviewers noted, this is the least important of the three. Guy survives apocalypse; his brother and sister-in-law get infected; he feels mortally responsible for their deaths, but can’t quite bring himself to commit suicide; he spends the next year working through the guilt and grief; he adopts Cat along the way; eventually he returns to the other survivors and resolves to stay alive for now.

Happy to answer specific questions about the plot, if folks are curious! But I won’t bog us down with details here.

Level Two

Second, there is the meta plot. As mentioned above, January is a story about storytelling, or more precisely, it is a story about how autobiographical storytelling assists in reforming the concept of self after a major life rupture. Hence the epigraph of the game:

One of story's primary purposes is to lay claim to experience. Autobiographical storytelling can take personal experience back from silence, shame, fear, or oblivion. It says, "I cherish this" or "This haunts me."

It asserts the significance of events in one's life: "This happened to me." "I did this." "This is part of who I am." "This should not or will not disappear, and I act to preserve it by turning it to words and shaping them as story."

Initially this concept was going to be more, let’s say, heavy-handed. More explicit, with four+ versions of each scene involving revisions, removals, and additions of commentary from January as he gradually shook off the coma of grief and refashioned the telling of each scene to better suit his new sense of self.

For various reasons: no. This plan was not only logistically unsound, but also narratively questionable because January did not want to speak for most of the story; he certainly did not want to add cutesy notes to the detritus of his life. So I aimed to unfold the concept in a more natural way, with descriptions progressing from abstracted, painfully detailed and impersonal landscapes, to a more natural flow of action and commentary, to casual cussing and chattiness with the cat, and finally to first-person POV.

Not that it is an entirely linear progression. The narrative—the narrator—the author—all of us argue constantly and intertextually with each other about what should be kept in the story, about what “should not or will not disappear.” Indeed, there were many times that I continued to work on the game only because I promised myself that I'd delete it all when I was done, once I had properly excised this from myself.

I finally managed to counter that argument with, “Well, but what if someone else benefits from it?” I find comfort in consuming media about suicide when I feel that way, and there’s a separate essay here about normalizing and validating mental health struggles, but let’s table that one for now. But knowing how I appreciate that kind of media myself, it seemed petty, if not outright unkind, to refuse to share January.

That particular arguments comes through, for example, in the post-POV-shift train scene. January relates how he peeled the dying woman off the frozen train and wrapped her in a tarp "just in case" she changes her mind, as he did. The woman is, by all accounts, a half-corpse already and actively being devoured by an omen of death, but until you are sitting there feeling yourself die, you don’t know, I promise you, you don’t know whether you will change your mind. And far be it from him to decide for her—so here is the tarp, here is the story. Do with it what you will.

This concept also crystallizes in the final pre-POV-shift scene and the POV shift itself. As January falls ill with fever, he has a nightmarish remembrance from his childhood, opening with, “In the story he told himself about his life, death found him one night…” It’s one of the more inelegant phrases in the game, in the story he told himself about his life, but it’s exactly how it needed to be said. Every scene that has been presented to the reader is part of the story that January tells himself about his life. What you read was not his life. It was not even a factual attempt to recount his life; it is only the version(s) of the story that he chooses to tell himself.

This is critical, both to the reader and to January, and he tries to stress to us the fictionality of his account, many times, in many ways. He says that he cannot have slept for multiple days after the fever and the dream of drinking from the bowl of stars with Cat; he cannot have survived his initial suicide attempt in the parking lot; he should not have heard gunshots by the sisters’ house without glimpsing his pursuer or attracting zombies; he should have smelled the hanged man rotting; he should have noticed the presence of the little girl in the dogtrot house sooner, or she should’ve already been dead. And of course, he should have killed himself after they died. (And probably a cat shouldn’t be able to speak to him or understand him.)

Guilt and grief contribute to the instability of his account, but they don’t fully explain it. I do not want to pitch this as an unreliable narrator whose memories are wracked by trauma—quite the opposite. Rather than treating memories as sacred truths that should (or even could) be accurate, memories in January are tools of self-examination, things to be laid out and sifted through in an effort to process trauma. If the memories need to be reworked, details fudged, inconsistencies introduced, in order to make them fit better into his new self, all the better. There’s no one left alive to tell him that he’s remembering things wrong anyway.

(Sidenote: as someone who tends toward SDAM, I have a pretty irreverent view of memories. And I know that the memories I do have are factually inaccurate. I know this because I transitioned genders in adulthood, and yet all my childhood memories have been revised to fit my real gender, not the one I mistakenly happened to be as a child. In my memories, people always call me by the right name, even though that name didn’t exist twenty years ago.)

I want to highlight one more example of revisionary self-history in January that does not involve the POV shift. In the second scene of the game, in which January explores the dogtrot house, he describes the pain of his bruised ankle thus: “He breathed through the red. He imagined the bruise oozing through his sock like an open wound, dyeing the wool a deep, mashed, mulberry purple.”

Many months later, after January mercy-kills the hanged man, he describes the scene thus: “Red spilled from its neck. Pure blood red, not bilious or spoilt-black. From the collar of his shirt up to his chin, the man's neck was mashed mulberry with deep bruises, and these must have continued into his face, but he could not see the face now and did not want to remember.”

To the reader, chronologically the ankle description comes first. But this is a narrative illusion. Everything in the game has already happened by the time the first scene loads. Thus, when we read the earliest scenes, we have to view them through the lens of the later ones—that is, January himself views his earlier memories through the lens of later events, as all humans do. To be specific, when January tries to think of how to describe his bruised ankle, his mind twitches back to the morbid sight of the hanged man’s throat (that he “did not want to remember” but that insists on being remembered anyway), and he uses that real event as a blueprint to imagine how his pain might appear.

A couple reviewers asked why anyone would bother to read the scenes out of order. I think this is the heart of the answer—because in January’s mind, the scenes do not proceed in order of chronology, they proceed in order of random association, just as you might remember a pair of birthday parties from when you were twenty and when you were twelve. The memories/scenes float together in a pool of associations. They gossip and converse with each other, stealing descriptions, reusing phrases, imprinting later images on earlier events, and referencing later events that the reader hasn’t experienced yet, although January has. Accessing them out of order opens the door to serendipitous connections between descriptions and better reflects the sensation of remembrance, I think—but as we’ve covered, I have a pretty weird memory system, so take that with a grain of salt.

I swear we are almost done with this section. LAST THING, I do want to address the POV shift directly. There is something very me about writing a story obsessed with agency while refusing to give the reader any. Sorry! But this goes back to the fact that January is telling himself this story. He is not telling it to you, you are not a character or an actor here, and so your agency is largely non-existent and unimportant. What matters is January waking up, re-becoming the protagonist of his own story, and eventually claiming ownership of it via the POV shift. I think this is the most obvious part of the game to grasp, so I won’t dwell on it any longer. 😊

Or will I. (Yes, I wrote this section at 1:45am, how can you tell.)

Level Three

So we have the basic plot, we have the meta plot, and now we have… let’s call it, the personal plot, as the third layer of this shitcake. We are now stepping completely outside the narrative/the narrator and into my little brain.

Earlier I mentioned that I was researching how people use stories to cope, especially in the context of illness. Let us use “illness” very broadly to mean “disruptive health event,” anything from a severe injury to the development of a disability to a cancer diagnosis to mental health issues to chronic pain conditions to et cetera. In short, something that fucks you up.

Let us now imagine that many of the bad things that happened to me can be counted as “illness” and that they did fuck me up. Finally, let us allow the author to project their own grief and recovery process onto the two previous levels of plot. Et voila, we have a personal disability plot hiding in the game the whole time.

I don’t want to say too much about this, because one, it is quite personal, two, I don’t want it to affect other people’s readings of January–I don’t want to impose this as the “right” reading, and three, there’s so much overlap between this and the previous section that not much more needs to be said. We are still dealing with a life disruption, a loss of sense of self, an adriftness, a feeling of one’s life traveling on without you, of things Happening to You, a painful self-examination and reconstruction of a new self, and finally an ascent to some kind of agency.

The one thing I do want to highlight in terms of an illness/disability reading is the motif of eating that runs throughout January. Healthy folks may not immediately connect eating to illness, but boy howdy, are they intertwined. Eating is a nightmare for almost any kind of severe health condition. For example: you get the nausea and vomiting from chemo, you get the constipation from pain meds, you get your body trying to self-destruct via diabetes or celiac if you eat this or don’t eat it or eat too much or too little, you get a ravenous appetite from the mood swings, you get your appetite killed by stimulants, you are spitting up acid, you are shitting liquid, your fork won’t stop shaking, and you can’t get the food to your mouth. And so on.

Eating is such a fascinating, multi-valent concept in fiction. In this game alone, it encompasses the zombies’ unrelenting, deranged voraciousness and the tender little sight of January choking down kibble so that Cat feels safe enough to eat with him and the anxious morbidity of January insisting that Cat eat him after he dies. Which is to say, there are so many ways to read the concept of eating, but I’ll limit myself to commenting on it from this angle.

The first several scenes frame food within frustration: it is a necessity (January forces down the kibble in the dogtrot house, thinking of it strictly as “sustenance”), it is a repulsion (the charred meat in the train scene, mostly likely human flesh; the guilty dwelling on meat after the bird dream), and it is a thing-to-be-earned (the mangy cat doesn’t deserve kibble, January remarks, but we get the sense that maybe January doesn’t feel like he deserves it either). Ultimately, food and eating are symptoms of being alive, and that is anathema to January in the early game. Each meal forces him to recognize how hard he is working to stay alive despite the feeling that he ought to be dead. It’s a slap in the face.

In the mid-game, eating/surviving becomes something more rote, still unpleasant but not as guilt-wrought. January eats alongside Cat because that’s what they do. After Cat tries to feed him an oriole when he’s constipated and skipping meals, January later tries to return the favor by luring in a whole flock of birds for sick Cat to hunt. (Is it notable that both of their avian attempts to feed each other are failures?) Of course eating/surviving/being alive also runs the risk of being dead, as highlighted by the scene where Cat seems on the cusp of death after eating some plant he shouldn’t have. While pleading with Cat, January asks what he’s supposed to do with all the food he scavenged for Cat—what is he supposed to do with all this effort at being alive, if it just comes to this again? And the thing is, it will always come to this. All the living in the world will always come to death. This is the heart of January’s own near-death scene, in the next month, when he sees a gray sky full of ghosts and declares “there was no hope in it.” There’s no particular sunburst of revelation after the fever dream, just a realization that he’s still hungry and still alive and that Cat will sit and wait until January’s ready to eat with him.

(Ah, the bowl of stars that he drinks from. That image/phrase is a direct rip from a very famous horror novel, and if anyone can name it, one free cat cuddle to you! [Must supply your own cat.])

I could pick at more details, but you get the gist here. A last note on illness/disability: I didn’t really get into the horror genre until I was unwell, and then I used horror movies both to escape from pain and to realize the pain, to watch someone else suffer and nod from my seat and say, That’s it! That’s it, that’s what’s inside me. You all can see it too, now. Apocalyptic settings are a bit different, but related—it’s not so much about the pain and fear made manifest as the loss. Becoming disabled is very much a private apocalypse. Swaths of society are lost to you. You cannot go there; you cannot participate in the thing; you cannot create what you used to. Please don’t take this as an invitation to debate inclusivity measures—just believe me for a second when I say some doors are closed, and there is nothing you can do but accept it and find a new door to open.

January doesn’t spend very much time lamenting what’s been lost, not in tangible terms like missing pizza or electricity. In fact, he regularly refuses to engage with the remaining shreds of civilization. He’s not comfortable staying inside the apartment of the woman with the painted nails, nor entering the cottage in the garden, and though he makes some allusions to camping in houses from time to time, this is never shown on screen. He only tells us about sleeping outside in his tent. So, we might say that he copes with the apocalyptic loss of society by rejecting any desire to reconstruct it. Instead he forms his own routines, as many disabled people do.

A favorite scene for many reviewers was a short one in which January gives new names to the flowers he doesn’t recognize. Loss perfuses this scene, but so does freedom—the realization that you can shed what was lost and reconfigure what still exists. The flower scene presents a tidy bow, I think, on top of the messy package that is illness, grief, trauma, and autobiographical reality rewritten.

Thanks

Finally, some thanks. Thanks to Sjoerd for teaching me how to use TweeGo, huge huge thanks to Eli (@addictivities) for working with me on producing the art for the game, thanks to @agnesmontague for getting me started thinking about this postmortem, thanks to all who read January, and thanks to those who attempted to read it and said “absolutely fucking not” for their own well-being.

I’m still completely gobsmacked about placing in the top ten, and I really appreciate all the feedback that folks have given me, both publicly and privately. Take care of yourselves, everybody, and if you ever want to talk through stuff, feel free to reach out. <3

#game: january #twine game #interactive fiction #game development #ifcomp

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arthurian-owls · 1 year

Note

And the part two of the TMA crossover, because the first ask got so massive:

Kreeth is on her way to get avatarised, but The Eye, The Flesh and The Stranger can't decide who gets to keep her (the Eye eventually wins). Also marked by The End because of all the dead things and people she handles and will gladly feed anyone to the fears(even the ones she isn't aligned with). She also would write it down in details, she's a scientist, after all.

Lutta is Stranger-aligned, but she's very reluctant when it comes to feeding people to the fears. She would've been pretty content living off Strix Strumajen's confusion if she wasn't so eager to prove herself to Kreeth.

Speaking of Strix Strumajen: she's pretty bloodthirsty. Marked by The Slaughter and probably unknowingly fed a few people to it. Also touched by The Web, like everyone else in Hoole's court (because of exposure to the Ember)

Ygryk worked her way into marked by The Hunt. Pleek isn't, but he is along for the ride. Both are marked by The Slaughter.

Siv is marked by the Hunt and touched by the Desolation, but otherwise fairly fear-resistant (remember Joshua Gillespie from the second episode? Yeah, she's like that).

I was tempted to say that H'rath was similar to Siv in that regard, but then I remembered that Grank described him as "obsessed with ice weapons from the moment he hatched"; not sure how accurate this was, but I'll mark this down as H'rath being touched and later marked by The Slaughter. (And his scimitar became a manifestation, that's why it stayed intact for all 3 books and hadn't melted in Beyond the Beyond)

Theo is marked by The Slaughter and The Stranger, but in a very complicated way: apart from him actually fighting people, he set the things up to erase the hagsfiend culture. Not sure if what happened by his design counts as feeding people to The Stranger, but I think it comes pretty damn close.

Coryn is marked by The End and The Extinction(the very late-game fear in TMA; basically "the humanity(and possibly everything else on the planet) is done for, and it is our fault"): his Hamlet-esque melancholic attitude lends itself well to both, and since he was raised by the pure ones, Extinction fits a little better(imagine running from your small hometown knowing that all people there are out to get you and also want everyone who isn't them dead. Really makes one think about people dooming themselves). Also touched by The Hunt, The Slaughter and The Lonely.

Striga is a mess. I've recently re-read about half of "River of Wind" for the lols, and everyone is just dunking on him, its ridiculous. (Not entirely undeserved dunking, mind you, but mostly for the wrong reasons). Marked by The Slaughter(his dreams/nightmares of his past life), The Flesh(in its body dysmorphia aspect. He's got so many complexes to work through, and he starts plucking his own feathers out in the next book), marked and later avatarised by The Desolation... he's got a lot on his plate.

Twilight is also touched by The Slaughter - both in its straightforward and metaphorical aspect (Slaughter also manifests in music, especially agressive, like rock or war songs), but luckily for everyone, he's disinterested in being a full-on avatar. Twilight actually whipping everyone around into murderous rage with his songs would be terrifying.

Oh my god,,, imagine Twilight pulling a move like that band that made everyone die (my memory SUCKS but ykwim),,, that would be INTENSE.

I dig the idea of Theo accidentally (or purposely, if the ends justified the means) feeding folks to The Stranger. absolutely 10/10, much to ponder upon here indeed!!!

#asked and answered #part two of a two part ask #guardians of gahoole #guardians of ga'hoole #gahoole #ga'hoole #tma

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

Text

I’ve had cause to re-listen to a couple of Daniel Kitson’s earlier shows, and decided to take the opportunity to re-listen to all his yearly stand-up shows from the 00s, because I’d been sort of meaning to do that sometime anyway. That’s how I first got into him last year – bought his shows from every year between 2004 and 2009 off Bandcamp, played them in chronological order, got to the end and said: “Shit, I think I was sort of hoping that would be good – good enough to be worth the time and money I spent on it, obviously I wouldn’t hope for something to be so bad that I don’t enjoy it – but not so good that I have to admit everyone I’ve heard call him the best magical genius ever was right.” I think I wanted to be able to say Daniel Kitson’s pretty good everything, but come on, I don’t get why people make such a big deal about him. I very specifically did not want to do exactly what I ended up doing, which is to become one of the people who talks about how everyone needs to hear about the magical genius of stand-up comedy.

I’ve since heard David O’Doherty refer to him as the Radiohead of comedy, which made me laugh because that’s exactly why I never got into Radiohead as a teenager. High school was when I first added anything to my music collection besides the folk music I grew up on, and I got into various corners of rock music, but Radiohead seemed too on the nose. My high school friends and I were exactly the sort of nerds whom you’d expect to be way too into Radiohead, and I just didn’t want to be that much of a cliché. To this day I don’t think I could identify a single Radiohead song besides Creep, even though I’d probably like them fine if I gave them a chance.

But that’s a bit how I felt about Daniel Kitson – I’d looked him up a bit and found a lot of people talking about how amazing he was, and found it both rather over-the-top, and too much like exactly the sort of thing I should be really into. And that made me not want to be that, because I can’t be a depressed nerd who likes melancholic overthinking, and is really into Daniel Kitson. That’s too much of a stereotype. So I’m just saying, to anyone reading this blog – I might be a bit annoying about him now, but I promise I did try to avoid being that, at least until about ten minutes into actually hearing him. And then I had to say, “Shit, they’re right. Everyone was right. Okay, I guess this is going to be a whole thing for a while.”

So I’m re-listening to those early shows, and because they’re all available to purchase on Bandcamp, technically he has consented to have their contents distributed to the public, so by my own framework I’m allowed to write about them (I actually started the re-listen this morning with his 2003 show, but we have to pretend that one doesn’t exist). So I’m going to do that. Sorry. Genuinely, to everyone who’s not interested, sorry about that. But here are some thoughts I have on re-listening to the first of his Bandcamp shows, Dancing from 2004.

I think this might be the only one of his shows that I’ve only ever heard once; I never go to it in re-listens that I did last summer. So this is only my second time hearing it, and the first time was last year, when it was the first thing I ever heard from Daniel Kitson (to be very pedantic, it was technically the second thing, as I’d heard him play the role of God in that sketch from the 2012 Zaltzman and Oliver Edinburgh show that got recorded and made into a Bugle episode). I’d read all this stuff about him before starting on it, and most of what I’d read seemed painted a picture that it was hard for me to imagine, so I really wasn’t clear on what to expect. I bought this one by itself just to try it out, and got about ten minutes in before pausing it to buy all his other stuff on Bandcamp.

Here's one way I know how new I was to it: one of the first thing he says in the show is that his friend John had recommended that he drink some port, and I’d thought he meant Jon Richardson, because Jon Richardson famously drank port when he was young. I now know that “my friend John” out of Kitson means John Oliver, and I should have worked out even then that Jon Richardson would be too young to be at that show giving Daniel Kitson wine. He hadn’t started doing Edinburgh by 2004. But in my defense, it was a big running theme on Jon Richardson’s radio show to joke about how he drank port, because who else has port as their favourite drink in their 20s?

Anyway. One of the first things that struck me on re-listening to this show is he does not sound like that. He keeps talking about how he has a bad cold and it’s messing up his voice, and I remember listening to this the first time and thinking he sounded fine. That was clearly because I didn’t know at the time how his voice was supposed to sound. I’m quite bad at detecting differences in the way people’s voices tell, and I can still clearly tell, listening to it now, that his voice was really bad. That port did not do its intended job of making the cold go away.

I’ve said that I knew about ten minutes in that I’d want the rest of this guy’s shows, but on a re-listen, I think it was more like twelve minutes. Because twelve minutes in is when we get the quote: “Remarkably, taking something out of a life that feels empty doesn’t make it feel more full.” As far as lines that aren’t designed to get a laugh go, that might be my favourite one I’ve ever heard in a comedy show.

I think it might make me that absolute worst type of that Radiohead fan I didn’t want to be, if I say Daniel Kitson technically, by the actual definition of that expression, changed my life. But he did, in that my life is, on a practical level, a bit different than it would have been if I hadn’t heard that line. I’d have gone out less often last summer, to coach a practice or to meet friends at a pub or in someone’s living room, when I was depressed and struggling to fit back into my social circle when they had all started living post-pandemic lives so much earlier than I had, and had come back and turned it into something else in my absence, and I just wanted to not deal with that. I’d sit at home and feel like going out would make it worse, and then I’d think about that line, and on a number of occasions that got me to actually leave the house. Sometimes it worked out, I had a good time, and left feeling like I’d recaptured an inkling of my 2019-era connection to the world. A few times, it ended with me shutting down halfway through practice and spending 45 minutes curled up in a change room and scratching at the backs of my hands until I drew blood. But overall, it’s probably better that I made myself try.

This is someone I’ve told no one before, so why not put it on Tumblr.com, but I think my relationship lasted a few months longer than it might have had I not heard that line. I mean, obviously it wasn’t just that one line. But it was the sentiment. Last year I was in a very good relationship with a girlfriend who was absolutely amazing, and 100% of the problem was that I struggle to deal with people, or with much of anything, when I get depressed or tired or stressed or often for no reason at all. There were a couple of times, last year, when I’d get that way and think I couldn’t handle keeping things up with my girlfriend when I felt so depressed, and my instinct would be to just break it off so I wouldn’t have feel guilty about being unable to keep up the bargain (you know, the bargain that says you get a relationship and in exchange you don’t just disappear on her every time you get depressed). And yeah, near the end of last year I hit a very rough low point and that’s exactly what I ended up doing. But a few times in the months before that, I hit more manageable low points, and when I talked myself into resisting my instinct to let this bad point ruin my entire relationship, that Daniel Kitson line was among the things that helped convince me.

Anyway, it’s a good line. It shouldn’t be that good a line, it should be obvious. But the human instinct – or I should say, my human instinct, can’t speak for anyone else – to respond to hopelessness by getting rid of the few things that give you hope, is so strong that someone pointing out something as obvious as “that is the opposite of a good idea” is helpful.

Okay, on to less depressing things. There are less depressing comments I can make. For example, I noticed a bit in this 2004 show and quite a lot in the 2003 show that I’m pretending doesn’t exist that he uses a number of Russell Howard-like turns of phrase, including Russell Howard-like inflection to make them mean particular things. At first I thought it was a coincidence, then it happened often enough to make me remember they were friends back then, he probably picked up some of Russell Howard’s speaking style. Then I realized it’s much more likely to be the other way around, as Russell Howard would have been almost brand new to the comedy circuit by 2003, and one of the few things he’d done was tour with Daniel Kitson, as I think the only person Kitson has ever taken on tour as an opener. So it's more likely that some of the speaking patterns Russell Howard continued to use until at least the mid-2010s were originally cribbed from spending so much time watching early Daniel Kitson, after opening for him. (Is “cribbed” an okay word for that? I want a word that means I think he got some of his style from someone else, but I don’t want a word that means “plagiarized” or anything close to that, it’s nothing like that. Just a few little similarities in the general tone, that really could be a result of the way people who spend time together will develop their patterns accordingly, as mutual evolution. I’m just saying, if there ever was a case of one person doing something first and the other following suit, I’m inclined to give the credit to Kitson.)

This 2004 show had a few things that I remember clearly being all over his 2005 and 2006 shows, and didn’t realize had started so early. Specifically, his constant real-time deconstruction. Stopping after a sentence, or sometimes in the middle of it, to point out why it worked. “That was just a pull back and reveal.” “I know that sounded like a mistake that led to improvisation, actually I said it on purpose and do it that way every night.” “Look at that structural callback.” That was one of the things that immediately drew me in when I first listened to this stuff, it’s really funny, and I think it’s one component of Daniel Kitson’s amazing ability to make the audience feel like he’s taking them directly into his train of thought, instead of just presenting things to them.

Bits of this show feel too simplistic for Daniel Kitson. He spends quite a bit of it telling us he doesn’t like night clubs and doesn’t like most people, which makes me think… “Yes, I know that. I think everyone knows that.” But it’s possible that in 2004, not everyone did. He’d done a couple of whimsical shows by then, but also, in 2004, a fairly significant percentage of the things he’d done consisted of compering rowdy late-night gigs at Edinburgh festivals and in comedy clubs the rest of the year, and Pheonix Nights. He maybe did have to explain himself a bit.

But also, I think these things had been explained less in general, via stand-up comedy, back then. That’s sort of the point of the Chocolate Milk Gang, isn’t it? Coming after a generation of aggressive and showbiz-y and hard-drinking comedians, and doing things differently. Now, we’re very used to stand-up comedians being nerds who would look around a night club hating everyone they see. But I think that wasn’t as common back then.

Now, you can’t just say you’re a nerd who looks around a night club and hates everyone you see, because that’s most stand-up comedians and it’s been said a million times in a million ways. You have to find some new way to say it. You have to find an angle that hasn’t been used. The way to subvert expectations now is to say that actually, surprisingly, here are a few things you think are okay about night clubs. And by “you” I don’t mean every single stand-up comedian, but quite a few of them. The awkward nerd type of comedian who appeals to the awkward nerd audience member, and that’s lots of them, now.

And that’s why some of the show feels simplistic. Comedy in general has moved on a bit, and Daniel Kitson has definitely moved on. He’s now finding all kinds of creative ways to tell us he hates night clubs – to talk about why, about how things could be different, about whether he could be wrong about this, about the pitfalls of how feeling this way can lead to making false assumptions. But in 2004, he hadn’t covered that ground already, so he could just discuss the basics of feeling alienated.

Weirdly, at the time he might have been breaking some new ground with this Chocolate Milk-based movement toward anti-glamour comedy, it might have felt forward-thinking. Listening to it now, it feels a bit dated, but in a way I like. I almost said that maybe I’m just saying I like dated comedy because it’s Daniel Kitson, so I’m immediately inclined to like him, and if I heard someone else do this then I’d think it was dated and that was a bad thing. But I don’t think that’s true, just because this is the first Daniel Kitson show I ever heard, when I wasn’t invested in him at all, and I loved it the first time. (Also, I know “dated” can mean “offensive, but not considered as offensive by the standards of the time”, and I don’t mean it like that. I just mean “simplistic, but not considered as simplistic by the standards of the time.” Mostly. Okay, there are one or two examples of the first thing as well, but only little ones. Nothing that bad.)

I felt something similar about Weltanschauung, though that was venerating pretentiousness in fandom, while this one discusses a more general awkwardness and misanthropy in the persona life. Either way, it’s meant to appeal to audience members who feel those things, and don’t see them reflected in the world around them all the time, and will get drawn to someone on stage talking about it. And obviously it appeals to me, as I am one of those audience members. But I also know both those things have been discussed all the time since then, so now people need to find nuance and complications in it if they want to say anything new. I like the discussions of nuance and complications, but it is also rather nice to listen to a whole show that’s just completely, unequivocally, unapologetic about it.

I got used to being apologetic about the Weltanschauung topics during the years when “hipster” as an insult was a thing. I spent 2009-2014 listening to music most people haven’t heard of. I mean, I’ve spent my whole life doing that, but those years it particularly mattered, because that was when everyone decided it made you an unforgivable pretentious hipster. If you wanted to do an impression of someone and make it clear that this person was a dick, you’d say, “Oh I’m listening to music, but you’ve probably never heard of it.” This left me very confused about what I was supposed to say when people asked me what I was listening to, because in my defense, you probably haven’t heard of it. And you won’t like it any better if I start giving you information you did not ask for about this fiddler from Cape Breton Nova Scotia, so what do you want?

Anyway, I’m drifting off topic here because that’s a different show, but the point is that after years learning to say “No it’s okay, you don’t know this but I don’t know your music either, I promise I don’t think I’m better than you or anything, sorry for doing the wrong thing”, I really enjoy listening to Kitson’s 2006 show Weltanschauung that’s just 90 minutes of “Actually, being pretentious is good and most people are wrong.” His 2004 show Dancing is a bit like that, but for his general demeanour.

Another thing I notice about this show is his delivery’s a bit different than it is now, in a that I remember it being a little bit in some of those other earlier shows, but not as much as in this one. I’m not sure how to explain it, and I’m also not sure if it’s just how he was in 2004, or if it’s because during this show he had what was clearly a very bad cold, so that threw his delivery off. But it sounds like there’s something fundamentally a bit different. You know when you hear early recordings of James Acaster, and he talks like a normal person, and you don’t even realize how much of a “comedy voice” he’s putting on until you compare it to his normal voice from his early years? It’s like that, but almost the opposite. The way Daniel Kitson talks these days sounds a lot more like a normal voice than the way he talks in this 2004 show, and that might be just because he had a cold, but I think there’s more to it than that.

There’s a rhythm to it that he doesn’t do so clearly anymore, where he really exaggerates the way his words go up and down. He also varies his speed a lot, he’ll talk really fast and then slow right down. I know that’s not how he always was back then, because I’ve just listened to a 2003 show (that I won’t discuss in detail like I’m doing with this one, because Kitson never agreed to have that one recorded and put out there, though I did make a few posts about it back when I first found it last August so it’s not much of a secret), and in that one he sounded much more like he does these days. But also, that one had a lot of improvised stuff in it. It’s possible that he used to have a much more rigid rhythm when delivered prepared material, but I think he was a bit like this in his 2005 show as well.

I quite like it. I don’t think I’d want him to be like this all the time, but the delivery suits this material. A set about being an outsider, but absolutely drenched in self-awareness about how petulant it sounds in some ways - that goes well with delivery that seems painfully aware that he is Doing A Comedy Set. Like every word is accompanied by an undertone of “I know, I know”. It’s also not that different, now that I think of it. He still does the rhythm and speed variations when he’s doing planned material, it’s just no longer as exaggerated as it was in that 2004 show, I don’t think.

There are some references to the movie Dirty Dancing, added with less irony than one would expect, and I’m not even sure why but I think that might be fucking adorable.

One mildly weird thing about this one, just in light of everything he did afterward, is that it’s a breakup show. That’s weird because for many years, Daniel Kitson managed to turn aspects of many things into being about this particular breakup - even things that should really have nothing to do with it. I think I’ve said before that for the duration of the 00s, Daniel Kitson’s act was pretty much 50% “Being pretentious is good, actually”, and 50% “An Australian woman left me in about 2003 and I’ve never gotten over anything that’s ever happened in my entire life.” Though that should maybe be: 50% “Being pretentious is good, actually”, 15% “An Australian woman left me in about 2003″, and 35% “I’ve never gotten over anything that’s ever happened in my entire life.”

So it’s sort of weird to hear one show that approaches it on a normal timeline. Have a breakup, write a show about it, perform that show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in the year that follows the actual event. Textbook breakup show. Technically Daniel Kitson’s only breakup show, because he’s only ever had one breakup that was poetic enough to get written into his work in a significant way. After the Beginning Before the End was maybe, sort of, borderline a breakup show, in a twisted way and if you conflate a bunch of things. 66A Church Road was a breakup show with the twist that’s a breakup with an apartment, even though it’s also this same breakup with a person. Where Once Was Wonder had breakup show elements to it, but wasn’t really about those. Polyphony was a breakup show where he was breaking up with himself. That’s his thing, taking a concept and doing different stuff with it. So it’s interesting to hear Dancing, which is just a straightforward breakup show.

I’m quite stubborn, as a person. I’m a bit bloody-minded, I’m a touch obstreperous, I’m a little recalcitrant, and I’m occasionally overly wordy. If I even get a sniff of peer pressure, I want to do exactly the opposite, just to make the clear point that no motherfucker owns me. That may sound vaguely admirable in a sort of teenage way, but actually, the reality of it is just frustrating, because quite often these days, my peers are doing something I’d quite like to do as well.

I turned fourteen years old in 2004, and God, I’d have loved to have heard this quote in that year. Wouldn’t have been as actively helpful as the one about taking things out of a life that feels empty, but I’d have hugely enjoyed it. And maybe that last sentence would have helped me out a bit in my teenage years.

At one point during the show he speaks to John Oliver, making it clear that John is not just a faceless character in his story about why he’s drinking port to ward off this cold, but is actually in the audience. Near the end, we see why John is there, as it’s announced that Political Animal (the show where various comedians come on and do political material, hosted by Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver, who also did some of their own double act material between sets) will start as soon as Kitson’s finished, and anyone who’s in his audience can stay for that next show if they pay one pound. Meaning being at The Stand comedy club in Edinburgh, Scotland on August 29, 2004 would have been about as good as life has ever been for any human, anywhere.

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