caieidoscope

And I wrote a lot more. Then I wrote a book with her and a bunch of other characters.

(book)

And now I'm like "holy shit I really want to write like all the time now" so I spend a lot of my free time writing these days.

Then said friend who drew my fursona told me that people on Tumblr would LOVE my writing. I agreed. I don't know anything about Tumblr.

I'm here to post about long-form character rants, complaints about my worldbuilding, possibly advice as I'm kinda dumb, and screaming into the void as part of my creative process. Occasionally I'll post about a snippet of my life that's related to me and writing. Maybe I'll just say some random stupid shit.

I like writing about found families, social politics, mental health, trauma, and yuri.

I don't have any social medias. You are quite literally witnessing my first one. But you can find the short stories that lead to the development of my book here.

Present

On June 24th, Lemy introduced me to the characters Shiori (pretty) and Adira (creature).

Shiori and Adira are two halves of a shattered divine event. Shiori is quite literally the concept of sadness constructed with the sadness of tens of thousands of people, while Adira was born from the physical mess Shiori left behind.

Their paths crossed when Adira spotted Shiori in the woods. Seeing a frail, trembling girl, Adira categorized her as easy prey. However, after several successful kills that resulted in her spotting Shiori stumbling around weeks later, her worldview was shattered. For the first time in her life, Adira found something a bone she couldn’t keep snapped. She began to study her, eventually following her back to her isolated home.

Because Adira's lineage has forgotten how to feel complex emotions, she is one of the few creatures nearly completely immune to the fallout of Shiori's original ritual that plagues the forest. To Shiori, Adira is a relief because she seemingly cannot be worn down by what she believes is a consequence of her existence. Adira allows her to forget about the 'responsibility' that she was unwillingly cursed with.

I've always been intensely fascinated with genuine relationships that form out of necessity. Similarly to 13o, this story runs on the idea that their bond is fundamentally toxic and dangerous, however it is earned because they are both outcasts who would cease to exist or function in the normal world.

There is a beautiful poignancy in Adira's realization that she will eventually burn out while Shiori lives forever. She has an innate, human desire to be remembered, framed through the lens of a monster who doesn't know how to say "I love you and I'll miss you."

The Wall

I find myself seeking a grand, rewarding narrative. A grand, expansive of epic proportions. These days, I continue to chase after the high that an emotional odyssey like { twolonelyheavens } gave me. Naturally, my first instinct was to take them away from home and send them across the map, but every time I try to plot the journey, I run into dead-ends.

Shiori's core essence is stasis. She is defined by depressive stasis, avoidance, and a desire to be invisible. She doesn't want to save the world; she doesn't even want to be in it. Adira is a scavenger. She is motivated by territory, food, and the possession of her toy. She has little grand ambitions to see the world and just wants to keep what is hers.

When I try to force them into a Hero's Journey, it is always artificial. Who would Shiori walk a thousand miles? Why would Adira care about a distant kingdom? Moving them feels like uprooting a tree.

The worldbuilding is rather empty because the characters have no natural reason to engage with it. Shiori and Adira are at the edge of the woods, and I am stuck with them having every reason to stay and no reason to leave. Until I find that reason, the world beyond the trees remains a mystery.

The Future

Whilst this story sits in stasis, I've been asking myself questions for where it could go next.

If Shiori is a concept (agony) are there others? Is she part of a pantheon of accidental gods created by human error? Does her existence maintain a balance she doesn't know about?

What is something Adira is afraid to lose more than Shiori? Is there anything? If the answer really is nothing, then should the story be about Adira realizing Shiori wants to be lost?

What if the forest's rot is a resource that somebody else wants?

If Shiori is a failed ritual, is there a successful one? Is the God of Joy out there, and is it less or more terrifying?

Adira inherently runs on a clock defining her lifetime. If Adira succumbs to the original effects of the rituals, how would Shiori save the only person who can look at her?

Did you know in the initial first run of planning for tlh, near the end of Act 2 there was a fight scene involving Cadence being confronted in some way by her surviving, failed sibilings?

In the "throwing ideas against the wall" phase of the process, this event would have taken place after Ery had dismantled the group's morale, leaving everyone disconnected, and Cadence would be further from them than ever as she continued to look down on them as disadvantaged products of survival machines. The point of a crisis like this was to kill as many birds as possible. The outworlders had to reconciliate, they had to find a way to get Cadence to trust them before the third act, and Cadences trauma had to be placed directly in between her and The Outworlders in order to challenge her beliefs.

What was initially planned of the chapter is that due to a continued argument following the groups collapsing morale, Cadence continues marching forward, uncomfortable watching what seems like the logical end for The Outworlders: they cannot resolve their tension and proceed to split up, which causes them to die. Through out act one and two, it is an understated idea that Cadence doesnt need The Outworlders at all, and are instead dragging them along as sociality is still an essential part of her biology that she has lacked for years. As such, she is constantly fearful that they will actually leave and she will return to living a life of a lonely machine.

This separates her from The Outworlders, who upon searching for her again, find her incapacitated, surrounded by a group of her sibilings (referred to as the "Hollowed", creative name i know. Very subtle). She is paralyzed at the sight of them, being forced to look in a mirror of her own biology, and suffering severe deep seeded survivors guilt.

This is how the chapter developed over time in the planning phase:

The Outworlders essentially beat the fuck out of the Hollowed, forced to work together to save Cadence, and successfully do.

The Outworlders threaten the Hollowed away with pack mentality.

The Hollowed are incredibly strong and scary creatures. The Outworlders initially go back into their coping mechanisms before they are forced to confront the idea that they cannot brute force their way through it, and have to work intentionally to escort Cadence away from them, scaring them with pack mentality.

???

The chapter is removed entirely.

At some point i likely realized that this idea was such a jarring tonal shift. Nature, flora and fauna were never meant to be the villains. I just couldn't have a creature like that in the book.

The Outworlders and Cadence had to be truly alone.

{ tlh } is a book about surviving the self. After cutting this portion of the book, I dedicated the rest of my thematic writing to spitting in the face of every fantasy and sci-fi trope we're used to.

Usually, dropping characters into a new world you expect the hero's journey. Magic, lore, or some hidden power that makes beings special. I wanted to do the opposite: strip away as much power until all that was left was physical and mental vulnerability.

In the standard fantasy, Minty being a taur or Ery having wings world be a superpower. In { tlh }, their biology is another way for the world to hurt them. Minty is a girl who can't find traction on the slippery ceramic floors. Ery's wings are draped loosely across the snow or used as a shivering cocoon because she's freezing to death.

These characters, including "Supersoldier" Cadence, are continuously burdened by their non-human traits. The idea is to prevent the reader from looking at them like creatures and to start looking at them as people. Their otherness only exists to show hoe much they can suffer, which ironically makes them feel more human than a standard protagonist.

She spends the whole book talking about survival probability and dismissing emotional connection. But, her magic is just a trauma response. The climax of her arc is breaking down and admitting that she's just a 12 year old girl who doesn’t want to be alone.

The biggest middle finger I could possibly offer to genre tropes is Cadence. Usually the native guide is a wise, mysterious mentor. Cadence is pretty mysterious, sure, but the reality of her existence is that she is a child brainwashed into thinking shes hardware.

Why is there… so much dust?

Minty moves in a tight circle. She stops abruptly, her breath shallow. Her hands, pale and damp, fumbling with the hem of her apron. She wipes at a speck of lint, her fingers trembling as they smooth the starch-stiffened fabric.

Two maids sit on a nearby bench, their shoulders nearly touching as they murmur to one another. She draws her shoulders inward, pulling her elbows flush against her ribs. She reaches up to adjust her headband, her fingers grazing the base of her ears before dropping back to her sides.

Minty steps through the double doors into the dining area. Her hooves land the hardwood with a wooden click. The café is bright, smelling of roasted beans and scented sugar.

Four figures stand at the entrance. They are bundled in heavy wool coats and broad-brimmed hats that cast deep shadows over their faces, a stark contrast to the light floral décor of the room.

The head maid approaches them. She bows. One of the figures in the group leans in, murmuring. The head maid’s gaze shifts. She raises an arm, her index finger extending to point directly at Minty. She nods once.

Minty’s tail goes rigid, pressing flat against her hind legs. Her pulse thrums at the base of her throat, a visible tremor. She takes a half-step back, her hoof scraping against a floorboard. The world feels too small, the ceiling too low.

Minty retreats, her hooves scrambling against the floorboards through the double doors. Back inside the break room, she leans her forehead against a cold metal locker. The fabric of her sleeves bunches in her grip as she glares at the indentations her weight has pressed into the rug.

“Minty?"

Minty’s entire frame jolts, her spine hitting the locker.

A woman in a sharp navy blazer, her hair pulled into a tight, grey-streaked bun, steps inside. She adjusts her glasses, the lenses catching the overhead light. "The customers at the corner booth... they asked for you."

“Reiss! Oh, I’m sorry, I…” Minty draws in a shaky breath, shaking her head frantically. "I'm not... I shouldn't be out there," She whispers, staring at her reflection in a small wall-mounted mirror, her ears pinned low. "I'll… break something. They'll see I don't belong.”

Reiss steps into Minty’s peripheral vision. Her gaze softens. "I hired you because you possess a precision most of the others lack. You are trained, dedicated and talented." She pauses, her gaze fixing on the double doors. "Go out there. These customers are not looking for a reason to find fault. They want you to succeed.”

Minty’s fingers curl into her palms, her nails digging into the fur. She looks at the menu sitting on the table. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m being so-”

"You will be okay," Reiss states. It is a directive, not a question.

Minty’s hooves stutter across the hardwood. She keeps the menus pressed against her chest, the laminated plastic a cold barrier between her and the room. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor, tracking the grain of the wood until the shadow of the corner booth falls over her hooves.

Minty stops at the foot of the table, her breath catching.

She looks up.

Jules sits at the head of the booth, her glasses catching the soft café light. Beside her, Koa leans back, his jaw relaxed, his tattered cardigan sleeves pulled over his palms. Across from them, Ery’s feathery antennae curve forward, twitching in the scented air. Next to her is a small, four-point silhouette in a orange fluffy coat, Cadence. They had just finished piling their coats and hats on the bench in a heap of fabric.

“Oh, hi Minty,” Jules says, her voice level. She taps a finger against the tabletop. “Can we get the-”

A sharp, broken sob catches in Minty’s chest. Her vision blurs into a mess of light and colour. The menus slip from her hands, clattering onto the table.

Jules pauses as she looks up from the menu.

She stands and wraps her arms around the taur’s shivering waist, pulling her flush against the wool of her cardigan. Minty buries her face into the crook of Jules’s neck, her tail dropping limp as she weeps into her shoulder.

After a long minute, Jules pulls back, keeping her hands on Minty’s shoulders to steady her.

“Alright,” Jules murmurs, a small smile touching her lips. “What about a practice run? What’s the special?”

Minty pushes through the swinging doors. The kitchen air is thick with the scent of fried eggs and steam. She sets the empty tray onto the stainless steel counter. Her hands are steadier now, though a her fingertips still nervously hum.

Reiss stands by the pass, typing notation on her phone. She looks up, her glasses reflecting the overhead fluorescent grid. "You’re very natural at it, Minty."

Minty’s ears twitch upward. She bows, her head dropping low. "Thank you. I… I was trying very hard to remember the steps."

"It showed," Reiss says. She reaches for a ceramic plate resting under the heat lamp. It is a portion of omurice, the yellow curve of the omelette draped over rice. A small face is drawn in ketchup on the surface, two dots for eyes, a wide, looping smile and a pair of ears on the sides.

Reiss slides the plate across the counter toward her.

Minty stares at the ketchup face. She tilts her head, her fingers hovering over the edge of the ceramic. "Is there… a modification to the order? I didn't see this on the ticket."

"It isn't an order," Reiss states. She tucks her phone under her arm. "We do not typically permit the staff to occupy the dining area during a shift. But your friends… Are they your friends?"

Her spine straightens. "They’re my family, actually."

Reiss nods once. A small crease appears at the corner of her eyes. "The café is currently at low capacity. Go. Have lunch with your family, Minty."

Minty’s throat hitches. A hot tear spills over her cheek, landing on the starch of her apron. She grips the warm plate with both hands, her knuckles pressing into the ceramic as her shoulders begin to shake. “T… Thank you Reiss. I won’t forget this.”

The midday sun hits the steam clinging to the glass, diffusing the light until the interior of the café feels like a bright, translucent bubble. Ery’s antennae sway, filtering the golden haze.

Koa leans his elbow on the table, looking at Jules. "So. Do we have a heading for tomorrow? We’re all off the clock."

Jules rests her hands in her lap. "I thought we could try a random roam. We pick a street, walk until we find something interesting, and eat whenever we find a scent we like."

Minty’s fork stalls over her omurice. She looks at the ketchup face, then at the bright world beyond the café doors.

"It's different out there," Minty murmurs. She shifts her hooves under the table, her keratin clicking against a metal support. "In here, I have a uniform. People understand why I’m here. If we just walk... they'll see how weird I am. They’ll stare."

Koa leans back, his long sleeves sliding up his forearms. He taps his knuckles against the wood. "Minty, look at us. Being weird is the family business. We’re all pretty good at it by now.”

Cadence nods once, her expression flat. "Koa is correct. Our collective social profile is significantly abnormal. Staring is a statistically guaranteed outcome regardless of our location.”

She reaches into the pocket of her orange coat. Her small, pale hand emerges clutching a single, squishy sugar-gem. She extends it toward Minty’s plate.

Jules’s hand shoots out, her fingers clamping gently over Cadence’s wrist before she can drop the sweet. Jules squints through her glasses, her head tilting. "Where did you get that? We haven’t been to a shop since we landed. Can you even get gushers around here?”

"It was part of my tactical inventory," Cadence says. She pulls her arm back, though Jules keeps a loose grip on her sleeve. "I have carried eight units in this pocket since the flight began.”

Ery leans in, her antennae twitching toward the candy. "Isn’t that… technically illegal? You’re supposed to declare that at the border."

Cadence yanks her wrist free from Jules’s grip. "Categorising survival resources for long-distance expedition as 'illegal' is a logical failure. It is a ridiculous law."

Jules rubs her temples with one hand. "It’s a customs violation, Cadence."

"The distinction is semantic."

I am convinced it can not be found again. If my hubris gets the better of me, I will suffer the sin of being laughed at by my friends for the rest of eternity.

But dude, I sucked at writing films too!

I don't know if I was eternally cursed to never properly write a short film script, but not a single time have I actually been able to write a short film script that was actually cohesive or achievable. I know this is like, first year film writing kind of shit. You need to keep the scope of your short film TINY, but the first significant one I ever made quite literally involved the character experiencing thousands of years passing, and the major one I REALLY wanted to complete was set across like, at least 6 locations.

What the hell is this writing syndrome called??? 😭 At least I can make my personal writing projects as long or as short as I want.

Here is a Discord conversation between some of my characters (the mentally ill women)

And I've been describing a world for them that's been a mixture of Chinese (which I know) and Japanese (which I don't really know) culture. Historically and aesthetically, it's very Japanese (wow! thing, japan!) inclusive of its clothing, half of its cuisine, royalty standards, architecture names, and visual inspiration.

I'm not… Japanese. I'm Chinese. I just saw these characters and wanted to put them in that setting.

It's not like the story of "The Imperial Domain of Ten-No-Kagami (天の鏡) (The Mirror of Heaven)" is supposed to take place in an actual point in time. It is not supposed to be nonfiction. It is not supposed to represent a real point in time. Everything is fictional, any relations to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, etc etc. HOWEVER, is this problematic the same way "wow! thing, japan!" is? To just look at a very real culture and amalgamate it just because it looks pretty or it makes for a somewhat cultural story that technically doesn't have anything to do with Japan?

It's ultimately a story about revolution against tradition. About the voice of the people, and progress for the good of society, told through the story of two dragon-girl princesses running away from their castle on the mountain. What does this really have to do with Japan? I could have told this story under the influence of any other culture.

However I think the metaphor of old, traditional Asian-oriented legends and tales being challenged by the new, energetic youth isn't really a story that would be told in the same way if this story was set in a new age industrial America. Frankly, that would be fucking hilarious.