look someone fixed it!

3

Michael Rupert in March of the Falsettos (1981)
Michael Rupert in Falsettos (1992)
Christian Borle in Falsettos (2016)

2

I’m aware there’s flaws in my theory…but I think I’m on to something

anonymous asked:

Laureeeeen my sweet bottle of sunshine- I was looking at the episode calendar and I'm a bit lost on something: if all the eps take place in 2016, why was Caleb still playing football? Unless in this universe football is a spring sport and not a fall one? Or did I read it wrong?

Oh boy. My darkest shame comes out. I was worried this would happen. 

No, you did not read it wrong. Here’s the truth: I don’t know anything about football. I wish I could say I noticed that it was weird that canonically, Caleb’s games were falling after most seasons ended, but I didn’t know when football season ended, so I just kept writing. I’m pretty sure Briggon eventually pointed it out and, by that point, it was too late. 

So now it is a weird, unintended quirk of the universe. Because of my complete lack of basic sports knowledge, The Bright Sessions takes place in some sort of freak version of America where football is played ALL THE TIME. 

EVERY DAY IS FOOTBALL SUNDAY. 



(jk. Once I realized, I think I rationalized that there are occasionally national tournaments for charity and stuff in February/March? I think I did some research and found that?? And I’m p. sure the last time Caleb mentions actually playing a game is episode 11…and then his team just practices throughout the whole year anyway? IDK THIS IS A WEIRD HIGH SCHOOL WHERE THE TEACHERS ARE DRUNK, LATIN IS EASY, AND EVERYONE PLAYS FOOTBALL ALL THE TIME)

They call you cry baby, cry baby
But you don’t fucking care
Cry baby, cry baby
So you laugh through your tears

Cry baby, cry baby
‘Cause you don’t fucking care
Tears fall to the ground
You’ll just let them drown

-Cry baby

In Every Reality

He looks into her eyes and then clenches his own shut, so that they’ll be the last thing he sees.

*

He’s had nightmares since he was a child, of fighting, and of dying in the sand. Sometimes he’s alone, sometimes he’s not. He remembers falling.

When his family move to America they speak of opportunity and hope. Hope leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth and he finds himself drifting, friendly enough but never really friends, still dreaming of a war he never fought.

At eighteen he signs up for the army. And for a while, his life makes sense. They use him well, he becomes close to a reaper, making people disappear and scrubbing out potential realities. Possible realities. It keeps his brain ticking over long after the nightmares have woken him. How many regimes have fallen because he squeezed his trigger finger? How many has he failed to prevent from rising?

His rank is captain and it fits well.

At twenty six, he gets out. Goes home. He’s seen enough war for a hundred lifetimes and sometimes it feels like he’s lived every one of them.

He enrols in college and tries to ignore the way the history classes feel off and how when people speak of religion there seems some form of censure, like people are missing something big, something old.

He finds himself turning to talk to someone much taller than him sometimes, looking up to find there’s nobody there.

He sees an engineering student with goggles perched forgotten on his forehead and has to sit down for a moment as he fights back the fierce deja vu.

He trips over the cane of a blind man, and turns to apologise, but those milky blue eyes startle him and he loses his words. Not because they seem so out of place, but because they seem so familiar.

It is a long time before he sees her. He didn’t even realise he was looking until he looks up from his phone and spots her across the coffee shop. She’s queuing up, her hair tied back and her satchel slung over one shoulder, and she looks the kind of tired he feels sometimes.

Abandoning his coffee, he slips into the queue beside her, ignoring grumbled protests from people around him. He doesn’t know how to get her attention, his eyes resting on the crystal around her neck, when she turns to him.

He remembers dying. He also remembers being briefly, beautifully alive. He remembers those eyes.

“I know you,” he says, and it’s stupid but she smiles, small at first but growing, glowing.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Looking for all of you. A thousand lifetimes and every one I’ve just missed you.”

“Until now,” he responds, because he understands and doesn’t understand.

“The others are here,” she says. “They said they’d seen you around, so to speak.” She cocks her head to one side. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” he replies, unsure of what real is.

“I have so much to tell you. If - ” she laughs, “I hope you’re not missing class right now.”

She says the word ‘hope’ and he knows her perfectly.

“Jyn - ”

“Cassian.”

“Where are we?” He asks. She looks around.

“Starbucks,” she laughs.

“You know what I mean,” he presses.

“We don’t question it. It’s just home. For now. Until the next one. The universe waiting for all the players in the game to line up once more. Chirrut still insists it’s The Force.”

Home. Where everybody is alive and happy and it’s impossible and daft and she looks up at him with the last eyes he saw and he finds he’s smiling

“Home, then.”

It’s enough, for now.

Virgo Venus Confession
  • I keep imagining these romantic scenarios that'll never happen. I'll tell you that I'm not all that into relationships. Hell, I've even convinced myself...mostly. There's a part of my mind though...that knows what I really mean. I'm not a conventional relationship person because I don't want all sunshine and rainbows. I'm drawn to emotional pain. I'm so critical yet I'm always looking for someone to fix. I'm so cold yet so attached. So, maybe it's safer if we're just friends or nothing at all. So then when I accidentally spill my heart, I can tell you I didn't mean it.
I don’t need someone to fix me. I need someone who will look at all my broken pieces and somehow find beauty in them.
—  from an unfinished story #510
vine
A lesson for romantic INFJs

Romantic love isn’t the end all be all. If you live your life believing that then you will put unrealistic expectations and pressures on a flawed human being who will never be able to live up to your fantasy. You’ll also ruin your ability to have healthy problem solving. Any issue that may come up will feel like the end of the world because this person or relationship is supposed to be “perfect.” You ruin your ability to compromise, communicate, and move on. Skills that are absolutely required to have a healthy relationship. And if you’re terrified to be alone, you’ll stay with someone you’re not supposed to be with. 

It also devalues the importance of being happy and single. If you’re looking for someone to “fix” you and can’t be alone, you are asking too much. Your unhappiness is yours alone to solve. If you’re familial relationships and friendships aren’t going well then work on those. Friends and family should be a source of tremendous support and be able to fill most of your social needs. Those relationships should just as much of an investment as a romantic one.

If you want love, get your shit together first. Become a healthy communicator who’s aware of their boundaries and needs. Work on the relationships you have and on your relationship with yourself. Only then will you be ready for the difficult task of loving a real human being for who they are.