What do you think about middle aged sunflower ????
Okay I'm going to pretend I'm normal and didn't just have a conversation about it yesterday within which I had to restrict myself because of Discord's stupid character limit
Anyway. Gonna talk about fanfics briefly, because fics tend to get more complex with characterization.
A while ago, I got really into Marvel, and for two months I did nearly nothing except read spideypool fanfic all day and night. If you know anything about these two (that isn't from the MCU) (I hate the MCU, I hate it so so much, this is not who Spidey fundamentally is, he is supposed to be a friendly neighborhood loner loser and you Cannot just give him an Iron Man suit and a mentorship with Stark and intergalactic missions at 16 or however old he is in those movies when the essence of the character is that he is an average struggling teenager who just happens to get superpowers and fucks up a lot at the beginning of his journey and mostly works alone and quit the fucking Avengers himself) (wow I started rambling sorry. Ignore that), you'll know that they are both around... 25-30ish, currently. Something like that. The only other fandom that I read as many fanfics of was Ace Attorney, where depending on the timeline, they can be from 23 to like, 35 with a kid. So I'd say me being so invested in a ship with 16 year-olds is... kind of an anomaly.
I don't usually like the coming-of-age, teenage love stuff, and I honestly have never found a single sunflower schoolfic I liked (except Spiral of course but even then they're in college) because all of them tend to... infantilize both Sunny and Basil at great length. And also tear down anything that makes them interesting characters. I think a lot of OMORI artists (that includes writers) are very afraid of doing anything substantial with teenagers, despite, you know, the actual plot of the game, and as a result, a lot of the time most fics where the characters aren't aged up tend to be... incredibly boring. Of course there are some that are good — exceptional even — but in the end all I can think of is the huge gap in... quality? that sounds wrong to say about a creative thing... interesting-ness, let's say (a very personal and subjective concept), when I stopped reading Marvel and went back to OMORI. I stopped reading fanfics altogether because I just couldn't find one I liked as much as the average Marvel fic that I hadn't already read.
Maybe it's a result of the writers themselves being young? I know OMORI's fanbase is generally a lot younger than Marvel's, so that could affect it. I mentioned schoolfics because there's a lot of them and because they were mentioned in my rant yesterday, but it's not really about the fact that they're schoolfics, it's about the fact that more often than not, the setting is the plot, and since it's just your average highschooler writing their favorite blorbos into their own environment and projecting (which is very cool btw, 99% of my own writing is projecting), the plot is... basically nonexistant. It's boring. It's boring and the characterization is usually dull. But even outside of schoolfics, I think I stopped trying to read fics that start with Sunny getting out of the hospital after the True Ending for the same reason : it's often plain and plotless and boring. And, fuck, my favorite books and mangas and such are slice of life, I'm all for mundane plots! But there's a difference between a mundane plot/realism and just no plot at all.
(This is not, like, an attack of OMORI writers who make schoolfics or fics that start with the above mentioned premise, btw, I want to make that very clear. It's very much a personal preference. I think it's boring because all of the fics I read in Marvel had a very unique plot/premise is my point. And also because the characters were a lot more mature and complex. Different strokes for different folks)
I think that's what I'm kind of sad about. OMORI characters tend to be complex and morally grey in their own way, and people tend to forget about that because they're teenagers and obviously no one can do no wrong before the ripe age of 18. Children are all innocent and therefore cannot be more morally complex than cinnamon roll soft boys/girls (looking pointedly at Sunny, Aubrey and Basil. But mostly Basil). Also, I think people tend to straight-up forget that 16 year-olds aren't, like, 10? Of course they're not going to be as mature as grown adults, especially Sunny OMORI, Dissociative Amnesia World Champion, but like... When I was 16 reading OMORI fanfics, half the time I was like "a 16 year-old would not fucking say that". But also generally more mature characters are inevitably more interesting to explore to me because I prefer more mature themes — I'm simply extremely upset at the fact that people don't explore the complexity that's already there when they're 16, including the very mature themes that are already there.
TL;DR: I love middle aged sunflower, I love middle aged ships in general ! In fact, I will tend to prefer sunflower when it's aged up.
(... I probably should've led with that.)
21 notes
·
View notes
Today's bit of writing was brought to you by my gay feelings for Basil OMORI
(For context here they just built one of those large swings that can have like three people sit on it at a time, so they're resting on it)
|~|~|~|~|~|
"Am I special to you, Sunny?"
Sunny turns his head towards Basil. He's looking at him, his voice falsely unbothered. It sounds strangely important.
"What do you mean?" answers Sunny. He knows what it should mean. He knows how Basil should mean it.
(He knows that's not what Basil means.)
"I mean-" Basil stammers, sighs. He looks up. Sunny knows that words are hard to find, sometimes. But never to Basil. Basil always finds the right words to express himself. Sometimes - often - Basil's mind goes faster than his mouth. And he stutters. But he never runs out of words.
Basil looks back down, but doesn't meet Sunny's eyes. "I mean… We've been friends for… forever. We've always been… You know. Closer. You- You know I love Aubrey and Kel and Hero and Mari, but… You're-" Basil takes a deep breath. So much for making it seem insignificant. "You're… special. You've been special."
Sunny stares at him for a while, expecting him to continue. Basil doesn't usually talk too much around a group of people. He prefers to listen when there's too many people. With Sunny, though, he talks in paragraphs.
"I just…" Basil finally looks back at him. "I guess I just wanted to know if it was the same for you."
"You're my best friend", says Sunny. And it's true.
"That's not…" Basil trails off.
That's not what I meant. That's not the answer I wanted.
"You've always been my best friend," Sunny repeats, and he knows it's still the not the right answer. "I love them too, but you're my best friend." There's an awkward pause in the air from Sunny's lack of a real answer. He feigns ignorance.
"I… Thank you." Basil sighs, and Sunny knows he hopes it sounds like a sigh of relief. But it doesn't. Because it's not.
Basil doesn't sigh with relief. Basil fakes the confidence that there was nothing to be worried about in the first place.
Basil sighs with annoyance. Basil sighs with disappointment.
"Am I special?" Sunny asks. Somehow, the question holds more significance than his own answer.
Basil looks at him for a few seconds. There's the same importance as when Basil asked, although Sunny pretended not to know. It's strange. He wonders if Basil knows that he means it too.
"You're…" Basil looks away. Maybe if Sunny could see him, he'd be blushing. Maybe he'd be ashamed. Maybe he'd be hoping. But that doesn't matter right now, because Sunny can't see him. That's why he looked away. Basil starts to turn to look at him, but stops midway. "You're special, Sunny." (And Sunny knows he means it.)
"Look at me when you say that."
"Why are you so serious?" Basil asks, and he laughs. He attempts to laugh it off. But he's the one who made it serious in the first place. "It's not that deep-"
"Look at me."
"Sunny, why-"
"Look at me, Basil."
And Basil looks, slowly.
(He is blushing.)
"You're special, Sunny," he repeats, almost in a whisper. He's looking down, but he's looking at Sunny. He's looking at his legs, but he's looking at him.
Basil is tense. His arms are stretched, his hands to each side of him, on the seat of the swing. His shoulders are way up. His hair looks beautiful in the golden hour.
His lips part slightly in an unspoken plea.
Listen to me, Sunny. Understand me, please. Answer me.
That's not what he asked.
But Sunny is a coward.
(Can Sunny answer him? But what if he's wrong? What if he made it way more serious than it really was? What if Basil was just embarrassed to ask for reassurance? But they spent the whole afternoon just together. They were busy. Basil didn't have time to be anxious. He didn't have time to spiral. He didn't have the time to think, he didn't have the time to need reassurance. But how can Sunny be sure? How can he give him what he wants - how can he pretend not to know while telling him that he knows, how does he creates the possiblility of denial?)
(How does he stop thinking so much?)
"You're…"
Basil's head flips up, and suddenly, he's loking straight into Sunny's eyes.
How could he deny that?
"You're special, Basil."
Basil's eyes widen.
They're staring at each other. They want to ask so badly.
(Is that it, Sunny? Is that you answer? Did you undestand?)
Instead, Sunny places his left hand on top of Basil's right hand. His other hand is still holding the rope, but his left hand is… Not quite holding Basil's. It's standing on top of it, lightly, carefully, not quite resting on it, not quite putting weight. As if asking. As if begging.
Basil doesn't break eye contact, But Sunny hears his breath stutter for less than a second. He sees his shoulders relax just a little.
Sunny lets go of the rope, gently. Basil's hand wiggles around, hesitates, then holds his.
Sunny intertwines their fingers, slowly and quietly, but without an ounce of hesitation.
(Is that your answer, Sunny?)
They don't talk, for a moment. They don't move. There's nothing to say, really - just about a ton of words stuck in their throats, way too far to spill out. They don't really know what to do next.
(Do you love me, Sunny?)
Sunny leans in, just slightly, in a way that could be mistaken for a lack of energy to sit up straight (but Basil would never believe that, of course.) The words move up in his throat. He can feel them on the back of his tongue.
Basil leans in too, more quickly, more surely - he's always been more courageous than Sunny. They stare at each other as their forheads finally touch, both waiting for the other to do something - or for themselves to dare move again, to close the centimeter or distance between them. Then, Basil looks down.
Not too far down. Sunny's lips aren't too far down.
Sunny leans in.
It's not the explosion of feelings that Sunny was scared of. It doesn't feel nearly as overwhelming as he feared it would. It's calm, it's tranquil, it's steady - it's almost familiar (how does his first kiss feel familiar?), it feel good. It feels great. Sunny almost wishes he had imperfections to point out, like in the books he's read, where the lips of the protagonist's lover were sometimes too chapped, or too wet, but they're not - Basil takes care of himself. Basil washes his face every morning with beauty products, and Basil certainly doesn't moisturize his lips with his tongue. The rest, Sunny is too inexperienced to care.
(Sunny does moisturize his lips with his tongue, though. Sunny still has acne on his face and on his back because he can't keep his hands away from it. Sunny doesn't know how to kiss, and he hopes Basil doesn't care either.)
(Sunny… Sunny doesn't know how long a kiss is supposed to last.)
((Sunny hopes it lasts forever.))
152 notes
·
View notes
I'm an mcr lesbo and I'm pretty sure we live in the same city (brum?), so if you need a catgirl bulge discussion partner I'm there 👍
Omg hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dm me
8 notes
·
View notes