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azaffranist · 4 years

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Frozen 2 deleted/early content

On the road to F2 there were tons of leaks and I saved as many of them as I could in the fear that Disney would delete them (because they loved to shut down whole websites because of that back in the day). As a result I have a lot of pictures saved on my phone and looking back on them... some don’t sound quite right because it’s definitely not what I saw in the movie. So here’s everythinggg I have. I did my best to organize stuff a bit but there are so many things it was... hard. Feel free to add more stuff in reblogs, replies and such!

Something to note is that we won’t take into account the “officially” released deleted content, which would include everything that’s in the Blu-ray, because basically everyone already saw that (Home, I Seek the Truth, Get This Right, Unmeltable Me, the Secret Room scene, Hard Nokks, etc). Generally, we won’t be analyzing deleted scenes from the official trailers, either, because of this very reason. Something “official” that we will consider, though, are the deleted clips animators have been releasing on Instagram and other sites, because those aren’t that popular.

Before starting here’s the link to all the deleted F2 lines I could find as well as some other additions. The post itself has even more links to other posts containing deleted content so have fun clicking on links.

Last thing to mention, none of the merch photos here are taken by me. I got most of them from the leaks channel of the Arendelle Kingdom server during 2019. If any image in this post belongs to someone here and you want to be credited please let me know and I’ll edit the post.

This post is long. Like really, really, lagging-my-browser-as-I’m-writing-it long. So grab some popcorn and get comfortable or just take a look at what interests you.

So without further ado, let’s get started!

Deleted Artbook Content

One of the most exciting leaks we got were definitely these sample artbook excerpts. None of these pages made it into the final artbook, though.

This piece definitely belongs in Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory, in which the Northuldra leader wasn’t an ordinary man but a shapeshifter.

The biggest picture in this page points to yet another version of Iduna and Agnarr’s backstory. It’s possible to deduce Bruni hadn’t been fully developed yet or created at all since the fire isn’t pink.

The one on the bottom right seems to be an earlier version of the “forest freed” scene in the final movie, or maybe it happened in another moment altogether.

The most interesting of the three, though, is this one. Nothing in the movie points to the existence of a place like this. It’s interesting to note that this peculiar house looks very similar to Iceland’s “elf houses”, tied to the myth of the Huldufólk, “hidden people”, who were said to be small and live in a parallel world, being able to make themselves visible at will.

These are definitely the inhabitants of the Enchanted Lands, who look completely different than in the final movie with their long cloaks, hoods and staves. They look like mages. Were these the very first concepts of the Northuldra, or another group of characters altogether that ended up being scrapped? Only Ahtohallan knows...

Even though the tree and the vegetation illustration is in the book, there’s one missing and that one is the bottom left. One of the most popular theories in the fandom regarding that illustration is that it was an Arendellian military camp tied to the expedition to the Enchanted Lands. I think what we got in the movie is a watered down version of a much more violent and sinister endeavor to invade the Northuldra. The above mentioned deleted scene of the battle of Arendellians agains Northuldrans is proof of that.

This one shows the Arendellian gang and most likely Mattias looking at the walls of a cave with drawings on it depicting the Nokk among other things that I can’t quite make out. I’ve heard people say that an earlier version of F2 involved the gang encountering Mattias in a volcanic cave and that’s where this scene would go, but I don’t know if those are rumors or there’s an actual source. If someone happens to have knowledge on this topic in particular please let me know and I’ll update the post.

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Incomplete Frozen Fan Fest books and their alternate scenes

As I’ve mentioned in another post, Frozen Fan Fest happened on October 4th, 2019, and it was the official release of the movie’s first merchandise. We were all super excited to look at the storybooks and read the ending!

Except there was no ending and the books ended abruptly right before Olaf’s death, completely skipping over Show Yourself.

You hear that? “Elsa bravely dives into the Dark Sea”. We know the Dark Sea scene was shortened and that’s more proof.

This section of a Frozen 2 storybook explains how it went a bit better. After Elsa was defeated twice by the ferocious waves she climbed up some giant rocks and dove back in. Only Ahtohallan knows how that would be effective in this situation and not a waste of strength, but hey, I’m sure it looked super cool and I’d be down to see it.

”Elsa trudged through terrible winds and thick snow”... um... she didn’t? This might’ve been created when Show Yourself wasn’t a thing yet and her path through Ahtohallan was just that, trudging through terrible winds and snow, and not an inspiring song about self-love and finding yourself. I wonder how that scene would’ve looked.

Maybe we can find something relating to that “unused” section of Ahtohallan in a book called “Anna, Elsa and the Secret River”. Basically Iduna tells them that there’s a secret river out there and after the lullaby Elsa and Anna go nuts and try to look for the river outside. Seems like it was all a shared acid trip because next morning they seriously consider it was a dream.

Maybe here they didn’t realize they were in front of a river, because “Glaciers are rivers of ice” and this is what that Ahtohallan Elsa ventured into originally would’ve looked like? The white river doesn’t know...

This is by far one of my favorite ones. I wouldn’t exactly describe post-Show Yourself as a moment of calm and peace. Maybe peace but definitely not calm. Then it says that the signal meant that “she managed to cross the sea”. That’s a really weird way to describe “horrifying ice statue of colonialist grandpa killing an innocent native man”. I don’t know if they’re hiding the actual plot here of if they hadn’t yet worked out all the details of SY and the moment Elsa found the truth.

Anna has her cloak on as she finds the truth. Readers have no idea what this enlightening truth is because the ice statue is indistinguishable.

As it shows here, the original Iduna being Northuldra reveal was going to happen in a different way. I’m glad we got that final version... Because wow, Elsa and Anna are completely unable to connect the dots here. Anna was smart enough to figure out what to do after receiving Elsa’s message, c’mon! This should’ve been piece of cake...

Iduna called Elsa “Little Snow”. This points to an alternate All is Found scene and we’ll talk about that more in depth later.

Same scene. Translation is:

“While tucking the little princesses in, Queen Iduna sang them a lullaby about a far-away river called Ahtohallan, which holds all the answers about the past.

“Does Ahtohallan know why I have powers?” asked Elsa her mother.

“If it exists, it definitely knows that and much more,” answered the Queen.

So in this earlier version, Elsa has always asked herself if Ahtohallan had the answer to her powers... Doesn’t this make Show Yourself work even better? Here she always looked for that answer and she’d learn that she is the answer. I wonder why they took it out because it makes a lot of sense and would give buildup to Show Yourself.

Here what really matters are the squares with text. Olaf never ran through moss or became covered in it. Olaf never looks down a brook to be met by Nokk’s gaze from below. Maybe it’s an alternate When I’m Older?

And relating to that particular piece of merch:

Seems like in an earlier version, the Nokk was associated with waterfalls.

Everyone shut up there’s SWORD ANNA here. Found in a coloring book. I don’t speak Italian but Google Translate says:

“Anna is a brave one: she does not hesitate to draw her sword to defend her sister Elsa and her friends from any new threat.”

GOOD FOR HER! This is definitely from the version we were shown in the teaser, when Anna wielding an actual sword and slicing someone with it was still a thing. Man, how I wanted that to happen...

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Alternate fully animated scenes found in animators’ posts

After the release of Frozen 2, animators started to post scenes they had worked on and showing the process behind them. Some of them were deleted, are different in the final movie, or have a completely different score accompanying them.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Adam Green (@agreenster) on Apr 6, 2020 at 5:31pm PDT

A completely different dialogue during the boat scene. Pretty heartbreaking and it’s even more buildup for TNRT, when Anna was left by literally everyone she loved in the planet.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Apr 14, 2020 at 8:50am PDT

Apparently, for whatever reason, Gale was going to appear in the castle first.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trent Correy (@trentanimation) on Mar 29, 2020 at 10:51am PDT

Olaf’s revival was going to be way different, and this implies that his death might’ve been different, too. Maybe his snow just dissipated and didn’t go anywhere? Maybe instead of being neatly placed by a waterfall, it fell all over the Enchanted Lands? I have no idea.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Mar 21, 2020 at 7:11pm PDT

I absolutely LOVE this one, okay, and I have no idea why they’d leave it out. Turn your sound on and listen to the much more tragic alternate score. But more importantly, pay attention when she turns to solid ice: just like in F1 with Anna, her last breath is visible. Beautiful parallels, poetic cinema, and I’m hurt and confused and I want it in the movie. Excuse me while I call the police.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mariusz Furmanczyk (@mariofurmanczyk) on Feb 26, 2020 at 5:47pm PST

Here the only change is the different score as she unfreezes. I love it so much. It’s so tragic, heavy and powerful. You can basically hear the fragility of Elsa’s fate as the ice breaks and she falls. Help. Here, here, and here, you can see other glimpses of this beautiful alternate score. Once again I’m calling the police and telling them Disney hurt my feelings by leaving this out.

I’ve hit the 5 videos limit already, but here is a link to an animation by jdublish. The change isn’t the scene itself but the completely different siren call Elsa hears. Much more ominous and creepy and I also love it, even though I have to admit the final siren call sounds catchier and more iconic. Also, kids under five won’t start crying of fear when they hear it.

Then there were also plenty of changes in the Elsa vs Nokk scene and we got to see one. Thanks to @justlookatthosesausages for pointing this out and letting me use her gif! The original video was set to private for some reason so I can’t post a Youtube link, but this is @justlookatthosesausages‘ gif:

Elsa struggled way more in the original version. Go to her post to see a comparison with the final version.

And now the awaited All is Found alternate scene! Thanks a lot to @lovewillthaw-j who helped me collect all the scenes.

First two scenes from the trailers: the Official one, Elsa looks up and Iduna gazes at the northern lights.

The Japanese one, in which Iduna kisses Elsa’s hands. @catloafs pointed that out after F2′s release so thanks!

And the last two were found by @antoineharrakblog, so thanks for that! Here and here.

BUT there’s no need to click a bazillion links because @lovewillthaw-j‘s post reconstructs in a single video what the original scene would’ve been like. Go watch it!

UPDATE: Additions by @antoineharrakblog. Thanks a lot!

Here we can see that originally, as the elements fled and Kristoff held Olaf, he yelled, “Wow, you’re heavy!”. Don’t know why this would be removed. Maybe they wanted to keep the scene serious? Maybe they needed to shorten the movie so that it didn’t exceed 100 minutes and cut little jokes like that?

And here, showing Elsa seeing how Iduna saved her father, there’s some deleted dialogue: “Get the prince out of here!” “King Runeard, what did you decide?” in addition to a much more tense score in general.

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UPDATE: Screencaps of deleted/alternate scenes

Thanks a lot to @antoineharrakblog for bringing all of these pictures to my attention! Multiples screencaps have appeared in different magazines or books that clearly didn’t make it to the movie.

Anna never makes that movement in the final movie. There’s more proof of an alternate/extended “Elsa and Anna talk” scene.

This is another one. There exists a lower quality version of this picture which I can’t find right now, but it shows that Anna and Elsa are sharing kransekake in this particular scene (the particular food that we can see at the beginning of OFA).

These are all part of the All is Found scene we’ve been talking about. In the final movie we can see that All is Found serves as a sort of “bridge” between the past and the present, as it transitions from Iduna singing the song to Elsa to Elsa in the castle, reminiscing. But originally, Iduna finished singing All is Found in the past. There’s proof of this here.

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UPDATE: Novelization deleted content

This information was provided by @theupsidedownpyramid so thanks a lot! There are some really interesting deleted scenes in the novelization.

In this one, Elsa felt the urge to release her magic after hearing the voice at the end of All is Found.

In the novelization Mattias and Yelena’s (or Yelana? Disney will never decide) relationship was a lot deeper than what was shown in the movie.

For more information and a more thorough analysis, read @theupsidedownpyramid‘s reblog!

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Miscellaneous

So there’s only one image in this section but believe me, it’s so worth it.

An animator casually mentioned that there was going to be a head kiss scene. Process it. Can’t? I can’t either.

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Wow I’m TIRED. I must’ve missed something but that’s all my brain can handle as of now. Thank quarantine for giving me the opportunity to work on this post all day.

Disney committed war crimes when they deleted some of these scenes. I have only one question: Why in the world would they do that? And more information might see the light of day in the future. I’ll never get tired of trying to piece together the convoluted puzzle that is the original Frozen 2.

I will update this post if I remember something else or if someone else has more content to share. Let’s reconstruct F2 together to visualize that movie Disney deemed too cool for us!

UPDATE: Into the Unknown: the Making of Frozen 2 Documentary finally has a concrete release date, June 26th. Let’s hope we can see more stuff then!

#frozen 2 #frozen #elsa #anna #frozen analysis #frozen 2 analysis #kristoff #sven #olaf #frozen 2 deleted content #disney

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dreamy--dolly · 4 years

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this is it. this is the angst fic i was promising.

taglist: @mordredfuckingpendragon @gringolet @kouvei-matarra @cukibola

They meet in the hazy heat of summer, when they are both very young. Though the grass is green and birds and insects hum in merry harmony on the breeze, Galahad still can’t take his mind off the scrape that bleeds red on his knee - his mother will tell him that it’s nothing to worry about, because there are people who have gotten hurt worse. So he makes his way deeper in the woods. He knows the way back - just make his way back on the straggly dirt path till the pain fades.

And then there is the boy who he finds on the path, in a blue dress stained with dirt and too-long black hair bound in a braid that’s coming undone. What he notices first about the boy is his eyes: A dark shade of blue, but still soft and sincere. He blinks at Galahad - you look pathetic, he tells himself, crying in front of someone else because Mother says you’re too old to cry - and says nothing about his tear-streaked face and loud sniffling in the quiet of the woods.

Then he sticks his tongue and and squints, twisting his face and scrunching his eyes shut.

The pain is still there but Galahad laughs, and the boy laughs with him. He does not ask and does not care that the boy wears a dress or that his hair is too long, because surely that does not matter in the end. He just has someone to laugh with in the summer, someone who will let the black-spotted ladybugs crawl up their arms and draw pictures in the dirt with him.

“What’s your name?” he asks the boy, who shuffles his fistful of flowers.

“Percival.”

“That’s a nice name. Percival. ‘M Galahad.”

“I like your name, too.”

The summer heat may make Galahad’s eyelids flicker behind his spectacles, and when he gets home he will have to answer the questions about why his knee is covered in crusted-over blood. But at least he has a friend to explore other worlds with during the summer.

Autumn comes and Percival sees angels - that’s what he tells Galahad at least. They’re climbing trees even though Percival knows he’ll tear up his dress on it (he talks about how sometimes his mother gets visitors and always talks about her “daughters” but when the visitors are gone she talks about him as her son, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.) They spend their days treading the paths of imaginary worlds they can save, kindling their own warmth in the coming bitterness of winter.

“It was at night, and I swore they were angels - just with hidden wings. They rode horses and were so beautiful I wanted to join them. Mother told me I had to go back inside, that they were knights and I didn’t want any business with them.”

Galahad climbs down from the tree. Rough bark scrapes at his hands. Then he reaches the ground and sits cross-legged, staring up at Percival who still struggles to maintain balance. The leaves are afire in red and yellow and brown and cling to his hands and legs from the greasy drizzle that’s got them slicked with rain.

“Knights?”

“Yes, knights. I don’t understand why that sounds so strange to you.”

“Mother says I have to become a knight like my father did when I get older. And I’ll be off to train in Camelot when winter comes. Which means I won’t get to see you…”

“Unless I become a knight to join you.”

That’s the first time Galahad sees what others might see through the keyhole: Percival whose mother shoves him into dresses and hides him away from a world that may not be as thorny as she makes it out to be - because perhaps there are petals, too. At least that’s what Galahad believes. You just have to snip the thorns away and the flowers won’t prick your fingers. Still, though-

“How? You really think you could do it?”

Percival clasps hold of his hands, blue eyes shining at green. “I can if I try. I promise I will.”

So that is what Galahad chooses to believe. It might be fleeting, but he’ll hold onto it while he can.

“And I’m glad you’ll try. Because if I had to train with anyone else, I’d want it to be you.”

Winter, Galahad decides, is the worst of the four seasons.

At least autumn has a prelude of warm colors before the bitter cold sets in. The snow may sparkle pristine white against the torchlight for a little bit, but after a day or two it all melts away to gray slush. He doesn’t say a word about it, though - at least he’s far away from his mother and the convent, yet there’s still his father Lancelot who seems to be infected by winter’s chill: Though he embraces his son when he sees him there is no warmth or anything Galahad thinks a father should give. The king, however, is different with his ruffling Galahad’s hair and saying how he’s heard about how he’s worked so hard.

And for him there’s something missing, stars melted away from a gray sky.

He never says anything about it, though, because that is what he was taught - if you really want to change, don’t speak with others of the worries that linger in your mind. The beetle and worm find their way into everything eventually, so why bother?

But then winter brings a visitor, who drags himself from the thorny woods through the heavy snow towards Camelot, a visitor who presents himself in the throne room with red dress tattered and dirtied, snow dusting his dark hair. But there is something alight in his eyes and it is what has brought him here in the first place. Galahad thinks it is who he thought it was, but keeps his mouth shut till Kay brings him to see the boy.

When he sees the face he’s kept in his memories, it’s like the snow melts.

Galahad elbows his way past Kay to greet him, and runs to tackle him to the ground in a hug. Here is the boy who has watched seasons fade into one another with him, shared his dreams. And he feels like home.

“I kept my promise,” Percival says.

“And I’m so glad you did.”

Spring brings magic that touches the dead branches of trees and makes the world breathe again. Three years since Percival brought a burst of warmth into winter, and by now the trees are coated with tiny green leaves and the first pale buds of flowers to come. The snow has thawed and the world is perfumed by a balmy, honeyed breeze that smells of fresh earth and new beginnings. Magic, Galahad learns, is something that people are blessed with - the reason he and Percival are at Camelot is because God gave them magic and they will use it to change the world for the better.

But he spends his time in the chapel praying for things to change, because sometimes trying is not enough. He prays for selfish things: A father that will thaw away with the dissolving snow, a mother who tries to fit him into the keyhole even though he won’t fit, for a world that is not razor-edged. He does not know if magic or even prayers will be enough, but at least there is Percival, too, who stays at his side.

Galahad uses his magic to make the flowers grow. He likes watching their stems curl from the ground and the soft petals unfurl. Today he grows flowers for Percival and thinks about the ones he wants to show him. Give him purple lilacs, Galahad thinks, and hydrangeas. And irises. And-

“What are you doing?”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is something like a fox’s cry and Galahad almost falls face first against the ground. Percival squats next to him, staring at the splashes of purple and periwinkle so bright and pale against the green.

“I was trying to grow flowers for you.”

“Any reason why?”

“No, just that you like flowers and you’d make flower crowns for us when we were young-”

(A crown of gold doesn’t suit you, Galahad thinks. It weighs too heavy on your brow, when flowers do not.)

“Wait a moment,” Percival mumbles, and he notices what Galahad half-hopes he would and would not notice. “Hydrangeas mean heartfelt emotions, irises mean faith and hope, and purple lilac-”

“Are purple?”

“Well, yes. But purple lilacs also mean first love. Don’t they?”

“Mm-hm.”

Though he lowers his head Percival still presses his fingers to Galahad’s cheeks and moves in closer. When Galahad looks up, he’s smiling.

“I hope that’s what you’re trying to say. But it’d be just as nice if you picked those because you know purple and blue are my favorite colors.”

He almost closes the gap between them before pulling away, as if disenchanted from the magic of the fragrant air. “...Can I?”

Galahad nods. He tastes sweet but a little bitter, of fresh honey and fuzz-coated peaches. He lets Percival’s hands frame his face, fingertips pressing gently at his flaxen blonde hair. And it feels like an ending, the last blotchy-inked illustration in a storybook that will close and be over. Though a part of him knows that there will be more books to follow, more books that feel like the end but still have him praying - he pushes all of that aside and pretends that this is the last page. He can take a walk in his imaginations for a little while.

He pulls away and rests back on the grass, and Percival cradles him close. They have magic and their hopes sprouting from seeds in the ground, growing against the odds and through the winter thaw, and for the moment that is all that they need.

“Hold still and let me heal you.”

Even though they are tucked safely away from the sun in the canvas tent, the heat is still stifling. Galahad stares down at the stretch of red-soaked split skin on his stomach and the bloodied patches that peek through his shirtsleeve. The fight against the chimera was not an easy one; Galahad’s wounds are a testament to that. He’d been the one to jump in when it looked like Mordred and Percival would have been knocked down. Because even though they’re untouchable - they were blessed with their magic by God, after all, they are living vicariously through the bedtime stories parents spin - there is still a part of Galahad that wonders what if there was no happy ending where they all stroll back to Camelot hand in hand, the sun setting behind them?

Percival is gentle when he heals Galahad, blue magic lighting up the tips of his fingers as he cleans off the blood with a damp towel and knits the wound closed. He exhales for a few moments, taking in what it feels like to breathe without the strain of torn muscle in his body.

“Please be careful,” Percival says softly.

It’s not easy, though, when his life is nothing. So long as everyone else gets a chance to live, that would be enough. If he had to stay without being healed so that Percival would continue to breathe, he would. And he would protect those that the chimera’s flames could burn away even if it meant he’d end up dead and unmoving by the end of it. His life may mean nothing, but death in exchange for another is something.

“I was scared you’d get hurt. What if you or Mordred had died?”

“We won’t die. We were blessed - and I’ll protect you if it looks like you’d get hurt in the process. You can protect me, but I will want you to live on in the end. Because neither of us are going to die out there - we have our magic and we’re training as knights.”

Through the flap in the tent, the first fireflies have started to come out; indeed, the heat seems less oppressive now that night is falling. And Galahad believes him. All of them will live on. Time will pass and they will grow old and gray, but that is far from now. For now and in the near future, they’re alive.

“Alright. Thank you for healing me.” He kisses Percival on the nose. It’s a secret code of theirs, one that looks like close greetings from the outside. But there’s a sort of magic between them that one cannot find in any of the books nor written spells that they have, a magic that they understand best of all.

“It’s not a problem at all. Now let’s get some rest. The trip home tomorrow will be a long one.”

They are inseparable even as autumn sets aflame everything it touches. The court oohs and aahs at the talented young knights, of the pious Galahad and the gentle Percival. Surely, if anyone were to ever encounter the Holy Grail, it would be one of them. One day he will rise and travel to find it, and Galahad thinks that maybe the Grail can grant him what his prayers cannot: A better world, a better father that he’s related to by blood because the king is more of a father to him than Lancelot is. And he wishes that were not true. It is silly and flighty and childish and most of all selfish, so Galahad does not think about it very much.

“Winter’ll be here soon.” This is how they spend their nights when Galahad’s eyelids droop yet he still cannot fall asleep, so Percival stays with him till he closes his eyes and slips into his dreams at last. The candle has been snuffed out but the navy-shadowed room still smells like wax. It’s a familiar place and a familiar smell.

“I actually didn’t like winter very much growing up. Didn’t like it because I couldn’t play outside, and I didn’t have many people to keep me company. But I like it more now.”

“Really?” Percival says. “I always thought your favorite season was spring - that was when all your favorite flowers sprung up.”

“It is. But I don’t dislike winter as much as I used to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like the winter,” Galahad confesses, “Because it reminds me of when you came to Camelot.”

Percival shifts, the covers rustling over him as he pulls Galahad close. Here in Percival’s arms they are once again untouchable, impervious to whatever will happen once the page turns.

“Where would you want to go when we get older? After the quest.”

They both know the quest will reach them and for a fraction of a moment the pedestal begins to crack. They pretend not to notice it, though, because they are focusing on the great after - their epilogue, their ending that they may not get if it means taking up the mantle of Atlas or breaking beneath the weight of the sky to sustain the rest of the world.

“Away.” Away from Camelot, away from my father - I can’t even call him ‘Father - even if it’s selfish. But it hurts here.

“I have a sister. Ended up inheriting the kingdom after her husband died in battle - her name’s Dindrane. She’s written letters to me once I visited her from Camelot. I think she’d be willing to let us stay there. It’s a big castle, with a lovely forest, and lots of trees so we can go apple-picking, and a beautiful lake to go swimming in.”

“We could still travel, though. I want to see more of the world and help more people that way.”

“Of course we will. We will travel around the world after the Grail quest - and maybe get married, too?”

“All of things. And more. But I’m getting too tired to-” Here he lets out a soft, high-pitched yawn - “-To say anything more on the subject.”

Percival laughs, soft like rain. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, Percival.” And then, to himself before he falls into a world of blurry dreams that aren’t so soft once he brushes against them: “Good night, my love.”

The night before the Grail Quest is winter and though he’s been stung before, it’s enough to make Galahad cry. Crying, he tells himself, will not solve anything - that is what Mother and the nuns taught you, and Father too even if he wasn’t there to do it. Crying is for children, and you’re no child: You’re eighteen going on nineteen, and you’re powerful enough of a knight and lucky enough to find the Holy Grail. Crying means you’re unworthy. It means you are weak.

When he hears a knock on the door and Percival’s voice on the other end he lets him in and clutches onto him, forgetting selfishness and restraint and letting the tears flow. His eyes are rimmed red and the deep gasping sobs make his throat sore and feel as though his chest might burst. He buries his head in Percival’s shoulder, tears staining his shirt and he lets go. He lets go because he knows. There are so many truths he knew from the beginning that Percival can’t comprehend and Bors remains oblivious to. And he wishes he were dead for it.

“Sorry - for crying - in front of you-”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s fine to cry.”

“I just - I just - everyone keeps comparing me and saying I’m even better of a knight than my father was and it’s horrible. I know he hates me for what I am or at least resents me for it, and I hate how the king treats me more like a son than my father does - and he treats everyone like family, so what am I to complain about special treatment? I’m just - I’m scared, and it’s selfish, and I’m not worthy, and I’m sorry. I don’t know. The Grail might not be worth it but if I think that it’s selfish. What if I make a mistake? What if I fail? What will the people of Camelot think of me then?”

Percival stays silent. He has no words of comfort to offer because they have laid the truth bare and taken it apart with a dull edged knife. They cling to each other because they are all they have left, they’re just trying to make their way through clusters of roses even though the thorns make them bleed. They know they’ll reach an ending and no matter what it is it will not be the ending they want.

“Maybe we could run away,” Percival says at last. “Forget about the Grail. You’re unhappy and I don’t want that. I heard you and Lancelot… shouting at one another. You’re not happy here. This place is not for you, not for us. So we could just leave it behind, and do good elsewhere. There’s still hope to change the world. But not here. Not like this.”

It is what they needed to hear, but it can’t be the truth. At least no one else but them would think it true. And they both know that there will be loose threads dangling if they run away now. What if they are found? What of the others at Camelot’s court that don’t hail them as the shining heroes that they really aren’t? What of Arthur himself? What of the Round Table? What then?

So Galahad lies awake wrapped in Percival’s arms. Tomorrow they will head off to find the Grail, and his father will be with them and Bors, too. And it will be his only chance to prove that he is not the selfish knight the nuns told him he must never be. If he finds the Grail then perhaps all will be right. Even though he is shattered, maybe that will be enough to plaster the broken pieces of the rest of the world back together again. But in Percival’s arms he can pretend. He can pretend that that will not happen once the sun rises.

He feels something shift next to him and moves his head a little closer against Percival’s chest.

“Please don’t go yet,” he pleads.

Percival lies back down and cradles him close, fingers combing through his hair. First Galahad closes his eyes to the darkened room dipped in dark blue, then to the morning that will come, but still lets linger the beating of Percival’s heart.

“I won’t go. I can promise that much.”

Winter sucks everything of life, and it drains whatever might be left of the person Lancelot du Lac used to be. Because a father should not be like this. Or perhaps it is the Grail, an ever present reminder of what no one at Camelot will ever have.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re slowly being forgotten? Or how it feels to look down at scars and be told that she - your mother - was young and didn’t know any better than to leave scratches and make me feel like I’d never perform miracles again? What does it feel like to walk around as a reminder of what I used to be and what I’ll never achieve now?” “And you act as though I’m happy because of it! You act like I enjoy being told those things. Except I worry about every little mistake I might make - what will people think of me then? What will happen for every selfish thought I have? And you’re so far away from me because you can’t understand that. No, you don’t want to understand-”

“Then you’re no son of mine, because everything up to now is your fault!”

Time heals all wounds. Except the scars are still there and if you scratch at the scars enough they sting, and even if you leave them alone they will always serve as a reminder that maybe you wouldn’t end up this way. For Lancelot, his scars still make him ache. So Galahad leaves him behind, because maybe the pain of his scars will fade if what brings him pain leaves.

“Galahad, I-”

“No. You spoke the truth.” He wants to weep but that is a luxury he does not have, and he must steel himself for the quest. That’s what he vowed. “I will go and fetch the Grail myself, even if it means trading my life for it in the process. I will do it for my kingdom, and for our king.”

The seasons will bleed into one another. This will be his last quest. But it’s the only way to prove to himself and to everyone else that he is all they make him out to be. And if he goes alone, there will be no one else who has to deal with the pain.

“I’m going off on my own to seek the Grail,” he tells Percival. “I know I might die. But you shouldn’t. You deserve to go on. Once I find the Grail it will be alright.” In his heart of hearts he knows that this is not what should be. He wants to travel and live on, but to want for that is far too selfish, is it not? Though he smiles at Percival through the snow, he feels like he might break.

“I love you,” Percival tells him, and pulls him close to kiss him. He does not tell Galahad that no, he should stay and continue to travel with the lot of them because both of them know that nothing will root Galahad to this place. He is not meant to grow here, to decay without the flames licking away at him till not even something burnt and broken remains. And the kiss is the first one that feels cold and full of nothing. Because that is all he is. Nothing.

“I love you, too.” This is not nothing. Galahad says that because he means it, and he knows that if he turns his back too soon he’ll never say those words again. They never really brought up those words because they both knew that it was not necessary to say with words, but now they say it because it is all they will have left.

When he turns his back he lets winter steal him away.

The seasons have passed and will continue to. The sun shines. And Galahad knows he does not have much time left - but for the others, the sun will rise and set, winter will morph into spring and summer into fall. Things will go on. He has finished his quest.

And then Percival finds him and he realizes that it didn’t mean a thing - he spent his life believing that if someone ripped away the blessings and his parenthood that he would be nothing, but the truth is that he had a chance to be something were it not for the Grail. He had a chance to be a little more of himself with Percival around, and he could have gone on not living in a shell.

So as he begins to fade, he asks Percival of one last thing: “Will you sing for me?”

He pretends that this is just another passing lullaby Percival hums to him as they both fall asleep in each other’s arms, that eventually he will wake up again and there will be a tomorrow he can move on into. That he will go on to be someone, and that they will be together without the Grail or anything above them tying them together. But that is not to be, so he wishes that Percival will realize that there is more to the world than a God that doesn’t answer their prayers and that damningly far away Grail, and that he can make the world safe little by little if he walks and clears the path.

The clock stops ticking. He can’t hear Percival sing. He closes his eyes one last time. And he smiles because he knows what he wants to know, and that this is the most important thing he has learned in the end.

He is gone, not even dust or ash in the breeze. But he still lingers - he cannot take a form that people will see, nor will his words on the wind be heard. Galahad must play the role of bystander, because he is not ready for the great after just yet. If he could talk to Percival and tell him that yes, he is there and not all gone, he would. But he can’t.

So he stays as a lingering presence at his side - a feeling of something simple like home again. He presses secret kisses to his brow, sends him quiet reminders not of his presence but that there is more beyond what he set out for, and that things will heal again.

It’s not an ending. Because if it was, they’d have reached that ending together.

But he knows he did what he could even if it wasn’t what he needed. And that maybe one day he and Percival will meet again, and end their story the way it was meant to end.

Together.

#angie.txt #arthuriana #percihad #percival (arthuriana)#galahad (arthuriana)

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jack-andthestalk · 5 years

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Our Son, Arc II, Storytime, Chapter 12

@notevenjokingfic took a small idea I had and used her wonderful mind to help me build on it for this chapter. Both she and @balfeheughlywed give me their time, advise and support and I really value it all as I know they've hectic lives outside of fanfic land. As usual @laythornmuse and @ladyviolethummingbird have been hugely helpful and supportive, and the DM's over our combined fics could fill a novel lol.

7 weeks later. Boston.

With my phone tucked under my chin and Jenny Fraser’s persistent questioning in my ear, I fumbled in the bottom of my bag in search of the house keys.

“Jenny, honestly I’m fine. We're back in a routine now, Willie is happy to see his old school friends. – I – am fine.”

“Ye have repeated fine twice, so ye must be then.” She quipped sarcastically, before her tone softened – “ye are not and I ken it well, mam and Da want to go out to see ye and Willie in a few weeks would that be ok?”

“Of course, I would love to see them, and Willie would be delighted.”

“aye,” Jenny agreed quietly. I could almost hear her mind working over the phone.

“Wot?” I blurted out more testily than Jenny deserved and kicked myself.

“Ach, it’s nothing Claire, it’s just I ken ye dinna want to talk about him, but I only wondered if ye had heard anything from Jamie? His calls are becoming less and less frequent here, Mam and Da are worrit and I – don’t want to upset ye, but there is something off about what is going on there.”

I wasn’t capable of answering without sounding bitter, but I heard the weary, worried tone in Jenny’s voice and wouldn’t hurt her for anything.

“He rings Willie every second day.” I said sighing, since the first phone call after I returned to Boston, I just hand the phone to Willie, so I haven’t really spoken to him myself – I can’t just yet.” I finished honestly.

“aye – off course Claire.”

The vice-tight grip on my heart as I even discussed Jamie was the reason I wasn’t capable of holding a conversation with him. My days and nights spent missing him, followed by the wave of gripping pain overcoming me every time I imagined him with Geneva Dunsany, her high pitched giggle haunting my dreams as I saw her, at work, at play and in his bed.

Willie tugged impatiently on my coat, “Will ye open the door mama, I’m burst’n.” I looked down at him as he danced from foot to foot while holding his crotch.

Pushing the door open, I dropped my bag and swapped Jenny to my opposite ear.

“Look I’m sure, he is just busy there Jen, it’s all new – ” I trailed off lamely. Geneva is new; I thought to myself and felt the lump run from my stomach up to my throat.

“Claire – “Jenny began hesitantly “I dinna think Jamie is busy for the reasons you do; I have spoken to him – I told ye what he said.”

I blinked back tears, “Yes you did – but I really can’t think about it anymore – I need to be strong for Willie and working myself into a weeping heap thinking of the what if’s will not help me function.” I admitted in resigned sigh.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments, and Jenny’s tone was almost unrecognisable when she spoke again.

“As mad as I am with him for putting you in this position, to even give people the chance to question him. I don’t believe it. – Claire, I heard him. There is no way that man loves anyone but ye.”

The bitterness in my retort surprised me as much as Jenny, “He doesn’t need to love her Jenny.”

I could hear static and the sound of Jenny picking something up and placing it down again. I didn’t need to see her to know she was pacing, a tell when Jenny was thinking, similar to Jamie’s fingers running a rhythm on his thigh. Fraser quirks.

“Claire – ya ken ye need to speak to him, yer not being honest with him either. “

“Not yet- its – too ” I cut off mid-sentence when my eye fell on an envelope amongst the post that was strewn across the welcome mat.

Mr William Fraser, followed by our address and in Jamie’s very distinguishable scrawl.

“Claire, are ye there?”

“Oh yes sorry- yes –yes I am.” An urgency to get Jenny off the phone made me blurt out “I promise I will talk to him soon.”

“Jen I have to go Willie needs – “

“Aye, aye, go on then I will speak to ye tomorrow.”

I heard a click at her end and grabbed the envelope from the floor ignoring the rest.

___________

Willie ripped open the package with gusto, tongue hanging from his mouth in concentration. Toppling the contents on to the table, he clutched something resembling a brightly illustrated, bound journal.

He cast it up into the air and excitedly declared “Da send me a book.”

“So it would seem” I replied throwing my dubious gaze over it.

The front cover was a sweeping landscape of fields and meadows, a little mole family standing front and centre arms and hands entwined with each other. I only needed to glance once to know that it was Jamie’s work. He had inherited Ellen’s artistic streak, and often drew funny cartoon characters to entertain Willie, this work had the same detailed sketching but with bright wisps of colour illuminating it.

It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to buy or send books to Willie; bedtime story was their thing whenever they were together. Jamie excelled at it, he read animatedly to Willie, giving each character a funny accent, making background sounds and explaining any detail Willie failed to grasp. In the short time he had lived together in Lallybroch I found myself being lulled into Willie’s room at night to hear Jamie read to him.

The bound storybook I held in my hand now, was a first; Jamie had made an actual book just for Willie.

The title at the top of it read, The Mole family and at the bottom, it said written and illustrated by James Fraser.

“Look Mama” Willie was jumping up and down excitedly, “those moles are us, see.” His little finger jamming each animal. “The big mole looks like Da, he is really tall and has red curly hair, and he is wearing a kilt!” Willie’s eyes were wide as saucers as his gaze drifted to the littlest of the moles, who was wearing Willie’s favourite jeans, sweater combo, this mole had the same straight floppy red hair as Willie that made it so easy to pick him from a crowd.

“That one is me –” he continued voice getting pitcher with each similarity he could find “oh and look” – he almost screeched – “that pretty mole is you, mama.”

I had never seen a pretty mole before and had to admit the mole Willie was now jabbing eagerly, was quite eye-catching, and there was little doubt this mole was female.

She stood out from the rest of her family, wearing a pretty floral dress resembling something I owned and wore regularly, a matching flower stuck in long curly hair. However, what made her different to the others wasn’t just her lack of red hair or feminine wardrobe, it was the detail Jamie went to in adding golden flecks to her eyes making them look like they were glowing. She had long fluttering eyelashes sweeping wide across her upper lid and a wide smile lighting her face. Her femininity was further emphasised by the usual lack of roundness moles typically possessed, this mole had an accentuated curvy figure with a controversial voluptuous cleavage for a children’s book.

Jamie had further personalised this mole to resemble me by adding a shiny stethoscope, which hung loosely around her neck.

I bristled at the happy little family bounding up from the page, suddenly angry at whatever Jamie was trying to pull off. Paint a picture of a happy mole family running through a pretty garden, make it resemble the woman you fucked over and all should be forgiven?

Willie peeked inside the front cover which had an inscription a printed version of Jamie’s scrawl, he hastily thrust the book into my hand, “what does it say mama?” rubbing his little hands together, smile wide and brimming with delight.

I inhaled deeply as I glanced at the typescript and cursed Jamie with everything I possessed.

“Well” I began evenly, “the name is called the Mole Family” I traced my finger lightly over the title. Imagining Jamie bent over a desk plotting his story out.

Willie nodded his head, “aye and what does that say at the bottom?”

I puffed out an incredulous breath and damned Jamie Fraser to hell and back.

“It says: Mama please read this to Willie, all my love Da.”

My childish heart felt like picking up my phone and texting him to read his own bloody story.

However, I wouldn’t deprive Willie of anything and certainly not something that had lit up his whole face the way this book had.

Letting out a shaky breath I told Willie to brush his teeth and to hop into bed, “I will be there in a minute.”

________

Holding Willie under the crook of my arm I opening the first page of Jamie’s book, feeling ridiculously nervous for someone about to undertake what most parents routinely went through every evening. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this book was more than just a bedtime story.

Once upon a time, way up in the Scottish highlands lived a mole family.

Da Mole, Mama Mole and Baby Mole.

They loved their home, and their little farm and being together –

Jamie had illustrated each page, showing the moles living and working happily on their farm, to build the story he had included the moles with different types of dialogue, riding horses, playing with the baby mole, all lending to the storybook happy family image most children’s books captured.

I turned a page to find the mole family standing outside a house that looked eerily familiar to what the finished product of our house at Lallybroch should have looked like; Willie didn’t seem to notice my hesitancy at turning the next page, as if I was waiting for something to explode from the book.

Willie pointed at the smallest mole riding a large black horse, tilting his head up to look at me,

“look mama I’m riding Donas” he declared proudly.

“So you are.” The next page showed the mole talking to a new family of animals. “What are those?” Willie asked, his brows creased in confusion. “Wait until I get to that bit” my curiosity had me skimming ahead quickly, suddenly desperate to know where this story was going.

One day a weasel family came to visit. They asked Da mole to go and work for them at their home, far away from Scotland. Da Mole didn’t want to work for the Weasel family, so he said no thank you, he would hate to leave Mama mole and baby mole. However, the Weasels were a mean family and _____

My heart beat fast in my chest as I read on to Willie, revealing the Weasel family threatened and fought with the moles until Da mole went with them.

Willie’s brow creased and his chin dimpled while he listened to each twist and turn.

I couldn’t deny I was more familiar with the beginning of the story but once I turned the page to see Da mole working at the weasel farm and a new character introduced on the page next to him. I almost forgot I was reading a four-year-old story and found my eyes jumping ahead as I eyed a puffin dressed in a police uniform that Jamie had drawn in great detail.

The puffin had floppy blonde hair, with boggle eyes, he was dressed head to toe in police uniform.

Da mole was working one day on the Weasel farm when Puffin the policeman came to see him –

My lips trembled, and my sweaty palms fumbled with the pages as I read over the piece about the policeman to Willie and again in my head. The policeman said the weasels had a lot of money that didn’t belong to them, and if Da mole could pretend to be their friend, the weasels might show Da mole where they hid their money.

I almost forgot to read the bit to Willie where the puffin would watch and listen to everything Da mole did so he could catch the weasels I was so intent on working out what this meant for Jamie in Hellwater.

“ye skipped a bit mama” Willie pushed his hand to where the puffin was observing Da mole from a distance.

As the story played out, I found myself ignoring Willie’s requests to put different accents on the animals as Jamie did. Instead carefully piecing together the plot Jamie was laying out, and the message he sent when the policeman told the mole of the risks to his family should they find out what he was doing.

Jamie had worked towards Willie seeing how much the mole missed his family, a little thought cloud bubble over the mole’s head, imagining what it would be like to be home again in bed with his family all of them curled up contently in one bed.

Willie’s head bent solemnly, “that’s like pur Da.”

I turned the next page to images and text of Da mole befriending the weasels so that they led him to the money. Willie complained I was reading too fast.

The quality of the bedtime story taking a backseat as I grappled to understand what this all meant.

As I reached the last few pages, Da mole was stood in a room filled with money, showing it to a little army of puffins. Willie laughed at the funny caricature faces Jamie had given each one.

I licked my lips nervously as the story concluded with Da mole back and happy with his family. The weasels locked up. Willie sighed contentedly, “that was sooo good mama, will ye read it one more time?”

I could barely stop myself from tearing out of the room to scan the book alone. Turning off the light I promised Willie I would read it one more time in the morning before school.

A few minutes later I was bent over the book in the kitchen, going through each detail. Panic rising in my belly as I examined each picture again, this time noticing small details that my addled brain had missed, the puffin pointing at a phone and telling the mole not to use it, ‘if the weasels should find out.” Written in the dialogue box about the puffins head.

I let my fingers feel each drawing, feather-light touching the words images of Jamie plotting, planning and taking the time to sketch something to match each twist and turn so that he could tell me a story.

This wasn’t the action of someone who was cheating with another woman; this was someone who was caught and still found a way – to make me see.

My fingers suddenly felt something like brail along the last page.

I traced each letter with my finger before hastily jotting it on a notepad beside me.

Gaelic words, I knew few but recognised the first two instantly. Jamie used the first one when he slipped his ring on my finger. My bhean, my wife. The second he regularly used when talking about Willie. Mo Mhac, my son.

I grabbed my phone from the table and typed in the last two, tears flowing down my cheeks when the translation popped up on the screen.

Mo bhean

Mo mhac

Mo h-uile rud.

Na dìochuimhnich

My Wife, My Son, My everything, don’t forget.

#ourson #outlander fanfic

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saintmachina · 5 years

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(First, I just noticed that the “inquire” button has the i and u switched!) Second, I sent this question before but I think tumblr ate it so forgive me for double-asking! I loved Robbergirl so much and am dying to know more about how they express themselves through clothes...when you imagine them, what kind of clothes do they love? Hate? Feel best in? How would they themselves describe their style? What is their dream item?? Please feed me through beautiful clothing imagery!! 💎

Hello, thanks for asking about my girls! Here’s the link to my wintery sapphic Snow Queen retelling for anyone who wants it before we begin.

I’ll start by saying that while I chose to historically situate the book in early 1700s Sweden, I avoided pinning down the historical setting too much in order to preserve the dreamy fairytale-like quality of the original story and also, quite frankly, because I’m not the best at historical research. I did do a good deal of it for ROBBERGIRL, especially on geography, military and religious history, weather, and Sami culture, but a fairy tale with historical elements does not a historical novel make, full disclosure.

Helvig always wears that leather vest mentioned that’s outfitted with all kinds of secret pockets for hiding stolen treasures in, just like her father’s coat. I always imagined her in breeches and scuffed boots and some grimy half-open red blouse, running through the forest so fast she gets little cuts on her cheeks from the tree branches. Canonically she has a mess of loose, curly red-brown hair which she wears with some matted braids threaded through. While she can sometimes give in to a little vanity (remember that ruby earring she stole and likes to wear) she isn’t a very fashion-minded girl. She cares more about functionality and comfort and looking imposing enough to scare passing merchants. However, I think if she every had the opportunity, she might like to try on finer clothes! Maybe not a full-skirted corseted dress, but maybe a nice brocade jacket for optimum swashbuckling, or a damask bodice to accentuate her figure.

Gerda, on the other hand, is very fastidious about her appearance, or as much as she can be while living on the road, and hype feminine in presentation. She has all that long blonde hair that she keeps in two braids fastened with little spherical adornments, which was inspired by this Arthur Rackham illustration of “The Frog Prince”.

Her dress is described as being many-layered and long and made up of fabrics in the colors of cream, sea foam, and moss. It’s supposed to evoke all those “fairy tale princess” dresses from storybooks and also the cold beauty of winter.

Gerda spends a lot of time making sure she looks as presentable as possible, which is partially a survival mechanism since being beautiful and polite has gotten her this far, and partly because she loves beauty and finds it worthy of her time and curation. Helvig likes beautiful things too, but she’s more likely to find a crock of gold or snowy landscape beautiful than a pair of embroidered slippers. Like these ones, similar to the ones Gerda wears!

(SOURCE: http://twonerdyhistorygirls.blogspot.com/2015/03/heels-or-flats-two-pairs-of-18thc.html)

#robbergirl #helvig #gerda #awaveofheadsdidturn #people of the page

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derryleadera · 4 years

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@korezni said : ‘ they write that i’m happy. they know that i’m not. ‘

1 bill denbrough cuts a rug

if bill denbrough were a smarter man , he’d know not to let his emotions run too high , the sleeve of his thick blue sweater pulled up to cover up his immensely huge heart , taking much more precaution when walking around the busy & glamorous streets of hollywood he has now come to call his home. a place like this will eat you up billy , came susan’s voice in the back of his head , serving as some strange , mock guardian angel during moments of deep thought & contemplation. you gotta keep yourself ready for anything ! remember to focus on the work , don’t waste it all away for a pretty face ! there’s a soft laugh that leaves his lips at that , knowing that despite the warning , it was already much too late to avoid that. of course , it wasn’t his pretty face that garnered his attention , although it certainly wasn’t something he could ignore ------ the royal’s perfectly chiseled features like something out of a storybook illustration , hair that was once cut at a military length when he first met him , now growing out & much softer , the look suiting when paired with his gray coat & bright , hazel eyes so full of warmth & contentment , particularly when the writer was near. wow , he hadn’t meant to fall for him , he wasn’t looking for that at all when they first met , romance the last thing on his mind. nik produced his first movie , so , of course , bill had to get to know him , both curious to find out that not only was his financier a wealthy fan , but royalty from an unknown country ( or nation ? he wasn’t much for maps , that was eddie kaspbrak’s job , the town compass ... who’s eddie kaspbrak ? ). working closer with him turned their partnership into a deep , close friendship , one that bill had been more than thankful for since the day he came to los angeles , just as some guy from maine with a typewriter , a suitcase full of musty clothes & a dream. one movie became two , & then another & then , it seemed that nik was to be his permanent producer for all of the projects that adapted his stories , ensuring that the film directors & actors did their best to capture bill’s words properly for other audiences to see. such devotion & kindness from such a man made it easy for the lonely author to fall for him , their first kiss nothing short of romantic , followed by more sweet gestures , their usual hand holding now laced with more meaning between their fingers. their love was something bill had never imagined for himself , but now it was everything he wanted & more. unfortunately , there was a catch , of course there was. the greatest love stories always had some sort of conflict tossed in , making the reunion between the two all that much sweeter , uniting them in a bond that would seem unbreakable. as much as the young , would be king wanted to anchor his heart here , here with bill in his home , where they sat eating dinner together , the record player playing a soft , mournful sounding instrumental in the background , he couldn’t. responsibilities back in ravka called him back often , & it wasn’t as though they were something he could ignore. weeks have turned into months & the separation would always take its toll , despite all the phone calls & letters they would exchange between one another. now that they knew how deeply they felt about each other , there was no turning back. waiting for him was hard enough , & bill feared the day nik would leave for ravka , only to never come back. not by choice , but by necessity. christ , he thinks , sipping at his wine that they paired along with their dinner ( an eggplant parmesan ------ bill forever thankful by how kind the royal was for finding dishes they could both share & enjoy ) , blue eyes cast over to his boyfriend , his melancholy gaze mirroring his own.

they were connected in such a way that sometimes , words were not needed. him , a wordsmith of sorts , never had to speak whenever he was with nikolai. & truth be told , there was a comfort in not needing to say or describe everything that was happening , to know that with one look , his lover could figure out exactly what he was thinking & feeling. but this time , the royal does speak , & his words raise such a concern that bill puts his fork down , hand immediately reaching over to gently grab his , the gloves are off & always are whenever it was just the two of them. of course the people in ravka would think that he was happy & content with how things were going , never once imagining that perhaps the royal didn’t want all this responsibility in the first place , that maybe , just maybe , he wanted to have a normal , mundane life where he could stay here , stay with with him , stay in his little apartment & visit him on set or in his own home whenever he pleased. nik had to leave in the morning , & bill knew that just like him , the trips were wearing on the royal too. not seeing him smile did things to the author’s heart , feeling like a gutted fish to see ruined features so sad & almost mournful. to end their night like this when they’d go at least a few weeks without seeing one another again ( only a few weeks he hopes ) was something bill couldn’t let stand. so he wouldn’t.

a plan is set in motionas bill release his boyfriend’s hand from his grasp , scooting his chair back with a loud creak against the wooden floor , offering nik his infamous , tired smile , reserved in the evenings when they were alone. there’s an unmistakable twinkle in his eye , one that could only mean he was planning something , a crazy , half - baked idea that , he hopes , would be the medicine the royal needed to be at ease for the evening. heading straight for the record player that sat in bill’s living room , he lifts the needle up to turn off that retched classical piece ( not that he hated classical , but fur elise did send shivers up his spine for some god awful reason ) & switch it for something a little more lively. a smile grows across his cheeks as he spots a familiar record kept in a nearby pile ------ a frankie valli & the four seasons record he got with nik on one of their many trips to the record store. an oldie , but a goodie ! removing the sleeve off of the old record , bill placed it on & returns the needle back in place , the music slowly starting. you’re just too good to be true , can’t take my eyes off of you ! you feel like heaven to touch , i wanna hold you so much ! as the music plays , bill walks over to the royal & takes his hand in his own , not waiting for a response before tugging him up onto on his feet & leading him across the living room , stopping only when there was enough room for them to move. dancing had become a past time for them , funny enough , as bill had never been much of a dancer his whole life. but with nik ? he felt like he could sway with the best of them , confidence in his chest rising as he takes the lead , moving with him as he began to sing along to the words , unafraid if he sounded out of tune or ridiculous ------ it was only meant for him. ❝ ... at long last love has arrived , & i thank saints i’m alive , ❞ he added in that word for him , hoping it would be enough to garner a giggle as his own smile grows more crazy & playful , the swaying movements turning more fast paced as he pulls him into a swing like dance , laughing as he sings between bursts of air. ❝ i love you baby ! & if it’s quite alright , i need you baby ! to warm the lonely nights , i love you baby ! trust in me when i say ! ❞

the laughter begins to die down as their bodies collide against one another , blue gaze meeting hazel & , oh ------ in the dim lighting of his home , it really made nik look more lovelier than he didn’t think possible. christ , he thinks , his singing subsiding as the record continues , the last few words couldn’t have hit closer to home : ... now that i've found you stay & let me love you , baby , let me love you ... ❝ nik , ❞ came the author’s breathless tone , tip toeing up to capture his lips before waiting to hear him speak , his heart feeling so full , he swears it could almost burst. bill knows nik is struggling with leaving & this show of love & fun , what he could have every night if he wasn’t of royal blood , only makes the pain of leaving all that more hurtful. bill just didn’t want things to end on a bad note , but it was sort of inevitable when no matter how happy they are , he still had to leave. for ravka , for his nation. ❝ i love you , “ he whispers against his lips , body still pressed close as they sway together , less to the tune of the record & more to a rhythm of their own design. ❝ i wish you didn’t have to leave ... i want you to stay. i want you to move in with me , i .... i just want you. no titles , nothing. just ... you. ❞ don’t waste it all away for a pretty face ! came susan’s voice again , but he wouldn’t listen. bill denbrough would give up the movie business all together if it meant nik could stay here with him ------ pretty face or not , he was more than worth it. love made it worth it.

norman fucking rockwell starters / not accepting !

#korezni #📘 * ´ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ &. ⠀ answered — answer the call.#📘 * ´ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ &. ⠀ v — sweep the streets i used to own.#long post //#( don't ever let me read before writing a response sjjkfkjgdnjgn )#( this got long )#( but.... wow the love and devotion ... these two have it ! )

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the-drawinggarden · 4 years

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Art had always been a huge part of my life,my Mom was an artistic spirit who could create anything & it would be exquisite.I learned that picking up anything,was a door to create something wonderful. I loved drawing & writing, but it wasn't until junior high when I began taking "art classes" that I was introduced to the foot stomps of "follow the rules of art" or you're not doing it right. It's not acceptable.I got kicked out of art classes because I was disrupting class. My Mom's support helped me understand I didn't need the approval of a very disgruntled teacher to validate I was an artist.Two years ago this January I lost my best friend, my greatest cheerleader, my heart, my Mom. There are no words to ever describe the ache and heartbreak you will experience when you lose your Mom. There is no one in the world to compare to her.I didn't get to say goodbye,to tell her how much I loved her, how badly I needed her to stay, I was then & now unable to understand how to breathe, to live without her.For all most two years art disappeared for me. Just now in the past few months, I've started drawing again, my husband and I moved back home and slowly I've gone through my Mom's art room and seen her sketches, her projects.Art was the one passion we shared, something that I think connected us, which helps me still feel connected to her.She always told me how much she wanted me to one day finally illustrate my own storybook, to share the things I made with the world. So though every day is a struggle, and her art room is still torn upside down because sometimes it's just too much to go through her things and be in her room that has so much of her spirit in it. Every day I try to create one more piece of art, to get me that much closer to achieving the dream she wanted for me.And it's not easy,I still can't talk about her without breaking and sitting in front of my laptop in tears.But I keep trying for her, for us.Every finished art piece, is just one more special gift for her, and I hope she's watching, I hope they make her smile.Because I'm trying.One day at a time. #erikathegoober150kgiveaway #erikathegoober #huiontablet #huion #artistlife #art #illustration — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/39C2U6f

#Instagram #IFTTT

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houseofvans · 7 years

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ART SCHOOL | Q&A w/ Alex Chiu (PDX)

From hyper color drawings, doodles to wood cut outs and even full blown costumes, artist Alex Chiu brings to life some truly fun and imaginative creations. Not just one thing, Alex not only makes comics, animations and sculptures, but also worked as an art instructor at Walters Cultural as well as created a fun online show the MAZZY Show, where he cooks with his daughter Mazzy. We’ve excited to chat with Alex, who is getting ready to work on a mural for Portland Transit, and learn about his approach to drawing, his favorite medium, and about his upcoming project with Portland Transit.

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself Hello! My name is Alex Chiu. I currently live in Portland, Oregon. I am an illustrator, arts educator, and stay at home dad. I’ve been doing art professionally for about 10 years now. My life has changed a ton since I had a baby a couple years back. I’m figuring out how to balance a lot of things now. For fun I tend to watch a lot of dumb internet videos. I get sucked into video threads and end up watching YouTube garbage. It’s my favorite thing to do.

When did you first start drawing? And what’s the earliest thing you remember making? I started drawing at a very young age. I remember drawing sharks and fish over and over. As an adult I’ve found notebooks with pages completely covered with shark and fish drawings. The notebooks were pretty dense and obsessive. I still love to draw for the sake of filling up blank space.

You have a true doodler/drawing style–your works fill up the space imaginative and organically. Can you tell folks what your art process is like? Do you sit with a blank sheet and just freestyle or do you find yourself adding stuff here and there? I started drawing all the time when I was around 19 or 20. Drawing was therapeutic for me and really helped me escape from the worries and stress of day to day life. I loved the freedom of letting the image develop on its own over time. I used to start with a blank page and just go at it with ink. Now a days I plan a lot more and think about composition and color scheme, but I still create work with the same sense of freedom.

From paintings, drawings, digital, sculptures, murals to comics, what’s your favorite medium that you’ve done so far? What’s been the most difficult medium you’ve tried? And, what’s a medium you’ve yet to try, and are dying too? Currently I really love stop motion clay animation. The process is very automatic and from the subconscious; very similar to my drawing/doodling process. I would love to convert my garage into a stop motion studio and create my own short films. The most difficult medium for me is comics. I’m not much of a writer, and it’s much more difficult to create stream of consciousness work in comics. I have started many comic pages and have left 80% of them unfinished.

One of our favorite mediums you do are the comic you draw. When did you start drawing your first comics? What is it about comics that you love so much? Comics are fun for me and I love reading them, but they are super challenging for me to create. I started focusing on comics when I moved to Portland. One of my first, full stories was published in a “free comic book day” compilation called Master P’s Theater. I drew a four page comic about a warrior rabbit called Butter Knives. It was published by Sparkplug / Teenage Dinosaurs/ Snakebomb Comics in 2013. I now regularly submit comic strips to Pork Magazine and one page stories to a comics newspaper called Vision Quest.

As a kid, I loved looking at comics for visual inspiration. I was always blown away at the skill of comic book artists. To this day, I don’t know how people do it. I view comics as a warrior’s art form. The energy, planning, and artistic ability it takes to write and draw comics and graphic novels is ridiculous. I look up to full time comics artists a lot.

Who are your favorite artists at the moment both past or contemporary? My favorite filmmaker is Alejandro Jodorowsky. He is my absolute favorite creative person on earth. I hope he lives forever. Theo Ellsworth is a comics artist that has also changed my life. I also hope that he lives forever. Shout outs to Skinner, Eatcho, Wishcandy, Anna Vo, and Tripper Dungan. I dig their work too.

Tell us about your work as an art instructor? What did you teach and how was that experience? What would you say to folks looking to follow a path as an art instructor? I have been an art instructor for about 5 or 6 years. I teach kids and retired folks at art centers all over Portland and surrounding cities. Some of the classes I’ve taught include basic drawing, comics, animation, zine-making, and print making.

Just because an artist is good at art doesn’t make them a good teacher. Over the years I’ve learned that teaching and art making are two very different things. It definitely took time to break things down so people could learn. Teaching has more to do with communication and understanding how people work. The key is to recognize the different ways that people approach art making and learn to help them steer rather than telling them what to do.

You’re currently working on a mural for Portland Transit? How did you get involved with Portland Transit, and tell us about your mural? I was recently hired by Portland Trimet to paint a mural. The Regional Arts and Culture Council were the ones that put me in touch with Trimet. I was accepted onto the local Portland muralist roster in 2016 based on indoor murals that I have done in the past.

This mural is going to be done in a very different style than I normally do. I have been using photo reference for this entire process and will be depicting things in a much more realistic style. The space that I am painting has very long sections of low walls. I’m choosing to handle each section as a panel in a comic. I will be painting a storybook-like narrative about a day in the life of my 2 year old daughter as she interacts with members of her community. I’m deliberately highlighting the cultural diversity and community interaction as the central themes of this project.

Having recently moved to Portland, how did you go about finding illustration work? Do you find social media helpful for that or do you have a different approach? Before I moved to Portland, I had met a number of people through the comics and art conventions. I had shown work at Grasshut Gallery, owned by Bwana Spoons and had been acquainted with people like Jason Leivian, owner of Floating World Comics, and Scrappers, who was the arts editor of the Mercury at the time. Portland was a very welcoming city and I was accepted into the arts and comics community very quickly. I’ve been able to work on a ton of fun projects, with super talented people. One project always seems to lead to another. I’ve yet to experience a lull in creative opportunities and inspiration. Portland is a great city to be an artist.

Yes, social media is great when it comes to sharing your artwork. I enjoy the instant feedback I get from posting something online. Occasionally, I get fun and interesting opportunities from requests on social media platforms. I’ve built relationships with artist and fans from around the world with social media. I love it. I still miss MySpace.

Favorite Vans? VW Bus, Eurovan, Toyota Previa

You also have an awesome family as well as super cool daughter Mazzy who you cook with and stars in your videos called the MAZZY SHOW. These cooking videos with Mazzy have blown up all over the internet and are really adorable. Was this just something you did because you were cooking with her a lot? Or was it just something creative for you to work on while you’re on dad duty? I started doing the Mazzy Show to make being a stay at home dad more fun. It’s been a dream of mine to start a YouTube Channel, so I thought I’d start one with my daughter so I could do something creative with her. Our first video was a pizza making video and the cooking theme just stuck. I don’t normally cook a ton, but this project has taught me a lot of new recipes and sparked a growing interest in cooking. People tend to like the Asian recipes that we do. Some of our most popular videos include bubble milk tea, BBQ pork steamed buns, and mochi.

What would you tell someone who is looking to follow in your footsteps? What is some of the best and worst advice you’ve gotten that you’d like to share? My best advice is to keep creating and have fun with your art. If you’re not enjoying what you’re doing, do something else. The worst thing that you can do is turn art making into a burden. Also, don’t feel pressured to be a “professional” artist. The key is to keep making art, be a part of the creative community, and enjoy life.

What’s coming up for you the rest of 2017? What about MAZZY :)? Life is totally unpredictable for me. At this moment I am preparing for my mural project. We’ve taken a break from The Mazzy Show for the past month or so because I’ve become busier. I hope to keep making more videos with her. Maybe we’ll do something different from cooking. I’ve been wanting to work on more animated videos. I’ve also been wanting to make music. Maybe Mazzy and I will start a band or something.

Follow Alex Chiu Instagram | @artbyalexchiu Website | Alex Chiu

#Art #vansart #alex chiu #drawing #interview #art school #portland #comic #inspiration

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mybookplacenet · 5 years

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Featured Artist Interview: Wendy K Gray

Tell us about yourself and your art.: Hi, I'm Wendy K Gray, Voice Over Actor and Creator of Sidewalk Stories! A series of self-published problem-solving books, coloring books, audio books, APPS and songs for kids! Sing the "Stop Think Act" song with Bethany Butterfly and problem-solve at the Magical ACB Sidewalk! Which Sidewalk path will they choose, Option A, B or C? As a professional voice over actor of twenty years I voiced all my audio books, write and sing all the songs and even make all videos on youtube. I don't draw, at least not well. This, I leave to the brilliant, Kate Shannon. I love coloring which is why we made ALL the stories into coloring books. Yes! The exact story book made into a coloring book. What inspired you and your art style? Creating Sidewalk Stories began from the Sidewalk Stories Theme Song I wrote while out walking in the Los Angeles neighborhood I lived in. I sat down on the sidewalk and watched an entire world going on around me. By the time I got home, I was racing into the recording booth to lay down the Theme Song. The characters and stories developed from there and are simply little pieces of me... all from a song I wrote. When searching for a children's illustrator I discovered Kate Shannon on the internet. I saw a drawing of a Moon, in a row boat, smiling, on the water. I knew she was the one for Sidewalk Stories! Do you have any unusual drawing habits? I drew the original sketch I sent to Kate in Ireland. It's embarrassing but she got the idea of the habitat I wanted to create. She is such a pro. I can't believe how fast she is and how expressive she has made the Sidewalk Stories cast. You can follow the entire story in each coloring book, without the words, because of Kates Shannons drawings. What artists have influenced you? I will forever be a fan of Jim Henson, The Muppets, Sesame Street, Fraggle Rock and Peyo (the pen name of Pierre Culliford) who created The Smurfs. But also Seth MacFarlane who stepped in eleven years ago to help me get some meetings and pitch Sidewalk Stories as an animated series, which is still my ultimate goal. I think it's wonderful that Adult Coloring has become so popular. My first one was gift, Darice Garden Flowers Do you have any advice for new artists? Practice and be prepared. The best thing we can all do for ourselves is to be ready when opportunity comes knocking. If you love what you do, keep doing it. I get tired sometimes. In fact, eleven years ago I quit working on Sidewalk Stories. It sat on my shelf until 2017 when I was interviewed on Ryan Drean's Podcast about my success as a voice over actor. I didn't know what to talk about, since I am rather private. I wondered, what makes WKG interesting? I talked about Sidewalk Stories and my wild adventures of trying to get the show idea made. Reminiscing about my big dreams of sharing Sidewalk Stories with the world I realized I had lost hope, the death of a dream. I had quit! Now, I am going to finish what I started eleven years ago. Even if I have to pay for it myself. And when Netflix is ready to talk... I will be ready! What do you think makes a good illustrator/designer? For me, as my story is a little different than the other artists on this site, it's being able to understand and envision the story, the brand, the idea. For example, when I send Kate the story I try to be descriptive in my words of what action is taking place but she can see beyond the page of words. Like I said, you can follow the story through her illustrations without the "story" actually being there. That... is a great illustrator! Practice and willingness to try new things has made her even more amazing to work with. What is the best advice you have ever heard? I couldn't wait for success so I went ahead without it. A tidbit from Mary Tyler Moore. What are you reading now? Jodi Picoult - Songs of the Humpback Whale. What's your biggest weakness? Tough one....I should probably take my own advice from Sidewalk Stories and sing the "Stop Think Act" song before I make decisions, approve material, purchases, ect and slow down! What is your favorite book of all time? A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle but a very close second is, Phantom Toll Booth by Norton Juste. How well do you work under pressure? I put a lot of pressure on myself. But when it comes to Sidewalk Stories, I enjoy it! I have been told that I am resilient. When something I try doesn't work out I quickly assess and then move on to the next idea. Don't get my wrong, self-publishing is a ton of work and when it's your own money there is even more pressure to be successful. But worrying about things never helped anyone get anywhere. So I take a break to rejuvenate and gather my energy and hope and I just put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Why did you become a graphic designer/illustrator? Let's change this question to.... Why did you create Sidewalk Stories? This answer is probably they same for any creative person, because I had to. What are you working on now? Just finished loading the first interactive-storybook APP onto google. Next up is the digital coloring book and audio book combined for iBooks and Google APPS. Right now, I am working on the final book in the Sidewalk Stories series. In this adventure, the cheerful and dedicated problem-solver, Bethany Butterfly, decides that retiring from trying to fly is how she will solve her problem of not being able to fly. She quits. Kate Shannon will draw her hanging up her wings, in a new career, and talking with the universe about quitting. What is your method for promoting your work? This is the most difficult part of self-publishing. Not going the traditional route of getting an agent and publisher, I book my own events like Farmers Markets, Art Events, Schools, Libraries ect. I have also done ads on Google, Facebook and Amazon. Sidewalk Stories is about solving problems. Getting it made and getting it out there has been my problem to solve. What has been your most successful graphic design project? Why? "The Lemonade Landing Mat" has the most reviews. Since I see the sales of my books on Amazon I can tell you "How Otis Oaktree Opened His Eyes" is very popular. "Meet Moby Mutt" is right behind. I submitted "Today Is The Day" to Kirkus Reviews so we will see what they have to say. If I had to pick one book I like the best of Kates drawings it would the Otis book. With an Octopus, a Preying Mantis, Mother Nature, and the 1982 hailstorm...it's extraordinary! What's next for you as an artist? It's difficult for me to wait and see what happens with Sidewalk Stories because I am eager for the world to love it! We have two more stories to complete the series, one problem-solving story and a Christmas Sidewalk Stories Starter book for beginner readers. Both will have coloring books, of course! Kate is building the interactive animated "Meet Moby Mutt" for iBooks/Google apps. And has also put out her book and coloring book The Harvest Moon Takes A Dip, the story of the Moon in a boat that caught my eye eleven years ago! I'm continuing to write and voice the stories and music and push forward. Like Mary Tyler Moore said, "I could'n't wait for success so I went ahead without it!" Artist Websites and Profiles Wendy K Gray Website Wendy K Gray Amazon Profile Wendy K Gray's Social Media Links Facebook Profile Twitter Account Instagram Account YouTube Account Read the full article

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raijuto · 7 years

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Genji, Mccree, Reaper, Bastion, Hanzo, Mei, Torbjorn, Widowmaker, Reinhardt, Zarya, Roadhog, DVA, Winston, Lucio, Ana, Zenyatta, Symmetra

Genji: Any body modifications you want but are too scared to get?Hmm, not really? I find them pretty unnecessary when people don’t really need them to be honest. I am content with how I am now as well and wouldn’t want to change anything, at least not like that.McCree: What’s your #1 guilty pleasure?Sappy, cheesy, romantic stories :’D Especially in Disney. Secretly I’m a huge hopeless romantic and can get immersed in stories like Beauty and the Beast or other cheesy ones. They just have something magical I guess, lol.Reaper: Tell us about an embarrassing middle school/high school phase.I used to call myself emo when I was around 12-13?? I didn’t even know what it meant back then, but it was cool at the time and more people became it, so I just tried to go with the flow. I failed of course though (luckily). I also had a sparklewolf phase with my art, in which I only created super ugly coloured wolves and what not. Ah yes, it was the time of the wolfaboos.Bastion: Which animal can you see becoming your lifelong partner?Aaaa, this one is so hard ;n; I can’t choose one.. I think I would want both a cat and dog in the future, so those two will have to do. Right now I do have a cat though and he is totally my partner for life Hanzo: What advice would you give to your younger self?Don’t trust someone you like too easily, but also learn to let those who do treat you correctly into your life. Something like that.Mei: Favorite flavor of ice cream.Chocolate!Torbjörn: Name three first things that pop into your head.My cat, Overwatch, Panda’s.Widowmaker: Last instance that really tested your patience.Back a few weeks ago when I was in the train and a baby was screaming the whole time. I can’t handle that, for real. Screaming children are the worst and I almost walked out of the cabin :IReinhardt: What is the thing you love most about yourself?I am sensible I guess, which has been protecting me from situations before or just prevents me from doing stupid things lol.Zarya: How do you bounce back from difficult situations?Usually I try to distract myself by gaming or reading fiction, then I usually start to feel slightly better and try again to do what I wanted to. Also sometimes just forcing myself and then feel okay afterwards.Roadhog: Bacon, sausage, or neither?Ah, this one is hard hm.. I think bacon, as I don’t eat that as much as sausages.D.Va: Of which accomplishment are you most proud?Can’t really think of anything too big at the moment, but I guess right now, making my own activity and story books at my internship, which I have one of printed as well. It’s nice to see your hard work printed in your hands and know it gets used by people.Winston: What is your dream job?I’d love to become a concept artist for DreamWorks, or any animation company really. A comic or storybook artist would be nice too, as long as I can illustrate. I’d love to work and live in Japan as well and I’d be happy with any job to be honest. There are many things I like to do and they don’t necessarily need to be the biggest jobs of all.Lúcio: The last song you listened to.Ah, I can’t really remember :’D I think it was something instrumental though.Ana: One thing that keeps you motivated.My goal for in the future. Anything I can work towards keeps me motivated to be honest. Without it I wouldn’t really know what to do :’D And having my Summer break in a bit is also nice.Zenyatta: One thing that brings you peace.Being in my own space and watching something I like or playing games.Symmetra: Describe your aesthetic.There are so many?? I can’t pick one?? The ideal would be either a Japanese garden with a shrine and cherry blossoms, or a tropical beach surrounded by nature.Thanks a lot for these sis

#ask #kaijupunk #answered #personal

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evelynjhendrix · 4 years

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Eva Diva is ... Sledding with Elephants" available across major online retail outlets

Tad Arapoglou’s children’s storybook “Eva Diva is ... Sledding with Elephants” is now available across major online retailers including: Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, and BookDepository.com, among others. While making the announcement, the author, who is based out of Atlanta, GA, said that parents looking for a good read for their children can now order the book online on these platforms.

Published on January 29, 2020, the 34-page book is Tad’s first children's story, with his mother, Patti, as the illustrator.

The story is intended for young children aged 6 and under, and is designed to appeal to their imaginations and storytelling skills. The main character, “Eva Diva,” is based on Tad’s four-year-old daughter, and follows her as she sneaks into her backyard in the middle of the night to go sledding with elephants. “Kids will love seeing Eva having fun adventures with her animal friends, while adults will appreciate that it is all a dream ... or is it?” quipped Tad.

Tad Arapoglou’s “dream” comes true

“Eva Diva is ... Sledding with Elephants” is based on a story Tad made up when he was about seven years old. “I told my best friend’s mother that I would go sledding with elephants in the middle of the night,” he said, “and years later she joked that I sounded so convincing, she almost believed me.” He added that it was really special for him to design the same story around a character based on his daughter.

When discussing teaming up with his mother as the illustrator, Tad had this to say: "My mom has always been such an amazing artist, and we've been trying to find a way to collaborate on something like this for a long time. Seeing it come to life like this is a dream come true.”

"I hope people enjoy this story as much as I did creating it. I'm so happy to have this book and share this bond with my mom and daughter for the rest of our lives,” he added.

“Eva Diva is … Sledding with Elephants” is available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook format.

Media Contact

Tad Arapoglou, Author of "Eva Diva is ... Sledding with Elephants"

[email protected]

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nancygduarteus · 5 years

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Suicide Memes Might Actually Be Therapeutic

In a recent post to the popular meme-sharing platform 9gag, two side-by-side storybook illustrations depict a girl watching snowflakes fall outside her bedroom window. The left panel is titled “kids then”: In a thought bubble, the girl wistfully muses, “I sure hope they cancel school for all this snow.” The right panel is “kids now.” The girl looks at the snow outside and thinks, “I hope a car loses traction on the ice and rams into me and I fucking die tomorrow.”

This is a joke—and apparently a very relatable one for its target demographic, the millions of Generation Y and Z digital natives for whom memes are a mother tongue. A casual scroll on 9gag, which receives 3.5 billion page views a month, will turn up dozens of memes daily about self-harm or wanting to die, and young people are sharing, retweeting, and reblogging similar content across the social-media landscape. You’ll find storybook illustrations doctored to show children dreaming of grisly deaths, Spongebob joyfully flailing to his doom during a bank stickup, and Obama about to throw himself off a bridge.

At first blush, these jokes couldn’t be in poorer taste. The World Health Organization ranks suicide as the second leading cause of death for youth worldwide. In the United States, data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention showed staggering 70 and 77 percent increases in suicide rates of white and black teens, respectively, between 2006 and 2016. In response, public-health officials and tech giants alike have been cracking down on potentially dangerous messaging on self-harm. Last Friday, Instagram rolled out a new policy banning “graphic” depictions of self-harm or suicide.

But memes about suicide remain largely uncharted territory. While disturbing, they’re far less graphic than actual depictions. And they’re often darkly funny. As the gatekeepers of social media are wrestling with how to police this trend, some suicide-prevention experts see a window of opportunity. Typically, suicide memers aren’t mocking suicidal thoughts; they’re commiserating and bonding over being suicidal. Morbid memes, these experts believe, may be a foot in the door to one of the most vulnerable and hard to reach populations: socially isolated young people.

April Foreman is a seasoned veteran of the dark web. As a licensed psychologist and executive board member at the American Association of Suicidology, she’s clicked through the foulest content on the internet to keep tabs on the volatile and high-risk souls that live there.

Foreman wasn’t surprised when suicide memes began to percolate up into the surface-level internet after a long incubation period in more hostile and conspiracy-laden depths (see: 4chan). In a way, she’s heartened by the memes’ increased social acceptability. Like so many anonymous platforms, 9gag struggles with pervasive racism, misogyny, and old-fashion trolling. But while the predictable ‘lol, do it’ replies pepper the comment sections to suicide memes, messages of support tend to be buoyed to the top by hundreds of upvotes. Internet scamps with usernames like necrolovertown gently direct suicide-meme posters to local suicide hotlines (or, in necrolovertown’s case, provide his Facebook contact info and a standing offer to chat—“any hour anytime I’ll be there”).

[Read: Social media is redefining “depression”]

What we’re witnessing on 9gag, Foreman explains, is the writing of a new “social script.” Sometimes it’s tough to know what to say, “like if someone’s dog dies, or if you have to go to a funeral,” she says. But through experience, communities develop a formula for how to respond supportively, something like, “Dude, that’s rough. I’ve gone through it. Here are the resources, let me know if you need support.” Foreman has identified several corners of the internet that seem to have healthy social scripts for suicidal thoughts. “Reddit communities around certain video games”—like the Eve Online universe’s Broadcast 4 Reps–“tend to have communities where you talk about your mental health and you feel better. People help you.”

Still, Foreman cautions, destructive conversations about suicide abound deeper in the bowels of the internet. “We have people that go in there as trolls to really stir people up and make them feel worse,” she says. They make “‘sui-fuel,’ memes to get people even more depressed, with the idea that you might ‘rope’—which is kill yourself—or you might even go and do a murder-suicide.”

Foreman’s colleague Bart Andrews, another clinical psychologist and executive board member at the AAS, is a full-throated advocate for suicide memes as an alternative to these destructive depths. Andrews bucks the traditional wisdom on suicide contagion, the idea that suicidal thoughts can spread through a community like a virus. It’s an evidence-based notion that’s been widely unchallenged for decades, and informs national and international guidelines for media coverage of suicide. Andrews acknowledges that irresponsible reporting of suicide—such as sensationalistic, needlessly graphic descriptions of celebrity suicide—likely has population-level effects. But if safe-messaging guidelines prevent people from having meaningful conversations, Andrews contends, they can be deadly.

“The very people we’re trying to reach, the youth—we’re telling them they can’t talk about suicide the way they talk about it,” Andrews says. “When you read the threads on these memes, people find them helpful. They don’t feel alone. It’s a way for them to anonymously communicate their inner pain in a way that’s artistic, super clever, and that people who are struggling identify with.”

Andrews believes that decades of an effective “gag rule” on suicide stifled conversation and perpetuated stigma—and that while the younger generations are more willing to talk, there’s still a vestigial wariness among listeners that the very act of discussing suicide could make their friends worse. He rattles off a list of memes formats that emphasize hope or resilience. Perennial favorites are “not today, old friend,” where Moe from The Simpsons decides not to kill himself, and “my mom would be sad.” “They get at reasons for living,” Andrews says. “And those can be really small.”

Another camp of suicide-prevention experts prefer to err on the side of caution. Jane Pirkis, the director of the center for mental health at the University of Melbourne and an expert on suicide-contagion theory, is the traditionalist yin to Andrews’ laissez-faire yang when it comes to safe messaging. “I wouldn’t say I’m alarmed, but I don’t think it’s very good,” she told me after reviewing a handful of 9gag memes. “The work we’ve done looking at traditional media definitely shows that representation that normalizes suicide or glorifies it at all can lead to so-called copycat acts.”

Pirkis concedes that the bulk of the scientific literature on contagion came from the pre-internet age, but she insists those lessons carry into social media. “They’re very basic, Psychology 101 principles about modeling behavior, and people learning what’s normal, what’s likely to get a response,” she says. “That’s why you don’t see depictions of smoking in film and television any more.”

This conversation around suicide memes is complicated by a generation gap between suicide-prevention experts and the communities they serve. I talked to several mental-health experts who were well beyond the age of the average memer and entirely unaware that suicide memes exist. Once they recovered from the initial surprise at this undercurrent of dark humor, however, they warmed to the idea that memes about suicide could have a capacity to heal.

These experts emphasize that it’s a fine line between destigmatizing suicidal thoughts and normalizing them. The right messages can let people know they’re not alone and that it’s okay to reach out for help. But overexposure could, in theory, lead to the belief that thoughts about self-harm are normal and not a cause for concern. Further muddying the waters, the very meme that could inspire one teen to call a psychiatrist could dredge up painful memories of a prior attempt in someone else.

There’s a dearth of experimental research on how people respond to non-graphic content about suicide, so social-media platforms are left to cobble together their own policies through high-stakes trial and error. The changes to Instagram’s self-harm policy last week, for instance, were reportedly spurred by the death of a 14-year-old in the United Kingdom Most social-media outlets draw the line at text, image, and video that appear to encourage suicide or self-harm. Facebook, Tumblr, and Instagram have “hot words” associated with self-harm that automatically trigger messages to users about mental health and links to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, a network of crisis hotlines that offer free counseling around the clock. But since image-based memes are hard for AI to parse, platforms generally rely on users to report sensitive material that isn’t simply text-based.

Foreman points to Tumblr as a platform that’s getting it right. Tumblr partners with mental-health advocacy groups, like the Suicide Prevention Lifeline and National Alliance on Mental Health, and reviews every post reported with the “self-harm” flag, according to Victoria McCullough, the company’s head of social impact and public policy. Depending on the post itself and its reception by the community, Tumblr might remove abusive responses, remove the post itself, or refer the creator to additional mental-health resources. McCullough says the company is very cautious about removing content altogether for fear of “undermining those recovery conversations.”

[Read: Tumblr has a cutting (and an anorexia and bulimia) problem]

9gag only added a tag specific to self-harm in the past several months. “Personally, I don’t think any community can claim that users’ comments are 100% positive at all times. There’s no such thing in life either. LOL,” 9gag’s COO Lilian Leong told me over email. “Of course, we can always level up our filtering measures. But we are very cautious not to get over-engineered and overkilled.”

Unlike Facebook and Twitter, 9gag is a single-scroll platform; regardless of a user’s previous activity on the site, everyone sees the same grab bag of memes. What’s on the ‘hot’ and ‘trending’ pages is determined by users’ upvotes and any editorial choices 9gag makes. Leong did not respond to questions about specific curation decisions—like why users couldn’t search the tag “suicide,” but could search “kill myself” and “suicidal”—or describe the decision-making process behind the removal of a sensitive post. In the days following our exchange, however, 9gag plugged all the holes in its search system pertaining to self-harm.

At the end of my reporting for this story, I posted on 9gag asking users to talk about their experience with memes about suicide. You can see the full threads here and here. The replies were a case study of what happens when a diverse community is left all-but-unsupervised in their reactions to suicide memes.

Some users like dracothedragon told me to “F.O.A.D.”—or “fuck off and die.” But most shared stories about how suicide memes sparked feelings of belonging amid isolation. @angry_doge42 said, “I tried so hard to gather the courage to end it. But I remember this post about how this random dude from the other side of the planet turned his life around after surviving the attempt and was now doing his own thing (I think, making candles). Gave up trying to knock myself haha. You guys maybe pricks but most of y’all are awesome.”

@streethastle wasn’t going to let me off easy: “You’re going to set people up with false hope if you’re really going to pull through with a naive article filled with cherry picked examples of ‘supportive’ comments. This website is a fucking cesspool of social degenerates.” But @infexo rushed to my aid. “I don’t see any harm in shedding light on the positive side of 9gag, because like it or not, it does exist ... And a few lines coming out from a caring heart can change drastically a [tragic] act.”

Pirkis, the University of Melbourne mental-health expert, agreed with @infexo, saying it’s a deadly myth that only professionals can help people at risk of suicide. “This great unwashed population that we’re talking about has a role to play,” she says.

Foreman and her colleagues at the American Association of Suicidology look forward to seeing the dialogue expand around suicide memes, however inelegantly. “I’ve never known a single problem that got better by not talking about it,” Foreman says. “Not a single public health problem has gotten better by reducing conversation.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/02/suicide-memes/582832/?utm_source=feed

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ionecoffman · 5 years

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Suicide Memes Might Actually Be Therapeutic

[Read: Social media is redefining “depression”]

[Read: Tumblr has a cutting (and an anorexia and bulimia) problem]

Article source here:The Atlantic

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asacredoasis13 · 6 years

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A bit about Lala

How many siblings do you have?

-1/sister

Which place do you like to visit often?

-mountains, I want to live near them someday

Do you like bright colors?

-yes, being colorblind I often gravitate towards brightly colored things

How many times have you been pulled over?

-twice but no tickets. 1 for a light out & 1 for not coming to a full stop in my own neighborhood 🙄

Are you afraid of darkness?

-no, I find it comforting sometimes. I love caving.

Do you have any hidden talents?

-I can recite the 50 US states in alphabetical order. Just don’t ask me to point them out on a map.

Which smell do you like the most?

-vanilla, pumpkin, anything baking/spice related

Did you ever face an accident?

-depends what you mean by accident. I fell through a frozen lake once. I also watched both of my parents falling into a frozen river 15 feet away from me and almost watched them die. That still haunts me. Good times, huh. Also a car accident but nothing serious.

What type of movies do you like?

-psychological thriller/drama/anything Christopher Nolan

Which movie did you watch last time?

-A Star is Born. Came out crying, was a bit triggering.

Which social medium is your favorite?

-Twitter, or Snapchat. I create the most facinating stories teehee.

Which color do you like the most?

-❤️💔💋💃🎒⛑🧣🌶🍷

What is your favorite dress for parties?

-I don’t go to parties. Gotta love social anxiety

Who is your favorite writer?

-Steinbeck

What’s your biggest dream?

-that’s very complicated for me to answer

What is one of your favorite childhood memories?

-I went home from my friends house to take a shower. 15 minutes later my friend walked to my house in the pouring rain, and asked me if I wanted to play in the rain. Even though I had just showered, I agreed and we danced and splashed around like fools. I love the simple things like that.

Who is your favorite poet?

-Mumford & Sons. They’re a band, but their lyrics are pure poetry.

Do you have nightmares?

-I have lots of dreams about drowning but they are kind of peaceful.

Do you play games?

-I know all the words to the Monopoly song(yes they have a song).

Which offline game is your favorite?

-Sims 2

What’s your nickname?

-Lala (my real name is Laura but everyone calls me Lala)

Who is your best friend?

-her name is Niki. She’s pretty cool.

Which season is your favorite?

-autumn

Which childhood storybook was your favorite?

-The one about the rainbow fish. Because it had pretty illustrations lol

Which quality of a person do you like?

-Kindness

Have you ever stuck in a bad traffic jam?

-the traffic driving home from the solar eclipse last year. 6 hour drive turned into 12 hours. No joke.

Whom do you want back in your life?

-the girl.

What did you learn from your worst days?

-I’m still living them 🙃(but, I guess just that everything eventually passes. Time is short.)

What’s the best compliment you have ever recieved?

-“you are so gloriously weird in the most perfect way. ☺️❤️”

—from a stranger on a post I made of me dancing on my rollerblades.

#about me #i never do these #journal entry

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stacks-reviews · 7 years

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Must Reads Part 12

Happy Friday everybody! This week we have children made of snow, a mysterious spaceship that has done nothing for three years, a feminist anthology, and more!

--Eat the Sky, Drink the Ocean by Kirsty Murray “Little Red Riding Hood is a teen who wears a protective suit and has to fend off a very human wolf. Girls and boys walking to school band together to turn the tables on catcallers. A MasterChef contestant goes time-traveling to secure fresh ingredients for her famous recipes. This collection of feminist fantasy and science fiction stories weaves together impossibilities, dreams, and ambitions to reimagine what girls - and boys - can be. Award-winning Australian and Indian authors worked together and separately to create stories that bridge continents and will inspire readers to open their minds and take a fresh look at the world we know. Travel to outer space with a boy who’s a space miner; find yourself cast adrift and rescued by a pirate ship manned by women; get lost in an eerie airline terminal where your mirror image - a perfect version of you - wants to suck you in. Every story in this collection will take you far from the everyday, to push past boundaries and explore new possibilites. When you eat the sky and drink the ocean, you embrace the world and are connected to all humanity.”

This anthology caught my eye because of the beautiful cover. And after reading the description on the jacket I knew I had to have it. I do own it but I have not had an opportunity to read it yet. Some of the stories are comics and at least one of the stories is a screen play.

--Iron Hearted Violet by Kelly Barnhill and illustrated by Iacopo Bruno “In most fairy tales, princesses are beautiful, dragons are terrifying, and stories are harmless. This isn’t most fairy tales. Princess Violet is plain, reckless, and quite possibly too clever for her own good. Particularly when it comes to telling stories. One day she and her best friend, Demetrius, stumble upon a hidden room and find a peculiar book. A forbidden book. It tells a story of an evil being - called the Nybbas - imprisoned in their world. The story cannon be true - not really. But then the whispers start. Violet and Demetrius, along with an ancient, scarred dragon, may hold the key to the Nybbas’s triumph...or its demise. It all depends on how they tell the story. After all, stories make their own rules. Iron Hearted Violet is a story of a princess unlike any other. It is a story of the last dragon in existence, deathly afraid of its own reflection. Above all, it is a story about the power of stories, our belief in them, and how one enchanted tale changed the course of an entire kingdom.”

There is a short preview up on Goodreads which I really liked. I really like how the story flows in that preview and its voice. The preview follows the storyteller of the kingdom as he recounts what Violet was like as a child and how she captivated the people with her own ability to tell engaging stories. It ends with how she meets her first friend, Demetrius.

--The Riverman by Aaron Starmer “’To sell a book, you need a description on the back. So here’s mine: My name is Fiona Loomis. I was born on August 11, 1977. I am recording this message on the morning of October 13, 1989. Today I am thirteen years old. Not a day older. Not a day younger.’ Fiona Loomis is Alice, back from Wonderland. She is Lucy, returned from Narnia. She is Coraline, home from the Other World. She is the girl we read about in storybooks, but here’s the difference: She is real. Twelve-year-old Alistair Cleary is her neighbor in a town where everyone knows each other. One afternoon, Fiona shows up at Alistair’s doorstep with a strange proposition. She wants him to write her biography. What begins as an odd vanity project gradually turns into a frightening glimpse into a clearly troubled mind. For Fiona tells Alistair a secret. In her basement there’s a gateway and it leads to the magical world of Aquavania, the place where stories are born. In Aquavania, there’s a creature called the Riverman and he’s stealing the souls of children. Fiona’s soul could be next. Alistair has a choice. He can believe her, or he can believe something else...something even more terrifying.”

This is going to be a surprising dark children’s book (or so I assumed it is classified based on the characters ages) if what is mentioned in the first chapter is anything to judge by. It starts with talking about lost children either due to them running away, bad custody battles, or being taken by strangers. Alistair remembers his towns lost boy by the name of Luke, who’s body Alistair unknowingly finds after he had been missing. He just didn’t realize it at the time until years later.

I’m already hooked. After that opening Fiona asks Alistair to pen her biography. And at first he says yes but then changes his mind. In part because it worried him and although not expressly stated, it could be because everyone thinks Fiona is strange and she does not appear to have very many friends. And it hints that she may be the next child who disappears in their town. It sounds like an enjoyable, dark read. And I’m sure there is an even darker story going on below the surface and I’m going to guess that the more terrifying truth Alistair will believe is an abusive household. I could be going way off rails here but it is what makes the most sense to me if the gateway isn’t actually real. What better way to escape that reality than by creating a world for yourself?

--The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey “Alaska, 1920: a brutal place to homestead, and especially tough for recent arrivals Jack and Mabel. Childless, they are drifting apart - he breaking under the weight of the work of the farm; she crumbling from loneliness and despair. In a moment of levity during the season’s first snowfall, they build a child out of snow. The next morning the snow child is gone - but they glimpse of a young, blonde-haired girl running through the trees. This little girl, who calls herself Faina, seems to be a child of the woods. She hunts with a red fox at her side, skims lightly across the snow, and somehow survives alone in the Alaskan wilderness. As Jack and Mabel struggle to understand this child who could have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale, they come to love her as their own daughter. But in this beautiful, violent place, things are rarely as they appear, and what they eventually learn about Faina will transform all of them.”

Based off the Russian fairy tale Snegurochka or The snow maiden. I really want to read this on a purely nostalgia reason. Someone at work showed me this book and it immediately reminded me of a children’s book my grandparents owned about an elderly couple who made a little girl out of snow. The girl lived outside in a snow bed and made friends with all the other children. But once summer came she left and the couple were heartbroken until the next winter when their snow daughter returned home. I then told everyone at work about it and hunted down the one I remembered at my grandparents house. It was The Snow Child retold by Freya Littledale and illustrated by Leon Shtainmets.

In this book here, the couple believe that the little girl living in the woods is the child they made out of snow (in the children’s book the child is actually snow, in this rendition that is not the case). Or so the wife believes as she is familiar with the fairy tale as it is mentioned in the book. I doubt that the little girl is really made of snow. She was probably left to fend for herself for one reason or another. Regardless, I never expected to find a full length novel of a children’s book I had read long ago. I did not even know that the book was based off a Russian fairy tale back then. My grandma let me have the children’s book and it is now sitting in my room on a safe shelf. I was not the first to read it and I am pretty sure I wasn’t the last.

--The Spaceship Next Door by Gene Doucette “The world changed on a Tuesday. When a spaceship landed in an open field in the quiet mill town of Sorrow Falls, Massachusetts, everyone realized humankind was not alone in the universe. With that realization, everyone freaked out for a little while. Or, almost everyone. The residents of Sorrow Falls took the news pretty well. This could have been due to a certain local quality of unflappability, or it could have been that in three years, the ship did exactly nothing other than sit quietly in that field, and nobody understood the full extent of this nothing the ship was doing better than the people who lived right next door.

Sixteen-year-old Annie Collins is one of the ship’s closest neighbors. Once upon a time she took every last theory about the ship seriously, whether it was advanced by an adult, or by a peer. Surely one of the theories would be proven true eventually - if not several of them - the very minute the ship decided to do something. Annie is starting to think this will never happen. One late August morning, a little over three years since the ship landed, Edgar Somerville arrived in town. Ed’s a government operative posing as a journalist, which is obvious to Annie - and pretty much everyone else he meets - almost immediately. He has a lot of questions that need answers, because he thinks everyone is wrong: the ship is doing something, and he needs Annie’s help to figure out what that is. Annie is a good choice for tour guide. She already knows everyone in town and when Ed’s theory is proven correct - something is apocalyptically wrong in Sorrow Falls - she’s a pretty good person to have around. As a matter of fact, Annie Collins might be the most important person on the planet. She just doesn’t know it.”

The first four chapters of this is available to preview on Goodreads. It is very detailed like the description here. I didn’t mind it. I liked the voice it was giving the book and it really gave me a feel for what Sorrow Falls is like. Everyone so far seems pretty laid back and friendly despite the fact that there is a spaceship right outside of town.

I really want to read this because it makes me think of Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel (which was really good and is actually one of the few reviews I have written so far). Although the whole world knows about the alien object from the start and that this is classified as a teen book. And also makes me think of just a little bit of the great animated film, The Iron Giant. And as for theories. After reading the preview I’m guessing that either Annie is an alien from the ship but currently doesn’t remember it for whatever reason. Or the whole town is nothing but aliens forgetting what they are to better blend in with the populace.

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