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thecagedsong · 3 years

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Forgotten Light Chapter 13: Tunnels

A/N: Hey there, long time no see. Left to hyperfixate on Doctor Who for a while, but I’m back on my Fablehaven business. This is a long chapter, it probably should be two chapters in the final version, but I really wanted to get the tunnels part out. Also, let me know if Kendra’s crafting is making sense and if the dialog for this chapter is working out. Very important chapter.

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Chapter 13: Tunnels

When Kendra woke up the next morning, she knew Ronodin had left. The night before they had eaten dinner separately, and while Kendra focused on reading or staring at the library wall, Ronodin hadn’t come out of his room. She saw him for a moment as she went to bed, but he turned away from her.

It was confirmed by a note on the countertop.

Love,

I hate to leave while we’re fighting, but I have to go handle another errand for our host. Despite your doubts in me and what I implied, I will be back for you, and we’ll go on another little adventure. This is what we have to do until we can go on the bigger adventures together in the sunlight. At the bottom of this note is another design for an amulet you might try, and we’ll both be working to shorten your quarantine.

Ronodin

And Kendra was back to feeling bad all over again! She went back and forth all yesterday afternoon about apologizing again, promising that Mendigo wouldn’t stop him if he tried to leave, or holding to her words. It was dangerous. He was trying. She was being difficult. She had a right to be difficult.

Sketched at the bottom of the note was a triangle amulet, with crescents open to the left. Inside the triangle was a circle inside an oval with an ‘x’ through it, bisecting in the center of the circle. Because you have to carve intent into every craft, Kendra had to go look up what the symbol meant in the dictionary he gave her.

The triangle was a curse, and the eye a symbol for blindness. Putting it within a circle, she should be able to direct it only at certain people, namely enemies. Did she want to blind her enemies? On the one hand, it was the same principal as her weakness charm. No harm, unless they intended to harm her first. On the other…

As someone who can count on her hands the number of rooms she’s seen, as someone who is alienating the single relationship she has to get a glimpse of sunlight, and as someone whose most prized possession is a landscape painting of the outside, could she take away someone else’s sight?

Maybe she could limit it to cursing people not to see her. An invisibility charm was a lot less problematic than a blinding curse. Combing through the books didn’t give her any insight on how to limit the blindness. In fact, applying Ronodin’s charm as is to a circular amulet wouldn’t even limit duration. It would blind any enemy that looked at her once, permanently.

It would take good craft and magic application to create, and a single mistake would make the magic run out halfway through the first use of the amulet, leaving a person…partially blinded? Blinded in one eye? Temporarily blinded? It didn’t say, so Kendra had to put a couple of concepts together to make a guess. Magic based on gaze was actually the most magic consuming type of enchantment. That was all it said, so Kendra went looking through her little library for more of an explanation.

She managed to clobber together answers from five different books:

All magic is reactionary, a person must interact with the spell caster or the enchanted object for the magic to be applied. The safest place from magic is away from it. Simply seeing something only activates extremely rare curses and enchantments, usually crafted from Dragon parts, because it just required that much magic. Touch is the most common type of curse conduit, and came in the variations. Presence within an enchanted area or physical contact with the item or caster were the most common. Proximity casting is rare, but technically falls between touch and sight in terms of magic usage. There was also gaseous spells, which technically also operated based on touch, but the enchanted matter expanded, so that’s also deserved a special mention.

Kendra was a limitless supply of magic. If she wore a sight-based curse, well crafted to actually create an effect, it would never run out of juice. It would fully infect others every time. It also couldn’t be used against her to the same potential.

If she made that work, there was no way Ronodin could justify keeping her locked up.

But what if…what if her brother felt like he had to harm her in order to get her to go with him? She could blind him, and not even know it. Is that what old Kendra would have wanted, after giving up her memory for him? No. Temporarily feeling too weak to chase her? Fine. Permanently blinding someone with good intentions? Not fine.

Kendra left the books open and went into the hallway.

“Mendigo?” she asked, and the puppet walked in front of her. “How many hours ago did Ronodin leave?”

Mendigo held up two fingers.

“Did he say words as he left out the front door?” she checked.

Mendigo shook his head. Ha. She knew that he had made that up to keep her from stealing the key.

“You have to follow all my orders, correct?” Kendra checked. And the puppet nodded.

“Are there things I can’t tell you to do?”

Mendigo hesitated, then nodded his head.

“Are the things you won’t do if I tell you impossible because Ronodin ordered you not to do them?”

Head shaking no. She couldn’t ask him about the things he couldn’t do, Mendigo couldn’t handle questions more complicated than yes and no.

“If I gave you a paintbrush, would you be able to write out explanations to longer questions?”

Mendigo shook his head no. Drat. Complicated magic, but not an intelligence behind it.

Could she craft a puppet like Mendigo? Probably not, not unless there was some kind of wood that wanted to become a limberjack. None of her books said anything about creating a little bit of intelligence, enough to answer questions and have memory. But maybe if she got good enough. Though why she’d want another when she already had Mendigo made it a moot question. It was probably impossible anyway.

“Mendigo, the things I could ask you to do and you wouldn’t,” she asked, “is that because they would be impossible for you to do?”

He nodded, and pointed at the front doorknob. Right, she had told him to open the door, and he couldn’t.

“Would you be able to tell me if Ronodin is the one really giving you orders?” Kendra tried.

More hesitation, then slow nodding.

“Has Ronodin ever given you any orders that you followed?”

More nodding. That didn’t actually tell her much. Ronodin was her secret boyfriend, if she had ever once said ‘Mendigo, do what Ronodin says,’ then the answer to this question would be yes.

“Are you currently following any of Ronodin’s orders?” she said. Vigorous no.

“Right,” Kendra said, feeling a little better. “From now on, you are not to follow anyone’s orders but my own, under any circumstance. Will you be able to follow that order?”

Here came the longest pause. Was it because she was asking him a question about the future? Maybe the enchantment didn’t allow for questions like that.

Slowly, Mendigo nodded his head. That was good.

For the rest of the morning, she settled on making a stronger version of her first amulet, temporary weakening based on intent and proximity. Maybe if she made that good enough, she wouldn’t have to permanently blind someone just to be free.

Ronodin showed up in the late afternoon, but didn’t fully enter the apartment, instead choosing to stand in the doorway.

“I see you didn’t take my suggestion,” Ronodin said, nodding at the newly carved amulet in her hand. She had taken a break to grab a snack from the kitchen, and found him there.

“Is this your way of checking in on me without having to let me out?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I ran into a snag when arranging your fake death,” Ronodin explained, “A quick video of you telling the person to help me will fix all my problems. I need to go back out again right away —”

Kendra sighed, “You can come in Ronodin, Mendigo won’t stop you from leaving.” Because it felt like the properly dramatic thing to do, she leaned against the hallway wall and slid down until she was sitting. It took a small adjustment, but her current red dress was stretchy, and she managed to do it modestly.

Ronodin came and slid down beside her, and the door swung shut.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” Kendra said. “it’s not fair, and there’s no excuse, but it’s just so frustrating being locked up like this.”

Ronodin smiled, “Believe me, I know more than you can guess at what that’s like. Think you’re ready to hear why my family hates me?”

Kendra nodded, sitting up straighter.

“Forever ago, I started to question why the Fairy Queen was the ultimate authority on what was good and what was bad in the world. There were five other thrones, and they all play important roles in keeping the world functioning, and they all had different ideas of what was good and right than the Fairy Queen. But mortal wizards sided with her, as did human adventurers, and every kind of mortal agreed: the Fairy kingdom is the brightest light, and we should all strive to their ideals.

“Never mind the naiads and great fairies who kill because mortality is funny. Never mind the imps and the abandoned nipsies. Never mind the philosophies of balance that demand that destruction is just as important as creation to the continuation of the world. Never mind the strength of not picking a side and acting according to your own will and conscious. It sickened me to be part of such an oppressive kingdom that claims the moral right in everything.”

Ronodin drifted into a memory. “What did you do?” Kendra asked, bringing him back.

“I corrupted my horns,” Ronodin said simply, “It took a bit of time and a lot of favors, but I was able to break myself from the Fairy Kingdom. The Queen doesn’t command me anymore. I owe allegiance only to myself, and that’s how I want it to be. Some of those favors contributed to people getting hurt, but I can’t regret it. When I saw you going through something similar, I knew I had to talk to you. And now, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kendra echoed. Sitting in the depths of some underground labyrinth, fighting over prison keys and the greater good, Kendra with no memory of who she was, and Ronodin fighting the same battles he’s fought his entire life over freedom.

Kendra leaned over and touched Ronodin of her own volition. Nothing romantic, not really, just her head resting on his shoulder. A silent show of support.

She sat up after just a minute, because she liked sincere Ronodin much better than flirty or angry Ronodin. (Flabberghasted Ronodin still held top spot).

“Let’s get that video for you,” Kendra said, then paused. “Wait, no one is going to get hurt when faking my death, right?”

Ronodin shook his head and took out his cell phone, “I promise, no humans are going to be harmed in the faking of your death. I just need some help creating a believable fake body.”

Kendra gave a little smile, “Doesn’t it ruin my fake death if someone knows about it and is helping you set it up?”

“Be very vague,” he advised, “The vaguer the better, so that when we do fake your death, even they will be convinced.”

“Okay then, what should I say?” she asked. “Am I talking to someone specific?”

Ronodin pointed the phone camera at her, “No, I’ll probably need to use it on a couple of people. Just tell the viewer to help me. Don’t mention my name directly, if you can help it. The less they know about who you’re with, the safer you’ll be. Ready…three, two one.”

"Oh, um, hi,” Kendra waved at the camera sheepishly, “I’m not sure who is going to have see this, but this guy is actually helping me. If you could lend him a hand, that would be great and I could get out of here much faster. Thank you!”

Ronodin then changed the view of the camera so that they were both in the picture, and gave a little wave. “Anything for Kendra.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and caught the start of her blush before he stopped recording.

“There, that should be convincing enough,” he said, pocketing his phone.

“I assure you, that kiss was unnecessary,” she said, folding her arms, still red.

He grinned back, “And I assure you, my caterpillar, that it was completely necessary. Another one for the road?”

Kendra stood up rather than let him take another kiss. They had had a good moment, she wasn’t going to let him ruin it. He stood up as well.

“I’ll probably arrive back while you’re asleep,” he said. “Can I see how you’re doing with that amulet? You chose another weakening one?”

“I’m not ready to permanently blind my misguided family,” Kendra said, handing over the amulet.

Ronodin nodded, “Well, you’re progressing. A lot more magic took in this one than your first try. It’s well on the way to making fatigue hit anyone who lays a hand on you.”

Kendra frowned, “I was going for proximity, still not enough focus?”

Ronodin nodded, “The applied magic isn’t strong enough, nor is the craftsmanship. You accidentally cut all the way through one broken link, making one of your four chains whole, and you really oversanded the top. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it some more when I get back. This is a skill like any other, it’s going to take time. You’ll get better at this, I promise.”

Kendra nodded, sighing over the flaws he pointed out. “Is ‘have fun’ the wrong response for the task of faking my death?”

“Oh,” he said grinning, “After the stunts you pulled, I’ll be having lots of fun. Don’t go crazy.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

Mendigo stepped out of the shadow of the doorway as Ronodin approached, “It’s fine Mendigo. Ronodin can come and go as he pleases.” Kendra said.

Mendigo stepped back and Ronodin stepped past and closed the door without a backward glance.

Knowing she lost the fight, Kendra returned to the craft room. She took that feeling, and turned it into the desire to weaken those that would make her lose with every paint brush stroke.

The second medallion was certainly more than just wood and paint when Kendra was done with it. It felt…expectant. Waiting to fulfill its purpose. A spiked trap, waiting to fall. It was kind of exhilarating, knowing what she had created had force and abilities beyond her.

Kendra had wielded magic.

Kendra looked back over the amulet that Ronodin has suggested she make, then ran to one of the books she had referenced that morning about how to build in a command. A dual check, the person had to want to harm her, and she had to want to curse them. She could make that curse.

All it needed was a second circular border with a notch, and Kendra would have to hold it and intend to activate it before it would blind someone. The pattern was more complex than what she had attempted before, but after all her reading, she felt ready. She switched to a block of wood called stiltseia, because the description indicated that it’s flowers alternatively flashed darkness or bright light each time the flowers bloomed. It felt right for this project.

Kendra worked though lunch, snacking on the bread and cheese that populated their kitchen. This time she made sure that if her carving tool was touching wood, she had her magic gathered and turned towards blinding enemies. The emotions feeding this purpose were vengeance, ambition, and desire to lash out. She didn’t have strong vengeance on her own, but Lady Kuychia wrote the book on vengeance, and Kendra had read it. Towards the end of Lady Kuychia’s life, when her husband found out about her shadow charmer abilities, he accused her of being pure evil, stole their children, and put a ‘kill the witch’ order throughout the entire countryside surrounding them. Vicariously, Lady Kuychia’s burning vengeance took shape in the amulet, to permanently blind those that would harm her.

Lady Kuychia had never gotten vengeance herself, if the handwritten note in the back indicating that the conquistadors pillaging the area around her village had hung her, after she kept putting out the fires meant to burn her. They caught her when she had sacrificed herself in a distraction to give her children a chance to run away from the Portuguese raid. Her husband had spat at her on his way out with their children. The children were captured and killed the day after their mother had died by hanging. Those emotions fueled the carving.

Except the outer notched circle. Following instructions, she focused on her need for control. The battle to control her negative emotions took place outside her body for the first time, as she ordered the power of the amulet into the circle, and into where she said they should stay. There were two different types of magic under her hands, the negative emotions of the amulet and the unyielding neutral control being pushed through her tool. Building a wall around the fire pit.

Kendra added a coat of paint right away, it didn’t feel bound tightly enough without it. This time she selected a dark purple paint, phantom tears and harpy blood. She was going by instinct, but tears also came from the eyes, and harpies seemed like the kind of creature more than happy to take out your eye for taking their blood.

It came out a color so deep, it was almost black, but the purple seemed to highlight around the cuts of her design. She hung it on a hook over the fire, next to the one she had made that morning. Three amulets down. No way to safely test them.

Crafting two amulets was exhausting enough that she wanted to take a nap. First, she had to clean up the mess she had made in the library.

Unfortunately, she had to guess at the places she had taken the books from. She had a vague idea of the organization: magic books left of the fire, histories and biographies on the right, and close to the door were the reference books, but without being able to read all the languages, she was mostly guessing.

Kendra scooted a space a little wider to make room for where she thought a book was supposed to go, and a yellowed piece of paper fell from between the spines. Kendra put the book away and picked up the paper.

To the current occupant,

You’re probably like me, someone whose abilities can only be used voluntarily, so they are keeping you locked up here until they can convince you to do what they want. I have no hope for rescue, and I refuse to do what they ask. I expect to die here, but I have hidden notes written in Silvian, and hidden them around the library to pass the time. If there is nothing else to my life, maybe these notes will make the duration easier for the next occupant.

So far I have discovered a single secret tunnel going out of here. Twist the head of the goblin statue and the wall will become permeable. I won’t survive outside this room, but maybe a prisoner better suited for this environment could use it to their advantage.

Peace,

Maykrill of Anksonling

Not what she expected to find, but she was wide awake now. It took a little bit of digging, but the goblin statue was directly diagonal behind her favorite reading chair. What kind of prison cell has a tunnel in it?

The tunnel probably didn’t lead outside, there was no way she was that lucky, but ‘anywhere else’ still ranked pretty high on the places she wanted to be.

The statue was a little taller than her palm, and currently being used as a bookend. The goblin made an icky sound when she twisted the head, like she was killing a living thing, and the small stretch of wall between bookcases became hazy. More gas than solid, and while she had to turn sideways to fit, she made it through just fine.

Unfortunately, she could barely see in front of her face. With how good she’s gotten at hiding her light, there was practically nothing. Should she un-dim herself? It would let things know where she was when she probably didn’t want them to, but she was probably already glowing a little anyway.

Kendra reached out and touched a wall, which immediately lit torches filled with the same blue fire that haunted her own apartment. Hiding wasn’t an option. Should she go back? But what was she waiting for? Ronodin wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours yet, it was mid-afternoon. She might not get a better chance to figure out more about where she was.

If someone asked her what she was doing, she would just head back. And she’d stay out of the dragon invested grotto. A quick check showed that the wall was completely permeable from this side, meaning she wasn’t going to be locked out. Unless the twisted head operated on a timer. But she wouldn’t be able to test that theory without it being too late to do anything about it. Her best bet would be to make the most of this current foray, but if she didn’t leave for long periods of time and she didn’t get locked out, she might be able to keep this secret until they were cleared to leave this place. She grabbed her second amulet on her way towards the tunnel.

So much for Ronodin winning their battle of wills. Ha.

Kendra crept along the corridor, her bare feet quiet along the ground. It sloped downward, and she thought there was a very subtle switchback before it opened another fuzzy wall. Fuzzy on her side, hopefully solid on the opposite side. Stepping closer, she tried to get a good view of the room before she set foot.

The room seemed large, enormous even. It was dimly lit with sporadic torches, the stone darker than in her hallway. A neutral jean blue darkened into marbled navy, made to look even colder by blue flame. Kendra glanced down at her bare feet, and really hoped the ruby necklace actually warmed her up and didn’t just shut off her perception of cold.

There were large structures scattered about the room, and Kendra narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out the nearest one through the wall.

“I know your mother taught you better manners than to skulk when you know people can sense you, Ronodin. Please do leave me be, I’m not telling you anything else, and this constant taunting is rather irritating, even for you.”

Her eyes adjusted as the boy spoke. Because he was a boy, and based on his voice, couldn’t be much older than her, probably Ronodin’s age. She could catch the outline of bars, bent in around a circle, like a bird cage. Almost appropriate, given that this boy’s voice was the most melodic she had ever heard. Beautiful as Ronodin’s, but in a different way. Clearer, somehow.

“Fine, I will simply annoy you in return. I don’t think High Sylvian has ever graced these halls, join in if you remember the words:

Follow the wind,

The one that blows of honey and rose

A caress, a brush, steady and slow

Follow the wind to Asamelle

Trail the stream,

Of cerulean and lily pads green

It bubbles laughter and splashes song

Trail the stream to Asamelle

Chase the light,

It hovers and flickers at the edge of sight

Whiter than ever beheld, brighter than ever-ever lived,”

The boy’s voice cracked here, and the imperfection in the perfect song made her throat grow tight. When he started singing again, it was just a little more raw, and Kendra had to cover her mouth.

“Chase the light to Asamelle

Chase the light home.

You followed the wind, and trailed the stream,

chased the light, found the dream,

Home, to Asamelle.

Moonlight blossoms, viridian forest,

Wave to the naiad, dance to the Djini lyre

Unicorns race and run through the mire

You have come home to Asamelle

Beneath the tiger sky, follow softly,

Pass tree-grown houses, and beds of petals new

The final rise gives way to Heartsworn

The crowning jewel of Asamelle

There’s so much light, it’s too bright,

Push forward; the sun was brought to house,

The virtuous beings of Asamelle

An orchestra of birds, winds, and strings

Elf and Phoenix dance with the grace of falling leaves,

Step forward, part of the dance, the moment, the chance

Asamelle sings you home.”

A tear slid down her cheek. An honest tear, her payment for the song. It was so full of love and longing; it would have been a sin to not be affected.

“Hang on, Ronodin would never have listened to me sing that,” the boy said, “Who are you?”

Kendra fled back to the library. She banged her hip on her way through the secret passage, and curled up in her armchair.

Her heart was thumping, pounding, her face hot. What was wrong with her? She just…all she needed was a moment to calm down and collect herself. That prisoner revealed a lot, she just needed some space and time from his voice to be able to process it.

The prisoner was so sad. How could anyone keep him jailed away like that? Was Asamelle his home? Why did he ever leave? It sounded beautiful, in a way that looks fragile but is more solid than anything else. A sculpture that appears to be made of glass, but is actually of ice or diamond.

And the part she didn’t want to think about: Ronodin is his jailor. He seemed to know Ronodin quite well, well enough think he could tick Ronodin off. And considering Ronodin’s relationship with his home, that song probably would. The boy thought she was Ronodin, there to question him some more. What could Ronodin want with him? How many more of her schemes would Ronodin tolerate until Kendra was in a cage next to the boy?

If she was trapped down there, would he sing for her if she asked?

No. The goal was to get out to the sunlight, not end up another bird in a cage, one much more unpleasant than her current residence. Why was he in a cage? Ronodin was all about freedom, and making sure people had the space to make their choices. He seemed to hate that Kendra was in a cage, Ronodin wouldn’t imprison someone else without reason.

Things weren’t adding up. Should she wait to confront Ronodin about it? Should she go talk to the trapped boy? Kendra thought she could make another trip before Ronodin came back tonight. Who would be more likely to lie? The boy or Ronodin?

Kendra needed facts. Evidence. Mendigo was under her full control. She had a brother named Seth. She chose to give up her memory. Ronodin loved her. She was fairykind and could use magic to make enchanted objects and see in the dark. Everything else she knew came from Ronodin’s story.

Kendra wanted to talk to the boy. And when Ronodin came back, she didn’t know when he’d leave again. This could be her only chance.

The goblin’s head was back to normal, and she broke the neck again. Kendra also took her second amulet, to weaken those who would harm her, not the blinding one. If the boy had the intention of harming her while she was down there, her curse would strike. Possibly. Not that he could do much from inside a birdcage.

The hallway had darkened, but lit once again as she touched the wall. Surer than the first time, Kendra hurried down the secret tunnel to the half-there wall. Once again, Kendra stopped.

“I know you’re there,” the boy called, much softer this time.

Gathering her courage, Kendra passed through the wall, halfway. She spotted an identical goblin statue, this time part of the brace holding up a torch, and went through all the way.

She walked forward, and a light sprung from inside the cage, small and dim, it illuminated the boy.

He was handsome. Unbelievably handsome. Kendra couldn’t remember seeing the cover of a magazine, and only knew that they depicted pretty people. She felt like she wouldn’t ever need to see a magazine; the boy in front of her screamed that kind of impossible perfection. White hair, blue eyes, unblemished pale skin, cupid’s bow lips that had fallen open at the sight of her.

Too late she remembered that she was currently wearing the stretchy red dress, a ruby medallion, a white cursed amulet (luckily that eyesore was tucked under her neckline), and her hideous orange cardigan. Her hair had been brushed and tied back before she started crafting, and she certainly wasn’t wearing the makeup in her bathroom. She felt a thousand times grungier than she had before.

The boy’s face changed, hardening, and he turned to speak to the general space around them, “Nice try Ronodin. I’m not going to lie and say I expected you to send a fake Kendra,” she jumped when he said her name, “but she really needs some work. This one barely glows, much less radiates like the sun. I’m honestly more surprised you let through such a bad copy.”

“Oh, um, Ronodin didn’t send me, I’m kind of here without him knowing, so I’d appreciate it if we could keep this a secret,” Kendra said nervously, tugging at her cardigan, hoping to turn it into something less ridiculous. “And I can shine brighter, but it seems to bother people, so I dim it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Kendra could never be dim.”

She unclenched the mental fist halfway, removing part of the block on her light, and immediately things became easier to see. One of the nearby cages started grumbling, so she dimmed it again.

He stared at her, and Kendra blushed and shifted under his gaze.

“Um…, I came to ask you some things,” Kendra tried, eyes drawn to the floor. This was not how she expected this to go. “But mostly, I really liked your song. Is Asamelle your home?” That was not what Kendra meant to ask him about, and blushed. Hopefully he couldn’t see in the dim light the way she could.

“Asamelle was the capital city of the old Fairy Realm,” he said, with disbelief. “Kendra, look at me.”

It clicked in her head, “Oh, you know me, don’t you?” she said, doing as he asked and looking at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having some trouble remembering you at the moment.”

“And I’m still having trouble believing you’re the real Kendra,” he said. “Not knowing who I am isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kendra shrugged, “Don’t take it personally, I don’t know who anyone is. My oldest memory is turning a key that made me lose my memory. My brother Seth was there, and Ronodin, also an angry guy that claimed to be the King of the Dragons, and a magical dwarf. We were all fighting over a stone and my brother kind of won, I think, then I faked my own kidnapping and brought myself here. I really am sorry I don’t remember you.”

He was shaking his head slowly.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but I’m still having some trouble believing you’re Kendra and not some Ronodin knock off sent here to torture me,” he said, “Do you mind letting me confirm your story?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

He held out a hand through the bars, “It’s not bad, just touch my hand, and give me permission to see if you are telling the truth. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Kendra pulled back a little. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t know who or what you are. I’m sorry, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Could all unicorns do what he said? She might be in a lot more trouble with Ronodin than she thought.

“I’m Bracken,” he said, retracting his hand and backing away, “We’ve done this before, if you really are Kendra. I’m a unicorn, and the Fairy Queen herself vouched for me.” His eyes softened, looking over her again, “I’m sorry, whatever is going on, I don’t mean to frighten you. I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, though it will make trusting you a little more difficult. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Oh, he was kind. Why would Ronodin imprison someone like him? Being a unicorn the same age as Ronodin explained the comments about Ronodin’s mother and the polite dislike. The name Bracken also sounded familiar…

“Oh no,” Kendra said, covering her mouth. It all came together. Bracken was Ronodin’s cousin, the one she was engaged to while secretly seeing Ronodin.

Bracken’s eyebrows raised, “I will admit that’s the first time my name has evoked that reaction. You remember something about me around your mysterious bout of amnesias?”

Kendra wanted to run away again. No wonder Ronodin knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave yet; people from her old life were already tracking her here. Why hadn’t Ronodin told her? Of course, he didn’t tell her, she spent so much time fighting him. Was Ronodin worried she would leave, or demand to leave until she hated him? This was all wrong and not fair, and Kendra didn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry for what old me did to you,” Kendra said. “I don’t know why I led you on, I’m sorry.” Kendra put her hand over his, which was suddenly gripping the bars of his cage. “I give you permission to see the truth of my words.”

Bracken closed his eyes, and his forehead creased, “It’s…blank. I can sense your memories for a time, then its just gone. You gave them up, but it is your mind,” he said with disbelief. “You are really Kendra.”

Bracken frowned, “There’s something awful here, dark, but nowhere near strong enough to block your memories. Do you remember any other curses? Or maybe you have a cursed item?”

“Oh, um, I made it today, to protect myself from people who would do me harm? It’s a little new, but it might be what you’re talking about,” Kendra said, pulling out the medallion.

“You did what? Kendra, you don’t make curses. That’s dark magic,” Bracken said, clutching the bars of his cell, “Listen to me closely, whatever you do, stay away from crafting curses. How can you even do that?” Which verified Ronodin’s words. Her crafting had been a secret, he did think she was evil, as was her art. There was just one more thing to check.

“Are you familiar with Mendigo?” Kendra asked.

“Your puppet? Kendra, I feel like you’re not listening to me. Whatever Ronodin said —”

“Does Mendigo only do what I say or not?”

“Well, yes, Mendigo, as I understand it, is keyed into the commands of you and your brother, and whoever you tell him to listen to.” Bracken said. “I don’t see why that’s important. Look, Ronodin is evil, you can’t trust anything he says —”

“What about my family?” Kendra asked, “Do they really imprison dark creatures against their will?”

Bracken’s eyebrows rose, “What? In a manner of speaking they do, because nothing else would have the chance to grow and flourish if we let them out. Demons, the unbound undead, dragons, they would destroy everyone and everything if given a single chance. You helped put so many of them away. They’ve killed your friends and family. It isn’t an unjust prison sentence if that’s what Ronodin told you. They all chose darkness and destruction, or it’s their nature and life sentences over huge tracks of land to roam seem more humane than killing everyone in an effort not to die ourselves. You and your family are the best people I know. Good people. Ronodin is twisting the truth for his own ends if he says differently. You are a good person Kendra, you don’t craft curses. You don’t chose evil, you can’t. It isn’t who you are. Don’t listen to Ronodin’s lies.”

“Ronodin said the exact same thing,” Kendra said sadly, and Bracken went quiet, “Except, he knows something you don’t, something we couldn’t share with either of our families because yours hates him and mine wouldn’t understand. I’ve been enchanting magic objects for a while now. I met up with Ronodin in secret, and fell in love with him. I ordered Mendigo to kidnap me from my home so that we could be together.”

“Wha-no, no, no. That doesn’t make sense,” Bracken said, hurt crashing through those beautiful blue eyes as he drew back. “That can’t be true…I…you let me into your mind a week ago. Please believe me. You met Ronodin for the first time this past week.”

“He’s a little rough,” she defended quietly, looking away, “We’re learning our way around each other again over my memory loss. He hates that we have to stay cooped up, but he knows who I was better than anyone else.”

“That’s a lie,” Bracken insisted, “He doesn’t know anything about you. He doesn’t know that falling rain makes you think of your friend Lena. He doesn’t know that your favorite way to travel through the air is being held by the Dragon Raxtus. He doesn’t know that your cousin Warren would die for you, after seeing you die once already and being unable to stop it. Ronodin knows you less than you know yourself right now. I get that you-you might not be able to believe me right now, but find Seth, find your grandparents, they’ll be scouring the earth for you. They love you so much, and you love them more than anything in return.”

Bracken’s voice was low and sincere. His voice had cracked again, like it had during his song, his tell that the emotion was just too much. So utterly certain he was right. But Kendra didn’t know a Lena or a Raxtus or a Warren. And she couldn’t ask Ronodin about them, because then he would know she went wandering.

Why couldn’t the old Kendra have fallen in love with Bracken instead?

“Why did Ronodin imprison you?” she asked. “Was it…was it because of me? He and Seth mentioned that we were…intended.”

“Oh, um…I mean…That’s not...we’re, um,” Bracken said, flustered. He wasn’t blushing, but unicorn blood was silver, could he blush? Did he sparkle more in the light when blushing? Pooling silver instead of red? “I would have come for you, I swear, but uh, Ronodin got to me first. I’ve been here a week-ish. Hard to tell the days, the guards aren’t regular on feeding us. I’m not sure what he wants to do with me. He was helping overthrow preserves and trying to set dragons on the world to massacre humans, so I was sent to stop him, but he got the jump on me.”

Ronodin would try to negotiate better circumstances for the dragons, and starting them from a place of freedom is something he would do. Keeping Bracken for no reason? That didn’t sound like something he would do. Bracken being sent off to stop his cousin? Bracken looked fit, but she would probably bet on Ronodin in a fight.

What was the truth in all of this? Where was it? Except she knew where it was, locked away with her memories. This was the first time she felt like she needed her memories. Kendra had missed them before, but if what Bracken said was true, then Ronodin was brainwashing her. If what Ronodin said was true, she had purposefully led Bracken to believe the way he did, and she had escaped from the consequences of the harm she caused someone who seemed so honest and sincere. Why couldn’t she just know. Like a normal person.

“Would I give up my memory so my brother wouldn’t have to?” Kendra asked.

His eyes were soft, awkwardness leaving, “In a heartbeat. Seth has suffered much, often by his own folly, much because he was a child in a world too dangerous for someone with his curiosity and kindness. He has trouble knowing who to trust. You supported him, gave him strength, pulled him out of his misery, helped clean up his mistakes, but you wished you could bear some of the burden for him. If given the chance to spare him pain, to keep him from messing up without his memory and creating new guilt, Kendra Sorenson wouldn’t hesitate to give up her memories.”

His hand raised, and she noticed a piece of hair falling in her face, he hesitated just short of her, and then pulled his hand back to the bars.

“Sorenson,” she said, fixing the loose hair on her own, because she’d start crying if she didn’t speak, “Is that my name?”

Bracken nodded, smiling, “Kendra Marie Sorenson. Your first name came from a book your father loved, your middle name is the same as your maternal Grandmother’s middle name.”

“I want to believe you,” Kendra admitted. “But from the things I know for certain, you’re probably a victim of my own lies.”

“You are goodness,” Bracken said simply, “Goodness and light. Ask yourself if what you’re doing feels right, feels good. If it makes you a better person who helps people and creates good things. Don’t listen to Ronodin, don’t craft curses. If you find a moment to escape, take it. Take it and don’t look back. Head to upstate Connecticut, ask for the Sorensons. You’ll find people who can help you.” Bracken tensed, “My jailor is coming, hurry away, don’t stop.”

Kendra rushed to the goblin statue, twisted the head, and hurried back up the hall.

Back in her little apartment, she took off the amulet and held it up. It had felt good crafting it. Honest. Part of who she was before that she had reclaimed. What was true and what was false?

#Forgotten Light #Bracken #Kendra Sorenson #Brackendra #I love this chapter so much you have no idea #Thanks for being patient #The hyperfixation choses you #Fablehaven #Dragonwatch

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mymanreedus · 2 years

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Zena Kanes is a designer at Roundhouse Agency in Portland. Here she takes us through her process for designing the cover of Norman Reedus’ debut novel, The Ravaged.

“I was thrilled when I got the news I was going to work on the cover for Norman Reedus’ debut novel. Reading through the manuscript is a crucial part of my design process. Some designers skip that step entirely and still create a successful cover, but I feel as though I might be missing out on an inside joke if I don’t. I love to fully immerse myself in the tone, setting, and overall mood of the story. I’ll usually create a playlist that mimics the genre and watch movies that explore similar themes.

Reedus had some great covers to reference from the start, including Cherry by Nico Walker (designed by Janet Hansen). I actually read through an article, similar to this one, where Hansen recounted her design process. It was so validating for me, not just with this project, but gaining confidence in my design process as a whole. Hansen explored many different directions that ended up being dead ends but were still just as important to the process. She took harsh feedback like a boss and pivoted accordingly.

During the initial exploratory phase, my Art Director Stephanie Stanton and I worked to convey the brutality of struggling to achieve the American dream and the nostalgia of American culture. I ended up with about 30 different concepts. From barbed wire to an empty beer can, there was a lot of cliche imagery Steph and I had to get out of our system. There are some concepts that I completely forgot about until I dug through my old files for this article. Norman had also given us a couple of his child’s drawings to potentially include in the cover. I loved the thought of including something so personal as an easter egg and explored a couple of concepts with it, but nothing stuck.

The matchbox design epiphany came to me as almost a last-ditch effort while I desperately sifted through my various Pinterest boards, trying to find anything that would spark an idea (no pun intended). I referenced a ton of vintage matchboxes. It was important to me to mimic the ink bleed, print effect and hand-drawn feel that is the essence of that design style, so I drew everything in procreate on my iPad before transferring it into photoshop to clean it up. I tried out a handful of different fonts, but nothing worked as well as when I lettered it by hand.

It was a real struggle to get the right shade of blue that still “bled” into the paper in the right way. If I remember correctly, I had to duplicate the layer, change the blending mode, and merge it back together a few different times. Some of my favorite comps were solid red on white, but there was some concern with the book jacket getting dirty, so ironically we added grime and stains straight into the design, just like a fresh pair of pre-ripped jeans.

When I initially pitched the concept to the author, I showed the book's jacket as a slipcase, which the book (with matches printed onto the hardcover) slides out of like a true matchbox. I really wanted to drive this concept home, so I printed out mini books and slipcases, taped them together, and shot some photos to include in the pitch deck. It was ultimately vetoed due to costs and logistical issues, but I think that extra effort helped get the cover design through the approval process. I was, however, adamant that the spine still mimics strike paper and is raised to the touch.

The nature of the publishing world means that you’ll pour your heart and soul into a project for months, and it won’t see the light of day until much later. Sometimes not until the next year. A lot has happened since I designed The Ravaged, including leaving Blackstone Publishing to work for Roundhouse Agency in Portland, so I nearly forgot about it until I was told it was featured on the Tonight Show! Ya know, the one with Jimmy Fallon?! I savored my 15 minutes of fame, but couldn’t have done it without the amazing publicists and my wonderful co-workers at Blackstone Publishing. And, of course, Norman Reedus.”

Zena Kanes, Spine Magazine

#Norman Reedus #book #behind the scenes #article

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

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mirage x john taylor

i wrote this a while ago, but for some reason i didn't post it lmao, its one of my favourite things that i've ever written, so i really hoep you enjoy it! also john taylor omfgggjja

Pairing: 82! john taylor x reader

Warnings: none at all

Word count: 2.602

༉‧₊˚✧

Admiring the earth in the early hours of dawn was as if an angel had blessed you with the first sightings of heaven. It’s a glimpse of life at its true peak, demonstrating the true meaning of what living is and what it should be: beauty at its finest resort. At this hour, you’re able to catch the sight of earth in total fragility, a mere ghost-town without a soul in sight. There was little to no irritations echoing out of any residences aligned by the coast (as there usually would be until 4 in the morning), just the mere accompaniment of the exuberant sounds of eloquent waves, crashing aimlessly into the golden landscape of the beach. There was also an occasional chirp of the cicadas scattered around the atmosphere, putting my mind at ease as though I wasn’t the only person on earth awake at this celestial hour. I constantly cherished moments like these; they were, surprisingly, the only times I was able to simply breathe. No distractions, no one coming up to me questioning whether I was going to go to the amazing-party-down-town that everyone is somehow going to, it was just me. Life plays by so quickly, people seem to forget the beauty in which is constantly surrounding them. A party doesn't mean anything, a one-night-stand doesn’t mean much but a potential orgasm. This, however, being alone, admiring the world in all its might and eccentricity, produces a euphoria not even drugs can obtain a level to. This place undeniably fixated a meandering caprice on me — like a blanket of unknown being poured on each side of my body, indulging me with a time of self-discovery and meaning. There were constant thoughts echoing through my mind frivolously, so loud and so ripe, but quiet, dimmed, as if they were too loud for me to even muster, resulting in a forceful crumble of a delighted whisper. As I gazed at the land that lay ahead of me, I examined every little detail that I could set my eyes upon. Palm trees danced with the wind, cavorting in their own, personal fantasies as if they each occupied an individual mind. Their movements were graceful, almost completely orchestrated, yet sloppy, like a drunken collapse of a newly-wedded couple in the centre of the dancefloor of their service they’ve jointly paid life savings on, a moment so inebriated in love, adoration, and commitment. I envied their joy, their casual sways, their attempted defiance against the power of nature, for they probably felt contentment every single day of their existence by such an uncanny resort.

As my eyes began to slowly trail off the dazzling trees, I looked up to gawk at the alluring illustrations painted on the ceiling of the nirvana that rested forth from me. There was not a single whiff of cloud in sight, the atmosphere simply pencilling an array of warm shades, ranging from the deep, murderous blood oranges, to royal delicacies of periwinkle. The view was unfathomable. As the waves began to pick up, I felt the light gusts of wind that accompanied me previously begin to cement. The air calloused my hair, marvelling in the deeply coated locks, attempting to carry them to its next destination. It almost felt the same way as someone brushing their fingers through my roots, all the way down to the aged, lifeless tips. I felt my skin begin to draw goosebumps, an indication that it was time for me to head inside. However, I wanted to occupy the time I had. I didn’t mind painfully tormenting my body when coming into contact with such a meandering view. I was holding a moment, capturing a memory, taking panoramic snaps to engrave in my mind because I was fully aware that this would be the only chance of true life I’d have. I compelled my body to stay put, even though I was practically ice, forcing my eyes continuing their glimmer at the picturesque skies — I simply was unable to get enough of it all. Every few minutes, just when I was feeling my eyes get heavy and my eyebags pull at my face, I’d notice a new, fresh colour contrast in the empyrean, my eyes widening at the serendipity that had laid out, once again. Simply inhaling the sweet taste of purified air and having my eyes fixate on such pictorial demises, was causing me to lose my grip with reality. The oxygen, the sunlight, the entire concept of life, is all somehow always so much more tranquil yet augmented when you’re situated by the coastline.

After what felt like a million years and a million different shades of colours verging from reds, to yellows, to blues, I felt two arms slowly slider around my shoulders. Snapping me out of my trance, I felt my heart skip a beat, until I came to the rational realisation that it was him.Turning my head, I instantly came into contact with the face of a tired, smiley John, tailgated by a whiff of messy hair sloppily covering his forehead. I attempted to hold back my smile by forcing my teeth on my bottom lip, yet I was seemingly unsuccessful. Our faces were merely centimetres apart, our noses very nearly brushing against one anothers, though it felt like they already were. My eyes, which were once so focused and enthralled by the view above, were trapped in the stare that was reciprocated by the man whose arms were adorned by my torso at this moment. I studied his features intently for the short period of time our stare was consumed in, analyzing anything and everything I could identify — his perfectly shaped nose, so accurately proportionalized in all areas; his thin, flawlessly drawn eyebrows — eyebrows women would pay so much for to get done; his pink, puffy, paradisiacal lips, lips you would seemingly never get enough of; and not to forget his seraphical eyes, eyes that would draw you in instantaneously, eyes that would pierce daggers to your soul and make it ache in rapture. Whenever he would stare at me, I felt intimidated by the adoration that seeped out of his beautifully drawn pupils. His eyes were a visage to his soul, his emotions; it wasn’t hard to determine his feelings when coming into contact with his gaze. His face was a dream to look at, and sometimes I felt that he wasn’t real, just a conjured up scenario I’ve placed myself into, a product of my own fantasy, the looks in which he conveyed of pure gorgeousness and idyllicism seemed like they were sculpted in the garden of Eden. He seemed like he came from the garden of Eden. “Good morning,” he chirped, the gravelly sound exhibited from his larynx was yet to fade off, proof that he hadn’t been up for that long. “Why’re you out here?”

Beaming at him, I turned my head to watch the ardent waves repetitively douse themselves onto the soft ground. No matter how many times I watched it, the same feeling of relaxation and relief released itself from my veins as I had felt the very first time I held my admiration towards it. Sighing, I felt I was silenced by the grace of the water, grabbing onto one of John’s hands as a form of support to allow me to speak. “It’s so pretty out here, can’t you see?” I answered lightly with all the courage I was able to muster, feeling a sudden throb disperse itself in my heart. My eyes gazing at the view forth caused a feeling of not only elementary joy, which made me feel like a child again, but heavy nostalgia and emptiness, the type of emotion that washes over you when you’re reminiscing over memories shared with your lost ones — your facial expressions show you smiling sweetly, but inside your body is crumbling. It’s bittersweet. Clutching onto his hand made me feel secure, content, wanting to cherish this moment and hold it accountable for all its might, though I felt like a creep trying to explain myself to John. These thoughts, these emotions I cohered in my mind made me feel like I was a complete lunatic, that I was looking too in-between-the-lines, too in-depth. I couldn’t help it though, it came naturally, like how overthinking possesses one’s brain in the most cruel and unpleasant mannerisms.

I heard a small hum rumble out of John’s throat. Moving to sit beside me, I felt his arms detach themselves slowly, the slowness of his movements almost indicated that he didn’t want to move, though he was moving closer to me. I was sitting on the wooden bench situated in the centre of the medium-sized patio, and as time passed on, it began to get lonely with it just being me and the coastline. However, once he sat the closest he could without practically throwing himself on me, I felt full again. No matter what happened, no matter what I thought or felt, having him beside me as our bodies were enveloped in a cordial embrace made me realise that it’s not just the admiration of the place that put me in such a beautified mood, seeing the trueness in all that surrounded me, but it’s also the people I surround myself, my days, my life with. And I’m sure by now, by feeling this exact same feeling with John, I know I would adore spending the rest of my life with him.

“How are you?” I attempted to change the subject, turning my head to admire the side of his genial face. His right arm was now stretched out, resting on my shoulders whilst his free hand began lightly gripping the bone of my shoulder in an attempt to cold onto me, as if I was going to vanish and flutter off into the abyss of the crystal blue ocean, as if the grip I enamoured his palm in wasn’t enough. His head immediately swung to gaze at me as soon as I spoke. A small smile formed on his face, almost exact to the little smile he threw at me when he first came up to me a couple of minutes ago, portraying his deprived self. My heart felt warm staring back at John’s eyes, the simple doing birthing millions of butterflies in my stomach, though it was contrasted against an emotion of complete elation and bliss in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile back at him as he abruptly cleared his throat before speaking, the intimidation and nervousness pooled in my body now taken off guard from trying to murder my insides.

“I’m decent,” he mumbled, his fingers now relaxing on my flesh as he softly drew patterns on my shoulder. The childlike action was seemingly able to captivate my stomach with butterflies once again, a small beam creeping on my face as I felt a blush creep on my cheeks. I avoided looking at him, though I knew he knew exactly what he was doing to me; he always did. He knew me exactly like the back of his hand, hell, even better than that. “What time did you get up?”

A small laugh rang through my throat before I spoke. It almost came across as me mimicking his own throat soundings, though I wasn’t. “At the crack of dawn, my dear,” I smiled at him, my body lacking resistance to not lock eyes with the boy situated next to me any longer. His stare was infatuating, his deep, brown, ethereal orbs that somehow brought the light I never knew I needed in my life, were like the angels granting you blessings through the stairway to heaven. “You know me, I’ve always been like this.”

The everlasting stare that fell onto my face from his eyes felt like my pores being deep fried by the sun. A small smile insinuated itself onto his dishevelled face, a diligent one. “That is in fact true,” he began, moving his stare into the glamorous empyrean that laid forth the pair of us. He took my hand, the frost that formed on the outlines of my skin sending feelings of shock to my nerves as the warmth of his palm enraptured itself with mine. “I simply wonder how you do it.”

After those words easily fell from his lips, I turned my head to look at him — specifically his side profile — as he enamoured himself in the transience of the colours. I spent a few moments — moments not too long, yet not too short to make the dissonance of time to deplete — to take in the scenario playing out currently. “If I were to tell you how, I would be defying my own self.”

He turned to me, curious and confused, pulling away from our shared embrace lightly to look me deeply in the eyes. “Reiterate?”

A short laugh escaped my body at his sudden reaction. We shared a moment of complete silence, a build-up to the words that I found myself beginning to slide off my tongue. A short intake of crisp oxygen and I was off, speaking my mind out of earnest discernment. “By telling you how I do such things, it almost exposes the wirings of my mind, what makes me who I am. And perhaps it’s a self-indulged fear, like everything comes to be, of revealing too much of myself that makes me think like this, but it is always the element of mystery that draws those who are curious towards that void that is unknown, hoping they find out enough that dishevels that scarcely pit of wonder,” I began, us now sharing an intense stare with one another, the earth completely silent, as if it were listening to every word that left my lips. “Or maybe that is just my secret attempt of keeping you with me for much longer than this sunrise can elongate.” I finished, attempting to brighten the atmosphere from my mind’s most destructive and aimless thoughts.

It is true bravery, to speak your mind, more so it is to reveal your true identity, and to be able to do that, dictates the idea that the fear of living is nothing but the mind’s own manacles. We kept soft, meaningful smiles on our faces as our eyes melted together. The little grimace grew all the more wider after my little try for a joke played through. “We are who we are, having secretly decided who we’d like to be, no?” He asked, his head cocked to the side, almost mocking my words previously.

It’s an unexplainable feeling, love. It disregards all aspects of morality, for you find yourself in a want, a greed to present yourself to them in ways unexplainable. There isn’t much you can do, that is. Either let the fire in your heart, pumping twice the amount of usual speed it would do per minute, simply fade out into an abyss of your recall, or contain its cancerous feelings, for all you muster your ability to do is fall more and more in love with them each day. As cancerous as it is however, you willingly choose to delve yourself deeper, until you manage to get injured horribly, or sometimes you come to a simple jurisdiction that the water is too sour for you to swallow. My smile grew wider at the quote that rolled off so delicately off his tongue, a feeling of euphoria that clashed in unison with the tide poured over my body from head to toe. “Yes, exactly that, my love.”

#john taylor x reader #john taylor #duran duran #band imagines #sing blue silver #fanfic #my writing #80s #new romantics #synth pop music

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gay-doodlebug-with-adhd916 · 3 years

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A pre-Easter post, thoughts from a gay Christian (long post)

So, in these days leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday, I've been trying to read through the Easter Story in my Bible and the verses/chapters related to it. Although I feel like I've read the story a billion times, I always feel as though every Easter is spent reading this story with other people, hearing other people's interpretations of how Easter played out and Jesus's crucifixion in other people's words. For the longest time, I spent Easter thinking of it as a communal holiday (as in community with people, it's obviously related to the taking of the communion lol), and even then, it is a holiday to be enjoyed with other people who celebrate Easter, completely. However, I think for the longest time I commercialized it in my head as a kid, saw it as this super exciting thing with fun colorful clothes that everyone wears and Easter egg hunts and fun food, and when the games were taken out of it as I grew, I think I diminished it to nothing, as some holiday that "doesn't matter anymore".

All that to say, as someone who's been quarantining since last March, I've spent over a year now, for the most part, in solitude. As a person who may potentially be celibate as an adult, I recognize that this is an exaggerated version of how life at home may be for me forever. And this year has really caused me to realize how completely essential it is for me to keep communicating with God, keep praying, keep depending on Him. Obviously, it's important for all Christ followers to do this. However, I've recognized that praying and reading the Bible and speaking to God as myself, not some over-glorified version of how Christians think other Christians "should be" is one of the few things keeping my head on my shoulders, one of the few things that doesn't make me feel so lonely I feel like the inside of my head is screaming. And I feel like learning to better recognize and celebrate and prepare my heart for something like Easter is such an important thing for me to do as a gay Christian who may potentially be celibate.

This is the story of what our religion and faith and celebration is really all about. This is the fundamental part, the core. Jesus literally died for all people living on the Earth past, present and future. Cishet and queer, of all socio-economic statuses, of all races and abilities and neurotypes and ages. The celebration of this holiday is celebration that the claim "God hates f*gs" is not only wholly inaccurate, but also blasphemous and contradicts every essence of God's being. This is a holiday for queer people like me, and other people who have been treated like they were "too filthy" to enter the walls of certain churches, this is a celebration of the acknowledgement that some churches don't represent the essence of God. This is a holiday for people who love their neighbors, people who have lost their neighbors, people who grieve losing someone and people who grieve being lost by someone. Sometimes I see Easter treated as some "all American" holiday where conservative families do their once a year church run because that's the mainstream thing to do, and I feel discouraged because it is treated like some holiday only accessible to the people who hold signs outside of pride marches and tell people to repent and stop being queer, the people who hold God, America and football all at the same height of importance, and have the gall to jeer at people who honor God in ways that they deem to be "un-American".

But this year, I am taking extra care to read the Bible closely in these days leading up to Good Friday and Easter. I read Psalm 22, and I will read about Palm Sunday, I'll read about the Passover and Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, and how Jesus washed his disciples feet. I'll spend careful time reading about how Jesus spoke to the criminal on the cross next to Him, the way that Jesus treated Thomas even though Thomas went through doubt, the way that Jesus healed the ear of the person who was against him and reprimanded his disciple who cut the ear off. I'll read about the horrific ways that Jesus was treated and crucified by the ultra-religious, political and self righteous leaders at that time, the way that he was sneered at and treated as vermin even though he never, ever deserved it. I'll think about how Jesus thought of each and every one of us as he died and the fact that he saw his mother and those closest to him at the foot of the cross in anguish, begging him to not die, the fact that ultimately what those who crucified him hated the most about him was his determination to love every person he interacted with and treat them with dignity and respect, humanity. The fact that he defended a prostitute and protected her from the perverted political leaders who brought her to Jesus in an attempt to take her dignity away before stoning her. I'll never forget that Jesus was crucified because the self-righteous couldn't handle the idea that a perfect God could truly love every imperfect person, not just the ones who managed to hide their imperfections using their high socio-economic status or the laws that they had partial control in.

And on Good Friday, I will grieve the crucifixion of a perfect savior who chose to fully love people like me, crucified by people like those who would try to convince me that I am going to hell despite believing in Jesus, simply because I am not straight.

And once Sunday comes, I will let myself cry, if I want to. I will thank God that He fights for me, even when those who go against me claim to follow Him. I will thank Jesus for thinking of imperfect people like myself when he was on that cross and I will truly mean it because I do- my gratefulness for the fact that such a perfect God thinks of me, let alone loves me, is something that grows exponentially the more I grow and realize how truly big and terrible the amount of hate in the world is.

And after Easter, I will remember how Jesus treated those who hated him for not being the type of self-righteous ultra political-religious person they were wanting him to be, and I will remember that as a Christ follower, our biggest goal should be to strive to be like Jesus. So I will remember, although life can be difficult in a world and a time where many many people see the concept of gay Christians as a simple impossibility, that I am here for a reason, and I've been made the way I am and in this time for a reason. I will remember to bless those who persecute me, instead of cursing them, rejoicing with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. I will remember that those who are persecuted on Earth will be highly rewarded in Heaven, and that the loving and protecting of a neighbor who has been hurt can do much more than fighting someone who only wants to be correct at the end of the day. I will continue to pray that God changes the minds of those in the church who struggle to believe that Jesus died for everyone and if God wants to use me in that process, so be it. But as I stay primarily in solitude throughout quarantine, I will pray that God opens my mind and helps me love others because I know that I am just as at fault as everyone else in this respect. I will spend this time reading His word and praying about it, asking questions and allowing myself to be emotional if I want or need to.

I know this was long, but if you made it all the way down here, hi! Thanks for reading all that, and if you're also a Christ follower and you celebrate Easter, I'd love to hear some of your thoughts on Easter and some things you like about it!

If I remember, I will try to keep adding updates on my account about chapters/stories/verses I've read or any new thoughts I have in this process!

Love you~

Doodlebug <3

#Good Friday #Holy Week #Easter #Jesus #crucifixion #Christian #gay Christian #Bible reading #Happy almost Easter!#Easter Sunday #Happy Holy Week #Jesus went to the Mount of Olives today #Yesterday was the iconic day when Jesus cleared the temple #Tomorrow is Holy Wednesday #And the day after that will be the iconic Maundy Thursday #And most of y'all know how the rest of this goes

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project-ohagi · 4 years

Text

Dabi x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Greyromantic: Can experience romantic attraction, but weakly or infrequently; feeling alienated from romance; only feeling attraction in specific circumstances.

Asexual: Having little/no sexual attraction or interest in sexual activities.

Questioning: Process of exploration regarding gender, sexual orientation, sexual identity.

----

The phenomenon of love is a complex, chemical concoction that has long been weaved into the fabric of our society. It is presented as a requirement, with those who find the concept either too challenging to thoroughly comprehend, or lacking in appeal, branded as anomalies. In its pursuit of normality, it quickly alienated those whose hearts just couldn't conform. In a different society, one not quite so dominated by this 'normality' of romantic and sexual interests...you might be forgiven for your limited knowledge. But this one...it seems to blanch at the very idea that happiness can be attained in the absence of romantic attraction.

As such, those identifying along the Aromantic or Asexual spectrums are often overlooked - even shunned. But, the greatest truth of it all is a lot simpler than you may expect: an emotion as profound as joy cannot be induced solely by succumbing to carnal desires, or tasting the lips of another. No...it is through self-acceptance, and the acceptance from those for whom your heart beats - parents, siblings, friends...and perhaps in this manner, the meaning is amplified.

But...what happens when you are forced into complacency, into setting aside your own interests, to 'further evolution', or to 'finally be normal'?

You were still trying to figure this out.

Who were you...really? Why couldn't you summon an emotion as free and universal as love?...Romantic love? Why did it seem so incomprehensible, so...intangible? These were the thoughts you battled with, every waking moment. They burrowed deep into your mind, so that you could never pull them out. They were elusive, yet...constant, nagging.

Why am I so different? Everyone else has crushes...even Toga likes that one UA boy! Ah, yeah...she asked me if I have someone I love. I just said "No". Saying: "I don't even know what 'love' is" seems a bit...she'd definitely call me weird. Then the others would probably laugh at me...

You felt...incomplete, like a jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces. You felt the isolation, suffocating you. It hadn't been a conscious decision. You didn't awaken one morning and think 'You know what? This whole 'love' thing? It just isn't for me! ' You craved a connection, a bond of some kind - holding hands...a hug at most. Anything more was frightening to imagine. What if someone...pressured you? Or stole a kiss, as an offhanded action? You couldn't bear it...not even the mere thought. It was likely the main contributor to your chronic anxiety and paranoia. Your treatment at the hands of society, the ridicule and the fear of phrases such as "It's just a phase!" or, "You need to find the right person!"...they fuelled the flickering spark of villainy in your eyes.

After all, outcasts and monsters are interchangeable to most common folk.

But you didn't want those labels. You were a lost lamb, wandering aimlessly - what you really needed was guidance...someone who would listen and advise, someone who would accept you and every burden you carried, without question or quandary. But you said nothing...so you got nothing in return. Dabi was the closest to a...a source of strength? Motivation?...Potential love interest? But...how would you ever truly know? How could you discern the romantic from the platonic? It seemed impossible - simply a waste of time. Still, you never fully resigned to this fate of...loneliness.

You wanted to cherish, and to be cherished.

You wanted to love, and to be loved.

Perhaps it was the unyielding voice of fear, of desperation and pain, but...you just didn't know! You didn't know...and, it was difficult. You studied Dabi's face, and while nothing immediately heated your cheeks, he wasn't...unattractive. Aha! Maybe that was love? Alas, you discovered it to be more aesthetic attraction. It was a little disappointing, but perseverance should've been the key, right...?

Why? Why do I feel so little? Dabi is there for me, right? So surely if anyone, I should love him!...Do I love him? How can I tell? Is there some sort of test? How would a test even be administered? What kind of questions would I have to answer? I don't think I could answer them, even with study. If I'm struggling so much now...

And anyway...Dabi was a dominant male, whose sexuality was unclear. Even if you managed to settle on a definition of 'love', and figure out what role it played in your life...there was no guarantee that Dabi would want you. The jury was still out, on your gender - 'questioning' was your placeholder for the moment. But, you usually dressed masculine...would he be okay with someone so indecisive? Someone who might be neither male nor female? And, what if...what if he wasn't the one?

Say I can find love, and I start to understand it...who's to say that the person I love will be Dabi? It could be anyone! Maybe they were right, and I just haven't met the right person...but, I kind of want it to be Dabi? Is that...bad? Oh god, it sounds so selfish! He'll just be tied down, and if we find out that I don't actually love him...what would he do? At the very least, he'd be angry...

Dabi...the more you recalled his honey-laced voice, all the flirting you failed to notice until it was pointed out (clearly, he was doing that in jest), and those blue eyes (steely from years on the run, that probably depleted the pools of guilt and regret often accompanying mass killings, thievery and other criminal acts), the more confusion festered. You just didn't understand! Was it love? Or was it conversion? Were you trying to become 'normal'? Well, as normal as a villain could be...? Or did Dabi really mean something...something greater than you believed? Something...beyond what you currently knew?

This journey of self-discovery had approached a torturous junction.

Why were relationships so sought after, so expected? Even you desired one. How else could you ever hope to form a deep bond, or receive that fabled 'feeling of ecstasy' from holding hands or hugging? If there was no romance, mainstream media would lead you to the conclusion that there isn't a 'proper' or 'deep enough' connection - there can't be. You wanted to experience these things with Dabi. No-one else. You couldn't explain why. He was...an unusual character, mysterious and with perhaps a similar level of complexity as the daunting questions you were asking yourself. But mentioning your plight to him simply wasn't an option. Villains were responsible for themselves; the League was nothing more than a safety net.

Besides, Dabi was heartless.

...Or so he liked to be portrayed.

Urghhh...why is this so complicated? How am I supposed to know if I love him? The signs are...increased heart rate and blood to the face, right...? That seems unhealthy...is that actually supposed to be a good thing??

"Hey, you stopped spacing out yet, (V/n)?"

Shit! No, no, no! I haven't finished spacing out!

Sheepishly, you turned in the direction of the voice. Why did Dabi always seem to materialise out of thin air, whenever you thought about him? Did you magic him here, by accident? Subconsciously? However you managed that...you hated it. Your existential crisis really didn't need a spectator. Break out the popcorn, why don't you?

Can't I have a break down in peace? Wait...am I even in my room?...Did I seriously question my entire existence right here in the bar? It's a good thing there's no-one else here...I don't need more people telling me that I'm crazy...

You sighed. "...Yeah."

His brows furrowed - this was unfamiliar territory. Helping people had never been his speciality, especially given his own trauma . But for you...it was certainly worth a shot. "What's up? You on your man-period or something?"

Off to a spectacularly dreadful start. "I - I don't know if I'm a man, though...how could I-"

"Relax, it was a joke. Your pronouns are they/them, right? I'm not gonna call you a man just for the sake of argument. Nah...Hey, scoot over." A for effort.

"You could sit literally anywhere else."

He smirked. "You gonna stop me, sweet-cheeks?"

Sweet...?

"Thought not. Anyway, what's going on? You've been all doom-and-gloom for the past...two hours." He motioned over to the clock.

Had you honestly spent so long in contemplation? Gods, you could've unlocked the secrets of the universe, but no. "I've...kinda been asking myself that."

"Oh?" It was obviously a prompt, but talk of your romantic inclination (or lack thereof) would likely be regarded in the realm of 'stupid' and 'childish', so...could really you trust him?

I've always been too nervous to take risks...Guess now's as good a time as any to change that.

You swallowed down the uncertainties, the anxiety and everything in-between. They didn't help - they only hindered. And...you did need to release this burden, that weighed you down so heavily.

"Um...it's - it's...confusing. Really...confusing. I guess, I simple terms: I don't know what 'love' is. I know it probably sounds really dumb to you, and I feel stupid for even saying it, but...I've never...never had a crush, never been in love. I don't...I don't feel anything romantic towards, well...anyone!"

"Not even a bit?" He asked, blank-faced.

"I - I don't know. I really want to, though. I'm just...I'm scared. There's always this underlying fear of...what if - what if someone forces me? Y'know? What if...I date someone, and they can't accept that I'm different...that I might never feel anything for them? I don't want to be lonely forever, Dabi! I want someone, I really do! I say I've never been in love, but...the truth is, I just don't know! I know that I don't need to kiss someone. That's what I...what I don't want, but...I - I still want to hold hands with someone! I'd still like a hug, every once in a while...I don't know what I'm doing, or really...who I am."

For a few moments, he was silent beside you, just drinking in the flood of information. He refrained from reaching out, or gazing too intently. It took time to settle on an appropriate response. "You're looking at it as an issue, though - something you've gotta resolve, before you can move on. I'm not the best with advice, trust me...but I can tell you that it's a journey. It'll continue and evolve, as long as it needs to. You'll...probably know when you're ready, or...something. All that sappy crap. You don't have to force yourself to understand it all now."

I'll know...?

"When I'm...ready?" You repeated, eyes tracing the lines on your palm.

"Yeah...probably."

Just before you lost all coherency, a single thought fluttered to the forefront of your mind: My heart...just...skipped a beat?!

[Word Count: 1775]

#bnha dabi #my hero academia x reader #mha dabi #dabi is a todoroki #dabi x reader #pride #greyromantic #asexual #questioning #honestly same #bnha x reader

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jungleuniversity · 4 years

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How I Improved My MCAT Score (509 -> 518)

Hi Everyone! I got back my new MCAT scores awhile ago, but I thought I’d write a post about how I achieved my score, with hope that it could potentially help another student. I know that while I was studying, a lot of the advice I saw on the internet was overwhelming and made me feel that my level of studying would always be inferior to what others were doing. The vast array of available courses, practice tests, and other services available certainly did not help either, as there is no reasonable way to complete every single resource that exists. In this post, I’ll go through a timeline of my basic study plan and explain which resources I used and why I think they are worth using.

Stage 1 - Kaplan 7 book set and other content resources

I had trouble coming up with a time frame for how long it should take to go through the Kaplan set, which is why I simply called this part the “first stage.” Many guides I have read online mention strictly separated “content review” and “practice exam” phases of studying. Personally, that would never have worked out for me because I would have gotten anxious every time I got a question wrong during the exam phase. Instead, I spent about 3-4 months simply reading and taking notes out of the books, and then doing a mixed exam and content review stage. I used each book in the following ways, especially the second time I studied:

Biochemistry - For the first half of the book I took detailed notes as if I were learning from an ordinary biochemistry textbook for a class. For the second half, I eased on the notes and started drawing out the different pathways. I think I wrote down the Electron Transport Chain pathway 10-15 times and the Citric acid cycle path about 50 times. I did not draw the shapes of compounds, but I won’t tell you not to do that either.

Biology - Same as the Biochem book. I did spend extra time on “high yield content” that's more difficult to memorize, such as actin/tropomyosin activity in muscle.

Physics - I cannot stress what I am about to say enough. The absolute most important things to know from this book are the units. If you are truly stuck on a physics (or often chemistry) question, there is a very good chance you can use dimensional analysis to force your way to the right answer in a relatively brief amount of time. If nothing else, PLEASE learn the units behind every concept.

Chemistry - Use the advice from physics, but I also took pretty heavy notes, especially in the first half, since there’s a lot of content that, despite being easier than biochemistry in my opinion, are foundational and will cause problems if you skip it.

Behavioral Sciences - This was the section that brought down my first attempt score. I found that the premed95 anki deck that’s in circulation was helpful, but it made me incredibly lazy in studying to the point where I would pretend to be productive, while just looking at slides. I was desperate not to repeat my mistakes, so I brute forced my way through the Kaplan book this time instead. I didn’t take notes the way I did for other subjects - instead I hand wrote every single bolded word and definition in a notebook, organized by chapters. This took about a week and I did not study any other subject during this time. I don’t know if I would recommend this method for Behavioral Sciences for everyone, but the truth is that after I did this, my practice section scores went from 124 to 128-130. One thing to keep in mind though, the last few sections of the Physics/Math book are absolutely critical to the Behavioral Sciences section as they are the only resource within the Kaplan set which explain the research methodologies for both Psychology and Sociology.

Organic Chemistry - I took sparse notes on this book. I think it's the least useful out of the 7 book set, and I often had to look to the internet and old organic chemistry class notes to clarify mechanisms and pathways. Nevertheless, make flashcards or write down reactions such as the Aldol condensation, which more likely than not will show up at some point.

CARS - Skip this book. In my opinion, there are better ways to study this section. Most importantly, use the CARS question packs from AAMC.

Stage 2 - CARS, Mixed Content Review and Practice Exams (2-3 weeks)

This is around when I started taking CARS much more seriously, so I would recommend starting earlier. I mainly focused on using the two AAMC question packs, although the KhanAcademy passages were also useful. The first question pack was definitely a bit more difficult and you might feel discouraged after going through half of it. However, I promise it does get better. Part of the change is that as you read explanations for why you get questions wrong, your skill will begin to improve. The other part is that the second half of the question pack, as well as most of the second question pack are more closely aligned with the difficulty level of the actual test.

This was also when I began taking NextStep full length exams. (Insert surprised Pikachu face) My first score was a 501. Definitely not expected at the time, but it was a necessary wakeup call to understand where my content gaps were.

After each exam I took from this point on, I would take the rest of the day off after taking the exam. Just relax, after taking a 7 hour exam, you deserve it tbh. The next day, go over the entire exam, question by question and take notes where you need to. I wrote very brief 1-line notes for questions I got right and understood, and more detailed notes for all incorrect questions as well as correct questions that I did not fully understand. This is important for two reasons: First, this allows you to know exactly where your content gaps are and understand how you can improve applying the concepts that you already know. Second, there’s only so many different things they can ask you on the MCAT. It might sound endless, but there are a finite number of concepts and you are bound to see very similar questions on future practice tests and also on the real MCAT. In my experience, writing down the explanation for the correct answers on missed questions ensured that I never get a similar question incorrectly in the future. Overall, next-step exams were alright, but their content felt incredibly low-yield. Now, studying low yield concepts is extremely important, but it's obviously detrimental if that's all you study.

For the next month, I would alternate between taking next-step and AAMC full lengths, with breaks in between to review my content gaps. My highest Nextstep exam was a 512, but I tended to score around 507-508. My aamc exams, in order, were 519, 517, and 515. The downward trend was concerning, but I was honestly happy since all of those scores were higher than my target at the time, 513. Also, I falsely began to think that NextStep exams were extremely deflated. (They are, but not nearly to the extent that you might think.)

Finally, the day before my first exam: I couldn’t sleep at all, and I went against common advice of not studying on this day. As for exam day, just trust yourself and the studying you have done. My main advice beyond what anyone else will tell you is to keep a close eye on the clock. Several people who tested with me lost up to 5 minutes on CARS because they forgot to take into account the time during their lunch break. Not every test center will have digital clocks, and the one I went to only had a tiny analog clock near the area they check you in. When I asked a proctor for the time, he just laughed. So make sure you look at the clock and remember the time when your break starts.

My score on the first exam turned out to be a 509. Not necessarily a bad score at all, but this score was much lower than what I was aiming for. It was disappointing, mainly due to the time I put into studying, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. My behavioral sciences section severely pulled my score down, and there were a few content areas that I truly was not prepared for. I felt bad about it for about a week, and afterwards started studying again.

Stage 3: Final Preparations

Initially, I found it relatively difficult to study during the semester. One of my friends recommended I use UWorld questions to effectively use my time. This resource definitely helped me out when I felt like I simply did not have enough time to finish studying. They provide you with 1500 or so questions, categorized by section and sub categorized by topic. You can choose how many questions or passages you want to do in one sitting, and if you want it timed or not. After you finish, they provide you with personalized statistics for the session, as well as explanations for each question, which are saved and can be viewed at any time. Alongside simply rereading the Kaplan books, this is the best way to reinforce content knowledge.

The final resource I used were the Altius exams. I purchased a pack of 5 on a whim because 1) I ran out of practice tests and 2) someone on reddit said these were severely under-appreciated. Well, that gamble paid off because I believe these exams are about as close as you can get to the AAMC full lengths, BUT they give you much more detailed explanations, and are just a little bit more difficult, so you actually end up feeling like the AAMC practice exams are a bit smoother and easier to pace yourself on. After purchasing, I had one month to take all five, as well as the then-recently-released AAMC FL #4. Altius exams were great, and honestly, my only “complaint” was that CARS felt a little bit too difficult to be as useful as it could be. I also studied Behavioral Sciences and Biochemistry the way I described in Part 1, since I felt like I underperformed on those sections.

When second exam day approached, I forced myself to get a full night of sleep this, and it absolutely paid off. I was noticeably more aware during this test than my previous attempt, and corrected myself before making a bunch of silly errors.

A month later, I found out I got a 518, which was higher than my original goal.

Tl;dr:

Studying for the mcat is expensive, and it can be hard to find advice on which resources are useful.

In my opinion, only: Altius exams are amazing. UWorld is a great resource for content gaps and reinforcement, especially when you have sharp time constraints. Kaplan books are awesome for content review, but it should be fine if you buy an older edition (I used 2015).

#long post #mcat #mcat studying #medblr #studyblr #mcat advice #premed #premedblr #medical school #wild if u read this whole thing #studyspo #s post

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marvella15 · 4 years

Text

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 7: Shall We Dance

• Something I didn’t consciously realize about this film until reading Hannah Hyam’s book is that Astaire and Rogers don’t dance together until nearly an hour in. That hasn’t happened since Gay Divorcee. What was anyone thinking??

• Shall We Dance suffers from a lot of extra crap that it didn’t need, such as extraneous characters, far too many interruptions in the Astaire and Rogers relationship, and a bunch of weirdness like life-sized dolls, life-like masks, and backbending ballerinas. The film also has a lot of wasted potential, including a great score and songs by George and Ira Gershwin.

The Gershwins were already well acquainted with Astaire and Rogers. The duo had first met when she was starring in the brothers’ show, Girl Crazy, and Astaire was brought in to help with choreography. Rogers was close friends with George and even dated him. Astaire had known the brothers prior, having starred in a few of their shows with his sister, Adele.

• Our characters/actors: Peter “Petrov” Peters (Fred Astaire), Linda Keene (Ginger Rogers), Jeffrey Baird (Edward Everett Horton), Arthur Miller (Jerome Cowan)

• Around the time I was first really into classic Hollywood films, including these ones, my family and I adopted a new dog. I annoyed my parents to no end by suggesting we name him Peter P. Peters. Don’t know why I latched onto that name but I did.

• Even in the massive portrait of Petrov, you can see Astaire has his fingers curled in rather than fully extended.

• Astaire’s ballet attire lets us once again see just how skinny he is.

• Always loved how Peter does a little tap at the rhythmic sound of his name and birthplace: Pete Peters, Philadelphia PA.

• Rogers’ cardigan with all of its baubles is truly awful looking. It will only be out done by a terrible floral dress she wears later.

• I do however like that she shoves her handsy stage partner into a fountain. Why are men constantly the worst?

• “And why must there always be a kiss at the second-act curtain?” is YET ANOTHER example of these films trolling us. Not once up until this point has any act of an Astaire/Rogers outing included a kiss between them.

• Linda’s disinterest in even meeting Petrov is based on the assumption that he’s a “simpering toe dancer.” While that’s incorrect, she’s not wrong that he is indeed another man who has seen a picture of her and wants to tell her he can’t live without her. So she gets partial credit.

• If Peter wasn’t totally smitten before, Linda’s jab, “It’s just a game little American boys play” gets him.

• As a mixed race number, “Slap That Bass” is incredibly unusual for the era. Astaire was a great admirer of African-American dancers and was strongly influenced by Bill Robinson and John W. Bubbles. I love the blend of all of the voices in this song.

• The dance portion of “Slap That Bass” gives Astaire a chance to show off more of his innovative mind and choreography. He dances in time with the sounds of the ship’s engine and compels the camera to follow him across and up the vast set. The dance is also special in that we have behind the scenes footage of Astaire rehearsing, thanks to a home video shot by George Gershwin.

• Peter making Jeffrey believe the boat is rocking may seem a bit unbelievable but having been on a large ship myself, sometimes you don’t realize it’s rocking until you see other passengers weaving or a giant chandelier swaying.

• I usually skip most if not all of Jeffrey and Arthur’s scenes together. They slow down this film soooo much.

• Like in all of their films, songs are sometimes heard in the background before the actual musical number they appear in. But because this film is scored by the Gershwins, there’s an array of shorter pieces of music that are all their own, such as the whimsical score heard while Rogers and then Rogers with Astaire are walking her dog.

• The dog Peter borrows to give himself an excuse to talk to Linda hits his bark cue perfectly and looks extremely happy about it.

• I would love to know what exactly Astaire and Rogers are talking about while walking her dog. Maybe they were given lines that were then not recorded or maybe it’s improv. But it seems very natural.

Rogers did say that Astaire was a wonderful conversationalist and was adept at talking while dancing, something she noted most men couldn’t manage.

• Wow do I love it when Rogers gets to be extra sassy

Peter: “Isn’t it wonderful being here tonight like this? Still on the same boat together.”

Linda: “Oh, I seldom change boats in mid-ocean.”

• “Beginner’s Luck” is such a charming, fast song that Astaire delivers wonderfully. He hardly seems to take a breath.

A jazzed up version of “Beginner’s Luck” is the song Peter tried to dance to in Paris but the record kept getting stuck.

• Something this movie fails at is letting Linda and Peter’s relationship continue to progress before throwing more obstacles in their way. We know from the gossip of the ship’s staff that they have been spending a lot of time together. When we see them, they are having a relaxing evening that’s incredibly domestic: sitting side by side on the deck while she knits and he smokes. Wouldn’t it have been nice to see more of this part of their relationship?

• Why on earth did Peter think sending Jeffrey to fix the false baby rumors was the right decision? Jeffrey can’t handle a single thing.

• Infuriated at the rumors that she’s married to Peter and pregnant with their baby, Linda tries to call him. “Operator! Get me Mr. Petrov. What? Don’t you dare congratulate me!”

• The theme of this movie is supposed to be the blend of dancing and music styles. Peter’s ballet and Linda’s jazz styles are one example, George Gershwin’s varied score, which switches from jazz to waltz to foxtrot to classical, etc, is another. But it’s a fairly weak concept that doesn’t quite land and reportedly, neither Astaire or Ira Gershwin was wild about it.

• I love the new version of “Slap That Bass” that plays as Peter and Jeffrey enter the rooftop club.

• When Rogers sings “They All Laughed,” she is singing to an off-screen Cary Grant, her friend and sometimes date who was visiting the set at the time.

She is also wearing a dress with a horrible pattern. It’s supposed to be floral but it always makes me think of amoebas. Maybe it looked better in color?

• Astaire clearly has fun during the part where Peter hams it up a bit with his ballet next to Linda’s tapping.

• In some ways, “They All Laughed” is reminiscent of “Isn’t it a Lovely Day.” They’re testing each other, trading glancing as they see whether the other can keep up with the increasingly complex steps. Until now, Linda didn’t know Peter could dance this way so her surprise and amusement unfolds slowly as the routine progresses. But he has been grinning since the start because he’s hoping to win her back through this dance.

• This is another duet where it takes a long time before they touch. The first physical contact is just her executing a series of spins with the help of his fingers. And it’s during this part that Rogers finally breaks into a wide smile.

• When he spins her up onto the piano the first time, she happily waits for him to retrieve her. And when he spins her into a seated position and upright again a few times don’t miss how he looks at her with a wry, slightly mischievous smile.

• The Linda doll is so creepy and not lifelike. Who was fooled by this?

Also, Arthur is terrible. Jeffrey is terrible too but he’s an idiot so I’m more willing to let it slide.

• Peter walking out of Linda’s bedroom in the morning in his robe right in front of her fiancé while she is in her negligee is pretty funny.

• Peter and Linda’s nice day out is just further proof that this movie should’ve spent more time on the two of them together rather than breaking them up every few minutes.

• “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off” is a fun song, though Astaire gets most of the good words imo. However, Rogers does do an extra affectation to some of her lyrics and that makes them funnier.

At one point when she’s singing, he turns to her and for just a moment his face goes soft in that way it does sometimes when he looks at her.

• Some film historians have labeled this dance as not that great when compared to other Astaire and Rogers numbers. But I’ve always found it very enjoyable and innovative. While Gene Kelly probably takes the gold medal for dancing on skates in It’s Always Fair Weather, Astaire and Rogers did it first, did it well, and deserve some extra credit for a duet on skates rather than a solo.

Rogers also deserves some extra credit since the idea to dance on skates was supposedly hers. And probably deserves even more credit for doing this dance on skates while also in heels.

• For some reason I really enjoy that they perform this number in their hats and street clothes. It’s so informal and feels like something you do on a fun date.

• Throughout this dance, Peter continues to be the playful one, as he’s been in their interactions in the film, and Linda is the more serious one who needs to be coaxed into having fun. Maybe this is why Astaire frequently glances at her and even spends long seconds watching her at different parts as they move into the next series of steps. Rogers is more reserved in her expressions but whenever they are face to face, she appears happiest.

A few times she looks triumphant, leading me to wonder if they or she had finally nailed a section that was giving them or her trouble.

• Can’t say for certain but I swear she almost falls when they do the backwards steps. She just baaaarely snags his hand in time.

They had to film this dance something like 150 times so I imagine there was more than one time where at least one of them did indeed fall.

• The circular dance they do leading up to the end is based on a dance Astaire and his sister made famous in their time on the stage.

• Apparently the grassy bank they tumble onto wasn’t padded so those fake grimaces of pain aren’t that fake. Their exchange after the tumble feels very much like married banter to me:

Peter: “Yes, it was my idea.”

Linda: “Have you any more of them?”

Peter, exaggerating: “No.”

• They’re such a good match:

Linda: “Peter, you’ve got to marry me.”

Peter: “Why, Linda, this is so sudden.”

• Oh 1930s Hays Code humor. The cop who overhears their conversation thinks she’s pregnant and pressuring the father of the baby into marrying her. Hurr hurr hurr.

• Heh:

Linda: “I beg your pardon but what are grounds for divorce in this state?”

Clerk: “Marriage.”

• It will never make sense to me that a dance was not planned in this film for “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.” It’s a truly lovely song. I know Astaire and Rogers will dance to it more than ten years later in The Barkleys of Broadway but it’s just not the same.

It’s also a good reminder in the film that Peter has legitimate feelings for Linda and she does for him but they’re far more conflicted. Though he must sense he’s hooked her in a bit since he becomes very aloof once they return to the hotel in the stupid hope of making her want him more? Idk, men are dumb.

• “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” carries special poignancy because it became a form of consolation to Ira Gershwin after his brother suddenly died two months after this film was released.

• Oh Linda’s face when she walks in to see Peter with the loathsome Lady Tarrington is so sad and crestfallen. Ever thought you and your crush were finally on the same page only to find them canoodling with someone else?

Although, she could’ve knocked first instead of just walking straight into his room…

• The ballet portion of the finale is weird and unappealing in every way. Harriet Hoctor was known for the backbend dance she does in this film. Maybe it was something spectacular in 1937?? but it doesn’t hold up.

One thing I’ll say about Astaire’s duet with Hoctor, it’s a great chance to see him in a romantic duet with someone other than Rogers and notice how different he acts. No secret smile, no lingering looks, no whispered words, no soft expressions.

• “Shall We Dance” is another upbeat song that deserves more than being featured in the remaining few minutes of the film. Their dance is far too short but wonderful all the same. Her delight when he finds her always makes me smile. She also executes some impressive full length lunges that I couldn’t do at this moment much less in a dress and heels in the middle of a dance number.

For a few seconds, his fingers press into the exposed dip of her spine in yet another example of Victorian hotness.

• And so we finish film number 7. Shall We Dance underperformed at the box office and wasn’t a critical darling. Everyone, the actors included, started to feel the magic was coming to an end. Coming up next is a film I pretty much never rewatch: Carefree.

#fred astaire #ginger rogers #shall we dance #classic hollywood #old hollywood #fred and ginger #astaire and rogers rewatch #all astaire/rogers gifs without credit are mine

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blushing-titan · 3 years

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Eren as a father and Ymir as a mother motives theory never made sense. They were represented as emotionally stunned children in paths doing the Rumbling, not as adults. Ymir never cared about her children, she doomed them to suffer after her VERY SHITTY AND SELFISH CHOICE TO DIE because her abuser didn't return her "love". That was clear before Eren revealed it. She saved him and abandoned her children. She never gave a single fuck about them. She was always looking at HIM. (1)

For his part, Eren reverted to a child, talked about the sights with Armin which foreshadowed his motivation was mixed with his mental fuckery and timeless perspective. Dina and bird twist were foreshadowed via memory shards earlier. Krueger went on a rant about protecting Armin and Mikasa (and the "others") to Grisha. We've always known who Eren prioritized above all. Last chapter offered no twists, only confirmations. The story was always about EMA, Historia never had a place in the climax.

Hi! Thank you very much for writing 😀 I put my reply under the cut, so people who scroll down while searching tags don’t have problems with my long post (...because I feel like, unfortunetely, it’s gonna be another stream of conciousness from me, sorry about that 😅)

I really like your take on the "emotionally stunned children in paths" imaginery - I fully agree that it's a nicely-done symbolism!

To me, the whole Ymir sacrificed herself because of her unrequited love was not at all as clear and obvious as you say - especially before Eren revealed it. I still have a lot of problems with this plot twist, and how Ymir's feelings towards Fritz were portrayed in the end.

With the amount of abuse and mistreatment the king put her through, many fans tried to come up with different theories as to why Ymir kept on serving him. The way I interpreted it, after seeing her tortured expression over and over in many panels, was that she stayed by his side because of fear and emotional damages. With the way she was living, I was not surprised that she sacrificed herself, too - I thought that she honestly had enough, which added to the tradgedy of how she still couldn't find peace after that, and kept on being enslaved in paths.

I saw many takes and theories on her motives, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone betting on she was actually in love before ch. 139. I probably didn't search good enough, but again - with what I saw in the manga, I would have never bet on that either. My point is - before ch. 139 (...and after it too, in my opinion) Ymir was a walking mystery with unclear motives, so there were a lot of theories. Therefore, I disagree that the "parents" theory could never work - it obviously doesn’t work now, after ch. 139, but before that, her motivation could be anything really. I still wish it was something else, because what we got was too vague and problematic, in my opinion.

I simply dislike Ymir's conclusion. I feel like there was so much potential in her backstory and motives + a few different ways to tie it back with different plotpoints and characters in the end to make it more meaningful, but what we got was a brief: She was in love with the person who abused her, I know it sounds unbelievable but I couldn't look deeper into her heart, so we have to take it as it is.

In general - I can't brush it off, but to me it feels like Ymir's end goal was rushed, not explored properly, and almost pulled out of nowhere. Unfortunately, I feel the same about Mikasa's involvement in lifting the titan's curse. Don't get me wrong - I'm not at all against her becoming the hero. Quite the opposite, I was rooting for her since the beginning, and hoped to see her develop and have a big moment, but this...this honestly also felt pulled out of nowhere and, in my eyes, didn't do Mikasa justice at all. I wish there was more proper build-up and foreshadowing done so I (...and, from what I've seen, a huge portion of fans) wouldn't feel that way, but here we are.

As for the Eren/Armin conversation, I like how they got to "see" the world together, even though just as a visualisation in the paths. My problem is the [...] Eren reverted to a child, talked about the sights with Armin which foreshadowed his motivation was mixed with his mental fuckery and timeless perspective part. Again, this should have been forshadowed (...and developed in general!) much sooner - not in the final chapter, right before we learn about this controversial motivation of his.

Instead, for many chapters, we were lead to believe that Eren was acting with his original goals and personal motivations in mind; that he had some character developement which caused him to start thinking his actions through, stop acting so impulsively - and finally, that he had a plan in mind, or at least was acting out of his own free will.

If you've never seen him in this light and his motivation/behaviour seemed in character in the last chapter to you - that's fine, all power to you! But if such a big portion of the fanbase felt otherwise (me included), then it means that there were some writing issues that led to this.

The Dina situation should have been explored more, as well. It's a huuuge plot twist, which puts our MC's motovations in an entirely new light, and creates quite a few additional plot-related questions. The way we're shown the situation: Berthold couldn't die just yet, so Eren directed Dina somewhere else, which ended up being his house.

...why not anywhere else? He could literally send her back outside the wall. On top of that - did he seriously sacrifice his mother in favour of his friends? I'd really like more information on this, but the topic is cut basically as soon as it appears. I find it especially unnatural, considering the way further dialogue goes:

Eren tells Armin about how he caused his mother's demise. Armin makes a terrified face, but drops the topic, smiles and casually proceeds with: "Let's go, Eren" - like his friend didn't just reveal one of the most controversial plot twist in the series. No, who'd want to hear an elaboration on that - better talk about Mikasa, so instead we get the entire (in my eyes - really forced) Eremika-themed talk. The priorities...

About the bird thing...if I remember correctly, there were three shards revolving around this theme. Two of them just show birds flying, one of them shows Falco from bird’s perpective. Sure, now that we know that some random bird in the end pecked on Mikasa's scarf, we can kiiiiiind of connect it to the Falco's shard...but honestly, why was Eren's soul transferred into some random bird after his death? On top of that, a bird that was already existing in the world while he was still alive, as a human...did that bird’s conciousness just go poof! one day, for Eren to take the vacant spot? Should we also look for other deceased titan shifters in barns or birdhouses? 😅 I can’t believe I’m overthinking it this hard...😆

That's some three-eyed-parasitic-jeager stuff, for sure.

Jokes aside, I guess what I'm trying to say is that foreshadowing is fun and great, but it should go hand in hand with proper developement - and, in my opinion, the examples above kinda lack it (...ok, I'd let the "bird Eren" thing slide because whatever, I don't feel the need to be that serious about it, it could stay ambigous in my opinion - but I'd definitely want some more closure as for the Dina situation or Ymir’s motivations and inner thoughts)

I've always said that Armin and Mikasa were two of Eren's closest friends - or, even more, the only people he considered family. I've also never believed that he would ever willingly sacrifice them, as some people theorized (...though guess what, now that I know what happened to his mother, I have to rethink my reasoning). I understand that EMA are the main characters, and was expecting that the story's conclusion will be tied to them somehow, but definitely not at the expense of logical character and story developement (...and sorry - to me the ending just felt that way).

As for Historia: if she was never supposed to be important in the end, then, in my eyes, it's a very poorly guided plotline that only led to unecessary drama in the fanbase. Why make her situation look sus with things such us:

Incorrect conception date,

The emphasis on how she didn't marry the father of her baby (...only to reveal in ch. 139 that she, in fact, did that),

The mysterious, cloaked figure observing her talking to the farmer,

The whole talk with Eren in ch. 130, and Eren thinking back to it while talking with Zeke.

All the Historia/Ymir parallels.

Seriously, what was the point? It would be so easy to simply make the situation clear. Why not just make Historia admit to Eren in ch. 131: "yes, I'm already pregnant with the farmer's baby - I did it to save myself."? Why not cut the bs with the "she didn't marry him" - because, in all honesty, what did that information bring into the story, aside from confusion and "misunderstanding" - and just make them married, instead? Even better - why not have at least one panel showing Historia and farmer being at least somehow affectionate with each other? Why not let go of all this retconned stuff and use these panels for shelling out other plotpoints?

The theories didn't come out of nowhere - they were based on what was shown in the manga. People wouldn't be disappointed with Historia's conclusion if it was never implied that she was still somehow important. We may argue about it back and forth, but the truth is - when so many people collectively "misunderstand" a certain plotline to this extent, then it means there had to be some storytelling issues that led them to this - simple as that.

To sum it up, I'm happy that you enjoyed the chapter and found it logical and satisfying. I absolutely don't want to take that away from you, or make you change your mind, but I also can't help the fact that I don't see it in the same light as you. You say that the final chapter offered no twists, only confirmations - to me, it was pretty much the opposite. Still, I wanted to thank you for taking the time to write your thoughts, and sorry it took me so long to reply! Hope you're having a nice day 😄

#snk 139 #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #answered

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moved-attre · 3 years

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Here is my review of Cyberpunk 2077! It is a bullet point list of what I liked, and did not like about the game. I mean no offense in my writing, and am, of course, willing to be educated if I am wrong about anything! But please do not send me anonymous hate. I know many fans and haters of this game can be very, uh... So take it all with a grain of salt, and form your own opinions.

This is very long and likely boring so if you manage to make it to the end, I will be very impressed! Also, I may ramble or repeat myself, sorry. There’s more bad points than good, since the game is very glitchy and I couldn’t not mention the glitches I have experienced.

Obviously, this contains major spoilers! 👁👄👁

I’ll start off by saying, this is a game where you will likely not get what you expected. If you expected Cyberpunk 2077 to be a game filled with features that were never before seen, to revolutionise the gaming industry as we know it and become the most iconic video game ever made... You will not get that. If you expected it to be the worst, most irredeemable video game ever created that you’ll hate... You will not get that, either. If you expected a game that is a fairly standard RPG with some impressive graphics when played on a high spec PC, albeit with some bad glitches and a wonky story with lots of potential, then you’ve got it!

Pros:

The majority of the voice acting, such as in V, Johnny and Viktor, was very good and emotional. Viktor in particular made me tear up! And the way V manages to sound almost like Johnny with the subtle accent change was amazing!

The character’s such as Takemura, Jackie, the LIs, Johnny, Viktor, Misty (I could go on) and even many random NPCs were interesting! I wanted to know them and loved their relevant missions. The best ones were unromanceable, of course, but that’s what imagination is for.

THE ALDECALDOS! I love them! A found family, and I wish there was more to do with them other than Panam’s missions and a few side missions. I love found family, and I’m disappointed V couldn’t form their own, so I’ll take what I can get and love the Aldecaldos, even if V can’t join them until the very end. Panam had the best missions of all the LI’s, even if the last one felt very abrupt. (At least, on her friendship route.)

Night City felt alive. There was always plenty going on, it felt like a real city, and it could be beautiful.

Jackie and Corpo V’s friendship was lovely. I loved their “To this!” inside joke, and I loved how Jackie roasted V but would jump to their defence in a second. It didn’t feel forced at all.

There’s lots of environmental storytelling. The atmosphere of a city choking to death under it’s own pollution/corruption was very apparent in the areas not lived in by the rich. Lots of homeless characters, violence, drugs, absolute poverty, trash (The dump! I felt sick just looking at it, and I couldn’t even smell it! Poor V, though.) and general apathy from a lot of the residents really sold the concept.

Johnny and V’s dynamic was the best part of the story! I hated him at first, but slowly came to enjoy his commentary and advice. His interactions with V were very funny at times, and thoughtful at other times. He was an interesting perspective for the player to consider, while still being an asshole you could dislike for much of the story. He has some really emotional scenes and I played a V that viewed him as a friend, so it was really nice hearing him call V the closest person he’d ever had. They became so devoted to each other! CDPR did good with this element, but I can’t help wishing for more. The dynamic had so much more to give, and a romance/happy ending could have worked.

And to add on, the mission where Johnny takes over V’s body to go on a bender was great! I loved all the moments to play as Johnny in V’s body. All the symbolism between them was so good. Every mission matters, and you can replay to look closer at details! He also comments on other side missions with no personal relevance to him, which was neat.

All the enemies had unique names. A minor detail, but it made me feel some guilt over killing them. 🤣 I think all character’s had unique names, which is such a nice detail.

The soundtrack was incredible, I loved every original piece and radio song. I have several saved on Spotify, which is big praise coming from me! I very rarely listen to video game soundtracks.

V can adopt a cat! 🐈‍⬛ It was adorable, and Johnny’s interaction with it made me tear up!

The size of the map was good, not too big or too small. I got about 100 hours of play in by exploring, which is pretty good to me! I got lost a few times, but always found something interesting to do in the meanwhile. I loved the Badlands especially.

Some of the side missions, particularly the more mysterious ones involving investigating deaths and the cyberpsychos, were very enjoyable! I’m a big slut for mystery, and there were some interesting cases to figure out. I wish we could’ve done missions like that with River, though, especially once he becomes a PI.

I was complaining about the lack of aliens in CP2077, but I suppose we did get a couple space themed missions which was pretty fun. I still want to go experience going into orbit, though. 👽 Or the moon!

Separating voice and body in the CC was a good idea, even if it was handled a little strangely. I’ll talk about this more in the ‘Cons’ section below!

Act 2 was my favorite part of the game, but it blended weirdly with Act 3 and that put me off. I am nostalgic for Act 1, but not eager to replay it because it felt so slow... I’m not sure on this point! I liked Act 2 because the story picked up and I was excited for more, but the more I got wasn’t as I expected. So, yes, Act 2 was good.

The scenery is very beautiful, and sometimes the outside lighting is absolutely perfect. The Arasaka parade mission was lovely to look at. I always stop the car and watch the sunrise/sunset, and I like going out to the Badlands to look at the stars!

An addition to that, is the lighting in some main quest missions. Very noir! It made for some beautiful screenshots. (Of which I sadly can’t share because my game doesn’t record well on medium settings. 😳)

The motorcycles are fun to drive! Mainly because I can zoom in between cars and Jackie’s motorcycle has a lot of sentimental value, as well as other vehicles like Johnny’s Porsche and Jake’s car. You can open the trunk to dump bodies in, which was a cool detail., and each one drives differently!

There could be amazing attention to detail, such as making Jackie look like his mother. I expected his mother to be a randomly generated NPC, but she was completely unique. It’s the minor things like that which stood out to me the most.

The scanner was a fun tool and very useful! I liked being able to find alternative ways to do a mission, it felt more realistic than the standard “massacre everybody, pick up an item and get out” fetch quests normally seen in RPGs. I could sneak in a tunnel or a side door! Perhaps irritating and unnecessary to some, but I liked it. I love utilising every possible option.

The interface color changes if you have Johnny controlling V’s body. Another small but good detail! The game is good with the minor details.

The sex scenes were not... awful. I expected much, much worse! I expected fully animated first person porn. Instead, I thought they were fairly realistic and intended to be romantic. Still very awkward, though, and unnecessary.

When they didn’t glitch, the animations were very good. Not as impressive as I hoped, probably because of glitches, but in line with other AAA games like Horizon Zero Dawn, I suppose? I noticed Judy’s animations in particular as being good, and Johnny had lots of unique ones too!

The clothing options are very fun, I like the holographic items and “Bitch” clothes, hehe. Also including Hijabs! 🧕 Great idea, and more games should do that.

The diversity of the NPCs was welcome. I enjoyed seeing Native American, Asian, Black and Latinx NPCs who weren’t there just to suffer! They would occupy important roles in the story, such as Fixers or friends/romance options for V, so they were pretty much unavoidable! It felt very natural, and they helped Night City feel more realistic.

Adding to that, the different cultures included were interesting too! I liked the Haitian characters in Pacifica.

The photo mode is pretty good. Not as good as I expected, the camera angle presets were useful but the filters weren’t very good. I liked that the photo mode could be used in cutscenes, though! It was standard, and I hope more bits will be added in for it.

A lot of the glitches are hilarious, but I recognise not all will share that opinion so I’m just adding this down here. The T-Posing NPCs are a highlight for me. Call that the Skyrim effect.

Cons:

No NB gender options/No pronoun options. Would they/them have been so difficult to implement?

No body or height sliders. There’s so many fat character’s in the game! Why can I not make my V fat? Or muscular?

Gender restrictive hairstyles and clothes. Come on, guys, it’s 2020/2077! Aren’t we beyond gender restrictive appearance options?

No tattoo parlours, no plastic surgeons and no hairstylists for V to change their appearance. I don’t understand why a CC was included at all, since we spent the majority of the game in first person. It reminded me of Far Cry.

The main story started off strong, albeit slow, picked up in Act 2, then felt very rushed in Act 3. The point of no return was very abrupt!

The celebrity cameos felt very gimmicky. The one exception to this is Keanu Reeves, who did a very good job as Johnny. Genuinely brought tears to my eyes at times... but Grimes was just embarrassing! Why was she there! A talented VA could have done Lizzy Wizzy much better, giving her actual emotions instead of just monotone “boredom”.

I don’t know what the point of owning apartments is. You can only sleep in V’s bed, what is the point of looking in the mirror? V has no use for their terminal in their apartment, they never get any messages after the first time they meet Johnny. It was so unnecessary, especially when there’s several across the map. I can access the stash of weapons and clothes from my car! Why would I ever need to go home? Judy gives me her apartment and I’m like, girl, I’m never visiting unless you have a mission to give me.

Also, there are no penalties for not showering or sleeping. I wanted character’s to comment on that! Call me stinky or tell me I look exhausted!

V doing side missions makes no sense, and no explanation is given for why we can do them. Why would V, who is dying and has precious few days left to live, be driving for hours on end to deliver packages and shoot random criminals? When they could be figuring out how to survive the biochip! Who the hell would care about a some extra money or buying every available car for sale, when they’re dying of something that could be preventable?

Some side missions were either very poorly done or obviously majorly glitched, since it felt like they skipped important parts and I was often very confused at the end of them! For example, the Corpo V side mission was so short! I expected to be able to hunt down Abernathy and get revenge for V and Jenkins, but instead, I shoot some random assistant I don’t even remember? And that’s it? Done in 2 minutes! If that! What is the point of that? I didn’t even have fun! Also, what happened to Garry? I wanted to save him but V just never follows up on it.

And, I wish we got closure with T-Bug. The fact that V never bothers to find her body and give her a proper burial was just poor form.

The endings were not... good. There are technically 6 different endings, all wrapped up into 3 parts. In my opinion, the best ending is the one where V kills themselves and has a very “Arthur Morgan watching his last sunset” vibe. It made me cry. Another good ending is having Johnny take over V’s body forever, as you can really see how much Johnny has changed as a person thanks to V’s influence. But they still felt very... eh and the story just never got that boost it needed, ending before it could take off. In the “best” ending, the Nomand ending with Panam, V ”survives” but has only another few months to live. So they die off screen. Satisfying? Uh, no. Not at all. There’s no possible ending where V has any hope of survival, but I much preferred being there with V until the very end. I disagree with the people calling Johnny’s ending the “bad” ending, because it really isn’t! I ignore all of this of course, and my V is living happily ever after.

I kind of hate that CP2077 has this illusion of options when some are clearly intended to be chosen more than others. Judy and Panam have the best endings in term of romance. Why bother with River and Kerry? Kerry is more of a fling than an actual romance, and is met very late in the game at a point where you can ignore him completely and just end the game, and River’s romance is so glitched that many people can’t even do it fully, and in every ending he dumps you, so it feels like none of it mattered to him despite him being the most “domestic” of the possible LI’s...

Takemura’s ending! He died in my playthrough, because the game didn’t tell me I could save him. That really annoyed me. Also, I recognise that V is in no place to lecture him, and there is some wisdom to his quote: “You speak against corporations yet offer no valid alternative.” But, Goro, bro... anything is better than fascist mega corporations keeping most of the city in absolute poverty, while waging devastating wars against other mega corporations? I wish we could have opened his eyes a little. There’s a good, even ground between Takemura believing Corps to be doing the best for humanity and Johnny being willing to kill 12k people for a revolution. This game went a little “capitalism is bad, but the alternative is worse!” at times, in my opinion. I wish more could have been done against the corporations, instead they just kind of... exist... in the background. And I know, “Realism! “ because we live with massive corporations like Amazon in our lives and can do fuck all about them but we’re not V. V is an absolute unit who survives death multiple times... I wish there had been two paths, like do Johnny’s path and work against the system or do Takemura’s path and work with the system? Sort of like The Witcher 2?

You know how in Saints Row, The Boss has homies they can call on for help? I wanted V to have homies to help them out in fights. It felt pointless building trust with the Fixers only to not have them help out at all with fights against the NCPD/Militech/Arasaka in their territories.

The stealth mechanics are not good. They are funny! But not very good. Often, It’s better to just attack and save yourself the trouble of sneaking only to get caught by a guard who can see through the back of his head.

The fact that you cannot get arrested and have someone bust you out of jail. Maybe RDR2 set my expectations too high, but I thought this would have been included.

I’ve read about the cut content, and I’m really disappointed they weren’t included in the game. Wall running would have been amazing! And the police hiring mercs to hunt V down? I would have loved to see it! 😔

Driving cars is terrible. Just awful. Sometimes, you crash. Other times you’re flung up into the air and break through the sky into the void, spinning for all eternity.

River’s glitched romance deserves a special mention. The relationship just drops off suddenly and you cannot interact with him properly again. It does not affect the main story at all, so you wonder, what was the point? The text messages also glitch and V will sent messages that you can’t control, leading to disappointing dialogue, like with Joss.

The romances in general were just not all that impressive. I was expecting something great, considering there was only 4 and thought they’d really affect the main story, but I’d only recommend Panam and Judy. I would have played the game just as well without romances, and they felt very unnecessary but I wanted to do one to get the most possible story content. I think we should all leave romances in RPG’s as the exception, not the norm. Some studio’s can do them well, other’s cannot. CDPR cannot, in my opinion...

Obviously the many glitches and bugs, several of which are game breaking. I usually have to reload a save at least once an hour, because an NPC won’t talk to me or I can’t move the mouse to select different dialogue options! Or my gun won’t equip, so I die.

The AI in general is very bad. Sometimes cars will stop in the middle of junctions for no reason, causing you to crash or mount the sidewalk to get past, meaning you’ll likely run someone down and get a police warrant. NPCs just walk from one end of the road and back again, over and over on a loop. It’s very creepy!

The lighting, mostly inside buildings. Everything is pitch black! Why does V not own a flashlight? The amount of enemies I’ve barrelled into and alerted because I couldn’t see is too much.

The lack of dialogue choice, it was less interactive than what I’d been told to expect. There was only two or three options, with one only ever rarely being unique to one of V’s three possible background choices and most will yield the same results with a few exceptions, like avoiding combat.

V’s personality is already decided by the game, and is not really customisable. Do not expect full control over your V’s personality, as they are very much a canon character and exist outside of your (limited) choices. I didn’t expect Baldur's Gate 3 levels of customisation, but I did expect something more like Dragon Age 2’s dialogue wheel? Nice, Sarcasm and Angry? You know?

Obviously, the seizure inducing scenes were very dangerous. I get a headache whenever I have to do a braindance, and I wish it was skippable!

Accessibility as a whole is very much an afterthought in this game, I think. The subtitles are in “speaking English”, so instead of: Hey, how are you? It’s: Heyyy, how’re ya? It is often difficult to understand, and sometimes I just couldn’t work out what was being said.

It’s nitpicky but I wanted to do a pacifist route and I realised you can’t, you need to kill certain character’s...

The main “villains” such as Yorinobu and Adam Smasher were very forgettable, and V had no personal stake in taking them out. I honestly forgot all about them. Takemura was talking about revenge and I’m like, who? Who are you talking about? Why are we kidnapping Hanako Arasaka, again? Johnny, why would I bother killing Adam Smasher? If they’d personally murdered Jackie, then yeah, I’d understand! But all V needs is to remove the chip and I don’t know... I just didn’t feel anything.

So, to summarise: I think CDPR were out of their depth. The long, very long, troubled development process was an indication of this before the game was even released, and the story I’ve experienced in the game is proof enough. I don’t think they knew what they wanted from this game, and as a result, we have a game that is honestly very confusing and frustrating with a story that always got close to gripping, but never quite makes it. All in all, I found this game to be pretty average. When the bugs are ironed out, I will think better of it. But as it stands, if I had to score it, I would give it a 6.5/10 or maybe 7/10. Good concept, somewhat misguided execution. The best part of the game was the Johnny/V dynamic, but I wasn’t satisfied with how it ended. They needed more time together! Anyway, it will be interesting to see what happens next.

#cp77 spoilers #cp77 critical #cyberpunk 2077 #I’ve already been vagued about a few times for my CP2077 opinions so I expect more to happen now I’m posting this hehe

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suckmysupernatural · 4 years

Text

Sunshine - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1596

Pairing: Sam x OC Sunny

Series Summary: The Winchesters meet a cheerful hunter named Sunny, who quickly captures Sam’s attention. Little do any of them know what lies in store when Sunny gets invited to join the brothers. Who can say how Sam, Dean, and Sunny will be some training days, a handful of hunts, romantic dates, a kidnapping, and one vengeful demon later.

Chapter Summary: The Winchesters attend their first training session.

Warnings: language, fluff

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“Welcome to your first training session, boys” Sunny said as she entered the bunker’s training room. It had a mat covering the entire floor, making it a safer option compared to the rest of the bunker’s concrete flooring.

Sunny walked up to Sam, giving him a quick kiss before stepping back to look at both brothers. Since their date the other night, they had been inseparable. Dean liked to make fun of them, but he was truly happy for his brother. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sam this happy before.

Sunny had been working hard on finding ways to teach her ‘technique.’ She still wasn’t positive that it could be taught but she knew that the brothers were incredibly skilled hunters. If anyone could learn from her, it was them.

“Okay, so I want you two to close your eyes,” she instructed. Both of the brothers followed her instruction. Dean was already skeptical, preparing himself for Sunny to pull out the singing bowls and yoga mats. He didn’t complain, though, reminding himself of her skills.

“Take a few deep breaths, center yourself. Try to focus on how your body feels. Simply notice if there is any tension or pain. Once you do that, I want you to start tilting your head to the side, stretching it. Go slowly and notice what you feel. The muscles and skin, imagine your cells shifting as you move. Keep doing that,” Sunny watched as the boys slowly began to relax. Usually, they both stood in ways that most people would describe as tense. Sam had perfect posture, sometimes looking unnatural and Dean looked like a cat that was ready to pounce. He was always ready for a fight.

Sunny continued to speak, guiding the brothers through different stretches. She had them tense specific muscles and release them, all the while telling them to notice how it felt. That was the main part of hunting, awareness. Most hunters fell short, being only aware of what happened around them and not of what was happening within them.

It didn’t take long for Sam and Dean to get used to the instructions, following them without much thought. It was as if they were in a trance, letting Sunny control their every move.

“Okay, open your eyes.” The boys slowly blinked open their eyes, adjusting to the light. “How do you feel?”

“Um… weird,” Dean said.

“Fluid?” Sam answered hesitantly. Both of them couldn’t seem to describe exactly how they felt.

“Okay, no wrong answers. That’s perfect. Now I’m gonna try an exercise with each of you, one at a time. Dean let’s try you first,” Sunny smiled as Dean cautiously stepped forward. “So what I’m gonna do is I will slowly move a hand closer to you. All you have to do is block it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Dean shrugged.

“Close your eyes,” Sunny told him. His eyebrows creased at the command, realizing it may not be as easy as he had thought. “Also, because I’m going slowly you won’t be able to hear me. The two of you rely heavily on your sense of sight and hearing. It is what alerts you to a potential threat. So let’s see if you can block me without that.”

Dean nodded, letting her know that he was ready. Slowly, she brought up her hand to hover over his right shoulder without him moving an inch.

“Open your eyes,” she instructed. He did, surprised to see that the hand next to him. “Close,”

This time, she brought a hand towards his left cheek. Dean took a step to the right, the gap between them increasing. He opened his eyes, smiling to himself.

“What did you notice then?” Sunny asked.

“It felt, I don’t know, heavier by my left side. Like there was something taking up room.” Dean shrugged. He wasn’t confident in his answer, but Sunny’s smile confirmed his answer.

“That’s great. Don’t worry about phrasing things in a perfect way or explaining it clearly. All you need is to acknowledge that something was different. That is a great start. Let’s do it once more and then we’ll let Sam have a try.”

Dean’s eyes closed once more, Sunny raising her hand and moving it to the front of his face. Slowly, Dean’s own arm moved up to block it. He opened his eyes, grinning at the sight of his success.

“That’s great, Dean!” It was clear that Dean was able to sense the movement, it would just take a while before speed became a factor. Currently, he had about a 10-second lag that a hunter couldn’t spare. Regardless, Sunny was proud.

Sam stepped up next, giving Sunny a smile before closing his eyes and focusing. Sunny moved her hand next to his elbow and watched as his arm flinched.

“Open,” Sunny said. Sam listened, his eyes opening to see the hand next to his arm. “So, did you know my hand was there?”

“No.”

“Well, your body did. Your arm flinched. Follow the instinct. It isn’t conscious. You just have to listen to what your body is trying to say,” Sunny gave Sam a comforting smile before he closed his eyes again. Sam was naturally good at almost everything, so when he couldn’t grasp a concept it frustrated him to no end. That was the problem though; he was distracted, in his own head.

Again, Sunny moved her hand close to the tall man, stopping before she touched his sternum. This time Sam shifted a foot back, turning away from her hand. He opened his eyes and nodded, still not satisfied with his progress. They repeated this pattern five more times, Sam still not being able to fully block her hand.

“Okay, Sam that was great,” Sunny placed her hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for today. We will start again tomorrow.”

“Why? I could keep going,” Sam huffed. He felt as if he was failing to meet the expectation Dean had set.

“Because, Sam, you’re getting more and more upset. The whole point is to steer away from distractions. It’s okay, you’ll get it. I know you will,” Sunny attempted to console Sam, but it was clear he wasn’t having it. He nodded, looking at the floor, before walking out of the mat room. Sunny looked to Dean. “I wish he didn’t feel bad about this. He is making progress!”

“Sammy likes to feel capable,” Dean shrugged, “he just wants to know that he can do it.”

Sunny nodded, thinking to herself of ways that she might be able to help Sam. She was stubborn too and wasn’t about to let Sam beat himself up. Leaving the mat room, she walked in the direction of his bedroom. Sam opened it at the sound of her knocking, stepping back to let her in.

“You don’t need to try and make me feel better,” Sam frowned.

“Close your eyes,” Sunny replied softly. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought you said we were done for the day?”

“Just… okay? Do it,” Sunny instructed. Sam reluctantly shut his eyes and couldn’t help but think that he was going to fail again. Sunny, however, was sure he would succeed. With light steps, she moved her whole body forward towards the man. She made no sound, stopping just before their bodies touched. Sam could feel her, his breath hitching as he made the realization. Slowly, he raised one of his hands to wrap around the back of her neck. The other made its way to her cheek. He pulled her in, leaning down to kiss her. They stood like that for a few seconds before parting. Sam gave Sunny a grateful look.

“I knew you could do it,” Sunny gave Sam a cheeky grin. “I wouldn’t suggest doing that with monsters, though.”

“Nope, only you,” he chuckled, kissing her again. “Thank you. I get so annoyed with myself and really needed that.” Her eyes sparkled, Sam once again losing himself in them.

“Sam, it’s me and you now. I’m here whenever you need me,” Sunny smiled. He pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. The two held each other for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company. Sam kissed her head before leaning back to look at her.

“So… movie?” He asked. Sunny chuckled, nodding and letting Sam lead the way. The two walked down the hall towards the Dean-Cave.

“Dean!” Sunny shouted down the hallway, “Wanna watch a movie with us?”

“Yeah!” Dean replied from behind his bedroom door. Sam and Sunny chuckled as they heard Dean hustle to catch up with them. The three made themselves comfortable, Sunny on Sam’s lap in the recliner. Everyone had a different idea of what movie to watch, arguing about it for ten minutes before both brothers conceded. Smiling like always, Sunny grabbed the remote and put on Sleepless in Seattle.

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“Okay… I’ll have to admit that movie was good,” Dean said. He looked over to the couple only to find that they had both fallen asleep. Sam had Sunny completely wrapped up in his arms, Sunny’s face burrowed into his chest. Dean smiled to himself. It was cute, he had to admit that. Turning off the TV, he quietly made his way out of the room to let the couple rest.

Dean had wanted this for his brother since Jessica died. He was happy that it was Sunny, someone who brought out the best in both of the brothers. All he could hope was that it stayed this way.

Chapter 5 ->

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pebblysand · 3 years

Text

[writing rant - on the monetisation of fanfiction]

a couple of months ago, when i updated my long fic, one of the people on the comments wrote to me the nicest possible review (one of the ones that you keep in your feel-good 'saved' emails - you know the ones), which, amongst other things also said: 'If I could pay you for this...believe me, I would.'

in the moment, i kind of smiled and laughed, and thanked the person for their kind words before moving on with my life. yet, since then, i have to admit that this sentence has kind of been living rent-free in my head. i think it is also because since diving back into fandom a few months ago, i've noticed something that kind of shocked me at first: more and more fanfiction writers seem to be monetising (or attempting to monetise) their craft.

now, back when i started writing fanfic, we wrote fanfic on ffnet and livejournal. it was accepted that thou shalt never (ever) charge money for your writing or else the author and their mean, angry lawyers will come after you for damages and you will die a slow and painful death. we wrote disclaimers at the start of all of our posts and thanked the gods every day when we did not get sued.

i have seen this change gradually over the years. first, in the mid 2010s, the disclaimers went. then, i noticed that people were getting 'tipped' for fanart, sometimes even charging commission. from what i understand (though, don't quote me on this, i'm not an ip lawyer and this post is not intended as legal advice), this is because the way the concept of fair use is framed under us law makes it easier to monetise fanart than it does fanfiction. maybe this is why visual artists came first on this trend. later still (and more recently) i've noticed fanfic writers, doing the same thing.

to be fully honest, the first thought i had when i saw this trend, considering the fear of god (and his lawyers) that was instilled in me in the past, was: how on earth is this even possible? (i'll come back to that in a bit). the second, though, was: fuck, i wish i had the guts to do that, lol.

because, yeah, i will admit, the idea of getting paid for writing what i love to write does appeal, to a certain extent. i won't lie. dear fanfiction writers who've tried to do that recently: i one hundred per cent get it.

looking back at the last fifteen years, i would say that for me, writing fanfiction has been (in terms of time commitment and energy consumed) the equivalent of having an on-and-off part time job. a job that i have held for one or two years at a time, then quit for a while, before coming back to it when i needed (wanted) it again. i obviously can't realistically give you a number re:the actual total of hours i have spent at this since i started out, but i can give you an idea. recently, i started clocking my hours out of interest and calculated that a chapter of my current long fic takes roughly between one hundred to two hundred hours to produce (and they're around 10,000 words). at that rate, i'm probably working 20 hours a week-ish? sometimes more, sometimes less? something as small as a three-sentence fic (like this for instance), takes roughly two/three hours. i'll be honest, i have cancelled plans to write fic. when i'm working on a long project, i do tend to organise my life to give myself the time to write, so i opt for socialising after work during the week rather than on weekends, as i've found this is when i write best. i won't lie: it is - for me (i know some people write quicker, bless them) - a huge time suck.

so, yeah, i understand, in the capitalist society we live in, wanting to make that time count. our world has unfortunately, repeatedly taught us that time is money and getting more does seem like a nice bonus (as long as you have an audience for your art that's willing to pay, obviously). after all, year after year, i've seen a lot of my friends try and monetise their passions as side hustles, with varying success. at first, glance, i look at the time i spend on writing fanfiction and think: man, i wish i could get a bit back from that too. i couldn't even draw a stick figure to save my life but i assume that the time commitment and energy put into that kind of work is roughly similar for visual fanartists as well. i thus very much understand the sentiment, both with fanart and fanfiction.

additionally, though i appreciate this is a bit tangential, the fact that fanfiction is free, i would argue, hinders its potential to be as representative as it could be. it's a bit sad because on the one hand, the fact that it is free makes it completely accessible to the masses but on the other, it makes fanfiction quite exclusive to rich, privileged people who can afford to spend the time and energy putting content out for free. if i spend this much time writing fanfiction, just because i like it and it makes me happy, it's because my full time job pays me enough to cover my bills. if it didn't, i probably would have to forgo writing and get a proper side gig. if you look at my periods of inactivity on ao3, those also kind of coincide with the times in my life when i had to have more things going on to put food on the table.

so, now, assuming that monetisation is a thing that, as a fic writer, one might want to look at, the next question is: how do you go about monetising it? obviously, the law hasn't changed since the days where we were all terrified of getting sued (although enforcement has been quite lax over the years) so it's more about finding workarounds around the law as it is, rather than actively seeking payment for fanart.

from what i've seen: two main solutions seem to exist.

first, there's the tipping/buy-me-coffee technique. as i understand it, this involves either setting up a page on one of the dedicated websites or just putting up your paypal account link on your tumblr posts. with these links, people can then send you however much money they want (however much money they can afford/think you deserve?) on a one-off basis. they're not actually paying for fanfic because there is no actual exchange of services, it's basically like them giving money to charity, except that charity is a fanfic writer/ fan artist whose work they enjoy.

there are two main issues i see with this: one, legally, i'm not sure how much ground this actually holds. assuming you're quite prolific/successful, if every time you're producing new content, you receive dozens of tips, although you're not actively charging for your fanart, making the argument that your content isn't what these people are actively paying for seems hard. imo, the fact that this method sort of holds is that realistically, you're going to make very little out of this. even if you're really good, you might make what? a couple hundred dollars. now, sure, that's a lot of money for a lot of people but in the grand scheme of things, no one sues anyone for such a low amount. as long as you're not making 'proper' money from it, it is highly unlikely that anyone would come after you.

this being said, the second issue, from my perspective, is that this is not in any way, shape or form, a reliable income. it also does not represent, at all, the cost of the time and investment actually put into said fanfiction (or fanart, i assume). for example: if you're going to tip someone who's worked on something for, say, fifty hours, ten dollars, that's very good of you, but that isn't going to be 'worth' their time. it is only worth their time if tipping is done at as scale, which imo is quite unlikely considering you're putting your content out for free anyway. there are kind souls who will tip you, but not that many, meaning that ultimately, you're not working for free anymore, but you're still working at a huge loss.

additionally, because this income is not even reliable on a monthly/weekly basis, it isn't something that anyone can actually rely on, even if only to fund their coffee habit. it's nice to have, don't get me wrong, but from my perspective, is the legal risk outlined above worth the trouble for the $20/30 tips i'd get every once in a while - not really. such low amounts also don't help diminish the class issue that i talked about earlier. again, if you're going to spend fifty hours on something, you might as well work a minimum wage job - even that will pay you more and will be dependable.

second, there's patreon (and patreon-like sites). here, the income is monthly, people pledge on a subscription basis, which does solve the last point above. it might not be much, but at least it's regular.

the main issue i see with patreon is that it is contingent on the author providing more services on top of what they already provide. in most cases, the author will keep putting their usual content out for free + provide their patreons (depending on tiers) with more content, specifically for them. this, to me, makes this scheme even less appealing than the previous one because a) if i can't provide fanfic to potential patreons (again, you can't sell fanfic), i'm not sure what on earth i could give them (original content? that's not really the same market) and b) that's even more work on my plate. honestly, considering the amount of time i already spend writing fanfic, i have neither the energy nor the willpower to provide extra content for an amount that, regardless, will probably pay me less than a part-time job would. again, you'd have to scale this (i.e. have enough patreons) to make it all worth your while, and even in very big fandoms, even for someone waaaaay more successful than me, i doubt it would be likely.

lastly, as a side note, both of these "methods" are solely accepted if they occur on tumblr/writer's own website, rather than on the writer's ao3 page/fic. there was a post going around explaining why that is (nutshell: it endangers ao3's status as a non-profit archive) but as with all things, i seem to have lost it. [if you do have the link to that post/know what i'm talking about, hit me up and i'll rectify this]. this, regardless, supposes driving traffic from wherever you post your fics towards tumblr/your own website which, again, decreases your chances of scaling this.

so, in the end, where does that leave us?

i think, at this point, we've kind of reached a crossroad. ultimately, i see two ways to look at this:

option one: if you believe that fanfiction writers should be paid for their art, you also probably agree that the methods outlined above, while they do offer some sort of solution, are less than ideal. the ideal solution (for this option) would obviously be to allow fanfiction authors to be properly paid for the publication of their work through 'normal' publishing/self-publishing deals, without the need for a licence from the author (bar - perhaps - the payment of royalties). that would create a proper 'market' for fanfiction, treating it as any other form of writing/art form. it would mean a complete overhaul of the laws currently in place, but why not? ultimately, in a democracy, laws are meant to be changeable.

this being said, though, while my personal knee jerk reaction would be to shout 'hurray!' at this solution, i do not actually think i want this. or, maybe, only part of me does. the part of me who has been writing fanfiction for free for fifteen years is like 'hey, yay, maybe i could get paid!'. but then, there is another part of me that would like, maybe, one day, to write more original fiction (i already do a bit, but not much). that part of me is feels frankly a bit icky about giving up her ip rights.

would i be comfortable with people writing fanfiction of my original work? hell yes. that would be the dream. imagine having your own ao3 fandom, omg. however, would i be comfortable with people profiting from writing fanfiction of my work? honestly, i'm not sure. to me, the answer to that is: it depends (how much time investment was put in? how original the concept is? etc.) which, in fact, kind of brings us back to the current concept of licensing. and yes, maybe the current frame imposed by copyright law has also shaped the way i view the concept of property, and maybe i should be more of a communist, free-for-all kind of person, but unfortunately, i'm not that revolutionary.

also, and slightly tangentially, i find it interesting how profiting from fanficition/fanart is seen as more acceptable i certain fandoms rather than in others. taking the hp fandom for instance, even prior to jkr expressing her views on transgender rights, i often read things like: 'ah, she's so rich anyway, she doesn't need the money.' now, that argument has not only gained traction but is also reinforced by: 'ah, she's the devil and i don't want to fund her. it'd rather give my money to fanfic authors/buy things on etsy.'

while i completely understand the sentiment and do not, in any way, shape or form, support jkr's views, i do find that argument quite problematic. if you set the precedent that because someone is too rich, or because they've expressed views you disagree with, you don't believe that they should be entitled to their own intellectual property rights, i do wonder: where does this stop? this being justified for jkr could lead to all sorts of small artists seeing other people stealing/profiting from their original work without authorisation. 'i don't pay you 'cause i disagree with you,' would then act as a justification, with i find highly unfair. the fact of the matter is: jkr created hp. knowing that, the choice of buying hp products, regardless of her opinions is completely and entirely yours, but buying the same stuff unlicensed, from people who are infringing on her copyrights seems, to me, very problematic as this could potentially be scaled to all artists. either we overhaul the entire copyright system or we don't, but making special cases is dangerous, in my humble opinion.

option two: we choose to preserve copyright law as it is, for the reasons outlined above. this means that most people will not get paid for the content they put out and that the few that do will operate on a very tight, legal rope, and work for tips that are a 'nice bonus' but not a proper pay. this sort of perpetuates the idea that fanfiction is 'less than' other art forms, because in our capitalist society, things that don't generate money (things often made by women, may i add) are not seen as being as valuable as things that do.

for me, personally, while getting paid to write fanfiction sounds lovely (and makes my bank account purr) in theory, i think i side to preserve the current system. as an artist, i think that intellectual property protects us and our concepts from being ripped off by others, including by big companies who might find it handy to steal a design, a quote, anything, without proper remuneration. this is even more important for smaller artists who wouldn't necessarily have the means to defend their craft otherwise.

this being said, i do appreciate that it depends on why you're writing fanfiction. i think that topic probably deserves a whole different post in its own right but ultimately, most people write fanfic because it's fun. we know it's for fun, and not for profit. and if that's the case, then we're okay to receive compliments, reblogs and sometimes, for some people a little bit of an awkward tip for our work. for me, fanfic has been a space to make friends, to get feedback, to learn and to experiment without the pressure of money being involved. that's why i don't particularly mind doing it for free, and wouldn't even bother setting up a patreon or tip-me jar. i love being able to do it just for the enjoyment of myself and my five followers (lol), without worrying about scaling it, or making it profitable. not every part of our lives, not every passion has to be profitable. as we say in ireland, you do it 'for the craic' and nothing else.

this, though, as i already said, also depends on your means and level of privilege. to me, writing for free is fantastic and a bloody relief - it means being able to do exactly what i want. original fiction writing is full of rules, and editors, and publishers. in fanfic, i can write whatever i feel like, and i'm willing to forgo a salary in exchange of that freedom. again, i have a full time job that covers my bills. this does mean, though, that i don't have as much time to dedicate to writing as i would like to.

and also, the thing is: i'm a small author. i happily write in my own little niche. bar that one comment, it is highly unlikely that anyone would actually want to pay me (or even tip me) for my content. but when you look at very successful people, like the author of all the young dudes, i could see how they'd want to get paid for their art, and why they'd feel differently.

bottom line for me is: the flaws of the current systems of remuneration combined with my strong belief in copyright law as a means to protect small, original creators, means that i don't really think it would be right for me to get paid for fanfic, even if i was the kind of person who had the market for it. whilst it would be nice, this very long rant has, hopefully, explained why.

#fanfiction #writing #archive of our own #monetisation of fanfiction #fanfiction theory #this post is waaaay too long and the author regrets everything #pebblysand rants

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peachdoxie · 4 years

Text

It’s always an experience to look back at myself as an adolescent and realize how much of my behavior was influenced by the fact that I am asexual and aromantic but didn’t yet know that.

In elementary school, I mostly wore t-shirts and pants of some sort. They were vaguely feminine, but not very much. To be honest, I don’t think I paid that much attention to what I wore in elementary school, though I was obviously influenced by external factors. But in the fifth grade (age 10-11) is I think when I started to actively reject femininity. It definitely happened once I started middle school (11-14). I opted more for a gender neutral look rather than a masculine look, though I didn’t think of it that way - just “not girly”. This trend followed me into high school (14-18), though around age 15 or so I got over my “not like other girls” mentality, which was never super strong but definitely present.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to dress more femininely. There were times when I wished I could wear a blouse instead of a t-shirt and get a hair cut or something. I didn’t want to be super feminine and wear makeup or jewelry or whatnot, but the t-shirt look is hard to pull off and still be seen as mature and have people take me seriously as I grew older. I actually enjoyed the chances to look rather feminine when the circumstances allowed it – namely, dances at high school (until I stopped going to them entirely) and prom.

The problem was that I didn’t like the attention I got whenever I made a change. If I wore a nicer shirt one day, people would comment on it. If I got a hair cut, people would comment on it. If I did anything out of the ordinary, people would comment on it. And save for social situations that were intended for fancier clothing, such as school dances, I did not like the attention. At all. It was mostly from teachers and other female friends who were genuinely nice about it, not even unwanted attention from boys or men. It didn’t help that I went to a small K-12 school, meaning I was with the same 100-odd classmates every year and regularly encountered my old teachers. There were no good transition moments to make any changes besides summer, and even then I didn’t.

I used to wear my hair in a ponytail all the time – initially just to keep it out of my face, but then because I did that constantly, any time I would wear it down on a normal day, someone would comment on it. It got to the point where I would keep it in the ponytail all the time. It was somewhere past my shoulder most of the time. One day when I was 15, during my regularly scheduled hair cut, I decided to cut off enough inches to donate the hair and my stylist straightened my hair for it. It was cut to a bit above my shoulders. I wore it down the next day at school and got a lot of compliments about it. It made me so uncomfortable that I put it back in a ponytail the next day.

(I eventually got so sick of the ponytail and the way it made me look too gender neutral that I forced myself to get it cut short enough that I couldn’t put it in a ponytail and I just dealt with the discomfort until my shorter hair was normalized.)

It did vex me, back then, why I didn’t like any attention that focused on how pretty I looked whenever I made some change to my physical appearance. I didn’t think that it was because I didn’t think I wasn’t pretty and that’s why I didn’t like the attention – I was fairly aware of how body image problems in teenagers worked, and to my recollection, that never played a big role in my dislike of attention. I knew I had good skin and pretty eyes and did think my face was pleasing when I looked in the mirror. And rejecting femininity a bit helped me find solace in not conforming to beauty standards. I also must give credit to my mother, who was nothing but supportive and never pressured me to perform femininity, and neither really did any of the other adult figures that had a significant influence on me, which certainly helped.

As an adult who has studied queer theory and feminist theory, and who has reflected on my experience as a young acearo woman, I’ve come to realize how much my sexual and romantic orientations impacted me in this regard. It resolves the paradox of wanting to be more feminine-presenting to look more mature while simultaneously dreading any attention I’d get for making a change towards femininity.

To a younger me, any attention to my appearance when I presented even a tiny bit femininely meant that it increased the chances that a boy might ask me out. Not hit on me, but ask me out. It was one of the interpersonal things I dreaded the most during high school. I did not want a boy to ask me out because I knew I would say no because I wasn’t interested in dating. I was desperately afraid of making things awkward between me and whoever it was, because the boys that were most likely to ask me out (in my mind) were the boys I was close friends with. In my mind, knowing that a friend of mine in high school had a crush on me was a terrifying prospect – knowing that I had rejected them while they were still “in love” with me. The influence of media was definitely there, as I’d seen way too many Disney Channel TV shows and movies where the guy was rejected by the girl and it made things awkward. I didn’t want to lose any of my friends that way. (I won’t go into details, but my reluctance to date anyone did end up backfiring on me and I did lose a friend, though that was largely due to my own awkwardness on not understanding why I was so reluctant to date anyone.)

The romance part would have been okay-ish, but at that point I didn’t yet have a split-attraction model to go on and so, to me, any act of dating would necessarily involve holding hands, cuddling, and kissing, and possibly sexual activity, all of which I knew as early as age 11 that I did not want. And because I was repulsed by the idea of physical and sexual intimacy, dating was out of the question. I knew it was okay to not want to date anyone and to not want to have sex with anyone, during high school or ever, because my mother had raised me to think those are valid options (thanks Mom), but at the time, I didn’t have a concept of what being sex-repulsed was.

I think that made it difficult and uncomfortable for me to process the idea that someone could be sexually attracted to me. I wasn’t so ignorant to believe that other people were also repulsed by sex and I knew other people enjoyed sex, especially teenagers. But the mere idea that someone could view me in a way related to sex – even if they didn’t want to act on it – was so unsettling to me that I couldn’t stand it. I don’t think it was about being seen as a sexual object by boys, since those were easy to turn down (and I did have a few male classmates ask me out), but rather seen as being sexually attractive to boys I already had a good friendship with.

Also, while I was aware of homosexuality from a young age and had no problems with it, there were no girls out as wlw while all of this was going on, so it didn’t occur to me to be wary of their attraction. I knew as well that I wasn’t interested in girls, so – because my framework was “straight or gay” without a concept of asexuality – by default I must be interested in boys, and them with me. There’s also the gendered stereotypes of girls sharing everything with their girl friends, but not sharing emotional intimacy with boys. But most of my good friends were boys, and so if I were to be emotionally intimate with any of them, I’d have to date them.

Of course, I lacked the knowledge and self-awareness to figure all of this out until much later, and it took longer to come to terms with the relationship I had between femininity, others’ sexual attraction, and my own self-image (though none of that is static, nor should it be). I also lacked the awareness that the boys I was friends with who might be interested in asking me out might also not be interested in a physical and sexual relationship. I didn’t have the concept that an emotionally intimate relationship in high school could be anything but physical or sexual. I think a lot of it came down to the fact that I didn’t know how to process any potential awkwardness, but I wasn’t fully aware of my inability to process it, so I just avoided it as much as I possibly could. Looking back, there were definitely some contradictions in how I thought and behaved, but hey, I was a young and socially awkward teenager navigating an uncharted territory that I didn’t know was uncharted.

Besides being fairly vocal to my friends about the fact I wasn’t interested in dating (which I explained away by saying “I don’t want to be distracted by dating during high school”, such a typical excuse of non-straight folk) the best weapon I had against people finding me attractive was to downplay my appearance. And so I desexualized my appearance – or, rather, maintained the neutral appearance I’d had from elementary school and made it even less attractive to boys (at least, in the opinion of my adolescent self.) Any act of femininity that was noticed by a teacher or female classmate was something that could be noticed by a boy in my high school, which meant that they may be inspired to ask me out, which meant sexual attraction, which was repulsive and uncomfortable to me.

I hold no ill will towards myself for not understanding this when I was a teenager, and I don’t blame any of the authority figures or educators in my life for not helping me understand this. It’s likely they didn’t understand any of this themselves, and it’s not like I was fully aware of why I felt certain ways and did certain things either, nor was I very open about all of this either because I can be a rather private person at times. It’s also not like asexuality, aromanticism, and sex-repulsion are well-known things, let alone discussed frequently in books about childrearing and queer adolescents. It’s just another sign of how the hyper focus on heterosexual monogamy (also known as amatonormativity) in Western culture and society actively hurts queer people, especially when they’re young and aren’t aware that they’re not straight, or are but are struggling to come to terms with that (it also applies to non-cis folk, but that’s not relevant to my experience.)

Ultimately, I see my struggles with gender presentation and interpersonal relationships, and the stress they caused me, during middle and high school as a symptom of our culture and society’s failure in general to represent a wide variety of queer experiences – particularly outside of lesbian, gay, and trans identities – to young people so that people like me can better understand themselves. I can’t deny the fact that the social norms about dating and relationships in high school that I found in the media I consumed had a major impact on me, to the point where they sometimes contradicted how my mother tried to raise me. This post is in part a reflection on myself that struck me recently, but also yet another piece of evidence about how the lack of representation for ace and aro people actively damages our lives.

#wow this ended up getting long #anecdotes by peachdoxie #asexuality #aromanticism

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thecatprince · 4 years

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Luckier Than Most

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Summary: Patton deals with his depression and grief as he gets ready for the funeral. (First half of the chapter is a memory/past event)

Warnings: Mentions of death and fear of dying, in depth exploration of depression and grief.

Authors Notes: Patton’s depression is based off of my own struggles with depression but everyone is different! I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Six - Before the Funeral

A gentle knock on the door roused Patton from his light sleep. The sun shone bright through the gap in the curtains, and the clock on his bedside table read 11:00 am. A familiar voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Hey Patton! Can I come in?”

Patton gave a half-hearted reply, knowing that the caller would come in anyway, just like he always did. Sure enough, the door opened and Virgil walked in. He gave a smile upon seeing Patton, although Patton knew he must look a mess. He had barely gotten out of bed in days, and when he did it was only to sit someplace else. Virgil came over and sat on the bed, looking down at his friend with a gentle smile.

“C’mon, Pat, let’s get out of bed. Your dad made some avocado and bacon toast for you to have, so the only thing you need to do is get out bed. You got this!” Virgil mimed cheerleading, moving his hands with imaginary pompoms on them and whisper-cheering encouraging chants, something he would never do for anyone but Patton. “Let’s go, Patton, let’s go!”

Patton gave a small smile and sat up. Virgil passed him his dressing gown off the floor, and Patton stood up and put it on. It was surprising how much it helped having Virgil there. Normally that task alone took at least an hour. Virgil and Patton made their way down the hall, where the delicious smell of cooked bacon filled their noses. They sat down, and Patton’s dad placed a plate in front of them both.

“You got out of bed in only 10 minutes kiddo! I’m proud of you,” his dad said, a huge smile on his face. He mouthed a thank you to Virgil over Patton’s head. Virgil smiled back, and watched as his friend made his way through breakfast, while eating a slice of toast of his own.

This wasn’t exactly ordinary behaviour for Patton, but it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary either. Patton had suffered from depression for most of his teenage years, and although there were periods of time where he seemed normal, he was prone to depressive episodes, like the one he was going through now. During those times, generally Logan or Virgil would come over to help, with varying successes. Some days, all it took was a little bit more extra help for Patton to get up and start the day, and other days the most either of them could do was to spend time with Patton next to the bed.

Patton hated his depression. He hated how disgusting he felt when he couldn’t find the energy to shower or get dressed or even brush his teeth. He hated the feeling of emptiness, of numbness, of this dull kind of apathy, that dimmed all the brightness and colour in life. He hated the complete lack of energy, of motivation that accompanied the greyness, and how it always felt like some invisible weight was pressing down on him like a blanket. He also hated the fact that it had taken years to find a type of antidepressant that worked, of having to spend years with no relief, and even with the antidepressants sometimes he still felt the emptiness and numbness of depression, and on those days it made it so much harder.

But with Virgil and Logan by his side, it made things a little easier. Not exactly sunshine and rainbows, but the sharp dullness of depression was eased a little, tasks became just that little bit easier and the days seemed just a little bit brighter. It was never easy, but having his friends beside gave him a small little beacon of hope to hold onto. Maybe it won’t always be this way. Maybe the future will be just a little bit better. Maybe, with his friends and family beside him, he could cope.

Virgil was there for the entirety of that particular day. He and Patton lounged around for most of it, talking about deep things like how shitty depression and anxiety were to deal with, and also trivial fun things like the potential existence of Mothman. They spent some of the day outside, lying on the grass in Patton’s backyard or sitting under the large oak tree, looking at shapes in the clouds or blowing dandelion fluff at each other. Patton always loved spending days with Virgil, just hanging out with him. He was one of Patton’s closest friends, from the moment they met they had clicked, and he remained one of the only friends who Patton had the energy for on days like these. Logan was the other, for the studious nerd had a quiet and calm demeanour that Patton found very soothing and pleasant. As much as he loved Roman, Remus and Janus, they tended to require quite a lot of energy to keep up with them mentally, and the loud nature of the twins made them really difficult to be around on days like this, when calm and quiet were mostly preferred.

“Does the concept of death ever scare you?” Virgil asked as they lay on the grass under the oak tree. He picked the yellow dandelion flower growing next to him and rolled the stem in-between his fingers. Patton sighed as he sat up and started to pick at the grass in front of him.

“Not really? I guess I have kind of accepted that we all die eventually, and it’s difficult, but also a natural part of life. I like to think that none who die ever truly leave us, because they are still in the hearts of the people who loved them, and that comforts me, you know?”

“I’m scared of death,” Virgil said, picking the petals one by one off the dandelion. “I am scared of the finality of it. I don’t really have a clear idea of any kind of afterlife, and so for me, you sort of just die and that’s it. It’s pretty scary to just stop…”

Patton shrugged. “That’s valid,” he said, a typical Patton response to conversations like these. The topic moved on to dogs, as it was prone to in Patton’s presence. The two of them talked about the types of dogs they would love to get when they were older, then what each of their friend’s would be if they were dogs, then they circled back to mental health, another common topic of conversation between the two of them.

“You know, sometimes I feel like giving up. Not killing myself, but just like giving up. Not fighting it, not struggling to get up every day, just lying there and just let it run its course. But I know can’t because the moment I stop fighting, stop doing everything I can to just get out of bed each morning, I don’t think I would be able to get back up again…. But I am so tired of fighting…” Patton kind of trailed off, directing his attention to the grass in front of him. Virgil put a hand on Patton’s arm.

“I know. I feel like sometimes fighting my anxiety is an impossible feat and I just don’t have the energy. But I also know I am not alone, and neither are you. You have me, and L, and Roman, Remus and Janus, and your dads, and your therapist, who will all try and help you however we can. I’m not going anywhere, Patton, ever, and I will continue to be here for you through everything, I promise.”

Patton gave a sad smile, and hugged Virgil. “You got this Pat, just one foot in front of the other,” Virgil said, returning the hug.

“Thanks kiddo,” Patton murmured. He let go of Virgil, and soon the conversation moved on to the latest music artist Virgil was interested in. Patton couldn’t help but wonder how lucky he was to get a friend like Virgil, or any of his friends for that matter. It was comforting to know that Virgil was there for him, and that he would never leave him. No matter what, they were in this together!

Patton awoke to a gentle knock on his door and the voice of his papa telling him to wake up. The sun was streaming through the gap in his curtains, and he felt disgusting and empty. He sat up in his bed and was hit with the daily reminder of the absence of his friend in the form of a black suit hanging in his closet. Patton looked away, not wanting to think about the funeral he was attending later that day.

The weeks leading up to the funeral had been a blur of intense sadness, longing and emptiness. He felt like he had no energy, and he kept fluctuating between grief so deep it felt like his heart was about to burst and an emptiness so vast he felt like he was just a void of nothingness. He would go from staring out the window, not feeling or thinking anything, to crying so much he felt sick in a matter of seconds. Virgil had always been there for him, he had promised he would always be there for him, and even though Patton knew Virgil’s death was an accident, a small part of him felt betrayed and more alone than ever. Logan had come over as much as he could, and although Patton loved his friends company, there was no replacing Virgil, nor would there ever be.

Patton got up out of bed after an hour. The funeral was in about an hour, and even though he felt depression and grief pulling him down like suffocating ropes, he wanted to give as much respect to his friend as best he could. Patton didn’t have the energy to stand in the shower, so he ran himself a bath. He washed as much as he could, trying to make the icky gross feeling that had been caused by weeks of not washing go away. He lay in the bath longer than necessary, letting himself soak in the water, not wanting to get out. He did eventually though, drying himself and draining the tub.

He put a dressing gown on after he was dry, not wanting to get fully dressed, because to get fully dressed was to put on the black suit, and that would mean acknowledging once again that Virgil was dead. Patton went into the kitchen with the intention of eating, but just ended up walking out again, for none of the food seemed appealing and he wasn’t hungry. He went back into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and hair, trying to do everything he could before he faced the inevitable. Eventually, after brushing his hair for the tenth time, he went back into his room, gently took the suit out of his closet and laid it on his bed.

It was weird for Patton to own such a black outfit. Normally he wore bright colours and fun patterns, things that brought a smile to his face. For him, wearing black always made him feel a bit sadder and less like himself.

He reached to start putting the suit on, but he hesitated. To put it on would mean to finally admit Virgil was gone… and that he wasn’t going back. Patton knew logically that Virgil was gone, but part of him thought he could hear Virgil talking to his papa in the kitchen before he came into Patton’s room. Part of him thought he would turn around and see Virgil there, listening to music or laughing or just sitting there. He kept thinking he would look at his phone and see a new meme he had sent or a message from him in his notifications, but every single time the screen was blank and Patton’s heart broke a little more.

Patton took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. A small part of him wished Logan was there, because Logan had been his rock throughout all of this. Almost every day Logan would come over, for as long or as short a time as Patton wished, and every single time he managed to make Patton feel better. It was a different to Virgil’s support, because Virgil’s support was rooted in similar experiences, giving each other advice that they had gotten in therapy and relating to each other’s feelings, because both of them had struggled with mental illness. Logan hadn’t had that same experience. His mental state wasn’t exactly healthy, but it wasn’t the same as a lifetime of dealing with a mental issue like depression or anxiety. Logan’s support felt sturdy and solid, like a rock, acting like a branch to hold onto when you are falling off a cliff. Virgil would just fall with him, giving him comfort as they fell, but not being able to stop the falling. Logan gave him something to hold onto to try and pull himself up. Sometimes he fell anyway, but sometimes Logan’s branch gave him enough strength and hope to start to climb back up.

Logan was his rock, a firm solid structure that Patton could anchor himself on. Nothing could replace Virgil, but then again nothing was ever meant to. But it didn’t help the fact that Virgil was gone… fully gone.

Patton put on the suit slowly, then looked at himself in the mirror. It felt wrong, so wrong, to wear this suit, to wear those colours, to go to celebrate and mourn the life of one of his closest friends. Patton could feel tears threatening to spill over, but he tried his hardest to keep calm. For Virgil.

“One foot in front of the other,” Patton murmured, pressing a hand over his heart. “I miss you kiddo.”

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#cat writes #luckier than most au #tw mentions of death #tw greif #tw depression #ts patton #patton sanders #sanders sides fanfic

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