#if not you should it's such a heartfelt and mystical and wonderful show

[lowkeyorloki]

Wow, the first thing I want to say is how incredibely talented you are. The stories you have written, particularly Asis, is nothing short of masterpieces. I stumbled upon Asis when i started using ao3 a little over a year ago, and after reading countless of well-written fics, none have left an impression quite like Asis (in my humble opinion, of course hehe). I found myself hooked from the very first chapter and loved every word from the beginning to the end. At times I even had to pause reading in order to just feel the intense emotions stirred in me - from absolute joy, to sadness and at times even anger. Never has a fic hit something so deep in me and I still find myself thinking about Asis every now and then, just lingering in my thoughts. Whether I’m on the bus, walking my dog, or even when I’m at work, I find myself picturing Loki, Narvi and reader in various scenarios:’))

Despite being in a different continent and thousand miles away, you have impacted my life (without intending to sound overly dramatic). You have an incredible talent for capturing the essence of the characters and have such a way with words. Each emotion, dialouge, and relationship feels so authentic and genuine. You breathe life into the characters, skilfully orchestrating their interations. Your ability to portray characters, playing them with and against each other, is truly remarkable!<3

I just recently dicovered your tumblr and I have never used this platform before, so I’m just now catching up to anything asis related<3 (which I hope to see more of sometime in the future🤞🏼)

I have to finish this terribly long speech by telling you that I have become obsessed with Neko Case after hearing "This tornado.." hihi

Wishing you all the best, wherever and whatever that may be🩷

Love from Norway<33

- Frida

Hi Frida! It's nice to digitally meet you 🩷 I'm sorry it took me a bit to respond to this messages, my appearances on this blog are sporadic now at best.

It really is crazy when people send me such thought out and kind messages. It's easy to see how many hits/kudos a fic has and forget that each of those has an actual person behind the screen experiencing the fic with me. The fact you think of asis Loki and Narvi while you're doing such mundane activities makes me smile. It's always going to be a little crazy to wrap my head around.

Thank you so much for your kind words about my writing and my characterization. If you'd like, you're always welcome to reach out to me through DMs - I can give you the link to my last fanfiction blog I'm trying to post on regularly (it's for the show arcane, and it's not really an x reader fic blog) or I can tell you the handle of my poetry blog, or even just send you screenshots of the hasty and pretentious soliloquies of my notes app. I'd also like to think someday I'll come up with a five chapter or so sequel to asis, though I don't see that being anytime soon.

I am SO glad I got you into Neko Case!! That might be the most exciting part of this message, haha! My other favorite songs by her are Hold On, Hold On (that's my #1 favorite Case song), Margaret vs. Pauline, John Saw That Number, and Maybe Sparrow. Honestly the entirety of the album Fox Confessor Brings The Flood is superb. One of my favorite and most nostalgic albums of all time.

Thank you again for such a nice message. Reach out anytime - while I may not be timely, I do truly do my best to respond <3

#btw: i love your name #i don't know if you watched hilda on netflix #if not you should it's such a heartfelt and mystical and wonderful show #but hilda's best friend's name is frida :') #so you remind me of that show! which is very high praise #anyway #asis #a study in suit #ask #frida #asis spoilers

[thepersona]

5 K-drama supporting actresses who deserve more love

The title speaks for itself. "No small roles, only small actors" they say. Here are some of my favorite actresses known for playing supporting / guest roles and where you might have seen them. List created in no particular order. Gifs not mine!

Potential spoilers for the following series: Extraordinary Attorney Woo; Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha; and Hotel Del Luna.

Lee Bong-ryun

I was inspired to write this post because of her recent stint as feminist-activist Attorney Ryu in Extraordinary Attorney Woo (ep. 12), but I first noticed her in Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, where she plays the warm but no-nonsense zone chief Yeo Hwa Jeong.

Other incredible work can be seen in Sweet Home (her eerie-vibe in the trailer alone was enough to make me give it a shot) and Run On.

Yeom Hye-ran

With her recent Best Supporting Actress win at this year's Baeksang Awards for The Uncanny Counter, offers should be pouring in for Yeom Hye-ran. I'm not even surprised anymore when I see her in a show since she can fit in practically anywhere. From the annoying aunt in Goblin and the battered wife in Dear My Friends, to the ruler of the underworld in Mystic Pop-Up bar and the superpowered healer from The Uncanny Counter, she definitely has the range.

Jin Kyung

I always mix up Jin Kyung with Lee El (whom I also love) because they carry a certain elegance and mystery that make them stand out no matter how little screen time they have. Currently featured as Tae Su-mi in Extraordinary Attorney Woo, she has been effective in making viewers speculate, sympathize, admire, and dislike her with the brief appearances she has made.

I've also enjoyed her work in Melancholia as Noh Jung-ah, Dr. Romantic as Nurse Oh Myung-shim, and Pinocchio as Song Cha-ok.

Seo Yi-sook

I paid more attention to Hotel Del Luna because I was constantly on the lookout for the next Mago shin sister. She plays six of them in this drama and they are so distinct from each other that you may forget they're played by the same person. Due to her charisma, gravelly voice, and amazing diction, she often gets cast as the CEO's antagonistic wife or a competent authority figure whom you're not too sure whose side she's on. Whatever it may be, she always makes it count. One hell of a singing voice too (watch her sing on JTBC's Hot Singers).

Other notable credits: Terius Behind Me; The World of the Married; Do Do Sol Sol La La Sol.

Cha Chung-hwa

Known to many fans as Court Lady Choi in Mr. Queen and one of the North Korean ahjummas in Crash Landing On You, I've come to appreciate not only Cha Chung-hwa's comedic timing but also her immense talent in subtle dramatic acting. While I initially wasn't the biggest fan of Nam-suk the town gossip in Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, I was impressed by her heartfelt portrayal of a grieving mother who uses gossip and humor as therapy. Other wonderful roles and guest appearances include: Hospital Playlist 2; Hotel Del Luna; and On the Verge of Insanity.

#Youtube #kdrama review #kdrama spoilers #supporting actresses #korean drama #lee bong ryun #yeom hye ran #jin kyung #seo yi sook #cha chung hwa #hometown cha cha cha #extraordinary attorney woo #hotel del luna #sweet home #the world of the married #doctor romantic #the uncanny counter #mr. queen #goblin #gifs not mine

[tinamrazik]

STEVIE NICKS – Hard Rock Live, Hollywood Fl.  Feb 24, 2024

The original rock gypsy still has stories to tell

Stevie Nicks is a cosmic wonder. Her years of experience in the world of rock music, including her many years with the iconic group Fleetwood Mac, were on full display this evening at Hard Rock Live in Hollywood Florida.  I have seen Stevie’s solo show a few times over the years.  Like fine wine, she has gotten better with age. At the tender age of 75, her ease on stage resonates as she tells stories about the songs, her life; she pulls the audience in to her experiences, happiness, sorrow, nostalgia, wisdom. Should Stevie decide to write her memoir someday, she’s got some serious tales to tell. She makes us, the spectators, for her 2-hour set, feel like old friends as we walk her path of musical excellence together. There is a familiarity with Nicks that transcends time. It’s like sitting down with an old friend you haven’t seen in years. The feeling of no time has passed is what tonight was about. The audience was fully focused on the empress on stage.  For Nicks, there is no age demographic when it comes to her fans. Tonight, young and old, came together to enjoy an evening of rock bliss.

Her show is poignant and heartfelt.  As she transitions her way through the setlist, she tells wonderous tales of Prince, her Fleetwood Mac family, and her longtime friend, Tom Petty, who unexpectedly passed away in 2017. Her performance of their hit, STOP DRAGGING MY HEART AROUND, and a cover of his classic, FREE FALLIN’, which came during the encore, was accompanied by amazing visuals, pictures of the pair, centered behind her and the band. Both were heartfelt moments and two of many highlights this evening. To quote Nicks herself, “The only serious moment of the performance,” came with an inspired version of SOLDIER’S ANGEL. The finale of the song displayed the Ukrainian flag.

One could not review Stevie Nicks live without mentioning her mystical appearance. Always the quintessential gypsy queen, she seemed to float on air as her signature twirl was effortless, which came with thunderous applause by the crowd, her microphone stand draped in beads and scarves.  Her costume changes included a couple of original capes from her album covers. The instrumentals during these interludes, including some amazing solos, kept the energy flowing and the audience’s attention.

The setlist for the performance was hit after hit.  Nothing was left out. Opening with OUTSIDE THE RAIN, the show had an ebb and flow between her solo and Fleetwood material. DREAMS, IF ANYONE FALLS, GYPSY, BELLA DONNA, STAND BACK, GOLD DUST WOMAN (which to be honest seemed other worldly), EDGE OF SEVENTEEN, an amazing duet with her vocal coach Steve Real on LEATHER AND LACE, just to name a few, had the sold-out crowd on its feet, camera phones a blazin’. The encore itself, was masterful. FREE FALLIN’ (Tom Petty cover) RHIANNON, and LANDSLIDE (included a beautiful visual tribute to fellow Fleetwood Mac member Christine McVie who passed in 2022), brought the evening to a thoughtful end. Stevie Nicks live in concert is a wonderous experience for all. She is, and always shall be, an amazing force in music and life.

[christ2525]

Seeing angel number 4

What are holy messenger numbers? Holy messenger numbers are - you got it right - messages coming from your heavenly messengers.

You frequently see them on a board, on your clock, on your receipt, and, surprisingly, on the plate number of the vehicle before you.

They might appear to be an occurrence since they over and over show up. In any case, when you begin seeing the significance behind it, you'll understand that they're not simply arbitrary numbers.

The significance of the number 4 for adoration Close connections require a ton of work to bloom and develop. All things considered, it's not just about the adoration you have for one another. It likewise takes split the difference, penance, and certified care to make things work.

This is where heavenly messenger number 4 comes in. That is on the grounds that its implications base on soundness and establishment.

What does the number 4 mean in numerology? The importance of this digit in numerology is about soundness, security, and building an establishment.

Thusly, getting into serious heartfelt connections isn't just about tracking down the right accomplice. You should likewise be genuinely and intellectually ready for it.

Clearly, any relationship that you need to keep going for the drawn out takes a ton of difficult work, assurance, and discipline. While it will be brimming with affection and blissful minutes, you will likewise confront attempting times.

You will go through battles and errors. You could try and need to manage cheating and heartbreaks.

Yet, in the event that not entirely settled to make things work, the number 4 is an indication that you'll ultimately track down steadiness and security in your relationship.

This doesn't imply that all that will be wonderful constantly. It simply implies that you're doing great - and that your relationship has serious areas of strength for a to keep going for the long stretch.

Make sure to be patient and viable about things. All things considered, a decent relationship carves out opportunity to create.

Very much like anything more of significant worth throughout everyday life, it will not be simple. Yet, everything will work out just fine.

What does the future hold? While you're going through a truly difficult stretch in your adoration life, it can feel like the future's distressing. What's more, regardless of whether cheerful days are ahead, things can in any case appear to be very unsure.

Addressing a guide from Clairvoyant Source can be truly useful during these difficult and confounding times.

Their group of talented and sympathetic mystic counselors can give you the lucidity that you want to obviously see things more.

All the more critically, they can give you the direction that you want to settle on the most ideal choices for your adoration life.

So if you have any desire to get a superior comprehension of the thing that's inevitably coming, then, at that point, feel free to out to Mystic Source today.

Seeing angel number 4while in a relationship

Being involved with somebody implies confronting both the great and awful times.

You could confront attempting minutes, however you'll likewise have cheerful ones.

In the event that you continue to see heavenly messenger number 4, the universe is empowering you to experience harmony of psyche. That is on the grounds that 4 is an indication that your relationship has a steady groundwork.

This implies you'll have the option to face any hardship together, and in the end, all that will sort out eventually.

So make sure to zero in on the great times and remain positive - it can help during difficult stretches!

Is it safe to say that you are single and seeing holy messenger number 4? …Then you ought to be more than happy!

Your heavenly messengers are sending you this number since they believe you should know that adoration's coming your direction.

Yet, before you can get it, you want to do some spirit looking through first. All things considered, how might you hope to track down the right accomplice on the off chance that you don't have the foggiest idea what you're searching for?

Keep in mind, the number 4 addresses dependability and security. So before you can find somebody who can give you those things, you want to include them inside yourself first.

You should be genuinely and intellectually ready for a committed relationship. You likewise need to have an unmistakable thought of what you need in an accomplice.

Really at that time can you draw in the perfect individual into your life.

So take as much time as necessary and don't race into things. The perfect individual will go along when you're at long last prepared for them.

Seeing heavenly messenger number 4 after a separation With regards to separations, seeing holy messenger number 4 offers two significant messages.

It's instructing you to do what you, most importantly, must. As I've referenced, it's an indication of support from your heavenly messenger.

If you have any desire to get your ex back, you initial need to transform yourself into a superior individual.

Quit following their virtual entertainment profile. That will not help you.

Additionally, quit dating others you're not inspired by to get back at them. This will just make you look terrible and it'll push your ex considerably further away.

Furthermore, seeing holy messenger number 4 is letting you know that main you have the ability to determine things.

Like you, I also trust that assuming they love you - however they will return.

Yet, here's the trick: you'll have to do your part too.

Own up to your own errors and gain from them. Really at that time can you have a solid and stable relationship with your ex.

Here's the way things are looking:

Regardless of how your relationship finished, you actually have some responsibility in the circumstance.

A cut of humble pie never hurt anybody.

And keeping in mind that you're grinding away, make sure to pardon yourself, as well. Really at that time can you continue on and begin again.

What is going on with the number 4 for perfect partners? With regards to perfect partners, the significance of the number 4 is very straightforward.

That is on the grounds that this sort of relationship is based on trust, shared regard, and unqualified love.

A perfect partner relationship's the sort that endures forever. It's the sort where you can act naturally - blemishes what not.

Whether you've found your perfect partner, the significance of seeing the number 4 is connected with the center groundwork of any relationship.

Regardless of what challenges you and your accomplice face, as long as you have love, trust, and regard, you'll have the option to defeat anything.

As referenced, this number addresses soundness and security.

Your everyday existence with your accomplice may not be great. You'll in any case have your high points and low points.

Yet, as long as you realize that you can continuously depend on one another, then you'll be okay.

The significance of the number 4 for twin flares You might be contemplating whether the number 4 is great for twin blazes. The response is … it depends.

Like everything throughout everyday life, nothing's ideal.

What's more, with regards to the twin fire venture, this is particularly obvious.

Listen to this: when your profound aides send the number 4, they send a significant message about your life way as a twin soul.

The beneficial thing about this is that its emblematic importance shows the most ideal way to move toward each phase of your excursion.

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

[moonlit-imagines]

The Doctor Is In

Stephen Strange x reader

Bruce Banner x reader (platonic)

warnings:

a/n: hey! idk how to build stairs guys. i didnt feel like researching it. i dont care if it’s wrong. leave me alone. part 2/2.

prompt:

Out (1)

There was no hope of Stephen coming back. Every truth you had to face was harsher than the last. Even when you got home and realized that Wong was among the vanished...and he didn’t fix the stairwell.

Maybe the stairwell was a good thing. It gave you something to focus on in these hard times. Sure, it’d been a month since the incident, but that still wasn’t enough time for the world to heal. That meant that contractors were hard to come by. But the roof would have a tarp over it for some time. No way you’d deal with that.

So you took a trip to the hardware store, you stocked up on wood and nails, lacquer and wood stain. Anything else you needed for the project. Anything to keep you busy.

There were so many sleepless nights. You hated being alone in Sanctum, hated being alone in your bed. Every so often you would nap on the couch, but then you’d get right back to work. Weeks on end you spent on the stairwell. How long will you stick around while I talk about the stairwell?

Doctor Banner called you from time to time. His voicemails were kind, heartfelt, but you couldn’t stop now. The gutted stairwell from a couple weeks ago was coming by very nicely. As nice as it could when worked on my an amateur. Alright, it looked awful, but you couldn’t stand using a ladder to get to the second floor.

As you were staining the wood, you played a message from Bruce:

“Doctor L/N, it’s Bruce. I hope you’re doing alright, but you know that if you’re not, I’m here for you. All the remaining Avengers have kind of...gone their separate ways for the most part, they’re pretty broken up about everything. I just want you to know that because you don’t...have to be strong right now. I understand if you can’t be. Just call me back whenever you can? I want to make sure you’re alright. We’re survivors, we should stick together.”

Bruce hadn’t known you long, but he was still a great person and friend. You should call him back, but if you lost focus, you may lose yourself. So you continued to wipe against the grain of the fresh stairs and moved to the next step. And the next. And the next.

The last step was the lacquer and seal. You were scared to finish up. What would you occupy yourself with once this was over? You thought about the answer until the very last step and admired your shabby craftsmanship. It’ll do. Or maybe you should tear it all down and start over? While you were thinking over your newest thought, your phone rang again. Bruce Banner.

“Hey, Bruce.” You answered the phone as you normally would and sat on the floor in front of your work.

“Y/N?” Bruce asked in disbelief. “Y/N, hey! How are you? I don’t know if you’ve been getting my calls..?”

“I have.” You quickly replied.

“Oh.” He quietly nodded to himself.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You realized your mistake and knew you may have come off as a little rude. He’d been nothing but kind to you, but you’d just realized you were alone today.

“No, no! It’s okay! I understand, don’t worry. What have you been up to?” His effort to start a conversation may be successful this time around.

“I fixed the stairwell. All of it. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. I just finished a few minutes ago.” You felt awkward talking to him. Not because of him, not at all. Just because you hadn’t really had any human contact in a while.

“I didn’t take you for a carpenter, Doctor.” Bruce was genuinely surprised with your skillset, you could hear it in his voice.

“And you still won’t once you see the job I did.” You actually managed to let out a chuckle. You didn’t know you could still do that.

“Oh, I hear ya loud and clear.” Bruce laughed, too. I wonder if he was having the same thoughts as you. “Y/N, do you want to go out to lunch like, now? I could use some company, maybe you could, too.”

“Yeah,” you checked the time on your watch, Stephen’s watch, and realized you worked through the night and day, “text me an address, I’ll meet you anywhere. See you soon.” You hung up pretty quickly, only to get ready ASAP. You were sort of covered in “stair supplies” and smelled like...not good. You’d take a quick shower, put on some clean clothes, and take off. Unfortunately, the stairs weren’t dry, so it was another round up the ladder.

—————

You finally took a trip back to your bedroom and shuffled through the closet filled with your...late husband’s clothing. It still smelled like him, surprisingly. You wondered just how long it would last. You hoped it’d be forever, but you grabbed your own clothes and quickly got dressed, then checked your phone to see that Bruce was running “a little late.” It’s okay, you were, too.

You took a seat on Stephen’s side of the bed and decided to snoop. Did it count as snooping if he was no longer here? You knew that he didn’t keep secrets from you, so what was the worst you could stumble upon? Books, books, and more books. But some were important books, ones detailing mystic arts. Maybe...maybe it was time to pick up a new skill. You stuffed the book in your bag and decided to head out now before you got too comfy in an actual bed.

—————

You and Bruce sat at a booth in the empty diner, awkwardly gazing over the menu while trying to stir up some conversation. It’d been a while since either of you had visited someone, you didn’t even know what to talk about.

“So, home renovations, huh?” Bruce asked while peaking over the fold of the laminated list.

“Something like that.” You sighed and set yours down and aside. “I know what I’m getting. What about you?”

“I just need a minute.” The only noise besides your bland conversation was the rustling of dishes in the back, which didn’t last for long. “Got it. A burger. That’ll do it.” Bruce announced and got the attention of the waiter.

Ordering took a second, but soon you and Bruce were alone again and ready to talk.

“How are the other Avengers? I know you said they went their separate ways, but...” You inquired and were surprised to see a smile crack on Bruce’s face. “What?”

“At least I know you listened to my voicemails.” He chuckled and took a sip of his iced tea. “They’re dealing with it. I don’t exactly know how. Nat’s staying at the compound, I’m sure she’s glad to have a home again. Cap went out on his own. Thor went back to his people. Tony and Pepper are trying to separate themselves from the world, I think. I don’t blame them. That’s all I know.” You stayed silent, but nodded along to his outer thoughts. “You alright?”

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You started. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, leave you hanging. I just still don’t know how to take this. I keep thinking about what Stark told me when he came back. His whole ‘this will all make sense soon’ thing. Nothing about this makes sense to me.”

“Well, Strange was different, wasn’t he? He had that Stone, he had those powers, he might know something we don’t.” Bruce explained to you, an attempt to comfort you. “We’ve tried everything, y/n. Maybe it’s time to wait, maybe in time you’ll see that he sacrificed himself...for you.” You teared up at the scientist’s words and quickly wiped your eyes as the food was placed before you. “Thank you, sir.” Bruce said as the waiter walked off. “Hey, y/n? It’s okay that you’re hurting. I get it. But please don’t act like you’re alone. I’m gonna be here for you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled while hiding your wet eyes, “Me, too, Bruce.”

—————

When you got stressed out when you were younger, you threw yourself into your studies. Maybe that was why you were such an accomplished scientist. But what studies did you have now?

You had a library full of knowledge. It wasn’t your usual knowledge, but it would suffice. Now, the book that you’d snagged from Stephen’s bedside was a bit advanced for you, but that was okay. You had options.

Where would you even begin? This place was bigger than you remembered. Was this another spell? Did you know what you were talking about? Stop thinking, y/n. Start reading.

You picked out a book. You just ran with it. You recalled stories from Stephen. You remembered you needed the ring. What did he call it? Song ring? Sink ring? Slink ring?

Sling ring.

Not a problem, you could find one. Sanctum probably had tons. Maybe in Stephen’s study? You wished you had asked him more about his arts before, you just didn’t get it at the time.

One was stashed in a drawer. It was Stephen’s ring. The one he used himself. And it was the only one you could find, so it’d have to do. And so you got to studying.

The first time the air sparked by your hand was magical. Literally. But it made you feel something for the first time in nearly three months. And that was just the beginning. It felt like you were carrying on Stephen’s legacy in a way. You’d never be “Sorcerer Supreme,” but you didn’t have any intention of that. You just wanted his memory to live on, even if it were through you.

So you’d practice and you’d learn and you’d practice and you’d learn. You’d see Bruce whenever you could, and he soon noticed your mood change.

“I’m glad to see you happy for a change.” He told you while you walked through the park.

“Yeah, it feels great.” You told him while watching construction vehicles cleaning up the debris that had been lying around for months.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with the ring?” He looked at your hand and you lifted it closer.

“Oh...it’s Stephen’s.” You simply stated.

“Is it like a wedding ring?” He took a closer look and let you laugh it up for a quick second.

“No, no!” You shook your head at the ridiculous question. “I might as well show you. I haven’t told anyone yet, but that’s because you’re the only person I talk to.” You stopped in your tracks and shooed him back to give yourself enough space. “Ready?” Bruce looked terrified, but nodded a response and watched you raise your hands ahead, concentrating on the small portal you had began to open. Bruce recognized the opening since he’d fallen through it before.

“You’re one of the sorcerers?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I just started learning!” You exclaimed with a bright smile. “I needed something to get me through this all...and I wanted to protect Sanctum like Stephen and Wong had always stressed doing.”

“That’s...amazing, y/n. Self-taught magic? By a scientist, no less. Look at you go!” Bruce had a knack for being supportive. You were glad that he crashed through your roof and into your stairs.

“Thanks, Bruce. Maybe in time I’ll be able to cast a spell that fixes my roof.” You shrugged.

“Oh? Come on! I said I was sorry!”

—————

And then five years went by. Flew by, actually. You’d become a skilled sorcerer and used your skills around Sanctum. There wasn’t much to do here on Earth. It was a bit quiet.

Bruce was still a close friend of yours! You’d advised him in his quest for balance. He was no longer at war with himself.

The roof was fixed! You had Bruce spectate your very own spell to repair the damages he’d inflicted, but all was forgiven.

Then one normal day you got a call from him.

“Hey Bruce! How’s it going?” You answered, even though it interrupted your meditation.

“Can you meet me at the diner ASAP?” He sounded a little off, but still upbeat, so you opened a portal and stepped through to find yourself right out front. It was easy to spot him through the window, but there were others with him. Avengers.

“Hey, all.” You took a seat beside an unfamiliar one. “Hi, I’m y/n.” You told him as a plate of food was set in front of you.

“I ordered you your favorite. Hope you’re hungry.” Bruce smirked at you and let you get to it.

“So, it’s been a while, huh?” You asked the two Avengers across from you.

“It has.” Natasha sighed. “I wasn’t aware you were...also a sorcerer.” She began.

“I had a lot of free time.” Last they saw you, you weren’t as cool, calm, or collected. They were glad that you’d found peace. “I have a feeling this isn’t a social lunch.”

“I’m sorry to pull you from your calm, Doctor L/N—” You cut Steve off.

“Y/N is fine.” You replied.

“Scott here,” Steve motioned to the awkward man sitting alongside you, “was stuck in the Quantum Realm for some time, if you’re familiar. He thinks that there’s a way to...to undo what Thanos did.” You peered over at Bruce and watched him shrug as your heart started to beat faster and stomach started doing turns. You hated the thought of getting your hopes up, but you still dearly missed your husband.

“What can I do?”

—————

You had a hand in opening the dozens of portals around the ruins of the Avengers Compound, but you weren’t the only one. Stephen, Wong, and hundreds of other sorcerers were assisting to bring an army to combat the troops of an outdated Thanos, and you were so close to Stephen.

Using your magic to create a pathway to the sky, you leaped from step to step to get a clear look of the battlefield. And to let Stephen see you. He did. And so did the cloak.

You’d never used your powers to fight, so you’d have to step it up out here. But you knew Stephen wouldn’t let you get hurt. And you believed that you could handle this yourself.

“Y/N!” Stephen called to you as he flew to your altitude and held you in a special embrace that you’d nearly forgotten the feeling of. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Are you kidding me, Stephen?” You chuckled through tears that you just couldn’t hold in, tears that dragged through the dirt and dust on your face, clearing small lines down your cheeks. “I have missed you every day since the moment you left. I am so glad to have you back.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, y/n. I truly am. But I knew that you would manage without me. You always have.” He explained to you in such a heartfelt way, admiring your capability to still be standing in the air.

“You knew I’d become a sorcerer, didn’t you?” You cocked a brow and watched him smirk.

“I had an inkling.” He joked with you as the firefight below was still rampaging.

“It’s very unprofessional of you to be talking to your s/o during times of crisis like this.” You chuckled and broke your spell to fall back to the ground, stopping yourself before it was too late in what could only be described as a “superhero landing.” Now that you were on the ground, assistance was required for your own side of the battle.

You and your fellow sorcerers had to defend more than anything. Shields popped up across the battlefield in an effort to keep your people alive. There were too many close calls and you wanted to survive long enough to go home with your husband.

“Y/N, over here!” Stephen beckoned you to the flood that would have made this fight much harder, and you were delighted to defend alongside him. The cloak rushed to you and gave you a fast track to the edge of the water, you couldn’t help but that it for it’s kind service. “Ready?”

“Of course.” You lifted your palms and motioned towards that water, redirecting it and keeping it at bay for the time being. “I love you, Stephen.” You remembered to tell him.

“I love you, too, y/n.” He replied with his focus still on the flood. “And I’m proud of you. So very proud.”

“Couldn’t have done it with you.” You joked and stabilized the rushing waters, giving you a true load-off before the end was clear. Dust passed through the sunken hole you all stood inside. Dust of your enemies that had finally lost. You and Stephen stared at each other in disbelief, yet couldn’t help but run into each other’s arms. “This is real? We won?”

“In a way.”

—————

Stephen and you dressed in all black were standing in the back yard of your savior. Tony had given his life to give others a life. You were just sorry that it had to be him.

Bruce stood alongside you with a long face and an injured arm. It was time for you to be there for him like he’d been there for you.

“Thanks for bringing back my husband, Bruce.” You whispered to him while holding Stephen’s hand tightly. Over the past few days, you just couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“Oh, yeah? That was nothing.” Bruce playfully answered through his sorrow.

“How’s your arm feeling?” You asked him, making sure the sling wasn’t twisted up an any way.

“Not the greatest, but I’ll be okay.” He assured you and watched as you leaned your head onto Stephen’s smile with a sense of relief. “I’m really happy for you, y/n...”

“But?” You raised an eyebrow with a hint of worry.

“But you better still hang out with me.” He smiled at you and you even heard a chuckle escape Stephen’s lips.

“You can count on it, Bruce.” You lifted a hand for a fist bump and collided your knuckles with his, even if they were a bit oversized.

“Shall we get going, dear?” Stephen asked you while he hooked his arm around yours and opened a portal home. You waved goodbye to Bruce and went on your way, stepping right into Sanctum as the way closed behind you.

“So you really meant it, huh?” You asked your husband while setting your belongings down.

“That I love what you’ve done with the place?” Stephen laughed at your oncoming smirk and walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you forward to kiss the top of your head. “Of course, dear.”

“Even the stairs?” You peeked your head up to look at your husband and watched his smile grow. You’d never bothered casting a spell to properly repair them. Maybe you were just too proud of your work. Maybe it was a reminder that you got through these five years on your own terms.

“I do.” He leaned down to kiss your lips. “It adds character to this place.”

“More character than the magic?” You prodded at him.

“I think you mean ‘sorcery.’” He corrected as you leaned into his chest and slightly swayed back and forth, taking in his presence for the 50th time since he’d come home.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

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[letterboxd]

Best of SXSW 2021.

From properly good Covid comedies to an epic folk-horror doc and an Indigenous feminist Western, the Letterboxd Festiville team reveals their ten best of SXSW Online.

We dug out old lanyards to wear around the house, and imagined ourselves queuing up the block from The Ritz (RIP). We dialled into screenings and panels, and did our level best to channel that manic “South By” energy from our living rooms.

The SXSW festival atmosphere was muted, and that’s to be expected. But the films themselves? Gems, so many gems, whether shot in a fortnight on the smell of an oily stimulus check, or painstakingly rotoscoped over seven years.

When we asked SXSW Film director Janet Pierson what she and her team were looking for this year, she told us: “We’re always looking for films that do a lot with little, that are ingenious, and pure talent, and discovery, and being surprised. We’re just looking for really good stories with good emotional resonance.” If there was one common denominator we noticed across this year’s SXSW picks, it was a smart, tender injection of comedy into stories about trauma, grief, unwanted pregnancy, chronic health conditions, homelessness, homophobia and, yes, Covid.

It’s hard to pick favorites, but here are the ten SXSW features and two short films we haven’t stopped thinking about, in no particular order.

Recovery Directed by Mallory Everton and Stephen Meek, written by Everton and Whitney Call

“Covid 19 is in charge now” might be the most hauntingly funny line in a SXSW film. In Recovery, two sisters set out on a haywire road trip to rescue their grandmother from her nursing home in the wake of a severe Covid 19 outbreak. There’s no random villain or threat, because isn’t being forced to exist during a pandemic enough of a threat in itself? If ever we were worried about “Covid comedies”, SXSW managed to flush out the good ones. (Read about the Festiville team’s other favorite Covid-inflected comedies, including an interview with the directors of I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking).)

Alex Marzona praises the “off-the-charts chemistry” between leads Mallory Everton and Whitney Call. Best friends since they were nine, the pair also wrote the film, with Everton co-directing with Stephen Meek. Every laugh comes from your gut and feels like something only the cast and crew would usually be privy to. “You can tell a lot of the content is improvised, which just attests to their talent,” writes Emma. Recovery doesn’t make you laugh awkwardly about how awful the last year has been—rather, it reminds you that even in such times there are still laughs to be had, trips to be taken, family worth uprooting everything for. Just make sure you’ve packed enough wet wipes for the road, and think long and hard about who should babysit your mice. —EK

The Spine of Night Written and directed by Morgan Galen King and Philip Gelatt

Don’t get too attached to any characters from its star-studded cast—nobody is safe (or fully-clothed) in The Spine of Night’s raw, ultra-violent and cynical world. Conjured over the last seven years, directors Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King’s rotoscoped epic recaptures the dazzling imagination and scope of their influences Ralph Bakshi and Heavy Metal. Approaching an anthology-style structure to explore how ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’—a proverb more potent now than when Gelatt and King began their project—the film packs a franchise’s worth of ideas in its 90-minute runtime. Though the storytelling justifiably proves itself overly dense for some, it will find the audience it’s after, as other Letterboxd members have declared it “a rare treat” and “a breath of fresh air in the feature-length animation scene”. For sure, The Spine of Night can join Sundance premieres Flee and Cryptozoo in what’s already a compelling year for unique two-dimensional animation. —JM

Kambole Campbell caught up with Gelatt and King (who are also Letterboxd members!) during SXSW to talk about animation inspirations and rotoscoping techniques.

The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson Written and directed by Leah Purcell

Snakes, steers and scoundrels beware! Writer-director-star Leah Purcell ably repurposes the Western genre for Aboriginal and female voices in The Drover’s Wife. Molly Johnson is a crack-shot anti-heroine for the ages, in this decolonized reimagining of a classic 1892 short story by Henry Lawson. And by reimagining, we mean a seismic shift in the narrative: Purcell has fleshed out a full story of a mother-of-four, pregnant with her fifth, a missing husband, predatory neighbors, a mysterious runaway and a young English couple on different paths to progress in this remote Southern land. Purcell first adapted this story for the stage, then as published fiction; she rightly takes the leading role in the screen version, too.

As a debut feature director, Purcell (Goa-Gunggari-Wakka Wakka Murri) already has a firm grip on the macabre and the menacing, not shying away from violence, but making very careful decisions about what needs to be depicted, given all that Molly Johnson and her family are subjected to. She also sneaks in mystic touches, and a hint of romance (local heartthrob Rob Collins can take us on a walk to where the Snowy widens to see blooming wildflowers anytime). Judging by early Letterboxd reviews, it’s not for everyone, but this is Australian colonization through an Indigenous feminist’s eyes, with a fierce, intersectional pay-off. “Extremely similar to a vast majority of the issues and themes explored in The Nightingale,” writes Claira. “I’m slowly realizing that my favorite type of Westerns are Australian.” —LK, GG

Swan Song Written and directed by Todd Stephens

Udo Kier is often the bridesmaid, rarely the bride. Now, after a lifetime of supporting roles ranging from vampires and villains to art-house muse, he finally gets to shine center-stage in Swan Song. Kier dazzles as a coiffure soothsayer in this lyrical pageant to the passage of queer times in backwater Sandusky, Ohio. “He is absolutely wonderful here,” writes Adrianna, “digging deep and pulling out a mesmerizing, deeply affecting and emotionally textured performance, proving that he’s an actor with much more range than people give him credit for.”

A strong supporting cast all have melancholy moments to shine, with Linda Evans (Dynasty), Michael Urie (Ugly Betty) and Jennifer Coolidge (Legally Blonde) along for the stroll. Surreal camp touches add joy (that chandelier, the needle drop!) but by the end, the tears roll (both of joy and sadness). Writer-director Todd Stephens ties up his Sandusky trilogy in this hometown homage, a career peak for both him and Kier. Robert Daniels puts it well, writing that Swan Song is “campy as hell, but it’s also a heartfelt LGBTQ story about lost lovers and friends, vibrant memories and the final passage of a colorful life.” —LK

Leo Koziol spoke with Todd Stephens and Udo Kier during SXSW about Grace Jones, David Bowie and dancing with yourself.

Islands Written and directed by Martin Edralin

Islands is a Mike Leigh-esque story that presents a Canadian Filipino immigrant family full of quirk and character, centered around Joshua, a reticent 50-year-old homebody son. The story drifts in and out of a deep well of sadness. Moments of lightness and familial love make the journey worthwhile. “A film so Filipino a main plot device is line-dancing,” writes Karl. “Islands is an incredibly empathetic film about what it’s like to feel unmoored from comfort. It’s distinctly Filipino and deals with the psychology of Asian culture in a way that feels both profound and oddly comforting.” In a year in which we’ve all been forced to physically slow down, Islands “shows us how slow life can be,” writes Justin, “and how important it is to be okay with that.” Rogelio Balagtas’s performance as Joshua—a first-time leading role—won him the SXSW Grand Jury Award for Breakthrough Performance. —LK

Ninjababy Directed by Yngvild Sve Flikke, written by Flikke with Johan Fasting and Inga H. Sætre

Ninjababy is as ridiculous as its title. When 23-year-old Rakel finds herself accidentally pregnant, scheduling an abortion is a no-brainer. But she’s way too far along, she’s informed, so she’s going to have to have the baby. The ensuing meltdown might have been heartbreaking if the film wasn’t so damn funny. Ninjababy draws on the comforting and familiar (“Lizzie McGuire if she was a pregnant young adult,” writes Nick), while mixing shock with originality (Erica Richards notices “a few aggressive and vulgar moments [but] somehow none of it seemed misplaced”).

An animated fetus in the style of Rakel’s own drawings appears to beg and shame Rakel into motherhood while she fights to hold onto her confidence that not wanting to be a mother doesn’t make her a bad person. Ninjababy’s greatest feat is its willingness to delve into that complication: yes, it’s righteous and feminist and 21st-century to claim your own body and life, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to turn away from something growing inside of you. It’s a comedy about shame, art, finding care in unlikely places—and there’s something in it for the gents, too. The titular ninjababy wouldn’t leave Rakel alone, and it’s unlikely to leave you either. Winner of the SXSW Global Audience Award. —SH

The Fallout Written and directed by Megan Park

Canadian actress Megan Park brought the youthful wisdom of her days on the teen drama series The Secret Life of the American Teenager to her first project behind the camera, and it paid off. Following the scattered after-effects of a school shooting, The Fallout may be the most acute, empathetic depiction of childhood trauma on screen in recent memory. “It sneaks up on you with its honesty and how it spends time with its lead, carried so beautifully by Jenna Ortega. Even the more conventional moments are poignant because of context,” writes Kevin L. Lee. Much of that “sneaky” honesty emerges as humor—despite the heavy premise, moments of hilarity hang on the edges of almost every scene. And Ortega’s portrayal of sweet-but-angsty Vada brings self-awareness to that humor, like when Vada’s avoidant, inappropriate jokes with her therapist reveal her desperation, but they garner genuine laughs nonetheless.

In this debut, Park shows an unmatched understanding of non-linear ways that young people process their pain. Sometimes kids try drugs! Sometimes they scream at their parents! But more often than not, they really do know what they want, who loves them, and how much time they need to grieve (see also: Jessie Barr’s Sophie Jones, starring her cousin Jessica Barr, out now on VOD and in theaters). The Fallout forsakes melodrama to embrace confusion, ambiguity and joy. Winner of both the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience Narrative Feature Awards, and the Brightcove Illumination Award. —SH

Ludi Directed by Edson Jean, written by Jean and Joshua Jean-Baptiste

When Ludi begins, it’s quiet and dreamy. The film’s opening moments conjure the simple pleasures of the titular character’s Haitian heritage: the music, the colors, the people. Ludi (Shein Monpremier) smiles to herself as she starts her morning with a tape recording her cousin mailed from Haiti to Miami, and listens as her family members laugh through their troubles before recording an upbeat tape of her own. But that’s where the dreaminess ends—Ludi is an overworked, underpaid nurse picking up every shift she possibly can in order to send money home. Writer-director Edson Jean fixates on the pains and consequences of Ludi’s relentless determination, which comes to a head when she moonlights as a private nurse for an old man who doesn’t want her there.

Ashton Kinley notes how the film “doesn’t overly dramatize or pull at false emotional strings to make its weight felt. The second half of the feature really allows all of that to shine, as the film becomes a tender and empathetic two-hander.” George’s (Alan Myles Heyman) resentment of his own aging body steps in as Ludi’s antagonist. Jean throws together jarring contrasts: George throwing Ludi out of the bathroom, followed by Ludi’s memories of home, followed by another lashing out, followed by a shared prayer. The tension is unsustainable. By interspersing the back-breaking predicament of a working-class immigrant with the sights and sounds of the Caribbean, Ludi elegantly, painfully reveals what the cost of a dream can be. —SH

Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror Written and directed by Kier-La Janisse

Building on the folk horror resurgence of films like The Witch and Midsommar, Kier-La Janisse’s 193-minute documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched is a colossal, staggering undertaking that should school even the most seasoned of horror buffs. “Thorough is an understatement,” says Claira.

Combining a historian’s studied, holistic patience with a cinephile’s rabid, insatiable thirst, the film, through the course of six chapters, broadens textbook British definitions, draws trenchant socio-political and thematic connections, debunks myths and transports viewers to far-flung parts of the globe in a way that almost feels anthropological. As Jordan writes, “Three hours later and my mind is racing between philosophical questions about the state of hauntology we generationally entrap ourselves in, wanting to buy every single one of the 100+ films referenced here, and being just a bit in awe of Janisse’s truly breathless work.” An encyclopedic forest worth losing yourself in—get ready for those watchlists to balloon. Winner of the SXSW Midnighters Audience Award. —AY

Introducing, Selma Blair Directed by Rachel Fleit

There’ll likely be some level of hype when this intimate collaboration between actress Selma Blair and filmmaker Rachel Fleit comes out later in the year on Discovery+, and that’s okay, because that is Blair’s intention in sharing the details of her stem-cell transplant for multiple sclerosis. There’d be little point in going there if you are not prepared to really go there, and Introducing, Selma Blair is a tics-and-all journey not just into what life is like with a chronic condition, a young son, and a career that relies on one’s ability to keep a straight face. It’s also an examination of the scar tissue of childhood, the things we are told by our parents, the ideas we come to believe about ourselves. “I almost felt like I shouldn’t have such intimate access to some of the footage in this documentary,” writes Andy Yen. “Bravo to Selma for allowing the filmmakers to show some truly raw and soul-bearing videos about her battle with multiple sclerosis that make us feel as if we are as close to her as family.” —GG

Femme Directed by Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping

I May Destroy You fans, rejoice: Paapa Essiedu, who played Arabella’s fascinating best friend Kwame, takes center stage in Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping’s intoxicating short film Femme. It’s a simple premise—Jordan, a femme gay man, follows his drug dealer (Harris Dickinson, mastering the sexually repressed brusque young man like no one else) home to pick up some goods on a night out. Except, of course, it’s not that simple. The co-directors build a world of danger, tension and electricity, with lusciously lensed scenes that lose focus as the threat rises. Frankie calls it “hypnotizing and brutal and gorgeous” and we couldn’t agree more. A crime thriller wrestling with hyper-masculinity seen through the eyes of an LGBTQ+ character, with a sucker-punch ending to boot, the world needs more than twenty minutes of this story. —EK

Play It Safe Directed by Mitch Kalisa

If you (unwisely) thought that the vulnerable, progressive environment of drama school would be a safe space for Black students, Play It Safe confirms that even a liberal bunch of actors (and their teacher) are capable of being blind to their own egregiously racist microagressions. Mitch Kalisa’s excellent short film explores structural prejudice head-on, in an electric acting exercise that rests on where the kinetic, gritty 16mm camera is pointing at every pivotal turn. At first, we’re with Black drama student Jonathan Ajayi as he receives the assignment; then we are with the rest of the class, exactly where we need to be. “Literally in your face and absolutely breathtaking,” writes Nia. A deserving winner of the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience narrative shorts prizes. —GG

Follow the Festiville team on Letterboxd

#sxsw #south by southwest #sxsw 2021 #sxswonline #SXSW Film #janet pierson #film festival #letterboxd #letterboxd best

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire!ravn x reader

genre: vampire!au, humour, fluff

warnings: unresolved sexual tension, a lot of shakespeare lmao

word count: 2.2k

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part five 🌙 part six  🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten🌙 part eleven 🌙part twelve 🌙 epilogue

A month after you started living in Ravn’s castle and you were getting anxious to go out. Not that you weren’t doing fine inside. The vampire was treating you great and you were happy to read books together, feed each other (literally) and have interesting conversations. However, you missed the fresh air outside, you missed just walking around aimlessly and wandering to new places. You didn’t want to risk your parents spotting you so the village was out of the question. The forest, though…

You wondered how to bring it up. Ravn had initially said that he doesn’t expect you to stay trapped in his castle forever, but he never mentioned it after. Maybe, he enjoyed just chilling at home. You did, too. But your adventurous spirit was eager to try something new.

As you were lost in thoughts, Ravn touched your shoulder and you jumped at the sudden contact.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?” he asked gently and sat down next to you on the couch.

“N-no, it’s fine, I was just thinking.”

“You do seem a bit antsy. Anything bothering you?”

“Why? Everything is peachy,” you quickly responded, because you still hadn’t figured out how to ask Ravn if it was okay to go out without upsetting him. You didn’t want him to think that you were ungrateful for everything he had done for you.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” Ravn said in a serious tone, which made shivers run down your spine, reminding you of the first time you met him. “I can’t take that.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you whispered. “I was…hoping we could go out sometime? But I didn’t want to seem unappreciative of your efforts to make me feel at ease. Which is why I had no idea how to ask for it. I’m so sorry.”

Ravn smiled softly.

“Is that it? You didn’t have to lie. I told you that I won’t keep you prisoner, didn’t I?”

You nodded slowly.

“I know you did, but still, I’m so used to being a burden that I don’t know how to act around…around someone like you.”

“A vampire?” Ravn laughed ironically.

“No. Around someone who doesn’t judge everything I do or say.”

“Oh,” Ravn was surprised at how you viewed him. He was supposed to be the monster in the story. So, why did you treat him like a saviour of some sort?

“I mean it,” you insisted once you noticed how unsure he was.

He shook his head. This emotion thing was too new and too scary for him and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Maybe the forest?” you asked quietly.

Ravn was shocked at your choice.

“Haven’t you been there a lot? Don’t you want to try something new?” he suggested casually.

“As long as it’s not anywhere near my parents, I’m game,” you chuckled.

“Do you want me to surprise you or would you rather know where I’m taking you?” Ravn teased, a wonderful idea already forming in his mind.

“Surprise me, then,” you lifted your chin and looked at him boldly.

“You trust me?” he repeated the question you had so far responded to negatively.

“I do, actually,” you decided to be honest for once, because he had warned you not to lie to him ever again. He was obviously taken aback by your answer.

“You stupid lamb,” Ravn chuckled and placed your hands around his neck. Then, wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up. “Hold on tight.”

And he began running at a speed that shouldn’t have been humanly possible. But yet again, he was no human. At one point the accelerated motion made you so sick that you closed your eyes and hid your head in his chest. You had no idea where you were going but the realization that it didn’t matter amazed you. He didn’t scare you. But this terrifying journey did. You probably should have warned him you had never travelled with anything faster than a bike. You had spent your entire life in your small village and the forest nearby. You were pretty sure you would pass out soon, but before that happened, Ravn stopped running.

“You may open your eyes.”

You did as he said and looked around. The first thing you noticed was how big everything around you was. The buildings, the towers, the cars, the bridges, the river. How…magnificent. And not in the way his castle was. Ravn’s home felt familiar in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. This place, wherever it was, felt so strange. But in a good way.

“Where are we?” you murmured nervously.

“Can’t you tell?”

You shook your head in embarrassment.

“Welcome to London,” Ravn informed you of your current whereabouts.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope,” he laughed. “I thought you were into Shakespeare. How can you not recognize where we are?”

“I only managed to borrow and read some of his plays in my village. I’ve never seen…”

“Pictures of London?” Ravn helped you out when he saw you were struggling to find the right words.

You nodded, suddenly feeling intimidated by the vampire’s vast knowledge of the word.

 “I’ll be your guide, then,” Ravn offered you his hand like a gentleman. “Do you want to visit the Globe Theatre first? It’s a reconstruction of-“

“I know what it is,” you responded. “Again, I haven’t seen pictures, but I read about it in one of the introductions to the book of plays.”

Ravn smiled proudly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked.

First, he’d called you his human and now this? You could swear Ravn was going to kill you. Not with his fangs but his words.

The two of you spent the morning visiting many interesting places. Starting from the Globe Theatre, where Ravn showed you around like an expert, pointing out curious facts about Shakespeare that got you staring like a wide-eyed puppy. He also led you to a couple of lovely vintage bookshops and insisted on buying you some of Shakespeare’s plays you hadn’t read.

“But you have these already in your library!” you reasonably argued.

“Yeah, but I want you to have them. Besides, they’re different editions.”

“Ravn…you really don’t have to,” you were ashamed that he was spoiling you so openly.

“Y/N…please, let me,” Ravn whispered in your ear. It was like he was asking you to get him something and not the other way round.

You finally conceded and once the two of you left the bookshop, you found yourself clutching a paper bag with Shakespeare plays. You weren’t sure how to thank him properly for doing this for you and you couldn’t exactly offer him to drink from you in such a public place, so you did the one thing that came to mind. You lifted yourself on your toes and gave him a quick but heartfelt kiss on his cheek. Ravn seemed flustered and you could swear you saw his usually pale skin turn red for the briefest of seconds.

“Thank you,” you told him, your smile full of gratitude and affection.

“It’s nothing,” Ravn coughed and suddenly found the ground beneath you very amusing. You smiled when you reached the conclusion that he could get so easily embarrassed.

“It means everything to me,” you confessed. “No one has ever given me such a precious gift.”

“Come on, we still have many places to see,” Ravn grabbed your free hand and pulled you along.

You were lucky enough to see a couple of museums associated with famous British writers. The afternoon was dedicated to the more “basic tourist destinations” as Ravn called them such as the Big Ben, Tower Bridge and the River Thames. Everything was so grand that you couldn’t help staring at it like a lost puppy. Finally, as the sun was setting, Ravn suggesting going to the London Eye, which was most magnificent at night. Its lights shining through the dark, you were completely awestruck. Suddenly, you remembered a story you must have heard around the village.

“Wait, how did you survive throughout the day?”

 Ravn laughed.

“Funny, it took you so long to notice. And if you’re referencing the foolish myth that the sun harms vampires, fear not, my lady, I am perfectly immune to daylight.”

You were relieved to hear that but a large portion of your mind was choosing to focus on the part where Ravn called you my lady, which was honestly making things to your heart that you couldn’t quite control or comprehend.

“I’m sorry for being such a dim-witted person,” you looked down in shame.

“You’re the brightest person I’ve ever talked to,” Ravn reassured you.

You faced him in the dark; the London Eye lights were giving his features a mystical, supernatural glow. He was so beautiful. You wanted to trace your fingertips down his porcelain skin and tell him how much you ached to touch him. It was insane, you knew. He was supposed to embody everything little kids were taught to fear, every dark fairytale, every warning whispered before midnight, to force the kids to finally go to bed or the scary vampire would take them away. But he was nothing like the stories. In the brief time of your acquaintance you’d seen nothing but tenderness. Who were you supposed to believe? These foolish myths or your own eyes, your mind and your heart?

“Shall we?” Ravn urged you to approach the London Eye, thus, breaking the spell he held over you. You followed him in a rush.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, pointing to a sign. “It says here it’s closed.”

Ravn smiled devilishly.

“When has that ever stopped me before?”

“Ravn…what are you planning?” you asked cautiously, but it was already too late.

His hands were already on you and the next second you had somehow ended up on top of the London Eye, with a view to the whole city, its lights making it look even more beautiful at night.

“This is…insane,” you gasped, holding tightly onto his shirt for support.

“Yeah.”

“Bite me,” you requested out of nowhere, looking into his dark eyes.

“W-what?” Ravn choked.

“Bite me, so I know I’m not dreaming.”

He laughed, amused by your reaction.

“If I bite you, we’ll both fall from here.”

You scoffed lightly.

“Thus with a bite I die,” you joked, slightly paraphrasing Romeo’s last words.

“Rawr,” Ravn teased.

You looked around the city street lights. Everything seemed so tiny from up here. And there you were, a human and a vampire on top of the world. It felt surreal.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, completely stunned by the view.

“It really is,” Ravn confirmed, only you had no idea it wasn’t the city he was staring at…

🌙🌙🌙

Once you were back in Ravn’s castle, you walked to your room in a daze, still finding it hard to believe how you’d spent the day. But the paper bag with Shakespeare plays in your hand was the material proof that it had, in fact, been real. Ravn followed you silently and the minute your back hit the bed, he tucked you in gently.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” you asked sleepily.

You were so exhausted from the journey and you still found enough energy to care for his needs. Ravn couldn’t believe he’d met such a selfless, precious human.

“I can manage a couple more hours,” he chuckled.

“You’ve given me so much more than I deserve,” you murmured weakly.

“That’s not true,” Ravn said. “You deserve all the stars and the moon.”

“O, swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon,” you were still able to recite Shakespeare despite being so tired and it was only fitting, considering today’s adventures.

“What shall I swear by?” Ravn played along and you could feel yourself falling, not only asleep.

“Swear by thy gracious self and I’ll believe thee.”

🌙🌙🌙

You woke up to the smell of something delicious. Eggs? Bacon? What was this enticing odour? You hurriedly put on a robe and ran down the stairs and towards the kitchen. You were struck to find Ravn cooking human food!

“What are you up to?” you asked, sneaking up behind him. To your further astonishment, he hadn’t heard you, maybe because he’d been so focused on the task at hand.

“Nooo, you should go back to bed!” Ravn scolded you. “You ruined the surprise.”

“This all for me?” you inquired curiously and wrapped your hands around his waist, which made Ravn jump in shock.

“Duh,” he replied. “I can’t eat that.”

“So, you’re just fattening me up so that you can eat me later?” you admonished him playfully.

“Oh, no, you’ve uncovered my evil plans!” Ravn groaned dramatically.

“What shall we do, then? Do you think I’ll be so easily tempted?” you continued to joke around and ran your fingers down his back, making him slightly tense under your timid touch.

“I think,” he started. “That after you try my eggs, you’ll be begging me for more.”

“Yeah?” you giggled at the double entendre. “We’ll have to see about that.”

You were still trying to distract him from cooking when Ravn turned around swiftly, grabbing your hands.

“Don’t play with me,” he hissed, aiming to sound threatening but you were having too much fun to feel any fear.

“Why not?” you pouted adorably.

“Because you’re making it really hard for me to resist you.”

“You can have me whenever you wish,” you pointed out. That was your arrangement, after all.

“Not like that, I can’t,” Ravn whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Key word: almost. “The eggs are ready. Eat up.”

You didn’t question it, because you were too hungry to care what exactly he meant by that.

To be continued…

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #fluff #vampire au #ravn fanfic #vampires #kim youngjo x reader #writing

[myuntoldstory]

Mystic Messenger | Unbridled Passion

AO3 | FF.net

A late Valentine's Day entry. Enjoy!

Rating: T

Pairing: Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character (Named)

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 8, 542

Summary: Zen is doing a lipstick ad! But he's doing it with a female model—all fine and good until he discovers who that female model is. What will he do? Will he maintain his professionalism or will he cast all that aside for a short fit of passion?

Unbridled Passion

Zen steps out of the studio with a sigh. Suddenly, his phone rings. Brows furrowing, he takes out his mobile and accepts the call without looking at the screen.

"Hello?"

"I have a job for you."

Tension sets in his shoulders at the voice.

“... CEO-in-line,” he says.

“You do know Elizabeth, yes? C&R’s makeup brand?”

Of course. Han Jumin only launched it last year. Despite its infancy, Elizabeth climbed up the top ten or five lists of any reputable name in any industry. Some say that that spoke of the trustworthiness of the company. In Zen’s opinion, it was a clear example of capitalist nepotism. The speculations surrounding the name were wild. Either Chairman Han named it after his new lover or his son had finally found a soulmate.

Oh, if only they knew…

“Yes,” he answers.

Jumin sighs.

Then, he fires off.

“We are launching a limited-edition collection for Valentine’s Day. The marketing team has made you their first choice to model for the lipstick line. I must emphasise that they’re hoping, avidly, that you are available.”

“Huh…” Zen mumbles in surprise. “Can’t say I’ve modelled for makeup before.”

“Ah… are you uncomfortable with wearing makeup?”

“Dude, seriously?” he snorts.

“Is that not a valid question?”

“No. Did you forget where I work? I wear makeup twenty-four-seven. I wear more makeup than most women in the world. I know it sounds unbelievable because my face is so handsome that it doesn’t need makeup, but—”

“Yes,” Jumin interrupts. “Thank you, I understand.”

Zen purses his lips. “So they want me to wear lipstick?”

“In a way.”

“In a way?”

“Your part in the campaign involves a female model—don’t ask me who. The team is still searching for your perfect partner. According to them, there are not many that can stand equally to your beauty.”

Zen laughs happily at that.

“Well, they’re not wrong.”

The sound that answers him is doubtful.

“I should sign up just for that,” he continues. “When is it, anyway?”

“Around late October.”

“Hmm…”

“Can you do it?"

"Hang on…”

Zen pulls out his planner from his bag. When he flicks to the calendar so many important dates already jump out at him. He has a few things in the pipeline for that month: variety shows, photoshoots, recordings, ad spots, and table reads. It’s not bursting, but it’s full enough. There are still a few days he can do… if Han Jumin is willing to adjust.

“Well…” he drawls, snapping the planner shut. “They did ask for me so it doesn’t feel right for me to reject it. I don’t have a lot of free days, though. Can I send you the details?”

“Send it to Jaehee.”

“Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” Jumin says. “We’ll talk. In the meantime, Jaehee will contact you with further information. Once everything’s locked in we’ll also arrange a meeting with you and the team to hash out the details.”

“Okay.”

“If you have any questions or need to discuss any concerns contact us first. We’ll do our best to sort it out. I must stress the importance of resolving any issues early on—this launch runs on a tight schedule.”

Zen nods. “Got it. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Good.”

There’s shuffling noises on Jumin’s end. Zen senses the call is over.

“Thank you, Han Jumin,” he hurries to say.

“Of course.”

And the line cuts off.

Zen emerges from the bathroom, fresh and fluffy from a good shower and skincare regime. He hears the melodious sound of the piano filling the apartment and smiles. Venturing into the kitchen, he grabs a can of beer, snaps it open, and takes a generous swig. Then, he makes his way to the source of the music. When the melody transitions to the opening phrases of one of his songs, his smile widens.

Picking up the cue, he sings. Eventually, he sees the love of his life sitting before the digital piano. His gaze falls to her fingers, admiring the way they dance over the keys. When she turns to him and beams he just about melts. How beautiful she looks. The mere sight of her makes him feel at home. She comforts him and makes him want to do so many things to show his love for her.

Zen had spent so many years by himself. It was lonely, but he got used to it. Then, out of nowhere, she came in—beautiful, wonderful, kind, courageous, and so full of love. Little by little she carried the weight of his burden with him and made his barren days feel so alive. She took his hand and taught him many things, opening his eyes to the unyielding fact that he was not alone. There was no shame in asking for help, no shame in reaching out.

She taught him what love felt like again.

All kinds of love.

His heart. His Lux.

Zen sits next to her. She doesn't miss a beat and he doesn't falter. A feeling surges up from the base of his spine to the top of his head. It rises like a wave and crashes upon him in instantaneous epiphany. This is one of those important moments. They're creating a memory right now—one they'll remember and reminisce in the future. They might even recreate it from time to time. He smiles at the nostalgia that already fills him. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, twirling his fingers around the ends of her hair. Soon enough the song ends. Zen’s voice fades after Lux lifts her fingers.

“Your voice is so beautiful,” she sighs.

His cheeks warm at her heartfelt compliment.

“Aw, babe…”

“I can’t get enough of it.”

“Well, I can never get enough of your playing,” he quips.

“It’s not annoying?” she teases.

“Babe!” he gasps. “Never! How can you even think that? You make every song sound so beautiful. It’s magical—I feel every emotion so much that it sweeps me away.”

“Aw,” she chuckles.

“Also, your hands are super cute!”

He takes her hand, gently running his thumb across her knuckles.

“I love watching them dance…”

“Zen…”

He places the beer on the small table beside the piano. Then he returns to Lux, taking her by the chin and coaxing her to gaze at him. The deep brown of her eyes reminds him of damp earth after the rain. She’s looking at him in a way that pins him to the bench. His thumb traces the outline of her lips. At her shiver, he leans down and captures her mouth.

His heart pounds in his chest when she kisses back, her slender fingers circling his wrist. The utter softness of her lips never ceases to delight him. Just the feel of them is enough to tempt him, to urge him to sweep the tip of his tongue across the seam of her mouth. It takes him an effort not to push further. Any more and he’ll be unstoppable.

It’s too soon for his liking, but he tapers the kiss off. Zen opens his eyes just as Lux opens hers. Seeing them so dilated doesn’t surprise him; his must be too. Zen licks his lips to catch the last remnants of her, thumb tracing the edges of her mouth again. Gaze drifting down, he finds that they’re pinker and fuller—god, all the more tempting. How desperately he wants to answer their call, to nibble and suck until they swell.

“I really want to kiss you again,” he sighs.

“Then why don’t you?”

The question, whispered, almost unravels him. Groaning, he presses his forehead against hers—a bad idea. Her lips are now closer. Zen bites his own to fight against the urge. It feels like a losing battle, though, because he doesn’t want to stop. With difficulty, he pulls away and compensates himself by kissing her forehead.

“We’re having a good moment right now,” he reasons, combing back wayward strands of hair from her face. “I want to stay like this with you for a bit longer.”

“Okay.”

With a smile, she returns to the piano and plays a cheerful piece. The heady, intimate atmosphere between them dissipates, but it doesn’t encourage distance. As the playful melody fills the air, Zen straddles the bench. He wraps both arms around Lux loosely. Leaning in, he buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply to take in the scent of peonies. A feeling of calm washes over him, soothing his electrified nerves. What a blessing she is to indulge him like this.

“Honey, I have something to tell you,” he says.

“What’s up?”

“Han Jumin gave me work.”

“Work?”

“Hmm.”

He kisses her temple before moving on to the shell of her ear. Then, his chaste pecks travel to the back. He nuzzles close for a few seconds because the peony scent is the strongest there. He pushes her hair to one side before continuing on, keeping his mouth closed. For now, he doesn't start anything. He's been bursting with affection for her the whole day that he only wants to shower her with them.

“You know Elizabeth, right?” he continues.

“Hmm? Yeah, of course.”

"... Not the cat."

"Oh," she laughs. "The makeup brand, right?"

"That's the one."

"What about Elizabeth?"

“Well, they’re launching a collection for Valentine’s Day,” Zen explains, hugging her close.

“Ah, okay… and they want you to model for them?”

“That’s it.”

“I see—oh! Right, yeah, Jaehee was talking about this days ago!”

“Was she?”

“But she didn’t mention anything about you modelling.”

“Well, Han Jumin only called me today.”

“Right.”

“I’ll be working with a female model... I don’t know who yet.”

“Makes sense; it is for lipstick.”

Zen resumes kissing her, now paying attention to her jaw. As he goes underneath he feels the fluttering of her pulse on his lips. Upon reaching the side of her neck he takes his time to cover every patch of skin. Then, he begins to concentrate on one spot before suckling—gently so he doesn’t leave a mark. He tightens his arms around her as she melts against him. The desire for Lux always lies in wait deep within Zen. Feeling her shallow breaths ignites that. The kisses he gives her from then on are wet and open-mouthed. Lux sighs shakily, the little whimper at the end sending a jolt throughout his body.

“Will you be wearing lipstick, Zen?” she teases, a little breathless.

“Maybe,” he laughs. “That’s okay, right, babe?”

“What? You wearing lipstick? Of course!”

Lux speaks with such enthusiasm that it takes him a second to realise what he just said. When he does he laughs, squeezing her tightly and smacking a sound kiss on her cheek.

“You cutie,” he says. “I mean working with a woman.”

“Oh, right,” she chuckles.

“What do you think?”

“Well, I love you for your consideration,” she says, leaning into his embrace. “But don’t worry about me, Zen. You’re doing it for work so I understand—it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” he persists. “If you’re uncomfortable…”

“I’m not.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

She stops playing as she faces him, her hands clapping together.

“I can’t wait to see them! I’m sure it’ll be amazing!”

Zen must be dreaming.

It's the day of the shoot and he had just arrived in the studio with Seongjin, his manager. Jumin and Jaehee greeted them at the entrance. After making introductions and small talk with everyone involved, they escort him to the dressing rooms. It's there he sees someone so unexpected that it makes him question reality. At first, he doesn’t recognise her due to the distraction of the shoot. It’s not until their eyes meet that every single detail sparks familiarity in him. He knows that face. Of course, he does. It’s the most beautiful face he’s ever seen in his life.

“Holy shit,” he gasps.

“Zen!” Lux says, waving with a grin.

The sound of her voice triggers something inside him. Instantly, he forgets everything—where he is, who’s around, why he’s here—and marches over to her. Reaching out, he pulls her flush against his chest. This can’t be real… but the warmth permeating through his clothes is no illusion. God, she’s real. He is not dreaming.

The love of his life is here with him.

“Honey!” he whispers, tightening his hold. “Oh my god…”

“Z-Zen…” Lux mumbles shyly. “We’re not alone…”

“I don’t care. This is the best surprise I ever had.”

After one last squeeze, he pulls away, but keeps his hands on her shoulders. His gaze can't help darting to her lips. Already he feels the pull, yet he stops himself from making a move. Now that he knows she's real, reality sets in. He recognises where he is and who's around him—details he needs to keep in mind from now on. As desperate as he is to kiss her, he can’t do it in public… in work of all places.

But… that doesn’t mean he can’t tell her how he feels.

“I am so happy you’re here,” he rambles. “My heart is so full—you came to surprise me, right? How did you get here? Did you come here yourself? You should have called Seongjin, he wouldn’t mind—”

“Wait,” she giggles, “one question at a time—”

“Ever heard of self-restraint, Zen?”

Because of Lux's presence, Jumin's sardonic question barely fazes him. Still, he sighs impatiently at the interruption. Zen gives her a petulant pout, making her laugh. Then, he faces the corporate heir with an unrepentant expression.

"Speak for yourself," he quips. "If your cat dropped by your office I guarantee you'll clear your day and spend it doing whatever you do with her."

Jumin quirks a brow. "There is no way I will ever allow Elizabeth the 3rd to venture outside my apartment unsupervised—"

"Sir," Jaehee interjects.

Jumin stops and sighs. "Anyway, Lux is not here to visit."

The conversation takes a sudden turn that it gives Zen mental whiplash. He furrows his brows.

"What are you saying? Of course, she is."

"She is not."

Zen's hackles rise when Jumin takes Lux by the arm. Every muscle in his body tenses. He wants to push Jumin away from her, but he holds himself back. It's unreasonable to think that Jumin is literally stealing his girlfriend away. He has to content himself with scowling when the corporate heir puts his hands on Lux's shoulders.

"She is the model working with you today," he reveals.

Zen blinks. Then, he glances at Lux who smiles.

"Say that again?" he says, dumbfounded.

"Er... I'll say hello to Jaehee and Seongjin," Lux interjects.

Jumin lets her go with a sigh, leaving her free to do as she pleases.

"The search for your partner reached a boiling point that threatened the collapse of the team. Time was running out and yet they continued to struggle. So, to help, I threw Lux's name in the lot." Jumin crosses his arms. "In the first place, it's misguided to focus on beauty when the concept is passion. They should've focused on compatibility."

Zen stares at Jumin.

“Are you fucking serious?” is all he can manage.

"I wasn't, actually."

What?

“Stop screwing around,” Zen grits, irritation rising.

"I'm not," Jumin says. "I gave them an ultimatum: either they pick someone or I sign someone unknown and undesirable."

Did Han Jumin just call Lux undesirable? Zen scowls at that.

"Hey—"

"Undesirable, am I?"

Lux emerges from behind Jumin, an amused smile on her face.

"As a model, yes," he deadpans, turning to her.

Giggling at the answer, she accepts it with a nod. Then, she returns to Zen's side. The moment she's close enough, he immediately puts his arm around her. Then, he pats her head comfortingly. She looks up at him in askance and he gives her a soft smile.

"Don't listen to him," he says. "I desire you a lot."

"Oh!" she says, cheeks pinking in an instant. "Wow, thank you—"

"Anyway," Jumin interrupts. "It all worked out in the end."

"It didn't, jerk," Zen snaps. "It backfired. They chose her."

"Lux wasn't the first choice," Jumin says. "The one meant to be here today turned out to be... an overzealous fan of yours. She manipulated the system to get on the shortlist. Of course, we decided it would be best to remove her before she removed you to somewhere. Lux was all we had left.”

“I—seriously?”

"Yes. The unsuccessful applicants moved on to other projects... you know how that goes. Lux had no such commitments so... here we are."

Zen's mouth can’t help gaping in shock at that. When he turns to Lux she shrugs, confirming every single word of Han Jumin's crazy explanation. With a sharp sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of all this.

"Are you really upset?" Jumin continues incredulously. "Isn’t this more beneficial for you? You’ll be working with the person you love most—it’s something only couples can dream of.”

“Of course I’m happy!”

The words escape Zen with more volume and force than necessary. It rings across the hallway, echoing at great distances. The people in the studio have most likely heard it too. Every part of him freezes when Jaehee and Seongjin turn to him with surprised faces. Han Jumin's knowing smirk just about makes everything worse. Zen's cheeks heat up and with a defiant noise, he turns his back on them to hide his embarrassment.

"Problem solved, then," Jumin says after a few painful seconds. "Should have signed her on from the start. Anyway, though we are all friends here, do keep in mind that you're here for a purpose—so keep it professional."

At the sound of footsteps, Zen looks over his shoulder to see Jumin leaving them alone. He watches the corporate heir engage Jaehee and Seongjin in conversation. With a snort, he turns to Lux, who gazes at him with an amused expression. The dusting of pink on her cheeks is her only reaction to his declaration earlier. Zen pats her head again.

"He didn't force you?" he says.

"Not at all."

"He didn't push this job on you?"

"No, no..." she says, shaking her head. "He called me this morning and explained everything. He said I'm the only one who can help you with this. I mean... I don't know how because he's right, I'm not model material, but... if it helps you then I'm willing to do whatever."

"Oh, honey," he sighs, cupping her cheek. "You're too good sometimes."

"It's not about being good," she says, holding onto his hand. "I'm here to help you, in whatever way I can."

"Which makes you good... but that's okay; it's one of the things I love about you."

The colouring on her cheeks grows vivid as she chuckles shyly.

"You're going to have to be patient with me, though."

"Patient?"

“Well, yeah, it’s my first time after all.”

Zen's hand slip off her cheek as his eyes widen. Lux beams at him, clueless to what she just implied. Why does that sound so sexy? The words are innocent. It has no double meaning and no sexy undertones. Even when she says it with a shy voice and bright pink cheeks, there is no way she means it like that. It's so alluring, but it shouldn’t be. He should take her words as it is—ignore the heat that spreads from his core to the rest of his body.

"Anyway, I'll be in your care today," Lux continues, taking his hands and squeezing them. "Zen sunbae."

Fuck.

Alarms, bells, and whistles blare in his head. The blush that had just left his face comes back full-force. Now he’s glowing from his forehead all the way down to his collarbones. God, even his ears feel hot; it wouldn't surprise him if it's steaming. His heart pounds, beating against his chest. Blood rushes to his ears... before going to a place inappropriate in their current situation.

Damn it all to hell.

“Zen?” Lux prompts.

Oh, no. Her voice erodes his self-control. Everything within him weakens for her, screaming for her touch and attention. Why aren't they alone right now? Why are they here? If they were at home he would've already shown her his overwhelming desire... in ways that pleasured them both. But they can't and it's killing him. With a defeated groan, he drops the full weight of his head on her shoulder.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” she says, voice softening. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head.

“No?” she exclaims, now rubbing his hands—god, that makes everything worse somehow. “What are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere? What can I do?”

Well, she can do him… but he can’t say that out loud.

"Uhm... when we go home today—ah, no..." he mumbles, sighing in frustration as he rubs his forehead on her shoulder. "Today's no good... you'll be so tired after today. Uhm... tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow?"

He nods. "Tomorrow... let me have all of you. Please."

"W-what?"

“I want you so badly right now, but I’m holding back because of work. So today’s going to be hard for me—give me a reward? For being good?” he caresses her fingers before twining them together. “I want to spoil you to the point where you forget everything else except for me.”

“Zen…”

“Can I have that?”

“Uhm…”

“Please?”

“I—”

"Enough flirting; it's time to work."

Zen's lips purse at Jumin's voice. Sighing, he straightens and catches sight of Lux. She has bowed her head so her hair curtained around her face. Sighing guiltily, Zen hides her behind him to give her time to compose herself. Then, he faces Jumin with a defiant look, daring him to comment on the moment Zen shared with Lux just minutes ago. The corporate heir stays silent. They stare at each other, unintimidated. It doesn't take long for more people to file into the hallway, artists and stylists contracted to prepare Zen and Lux for the photoshoot. Han Jumin narrows his eyes at Zen in warning before walking away. Jaehee hurries after him. Seongjin shoots him an expectant look before walking into one of the dressing rooms.

"Are you okay, honey?" Zen asks Lux, turning to her.

"I am."

"Will you be okay?" he pats her head again, glad that she's looking like her normal self. "You haven't done this before... it's okay if you're nervous."

"I am a bit," she admits, "but you're here so I'm at ease."

His heart skips a beat at that.

"I'll help you," he promises. "If you have questions or if you don't understand something let me know. I'll guide you so don't worry too much about anything."

"I'll do my best. I won't let you or anyone down."

Smiling, he ruffles her hair gently. “I know you won’t.”

Click!

“Yes!

Click!

“Just like that!”

Click!

“Beautiful! You’re doing well, Lux!”

Zen watches with a happy smile as Lux strikes all different kinds of poses. At the start, her nerves got the better of her. The way she hesitated and was reluctant to do anything betrayed her shyness. Often, she looked to him for guidance. With encouraging smiles, he gestured at his face and body to show her what to do. That’s not all. Their photographer today, the world-famous Jiyeong, showered her with encouragement and praises. Thanks to that, and the kindness of the staff, Lux's confidence grew. Now, she looks more at ease.

Jumin and Jaehee had left ages ago. Seongjin also departed to attend some meetings, promising to return in a few hours. With no real authority to police and scrutinise him, Zen can’t help feeling wary. It'll be so easy for him to cast off all professionalism and indulge in the novelty of working with Lux. Yet, as he watches her work, he finds the strength to control himself.

It's because he doesn't see it often. This focused and dedicated Lux, who puts in a hundred and ten per cent effort in her work, is inspiring. She’s a sight to behold. Whenever Zen picks her up from her work he sees her co-workers fawning over her. He thought he understood… but he knew nothing. She makes no commentary or demands. Any instruction she receives she follows. Any and all criticism she accepts with dignity. She never lets it deter her from doing her job or partaking in discussions. She’s a true professional. Her easy-going personality is such a positive influence for the staff that they work with more enthusiasm.

Considering the industry he’s in, it’s refreshing to see.

“Okay—next,” Jiyeong says, putting down her camera to instruct Lux. “I need you to lift your chin a little—perfect. Now, twist your body a bit to the right and give me a serious look—not too serious…very good! Stay like that.”

The camera clicks away. As he watches, Zen catches Lux’s eyes dart to him. His smile widens. When it happens a few more times he gestures for her to concentrate. The way the corners of her lips twitch gets his heart fluttering. With one last glance, she gets back on track. If it were up to him he’d want her eyes on nothing and no one else but him. Still, he’s proud of her hard work and dedication. How lucky is he to be with someone like her.

Lux’s solo session lasts for another half hour. Then, Jiyeong calls for a small break for a set change, touch-ups, and to check on the photos. Zen watches Lux's makeup artist reapply the lipstick on her. It's the signature of the collection, aptly called Passion. That warm and vivid red colour contrasts with her skin. To match is a red lace sleeveless dress that gives a see-through illusion. It's both classy and sexy, both of which makes Lux irresistible. As he keeps his eyes on her the word sunbae, wrapped in her sweet voice, starts to echo in his head again. Ah, it would be so nice to see her like this at home… where he’s free to peel that dress off her as slowly as he wants to.

Unfortunately, all he can do is content himself with seeing her in it today.

The next hour is a true test of his patience. This next session is the main objective. Zen and Lux follow Jiyeong's instructions for the poses and everything else. Soon, he finds himself holding her in different ways. It's well and good at first—he's even proud of his restraint. Yet, gradually, the poses become more intimate. That familiar feeling of frustration crawls up his spine as he enacts them all with a straight face—well, the face Jiyeong tells him to make. The damn word continues to echo in his mind, now taking on a taunting characteristic. Thoughts of kissing her and holding her pervade his mind, refusing to leave. Reminders of Lux's efforts are the only things that help him hold onto that sliver of calm and control. He’s a professional, damn it. He can’t disrespect her like this.

Still.

This might be the most difficult job he's ever done in his life. To be so close to the woman he loves and yet not allowed to do anything about it. It destroys him. It's maddening, a perverted kind of torture designed only for him.

The last pose involves Zen holding Lux against the wall, face half-buried in her neck. The instruction is to look passionate and lustful. Both he can do... but he hopes he's not showing more than that. He's suffering deep inside; hurting to the point that he almost feels it in his body. The scent of peonies intoxicates him. This is the most intimate pose they've done today. He's so close to her skin that with a simple nudge his lips could be pressing against it... doing things that would produce the sweetest sounds from her.

But he can’t.

But he can't. That has been his goddamn mantra the whole day and it's getting old.

When will this day finish?

Zen returns to the dressing rooms after a quick break. When he finds his room empty he figures everyone must have taken breaks too. He decides to pay Lux a visit. He skips out and goes to the door right next to his. Upon finding it ajar, he peeks in. The sight of her immediately makes him smile. She stands by the vanity table, perusing her phone. From his angle, he can't see her whole reflection in the mirror—only her eyes. What an alluring sight. It seduces him, bringing the desire he's been keeping at bay to a calm simmer in the pit of his stomach.

Zen stands there for so long that, eventually, Lux looks up from her phone. Now he sees her completely. A jolt runs through his body when their eyes meet in the mirror. She smiles at him, the beauty of it so overwhelming it takes his breath away.

"Hey, sunbae," she says, playful.

Ah, shit. Not that word again. Something within him snaps, as though his resolve is suddenly made of twigs. The craving he's been holding back rushes in like a tidal wave, eroding his self-control like sand. He steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. He strides towards her with purpose, wrapping his arms around her waist when he's close enough. He pulls her flush against his body, delighting in her gasp.

"Zen!" she exclaims in a whisper.

He doesn't say a word, unable to help himself from kissing the back of her neck. He doesn't bother being chaste—keeping his mouth open and tongue peeking out so he can get a taste of her. He looks at her reflection from underneath his lashes... and almost falls apart at her enamoured look. The flush on her cheeks tempts him to make a mess of her.

“Where’s everyone?” he says against her skin.

“Uhm… on a break,” she says, a little breathless.

"So we’ll be alone for a while."

“Y-yes…”

“Good.”

Zen turns her to face him. God, she is so heart-wrenchingly cute right now. Still, he doesn't miss a beat, taking her by the waist and lifting her to sit on the vanity. He settles between her parted knees, hands planted on either side of her hips for balance. Her hands are warm through his shirt and he wishes to feel them on his skin. As if she read his mind, she brings her hands up to caress his neck. He shivers as she pulls him close, so close their breaths mingle. Unable to wait anymore, he leans down to kiss her—yet, at the last minute he stops, a hairsbreadth away from her mouth. The product they're modelling for is right there, glistening on her lips. It's sexy and seductive and right for her... he wants to kiss it off...

But he can't.

“Zen?”

He looks into her eyes and sees the confusion in them. He’s done everything with purpose up until now… all this hesitation makes him look a bit foolish. He wants to kiss her; he's so desperate for her it hurts... but not on the lips. So where? Just then Lux shifts and his eyes fall to her throat. Inspiration strikes. Ducking his head, he presses a wet kiss over her pulse point. It barely calms him. Her surprised gasp goads him into licking a thin line from the dip of her collar to the top of her neck. Then, he covers every inch of her delicate skin with kisses. Her restrained whimpers brings a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

"You didn't answer me earlier," he says in a low voice.

A quiet moan escapes her when he skims the edge of his teeth over her throat. Her neck is so sensitive—definitely the easiest way to get the most arousing sounds from her. He continues his affections, mindful not to disturb anything about her appearance.

"A-answer what?" she murmurs.

"About my reward."

"Your... reward...?"

It's a little magical, seeing her neck redden before his eyes. Zen follows the path the heat takes, enjoying the way her hands fist around his shirt. The urge to touch her too overwhelms him and he brings his hands to her knees. He inches them up past the hem of the dress, pressing his fingers into the softness of her thighs. It won't be wise to wrap her legs around him—that sort of thing will only lead to trouble. As it is he's already toeing beyond the line... but damn does he want to.

"Will you let me have you tomorrow?"

At that, she leans away. "You said it's for being good."

Smiling seductively, he leans close again to rub their noses together.

"Aren't I being good?"

"Well, not right now!"

He laughs.

"Well, I was going to…" he says, “but you called me sunbae! I’ve never heard anything so sexy… and even worse, they put you in this dress and, ugh, you’re so, so, so sexy, honey. I just want you all to myself!”

She raises a sceptical brow. "It's sexy when I call you sun—"

With a panicked yelp, he hovers his fingers over her lips. Understanding the gesture, Lux closes her mouth with wide, surprised eyes. Zen shakes his head at her. Already his heart pounds in anticipation. His core heats up in excitement at hearing her call him that again... but he can't hear it. Not unless he's willing to abandon all common sense.

“If I hear it again I won't be able to control myself,” he warns.

She nods. “Okay.”

"It's a good thing you haven't been calling me that the whole day." Sighing, he presses their foreheads together. "If you did then I would've gotten us both in trouble."

"Well, that's a relief, isn't it?"

With a chuckle, her arms wind around his neck. Zen catches her intent and as she reaches up to kiss him he leans away with a hesitant whimper. A sheepish look crosses over his face when she leans away slightly, frowning in confusion. Neither of them speaks, communicating in some silent conversation. Lux quirks a brow and reaches up again and once more Zen dodges her. With a huff, Lux settles back down.

"Don't get me wrong," Zen blurts when her lips pucker in the most sinful of pouts. Both pleasure and pain squeeze his heart in its vice-like grip. She is killing him. "It's not that I don't want—I want to, okay? I want to kiss you. I'm so desperate it's making me hurt—"

“Then why don’t you?”

A weird sense of déjà vu overcomes Zen. He shakes his head.

“Your lipstick,” he explains. “I can’t ruin it.”

“Oh…”

A look of realisation replaces her pout... and then after that, amusement.

"But I can kiss you, right?"

"I—wait, what?"

Suddenly, she cups his face in her hands. The smile she gives him makes his stomach flip. Within those deep brown depths of her eyes is a mischievous sparkle that looks a whole lot like trouble. Zen loves it... but he is also wary of it at the same time. He gazes at her, unsure of what's happening as his body prickles with nervous excitement.

“Don’t move,” she commands.

God, she can demand him to hug a cat and he’ll do it.

"Uh... okay, as my princess commands," he says, bringing his hands to her waist to steady himself.

She leans forward and he tenses when she presses her lips against his. Only for a second. When she pulls back he chases after her, but she takes him by surprise by kissing one corner of his lips. For the next few seconds, she gives him these quick kisses, roaming all over his jaw and neck. It's driving him mad, these teasing pecks. It's making a mess of him inside, pushing him towards his breaking point. A shiver runs down his spine when she undoes a button on his shirt so she can reach his collarbones. When he felt the warm tip of her tongue against his skin a growl escapes him.

He can’t take this anymore.

Taking control, he cups her jaw, pressing firmly to open her mouth. Then, without preamble, he kisses her. Without a doubt he has cast away any common sense... but the feel of her lips… soft, pliable, warm. After holding off for so long kissing them is like getting that first gulp of air after almost drowning. It relieves him, but... it also makes him want more. With her mouth open, he wastes no time tasting her, relishing in the same, desperate way she tangles with him.

He wants to spend the rest of the day kissing her like this...

But...

All too soon for his liking, he tapers the kiss off. He hears her disappointed whine and to compensate, he strokes her jaw. He sighs once they have parted, keeping his eyes closed in fear of what he'll see. But he does open them eventually... and to his pleasant surprise, it's not as bad as he feared—a little smudged, but nothing they can't fix. Their eyes meet and his breath hitches when she turns her head a bit to kiss his thumb.

“Lux!"

The familiar voice is like a douse of cold water. He meets Lux's panicked look and immediately helps her down the vanity. In the next second the door bursts open. Zen turns around in time to see Seongjin at the doorway. He steps in front of Lux to give her more time. It doesn't escape his notice that Seongjin's staring at them with wide eyes. He's probably surprised to see Zen in Lux's dressing room. Zen grins at his manager to ease the tension, clearing his throat against the hard throb of his pulse in his neck.

With a deep sigh, Seongjin purses his lips.

"You two..." he says, unimpressed.

"What?"

Seongjin crosses his arms. "Did you look at the mirror?"

"What do you mean—"

"Lux! Let's continue with—oh my god, what happened to your face!?"

The outraged exclamation comes from Lux's makeup artist, who emerges behind Seongjin. Zen turns to Lux as she emerges from behind him and... shit. Though not a hair on her looks out of place, the solid smear of lipstick on the corner of her lips is unmissable. How did that happen? He had only smudged it when he kissed her. Lux gazes at her makeup artist in confusion and when she looks at him he gestures at the mirror. He almost cringes at her gasp when she sees what's happened. She turns back to the makeup artist, eyes wide and panicked.

"Uhm..."

“Ms Lux? Are you ready?”

To complete the ensemble, Jiyeong pops in. Zen tenses when she catches sight of them, one brow rising high at the state of their appearance. Then, she tilts her head. Absolute mortification overwhelms him when an unmistakeable knowing smile stretches her lips. He shields Lux again as the photographer approaches them, her smile growing wider.

"Taking the concept to heart, eh?" she says with a teasing tone.

Zen winces. "Well..."

"But this look... it's interesting," she muses, waving his hesitation away. "I'm getting inspired... I can do something with this—I'd like some solo shots of you, Zen. Will that be all right?"

"Huh?" Zen blurts, blinking at this unexpected turn. "Oh... uhm, yes, sure—whatever you think is best."

"But they look like a mess," the makeup artist interrupts.

"Not really," Jiyeong shrugs, turning from the couple. "Anyway, this is a good fit for the concept—definitely better than the pristine look they had before. Now, come on, let's finish up so we can go home."

She walks off, leaving the four of them in the room looking a little dumbfounded. Seongjin shakes his head at Zen, gesturing for him to get out of the room. The makeup artist walks further into the room with a sigh, but her ire seems to have fizzled. Accepting the disapproving look from the makeup artist, Zen catches Lux's eyes. He winces in apology, which she accepts with a shrug and a smile. He goes to leave, but before that he catches sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes widen, seeing the vivid red lipstick marks around his lips, throat, and neck. Then he catches sight of something else. Lifting his hand, he sees a smudge of Passion on his thumb.

Well, that explains that.

It's Valentine's Day.

Zen stands by the bar, observing the hall as he waits for the drinks. To celebrate a successful launch and for selling out before the target date, C&R throws a party for everyone involved in the project. There is a palpable cheerful atmosphere in the air. Zen smiles at the attendees laughing and talking animatedly with each other. Everyone worked hard for this project, after all. It's always a good thing, to celebrate the positive outcome of a job well done.

Up on the wide monitors around the hall are the final products, the evidence of all that hard work. A slideshow presents images of the collection as well as the ads, one after another.

As Zen's wait continues, he catches photos of Lux. He can't help smiling at his love’s beguiling expressions, showing off the warm vivid red of the lipstick. Then, a jolt electrifies his nerves when he sees his own photos. They're the ones Jiyeong took after that moment he had with Lux. The lipstick marks are so red it’s almost embarrassing to see it on him. Still, it’s tasteful. This is one he will put on the front page of his portfolio. Jiyeong is undoubtedly a master at her craft. She made him look more beautiful than he already is.

When the drinks arrive he takes them to their table. Lux is exactly where he left her, perusing her phone in her wait. One different thing is a white nondescript box, held together by a bright red ribbon. As he comes closer she looks up, meeting his eyes and beaming in a way that makes his heart flutter. He places the drinks on the table before settling beside her.

"What's this?" he says, gesturing at the box.

"Jumin dropped by and gave me a gift," she says, smile widening. "For Valentine's."

He freezes at that. "He... what?"

"I guess he likes me..." she muses before giggling. “That’s fine, right?"

"Honey," he whines, pouting. "That's not funny."

She laughs. "All right, all right. It is a gift, but it's not for Valentine's."

"What is it for?"

"For a job well done."

At that moment the slide shows the one photo Jumin said brought them almost all the sales. Lux was against the wall. Zen had one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pressing her flush against him. The angle of the shot made most of the lipstick marks on him visible. Hazy and lustful can best describe his expression as he gazed at Lux—as if he wanted her to kiss him again, and again. Well, that probably wasn't far off. With his other hand, he held her chin, tilting her head towards him. Resting just at the edge of the lipstick smear was his thumb, as though passion had caused such a thing. Lux wasn't looking at him; instead, she turned those seductive eyes at the camera.

"I'm still embarrassed," Lux says when the photo fades away and another takes its place. "They literally used the photos we did after we—"

“Got taken over by our passions and made out?”

He whispers the words in her ear, enjoying the way she jumps.

“Zen!” she scolds, giggling with bright pink cheeks.

“Well, it doesn't even qualify—I only kissed you once.”

“I kissed you plenty, though.”

He grins at her smug tone of voice. “Exactly. So...really, what happened was that you preyed on me.”

Lux laughs, but says nothing to deny his playful accusation. Oh, how he wants to kiss her right now. The good thing about their current situation is that he doesn't have to worry about anything. They can go to a quieter place and spend time together without consequence. He finishes his drink and waits for Lux to finish hers before holding her hand.

“Let’s go out the balcony,” he says.

Her eyes light up and she nods. “Okay.”

The area is empty when they step out. Lux goes straight to the railing, leaving Zen to walk after her. The location of the party is in a high-rise building, showing off a glittering view of Seoul at night. But that’s not what occupies his mind right now. The woman before him does, with her hair blowing in the breeze. Placing her box on the chair, he reaches inside his jacket pocket to bring out the gift he has for her on this special day.

“Zen! Come look at the—"

He stands in ready as she turns to him. The joyful smile on her face freezes in surprise. Then, her gaze drops to the white leather box in his hand. When she looks at him again he grins, opening the lid to reveal a necklace. Lux gasps, now looking a little alarmed.

"W-what's this for?" she says, breathless.

"A Valentine's Day gift for you," he answers with a chuckle.

"But..."

She approaches him, hand outstretched. When her fingertips touched the necklace her shoulders sagged. A mixture of happiness and acceptance crosses her face. Zen is only happy to watch her reaction. He picks up the necklace. After setting the box aside, he moves behind her to put it on. He makes sure to brush his fingers over her skin as much as possible as he joins the clasp. He’s rather proud of his choice: intertwined silver vines adorned with red roses, held by a fine silver chain. The crystals glitter from the lights of the city. When he finally clasps it, he caresses the nape of her neck.

“And to celebrate your first ever photo shoot," he continues.

She faces him, touching the necklace with glimmering eyes.

“Zen,” she says, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Babe, you know by now I only do whatever I want to.”

“Don’t I know it,” she chuckles.

Slipping his arms around her waist, he nuzzles her cheek. He smiles when she wounds her arms around him and holds him close. Every minute he holds her his heart swells with love and affection. It’s a miracle that he hasn’t shattered in a million pieces by now. Maybe it's because of how tightly she holds him; she's keeping him together.

"Why this necklace?" she says, pulling away to look at him.

Smile widening, he touches the necklace with his fingertips.

"Well... red for my eyes," he says with a wink. "But also red roses for love and passion. I guess it's a bit silly... but I want to do whatever I can to show my love for you."

"Oh, Zen..."

"So when you wear this think of me, okay?"

"Of course!" she hugs him again. "It's not silly... when I wear this necklace you're all I will ever think of. Thank you so much, Zen... I love you so much."

"I love you too," he chuckles, stroking her back.

Inside the hall the party goes on, oblivious to the loved up couple standing entwined on the balcony. All his life Zen wondered what his happiness would be like. He was grateful for the people in his life and he was happy with his career. There was nothing, good or bad, that he'd give up for the sake of something better. But during the nights he ventured up the rooftop garden, when he looked at the stars, he wondered what would complete it... what would it take for this feeling of contentment to become happiness.

This is it, he concludes. The answer to his question is right here in his arms. Standing on a balcony, quietly embracing the love of his life... that's all it takes for him. With this he feels complete... happy. Life will go on and some days it won't be easy, but... with Lux beside him he can go through anything.

He hopes he is the same for her. That he completes her too.

"Uhm..." Lux says after what seems like a long while. "I actually have something for you too."

“Oh?”

She steps away and Zen watches as she approaches the chair to take the box. Upon her return he raises his brows in question, blinking when she holds it out to him. This is the very same she said Han Jumin gave her as a gift. Is it meant for him? He takes it, taking Lux's encouraging nod as permission to open it. He undoes the ribbon, giving it to her before lifting the lid. What he sees makes his brows furrow.

It's... lace. A red, lacy... thing. Is this really for him? It's more like something for Lux—oh. Recognition lights Zen's features. Memories of the photoshoot assail him. He'll never forget the distinct image of Lux wearing this delectable red lace dress. It has been a fantasy of his ever since, taking it off her in the privacy of their home.

"I remember you passionately telling me how much you loved me in this dress," Lux teases with a giggle. "So I asked Jumin if I can have it. I told him I was willing to pay, but he's kind enough to give it as a gift because I helped out in the photoshoot."

Zen shakes his head in disbelief. "Babe, you didn't have to do this..."

"I also do what I want."

"Don't I know it," he says with a wink.

She giggles. "And... I have an ulterior motive."

"Wow, babe, you're so naughty!"

Zen embraces her, pulling her close to him. This time he presses his face to her neck. He peppers light kisses on her skin, delighting in her gasp. This playfulness excites him. He hopes they never lose this. In the years to come he wishes for this part of them to remain the same—enjoying this spark, sharing in this love and desire they have for each other.

"What do you want?" he says in her ear, voice soft.

"My reward."

A shiver ripples all over his body at her answer.

"And what reward does my princess desire?"

"All of you."

At that, he gives a throaty laugh. He remembers the desperation behind his words. It was such a greedy request, wanting to possess her like that. Still, Lux indulged him. The day after the photoshoot was glorious as she pampered and spoiled him to the point where she was all he thought of. It was funny because that was what he intended with her.

“I’m already yours.”

With that, he kisses her gently, anticipation welling up within him at the thought of pleasing her. For her, he's willing to do anything. Be anything. For her love, he'll give her his everything—his life, his heart, his body and his soul.

From the day he met her until his last breath... he will always belong to her.

#mystic messenger #hyun ryu #mysme zen #mysme hyun ryu #mystic messenger zen #fanfic #fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic #fanfiction: mystic messenger #mysmefanfic: oneshot #mysmefanfic: babe #mysmefanfic: zen #mysmefanfic: mc

[marysfoxmask]

the secret garden (1949) - why it’s my favorite adaptation

hello @renee-mariposa! thank you so much for the ask! while i believe i have answered a question like this before, i don’t think i’ve elaborated as much as i’d like to. so allow me to wax poetic on my favorite adaptation, the secret garden (1949)!

intro

this adaptation really stands out, i think, because of the the era it was made in; i don’t think you could get an adaptation aimed towards kids that is such a sentimental, gothic-lite melodrama with these days, at least without aggressively telegraphing its more emotional moments a la pixar/disney; it’s amusingly blunt and straightforward in that regard, much like the children at its center. there’s not much syrupiness at all. the child actors (margaret o’brien as mary and dean stockwell as colin) are fast-talking as any actor of that era, but in my opinion, the film’s clearly scripted dialogue just makes all the kids seem amusingly precocious.

actors

margaret o’brien as mary is great. i love her stridency, her snobbishness. unlike other adaptations, which downplay mary’s contrariness to the point where her character arc comes across as too subtle by half, the movie upgrades it. not only is 1949 mary contrary, her sullenness has been replaced by a shrillness, snobbery, and the tendency to run to emotional extremes (not to mention a healthy helping of classism). she alienates herself from the other children on the ship to england purposefully, finding them inferior to herself, then attempts to physically fight another passenger when the child calls archibald a hunchback. while this characterization isn’t book-accurate (book mary is a mix of fiery and sullen that none of the films capture accurately imo), i prefer this characterization of her to the closed-off sullenness of the 1993 version or the palatably traumatized 2020 version. 1949 mary isn’t given an obvious freudian excuse for her issues; her parents are just as neglectful, but the film puts the onus on mary for being contrary, which is weirdly refreshing and more attuned to the novel’s perspective. (that isn’t to say that mary’s traumatic early childhood didn’t inform her character in any meaningful way, or that the adults around mary aren’t responsible for how she turned out--but imo the films tend to take an un-nuanced view of the situation in order to make her a more palatable, sympathetic character, which is vastly less interesting than a complicated, flawed one no matter if the character is a child or not). when mary’s character develops and she becomes sweeter, it’s much more impactful as a result of this earlier narrative choice.

brian roper, who was 20 at the time (crazy, right?), plays dickon, and he plays him with a sweet affability that’s hard not to enjoy. he’s a little mischievous, laughing at mary when she accidentally speaks yorkshire (i’ll talk about that in a bit), and has, in a nice touch that i’ve strangely only seen in in the 1994 straight-to-dvd animated film, just as much of a passionate interest in the secret garden as mary does. dickon isn’t treated as mystically as other adaptations, save for the tendency to disappear strangely quickly just when mary happens to turn around (which is a nice nod to his quasi-magical aspects without being distracting, and also adds to mary’s sense of displacement/confusion on the mysterious misselthwaite grounds). he also gets a surprising amount to do in this adaptation, which i love, as someone who strongly believes his character has been under-served in all the film adaptations thus far. in this film, he gets to even enter misselthwaite manor by climbing up ivy into colin’s room in the middle of a storm (albeit offscreen), which is just the kind of adventurous, dramatic touch i enjoy. he also gets probably more dialogue than any of the other dickons (whoo!), as he makes a couple minor declarations--nothing super ham-fisted and melodramatic, as i said the screenplay is rather straightforward and devoid of a lot of corniness you might expect from a children’s film made in the ‘40s, especially with this kind of source material--that are heartfelt without being cloying (one of the benefits of having an older actor playing this kind of role).

colin, played by dean stockwell, is a weaker element to me. he does a good job alternating between screaming (and this movie contains a lot of screaming) and being sweet when the movie calls for it, but i don’t think he was the best choice for colin. while i think it’s awful to criticize a teen actor (stockwell was 13 at the time) for being baby-faced, the fact that he looks significantly younger than o’brien (who was 12) means that his tantrums come off as less a result of arrested development than they should. while he speaks as stiltedly as 2020 colin (who i personally think was one of the best elements of that film), it’s unclear whether that’s the result of the ‘40s fashion of expressing dialogue or a characteristic choice (i’m guessing the former). he can’t help but pale compared to o’brien’s mary, though he is perfectly adequate. he just didn’t stand out for me.

i summed up my feelings of elsa lanchester as martha in my previous, brief review of the movie back in june: “the one major flaw, i think, is actually martha, played by elsa lanchester; her portrayal is odd, feels definitely tone-deaf. her constant shrieking laughter feels very forced and unconvincing. in her few scenes, she jars everything to a halt in terms of believability.” she was significantly older than brian roper, being in her ‘40s playing a character heavily implied to be in her mid-teens to early twenties, and as a result feels out of her depth. her establishing scene is probably the worst, although i’ve warmed to her other scenes as time’s gone by.

tone/atmosphere

in general, i think the ‘49 film does a wonderful job expressing the gothic implications of the original book, even emphasizing them by casting misselthwaite manor largely in shadow and having mary and mrs. medlock first arrive in a carriage pulled by black horses on a dark, stormy night. it makes the bright outdoor scenery seem that much more inviting in comparison. burnett’s robin is also replaced by a raven, who also takes on aspects of dickon’s crow soot, as he is friends with dickon and hops on his shoulder occasionally. while it divulges from burnett’s book, i think a raven makes a little more sense in this adaptation, which amps up the eeriness of the original story; it gives mary’s journey a little more of a fairytale aspect, i think, and is overall an understandable and palatable change.

plot

the big plot development that divulges from the novel is the presence of a subplot where, due to a misunderstanding of an axe and a tree in the titular garden, mary and dickon fall under the impression that archibald killed lilias. now, this is a pretty bizarre plot, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t take up much of the film; it’s charming in its strangeness, and fits well with the idea of innocent children struggling to understand the complicated adult world—which is itself a theme original to the story that i’m kind of a sucker for, in general. it also serves as a bonding point for dickon and mary, whose friendship largely feels passed over in film adaptations.

and, of course, there’s the big plot-breaking point near the end, where archibald goes to tell colin that he’s selling misselthwaite and going to move to europe with him. an obvious plot point that conflicts with this scene is that colin, in the book, has no relationship with his father. again, it’s an odd adaptational choice meant to amp up the stakes, but it doesn’t impede my enjoyment of the film as a whole. the presence of two doctors—one, a hapless neville craven figure named dr. griddlestone, and the other is obviously inspired from the book’s “doctor from london,” who insisted all colin needed was fresh air, food, and exercise—gives the film some psychological weight. despite the disappointing element of all of colin’s neuroses being blatantly the result of his father’s emotional ailments, which i think is a lazy way of reading the original novel’s portrayal of colin’s illness, i think the way this development was executed in the film was tolerable—and i’m a sucker for children’s films that don’t think anything of including long conversations between adults about psychological issues. like, you can’t help but respect a film like that!

the garden

something i also love about this adaptation is that the garden isn’t a huge part of it; it represents more of a place where mary and dickon and colin can foster ideas and grow rather than a place of orgasmic beauty. there’s not a surplus of lavish panning shots, really, like in the ‘93 film, and it lacks the magical realism of the 2020 film. the garden itself is more transparently a plot device, which i actually like—it gives more room for the children to center themselves.

individual scenes

and the pacing of the film is actually really nice, i think—probably the best out of all the films. i love the ‘93 film with all my heart, and it’s definitely gorgeous in its own right, but i think it gets a little sluggish; this film is paced beautifully. there’s no fat, really. 

there’s a scene i really love that shows the passage of time from winter to spring in a super succinct, stupidly obvious way that nonetheless works because of the innocent sweetness of o’brien’s delivery. like, it’s very old-fashioned and sentimental, but gah, it gets me every time.

it’s time to talk about the scream scene!

this film stole my heart the minute mary screamed wholeheartedly at colin that she hopes he dies. there’s a dark comedy to this whole scene; these two maladjusted, spoiled children trying to out-scream one another while tearing down curtains and knocking down tables full of food higgledy-piggledy?? you just can’t get better than that!

if you’re adapting the secret garden, i strongly feel you can’t soften the children’s meanness, their sharpness and ugliness. their tantrums must be harsh and grating and horrible! they have to really let loose! the rawness of the children’s emotional dysfunction contrasted against the buttoned-up stiffness of edwardian england is one of the fascinating aspects of the novel i love to think about, and you just can’t get that contrast if you don’t have the children be genuine terrors! i think this scene puts that nicely, more nicely than any of the other films, which pussyfoot around colin’s intense tantrum too much to be nearly as effective. i get giddy whenever this scene comes on; it’s brilliant.

there are so many little details from the book that i love: that the children speak yorkshire to one another, mary singing her ayah’s song to colin, 

dickon’s “i will cum bak” note (here written as “i will kum back”), the mention of dickon’s mother sending them bread to eat to make them strong. it’s all so nicely implemented, and reminds me of the joy of reading the book for the first time.

but the scene i love most is one entirely made up for the film. in it, mary tells colin about the garden, but wraps it up in fiction wherein it’s a sort of child’s eden, only accessible for children like themselves. that gets to the heart of why i love the book moreso than any other adaptation i can think of. it’s a children’s paradise where the innocent, inherent goodness of children reigns. it makes me tear up almost every time, despite the scene’s brevity.

miscellaneous

there are some little details that i love about this film: the fact that mrs. sowerby is spotted in one scene where we see dickon at his home, feeding a lamb (and the implication that mary was so darn excited about finding the key to the garden that she ran all the way to the sowerbys’ cottage, five miles away from misselthwaite, to show dickon), mary’s clearly false story to colin about being surrounded by tigers and elephants in india, mary threatening to tear people’s gizzards out, mary telling dickon she hates him because he (gasp) dared to know about colin so she couldn’t reveal his existence to him...there’s a lot to enjoy about this film. it definitely isn’t the most accurate to the book, but it’s one of those films that i could watch over and over again.

aside from some superfluous subplots, it’s a lean adaptation that still captures all the essential elements of the book to at least to a degree. i can easily imagine some very indignant little girls in 1949 insisting that no, the raven was a robin in the book, and there was no implications of murder, either, but i love it in all its simplicity. i think you need a little old-fashioned sentiment to make a film adaptation of the secret garden successful.

#the secret garden #frances hodgson burnett #the secret garden 1949 #mary lennox #dickon sowerby #colin craven #margaret o'brien #dean stockwell #brian roper #elsa lanchester

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Dream Saga: S*** is getting real right now.

Previous Dreams: (ML Dream Episode) (My Subconscious is f***ing taunting me) (Because my mind finally wants to be nice) (Yes there is more) (The one with Zag Spoilers) (Cause my mind wants this to be a saga for some reason) (Bustier gets some decent development) (There is a musical number apparently) (Plot twist) (This was more elaborate then I expected)

I went to church so I wasn't able to post this right as I woke up. But here it is. The dream I had last night.

_______________________________________________________________________

-So Marinette and Adrien are back in Fu’s old apartment. Fu never actually sold the place. He was just moving around to avoid getting caught there. There is clearly a lot of tension here.

-Fu is caught up on everything that happened.

-Fu apologizing to Marinette and Adrien about what happened. Marinette is furious, especially with how Fu himself was saying that sacrifices needed to be made and all that.

- Adrien speaks up in Fu’s defense that its hard to give up on those you love. Marinette looks at Adrien and then looks away. She can't look at him right now.

-Fu tells Adrien that he is wrong to defend him. That he failed them, and now they will have to pay for his mistake once again.

-Marinette cools down and asks Fu what they should do. Fu answers that they will need to be ready.

-Adrien and Marinette both leave. Adrien touches Marinette’s shoulder to try and talk to her about... ‘The reveal’. Marinette pulls her shoulder away. She can't address this drama bomb right now, she needs to focus on how to fight Arséne and what he is planning. She is Ladybug first. Does she want to smooch his face and tell him that He was the guy she has been in love with the whole time. But right now, she can't be distracted.

-”Do you really hate that its me under the mask?” Adrien asked as she was walking away.

-Marinette stops.

-”No. But at this moment, it is the worst possible time for me to know its you.” Marinette answered.

-Adrien has no idea what she means.

-”Out of all of the Crazy things that have been happening around me. Finding out you were the woman I love was the only good thing.”

-Marinette turns back around.

-”Adrien. Please don't say that to me right now.”

-”No. Marinette.”

-Adrien looked like he was tearing up

-“ I have wanted to know who was under the mask for so long. I wanted to finally tell that girl how I feel. After all of the akuma battles and close calls, all of the kisses I don't remember, the heartbreaks and gentle touches. I felt myself moving on from Ladybug and feeling my heart go to another girl. A cute, caring yet slightly clumsy designer who has a heart bigger then Paris. And now today of all days, I find out those two girls that I felt my heart torn between were the same person. This moment was suppose to be the happiest moment of my life and despite everything, it still is. So I am sorry that you don't feel the same way, but I wanted you to know how I feel.”

- Marinette looking down. walks towards him. Adrien starts thinking he said way too much and that he should have held back. (His face though)

-She grabs his cheeks. And kisses him. Oh man it was so cute.

-The shock, the revelation, and then the happy acceptance.

-”Of course I feel the same way. But this isn't the time for this now! I need to come up with a plan. We have a super villain that knows who we are and he is planning something big. I am the guardian of the Miraculous now. I can't let our miraculous fall into his hands. I am scared I will fail.”

-Adrien held her close.

-”I am here with you. Even if it is just us against the world. I promise we will fight together. And we will protect the miraculous.”

-Oh also it was raining. so symbolism.

_______________________________________________________________________

(I don't know how much later. But it is later on)

-Arséne is with Miss Bustier at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It is just the two of them.

-Arséne telling Caline a really heartfelt confession in which he proposes. Like just really goes all out with it.

-Caline is happy and eager to say yes, but before she does, Arséne closes the box.

-”But before you say anything. I need to tell you the truth... about me.”

-So he tells her he is dying. That his time is running short. He also tells her that he is on a mission from an ancient order to retrieve the mystical objects in Paris. (Basically telling her he is from ‘The order of Guardians’ which is bs. But he pulls it off convincingly. He explains how he needs to get them back to the order and as a reward, he will be able to extend his life. Which he initially wanted for selfish reasons he tells her, but now wants it so he could spend the rest of his life with her. (Some of these are lies and some are true.)

-Caline agrees to marry him, and thanks him for his honesty. 

-”My dearest Caline, there is one thing I will ask of you. Will you help me?”

-”Of Course. I will help you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

-Nathalie is in the private hospital room that Gabriel is in. She watches over him. She could tell he is trying to hard to wake up, to fight. She could feel his powerful emotions. She knows she will need to be Mayura, in order to save him.

_______________________________________________________________________

-Ladybug and Chat noir hand out Miraculous to each person they trust. Max got the horse, Kim the monkey, Alya the fox, Nino the turtle, Kagami the Dragon, Luka gets the snake. Juleka gets the tiger. Alix got the bunny. and so on.  They were told not to transform or use the miraculous until the time was right. That they would know.

-The two are bonding and learning everything thing they can in order to fight Arséne.

-Though the Bee miraculous is kept on Ladybug because she didn't want to give it to chloé, Not yet.

-The class hears about Miss Bustier’s engagement. The class except for Adrien and Marinette are super happy for her. Because they know the truth about that gentleman.

-Marinette tries to talk with Miss Bustier about maybe not rushing into an engagement with Mr.Manachot.

-Of course Caline explains that she know him very well and trusts him dearly, but she appreciates her concern.

-Marinette was about to tell her teacher the truth, when Arséne shows up.

-Arséne greets his fiancée with a kiss and turns his attention to Marinette. Who is glaring at him.

-”It is not polite to glare.” Arséne points out.

-Caline realizes she needs to do something and heads off, leaving the two alone in the hall.

-Adrien shows up and sees Arséne, he quickly moves to Marinette’s side. Now the two of them are staring down the Gentleman.

-”So nice to see you Adrien. I am glad you are alright.”

-Adrien looks at the man with pure rage. He feels so betrayed by someone he looked up to.

-Arséne felt hurt, but knew this was an inevitable outcome. 

-”Tomorrow night.”

-And he turns and starts to walk away.

-”Also, very smart move. Handing out the miraculous already. Way to be prepared.”

-Marinette and Adrien wondering how the hell he knew what they did.

_______________________________________________________________________

Its a full moon. and the moon is glowing brightly.

-Arséne, or more specifically. Monarch is in his apartment with Miss Bustier.

-”Are you ready?”

-”Yes.”

-He creates an akuma and puts it into the engagement ring.

-” Madame Booster. I am Monarch. As my beloved and most trusted supporter. I give you the power to increase my power.”

-She gets a cool look reminiscent of Zombizou but mixed with Catalyst. Her visor was glowing white. And she looked pretty awesome. She touched Monarch’s Cane and his color scheme shifted White.

-”Monarch. You are now Absolute Monarch. I give you the power to akumatize as many people as you desire.”

-He smiles.

-He touches his butterflies which were now bigger and glowing with an etherial white light.

_______________________________________________________________________

-Gabriel awakens from his coma, Where Nathalie was waiting for him.

-Nathalie hugs the man, relieved he was alright. She says she will get Adrien so that he could see his father was okay.

-”Now is not the time for that.”

-Nathalie pauses.

-”I can feel my miraculous being used. And they are using it for something powerful. I know I said the peacock miraculous was too dangerous, but we are without any options.”

-Nathalie revealed she had it on her. She transforms into Mayura.

-Gabriel tells Mayura to use his emotions to create a sentimonster.

-Sentimonster Scarlet moth is born. Gabriel used a picture of his wife to conjure up the most powerful emotions he could. Visualizing Scarlet moth as the key of getting her back.

-Mayura and Scarlet Moth Leave, while Gabriel holds the photo and looks through the eyes of the sentimonster. He wasn't out of the fight yet.

-Apparently the seni! Scarletmoth could make red copies of any akuma he physically touched and they were loyal to him.

_______________________________________________________________________

-Glowing White versions of akumas start showing up and causing havoc in Paris.

-Ladybug, Chat noir and the rest of the miraculous Wielders are on the Arch de Triumph. 

-”Is everyone ready?”

- Everyone chants yes.

-Chat noir puts a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder.

-”We are with you Bugaboo.”

-She gives him a kiss, the group of heroes (alya specifically) watch with a smile as it happens.

-Today we are finishing this fight.

-And the heroes charge.

And then the dream cuts off.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml au #ml dream #ml dream episode #ml dream episodes #Arséne manachot #caline bustier #shit got real #ladynoir #miraculous #It got really intense #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #scarlet moth #mayura #adrinette #felt like some infinity war s***

[despressolattes]

CONSEQUENCES | CHAPTER FOUR | LEGACIES/THE ORIGINALS

BOOK THREE IN THE SIDE CHARACTER/LILAH SERIES

book one masterlist » book two masterlist

this book’s masterlist

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm sorry, who's Lorelle Julson?" Josh asked, drying one of the glasses behind the counter.

"Elijah's very first love," Rebekah said, in her normal dramatic tone that seemed to beautifully romanticize everything she said, her chin tilted up towards Josh while she talked. She looked back down at her drink, "Someone who disappeared on our family before we turned into vampires."

Lilah sat next to her, trying to collect herself.

"H-how is this... how is th-that even... how is that possible?" Lilah asked, starting her sentence over three times before getting it right. "How is she alive?"

Rebekah sighed, her eyes widening for a second as she huffed—the way she usually did. "Beats me," she said, bringing her drink to her lips. After a long sip, she placed it onto the counter, "But Kol and Davina are extending their stay for a bit to help Freya and I figure it out."

Without really thinking, Lilah asked, "If they find out how, does this mean we can bring back Elijah? And Klaus?"

"Who knows?" Rebekah said once again. "You guys ready to close up shop and come to the compound with me to meet her?"

The two that was in charge of the bar looked around, seeing the guests sitting down, talking and drinking.

"You two can go," Lilah said, trying to keep her composure at the revelation of her mother being alive. "I'll hold down the fort until closing and meet with you guys later."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lilah walked to the door, locking it after she flipped the sign to say "CLOSED."

"Darn."

With a smirk on her face, able to recognize the voice, she turned around to see the mysterious blond standing behind her with a smile on his face.

"Should I be worried about what this mission you're on entails?" Lilah questioned with a smile, crossing her arms around her chest. "You seem to be everywhere I turn instead of looking for the troubled youth of New Orleans to take back to your little school.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head and taking a step closer to her. "It's summer vacation now, so Caroline said I don't have to look for anymore troubled youths for now."

"So, why are you still in New Orleans then?" she asked, starting to inch towards her car.

"Maybe I like your city," he shrugged as she unlocked her car. "I'm Roman, by the way."

"And he has a name," she said, impressed while nodded. "Roman. Fits you a lot better than Mystery Blond."

"Is that what you call me when you talk about me to your friends?"

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk at his comment, shaking her head.

"You remind me of someone with how slightly full of yourself you are," she said, his antics easily comparable to that of Damon and even Stefan Salvatore, and someone else, but she couldn't quite pinpoint where else he was familiar from.

"Is that a compliment?" he asked.

"You wish. I'd love to stay in chat, but I have a family emergency I have to get to," she told him, even if, to the rest of the world, it wasn't even her family that was having an emergency. "I'll see you around, I guess. Roman," she smiled, getting into her car.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rebekah would be a vampire for a few more decades, until Damon and Elena were ready to go. It was Niklaus's parting gift to his baby sister. She wanted to start a family sometime and die a natural death of old age, but she wasn't quite ready for it yet, so it worked that she had to wait a bit for it. Not when her and Marcel were just gaining back their lost time together, enjoying the wonders of the world.

So when Lorelle Julson, now a vampire, showed up at their hotel doorstep in Norway, saying her stupid ring had brought her all over the world, Rebekah honestly couldn't believe her eyes. Lorelle went places that had any trace of Mikaelson, to Mystic Falls even, but the Bennett witch she had questioned only told her what she knew about the Mikaelsons: that Elijah and Klaus were dead.

So she headed back to Mystic Falls for a bit, too, to the only place that seemed familiar to her, even though her home village was no longer a village. Then, she went to Norway. It was then she caught glimpse of a familiar voice and a familiar head of hair, and she followed her to her hotel room.

Rebekah had asked her a series of questions that only Lorelle Julson would know, being skeptical of the girl at first. She and Marcel decided to take the next flight back home with her, needing Freya and Davina's help to figure out what happened.

When Lilah had gotten to the compound, Lorelle was tucked away in one of the many bedrooms, fast asleep from their travels and from unpacking a heavy story to everyone else. From what Josh had told Lilah, her reunion with Kol and Rebekah was heavy and heartfelt, but Lorelle hadn't told anyone why she had fled from the Mikaelsons pre-vampirism in the first place.

"There's this spell that Davina found that could have been used to resurrect Lorelle," Freya informed them, all of them in the common area of the compound, standing or sitting. It was nighttime, but everyone was too shaken up to go to bed.

"My darling here spent a lot of time actually following the coven that we believe might've casted this spell before we even heard that Lorie was back," Kol said, calling Lorelle by the nickname she had been given by their family long ago. He wrapped an arm around Davina, and said, "But it's not just any resurrection spell."

Davina nodded, sighing as she sat up straight, ready to explain. "This spell had to be stronger. And I had been doing some digging for the past year maybe? I caught wind about this coven that worshipped the Mikaelsons in secret. I tracked them down, maybe to see if they could help with what Freya and Lilah had been doing..."

While Lilah couldn't practice magic, she was an active hand in Freya's research and attempts to find a way to bring back an Original once they were dead. They had absolutely nowhere to start, but grimoires and upon grimoires needed to be read and studied, they had to dissect any and every resurrection spell they could find. But in the two years since Elijah and Klaus's deaths, they had gotten nowhere.

Davina continued, " A resurrection spell of this strength, in order to bring someone of Lorelle's age back... it would require a lot of souls, a lot of sacrifices, a lot of powerful magic... but the coven is totally gone. Any traces of them are gone... I think they sacrificed themselves... their bodies and their magic... so that Lorelle could walk again."

"But why do that?" asked Lilah. "If they worshipped the Mikaelsons, shouldn't they have resurrected Elijah or Klaus? Not one of Elijah's past loves."

"That's one of the things I don't get," Davina said. "But it's not like there's any way to find out. Lorelle didn't even know about this coven, obviously. She died before it was ever created. Lorelle herself came from a lineage of witches, but never really tapped into her witch side until she was brought back, so what did this coven want with a witch that was practically human?"

"Maybe it's her bloodline," Josh suggested, everyone looking at him when he commented. He shrugged when he realized everyone was waiting for him to respond. "I mean—like... aren't there certain witches that are just stronger based on their lineage? Like that Bonnie girl in Mystic Falls that you guys talked about."

"Ah, Bonnie," Rebekah smiled. "Mystic Falls would've burned to the ground without her."

Josh continued, "Bonnie hadn't been practicing magic her whole life like most witches, but she was still one of the most powerful witches based on who her family was."

"I've never heard of any Julson witches," Davina shook her head.

"Because the bloodline would've ended with Lorelle," Rebekah stated. "She never had kids, and she was an only child. She would've been the only Julson remaining."

"But she's a vampire now, so if this coven was hoping it was her magical power that would somehow be of use, they're wrong," Kol added.

"Unless she's a like the Heretic coven," suggested Lilah. "If she became a vampire, how was she able to track people down the way she did, in an unknown world, without magic?"

Everyone in the room looked between one another. With the amount of supernatural beings that the family had seen, the ones that they had heard stories of from Mystic Falls, it hadn't occurred to any of them that perhaps the woman could've been a vampire-witch hybrid, like the Heretic coven. A coven that had originated within the Gemini coven and soon fell under the leadership of Stefan and Damon Salvatore's mother.

Silence befell the group of supernaturals, everyone knowing that the peace in New Orleans was about to be shaken to its core.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

chapter five

discussion board!! :)

· why do we think roman wouldn't tell lilah his name?

· even now, she only knows his first name... why is that?

· so i took parts of aftermath chapter twelve and incorporated it into this chapter, the parts where davina talks about the coven and the revelation of freya and lilah spending the past few years trying to find a way to bring back elijah and klaus. one thing i wanted to touch on in this book is how fate has a funny way of bringing people together. lilah's original life happened based on her interactions with hope, and she used to think that it was solely hope that brought her into being so close with her family. when, in reality, in a hope-less world, lilah still meets the mikaelsons, still meets josh, and is practically living the same life... just without the salvatore school, somewhere she never goes without hope. pieces and parts of lilah's life remains the same with or without her cousin, because there's things the universe had planned for her.

i think my favorite part of totally erasing Lilah's previous life from anything that has to do with hope gives her a bit of a fresh start? in aftermath, with the loss of her father and what the necromancer said to her, she was just constantly on a downward spiral, but here, she's sad over elijah's death, but she isn't mentally unstable? so... what happens once josie casts that spell that brings everyone's memories back... but lilah already has a new life?

#Legacies #cw legacies #legacies imagines #legacies fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #mikaelson #josh rosza #rebekah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #davina claire #hope mikaels #lilah mikaelson #roman sienna

[prettylittlebrownskingyal]

Your commentary on titans 👌👌 give us the full review

My main problem with Titans is that there is (a.) no logical and solid justification for these characters and their actions and (b.) this may just be the film nerd in me— but there’s no emotional payoff.

 What irks me more is that the cast is incredible. They’re likeable and capable of handling emotion and they can clearly deal with more than they’re given.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure from writers to showrunners to directors and crew— a lot of work and time and energy has been put into the production of this show.  But these characters are so iconic and in my nitwit opinion, it’s almost painful to see their potential go to waste.

And I say potential because there are moments— mystical and magical, full of hope and wonder and rich comic goodness that make you want more. But they fall flat. 

“Families can be fucked up.”

Titans is supposed to be about family. They literally end the last episode with the song “We are Family.” So why would these people— who supposedly view each other as found family— abandon each other at every given opportunity?

They gang up on Jason in the tower when only moments before they were all fired up about saving the kid from Dr. Light. Gar gets left behind by himself with an unconscious, cleary dangerous super clone. Donna and Dawn fully agree to let Dick rot in prison.

These actions do not reflect people who care for each other. Who want to protect and keep each other safe. Why would this be the core emotional catalyst for any development whatsoever when no actual families are portrayed?

Also, here are two established families featured this season and there were no attempts to have them act as foils for each other even though that would have made clear sense. The Wilsons and the Waynes. Two kids that share stoic father figures that are linked to their trauma. Rose and Jericho have no relationship. No communication. No reason to trust each other. Also, why does Rose immediately give up her life for her father?

Dick and Jason’s relationship had some moments that could have been great to both of their character developments. Dick is his best when he’s being a big brother to Gar and Rachel. Why not let him be the same for Jason?

Here are some things I’d do differently.

1.) No Conner storyline

 Conner, Krypto and Eve’s episode (episode 6) was quite possibly the best of the season. It’s because a family dynamic is clearly established. (It’s a little weird, I’ll admit) But these characters rely on each other. They look out for each other. They care.  (“You didn’t abandon me”// “Can I call you mom?”// “Hot dogs? Get it?”– i ate that shit up)

That being said, it also feels like Conner was just created so they’d have someone to save Jason from his fall. 

The introduction of CADMUS as another antagonist when Slade is a major, overpowering one feels like too many things to juggle at once. If they’d held out, Conner and CADMUS would have been great as the main focal point for a whole season.

2.) More Jericho

Jericho was essentially the highlight of the season. I can’t tell if it was the way he was written or the way Chella portrayed him but that’s what Titans really needs. 

humanity. kindness. friendship and family ties. 

why couldn’t he have had more time with the Titans? why couldn’t he have a relationship with Rose? 

I’d have let him explore his abilities more. His relationship with his mom, with Slade, with each of the Titans. 

They needed to have actual bonding with him. Not just a shoddy backstory.

3.) Better treatment of Rose

Rose Wilson could have been so much more than just a plot point. More than an informant. All she did this season was eat cereal, say “i’m out” and then solve a major fight plot point in fifteen minutes. We needed more of her training, her relationships, her justifications to just pick and fall into a life of an assassin. 

She and Jason had some decent moments of believable cheesy teen behaviour between them but not enough to cover the gaping hole in Jason’s storyline.

4.) Jason needs more emotional moments!!

Not going to lie, I wasn’t sure Curran Walters could do big emotional scenes or make me care as much as he did. But he did. He’s got the bratty, troubled Jason down but he needs to be more fleshed out.

Like Rose, he feels like a caricature of a troubled teen. Where’s his interaction with Bruce? His backstory? His impulsivity and need to prove himself to Dick should be established but it’s not.

That scene where he learns that Rose has been using them all along? That was better than most of what we’ve seen him do.

5.) Donna as a big sister// Donna’s relationship with loss

You’re telling me “older smarter prettier”// “you can crash at my place” Donna Troy who took care of Dick would not look at these kids and want to help? After all Diana’s taught her? WACK

Also Donna and Garth’s relationship? It felt forced. He literally said “I love you” and then died. C’mon man, really? At least give them a pre-established relationship.

6.) Kory?? what happened y’all?

She felt so underutilized this season. Anna Diop is a star. She delivers her performance so well. The moment she heals Conner, her rushing to save Rachel— she has this essence of kindness that fits so well with her strength and the potency of her powers. 

She’s a gifted, royal powerhouse.

So why give her a runaround, stretched out storyline? Why make her kill someone she cared about? 

7.) Hank and Jason?//Dawn, Donna and Kory?// Dick & Gar

The dynamic between these characters whether seen or hinted at could have literally carried full episodes. Why consistently break them apart? Or make them fight or ignore each other? Why not let them play into each other, learn from each other? INTERACT??

8.) Bruce// Dick’s version of Bruce

I like Iain Glen as an older version of Bruce Wayne. I like that he’s a bit quirky, snarky, an asshole and he  says things like “no shit.” But he doesn’t serve much of a purpose and he feels like an instant solution in certain situations. Plus he has no interaction with Jason.

That being said, the use of him as Dick’s voice of reason/subconscious does hone in on the question that Dick keeps trying to run away from— “What would Batman do?” That works for his character. It works for his growth. Their dynamic is wonderful but ultimately, not necessary. 

9.) Donna dying?

That WHOLE scene was so out of place. Why would that have happened after the climax of the story? As an extra source of angst?

Again, the Titans are separated by death. Again, a sense of a family is built up and torn down. No one should have to die for a real sense of familial bond to be established.

10.) Deathstroke’s character//takedown

He’s supposed to be the main antagonist and they all have beef with him. Rightfully, everyone should have gotten a chance in that battle. It happened way too quickly and was very anticlimactic for the old Titans.

Also, Slade killing one of their friends with one, single bullet to the chest literally does nothing for me. Especially since Aqualad is supposed to be a Titan. There’s no real conflict, no tangible establishment of hate. Where’s the torture? the real hurt?

11.) Gar, Dick and Hank and their repeated storylines

they all went through the same arcs again. Dick with his Batman struggle. Hank and his own darkness. Gar and his struggle with control and being controlled and experimented on.

This season should have been about Dick coming into his own as Nightwing. About Gar finally having some normalcy and a place that he feels safe in. He should have gotten some redemption as a hero. Hank (and i hate to say, i hope i don’t sound ridiculous but) should have gotten some resolution with Dawn. Either they’re in or out because the back and forth they do with each other is incredibly toxic and they’ve been established as smart enough to see that.

It wasn’t all bad though and I’ll probably end up doing a re-watch sometime. Since I’ve pretty much spouted asshole nonsense, here are some of the best moments:

The end of the first episode where they’re all standing around their cars and laughing? GOLD. More of that cheesy, established friendship.

Jericho hugging Dick, Dick being unsure how to deal with warmth and forgiveness. Everybody say thank you to Chella for improvising that.

Kory and Donna being detectives and arguing over jelly doughnuts? Yes, please! I love them together. How they clearly knew each other, how they worked well together to take out Shimmer. 

Kory speaking Kryptonian. Anything that furthers her development brings me joy.

Conner saving Jason. That was pretty comic book like— I liked it. 

All the scenes Krypto’s in.

Hank telling Dawn that he knows what Jason’s probably feeling. That was emotional and heartfelt. Also, Hank going “Atta boy” when they were on the phone with Slade. I’m really upset they couldn’t have a brotherly relationship because their characters are quite similar.

Gar, Jason and Rachel interacting like friends/teammates/siblings. Their dynamic works. I’d love to have seen the three of them take on a challenge together.

#ar.txt #asks #prettylilanons #ar watches Titans #i have more thoughts but i can't form them right now. #Anonymous #titans #dc’s titans

[kayincolwyn]

Trying To Find My Way In This Weird And Wild World

So it's been over a year and a month now since I've written a post for my blog... or my blarg, or my bleh, or whatever this is that maybe only a handful of people will ever read, and that I mostly just write for myself to get things out and try to process them. I guess you could say I’ve been putting it off for different reasons until now, and sure, I've had some ideas on what to write, and have had a lot that I've wanted to say, but, well...

Maybe I could explain it like this: I was listening to this guy on Youtube recently who was wondering if anything he had to say had any real weight, if he really had any right to say whatever he had to say, and he said something about how your words and ideas and beliefs may not have much value if they can't create real change, whether in your own life or in the lives of others. Or the proof is in the pudding as they say. I can relate to those reservations about what I have to say, here or anywhere else really, and I wonder how much real change my words or ideas or beliefs create, if any, and I guess that's part of why I've been putting this off, and is it even worth it to try to say something, when my words may have only very little, if any, power behind them? I've written a few things here and there over the last year, the occasional poem or reflection, mostly shared on my Facebook page, and I’ve wondered about those things too, if there was any real weight or value to them, beyond a few likes or a couple comments of affirmation from a friend or two about my writing.

And looking back on some of my older writings, like when I was in my teens or twenties, or even looking back on more recent writings, I sometimes barely recognize myself, the way that I thought and felt at the time, and there are times where I feel as though I come off in those writings as, well, kind of pretentious, or even arrogant (and especially further back), as though I am saying in them that I know and understand more about life than I actually do, which has been, and I have little doubt continues to be, not very much, or at least not with any real degree of certainty. The truth is I mostly use my words in writings like this not so much to speak truth (and how much truth do I really know for sure anyway, except the truth that I don’t know everything?) so much as to try to reach for the truth, to make sense of things, to try to hammer down the fluttering pieces of the puzzle of life, or at least of my life, to at least give me enough of a foundation to keep me from imploding or going crazy. I write partly for my own sanity. And I believe many of my words in writings like this are built on fragile hope more than solid confidence, meaning I am trying to point them in the direction that I want to move in, but that doesn't mean my actions always follow (if they follow much at all), or that I really live up to the vision of a path in life that I sometimes think about and talk about or try to lay out in writings like this. I may try to live up to it in fits and starts, but know that I fall short, and probably always will as long as I live.

I write about love for example, but love, at least for me, more often feels like some grand concept bouncing around in my head than something that I actually practice, or practice well anyway, that I genuinely manifest in my day to day life in the way that I wish to. It's like I can talk the talk with more confidence than I can walk the walk. The love that I show and give to others seems to be at best awkward, limited,  half-hearted, and more often than not selective (directed mostly towards those that I like but not much at all towards those that I don't like). Again, I fall short, struggling to practice what I preach. Because of this, this disconnect between what I try to express in my writing on the one hand, and then my everyday life on the other, sometimes I feel pretty disingenuous and fake. That said, even if I am at least in some part disingenuous and fake (and maybe all of us are more or less, as that may just be part of being human), I still feel like there is at least some part of me that is genuine and real, some spark within me that is reaching for something more.

I remember reading that the Catholic saint and theologian Thomas Aquinas once said, presumably after having some profound mystical experience, something like "I can write no more. All that I have written seems like straw.” After this, from what I understand, he held to that statement for the rest of his life and didn’t write anything else, or at least nothing with any seriousness. I'm not a Catholic so may not be able to relate to the context of his experience, whatever it was, but I can relate to the sense maybe that there is something more that would make all your words, and no matter how eloquent or heartfelt, like straw.  And I wonder if in embracing that something more, or being embraced by it, there would then be no more motivation to write, no more need to use my words to try to reach for the truth, or to try to make sense of things, or hammer them into some shape I can recognize as meaningful.  Maybe it would be something like what Saint Paul says in 1st Corinthians 13 in the New Testament:  ‘For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ If I could come face to face with such a truth, or a Truth with a capital T, and know it or be known by it, then maybe there would be no more words for me, or no need of them anyway... and maybe then I could truly be at peace, down to the core, balls to bones (as the Oracle would put it in The Matrix). That said, while maybe there have been moments in my life where I’ve glimpsed images or have heard whispers of that something more, that truth, I'm still left searching and reaching for it... And so I continue to write, or try to, words being what I have to work with here, and even if my words may only be like straw in the final analysis.

So for now, well, here's some more straw for you...

So I've had a lot on my mind over the last year, have had a lot of ups and downs. There have been times over the last year that were painful, and other times that were joyful, times where life felt meaningful and other times meaningless, and everywhere in between, as has been true of every other year of my life, but of course I can't, nor would I really want to, try to chronicle or reflect all that has happened or has been on my mind, but I can at least touch on some highlights, or try to grasp a few of the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and lay a foundation as best I can.

At 37 now and coming up on 40 in a few years I find myself wondering more and more about the direction of my life, about who I am and what my place in this weird and wild world is, what my path, my way, is or should be. I guess I’ll try to write about some of what’s happened, some of whats been on my mind, and try to give some idea of what my wondering looks like, so from here on I'm gonna jump around, between the highlights and fluttering pieces, though I will try to tie it all together in the end as best I can.

So, I guess I’ll kick things off by diving into some stormy waters right off the bat, by going into one of the things that has got me thinking more about my life over the last year, that being my discovery of Jordan Peterson. For those who haven't heard of him or don't know much about him he's a pretty controversial and divisive figure at least in some circles, mostly among those on the far left or the far right of the political spectrum from what I can tell. I admit I haven't really opened up much on social media about my interest in Peterson and his work for this reason, as I've been kind of afraid I might be jumped on for it by those who disapprove of him for whatever reasons, but then here I am I guess. I had run across some warnings about Peterson online before looking into him myself, and had some negative assumptions about him for a little while, but then I have learned from some experience, like I did with Harry Potter or Rob Bell back when I was in church for example, that if a lot of people talk about how dangerous something or someone is, about how you shouldn't read this book or listen to that person or whatever, then it's more likely than not worth checking out for yourself so you can make up your own mind about it rather than letting others decide for you what to think. I was still a bit hesitant, but fortunately a friend of mine coaxed me into finally checking out Peterson for myself by sharing one of his interviews on the popular Joe Rogan Experience podcast with me, and I was intrigued and impressed by much of what Peterson had to say in the interview, so my interest in Peterson and his perspective went from there.

The reason most of those who don’t like Peterson don’t like him is because of some of his political or social views I think, which is the reason why he really came into the public eye in the first place. Just to try to get some of the controversy out of the way and swim through some of these stormy waters, Peterson was a professor and psychologist in Canada who first really came to prominence when he spoke out publicly against this human rights bill in Canada called Bill C16 that, part of which, from what I understand, would legally require the use of certain gender pronouns for people who are transgender or non-binary or others who fall outside the typical dual identifiers of male or female. From what I can tell, getting a clearer picture of the kind of man Peterson is over the last year, I don't think Peterson protested this bill because he is just some bigot who doesn't care at all for transgender or non-binary people, but rather because it really bothered him that his government would try to pass any law that required the use of any kind of speech, not only telling people what they shouldn't say but what they should say. In short, from what I can gather this was more about free speech for him than anything else, or at least that’s his claim anyway, which some may disagree with. Of course the whole thing is no doubt more complicated than the little that I have written about here, and I am sure there is still much debate about all of this, whether on the bill itself or Peterson's take on it and his protest of it, but this is my understanding of the basics of it at least.

Peterson does seem, having listened to him a fair bit, to have mixed feelings about the whole transgender and non-binary thing. I don’t believe he would want to give the time of day to anyone who was transgender or non-binary if they accosted him on the street and started screaming and yelling at him, calling him names or throwing accusations at him (which I’ve seen in a few videos), as that doesn’t generally inspire empathy or understanding from anyone, but I do believe if anyone transgender or non-binary tried to connect with him one on one just as a human being to share their story he would more likely than not be willing to listen and I think would try to empathize and understand, as he honestly strikes me as a fairly empathetic and understanding kind of guy (even if he does have a bit of a temper, which he himself admits) someone who cares about the struggle and pain of others, and I believe that would include people who identify as transgender or non-binary. I mean, heck, the guy is a trained therapist after all, so you would think he would be willing to listen as long as you weren’t putting him on the defensive. That said, I think he has questions or concerns about it, and like many people is trying to understand in what ways society should (or shouldn't) shift in order to accommodate those who don't identify in ways that are different from what most are used to or consider the norm. I admit to having mixed feelings myself about this, though partly, I admit, because I don't know or understand much about it, though I would be open to learning more. I admit I have some reservations about things like children transitioning (because I worry that children may not yet be mature enough to make these kinds of decisions, and that they may regret making such decisions later on because they weren’t as fully informed as they would have been as adults) as well as transgender women playing in women's sports, or transgender men playing in men's sports for that matter (because I believe in those cases there is an unfair physical advantage or disadvantage because not everything can be completely changed biologically in a transition, including things like muscle mass and bone structure, at least from what I understand), just as a couple examples. My heart tells me to live and let live and that it’s really none of my business, which is mostly how I feel about it, but my head sometimes wonders if going about these kinds of changes in society without thinking them through may end up having some unforeseen consequences. Of course I'm not above setting aside such reservations if others could convince me to do so, and by that I mean by making convincing arguments to support such things that make sense to me, rather than trying to shame or bully me into changing my mind, which some may be want to do, but trust me I’ve had enough experience with that kind of thing in my life, red flags go up all over the place when people try that with me, whether it’s in the realm of politics or religion or any other realm... let’s just say when I encounter people who are dogmatic and ‘my way or the highway’ in their thinking and want to evangelize and convert me to their position, well, I’ve learned to just walk away... not sure if that will keep people who disagree with me from just stopping here and passing judgment (even though from here I talk about empathy and understanding for transgender and non-binary people among many other things) and then going after me with torches and pitchforks, but hey, at least I’ve tried... and this, by the way, applies to everything else that I may write here that you may disagree with. Friendly or at least civil discussion about difficult topics is good and constructive in my opinion, but rage or personal attacks or a dogmatic insistence that I conform or else be put into your out-group (as I have experienced to some extent with), well, not so much. Anyways, despite those reservations I want to be empathetic and understanding  towards transgender or non-binary people, as I don't really know what it is like to be in their shoes or what they go through. Sure I can use my imagination some, i.e. watching shows like Sense 8 (great show, still bummed it was canceled) or even Supergirl (as cheesy as it is) that include transgender characters and some of their struggles, gives me some inkling of what it might feel like, but I honestly don't really know. I admit I've only interacted (or at least knowingly interacted) with one transgender or non-binary person, a co-worker of mine who was born male and now identifies as female. I call her her, and am okay with doing that, but it takes some getting used to I admit. I was a little uncomfortable around her at first, as it felt weird for me, and I still do to some extent I admit, but then having worked with her a little bit more recently, I can see that she's not a threat to me in any way and there's no reason to be afraid of her, and she's just another human being like me, who deserves a little respect and wants a little love and acceptance just like anyone else. Sure, like Peterson I would feel uncomfortable with being legally forced to use certain pronouns (in the same way I would feel uncomfortable if I was legally forced to salute the US flag, just for example), but that doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to it if it was something I could choose to do freely. Like Peterson (and many others) I’m not really a fan of thought police (which I have seen in religious circles and political circles and all kinds of circles), but I am open to changing how I think and feel for the sake of others and if it makes sense to both my head and my heart. I imagine that just as I used to be a little uncomfortable with gay people but have since learned to be more comfortable with them in spite of our differences, and now even have a couple of gay friends, in time I believe the same will be true of transgender and non-binary people or anyone else in those categories, who at the end of the day are just fellow humans. I just need some time to adapt and get used to it I think, and hopefully all of us will be able to adapt and figure this out (adding this to the excruciatingly long list of things that humanity needs to figure out), as it would be good to live in a world that is a little more inclusive and accepting of those who are different, and even if we may need time to figure out all the particulars and where to draw the lines and what the boundaries should be and all of that, which of course is complicated just as people are complicated. Bottom line is I think there should be some room for questions and concerns about this whole issue but it should always be in the context of trying to be more empathetic and understanding, because we're all human beings at the end of the day.

I won't go any further into this though as I'm not here to talk about the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though apparently I’m talking about it a bit, but hopefully not in a way that will get me crucified by those who disagree with my mixed feelings about it), which is very complicated and multi-faceted and has a lot of strong feelings about it on all sides, but I just wanted to at least touch on Peterson's stance (at least as I far as I understand it) about it as it was what brought him into the limelight originally, and my stance as well, at least to try to get it out of the way before I go any further.

Peterson strikes me as a bit right of center in some ways (although he identifies as a classical liberal), open-minded in some areas but a little old-fashioned and traditional in other areas, whereas I think of myself as a bit left of center I guess. Peterson talks about the value and place of both the left and the right politically and socially fairly often, like when he points out that those on the right are there to maintain structures and boundaries and keep things running (he also adds that conservatives tend to be better managers) but that those on the left are there to update structures or boundaries or push for change as it is necessary (he also adds that liberals tend to be better entrepreneurs), and there needs to be a dialogue between the two sides on when things should be kept the same or when they should change, and how.  That said, maybe Peterson at times seems to contradict this way of thinking when he focuses a little more on the problems of the left and doesn't focus quite as much on the problems of the right, which may be a sign of some biases towards the right on his part, even if at other times he seems to be trying to find that balance between the two. To be fair if he’s not completely consistent then neither am I, and it’s probably fair to say that not many of us are. Anyways, Peterson's tends to equate the far left, and things like identity politics and postmodernism, with communist or Marxist ideology, and I admit he does come off as a little paranoid at times when it comes to that, sometimes going on rants about communists and Marxists in a new disguise on college campuses and branching out from there into society. I can somewhat understand why he might feel as he does though when he immersed himself heavily for years in studying totalitarian regimes in the 20th century, including communist regimes like those in the Soviet Union and China, wanting to understand them on a psychological level. He sees equal horror in the history of both Nazism (more equated with the right) and communism (more equated with the left) in the 20th century, but perhaps he focuses on the threat of communism more because he feels that people don't talk about it as much as the threat of Nazism nowadays? Maybe, but I don’t know for sure. I recently saw a little note plastered on the inside door of an elevator in one of the buildings that I clean in downtown Portland that said ‘Fuck Nazis’ among other things, which is a message I would concur with, as I’m no fan of Nazis either, even if I’m not really sure how helpful such notes would be in dealing with the problem of Nazism. I wonder though if I will ever find any ‘Fuck Commies’ notes plastered in elevators in downtown Portland, if there are those who feel communism is just as much of a threat. I think I might have even seen a protester flying the hammer and sickle flag when I was going past on the max train the other day, which I found a bit weird to say the least. I wonder sometimes when listening to Peterson’s concerns if there really is as much concern about communism as there is about Nazism, even though both have had horrific and bloody histories that involved the suffering and death of millions.  I mean, isn’t there just as much of a dark history of violence and death behind the hammer and sickle as there is behind the swastika? To be fair though, maybe some on the right aren’t as concerned about Nazism as they should be, just as maybe some on the left aren’t as concerned about communism as they should be, as it’s much easier to focus on the potential craziness on the other side rather than the potential craziness on your own. Anyways, maybe when you immerse yourself in that kind of dark history it's no wonder you might come out feeling a little paranoid and would worry that history might repeat itself. Maybe a little too paranoid? Sure, you can always be too paranoid, like Joseph McCarthy Red Scare witch hunt kind of paranoid, in which case you might need an Edward R Murrow to come along and knock some sense into you, but then maybe a little paranoia is understandable or even healthy. That said, while I'm not really a big fan of identity politics (or political correctness as some would call it) myself and have mixed feelings about the deconstructive nature of postmodernism (I’m all for questioning things and for holding them to the fire but not so much a fan of completely pulling the rug out from under yourself so you have nowhere left to stand or of leaving yourself with nothing to hold onto), still I’m not sure about Peterson’s equating all of that with communism/Marxism, maybe a little paranoia is okay but not too much... though all in all this is really lower on the list of topics that Peterson goes into as far as my level of interest or even agreement goes, so I’ll just leave it at that. Peterson sometimes points out that people are complex, but also says that people can be beholden to their ideologies (their ideas and beliefs), and says that ideologies can have people rather than people having them (he references psychoanalyst Carl Jung on this point), and I would agree on both points, but would add that those who are beholden to their ideologies always have more to them than whatever ideology they may ascribe to, and there’s a spectrum to how beholden people can be to their ideas or what they believe in, and whether that be in the realm of politics or of religion or in any other realm, and of course people can change and can learn and grow, and they need to be given room to do that. I know I’ve certainly changed and learned and grown in different ways over the years.

I have known people from all walks of life, the religious and the non religious, liberals and conservatives, and everyone in between, and while there have been a few who were too radical and extreme in their ideas or beliefs for my taste, most people that I’ve known seemed to be more or less sane and reasonable, more or less decent people trying to live their lives as best they can while not having a 'my way or the highway' attitude towards others, not wanting to evangelize and convert others to their position but just wanting to get along as best they can and agree to disagree agreeably. Anyways, my guess is that Peterson would agree to this assessment, as I have often heard him encouraging nuance and dialogue between people of all kinds, though perhaps there are times when he falls into the trap of focusing too much on those who are a little radical and extreme, who are the minority, if the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on those who are more sane and reasonable, who are the majority, if a comparatively quiet majority ... But then again perhaps all of us sometimes fall into the trap of focusing too much on the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on the quiet majority of everyday people who can have meaningful conversations even in spite of their differences.

Anyways, for a little more context to all of this, and to focus in on another part of my journey over the last year, one of the things that led me to become interested in Peterson and his philosophy was watching a documentary called The Red Pill, which was made by Cassie Jaye, who once identified (but no longer identifies) as a feminist. I first heard about the film when a friend on Facebook shared this video of Cassie’s TED Talk called Meeting The Enemy, and I found the video to be pretty powerful and appreciated Cassie and her empathetic attitude, so I wanted to check out her film. In the film she explores the men's rights movement, a movement claiming to fight for the rights of men (much as feminism is a movement that claims to fight for the rights of women), initially planning on showing how misogynistic and absolutely nutters these men (and those women who ally themselves with them) are when she began making the film, but overtime found that some of what they had to say was thought-provoking and compelling and so she began to gradually change her mind about the movement and her own feminist ideas and beliefs, even to the point of no longer labeling herself as a feminist by the end of the film, though not taking up the label of men's right activist either, but instead letting go of such labels and simply wanting to care for the struggles of both men and women equally and encourage more empathy between men and women.

Much like Peterson, Cassie Jaye's film has been controversial and divisive, and while I felt the film was itself thought-provoking and compelling in some ways, thinking on it now I would say it wasn't a perfect film. For example maybe Cassie didn't look at the darker and more negative side of the men's rights movement as much as she could have, though in her defense, perhaps her goal in the end was to try to look at the other side of the movement in order to give a more balanced view, as the media generally only focuses on the darker and more negative side of things when it comes to this. I think the film’s limitations though may be mostly due to the fact that such broad and complicated issues as gender relations and gender rights, and more generally human relations and human rights, can't really be covered to the fullest extent in a two hour documentary. That said, I think Cassie's main underlying message in the film was that men deserve empathy as much as women do, because men are human beings as much as women are, and seeing men as less important or worthy of empathy is no better than seeing women as less important or worthy of empathy, and if we all really want to move forward and end the ongoing battle of the sexes then we need to learn to have empathy for one another, and I appreciated that message, both as a man and as a human being.

I admit though after watching this film I fell into the men's right activist mindset for a little awhile, losing some focus on that central message, and while I didn't dive in completely I definitely put my feet in the water, whether through listening to men's rights podcasts or watching men's rights videos on Youtube or reading men's rights articles online here and there, and for awhile I was very antagonistic to feminism, even arguing with some of my more feminist friends, seeing feminism not so much as a pursuit of equality between the sexes as it claimed to be but rather as a destructive ideology that sought to, whether consciously or subconsciously, divide men and women rather than bring them together. But after a little awhile I pulled myself back from that mindset, recognizing that men's rights activists, while having some valid points about men's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of women but not critical enough of men, just as I felt (and still feel) that feminists, while having some valid points about women's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of men but not critical enough of women. I think there are some radical and extreme people in both movements but also think there are a fair number of sane and reasonable people in both movements as well, and I hope the latter, those who care about the other side as much as their own side, get the microphone more in the long run. I believe now that neither movement really has a complete picture of the shape of things, and wonder why sometimes they don't just team up to try to hash things out and balance eachother out, try to find ways to move society forward for both men and women without demonizing one another or trying to one up one another's suffering, as though suffering were a contest, and who wants to win a contest like that anyway? It’s like when my sister and I would argue as kids about who had it harder or got bullied more in school when the truth was school kind of sucked for both of us, even if it sucked differently for both of us. Again, not a contest you want to win anyway. Do men have it harder than women? Do women have it harder than men? Yes and yes? Maybe it just depends on the situation and circumstance, or maybe it comes down to the level of the individual, but then all I really know for sure is that being human is hard for pretty much all of us in one way or another, so why not just try to empathize with one another as best we can instead of arguing about who has it worse? Easier said than done I know, but I suppose we could at least try.

I guess much like Cassie I have settled with neither identifying with feminism nor with men's rights activism, feeling that both feminists and men's rights activists have their valid points but also their blind spots, and feeling that both women and men have their problems and struggles, and also feeling that both deserve some measure of respect and empathy.

I've followed Cassie Jaye a little bit since watching her film, and I still admire her empathetic attitude, and her bravery in making a film that I'm sure she knew would ruffle some feathers (and it did), and she continues to be brave through sharing some of her own personal journey including some of her struggles on her online blog and elsewhere, even opening up about the turmoil and grief of having had two miscarriages in the last couple of years, which led her to abandon plans of doing a documentary on postmodernism (which would have included Peterson himself) and instead is considering doing a documentary about miscarriage, a difficult topic that is rarely discussed openly in society, and I hope she does as I imagine it would speak to a lot of women out there (as well as their partners) who have suffered through miscarriages. Reading about her own personal, and painful, experience with her miscarriages was a reminder to me that women struggle with things that men don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy, just as her film was trying to point out that men struggle with things that women don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy.

I admit for sometime after watching The Red Pill and diving into the insane world of gender politics, I was planning on doing a blog post where I would try my best to tackle gender relations and being a man (with the tentative title of Measure Of A Man) as I had tried to tackle race relations and being a white man in my post White Man about a year ago. I even began writing a couple of rough drafts, but then the more I dug into things the more complicated and hard to unravel it became, and I just didn't feel confident enough to really dive into the whole thing (and I didn't really feel confident enough to dive into the issue of race either in White Man, to be honest, but then I I tried my best I suppose, though I'm sure I only scratched the surface on that issue, and I may even go back at some point and try to revise it some as since then my views on race have shifted a bit, though they are mostly the same as when I wrote that).

I suppose going down the rabbit hole somewhat on this post (which is appropriate as Cassie used that metaphor, of being like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole, in her film) by touching on the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though I definitely only scratched the surface on that) and bringing up Cassie Jaye's documentary and touching on gender issues, will have to suffice for that, and as with Cassie the main message I want to put forward here is one of empathy and understanding, and on all sides, and as hard as that may be, as hard as it may be to back up these words with actions, because I believe that's how we will all move forward...

If this was just a post about gender relations and being a man as I had originally intended it to be, I could have talked about Peterson and his effect on many men throughout the world, and that would certainly fit. A lot of young men around the world, and men of all ages really, look up to Peterson, some seeing him as a kind of father figure, and I can kind of understand that appeal even if I may see him in a more complicated and nuanced way myself. I will say that Peterson’s core message of the importance of the individual and finding meaning through responsibility resonates with me a fair bit. I agree with him that the individual rather than the group is the level to really look at as it is really our individual choices that make or break our society (though to be fair some individual choices may impact society more than others, depending on the power and influence of the individual), and we shouldn't only focus on rights but also on responsibilities, because your rights are my responsibilities and vice versa.  And I agree that there is something about individual responsibility, whether that is in the realm of relationships or work or creativity or spirituality or pursuing some other passion or cause (or picking up a cross and carrying it as Peterson would put it, referencing Jesus) that can give you a sense of meaning and purpose that you otherwise may not have. In other words, while carrying too heavy of a load can crush you, and carrying too little of a load can make you feel aimless, carrying a load that is the right size for you can help make you into who you are meant to be. Not that I have found a way to apply that to my life as much as I would like, but at least it rings true to me. Of course that doesn't mean that groups don't matter, as we are all interconnected more than we can imagine, or that rights aren't important at all, as Peterson points out that rights give us room to exercise our responsibilities, but I wonder if Peterson sometimes doesn't focus enough on how that interconnectedness can positively or negatively effect our individual choices, or on how the system can hold people back from moving forward, from being who they could be, because sometimes no matter how hard you may try you can still be held back not so much by yourself but by your environment or your culture. That said I would agree that the level of the individual is the most important one because that is what you need to build up from, the seed blossoming into a tree, so responsibility shouldn't be forgotten or set aside, that and sometimes it isn't so much environment or culture that is holding you back as it is yourself. But of course the makeup of our lives is no doubt always some combination of both of these things, it is some combination of our own choices as individuals, and the choices of others around us and how they may complement or conflict with our choices, and the limits of nature both internally and externally which effect us all.

But beyond his message of the importance of the individual and of responsibility and how we can find meaning in it, I resonate with Peterson most of all when he he seems to be reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, which I was talking about (or trying to talk about) earlier in this post. I may only go along halfway with Peterson on his political and social views, which he admittedly does get a bit ranty on at times (though many of us do, including myself, so maybe we don’t have much room to judge), and I don't agree with him on everything in that area or any other area, but when he delves into the territory of psychology and philosophy (which he says he is more interested in anyway, and so am I) and religion and spirituality I find more common ground with him, and also find what I appreciate most about him. Peterson is something of an existentialist thinker (he is especially fond of existentialist Christian thinkers Fyodor Dostoevsky and Alexandr Solzhenitsyn) and is fond of Carl Jung and Jungian theory as well as well as other psychologists, like Freud and Carl Rogers among others, and believes in evolution and evolutionary biology, so he often speaks of religion and spirituality in those frameworks and contexts, but I can resonate with much of that, as both a former atheist and a former evangelical Christian who is trying to find his way.

I watched a recent interview with Patricia Marcoccia (on the Youtube channel Rebel Wisdom), director of the documentary The Rise Of Jordan Peterson, and she said she initially became interested in him for much the same reasons even before he was really in the public eye, and she like myself describes herself as left of center and has mixed feelings about his political and social views, so I guess I'm not the only one. As the saying goes, don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, and in the case of Peterson I honestly feel that there's a baby in all the bathwater of controversy and drama that surrounds him.

Over the last year or so I have listened to (mainly via podcast while working) probably hundreds of interviews with and lectures from Peterson, as well as reading his book 12 Rules For Life, and while there's a lot of his stuff that I haven't gone through yet (like there's a lot more interviews and lectures of his on Youtube that I haven't listened to yet and I haven't gotten hold of his harder to find first book, Maps Of Meaning) I feel like I have gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of man Peterson is and how he thinks and feels, at least from hearing what he has to say.

I believe Peterson is, like anyone else, just a human being with faults and flaws, who has his weaknesses and blind spots and can make mistakes and get things wrong like anyone else, but there are times in his interviews or lectures when you can see (or hear if you are listening in a podcast as I often do) him reaching, trying to gather the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and build a foundation, and you can see or hear the emotion well up in him when he is trying to find words for something that words maybe can’t quite describe, something that would make your words seem like straw.

Peterson describes himself as a pessimist for the most part, and he says that life is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but he also says that underneath that pessimism is a faith in humanity, a faith in that divine spark within us that enables us to overcome and persevere in some amazing ways, and he has a faith in the power of love, which he describes as the sense that life truly matters and is worth living in spite of all the suffering and evil in the world, and as a desire that things would be the best that they can be, that things would be truly good, for you and for others and for the world, and individual responsibility is in part acting on that sense and that desire in whatever way you can to bring that vision into reality (or at least in my case to connect what I write more with my day to day life). At bottom I think Peterson believes, as he tries to say this himself when he is reaching for words to describe it, that the darkness in the world and in ourselves is powerful, very powerful, so powerful that he feels it unwise to deny its power and not talk about it openly, but even so the light in the world and in ourselves is even more powerful, and in the end is greater than whatever darkness there may be... and I can resonate with that belief.

And I believe Peterson is, even with whatever faults and flaws he has, a decent human being, or he is trying to be one anyway. As an example of this, when Peterson was at Liberty University, a well known evangelical Christian college run by Jerry Falwell's son, a young man who was struggling with mental and emotional issues and was off his medication, ran up on stage trying to approach and talk to Peterson, and when he was restrained by security he fell to his knees crying, having a breakdown. Peterson was confused by what was happening at first, but once he realized what was going on he came over to the young man, knelt down, and tried to comfort him as the other men on stage prayed over him. I honestly don't know for sure how much the other men on stage truly cared for this young man or how much they were at least subconsciously using him to promote their religious beliefs (I only say that, as insensitive as it may sound, because I was in the evangelical Christian world for a number of years so I know that kind of thinking is often somewhere under the surface, though not always to be fair, because again people are complex), but with Peterson I think it was just plain and simple compassion on his part, which I found moving. You can also see how passionate he is about others improving their lives and finding greater meaning and purpose in them, like when you see him with tears in his eyes when he talks about how people just need a little encouragement and he just wants to offer them that to them if he can, and you can see that that is what he really wants to do, and even if you may disagree with him on some or many of his views you can’t really fault him for wanting to help people. And of course it's pretty clear, at least to me, that he loves his wife and children, his family and friends, etc.

But even decent men still have their faults and flaws or struggles and problems, and recently Peterson checked himself into a rehab to try to get off of an anti-anxiety medication that he had started taking after his wife Tammy had been diagnosed with cancer (and from what I understand the whole situation with that was and is very complicated), which needless to say caused him a great deal of anxiety, which only added to all the anxiety he no doubt has had to deal with over the last couple years since coming into the limelight. I can't say that I blame him for turning to medication to try to take at least some of the edge off, and maybe that was a mistake, but it was an understandable one as far as I can tell. Sadly a number of his detractors or former supporters have been using this against him, berating him or expressing disappointment in him for seeking treatment, accusing him of being a drug addict and the like. Even if you're not really a fan of Peterson at all or disagree with him on most everything, I think it's kind of shitty to kick a guy when he's down like that, to berate a guy who was already struggling with anxiety for taking anti-anxiety meds when finding out the woman he loves has cancer (and I can kind of empathize with that having lost a good friend to cancer recently, though I will talk about that later in this post), or for trying to do the responsible thing by getting off of it when he realized it wasn't good for him (even if it could perhaps be reasonably argued that trying to quit cold turkey like he did may have been unwise, as some have been saying, but hey, no one is perfect, and that’s no reason to kick him when he’s down).

Sure I could understand if those who put Peterson on a pedestal might be disappointed that their idol had shown such human weakness, but after following Peterson for about a year now I realize that he's just a man and shouldn't be put on a pedestal (not that he would want to be anyway), and should be cut some slack for only being human.

If anything I find it somewhat encouraging that even the messenger struggles sometimes to apply their own message. As Christian minister and author Frederick Buechner once said (paraphrasing this here), 'I preach to myself my own sermons', meaning the message applies just as much to the one giving it as the one receiving it, and I am sure that Peterson is well aware of that, and would not deny that making good choices as an individual, that taking on responsibility, that tapping into that inner light, that walking the way of love, is just as difficult for him as it is for anyone else. The same is true of my writings here. I write to myself as much as to anyone else who may be reading this.

I empathize with Peterson and his struggles, and hope that others will as well rather than judging him too harshly, as we all have our faults and flaws and struggles and problems in life.

Recently I joined a Meetup group here in Portland where they discuss Peterson and his ideas, or better yet use him and his ideas as a springboard for wider and deeper discussions about various topics. It's a pretty cool group, with an interesting assortment of different kinds of people with different perspectives, and I've gone to the group a few times now, though only when the timing is right and the topic is interesting to me. In the most recent meeting I went to we actually talked about Peterson's checking himself into rehab and the flack he has gotten for that, and how being in the limelight and being something of a lightning rod for the current culture wars has taken a toll on him and his family, and we used that as a springboard for a deeper discussion on empathy and understanding. It was a really good discussion that ran all over the map but focused mostly on the importance of empathy and understanding in moving forward both as individuals and as a society. I think Peterson’s personal struggles are just a reminder that we should all try to be kind to one another for each of us may be fighting a hard battle, and even if others may not see it or know about it.

My dive into Jordan Peterson and his philosophy on life has led me into thinking more about things like this, and has got me thinking more about my life in general, and I see a bit of a kindred spirit in Peterson sometimes when I can see (or hear) him struggling to find words (words that seem like straw) to describe, at least in his own existentialist and Jungian and evolutionary way, something that may be, well, for lack of a better word, mystical.

Jumping out of the frying pan of politics and into the fire of religion here, I think one of the things that bothers some of Peterson's detractors, or even some of his supporters, is how he dances around the question of God's existence.  Peterson says he gets kind of annoyed with the question because he thinks it’s not a simple question to answer (and I think he may have a point there if you really think about it), but he tries to address it as best he can, and more or less says that he acts as though God exists, because it's how we act rather than what we think or feel that ultimately shows what we believe, and that's certainly a valid point I think. But I can definitely relate to the desire to dance around that particular question, as it's a question I have wrestled with a great deal throughout my life, and continue to wrestle with.

Of course I have written about the question of God in other posts here, and will no doubt continue to write about that question, but as far as it concerns finding my way in life, it's an important question. Is it up to me to decide what is the best path for me to take, or is there some other force that can or should decide that for me, or that could at least help me figure it out? Is there some deity, some guardian angel, some spirit guide, or some other higher power beyond this world or myself that can help me on my way, or am I on my own, do I need to figure this out on my own, maybe with a little help from other people who are trying to find their way too, but essentially alone in this?

Outside of a wedding or a memorial service I haven't been to a church in years, but I still pray (or I try to pray anyway) nearly everyday (and usually when I take a shower after I get out of bed, I guess you could say it's kind of a prayer closet) usually focusing on four areas, namely my relationships, work, creative life, and whatever my spiritual path is, or in my head going through this prayer written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (while he was in a Nazi prison of all places) which I have memorized:

In me there is darkness But with you there is light I am lonely But you do not leave me I am feeble of heart But with you there is help I am restless But with you there is peace In me there is bitterness But with you there is patience I do not understand your ways But you know the way for me

When I get to the end of that prayer in my mind I sometimes kind of internally hold my hands up, hold my heart out, reach out, without really knowing or understanding, but with hope that something or someone is listening and does know the way, or at least knows it better than me, and can help me to find it.

As I said earlier in the post I feel like I have at times in my life glimpsed or heard whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, or Truth, and perhaps that Truth is some higher power, or God, that can help me find the way, though I don’t know for sure.

One of those times within the last year where I felt I connected with that something more, that truth, whatever it may be, was when I was at a concert for the wonderful Norwegian musician Aurora Asknes when she came here to Portland back in February. I wrote about Aurora Asknes in the last post that I wrote (titled Mad World) before my year long hiatus here, and if you haven't checked her or her music out yet I highly recommend that you do so, as she’s a real gem. Anyways, I went to the concert by myself, and I felt a little lonely there I admit, and I was feeling a little down too as I was trying to emotionally prepare myself for the following day when I was going to help put down my sister's beloved cat Smokey, who had been in our family for a number of years, but then when Aurora came on stage I found myself enraptured by her warmth and playfulness and humor and charm and surprising wisdom as so many of her fans are. What really hit me hard though was at the end of her concert she stopped and got kind of quiet, a hush falling across the crowded room, and then she dedicated her last song of the night to everyone out there who feels different or sad or broken or alone, and while I can't remember everything she said (sometimes I wished I had recorded it on my phone, but before the concert I had promised myself I would try to set aside my phone for most of the concert so I could really focus on it and take it in, which I did), I do remember that she spoke with such tenderness and sincerity and caring that I was moved to tears standing there in a crowded room, and after that she began to sing what may be my favorite song of hers, Through The Eyes Of A Child, which I reflected on in my Mad World post. Hearing that song in the earbuds of my music player as I’m walking home from work at night is one thing, but hearing her sing it on a stage maybe only 30 or so feet away was something else entirely, and the emotion in the room was palpable, and even as messy and awkward and weird as I felt standing there leaning against a wall (like a true wallflower, I know) crying alone in some crowded room in Portland, the moment still felt somehow holy and pure and real, and when she finished the song with the quiet but heartfelt line  'please don't leave me here', it felt like a cry from her heart, and it was a cry from my heart too, a cry that has been there so many times in my life, a cry to not be left here in the dark, to be loved, to not be alone, to be free...

I remember when I was there there was this young woman nearby me who really wanted to give Aurora a package with Aurora’s name on it, presumably with some long letter or series of letters addressed to her, or perhaps some other gift or offering, but she wasn't able to as Aurora wasn't doing meet and greet, and I saw her crying on the floor when she found out she couldn't connect with Aurora in a more personal way. I could at least partly sympathize with her as I too would love to meet and connect one on one with Aurora (much as I would love to meet and connect one on one with Peterson, or really any other public figure out there that I respect or appreciate in some way), as she seems like a wonderful human being, but then on the other hand I was kind disturbed as this lady seemed to have an unhealthy fixation on Aurora, like Aurora was some idol she was placing on a pedestal, or some goddess that she worshiped. There was also a message on Aurora’s Facebook page that I saw sometime after the concert about that particular concert where someone was trying to defend Aurora’s honor in some very weird and uncomfortable way, having felt that the venue somehow disrespected Aurora, to which I was like, um, okay... I can't say that I would really blame anyone for having a worshipful attitude towards someone like Aurora, or for even wanting to try and defend her honor (well okay that’s, um, okay), as Aurora is a very unique and magnetic person, and you can probably see some of that in how I or many of her other fans out there talk about her, and being in that room that night I could feel the power that that lovely young woman who seems like someone straight out of a fairy tale or some kind of fae queen had over her audience, could feel the love and admiration that people there felt for her, but just as with Peterson or any other thinker or musician or other public figure that I respect or appreciate I can still recognize her humanity, and am sure that she too has her own share of weaknesses and shortcomings, her own faults and flaws, and am sure that she sometimes makes mistakes or gets things wrong, that she too struggles in life. For example she is ironically something of an introvert who gets drained meeting a lot of people, even though she is also deeply empathetic, which is a difficult combination to be sure. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, as it hasn’t yet been released in the US, but apparently this aspect of her life is delved into in a documentary about her called Once Aurora. I’ve heard fans who have watched it were sobered by getting a better idea of how much of a drain Aurora’s fame has been on her at times, as much as she loves and appreciates her fans. And I’m sure she has other struggles as well, because even if she is a truly wonderful human being, she may still have some darkness within her that she has to contend with, as is the case with all of us, and I imagine it's no more easy for her to live out the message of love and kindness that she shares with her many fans (whom she affectionately refers to as Warriors and Weirdos) than it is for them. I'm sure she sings her songs to herself as much as she does to anyone else.  

Anyways, listening to Peterson sometimes, in those times when he is reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, there is something in that that seems holy, pure, real, or whatever you may call it, like a poet trying to find the words to describe the indescribable even if those words seem like straw, but then at Aurora's concert it felt overwhelming. It's not because Aurora is a goddess (well, maybe she is metaphorically speaking, though not literally speaking, well, you know what I mean, hopefully... hey I know she’s only human but that doesn’t mean she isn’t great), anymore than Peterson is a god, but because as a human being she opened up and welcomed her audience of fellow human beings into that reaching, her own reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, and I think we all, or at least many of us there, could feel that in some way. It honestly felt in some ways like taking communion at times felt for me in church (or at least in those times when the pastors or the elders leading in prayer weren't laying on the religious guilt too thick... yeah not helpful guys), individuals coming together, messy and awkward and weird though we may all be, to try and reach out, hold up our hands, hold out our hearts, in the dark, hoping that something or someone can see us, hear us, and can help us find our way, can somehow help us, heal us, lead us, guide us, through the dark and into the light. (By the way, the next day when I had to help put down my sister’s cat Smokey, including being there in the room with him when he was put to sleep, was definitely still a difficult day for all of us in the family, but then Aurora’s concert the night before encouraged and strengthened me somehow, which helped me get through it, and I am thankful to Aurora for that.)

In Through The Eyes Of A Child, Aurora sings about seeing the world through the eyes of a child, which leads me to another place where I felt a touch of that something more, of that deeper truth.

In the summer I read a book called Boy's Life by Robert McCammon, which is easily one of the best books I've read in a long while, and it is one that has stuck with me since reading it. The book follows a year in the life of 12 year old Cory Mackenson in 1960, where Cory is trying to solve a murder after he and his father witness a stranger in town, already dead with his throat slit, having his car, with him strapped naked in it, sunk into a local lake. While this murder mystery helps drive the story, there is much more to it, as you read about Cory and his three friends and their adventures over the course of the year, adventures that seemingly blend fantasy and reality, and at the core of the story is this sense of magic, of a world behind or beyond the one that we live and breathe in, that many of us experience more when we are children, and how that sense can easily fade away as we get older if we don't hold onto it, but also at the core of the story is the message that at least in some sense none of us ever really grow up, or at least not completely, as deep down there is a child in each of us still, beneath all of that jadedness and cynicism that can build up over the years.

In one of my favorite scenes in the book Cory has a dream where he encounters in her classroom one of his school teachers, Mrs. Neville, who had passed away only a few days before the dream, and in the dream she tells him a secret, which is this:

"No one ever grows up. They may look grown-up, but it's just a disguise, it's just the clay of time. Men and women are still children deep in their hearts."

Mrs. Neville goes on to say that the clay of time can hold us back from playing as we once did as children, and that we would like to come home to a mommy and a daddy who can love us and take care of us and keep us safe but can’t anymore when we are adults, and there is a sadness in wanting something that we can no longer have because of the passage of time, but I think what she tells Cory is on some level also hopeful, as it means that the magic is somehow still there in us, that we are still connected to it. On the one hand that we are still children deep in our hearts is a sobering truth, as I think it means that we are all more or less clueless and scared and uncertain at the end of the day, at least on some level, just as we often were as children, but then again it's also hopeful because we all still have the ability to see the world, as Aurora would put it, through the eyes of a child.

We still, even with the clay of time, have the ability to sense the magic, to see or feel the world behind and beyond the one we live and breathe in, because it's still there, and we're still connected to it somehow.

There was a dream that I had not too long ago that I can't remember much of aside from the final image, which was of a little girl with vibrant and shining red hair running ahead of me and then turning as I was on the edge of waking and saying 'don't give up'. For some reason that image has stuck with me. An acquaintance of mine who is a professional medium, the British Claire Broad (who actually did a reading for my wife Kaylyn and I back in December, though more on that later), told me that perhaps this was my spirit guide trying to communicate with me, and maybe appearing in the form of a child to remind me of that child within me, which may represent that divine spark that Peterson talks about sometimes, or that lens of a child’s eyes that Aurora sings about, or that sense of magic that Robert McCammon talks about, and maybe appearing to me as a little girl because I need a little more tenderness and gentleness and kindness in my life, maybe I need that same kind of feminine energy that I felt coming from or through Aurora while at her concert just a few months back.

(Just as an aside, I remember Peterson once sharing a story about a woman who had a psychedelic induced vision where she asked about him during that vision where she apparently encountered a being or beings, and was told that he was a representative or channel of the divine masculine, a story which Peterson found quite amusing but also kind of wondered about. I remember this coming to mind for a moment while I was at Aurora's concert, and found myself wondering if Aurora could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine feminine as Peterson could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine masculine, keeping in mind that the representatives, or channels, or messengers, need the message just as much as those they are sharing the message with. Maybe there is something to this, my making weird connections in my head in some strange Jungian archetypal way in order to say that we all need to try to find a balance between our masculine and feminine sides, that the divine spark within us or the magic in us is both masculine and feminine [which reminds me that towards the end of Boy’s Life there’s a passage where McCammon says that this is also a girl’s life, and that’s something us boys need to keep in mind] and to be whole we need to embrace both within ourselves... or maybe this is all just crazy talk... but whatever the case, I would love to see these two, Peterson and Aurora, as different as they are, get together and have a conversation, just to see what happens... heck, I would even pay money to see that.)

Sound a bit woo? Yeah, maybe dreams of little red-haired girls running around is a bit woo, but I don't know, and possibly I don't care as long as whatever it is is something good that can be trusted and can bring more of that divine spark or sense of magic into my life, can bring me closer to that something more, that deeper truth, whatever it may be. Maybe it was a message from beyond, and that message was ‘don’t give up’.

Speaking of woo, I remember this lady named Amy telling me something along the same lines, about my inner child and being embraced by feminine energy, when giving me my first ever tarot reading at this annual campout of mostly down to earth and laid back aging hippies (said with fondness) that my friend Keith and I went to over the summer called Feast Of Madness (which was a lot of fun by the way), and I remember her saying that I need to tap into that inner child more and not be afraid to get out there and play in the sun. Maybe that little girl in that dream was in part encouraging me and reminding to do just that, to wake up and seize the day and not give up on life, I don’t know. For someone who spends so much time in his head maybe I need to remember to not just think about living but to also, well, live. Maybe the little girl was in part telling me to not give up on life, life which is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but also a divine spark and magic, and full of sorrow no doubt but can also be full of joy, which can be, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, as poignant as grief.

And speaking of dreams, there was another dream I had in the last year that stuck with me, where our family friend Bryan, who had passed away from cancer a couple years ago, seemed to appear to me. It was the first dream I can remember Bryan appearing in since his death, and I haven't had a dream about him since. It wasn't particularly vivid (as I’ve heard ‘dream visitations’ tend to be) and it felt  vague and weird as most dreams do, and I don't think I even saw his face. I just remember giving him a hug and saying I was glad to see him, and all I can remember him saying to me was something about Troutdale, which is a city here in Oregon. I asked my mom, who knew him better than me, about it, but she didn't see any connection between him and Troutdale, and for a couple months I had this knocking around in the back of my mind, wondering about it, until one day while at work it hit me to look up if there was any connection between Bigfoot (which was, for anyone who really knew Bryan, his favorite thing in the world) and Troutdale, and was amazed to find that in just a few weeks time the Oregon Bigfoot Festival was going to be taking place in Troutdale.

I took this as a sign from Bryan, and a few weeks later Bryan's youngest son Kyle, Keith (who like me thought of Bryan as something of an uncle while growing up) and Keith’s 4 year daughter Sophie went to the festival. We all had a good time and I think it was a great way of remembering and honoring Bryan, even as simple and silly as it may have seemed, and we even talked about maybe trying to go every year, and we may do that if we can.

I suppose some might call the dream I had and the connection that I made because of it a coincidence, just some random fluke, others might think of it as some kind of precognition, and still others might indeed see it as a sign from someone who has passed on. I honestly don't know what it was for sure, but I know I felt compelled to act on it when I found a meaning in it, and I know that some good came out of it, and that all of that happened at all makes me wonder what might be going on behind and beyond this world that we live and breath in.

(Claire Broad ^^^) I also wonder about my reading (my first ever reading with a medium, have had a few weird firsts over this last year, that’s for sure) with Claire Broad back in December (which we did via video online since she lives in the UK), where Kaylyn's maternal grandma, who had passed about a year before Kaylyn and I met, and her aunt, who had passed a couple years ago, seemed to come through for Kaylyn, and where, strangely enough, my paternal grandpa (and part of me had wondered and hoped that my maternal grandpa, who had passed only a couple years ago, would come through for me, but no such luck), who had passed at least two to three decades before I was even born and when my dad was just a boy, seemed to come through for me. I admit I was pretty skeptical of mediums up until recently, or up until connecting with Claire anyway, but I am more open now, because while some of what Claire shared didn't seem to fit or make sense, a lot of other things did, including some things she couldn't have known or guessed, or at least not as far as I can tell anyway.  That and I’ve known Claire for awhile now and have gotten a feel for what kind of person she is, and even if some so-called mediums out there may not be legit, she doesn’t strike me as being among them and I think she’s genuine and not just some bullshit artist or huckster or whatever, that and she strikes me as intelligent and kind and I believe she just wants to use her abilities, whatever they may be, to help people. I still don't know what to make of all of it honestly, especially what she shared about my paternal grandpa who I never knew, but I do know that it gave Kaylyn some comfort on her end and some food for thought on mine, and I suppose that is something, and again it makes me wonder. These and other strange experiences make me wonder.

(The late great Art Bell ^^^) As I've said in other posts I have always been fascinated with the paranormal, ever since I was a kid, and have always had an interest in metaphysical and spiritual things as well, and most specifically the strange personal experiences that people have. Over the last year I've been listening to a lot of paranormal podcasts. One of my favorites is one called Strange Familiars with host Timothy Renner, who aside from being fascinated with the paranormal like myself also has a love for history and folklore and delves into that sometimes. I've also enjoyed listening to old episodes of Coast To Coast AM with Art Bell (who I found sadly passed away sometime last year), a radio show that my dad's cousin Cliff, who was into all things weird, often talked about and referenced in our conversations when I was a kid, although I'd never listened to the show myself up until recently. Anyways, one of the things that gets talked about in these shows and others that I listen to is that perhaps all of these things, whether they be cryptids (Bigfoot being one example) or ghosts or UFOs or shadow people or strange lights or time slips or synchronicities or out of body and/or near death experiences or miracles or whatever they may be, are somehow all interconnected, and maybe the true nature of reality is both more terrifying and more wonderful, and more just plain weird and wild, terrifyingly and wonderfully weird and wild, than any of us can imagine, and maybe there is a kind of magic in the world that you can only see through the eyes of a child, magic both dark and light.

I think part of what draws me to these topics is wondering what if, what if these things are real, what if these things are true... sure, I have little doubt that many strange experiences that people claim to have, or even that I have had, could be explained away through some natural or scientific or mundane means, but then I really have a hard time believing that all of them can, including some of my own, and even if just some of these things are real and true, then what does that mean for my life, and what are these strange or meaningful experiences that I and so many others have saying to us, if anything? Maybe one thing they are saying to us is it’s good to keep an open mind because even with all of our knowledge and understanding of the world gained through observation and exploration and experimentation there is still room for mystery, and as difficult as it may be for us to admit there is probably still more that we don’t know than what we do know. Whether it’s through the words of thinkers like Peterson, who in between debates about politics and philosophy have moments when they are are trying to find the words to describe something that may be indescribable, or whether it’s through the music of artists like Aurora who invite others into their reaching and their longing and their aching for a better life and a better world and to try to see the world through the eyes of a child, or through magical stories like Boy's Life, or through magical dreams like that of the little redheaded girl who turned to me and said 'don't give up', or through Bryan seeming to give me a sign, or through thought-provoking tarot or medium readings, or through other strange or even seemingly otherworldly experiences that I and so many others have had, I sense that there is something more, some deeper truth, or Truth, just behind and beyond the veil, and perhaps touching this reality, this deeper underlying reality, is somehow key to finding my way in life, as many others believe.

Of course there are different ideas about what this something more, what this deeper truth, is, if there is any such thing at all Some would say that it is God or some other higher power or powers, some would say that it is the higher self or some collective unconsciousness, while others would say it's none of the above or there really is nothing more, no such truth, and on top of that just about everything that I have said here is pretty much bullshit anyway and really who the hell cares and instead of trying to search for any universal meaning or purpose just try to make the most of your short and miserable life before you find yourself in the grave.

Well hey, I honestly don't know for sure who's right about this, if anyone is, and don't know for sure what is behind and beyond this world that we live and breathe in, if anything, I don't know what or who might be listening when I pray, or try to pray, when I hold up my hands and hold out my heart, or when I look for help to find my way in life, or to keep walking if I am already on the path, if there is any path at all... Maybe I am on my own, in trying to figure things out, or maybe I’m not... I suppose only time will tell what the case may be.

(My friend Erin ^^^) I wonder if my friend Erin McCarty, who passed away from cancer just a few weeks ago, knows better than I do now, and I hope she does, I hope to whatever or whoever may be listening that she does. Erin and I were friends for about eight years or so, and we never met in person, never even talked on the phone or Skyped or anything like that, our friendship was exclusively via Facebook Messenger and email and the occasional package back and forth, but we were good friends nevertheless, and I remember Erin and I would sometimes talk about things like this, the deeper mysteries of life. Erin herself was a devout and committed Christian, albeit a pretty open-minded and non-dogmatic one (the best kind), and her faith was important to her, but even she sometimes struggled with questions and doubts about the nature of reality, as most of us do at some time or another, though I believe she generally had more faith than myself. I would guess that she had very little fear of death in the end, and maybe there was part of her that even looked forward to it, wondering what was waiting for her beyond and behind the veil, including loved ones who had passed on before her. Knowing how adventurous in spirit she was that wouldn’t surprise me. But for me the very fact of Erin's death is a struggle to understand and accept as a part of reality, as it lead to questions and doubts on its own, with someone so kind and generous in spirit as she was dying so young, at only 38 years old, only a year older than myself, when she had so much more that she could have offered to the world (although in her 38 years she gave so much). I mean I don't really get it, and neither does anyone else out there who knew and cared for her I can imagine, but I will cope with the reality of it as best I can, and hope that someday I will get it, that someday things like this will make some kind of sense, that suffering and death will make some kind of sense, or at least hope that I can be at peace with the reality of them more or less in the end.

My last exchange with Erin was just a couple days before she died, after reading her dad's post about how she was going into hospice care and she probably didn't have much longer, and I shared with her in Messenger this Youtube clip from The Return Of The King where there is this exchange between Gandalf and Pippin in the midst of a siege by the forces of Mordor on Minas Tirith:

PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way.

GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?

GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad.

GANDALF: No. No, it isn't.”

All she said was 'Thank you Matt <3, that is one of my all time favorite movie moments.' and I didn't hear any more from her after that. I suppose with her and I both being nerds, who enjoyed nerdy things such as Lord Of The Rings, and who often liked to discuss philosophical and spiritual things as well, this last exchange seems somehow appropriate and feels right when I think about it, and is even, at least to me, another one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth.

I shared this and some other thoughts on Erin in a post on Facebook, and towards the end of my post I said this:

'Erin, in spite of her own struggles with doubt from time to time, had more faith than me I think, but even so I do believe, with whatever faith I may have, though a flickering candle it may be, that there is something more behind and beyond this life, that death isn't the end, and I don't say that in denial of some cold and cruel reality that we all must face to simply try to comfort myself or others at that heavy thought of a wonderful person such as Erin no longer being in this world, but because my heart tells me it is so.

I don't know what it is like, what it consists of, what the metaphysics are, or how it all relates to God and everything else that human beings have argued and debated about for millennia, but I do believe that there is something more beyond death, that death is just a gateway to something else, that it is a night that is followed by a new day, and my hope is that it is something like what Gandalf was talking about, and if anyone should be able to step foot on white shores and walk into a far green country with a swift sunrise, it should be Erin.'

I think Erin found her way in life, a way of kindness and generosity, and she went down her path (or up her path) like a lightning bolt, and maybe now, I hope, on the other side of the veil she has answers to whatever questions she had in life, or at least whatever answers she needed anyway, answers that may even be beyond words or the need of them, that may make all of our questions and doubts, like our words, seem like straw... And I hope that she has found a joy as poignant as grief, including the grief of her family and friends that remain here on Earth missing her, and I hope that someday all of us who knew her and cared for her will know the joy of seeing her again (or in my case, for the first time)...

On Halloween night I was rewatching one of my all time favorite films, 1982's Poltergeist, with my friend in Kenya, Annie (whom I've mentioned in other posts), who was watching it with me on her laptop as I watched it on mine and while we commented on it back and forth on our cellphones. Annie hadn't seen it since she was a kid, being terrified of it then, and had been too scared to watch it again since then, but she was willing to give it a go with me being there at least virtually for support. She was of course still pretty terrified, but she also enjoyed it, and enjoyed sharing the experience with me. One of my highlights for the year for sure.

Anyways, perhaps my favorite scene in the film, even above all the spooky goings on, is the one where Dr. Lesh, a parapsychologist who is trying to help this family, the Freelings, to bring their daughter Carol Ann back from the astral realm after she was dragged there by an evil spirit that they call the Beast (if you haven't seen the film you're missing out, it's great), and in the scene she is talking with Diane, Carol Ann's mother, and Robbie, her brother, about her understanding of the nature of life after death, with Jerry Goldsmith's brilliant and beautiful score playing quietly in the background, and one of the things she says to them is this:

'Some people believe that when people die, there's a wonderful light -- as bright as the sun. But it doesn't hurt to look into it. All the answers to all the questions that you ever want to know are inside that light. And when you walk into it, you become a part of it forever.'

My heart stirs sometimes when she says this in this scene, perhaps another example of one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, and in this case nestled somewhere in a classic 80s horror film. I hope that something like this is true when we die, I hope something like this is true for Erin and will be true for all of us, that there is a wonderful light waiting to embrace us all...

I imagine that some who read this will wonder what kind of weird brain I have, jumping from talking about Thomas Aquinas and words like straw, to talking at some length (maybe a good third of this post at least) about a popular but also controversial Canadian professor and psychologist that liberal media outlets sometimes equate with the 'alt-right' (if unfairly so I believe) who nevertheless in between his political rants says things that really resonate with me spiritually, going from touching on gender (including transgender) issues and rights and relations and more generally on empathy and understanding, to a 23 year old Norwegian musician who made me cry in a crowded room in Portland, going from a murder mystery/coming of age story about the magic of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, to strange dreams that might be from spirit guides or from the dead, as well as touching on all things weird or paranormal or that are behind and beyond what we know and understand, from the death of a friend who I will miss and who so many will miss and whose death I really can't understand but hope to understand someday, to a classic horror film that came out the year that I was born and in between the scares has moments that speak to me. What is it all of these things have in common, what ties all of these things together?

I don't know, or at least I'm not sure, but I can throw some more straw at it anyway.

I had initially intended on trying to write a post about gender and being a man about a year ago, and maybe I gave you some idea of what that might have looked like in the first half of this post, but then strangely enough trying to delve into that complicated topic helped in some ways to lead me into deeper issues of humanity and what it is to be human, much as Cassie Jaye's own experience with suffering and loss through her miscarriages has led her away from wanting to talk about something that is more political and abstract and towards wanting to talk about something that is more personal and raw, and looking into someone like Peterson who is known in the mainstream mostly for some of his more controversial and divisive political and social views, and who is mocked and disparaged by all sides, led me to finding something of a kindred spirit in someone who, even if I may disagree with him on some things, is trying to walk a path, and lay out that path for others to try to help give their lives more meaning and purpose, and who, in between his political rants, is trying to reach for something more or for some deeper truth in his own imperfect human way, just as I am... Going from something that is more on the surface, to something deeper, from something in the realm of ideology and the games that people play, down into the soul...

I had initially planned on ending that blog post, whatever it might have been, on the note that whatever gender we are, whether male or female or transgender or non-binary or whatever, we are all of us human beings under the skin, and we all share this world and are in this together, and whether we may like it or not, so perhaps it is best to try to learn to empathize, and to understand one another as well as we can so we can move forward, even if that may be much more easily said than it is done, but again we can at least try.

And maybe that is one of the things that connects all of these seemingly disparate things... moving forward, even with all our faults and flaws and struggles and problems, or in the words of C.S. Lewis, further up and further in.

Jordan Peterson often talks about our aim, what we are aiming for, that we should aim for a better life and a better world, even if it is only incrementally, just one step at a time. He uses as an example the story of Pinocchio, where Gepetto wishes on a star for a son, and Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy, looking to the blue fairy, where he dives into the belly of the whale to rescue his father, and all the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams that may be lying underneath stories like these.

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages in one of my favorite books, The Neverending Story (a scene that sadly wasn't in the film) where Bastian had to go down into the depths of the land of Fantasia (or Fantastica in the book), which is literally built on the dreams of humanity, into a mine full of glass images of dreams, to find a dream of his father's, and he finds this image of his father trapped in a cage, where he is in sorrow and pain, and he needs rescuing and above all love, which in the end Bastian is able to offer his father when he returns to his own world, which sets his father free to live again after being crushed by grief after losing his wife, the mother of his son, sometime before.

And why am I reminded of that, what is the connection? Why does it mean for the father to reach for the son, or the son to reach for the father? The mother for the daughter, the daughter for the mother? The masculine and the feminine, culture and nature, the old and the new, intertwined in symbols one after another in dreams that speak in a language we only rarely if ever understand? Why do we reach for the stars, and why must we dive into the dark to find what we're looking for? Why does grief crush us and can love free us? What is my aim in writing all of this? Again I'm not sure, but here again is more straw. Maybe in our art and our poetry, maybe in our words like straw that we aim in the direction we want to move in, maybe in the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams, maybe in the conversations and the music and stories and experiences and in our lives and in our deaths and maybe in our lives again, maybe we are reaching, reaching up, or reaching in, or down, or out, reaching in every direction, or in the words of the poet Walt Whitman:

'A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.'

Maybe on some level many of us, perhaps all of us, are digging, digging, digging (like a boy digging through a mine of dreams), through all of these things, through all of the philosophy and politics that we argue about, and all of the art that we enjoy and appreciate, and all of the experiences that we remember and struggle with and hold onto, and all of our beliefs and the questions and doubts surrounding them that we wrestle with, and everything that we think about and talk about and wonder about and feel, so we can find a bridge to walk across, so we can find something to hold onto, so our souls, like noiseless patient spiders, can catch something firm, something solid, something holy and pure and real, so we can find a way forward, a way further up and in and down and out, and with no need for words... maybe.

Well now... Ground Control to Major Matt, take your protein pills and put your helmet on... I get carried away sometimes, so back down to Earth I go...

(Krissy Lynn in her mirror video ^^^) Another one of the things I discovered over the last year was the Youtube channel of Krissy Lynn, who is a porn actress of all things. And yes I have also seen some of her, um, other videos online. Full disclosure here, bringing things well and truly back down to Earth: I have watched a lot of porn throughout my life, and I still watch porn (though fortunately I have steered clear of the really twisted stuff, like child or rape porn). It’s a long story of the hows and whys and it’s not a topic that I want to really get into here, partly because it is such a sensitive topic, both for me and for society, but suffice to say that I have mixed feelings about it, about the whole industry of porn itself as well as all of my experience with it since I was a kid. And any shade that anyone out there may want to throw my way because of it isn't anything I haven't already thrown at myself at different times in my life, and trust me shame is an emotion I know all too well, especially when it is combined with religious guilt which I had in the past when I was an evangelical Christian. That said, one thing I've learned over the years is it does me no good at all to hate myself or berate myself for it as I have done in the past, so if you feel at all disposed to you could judge me all you want about it but you aren't going to be able to push me to hate or berate myself as I've done that plenty myself, and I know it never did me any good (and a real big surprise there, as that seems to be the case in any situation, that hating and berating yourself never really does any good, and it usually just makes things worse). There are those who wrestle with a weakness for drugs or alcohol, others for gambling or gaming, still others for food or shopping or you name it, just about anything you can think of can become a weakness or something you can feel shame about, but for me one of my weaknesses has been and continues to be pornography, and it is what it is and it's something that I wrestle with and that's just part of me and my life, and I'm not afraid to admit that here. Is it a sin (if sin is even the right word here, sin meaning missing the mark)? There’s debate about that (though certainly no debate about certain forms of porn like child or rape porn, which I think most would agree are vile and evil) and I’m of two minds about it myself, but I will say this: May he (or she) who is without sin cast the first stone. Anyways, with that out of the way and out in the open... Krissy Lynn has been one of my favorite porn actresses as she is, um, very attractive to me, but when I discovered her Youtube channel I admit it really surprised me. Even though some would find her career choice to be contradictory to this, in her Youtube videos I found that she is actually a pretty thoughtful and kind and even spiritual person at her core, or at least she seems to be someone who really wants to learn and grow spiritually and in general as a person. Some might assume that everyone who works in the porn industry is pretty shallow and surface level, but then in some of Krissy's videos she shares about her journey in life and how she is trying to learn and grow and better herself. Sure she has the occasional video where she dances around sexily and shows off her admittedly gorgeous body (which I enjoy, not gonna lie), but then in many of her videos she shares about her journey in life and shares from her heart in meaningful ways. I don’t think she’s ashamed of what she does for a living, or at least she doesn’t give that impression, and she doesn't let the nature of her career keep her from exploring deeper things or trying to find ways to feed her soul, and I can respect and appreciate that. One of her videos that has really stuck with me was a video where she talked about and demonstrated this exercise she called 'mirror work' where you stand in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, telling yourself what you are proud of, what you forgive yourself for, what you commit to for yourself, or anything you want to say to yourself. In her demonstration of the exercise when she got to the part where she forgives herself for something, she was in tears when she forgave herself for how she hid away as a kid because she was afraid of connecting with others. That really spoke to me having had a similar experience when I was a kid.

I've since been trying to do this mirror work exercise myself, usually when I get out of the shower. I tell myself (in my head though as doing so out loud feels weird for me) as I look at myself in the mirror, for example, that I am proud of you for getting out of bed to face the day today or for being kind to a friend or for working hard, or that I forgive you for watching porn or for getting pissed off about stupid things or for making an ass of yourself or for being a scared kid yesterday or today, or that I commit to trying to move forward one step at a time... that sort of thing. And I got the inspiration to do this from a porn actress of all people, a porn actress who is, even if she may to some extent objectify herself and let others objectify her, also a human being with a soul like you and me. I admit in a strange way it feels more real to me to be getting life advice from someone like Krissy Lynn, someone who is probably seen as an object of scorn by some (as much as she is seen as an object of desire by others) because of what she does for a living, than it does receiving it from some spiritual teacher or guru living in some cloistered space. Also there is something meaningful to me about receiving a message of healing from someone who works in porn, which has been a source of shame for me throughout much of my life, there’s something about that that speaks to me for some reason, I don’t know, like it’s a light coming out of the dark, or perhaps whatever sexual wounds I may have are like cracks where, as Rumi would put it, the light gets in.

Jordan Peterson, who I agree with on a number of things but not completely here, has a pretty low view of pornography, as many people do, which is understandable I guess, even if my own feelings about it are more complicated and nuanced (partly because I have listened to a lot of podcast interviews with those who work in porn, on podcasts like Holly Randall Unfiltered for example, and they have diverse perspectives and experiences within the industry, some negative for sure but others positive, or some combination thereof), but I wonder what he would make of someone like Krissy, who is trying in her own way to better herself and improve her life and dig deeper to find meaning and purpose, and even while she basically gets paid for having sex on camera.

John Green once said that we should understand people complexly (going back to the point that people are complex), and Krissy, with her career in porn, and also me, with my weakness for porn, are really no exceptions to that rule I think, as we can both stand in front of mirrors and sometime have a hard time saying something like 'I love you' to ourselves, but then we should be able to because we are still worthy of love I believe (even though I admit to having my doubts sometimes, and don’t we all), even as messy and awkward and weird as we may be, as are we all.  

In Krissy Lynn's most recent Youtube video she talked about loneliness and how the answer to it is loving yourself, accepting yourself, even admiring yourself, more than it is looking to others for validation. I wrote a post on Facebook recently where I reflected on loneliness and isolation and towards the end I included that thought, that learning to love ourselves may be part of answering loneliness, though I also acknowledged that people being able to connect more may be part of it too, as there seems to be a real disconnect in some ways between people these days. Maybe there is more of a kind of connection via the internet and social media over the last twenty something years since the dawn of the internet, which can be valid and meaningful in its way (my friendship with Erin or Annie being examples of this), but face to face and one on one connection seems to be harder to come for many people nowadays, which is ultimately more important and more needed than any other kind of connection, as hard as that may be to accept in this world of social media, tweeting, texting, and virtual reality. So I think it's both, we need to love ourselves but also need love from others, as it's all intertwined I think. There was another video I watched recently by a lady named Savannah Brown who also talked about loneliness, as well as the difficulty in connecting with others in meaningful ways, and in the video she shared some of her struggles, but ended on a poignant note of hoping that, even if she can’t read the minds of others or step into their shoes completely, she can still understand and can be understood in some way, even with all our limitations and the walls between us. I share in that hope.

(tired and disheveled and kind of sad me while writing this ^^^) I wrote a poem about loneliness (which is somewhat revised here) back in August that I think captures some of what loneliness feels like, at least for me: Loneliness is a weight That settles in my bones Is it right to walk alone Or to be only one With the deep sky above And the abyss beneath That I gaze into And gazes back at me Oh I wonder, I wonder Surrounded by the crowd People who love and hate But the weight remains And the bones still ache The deep sky calls to me And the abyss cries out My fingers in the air My toes in the water Oh I wonder, I wonder But to combat loneliness maybe like Krissy Lynn says I need to learn to love myself more, and even with all my faults and flaws and weaknesses and shortcomings and limitations and everything else.  When I look in the mirror I see a scared kid behind those eyes, behind the clay of time, a soul within a body that is slowly but surely aging, a bit more weathered and tired than I was as a boy or in my teens or twenties, a little more jaded and cynical and pessimistic, or as the late great George Carlin put it in an interview with Art Bell that I listened to recently, like a disappointed idealist, and sometimes feeling, as Frederick Buechner would put it, like a man who, when he looks in the mirror, sees at least eight parts chicken, phony, and slob... But underneath it all is still that scared kid, who feels he doesn’t really know or understand much for sure, who feels like love is something he’s not very good at actually practicing, who sometimes feels he is too pretentious and arrogant or disingenuous and fake, but who may yet have a spark of something genuine and real in him, a spark that reaches for something more, for some deeper truth with a capital T, that will set him free and bring him peace, and who is still learning what it means to be a man or a human being in this world.

This scared kid is still trying to find a way, a path, through the darkness and towards the light, maybe towards the wonderful light that will embrace him, or perhaps already does...

I've listened to debates (which were really more discussions) between Peterson and popular atheist thinker Sam Harris where they talked about truth and fact and their value and the differences between them, which were in some ways debates between science and religion, though not exactly as neither of them are overly dogmatic about their positions, or not as far as I can tell anyway. Anyways, something that gets brought up by Peterson is the danger of nihilism, which a non-religious worldview can lead to (or at least more readily), and something that gets brought up by Harris is the danger of fundamentalism, which a religious worldview can lead to (or again at least more readily). Having been both non-religious and religious at different times in my life, and now being in some weird place in between those two poles, I can attest that both concerns are valid as I have put my feet in the water of both.

To me nihilism (which is usually found in non-religious contexts but perhaps can be found in religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview in which life has no meaning or purpose or value save what we may impose upon it, which is arbitrary at best. This worldview can leave you feeling lost and aimless and empty, with no real sense of identity or value that is intrinsic and objective, and you are just some speck in a cold and impersonal and uncaring cosmos, believing that life is either some sick joke, or just a spectrum of pleasure and pain to choose from without much consideration for any morality or ethics outside of those we may choose to invent for ourselves, because they don't really matter anyway, and nothing really matters, and life is basically just suffering and loss and madness all the way down mostly, with only brief and transitory pleasures that may give some semblance of meaning and purpose and value but all of it being only an illusion, and (at least in those non-religious contexts that have no belief in an afterlife) followed by our inevitable death, the grave, and finally oblivion, and in time probably the death of the sun, the implosion of the universe, and then nothing.

On the other hand, to me fundamentalism (which is usually found in religious contexts but perhaps can be found in non-religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview where there is a strict and inflexible and narrow meaning and purpose and value to life that is imposed upon us by someone else or by some tradition or expectation that cannot be questioned at all or if at all very little. This worldview can leave you feeling trapped and like you're in a straitjacket (maybe in a padded room, or maybe in a room with brick walls) and at best only conditionally loved or accepted, your identity and value tied tightly to whether or not you remain devoted to your belief system and everything that goes with it, only a servant to some higher order or principle that cannot be reasoned with, and life becomes a set of do's and don'ts, rules to be followed, or else you will be punished, perhaps even (at least in those religious contexts that have some kind of belief in an afterlife) punished eternally after death, burning in fire or banished into darkness forever and ever, pick whatever literal metaphor strikes your fancy, in which case you would probably be wishing for oblivion.

I've experienced both of these extremes at different times in my life, and there is a danger of falling into either of them whether you are non-religious or religious, and I suppose one of my aims in life now is to find a way or a path between these two extremes.

Peterson often talks about a balance between order and chaos, the masculine and the feminine, the yin and the yang, which is a balance that is often talked about in Taoism. I admit I don't know much about Taoism (I have a copy of the Tao-Te-Ching but haven't read it yet, though I plan to), but I am familiar with the yin-yang symbol and what it means at least roughly. The symbol is a circle of black and white, the black half of the circle, or paisley, being yin, representing darkness and chaos and feminine energy and moving inward, and the white half of the circle, or paisley, being yang, representing light and order and masculine energy and moving outward. (Just as another aside, from what I can understand the black paisley, yin, doesn't necessarily represent evil, nor does the white paisley, yang, necessarily represent good, or at least not in any traditional sense, or I think it's much more complicated than that anyways. Just wanted to touch on that as I know that some women are understandably bothered about the feminine being equated with darkness and chaos [and this is sometimes brought up when Peterson talks about things like this as well], which are often seen in a negative light, but I think in the case of yin it is more representative of what’s hidden and unknown and of mystery and creative forces [whereas I think yang would be more representative of what’s seen and known and of answers and structural forces], and with women bearing children, who are for a time hidden and unknown and a mystery and a product of creative forces, this would make some sense symbolically and I think there is a beauty in this symbolism and I believe women can take pride in it, being the bearers of mystery and having a creative force within them. Of course this doesn't mean at all that women only have value as bearers of children, far from it, but I think this is an aspect of the feminine that is unique to women and should be a source of pride rather than shame. And hey, this is all coming from a guy who apparently needs a little more yin in his life, going by what I said above about feminine energy and all, so there's that.) In the black paisley, there is a dot of white, and in the white paisley, there is a dot of black, as there is a bit of yin in the yang, and a bit of the yang in the yin, and they are interconnected. In other words, darkness can come out of light, and light out of darkness, chaos can come out of order, and order out of chaos, the feminine is in the masculine and the masculine is in the feminine, sometimes in order to move inward you need to look outward, sometimes to move outward you need to look inward, etc.

To give a couple real life examples of this principle of the yin being in the yang and the yang being in the yin. For the first example, during the summer because of some complicated financial struggles my family had our electricity shut off, and we weren't able to get it back on for two weeks. It was only through the generosity of family and friends that we were able to pay our huge electric bill and finally get our power back on. The experience was painful for us, and one of both literal and figurative darkness, but the light in it was the generosity of others who helped us, and we wouldn't have been able to experience that generosity if we hadn’t lost our electricity. Also this experience has helped us to maybe not take things like electricity so much for granted. The yang in the yin, light in darkness, and the light was even more meaningful in that darkness. For the second example, towards the end of the summer my wife Kaylyn and I went to the beach up in Washington for our five year anniversary. All in all I think we had a good time, whether it was shopping around or eating Chinese food or watching the Lord Of The Rings trilogy in its entirety, but then on the day before we returned home Kaylyn lost her cellphone to the ocean when we were walking out on the beach together, and needless to say Kaylyn was upset and it kind of put a damper on the rest of our trip. But even this was a reminder to us to try to make the most of things even when they don't go the way we want them to, that sometimes, well, shit happens and we have to roll with it as best we can. The yin in the yang, darkness in light, and the darkness reminded us to appreciate what we still have.

And earlier this year I wrote a poem inspired by the concept of yin and yang, as well as using imagery from some real life experiences of mine, which I tentatively titled Yin and Yang: In the light of darkness In the darkness of light I remember crying to The silent stars And climbing stairs to Caress the shadow of heaven Tearing at the fresh grass When I wouldn't grow And sitting in silence with peace Drawn in the rock and the dust Numbers and letters Blending into fading miracles The hope of an embrace Holding me in my pain Pictures and poetry and names Lighting my way in the dark Bargain with demons in the day Wrestle with angels in the night

The Tao (or the Way), is about finding a balance between the yin and the yang and moving forward as you try to keep that balance, at least as I understand it. And perhaps this applies to finding a path or way between the extremes of nihilism (which one might describe as extreme chaos, where there is really no or very little solid ground to stand on, like an open ocean that drowns you) and fundamentalism (which one might describe as extreme order, where the ground is just too hard and packed and there is no or very little fertile soil to allow for things to blossom and grow, like a barren desert that leaves you dry and thirsty).

I've been in the open ocean of nihilism and the barren desert of fundamentalism at different times in my life (mainly dealing with the former in my teens and then the latter in my 20s), and while it was painful and difficult on both accounts, I feel like I learned from my experiences, for one learning the lesson, in the words of Walt Whitman (who put out better quality straw than mine for sure by the way) that I should 're-examine all I have been told, and dismiss what insults my soul', and that is what I have been trying to do through my 30s thus far. Both extremes told me that I as an individual human being had no intrinsic or objective value, that my life was either meaningless full stop or that my worth as a human being was dependent upon meeting certain standards, and I'm finding that neither extreme is right, whether about that or any number of things, and that I don't have to believe or accept either anymore, I don't have to believe or accept those insults to my soul anymore. Sometimes it feels like a tightrope act, avoiding these extremes on either side, trying to find a middle ground that offers some kind of foundation to stand on but also room for change and growth, but I think this is the way that I need to go, or the path that I need to find.

Maybe it's like trying to hammer down just enough fluttering pieces to have something to stand on, but not so many pieces that there are none left to fly, if that makes any sense... I remember one of the quotes I was thinking of using in the post I had planned to write called Measure Of A Man was this quote from a film called, of all things, Measure Of A Man, about a teenager coming of age during one summer, and this is something that an older man (played by Donald Sutherland) who ends up becoming a kind of mentor to him, tells him at one point:

I think this applies not just to men but to women as well, and people in general, and the storms of our lives that need to be navigated are of course both external and internal, both the difficult circumstances of our lives that we have to struggle with and the choices of others that are at odds with our own, and the inner turmoil and unrest that we must deal with within ourselves on a day to day basis as well as the weight of our own choices and how those choices may impact those around us.

And the measure of who we are may be in our ability to find the proper shore through all of this, through all of these storms ... though, then again, maybe there is some power or presence around us, with us, in us, that can be help us through the storms, or at least I hope there is.

One of my favorite prayers (which I also have memorized and sometimes recite in my head while taking a shower) is the Breton fisherman prayer:

'Dear God, please be good to me, for the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small.'

I often feel like my boat, this youngish but still aging body with this little scared kid of a soul in it, is so small, and the sea, this life and this weird and wild world and this universe, is so wide, so I pray, I hope, that I'm not alone in all of this, that I'm not alone in the sea or in my boat.

Sometimes when I imagine myself there, there in some small and frail boat out in a vast open sea, I imagine Jesus there in the boat with me, yes that Jesus, who I admit I rarely think of these days, though there was once a time when I thought of Jesus just about every day back when I was a Christian, or when I was trying to be one anyway. But when I think of Jesus now I don’t think of Jesus so much as some vague and mysterious historical figure that legends have been built around along the lines of whoever may or may not have inspired the legend of King Arthur, nor some mere composite of doctrines and dogmas of the church that exists simply to get as many theological ducks in a row as possible, or even as the enigmatic and paradoxical figure in the Gospels that seemingly claimed divinity and was crucified for it and came back to life a couple of days later at least in part so some skeptical guy like me could put their fingers in his scars and believe. ... Not any of those but more, well, the Jesus of my own imagination, and not imagination as in something that is completely made up off the top of my head, but more from some place deep down where dreams come from, that substrata or mine of dreams that we sometimes tap into.  And this Jesus takes on something of that classic image of him, wearing a robe and sandals, strong and sturdily built like a man who works with their hands, with the deep tan of a man who spends plenty of time in the sun, with long and somewhat brown hair (though not the cascading perfectly combed luscious locks that are sometimes given to him in films about him), and a ruggedly handsome though somewhat weathered face (that of someone who has known struggle and pain) with deep brown eyes that are somehow both penetrating and kind. And this Jesus is simply there with me, sometimes holding my hands, just reassuring me with no words that I’m not alone. And this Jesus in the boat with me, much like the red headed little girl in that dream of mine, tells me to not give up, and not so much with words but just with his reassuring presence. I’m reminded of the beautiful classic song Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, which I sometimes find myself listening to in the middle of the night, and that strangely beautiful second verse about Jesus: And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone   And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind I don’t know what Cohen meant by all of that, what was going through his head when he wrote that, but I wonder... Maybe there is a reason we are in these boats, why we are sailors out on this sea that we call life, but maybe true freedom will only come when we are no longer afraid of the sea, the sea of life... perhaps God is the sea, and Jesus, being a human symbol of God in the minds of many, is like the sea in that boat encouraging me not to be afraid, because the day will come when the time for being a sailor will be over, when it will be time to jump out of this small and frail boat of mine and dive into the depths, and perhaps rather than drowning in those waters I will be able to breathe in those waters and be embraced by them and call them home, and perhaps in this case the proper shore isn’t on land, but in the sea itself... 

I'm also reminded of one of my friend Erin's favorite songs by one of her all time favorite bands, Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water:

When you're weary, feeling small When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough And friends just can't be found Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down When you're down and out When you're on the street When evening falls so hard I will comfort you I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes And pain is all around Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Sail on silver girl Sail on by Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind

Is there some power or presence, like the Jesus in my imagination, like the sea that I need not fear and will not drown but rather embrace me, that is beyond us but also with us, that will dry our tears, be at our side, comfort us, take our part, and sail right behind and ease our minds, that can somehow help us navigate to the proper shore, even if that is in the sea itself, at least until that day that we are no longer sailors but will be freed and embraced by that which we need no longer fear? Maybe... I hope so... because I would rather not be on my own having to figure this out on my own, and I would rather dream of freedom and being embraced... but one way or another, I will have to keep moving forward as best I can, trying to find my way.

Earlier last week I had a breakdown, crying alone in my bed for different reasons, partly because of my feelings of disappointment in myself, disappointment because of how I relate, or fail to relate, to others, disappointment in not really doing much with my life, being a janitor who cleans toilets for a living and who can’t drive and who still lives with his mother (and with his wife and cat, but you get the idea), disappointment in being an aspiring writer who has all of these ideas for books but has yet to publish one because of a general lack of motivation and confidence, disappointment in myself for being kind of aimless and lost and not being able to imagine my life beyond 40, wondering if I will die young like my friend Erin but unlike her that my life will not amount to much at all in the end. I felt like a failure, felt that I’m just not loving enough or mature enough or successful enough or grounded enough... I felt worthless in those moments, like I’m just not good enough... which unfortunately is far from being my first time to feel that way in my life, and I am sure it won’t be the last. The following night when walking home after a difficult day at work, feeling tired and drained and alone, I was thinking about these things again, and was even thinking about death, dancing around the idea of suicide, part of me wishing that no one cared for me (I could lie to myself and say that no one does but I’m not at that point yet thankfully) so I could opt out without hurting anyone, wrestling with those thoughts and others in my mind. I was listening to music in my earbuds on my music player as I was walking, and the beautiful Corrs cover of R.E.M.’s Everybody Hurts came up on my playlist and started playing, and when Andrea, their lead singer, got to the part where she sings  no, no, no, you’re not alone’ it broke me, and I began weeping while I was walking, partly because I was afraid it wasn’t true, and partly because I hoped that it was. I hoped that those beautiful words backed by soaring violins were true, and that maybe God, if he (or she, or both combined) was listening, or whoever was listening that cared, was saying that to me through that song in that moment... And this week has been really rough for me too, in large part because of a deep and complex problem in my life regarding a relationship of mine (a problem that I don’t feel comfortable sharing about here), and all in all I’ve been pretty shaken up and depressed. I had another breakdown (this many breakdowns in such a short period of time is kind of unusual for me, at least these days) while lying in bed, crying out to God or whoever was listening for help, after which the number 145 started flashing in my mind, which led me to this big book of religious and spiritual poetry that I have that has thousands of poems that are numbered and categorized, and turning to page 145 I found a poem about Jesus as a child that ended with a reference to Gethsemane (where Jesus apparently sweated blood because of how much anguish he was in, which I can really relate to), which kind of said to me that God truly understands (in the same way that Savannah Brown in her video hopes that we can understand one another)  what I am going through in my life, and then when I turned to poem number 145, it was one that talked about the haunting presence of God, and beneath that, poem 146, there was an excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam that really jumped out at me: That which we dare invoke to bless;      Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;      He, They, One, All; within, without; The Power in darkness whom we guess; I found Him not in world or sun,      Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;      Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun: If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,      I heard a voice `believe no more'      And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep; A warmth within the breast would melt      The freezing reason's colder part,      And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd "I have felt. "No, like a child in doubt and fear:      But that blind clamour made me wise;      Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near; And what I am beheld again      What is, and no man understands;      And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men. This excerpt of Tennyson’s poem said to me that in my crying that my Father (or my Mother, or my Creator, or whatever you may call it) was and is near, and that there is maybe some higher meaning or purpose (that moulding) to my whole situation in life, that I am not alone and one day I may understand, and all of this helped me to calm down and rest a bit. Since then I have still be struggling off and on, but I feel like I am beginning to level out somewhat, partly because of little encouraging glimpses and whispers like these, and partly through the encouragement and kindness of friends, and while I’m not out of the woods yet, I’m seeing a little more light and have a little more hope than I had before, though of course I will continue to have my ups and downs as all of us do... whatever the case, I will keep trying to move forward, will keep trying to find my way, will keep trying to hold on, hold on, believing with whatever faith and hope I have that no, no, no, I’m not alone, even, or especially when, I am crying in the dark.

I believe each of us is like a portal into another world, and through my words (which no matter how hard I try seem like straw at the end of the day) I try to open my portal so you can maybe get a glimpse into it, or hear whispers from it, and of course this world that you may call Matthew or some guy you know more or less, but that I call my life and my soul, is just one world among billions of worlds on this World, with a capital W, that we call Earth and that all of us share, and the Earth of course doesn't revolve around me anymore than it does anyone of course, or at least it shouldn't anyway. And of course your perceptions of me and your interpretations of what I have to say here will inevitably be different from my own perceptions or interpretations of myself and everything I've written here, that's a given and there's no way around that sadly. I've talked about empathy and understanding here but just because it's important doesn't make it easy, as maybe some of you reading this disagree with me or take issue with me on this or on that in all my weird and wild jumping around, whether it is on politics or social issues or philosophy or religion or my ideas or beliefs or perceptions or interpretations or experiences or whatever it may be, heck, maybe you even disagree with my taste in music or books or movies for all I know, and maybe some of you may find it hard to empathize with me or understand me for whatever reasons, and as sad as that might be for me I know that it's always a possibility. I can’t make everyone like me, let alone love me, anymore than anyone can make me like or love them. It’s always a choice for each of us. Not through my words or even through my actions could I ever hope to gain respect or love or acceptance from everyone that I come into contact with or comes into contact with me in whatever way, that hasn't happened and that's not going to happen, which goes back to the importance of learning to respect and love and accept myself, and of course having empathy and understanding towards myself isn't any easier than having empathy and understanding towards others, but hey you gotta try to start somewhere, right?

I remember in an audio drama that I was listening to recently called Olive Hill, in the last episode the main character said something about how it may be that life will never be completely satisfying, that we will always be searching or reaching for whatever it is we are longing and aching for, and as sad as that is maybe that’s okay, because maybe it is what keeps us moving forward, maybe hope keeps us moving forward, further up and further in (and down, and out).

I hope that my writing here, my blog or my blarg or my bleh, is better than some of my writings in the past, that it is less pretentious and arrogant, that it is not so disingenuous and fake, and that there is a spark of something genuine and real in these words like straw, and that they are aimed in the right direction, maybe towards a star. I hope that I can learn to be at peace, balls to bones, not knowing or understanding everything, and that I can learn to walk the ways of love with more confidence, and can learn to be more empathetic towards those who are different from me. I hope that I've gathered enough of the fluttering pieces to say something with some weight or value, to lay some kind of foundation, though perhaps leaving some fluttering pieces to fly, leaving a little room for mystery, perhaps the kind of mystery that will embrace me in the end, like a mother embraces her child. I hope I've been able to swim through all of the stormy waters here, and that there is a baby in all of this bathwater, and some proof in all this pudding. I hope that I will have it in me to carry my cross, but also hope that I will not be alone in carrying it. I hope that I have been able in some small way to invite you and include you in my reaching, my longing, my aching, as messy and awkward and weird as it may be, and that there is a kind of communion between us here somehow, holding up our hands and our hearts, as you read between the lines and as I write between them. I hope I and all of us can hold onto the magic, that in growing up we don't lose it entirely, I hope that even beneath the clay of time it is still part of us somehow, and perhaps we are a part of it. I hope that I will always have the strength and courage in me to not give up, and to remember that life is not only sorrow but also joy, joy as poignant as grief. I hope that I will continue to be able to see the signs and be able to follow them wherever they may lead, even if it gets a little weird and wild. I hope that one day I too, like my friend Erin, will set foot on white shores leading into a far green country with a swift sunrise, walking into a wonderful light, and will see face to face and will know even as I am fully known. I hope that I can find the dreams I need to find in the mines of my soul so I can carry them into the world, whether the world in me or the world around me. I hope that my soul can find somewhere to stand, that my threads can catch somewhere firm, even if they may feel like petty cobwebs sometimes. I hope that I can learn to respect and love and accept myself, even if I may still be a scared kid deep inside. I hope that I can find the middle path, or the way, between those extremes of open oceans and barren deserts, between darkness and light, chaos and order, yin and yang, that I can find the balance. I hope that I will somehow be able to navigate to the proper shore in the worst of the storms, even if it is in the sea itself, though also hope that there is something, or someone, with me here in this little boat of mine, holding my hands and letting me know to not be afraid and to not give up, and promising to help me along the way, sailing right behind. I hope that I can hold on, hold on, and remember that no, no, no, I’m not alone, and even when I am crying in the dark, believing that one day I will understand.

And lastly, I hope that, after having picked away at this post for about a month, that something here in all of this straw of mine speaks to you, encourages you, challenges you, or in some way or another helps you along your way. I hope that we can all stumble along the way together, here and now in this weird and wild world.

#finding the way #weird and wild world #thomas aquinas #jordan peterson #cassie jaye #men and women #empathy #understanding #god #prayer #aurora asknes #boy's life #tarot #bigfoot #claire broad #paranormal #erin mccarty #white shores #poltergeist #wonderful light #neverending story #walt whitman #krissy lynn #loneliness #yin yang #nihilism #fundamentalism #measure of a man #jesus #everybody hurts

[ar-ray-of-muses]

Hello! I'm a bit new to the Sonic/disney Rpcs, and I'm really shy so I hope you don't mind me asking are there any rp blogs or muns you could recommend to follow off the top of your head?

Yeesh, I am so sorry I got to this so late! Ummm, I don’t know a many Disney peeps (mostly just Gravity Falls and Ducktales, tbh, still trying to find partners). I’ll just list a couple folk I interact with/see on the dash.

readmorecausethisgotsolonglmao

Sonic RPC:

@blucpincushicn / @twilightcaged / @twotailedwonder - Listen, all of Blu’s muses are absolutely amazing; they’re a stellar writer and they really know the characters they’re playing. They’re a super chill and super talented mun and I definitely reccommend them! …also i would die for their boi sonic

@chaosbcrne - 10/10 Shadow? Hits the nail with that boy, and his characterisation is so well developed; I love and adore this portrayal, tbh. Fantastic writer, and you can really feel the emotion in their writing. And the mun? Honestly, like - way past cool and generally a joy to chat with!

@fishing-purple-cat - Blessed muse with so much thought put into him; always a joy to see him on my dash! This muse is written so well, and you can really see the love and care put into this portrayal. You can also expect superb art that continues to wow me to this day. Mun is super friendly and caring, defo check them out!

@team-phantom / @heartfelt-silver - These muses are honestly so fascinating to me; the lore that Panda has built upon is super interesting, and one of my favourite things about their writing is the feeling and dialogue within it. Whether it’s angsty or dorky headcanons, they know how to make you feel for these boios. Panda is a fabulous person in general, super approachable and caring!

@inhibitcrs - Another one of my favourite Shadows! His characterisation is absolutely on point, and honestly? Always a joy to interact with; his relationships with other muses is so believeable and I love seeing his shenanigans on the dash. Also, the mun is also one of my dearest friends. Ender is super cool and amazing and PLS GO CHECK OUT THEIR BOI. PLS.

@chaosguided​ - So many wonderful muses, I really can’t pick sometimes. I need to interact with this blessed mun more, but their writing? Gaaaaah, I live for it - and their threads are so emotional and in-depth and my heart and gaaaaaaaaah they’re great and pls go check them out pls.

@fastest-hedgy-sonic - Another great Sonic full of attitude and a heart to match! Mun has a wonderful sense of humor and it really comes across in their muse’s character; Sonic is written fantastically and I am living for all of this lore they dish out. They’re really open and neat; pls give them love.

@mercenaries-for-hire - Idon’tinteractasmuchasIdidandmymusesucksforthat, but Vi’s interpretation of Team Hooligan has honestly made me adore them in ways I never thought I would before. The threads on this blog are really fun and engaging, as well as interesting, and I always have a great time threading with them. Vi is also stupendous and ilthem (fight me, vi). There’s also @defective--detectives​ and @moonlit-mystic​ you should totally check out!

Disney RPC:

@isoscelesnightmare - Pssssst, this is an amazing triangular abomination. Vince really captures this chaotic menace, salt, horror, and all! The threads I’ve had with them so far have been so fun and engaging; they REALLY capture the essence of Bill Cipher and they’re legit one of my favourite people to RP with. They also have a @pyrcnica​ muse you should totally check out! o:

@pinedecode - Hi, hello, the dorky son Dipper Pines? Ender really captures his personality; characterisation is spot on and I live for all the shenanigans that happen on dash. They really know what they’re doing with this muse, and it really shows! I definitely suggest visiting their blog ‘cause... AMAZING. Also pls do check out @nomorcstrings and @trouvaillend while you’re at it!!

@siximpossiblethoughts - Admittedly, I haven’t roleplayed much with their Alice yet, but what I have written with them has been a blast. They get up to such wonderful nonsense, have all these interesting verses and their characterisation of Alice is really fascinating to me. Max generally seems a really cool mun, too!

@waywardsonsanddaringdaughters - So many interesting muses, including Gravity Falls peeps! I honestly really adore their writing (and those portrayals are just... gah) and the mun is super friendly and understanding, as well as fun and easy to plot with! Definitely look into them; they’re great. :D

@romunomuses - Ro is a super fun person to write with; their muses are always so in depth and they capture them wonderfully, personality and all. One of their strong suits is the emotion they’re able to deliver in their responses and it honestly has me reeling sometimes. If you’re a fan of fluff or heartbreak, they’re the person to check out. : ‘D

@savethequccn / @ragefeathers - Both extremely amazing Donalds; I haven’t really interacted with them yet (former mostly bc I still need to finish KH3), but seeing their writing on the dash always leaves me inspired! They really capture duck boi and their portrayal of him in both verses is something to be admired.

@floofymuses​ - Huge multimuse, but they have Disney and Sonic! characters a plenty and they an absolutely amazing writer. They have a really complex understanding of their characters and really do nail how they would act! Also, mun is generally just super and nice in general. Worth a look, definitely!

These are all the folk I could think of off the top of my head?? But honestly, there are probably SO many more talented writers I haven’t listed yet. : ‘ D

#|| wandering words; ask #|| mysterious skies; anon #|| out of caffeine; ooc #long post

[archimage-writings]

Lucky Friday the 13th

This past Friday was the 13th and, at least for me, was very lucky, magical, mystical, and dare I say alchemical? Ok, I’m overdoing it. I get it. But, the weekend was transformative. Creatures, Crime, and Creativity (C3) is a yearly fan and writer’s conference held in Columbia, MD and hosted by Austin and Desinse Camacho of Intrigue Publishing. I had gone last year, and had learned a lot and had a good time, so I registered for this year’s event. Now, I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember (and that’s a long time), I’ve self-published a bunch of books (think of them as a bunch of carrots tied together and thrown into the bottom drawer of the refrigerator), and they are out there, but I don’t promote, push, market, or talk about them to people I meet. I’m not that good. (self-criticism is the sincerest kind, and I’m me.) I’m a writer because I write. Be that as it may, I registered and took a chance and this year I registered as an author. The only real requirement was having published. As I registered, I had thoughts of imposter syndrome. What if they found out I was no one famous (or even important)?  I didn’t want to get kicked out. I wanted to go. Time passed. Then I got an email from Cynthia Lauth, an organizer, telling me she was having a hard time finding my books on Amazon. Ruh, roh!  Panic.  I took a deep breath and relaxed. I have publisher links. I have real books. I just don’t sell them. I passed the links back. Time passed. I get another email from Cynthia. I’m on two panels and I’m moderating two others. Wha–?! I check the schedule.  I’m on: “Humor in Writing” with Jeff Markowitz, Allan Ansange, and Susan McBride (moderating).  Ok, I sort of get it. I write humor. I think I have a sense of humor, but just a sense. People I know, don’t like my sense of humor, but I get why I’m on this panel. I can pull this off. But with Jeff and Allan? I’m familiar with both of them and I was witness to Jeff’s wit at last year’s conference. I’m done for (dangling preposition notwithstanding). I’d have to prepare… Next up was, “The Battle of the Sexes–What Makes Hero and Heroine Conflict Such a Prevalent Concept in Romance Novels?”  I was moderating. I read the title again… Ok, I could talk about “The Battle of the Sexes” and, I didn’t even see “Romance Novels”.  This panel comprised Rebecca York, Jenna Harte, and Becky Muth. An all-female panel. I was toast. Sweating, I scanned for the next appearance of my name on the schedule.  Saturday, I was on one of the first panels. “Ripped from the Headlines: Writing Stories from 'Fake News’”. I’ve never done that. The closest I’d ever come was commenting on tweets I saw. I’m not a news “junkie”. I know better than to troll or be trolled. I sat and thought about the topic. I wasn’t even sure I knew what “fake news” was… apart from what some important people believed it was. I could probably fake my way through this panel.  D.W. Maroney, Adam Meyer, Karl Brungart, were the other panelists, and Susan McBride was moderating again. Scan… scan… scan… change… change… change… King of Fools… I was moderating one of the last panels on Saturday. I relaxed and remembered to breathe. “Writing for TV/Film.” I’d written several structurally, and story-wise god-awful scripts/screenplays to learn how to write them. I had questions. I’d be good. I gulped when I saw the panelists.  John Gilstrap, David Mack, and Adam Meyer.  Again, people I was familiar with, read, or followed. These three were the power team. I was in over my head. Maybe I could call in sick. They would be able to find someone to cover for me, couldn’t they?  Maybe Austin and gang were desperate, and I was the fill-in….  I couldn’t let them down. The imposter syndrome flashed through my brain caught up and ran over me like a train full of experts. Well, I was commited. I’d go through with it. If only to tell myself that I had done my best. I spent a day or so thinking about how to handle each panel and sent out emails to the panelists both to introduce myself (who has ever heard of me?) and to throw out some sample questions. I got some nice responses from everyone. Time passes and the weekend of the conference rolls around. It’s Friday the 13th weekend, 2019. A full moon.  I lug a copy of some of my books in case they ask me for my ID before they let me on the panels. Too cut to the chase, I did OK on the humor panel, and got a few laughs, and when things got deep and serious, some nods of agreement from a lot of the audience (including Austin). My copanelists were awesome and made me look good.  The “Battle of the Sexes” panel, I stumbled through. Remember I mentioned I didn’t even notice the phrase “Romance Novel”? I asked very amateurish and obvious questions (because I have never read a romance novel).  I learned a lot and the authors were kind enough not walk out on me. The Film/TV panel went ok. I asked the questions I wanted answered; again some were basic ones. The panel went well and I was surprised I could supress my awe at the panelists while asking. The “Fake News” panel, I felt I held my own.  Afterward, I was physically and emotionally wiped. I will admit, I’m an introvert. I don’t do well with people I don’t know despite having given presentations and taught in front of hundreds. It’s still not a pleasant experience. It’s not about me, however. –––– I should get to the point of this post. The panelists all were stellar and the discussions were wonderful. I am honered to have been included and given the chance to take part. Everyone at C3 was welcoming, friendly, curious, and helpful. I met many people, reconnected with those I met last year, and for the first time ever felt I was an author, and not just someone who wrote books. People wanted to know where to get my books.  No, not because I felt like a celebrity, I didn’t and hope I never do. Because everyone at C3 treated me (and everyone else) as an equal.  I was part of the community. I felt my efforts as a writer were validated.  My life has changed, from my perspective. I want to mention a few people. (If I were to mention everyone I interacted with, I’d be writing my next book.) Austin and Denise Camacho, and Cynthia Lauth. They put this conference on, are friendly, good folk. They work hard. Support them and C3. They make it what it is. David Mack, one keynoter. This man is an expert. He is a technician of the first order. I really wish I had a chance to spend some time chatting with him, but he was always busy.  His keynote was bitter-sweet about the up and down cycles of his carreer and the industry. It was inspiring and motivating. He is a fairly quiet guy (I got the sense he was uncomfortable being in the spotlight), but he became more relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself as the coference went on. His wit is dry, sardonic, and ascerbic.  I get it. I like it. Cool dude. Also, his wife Kara is a great person. Julie Hyzy and husband Curt. Great people, both. Julie was the other keynoter. Her talk was the most heartfelt and personal one I’ve ever heard. It was full of anecdotes, touching moments, humor and inspiration. For someone who claims to not enjoy speaking in public, she’s an expert. She also talks a mile a minute on panels when she is excited and/or interested. The fact she likes puns and time-travel doesn’t colour (British spelling) my opinon–well not much.  I awkwardly handed her my books (to show my appreciation for her keynote) and later she asked me to sign them. My first real autographs! Curt is a very cool guy in a laid-back sort of way. I had a nice chat about sports with him. S.A. Cosby was a highlight of the conference.  “Noir at the Bar” is a mini-event within C3 where authors read one of their shorter works over drinks. Mr. Cosby read a story that was immediate, powerful, visceral, and imaginative. His reading was more acting than reading.  I’d buy any audiobook read by him. I was lucky enough to win one of his books and get it signed. Debbie Mack. I met her at last year’s C3, but this year was the first time I got a chance to chat with her. Not only is she an author, but she also blogs, and produces videos that remind me of MST3K. She’s currently subtitling the old Buck Rogers serial. She’s also a fan of old movies, Doctor Who, and The Prisoner. What can be wrong with that? Cool person. There are too many others to mention.  Thank you all for allowing me into the fold. If you are a fan of writing, a writer, or an author you owe it to yourself to check out C3 http://creaturescrimesandcreativity.com If you want to follow people on Twitter: @Ascamacho - Austin Camacho @JulieHyzy - Julie Hyzy @DavidAlanMack - David Mack @Blacklionking73 - Shawn A Cosby @DebbieMack - Debbie Mack @JohnGilstrap - John Gilstrap @FJTalleyAuthor - FJ Talley @EButlerBooks - Ellen Butler @AlanOrloff - Alan Orloff @AuthorBeckyMuth - Becky Muth @Jenna_Harte - Jenna Harte

@RebeccaYork43 - Rebecca York

…and many others… …oh, and me, @Archimage Time to get back to editing two novels, a book of short stories, and finishing my current work in progress, a satire.

Thank you all! Write on!

#writing #c3 #noir #nanowrimo