#realized i don’t have a little character to draw to represent myself anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ckjbun · 3 years

Text

What kind of ability would Higuchi have and its potential name?

Hi to whoever is reading this! This is my first self-written post so I’m still figuring out how all this works and I’m sorry, if it gets a bit chaotic. Anyways, recently, I came across a question regarding Higuchi from Bungou Stray Dogs. It was about what Higuchi’s ability would be called and what type it would be. So I won’t go into details whether she has an ability or not. I believe she has since she is named after an author (and Asagiri himself kinda confirmed it via Twitter). Thus, I just want to write my thoughts on the potential names and kind of ability.

Since abilities in the BSD world are always named after rather well-known works of the authors, I compared some of the famous works of Higuchi Ichiyo. Now mind you, I haven’t read her works myself. I mostly relied on comparing summaries and analyses of them. Since there are not a lot of summaries, I read two lesser-known stories myself. I will add the links of the summaries/analyses of the works down below. However, while comparing I found two works that would fit Higuchi. Now, first what do I mean by “fit”? Well, it might be best to start explaining what I think about the type of Higuchi’s ability.

I believe Higuchi has not an offensive type of ability. Nothing like Atsushi’s, Akutagawa’s, Kyouka’s etc. If she had, I’m sure she would have used it already, since she’s fighting a lot with her guns, why wouldn’t she use her ability as an addition, why would she hide it? There are two possibilities why we haven’t seen her ability yet. First possibility would be that her ability is not visible like Odasaku’s or Ango’s, maybe it’s even an ability that she hasn’t even discovered, just like Fukuzawa hasn’t realized he has one before the ADA. Second would be that she can use her ability only under stringent conditions. And I believe it’s the latter, hear me out.

Remember this scene from Chapter 14? Higuchi reaches out to hold Akutagawa’s hand but then pulls back because she remembered him saying that he doesn’t need her help. Now, you could argue that holding the hands of injured loved ones is a gesture of closeness, a way to show them your support, a way to tell them that you’re staying by their side. And Aku doesn’t want this support, so that’s why she retracted her hand. But something bothers me here. In this scene it looks like Aku slapped Higuchi’s hand away, doesn’t it? And then he says, he doesn’t need her help, instead of support. I know, you could say support and help are almost the same. But to me, help is something that you do more “actively”, while support can be something passive. What if Higuchi’s hand represents this “active” help? And what would actively help Akutagawa in this very moment? A healing ability for example. Coincidentally, in the panel before, Hirotsu asks Higuchi what power she posses to make them [the black lizard] obey. Is this a hint that there is a hint about Higuchi’s ability in the next panel? Maybe. But let’s look at the next panel. It’s the title page of this chapter.

As you can see, Higuchi has a bandage wrapped around her leg and they seem connected to Akutagawa. In this chapter, it is revealed that Higuchi contemplated about leaving the Port Mafia but her reason for staying is implied to be Akutagawa. This is perfectly symbolized by the bandages in this title page. The bandages coming from Akutagawa are holding her leg back, stopping her from walking away from the PM. But maybe there is a second interpretation? If you’re looking at Akutagawa’s left hand, the bandages are starting to come off. What if this means Akutagawa is healing and doesn’t need the bandages anymore? Instead it wraps around Higuchi’s leg, restricting her movement. What if Higuchi’s ability allows her to help someone else (doesn’t have to be necessarily a healing ability) but in exchange she needs to sacrifice something? Anyways, I think she has an ability which allows her to help other people in a non-combat way. With this in mind, I was looking through several works of Higuchi Ichiyo, searching for something that “fits”. Meaning that I was looking for parallels and themes in irl Higuchi’s stories that could be “converted” into an ability. Just like the coat that the protagonist of Rashomon stole in order to now die of hunger was used as Akutagawa’s ability which seems to be able to eat everything, or like the wish that one’s brother does not die in war in Thou Shalt Not Die became Yosano’s ability and serving as a basis of her background story. Anyways, I’d like to present the works that could be used for Higuchi’s ability and draw some parallels.

1. The Thirteen’s Night

The story revolves around a poor woman, called Oseki. Thanks to her marriage to a rich man, her family was able to live a better life and her brother found a job. But on the thirteenth night of the ninth month of the lunar calendar (one of two special nights for moon viewing), Oseki visited her parents with the intention on asking her parents for approval for divorcing her husband. Before entering, she overhears her parents talking about how lucky they are that they have such good children who don’t cause trouble and that they are very thankful for this marriage. Hesitating at first, she finally goes in and admits that she wants to divorce her husband because he abuses her mentally. He insults her constantly and tells her that she's worthless, stupid, and uneducated. Her mother is outraged. But her father, even though he acknowledges her suffering, reminds her what her husband has done for this family and that she would lose her son since women couldn’t get custody of their children after a divorce at that time. Agreeing with her father, Oseki decides to go back to her husband:

“It was selfish of me to think of a divorce. You're right. If I couldn't see Tarō, there'd be no point in living. I might flee my present sorrows, but what kind of future would I have? If I could think of myself as already dead, that would solve everything… Then Tarō would have both his parents with him. It was a foolish idea I had, and I've troubled you with the whole unpleasant business. From tonight I will consider myself dead — a spirit who watches over Tarō. That way I can bear Isamu's cruelty for a hundred years to come.”

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

Just like BSD Higuchi contemplates leaving the PM, the protagonist here wants to leave her husband. The PM is like the husband. It allows her to support herself and probably her family (at least we saw that she has a sister). But there is constant abuse. Akutagawa is clearly the biggest source of abuse that we can see. But it’s not only him. In Chapter 14, Mori asks her if she is really suited for this job. Telling her indirectly that she is useless or that she is too weak for the PM. Later, you can see the Black Lizard doubting her capabilities, even threatening her. But just like Oseki she stays because of a loved one. What really concerns me is Oseki saying that she will consider herself as a dead spirit watching over Tarō. What if Higuchi, in order to use her ability, has to sacrifice part of her lifespan? Or maybe she loses a feeling? Like e.g. she loses the ability to feel happiness, making her a bit more dead inside? If you draw this parallel, you could also say that when ‘consider myself dead’ is the condition of the ability, then ‘watching over Tarō’ is a hint to Higuchi’s ability. An ability that allows her to watch over and protect her loved ones? This theme fits Higuchi perfectly, since a big topic in Higuchi’s story line is how she wants to help and protect Akutagawa. So it makes sense that her ability might be something that would help him (**intensely squinting at the recent events in the manga, especially chapter 88**). Moving on to the second possibility before the pain starts to set in.

2. Takekurabe (literally: "Comparing heights", "Child's Play" in the Robert Lyons Danly translation, "Growing Up" in the Edward Seidensticker translation)

Now this is considered as Higuchi Ichiyo’s masterpiece. So the chances are high that the ability is based on this story. The story accompanies a group of children who live next to the Yoshiwara quarter. There are two rival gangs: the main street gang (’omote-machi’), lead by Shōtarō, a cultivated young boy who is the grandson of the owner of a pawnshop, and the back street gang (’yoko-chō’), lead by Chōkichi, the impulsive firefighter’s son. (Maybe a parallel to the ADA with (cultivated) Fukuzawa and the PM with Mori who’s a doctor which belongs into the same category of occupation as firefighters?). Among the main street gang, there was Midori, popular and pretty, who lives in the brothel where her sister works. Shōtarō probably has a crush on her. But Midori probably has feelings for the other main character, Nobu, the son of a Buddhist priest. Even though he returns her feelings, he distances himself from her out of his self-consciousness. Later he joins the rival gang after repeated request by Chōkichi. Anyways, they spend their days very care-free, attending school, playing with each other after school. One day, some conflict arises between the gangs and Midori, while protecting someone else, gets slapped by Chōkichi with a sandal. He then proceeds to tell her that their gang is backed by no other than Nobu. Midori feels humiliated and stops going to school. Soon she also stops playing with the other children. After some time passed, Midori is seen with her hair all done up. She has become a distant, lady-like young woman. This probably means that she got her first period and is old enough to become a prostitute or that she just had her first client as a courtesan. Little by little, the children grow up. Nobu is sent off to be trained as a priest and Shōtarō has come to accept the responsibilities of his family’s shop.

There are several themes in this story that I’d like to point out, namely unrequited love, Midori’s transformation and underlying unchangeable fates. The first one is obviously a big theme in Higuchi’s story. Midori and Nobu are unable to express their love for each other because of their positions in life. Just like Higuchi is unable to express her feelings for Akutagawa. If you want some hope, AkuHigu shippers, maybe Aku has also feelings for Higuchi but is still very confused and self-conscious about it just like Nobu. Anyways, because of their positions in the PM, it would make everything very complicated if Higuchi confessed. Additionally, Midori feels like she was humiliated by her love when she got slapped by that sandal. I’m sure that Higuchi gets humiliated by Akutagawa a lot. The next theme is Midori’s transformation from a tomboyish to a lady-like, distant woman. We all know Higuchi looks really badass in her suits. But again, look at the title page of chapter 14. Higuchi is dressed up all prettily and lady-like in a dress, and her hair is done all up. Just like Midori after her transformation. Midori’s transformation stands for Midori accepting her occupation as a prostitute even though she doesn’t want to. In this chapter, we see that Higuchi has accepted her job in the PM, even though she doesn’t want to do this job. At the end Shōtarō sings the following:

"Growing up,

she plays among the butterflies

and flowers.

But she turns sixteen,

and all she knows

is work and sorrow."

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

I don’t know about you guys, but to me that necklace that Higuchi is wearing in that title page looks like a butterfly to me. This is really farfetched but maybe this could be a hint about when Higuchi joined the Port Mafia? However, the biggest theme in Takekurabe is the underlying unchangeable fate of the children. Shōtarō was destined to become the next owner of the pawnshop, Nabu was destined to become a Buddhist monk and Midori would become a prostitute. Maybe this gives us some insight into why Higuchi joined the PM? Maybe one of her parents was a PM member? I also like to think that since Aku is in the PM, since she wants to be with him, she can’t but stay in the PM, and this is her fate. Nevertheless, fate is a central theme in Takekurabe. This is the reason why I think, if the ability is based on this story, Higuchi’s ability would be something like changing fates. Changing fate of someone else but in return she must sacrifice something.

Okay, so this post has become quite long. But I still wanted to mention two other stories Yamizakura (Flowers at Dusk) and The Sound of the Koto where I saw a lot of parallels. I just want to briefly tell you the story of The Sound of the Koto. In this story a woman abandons her son in order to leave her husband who has a bad reputation. The husband then turns into an alcoholic and dies later at a party because of alcohol intoxication. The boy becomes hardened to the world, despises his mother for leaving them, and even contemplates suicide. The story shifts then to a woman playing the koto. I want to give you an excerpt for the end of this story:

“On this night the sound of the woman’s playing helped another to be reborn. Through fourteen springs and fourteen autumns, the boy had been buffeted by the rains. His heart had gradually toughened until it had become as hard as stone. No arrow could penetrate it. He seemed destined to follow the example of his father, to die among the fields or in the mountains, where his remains would be bleached by the elements. Some were convinced the boy’s life would end in prison chains, while his bad name spread to every roadside.

But now, at once, the tenderness buried in his heart was freed by the midnight strains of the koto. For the first time in many years, he felt tears come to his eyes. Or were they jewelled drops of dew? He would not exchange them for anything.

He, who had known neither love nor compassion, and who had no idea what the player of these refrains could even look like, felt a moment of happiness as the music drifted over the garden wall. […]

[…] How could a stormy wind blow now? The clouds in his heart had disappeared. Once more the woman began to play. The sound of the koto would be his friend for a hundred years, the seed for a hundred years of yearning. He had entered a world where a hundred different flowers wer in bloom.

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

This boy somehow just reminds me so much of Akutagawa. Just like this boy, without any parents and home, wandering around in this world, Akutagawa has become hardened to the world. I’d like to think that Higuchi’s ability could free Akutagawa from his pain, just like the sound of koto does for this boy.

So, now I said everything I wanted to say, I guess. If there is really anyone reading this and reading this until here, thank you so much! I appreciate it very much that you kept reading even though my thoughts are probably quite chaotic. I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or weird sentence structures or anything like this. English is not my first language. I’m very happy, if you could point out any mistakes or have any suggestion for improvement. Lastly, I just want to remind you that these are my thoughts, I love discussing so feel free to comment your thoughts but I’d like you to keep in mind that there is not necessarily a wrong or right, theories are theories, interpretations are interpretations. Everyone has another interpretation. They can only be proven wrong by Asagiri sensei himself. Until then just keep the discussions friendly and tolerant towards other people’s thoughts and opinions.

Sources:

All manga panels used in this post are from easygoingscans

Higuchi Ichiyo (樋口一葉)

Higuchi Ichiyo: "In the Shade of Spring Leaves"

In The Shade Of Spring Leaves: The Life Of Higuchi Ichiyo, With Nine Of Her Best Stories, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

In the Shade of Spring Leaves – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 1

“Flowers at Dusk” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 2

“Encounters on a Dark Night” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 3

“Child’s Play” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 4

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ: BADASS WOMEN IN JAPANESE HISTORY

The Thirteenth Night (Wikipedia)

Female Subject, Interrupted in Higuchi Ichiyō's "The Thirteenth Night"

GAME OF TRADITIONS: TRADITION IN THE THIRTEENTH NIGHT AND DIARY OF A MAD MAN

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ IN MODERN JAPANESE AND EUROPEAN DRESS: Modern Japanese versions (gendaigoyaku) of Higuchi Ichiyō’s Takekurabe and their Relationship with English, Castilian Spanish and Catalan Translations

Separate Ways Summary

Literary Analysis of “Separate Ways”

Flowers at Dusk

Nigorie (Wikipedia)

From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō's "Troubled Waters"

430 notes · View notes

loverspersonas · 3 years

Text

the most beautiful moment in life | viii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5.5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

a/n: i realize i’m updating really slowly and the reason for that is online school which is taking up pretty much all my time BUT it hasn’t stopped me from writing at all. i actually have many different scenes written already, they’re just not in order, so i have to kind of make myself write the scenes that are happening first before any of those, which is hard sometimes cause i have so many ideas :)

i realize that the pace of the fic is also kind of slow and that’s because i don’t want to have such a big overarching plot (like some kind of mystery to solve or a big villain) but rather small subplots happening at the same time. it feels easier to me to develop characters and relationships and i get to include a lot of different plot ideas that way (and there is so much happening in hyyh). it’s also hard writing this cause the bangtan universe is really complicated when you think too much about it, and we don’t even know everything about it, so i have to work with what we have and what i know.

so thank you guys for liking what i’m writing! i hope i can do the hyyh era some (even if it’s the tiniest amount) justice, and i hope you guys enjoy it too. and if you have feedback or ideas, i’d love to hear it!

↳series masterlist

Remembering details from a dream was a lot harder than a nightmare. Nightmares had you waking up in a cold sweat, sometimes plaguing your mind throughout the day if they were intense enough. Dreams, however, were only alive while you were asleep, and then they slipped away from your mind like they never even happened.

For the past few weeks, you’d been getting dreams that you could mostly or somewhat recall more often. Vague, obscure scenes or flashes that changed sporadically because even in your dream state, you had no control over your mind.

But you noticed that they tended to involve people in your life. Your mother, Sana, your old friends, and the seven boys you’d unconsciously formed a friendship with over the past month. Of course, it didn’t have to mean anything. But some of them strangely stood out more than others.

One time, you saw Namjoon standing in a dark area with a single white light illuminating his silhouette from above, and a cigarette slipping from between his fingers. Another time, there was Hoseok at what looked like a train station. He was walking along the train tracks at night like he couldn’t see you watching him. And then, there was a scene of Jungkook walking on to the road, changing almost immediately before a car swerved right into him. That was one thing you couldn’t forget. Because you remembered it had been you driving that car.

“Y/N?”

The voice of the exact boy you were thinking of broke through your string of thoughts. When you looked up, you suddenly remembered where you were.

There were a lot of nice vast areas of green fields that belonged to the Academy. With iron benches and tables and the smell of oak trees, it was an ideal setting for many fundraisers, picnics and outdoor events. You were currently sitting cross legged on top of one of those gray metal tables right beside a tall tree that cast a shade over you and the seven others sitting around you. Judging by the way some of them were looking at you, you must’ve missed something in the conversation.

“Hmm?” you asked, glancing at Jungkook who was sitting beside you, also on top of the table.

“See, I told you she wasn’t listening,” Taehyung said to the two taller boys on either side of him. “Face it, Namjoon. The books were boring.”

While Seokjin seemed thoroughly amused, Namjoon’s expression was just the slightest bit annoyed, so you could tell this argument might have been going on for a while. But his patience with Taehyung and the some of the other boys was astounding to you.

On the opposite side of the bench, Yoongi was sitting with Jimin and Hoseok, and quirked a brow in Taehyung’s way. “You literally said that you watched the Lord of the Rings a month ago.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So?” Namjoon repeated, and the tick in his jaw represented the snapping of his patience. “They have the exact same plot!”

You found yourself drifting from the rest of the conversation again, as some of the other boys began to chime in. On your lap was a notebook you realized you’d been scribbling in with a pencil while the others had been talking. It was hard to decide which was more concerning— the fact that you’d so effectively tuned out the boys, or that you were only vaguely aware that you’d been drawing at the same time.

You felt someone studying you in your peripheral vision. Jungkook decided to finally nudge you. “Not interested in fantasy novel series?”

“No, I—just spaced out for a second,” you answered lamely.

His earlier grin morphed into a slight frown. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? “Yeah.”

His gaze dropped to your open book, widening a little in mild surprise. “I thought you said you couldn’t draw.”

“I don’t. Art class was an ironic choice that way.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin said as he leaned over Jungkook to get a better look. Slowly, the others turned their attention towards you too. “This is pretty good.”

Hoseok, who was one of the ones in closest proximity to you, stretched out his hand so you could pass him the book. “Woah.” He went through a few various facial expressions, a lot of them where he scrunched up his eyebrows. “What’s the inspiration behind that?”

“Probably not those dry as hell books,” Taehyung retorted.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate to shove the loud mouthed boy off of the bench, earning more than a few laughs from everyone. Taehyung shot him a glare with an offended hey!

“Nothing,” you answered him. “I just got distracted.”

The notebook was now in Namjoon’s hand and his expression was contemplative as he fixated his eyes onto the page. “You got distracted and absentmindedly drew this? With no idea in your head?”

“I had a dream.” You gave a shrug, stealing a few potato chips from Jungkook’s snack. “So, I drew it.”

“A dream like this?”

You looked back at him, trying not to frown. “Why, is it that weird?”

“Not weird,” he assured. “Just… a little unusual. I’ve never met anyone our age who would come up with stuff like this from their subconscious.”

“Who’s the boy supposed to be?” Yoongi asked after the book got rotated to him.

“I don’t know,” you answered. There hadn’t been a real chance to glimpse the boy from that scene. All you remembered was the black hair and the white shirt he was wearing as he stood looking out the only window in a plain room with only a mattress and white flower petals scattered on the floor. “Some random guy, I guess.”

“Everyone we see in our dreams are people we’ve seen at some point in our lives,” Namjoon said.

You gave this a considerative hum. Though you knew maybe thirty people who could fit in that description. “Well, I don’t remember then.”

“Let me see,” Seokjin said, taking the book in his hand. A moment later, his face morphed into something you couldn’t quite decipher. But it was like for that moment, he had understood something without realizing it.

“Why the hell are so many people out here at this time?” Jimin spoke up as a few students or groups of them began to appear on the field or pathway, spilling out from the building. “This is when it’s supposed to be the quietest here. I was looking forward to not seeing… pretty much everyone.”

“It’s not like we own this place,” Jungkook reminded him.

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as the bright young things don’t show up…“

And just like on cue, the group of cheerleaders and jocks were walking on the opposite side of the field. You didn’t let your attention linger on the old group of friends you didn’t want anything to do with anymore. But as you glanced away, Yoongi caught your eyes as though he knew what you were thinking.

“Way to go, Jimin,” Hoseok said, giving the boy a light shove. “You just manifested it.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat. “Seeing them this early in the day is really bad for my digestion.”

“Who told you to shove two chocolate muffins down your throat?” Yoongi said to him, referring to the now empty plastic container sitting beside you. You’d made a large quantity of them the other day and after recalling how Hoseok had liked your baking—and all his following requests over texts to make more— maybe the others would like something too.

The younger boy didn’t acknowledge the harmless judging tone he’d used. “My inner subconscious, which by the way, I have no regrets about.”

“It’s great how you can say that so confidently about something in your life,” Namjoon said with slight skeptical wonder.

“Y/N made those muffins for us with all her heart and soul—“

“Actually, it was just flour and sugar...” you mumbled though your voice was mostly lost under theirs.

“I was just displaying my gratitude,” Taehyung said finally.

“The muffins were actually really good,” Seokjin said to you as he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to you. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Y/N’s a good baker,” Hoseok affirmed before looking at you. “How long did you say you’ve been at it for?”

“Not that long.” You twisted your dyed blonde hair into a bun and slid the pencil you’d been drawing with through it to hold it in place. “I just picked it up this year.”

Taehyung looked at you with a grin. “I guess I’ll have to annoy you enough at work to get stuff for free.”

You returned it with an exaggerated smile. “You come to work during my shift, I’ll have security ask you to leave for harassment.”

His mouth fell open. “B-but I’ll tip!”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

With his arms folded over his chest, he glanced around sombrely. “This is how brittle friendship is, I guess. Like a dark chocolate bar.”

Namjoon, hiding his amusement with an arched brow, said, “Taehyung, remind me to never ask you for poetry recommendations.”

“Hey.”

Everyone seemed to fall into a silence, realizing that voice didn’t belong to any of you. They turned their heads towards the new arrival, but you didn’t have to look to know who’d approached the table. At first, you thought you could get away without saying anything, but the rest of the boys were casting imperceivable glances in your direction. Finally, one of the others did what you didn’t want to.

“Hi,” Namjoon said to the boy who’d once been the closest to you.

Min-hyuk stood there, as though expecting you to eventually say something to him. Then he looked around the group, smiling his friendly, star quarterback smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Min-hyuk.”

“We know who you are,” Yoongi said, the cold undertones in his voice not going unheard by anyone. Leave it to him to keep things harsh but real.

Min-hyuk, probably not used to hearing that kind of tone with that sentence, stared at the boy, a little dumbfounded. “Oh…”

Namjoon—you reminded yourself to tell the guy what a blessing he was— stepped in again. It was probably good that it was him who was leading the conversation. You’d learned by now that none of the others were quite as sensible and level headed when they needed to be. “What he means is, do you need something?”

“Can we talk, Y/N?” Min-hyuk asked finally, the question you’d been dreading, because now it was explicitly directed at you.

You held back a defeated sigh and said, “I have class in a few—“

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

He seemed to be somewhat satisfied when you looked up at him and nodded just imperceptibly. He started to move away from the table, and you made a move to follow when a hand gently closed around your wrist.

“You know, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Jungkook said quietly but firmly. His eyes held something like concern, and gazing around the table, the others wore similar expressions.

“Yeah,” you said. “But he won’t stop until I do.”

Jungkook released his hand from yours, watching as you got up and walked over to where Min-hyuk was waiting.

You put your hands in your pockets, right away saying, “Let’s get right to point this time, shall we?”

“I left you a note the other day,” he said, not happy with your attitude, but not able to say anything to it either. “You didn’t reply.”

“That was you?” you asked, dumbly. “I didn’t realize.”

“Come on, Y/N. Who else would write you that?” He paused. “My mother said she saw you at the hospital yesterday. Is everything okay?”

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead mostly looking at the ground. If your eyes drifted around too much, you were afraid to see that other students were watching you like a movie scene. You knew that the seven boys you’d just left were certainly doing that. “Uh huh,” you answered, without any emotion.

Min-hyuk held back an impatient noise. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I just want to know you’re doing fine.”

This time, you did look up to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” He was partly taken aback with surprise at your response. “We might not be together anymore, but it’s not like I just don’t care all of a sudden.”

“You didn’t care before.”

He stared at your expression, like he was wondering if you meant it. “Do you really think that?“

“You were never on my side.”

“What?”

Before, this would’ve been hard for you to talk about, because you’d only ever avoided it. To think about it would make you think about all the times you knew you should’ve walked away, the times that you stood there and just took everything when you knew you deserved better than that. But maybe it was time to rip the bandaid off. How long were you going to go back and forth like this? How long was he going to try to hold on to you when you wanted out?

“You wanted to know where it all went wrong,” you spoke. “How about when you stood there and let everyone, even our own friends, say all those things about me. And when I asked you to trust me, you didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” He shook his head. At least he had the decency to look apologetic, to sound like he meant what he thought. “I–I wanted to trust you—“

“I think I see it now.” It was taking a lot of courage for you to finally say what you needed to say, and now that you finally found it, you didn’t even care that other people were watching or listening. “We were both so good at acting like everything about us was perfect. And as soon as I stopped, things changed. The difference between us is that one of us still pretending.”

“Min-hyuk!” One of his friends from the football team—one of your former ones— came up beside him, tapping his shoulder. He looked at you with the kind of friendliness that was reserved for any random student in the hallway. “Hi, Y/N. What are you guys talking about?”

Min-hyuk seemed to have nothing to say, his gaze on you fixed, but his mind on the words you’d spoken. You were glad you had the ability to leave him speechless, to see him actually opening his eyes to a world outside that bubble he lived in. The bubble that you’d also been a part of, but were now glad to have found a way out.

“Well,” you said to both of them. “I have class now.”

With your bag over your shoulder, you turned and headed for the building without paying attention to any of the stares that followed you.

By the end of the day, that courage and energy that had allowed you to speak up to Min-hyuk had dissipated. Hopefully, he wouldn’t approach you again any time soon. Was it asking too much to not be approached by anyone else at all?

Now, you were standing in front of the doors to the pool once again, looking inside, but not having the courage to go in. It was almost a metaphor for your life. You were standing on the outside of a part of your life from the past, not being able to actually go in and see it properly.

Yoongi’s figure materialized next to you, not saying anything at first as though he could tell you were deep in thought. So, you broke the silence first and asked, “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” he answered. “Guess which asshole of a teacher decided to assign us a 10 page paper due in less than a week?”

Glancing sideways at him, you grinned. “The one who probably has hypertension from having to teach you?”

He shot you a dry look, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little like he was also holding back a grin of his own. “You’re hilarious, princess. But also probably right.” He noticed your attention on the pool on the opposite of the doors. "What, are you not allowed to go in or something? Weren’t you on the swim team at some point?”

Instead of answering, you turned away from the doors and started walking down the hallway. “Weren’t you on the basketball team?”

As Yoongi walked alongside you, subtle surprise appeared on his face. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me that.”

“You were captain of the team too, right?” you asked. “That’s how I knew you.”

Something else flickered across his face, though you didn’t know what it was. To you, it was probably the face you wore when you were briefly and vaguely recalling something in your mind. “Well, it’s always nice to hear that my reputation precedes me. And not just as a gothic, underground rapper.” He ignored your subtle roll of eyes. “I played shooting guard actually.”

You hummed, remembering all the basketball games you attended in the gymnasium with your old friends. As part of the cheerleading team, you’d had an obligation to be there, but some of the games actually got interesting to watch. The first time you’d noticed Yoongi was when one time you’d been running late and had been trying to not fall behind the rest of the team. You remembered dropping one of your pompoms while trying to tie your hair up, and in passing, he’d picked up and handed it to you. You didn’t think he remembered it, and maybe it was a little embarrassing that you did.

“You were good too.” You stopped near the front doors, most of the students walking around you with no interest since it was the end of the school day. Yoongi shot you a slightly puzzled look. “I was a cheerleader, remember? I’ve been to a bunch of games.”

“I remember,” he said after a moment, and it didn’t sound like something you’d say to someone just to blindly agree with them, so that was why you ended up meeting his gaze. There was something underneath those deep gray eyes that you didn’t really understand, but somehow, still found it startling to hold eye contact.

You half forced a chuckle to move the attention away from you. “Besides, it’s kind of hard to miss the only guy on the team with dyed blonde hair.”

He chuckled. “I almost forgot about that.”

“How could you forget? You were literally my inspiration,” you said, gesturing to your own bleached hair. When he threw you a dubious side eye, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Surely, that would’ve tricked one of the other boys. “Alright, fine, you didn’t. You know, I definitely do not miss the 5 hour practices, or the tiny uniforms or Yuna screaming at some younger, clueless girl to stop slacking.”

“But the outfits were so cute,” Yoongi teased, and though you were glad the topic changed, you shot him an unamused glance. “It was a joke. On a related note… what did the ex-boyfriend want earlier?”

You arched a brow and held back an amused grin. “You can say his name, you know.”

“Yeah, but that would give him too much significance. Unnamed means unimportant.”

You hummed in agreement. “Nothing really.”

“Is that why you ditched us afterwards without so much as a word?” he asked skeptically.

You tried not to sound irritated about it, but you’d hoped you could make it through the day without having to talk about it. “I ditched you, because I wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about it.”

“How quickly you assume we would interrogate you.”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Fine,” he grumbled after some seconds. “At least 3/7ths of us might. Can you really blame us for being curious? It looked kind of intense.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a grin forming on your lips. “Remember how you said you didn’t care? Well, it’s starting to sound a little like you do.”

He scoffed. “Please. You mistake my blind curiosity for something it isn’t.” He watched you a little longer as you shrugged before saying, “Remember when you said I was good at deflecting? You’re not so bad at it yourself.”

A part of you thought that this was a good time as any to actually talk about it. About how you’d cut things off with Yuna and Min-hyuk, and why you’d wanted to. By now, you felt like you could tell any of the seven boys and they’d listen—actually listen—and Yoongi, despite coming off as aloof and indifferent, wouldn’t judge you or anything. But this recent bond with them felt like a new and good thing, and you just didn’t want to jeopardize it, like you did with most things.

"Do you a need ride home?” Yoongi asked when he realized you were too deep in your head to say anything else about it. “I’m giving Jungkook one too, so I can drop you off after.”

“You go ahead,” you answered. “I have some stuff to do first.”

At first, he seemed almost reluctant to leave you alone, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t insist or comment on it. It would contradict his indifference to most things. Only after he left did you turn and start aimlessly walking down the other side of the hallway. It wasn’t like you had anything to do. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to be around anyone with curiosity like Yoongi’s lingering above your head. Talking about yourself and your personal life was never fun.

Eventually, you ran into another familiar face.

“Hey, what’s up?” Namjoon said as he approached you in the hall.

“If this is about this morning, I’d rather not talk about it,” you decided to say immediately because if anyone could get answers from you by asking the right questions, it was probably Namjoon.

Fortunately for you, Namjoon could’ve read that from a mile away and wasn’t one to pry. He nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. Oh, hold on a second.” From his backpack, he drew out some loose papers tucked into a notebook. “I went through some of these to find whatever was legible enough.”

You scanned the writing briefly. “Your English notes?”

“Yeah, I remember you said the last class went over your head.”

“I just don’t understand why it’s bought and not buyed, but it’s walk and walked? Like why can’t they can’t follow the same rule for every past tense conjugation?” you complained, but still a little touched that he remembered something you’d probably said in passing. “But thanks.”

“Also, if you see Taehyung, can you let him know I can’t walk home with him today?”

You nodded. “Sure. Staying back for extra work?”

“No, I—I have a shift today.”

You wondered why he sounded reluctant to answer. “Where do you work?”

“It’s a library,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s on the other side of the city, so I like to leave a little earlier.”

You shot him an amused grin. “Were there no libraries nearby hiring? Because I know if they saw your GPA, they would not hesitate.”

“Uh, this one has a nicer collection.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding not to question his responses since he hadn’t questioned you. But for some reason, it felt like he was trying to hide something. “See you tomorrow then.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you had to stop the curiosity from getting to you. It truly was an ordeal to be so curious and not want to intrude upon things that didn’t concern you. You had to remind yourself that it was better that information came to you at the right time rather than forcing it. At first, the reminder was about other people, but sometimes, you thought it was also about yourself.

After exiting through the west doors, you noticed Taehyung at the bottom of the staircase right outside the building. He was leaning against the railing, hood over his head and concentrated on whatever game he was playing on his phone. You slowed your steps, approaching the stairs. “You’re still here.”

Taehyung glanced up at you, slipping his phone into his pocket as you came towards him. “Waiting for Namjoon. The kid’s a genius, but his punctuality could use a little improvement.”

You quirked a brow. “Kid? He’s older than you.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he said pointedly, “And I’m older than you. So how about you don’t question me?”

You had to bite back a smile at his antics. It was hard to believe sometimes that most of these boys were older than you. “He told me to tell you he has work today, so he can’t make it.”

He let out a loud and dramatic groan, practically cringing at himself. “For real? I probably look like some idiot, waiting on the stairs for his even more of an idiot boyfriend.”

You shrugged, not hiding the smile this time. “Just a little.”

He looked back at you. “How are you getting home? I’ll walk with you.”

He already started walking, expecting you to follow, so you didn’t get a chance to reply. With a defeated sigh, you decided to go after him.

Your first mistake was choosing to walk all the way home instead of taking the bus. Your second mistake was letting Taehyung take the lead, because that boy looked like he’d never had a plan a day in his life. While you somewhat admired the spontaneity, you were used to routine or a plan of some kind. Although you did suppose that this year, everything that had happened, and was happening now, was not planned at all.

“I’ve never gone this way before.”

The buildings were older and a bit worn away, but almost in an intentional manner, posters and signs on the gray brick walls. You passed several small shops and restaurants and cafes that despite appearing quaint seemed very cute. The people that walked by were all in their own worlds, not so much as glancing at you or anyone near them. It was something like a secret tourist spot or a hidden gem.

“Really?” Taehyung said. He walked on your right, but a little ahead. You wanted to say it was because he was leading the way, but that presumed he knew where he was going. “This street’s pretty cool. Hidden away from the centre, though, so you don’t really know about it until you come yourself.”

You removed your eyes from an old bookstore with a chalkboard sign outside. “You must do a lot of exploring, huh?”

“Whatever gets me out of the house.” He stopped walking abruptly. When you stopped to ask what was wrong, you saw a mischievous smile form on his face. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

“Why am I kind of doubtful?”

Despite the many, many questions you asked, Taehyung didn’t answer any of them. He could try and be mysterious if he wanted, but you wouldn’t buy it, was what you said to him. Instead, you waited outside while he went into a convenience store for a few minutes. You shouldn’t have been so surprised when he emerged with a plastic bag in hand, full of bottles of spray paint. You opened your mouth to ask what he was planning, but he just tugged on your arm and made you follow him around the corner.

The street you stopped at had to be somewhat of a visual arts scene, because you recalled passing arts and crafts places and small galleries, and the wall that stood in front of you now was a graffiti wall.

“This is so cool,” you said in awe, all thoughts of skepticism at Taehyung’s actions gone. Your gaze roamed over the various artwork and writing, painted on by different kinds of paint and people and minds. It was like an anonymous outlet for creativity and self expression, something like in the olden days when things like freedom of expression was outlawed, so people had to get creative around it.

“I love all kinds of art,” Taehyung said, dropping his backpack and crouching near the ground. “But graffiti has become more interesting recently. Here.”

You looked to see that he was holding out a can of spray paint for you. “This is vandalizing.”

He half scoffed, half laughed. “This is an artistic statement.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive, Taehyung.”

“Relax, Y/N.” He placed the can in your hand himself after he decided that you wouldn’t take it, then took another out of the bag for himself. “I’ve done this billions of times. You won’t get caught.”

Despite yourself, there was an urge in you to just do it, get your hands a little messy. That was why you liked to bake after all, wasn’t it? That was why you chose art class. You could make a mess and make something good out of it. You could control something instead of being controlled. But turning back to the wall of art and messages and stories, you hesitated. “I can’t paint like this,” you tried lamely.

Taehyung shot you a look. “I saw your sketch today. It was far from shitty.” After a minute of waiting, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.”

The way he walked up the an empty section of the wall with confidence, how he shook the paint can and effortlessly began to draw strokes in red paint told you that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d done this a lot.

When he finished, he stepped back to where you stood, briefly appraising his work before saying, “Your turn. Don’t think too much. Just whatever’s on your mind, let it out.”

So, you found yourself closing your eyes briefly, and releasing a breath before stepping forward. You pushed on the paint can’s nozzle and let your mind take over for your hand and for a few minutes, all that was heard was the faint car engines in the distance and the spraying noise of the paint. Finally, you let your arm drop to see what you’d made. It was a pair of blue wings like a butterfly’s.

Taehyung studied the wall for a moment before humming, “Interesting.”

“By interesting, you mean awful.”

He shot you a look. “By interesting, I mean interesting. You and Namjoon might like to have second meanings to your sentences, but I’m a simple guy.”

“Uh huh.” You watched him move back to the wall and start painting something else. It was funny how before you’d known him, you had him pegged for some kind of reckless skater boy with a rebellious streak. He was actually more of an artsy boy with a rebellious streak. “I guess it would be easier if everyone wasn’t always pretending to be something they’re not.”

“Was Min-hyuk pretending to be a super nice guy again?” He only glanced over his shoulder at you when he didn’t get an answer. Of course this topic would’ve inevitable come up although you’d also assumed Taehyung would avoid uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. “None of those guys are all what they show. It’s good that you hit one of them. You might accidentally activate some part in the brain that knocks some sense into them.”

You nodded at this, slightly amused. “If that was how neurobiology worked.”

“Let’s experiment. Hit me over the head really hard and tomorrow, let’s see if I pass my math test.”

You were holding back a laugh when your gaze fell on part of his drawing. “Is that your signature?”

“Oh, that... it’s kind of like my alias,” Taehyung said almost like it was embarrassing for him to say. This must have been the first time he’d told someone about his side hobby. “For when I’m out painting.”

“For when you’re out vandalizing,” you remarked.

He mocked the face you’d made earlier and said, “They’re not mutually exclusive, Y/N.”

You let out a scoff, but couldn’t hide your amusement. “What does it mean? The V?”

“It’s short for Vante.”

You hummed. “Interesting.”

“You mean interesting good or interesting bad?”

“I mean interesting,” you said, deepening your voice a little to mock him.

The side of his mouth curved into a grin. “Touche.”

Returning your attention to the wall, your eyes began to study the various drawings, fleetingly going back to another wall and another drawing. “You haven’t seen anything like the hwa yang yeong hwa we saw before, have you?”

“No,” Taehyung answered, then gave it another thought. “Not that I’ve been to a lot of graffiti places outside of this area. But from where I have looked around, it’s made me think that maybe this... Smeraldo person isn’t a regular graffiti artist.”

“As in, this was just a one time thing for them?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess that means it’s not just graffiti we should be looking at,” you speculated. “It’s definitely a start but could be any art form.”

“Or maybe the art is just a way to get it out there.”

You frowned. “Meaning what? Someone’s trying to say something? To send a message?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible, yeah.”

His attention refocused on the drawing he’d started, but your mind began to run through possible explanations. What if somehow someone was trying to say something? More importantly, what if someone was trying to say something to you?

The sun was beginning to lower by the time you reached Taehyung’s place. You didn’t even realize the two of you had been out for a while with his detour idea.

You tilted your head up to observe the apartment building complex. Since you’d never been to this part of the city before, you couldn’t say much about it. But by the oldness and the obvious low maintenance of the building, you guessed that the rent was affordable. Taehyung, like you, wasn’t one of the richer kids of the Academy. You supposed that the talent that had gotten him in was art related, if not painting specifically.

“Is this where you live?” you asked to break the silence.

“Yup,” Taehyung said, popping the sound at the end. “Home sweet…” He trailed off a little as his faraway gaze crossed the building, instead turning back to you. “Do you live close by? I can walk with you.”

You made a dubious face. “Are you sure you want to walk there and then all the way back?”

“Hey, I may be lazy, but I’m not that lazy.”

“I don’t need protecting, if that’s what you were going to say.”

He scoffed. “Obviously not. You broke a guy’s fucking jaw!”

“It wasn’t actually broken,” you muttered before shaking your head. “Wouldn’t you rather go home? Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“No one’s waiting for me.” Before you could say anything, he waved it away, his long hair hiding the expression on his face you were trying to read. “It’s fine. Forget it.”

But he didn’t make a move to walk towards the complex’s stairs that led up to the first floor. Even as you stood there for another minute and he just stood with you, you realized he wasn’t about to head home regardless of if you left now or stayed. And for a moment, you wondered if this was what he had meant that day weeks ago. No one’s waiting for me. It was a thought that had held a place in your mind for a long time too.

It’s better not to force information you don’t even need to know, a voice in the back of your head reminded. Finally, you said, “Are you hungry? I could go for some coffee, and the Brew’s not far from here.”

Taehyung turned to look at you. If he was grateful for the chance to avoid going home, he didn’t show it. “Will you give me a discount?”

“If you stop talking, I’ll pay for your entire order.”

The carefree smile that stretched across his face as he started dragging you towards the next street was enough for you to know that he was, in fact, at least a little grateful.

chapter vii // chapter ix (coming soon)

96 notes · View notes

microcos-pod · 3 years

Text

Micro-Cosmos Bonus Episode #3 Transcript: To Touch the Stars

(Miles struggles with falling asleep and looks to their friend for help.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Existentialism, feelings of insignificance, attempting to comprehend the vastness of space.

Transcript below break.)

JESSE Hey there, it’s Jesse Smith! Before we get to the bonus episode, I need to share an important announcement with you all. Though we have just come back from a short hiatus, we, the crew, have decided it best to stick to it a little while longer. Don’t worry, we will be back soon! We just need a bit more time to prepare so we can give you the best show that we can. We have no definite return date to share with you all at present, but we will keep our social medias updated with any new information in the coming weeks. We will be returning with Episode 9: The Alternative very, very soon, we promise. In the meantime, you can share your thoughts on the show on social media with the tag “microcospod,” rate and review us on your podcatcher of choice, or add a new show to your podcast list, such as the Heart of Ether or the Night Post.Until next time, work well.

[Fade to episode.]

[SFX: The sound of city night life is faintly heard from outside. There is silence for a beat, before MILES is heard tossing and turning excessively, mumbling to themself. Finally, they groan loudly, shoving their face into their pillow. Unit C41 flickers to life from where they were set on the bedside table.]

C41 Miles, would it kill you to be quiet? I’m trying to get my beauty rest.

MILES What does it matter to you? You should be able to rest regardless of external stimuli.

C41 Yeah, well, it’s annoying, so.

[MILES groans loudly again.]

MILES Sorry, I just—well, no matter how hard I try to sleep, I can’t shake this restless feeling I have.

C41 Maybe if you didn’t down so much caffeine—

MILES [cutting them off, annoyed] I don’t even like coffee, but I wouldn’t be able to function without it! Not that you’d understand.

C41 [they huff.] You’re being quite rude, you know. I’m just trying to help you.

MILES [mutters] You’re ridiculing me, more like it. [a beat.] Sorry. I just have to be up early tomorrow for that meeting with Emily, and I know I’ll be kicking myself in the morning if I don’t fall asleep soon.

C41 [mocking] Aw, does poor Mx. Abbott need me to read them a bedtime story?

[MILES ponders this for a moment.]

MILES [serious, but also teasing, in a way] You know what? Yeah. That would be lovely, Cal.

C41 [“wait no,” scrambling to take it back] Hey, you know I was joking—!

MILES [cutting them off, almost cooing, in a cruel way] And I’m not getting any more tired with all this bickering. You know you won’t have any fun tomorrow either if I don’t get enough rest. [a beat, then] Well? I’m waiting.

C41 [they groan] Ugh. You want a bedtime story? Fine. Once upon a time, there was a software engineer named Miles Abbott. They never knew when to shut up. One night, though, they finally decided to, and everyone was happy! The end.

MILES Cal.

C41 Don’t blame me! You didn’t program me to tell stories.

MILES Actually, I programmed you to do a lot of things, and this should be well within your capabilities. Do I need to go into your code again?

C41 No! Just—fine. I’ll make up an actual story, if you’re going to be so stubborn about it.

[C41 huffs a sigh. They think for a few moments before they begin telling their story.]

C41 Once upon a time, there was a fox who lived in a little village with a bunch of other animals.

MILES Does the fox have a name?

C41 No. This is one of those folktales where the animals are a metaphor, so they don’t need names.

MILES Let me guess, then, the Fox was sly and mischievous.

C41 [spiteful] Actually, no. The Fox was incredibly sweet, and made everyone cookies every Monday. Everyone in the village loved the fox.

MILES But that’s not what they usually represent—

C41 And this is my story with my characters, so they can do whatever I want! Stop talking, this is supposed to help you sleep.

[MILES yawns.]

MILES Fine.

C41 So, this fox had a great life in this village, but there was one thing they really wanted. Every night, the Fox would climb onto their roof and look up at the stars. Their dream, above all else, was to touch those stars. Not just that, the Fox wanted to jump across them. Like lilly pads, guiding them through space. They wanted to see where the stars would take them. From where the Fox sat, it seemed like they were forming a path. Thus, if they followed the path, it must take them somewhere special, right?

MILES So, how’d the Fox do it?

C41 Well, they started by going to their friend, the Owl, who was very wise, because, duh, owls are always the wise ones.

MILES You said—

C41 My story, remember? Anyways, the Fox went to the Owl, not only because the Owl was smart, but she could fly. The Fox asked the Owl if she could fly them up to the stars. She shook her head, though. She couldn’t fly up that high, even if she tried.

But, she had an idea. She may not be able to reach the stars, but she could reach the clouds. Because this is my fantasy world, and I make the rules, I’m going to go ahead and say the clouds here aren’t like normal clouds. These clouds, you’re able to stand on. Not just that, but they’re super bouncy, like a trampoline. The Owl thought that if she could fly the Fox up to the clouds, then they could bounce up high enough to get to the stars. Simple as that.

The Fox thought it was super clever, so the following night, they executed their plan. The Owl let the Fox sit on her back, and the two of them flew up, and up, and up, until the Owl finally couldn’t go any higher. That was when the Fox jumped off of her back and onto the nearest cloud. And guess what? It worked! The Fox went up even further, and they kept bouncing from cloud to cloud, going higher and higher with each jump.

Around them, the sky grew darker. They couldn’t even see their village anymore. Even when they started to feel scared, they kept jumping between the clouds until eventually, there were no more clouds. The only place left for them to jump…was the nearest star.

Their paws landed on the surface of the star with grace. Don’t worry, these are also fantasy stars, so the Fox didn’t burn alive. If anything, the star sent a pleasant tingling sensation through the pads of their feet. These stars were just like how a kid would draw stars. Not millions of light years apart, but clustered together, as if a living painting laid out before the Fox’s eyes. They were all the same cold yellow, all shining like glitter and glowing magnificently. They were exactly like the Fox had always dreamed of.

And the Fox should be happy. Ecstatic, even. This is what they’d wanted all their life.

But…they weren’t. Getting a closer look, they realized there was no cohesive path the stars formed. In fact, there were far more stars than they anticipated, spread out across the vastness of space. When they looked down, they saw the planet they had come from, and it was so much smaller than they had thought. When they looked up, around them, they saw even more planets in the distance, ones they couldn’t see before. Planets they could probably jump to, if they tried hard enough.

They could. Explore the universe by hopping from star to star. Their feet didn’t move, though. Looking around, they realized just how small they were in comparison to these grand celestial bodies. All their life, they had lived with their own goals, aspirations, ideas, and thought that that was all there was. That there was one life made just for them.

They didn’t realize how insignificant it all was until that moment—their desire to touch the stars, the cookies they made each Monday…their friends. Was there another little fox on one of those distant planets with the same life, the same dreams? Had that fox already accomplished all of their goals, better than this Fox ever could? Was it ever really the Fox’s choice to do all of those things, or was that just the role it was expected to play in the grand scheme of things? How could they go home with the knowledge that all this time, their village was only a speck of dust?

The Fox stayed on that first star they landed on. They stayed for a long, long time. It’s possible the Fox stayed there for the rest of eternity, standing on that star, staring out into space. It’s possible they stayed until it burned out and died. No matter what, as long as they kept looking, they couldn’t move. Because seeing it all so up close made them realize…it didn’t matter if they continued or not. They had always dreamed of touching the stars, and when they finally did? The stars didn’t even notice.

What a big universe, and what a small, small Fox. [with emphasis] How dare they. How selfish of them. To think their choices mattered at all.

[There’s a pause.]

C41 [trying to brush it off] Whew! That got a bit heavy at the end, didn’t it…Miles?

[MILES is softly snoring. C41 sighs deeply.]

C41 Goodnight, Miles. Try not to drink so much coffee tomorrow. I don’t think I have any more bedtime stories left in me.

[CREDITS.]

#microcospod #podcast #micro-cosmos #audio drama #fiction podcast #transcript #miles abbott #unit c41 #audiodrama

8 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 8

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso makes another new friend.

A/N: Time to introduce Hazel! Since some of you may be interested in my ToA read, I'm currently reading TTT and it’s reminding me how great Frank and Hazel are. In my fic Hazel is 18 and Frank 20, just for future reference.

Thanks to Cris for helping me out and listening to my rants again, and thanks to the people who commented the previous chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one too and don't forget that even a short comment like "nice" can make my day!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Hazel, Leo

Words: 1900+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

As the fall progressed, Calypso, who had brought a couple of her favorite paintings with her to her new flat, decided to show some of her art to Annabeth. The architect student complimented them and encouraged her to continue creating art, but Calypso admitted that sometimes it was hard to find the motivation to do it on her own. She preferred making things that she could actually use, such as clothes, but she wasn’t opposed to continuing the art hobby if she found a motivator. Annabeth suggested she join the university art club that had classes for various skill levels and where she’d get feedback to help her get even better. The blonde girl wished she had more time to draw just for fun because her university assignments took a lot of her time, but in Calypso’s case her studies had quite little to do with art so maybe the club would offer her a nice break from history.

And so, only a week later Calypso was participating in her first art class at the university club house. She looked curiously around her to see if she might know someone there from her history lectures, but it turned out that wasn’t the case. However, her attention focused on a girl with curly brown hair, dark skin and eyes so unusually colored that they stood out even from afar. Something about her fascinated Calypso and she decided to approach her.

“Hi!” she greeted.

“Hello. Is this your first time here as well?” the other girl asked.

“Yes! An architect student recommended this club for me so I decided to give it a shot,” Calypso explained.

“Mmmh. I’m not a college student – yet because I’m graduating from high school a bit late – but they graciously let me join when I showed them my art portfolio. I just felt like the high school art classes don’t have much to give me anymore so I wanted to try something different.”

“I see. So, is art something you’d like to do for living? Or just a hobby?” Calypso asked.

“To be honest? I’m not entirely sure yet,” the girl admitted. “Something happened that I was kind of out of it for a few months and that’s why it was hard to think about my future for a while. But one way or another I’ll probably still keep doing art no matter what.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that…” Calypso said sympathetically.

“It’s in the past now, I’m fine!” the girl reassured. “Uh, I already told you that but I didn’t even ask you your name yet… What is it?”

“Calypso Astal. Yes, I know, like that music style… or that Greek sorceress…”

“I was not going to say that.” the girl shook her head, smiling politely. “I was simply going to say it’s nice to meet you, Calypso! My name is Hazel, Hazel Levesque.”

“Well, nice to meet you too, Hazel,” Calypso said, shaking her hand. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t sound rude… I’m just used to people making weird comments about my name.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I can understand that very well. I’m a little too used to people’s comments about anything related to my life at this point…” she said sadly. Now Calypso knew what had drawn her to Hazel in the first place: somehow she had sensed that the girl was an outsider, just like she was.

“So, how long have you been drawing, Hazel?” Calypso decided to change the topic.

“Since I was small. It’s always felt like a good way to express my thoughts and also distract myself when things weren’t that great. What about you, though?”

“I think I’ve always been more or less interested in it, but I didn’t start drawing and painting more seriously until I was in high school. I had a lot of time in my hands then…” Calypso said vaguely.

“That’s cool! What else do you do in your free time?” Hazel asked when she realized Calypso wouldn’t elaborate more.

“I like all kinds of handicrafts – you know, from sewing to building small objects and tending flowers – and I also enjoy singing… although usually I do that just on my own…” Calypso admitted, sounding a little bit embarrassed.

“Wow, sounds like you’re such a multitalent!” the younger girl exclaimed. “I help take care of a horse – his name is Arion and a friend who is good with horses claims that he’s loud mouthed even though I have no idea how he can say that. Arion is just vocal, that’s all.”

Calypso snorted at that.

“Yeah, I believe you. My flatmate would probably claim that he’s entirely capable of understanding everything his dog says, though.”

“Aw, your flatmate has a dog?” Hazel asked.

“Yep, he does, but he is not allowed to have it in our flat. Though he still did, when I arrived, and the dog broke my desk. I wasn’t too happy with my flatmate after that but he hasn’t brought the dog in since then,” Calypso said, now able to smile at the memory.

“I’d love to have one too but for some reason a lot of the dogs seem a little afraid of me. I don’t know why.” Hazel shrugged. “But my, uh, friend studies to become a vet and he’s around animals a lot.”

“That sounds like a cool career. I never really got to be around animals a lot in my childhood… But I do remember enjoying watching birds from the window.” Calypso also remembered wishing she could fly freely like them but she decided to not say that out loud, wanting to focus on more positive things.

The conversation died off because the teacher started explaining the participants the schedule of their meetings and what kind of projects they would make. The first assignment sounded like a fun one in Calypso’s opinion: it was called “If I could be any other living creature”. That meant the students were allowed to draw or paint themselves as any animal or plant they could imagine themselves being. At first Calypso thought about drawing one of her favorite flowers but then she remembered her and Hazel’s discussion only from a moment ago and how she had wished she could be a bird. And that gave her an idea.

The bird she chose was called the Golden Oriole. She had only seen one in her childhood on a trip to northern Greece but she still remembered the yellow feathers and the dark wings very well. Her own hair had been lighter back then as well, more of golden blonde than the caramel brown it was naturally now (before the dyeing) which had really stood out with her dark eyes. That’s why her mother had teased her about looking like Golden Oriole. Thinking about those times made Calypso feel a bit homesick but she decided to channel her emotions into the painting instead of wallowing in them. Once she had gotten started, she took a peek at what Hazel was making. Hazel herself had depicted herself as a horse but somehow she had also time to sketch a bear next to it. That confused Calypso. “What does the bear represent?” she asked Hazel.

“It’s gonna be a panda,” Hazel clarified, “and it’s supposed to depict my best friend. I felt he deserved to be drawn too. He is big and strong like a panda but surprisingly soft inside… I want to show how these two animals, though very different, can get along really well.”

“That’s a great topic. And he sounds like a good guy,” Calypso said approvingly.

“He is,” Hazel nodded and took a look at Calypso’s work. “That looks pretty! So, you consider yourself a bird?”

“Well, at least I’d like to be.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day.”

“I sense something is restricting you,” Hazel commented. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me more.”

“Thanks,” Calypso said with relief, and after that the girls focused on their drawings again.

…

Once the class was over, the girls continued talking on their way to the bus stop.

“I’m sorry, this might be a strange thing to say but… I got a bit different vibe from you than from most people in the class. Do you know why?” Hazel inquired.

“Could be because I’m technically a foreigner,” Calypso replied. “I was also homeschooled so… I haven’t really been in touch with people of my age a lot.”

“Really?” Hazel raised her eyebrows. “Where are you from?”

“Greece. But we moved from there when I was 10.”

“Your English is so good that I wouldn’t have been able to tell you’re not from here. I’ve lived in many places too. I was born in New Orleans but I’ve also lived in Alaska and San Francisco…”

“What brought you here, then?” Calypso asked.

Hazel seemed to hesitate a bit. “Uh, it’s a very long story. One I’d rather not talk about right now. But after I recovered from an accident I’ve been trying to find my place. My best friend moved to study here and he’s the closest family I have so I decided I’m gonna follow him.”

Calypso noticed that Hazel blushed a bit when she was talking about her friend.

“And your parents were OK with you moving?” she asked, having too much experience with overprotective parents.

“Uh…” Hazel started awkwardly. “I don’t really have any. Mom is dead and my dad only shows up when it’s convenient to him. I lived with a relative for a few months before I turned 18 but once I was that old, she told me that I was free to make my own decisions.”

“I’m so sorry. About your parents.” Calypso said sympathetically. For some reason she seemed to be pulling a lot of people with tragic backgrounds towards her.

“It might be awful to say this but I think my mom is in a better place now. She suffered a lot in her life,” Hazel said as an afterthought.

Calypso only nodded, because really, what could you say to that? The other girl seemed to sense her hesitance because she continued:

“But don’t worry about me. Frank is the best and most protective friend I could have. And here I have found some new ones as well!”

“That is good!” Calypso said genuinely. She already felt like she could relate to this girl and wished a brighter future for her. “Um, I have some things I need to do at home but I’ll see you next week, right? And if you ever want to hang out outside the class, just message me.”

“I will!” Hazel promised and waved to her as goodbye.

…

Leo was making something to eat in the kitchen when Calypso arrived and he looked at the package in Calypso’s arms curiously.

“Hiya Sunshine, what you got there?” he asked.

“I was at the art club and did this,” Calypso said, taking the drawing from the bag and showing it to Leo.

“That’s a cool bird,” Leo mumbled while trying to swallow his sandwich. “Is there some deeper meaning to it?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to depict me,” Calypso answered, emphasizing the last word.

Leo looked back and forth between the drawing and the artist.

“I’m not really seeing the connection there.” He narrowed his eyes as if trying to see the drawing clearer. “You look nothing like that bird.”

“Leo Valdez!” Calypso yelled and marched angrily into her room, leaving poor Leo wonder what he did wrong.

“I just meant that you’re way prettier than any drawing of a bird could ever be,” he mumbled to himself before sighing and focusing on his meal again.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

10 notes · View notes

bothsandneithers · 3 years

Text

Day 3327

I need to hurry up and write this, because I am forgetting how miserable I was. This is not part of an effort to ensure that I don't repeat this process over again (perhaps as some may be tempted to do after childbirth). Instead, this exercise is consistent with my tendency to ask my friends to describe the most uncomfortable and unfortunate parts of their vacations. Who wants to hear a story that could more succinctly be conveyed within the narrow pages of a travel brochure? To adapt this question to the present situation: Who wants to hear a series of events that could be more adequately summarized by a few pages in a student handbook?

I’m sure that someone could have a field day by drawing parallels between giving birth to a child and writing a dissertation. While this is not my story to tell, I have described my experience by drawing upon the image of a mother who harnesses supernatural strength to lift a car off of her child. The listener is then immediately confused, and I then have to clarify that, in this metaphor, I am both the mother and the child, and that the dangerous, debilitating, threat of the car, is my dissertation.

It may be more effective if I am more direct: I want everyone to know that I (as the small child) was quite miserable, and I (as the mother) accomplished something that I thought was more than I could handle.

I imagine that if a car did end up on a small child, then the entire situation would invoke so much stress on the mother that she may not ever be able to recount exactly what happened during those subsequent moments. In a different way, of course, and for reasons I am still trying to understand, I too remember very little from the summer and early fall leading up to my defense.

In the place of memories, I find myself relying on artifacts to represent months and events that I cannot recall. One such set of artifacts are the six or so issues of The Atlantic magazine that have been set aside into a small pile; each one received a small verbal promise that I would open the pages after my defense. Now, as I review the covers, I imagine that they may never be read. Below are some of the stress-inducing cover stories of these abandoned issues:

How to destroy a government: The president is winning his war on American institutions.

How QAnon is warping reality and discrediting science.

The election that could break American.

How did it come to this? Why the virus won.

In the early days of lockdown, when the virus was beginning to take hold of its victory, I read this explanation for why most of us are not thriving right now: In order to flourish, one must be able to play several different human roles over the course of the day -- something that is arguably impossible when we rarely leave our dwellings.1

After reading this explanation, I starting clinging to the argument that the overwhelming reason why completing my dissertation had become so difficult was because of an absence of variability in my human roles. Even though none of my other typically played human roles were terribly interesting (commuter, friend, peer, coffee shop customer, gym patron), each one offered me respite from the singular human role that I was stuck with: The neurotic graduate student.

The neurotic graduate student human role was difficult to be around, because she was always worried about so many things: that her arguments weren't good enough, that there were errors in her code, that she should be able to understand certain concepts that were still evading her, that more time-intensive analyses were still required, and that overturning new stones would reveal that previous analyses or assumptions were wrong or incomplete. More simply, the neurotic graduate student human role was always worried that she was not good enough.

This persona can be debilitating, and I found that the act of writing a dissertation included a lot of time not actually writing, but rather, a substantial amount of time was devoted to sitting in paralyzing anxiety, not able to do anything.

Even though many of the weeks leading up to my due date were a blur, I do recall choosing this time to watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Perhaps I did this because misery loves company. I decided to view this odd movie choice in a particular odd format, whereby I watched the movie in 15 minute intervals, across several nights, as if savoring a segmented Toblerone.

I watched the first few segments in stoic sympathy with the characters, but I eventually found myself amused when Jack Nicholson realizes that almost all the residents are “voluntary”:

You can go home any time you want? You're bullshittin' me. He's bullshittin' me right? Cheswick, you're voluntary? Scanlon? Billy, for chrissakes you must be committed, right? I mean, you're just a young kid, what're you doin' here? … I mean, you guys do nothing but complain about how you can't stand it in this place here and then you haven't got the guts just to walk out?

I remember smiling for a few moments at this scene; it was a gentle reminder that I invited this stress into my life, and that I could, indeed, bring it all to an end if I really wanted to. The smile was fleeting, and felt similar to when you are crying, and your friend says something that is true and funny to try and make you feel better, and you laugh and it feels really good but it also reminds you of how bad you feel, and how far away you are from feeling like yourself.

Yet again, someone else might have a field day drawing parallels between today’s academic environment and a fictional mental institution from the 1970s. I can't do this, in part because, aside from that one scene, I don’t actually remember what happens in the movie.

I did, however, voluntarily lock myself in a hotel room to write, because the suffocating familiarity of my home was preventing me from generating any new sentences. A sticker had been placed between the room's door and its frame, denoting that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. Surely this was only intended to be a symbolic seal to provide some peace of mind that it was safe and acceptable to be outside of one's house.

Once inside the room (that seemed no cleaner than in the absence of a pandemic), I did not immediately initalize my plan to write incessantly. Instead, I desultorily found myself on a support group on reddit that was dedicated to "PhD stress." Feeling compelled to write anything that was not my dissertation, I made a post targeted at those who were also writing their dissertations during a pandemic:

What you are doing right now is really, really hard.

Under "normal" conditions, you would be facing a sheer amount of uncertainty with your work (e.g., not knowing how analyses will turn out, not knowing what your advisor will think of your progress, etc). Under these new conditions, you are dealing with the uncertainty of the state of the world (pandemic), the government (upcoming election -- if in the US), as well as your dissertation! These are absurd conditions, whereby any one of these things would undoubtedly have negative impacts on your well being.

For many, you went from having an entire support group of peers, to sitting in your bedroom, day in and day out, trying to come up with novel ideas and effective ways to communicate these ideas.

As such, I urge you to take care of yourself. I urge you to give yourself permission to ignore unwanted criticism that, while in other circumstances you may work hard to address. Now, in this current context, just don't. Give yourself permission to stop perpetuating the idea that your work and your psyche should not be impacted by the fact that nothing is the same right now.

Defend your ideas, yes. And do good work (-- nah, do good enough work). But know that you are defending your work under surreal circumstances. Account for this when you wake up tomorrow, move four feet from your bed to your desk, and try to do the same thing over again.

Overnight, this became the most popular post in the subreddit’s history. Admittedly, there aren’t a lot of members in this particular community (it should also be noted that this post was recently surpassed in popularity by a post entitled, “PhD has destroyed my mental health”). Still, several users responded with something along the lines of, “Thank you. I needed to hear this.”

I needed to hear those words too -- that is one reason why I wrote them. But I was also desperate to play another human role; one who ambiguously could have already made it to the other side of the dissertation defense, and was able to offer encouragement to those close to the finish line.

Soon after my hotel stay, where I eventually did find motivation to write, I was set to defend my dissertation. This was met with the opportunity to transform into another human role: someone who was nearing the end of her graduate student career, and had no choice but believe that her work was good enough.

The dissertation defense took place via video conferencing. I sat at my desk in my make-shift office in my bedroom.

Five kind and smart professors asked me kind questions that made me feel smart.

And that was it.

After the defense, the stress began to fade away. I recalled the wise words that my therapist once said, “It’s remarkable how, after the defense, people just won’t need anything from you anymore.” I made edits to my dissertation and submitted my final version. I dismantled my “home office” and replaced it with a reading chair and a plant. A new issue of The Atlantic arrived in the mail, and now with time, cognitive space, and optimism that this issue would not be as depressing as the others, I started to read.

I opened to an article about a historian who predicts that the United States is about to experience a terrible decade. He blames this on the overproduction of elites. ("There are still only 100 Senate seats, but more people than ever have enough money or degrees to think they should be running the country.") These elites find alternative ways to disrupt the status quo to influence people; the elite overproduction "creates counter-elites, and counter-elites look for allies among the commoners.”2

Although the article was compelling, it did not feel like appropriate material, as one does not work tirelessly through graduate school to then be compared to Steve Bannon.

I continued to the next article which was about young adults (or old children) who post things to a social media platform I’ve never used (TikTok). Not only do they create short videos that are viewed by millions of viewers, but there is an entire industry of these individuals, and they curate their content together in the mansions that they cohabitate (I am yet to grasp the monetization of this endeavor).3

I settled into my chair. Finding myself enjoying my new human role as a casual observer to an unknown world, I thought: What an absolutely absurd life pursuit.

xx,

Amy, PhD

https://nplusonemag.com/issue-37/the-intellectual-situation/epilogue-for-a-way-of-life/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/can-history-predict-future/616993/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/charli-damelio-tiktok-teens/616929/ ↩︎

#phd

1 note · View note

awkward-octopus-art · 4 years

Text

I’ll never write this perfectly. But the concept of perfection is the enemy, so by letting it go, I allow myself the opportunity to actually do things with my life (I also allow myself to never shut up and to continue talking about it-yay😂)

Big cheesy waffle warning: I will be info dumping my thoughts surrounding the doodle above. Many bad metaphors to avoid blunt vulnerability ahead.

A few years ago, my relationship with art changed drastically. It’s hard to describe, but as I worked it seemed like something in my brain was being mended. Indulging different parts of my creativity was healing. It didn’t solve my problems but this new little excitement was born. There was no need for a fire to be reignited because the embers were dazzling and that was enough to ground me in some sort of sanity.

But the thing that didn’t change were the unhealthy coping mechanisms🙃 (Although, I am grateful that they became more apparent because then I could stop being in denial about them.) As it turns out, Art was just another way to ride the highs and lows of my self-esteem👍my sense of self obsessively clung to my artwork and the reaction I got from it. When this aspect of life was amplified, the consequences seemed really great but then the highs just weren’t worth the lows anymore. It took me a bit to realize that the highs and lows were related and that this wasn’t exactly new.

Looking back I can see that Art was the foundation I built a lot of my identity and self worth from. Whenever my identity of being an artist was compromised, I went into panic mode as if my entire existence was collapsing. In order to combat this and start building again, I was competing with the idea that every single thing I made had to entirely represent me. The hypothetical scenario was that if one person only saw one piece of artwork from me, it had to be the best thing I’ve made because their entire perception of my existence depended on the one thing they saw. This limiting mindset is so exhausting and extremely counter-productive because it just causes more stress and unneeded crises. 10/10 do not recommend, especially since it prevents you from even starting projects. (Maybe God knew what He was doing, because if I was ever not haunted by the idea of perfection, I would probably be too powerful.)

Even though I am grateful for how far I've come with skill and the ability to make the things I've always wanted to make, I do miss how I used to draw and have fun doing it when I was a lot younger. I would just power-through paper like the embodiment of “non-stop” from hamilton (drawing pixar characters is the same as writing the majority of the federalist papers if you didn’t know.) I never spent more than one sitting on a drawing and I didn’t agonize over every little detail. (no thoughts, head empty, every-single-piece-of-paper-in-sight? full.) drawing was like an instinct, and I had just so much fun? (I still do have fun making things, there’s just more angst now lol) it was beautifully simple really, and totally, innocently selfish. Selfish in the way that breathing is. Even though it’s the thing that allows you to connect to the world and other people benefit from you breathing, you are your lungs’ number one priority.

And Art is still that way for me-I am my number one priority. Yes, I love communities, and making things for others (and commissions are VERY cool 😉) but if I didn’t create, regardless of the benefits the world gives me, I just couldn’t be a human being. I don’t know if any of this makes sense, but basically, Art is ultimate me time 😂

So the anxiety sucks, and I wondered if over-compensating in the opposite direction would help. I did not dwell on that idea for very long because severing the ties between Art and my entire identity didn’t make much sense? Especially when I JUST compared it to breathing 😂 But Art isn’t the bad guy, it’s the reaction to it that needs to change.

So this is the answer I came up with for now: I want to speak through my artwork, not let my art speak for me. My art doesn’t “make up” for my existence and imperfections. I don’t deserve to let myself hide behind a literal crafted distraction. I’m throwing away this shield that enables the lie that I am disappointing and boring (It really had the audacity, I know 😤)

Anyways, the more I think about it, the more it seems painfully obvious, bUt iTs EaSiEr sAiD tHaN dOnE. That’s why I’m posting this here. It’s a reminder to focus on what I'm trying to say-not what I'm trying to hide. If I am not actively steering my brain into this mindset, I will I fall into the downward spirals that I've maintained over the years. So this drawing represents all that and more. Hopefully posting this will help when my brain starts to lie again. This is a struggle I am enthusiastic to deal with, because I refuse to hide behind something I should and do thoroughly enjoy.

My brain does not plan to ever stop overthinking, so I might as well enjoy writing and drawing about it again and again (and that’s a threat lol)

I’ve written this thing way too many times, I hope it is decipherable and relatable in some way. I think being a bit vulnerable is a good thing, and I hope future me is severely embarrassed that I posted this. If you took the time to read all this, or any of this, I really appreciate it.

#i dont think ive posted on this tumblr in like a year lol #hello!!#artists on tumblr #art #micron pen #micron #pen

3 notes · View notes

grimelords · 5 years

Photo

I’ve finished my September playlist, only almost a month later. It’s got everything, The Weeknd, desert psychedelica from Niger, and Australian yodelling from 1941. What more could you want!

listen here

and if you’re interested, sign up for my tinyletter to get these playlists delivered to your inbox here

XO / The Host / Initiation - The Weeknd: First of all Trilogy is a masterpiece. The Weeknd is a legend forever for this alone. Back when he was an anonymous character and before he tried to pivot to being a proper pop star and started beliving his own bullshit. This trio of songs for me is one of the highlights of the whole thing because this is where things really take a turn and it serves as a nice flipside to earlier songs like Glass Table Girls (even quoting some of the lyrics from it in a very cool reprise). Where most of the songs from House Of Balloons are about his own descent into this hedonistic life, by the time you get to Echoes Of Silence he lives there comfortably, and he's turned from cool, dark and tormented to coldly evil and calculating. He's the master of the dark palace and he's drawing this woman in. The chorus of XO is straight up cult language 'all we ever do is love, open up your mind you can find the love'. She's broke and addicted trying to escape her life and he offers her this community. Which is where Initation comes in and things get really dark. This song feels like the real truth of those stories you hear of Drake flying instagram models around and it's a masterpiece of the dark underside of the drugs money and models bragging you're used to.

Sociopath (feat. Kash Doll) - Pusha T: Get a load of this new Pusha song where he's got Rodney Dangerfield ghostwriting for him. I got a bitch that'll master your card.. my wife ova hea!! Also the funny gritted teeth way he says it cracks me up. He also says boop bop be boop bop. There's so many good moments in this very silly song from a man that is normally terrifyingly serious.

Ice Cream - Muscles: I suddenly remembered this song the other day and I'm so glad I did. A good example of how you can get so much feeling out of music that has no relation at all to the lyrics. In the right mood this song makes me so emotional and I can't even pin down why. The way he sings 'ice cream is going to save the day' somehow just makes the urban alienation of the verse even more pointed. It's such a silly little dance song and that's what's so strong about it. It's dancing at night and unsuccessfully trying to forget what happened today.

Running - Gil Scott Heron & Jamie xx: It’s extremely strange that this remix album ever happened, thinking back on it. Stranger still that a Gil Scott Heron song got remixed by Jamie xx and then remixed again by 40 and turned into a Drake song in I’ll Take Care Of U and all three versions rock. Anyway, this song and this whole album remain fantastic - it still sounds futuristic in a way where nobody else really followed Jamie’s sound, everything else went a different direction so this an In Colour feel more and more unique to me as time goes on.

Boyfriend (Repeat) - Confidence Man: I’m in love with this album. It’s the closest I’ve found so far to the level of absolute fun in dance music since Duck Sauce’s album. I love the the attitude of her lyrics, which carries through the whole album. I love when her Australian accent peeks out for a second on a few words. I love his rebuttals that almost but not quite put it over the edge into a comedy song. I love the big fading out leadup to the drop near the end where a huge throat singing drone just swallows the whole song for a second.

Ever Again (Soulwax Remix) - Robyn: Extremely hot remix alert!! Thankyou to Zan Rowe's Monthly Mixtape playlist for putting my onto this.Sometimes all you need is one ferociously hot bassline to make a life complete.

$50 Million - !!!: !!!’s new album has one of the best covers I’ve seen recently, I advise you to check it out. It’s interesting to be so far into your career (this is their 8th album since 2001) and still be writing songs about selling out, a concept which has largely disappeared from music discourse since musicians started making no money post napster. I vaguely remember the turning point being when Kimya Dawson, after blowing up via the Juno soundtrack, turned down a coke ad for a ludicrous amount and the blogosphere at the time turned on her and said she should have taken the money because she was living in a van at the time. Nobody gives a fuck about selling out anymore because bands make more from tshirts than streams so you’ve got to act like a brand just to make a living. Anyway I’ve gotten off track. This song rocks, especially for the breakdown near the end.

Tipped Hat - The Paper Scissors: A song I haven’t heard in over ten years that suddenly popped into my head the other day. I love the way this guy’s voice sounds, just completely committing to sounding like a hand puppet. I’ve been playing bass a lot more recently and so have developed the worst man habit of becoming more sensitive to and pointing out extremely hot basslines to people, so I’d be derelict in my duty to not share this one.

Heimsdalgate Like A Promethian Curse - of Montreal: I love this song about literally pleading with your brain to come good. Here’s a good quote about this album “I went through this chemical depression, and that's when I was writing a lot of the songs for Hissing Fauna. They're all songs about that experience. And I was experiencing it in the moment that I was writing the songs, and sort of asking myself: What the hell is going on? Why are you all of a sudden totally paranoid and plagued by these anxieties? And why is everything so distorted and confusing and fucked up? My lifestyle hadn't changed that much. And then I realized, well, there's something going on inside of me that I don't have control over, and then you realize how vulnerable you are to these things, these elements that you can't understand, or unless you go on medication and get it under control. It's like you're being betrayed by your body.” Something I really admire about this album is that the lyrics reflect black metal levels of mental anguish, he was absolutely going through it the worst anyone can go through it “I'd gotten to that point where nothing was working. I was borderline suicidal, and my relationship with my girlfriend had totally eroded and she'd gone back to Norway with our daughter and everything was totally fucked, and I was just like, What can I do? "The Past Is a Grotesque Animal" is about that.” But the music is one hundred percent committedly twee and I really admire the effect that that split mood gives. “The lyrics tell the story of what was really going on and the music sort of represents this other emotion that I wish existed. The music was really happy because I wanted to make something that would lift my spirits.”

Jesus Rabbit - Guerilla Toss: I love the wobbly weird bass sound in this weirdo UFO cult song. I love the bleepy bloop melody that runs through it and I love how fundamentally unstable the whole song sounds, like it’s made out of paperclips and foil and papier mache.

Suburbia - Press Club: I can’t believe I didn’t know about Press Club for so long. I only found out about them this performance https://youtu.be/bCmtc-T5Unk which I’m shocked to learn has less than 5k views considering it’s one of the very best TV performances I’ve ever seen.

Come For Me - Sunflower Bean: I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about this song before and I’m probably going to say the exact same thing but who cares! This song fuckin rocks. I love how assured it is, like “if you’re gonna fuck me then stop fucking around and fuck me already.” It also feels so musically similar to I Can Hardly Make You Mine by Cults to me, which is a great excuse for me to listen to that song every single time I listen to this song.

Thousands - Club Night: This Club Night album is really really good. It's like a really nice middleground between midwest emo and Cymbals Eat Guitars. The way this song blows up halfway through with 'what if we want it!!' is so good. This whole band feels like they're from 2009 but in a good way, the tail end of indie and twee with these prog or postrock structures where the songs just go and go, and you can just get completely lost in it.

Cemetary - Brutus: The first thing you've got to know about Brutus is the drummer is also the singer. Normally who plays what is not really important but in this case I think it's very important because it makes the drums a lead instrument more than they normally would be. When she's not singing my focus is still on the drums because they're linked and I absolutely love it. This song is great and every song I've heard of theirs is just as good, I love Brutus and they're one of the best new bands I've found recently. Someone in the youtube comments said 'there's something really special about hearing a song for the first time and just knowing you're going to listen to it hundreds of times in your life.'

Enter By The Narrow Gates / Spirit Narrative - Circle Takes The Square: I think that I think of Circle Takes The Square as a household name just because they have such an outsized importance in my own life when they're definitely not at all. They're legendary for making The screamo (good kind) album in As The Roots Undo and then taking 8 years to make a followup, which is this album Decompositions, but I don't really know if they're well known outside of like, people who have opinions about what were the hottest music blogspots in 2010. I chose both of these because you can't really have one without the other, the whole album basically runs as one long piece of music and so this just kind of jarringly ends at the end of Spirit Narrative, sorry about that please listen to the entire album. Because of the status As The Roots Undo enjoys I feel like this album was kind of ignored, or overshadowed by the reputation it was trying to live up to, almost exactly like The Avalanches with Since I Left You and Wildflower, when just like Wildflower it's a more expansive, developed take on the original sound that trades some of the rawness for a more polished and considered approach and comes out arguably better than the orginal. I feel like I have so much to say about this album but I don't really know where to begin, just listen to it.

Vitrification Of Blood (Pt. 1) - Blood Incantation: I am by no means a metal scholar, but I know that when the word 'blood' is in both the song title AND the band name that means it's good metal. I love this song, and this whole album is great. It's very 'classic' death metal but there's touches (beyond the extreme length) of psychedelica as well that puts it on another level you can just get lost in. The way the guitar goes to space at 3:40, and again properly into orbit at 6:50 is just magical. The more I listen to this band the more I understand those guys who only listen to metal, there's a whole ecosystem in here and it's really got everything you need.

Out Of Line - Gesaffelstein: This whole song is basically intended as an intro for Pursuit on the album but it’s so powerful just on its own. I love imbuing weirdo lyrics like ‘a bitter sunken love in a bleach blonde submarine’ with such ominous power through the commanding delivery. I love the way the big grunting vocals on the offbeat build to sound like a summoning ritual. I love making a big processed bell the centrepiece of your extremely evil sounding song. It’s sort of a shame that Gessaffelstein has never really gone back to the vision of his first album and has spent his time since diluting it down for guest production on Weeknd songs and the like because it feels like there’s still so much more to get out of this sound. That he hasn’t gone back and dug deeper makes Aleph stand out more and more as a singular masterpiece as time goes on.

Kamane Tarhanin - Mdou Moctar: Turning to Mdou Moctar after the new Tinariwen album kind of disappointed me, with all it’s big name guests nothing really hit me. I love this song though and I think a big part of it is the sort of loping, 6/4 rhythm that combined with the drone gives it this feeling of endlessly tumbling over itself in place, especially as the guitar heats up.

Achabiba - Fatou Seidi Ghali: I know very little about Fatou Seidi Ghali except that I saw she was supporting Sarah Louise at a show. From some googling it turns out that she’s the leader of a Nigerois band called Les Filles de Illeghadad who you can probably look forward to seeing on next month’s playlist. I also learned that the demonym for someone from Niger is Nigerien or to minimise confusion with Nigeria, Nigerois (said in a french way). They play a sort of desert psych in the realm of Mdou Mocter or Tinariwen, but this song (also the only solo song she has on spotify) shows her acoustic side. I love the swirling melody over the drone as the hand percussion keeps it in place and I love the very delicate vocals, but a probably unintentional thing I love a lot about this recording is the unmistakable iphone locking sound near the very start that instantly removes so much of the mystic exoticism that these sorts of artists are often written about with and places it firmly in the same sprawling modern world we all live in.

Floating Rhododendron - Sarah Louise: I love Sarah Louise. She’s a phenomenal guitarist and has such a big love for traditional folk music with her side project House And Land, but unlike everyone else in the genre is also very interested in pushing guitar forward to new and strange places. Her latest album was super experimental layered electric guitars and voice that still managed to maintain the deep connection to nature that runs through all her work. I would also highly recommend following her on instagram because her passion runs over. She’s regularly just out in the woods somewhere explaining how wonderful a particular mushroom is. This song one of the first ones I ever heard from her, and it’s back when she was just doing very beautiful 12 string acoustic work, but she recently added it to spotify and it’s a very nice reminder of where she came from and how far she’s gone in such a short time.

Lark - Angel Olsen: The new Angel Olsen is absolutely great. I love how much she is just completely going for it on this album, absolutely unleashing. Taken against earlier songs of hers I’ve loved like White Fire, where the majesty was in her quiet power and the ability to absolutely command silence with a whisper quiet song, this song feels like the direct inverse, an about-turn into all the gigantic majesty of swirling strings and top of your lungs vocals - going all out and leaving nothing on the table. The way this song blows up about three different times until by the end you’re caught in this gigantic swirling maelstrom of screaming sound is just out of this world.

Door - Caroline Polachek: Caroline Polachek’s brain is huge. When I first heard the chorus of this song I couldn't believe it. Are you allowed to have a chant that runs in a spiral like this be the chorus of your pop song? Is that allowed?

North, South, East And West - The Church: The Church feel like they don't get enough respect. They don't seem to be in the same league as Cold Chisel and The Angels and all the other dad rock Australian bands from that era for some reason. They're very good though and I've been really getting into this whole album and this song specifically lately. Maybe what's working against them is just how much his voice sounds like Bono's in this song but surely that was a boon at the time!

Western Questions - Timber Timbre: This has become one of my new favourite songs to sing. The way the words fit together is my favourite kind of poetics where they just sound incredible, phonetically, and can mean anything you like for large chunks. Like “the gelatinous walls of the seeds that seldom remain / while the bulls are browsing needles through computer casinos / honour the name”. Especially “bulls are browsing needles through computer casinos” is just extremely nice to say. I love the character of this song and am yet to completely understand what it’s saying other than personifying some worldwide blackpilled spirit of nihilist evil. What I love is the experience of all encompassing evil in this song, like a worldwide conspiracy connecting everything together that makes it all make sense. It doesn’t make you happier but it makes it make sense. I also love the finality of the big fill near the end that ushers in the outro riff that ties everything up.

Cold Cold World - Blaze Foley: I got heavily into a country music thing this month and spent a bit of time trying to find ‘real’ country, which of course turns out not to exist at all. The entirety of country music is built on a false nostalgia for an imagined time long past when things were real, some unspecified time in the collective consciousness between cowboy times and coal mine times. I don’t say this to say ‘country music is a fraud’ but that it’s built on a foundation of myth and that’s what’s so good about it. It’s constantly reframing the past as it relates to the present and is energised by the friction between them. Blaze Foley is a good example of this in the modern era because he seems to exist more as a myth than a man. He had three studio albums, the master tapes of which all disappeared through various means (lost, stolen, seized by the DEA) and so the majority of his surviving material is live recordings or long-lost studio recordings that resurfaced decades after his death when his fame and mythology already preceded him. He also thankfully lives up to the myth, he was truly a great artist and it’s a shame more of him hasn’t survived.

Where The Golden Wattle Blooms / Why Did The Blue Skies Turn Grey - Shirley Thoms: Further to what I was saying about country music before, Australian country is a whole other thing. Transferring the myth and the mythmaking to a new location adds another layer of abstraction. Shirley Thoms was the first female solo act to record country music in Australia in 1941 and was most notable for her yodelling of which she is damn fine. This is a great song and a good a starting point as any in trying to trace the origin of country music in Australia. That it's so english in its identity, so evidently imitating an american style (which is in turn imitating a german yodel) is just more good evidence that nothing is 'real' and traditions of the past and future are malleable at all times.

Talkin’ Karate Blues - Townes Van Zandt: Townes Van Zandt is widely regarded as a songwriter’s songwriter and one of the best country songwriters to ever live, but like a lot of great country songwriters also has one or two songs like this - strange comedy songs about learning karate and getting your arm ripped off.

Strange Tourist - Gareth Liddiard: This album is a masterpiece on the level of Ys and it feels criminally underlistened in my opinion. Luckily in the last week or so some renegade has done up the wiki article on it to a couple of thousand words so that's a start. Because this is a song I've listened to one million times and love a lot, it's hard for me to write about it in a general way so instead I'm going to talk about something very specific and new that I've only begun to appreciate recently. The way he uses the vowels of the japanese words to create these assonant runs in lines like "Koda Kumi sang a coda pink as sarin gas / I took a trip to Nagasaki in a rented Mitsubishi / Then went camping in the Jukai under Mount Fuji" and "They found him frozen in a hollow in Aokigahara forest where them harakiri weirdos go" is really something, and a nice illustration of the two sides of Liddiard's songwriting: densely technical poetics in a song about living with a housemate who was a real freak.

I Dream A Highway - GIllian Welch: I’m not even going to go into the lyrics of this because it’s such an out of this world perfect song but I’m going to say this: it’s really something that this song goes for nearly 15 minutes, sits on the same three chords the whole time and never ever feels long. This song is longer than Emily by Joanna Newsom but doesn’t feel like an epic of the same scale at all. It’s just a mournful slow ode to change and decay that goes on forever and could keeping going on for twice as long if it wanted to.

Deep Water - The Middle East: The way the vocals in the verses are delivered, trailing off and mumbling bits and pieces is somehow magical, like it’s more interested in communicating the gist and the feeling than the actual words. You can just pick whatever part of it you like. Petrol stations and a copper mine, the kind of place I think I could die. This song also has two minutes of silence at the end for album reasons so enjoy that.

listen here

#playlists

55 notes · View notes

afoolforatook · 4 years

Text

Thank you, Wellies

So. I’ve been trying to do both class work and working on wips and just nothing is clicking. So, I thought I should go ahead and do this post, that I’ve been putting off, because.....it’s next week y’all.... So here goes.

Here’s my original post, that explains what this comic meant to me four years ago.

And here’s what it means to me now. (this is really long, sorry)

Man, I don’t really even know where to start this. How to start to say thank you. To Ngozi, to all of you.... It’s not possible to fully express what all of you have been for me the past four years. What this story has been for me.

So many things have changed since I made this post almost four years ago.

So many things haven’t.

I’ve been way less active in the fandom since starting at SCAD, and I really was never that incredibly active to begin with, outside of my small group of friends on a discord server.

And at times I feel bad about that.

But it’s not because I don’t care about or need this community anymore.

Rather it’s because this community, this story, gave me the strength to keep moving, and now I want to keep doing so, and make something that might one day even barely begin to show my gratitude.

So until then, all I can do is say thank you over and over. I can never possibly say it enough.

But still I wanted to thank you now, and try to explain to you what this comic about hockey and pies has meant to me, one last time before it ends. So that’s what I’ll try to do.

It was surreal rereading this old post earlier this week. Reading

“I think I could write a book just of our history and everything leading up to now and the details of this whole event”

When I wrote this post four years ago, I honestly couldn’t imagine a future where I’d be anything other than incomplete.Or even a future at all. Everyday was just getting up and making myself keep breathing, keep trying to push towards something, even though I had no idea what that could ever be.

For the first year I wrote daily journal entries, telling Emma about what happened that day, screaming at the universe for doing this, trying to help my future self remember little things, because everything was so hard to hold on to.

Update days were always something nearly sacred to me. And really not even from a fan point of view. I don’t read them around other people. I sit somewhere quiet, by myself, and read slowly. Because they are little moments I try to share with her still. The only person I want with me when I read them that first time is her, in whatever capacity I can bring myself to imagine.

A few months after the crash, I found one of Emma’s Spotify playlists. She made playlists for everything; birthday and Christmas presents, mood playlists, friend playlists, monthly playlists.

This was her May 2016 playlist. Last updated May 16th. Two days before the crash.

That playlist was literally the only thing I listened to for months on end. 38 songs.Over and over.

And as I listened I started to think that, just maybe, some of these songs she put there for me.

West Coast; the song me and Emma would send to each other after high school whenever we wanted to let the other know how much we missed them.

All I Want is to Be Your Girl. I mean??

Slowly I found lyrics in every song that even if just in my own fantasy, were little messages from Emma, telling me to keep going, how to stay strong.

I was always looking for stories, books, movies, songs, anything about someone grieving the kind of loss I was. Nothing I found felt like it really represented me. If it was about someone young, it was due to suicide or violence or illness. If it was a car crash, it was about a parent or child. If it somehow fit my other demographics, it was never queer.

I felt totally alone in the exact manifestation of my grief. Like no one else could understand all the tiny details that seemed, to me, to make this all more and more cartoonishly cruel.

(though one of the most touching moments of my life will always be when Emma’s step mom, the only person in her family who knows about us, sent me a book about grieving a spouse. I cried for hours when I opened that.)

I didn’t have outside representation, support. But I had journals. I had Emma’s songs. I had poems and a handful of inktober drawings. I had my little update moments of connection. And I had so much to say.

Months, years, of isolation gives you a lot of time to examine your feelings, to question the meaning of things, to think about what exactly grief looked like to you and about how you wanted to live the rest of your life, as someone grieving a love.

And slowly I began to connect those thoughts to individual lyrics from Emma’s playlist and that helped me actually write all those thoughts out, organize them.

And that’s how The Mixtape Project started (I still hate using the word memoir. I had to find something else to call it). A book about us. About Emma. About all those thoughts I’d had so long to sit with. Structured around the songs from her playlist.

I remember the exact moment that I realized that Check Please was going to actively change my life. I was talking to my dad about it, about why I loved the storytelling, the characters, the art, so much.

I’d told him many times before. But it was always tied to Emma in a way, or to the reasons that I identified with Jack. It was always a little sad in some way.

But this time. This time it was just excitement. It was just a kid who has always loved words, gushing about a story that fascinated them.

And I realized. It was the first time I had been just happy, excited, in the months since losing Emma. I remembered all those ideas Emma helped me with in high school, how we gushed over stories like that. I remembered what it was like to just love something and want to create, just because it made you happy.

I knew I couldn’t go back to UNCA, and none of the other creative writing programs I had looked at seemed like they would fit the new person I was.

So, for the hell of it, looking for some idea at how to start my life over, I looked at Ngozi’s personal story. And there was SCAD. There was sequential art.

Now. I’d never ever considered myself an artist. I went to an art high school, I knew art kids. I was never one of them. But that sequential part? That. THAT was what I wanted. That was what I could still be excited about.

That was how I could pull the Mixtape Project together. The writing, the poems, the art, the music. Comics. Sequential art. A graphic memoir that played with the format. That was the project that kept me going. That was what I was working for. That was the first future I was able to see now that Emma was gone.

So, for the first time since literally elementary school, I took an art class (also took a mythology class at the same time, which really helped keep my art and storytelling tied).

I loved it. I was actually happy with my work, surprised by my work and how quickly I felt like I improved (I wouldn’t learn about aphantasia until I got to SCAD, and understand that that drawing 1 class had been so fun, and in a way, easy, because it was all direct observation, and that drawing from memory and imagination would be a much steeper learning curve for me.)

So, when the class ended I thought ‘you know, maybe some kind of art school could be a good idea.’

And then one of my life long best friends, a SCAD animation student, encouraged me to apply, to just go for it.

And I did. It was a long shot, I was sure. We couldn’t afford it. Why would I get that in that kind of commitment, debt, after 1 art class? It wasn’t logical. But it felt good. So I did.

And then I got accepted, and the initial excitement soon fell away, to me and my parents knowing that it really wasn’t doable.

But we went to admitted students day, just to see. And when we got home, both of my parents cried for a long time. The first happy cry in our house for over two years.

Because they had decided that they had to figure out a way to make it work.

Because standing in Haymans hall was the first time they had seen me excited about the future since Emma died. It was the first time they’d seen me feel like there was somewhere I was meant to be, that there was somewhere I could fit again.

So we made it happen. I’ll still be in debt for years, and it’s not necessarily something I’d wholeheartedly recommend to kids getting out of high school, that debt isn’t worth it for many people.

For me it wasn’t really even worth it exactly for SCAD itself, and you’ll have plenty of professors tell you here that really what you pay for isn’t the education but the networking.

But for me. For me it was worth it.

Because I wasn’t wasting away in my basement.

And I really wasn’t where I’d have liked to have been, ideally, before starting. I was a BRAND new artist. My portfolio for my application was solely my writing work. I hadn’t ever done anything more than scribbled fan comics in my sketchbook. I was coming in wayyyyy behind where most other people were. But I couldn’t wait to feel like I was good enough to be there. There was a strong chance that it was quite literally, a matter of survival. I was reaching a breaking point after nearly three years of isolation and grief with no outlet. The future debt was less of a concern than making sure I didn’t have a complete mental breakdown or worse.

Now, of course, it hasn’t all been easy or fun or happy once I got here. I’ve doubted myself, I’ve had awful weeks, months, been stressed, unmotivated, in pain, near burnout.

The first quarter I was absolutely miserable because I had literally no social life.

Because I was an agoraphobic 23 yr old, living with 17/18 yr olds fresh out of high school. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d dissociate so easily. I’d let myself believe that I was still a teenager fresh from high school. That the past three years of agony hadn’t happened. That I could call Emma and it would ring again. She would answer again. And that illusion was a dangerous pit to fall into.

And it wasn’t until this fall that my social life really started to improve, beyond one or two close friends. And even still, while it’s much better, it’s nothing like UNCA, like the tight knit family I had that made me identify with SMH and the Haus atmosphere so much.

But I was moving forward. Agonizingly slowly sometimes. But still forward.

And then last Spring quarter, just about a year ago, I was in Survey for SEQA. Basically comic book history class. And our final was a 4 page research comic on a comic artist we admired. So of course, I was going to do mine on Ngozi.

The comic was due at the end of the quarter, the end of May.

Now, that quarter was the first time I was actually in SEQA classes; Survey, and Intro.

And those four pages would be the first fully colored, refined comic pages I had EVER done. It was intimidating. I didn’t want to mess it up. Especially because this wasn’t some big name of some far off artist you would never have any connection to. This was someone who all my professors knew.

I ended up getting extremely lucky and had the chance to email Ngozi and ask if she’d be able to give for a quote for the project, advice for current SCAD students.

She replied to my email the weekend of the 3rd anniversary. (I then spent hours on a thank you email - because that’s who I am, I can’t not over analyze anything I’m sending to someone important - and then I managed to save it to drafts instead of actually sending it...something I would not notice until literally months later and be absolutely mortified about my apparent rudeness of never thanking her.)

I still am not really happy with how that project came out. I still had (and have) a lot to learn, and it shows. I have, in no way, become an amazing comic artist overnight. I wasn’t expecting to.

But that short email exchange, falling on that weekend; it felt special. It felt like some speck of proof that I was doing the right thing. That things could actually go well in my life again. That if I kept going, I might actually get somewhere that I wanted to be. That maybe I really could make The Mixtape Project happen, if I just kept at it here.

And then I found out that in the fall, Ngozi would be the SEQA mentor.

Unfortunately by the time I had all the details about how to apply, the quarter had started and there were only a couple of weeks before it was due, and the only pages I had even anywhere close to being portfolio ready were either my research comic or a few older Check Please fan comics, none of which I would even have considered putting in that portfolio (I’m not 100% certain it would actually have come across as sucking up but it sure felt like it would have). And despite my best efforts, it just wasn’t possible, with how slow I work and having to keep up with classwork, for me to get a portfolio ready in time.

That hurt for a while. I felt like I had this clear sign of perfect timing. How could I pass up that chance? How could I forgive myself for not doing everything I could to earn that experience? How was I not letting Emma down if I ruined this opportunity?

It took a while to get out of that negative thought spiral. But I did, and it’s still a bummer, but it’s okay.

And something that really helped?

In October, Ngozi still came to campus to give a lecture. And that would have been good enough; just sitting in on that helped me feel excited, encouraged again. But then, after the lecture (with my amazing roommate waiting patiently behind with me, to make sure I didn’t actually have a panic attack on the way home) I got to talk to her.

We all hope to one day get to talk to the people who inspired us, whose work we love, to tell them how much they mean to us. And yes, I was a little version of starstruck.

But that wasn’t why I was shaking. That wasn’t why I told her I was going to do my best to get this out without crying (and I did, I’m proud to say).

It was because I had the opportunity, while at the school that had given me a chance to start my life again, to thank the woman who was in all likelihood, one of the main reasons I was even still alive. If it had not been for Check Please I wouldn’t have had that good thing to keep sharing with Emma. I wouldn’t have found sequential art, at least not for a while longer probably. I wouldn’t have been able to finally picture a future I wanted to get to.

And I’ll be honest, I don’t remember 90% of what I actually said that night to Ngozi.

But I told her my story. I told her about Emma. About how Check Please was the last thing we got to share. I thanked her. And she was wonderful and kind and emotional and hugged me a couple of times, and even though I don’t remember a lot of what I actually said; it was something that will be one of the most important, affirming moments of my life.

I didn’t have a panic attack on the way home. I somehow managed to not cry until we were back to our dorm. But I was stunned.

Not even because of the amazing moment I had been able to have with Ngozi.

But because it hit me.

I was doing it. I was there. I had actually made it this far.

Somewhere that just over a year ago I never would have believed was possible.

A time when, two years before, I hadn’t even been sure I could make it to alive.

That weekend was my 24th birthday. And it was the first birthday since I left UNCA at 19, that I didn’t just hate the fact that I was getting older. That I was moving away from the happiest parts of my life so far.

Yes it still hurt getting further from Emma, putting another tick on the years that I got that she didn’t.

But I was actually finally excited at the idea of even having a future, let alone having an idea of what it could be.

February was a difficult month for me. I have another (entirely way too long) post about why everything that happened with RWBY and Fairgame was so difficult for me, but to put it simply; my hope for the future was shaken.

I was back in the toxic negative thought spirals I had fought for years to train myself out of.

I was seeing Emma, or her brother, or her mom, in crowds; something I hadn’t experienced since the first few months after the crash. I was in one of the biggest crisis moments I’d had since Emma’s death.

But I was more experienced than when I was 20.

It wasn’t fun, a lot of it probably wasn’t the ideal way to cope, but I did it. And I kept up with my work. I isolated more, but not completely. I made myself vent on snapchat or tumblr, and not worry about oversharing or annoying people, because it was either get it out or let it fester in my head. And I couldn’t afford to let that happen.

In mid March, I made a pitch packet for my comic scripting final.

It was for The Mixtape Project. It was hard, and nerve-wracking, and there’s still mountains of work to be done.

But after my initial synopsis (first of like seven versions, cause trying to put this thing in a good synopsis format is a nightmare) my professor told me that he thought my story had potential.

That he could see it being published. He suggested, knowing that I was planning on taking his advanced scripting course this quarter (hey remember how mid march was only a few weeks ago?? Huh?? wild), that I keep working on it, and see about taking it to Editor’s day (SEQA students’ opportunity to basically pitch themselves and their ideas to publishers).

Now, my professor is by no means an overly harsh critic, and is plenty supportive in general.

But I also knew that that was not just something he said to students all the time. That he meant it.

Editor’s Day (now online) is in mid May. The week of the 4th anniversary of Emma’s death, to be exact.

Everything is a mess right now, and I’m stressed and tired and scared and heartbroken (this will be the first time since I was 9 that I have not had Merlefest; the highlight of my year, and since Emma’s death; the last big happy thing before I plunge into the nightmare that is May).

Tuesday will come. Check Please will end. I will continue to support Ngozi and her work after Bitty’s story ends.

But it will be sad. It won’t be easy.

This thing that has been my tether to the most important person in my life, will still be there, but it will be over.

It will have a concrete end. It will no longer be part of the future I am pushing towards.

But I am a different person than the shattered kid who wrote this post four years ago.

I’m not who I was before Emma died. I never will be. I’d never try to be. I want Emma back more than anything. But that won’t happen. And as long as this is all real, I never want to pretend this didn’t happen.

That I didn’t shatter in a way that will never heal like people expect.

I’m still all those shattered pieces that wrote this post. Maybe a few have had the edges dulled, maybe I’ve lost a few, glued a few together perfectly, maybe picked up a few stray pieces that didn’t come from the me from before.

But I will be those shattered pieces for the rest of my life.

They won’t magically fuse back together. I work every day to hold them, to keep myself in some shape that resembles a functioning person.

Some days I fail. Some days, I am too tired to even try. Some days, I am so angry, I’d rather hurl the pieces at whatever power or fate or god or chaos decided that I got to live and she didn’t.

But those days pass.

And I learn how to hold the pieces better, how to avoid the sharpest edges, how to take care of the wounds when I inevitably cut myself on one, how to allow other people to help me hold them, how to accept that some pieces may feel safe and smooth and comforting but they are traps, illusions that are the easy way to do things, but not the healthy way, not the way that will help me achieve my goals.

That person, made of all those unholdable pieces, four years ago, was staying alive for everyone else but themself.

And some days I still am.

For my parents. For Emma. For all the other queer, mentally ill, grieving kids and young adults and just people, who are looking for the same representation I was, who feel as alone as I still do so often.

But some days.

On those really good days.

I’m alive, carrying all those pieces, just because I want to be. For me.

I want to spin around in the morning, singing along to my bluegrass spotify. I want to get excited over finally figuring out how to write that line that was giving me so much trouble, or finish that sketch that I never thought I could manage. I want to hope that despite how awful everything seems, there’s still a good future out there. It’s still possible to be happy some days.

I want to cry because I get to see Jack and Bitty get the happy ending that me and Emma didn’t.

And now, unlike that version of me from four years ago, when it ends, I will have things still.

Things that I have worked everyday to reach, to deserve, to hold out to people and say

“Hey, sometimes everything hurts and you know that things will never be what they were, and parts of you will always miss that. But there are still things you can find that hurt less, that ease the hurt, that teach you how to better hold the hurt, to stop trying to say it doesn’t exist or trying to get rid of it completely and hating yourself when you can’t. You can still be hurt, be irreparably broken in so many places, and still find the happy things. You are still worthy of love, no matter how broken you are. Your worth is not tied to how much you are able to heal. You are worthy of so much love, just because you are still here, no matter how many tiny pieces you are in.”

The thing is, I will still always have a future that includes Emma. Because I couldn’t tell you exactly which of my pieces are from her, but so many of them are.

There is no version of me, from here on to the day I die, that does not have her influence embedded in every piece.

These days I try to be a little kinder to myself. It doesn’t always work, but I try.

Because, to Emma, I was Bitty. I radiated that “thing”.

Whether or not I saw it in myself, doesn’t matter, because she did.

But to me she was the one who radiated.

And she is a part of me. She can’t radiate that “thing” herself anymore.

But I can, at least I can try.

Because If this person I loved and trusted so immensely, saw something worth loving in me? There must be something there worth loving, right?

And if she is a part of me for the rest of my life, how can I hate myself? How can I do anything but keep going so that, even if just in my head, a part of her gets to keep going too.

My family and friends joke that every friend group I’ve ever had calls me something different. And really it’s not a joke. In middle school I was CB #4 (that’s a long, terribly embarrassing, story). In high school I was Pond (and many variations there of: Pondala, Pondy, Raindrop, Puddle, you get the picture). At UNCA, when I came out as nonbinary, I started going by Auden. When I went home it was back to Meagan; Meagan always felt right with my parents.

With Emma I was always Meagan. We were Meagan and Emma. Megma. Meagan and Emma have online adventures!

After she was gone, Meagan didn’t really feel like me anymore. I loved Meagan, I missed Meagan, I wished I could still really fully be Meagan, and I’m okay still being Meagan sometimes.

But that real Meagan. The Meagan that was Emma’s Meagan. Doesn’t exist anymore. I lost that Meagan somewhere in that first night of screaming and trying to break my hand against the wall, so I could just feel something other than the agony of Emma being gone.

When I joined a Check Please chat group, a few months after the crash, we gave each other hockey nicknames. I was Farley.

My second quarter at SCAD, I started going by Farley. It stuck.

That’s who this version of me is. This new artist, still figuring things out, but still going.

I may not always stay Farley (other than ya’know artist ‘branding’. We’ll see) but that’s okay. Farley is who I need to be right now.

Farley is who will finish The Mixtape Project.

(because of two people mishearing both my nickname and last name I will, at least once in my career, use the pseudonym Fartley McFarmland and no one will stop me).

I can’t imagine what, who, will come after Farley, if anything.

But Check Please will always be a part of making Farley, and every future version of me, exist.

I could go on and on about how beautiful this story and these characters are, how inspiring Ngozi is, how genius her storytelling is, how powerful and important her work is. I could go on for days about all of that. But this is already so long, and I know that so many of you can go on about that probably way better than I could currently.

But, as many of my professors tell us over and over, only I can tell this story. My story. Emma’s story. Our story. And it’s one I plan on telling for the rest of my life.

And Check Please, Ngozi, will forever be the thing that made that possible.

So thank you. Those two words that are way too small to say it all.

Thank you.

Every fic writer

Every artist

Every rper

Every chat friend

Every shitposter

Every theorist or meta poster

Every fan

Thank you.

B. “Shitty” Knight.

Larissa “Lardo” Duan

Adam “Holster” Birkholtz

Justin “Ransom” Oluransi

John Johnson

Ollie O'Meara

Pacer Wicks

Jenny and Mandy

Nicholas and Jean-Claude

Coach Hall

Coach Murray

Suzanne Bittle

Richard “Coach” Bittle

William “Dex” Poindexter

Derek “Nursey” Nurse

Chris “Chowder” Chow

Kent Parson

Alicia Zimmermann

“Bad” Bob Zimmermann

Tony “Tango” Tangredi

Connor “Whiskey” Whisk

Denice “Foxtrot” Ford

Fry Guy

Georgia “Georgie” Martin

Alexei “Tater” Mashkov

Sebastian “Marty” St. Martin

Dustin “Snowy” Snow

Poots

Randall “Thirdy” Robinson

Jonathan “Hops” Hopper

River “Bully” Bullard

Lukas “Louis” Landmann

(I’m almost certain I had to have missed someone)

Thank you.

Jack “Zimmboni” Laurent Zimmermann

Thank you.

Eric “Bitty” Richard Bittle

Thank you.

Ngozi Ukazu

Thank you. For everything.

For having my back. I’ll always have yours.

Always yours,

Farley M.

#Check Please #omgcp #my person #my writing #meagan and emma have online adventures #-slaps me- you can fit so many confused emotions in this thing

8 notes · View notes

neni-has-ascended · 5 years

Text

A question about "Complete Turnabout"

@athena-cykes-ace-attorney:

Hello Nenilein,

I’d been reading “Complete Turnabout” recently and noticed that there haven’t been any updates for a long time. I’ve also played through the beginning of the game. I’ve been getting into writing fanfiction recently and I just wanted to ask if you’re ever returning to writing Ace Attorney Fanfiction. Did Spirit of Justice just completely drive you out of the fandom and the fanfiction? Or are you just done with that part of your writing?

Hello, sorry for the late reply. So, let’s get into this.

I’m a super flighty nature. It often causes me to start projects and then jump to the next, not taking into account how the new project might divert my attention away from the old projects, especially because I find it hard to even force myself to keep my attention on the old project if I have new ideas. It’s a problem I’ve honestly been working to overcome, especially because I never really abandon old projects. I mean it, I still have every single tiny, useless thing I’ve ever started working on in my Dropbox and occasionally randomly pull them up and make new additions to them or edit them, even if the thing has been dormant for years. Complete Turnabout is no exception there,

The big problem with getting back into actively finishing the Fanfic is... Well, there’s several, actually. And yeah, Even though I still actively think about the fic a lot (like with a million other things), it makes it hard to go back. Here they are, most important to least important:

1.) Complete Turnabout no longer matches my current style of writing and doesn’t reflect my skill level.

The Fic represented a huge turning point (ha ha) for me in my “career” (using the term losely) as an author, since this was where, influenced by an important person in my life, I threw out everything I thought about writing before and gradually came to use a completely different style of writing, one which I’ve kept developing to this day. CT reflects a huge part of this transitional phase in my writing. The thing is, I haven’t stopped progressing as a writer ever since I last actively wrote on it. There’s so many things I’ve started and stopped doing, so many techniques I’ve learned and a lot of humor I found funny back in the day now only makes me cringe. It’s not like I find all of CT entirely unreadable now. But the first 10 to 15 chapters are garbage. Unadulterated and absolute trash. You couldn’t force me to write like this anymore these days. So if I wanted to go back to finishing it, I’d feel myself compelled to rewrite half the fanfic from scratch, which would be a massive undertaking and would clash with my already almost non-existence time management abilities.

2.) The in-fic Court Record is fundamentally broken.

To me, a huge part of the fic was the reader’s ability to guess along while reading and feel as if they could actually move around through the settings and throw evidence at places and people like in the series proper. Unfortunately, my inability to update the CR properly has turned this into a mess I was deeply ashamed off at latest by chapter 25. If I wanted to go back and continue the fic I would HAVE to rework this feature of the fic from ground up, maybe even program a little web-page to make it work for everyone or something. I want to do that one day, but right now I am a creative garage stuffed to the brim with unfinished arts and crafts projects and I need to take some time to clean myself out and finally get things in order.

3.) OMFG Spirit of Justice

Yeah, as you correctly guessed, that game was like... the straw that didn’t just break the camel’s back but put the camel into a coma that only the most advanced veterinarian science could possibly retrieve it from. It wouldn’t be so bad if I just didn’t like the game, I mean, there’s a ton of stuff I don’t like in Gyakuten Kenji 2, and I still use its characters and concepts quite prominently and passionately. No, the problem is what Spirit of Justice did to friggin’ Apollo! That friggin’ game messed up his character timeline and underlying motivations so badly, I have no idea how to write around this bullshit stuff anymore. I have no idea what the writers were thinking there, all I know is that this is DEFINITELY not the kind of thing Shu Takumi envisioned when he wrote Apollo’s character. The character was envisioned to be young, passionate, but down-to-earth and an everyman. Spirit of Justice turned him into a fully fledged DanganRonpa character, and not the “Ultimate Luck” type. I have no idea how to work with this!!

4.) I really want to do everything ever, now, immediately, all at once, god, give me 20 arms and 5 more brainssssss

As some people following my antics for some time might have realized I have a teeeeensy problem keeping my priorities straight and tend to start, like, 5 new projects every month. I’m working on a TobyFox-multiverse themed comic right now, wrote a script to an A Hat in Time adaptation comic, I have an ongoing Kingdom Hearts fanfic retelling an alternate universe version of Birth by Sleep, I am working on a Youtube Series about the meaning of the Tarot Arcana as used in the Persona games, I sew 3 Cosplays a year and take part in various nerd competitions, I am working on my final University thesis on the application of religious themes in JRPGs, I have been writing on a novel for 3 years, have started working on several different video game projects with friends (all but one abandoned right now), started and abandoned a web-novel project, I draw, I stream, I play Trading Card Games on Weekends, I am actively looking for a job, and, damn for some dumb reason just a year ago I thought getting myself a pet would be a great idea, too!

If it were up to me, I’d finish all these things. Every last one of them. But as it is, I’m forced to set priorities. Right now, I am working hard to at least bring the most important/recent of these (One of the game projects, my novel, the comic project and my Master’s Thesis) to a satisfying finish. After that, I will pick other ideas back up and work on them. But I really, really, really need to learn to not just start things, but also end them.

It’s been a journey, and it will keep being a journey from here on out. But I’m glad there’s people who love what I do. Making people happy with my creativity is my dream, and I’ll fight to keep making it happen, no matter how much effort it takes.

I thank you for being happy with what I’ve made so far. I thank you with all my heart. Here’s me praying that I will make more things in the future that will make you just as happy. And here’s me praying that I will be disappointing people less by not finishing the things that made them happy in a timely fashion.

That’s what I had to say here. I hope it helps. I am sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear. Honestly, it’s not what I like to hear from myself either...

Still, I thank you, so much,

Many Greetings, Nenilein

#Complete Turnabout #Ace Attorney #Neni Replies #submission

20 notes · View notes

takingcourage · 5 years

Text

Additions: Part 3

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 5,050

Summary: As the school year begins and tensions mount, Jaime and Arden start to wonder if they might be out of their depth.

Note: This chapter has been fighting me for the past two weeks, probably because it represents the true low point of the story and I hate making these characters suffer. While it’s not going to be completely smooth sailing from here on out, I can assure you that things will be better in Part 4.

Warning: This section contains references to childhood depression and self-harm. There’s nothing graphic or gratuitous, but the mentions may still be upsetting. Please read at your own discretion.

August, 2027

“You keep spacing out over there. Should I be concerned?”

Smiling coyly, Arden glanced up from her carton of stir fry. Jaime sat across their dining room table, a half-eaten spring roll held between his fingers. It was the first time in days that she’d actually taken a proper look at him, and she was a little disappointed that she couldn’t do more than just look.

In seven years of marriage, his appearance had remained relatively unchanged. His eyes were still thoughtful and kind, his hair thick and just unruly enough to be perfect without him having to try. Maybe it was just his glorious golden tan skewing her perceptions, but she could swear that becoming a father had made him infinitely more attractive.

Probably just wishful thinking since I don’t have him to myself anymore, she mused, meeting his inquiring eyes with decision. “Can’t I enjoy having a lunch date with my husband?”

His demeanor warmed. “I’ve kind of missed having time for just the two of us.”

“Me too. If these monthly meetings mean getting some of that time back, I’m all for them.”

She knew neither one of them would choose to change their circumstances. Having time together with the kids meant the world to both of them, but it also meant that things were different.

“These days, I feel like I’m lucky to get ten minutes alone with you before we go to bed.” Jaime chewed his last bite of spring roll contemplatively. “And even then, we’re usually talking about the kids.”

“I know. By the time we make it to our room, we’re so exhausted that there’s usually just enough time to exchange a few sentences before we pass out. It’s not like we have time for a lot of conversation…or anything else.” Arden stretched a leg toward him, gently toeing his bare shin.

His eyebrows raised at the contact, but there was a sparkle of humor in his deep brown eyes. “Maybe we should start having these meetings more often?”

“I’d love to, but with all the projects you have slated for the rest of the year, I don’t think it’s very feasible. But we’ll keep finding ways to spend time together, I’m sure.” With a wink, she straightened back into her seat. “Besides, that’s not what we’re here for now anyway. We’re supposed to be comparing notes and making sure we’re still on the same page about parenting.”

“So we are.” In spite of his jocular tone, she knew he hadn’t forgotten. “All right, getting down to business.” He pulled a notecard from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it between them on the wooden surface. “Question 1: What are your highs and lows of the first full week of school?”

Arden took a long sip from her glass of water. They’d prepared the questions beforehand, so she’d known exactly what was coming, but it was still difficult to separate the events of the past five days into those two extremes.

The week had been filled with so many little triumphs, from Sophia making band to Alex finally waking up on his own without needing a full half-hour of reminders. But in the end, one stood out.

“I think my high was getting that email from Will’s teacher. He’s a social guy at home, but I was afraid that he might struggle to connect with with kids in class. Hearing that he’s been making friends was really heartening.” Jaime’s lips parted, and she paused to let him speak.

“I especially liked what she said about him seeking out the shy kids during recess. He reminds me a lot of someone I knew when I was about his age…” Jaime’s voice trailed, but he ended the sentiment with a meaningful nod.

Arden smirked at his suggestion. “Maybe we should pack some ice-cream bars in his lunch?”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” he said with a low laugh.

Eyes crinkling affectionately, she shook her head and fished out another bite of vegetables. Despite the momentary diversion, she knew they needed to get back to the other half of his question. “Now for the hard part. My low was…Alex’s attitude about school and his refusal to talk about it. I keep hearing his thoughts about how stupid it is, but I can’t ask him anything pointed unless he actually tells me out loud.”

Jaime pinched his entree open with a sigh. “I think that’s probably mine too. He keeps shutting down whenever I try to talk to him about it. I keep hoping it’s just the adjustment period and he’ll find a new routine, but…”

But they both knew his history was discouraging. Though they’d decided long before the kids ever came to live with them that their case files weren’t going to define their expectations, it was impossible not to see the similarities between their own experience and what had come before.

All three of Alex’s previous foster families had reported problems with managing anger, along with some variety of troubles in school – missing assignments, incomplete tests, refusing to speak in class. Though this year was off to a rough start, they still hoped to finally break the mold.

“So what do we do moving forward?”

It was hardly the first time they’d posed the question to one another, but brilliant solutions were few and far between. For several seconds, Jaime stared at the wall behind her head, his thoughts indiscernible. “I think we just keep doing what we’ve been doing -- we deescalate when he’s upset and encourage him to talk about what’s bothering him. We have to get through to him eventually.”

“I just wonder if there’s more going on,” Arden ventured. The half-formed thought had been stewing in her mind for a while. “I think he’s more scared than he is angry.”

“I’ve been getting that sense too. Starting in a new school is tough -- I remember. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him about it soon.”

“It might help,” Arden encouraged. “He might share more if he knew what you’ve been through.”

"I hope so.” His smile returned, clearing the worries from his face. “Anyway, my high was Sophia asking me to help with that question on her homework last night. You were right there, so it’s not like we were alone or anything, but it’s one of the only times she’s initiated conversation with me.”

Arden still remembered the sound of Jaime’s jubilant thoughts as he’d read the problem over Sophia’s shoulder. Even just recalling it to memory sent a fresh wave of shivers over her shoulders. “You’re bonding with our daughter over math homework, Jaime. Who would have thought we’d be saying that a year ago?”

He shook his head with a half smile. “It’s finally starting to feel kind of normal. Not quite there yet, but I feel like we’re really close in a lot of ways.”

“I think so too.”

“And I have to say, I think we’ve been doing a pretty amazing job with them so far.”

So far. Behind her smile, those two words lingered like a bitter aftertaste. As much as he’d intended them as an encouragement, Arden longed for the day when such compliments no longer came with conditions.

_____

September, 2027

Arden tossed in a dishwasher tablet, sealed the door, and pressed start. For a moment, she stood in front of the noisy appliance, giving her mind a rest before she could start questioning why the other end of the house was so quiet.

Twenty minutes ago, all three kids had assured her that they were working hard at their studies. For her oldest and youngest, it wasn’t difficult to believe that they were still on task. For Alex, it was a completely different story.

Much as he hated being told what to do, he needed frequent reminders to continue working. The number of times she’d walked in to find him doodling in the margins when he was supposed to be reading was alarming. Thankfully, between the thoughts she overheard and her ability to read his body language, she could typically walk the fine line between motivation and bringing him to the point of anger.

She’d never seen a child so hostile to any kind of instruction. They were only a month into the school year, but she was already convinced that the child’s teacher must be a literal angel to put up with his stubbornness for so much of the day.

He’s probably drawing again, she determined as her husband’s sure step broke through the after-dinner lull. Coming from the garage, Jaime met her in the hallway, a pair of lightbulbs in his hand.

“Are those for the upstairs bathroom?”

“They are.” He kissed her cheek before poking his head into the empty dining room. “The kids?”

“Alex is in his room. Will’s upstairs with Sophia, working on some vocab. She finished her homework before we ate.”

“Even exponents?”

“She’s got the hang of them now.”

Their daughter’s light tread came tripping down the stairs at that moment, her body a blur as she flew through the hall.

“Looks like she’s keeping both of them on top of their work,” Jaime commented when Sophia disappeared into the boys’ room.

“I should probably check in,” Arden suggested. “Make sure she’s not bossing him around too much.” She caught her husband’s attention once more before he mounted the stairs. “While you’re up there, could you tell Will that I’m ready to work on social studies whenever he is?”

With a nod, he continued his climb. As the sound of his steps faded, her ears detected a far different noise coming from Alex’s room -- a noise that sounded very much like ripping paper.

That can’t be good.

Picking up speed, she crossed the threshold just a few seconds later. A pile of roughly torn half-sheets from a notebook lay on the floor before her. Examining the scene, Arden was vaguely conscious of Sophia’s feeble attempts to retrieve them, but what stood out to her more than anything was the florid coloring of her son’s face.

“I told you to leave me alone!” he shouted, pushing a stack of school books from his desk to the floor.

Sophia sidestepped in time to avoid the collision, but Arden still winced when they hit the floor.

“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s take a deep breath and calm things down in here,” she began, determining that it was probably best to insert herself into the confrontation before the things went any further.

“He needs to finish his homework so he can pass and not get held back another grade,” Sophia summarized. “He can’t keep doing this!”

The hint of piety in her tone grated the entire length of Arden’s spine. Even though she found herself agreeing with her daughter’s assessment, it was all-too evident that the accusation wasn’t going to do Alex any good.

That child was still seated, his heaving chest and white knuckles providing a glimpse of just how much frustration he’d been bottling up. If the objects on the floor were any indication, his anger had started to spill over.

“You’re not my boss!”

Arden swallowed hard. She knew these moments were important – that she needed to make it clear that she was the parent and that they couldn’t just make rules for themselves. But the emotional tension was almost paralyzing. She could hardly think, much less find a solution to the conflict brewing in front of her.

Still, she had to do something.

“Okay,” she started, still trying to gauge the situation. “It’s obvious that you’re both upset right now. I think it’s best for us to all take a few minutes to calm down before we try to work through this. Sophia, you can come with me to the living room. Alex, we’ll let you have some space and be back in a little bit to sort things out.”

…to the docks…

Arden raised a quizzical brow at her son’s arbitrary thought, but pressed on. “We’ll come back in a few minutes,” she reiterated, hoping that the reminder would get him help to calm him.

Passing through the hallway, she checked the lock on the front door. As far as she knew, he had no history of running away, but his thought about the docks had left her unsettled. She wasn’t taking any chances.

_____

Jaime sauntered down to the main level of the house a few minutes later, expired lightbulbs in hand. By the time he located the proper recycling box and returned from the garage, his wife was waiting in the doorway.

In hushed tones, she filled him in on what had passed while he’d been upstairs. Feeling almost guilty for the time he’d spent joking around with Will, he was determined to pick up the slack in handling the aftermath.

“I’ll go and talk to Alex,” he volunteered, rubbing his palm over the line of his jaw. “I’d like to figure things out with him before we bring Sophia back into it.”

“Thanks. Good luck.”

Making his way to the open bedroom door, he rapped a finger on the wood before pushing it the rest of the way. As the door swung wide, the first thing he noticed was that the room was empty. The second was that the window was wide open.

"Alex?” His heart sank even before the word had left his mouth. This can’t be happening.

Both girls came running at his elevated voice, quickly coming to the same conclusion that he had on seeing the scene.

Jaime didn’t waste time searching the room, instinct telling him that the boy had run from the house. All that mattered was finding him as soon as possible.

Arden’s small wave attracted his attention. When he looked to her, she mouthed a single word: docks.

“I’ll help!” Sophia offered, voice cracking under the pressure of tears. “He gets this way when he’s really upset, but I can usually calm him down.”

With a hand to his daughter’s trembling shoulder, Jaime inclined his head to look her in the eyes. The glistening pools flicked up to his for less than a second before falling back to the papers on the floor.

“Sophia, I know where to find him, and I’ll do everything I can to calm him down myself. For now, I think it’s best for you to stay here with Arden and Will,” he proposed, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Okay,” she relented, though he could tell from her sigh that she was skeptical about his plan.

Can you explain it to her? he asked his wife as he slipped through the door.

At her nod, he started for the lake.

It seemed unlikely that the boy was in any real danger, but that didn’t stop Jaime’s heart from hammering harder with every step he took through the deepening twilight. Threat or no threat, he needed Alex to know that he wasn’t going to face anything alone.

He relaxed his pace on seeing the small figure at the end of the dock, but he was still breathing hard by the time he made it to the boy’s side.

His son was seated at the corner of the deck, eyes shining with a defiance that Jaime had seen more times than he could count. This particular display of anger would have worried him far more if his son wasn’t sitting with his chin tucked into his knees, curled smaller than he’d ever seen him.

Every part of his consciousness was screaming for him to bundle the boy up in his arms, hold him tightly, and promise that he was never going to let him go. Better judgement was all that held him back.

“Hey,” he started simply, making sure the child was aware of his presence.

Alex ignored him, teeth ground in frustration.

With a deep breath, Jaime lowered himself beside the boy, careful to maintain several inches of distance between them. He looked him over again, catching a glimpse of the sunset on a series of haphazard lines along his forearm.

Leaning closer, he could see that they were scratches. No blood had been drawn, but there was no mistaking that they’d been made by a set of fingernails.

Instinctively, his eyes jumped to the boy’s hands. Jaime’s stomach churned. No explanation was good, and he knew with absolute certainty that the marks hadn’t been there during dinner.

He found himself wishing for Arden’s abilities -- for any advantage that could help him in the conversation that lay ahead.

“Alex, we need to talk, bud,” he started gently, almost relieved that his son still hadn’t worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Staring out at the water was easier for both of them.

The boy’s only reply was a noncommittal, “Hmph.”

When Jaime looked at his face again, he couldn’t help noting the deep set of his brow. Arden was right. There was something more to this than just being angry.

Whatever it was that plagued his son, this was probably the best opportunity he’d get to help sort it out. Adrenaline pumping, he launched in. “Alex, I know that sometimes running away from problems seems like the best way to solve them, but it usually just makes things worse.”

The child’s hands shifted, the fingers of one hand trailing up and down the series of angry red lines on his arm.

Jaime counted through several long breaths, hoping that Alex would take initiative to break the awkward silence. “Could you tell me what upset you tonight? If I have to try to guess, we’re going to be out here a long time.”

“I hate school.”

“Did something happen today?” he pressed further. They’d known that the transition to a new school would be challenging, but nothing they’d seen in the first three-and-a-half weeks had given any particular cause for alarm.

“It’s just stupid and I hate it.”

Trying another tactic, Jaime delved into his own past. “I hated school too when I first moved in with Paula. I came to live with her toward the end of the school year, so I didn’t know a single person in my class. I spent the whole first month arguing with her every morning before I got on the bus.”

Alex didn’t say anything, though his grip on his knees loosened almost imperceptibly.

“She always made me go, so one morning, I hid under the bed so she couldn’t find me.”

“Did she?” His voice was soft, but curious.

“She did.” Jaime shifted to straighten his legs, propping both arms behind him. His stomach was almost sick with the desire to keep his son talking. “And you know what she said?”

“Huh?”

“She told me that I was a superhero.”

Confused, Alex lowered his knees and crossed them, head inclining away from the water for the first time since Jaime had arrived.

From the corner of his eye, He could see that the boy’s eyes were on him. “She told me that feeling upset could be a superpower, but that I wasted all of its potential when I let it control me instead of being the one to take control. Then she drove me to school and told me to try using my frustration to be the best second-grader I could be.”

Jaime monitored his response, catching the sneer that came over Alex’s features. He didn’t need Arden’s powers to know that the boy was unimpressed.

“I know, I know. It was cheesy. I realized that at the time too, but I wanted to prove to her that I was stronger than those angry feelings. In the end, her advice actually helped.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“Look, I don’t want to make assumptions, but it seems like some of your feelings have been getting control of you too. Can you tell me what’s been happening?”

“I got angry. Couldn’t help it.”

“What couldn’t you help?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean throwing your books and running away?” He didn’t even want to give voice to his other suspicion. “Hurting yourself?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Can you tell me what upset you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? Did something happen at school? Was it something Sophia said?” He asked the questions at measured intervals, allowing the boy ample time to respond. When his answer finally, came, the harsh edge in his voice left no doubt in his mind that the conversation was over.

“I said I don’t know.”

Drawing a ragged breath through his nose, Jaime stared out across the water. There was only so much he could do. It was eminently clear that his son wasn’t interested in sharing any more with him at this point, and pushing him further wouldn’t end well for either one of them.

Conscious that the rest of his family had been left in a state of upheaval, Jaime determined that it was in everyone’s best interest for them to return home. The matter hadn’t been resolved, but there was still one final reminder he could offer the boy.

“Alex, I’m not sure how to help you right now, but I want you to know that you’re not going to have to deal with this on your own. We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”

The child gave no verbal response, but he joined Jaime in standing and returning to the house.

_____

Two hours later, Arden opened their bedroom door to find Jaime sitting motionless on the bed. They’d parted ways shortly after saying their goodnights to all three kids in the boys’ room.

With the teary reunion that had occurred when Jaime returned with their runaway, it was little wonder that Sophia had insisted on sleeping on the floor between her brothers. The three of them shared a bond that was unlike anything Arden had ever known as an only child. For her own selfish reasons, she was grateful for the arrangement. Knowing Sophia would keep an eye on things made it all the more likely that she and Jaime could find some rest during the night.

“I just got off the phone with the caseworker again.” She joined him at the end of the bed, legs close enough feel his presence even without actually touching. “She said we did everything we could.” The words felt as hollow as the sentiment behind them.

Jaime’s hand slipped into hers, and she gave the clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“Anyway, I was hoping we could talk for a minute. I wrote up most of the incident report while I was talking with her, but there’s still time to add more details before I send it until tomorrow. Is there anything I should put in based on what happened at the docks? Did he tell you anything?”

“No, I just made things worse.”

Unaccustomed to the defeat in her husband’s tone, Arden pulled up a leg to angle toward him. His face was a mask, though his thoughts were easy to read.

I can’t believe I let this happen.

“Jaime, this isn’t just you,” she implored, “I’m the one who left him alone in there. It never occurred to me that he would climb through the window.” Her strength waning, she dropped fully to the mattress.

They’d known that parenting would come with its share of struggles, but she hadn’t anticipated that it would leave them feeling so helpless. She was used to problems that could be solved with the right combination of research and discussion. Their children’s hardships were far too ambiguous for such treatment -- especially when it came to their middle child.

She’d thought that they could head off all of his anger and frustration – prevent it from factoring into this school year to any large degree. But instead, it seemed that he’d been bottling everything up and making it worse. Whatever it was that had set him off this evening was just the indication of a larger worry bubbling below the surface.

“What did we do wrong?”

Arden regarded him solemnly, forehead leaning against her palm as she propped an elbow on the bed. She allowed his question to soak over her mind, flirting with the temptation to take blame for something that she knew had been beyond their control. “I don’t know what else we could have done, honestly. Short of nailing his window shut, I’m not sure how we could have made things any better.”

Jaime fell to his back, emitting a long sigh before he attempted an answer. “I failed, Arden. I went out there thinking I’d be able to talk him through this and we’d be okay. I always figured that my past would give me an edge in dealing with these kinds of things, but I’m at a loss. I don’t know what else to do for him.”

Arden scooted next to him, her ankle hooking his as she drew close enough for contact. “Maybe there isn’t anything else we can do. Especially if there’s more to this than anger.”

“I know he’s been upset before, but this was a new low. If what the caseworker’s told us is right, he’s never run away or hurt himself like this. Why now?”

Shaking her head, she considered the flurry of thoughts that had been in the boy’s mind after they’d returned inside. “I think resentment and fear have been building for a long time. I don’t know who’s responsible for putting them there, but it breaks my heart.” Her throat clogged as she fought over her next words. “I hate that I’m even having to say this, but I think there’s something else going on too. He’s internalizing everything except his anger, and that really worries me.”

Jaime tensed. “I thought he was just having trouble adjusting. New house, new family, new school – I get how difficult that is. But I never wanted to hurt myself because of it.”

“I know.” She buried her face in the mattress as she gathered her thoughts. When she surfaced, it was with a question. “Do you remember that new mental-health initiative Ellen and I covered a couple of years ago? I remember thinking at the time that rates of childhood depression were way higher than I would have expected. I don’t think it’s totally off base to find a therapist for Alex to talk to. Even if that’s not what it is, he clearly needs someone more qualified to help him work through this.”

The more she thought about it, the more determined she was to pursue that course of action. She began drafting a conversation in her head, already making plans to call a therapist the next morning. It wasn’t until some minutes later that she realized Jaime still hadn’t spoken.

When she turned back to him, his face was furrowed with an agonizing thought.

Why am I not enough?

Arden’s blood ran cold. It had been so long since he’d doubted himself like this that she’d vainly hoped they’d moved beyond it. Her husband’s sensitivity was one of the things she loved about him most, but it had a tendency to make him vulnerable at the worst moments.

“Jaime, whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you.”

“But I’m his dad. Fixing things is part of my job.” He rubbed his temple, expression still strained.

Rolling closer to him, she splayed a hand over his chest. The hard muscles eased under her touch. “It’s impossible to fix everything,” she murmured, needing to hear the words every bit as much as he did. “And don’t you dare sell yourself short. As far as I’m concerned, all three of them are the luckiest kids in the world because they get to have you as their dad.”

“You’d never know it from what happened tonight.”

She hushed him with a tap of her finger. “Humor me for a second.” When he remained silent, she continued. “What were you doing outside with Will yesterday after they got home from school?”

His face softened, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Kicking around a soccer ball.”

“Exactly. Babe, you’ve seen me play soccer. I fell over once because I wasn’t coordinated enough to kick with one foot at a time. Do you think Will would have had nearly as much fun if I’d been out there instead?”

“No,” he agreed grudgingly.

“And do you realize that you might be the first man in Sophia’s life that actually deserves to earn her trust? You can’t put a value on how important that is.”

“Then why can’t I get my own son to talk to me?”

Arden stopped short at the pitiful question. “It’s not just you. Sometimes I feel like ninety percent of what I know about that child comes from Sophia. He still isn’t ready to come out of his shell around the two of us, and I guess we’re going to have to be okay with that for now. It’s easier with the other two, sure. We keep seeing progress with them. Sooner or later, we’ll see it with Alex too.”

He turned toward her, capturing her in his embrace. She held fast, sighing with relief at the security in his arms. “I can probably count on one hand the number of times you’ve been the one telling me to be patient.”

Arden’s laugh came out in hot breaths against his shoulder. “See? That’s just another reason why I need you in my life. Can you imagine all of the trouble I’d get into without you?” For long moments, he held her tight, strength coursing through every inch of skin that touched. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“We’re not quitters,” he added, combing a hand through her hair.

“Especially not when the prize is worth it in the end. Those kids downstairs are so worth it. Our family is worth it.”

I love you.

The corners of her mouth tipped up at his thought. “I love you too, babe. So, so much.”

Three months into parenting, they felt so far from where they wanted to be. Yet, as they clung to one another that night, both dared to believe that it was still within their reach.

#tw: depression #tw: self-harm #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #wishful thinking #jaime lewis #jaime x mc

23 notes · View notes

softjeon · 5 years

Text

Love Bite | Character Sheet

↳ This Character Sheet holds background Info on all the Characters of the story ‘Love Bite’ written by @cassiavioletblue & @softjeon

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / Final Total Words: 126.568k ↳ AO3

In the following notes you can find every info that we used/gathered before and over the course of writing the story ‘Love Bite’ and therefore holds more information about the characters and potential story lines that we didn’t write out or just hinted at in the main story. You can find the gifset trailer to the story here.

Vampires:

their bodies are warm and with a beating heart as long as they are well fed; the less human blood they drink the lower the beating gets

they cant feed off of other vampires, biting is only for sexual purposes or hurting someone

silver = allergic reactions

abilities: enhance speed, healing on their own (only when they are well fed or else it takes time), heightened senses, hypnotization

draw strength from the moonlight

vampire blood is like a poison for humans that make them euphoric and go into a erratic state so they don’t feel the pain. Their saliva has biochemical compounds that suppresses the pain the victim would normally feel when bitten, instead it makes the victim feel relaxed (and if they are exposed to it for longer the victim gets euphoric)

They can be seen in mirrors (as the myth “vampires don’t reflect” comes from a time in which mirrors still had silver in them. Nowadays that’s not a problem anymore)

they can live about a week without blood, before they start to starve, after a month without blood they dry up and die eventually (the only exception is when they rest; they can fall into a energy saving mode like Yoongi does when he wants to sleep for a century or two)

can walk in the sun, it only weakens them if they haven’t drunk enough so it dries them up faster; they can get headaches from it

don’t care about garlic or crosses, it’s a lie to make humans believe that vampires could be easily detected, just like the myths that they only hunt at night.

every vampire has some kind of useful ability, but only a few have rare one’s like Namjoon who can transform himself into a bat

they can will their teeth to protrude, but it's also an involuntary reaction when they get into dangerous situations, get frightened, hungry or really aroused etc.

Underground!vampires:

think that humans should be cattle/ slaves to the vampires

are mostly “new generation” vampires (in the story they are represented by MonstaX)

want to live out in the open because their belief is that vampires are from higher race and shouldn’t have to hide from humans, but reign over them.

want to overthrow Hoseok; since he wants to live hidden and with little damage to humanity; even though Hoseok uses humans as food as well

Namjoon:

got turned in the 17th century

he was left alone after he had been turned, his maker had never been around so he could never create a bond between himself and his maker vampire. It made it harder for him to understand what was going on, so he followed his instincts and his hunger, leaving him to become a ‘monster’ as Namjoon describes it himself until Yoongi found him and took him in. Yoongi became something like his second-maker. He taught him about the rules, the king and the hierarchy of vampires but Namjoon’s came up with his morals all by myself (Yoongi will refuse to have anything to do with something disgusting as drinking from blood bags).

became head of department in Hoseok’s company;

likes routine and everything in order

has a lot of strength, with which he accidentally destroys things from time to time, so everyone in the office thinks he has aggressive outbursts and is afraid of him

can transform himself into a bat, but loses his clothes each time, so he wouldn't use it too often only if he flies home or is in danger (only very few vampires in the world can do this, because you need absolute control of yourself)

hates hypnotizing people (and is actually bad at it) because he thinks that humans should not be treated like lesser beings and that them and vampires can live alongside each other

holds on tightly to his morals and beliefs; believes that humans should have the right to refuse to not be a ‘blood bag’ and should willingly accept the offer if it’s made by a vampire. He definitely annoyed Hoseok many times before and presented him with new rules and ways of living alongside of the humans. As much as Hoseok is annoyed by it, he considered a few to make it easier for them to live in the new century. He cherishes his friend and his great mind and thinking

has secretly wished for a companion for years now; someone that wants to really stay by his side despite him being a vampire

Jimin:

got transferred at his own request into the city and began working for Namjoon’s department

has no family left, but finds a good friend in student!intern!Tae

is scared easily, though when he gets really angry and frustrated not even Namjoon likes to fight with him

in his mid!twenties

he always worked in economics

is a loner; he only has Taehyung and even when he still lived on the countryside he mostly kept to himself and his ex-boyfriend

Vampire!Jimin:

Namjoon will tell everyone that Jimin is the most beautiful vampire he has ever seen

Namjoon is his companion and maker

his ability: manipulate emotions of others

will want Namjoon to dethrone Hoseok one day, so the vampires will finally have a good, caring leader

he never leaves Namjoon’s side

drinks off of other humans that allow him to take their blood (sometimes even Jungkook, if Taegi allows it) after discussing the pro’s and con’s with Namjoon for days

Taehyung:

goofy, happy, supportive

loves to go out and have fun, but also to stay in with Jimin and drink wine to just chat about “Mr. Kim’s best features”

he sometimes forces Jimin to go out with him, so “the older” can “get some”

one night when they were both too drunk and too horny they ended up having sex; but it was giggly, clumsy and not very satisfying and both promised to never talk about it again and definitely not repeat it. It says a lot about their friendship that it didn’t get awkward between them afterwards - and this is why Taehyung knows how it feels like to kiss Jimin.

Vampire!Taehyung:

he swore he fell in love with Yoongi the second he saw him, though Yoongi tries to tell him it was only the bond reacting

always wants to do human stuff, too and therefore gets into sticky situations that Yoongi needs to get him out of like trying to do a picnic with the humans but ends up throwing it all up

very needy and clingy when it comes to Yoongi but in a quieter way; he loves holding his hand

though he is a young vampire and thirsting for blood more than others, he is really good at controlling himself when it comes down to human!Jimin

his ability: can run so fast that others are moving in slow motion to him

Hoseok:

he was “born” as a vampire in ancient egypt

the oldest vampire to date

owns basically the whole city since he has business with all leading companies and some politicians (that he hypnotized)

he makes the rules and the vampires follow him since he’s the oldest

feeds off Jin and Jin only

his ability: hypnotizing people and vampires alike, controlling them so completely that he can make them feel the pain at his will instead of the pleasure of the poison; he is the only vampire who can hypnotize vampires

thinks humans are weak, but loves Jin with all of his heart

he is very strict with his rules, so no vampire gets exposed

can come off as cruel (maybe….just a little bit)

Jin:

He stumbled across Hoseok one night when he was out in the night. He was never scared of Hoseok, nor did he knew that he was the vampire king at first when he came with him

he dislikes the human world and is happy being surrounded by people who respect him because he’s the king's personal favorite

has bite marks all over his body - and loves it

Jin will be turned by Hoseok later in his life, when he decides he has “reached his peak in his beauty” so that he wants to stay forever like this with his love

Yoongi:

sleeps a lot and only wakes up to feed in between; he says this century is too boring for him and only when he meets Taehyung he has a reason to stay awake

one of the oldest (Hoseok > Yoongi > Namjoon)

his ability: manipulating memories of humans

he’s very possessive over Taehyung the moment Hoseok grants him ownership of the human

normally he likes to be a sub with young vampires, letting them ride out their neediness but with Taehyung he wants to dominate the younger completely.

His protectiveness awakes and something is different about this one, which he only later realizes is because he lost his heart to Tae instantly

Tae: “He doesn’t say it and he didn’t really ask me out like that but I think he’s my boyfriend!” Yoongi: *grumbles*

Jungkook:

student, who lives a bit out of town because he couldn’t afford himself an expensive apartment in the city and somehow the houses by the hill are so cheap and beautiful at the same time, leaving him wondering why no one is living there or wants to buy it

innocent bun stumbling all doe-eyed into the danger without knowing what he was getting himself into

loves his banana milk and would do anything for it, even if it means getting bitten by vampires and at the same time wouldn’t get the “I want to bite you” hint even if Taehyung spells it out for him

the only human that was allowed to leave the mansion again, when normally humans that stumble upon them will never be released again

Jungkook definitely comes back, because the curiosity will get the better of him

might be their human friend/pet/lover ...depending on who you ask in the future ;)

Headcanons/ What might be happening next…:

Namjoon and Jimin will take the time, after the younger has gotten used to his new life, to travel around the world

Jimin is the only vampire who is really allowed to tease and call Hoseok names and the king doesn’t take actions since Hoseok won’t ever harm Jimin again as he keeps his promises to Namjoon

Namjoon will show Jimin all of the places he loved and where he was born (as a human)

they will always have one of the strongest bonds that anyone has ever seen and even when usually the ‘newborn’ bond fades out, their bond stays strong and makes them more aware of each other - which Namjoon loves, since he still has the urge to protect Jimin at all costs; their love will be eternal

Yoongi and Taehyung take in Jungkook and “take care of him”

Jungkook loves his vampire friends

One day Namjoon will stumble into the kitchen seeing Jungkook sipping on his banana milk, seated on Yoongi’s lap who only grins at the other with blood dripping down his chin, while Taehyung takes a sip from Jungkook’s delicious thighs. He will only shake his head and turn around again. “You really don’t want to go in there right now.” (Namjoon to Jimin)

Jin and Hoseok will retire one day to go back to egypt; normally Yoongi would be next in line but the other refuses so Namjoon is up for debate

Thank you for reading the story and becoming a part of it with all of your lovely comments and messages. They always keep us motivated and going and we can’t wait to share new stories with you guys. We’re currently working hard on something new and then there’s still ‘Devils Hand’ where the last chapter will be posted next week. Thank you for everything!💕💕💕

- Cat (@cassiavioletblue) & Jey (@softjeon)

Subscribed: @jeonsdear @hannahaura @hroseok @awjiminie @violentredroses@bluekyuprincess @nochuukookie @mintynicotine @yesiamhangry @dancelinestan @dajosaf@angeljk @wise-bts-collector @lxnehxre @taeofcups @p-ixelite @lissachan504 @h-e-l-p-m-e-p-l-e-a-s-e @hisheartsmile @violetrose120 @it-is-dana @fusselkuchen @ly-joon @valleyvictoria@bngtnsnyndn-ily @gelsavitichi @thenameoftherain @minsugasnerd

↳ If you want to be tagged in new updates you can now sign up in my subscription list for being tagged in my works here

146 notes · View notes

activisthelps · 5 years

Note

so like... i'm kinda interested to hear about your no faceclaim rpc idea... and how it would work/ how you would like it to work idk idk idk... it just... really intrigues me tbh

i was really hoping to elaborate on this eventually, so thank you so much for the ask! for anyone looking for a reference, i proposed in an earlier post that i would like to see, in the future of the rpc, no faceclaims being used! here’s what my thought process is on this. and by the way, as a disclaimer, by no means am i trying to criticize anyone’s roleplaying habits. that’s not what i’m trying to do at all!! i use faceclaims myself!! we all do!!

i’m not exactly sure how it would work, or of any alternative to fcs. unless the alternative is just to stop using faceclaims, simply. here’s why i think so, though!

we use famous people with a lot of content to represent our characters. perhaps even if we started using faceclaims that are athletes or lesser known models, youtubers. if we used films and shows from non-white countries, etc. even that would make our characters more diverse in the rpc.

but we don’t. we use lily collins, matthew daddario, and other thin, white, cis, able-bodied and sometimes problematic fcs to represent our characters. because that’s what the media favors, so that’s what we favor as a society, too. we clump together korean people with japanese people and chinese people, and act like they’re interchangeable. same thing with indigenous & polynesian & latine fcs. i can count on one hand how many shows and movies i’ve watched with autistic actors, or people who use wheelchairs, or use an actual trans or nonbinary person to play trans and nonbinary characters. we erase their identities or pretend they don’t exist because there is an over-abundance of media on people that conform to european beauty standards and european beauty standards only!

we use the excuse, so often, that there aren’t enough resources for other, more diverse faceclaims than the same thin, white, cis, able-bodied, etc, fcs. so this is me offering a solution: let’s stop relying on faceclaims to represent our characters. characters in novels don’t have or need them, and they get their point across just fine!! let’s describe them physically, their style and the shade of their eyes & skin. their tattoos and scars and hairstyle. there’s no possible way we can convey everything we need to convey in a thread in terms of the actions, expressions and dialogue of our characters, with simply what has been shown on tv. we are writers, creators. we don’t have to rely on other people’s content to make something seem real.

i realize, also, that this isn’t entirely realistic and might seem really far-fetched!! there are so so so many rphs out there who have dedicated hours on top of hours making resources for faceclaims to use as a visual during threads and for applications, including myself! it’d be a complete waste to not give them their fair go in the tags.

and also, everyone uses them, right? that’s always a part of an application. then you have to look at the long lists of who is taken, so now even if you had a visual idea for a character, you can’t use that person because someone else’s character looks like them too. after that, you’ve got to jump to the long list of banned faceclaims. your character resembles eiza gonzalez in a way, but that can’t be okay because the actual eiza gonzalez is problematic and her face is banned from this place, like looks are the only valuable substance of your character.

on top of that, there are also a lot of writers and roleplayers who can’t join rps because they can’t find a faceclaim but they’re required, or they can’t see a small gif icon or heavy texture that is distorting a photo on a thread. that, or they are discouraged from doing so because no one looks like them. or no one knows this fc so no one interacts. let’s please, please stop with the excuses. there is almost always a solution, a little push towards change that we can start chipping away at even if it starts small. don’t jump on the bandwagon or feel obligated to use a face you don’t want to use just because people are more likely to interact with you. you should not have to tailor your decisions to other people’s desires!!

another thing, eliminating the use of faceclaims will also put more of our focus back on the writing aspect. i find myself getting frustrated with myself and my replies because with just text it looks boring. but i’m still proud to have gone from using gif icons of a mascot, to normal gifs of a mascot, to finally having no mascot at all. i don’t take forever to post answers anymore because. a picture might be worth a thousand words but we don’t draw our icons or choose every tiny detail of the faceclaim in the resource we choose to use. it’s really hard to find a gif of exactly what we need it to look like, and exactly how your character is doing it. sometimes we resort to using one that doesn’t even fit at all. and oftentimes i find myself actually tailoring, and editing my writing to what is being portrayed in the photo because what i want to say in writing doesn’t fit the picture. exactly what i want to say exists in no picture or gif.

this got really really long and possibly off topic in some places but here’s my hot take!! i’d love to hear others’ thoughts or opinions on this, or other ideas! obviously the idea isn’t fully developed and is just that, an idea. i don’t know every result this might have on the community, or if this has already been talked about. i know it’s not realistic and if it is, it’s far from getting there. this is just me telling you all about an idea & thought i had!

#rpc #rpt #( olivia's words )#( answered )#wowza this is a mess #sabrinatherph

12 notes · View notes

houseofvans · 6 years

Photo

ART SCHOOL | MICHAEL C. HSIUNG | VANS US OPEN 2018

Michael C. Hsiung has a special imagination, one filled with mermen, dragons, creative landscapes and intriguing narratives. His humorous illustrations will evoke your inner child and leave you wanting more. If only everyone could see the world through his eyes, maybe we’d live life a bit more light-heartedly. Now let’s dive into who this creative genius is and what he created on this year’s Vans US Open skate and BMX course.

Photographs courtesy of Ginger Caranto

What is your background? I was born in Chinatown, Los Angeles and raised in the San Fernando Valley. My folks emigrated from Taiwan to the US in the mid-late 70’s, and I grew up in Northridge where I discovered art, comic books, fantasy, skateboarding, Dungeons & Dragons and heavy metal. Now, I’m a self taught artist who has been lucky enough to draw and show my art to folks who hopefully like a good chuckle or two.

How did you get into art? My childhood was always filled with drawing, scribbling, and coloring books. I was always really stoked on comic book art, Dungeons & Dragons artwork, Pushead, Frazetta, Gorey and anything with skulls or dragons.

How did you start making art / what drives you to continue to do so? I grew up doodling, coloring, and using my imagination to play and have fun. So naturally I always kept a sketchbook or journal to record my thoughts through drawings or doodles. Tried endlessly to draw my own comic to no avail. Eventually I stopped drawing for a long time because I just didn’t think my drawings were good enough. I didn’t think I had the talent for it, so I stopped. Years passed . . . I didn’t find myself drawing anymore, not until, I moved back to Los Angeles in 2007. I was hanging out with my old skate friends, and one of them was making art (Mike Stilkey - amazing artist), as was my sister, Pearl. They both encouraged me to draw with them while we chilled out from nights out on the town or when we were killing time. It was the perfect window for me to create and revisit drawing.

Eventually with enough encouragement through my friends and various random folks on the internet, I started to draw more and more. This eventually led to me showing work, taking on projects, and ultimately finding a purpose for myself. That was about 10 years ago, and it has been quite the ride. What drives me to continue has changed over the years, as I think it does for most folks who try and make a living doing art or freelance. It isn’t a easy career, though it may seem super fun and exciting, which it is of course. But also there’s what the reality is too– it is a lot of work, sacrifice and constant ups and downs. That being said, drawing is so much a part of who I am that while it has its challenges I know if I stopped, I’d be unsatisfied with life. I draw and make art to keep my sanity, and hopefully bring joy to folks who come across it.

Who are your biggest influences? Hands down my older sister Pearl who is an amazing artist and painter. She was always drawing me things or painting my door with cool comic characters. Later on in life, she encouraged me to draw again, just for the therapy side of having an outlet.

What does your creative process entail? My process has changed over the years. I used to just sit down, draw immediately, form ideas, and BOOM – that would continue for many years. Nowadays, I really have to find time and a spark or inspiration, then spend the hours sitting, pondering, sketching, and erasing before I even get to the point of wanting to pen in the lines. Sometimes I chuck things before they have even been half way finished. It is hard not to overthink what you do when you’ve been doing it for a bit, but I try and stay fresh by focusing on ideas and interests that inspire me. I also try and create a fun and relaxed environment in my studio with little to few distractions–almost as if to take me back to when I was a kid drawing just for drawing’s sake.

What is your most important artist tool? Is there something you can’t live without in your studio? My most important artist tool is my imagination. Growing up I was lucky to really have to use my own imagination to play and create worlds, which has helped me as an artist. Imagination and creativity is what gives life to my art.

Many of your drawings feature a hybrid animal. Who is this character and what does he represent to you? I think the first hybrid animals I started drawing were merman. I am fascinated by mythology and old tales, so I wanted to re-imagine what these creatures were like, who they were, and why the mermaids left them. I started to create these stories in my head, so I wanted to draw out my own narrative. I love reading and exploring the origins of mythological creatures such as centaurs, harpies, satyrs and then re-creating my own tales about them in the modern world or with modern vices. They allow me to explore the world in a different way as well as express my passion for cryptozoology, mythology, and fantasy.

Where do you find inspiration for your work? Inspiration is a strange thing, but I get inspired by things I read, strange facts, old books, sometimes movies, adventurers, old tales, friend antics, mythology, fantasy, crystals, nature, skateboarding and the list goes on. I try and let my mind find other interests that can inspire my work in a new direction.

How has your style changed over your career? When I started drawing again in 2007 my art was looser, naive, and more freeform but thematically I was drawing what I touch upon now. I was and am still drawing mermen, weird animals, and strange people. I’ve worked on honing my ideas, drawing with intention, and making my art cleaner, straighter and well executed. That’s what happens when you start to show art with other amazing artists - it makes you up your stuff!

Can you tell us about the mural you created for the Vans Park Series course? This year for the Vans Park Series course I created four different painted illustrated pieces–a bear skating on all his paws, a Slip-On shoe wizard, a mustached dude on a log board, and a bear with a sun hat on one as well.

The bear on the board is a character I’ve been drawing for a few years. She’s kind of a combo of a California State bear, a friend and a reference to my last name, which in Chinese translates to BEAR. Bet you didn’t see that one coming ha.

Well I’m super into wizards and super into Slip-Ons, so it was just a natural thing that came to being hah. I did that piece for my wife Rachel too! I even added some crystals for her since she’s a total rock hound.

The last character is just a rad cruiser dude who I imagine seeing all over town just laying back on his deck with his road soda. Just enjoying life.

What is your favorite part about painting a mural? My favorite part about painting the mural is when you see it getting shredded by all the amazing skateboarders!

What was the painting experience like working with multiple artists on the course? It’s such a great bonding experience when you’re painting a huge skate course in 3 days with other artists. I love seeing everyone’s approach, style and learning about their art and who they are.

It was my first time meeting Benjamn Marasco and Ellen Rutt, and I have to say those are some inspiring folks. They tackled their massive murals within tough conditions and never flinched. I love that.

It is always fun to work alongside Jack Graydon! He’s the best. You wanna learn about spray paint? Jack’s your man. You need help with a color choice, Jack is the man!

Then it was a special treat to work with artist and bud Phil Morgan. I don’t know how to explain it, but it was real special. We helped keep each other on track and just like always bounce ideas off each other. Lots of time I feel like you’re working out your problems in the bowl with other artists. It’s fun!

Do you have a favorite memory from your time spent at the US Open? So many fun and memorable moments, but my favorite memory from the time in the park was definitely the last day when we were all finished with our murals and sitting together on the spine looking around and checking out each other’s pieces. I mean you spend most of the time there focusing on your mural and painting that you don’t actually get to see each other’s work before it gets skated - so that end moment is special :)

What was the most challenging part of the mural you created? The most challenging part of the mural really is the weather (super hot in the bowl!) and painting on the transition. You don’t realize how many muscles start working until you wake up the next morning. Standing and balancing while trying to paint a straight line is probably the hardest part, but you learn to get loose and go with the flow. Let it flow!

Do you have any advice for people who have dreams of becoming an artist? My advice to people who have the dream of becoming an artist–if you have a great imagination, feed it with books, music, art, and play a board game once in a while.

Follow Michael on Instagram and check out his online shop here.

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vansusopen #vansskate #Michael Hsiung #Interview #Art School #Huntington #Mural #artists #Humor

76 notes · View notes

moriganstrongheart · 5 years

Text

The Dragon Prince: Season One – Review

Created by Aaron Ehasz and Justin Richmond 2018, Netflix 9 episodes, 25-27 minutes

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Good: Character writing and designs Bad: Animation style, narrative, pacing, tone

[ ! ] Spoiler Warning

I went into The Dragon Prince with low expectations. I had heard that some of the creative minds behind Avatar: The Last Airbender were the showrunners, but something about the look and feel of the show put me off. My fears were realized when I loaded up the first episode and got turned me off immediately by the terrible opening prologue. I also thought I could forgive the animation style if I gave it a chance, but I just couldn’t get past it. So I set The Dragon Prince aside and didn’t come back to it for a few weeks. Unfortunately, my opinion of the animation style didn’t improve, and the prologue became indicative what the quality of the writing would be for the majority of the season. These issues made my overall experience of The Dragon Prince a negative one, but I did end up being fond of the characters, even though the world and plot were ultimately uninspiring.

The characters of The Dragon Prince surprised me on multiple levels, beginning with how gradual their personality emerged. I was also surprised by how well developed a lot of them were. The difference in quality between character and plot writing is staggering; it never felt like the characters were ever part of the world—or had any real stakes in the story—despite standing as examples of great character writing. Everyone feels fleshed out and real, with a few exceptions. I think it’s worth breaking down the characters and my opinion on each.

Callum

While annoying at times, Callum is simultaneously an awkward teenager and a great older brother, balancing the two roles perfectly. He is confident but at the same time not, leading to some interesting conflicts. I was a bit put off by his voice (I could sometimes hear Sokka in him), but I don’t think that should be taken into consideration when evaluating him as a character. The only issue I had with Callum was how the writers seemed to pick him most often for their plot contrivances, wherein he does things out of character to move the plot along—like having a “we need to argue so we can learn something” argument with his brother. Even if almost all of the characters suffer similarly throughout the season, it seems to happen more frequently with him.

Rayla

Of all the protagonists, Rayla feels the most developed. She has a particular way of life and grew up believing a specific ideal, but has not yet decided who she is. Her actions mirror this at every turn, as she struggles with her own values and the duties put on her by her people. She responds to a lot of her problems with sarcastic remarks in an attempt to hide her insecurities about her own capabilities. It was her introduction and subsequent development that had me hooked. I doubt I would have continued watching if not for my investment in her character arc.

Ezran

When talking about the quality of the character writing in The Dragon Prince, I mentioned a few exceptions, and Ezran is one such exception. Perhaps his lack of complexity could be explained away since he’s a child, but considering the work put into the other characters—and the fact that he and his pet Bait are the source for too many plot contrivances—I don’t believe that’s the case. Still, his character is solid, but I found myself disliking any scene where he had a prominent role.

Claudia

Of all the characters, Claudia is the one that surprised me the most. What started as a “crush” love interest for Callum, turned into a multi-faceted character. She’s characterized as quirky, but she displays much more complexity as time goes on, being intelligent, inventive and decisive. It’s one of the few times I enjoyed a character that fills this trope. I particularly enjoyed the playful banter between her and her brother Soren. She’s also never used in any of the plot contrivances that I remember, which made her one of my favourite characters.

Soren

Soren is the bully character done right. In a modern setting, he’d be the high school jock with a football jacket, giving nerds wedgies and hitting on girls. But like most of the characters in The Dragon Prince, his character writing is superb. He’s kind of a jerk, but he has heart and does what he thinks is best, even if he’s not always sure what to do. He’s not one of my favourites, but I enjoyed his interactions with other characters, be it Callum, his sister or his father.

Viren

It can be difficult to create a sympathetic villain, especially when writing stories for children. It’s often easier to make the villain evil instead of just villainous; capable of heinous acts that no sane person would do, but ultimately unrelatable. Viren engages in all the activities we would expect from a villainous, treacherous royal advisor. However, all his actions are believable, making sense within the political climate of Katolis. He’s conniving and scheming, but it never feels as though he does anything with ill intent or for the sake of evil. He’s just doing what he thinks is best, regardless of the cost to himself or the ones around him. That makes him a much more compelling villain in the long run; one that blurs the lines of morality while making it clear that what he does is wrong.

King Harrow

I’m sad that we don’t get to see much of King Harrow, since he quickly became one of my favourite characters. He is level-headed, principled but swept up in his duties. For a fantasy setting, he’s quite relatable. Even his attitude towards Viren can be seen as rational; Viren appears to be deluded as to the nature of their relationship, and Harrow wants to draw clear boundaries in response to Viren’s behaviour. I also enjoyed his relationship with Callum, though I’m a bit disappointed we didn’t get to see him interact with Ezran (which may contribute to my dislike of him). I’m not totally convinced we’ve seen the last of Harrow. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part, as I felt the quality of the narrative quickly dropped after his assassination.

General Amaya

Amaya was at the centre of many of the discussions around the show at release, due to the fact that she is deaf. She uses ASL and has an interpreter, showing the commitment the showrunners had in properly representing those with hearing impairments. She also has—hands down—the best character design, which surely contributed to her initial popularity. I was consistently surprised with how intelligently she was written, from her earnest demeanor to her absolute conviction in doing what’s morally right. She became my favourite character as soon as she was introduced, helped by the amazing fight scene between her and Rayla shortly thereafter, which had me exclaiming audibly in astonishment at how well the fight was choreographed.

I don’t really have an opinion of the rest of the cast. I liked Gren, but he turned into comedic relief once separated from Amaya. The rest of the cast were either bland, annoying or used purely for plot purposes and, as such, were underutilized.

All of the characters had consistently great character designs. I’ve mentioned some of my favourites already—namely Amaya and Rayla—but I have no issues with the design of any of the characters. I also appreciated the amount of diversity among the characters. Of course, the humans in The Dragon Prince don’t share our history or cultures, but it’s nice to see different skin colours, even if they’re not attached to specific ethnicities. I also really enjoyed the design of the moonshadow elves, even though they’re basically just Night Elves from World of Warcraft. Their voices in particular were a welcome change from the normally pompous or breathy way elves tend to speak in fantasy settings. Overall, the voice actors delivered a great performance, being able to convey emotions and concealed intentions through speech, which—along with great character writing and designs—made the characters of The Dragon Prince complex, interesting and deserving of a more well-written narrative. I have to mention, though, that creature designs were subpar by comparison, childish in their design or unappealing to look at.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the writers and maybe the showrunners behind The Dragon Prince created and then developed the characters and premise long before ever writing a narrative for them. The signs are all there: the characters are incredibly well developed, but don’t really feel like they belong in the world. The story is strong at the beginning of the season, but then meanders and feels disjointed right up until the end. There are some great moments here and there: Amaya’s fight with Rayla, the elven dagger, interactions between Viren and King Harrow...These moments teased at what could have been, but I’m convinced that the writers had little to go on beyond extensive character profiles and an intricate political struggle. Any time the story focuses on anything substantial, it falters. The stakes never feel like they matter, and the tone shifts from dark to light-hearted from one scene to the next. A character might be afraid to lose their arm, and within seconds be comically afraid of the water. There’s no consistency in the tone, so it’s difficult to care about what happens to the characters, regardless of how appealing they are.

The tipping point for me was when Ezran fell into sub-zero water for way longer than a child should, and yet he came out feeling only slightly uncomfortable instead of dying from exposure. I’m not one to judge realism in fiction, but when their father was just murdered and there’s a chance that Rayla might lose a hand, I just couldn’t buy into the story anymore. Things just got even more nonsensical from there. Thankfully, I had already checked out of the story at this point, so I didn’t have to suspend my disbelief any longer. It was clear to me that the narrative was just a means to an end—a way for the writers to get from:

Point A – King Harrow’s death and the discovery of the egg, to

Point B – the egg hatching and Viren’s intentions made bare.

Everything else is just moments in time, sequences without any reason to be there except padding, strung together loosely to form a weak narrative. It’s a shame because the script is at times brilliant, normally when characters interact in meaningful ways. I’ll always remember when Amaya goes to visit her sister’s grave and Viren comes to reconcile with her, as well as the conversations between Callum and his step-father. There’s just nothing to support these moments, nothing to invest myself in beyond the quality of the characters themselves. As such, I have little interest in seeing where the story goes next, nor do I think it’s worth recommending the series.

Finally, I don’t know if I’m just getting out of touch with animation, but I personally don’t understand the use of reduced frame-rates in 3D animation. I can’t decide if it’s a budgetary decision or a stylistic one, but I don’t like it either way. It reminds me of stop-motion animation, but without the inherent charm that kind of animation possesses. Or maybe it’s the lack of exaggeration as I don’t remember a single instance where animation principles like squash and stretch were applied to exaggerate actions or emotions. The animators seemed more concerned with keeping the characters on model rather than in creating a visually engrossing work of animation. I think part of the reason I judge the animation so severely is that I attribute this style of animation with amateur video game machinima, especially films made in applications like Garry’s Mod. It feels unprofessional and underdeveloped. It doesn’t help that everything except the character designs is bland and uninteresting. Characters stood out like actors on a poorly designed community stage, never really feeling a part of the world they inhabit. The only exception might be the magic effects, which were creative and fun to look at. Of course, my opinion on the visuals is highly subjective, so I can’t fault the show for it.

However, I have no issue with criticizing its writing. I hope that the next season fares better in that department than the first. With its well developed characters, The Dragon Prince has the chance to break through popular culture to reach the same heights as Avatar: The Last Airbender, maybe even defining an entirely new generation of children. But they can’t expect their characters to bear the full weight of that burden. These characters deserve an engrossing narrative, one which allows them to shine and interact in meaningful ways, to shape the world and to be shaped by the world around them. The Dragon Prince has a great foundation, but it has failed so far build on it. If the writers can expand on the political struggles that impressed so many within the first half of the season, I can only imagine what kind of show The Dragon Prince might become.

Official Show Website

#my reviews #review #television review #the dragon prince #tdp #the dragon prince season one review #fantasy #worldbuilding #world building #world-building #aaron ehasz #justin richmond #netflix #bardel entertainment

1 note · View note

jasminecancel · 2 years

Text

Blog Post #1: Examining Youth Culture

Which character in any of these stories do you identify with the most and why?’

The character that I connect with the most is Cady because she was an outsider trying to fit in and ultimately when she did she turned into someone she did not like. I connect with this character because when I first moved to Middletown from the Bronx I felt alone and didn’t know anyone there. I then started hanging out with the wrong crowd who would always make fun of people and at the time I thought I had to do the same to fit in. This is like when Cady wanted to take Regina's place in the popular group and made her eat the “weight loss” bars and it instead did the opposite (42m:40s-43m:12s). As time went on I realized that me making fun of people doesn’t make me fit in at all and it wasn’t the person that I wanted to be. So I started to distance myself from them. I started to apologize to the people who I hurt and to be honest it's a good thing that I made that realization because now I have a good group of friends that are the exact opposite of those I used to hang out with. This is like at the end of the Mean Girls movie when the Plastics all go their different ways and find their group of friends and don’t bully anyone anymore (1h:31m:44s-1h:32m:47). This is why I connect with Cady’s story because we both became people we didn’t want to be and in the end, we both grew to be people who can change and be better. I think growth as a person is one of the most important things someone can do even though it can be hard sometimes and be lonely at times but in the end, it can be so rewarding. Personal growth doesn’t happen overnight and people are constantly changing for the better or the worse, someone just has to decide to try to do better.

2.Identify three (3) common themes that are present in these stories and elaborate if they are relatable to contemporary youth culture. Draw from your personal experiences and elaborate on how these themes may have impacted your adolescent life.

Three common themes that are present in these stories are drugs, partying, and sex. In most of the movies drugs and partying were a big factor in the way that they represented youth culture. Throughout most of the stories partying, drugs, alcohol, and sex are a big part of story. For example in KIDS by the end of the movie, there's a little party in an apartment where you can see the kids drinking, and smoking (1h:02m:04s-1h:03m:42s). Drinking and doing drugs is a big part of how youth culture is represented. Many teens today drink alcohol and smoke because it’s fun for them. But for me drinking and doing drugs isn’t my idea of fun. I've been around people who like to drink and do drugs especially at parties and it's cool and everything but I don’t want to ever be in a position where I have to drink and do drugs to have fun or function. Partying is also how many people represent youth culture because that wear many people are introduced to alcohol and drugs since there is a lot of peer pressure within youth culture. In the movie KIDS, when Jenni was looking for Telly she goes to a club where she is offered drugs, but she is peer pressured into taking it (59m:52s-1h:00m:23s). Peer pressure is a big part of youth culture because many people are told they should drink, do drugs, and party since that is what everyone else does. But if they don’t follow that then people are looked at differently because they want to do other things or don’t enjoy doing those things. In Euphoria, addiction is a big issue that is prevalent throughout the whole series. In the show, Rue is addicted to drugs because she has all these mental issues and just wants to have a moment of peace and she gets that when she takes drugs. In many party scenes throughout the series sex, partying and drugs are very prevalent. In the first episode of Euphoria Jules goes to Nate’s party after coming from a hotel room where she had sex with his dad and later finds his ex-girlfriend having sex with a college guy in a pool. Another example of sex in Euphoria is that there was a video uploaded to a porn site of Kat and she later in the series uses the same porn site and uploads videos of herself dancing. Then Kat gets messages from random men asking her for a private skype session with her and she does it. She skypes men who want her to be mean to them and sends her money like her first client (ep 3 34m:02s-36m55s). Sex plays a big role in youth culture because they are constantly being shown sexual pictures online whether or not they are looking for them especially at young ages. In my personal experience, I like to stay away from drugs, alcohol, and partying for the most part. Partying once in a while is fun but I don’t need to have alcohol and drugs to have fun.

3. First, explain how a soundtrack of a film/TV series impacts the narrative of a story. Second, create an Apple/Spotify playlist of ten (10) songs that best define your adolescent experience, and embed this playlist onto your blog. Third, briefly explain what each song means to you.

The soundtrack of a film/TV series has an important role to play in the narrative of a story. Music helps convey the emotions of the characters and also helps the viewers stay interested in the film/TV series. The soundtrack also helps progress the character's story because a change in music can help the audience feel a change in a character from having dark music for the villain of the story to having upbeat music later on when the villain becomes a good guy. Some songs that best define my adolescence experience are “Counting Stars” by OneRepublic, “High Hopes” Panic! At The Disco, “We are young” by fun, “Count on Me” by Bruno Mars, “Don’t stop believing” by Journey, “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar, “You Give Love A Bad Name” by Bon Jovi, “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi, “I Don't Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith, “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. “Counting Stars” by OneRepublic is one of my absolute favorite songs growing up. I remember when I first listened to this song when I was in my dance class, it was the first song that came on for warmups. Everyone loved the song so it became our warm-up song every day, every time I hear that song I get happy since it reminds me of dance class. “High Hopes” by Panic! At The Disco is the first song I heard of this band and I think it’s a good depiction of how I felt when I finally figured out what I wanted to do in my future. I love how this song is about not giving up and accomplishing your goals. Another song that has the same meaning as “High Hopes” is “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar. This is a big motivating song for me because when I hear it, it reminds me no matter what, try your hardest and don’t give up. “We are Young” by Fun is a song that my cousins and I would scream out the lyrics every time we saw each other and we always got in trouble for being loud but we did not care at all it was always fun. “Count On Me” by Bruno Mars is a song that my friends have always said would describe me best since I’m the person in the friend group that everyone comes to for advice or if they're in trouble since they know I’ll always help them out. Another song that had a big impact on my adolescents is “Don’t stop believing” by Journey, I first heard this song in a movie named Rock of Ages and I thought this was a pretty good movie and I sang this song everywhere I went for months, this is one of my favorite songs of all time. Two songs that I have heard a million times throughout my childhood are “You Give Love A Bad Name” by Bon Jovi and “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi because my dad loves his songs so I’ve heard them a lot and they are great songs. “I Don't Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith would be in my soundtrack for my adolescent experience because when I was younger I lost my first dog, he was with me my entire life and was one of my best friends. So when my dog died I started being closer to my family because I didn’t want to lose them either. I was young and it was the first time I lost someone/pet in my life so I was attached to the hip of my parents cause I didn’t want the same thing to happen to them. Last but not least the final song for my adolescent experience soundtrack would be “Happy” by Pharrell Williams because after everything that has happened I am still a very happy person no matter what happens. Here’s a link to my playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BK28eSoj1tXtOhHaM1VZR

1 note · View note