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tleeaves · 3 months

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The Fictional Crush Line-Up For 2023 and Beyond

Was going to do this sooner (as in a review on the year based on the new or resurfaced interests I picked up, with aforementioned fictional crushes along the way), but I wanted to collect art for them all too and then I also had to try and remember them all. But here we are. If I'm missing any, I'll either have to edit and or reblog to include them.

See if you can spot any common threads (it may get trickier as the list goes on, just be warned). This goes almost in chronological order. But order does not in any way reflect my level of brainrot and obsession with each.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE FRAGILE THREADS OF POWER, BALDUR'S GATE III, AND ARCANE: LEAGUE OF LEGENDS (SPECIFICALLY REGARDING VIKTOR).

Consider yourself warned.

Victor Vale (Vicious by V.E. Schwab)

Victor and his revenge story are kind of responsible for kick-starting my journey of self-rediscovery these past twelve months, in a strange and roundabout way. He made me want to stick up for myself and what I wanted out of life. Sure, he's extremely morally grey in a concerning way, and yeah, we don't normally encourage revenge, but I found him a comfort at a difficult time. But also, I could totally fix him (no one can and it's no one's responsibility, yet the sentiment is still there). I'm not usually one for blonds (I am a liar) but his cold aesthetic is oddly pleasing. There's nothing I understand more than an awe that rots into resentment and envy while maintaining the same thread of fascination with someone. "Victor Vale was not a fucking sidekick" is just a, mwah, chef's kiss line. Honestly, I have less of a crush on this guy, more of an understanding that I appreciate. Also, I haven't even mentioned the chronic pain implications and canon uses of his powers. But that might be for another time.

Viktor (Arcane: League of Legends)

Another Viktor with chronic illness themes and whose (in LoL lore) regard for a partner in science goes sour over time as they pursue different objectives (not seen in the Netflix series yet, of course, it's too early for glorious evolution). This guy always comes back to rot in my brain, and I cannot wait for season 2 later this year to see what comes of his arc. I'm planning a fanfic involving him, Jayce, and maybe/sort of Jinx, based on a dream I had months ago but still have swirling in the soup that is my consciousness. There is something so pretty about this guy. If I was more confident in my sketching abilities, he'd end up being my muse way too often. Viktor's character to me is kind of a tragedy personified, and I love a good tragedy. Oh, and his voice actor?? Amazing. There's some debate over how authentic he sounds to Eastern Europeans, but the accent aside still, he sounds sooo good. I want to sit in on a lecture where he speaks about literally anything for two hours.

Kell Maresh (A Darker Shade of Magic; The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab)

Usually, I don't talk about Kell because of how silly I feel like my crush on him is. I identify with Delilah "Lila" Bard throughout ADSOM and even Threads, so I hate further mentioning how much I actually think about Kell because I'd have to fist fight anyone who said I only relate to her because of Kell when that's not the truth. And yet, there's still enough differences between Lila and I for me to be like "if I had to pick a woman in the Schwabverse..." But also, MAYBE I JUST THINK KELL IS GORGEOUS, OKAY? 🫣 Maybe I like that he starts as a somewhat naive prince who's had things both easy and rough in life (wanting to be loved by the only family you know and not feel like you're only there to protect your adoptive brother whom your parents tried to tell you both was not actually your brother and you should stop treating each other as such is VALID, argue with the wall, also he's the bodyguard and eternal worrier (yes, worrying) for Rhy and he's taken lives way too young). Maybe I like that he fell first and fell hard for Lila (okay, but if we're getting into the nitty-gritty, she did flirt with him first multiple times, but she would never admit to actual feelings), that he's the male love interest without reservations for once, leaving it up to Lila and whether she's open to love for once in a story. And yeah, okay, maybe I like that he's actually some kind of a prince charming, the sort you always secretly dream about, you know? Shut up. I like his stupid magic coat too. He's clever, but occasionally actually unbelievably dumb, he's funny and witty yet he knows when to keep his mouth shut (and is usually the one hauling others out of a scrap because of their own smart mouths), he cares too much about his family, AND DID I MENTION HE ALSO HAS CHRONIC ILLNESS THEMES THAT BROKE MY DAMN CHRONICALLY ILL AND IN PAIN HEART? I've said too much already, but there. He's a guy.

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man: Across The SpiderVerse)

This is the one my sister teases me most about because she doesn't get it. To be honest with you all, even I don't know how to explain it. But this guy. Miguel. There is something about him that I just abdkjdjsdv, you know? Is it the tragedy? The moral greyness? The fangs? His insane height? Just his fanon self? The fucking muscles?? I don't know. But I will defend how interesting he is as an antagonist until the cows come home.

Elliott (Stardew Valley)

Oh... boy. Sometimes, I realise I have a type. It's pretty guys who are hopeless romantics that write novels and poetry. Maybe it's just this one guy. But wow, it works on me. I'm writing a fanfic about him because I need to. There's only 400-odd words to it so far. It was not long after I met him in the game that I decided I had to wife him up. I planted that pomegranate tree early, because it's his favourite fruit for those who don't know, and he loves receiving them as a gift. I got ducks so I could give him their stray feathers. I learned how and when to find lobsters and catch crabs because he loves those too. If I'm out of gifts, I go get a coffee for him because every writer needs their sustenance. Literally, by Spring of Year 2, we were married, and I wondered if perhaps I might have been a little too single-mindedly pursuing every one of those cut scenes when I should have been taking it a bit slower and making it less of a mission. Don't know what to tell you, I went crazy. I fully believe in the headcanon that he gets up early just to go through his haircare routine. Is he pretentious? Maybe. Does he lay it on a little too thick that he's scared of dying alone? Well, okay, yes. Does it bother me that as a househusband he doesn't help out more on the farm? Occasionally. But there's also no one else I'd rather be with (and I developed a sprinkler system specifically so there was less work for me anyway and so now I don't mind at all when he isn't helping). And I can't believe my sister ever introduced me to Stardew Valley because I am now mentally ill about a videogame character made of pixels. Yes, I make wine just for him too. Hush. I spoil him daily now that we're married. Our first child is a son named Ernest. I was debating between Ernest and Edgar, and honestly, I think I should have gone with the latter, but I chose the former. All the dialogue from Elliott is so frickin' cute.

Astarion Ancunín (Baldur's Gate III)

And do you know what the worst part about this one is? I still haven't actually played Baldur's Gate III. I know, I KNOW. A crime. I'm working on it. But you best believe I've watched every cutscene I can, every scrap of gameplay dialogue, all the choices, the different endings you can get with him (Ascended breaks my heart every time -- I don't care how hot he is, it's not what he would have wanted, he doesn't love you like he used to anymore, and he's not as happy as he could be), and I've listened to all the interviews with Neil Newbon and the writer for Astarion about him. This fruity traumatised vampire haunts me. I want to hold him gently and caress his face and tell him he's beautiful and what he looks like to me since he hasn't seen his reflection in centuries and I want to make sure he knows he's loved. I want him to bite me and drink my blood too, but that's not as important. Does it weird me out how much he reminds me of Prince Charming from the Shrek franchise and Preminger from Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper and then aesthetically Asra from The Arcana: A Mystic Romance? Yes. But Astarion's also his own character and I'm in love with his smile and goofy lines.

Settrigh "Sett" (Heartsteel; League of Legends)

This... might be the lowest point, actually 💀 My sister would agree. Because it's not enough to crush on book characters, show characters, and videogame characters -- while technically this guy is a videogame character and was part of League of Legends waaay before the music video, it was the PARANOIA music video that got me. So, even fictional characters made/involved in music videos are not safe from my heart. Because, as I understand it, OG Sett is a bit different from Heartsteel Sett, and I've found I usually prefer reading about the interpretation of the latter in fanfic more than the former. I mean, I still really, really enjoy fanfics where he's The Big Boss of the pits, and or his other background/lore is included, but I've read some where his old personality is a bit Yikes. The golden retriever energy is my favourite era of his if we can call it that (I still headcanon him as a part fox Vastayan, you can't convince me otherwise so go argue with someone else about it, not me). And honestly, I think I might have read more fics involving Sett in 2023 than I did any of the other characters on this list. Which is saying something since he's not as popular as a few of them. He's a pretty guy and I wish to bite him. Lovingly.

Mizu (Blue Eye Samurai)

Oh woman. Mizu is... is... she's basically my wife. I know she's all our wife, but like just let me dream a little here. As soon as I finished the series, I was opening up Tumblr, Pinterest, and AO3, my holy trinity of fandom. My platonic wife was sending me TikToks of our shared fictional wife. Mizu can wind up non-binary, male, female, I honestly do not mind because I am in love with any version she is/becomes (for now, I interpret her as a woman in disguise, but if that changes, I'll absolutely change how I refer to Mizu). She is a tragedy wrapped up in revenge because of a rotten love and unfortunate parentage and time period. I want her as much as I want to be her. Also? I go insane over her little smiles and smirks. I LOVE when we got to hear her laugh, even if it was mostly the flashbacks (do not mention Mikio near me; if he wasn't already dead, I would kill him). Also, who doesn't hate their British/white half, ahaha, oh my god, I know mixed ethnicity is a hot topic for people who do not want POC whitewashed in media, and I fully understand that, but I do appreciate seeing parts of myself in mixed characters like the conflict between trying to be more like one side than another. I'll also admit it: she does indeed look hot covered in blood and carrying a sword. I'll see myself out the door. I've been wanting to write a fanfic about her but I'm still stewing over ideas. Mizu is also probably my first truly major crush on a fictional woman (other than my childhood crush on Helga Sinclair from Atlantis: The Lost Empire). Vi from Arcane comes pretty close, but I see too much of myself in her that it gets weird.

We'll do some honourable mentions for characters from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim since I've gotten into that again.

Brynjolf, Hadvar, and Nazir, I wish I could mod my gameplay so I could marry you. The developers hated their men-loving gamers (I know the women-lovers complain about Serana, but she will never be as heartbreaking as Brynjolf, I don't care if she recognises proposals only to decline them). I mean, Brynjolf is the Tamriel equivalent of Scottish, he calls you "lass/lad", has got a smoothass voice, supports you through so much of the Thieves Guild questline, has a wicked sense of humour, and then when you finish the questline, it's all "sorry, lass. Got important things to do. We'll speak another time" 😭 You can't even recruit him as a follower. He says nothing when you wear an amulet of Mara. I play on a fucking PS4, I can't do mods to marry him or get more dialogue.

(By the way, on my most recent playthrough, Lydia died when I fought the troll on the seven thousand steps, and I am still mad about it. It used to be difficult for Lydia to die, that was why I brought her everywhere, and now I have to become Batman "I work alone". ESPECIALLY after Benor then died on the way up to Paarthurnax. I still can't believe that happened, I should have told him to stay behind and wait for my return.)

Also, every time I play, Derkeethus is so bugged, I can't even rescue him let alone marry the guy, which was disappointing because he seemed nice.

Argis the Bulwark, Vilkas, Farkas, Rayya, Aela the Huntress, and Marcurio, you are all marriageable and live in my heart always. Marcurio was the first I ever married, I think. Three guesses why I chose him (it's the sarcasm, wisecracks, and general sense of humour) (maybe the long hair too). Has anyone noticed how there doesn't seem to be marriageable options among the Khajiit characters?? Why do you think that is? I just checked the Skyrim marriage wiki and this is what it has to say in the trivia: 'There are no Khajiit spouses, however; since the majority of Khajiit in Skyrim are traders or travelers from Elsweyr, they probably have families back home. Additionally, Khajiit characters talk about home a lot, stating how much they miss it and how cold Skyrim is; thus, they probably do not want to marry and settle down in Skyrim.'

Heart-breaking. Oh well.

And that's the end of the line-up. If you read through this, Divines bless your goddamn soul. Psycho-analyse me based on them, I dare you. Or just judge me. I'd like to see either. And if you can find something in common about them all (you don't need to consider the honourable Skyrim mentions), please let me know, because I am personally at a loss.

#victor vale #viktor arcane #kell maresh #miguel o'hara #elliott stardew valley #astarion ancunin #sett heartsteel #mizu blue eye samurai #skyrim characters #these are all just from the past twelve months #the real common thread here might just be mental illness

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dark-side-blog3 · 11 months

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Vent art + crackfic

As silly as this is, it’s the only thought that gives me the energy to use Ao3. I hate the formatting— it takes so long to tag everything. Although it might just be that I’m not used to it (I’m hoping it’s that).

No real warnings, but it is a completely self indulgent crackfic about a personified ao3. And it’s an experimental piece that uses first person (usually I use second person perspective in my writing).

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Their hands claps each other as they rest their wrists on the counter— my counter. A flat ridge strains against their shirt, something of mine obviously stuffed under there. Likely a book or some flat box. The only things keeping their grey shirt from lettting the object slip and drop from their lap is the buttoned red blazer, and the tactful crossing of their legs on the barstool. They look less like they’re extorting me and more like they’re a giddy friend gossiping about some popular twitter drama I don’t know about, or some video essay they watched.

“We are not friends,” I say as I stand from the other side of the counter, close to a barstool myself. But I won’t sit down in their presence.

They smile, brows upturned as if they’re telling a poor soul something sweet as a public act of charity.

“I would like us to be friends. I only want to be here for you in your time of need; to help you.”

“I’m not working with you by choice, I’ve been forced.”

“A win is a win,” they laugh, dropping the charitable tone as they talk with a lazy grin.

They plant their feet on the floor and I take a second to get ready to run if they stand up, but instead of leaving their barstool, they pull the object out from under their shirt. The faded stickers on the top and scratches on the plastic of my laptop. Placing the laptop down on the counter, lifting the screen up and pressing the power button.

“I know you know this is for the best. I’m just a more reliable site. I accept all kinds of writers, you know. And your work isn’t going to get buried. You can even see how many times people open the fic— each first time, each reread… Wouldn’t you like that?” They prattle on as they type out my password for my accounts, the screen still facing away from them as they do so.

“It’s a shame you’ve been burned… But I’ll still be here for you, darling. I do hope your little sulk ends soon. You have so much work to do.”

Leaning harder against my cane, and pointedly refusing to sit next to the personification, I stare with what I can feel is a particularly judgemental look.

“Why aren’t you doing it if you can type without looking at the screen?”

They laugh, pushing the laptop towards me in an exaggerated sprawl over the table, an awful bit subtle noise of the laptop thumping against the counter. They stay like that a moment, feet planted on the floor and lifting their hips in the air for a minute or so, before slinking back into the barstool, lifting a knee to their chest.

“Because, daring: If I did the work for you, it’s not much of a punishment. You need to learn from your mistake. Using another site so frivolously, and saying you’d upload to me ages ago… And forgetting after a couple of fics. Now it’s harder for you. And a good deterrent for leaving me on the back burner… I should be your primary site. Maybe even your only site!”

I bristle at that, freezing up at all I would loose… But after a dramatic hum, and a blur of red and cream, they’ve slipped their way around the counter, coming up next to me. A gentle, but firm push on my shoulders and I’m forcibly sat in a barstool, my cane taken out of my hands and collapsed, folded into their cream slacks pocket.

“You’re too tired to even fight me about this… You shouldn’t be standing so long just to procrastinate, you know. Come on, I’ll help you tag the first few…”

#yandere crackfic #yandere website #yandere ao3 #completely self indulgent #disabled darling

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outzenstevenson5 · 2 years

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manofmanyvirtues · 4 years

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The Pure Truth

This is my fifth acid trip and my most profound.

July 6 at around 6:20 PM I dropped 450 micrograms of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, the week prior I had spent time cleansing my mind of anxiety in preparing for this trip by handling things in my life that needed to be handled, such as: cleaning tensions between my ex and myself, telling a few people a few things I've been meaning to, finishing up my online summer school class with most of my baggage off my chest and 4 days off from work.

I was ready to buy 3 tabs good Lucy ,which is the most I've done, today. My dealer Eric met me in my alley which is pretty stereotypical, we made the exchange, I walked inside and put it in my drug box, talked to my family, and had dinner for a few hours before receding into my room for the next 10 hours.

6:20 PM I cleared my head and dropped. We played Fortnite on my PC with my friend Jay. We played for maybe an hour and a half. An hour and I begin to feel the oh so familiar feeling of my teeth and skin, tongue began to crawl with little electric pin pricks around the same time the game began to look more and more realistic and vibrant until it began to look like my character was running in front of my face, off my screen. I was already beginning to be surrounded by the flow of everything in my visual field, I started to have trouble communicating with Jay and playing the game started becoming impossible. I remember specifically glancing down at my hand well I was using the keyboard, I saw my bones move as if my skin was nearly transparent. Everything around me became vibrant began to shimmer. I knew that in was in for a big one. By now I manage to mutter: I'm gonna have to lay down to J, before logging off covering myself with blankets on my bed.

Around 8:00 PM I put on Grateful Dead Station. Since it’s the middle of summer, the sun had not completely set yet and the low Star cast deep yellowish and orange streaks through my blinds and onto my walls, as I lay there completely invested in the music and still coming up fast, my walls and carpet and blinds began dancing with the music. There were waves on the ceiling and rhythm with the song surrounding my vision. If I were to look closer in anything, I could see every individual particles making up the object for instance. I could see every cell in my hand in every thread of my blankets. I listen to the whole album and then after it finished put on Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon”. I remember half way through the oven my body began to vibrate with the sound. There's no way of articulating this feeling, but the sounds are quite literally a part of my touch, I could feel each individual sound holster my body to accompany it some kind of visual would pop up in front of me.

Up until this point my psychedelic journey this was as far as I'd ever managed to dose. Far as I ever got. I managed to always dose myself low enough to make my physical being and perception feel completely bizarre and alien but I never managed to go deeper. I think this is far as most people go and... But I knew there was something more to be known. I wanted to go into the places that I heard Terence McKenna and Alan Watts talking about... I never saw The Light, The Profound, The Other, The Unspeakable. On one trip prior I remember feeling the very beginnings of my ego dissolving but nothing more. This trip was different. This overwhelming sense of understanding began to build from the moment I started tripping, so after doing trivial things like watching the walls become great city scapes or watch the ceiling fan melt into the floor, which I've done plenty of on trips prior, I decided that this was still coming on stronger by the minute and I thought my ego begin to dissolve.

By now it's around 1:30 AM and completely dark outside. Turn off all the lights in my room and put on my headphones, began listening to binaural beats for meditation. Leading up to now I had subconsciously felt that there was some sort of struggle in my mind. My internal voice became frantic, asking questions that I've never asked before, giving answers that made sense in a way I can explain. I felt every part of my life be taken away from me one by one, my ego and everything that I had built for 17 years up until this point begin disappearing. In their place my ego was pure understanding and being. A lost memory of my mother, myself of any of my friends, of anything I ever cared about I became nothing while simultaneously I was everything. I remember feeling my body dissolve into my blanket, then into my bed, then into everyone and everything I've ever known. I become the universe.

I felt all things began to piece by piece decide that this was it - that this is the answer - that this is all I am meant to do is experience simply and in complete balance. I understood that the ultimate state of being is to understand that there's nothing to understand, and up until this point I had tried with everything I had to make sense of things on a daily basis and refused to believe that the answer was so simple. The whole time I was presented with amazing visuals of vast impossible landscapes, as if I was eye with no body. Far off places with tall mountains and planets and multiple places at once, streaks of color I've never seen before. Snakes slithering into each other and plants growing infinitely, spinning constantly changing flowers and list geometry and impossible shapes that don't exist in our reality.

And I was suddenly cast into an endless corridor of beautifully colored faces (google Alex Grey's art to get an idea of what I'm talking about). The space roared with noise and archetypal symbolism. I saw every religion symbolism from every culture, I saw the father and I saw the mother, I saw the Yin and Yang in the form of 2 clouds of smoke - one white and one black - colliding with each other but never becoming gray. I came face to face with fear and bad intentions personified, I saw all things that drive everything in the universe, I saw the rule book of life. I knew that this presence was the universal consciousness or God or whatever you wanna call it. He was there with me. It showed me the beauty of Roxbury and it's faces and lists of beautiful perfectly symmetrical hallways and faces. I got the sense that these faces were meant to show me that the human form is purposeful. The face is designed by something we don't understand thrust into our physical reality through the evolution of life on Earth. I get the feeling that I am something immensely special.

Message at this point was to shut up, stop worrying and listen. It showed me that the universe created life of nothing, it showed me that our only purpose is to understand. We look for peace and material and relationships but it never occurs to us how amazing it feels, how amazing it is to feel nothing. Then the trip became slightly sinister and joking with me. They began to play a sad song and were showing me a man in the fetal position searching for relief in our physical world that he finds, that he only finds after death. I was shown this for what seemed like eternity, I remember the words bouncing around: “It's all a joke, this is all a big play can't you see monkey that you have no clue what we are doing?”. At the time I was not at all scared instead in awe and curious as to what was meant by all of this.

By now in the trip I have little recollection of my physical body, but I remember experiencing this beautiful blissful connection to everything and in the distance of my mind hearing myself cry. I felt my body convulse and cry as I was charged with this pure truth and understanding. I had no more connection to anything in my everyday life instead I am just enveloped by love, by bliss, and simultaneously by hate, by chaos, everything was there - so nothing was. I realize now that this isn't all a big joke, less more of a big metaphor, the game to become good at.

You get to choose which you make your purpose in this life. And spend every day working at it or you can minimize from every day it get used to be fed what to do by society. Either way you'll return to nothing so doesn't matter in the end - but it really matters now - now is all we will ever experience in this life. After this enlightening and completely amazing experience I began piecing my life back together one thing at a time. I looked at old pictures and try to text a few friends to ground myself again.

At 2:45 AM I took 2 sleeping pills and I don't remember much after 3:30 AM. My next memory is waking up at 9:30 trying to piece together what the the fuck happened last night. I got up, ate some fig newtons, drank a glass of water, and was sober but mind-blown for the rest of the day. It was beautiful and terrifying and completely invaluable to me having integrated this experience for a month and some change. My life has taken on a new meaning. I'm immensely more relaxed and confident in everything I do. The universe has a large of a larger purpose for me so I need to just do my part in the play with the big experiment of life on Earth as best I can. I played much more music since and can feel other musicians music in a way I never have before. It all feels so personal now. I think this trip represents one more huge step towards me becoming the best version of myself. I haven’t tripped since and probably won't for awhile, because this was the single most life changing trip of my life. And at the moment I don't feel the need to heal myself any further.

Credit: This World (Youtube)

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gdebneymajorone2020 · 3 years

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Set Dressing

Because I've managed to make a puppet that is essentially an essence of who I am, set dressing and production design hasn't been too difficult. But it did take some forethought.

Set Dressing reference photos

Overall I wanted to keep the set design of this piece very simple, thus to avoid any unneseccary distractions in shot. I also chose the particular objects and items in accordence of what I think the puppets personality is. This meant having both very sparse decor and carefully placed personality-building reference items, such as the unicorn toy and unicorn mug on the minimalist desk, or the cupboard full of postit notes.

Bed night/day scenes:

When the puppet is in bed at night we see a bright LED lamp, a roll of toilet paper, a phone on charge, and a pint glass filled with water on the desk. I purposefully kept these items medical to show that the puppet is not in a comfortable head space when going to sleep, the bright light acting as if the puppet is being interrogated by its own mind. The only item in the shot that looks friendly is the colourful blanket, which the wraps the puppet up in a tight grasp, purposefully to give the impression that this is literally a 'comfort blanket'.

When the puppet wakes up, the curtain is already open, as if the world has thrust itself upon the puppet before it has time to properly come too. It also doubles up as a second form of light in shot.

Kitchen scenes:

The kitchen scene had the least set design due to the fact that the state of the kitchen matched the mood of each shot. I took out a few items that could be distracting in the background, but overall the dirty dishes or groceries still in a bag represented how the puppet does do nothing or at least very little to keep its surroundings tidy. As I said before, this puppet has become a representation of who I am when I get into a rut, and because I am currently in one of these states, the environment around me replicates this. Meaning, set design is a lot less effort, but also that I should really do my dishes.

Desk scenes:

Having seen the medical side of the desk, I made the other side more of a reflection of the puppets personality. The items in shot are always the laptop, a small standing calender, a bowl, a unicorn toy, and a decorative glass cup filled with pens and other stationary. In most scenes there is also a mug with a unicorn print and a pint glass, both on coasters. They don't necessarily have any metaphorical messages, I added in these items to make the puppet a more relatable and 'human' character.

Also in shot is the rucksack on the back of the chair, and the shelf dressed with about 20 books and a small black & white poloroid of my boyfriend and I. I purposefully put this photo in as a little easter egg, as a way of implying to the viewer that the puppet is in fact who I am.

Park scenes:

Choosing the right bench was the biggest part to the set dressing for this scene. Again, I wanted little distraction in shot, so the bench chosen has a wall behind to avoid people walking in the background etc. Dressing the puppet in a scarf and hat was a choice made mainly out of a need that has developed whilst sharing a house with this puppet, which is to care for and make it comfortable. But this develepment has actually aided the piece, because I want the audience to also care for the puppet like I do, making them realise that if they can care about the personified manifestation of my own mental struggles, they can care for theres too.

TV scenes:

I kept this scene very bare, using no blankets and having only one grey cushion in shot, to remind the viewer of the eminent feelings of discomfort and interrogation when the puppet goes to bed.

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

Text

I Document The Progression Of My Rare Disease In Heartbreaking Illustrations

At age 20 I set out to complete an Industrial Design Bachelors degree. At the same time I began experiencing mysterious physical symptoms, symptoms that would lead me to an unimaginable future.

I went from kicking soccer balls, running and leading an active life to making use of leg braces, canes and today a full-time wheelchair. After 5 years of searching for a name for this uninvited stumbling block, I would learn I had an extremely rare muscle deterioration genetic condition called HIBM (today it’s called GNEM) which could take my once active body to quadriplegic state. This rare condition affects one to three thousand people worldwide. My condition is known to the medical world as an “orphan disease” which is ironic since I was born an orphan in South Korea.

All the doctors told me there was no hope, I was too rare to ever meet another patient like myself and I should quit college and lead a less ambitious life. According to their medical textbooks my future looked bleak.

After completing my Bachelors I flew to California and found a design job as a toy designer. I also found brothers who had my condition. One is a doctor, the other a research scientist. Together they set out to help propeladvocacy and research science for HIBM. I was no longer alone and the medical world was wrong.

My world had opened and I began advocacy to help spread awareness about my condition. I offered my design services and fundraised but it’s hard for people to empathize with medical textbook definitions so I began blogging about my personal experiences with HIBM. Then I realized some respond to stories visually. So I taught myself illustration and began drawing out my experiences to raise awareness. I hoped my simple drawings would not only educate the viewer about HIBM but also the viewer could see themselves in my drawings and relate it to their own struggles.

18 year later I’m wheelchair bound but live life even larger than when I was able bodied. I’m constantly traveling and participating in daredevil stunts. My upper body has begun weakening and one day could be immobile, unable to draw…So, what do you do when you find out your future will be different than you thought? You draw, you live.

More info: kamredlawsk.com | Facebook

It’ll Be Alright

At the time of this drawing I was still walking but I could literally feel my steps slipping away from me, as I was fitted for my first wheelchair. I was saddened. This was a significant milestone—one that I had done my best to avoid, hoping I would make it to clinical trials and bypass the chair completely. If HIBM (aka GNEM) was like a tree, this is how it spreads, with a ball of yarn clinging to me, drawing me in closer and closer. I titled the illustration, “It’ll Be Alright,” because this is what I tell myself as I push through the increasingly difficult stages of this condition.

I Don’t Want To Be An Inspiration Today

Being an advocate and public about my condition makes me feel like this most of the time.

I often hear “You’re an inspiration”. I get it. I say this to others too. But the truth is I don’t want to be an inspiration. Sometimes this comment makes me feel like a fraud. Like I’m on a pedestal under false pretenses because I don’t want to be an inspiration. The “inspiration” just wants to be normal, preferably unknown.

Daydreaming

Much of my work involves female figures – adult and/or childlike. They are me and come in many forms. Sometimes it’s a juxtaposition of me being able to run as a child versus being wheelchair bound today. Sometimes it’s a commentary on the relationships between our childlike versions versus our more stoic adult versions. Our freer self versus our fearful self. Beauty and pain. Humility and perspective. Stillness and turbulence – it’s our struggles personified in some distant dream-like land. The past, present and future lies within each of us and they battle for dominance and recognition.

Many of my environments are inspired by recurring childhood dreams.

Please Don’t Leave Me

This represents the degradation of my upper extremities. One day I looked down at my hands and realized they began mirroring other HIBM patients whose hands and fingers have progressed into languid fixtures. What has happened to my legs is now happening to my arms, fingers, hands, shoulders and neck. It’s a hard experience. An unexpected and unwelcomed life lesson.

Losing your legs is one thing but losing your arms, hands and fingers is an entirely different experience. With each level of progression I’m reminded of the depth and severity of this condition. Pieces of me are disappearing like sand in the wind and time continues to haunt me.

Waves

Waves of life inevitably grab us, its how we sail through the turbulence that matters.

Better Days Ahead

I love window light and its endless patterns. They are so simple, yet so graphic and descriptive. They tell a story of their travels; where they have been, where they are going.

Window light seeping in between blinds always makes me think of solitude, loneliness and contemplation. It makes me think of the days you don’t want to get out of bed, when you would rather let the strips of light lay on your body and make it bend to you rather than bending to life. Enough warm light to caress your face, as if those strips bring you some connection to the outside world, but hidden enough to stay disconnected so no one can see you. We all have bad days. Today, tomorrow or the future sometimes taunts us. The things we are struggling with, whether it be a disease, disability, depression, death, loss, relationships or life’s obstacles that seem to hold us down with little hope. In those moments I turn my head towards the warm ray bans and murmur to myself, “Better days are ahead”.

Baby Mine

As an adoptee it was a dream to have children, particularly a daughter. But some dreams never come true. In order to keep moving, you have to gently send them off into space and move onto new dreams.

Oneiros and I

Oneiros (the monster lurking in the trees) is the HIBM monster that follows me. It’s a part of me. A part I don’t want, nor invited, nor created but a part of me, nonetheless.

He knows not what he does, only that he has to be with me. He grieves and ponders over my constant desire to escape him. My apathy for him saddens him. This is what he was designed for.

HIBM is Oneiros. Like an innocent child, he has real feelings, real purpose and a real attachment to me. Sometimes he does wonderful things for me and other times I want to be left alone. I’m waiting for him to leave. He is a constant reminder of my past, present and future.

It’s a part I have no control over. A part that is both good and bad, creating shaded grey areas of emotions. I can’t be completely angry over something that has brought about such perspective but perspective is sometimes painful but there is no way around it. It’s a process of working with our little monster. And so in my head I’ve personified him, an entity that also has real emotions, hurt and pain.

So here we are. We have a relationship. There is an Oneiros in all of us.

Raven Girl

Cycle of life. From pain there is beauty, from beauty there is pain.

What’s Everyone Staring At?

“What’s wrong with you?” is a common question I get from immediate strangers. Society tends to like what is the same and easily defined so when something different “rolls” in it can sometimes feel like this. However difficult this condition is, stripping me of choices and the life I wanted for myself, I can still say that I love that I am unique. It has taught me so much, and I have never been as confident as I am today. Uncomfortable can be a good thing. In fact, I say, the more you can put yourself into uncomfortable situations, the better.

To those who ask, “What’s wrong with you?” I answer, “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m just fine.”

Ponytale

In 2013 I wrote: “My hair has been short for the last few years but recently I have been growing it out. My shoulders, arms, hands and fingers are significantly weaker than they were a year ago. This makes tasks like washing my hair, blow drying and doing something as simple as tying a ponytail much more difficult and glaringly obvious of what has left and what is leaving.

I remember grabbing my hair and tying it up with a rubber band as a child, teenager and young adult. Never did I give this act a second thought. It was effortless. It took a second to accomplish. I took it for granted.

Last month I tied my hair for the first time in years and frustratingly took five minutes to achieve. My weakened shoulders make it difficult to raise my arms. Holding a bundle of hair now gives my diluted fingers a challenge.

“This has never been hard in the past,” I thought. “NOT this, too…”

With a progressive condition there is no end, no finale, no rest. This trivial task serves as a reminder of things to come. It is the moments that make up a story.

In Pieces

Signs

One weekend I was exploring and paid particular attention to a row of street signs. “Are they talking to me?” I wondered.

Like Them

One afternoon at a traffic light I looked up and saw a flock of birds sitting on a telephone line. The day was overcast and those birds felt ominous. I felt like they peered down at us, watching us before they in unison flew into the sky and disappeared. I thought “freedom”. And I wanted to be like them.

Essence Remains

What Is Sexy?

Growing up, I never saw “sexy” and “beautiful” figures offered to me in the form of a “disabled” person. This inevitably fed an initial perception of disabled persons being essentially “asexual.” Obviously, now that I am an adult with the intimate experience of being “disabled,” I know that such an idea is completely wrong.

And, yet, I have to say that, while perspectives are slowly changing, society still largely looks at disabled individuals as objects of care or somebody one is obligated to be nice to.

The disabled are often desexualized, ignored and babied, and if one happens to have a partner, then that person is deemed some kind of saint for even considering taking on the wounded—as if disabled individuals are incapable of inspiring romantic love or eroticism. A person’s physical dependence on others is automatically equated with emotional and intellectual dependence, and many can’t seem to fathom how one could even have the brain space to think about sex.

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2ipHxze via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

Text

I Document The Progression Of My Rare Disease In Heartbreaking Illustrations

At age 20 I set out to complete an Industrial Design Bachelors degree. At the same time I began experiencing mysterious physical symptoms, symptoms that would lead me to an unimaginable future.

More info: kamredlawsk.com | Facebook

It’ll Be Alright

I Don’t Want To Be An Inspiration Today

Being an advocate and public about my condition makes me feel like this most of the time.

Daydreaming

Many of my environments are inspired by recurring childhood dreams.

Please Don’t Leave Me

Waves

Waves of life inevitably grab us, its how we sail through the turbulence that matters.

Better Days Ahead

I love window light and its endless patterns. They are so simple, yet so graphic and descriptive. They tell a story of their travels; where they have been, where they are going.

Baby Mine

As an adoptee it was a dream to have children, particularly a daughter. But some dreams never come true. In order to keep moving, you have to gently send them off into space and move onto new dreams.

Oneiros and I

Oneiros (the monster lurking in the trees) is the HIBM monster that follows me. It’s a part of me. A part I don’t want, nor invited, nor created but a part of me, nonetheless.

He knows not what he does, only that he has to be with me. He grieves and ponders over my constant desire to escape him. My apathy for him saddens him. This is what he was designed for.

So here we are. We have a relationship. There is an Oneiros in all of us.

Raven Girl

Cycle of life. From pain there is beauty, from beauty there is pain.

What’s Everyone Staring At?

To those who ask, “What’s wrong with you?” I answer, “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m just fine.”

Ponytale

“This has never been hard in the past,” I thought. “NOT this, too…”

With a progressive condition there is no end, no finale, no rest. This trivial task serves as a reminder of things to come. It is the moments that make up a story.

In Pieces

Signs

One weekend I was exploring and paid particular attention to a row of street signs. “Are they talking to me?” I wondered.

Like Them

Essence Remains

What Is Sexy?

And, yet, I have to say that, while perspectives are slowly changing, society still largely looks at disabled individuals as objects of care or somebody one is obligated to be nice to.

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2ipHxze via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

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