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oliviareviewsnasu · 3 years

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Olivia Reads Fate/Stay Night ~Fate~ Route (Blind Readthrough) Part 1: Intro Sequence and Rin!

Before we begin with this readthrough I'd like to personally thank anyone and everyone who has come here to listen (or read I suppose) my maddened ramblings. You truly make it worth it. Now on to the readthrough. Intro Sequence By now this intro scene is engrained even into my mind and there’s not really much to say about it. As this is a blind review however here’s a basic summary of the events: Shirou, in a state of desperation, summons perhaps one of the most famous characters in the franchise to fend off an unknown attacker. The King of Knights stands before him and asks the iconic line: “I ask of you, are you my master?”. She then states that their fates (heh) are now entwined before the scene fades to white leading into the Rin prologue. On the more technical end; the music in the Realta Nua version is phenomenal. as is Ayako Kasumi’s performance as Saber even this early on in what would be a long career

What I think the anime (Unlimited Blade Works in particular) doesn’t quite convey is Shirou’s mystique and awe in the face of the King of Knights, nor his poetic heart. He’s clearly much much more intelligent and thoughtful than quite a few people give him credit for.

By all accounts this is true in a both a literal and meta-sense. 17 years later people are still discussing the franchise with nearly the same vigor as larger properties like One Piece or Dragon Ball. As for the literal, well, we all know Shirou’s dark fate. On the topic of darkness, I love how they portray Arturia. Awash in the light of the moon while Shirou is cowering in the dark. The contrast is beautiful and highlights just how important of a role she’d play in the would-be-hero’s future. What I find to be fascinating is how much imagery is loaded into these first few moments. That, coupled with Shirou’s prose, makes for a gorgeous introduction. My only issue with it is the whiplash bait-and-switch from Shirou’s perspective to Rin’s; especially with the knowledge that we’ll need to essentially re-read that part to begin with. It weakens some of the dramatic tension and choreography. Prologue: Day 1 (Part 1) And so the Rin prologue begins, in bed, with traumatic memories and regrets. So an ordinary morning for this reviewer. It’s also the first mention of the Holy Grail War that took place during the events of Fate/Zero. Rin’s final memories of her father do pull at my heart-strings however. Wanting to make someone laugh before you see them off is, in my opinion, a noble pursuit. Given what I know of Tokiomi from the events of Fate/Zero I can also agree that his character was perhaps one of the finer among the mages. At least compared to Kiritsugu “Sign a magical contract, can’t shoot, hire someone else to first for me” Emiya, Kirei “My religious views make my sadism and hedonism weird for me” Kotomine, and Lord El Melloi “Old Money, Old Magecraft” Archibald. Sound wise I’ve been listening to the flashback music for nearly ten minutes as I’ve been writing this up and I’m starting to see stars so we should probably move along- And so the Rin proloAnd so the Rin prologue begins, in bed, with traumatic memories and regrets. So an ordinary morning for this reviewer. It’s also the first mention of the Holy Grail War that took place during the events of Fate/Zero. Rin’s final memories of her father do pull at my heart-strings however. Wanting to make someone laugh before you see them off is, in my opinion, a noble pursuit. Given what I know of Tokiomi from the events of Fate/Zero I can also agree that his character was perhaps one of the finer among the mages. At least compared to Kiritsugu “Sign a magical contract, can’t shoot, hire someone else to first for me�� Emiya, Kirei “My religious views make my sadism and hedonism weird for me” Kotomine, and Lord El Melloi “Old Money, Old Magecraft” Archibald. Sound wise I’ve been listening to the flashback music for nearly ten minutes as I’ve been writing this up and I’m starting to see stars so we should probably move along-gue begins, in bed, with traumatic memories and regrets. So an ordinary morning for this reviewer. It’s also the first mention of the Holy Grail War that took place during the events of Fate/Zero. Rin’s final memories of her father do pull at my heart-strings however. Wanting to make someone laugh before you see them off is, in my opinion, a noble pursuit. Given what I know of Tokiomi from the events of Fate/Zero I can also agree that his character was perhaps one of the finer among the mages. At least compared to Kiritsugu “Sign a magical contract, can’t shoot, hire someone else to first for me” Emiya, Kirei “My religious views make my sadism and hedonism weird for me” Kotomine, and Lord El Melloi “Old Money, Old Magecraft” Archibald. Sound wise I’ve been listening to the flashback music for nearly ten minutes as I’ve been writing this up and I’m starting to see stars so we should probably move along-

-Only for the lovely siren song of the world’s most annoying alarm clock to start ringing.

I agree with you there Rin, I feel like I’m being attacked as well. Terrible assault on the ears aside, we learn that Rin has been up late at night studying her Father’s will. A hobby that not even I would recommend. After struggling to get out of bed in time for class (Rin really is my spirit animal), she promptly complains about the coldness of her home. As someone who lives in Boston and has never heard of Central Air, this is painfully relatable. Have you had to sit on a toilet seat with ice in the bowl? I don’t recommend it. After the most uncomfortable scene of someone humble-bragging about their rich (literally in this case) background (likely because she can’t to anyone else), she explains that she is in fact a mage and what that entails. Persecution, isolation, and regular communion with forces beyond what most can comprehend. She also goes on to reference the 5 magics (familiar if you’ve played Melty Blood or read Tsukihime, something I’m sure to cover at some point).

What I find to be interesting here is that she fundamentally separates herself from the rest of humanity, treating herself as an outsider despite living what she’d consider ‘an ordinary life’. She shows longing and desire for the things that everyone else has access to and seems to disdain magic on it’s own. But to paraphrase Rin: “Let’s put off difficult discussions, they can wait till they’re old.” As Rin heads out she grabs a rather suspicious (and important) pendant that she managed to find after decoding Tokiomi’s will. It makes me wonder, did he lock up the Tohsaka family heirlooms in various vaults; hoping that someday his heir or maybe one of hers would be able to open them? Was he trolling his daughter? Or am I reading too much into this? Besides her finding the mystical cure-a-spear-to-the-heart jewel, Rin goes on to explain how Tohsaka family magic works. Essentially by slowly storing magic in jewels to draw upon at a later date. I’m reminded of Stormlight and its use of spheres, but that’s besides the point. There’s also a brief discussion of magic crests and how they’re essentially all the magical experiences of her predecessors engraved into her arm. Fun. Rin then goes on to finally leave her house after nearly thirty minutes of getting ready and shows a remarkable knowledge of German. Something that even I haven’t quite managed to master. There’s some brief world building with this area of Fuyuki being a blend of Eastern and Western architecture (as an architect myself this is fascinating to me) and draws a line of parallel between Rin and Shirou. Rin lives in a fancy Western-style mansion and longs for the future, while Shirou lives in the Eastern-style Emiya Residence and yearns for ideals that don’t quite exist anymore. As Rin hurries off to school, a sense of eeriness and unease washes over us, only for us to learn the most terrible and terrifying fact of all. She got up early and so her early morning panic was wasted. Oh and we also meet Ayako who is as exhaustingly energetic as usual. Somehow Rin’s clocks were all an hour fast. She suspects Tokiomi’s work, but I doubt the Tohsaka family Patriarch was one for pranks. Ayako drags Rin off the almost exorbitantly fancy Archery range and they begin to discuss their mutual search for a partner. Have I said that Rin is my spirit animal? I’m sure I must have by now.

This is the first glimpse we get at Rin’s competitive side. Ayako may have been the one to initiate the relationship, but any strong rivalry requires mutual input from both parties. A solid example of this can be seen in the relationship between Sanji and Zoro in One Piece. If I were less astute, I’d prop Ayako as up a potential antagonist later on during the route. As for the contest itself, it’s petty in the most realistic of ways. Attempting to get a boyfriend or girlfriend just to rub it in the face of your rival? I’ve definitely experienced that in my (admittedly brief) lifetime. Well we’ll have to find out another time as I’ve come to realize just how long this document is getting. Join me next week and we’ll continue along with the Rin prologue and hope we get to her summoning of Archer. This has been a fascinating look at the series I’ve adored for so long, just seeing the characters thoughts on the most simple of matters has been an eye-widening experience. This is Olivia Reviews and I can’t wait to see you next time.

#fate stay night #visual novel #blind reader #olivia reviews #part 1 #shirou emiya #rin tohsaka #nasuverse #the alarm clock won't stop ringing in my head several hours later

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orionsangel86 · 4 years

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Hey Everyone,

As you have probably noticed, I have neglected this blog for a long time now. I haven’t been on any fandom related social media at all actually. But I figured since I am currently in a good mindset, I want to write a post just outlining some things which basically boils down to a goodbye letter to Supernatural fandom.

Long rambling post below the cut...

This year (and the last) has just taken it out of me in terms of general negativity online both in fandom and in the real world. At first I got tired of fandom (mostly because Twitter is a cesspool of policing and bullying) and then I got tired of everything else (the world sucks right now, and my mental health basically stopped me from being able to participate in any form of online activism – just because I’m not blogging about something, doesn’t mean I don’t support the cause ya know?). Earlier this year, right around the time of the UK lockdowns, I had surgery and a recovery period in which I spent a lot of time with family, and just reacquainted myself with the real world. I think perhaps the coronavirus pandemic made me realise that long before lockdown began I had already been isolating myself from my real life and diving further and further into an online black hole.

It was years in the making. Supernatural fandom preoccupied my thoughts for such a long period of time it got to the point where every moment of my non working time seemed to be spent either online scrolling my tumblr dash or twitter feed, or reading fanfic or doing something fandom related. I invested so much of myself into this show and fandom that I think I forgot who I was before I was a Supernatural fan completely.

After my wake up call in late 2019, which lead me to break free from an extremely nasty clique, I have tried to re-enter fandom on my own terms, as well as attempt to enjoy the source material and the fandom creations to ignite some new spark of love and interest in the show. Yet as much as I have tried, I have failed to do so.

I was thinking recently about someone I used to follow years ago before I ever created a blog. When I was still just lurking in the tumblr shadows and followed the likes of Mittens, Lizbob, and other meta writers of the period, there was a blogger whose name I can’t remember but she was the funniest blogger I had come across. But when the show killed off Charlie Bradbury, she quit. I had never even interacted with her, as I was barely getting my blog started at the time, but I’ll never forget a post she wrote about her feelings on the show. She had recently started watching something else (I think it was Sense8 but can’t recall entirely), and that this new show had given her everything she had never thought she could have from her fave before. She wrote about how her relationship with Supernatural had become abusive. That for years the writers of Supernatural continued to throw punches at fans like her – women, LGBTQ+ people, people of colour, and yet she continued to give it all her time and attention, brushing off the punches because she was so damn devoted to the characters. Then this new show had come along, and it was like she had seen the light. The killing of Charlie Bradbury was the last straw, and she dumped Supernatural’s ass and fled into the arms of her new love.

I hope she is doing fantastically today.

What she wrote has resonated with me for years. I was a fairly new Supernatural fan at the time, and therefore didn’t really understand what she meant. A TV show can’t be abusive. Can it?

Of course, we are speaking in metaphor here, and in no way are these metaphors meant to reduce or limit the truly serious situation of actual abusive relationships, but every now and then, when a new episode of Supernatural has left me feeling upset, disappointed, frustrated and grossly let down, in some cases affecting my mood for days at a time, and therefore my mental health. I have thought back to those words she wrote and quietly agreed with them in my head. Yes. This is a metaphorically abusive relationship.

When I discovered earlier this year that Castiel was most likely going to be killed off in some sort of bullshit self sacrifice before the end of the show, I was extremely distressed. When I found out that my favourite person of all time Misha Collins, supported this ending for Castiel, and may have even been the one who pushed for it, I was more than distressed, I felt betrayed by the person I cared about most. I’ll admit to you all now that in my weakest moments I have fantasized about standing in front of Misha and screaming at him exactly just what kind of affect his “ideal ending” for Castiel will have on his fanbase, on their mental health, and potentially their own safety. This fantasy has me guilt tripping him and doing everything in my power to make him feel utterly shit about the decision. I know what you are thinking – don’t blame Misha, the guy has his own problems and we all know he projects his own self esteem issues onto Cas – and yes, I know this, like I said its only a fantasy to get me through my darkest moments. I don’t hate Misha at all. But perhaps I do love him a little less nowadays than I did back at the height of my fandom life. That’s at least still a little bit more than my feelings for Jensen and Jared which now I can only describe as complete indifference.

I am admitting all of this now knowing full well it will ignite shock and anger among the more die hard fans of J2M, to explain why I need to just leave this fandom completely, or more accurately, why I have already left fandom.

Over the past 10 months of 2020, I have watched a lot of TV (there isn’t much else to do during a lockdown when you are on crutches with your foot in a cast!) and the one thought that occurred to me over and over again was “this show is so much better than Supernatural”.

I kept comparing everything I watched, from the quality of the scripts, the actors, the special effects, to the inclusiveness of the shows. Just so many beautiful and interesting stories that seem to understand their audience, and understand how to entertain and impress without resorting to cringe humour, outdated jokes, and prejudice, not to mention misogyny and queerbaiting – yup, I said it.

The thing is, I think these thoughts have been creeping over me slowly for longer than just this year, but I have been desperately batting them away the way Dean Winchester bats away his own gay thoughts. Unlike Dean though, eventually I couldn’t ignore them anymore. I cannot continue to carve out space in my own soul for this show, which incessantly beats me down regardless of my devotion. The creators, the network, the writers, and sometimes even the cast, have all shown that they don’t care about me as a fan. I’m not some gun toting dudebro living in middle America, so why should they give a damn about me? I’m clearly not their target audience, nor have I ever been.

I know many of you will vehemently deny my personal opinion of Supernatural now. That is absolutely fine. I am sorry to be admitting it, but I had to. I feel like once I finally write out these words, I have got it off my chest and can close and lock the door on Supernatural for good.

Without Supernatural, I am able to focus on my real life, I am able to find pleasure in other things, new things, interesting things, that bring me joy and joy alone – not disappointment and frustration. I found a new job this year, which has been a huge accomplishment as I was stagnating in my old one, and several new hobbies under my belt. I moved to a new flat, I have a lovely flatmate who has been a godsend throughout lockdown, and I have rekindled friendships that I was neglecting due to my Supernatural obsession.

All in all, I am finding post-Supernatural life far more rewarding and content than my life in fandom. It has taken me a while, but I am over the show. And whilst I will always hold a special place in my heart for Castiel, it will be as I know him in my own mind; as the wonderful, strong, powerful and determined angel with a soul, who loves so strongly, and who is worth so much more than his own creators give him credit for. He is up there with Aziraphale and Crowley, with The Doctor, and Buffy, as one of the greatest characters of all time.

So the Supernatural writers and creators can take whatever ending they have decided upon, and shove it up their asses. I am sorry to say that Sam and Dean Winchester are also lost to me. Any love I had for them was destroyed by their later season depictions. Castiel alone is the only character worthy of that space in my heart now. If in time he longs for a companion, I will find one for him, but it won’t be the Dean Winchester of the canon show. Canon Dean hasn’t been deserving of Cas for a long time now.

Perhaps I am still a little bitter about the ending. Perhaps the finale won’t be the disaster I expect it to be, perhaps Dabb will somehow turn it all around last minute following whatever travesty Bucklemming have given us in 15x19. Either way, I won’t be watching.

So this is me saying goodbye to this blog, at least until I have decided what else to do with it. It certainly won’t be a Supernatural fandom blog anymore. It wasn’t all wasted though. I did get a wonderful friendship group out of this fandom, and I have certainly expanded my knowledge of film and television analysis, as well as having enjoyed a great many memes.

I guess in the end, my internal war with my inner bitter Cas girl finished with her winning, and writing this post. Once it is posted however, I will put her to sleep with thoughts of a happy Castiel, who has swapped his wings for a beating human heart, and is living on a beach somewhere beautiful, refurbishing an old Victorian house, and greeting his kindly elderly neighbours. There’s a gay bar on the main strip, and the bartender is quite a dish. Green eyes and light brown hair with a killer smile. Castiel thinks he looks familiar, like a memory from a past life, but they’ve definitely never met, because this man is kind.

Now that she is asleep, there is nothing left for me here. Goodbye everyone. Whether you manage to enjoy the finale or not, I truly hope you too, find your peace.

#personal #a goodbye message to fandom

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flatfootmonster · 5 years

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First Dates

Hannibal

I dealt with the interview as politely as I could muster. The director’s IQ was dusted much too lightly for him to detect any of the slights I had laced through my responses. But then, my ambiguous words and actions are only to amuse my own self in a world full of the maddeningly mundane. He was both of those things.

The building that I was filmed in is across the street from the restaurant. The set that I was in was, what I can only presume, their idea of a romantic setting; a red backdrop with the shape of a heart centered on it and vases overfilled with red roses. There is no depth of thought evident, but then what did I expect? This is a show for the general population; they enjoy the easy and the obvious.

I make my way across the cobbled street and towards the clear glass door of the restaurant because this is what I have been instructed to do. I am nothing if I am not courteous. That is what I want them to see so naturally they will.

Easy and obvious.

My date waits within, and I start to wonder whether this person will have anything of interest about themselves. Most people do not. They display the same behaviors I can analyse with no difficulty; I can predict their next move or what their next choice of subject will be and usually with a high level of accuracy.

There is a silver lining in every conundrum, however, and in this—whatever this being presents—I could choose to have this individual over for dinner at mine after tonight. I can feel myself smiling at my own pun—that's a bad habit, I’m aware; it is not generally accepted to laugh at one's own jokes. But when there is no one else to share your cannibalistic tendencies, there’s no harm in appreciating your own wit.

The surface of the door is cold against my palm as I push into the restaurant and the host greets me with a very wide, white, smile that is meant to be as warm as the air that hits me. He is bald and bearded and I suppose he imagines he is currently in trend. I smirk as I consider how he undoubtedly perceives himself as exceedingly edgy. I imagine he received a beard home-care kit for Christmas from an overbearing mother or girlfriend—both serving the same purpose in this scenario, and probably many others—and decided to make it his hobby. My expression is considered positive, it would seems, as the man ducks his head in welcome.

“Good Evening, Doctor Lecter.”

No, I decide that this one I like. He at least has the decency to get my title correct, unlike the director. Reminding myself of that small, oily man almost returns me to the recipe I was considering might accompany part of his anatomy on a latter date. Instead, I put that particular thought on hold and extend my hand out to the man I have decided won’t go on my naughty list.

“Good Evening,” I announce.

Interestingly, my eyes seem to be tracing the silhouettes of diners, trying to discern which one I will be paired with. Noticing their peculiar and spontaneous activity, I train them on the hosts jovial features. “Unfortunately I do not yet know your name.” His grip in mine is relaxed, but not like a dead fish. There really is nothing worse than a weak handshake.

“Oh, I'm not your date,” I resist the urge to narrow my eyes. Of course I don't think he is my date. Absurd notion when he is clearly standing behind the host stand, menus displayed before him. Does he believe I gave myself the title of Doctor?

He is quickly slipping out of my favor but I don’t correct him on his misstep; my person suit is firmly secured. I raise my eyebrows and cock my head, patiently waiting for him to elaborate. He looks flustered now, an awkward half smile on his face. “He's at the bar.”

The smile I return is thin but easily bought; easy and obvious. “Many thanks, Monsieur Anonymous.”

The smells of the restaurant surround me; it is neither outstanding nor offensive. The bar area is particularly strong in scent—to me at least—of the various alcoholic cocktails that have been spilled over the years. I can smell him before I really see him: woodsy, unique and completely out of place. There is most definitely a hint of dog. Despite the latter, I smile. He may be the only thing I have found interesting during this whole experience so far.

As I draw near to the form that is quite literally propping up the bar, I pause to admire his backside. It would be delightful in a manner of circumstances, and not simply for carving. But I frown as I absorb his dress sense, although it completely corroborates with his out of place scent. His shirt is plaid, rolled to his sleeves and wrinkled from slouching at some point in a chair. He is nervous and warm, I can see it from the way his finger is dragging around his collar, loosening it from around his neck, and the ruddy color of the skin at his nape. His trousers are olive in color and, if I'm not mistaken, they are a smart variation of cargo pants— if that isn’t an oxymoron in itself. Either he has dressed like this to convey a message purposefully, or he is completely out of his depth in a whole number of categories. Overall, it's quite an endearing first impression.

A deer caught in the headlights.

“I believe that you might be waiting for me.” I have to strain against the will of my cheek muscles that desire to pull my smile wider. I am not sure of the result, although I realize he is none the wiser. My arrival made the man jump so forcefully that half of his whisky is trickling down his forearm and spattered on the bar surface. One more scent for that distressing bouquet. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” he mutters absentmindedly. I’m wholly convinced that he is unaware of the lie that just came out of his mouth.

“I'm Hannibal.” I manage to hide my mirth and decide not to hold my hand out; he is quite preoccupied with a napkin and his damp wrist. He doesn’t seem to want to release his drink anymore than he wants to meet my eyes.

“Hi,” he mumbles into his chest, “I was waiting… but that's the point—the deal.” he elaborates those last two words as though I am thanking him for waiting and he is letting me know there is no need. It is not meant rudely, he is self denigrating. “I'm Will.”

His eyes are safely secured behind lenses that look too thin to have any function. The dark frame slips down his nose due to a light sheen of perspiration on his marble-like skin. He doesn't seem to notice their descent, blue orbs frantically bouncing around the room before they settle on me for a brief moment. That's when he realizes he's looking at me over the top of his glasses and uses a finger to push them up his nose as his eyes drop to the knot in my tie. Then he mumbles an apology, his hand desperately scrambling across the bar for support. The glass is still clutched his hand. The sudden flummoxed motion all took perhaps five seconds but, for that brief electrifying moment that he allowed his pupils to meet my own, I feel a firmness; a hidden strength buried beneath isolation and frustration.

Will is altogether peculiar and I find I like him.

“There’s no need to apologize. Should we find a table? The floor might be a little firmer when seated.” I add a smile as well as a soft lilt to my voice so he knows the jest is not meaning to harm, but all he does is repeat my name as though it's a memory. I surprise myself by the small twist of something deep within me; a spark somewhere in dark depths that has never seen a visitor. There’s an echo, an answer, a hunger clawing itself through the bleakness.

I push the urge to dissect myself away because I have a strong feeling that trying to discern the sensation would be like throwing a pebble into that immeasurable cavern and holding my breath, waiting to hear the noise of its fall being broken. By water, rock, foliage, bone, soft tissue…

And for a moment I am uncharacteristically caught off balance and my forehead tightens in a frown. Two of my fingertips push against the tacky wooden bar-top; a fortitude I never need. The sound of Will clearing his throat brings me back together as he realizes I asked a question. He is too lost in his own castaway nature to consciously notice the falter in my posture for that moment. Or so I assume. Maybe he is aware of the glitch in time and space that seemed to affect the both of us in this moment of collision.

I may have to eat him yet.

“Sure… you decide.” His arm made a wide gesture to the room, that I might not know where the tables were. But I know that’s not his intentions, his movements are sprung by tightly coiled nerves. “There are some booths in the corner.” His fingers finally leave the glass and he wipes his palms down over his stomach. I wonder how much damper they have become since I introduced myself?

“Would you like to sit at a booth, Will?” He blinks at the question, trying to unravel how his gesture backfired so quickly.

“Oh, no, I didn't mean that's where I wanted to sit. I was just pointing it out; I noticed while I was waiting.” He looks around the room almost in surprise of his surroundings. As if he can’t quite figure out how he got here, or this was not what he had expected happen . Truth be told, I can relate; this was not at all what I expected to find.

“If you were going to pick where to sit, would you choose a booth?” The man fingers his jaw, tips pass over his stubble making a sound that sends static electricity skating over my skin. The collar on my own shirt seems tighter now.

“Yes.” Will makes the admission and he sounds defeated in being given what he wants. That is intriguing. I begin to ponder what other things and experiences he denies himself…

“A booth it is.”

#abandonedfic #hannigram #fanfic #hannibal #spacedogs #firstdates #3/?

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alia15 · 4 years

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2020: Who Saw THIS Coming?

Remember when I retired from blogging?

I actually did retire, except, I consider this little corner of the Internet -- MY corner -- to be a place where I document the big stuff. I told you about my engagement and then came back several months later to recap my wedding. Remember that? The wedding that THANKFULLY occurred in late 2019 before the world turned to shit??

Yeah. You know what happened. “The pandemic.” “The virus.” “Covid.” Covid-19″ (I personally prefer the first five Covids; I feel like they really fell off after that). “CORONAVIRUS.”

THE DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS...2020.

Suuuuuuuuure, good ol’ Rona robbed Leo and me of our Italian honeymoon, but aside from that? We were able to squeeze in all kinds of fun things in good ol 2019 -- oh how I miss you, 2019 -- and have an unforgettable year. This year is proving to be unforgettable too -- just, ya know -- in like, a traumatizing sorta way.

Anyway, as I was saying, I have to document the big stuff on here. I imagine myself reading and looking back on this blog like an old, embarrassing diary (hell, I do it already) (the dating posts make me want to die) and who can omit THIS chapter? It’s got it all: a deadly virus, racially fueled riots and protesting, social injustice, a deranged madman in the oval office, and... MURDER HORNETS?

exactly.

So rather than write out a whole long thing about my experience in 2020, I thought I’d break it down by month, starting in March. I’m going to be documenting the good, the BAD (there’s a decent amount of that), and anything new that transpired in that time frame. Did I take up any hobbies? Start baking sourdough? I guess you’ll find out.

Let’s start with:

MARCH.

The good. There was immediately a novelty to this whole Covid-19 thing. In the first half of the month I was commuting, going to work in my NYC office, and doing my usual amount of social things on weekends. When it was decided in mid-March that we’d have to work and stay home for a “bit” (lol), there was something exciting about it. We made jokes about social distancing and masks and had cutesy puns for “quarantining.” We hit the ground RUNNING with Zoom calls/video chats. There was something fun and exhilarating about all this.

The bad. People I KNOW got this virus. People I know LOST people to this virus. My Grandma’s health took a turn and things did not look good, but I couldn’t go see her. Shit, I didn’t see ANYONE except Leo, and even he was going to work in his office every day. I had to get used to this abrupt abundance of...alone time.

What’s new? I’ve always taken to social media as a creative outlet, but I QUICKLY started using it more -- and differently -- once things in the world got hairy. I treated my Instagram like my one gateway to the outside world, because it was: I surveyed my followers and asked how they were doing. I took silly videos talking to myself in the mirror. I wrote long captions on my photos letting everyone know what my experience was like. I tried to entertain those who were stuck at home, as I was, and needing an escape.

Oh, and ya know... Tiger King.

APRIL.

The good. The weather was getting nicer, so Leo and I took advantage and often went for walks around our complex and even a local trail/preserve in our town. We started doing “lawn visits” to see our families from a distance, and that helped. For two people who were used to seeing their ‘people’ regularly, 3-4 weeks of not seeing them took a toll. I also started doing “Grateful April” on Instagram, where I shared a few things each day that made me happy/appreciative. Some followers of mine followed suit, which was awesome to see.

The bad. Hmm, I think all this sitting and lack of moving is hurting my back? (#foreshadowing). Also, ENOUGH with the Zoom calls and “virtual happy hours,” for the LOVE OF GOD! Oh, and that “novelty” I mentioned in March? That wore off quickly, and a lot of us started to feel weird, sad, isolated, uneasy, unproductive and stir-crazy. Myself included.

We were also reminded that this was the month we were supposed to depart for our honeymoon. Ugh.

What’s New? I did some arts & crafts (I painted ceramic bowls I bought from Target), gave myself a mediocre pedicure, found new/creative ways to engage and interact with folks on social media (polls, asking questions like “what’s in your Amazon cart?” and “who sponsors your quarantine?”), and got to see what it was like to have a husband with hair. I also discovered my love of tie-dye and wore...a lot of it.

Oh, and I was on CBS news talking about screen time. Iconic.

MAY.

The good. The weather got summer-like and I definitely felt a MAJOR shift in my mood. Leo and I spent more time outside on our deck: listening to music, making margaritas, talking to neighbors. I even took work calls outside and got some much-needed Vitamin D. I had my first real “beach days” (bathing suit, chair and all). I started to FINALLY see my family in person; first, outside only -- and then eventually indoors.

The bad. Ahmaud Arbery. George Floyd, obviously. Dumb-dumbs protesting the lock-down and demanding haircuts. CLEARLY more to come on this. (See: June)

Oh, and my back pain? WAY worse.

What’s new? Some more arts and crafts: I started painting shells I found on the beach (lol). I bought a pair of Crocs and documented the most absurd series on social media where I paired the heinous footwear with items that rhymed (Crocs & socks, Crocs & shamrocks, Crocs & botox...you get the idea.) I experimented with a few new recipes (made lemon poppy muffins & homemade vodka sauce). I re-watched Mad Men and it made me miss my office and coworkers.

JUNE. A rough one.

The good. We started doing more social things with our families: BBQs, celebrating Father’s Day, our nephew’s baptism. Doing this truly felt like “normalcy” and in those moments, we’d forget about all the garbage going on around us. I also decided (yes, after 3 friggin months of lock-down) that I needed to start exercising; something I needed for my physical AND mental health. I thought it could help my back -- which, yes, was feeling worse as time went on -- and it did make me feel good to spend a little time each day walking, jogging, lifting weights and just MOVING.

The bad. Um? Everything? For starters, the racial tension in the country came to a head and erupted in a MAJOR way -- and while the protests and all the #BlackLivesMatter movements were a positive thing, it absolutely brought out the WORST in so many others. There was rioting, looting and violence. Racism ran RAMPANT. Karens went wild. “Covidiots” were ENRAGED about being told to wear masks. There was police brutality and a President who threw fuel into the fire. Tensions and emotions were at an all-time high and we all got a harsh dose of reality that this country has SO FAR TO GO in regards to equality and civil rights and even basic human decency. I was -- and still am -- sad for this country.

Also? I finally went for an MRI on my back and found out I have two herniated discs; well THAT certainly helps explain things! Shortly after, I pull my back out entirely, and could not walk or move. The pain is excruciating; debilitating and I think, “can things get any worse?” and then...

My Grandma passes away.

It hurts. It still does. It was inevitable -- as death is, especially given her age and health condition at the time -- but it still felt like taking a bullet. I will always be grateful that I was able to get to see her one day before she passed away to say goodbye, but it’s hard not to be resentful that she didn’t get the memorial service and send-off she so deserved because of the pandemic.

(Side note: read about my amazing Grandma HERE)

In short, June sucked.

What’s new? We got a new stationary bike and set it up outside on the deck which was awesome, and I ended the month getting some epidural shots at the spine doctor. While the (strong) meds and injections didn’t exactly *cure* my issue, they made things a LOT better. Leo and I also drove into NYC (my first time there in MONTHS!) so I could go get my migraine Botox treatment at my neurologist.

I voted by mail (which is not fraudulent, by the way) (#eyeroll) in the NY Primary.

I also got not one, but TWO, amazing rainbows the week my grandmother passed away. I needed those, and I’d like to think she knew that.

JULY.

The good. More beach days and some consistent amazing weather (thanks, Mother Nature!). I started seeing a chiropractor twice a week and quickly respond REALLY WELL to treatment and start feeling a lot better. I put things into perspective and realize how lucky I am to live where I do -- on the beach -- and get to enjoy all this newfound free time doing things I enjoy. We also celebrate some family birthdays and have a small family gathering in honor of our beloved Dorothy.

Have you noticed that “seeing family” always ends up in my “good” section?

The bad. Naya Rivera died unexpectedly, John Lewis died, REGIS died. Our President remains as unhinged as ever, we desperately want to #FreeBritney, and Kanye West has a really sad, scary and concerning, uh, episode. He’s also running for President, maybe? Or not? On a personal note, Leo and I tried to eat dinner on the beach one night and LIT-rally got attacked by seagulls. Weeks later, bull sharks are spotted in the ocean RIGHT WHERE WE LIVE, and they prohibit swimming.

What’s new? Hamilton on Disney+: need I say more? The fig tree that’s been on our deck for three summers FINALLY started to grow figs! I re-watched Broad City and it is just... *chef’s kiss* perfection. Taylor Swift releases her album ‘folklore’ and I listen on repeat for seven days straight.

AUGUST.

Well, who knows? We’re not there yet. 2020 has certainly been a ride (and it’s not over yet; dear GOD), and I still can’t believe it ended up being this insane year, unlike anything I’ve EVER experienced. And while it undoubtedly has come with its fair share of challenges, it has also come with some blessings.

I have all this extra time now and I make a point to use it productively (most days). I log off from working and go outside, I walk the beach, go in our complex pool, ride the stationary bike, catch up with friends/family on the phone, read, and watch/re-watch shows.

The commute and hustle and bustle of every day in my pre-pandemic life would make me stressed and anxious; I was constantly snoozing alarm clocks, rushing in the mornings, dealing with overcrowded/delayed trains, and getting home late each night.

Life has become slower, in a good way, and it’s made me appreciate the simple things. I care less about material things and more about the basics: enjoying nice weather/the outdoors, my home, my husband, my family and close friends.

I genuinely stopped caring about getting my hair and nails done, going out to dinner, getting dolled up, or traveling. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy all these things and I’ll of course do them again, but this whole situation made me realize that what I need *most* in this world are the simple joys that money can’t buy.

And for that? I’m grateful.

*stay safe, friends.*

#coronavirus #pandemic #life #2020 #this year #recap #family #blm #year in review #my life #covid #life as we know it #changes #death #loss #love #beach

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amynchan · 5 years

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Hello everyone.

It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve addressed everyone like that. Life’s been moving at a crazy pace for someone like me and I haven’t been up to addressing much of anyone as of late.

However, there are days when even the most hectic of times need to take a breath and take a break. I’ve decided that this is one of those times. And I’ve decided to spend a portion of it talking to you. The topic isn’t terribly controversial to my eyes, but I felt it was something I wanted to say.

I wanted to say “Merry Christmas”. To everyone who celebrates it. It can be a great time. It can be a stressful time, too.

For me, it’s a time where, when the spirit of Christmas finally wraps up all around me, I get to be surrounded by my family. Usually that’s good for me. I see my family put aside their squabbles and distance to give each other gifts. I see surprise flicker across the face of every child in my family, all 15 of them that I get to see! I see my dad get to help my grandfather cook a very tasty meal. I see my mom talk with her mom for the first time in ages and reconnect with her brother. I have to reintroduce myself to some of my cousins, but that’s been fading as they’ve been getting older. However, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Introducing myself time and time again has made me see how I grow and how I get to be an even better cousin for them than last time.

And I know I’m very lucky to see this scene every Christmas. I know that not a lot of people get to have this sort of happy holiday. I know some people work for the holidays and I know that some people haven’t been able to be with the ones who raised them in several years. I know that some people have to stay with the ones who raised them without even really calling them ‘family’. And that sucks. It really does. Separation, loneliness, isolation, despair? Those all suck.

Those feelings are the ones I’ve experienced over the past few years. The ones where I spent Thanksgiving and New Years alone. My family would spend time away from town while I had to stay behind and either study or work. Or I’d take up a temporary job that happened to have me away from my family overnight during New Years while everyone else was awake and together and making memories. The separation from those that I so desperately wanted to spend time with killed me inside. And, yes, I cried whenever this happened. I cried a little bit. And I can’t say that this works necessarily for everyone, but there was one thing that kept me somewhat upbeat and joyful during the times I was alone: Choosing.

I could have thought about and mourned over the quality time I was missing. I could have sat and allowed the sadness to swallow me whole. And it did, for a time. I sat around and I didn’t do much of anything besides wish that things were different. But wishing causes the clock to go slowly and despair grinds the seconds to a halt.

One year after a while of sadness, I remembered that my friend had recommended a show to me. Something silly and ridiculous, but it beat sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. I watched the show, found some fanart, and even found some fans who were willing to sit with me for a time. I won’t go into the specifics here, but that alone passed one night. I didn’t cry.

The day after was harder. I’d chosen to do something with my time and I’d laughed for a little while, but my family was still gone and I was still alone. But something had changed: I wasn’t content to just sit by myself and cry. I wanted, no… I needed to do something. So I did. I chose to bake a cake.

Let it be known that the cake produced that day was bitter and my teeth still hate me for it. But I don’t. I don’t hate the fact that I baked something that failed so spectacularly. It made me get up, get some more lemons, and make another one. This next one was passable and I enjoyed making and eating it. I spent the rest of the day looking at recipes and thinking about what I could possibly try to make next.

Watching a television show made for children and baking a cake aren’t exactly festive past times. You can bake a cake straight from a box on any nice weekend and watching TV is something Americans do on the day-to-day. They aren’t reserved for “special” holidays, but nor are they something to be turned away when you really do need a distraction. Some days, especially holidays, require one if only to stave off the sadness and loneliness you can’t do much about.

But you have to choose to let yourself be distracted. It can be hard with all the festive lights and carols blaring from the radio and holiday TV specials. I get it. But there are DVDs. There is Netflix. And, if you’re reading this, there’s the internet. There are books and CDs and hobbies you’ve pushed off to the side until you had more time to do them.

Well, now you have time. Choose to do something with it.

So to anyone who wants to do anything to get away from this day, I want you to have a happy Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. I want you to take the extra time you’ve been given and do something you want with it. A new hobby, a new show, an old past time you want to delve into. It’s your time. You get to choose what to do with it.

So if you feel sad because of this day, because you’re alone or because you wish you were, that sucks. It does. But you’ve got the power to change it just a tiny bit. You’ve got the power to change your world and use your time to make you feel better.

Use it well.

#Christmas #Merry Christmas #and if not #Happy Holidays #and if not then #Happy Tuesday #tl;dr:#You get to choose with your time #So use it in a way that will cheer your day just a little bit

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sword-and-quill · 7 years

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@cuntharidin said: This was a delighting piece of bedtime literature, absolutely! Can I say that I was especially excited to finally, finally, /finally/ have the pleasure of meeting Allan? I mean, I’m obviously thrilled to witness the whole band of loners assembling, but having had the opportunity to watch him interact as Tremere DID somehow raise my expectations to meet him in his “original” manifestation as a …warlock.

Thank you very much! :) It was a pleasure to introduce him and I hope he lived up to expectations! I’m really excited to get everyone together in the same space and working as a team.

(And I’m infinitely happy Booker survived – not just from the “avoid the trope” aspect, but I also think the narrative profits. The whole ‘must find new social radius because everyone else is dead’ is quite prevalent in young adult fiction, and, y'know, especially since this is all about finding people to trust after experiencing betrayal/some sort of abuse. From my own experience getting away/cutting ties is extremely emotionally straining, especially if people stay back that you liked and who didn’t do anything wrong – and Booker really isn’t a bad guy – but sometimes you gotta leave these behind as well, even though I’m not sure what’s going on with him in the story. I’m not quite sure how to phrase it, yet I always felt the whole “everyone died, tabula rasa” situation oversimplifies extremely and doesn’t answer the “Can I still go and leave people behind that didn’t do me wrong? Or that are somehow dependent on me? Is that a reason to stay?” question. Does that make sense?)

It makes a lot of sense! I’m really happy I finalized the change as well, for several reasons. I think you’re right, I really think you’ve hit on a lot of elements where the death was... well, I don’t want to get too down on myself, but it was a lazy / inexperienced decision that was easy to make when I was 16 and working within the standard tropes of the genre, but definitely needed to be revised.

I think the necessary core impact of separating from Booker - the result that I need to accomplish, in a meta sense - is generating the freedom for Mara to grow. To sift through, synthesize, adopt and/or possibly reject lessons she learned from him and the other authority figures she’s left behind. Her parents, who loved her dearly but with whom she felt she couldn’t be entirely honest. Booker, with whom she could be entirely honest but didn’t always agree. And Thein, who offered a haven of ‘honesty’ and agreeableness, but was ultimately using those as tools to control her.

Which brings me to the question – in how far do warlocks and mages differ? Is it a specific nomenclature within Mara’s universe, or did you chose to adapt the classification for example D&D proposes? It seems to be a thing in high fantasy to separate these supernatural professions, but I have no idea; Z already indicates that the warlock’s interests are of “cosmic” nature and she seems a tad more earthed with her, well, stones. Quite casual about it, too: I believed these phenomenons belong to a “secret society”/beyond convention masquerade not unlike the WoD, but apparently it’s common knowledge and can be discussed openly? After all, Grey’s are public presences as well.

It is a distinction in their magical styles, yes! Though the nomenclature may change. Mage and Warlock are alright as catch-all magical labels, but... they don’t have the right oomph yet. I struggle with naming, at times, I still have half of the Antehex tiers to finalize! Anyway, the main difference is their approach to magic. Allan’s style strongly prefers that you put rules on the spells you cast. You have to build the tunnel through which you wish your magic to travel to the intended result. Zory’s style treats magic with a great deal more trust and personal development. They’re more willworkers than architects and they get a lot of fulfillment out of watching the unique ways magic manifests with their personal touch. “Practitioner” is the catch-all term for people who use magic in this ‘verse.

They’re both practitioners and magical abilities aren’t limited by the style you prefer; in a lot of ways, I’m treating magic ‘in universe’ as art! People have their own distinct styles, some people treat it as a formal school and climb to the peak gladly accepting the lessons of those who came before, some people accomplish fantastic results simply by practicing on their own, and some people do magic in truly bizarre and unexpected ways. Some people have all kinds of classifications and distinctions and genres, while others just see it as one big umbrella. For some people it’s a career, for some it’s part of their identity, and for some it’s just a hobby. What you get out of magic depends strongly on what you put into it.

Now, as to the casual nature of it, I may need to put some additional effort into refining how it’s brought up in this scene. Because yeah, there is that thin veil of pseudo-secrecy, for sure, even if it’s far more permeable and permissive than the Masquerade! I actually based this on how casually my Wiccan and Pagan buds discuss their own practices, buuuuut... I think you’re right, giving it another readthrough with your feedback, I think the initial dialogue does end up being too explicit for the balance I need to hit. They can still have much the same conversation without necessarily tipping their hand to a stranger about how much magic is involved. I’ll work that into my revisions, much appreciated!

In fact, I’ve given it a quick once-over that I think should help! She should come across as a more traditional spiritualist now, until Mara tips her hand that she knows about magic and then they can open up the discussion.

Anyways! I really do love that you chose to invest quite a significant of words into the descriptive part, here; it’s just so very vivid and evokes a wonderful atmosphere and aesthetic to place the newcomers in – one fleeing from it, apparently, despite being versed in maneuvering the field; I’m generally very inclined to dialogue and I wholly enjoyed the character’s exchanges!

That’s delightful to hear, I appreciate it!! I thought mood and setting would be particularly important for this; how Allan treats his environment is as much a part of his character as his words and body language, so I wanted to be sure readers have clarity about him.

Another element that stood out was your choice to let A cry. I was a bit surprised, in fact – which is, I realize, all me, and pointing it out might reveal more about me than about your particular choice. Still, stroke me as positively remarkable, also gives a nice perspective on how significant the solitude and even loneliness which A’s paranoia necessitates might influence him?

!! It wasn’t a decision I made casually, but I... think it’s impactful, both thematically and in terms of character development.

Allan is dealing with a lot. He’s been profoundly disturbed by his experiences, he’s not always coping in the best ways, and he’s having a difficult time not taking it personally that his best friend decided to move out. Certainly he would have preferred not to show vulnerability with a stranger nearby, but... he’s only human and he’s hurting. His social support structures are practically nonexistent due to his isolation and losing a housemate compounds that.

So much of society demands that we put on a cheerful face, move along, pretend everything is alright and sweep everything unpleasant under the rug. A huge part of what bonds this group together is going to be that they can’t pretend everything is okay. They know things aren’t okay, they desperately need to address the fact that things aren’t okay, and none of them truly want to be alone yet they’ve ended up on their own all the same. If I do my job right, the story will make it apparent that they’re all facing extremely similar pain from different angles for different reasons. Sometimes they’ll be able to help each other. Sometimes they won’t. But they’ll always be nose-to-nose with that same kernel, that question of “What do I do?”, trying to answer it in different ways.

I don’t know, I just- Allan deserves the same space to express that pain as everybody else. He has a right to not be okay and to admit that it sucks. I want the story to have compassion and nuance for him and everyone else and I sort of feel like giving the characters that kind of emotional space contributes to that goal. At least, I hope it does.

I don’t want to bother you with an all too extensive comment, so I’ll speed up a little: The state of the house seems very curious – at first I thought he might be a compulsive horder, but he faces no troubles eliminating the dishes, so that’s not it! I wonder what’s the story behind all of this! Additionally I can’t but wonder how Booker and he met!

I can see why you’d think so! He’s not a hoarder, though, just struggles to get out of his own head to deal with real world concerns. It’s not easy to summon up enough focus to clean the house when it feels like the world could end at any moment and the next ritual is far more important anyway. I think that bit of characterization will become more clear as more context and interactions are given.

And you will get to find out how he and Booker met, in the story!! A tiny tidbit, though, he was friends with both Booker and Jackson, so they go back several years!

I might not be qualified to comment on it, though you introduce Zory with the formulation of “tall black woman” and while you describe Allan with the adjective “pale”, you don’t explicitly mention that he is white yet explicitly state that she’s black. I read some guides that say this is an imbalance to be avoided when introducing characters of color! Like I said, I’m not sure, I just stumbled over it.

aaahhhhh, I thought I’d been thorough! Thank you for pointing it out, you are absolutely right to do so! I received some feedback on an earlier section that I didn’t go into enough detail on how characters looked, which resulted in assumptions that everyone was white. And given that a lot of the characters aren’t, I’ve been trying to compensate and make sure everyone’s ethnicity is clearly stated and I missed Allan. Thank you! I’ve fixed that as well. Now we are like... draft 1.3 instead of draft 1.0. That much closer to the second draft!! Haha

I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING THIS. I was disappointed when it ended. WHATS NEXT. lmao too long

!!!!! I’m really glad you had fun! And I super appreciate that you took the time to read it and leave me your thoughts. Reactions, opinions, what you liked/hated/noticed feedback, little error catches - all of these are incredibly valuable to me and they help raise the overall quality of the work itself and make me aware of where I may need to pay more attention, so seriously: thank you! You rock. :)

#cuntharidin

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