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jeff141 · 4 months

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Reading Resolutions

New Years' resolutions never work out for me and usually three days into the new year, I have already dropped all expectations of completing my resolutions. I stopped making resolutions a couple years ago after countless efforts to go to the gym more, eat more healthier, and, especially, reading more books. It's unfortunate since reading used to be a pastime I greatly enjoyed but slowly throughout the years, has been phased out of my daily life either due to school or opting to play video games instead (not necessarily a bad thing however!). This year, having been graduated for a couple months, and now having an inordinate amount of free time, I decided to take a crack at reading once more but using a different approach instead.

My resolution is not to read X books or spend X hours reading, my resolution is to simply spend more time at the library. I found that forcing myself to read a specified amount of books or spend a determined amount of time reading stressed me too much to actually enjoy the act of reading. As such, revising my resolution to just spend time at the library took a significant amount of unnecessary stress off of my chest to meet goals. I'm not chained to meet a quota nor am I actually forced to simply read during my time at the public library. Other activities such as perusing the shelves, doing job searches on my laptop, prepping for my next DND session are some of the things that I have done while at the library. However, simply being in an environment where I am surrounded by books as well as having the free time to be able to enjoy reading without the obligation of meeting a pre-determined goal has naturally increased my enjoyment of reading and read more often. It’s made me a more productive person, especially at a time where I don’t have as much responsibilities as I did compared to when I was in college, with the added benefit of making me enjoy reading once more. Additionally, the services of the public library are amazing and should be taken advantaged by anyone who can get a library card. Tickets to most museums in my area as well as an opera showing at my local opera house that would have been 98 dollars? Sign me up! This is an advertisement to all public libraries in the world. Go get yourself a library card now!

What am I reading right now though? I wanted to read something by Kurt Vonnegut who is probably my favorite author. I would like to go through his entire catalog of books and so I started to read his second novel, The Sirens of Titans. This science fiction book centers on Malachi Constant, the luckiest man in the world and owner of the richest company in the U.S., Magnum Opus, as he travels through space after being foretold of his future by Winston Niles Rumfoord who is, by all means, "unstuck in time" (I wonder if Billy and Winston have met?) and is able to see far, far, far into the future. Winston became as he is because of something called a "chrono-synclastic infundibulum". Don't know what an infundibulum is? Ask your mother.

As is with all Vonnegut books, the plot of this book is absolutely insane. You should expect to feel like you are being whiplashed from plot point to plot point whenever you read a Vonnegut novel. Yet the charm of Vonnegut is that despite his outlandish plots, bizarre characters, and literally out-of-this-world settings, Vonnegut has a keen understanding of what it means to live a human life and is, surprisingly, sensible in that manner.

As I am writing this blog post I am about halfway through the book and it has been a great ride through outer space. I have read two novels of his before, Slaughterhouse Five and Breakfast of Champions, and thoroughly enjoyed both of them. A mainstay in many of Vonnegut's novels are rehashed and recycled characters, ideas, and place names that only people who have read Vonnegut's older novels would understand. And while not knowing Vonnegut's self-referenced lore certainly did not detract from my experience reading Slaughterhouse Five and Breakfast of Champions (SH5 especially), I really wanted to know where Vonnegut's ideas started and how they developed over time. Thankfully, his charm and prose are still ever present in The Sirens of Titans and it's amazing to see where many of the themes he wrote about in Slaughterhouse Five got their start here in The Sirens of Titans.

Here are two of my favorite lines in The Sirens of Titans so far (spoilers!):

"Look," said Rumfoord, "life for a punctual person is like a roller coaster." He turned to shiver his hands in her face. "All kinds of things are going to happen to you! Sure," he said, "I can see the whole roller coaster you're on. And sure — I could give you a piece of paper that would tell you about every dip and turn, warn you about every bogeyman that was going to pop out at you in the tunnels. But that wouldn't help you any."

"I don't see why not," said Beatrice.

"Because you'd still have to take the roller-coaster ride," said Rumfoord. "I didn't design the roller coaster, I don't own it, and I don't say who rides and who doesn't. I just know what it's shaped like."

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"Before turning to the signature, Unk tried to imagine the character and appearance of the writer. The writer was fearless. The writer was such a lover of truth that he would expose himself to any amount of pain in order to add to his store of truth. He was superior to Unk and Stony. He watched and recorded their subversive activities with love, amusement, and detachment... Unk turned the page and read the signature. I remain faithfullly yours--was the sentiment expressed above the signature...

The signature was Unk's... It was literature in its finest sense, since it made Unk courageous, watchful, and secretly free."

(I would love to have this tattooed on me someday, this entire chapter had me feeling things!)

A couple of other books I am currently reading are:

How Long Has This Been Going On by Ethan Mordden

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Wish me luck this year!

#reading #books #scifi #kurt vonnegut #new year

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dragonsinkwell · 6 years

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I think your Nekomata Ren works are to die for and are super cute! Could I maybe request reader being childhood friends with Ren, but he never reveals that he's a Nekomata? Like he always has a hoodie on or he's always wearing a hat! Brownie points if he becomes smitten with the reader, and along the way the reader somehow realizes that he is a Nekomata! Oof sorry if this is too much, please don't feel obligated to write for this😅 either way thank you so so much!💜

Mmmm, childhood friends. My kind of jam. Honestly I could have done a whole fic based on this idea and honestly I might in the future. I’ll admit it’s a little different of a take on nekomata!Ren than I usually do, since I usually stick a touch closer to actual yokai lore than this almost demi-human take, but it’s a nice change of pace and I really enjoyed toying with this idea!

You first meet Ren Amamiya as a young child while playing freely in your neighborhood one sunny afternoon. He appears from around a fence corner, peering at you curiously, as though he wishes to join you. Bored with playing all on your own, you gleefully wave the young boy over. There’s so many more games you can play with two people! So pleased to have a new friend, you don’t even think to ask why he’s wearing a hoodie on such a warm day. No, there are more important things to talk about, like who should be the oni, and how far you’re allowed to run down the street, and what time do you have to be home by. By the time the sun sets and you have to race back home for dinner, you’ve long forgotten how odd it is.

That’s a question that doesn’t get brought up for years, actually. Not until you’re in middle school, and the two of you are hiding away in a little alley trading stories. It hits you all at once, mid-conversation, that you’ve never seen him without one, and so you finally bring it up. Surely, after all this time you’re close enough that it’s not too strange a question, right? But Ren just laughs, a pale pink blush dusting his cheeks as he bashfully explains that he feels more comfortable wearing it.

“Like a security blanket?” you tease lightheartedly, without a trace of malice.

He chuckles before replying, “More like a stealth outfit.”

“Somehow I feel like wearing a sweatshirt all the time is less stealth ops and more shady delinquent, to be honest.”

“What’s the difference?”

You both have a giggle at his nonchalance. Even though he hardly gave an explanation, you take him at his word. There’s no reason to disbelieve him. Odd as he is, Ren is still your friend.

By the time you’re in high school, you two are as inseparable as you can be, given that he doesn’t attend your school. Which makes you wonder… You aren’t sure what school he goes to, or what schools he’s graduated from. Come to think about it, you don’t know much about Ren at all. You’re pretty sure he has to live nearby, though you’ve never seen his house, and he’s never told you where it is. Ren hardly ever mentions his family, beyond the occasional complaint, and he didn’t bring up any other friends or acquaintances. No one else in the neighborhood has ever talked about him either.

And yet, even as you slowly recognize just how bizarre his existence seems to be, Ren is dear to you beyond measure. Always there for you when you need the support, he has started to occupy a large corner of your heart. Who, or what, ever he is, you’ll be there for him the same way. Thankfully, the feeling appears mutual as your encounters become more frequent over time, and begin happening outside of the circle of your neighborhood. Now you spot him at the shopping center, or lounging around at the park, and there’s something about seeing him out and about makes you inordinately happy.

So life continues exactly as it always has until one balmy evening in late spring. You ought to be in bed, but instead you’ve chosen to sneak out of the house for some fresh air. Too troubled to sleep, you lean against the fence trying to sort out your thoughts. Most people would be excited to receive an acceptance letter to their first choice university, and in some ways you are. However, the longer you sat on the news, the more another thought came to darken your enjoyment. Going off to university means leaving town, leaving the immediate presence of friends and family, but you’re now keenly aware that includes Ren. This knowledge taints your joy; you don’t want to leave him behind, but he’s remained impossibly coy about his plans.

You’re entirely consumed by your musing, and fail to notice the sound of approaching footsteps. “What has you looking so glum this evening?” comes a familiar voice, but it’s so unexpected you can’t stop the small yelp of fear you let out, jumping to attention.

Speak of the devil. Ren’s amused face greets your gaze, clearly having a laugh at your shock. Now that you recognize your visitor, you let out a huffy sigh. You’d have a good laugh about it later, but for now you’re ready to pout. “The hell are you doing out so late besides scaring random people?”

He outright laughs at that. “I was just taking a walk and spotted you. Is it so wrong that I’d want to come over and chat?” With that said his expression falls into soft concern. “Something’s bothering you if you’re hiding out here so late.”

Well, he’s not wrong, but you don’t know how best to broach the subject. You’ve maintained a solid trust in him for all these years, and you don’t really want to come off like you’re attempting to guilt him into an answer. But it would be nice to know if there was still a chance to stay close. Yeah, you would still have his phone contact, except it’s not the same. Not the same, and not enough.

“I got my acceptance letter today. For college.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “It’s given me a lot to think about.”

Ren blinks at you, taking a second to process your statement before beaming at you. “Congratulations! But hey, don’t worry. You’re smart, you’ll do fine.”

When his placation falls flat an awkward silence blankets the two of you. Absentmindedly you fidget, trying to form your clumsy thoughts into something coherent. Eventually you give up, resolving just to say what you felt. “I’m not worried about what it’ll be like. Well, not too much. But I…” you have to pause to take a deep breath. “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Oh.” You don’t have the courage to look at his reaction, instead turning to look down the street. There’s nothing there, but you feel too guilty to look Ren in the eye at your admission. The silence doesn’t last, however. “Is that all?”

There’s something in the way he asks that catches you off guard, something delicate and gentle instead of the patronizing pity you might except from the same question asked by another person. As if he has a deep understanding of what you mean. “Do I need more of a reason?” you retort.

“Hmm, not really. But I don’t think that’s all.”

Perceptive to the last, he is. If you weren’t so certain that his motives are always beneficial, you’d be more upset that he keeps so many secrets while unearthing all yours. Except, Ren has an uncanny knack for knowing which issues are helpful to bring to light. Reluctantly, you give him the full answer, still refusing eye contact. “I’m gonna miss you. I didn’t want to say it, but I was hoping we could go to college in the same city, at least.”

For a moment there’s only the ambient sounds of the suburbs: leaves rustling in the breeze, far off traffic, and the quiet rustling of your clothes as you shift restlessly. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, Ren calls your name and you can’t help but grant him your undivided attention. “You’d miss me?” Unsure of if he wants an answer or not, you merely nod. Which appears to be good enough. His expression turns thoughtful. “In that case, can I trust you with something?”

“Of course!” you reply with no hesitation.

Instead of the verbal response you expect, Ren reaches up to pull his hood back and off his head. Before you notice the reason why you think it’s a very strange reaction, but even in the dim light of a nearby streetlamp it becomes apparent. Ears. There’s a very conspicuous pair of cat ears you can spot peeking out of his fuzzy black hair.

Wait…

“Are those…?”

“Yeah.” It’s Ren’s turn to look away from you. “Not having proper identification makes applying for schools difficult. Part of the reason yokai don’t associate much with humans; you all make it very hard to integrate.”

You have no idea what to feel, much less what to say. You’ve heard of yokai, but it’s a topic most people avoid if it comes up, so you’re at a loss. It’s a possibility that once crossed your mind, when you were younger and it was so much easier to believe in things you’ve never seen. All the same, it’s baffling. Explains a hell of a lot of the questions you’ve had, but still manages to leave you confounded.

But he trusts you with this. You don’t want to waste that trust.

“I’ll still miss you,” you say. It’s true. Even confused; even human. You’ll need some time to come to terms with this new knowledge, there’s still a strange disconnect between your head and heart that leaves you feeling sick. But you trust him, too.

Ren turns back to face you, surprised, and while it might be a trick of the light, you could swear he’s blushing. One of his hands comes up to play with a lock of his hair as he considers his words. “Do you mean it?”

“You’re still the same guy I grew up with, aren’t you? I’ll admit I don’t quite believe it; I’ve never seen a yokai before. Not entirely sure I’m not having a stress-induced fever dream right now, honestly. But you’re special to me, Ren. You’ve been there for me, been a wonderful friend. You’re a hell of a guy, on top of it all.” Now you’re blushing too, after coming dangerously close to jumping the proverbial gun. “What is there to not miss?”

“True. I am pretty impressive, aren’t I?” A recovery so smooth you can’t help but laugh. Ren joins in softly, and when it dies down you both take a breath. Now that all the built up tension has evaporated, Ren continues the conversation. “I didn’t mean to hide it this long, but I didn’t know how you would take it. I was afraid you might not want to see me again.”

His confession makes your heart ache. You understand, in a way, why he’d fear that outcome, but you can’t conceive of a world where you didn’t meet Ren, a life where his presence in your life was missing. “That’s the last thing you need to be afraid of. But I’m glad you chose to tell me, even like this.”

Ren smiles at you, gazing at you tenderly. “Thank you. It means more than you know to hear you say that.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m not sure how just yet, but if I found my way to Tokyo around the same time you go, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

There is only one answer for such a question. “If it would make you as happy as it would make me, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Good, because I’d miss you, if you left too.”

#Anonymous #request #persona 5 #ren amamiya #reader insert #alternate universe #yokai au

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rivierakid · 7 years

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ME:A Celebration Meme Day 6 - Fandom & Community Day

The Meme

ME:A was the game through which @omegastation and I connected, and we’re sure other people must have similar stories. ♡ Did you make any new friends or connections through the ME:A fan community (and how?) - for example, through lore discussions, RPing, mutual love of the same character, sharing about your OCs, or multiplayer? Besides your own (!), whose Ryder[s] is/are your favorite[s]? Whose ME:A art (of any form) do you just adore? Are there any ME:A-heavy blogs that you love to follow? Give them all a shout-out, share your recommendations and love on them here! ♡

So I tend to not really get involved in fandom much, mostly because I'm shy and awkward and don't know how to talk to people (plus I have a major aversion to drama, which no fandom is devoid of). In the case of ME:A that's actually been really frustrating because I have so many feelings about it and no one to talk to about it. Seriously, none of my online friends are into it and I have all of one IRL friend who thankfully loved it as much as I did who I can sometimes talk to about it. Honestly, one of the nice things about doing this meme has been actually getting some of my ideas about the game (and about Rory in particular) out of my head and knowing that at least someone out there might read it and give a shit. So, hey, hmu if you wanna talk Andromeda, no promises as to how entertaining I'll be but if you just wanna yell about it I'm here. XD

That said, I do at least follow some people who post Andromeda stuff now and then, and let me just say I love all the fanart and fic and gifsets and meta posts and shitposts and man I just love it all. Also everyone's Ryder is awesome and I love and am proud of all of them. Every single one.

(And to throw a shoutout to a mutual @yorkiedraws draws super cute fanart, especially Ryder/Suvi.)

Optional - Share any creative works or endeavors ME:A inspired you to do that you’re particularly proud of here! This includes but is by no means limited to fanfiction, fanart, forum threads, edits, gifs, videos, meta posts, collaboration projects, aesthetic collections/inspiration blogs, etc.

You know, I'm generally not a content creator either (I mentioned in an earlier post that I'm not all that creative), but HEY GUESS WHAT I ACTUALLY MADE STUFF FOR ME:A.

That is, if making stupid text post memes with MS Paint counts as content creation, but it's a lot more creative effort than I've put into any other fandom so close enough. I’m still inordinately proud of them either way.

- The first set I made, mostly Rory with one Liam+Jaal and special guest appearance by Vederia (plus an addition I made for Ryder Appreciation Day).

- This one with Rory and Vetra and height differences. (Fun fact: this is my most successful original post ever, so thanks Andromeda/Vetra fans!)

- This one of Drack I made for Father's Day.

- This one of Rory being a Lesbian Disaster™.

#meacelebrationmeme #mass effect #mass effect andromeda #who knows i might even make more stuff someday #truth be told it is nice to know there's so many people out there who also enjoyed the game #especially with how much negativity there is surrounding it

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weloseeveryweek · 7 years

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My Favourite Game

It’s so broad, isn’t, it, something like this? A favourite game might be the best performance you remember (8-1 Nottingham Forest), or the first time you ever watched your team live (1-0 Crystal Palace), or something of such importance it still gets talked about today (Ryan Giggs’s chest sorry, 2-1 Arsenal). I think of petty games like 3-0 Liverpool and 4-2 City. I even think of the guaranteed-a-mention-in-almost-every-match 0-4 MK Dons which, while perhaps not my favourite, was certainly one of the most formative in teaching me that Jonny Evans getting his arse handed to him was still something I would wake up at 3am to watch. And that, regardless, I’d do it all again the same time next week.

I’m someone who sets a lot of store by history. (You’d expect that from a history student.) I suppose that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with United in the first place; the vast landscape of moments that we have reason to be proud of. The lore that every United fan seems to know, like magic, the moment they become one. Everyone says that United live in the past. If that is true I don’t begrudge them, for what a past to live in. When I got off the tram in Manchester on the fourteenth of June two years ago and saw the LEGENDS ARE BACK banners hanging outside Old Trafford it was this that confronted me. I was struck, suddenly, by the enormity of what I was going to watch: Yorke and Cole playing together again! The treble-winning back line of Stam and Johnsen (and the wrong Neville)! Cult favourites no one but a United fan would know in van der Gouw and Blomqvist!

And. Of course.

My love for history seems to extend to my inordinate determination to see all of my favourite players retired. Amongst the ones right now are Michael Carrick, who is probably going to ride into the sunset soon, and Xabi Alonso, who already is. But as everyone knows the lights of my life are the Class of ‘92, the last of whom retired in my first full season of football, which was why I was unable to respond to the questions of bemused forty-year-olds who asked how do you even know them? But I do know them. I do love them. And while Gary Neville will probably always be my favourite person, my favourite player in the whole wide world will probably always be Paul Scholes.

Scholesy was the reason I bought a ticket as soon as the game went on sale and if he had been the only legend playing amongst a group of pot-bellied fans and 12-year-olds I would still have paid every penny. The thing that sucks about your favourite players being retired is that you’ve just about missed every chance to watch them play live, so thank fuck for charity games. It was the one thing that kept me going through the whole entire year, to be honest, ever since it was announced in 2014. It’d been difficult, moving on my own to a whole new country where I struggled to make new friends and found that all of my old ones were busy doing fine without me. And in all that mess and loneliness and fear of what if I can’t do this there was - United. Every week. Giving some stability to my life. Telling me that here, at least, was one thing that would always stay the same.

I counted down the days to Scholesy, I really did. Put it in my calendar: I’m going to see Paul Scholes play today. I told myself that every time something awful happened (and there were many awful things): don’t give up, yet. You’re going to see Paul Scholes play this June. You’re going to see him play in a United shirt. In Old Trafford. Exactly why favourite players are our favourites is a discussion for another time, but that thought steeled me more than anything.

To be honest with you, I don’t remember all too much of what happened during the game itself. I just remember not being able to breathe for nearly all of it. When Scholesy walked out, when he touched the ball for the first time, when he pinged one of his favourite long diagonal passes - man. I can’t even begin to tell you what that felt like. It was exactly like those grainy youtube videos, exactly like everything anyone important had ever said about him - ‘a spectacular player who has everything’, ‘the way he changes the game’, ‘the complete midfielder’. They had not been selling me short. He was forty years old then and still looked like he would have strolled into our first team. (The last game I’d been up for was the 0-1 loss to West Brom, so I suppose that isn’t saying much.) It was an education. You cannot understand the beauty of Paul Scholes until you watch all ninety minutes of the entire pitch, the way you do live - I saw how he constantly flicked his head back and forth, how he thought about the game, how he was mapping everything out like, to borrow Rio’s joke, a sat nav. I cried - not just because I was watching him play, but because I was watching him play.

In Old Trafford. Wearing a United shirt. Almost like he’d never left.

I had a torrid time in Manchester, besides the game. I was flying back to Singapore the day after and all of my luggage/accommodation/tickets were a mess. My friend, who I was due to have met after the game, couldn’t make it, which meant that for two horrifying hours I was wandering around in a city where I had no place to sleep. I almost lost my match ticket, and I’m the sort who hoards everything. I cried again, a different kind of crying, stumbling blindly down unfamiliar streets and feeling hopelessly wretched by the time I dragged myself into a hotel. I cursed football for being so awfully important that I had had to come all the way here for no good reason but the game. Somehow days that are supposed to be dreams always turn out to be horrendous. (It happened, again, the next year when I nearly froze to death standing in the rain for three hours waiting for Scholesy and Becks, but there you go.) At that moment I remember hating everything - United, Scholesy, Manchester, trains, hotels, myself.

Then I undressed and took a shower and when I stepped out again, the first thing I saw was my United jersey hanging off the chair where I’d left it. SCHOLES 18 stamped onto the back. And I don’t know why, but that’s the image that sticks with me of the day. Not one of his passes, not any of the goals, not the red seats buzzing with nostalgia. Just my shirt with his name on it, stark in a grey-and-orange hotel room with England playing on telly in the background. Still there, after all the trouble I’d been through. Something that would always stay the same.

People always ask me why I put myself through so much for football. It is because of that, I think. It’s the way you can go through absolute hell (and, very often, it is football that makes you go through it) and still feel like you could burst when you see your team. No matter what you’re going through. No matter what they’re going through. At the end of the day I’d seen Scholesy play, hadn’t I? I’d seen my player play for my club and that was all that mattered. Everything was worth it, at that point, looking at his jersey. And everything continues to be worth it. Yes, they’ll make you cry, they’ll make you so angry you want to die, they’ll make you not talk to your best friends for days (I know an unfortunate number of Scousers), but most importantly, they’re there to make you. Everything is worth it so long as you know they are there. It is a contract you signed the first day you fell in love. In that way, I suppose, it’s the one thing that you can genuinely always trust.

I’m going to see Paul Scholes play (again) this June, so I’m not giving up just yet. I’m going to see him play in a United shirt. Gary’s going to be there. Giggsy’s going to be there. Old Trafford’s going to be there, as it has for a hundred years, for every Manc a religion.

I’m already counting down the days.

#manchester united #paul scholes #mufc #football #weloseeveryweek #honestly I'd count any of the times I've been to OT really because...#live football in your! stadium! is unbeatable #prompt response #submission

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