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disregardcanon · 4 years

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A decade in fanfiction

The meme template was made by me myself and I! Please, if you’re interested go ahead and do it! I would love to see other people reflecting on their writing right along with me :)

Where can we read your fic? Please give us a link so that we can check these stories out!

my early fics can be read on my ffn The Ficsmith

on ao3, my pseuds are sunkelles and fullmetal anime

I also have lots of short things here on tumblr. i would try searching a favorite fandom of yours and au on my blog and something might pop up.

How many words of fanfiction have you written this decade?

On ao3, I have posted 1,031,824 words. I would bet that I posted 40k on ffn before i started posting concurrently to my ao3, and that i’ve posted maybe 80k of stuff just to tumblr? If I estimate that way and don’t think about unfinished works and wips, I’d say 1,151,824 words thereabouts.

How many stories have you written?

I’ve posted 338 stories to ao3. I am not going to go do the math to add on my stories from ffn as well.

Have you written on multiple websites? If so, which website is your favorite and why?

ao3 is my favorite website for fic because it’s just so EASY to search through, post to, and get your stats from. plus it’s very visually appealing.

Have you used multiple pen names? If so, list them and tell us the story behind the name

on ffn, i used a lot of pen names over the years, but i only remember 3 of them

1. thee sun. this was my first pen name on the internet and it was because back then, my friends and i had series of nicknames going where we were each a part of the solar system. one of my friends suggested that i should be the sun because i was happy and bouncy and the friend group “orbited” around me. it wasn’t really accurate then or now, but sun ended up sticking.

2. sunless skies was my emo change to that pseud

3. the ficsmith is my current name there as i thought the word “wordsmith” was badass and decided that ficsmith sounded very, very cool

on ao3, my primary pseud has always been “sunkelles”. half of it’s the old nickname and half of it’s another nickname i won’t get into. it’s a very personal handle for me that i love dearly

my second pseud is fullmetal anime, my anime pseud. fullmetal alchemist was one of my first anime when my old roommate got me onto my weeb phase in my twenties, and i thought that sounded too badass to pass up.

What is the first story you posted this decade?

I Will Never Leave You Alone: this is a percy jackson fic set after the lost hero. It was my imaging of how the meeting in son of neptune might go if percy didn’t get his memories back. it’s bad, but it was my first attempt at fanfiction. i think that it could have been a lot worse.

What is the last story that you posted this decade?

Not Willing to Wait for it: this is a tangled the series fic about cassandra. it’s not really my favorite thing i’ve ever written, but it’s not a terrible thing to end the decade on either.

What is the longest story that you have wrote this decade?

The Poetry of Time and Space: this is a pipabeth fic with annabeth as the doctor and piper mclean as rose tyler fic that i wrote back in 2013 at the urging of my first internet friend. coming in at 27,842 words, it’s the longest fic i have ever written.

while i wouldn’t call it some of my best work, i’m still fairly proud of the thing. writing it helped me make a friend (even if we don’t keep in touch anymore), it helped me find some cool poetry, and i did a lot of fun historical research for it!

i learned a loooottt about the history of spain for this fic and it was really cool.

What is the shortest?

A Good Listener coming in at 192 words, this pipabeth fic is at the polar opposite end of the spectrum. 2013 was a wild year, my dudes.

What’s your favorite?

I think that choosing a “favorite” would probably be too hard, but the one that I come back to the most is Over the Shadowy Hills. This fic could have been just good, but my friend was like. girl. you need to sort your shit out. and then i deleted it, worked on it with her help, and fixed it into something that i can still be really proud of. I’m glad that I decided to stick with it and give this fic the time and attention that it needed.

What story do you feel was your biggest challenge?

I don’t have a fic in particular I would say is my biggest challenge, but one challenge has been the growing pains of becoming a better writer. I’ve moved into a point where I need to tell more thorough, longer stories, but I also don’t have the time needed to do that at the moment and my desire for instant validation is fighting against my desires to not do work and be a better writer.

I know that right now I’m growing as a writer, but I’m not exactly sure what direction I’m growing in and how to deal with it.

Which story was your most creative?

All Katz Go to Heaven is certainly an idea that no one but me would have come up with XD the premise is “all of hannibal’s victims from the show hannibal die and are reincarnated in brooklyn 99″

Which story do you think demonstrates the greatest growth?

I think that Paint a New Horizon demonstrates a lot of my progress as a writer.

1. coming in at 23k, it’s one of my longest fics ever

2. it has some of my best visual descriptions ever, as i decided to write sansa as a painter and it make visual descriptions a FAR bigger part of the story than they normally are when i write

3. it handles dark subject matter, but i feel like i go into well. i’ve found myself dwelling in this universe a LOT, and i think that i might actually go back and write more of it over this next semester or summer because i just. like being in it. even though it was dark, it was also homey and lively and interesting, you know?

4. it’s the best romance i’ve written this year, hands down.

Here, have a snippet

She dared a glance forward and met Margaery’s eyes- a deep, chocolate brown. They were warm and inviting and Margaery’s little curly bangs framed her face like a heart. Margaery’s head went over the back of the booth and it seemed to almost be floating against the flowery wallpaper. It looked like Margaery was lying out in a field of flowers- the Maiden gazing up at the clouds and trying to make shapes of them.

She could imagine Margaery telling her that this one is a flower, like Tyrell, and this one’s a deer, like Baratheon, and this one’s a dick, like Joffrey. She giggled nervously again and felt her cheeks flush. She’d never felt this giddy and unsteady in her whole life.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” Margaery asked cautiously. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Sansa’s own. The touch was warm and tender, and Sansa felt the blush from her toes to the tip of her head.

“I’m perfect!” Sansa nearly screeched. Margaery laughed at that, but her look was kind.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile that was wide and fond, “I think that you are.”

Lesbian. The word wasn’t supposed to fill her with such a warm, hopeful feeling, was it? She wiggled awkwardly in her chair, trying to get situated and stop feeling so silly and excited and vulnerable, but it didn’t fix anything. She felt Margaery’s leg brush against hers under the table. It sent a jolt through her.

Lesbian.

Sansa took a shaky breath. She thought to herself that there might be something to that.

Tell us about your writing process.

my writing process is quite frankly all over the board. sometimes, i’ll sit down and just hammer out a fic start to finish in one sitting, but when i don’t do that i’ll make the thing come together in patchwork. i’ll normally start with some vivid pieces of dialogue that i want to write and then i’ll figure out where i’m going and how. often, since i write in a nonlinear fashion i might end up having to change what i’ve written for the middle or the end, but when i get there and it doesn’t feel right for what i ended up writing, i always decide that i’m better off with what feels more natural.

Tell us about how you come up with fic titles.

I have 3 different systems for determining fic tiles

1. come up with a cool title to write a fic around. i wrote Chasing Annabeth solely because i thought that would be badass title

2. try to find something external to the story, like a saying, a lyric or quote, that works with the message or mood of the story. for If You Believe in Me (I’ll Still Believe), I realized that both Memoria by Nirvana and Holland Road by Mumford and Sons shared a distinct feel with what I was doing with the fic, so I went through the lines of both and identified some possible titles.

Then, I decided that the line “if you believe in me I’ll still believe” felt the most right. I thought that it best conveyed how much Jeyne believing that Theon could become better again contributed to him actually going through with it, whereas some of the other options didn’t have either the external influence or faint hope that I felt the fic deserved.

3. find something from the fic itself or the source material! often times, i’ll end up with a motif in the fic that makes a perfect title, or i’ll have something to draw on from the source material. this feels different from the 2nd option because whereas that first one is going outside the world of the fic, this 3rd one is going inside the world of the fic.

Have you ever used an epigraph? Tell us about your reasoning.

I use epigraphs for the same reason that I use outside sources for fic titles. While sometimes I have that lyric or quote in mind while I am writing the fic, like Washing Machine Heart, sometimes you get to the end of writing and realize that you’ve created something that would be enhanced if you were to have your readers mulling over the theme brought up in a song while they’re reading, like Unfinished Business.

I don’t know, these are probably the reasons that ANYONE uses epigraphs, but it’s cool to see other people’s thought process.

What are some of your favorite lines that you’ve ever written?

Here’s a few of my favorite exchanges from my older or more underrated fics!

She swallows the spit that has started to pool in her mouth and continues, "We'll all end up dying and meeting the void face to face and blah blah fucking blah, but the thing is that's tomorrow. This is today. You remember Thalia, so she matters. And you matter because you're alive. Your heart's still beating. You can still do shit. See shit. Be the shit. Annabeth Chase, you can still do anything."

Chasing Annabeth (2013)

Annabeth tsks as she laughs, “You’ve always got to steal the attention for yourself, don’t you?”

Piper laughs and then pretends to glare, “Borrow. I borrow things.”

“Borrowing BMWs is still frowned upon, my friend,” Annabeth says and then everything is back to normal. The future is forgotten, if only for a moment in the company of a friend.

The Fates Smiled (2014)

“I guess,” Arya mutters, and she walks straight over to the trash. She pops the lid, and dumps the enormous plastic cock unceremoniously into it. Then she lets the lid close. She and Shireen look to the trash can in horror.

“Do you think that we should burn it?” Shireen asks.

She pauses a moment before she adds, “I’m afraid it’s going to attack us in our sleep.” Arya bursts out into laughter.

“I can hear the news anchors already,” Arya says, “women murdered in sleep by haunted dildo.” The Kids Are Alright (2015)

"I think huckleberry just came out too," Maya stage-whispers back, "two gays for the price of one."

"Bi one get one free," Riley says with a shit-eating grin

A Guide to Coming Out (2015)

"Do I look like a man with a plan to you?" He tries to look as crazy as he can. Rachel isn't buying it. "You impersonated a member of the mayor's honor guard, you predetermined and informed us of every victim before you killed them. You're a planner, Joker. You're even a good one." The Joker shrugs. "I'm not a schemer, though. Don't hang my hat on whether or not things work out." In that moment, Rachel understands this man. Rachel understands why he does the things that he does, even though she thinks that he's the scum of the earth. "You wanted to let us know all our plans would fall apart. You wanted chaos." "You're a smart woman, Ms. Dawes," The Joker says, cracking a smile, "you know what I did to you and your boy toy was nothing personal. It was just to turn the schemer's plans on their toes.

The City of Bats and Clowns (2016)

Zatanna crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against Bruce’s black SUV. The “parking lot” at this camp is a glorified field of grass. It rained last night, and there are muddy ruts left all throughout the field and little muddy puddles scattered everywhere. It’s disgusting and rundown and everywhere that Zatanna doesn’t want to spend three weeks of her summer.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid camp.” Endless Summer (2017)

Rose feels a twist in her gut. This might be worse than finding out he wanted to desert. This is knowing the reasons behind it, having to see him as human in his mistakes and understand why he made them.

Oh how heroes fall and then stumble back up again.

The Spark That Will Light the Fire (2017)

Sloth is all the memories you have and never asked for, all the feelings you don't know what to do with.

Sloth is your feelings towards two boys who aren't your sons- can't be- because you never wanted them in the first place.

You never asked for this, to be born half-formed and hungry. To be born somewhere between not caring and caring too much, to just go along with what you were told because you don't care enough not to.

You never asked for those two boys to look at you the way they do, like you're something hideous and beautiful all at once. Like you're their sin to bury, their damsel to save. All you've ever wanted is for it all to stop.

The Seven Deadly Almost People (2018)

What are you favorite characters to write.

I don’t really have “favorite” characters to write because I bounce around so often. I’ll have a new favorite next year, but my favorite me character that I wrote THIS year was Dabi.

Which story was the most fun to write.

Out of all the stories I’ve written, Dicks in the Wind comes to mind as being the most fun. The soulmate au where whatever your soulmate draws on their skin appearing on yours might not be my all time favorite, but the idea of spitefully drawing dicks on your own face to spite the soulmate who hurt you while also hurting yourself is both really fun but also really interesting? I really liked getting to explore the implications of that idea, the humor, Sabine’s relationship with Kanan, and the possibility of a reconciliation between her and Ketsu.

If you use ao3, tell us about your fics with the most

Kudos: The Matter of Soulmates 1,049

Comments: Her Heart’s Duet 63 comment threads

Hits: Golden Cages, Silver Linings 15,272 hits

Subscriptions: The Matter of Soulmates 105 subscriptions

If you could have written one story this decade that you didn’t get around to, what would this have been?

There’s lot of fics that I wish I would have gotten written this decade. I think that if I could have written ONE fic that I didn’t get around to this decade, though, I would have turned my tucker turns ed into a chimera instead of nina tumblr post into a real fic.

Do you write original fiction as well?

Sometimes! I don’t write it as much as I’d like, but I’ve written some short stories and I have some longer wips.

Did you ever do nanowrimo this decade? If so, tell us about your projects.

I tried nanowrimo in both 2017 and 2018. My 2017 was a story idea about magic pirates. My 2018 was a story based on a fic idea I had where ed HAD created al like al thought he did in fma 03 for a while. it would feature prominent relationships with characters inspired by winry, wrath, and lust. both of these have about 15k to their name.

What have you learned writing in the past decade?

I’ve learned a lot about myself as a person. For better or for worse, the easiest way to get to know me would be to go through my ao3 and just start reading.

I also feel like I’ve learned that I CAN be a writer. While I have a long way to go if I ever want to become any good at original fiction and develop a thick enough skin to get it worked up to publishing shape, I know that I have the skills to at least give it a try. If I don’t, I’ll always have these stories that I hold closely to my heart and this hobby that’s brought me a lot of joy.

What are your writing goals going forward?

At the moment, I’m not entirely sure. I feel a little bit like I’ve stagnated and I need to figure out a way forward, but I’m not entirely sure what that way forward IS. I think that the way forward is longer projects (maybe even more original fiction) but I’m going to need to figure out a way to not devote all my mental energy to these projects at a time and also not let them wither and die.

In the past, I’ve only been able to do proper, well written long fics when I had a LONG time to dedicate to getting the thing done. Like, days and days off that I could devote multiple hours to the writing project. In the future, I don’t think I’ll have that. I just need to find a way to not get SO into it that I can’t do anything else, but also maintain the energy and drive to keep coming back to it.

Tell us about what aspect of your writing makes you the most proud.

I feel like I excel at word choice. People frequently comment on my fics that there’s something about the wording that just FLOWS, and I would have to agree. I feel like I’m good at choosing words that both sound good and hit emotionally.

Tell us anything else that you’d like! This is your reflection post, so end on whatever bang you would like!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me over these past nine years! I haven’t been on tumblr for this whole time (i’ve only been here since 2012), but i grown a lot, both as a person and a writer, over this decade.

if you had told me when i wrote my first fanfiction that by the end of the decade i would write the order of the phoenix more than 5 times over in fanfiction, i would never have believed you.

not every fic that i wrote was fantastic, but every fic that i wrote was MINE, and it’s a memory that i get to come back to when i’m feeling sad or lonely or like i can’t do something. so, thank you fanfiction, for always being there for me. even if you might be there for me a little too much XD

#writing meme #a decade of writing in review #a decade of fanfiction #personal reflection

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

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In and out (Part 1.) (Nathan Drake x Male reader)

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don't go so easily as they should. Well, isn't that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?

@bechobbi , let me know if I should tag you in this! :)

A/N: So okay. Let me establish some things before we even begin.

I hate changing the game's/movie's official canons, so you gave me a proper hard time, darling.

So this is a bit AU like they'll happen events from the original game, but most probably NOT in the original order/how did they really happened.

But yeah, I think that my Nate Mate might be bisexual. He's not strictly gay, bc of Elena and Chloe and you can't deny that.

I will also use my old oc pal Florence, who has some posts somewhere in the hellhole of my Tumblr, for my own satisfaction and someone to make the goofball of. A lot of you maybe will not like who she is in this, but guess what - I don't care baby.

This will be written in the third person because I think it suits the story better, just as Golden's book showed us.

And also my adoration of Victor Sullivan will probably show too much. I don't care. He's my man.

Ok. That's all.

Warnings: Just Nate and Sully being the comedic duo we know and love. Also, the first three to four chapters are an establishment for the whole story.

Word count: 2 691 (+/-)

"Real “greatness” is what you do with the hand you're dealt."

- Victor Sullivan, Drake's Deception

"Oh crap!" The man yelled as another shot was fired at him. He almost got shot, but he managed to hide quickly before that happened. No one knew how he was able to do so, but he guessed that he has an infinite amount of luck.

But even he got enough of everything at that point - he had to escape in front some black bullshit, which was actually afraid of fire, with a dying torch, almost died during that, the worst bad guy Talbot, who was working for their concurrent Katherine Marlowe, had stolen the amulet right from his hand and he was pinned down at gunpoint behind a stupid wall at some mansion in France. The only thing that kept his spirits up was that he managed to draw the amulet to his small notebook and that he wasn't completely clueless after all.

"Better watch your back before you get shot, kid!" A visibly older man shouted at him before he shot back from his revolver. Nathan owned his life to that man for an unfair amount of times, but he would be definitely dead if that man wasn't watching over him.

The old man's name was Victor Sullivan, whom everyone called Sully, and he had some serious amount of kicking ass behind him. He was notoriously known treasure hunter and an ex-marine who dedicated his talent for shady businesses to make a serious life-lasting job out of it. He became a treasure hunter in his late twenties and he was one of the most dedicated people to this kind of life you could ever meet.

He could sometimes seem like a cold blood jerk and Nathan sometimes thought that his decisions are not logical - and usually later showed that those decisions were very clever in fact. Sullivan, even in his sixties didn't show any sign of aging except few deep wrinkles and white hair. The only other fact you could consider was his Cuban shirts, but that man wore them for years, so you couldn't really count them in.

His partner, a lot of younger man in his best years, has been doing this job alongside Sully for almost twenty years. They became a truly coordinated team during that time, more like father and son than friends.

That man's name was Nathan Drake. He was a self-declared ascendant of the famous pirate Sir Francis Drake, whom he dedicated his whole. He was considerably pretty handsome with his wild, dark brown hair and eyes which sometimes seem to be blue and sometimes they looked almost green - so he usually tried to charm off the situations. And oh boy, wasn't he the goofiest man you'll ever meet?

Right now, they both went on a search for something great and most probably greater than great. Their adventure lures them into London and France to get the clues they needed and it almost cost their life a few times. And as it usually went, they weren't the only one who was after the treasure. And the outcome usually looked like this - a big loud shootout between Nathan, Sully and "the bad guys", as he called them.

Being a bad guy also truly depended on a point of view in Nathan's world, none of them was only white or only black, everyone had some motivations and some vision because of what they actually did that thing. Some of them wanted glory, some of them wanted money and there were even some of them that went into the fight just because they actually liked to fight. Nathan didn't judge, he didn't care in fact. Everyone in these shady businesses was partly black and partly white, so everyone was grey in the end.

Even Sully and Nathan were pretty grey. Nathan was in the business because of discovering the truth about the past, and yeah, he did that for the glory. And Sully? He went in for the money. There was actually a lot of money in that shady business, more than you would expect.

This world was just too big, it had many sides and nothing was only good or only bad, partially fucked up was maybe the best possible definition when everything went well. And now it didn't go well, oh boy, something went terribly wrong and Sully with Nathan was actually pinned at a gunpoint. They couldn't even move without increasing the chance of being shot right in the ass.

"It looks like they aren't exactly pleased to see us, Sully." Nathan looked at his older friend and throw a grenade in the direction of bad guys. "Haven't you done anything to them?"

"I'm only an old man Nathan. They are more afraid of you than they are afraid of me." Sully laughed with his raspy voice and shot again. And even though he was so much older, he didn't miss his target.

"It's getting ridiculous!" Nathan yelled to the bad guys with his teeth clenched together in almost hurting way. He slowly managed to sneak out of his hideout near Sullivan. Nathan has got enough, he just wanted to cut the chase and get directly to the climax. "Why don't you let us just pass without this theatrics?!" Nathan stuck out his wooden pillar which was getting a ridiculous amount of shots at that point. Big pieces of walls were flying around his head, there were, in fact, huge piles of it everywhere and that place was actually going to fall down in any minute. "You're ruining an archeological goldmine here and you don't even mind it, assholes!"

"Way to go, kiddo, they'll definitely listen to that!" Sully walked forward too and pointed his gun on another of those asshats. Drake had to stay low if he didn't want to die there. He went through serious loads of punches to the face kicks to the stomach, so handling a few of jerks wasn't really a problem for him. So he ran straight to the action, jumping at one man’s back, using him as a shield. But it didn't go as well as Drake planned. Another man hit him with his gun to the temple of his head and Nathan fell down to the dust as another ten men circled around them. He was trapped.

If anything, Drake served as a great sidetrack of attention for Sully, who started to quietly put man after man down, getting to Nathan the fastest way he could, using literally anything. Even a pile of dust was great to blind the enemy. And as a bonus, he was tall and pretty heavy, so he was great at hand to hand combat.

But there was something, that didn't add up there. There was so a little of the men when they were in such a big mansion. But Nathan didn't exactly think of that that intensely when he had a gun pointed directly into his face.

Sullivan almost didn’t make it so save Nathan’s ass that time. They almost shot Nate to the head when Sully finally managed to get to him and Nate had to give him a grateful look with a small smile.

“You’re alright?” Sully helped Nathan to get on his feet and patted on his shoulder with the intention to clean him from the dust.

"Maybe shocked, but all right." Nate agreed and looked at Sullivan, making his way to touch his bum. The notebook was still there and he longly exhaled. That was the only reason why they got into the fight, after all. And when it was safe in his arms, he just felt relieved.

"You did pretty well, I would say." Sully looked around on that completely destroyed place. That mansion was completely ruined, it was a disaster.

So they slowly and quietly walked out of the room, slow and carefully and not to be seen or heard. It was a long walk through an abandoned sample of mankind's crafting talent standing up in the middle of nowhere in France.

Both of them stopped at a sort of balcony which was created from molded wood that was just corrupted by the time. When they heard voices and steps, both of them shut up and crouched behind semi-broken brick walls. Nathan stuck out his head and tried to find out what's even happening.

"Empty those cans!" They heard a husky voice with a slight feel of the British accent. "Every last drop." The voice said again and Nathan with Sully just looked at each other.

"What the hell are they doing?" Nathan asked. Confusion and a sort of fear could be heard in his voice. Sully had a suspicion, but he didn't say anything out loud because of the fear it could be the truth.

"Hey Sully," Nate smelled the air and frowned. He looked around them and he just figured out that there is something that doesn't add up. There was so little of Marlowe's men, they were just trying to leave that place as soon as possible when Nathan, who had Drake's map in his notebook, was still inside of that building. Normally they would try to chase out the soul out of Nate and Sully. "Can you smell that too?"

Sully breathed the air deeply, looking into Nate's frowned face. He knew that smell very well. "Of course I do know that smell. It smells like,"

"FIRE!" Nathan shouted at the sudden realization, hearing another of the men shout Torch the place down!

"Sully we gotta get out of here," Nathan stated, extending for his gun. At the moment, some of the men noticed them and they started to shoot at them, mostly at Nathan. Drake and Sully didn't have a hard time shooting back, because Sully showed off his shooting skills again.

There wasn't even place for jokes at that time - Nathan felt his heart pounding hard in his chest. He didn't want to burn alive. He kinda liked himself too much for just burning alive. And Sully had someone who would kill Drake once more if he was hurt by his side, that was another reason he had to get sure that both of them manage to escape from that building.

"Ok Nate, go first, I'll cover your back." Sully patted Nathan's shoulder and loaded the revolver up again. Nathan wasn't completely sure about Sully's judgment, but he nodded and started to find a way out, or more like climbing out of the situation.

"Sully shoot 'em down!" Nate shouted over his shoulder with a furious look. Then he jumped over the beam he was hanging on and started finding some soft spots to climb. Sully followed him carefully and even managed to shoot someone down.

Everything went as usual - they almost died like twenty times, punched and shot on some bad guys and Sully had some seriously interesting curse words on his lips. What house was falling down at the speed of the light, which was caused by the old wood which caught on fire easier than normal wood.

They entered some halls which were completely red because of the consuming it without any problem, almost killing them by the pieces of beams falling down. But the worst ones were the staircases which didn't even hold together, there was no chance that they could climb them and yet they had to.

Sully saved Nathan a couple of times just as Nathan did saving him from falling down to the hell made of fire. They actually somehow, don't ask Nathan how because he doesn't know, managed to get to the rooftop and get out of that collapsing building.

Sully practically collapsed on a log there, fighting for every gasp of air he could get. Nathan did too, but he managed to pull back together faster than Sully.

"Here Sully," he offered him help with standing up, but Sully shooked his head and a disapproval gesture.

"Just gimme a sec. You always seem to forget that I have twenty-five years up on ya." Sullivan looked at Nate with frown and Nathan suspect which turn is this conversation about to turn. And oh boy, he wasn't fond of it.

"Oh come on Sully, you're strong as an ox." Nate put his hands on his sides and laughed uneasily at Sully's direction.

"Anyway, what's the hurry? They think we're in that." Sully pointed at the burning mansion and looked at Nate with a serious look. And they were on the path of that speech again.

"We almost were," Nate whispered, looking at the collapsing building again.

"I gotta say I'm losing the point here," Sully admitted with his look directed to Nathan's back. "Remind me again, why are we doing this?"

"No, no, no, no, no. If you're gearing up for one of those "I'm too old for this" speeches, spare me." Nathan turned around and looked Sullivan directly to the face. Sully had his age, he truly did, but that doesn't mean that he'll stop, at least for him.

Victor loved and lived for this kind of life without the option of woking up the next day safe and sound. He loved having adrenaline in his veins, that satisfaction when he shot one of those asshats down. He lived for this and Nathan knew that. And giving Nate speeches about how old he is and feels was his favorite way of torturing Nate.

"Nate these guys are playing for keeps."

"Yeah, so? What? You're just goin' to roll over for 'em now?" Nathan almost shouted with an unbelieving look on his face. If Sully thought about chickening out of this gig, it was already too late.

"Nobody's talking about rolling over," Sully answered in a calming voice. But Nathan was already too angry to calm down instantly.

"Then quit acting like you're ready to lie down and die, all right?" Nathan asked Sully with a frown on his face. He wasn't enjoying that conversation at all.

"Listen, kid. I've your back for twenty years. I'm not going anywhere, obviously. I just wanna make sure we're doing this for the right reasons. You've got your pride all tangled up in this thing. It's making you reckless." Sully stated and Nathan had to turn around to not giving Sullivan other shots.

Victor was right in everything he said and Nathan knew that. But he also knew that it was his life and his pride to discover the legacy of his ancestor. It wasn't the right of some blonde lady who looked like she's about to turn into dust in any minute. And Nate wasn't planning to give up any minute.

"I taught you better than that. Gonna get yourself killed." Sully finally got up and slowly went to Nate. "Damn. Hell, probably get us all killed." Sully slowly cleaned himself from the dust and stood up, putting his hands on his sides and shook his head.

"Oh, no..." Nate whispered and his eyes widened in the realization.

"What?" Sully asked while Nathan turned at him.

"Cutter and Chloe." Nathan reminded him and Sully's heart almost stopped too.

"Sully if we were followed, chances are they were too."

"Oh shit," Sully whispered and knew what is Nate trying to say. "We gotta warm them."

"Yeah, and get to Syria fast." Nate agreed and the moments Sully looked like he just saw a ghost. He could see the fear in his eyes and him gasping for air.

"And what about her?" Sully realized slowly that she was in danger too. Nathan took Sully's shoulder to his hand and shook him in a calming way.

"Sully, she would definitely kick those assholes into one small ball if they tried to hurt her in any way. Don't worry." Nathan promised him in low voice and Sully looked little relieved. Nathan was sure that she would be ok.

That person was Sully's soft spot and his only other two soft spots were his ailments (like his cigars and airplanes or money) and Nathan's life.

"Sure hope you remember where we left the car, 'cause I've completely turned around," Sully exclaimed as they walked from the mansion at a fast pace.

#Nathan Drake #nate drake #victor sullivan #Victor goddamn Sullivan #uncharted #uncharted drake’s deception #uncharted fanfiction #nathan drake x male reader #hell yeah #oh crap #here we go #have a lovely day

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grimelords · 5 years

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My November playlist is finished and I've done something slightly different by actually ordering the songs into a cohesive playlist rather than leaving them in the order I added them. Listen in for everyone's favourite genre, acoustic guitar instrumentals, followed by old fashioned cowboy country, comedy and ridiculous songs, 80s and modern dance, out-there piano instrumentals, rocks and rolls, oddball rap, christian rock buried where nobody will find it, noise rock of all flavours and Mirror Reaper in full. I guarantee there'll be at least something in four hours of music that you'll like. listen here!

Deixa - Toquinho: I love how much happens in this song even before it even kicks off at about a minute in. It cycles through so many different feelings before it really powers up and the drums come on. The rhythm from then on is just mesmerizing, it's just so busy and never dwells on any section for too long, the interplay between the melody, bassline and chord rhythm is amazing. And then at about 2:20 it powers up again! Bossa Nova Strong. Also I'm feeling very disrespected because I just did some research on this song only to find out it was sampled by Nujabes on one of his bad anime youtube hip hop songs.

Just A Closer Walk With Thee - Marisa Anderson: Traditional And Public Domain Songs is Marisa Anderson's weakest album, which is a shame because I love Traditional and Public Domain songs. Her playing is on point as always, but the tremolo and distortion she's using overwhelms the recording more often than not. This song is the best on the album purely because she's playing so quietly that it only shows up when she gets loud so it works perfectly near the end as it crescendos.

The Three Deaths Of Red Spectre - Gwenifer Raymond: Gwenifer Raymond has a new 'non-holiday specific single for a cold climate' in her words and I absolutely love it. The sheer velocity of the middle section is flooring, before it breaks apart totally and reforms into a sort of shanty before metamorphosing again into a heightening mania. I love the constantly shifting structure of this, it barely stops to give you room to breathe all the way through before the very end where it almost feels like it's going to collapse entirely.

Mister Sandman - Chet Atkins: Happy to report that I've had Mr Sandman stuck in my head for three weeks now and still don't really know the words because of tumblr posts. It alternates between 'mr email / e me a mail / make the attachment a pic of a snail' and 'mr sandman / sand me a man / make him the cutest man car door hook hand'.

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind - Chet Atkins & Dolly Parton: I've never gone much on Chet Atkins but my girlfriend showed my this song and it has completely reversed my opinion and it's mostly due to Dolly Parton. She is just so lovely on this it makes me tear up - the song itself is so nice and the playing is perfect but her personality just shines through so brightly it's an absolute delight.

There's A Man Going Around Taking Names - Lead Belly: I've been doing research to try to find out what this song is referring to, or its origin but I cannot find anything concrete. A few people are saying it inspired Johnny Cash for The Man Comes Around, which is plausible and adds a mystic bent to it. It seems incomplete, like it's missing the turn at the end that reveals who exactly he is or what's happening so the whole song just ends up feeling very mysterious and ominous.

When Mussolini Laid His Pistol Down - Merle Travis: This song is from 1943, which is sort of amazing because that means it's not a song about history particularly but rather current events. A great paragraph from wikipedia: "On 24 June Mussolini gave his last important speech as prime minister. It went down in history as the "boot topping" speech, with the Duce promising that the only part of Italy that the Anglo-Americans would be able to occupy (but forever and horizontally, i.e. as corpses) was the shore-line (for which he used a wrong word to define it). For many Italians, that confused and incoherent speech was the final proof that something was wrong with Mussolini." Mussolini, truly history's greatest moron.

The Master's Call - Marty Robbins: As a result of Red Dead 2 and my own natural instincts, I've been having a bigger than usual moment with cowboy music this month which of course includes Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs. In my mind this song is both the true ending and end credits music of Red Dead 2. Arthur sees the face of Christ in a lightning bolt and abandons his life of crime and sin, pleading with the lord to forgive him and then God kills a hundred cows with another lightning bolt just to make damn sure Arthur knows He's serious.

Saga Of The Ponderosa - Lorne Green: I was hanging out with my old housemate a few weeks ago and it turns out we were both having concurrent Marty Robbins cowboy music phases which was great news because then he turned me onto this album by Lorne Green who was on Bonanza and apparently took it upon himself to expand the Bonanaza Cinematic Universe in the 60s with a few albums. This song is apparently an origin story of Bonanza which I have never seen. It's extremely good, very powerful music. Great story of this godlike man striding across the country and overriding his wife's decision by naming his son HOSS.

Hard Sun - Eddie Vedder: I think it's interesting in A Star Is Born that Jackson Maine doesn't seem to be a real life equivalent of any actual musician. He's not obviously an archetype of any real person and so it's hard to place how exactly famous he is in the world of the movie. He's washed up enough to be playing pharmaceutical conferences but still has enough industry respect to be playing a tribute at the Grammys. The closest I could think of was Eddie Vedder oddly enough, and this song from the Into The Wild soundtrack really does sound like a Jackson Maine original.

For Chan - Tim Heideker: I'm having a real thing with comedy music recently and I can't tell if it means I've got a brain parasite or comedy music is good to me now. I think what I like about this song is the bluntness. There's no two ways about these people, and after years of hearing about the alt right as mysterious political genius computer brains it's a nice break to just hear them called greasy fat basement guys like we used to.

That's Right I'm Five - Don't Stop Or We'll Die: More good comedy music! They played this song on Comedy Bang Bang without announcing what it was called first, so the chorus really surprised me and made me laugh a lot. "They're selling the stocks so buy them, launch the torpedoes, tell my wife I love her, and send my son to college, bury me in the desert in my osh kosh b'gosh - that's right I'm five!" might be my favourite lyric of the year.

Future Brain - Den Harrow: Den Harrow is very good. He's like a beautiful moron American man that some italian scientists built in a lab in order to conquer America from the inside. Here are some good highlights from his wiki article: "The name Den Harrow was conceived by producers Roberto Turatti and Miki Chieregato, who based it on the Italian word denaro(money)." "After years of fame and popularity, it was revealed by frontman Stefano Zandri and his producers that Zandri did not actually sing the Den Harrow songs; he was essentially a character who lip-synched to vocals recorded by a number of other singers. Furthermore, since they did not consider Zandri's name and origin to be "trendy" enough, the producers R. Turatti and M. Chieregato concealed Zandri's Italian origin, marketing him as having been born Manuel Stefano Carry in Boston. This was done so Polydor Records could market him more easily in the English-speaking world, where Italian-produced music was, at the time, viewed with skepticism"

Love A Girl Right - Little Mix: Check out this rewrite of the Thong Song they did for the new Little Mix album. It's beyond belief. My girlfriend loves Little Mix and she's right to because they're the only girl/boy band that actually takes advantage of the form and does harmonies instead of just having them all sing in turn or all at once. They've got good vocal arrangements but they have the worst fucking songwriters working for them. Songwriters that pitch 'what if the Thong Song had a crunchy nu-metal guitar in it'.

This City Made Us - The Protomen: It's interesting to hear a band change styles - most other Protomen songs are a sort of Springsteen pastiche but this one from their newer single is more like Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy. Approaching the 80s from a different angle. It's impressive to switch so radically and still have enough of a unifying sound that it feels like the same band. 80s throwback rock is a generally pallid genre populated by freaks who can't move on but Protomen put so much heart into it it's hard to write them off.

Teardrops - Womack & Womack: I love this song because it has two choruses. The drums stay the same throughout, the chords stay the same through the verse and chorus and only change for the second chorus/bridge part ("the music don't feel like it did when I felt it with you"), which just gives the whole song this feeling of beautiful endlessness. It goes and goes and goes and you're always already living in the best part of the song.

Boys Will Be Boys - The Duncan Sisters: Very very good piece of disco with a very nice piece of country picking guitar near the start for some reason. I quit like that the chorus of 'boys, oh boys, will be boys - they can really hurt you!' goes from a lighthearted thing about relationships until the bridge near the end where it sounds more like a dire warning. She's staring straight into your eyes and saying 'they can hurt you. boys can hurt you. they can really hurt you.' while motioning toward the exit with her eyes.

Ayaya - Bicep: I've been trying to train my ear a bit better so I got a piano app on my phone and I just try to pick out the melodies of songs now when I'm bored. It turns out this is a very satisfying song to play. The melody is very simple, but the constant build and the couple of other melodies that come in around it make you feel like a super genius for just playing the same thing over and over.

The Call - David Mayer: I completely forget how I came across this song but I'm in love with the vocals on it. The effect reminds me of the one on Problem With The Sun by Nicolas Jaar, sort of pitched down and layered over itself. Outside of the vocals it's a pretty straightforward euro house chunk but damn sometimes a song just has a really good sound in it that you can't deny.

Problem With The Sun - Nicolas Jaar: My girlfriend's brother was telling me he was riding his bike the other day and had some kind of mental break where he was riding north in the afternoon but the sun was on his right, in the east - and for some reason his first instinct wasn't that he was wrong or disoriented, it was that there was a problem with the sun and it was in the wrong place. That boy ain't right but this song is good. I love that Nicolas Jaar uses this weird down pitched voice on a few songs and I really wish he'd bring it back, it sounds great and also funny to me.

Ensaslayi - Cecil Taylor: I don't have the brain power to comprehend any of Cecil Taylor's ensemble work that I've heard, free jazz in a band setting is simply too much for me it turns out -but I've really been getting a lot out of this solo album of his called Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!. This song in particular is one of the longer ones on the album, where another is only 53 seconds long and a few last around ten minutes. This is a nice midpoint, where he gives himself so much room to get lost in different directions without losing the thread entirely. I said it last time I was talking about him but I've really never heard anyone play piano like this and I absolutely love it. A lot of reviewers describe it as him playing the piano like it's a drumkit, which I think is accurate to a degree - but I think looking back from here this music makes a lot more sense within the context of black midi and things like that. The extreme edges of what a piano can theoretically do, but with a decisive and beautiful human edge and human brain that's responsible for and making sense of the chaos.

The Homeless Wanderer - Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou: I found out about this album cause Benjamin Booker was posting about her on his instagram story and it's just incredible. The TL;DR of her story is she's an Ethiopian nun that studied music in Switzerland and Cairo and wrote this beautiful piano music based on traditional Ethiopian pentatonic music. I love the rhythm of it, every note in the right hand get swirled around and around before it's settled on while the left hand moves so smoothly and delicately. Unfortunately-ish she's obviously in that genre of Searching For Sugarman secret blog music evidenced by her spotify similar artists being Karen Dalton, Alice Coltrane and Connie Converse. That's not a bad thing exactly, at least people are hearing about her, but her music is unique and amazing enough on its own without needing much mythologizing.

Carnival Of The Animals: No 12 - Fossils - Camille Saint-Saëns: My girlfriend was showing me Saint-Saëns' The Swan and then we were going through the whole rest of the Carnival Of The Animals and I'm happy to report that he not only did he do one for fossils but also centered it around the idea of a bone xylophone. I'm going to write an article for Vulture tracing the origin of the cartoon bone xylophone and my thesis is it starts here.

Perth - Bon Iver: Just thinking about how good Bon Iver is. I love how massive this song can feel, the drums combined with the big brass. It's small and soft on the grand scale, but on an album that gets as quiet and soft as songs like Holocene this song blows up like an atom bomb.

Yet Again - Grizzly Bear: This really is one of the best songs of all time I've decided. It feels like I get into a thing of listening to it on repeat almost every month now. I don't know what it is exactly - I guess it's every part of it. The lyrics are impenetrable (check) the riff is simple and powerful (check) the drums are doing a lot and keeping it simple at the same time. The the way the harmony vocals all intertwine in the prechorus part is amazing. The way the whole song blows up into a big radio static solo at the end. Every part of this song is great, I just love it.

Fuckin N' Rollin - Phantastic Ferniture: I found out that Julia Jacklin has a side project with a very shit name and they make very good music. I love when people have a whole other band for another side of their self. This is just Julia Jacklin if the lyrics were just first draft whatevers instead of incredibly poignant and beautiful and the music was just rockin and rollin with your friends. It's great!

Soft - Kings Of Leon: Number one best song ever about havin a bad dick!! I'd love to hang out lady but my dick! I'm passed out in your garden, I'm in I can't get off I'm so soft! I'd pop myself in you body, I'd come into your party but I'm soft!

Soft Serve - Soul Coughing: I played this while I was driving with my girlfriend and she said 'what the fuck is this' and she's right, as usual. It's Soul Coughing baby! The 90s 'slacker jazz' band! They sound dated as fuck, a real product of their time but I think they've still got a lot to offer. I had the chorus of this stuck in my head for a couple days which made me listen to this album more than usual when I mostly prefer their first one Ruby Vroom. Irresistible Bliss might have the worst album cover of all time though, so it's got that going for it. Google it.

Ya Mama - Wuf Ticket: There wiki article for this band says they had two songs in 1982 and that was it. Then it has a section titled Greaseman and then the article ends. Here's the Greaseman section in its entirety: "Wuf Ticket's “Ya Mama” achieved its greatest notoriety, and airplay, as a music bed for bits by shock jock The Greaseman on WWDC-FM in Washington, D.C. and later his nationally syndicated radio show where Greaseman would argue with a surly service industry worker." Anyway this is more of that very good early hip hop shit where everyone assumed songs should go for 8 minutes. It's just extremely weak sauce Ya Mama jokes for a very long time before they change tack completely and start talking about how Every Woman Is An Angel And Without Mothers We Would Never Have Been Born So Think About That Next Time.

Gon Be Okay - Lil B: I had the part of this song where he sings 'things are never gonna be the same again' along with the piano in my head the other day and spent fully an hour googling to try to find what song it was from before giving up. I woke up the next morning and suddenly remembered it was this song but was very shocked to find out that he actually never sings that line along with the piano melody, he says it once at the start and that's it. What's going on with my brain. Anyway in my searching I found out that the piano is sampled from the Spirited Away soundtrack so once more in my life I've been led to ruin by anime.

2 Minute Drills - Allblack & Kenny Beats: This whole EP is great. More sports themed rap please. Allblack is ferocious and Kenny's production throughout is great, the perfect mix of simple straighforward beats that still have a lot of space and energy in them, plus 'Woah Kenny!' has my award for Best New Producer Watermark.

Don't Gas Me - Dizzee Rascal: I don't know how he keeps doing it but somehow Dizzee Rascal continues to make extremely fun bangers without ever slowing down. The best line in this is when he says "no I don't drink Appletiser" (the sparkling apple juice) which is an extremely weird flex if there ever was one.

Acid King - Malibu Ken: It feels insane that a Tobacco and Aesop Rock collab sounds as good as this. I love that there's no drums the entire time he's rapping and I completely love the Mort Garson vibes in the instrumental which turns out to be a perfect soundtrack to the Ricky Kasso satan worship LSD murder story that Aesop's telling. Also in reading about Kasso I just discovered the very good stoner doom band also named Acid King, so expect to see them in next month's list.

Pirate Blues - As Cities Burn: As Cities Burn have reformed and put out a new single so I've been thinking about them a bit. On paper they don't sound good, over three albums they morphed from a christian metalcore band to a christian alt-rock band, and while they never reinvented the wheel I think they're a remarkable band who took a lot of risks in their own way and made a lot of rock solid music. They've got a lot of great songs but I think this is my favourite from their third album when it finally felt like they'd settled into a steady alt rock sound informed by their much heavier past.

This Is It, This Is It - As Cities Burn: The thing I like about As Cities Burn is that as much as they're a christian band (yuck) they're more of a band of guys who are christians (slightly less yuck) and the difference is huge. Rather than evangelising or preaching, their songs are about their own personal struggles with their faith (still slightly yuck). I like this song especially because the lyric feels close to gospel, 'we're all singing for our sins, unless grace be the wind' but with the added twist of being furious that you're trapped by the sin of your physical body.

Timothy - As Cities Burn: I think this song is just incredible. The lyrics are so strong and direct and heartbreaking, the vocal performance especially is amazing and it may be the only time in history that a 6 minute guitar solo has seemed good and necessary.

Face Tat - Zach Hill: There's an incredible video of the recording of this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGi9SOFX5rc that really looks exactly how it sounds and has a very similar energy to that video of 80 guys singing the halo theme in the boys bathroom. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRG9KwvbVhk . This is what it sounds like when the boys are left alone. The biggest draw to Zach Hill's drumming is the intense primordial immediacy of it. He is just pounding away like a possessed animal and it's really on show here, especially combined with the occasional punctuating shout. Carson McWhirter's guitar is incredible too, the tone he's got where it sounds like three at once playing these incredible twisting riffs that turn on a dime. I think what I like most about this song is just how in sync they are - for such a chaotic, noisy song it sounds so rehearsed, somehow every single note is perfectly in time in the storm.

Betty's Worry Or The Slab - Hunters And Collectors: This is maybe the sweatiest song I've ever heard. It's a disgusting song about being incredibly sweaty and horny and I love the weird squeaky noise he makes after he says 'say it! say it!'. The bass sound in this is so fantastically meaty too, and combined with the brass at the end it's just great.

Worms Of The Senses / Faculties Of The Skull (live) - Refused: I cannot believe just how absolutely ferocious live Refused is. Insanely powerful without ever missing a beat in a song like this that requires incredible timing throughout. For some reason I've always thought Refused were an only ok live band after watching Refused Are Fucking Dead because all I remember of it is a clip where the guitarist accidentally hits the singer in the face with his headstock and they have to stop the show.

Mirror Reaper - Bell Witch: I got to see Bell Witch live a couple of weeks ago and it's one of the best shows I've ever seen. I can't really describe it other than it feels like the closest thing to a legitimate summoning ritual that I've ever seen. An invocation and an expelling of raw power and emotion between two people, it was really something. Also the best part was about two minutes in when they were really setting the scene with the sort of ambient beginning of Mirror Reaper and the whole crowd was dead silent and entranced as they built this mystic atmosphere and set the vibe a guy behind me said loudly to his friend 'hm pretty good so far!'

What's You Gonna Do When The World's On Fire - Lead Belly & Anne Graham: This is in my opinion the best genre of gospel song where they they just roast you for not being saved yet.

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hypeathon · 5 years

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RWBY - Volume 6, Chapter 5 Production Analysis

Vol 6, Ch 1 Production Analysis

Vol 6, Ch 2 Production Analysis

Vol 6, Ch 3 Production Analysis

Vol 6, Ch 4 Production Analysis

It can be a bit scary when I’m right on the money about something. The previous production analysis for volume 6 ended on a note pointing out how there were less names in the animation department section of of ending credits of chapter 4 compared to prior episodes. This led me to wonder if either the animators more heavily involved with RWBY would either be working on Gen:Lock at around this point in the volume 6′s production or their time and attention would be spent on a later episode. I am happy to find that it was the latter but also admittedly shocked to find that the “later episode” would be this one.

Before diving into the bit everyone has been losing their minds about, let’s briefly talk about the storyboards and camera layout in the opening scene. Despite having spent time extensively dissecting how Rachel Doda does storyboards and camera layouts in the scenes she’s assigned in the the production analysis for chapter 2, I try to be mindful not to let confirmation bias get the better of me as I’m trying to learn more about the other storyboard and camera layout artists within the show. That being said though, it wouldn’t hurt to least make a conscious presumption that the first sequence had her involvement given the cues and techniques mentioned before. A similarly-presented panning shot and blocking between characters to highlight the reveal of one of them, among other things are signs that Rachel Doda either did the boards or the camera layout for the setup of the scene and probably even the fight itself.

Okay, now to finally address the elephant in the room. Neo is back and in a redone character model no less! Of all the characters to have had a recurring appearance into the show, she has by far been given the most unconventional approach. Many fans by now are aware of the gist as to how she came to be, but for those not in the know, Neo was a character that was conceived a mere 10 days prior to the release of volume 2′s fourth episode. Her design was partially inspired by a genderbent cosplay from Sonja Carter, otherwise known as Soulfire Photography. Her semblance was the result of from is the result of Monty Oum needing an easier way to animate her and Torchwick making a quick escape according to the volume 2 blu-ray directors and animators commentary tracks respectively:

“I needed an uh, it's so backwards how like, I needed them to exit the scene like, Neo was like Torchwick's escape plan. And I was like, "oh yeah, they could get in the ship and then get away." I was like, "That's hard to animate.” Let's just have them shatter into glass, that's simple!"

“And then we have Neo come in and do... something weird. I guess, I tried to think of it as an illusionary technique. It’s like her version of ninja smoke bomb where it’s like she gets away because she causes some sort of distraction because the umbrella is relatively fast, the ship was probably waiting.”

Her entire character was born from the kind of creative process Monty had in general. It’s something he was a bit outspoken about where he compared his own process to that of most film or animation productions, referring to the latter’s structured, step-by-step process as “baking”, while he referred to his own personal, improvisational process as “stir-frying.” Both approaches have their merits and faults, but whether or not one is seen as more favorable over the other in animation production is not the point to get across. Rather, it’s to point out how a character like Neo can come to be in the first place:

“ When I’m working on my own, I tend to run editorial and animation concurrently. I’m averse to storyboards and over-planning. I like to talk about traditional 3D pipelines as being akin to baking: everything is very deliberate and methodical. My version of 3D animation is more like stir-frying. It’s very live and in the moment. If I need a model, I make a model. If a shot or sequence isn’t working, I’ll cut it, move it, or use it later - sometimes several years later.”

-Monty Oum, interview at Creativebloq (yes, they spelled “RWBY” wrong)

So with the story of how Neo came to be out of the way, let’s talk about her in action sequences since a lot has happened in RWBY’s production between last appearance and her grand return. Up until now, only 3 people have ever had a chance to animate Neo fighting. Monty Oum during chapters 4 & 7 of volume 2 and Joel Mann and Andrea Caprotti in chapter 11 of volume 3, the latter two also animated Cinder, Emerald, & Mercury vs Amber in chapter 7 of the same volume. Without going too much into detail, my stance on Monty and how he created fight scenes have always been more conflicted compared to the general consensus. A lot of that has to do with two of the several hats he wore up until his passing, his role as the show’s initial director and as lead animator. As the director, it always felt unclear as to how much thought was considered behind the character motivations within a fight or the consequences that would logically follow after one. Something just feels off in hindsight when say, a criminal wreaks havoc on a highway by knocking away multiple cars, using a mech that’s stolen, top-secret military property and we don’t ever get a scene showing the military general’s reaction to the incident, whether or not he ultimately does anything about it. As much as I appreciate good choreography and rhythm when I see it, having the story being weaved within and around a given fight in works of fiction is what can make them engaging in the first place.

That being said, Monty’s skills as an animator were definitely made clear in the fight scenes he assigned himself to within the show. Animation in general is not an easy medium to tackle, regardless of what kind of gestures or expressions one wants to sell and creating action sequences require both the 12 principles of animation and a few other guidelines in editing and cinematography to make them engaging. In the case of the character Neo, Monty made it very evident what kind of character he wanted to portray through her body language, facial expressions and poses. She fights in a classy way, but unlike Weiss Schnee who is shown as being more consciously routine and disciplined, Neo is comparatively more sassy and provoking. She likes to push her opponent’s buttons with the way she dodges, defends and attacks. Jumping into volume 3, Joel Mann and Andrea Caprotti picked up the pieces from where Monty left off up until his passing and captured much of the same personality to how she fights. Finally, three volumes later, we have her fight with Cinder in this chapter. Not only were just about all of the same traits with Neo’s character left intact, but the list of animators involved this time around were a pleasant surprise. Matt Drury, Megan Pellino, and Joe Vick were confirmed to have animated the fight with current assistant lead animator, Melanie Stern providing some assistance by animating a couple of shots herself. I’ve gone on record in previous posts on how between volume 5 having on of the biggest waves of new recruits, the overall restructuring of animation teams between RWBY’s sixth volume and Gen:Lock on the horizon, and the staff list on the Adam Character short, it’s now more important than ever to remain aware of who will be animating any fight scene or non-fight scene. “Keep moving forward” is a golden phrase within the fan base originally uttered by one of Monty’s tweets and this mantra can be applied to acknowledging new names involved in the production rather than staying stagnant. This episode is a good example of why that’s vital.

This fight sequence was not only an opportunity to show off the return of a fan-favorite character, but it also needed to formally establish the narrative reason as to why Neo is here now. Keyword being “formally”. Yes, fans have spent weeks speculating the possibility of her character through the opening theme and the second chapter. But that doesn’t change the fact that the CRWBY have been spent several months on the production of this part of the volume and still need to make it clear what this character’s motives are for appearing again after a few years without the scene coming off as pointless fanservice. That can be especially challenging for a mute character, but Melanie, Matt, Megan & Joe made that all clear through the choreography and more importantly, the emotional action and reaction. Despite the supposed intentions to why she’s combating against Cinder, Neo is all about taunting her opponent. So it’s only natural that she would ride the line between fighting aggressively and playfully, going as far as momentarily taking out her blade via a split-second smear, all while displaying an appropriate grin on her face. This constant assault in turn escalates the intensity from Cinder’s perspective by shifting her emotions from confusion to frustration. She drops being defensive and starts swinging fists and kicks so aggressively, that her actions come off a little animalistic and she eventually gets more acrobatic and starts breaking furniture.

Though none of Cinder’s actions and reactions are displayed senselessly, despite her facial expressions and vocal cries on Jessica Nigri’s part suggesting otherwise. In the fifth episode of season 2 of CRWBY: Behind the Episode. In it, Matt Drury. who seems to have animated the bit with Neo and Cinder going at it on the bar stand, talked about applying the notion of “see, think, do”, in which a character stays keen on his/her opponent’s movements based on what the latter is going to strike with and then responds accordingly. It’s essentially something learned in Martial arts in general, even competitive fighting games apply this concept. The same use of “see, think, do” can also be seen in Matt’s previous animated sequences in the Adam Character Short. Despite wearing a mask, there are various alternative ways he goes about handling each opponent such as the gunshots in the forest sequence and the framing of shots in the Schnee Dust Company facility to help see what Adam sees and thinks.

I could go on about how great the physical aspects of the fight turned out adding the great use of staging in certain shots and even the brief instance of Neo attacking with her hidden blade through the different colored smears and sound effects that would’ve been easy to miss otherwise. But there’s still a bit more to talk about Neo and Cinder’s conflict outside of the fighting animation. Being a mute character, facial expressions are important to get right in both fighting and dialogue scenes and when Neo’s worn-&-torn character model is shown, heartache, surprise, fear and reluctance are all emotions made very clear. Finally, there’s some 2-D visual effects, likely from Myke Chapman again, this time in the form of wind. I can only imagine the overall design of the wind column surrounding Cinder is fairly elaborate to animate, despite it being looped. But it’s pulled off really well. The wind seems to be divided in three layers: there’s the swirling wind in front of Cinder, the wind swirling behind her and the base on the bottom which seems to be animated on 2s while the former two are animated on 1s. There’s also the additional wind bursting out at the bottom when Cinder levitates up or back down to the ground. Even though I have praised the 2-D effects in chapter 3, a bit of concern was felt as to whether the timing would be played around enough by utilizing what is called “frame modulation”. To put simply, the phrase has to do with an animator fluctuating between animating a sequence on 1s, 2s and 3s, depending on what exactly is meant to be conveyed. This was what I was slightly worried about with the 2-D effects going forward, but thankfully, this one effect soundly put the concern itself to rest.

Despite the harsh criticisms being common knowledge at this point (some of which are certainly valid), I have contrarily been willing to defend the general presentation of fights in volumes 4 & 5 for at least tapping into the idea of more consciously displaying the motivation and consequences between characters engaged in conflict. That being said, both the emotional narrative and physical choreography can both coexist and this Neo vs Cinder conflict served as a great, concise example of just that. I would not necessarily call the scene a “return to form” like many fans have been quick to state. But that should not take away from the level of effort being paid off in the first half of this episode serves as a effective reminder of moving forward to acknowledge both new and recurring talent. With that said, the topic of Cinder vs Neo has been greatly exhausted so let’s move on to a different change of pace in the latter half of the episode. It’s almost night and day in terms of what to break down with the Brunswick Farms scenes. Though there is just as much to talk about, just for mostly different reasons. The latter half of the episode has more emphasis on character acting through a mixture between motion capture and hand-keyed animations, timing of staging of moments through camera layout and editing, 3-D effects for the snow, and even the sound effects taking the spotlight to capture the eerie feeling of the setting.

Speaking of sound effects, let’s talk about that. Despite, talking this series of posts being about breaking down and speculating the production of RWBY, I’ve admittedly been very negligent on the audio and mixing up until now. But the audio department’s effort definitely deserve their due this episode with Chris Kokkinos taking the helm as lead of said-department since volume... Immediately, the sounds of the winds picking up in the storm are the first things made clear to the viewer. Even though there are dissolve transitions to shots of just the snowy setting for a few seconds, with the visibility being deliberately kept at a minimum, one can’t help but be drawn to the audio of the harsh winds. Once they barge inside, the music actually drops entirely for a moment and the sounds within the household immediately come to play. The creaking and footsteps of the wooden floors increase the tense feeling that something is amiss and though the music starts again once Ruby spots the family portraits, it doesn’t fight against the sound effects for attention. Next is Kara Eberle’s well-done screaming and panicky breathing as Weiss which is probably the only moment where the vocal delivery plays a punchy part of the uncomfortable setting. That, combined with the zoom-out from Ruby and Blake entering the room to seeing the rotted, sleeping corpses serves a great reminder of why I don’t care for horror movies in general, regardless of how laughably bad they can be. Congratulations CRWBY.

Next is the scene with the gang at the living room, starting with a shot of the fireplace. It’s more 2-D effects work on the fire which is simple and serviceable, though I’m not the most fond of the... “rendering” of the soot, for lack of a better way to explain it? It’s slightly jarring to look at in that it’s made too obvious that the elements of 2-D and 3-D don’t mesh as well as they could. But it’s really just a nitpick when all is said and done. The fluctuating shadow or lack thereof is interesting however since this extends to the characters. As much as the Pencil plug-in in 3DS Max has served as beneficial to the overall shading effect in RWBY’s character models for the past few volumes, making shadow flicker in front of a stable fire does not seem to be that doable. Whether this is due to lack of a simulation feature or it being possible to do manually but too time consuming, what very likely the lighting or compositing department have done before and did again in this chapter is use a subtle flickering effect that doesn’t change the shading on the characters so much as it slightly dims the light source, being the fireplace. It’s an interesting trick and it works fine, though I’m curious whether there is at all a way to manipulate the shading itself or rim lighting if added via the Pencil plug-in. Though the rim lighting is definitely seen a bit later in a couple of shots with Weiss.

Moving on, the living room scene itself seems to have been at least partially animated by Asha Bishi since much of her tells in character acting are there. Very expressive gestures and a combination of Blake’s cat ear shifts and eyes widening with the pupils being a tad more dilated, the last of which is something that been made more obvious after the last CRWBY episode. With that said, it’s a little hard to pin down when her sequence of cuts end. Next is the cut with Blake and Yang traversing in the snow which is actually the first shot and only shot newcomer, Nyle Pierson has animated in the show as of this episode. It’s a small bit but it totally nails how Blake and Yang would go about dealing with harsh snowy winds differently with one covering herself while the other tries to tough it out. Plus the follow-through on their clothing and hair are very well handled by avoiding feeling too similar, almost distinguishing which character’s clothes are sturdier. Now would also be a good time to briefly talk about the snow effects in this chapter and in this volume in general thus far. It’s all possibly a simulation done via Adobe After Effects from the compositing team since it doesn’t really interact with the main cast themselves. One exception though may be the moment Qrow stepped inside to dry off, though it’s honestly hard to say. The snow being brushed off seem to be done by the visual effects artists, but the wet spots formed on the floor may have been composited since they fade into the ground.

Moving into the shed scene, the quiet atmosphere is consistently well-set where only the sound effects and voice acting are heard. The choice of boards and camera layout also help ease into the sense of intimacy being brought between Blake and Yang’s conversation, going from wider and more distant shots that show the entire interior to having more medium and close-up shots and then back to a wider shot to take things back to square one. The last shot of this scene especially couldn’t be any more obvious as the visual equivalent of being given the cold shoulder. The animations through the facial expressions and gestures also serve to compliment the intention of the scene. I want to say Hannah Novotny animated this, but It’s still a little tricky to say for certain since she and Asha have similar approaches to animating the same characters. Jumping into the last scene of the episode and we get a couple of neat lighting choices, particularly with the small flames from Weiss and the flashlight on Ruby’s scroll. The show is no stranger to artificial lighting via vehicles and objects, but there hasn’t exactly been a light source done as small and bright before. There’s also an interesting detail by having the shape of the light be a couple of rings. Aside from that, nothing else to add beyond the cute, comedic character acting between Ruby and Weiss at the end of the episode. Not sure who the animator was that worked on it, but it served as an appropriately small, light-heard break in an otherwise very atmospheric set of scenes.

With that, this marks the end of another production analysis for volume 6 thus far. Despite the length being only slightly longer than the previous episode, chapter 5 had more going on overall with a more varied change of pace between the two-halves of the episode. With the return of a character who has been overdue for another appearance and a setting that invites visual and audio techniques from the horror film genre, it’s a bit hard to imagine how much more absurd things will go. But based on tweets Miles Luna and Melanie Stern have been teasing, things are expected to get even more nuts. This has made me especially curious as to what the next chapter or so is going to offer. One more thing to add: I want to give a special thanks and shout-out to Changyuraptor from the RWBY sub-reddit and his Source McGourse document on practically every confirmed scene each animator has done over the course of RWBY’s production. As much as I do my best to keep track of who has done what, Changyuraptor is arguably more on top of things than I am when it comes to searching high and low for any up-to-date information of confirmed sequences in volume 6 and a couple of the animators I found out from him.

#rwby #rwby6 #rwby spoilers #rwby analysis #crwby #production analysis #production #analysis #matt drury #matt #drury #megan pellino #megan #pellino #joe vick #joe #vick

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moodboardinthecloud · 3 years

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The Darwin Variant, and/or Love of the Fittest

The chaos grows and grows, everything around us faltering, falling. Who do we need to be and who are we becoming?

Once I was in a room with Margaret Wheatley, one of the people whose thinking on emergence and complexity helped me understand emergent strategy. I (or someone else) asked how we bring down massive systems through small, complex organizing. She said, essentially, that systems that are top heavy will inevitably collapse from their own imbalanced weight.

How do we survive these falling systems? Especially when many of them need to fall? How do we prepare for the opportunities in collapse?

I am thinking about that in this era of Covid, climate catastrophe, natural and unnatural disasters (this week there are wildfires, floods, droughts, earthquakes, and disaster capitalism feeding off of all of it), cultural shifts, and long-term war consequences from indigenous struggles locally in the U.S. to the Taliban in Afghanistan. It’s all connected – decisions made from a competitive, supremacist, dominant mindset lead to top heavy economies and infrastructures, which inevitably collapse, leaving the survivors to contend with the detritus of empire.

Much of the crisis now feels out of our hands – even to me as a fairly connected radical movement person, most days it feels like a series of unstoppable events, to which I can offer prayer and donations, witness and attention. There are so many frontlines, each equally important to the soldiers in that particular battle. Stepping back to see it whole, there’s definitely the sense that we are trying to hold back tsunamis by plugging a million holes in a dam.

I realize that this sense of total pending and unfolding disaster is all over my Covid responses, thoughts and interactions. I am writing to face this disastrous feeling within me, to see if I can center a different perspective down in myself.

As both an antiwar and climate activist, I remember the devastation I felt when I first realized we weren’t going to be able to stop the wars against Afghanistan and Iraq. People were not going to sustain direct action, they were still going to pay their taxes towards the war, and be satisfied with resistance in the form of liberal punditry that changed nothing. This week we leave behind another nation long violated, knowing it will be eaten alive. It has taken so long to say, with humility, we lost a war we should never have been fighting.

With the climate catastrophe, I realized in my gut that we weren’t going to pivot our nation, our states, our towns to be in a just transition, not in time. Organizers inch forward proposals of survival and boundary, documentation and data, the responses much smaller and slower than the pending crises demand. We are up against capitalism, which feels so big, has so many heads. It is all so daunting. It is still the right work. But how do we make it matter? How do we meet the moment?

It could feel reasonable to give up the fight, all the fights, in light of this overwhelming comprehension of our species in its limitations. But then we are also in a period of massive cultural shift around race, anti-Blackness, rape and patriarchy. Systems designed to allow the total violence and control of those given power through a mythical supremacy are suddenly exposed down to the blueprint. Again, that labor of exposure is largely done by organizers who cleared space for the truth to be told with calls of Black Lives Matter and Me Too. We are rejecting these systems of harm in policy, action, and interpersonal encounters.

It’s all crumbling, concurrently. We are living through both the devastating fall of systems that guarantee life, and the necessary fall of systems that uphold violence.

So then Covid enters, stage right. It’s fast moving, wreaking havoc along the fault lines of existing vulnerabilities – those struggling to piece together enough inside of these multiple intersecting crises are hustling, hungry, taking risks to go to work, trying to survive eviction and exposure. Nations who let collective thinking lead are responding intelligently, and then there’s us.

Since the beginning, Covid has asked one thing of us: act collectively. First, the collective actions were maintaining the social distance of breath, hand washing, wearing masks. Then it was staying home unless you were an essential worker. And quarantining if you were sick. Then quarantining even if you were not sick. Doing work and community through virtual connections. And then, most recently, it’s been getting a vaccine that reduces the hospitalizations and deaths of those exposed to the virus. I cannot truly comprehend how many people have died as we figured out the necessary actions to take together. And now people are dying because we struggle to take collective actions.

To be fair, we are also in a period of peak socialized distrust. The divisions between us are dangerous and near total – we look to divergent news sources, have different conversations, suspect different aspects of government (from police to politicians to scientists) of wanting us surveilled, tracked, controlled or dead. Four years of a destructive and immature president did result in a wall, but not the border wall he threatened. The wall that now feels so solid in the U.S. is a cultural one that has deep roots and an ancient design, 3D printed hateful troll bricks stacked on top of colonial ruins.

Trying to be curious, to ask a question, to express a fear, to make a request, to assume a commonality – all of it quickly gets interpreted as building the division. Inside of this, on whatever side is for life moving towards life, I have been asking myself about boundaries, expectations, solidarity, and collective action. And love.

I now live by these words from my friend Prentis Hemphill, “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.” Love. Not tolerate or survive, but love. When I speak these words, as reminder, as mantra, they give me hope that no one has to be disposable, cut off from that vast connectivity of love. It’s just a matter of distance.

I learned some time ago that not everyone was going to survive and see liberation, or right relationship with the earth, in this lifetime. Not everyone was going to be in vibrant, accountable communities in this lifetime. Not everyone was going to choose love. Not everyone was going to even be aware that they could want or need such interdependence. For so many people, it feels impossible to experience love, to give and receive that sacred extension of adoration, devotion, care, growth, belonging, loyalty and shared experience.

But with distance, perhaps even as far away as the moon, I can always see the species as lovable. I can see that everyone deserves that deep belonging which displaces greed and grasping. I can see us, young, beautiful, powerful, clumsy, tender, selfish – and generally lovable, like a rambunctious and curious child. Or sometimes lovable like the traumatized, neglected bully child who needs so much more love and attention to soften and trust and connect again.

With enough distance, I can love even those who, up close, hate me, or hate the earth, or hate anything different from them. I know “only love can conquer hate.” From far away I can see the haters of the world – those who hate nature, difference, complexity, freedom in others – in the grip of their own spiritual work, which is daunting, which devours from within. Knowing almost nothing of the mysteries of the universe, having only our own planet’s wisdom to learn from, I deduce that even the haters are processing something for the whole, though it may be something toxic, or something heading towards extinction.

With that guidance, I have been earnestly asking myself: what is the distance at which I can love those who choose individual freedom over collective care in the short-term, at the cost of a future? Those who choose to go unmasked? Those who still don’t wash their hands? Those who breathe and cough too close to me? Those who have access to and capacity for the vaccine and choose not to take it?

This year has been a brutal and necessary reminder that control and manipulation don’t work, for anyone involved. I have had to practice self-awareness of my own controlling nature, I have had to soften my grip on a fearful future narrative and return to the humility of the present. I am not in control of any choices or boundaries but my own. I cannot manipulate others into collective action, into choosing life, not even with all my best words. I can only be vulnerable, I can only live into my own values, I can only invite others to join me, and to teach me.

Collective action is still made up of individual choices, which is the beauty and bane of our species. Especially in the colonized capitalist borders of the U.S. Even in the face of policy and punishment, the American way is to choose individual thinking and action under pressure, to fight for superiority on any hill. This focus on dominance over the living rather than partnership with life is how we have racism, rape culture, climate catastrophe, economic disparity, war and disease all in rampant disaster states at the same time.

It is perpetually disgusting to contend with the reality that these disasters benefit a bloated elite. And too many of us participate in our small scale versions of their individualistic and hoarding worldview, thinking we are better than each other and the earth, deserve unlimited resources and access, and should never have to adapt to protect others.

This is humanity at our worst. How will we change?

At a certain point, even if collective action feels far away, there has to be an awareness of the pattern. We have to develop the systemic intuition to sense that the same glitch is present throughout all the systems. Thinking that your choices only impact you or those you immediately know – that you needn’t be concerned with or accountable for the results – is supremacist thinking at the root. It gets packaged as freedom and independence, but we are not individual entities. Humans, like all of nature, live within systems of relationship and resource. Our freedom is relational. Individualist supremacy is a delusional concept, perhaps safely enjoyed as fantasy but not to be applied as common practice. One way to see all of the current crises is as a single delusional wildfire consuming time and space.

What do we do though? How do we practice another way inside so much crisis?

I have a very small circle of beloveds now. Covid required me to get clear about who I absolutely had to be in contact with, who I would invest my time in arguing boundaries with, who I would risk my life to go see. Relative to the number of people I’ve met, the number of people I’ve marched with and for, the number of people on the side of justice and liberation who populate this earth…it turns out there’s a tiny handful that I can actually hold onto. And I now believe my work is to be a good member of the human flock with that small number. Yes, I can still sing out my birdsong to the whole forest. But I move in community, in relationships that are visionary and loving at the root.

I light candles every day around my hope that the distance at which I can love most people in this era isn’t that mortal boundary between life and death.

Covid keeps adapting, like a shepherd herding us as a group through the one gate that leads forward. When we think we alone can run off and stop attending to the whole, a variant emerges to gather us back groupward. The idea of being herded generates such resistance in me, “WE ARE NOT SHEEP!”, “I AM NOT A COW!” (“imspecialimspecialimspecial”)…and yet, are these not also sacred and communal creatures from whom I can learn? In this moment, perhaps theirs is the wisdom we need. Can we adapt to be herd, to be meek, to belong, to move together, to be humble together? Or maybe it’s more simple, more literal: can we be satisfied in a smaller range of physical space? Can we be satisfied inside of necessary boundaries?

It’s quite clear that one activity that keeps the majority of people safe and, coincidentally?, has a positive impact on the planet, is to stay home, stay still, travel less, reduce each personal footprint towards a collective reduction of negative impact. Perhaps variants like Delta will come every time we attempt to return to a normal that the planet cannot sustain.

I heard someone call it the Darwin variant and I can’t stop thinking about that.

The first waves of Covid deaths were our loved ones and strangers who didn’t know what it was. Then those who knew the name and symptoms but didn’t stand a chance. Then those who didn’t realize or trust just how dangerous it was. Now we are seventeen months into the official global pandemic, playing chicken. Most of those who are getting sick and dying in the U.S. now are doing so as a result of choosing not to believe in Covid, in its viral nature, or in the benefits and safety of the vaccine; or those who think they are beyond the reach of guidelines; or those most susceptible to misinformation from unverified sources; or those unable to avoid interaction with others caught up in denial or misinformation, tragically including our precious babies.

They all still expect and need care.

I feel empathy for those who don’t trust the government, even as I feel my own righteous distrust. What’s been helping me in this moment is how much I love the divine work of science. I believe that the sacred force that designed hummingbirds and eagles and the symbiosis of bees and flowers and the desalination of the ocean through vapor and rain also moves through the minds of our scientists. I feel a primal longing for more people to trust in the curiosity-based practice of science. I feel a political need for science to be decoupled from big pharma, which feels so close to how I need movements to be decoupled from big philanthropy. But currently it’s all the same tangled rope of innovation and struggle and funding to which we cling over an apocalyptic abyss. I am not trying to be dramatic here, I’m just being with what is.

Charles Darwin was a scientist whose writing explored many concepts, including one from Herbert Spencer: ‘survival of the fittest.’ The concept reverberates into moments like this. The common misinterpretation is that it means survival of the most physically fit, an ableist view. I’m sure you, like me, have seen able-bodied people argue against Covid safety protocols by saying those with strong immune systems will survive. Many of those I’ve seen take this stance have gone on learn through sickness or loss that that’s not how Covid, or any of our other current apocalyptic conditions, actually work.

I was reminded recently (in public) that Darwin’s own writing points to ‘fittest’ meaning those most adaptive and collectively oriented, those most suited to the immediate conditions. Our immediate conditions are chaotic, frightening, fast-changing and inevitable. What is grossly imbalanced is teetering and falling. What is wildly anti-planet and inhumane is exposed and falling. What is cruel and violent and unfair and ridiculous, it’s all falling.

And the persisting question for me is, what is the work of love in all this falling? Can love help us be the fittest our species has been?

I have sought to offer and experience all kinds of love throughout my life. I have learned that I can love people who will still choose to leave me, to risk their lives, and I will feel grief. I have been learning that there is the big collective massive love I feel for all that lives, and then the tangible offer of love as an energy, resource and commitment which I can only give to those with whom I am in a mutual, consensual and aligned relationship.

I find it hard to love those who hate science, and hate me…not impossible, at least in the big picture setting. But working to actively love those who hate me is immense labor, and if I am honest with myself, it’s generally not something I’m even interested in cultivating in the irreplaceable hours of my remaining life.

Because my love feels rooted not just in myself, but in myself as a fragment of the miraculous natural world, I notice the patterns of hate at the interpersonal, interspecies and global level. There is an undeniable overlap between this resistance to science and the resistance to wear a mask, socially distance and/or vaccinate, in spite of data that affirms the life saving impacts of each choice. And all of that overlaps with the resistance to do right by the earth. The resistance to move beyond capitalism to economic models that allow shared abundance. And the resistance to give up patriarchy and white sociopathy. And national supremacy.

How do I love this vast diversity of human beings, beloved and stranger, who are currently toxic to our collective survival?

I only see one way. If I define love as the willful extension towards spiritual growth that bell hooks and M. Scott Peck told me about, then when I come across all this resistance to the miraculous and collective aspects of our species, I willfully extend my energy towards the necessary and inevitable growth evidenced by that resistance.

It liberates my love to see the resistance to science and nature and interdependence as a cry for help, a sign of how important it is that we grow our capacity to act as collective beings. And, as is my practice, when I can see where that edge of growth is, I seek it in myself. Where in my own life do I still persist in actions that presuppose my importance and supremacy, rather than accept my small role in our collective existence?

I have begun to feel gratitude inside my Covid grief. It’s the result of thinking collectively, even trying to think as a cell or atom of this planetary existence, awkward as that may sound. Even as I despair at the deaths of those who didn’t have a chance to choose, and those who did not survive their risks, I have to acknowledge what else I sense here…at a certain point we have to consider that Covid might be aligned with the earth, of the universe, designed to get us to fight for ourselves, love ourselves as collective beings, love ourselves enough to set and hold boundaries that serve more than our individual wants and needs.

Can I surrender the recent-normal for the present need? Can I commit to practicing a new and limited present-normal for the sake of a species-future? Can I listen more deeply to the earth, to the patterns? Can I keep finding the space to feel for direction within the chaos?

It’s so complicated.

It is much easier for me to love those who want collective human life to continue, in right relationship to the planet. But perhaps that’s evolution moving in me, perhaps this is a sacred attention, a ‘love of the fittest?’

Even now, as I write this, I still love people who choose themselves over the collective every time. And, I’m noticing, every day they feel further and further away. Or I do.

Seeing the pattern of life unfolding inside the destruction and chaos, I keep bringing my attention to it. I despair and then seek laughter, seek the community of others who feel afraid but keep working to connect. I relinquish being right for being present. I don’t deny reality as I find my place in the present moment and try to be of the fittest in constantly changing conditions.

I don’t wait for perfection or magic, I participate in the mundane work of staying alive. I keep my distance, wash my hands, wear my mask, carry my vaccine card. I get tested at every possibility of Covid. If something gets through my mask, if a variant finds me in spite of my best effort, it won’t be for lack of trying to live. If the vaccine works for most people who get it, but somehow not for me, I accept my role in the collective story.

And in my life I keep writing, keep working to shift myself out of the center of anything. I shift my practices one at a time away from capitalist socialization that says I need to be the best at something to deserve a quality life. I redistribute attention, time, donate money…and ask for help.

I am rooting myself amongst people who are learning to think and act together, as pairs, small groups, communities. We ask each other more questions, about what we are choosing to practice and why. We know so much more about each other’s lives and patterns than ever before. We process our inevitable risk-taking with each other because we are imperfect, and we long for each other. We are raising children inside these unclear, ever-shifting boundaries, and we are moving our resources around amongst us to get through. Sometimes we find that in the light of all this new transparency, we aren’t as compatible as we thought. It’s OK. We let each other go on different paths through the adventure, and root with the people on our path.

So are these answers, these small breaths in the maelstrom?

Small circles rooted in love. Relinquishing control and offering love. Mundane practices as acts of love.

Humility in the face of the unknown is self-love. Seeing and shaping the whole, not as a million overwhelming waves, but as a sea – this is collective love. Living in generosity and gratitude, every day, is living love. Being nature, is being love.

It certainly feels like love is the way.

Perhaps. Perhaps.

And this may or may not fit in this piece of thinking and writing, but love is asking me to mention that I am centering pleasure even now, within the small circle. We are a pleasure flock, comforting each other, cheering each other on towards our best lives even today in these conditions. Pleasure connects us to ourselves and each other, to the aliveness at the funeral, to the blessing in the crisis, to the sweet new life pushing green up through the sludge.

We who are not yet dead are responsible for living fully, without regrets, with deep reverence for the wide range of emotion in the human experience. I look for the pleasure of home, of rooting and nesting, of growing things, of moving slowly, of being honest, of writing, of cooking, of dancing, of gratitude, of love. Every single day I dose myself with pleasures small and large, knowing that as it all falls apart, so much is growing; knowing that within myself and my circle I am seeding a path towards a future in which feeling and growing pleasure and aliveness and delight, in relationship to each other and our abundant and perfect planet, is our central focus.

There. It is long, but I have shifted myself from despairing overwhelm back to visionary center. It is a gift that I can only fulfill my own small destiny, follow the instructions that are clearest to me, move with my own consecrated choreography. When I feel completely lost, I can focus each day on being kind, being generous, and being honest. I light candles for all I cannot carry, and then move into the present moment with only my love. As everything crumbles above and around us, it is still true that the most strategic move is the ever changing dance of love.

http://adriennemareebrown.net/2021/08/19/the-darwin-variant-and-or-love-of-the-fittest/

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beatricethecat2 · 6 years

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if/then (2.0) - 15 v.2

PSA time: Criticism can be a positive force, especially when it’s constructive, and even more so when it’s given by someone you trust and respect. (Don't be afraid of it!) “But it’s just fan fiction,” the mantra goes, meaning fics don't warrant scrutiny, like "real" writing does. But “It’s just fan fiction,” to me, means I have the ability to go back and reassess, to learn from my mistakes, especially when given sound advice to guide me. I’m writing to learn, as I’m not a writer by trade, so there is no shame in tearing something apart and starting over again. Chapter 15 warranted a serious makeover, so I dove in...the gist is the same but the information imparted differently. I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of "show not tell,” so I’ve gone back and applied that liberally. And here we are, back at Chapter 15, with a (hopefully) more satisfying result. Plus, in the meantime, I’ve plotted out a much better ending (for the story), so it's a win/win situation all around. Edited 6/5.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

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Myka checks her phone and looks toward the door again; no new news, but Helena really should be here by now. The VIP preview started at five, and her public opening at six, but now it's near seven, and Helena’s still missing in action. A mix up with her ticket left her stranded until late afternoon, but after some strong words with the manager, she transferred to another airline. She texted over an hour ago that she'd "be there soon," but Myka's beginning to worry she's run into further trouble.

It's almost laughable, her fretting over Helena’s absence, as she was adamant for weeks Helena not join her. But at the last minute, she changed her mind, unnerved about stepping into uncharted territory alone. Helena convinced her she needed a buffer and that she was the best candidate for the job.

After their initial conversation, Helena called like clockwork every day, but at first, Myka didn't pick up. Ignoring Helena entirely seemed the only way to focus, but her heartfelt messages kept creeping into her head. If she was ever going to move past this, they needed to talk, and sooner rather than later was better than waiting.

Their first few conversations were bitter affairs, little more than Helena listening while Myka listed her “wrongs.” Myka vented a laundry list of frustrations, beginning with Germany and tumbling back through their relationship. But over time, her hostility weakened, allowing Helena to steer their focus towards Myka’s show.

“What do you want,” Myka grumbled, tapping "accept" after three full rings.

“To ask how you're faring today,” Helena replied.

“Stressed out. Super busy. Same as yesterday, and the day before.”

“You have been rather agitated lately.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka snapped. It had become a habit to push Helena’s buttons whenever possible, but this schtick was getting old, her heart wasn’t in it as it was a few days ago.

“Were you able to ask for more time off work?”

“Yeah,” Myka answered, a little disappointed Helena didn’t offer her usual apologies. "Leena’s sending stuff I can work on at home, so I only have to go in once or twice a week.”

“Excellent. That relieves much of your burden.”

“True, but there’s still so much to do.”

“Talk me through it. Perhaps I can assist.”

Myka looked across her room at the collection of objects on her desk, the ones she and Abigail rescued from Helena’s apartment. She hadn't told Helena what had happened there yet as she wanted to process her experiences there before inserting Helena's influence. But considering the subject matter, that was kind of counterproductive as she wouldn't be able to keep it from her for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were gutting your building?” she asked.

“Are they? I wasn't aware.”

“I think you knew.”

“I’d only heard rumblings. Nothing substantial. Certainly, nothing this soon."

Myka grunted in disapproval. "You couldn't have mentioned it was a possibility?"

"Discussing such destruction seemed cruel after all you’d been through. And I didn't want to alarm Christina.”

When Helena got kicked out, Myka was still a mess, so she could see where Helena was going with that. But Christina was going to find out eventually, whether while walking to the park or from a friend at school. Though she didn't mention it either the last time she saw Christina, probably for the same reasons Helena had kept it from her.

Standing from her stool, she walked across the room towards the group of objects littering the table. She fingered the frayed edge of a worn LP sleeve she dug out from the dumpster, one that once lived on a bottom shelf in Helena's living room with many others. They were visible from the couch while she was lying down, and she'd often wished they had a turntable to play them on. That couch provided so much comfort in those trying times, especially when Dewy would knead in circles and then curl up at her feet.

“I loved that apartment.”

“As did I.”

“Well, it’s gone. Ripped apart. The whole damn thing.”

“How do you—“

“Your couch was in a dumpster. We went inside. Took everything left of you we could carry.”

“We?”

“Me and Abigail."

“Oh. You and Abigail.”

The line quieted.

“Sorry, that was...” Harsh, Myka thought. But no harsher than finding her with Bonnie at the sale.

“A-And what treasures did you gather?” Helena asked, in soft, defeated tones.

“A, um...pen,” Myka said, describing the nearest thing to her. “From that Mexican place on Houston. The one with the soup Christina likes when she’s sick.”

“Pozole.”

“Yeah, that’s it."

“Then it's truly a souvenir worth saving,” Helena replied. Her words were polite but distant as if she was thinking about Christina being sick and her inability to comfort her. Myka wanted her to feel guilt, but over her, not her child. She looked around her collection for something less fraught.

“There’s that pom-pom Christina made at Brownies.” Dust fell to the table as Myka lifted an orange poof of yarn.

“The singular time we attended before she began kempo. It wasn’t for us.”

Myka drops the pom-pom and hones in on another item. “Shells from the beach you said were from Santa Cruz?”

“From our excursion after Claudia’s job interview at Apple. That was…an enlightening day.”

“Tell me more.”

“I shall, one day,” Helena answered. “But it wasn't terribly pleasant.”

“Oh, sorry." Myka searches her collection for something with a cheerier backstory.

“I’m touched you felt compelled to save these trinkets, but I must ask, whatever for?”

“They’re lost memories, like mine, from the fire, and I’m painting them for my show. Or at least trying to, but I’m running out of time.”

“Ah, yes! That makes perfect sense."

“It does? How?"

“Thus far, you’ve been piecing together memories, painstakingly recreating objects you’ve lost. But there’s a distance there as if you're compiling a catalog, much like the registrar you’ve trained to be."

“They’re more than cataloging—"

"But the objects from my flat are extant, and your renderings draw directly from their energy. Mixing our memories with your own adds a richness, describing the limbo we're all experiencing while building our lives again.”

“I, um...” Myka looked toward her easel, at the rendering of the calendar she rescued from the floor displayed there. Various events from that month flashed through her mind, and she realized the amount of baggage she was memorializing. Helena’s interpretation of her motives suddenly made sense, though unpacking them at the moment seemed too intense.

“Can you work on multiple paintings using artificial light?” Helena asked.

“I have been, and it helps. But I need to ship everything at least a week and a half in advance.”

“Ship many as you're able and take the rest with you on the plane.”

“Can I do that?”

“Yes. If you're still using wooden panels, they're not weighty. Pack them securely and pay the excess baggage fee,” Helena explained. “Buy them pre-primed to save time in the studio.”

“I like preparing them myself.”

“You must focus on content. Hire someone to prepare them for you, if that’s critical."

“You’re probably right.” Myka sighed.

��You're allowing too many distractions to get in your way.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Myka said, her bite from earlier gone.

“I’ll refrain from phoning if—“

“No. Call. I might not pick up, but this was...helpful." It was, but everything wasn't sitting right just yet. "We’re still not ok. Ok? You know that."

“I’m acutely aware.”

“As long as you know.”

“My offer still stands, either way.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Myka said, then tapped end her phone. That was all the critique she could handle for the day.

Positive news also eased tensions between them, as early on, Mrs. Frederic's bid won the sale. The sizable commission allowed her to step away from the gallery, though she promised to help out when needed. And the residency in LA got in touch before her trip and informed her she made it through to the semi-finalist round.

But she needs to get through tonight before anything can truly move forward, a big art night in Warsaw all round. The city's museums and galleries have openings concurrently, and tonight's crowd has already has exceeded expectations. The director's been buzzing around all evening, introducing her to new faces left and right. By the time Helena arrives, all the activity's made her head spin, and she's starting to zone out.

She spies Helena weaving towards her mid-sentence, cornered by a woman asking detailed questions about technique.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I must steal the guest of honor,” Helena says and hooks her arm through Myka’s. She leads her back across the room towards the entrance, then steps back and sweeps her eyes over her outfit. “Lovely as ever. More captivating in person. Though I did appreciate the preview over the phone.”

Myka blinks a few times, a little stunned by Helena’s actually here. “Y-you look nice, too. You didn't say you were wearing a dress.”

“I’m hardly well put together, but I did try my best. This event is too important to arrive both late and unkempt."

Myka searches for traces of unkemptness, but Helena's close-fitting dress is wrinkle-free. It compliments her frame so perfectly, she finds it difficult to look away. When she meets Helena's gaze, Helena's eyes fill with apology, and Myka's soften, accepting the gesture without reproach. Her show wouldn’t have come together without Helena's help, and she’s glad she’s finally here to share it with her.

"I thought you'd be here earlier. Was there lots of traffic?” Myka asks.

"I stopped by my hotel to change.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Yours was booked. Mine’s further away.”

“Oh. I didn't—“ A patron squeezing between them cuts Myka short.

Helena turns to face a painting on the wall. “This one’s mesmerizing in person. Nothing like the photo you sent. Its surface seems holographic, but that can’t be right.”

“I added mica powder to the pigment, to create a shine.”

“Myka power?” Helena quips, raising a brow.

“Very funny. You know what I mean. Christina said it should be shiny, like the sticker.”

“She is you’re harshest critic.”

“At times,” Myka says, with a smirk. “It is her sticker.”

“But the rendering is yours. And the sentiment an ode to childhood obsessions."

“It's about the resilience of materials in the harshest conditions,” Myka snaps, repeating the line she’s used all day. "But I guess it is a kid’s sticker, so...” She looks hard at the likeness of a curled and soiled Pegasus she created. Helena's interpretation wasn’t her intention, but she can see what she means.

“Have you repaired all the damage from your shipment?” Helena asks.

“Don’t get me started. I can’t believe the crappy repacking job they did."

“Manhandling must escalate the longer goods fester in Customs .”

“If they’d been held up anywhere but London, I don’t know what I would have done. Thank you again for convincing me to ask for Mrs. Frederic's help.”

“In my opinion, the paperwork error was inconsequential. They should never have been held back in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when I don’t double check things—"

“Myka, come and meet Priska," a woman interrupts. She places a hand on Myka’s shoulder and glances at Helena. “Ah, this must be the long-lost Helena. Welcome!"

“I’m pleased to have finally arrived,” Helena says, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be Eva, the director. Very nice to meet you,”

“Likewise,” Eva says, accepting the gesture. "I've heard much about you.”

“All good I hope.”

Eva smiles and looks across the gallery. “Come, talk with Priska. She’s intrigued by the calendar piece."

“There's a lot to be said, isn’t there?”

As they walk across the room, the mischievous look in Helena's eye leaves Myka wary of what "a lot" entails.

Helena shifts into dealer mode as they meet with Eva’s client, her charm on high as they check in with various guests. Myka chimes in when Helena's interpretations don’t line up with her own, but after their umpteenth conversation, she’s happy to let Helena speak for her. Helena mostly gets things right, plus she’s wiped from repeating herself, and watching Helena work, in her favor, is still a turn on.

There's a dinner after the opening, then drinks after that and Myka's running on steam by the drinks portion. Helena stays ever by her side, chatting with guests, refilling her glass, ensuring she's having a good time. It's comforting having Helena there to care of her, as she'd been mostly holed up alone for weeks.

During a lull in socializing, Helena glances at Myka and smiles a smile she knows is just for her. She slips her arm around Myka's waist, and Myka instinctively leans towards her, smiling back with equal sentiment.

As the hours pass, and the wine takes hold, their touches become more intimate. At some point, Myka tunes out the room entirely, and her eyes hanging on Helena's lips. The way they lift and stretch to match her cadence and inflection makes her wish they were moving over her skin. She aches to kiss her, but not here, somewhere private, somewhere alone. She snaps out of it when she realizes that’s not out of the question.

She asks the time, it's late, an appropriate time to leave. They say their goodbyes, then pile into a car someone called for them. Myka gives the driver directions, and when Helena adds a second stop, her heart sinks; it no longer makes sense to have asked her to book a separate room. It was an easy way out if their evening went unfavorably, but she assumed they'd be in the same hotel.

“I can’t wait to pass out,” she says, slumping back into her seat. She closes her eyes as the car drives away.

“You deserve a rest. And you’ll sleep soundly knowing tonight was a great success.”

“It was, wasn't it?” Myka says. She cracks an eye open to peer at Helena and sees she's sitting stiffly, too far away. She slides a hand across the seat and lays it over Helena’s thigh. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for allowing me,” Helena says. She covers Myka’s hand with her own.

The car turns at a light and Myka settles back, closing her eyes again, resting her head on the top of the seat. The car turns and slows after continuing on for several minutes. When it stops, Helena removes her hand.

“Come up with me,” Myka says and squeezes Helena’s thigh.

Helena looks down at Myka's hand but doesn't answer.

"If you want," Myka adds. Was Helena's doting all an act? She did offer her hotel address rather quickly. Maybe she misread her; maybe she wants to be alone.

“I’d be happy to,” Helena says, laying her hand over Myka’s again and smiling as she meets Myka’s eyes.

They exit the vehicle and walk straight through the lobby, directly into an open elevator. Myka presses a button, and as they move skywards, she steps back and examines Helena’s shimmery ensemble.

“Your dress reminds me of the one from our first ‘official’ date.”

“Do you reckon?” Helena glances down at her garment.

“The cut’s the same, but the color's different. Did you do that on purpose?”

“I may very well have,” Helena replies.

The door opens and they walk down a corridor then stop in front of Myka’s room. Myka slips her keycard into the slot and upon entering, sheds her jacket and bag, throwing both over the arm of a chair. She turns and faces Helena, who is standing a few paces away.

“Take your coat off," Myka says, motioning for Helena to come closer.

“We should talk,” Helena says, her tone weighty, beyond the current mood.

“I know, but...” Myka steps behind Helena and reaches over her shoulders, slipping her fingers underneath her lapels. She leans forward and angles her head, so her lips nearly touch Helena's ear. “Let's keep tonight about me.”

Myka tugs on Helena's lapels and Helena circles her arms back, allowing Myka to slip her coat off entirely. Myka throws the coat on top of her own, then pads in front of Helena and threads a finger under the strap of her dress.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” Myka says, her eyes following her finger as it slides up towards Helena's collarbone then back down to where the strap meets Helena's generous neckline.

“A what?”

“A do-over. For our 'official' first date.” Myka angles her eyes up, meeting Helena's questioning gaze. "We are in a hotel, and you are wearing a dress.”

"So it seems,” Helena says, her eyes falling to Myka's lips. She leans forward for a kiss, but Myka dodges, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the bed. As they reach the edge, Myka spins Helena around and taps on her shoulders so she falls into sitting position, Helena lays back and Myka crouches down, lifting Helena's foot, slipping off one heel and then another. She removes her own and drops both pairs to the floor while Helena shimmies up the bed until her head rests on a pillow. Myka crawls across the bed until her body is hovering over Helena’s and Helena adjusts so they're in perfect alignment.

“This is where we left off,” Myka says, dipping down for a kiss. Helena lifts her head, but Myka stops an inch short. “No, wait. You sit up and kiss me.” Myka settles back on her haunches and takes hold of Helena’s hands, placing them, palms down, above her knees.

Helena lifts slowly at the waist, palms skimming up Myka’s thighs as Myka cups Helena’s jaw and guides their lips together. Helena's thumbs slide inwards as they reach the hem of Myka's skirt, stretching eagerly towards tender, intimate flesh.

“Hey!” Myka yelps.

Helena freezes. “I thought we were continuing where we left off?”

“It was our first time, remember? You wouldn’t have moved that fast.”

“You haven't a clue what I would or would not have done.”

“Then tell me," Myka says, but kisses Helena her before she can answer, a strategic brush of Helena's thumbs impossible to ignore.

Helena rakes her hands up, over the curve of Myka's hips, and wraps her arms tightly around Myka's middle. Myka presses into Helena as Helena’s tongue parts her lips, the need for closer contact rushing through her like lightning. When they're forced to break for air, Helena places kisses across Myka’s cheek and lets her lips linger near her ear.

“Any flesh I’d longed to touch would have been unclothed immediately.” Helena reaches behind Myka’s shoulders and drags down her zipper. Myka leans back and lifts her arms, allowing Helena to peel her garment off entirely.

"I'd have mapped every arc and every crook; cataloged each utterance of pleasure I'd earned." Helena slides Myka’s bra strap over the slope of her shoulder and places a soft, lingering kiss on the rise of her breast.

“Wait," Myka says as painful memories trickle back. “If you wanted me so badly, why did you leave?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Helena says, laying her forehead on Myka's chest.

“But I still don’t understand,” Myka says, tipping Helena's head up, needing to see Helena's eyes as she answers.

“I thought tonight was to remain about you.”

“It was but…why were you so scared that night?”

“I’d only just learned I’d be deported.”

“That’s not it. Not enough for you to bolt. It was something else, something out of your control.”

“Myka...“

Myka sits back, distancing herself, brow furrowing as she replays the details of that evening. “You asked a lot of questions about Mrs. Frederic. But you already knew who she was, didn’t you?”

“Her reputation precedes her—“

“No, you knew her. You’d met her before. Were you working for her then?”

“I hadn’t met her until the day I was called into her office." Helena's eyes narrow and Myka shrinks back. She hit a nerve, as she did so often over the phone. “I think you're over-tired, and perhaps a bit tipsy,” Helena says, taking hold of Myka’s hands and drawing them towards her.

“I’m going to change,” Myka says, slipping her hands free and sliding off the bed. She walks towards the bathroom and after entering closes the door.

She leans on the counter and stares into the mirror, seeing what Helena saw. Her eyes are red and puffy, her hair fairly frazzled, but it's been a really, really long day, so she's not surprised. But maybe, just maybe, she's overreacting as she is both overworked and overtired.

She begins pulling out pins and thinking over the situation; was Helena spying on Macpherson for Mrs. Frederic all this time? And was Bonnie clued into the situation before now? Helena said Mrs. Frederic knew her, or rather knew Emily before London, but did she mean “knew of” or “knew her personally?” And if so, wouldn’t she have known the "other" Emily first? Unless she only knew "this" Emily, Helena's Emily, the one from the trial.

She yanks the last pin free and runs her fingers through, combing her hair out into rough, curled strands.

If Helena was telling the truth and she wasn’t Emily before their date, then it is possible, at dinner, she hadn't met Mrs. Frederic yet. So maybe she's jumping to conclusions, mixed up between Claudia's research and Helena's murky past. It is easy to fall into old patterns, so she probably should chill out until they can talk for real. They have a whole three days to hash things out, and it's best to do so with a clear head.

She brushes her teeth and gives her face a quick wash before swapping her clothes for a t-shirt and shorts. She hesitates before opening the door, how does she want to handle this? If things hadn’t gone sour so quickly, they’d be otherwise engaged right now. And she'd rather be doing that than confronting Helena. Maybe it's best to pass out and deal with it tomorrow.

When she opens the door, Helena's standing near the entrance, her coat and shoes already on.

“At least you didn’t sneak out this time.”

“I was certain you wouldn't want me to stay.”

“No, I do." Myka walks toward her suitcase and rummages through, pulling out a fresh t-shirt. “Here. Go change.”

Helena removes her coat and shoes then moves toward the bathroom, taking the t-shirt from Myka’s hand as she passes.

Once the door closes, Myka climbs onto the bed and burrows under the covers. She breathes deep breaths and closes her eyes, hoping to calm her nerves before Helena emerges.

Too few moments later, the bed dips down, and Helena sits motionless for what seems like an eternity. Myka doesn't move either, unsure of how to proceed, waiting for Helena to set the tone.

“Are you asleep?”

“No. Not yet."

“May I say something?”

“Sure."

“Our past may be irreparable, and our future...unpredictable. But our present is something we hold agency over.”

Myka rolls onto her side and bends her arm at the elbow, propping her head up with a hand. “How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Since you first entered to bathroom."

"It's good. And I get it. You mean tonight is what we make it.”

“Yes,” Helena says. “You’d asked this evening be kept about you and I'd hoped you'd allow me to hold fast to that. You deserve a grand finish that only I can deliver. Let's end your successes on a high note."

“Selling yourself, instead of my paintings? Classy.” Myka huffs a short laugh.

“In a manner of speaking. Is that of any interest?"

"Kinda." Myka shrugs.

“Then I clearly misinterpreted your earlier intentions." Helena looks down at her hands.

“No, you didn't,” Myka says. “I'm interested. But it wouldn’t fix anything. And we’d still need to talk. A lot.”

“And we shall. Eminently.”

Myka slides her hand across the duvet and brushes a thumb over Helena's wrist. She may regret this tomorrow, but it is what she wants tonight.

Helena lifts her legs onto the bed and stretches out next to Myka, angling her body so they’re lying face to face. She cups Myka’s jaw and brushes a thumb over her cheek, looking into her eyes as if asking permission. Myka covers Helena’s hand and slides it over her lips, kissing it then laying it on the bed. She then eases Helena onto her back and straddles her hips, planting her hands on either side of her head. She dips down and kisses Helena as Helena's hands skim up her thighs, fingers sliding under Myka's hem with zero protests.

-TBC-

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oldmanlillian1989 · 4 years

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