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morimakesfanart · 3 years

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Sindria's Prophet #14

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[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbadxoc

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noobsomeexagerjunk · 4 years

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thoughts on starry after multiple listens

(dated July 8, 2020 because i might make another one)

Edit: I SHOULD FACT CHECK MORE

the Starry soundtrack is as impressionist as the painters it invokes by energy alone, which is impressive given the style of music used (of which i’m fine with, but not partial to)

the Prologue does this right off the bat

the people of Monmartre are very critical of the rest of France and I adore it

i can feel theo’s overwhelment in Impress Me

Impress Me does a wonderful job at introducing the setting of the show

that song is a ball of pulsating yearning—no wait that’s the whole show

Theo got so stressed he walked blindly into Madame Segatori’s cafe

learning that the Le Tambourin was named as such due to its tambourine aesthetic via Vincent’s portrait of Segatori is just incredible to me; the table is shaped like a tambourine

“If Paris is the world, Monmartre is Bethlehem; and art is our Amen” sounds so powerful

A New Horizon is so warm

i expect Theo and Vincent to be very cuddly with each other everytime they interact

“dream with me, dear brother” is the energy of this song

french wheat fields will forever haunt me because of this damn musical

*insert Do You Like the Color of the Sky? post here*

like, so much emphasis to the sky

Vincent’s dreaming leaking into Theo’s trading practice surely must be a sight to see

chain imagery hits hard after hearing Wheat Fields/Finale Ultimo

in this yellow house, we dream of freedom

“should I really take this giant risk?” “brother, I took a giant risk coming here—fuck yeah do it!”

United in Distaste reeks of Vincent’s intimidation—it has new kid in school energy and I am living for it

Vincent coming to Monmartre (and when he arrives in Arles) like “Hey, I’m new in town, and it gets worse,”

Bernard has apparently spent enough time with Theo to be able to identify Vincent by frowning alone

Rude of Gauguin to yoink Vincent’s painting like that; Segatori immediately hangs it tho—

Gauguin sounds like he’s going to corrupt anyone who approaches him—dude announces his horny nature during his introduction

Gauguin IS a savage and a whore and the best thing about that is that he knows it; even better knowing the vision of his costume

Segatori’s displeasure throughout the song implies that the artists that frequent her cafe also argue amongst themselves frequently

“keep in mind that we’re academic rejects, Vincent”

with the way Degas, Pissarro, and Morisot tease at Gauguin (noting that Gauguin, Bernard, and Toulouse-Lautrec are together in a later song), it sounds like they’re are hurling insults from a separate tambourine table

Toulouse-Lautrec sounds dramatic; Bernard sounds like he’s not sure where he is artistically—both are a mood

Of the post-impressionist table, the only one retaliating with genuine insults is Toulouse-Lautrec; Bernard and Gauguin only end up defending themselves while Toulouse was ready to tear down Degas and Morisot

Pissarro IS old (at this period in time in the musical) damn

Morisot is unyielding with her insults, “speaking of size—“ holy shit oh no

i reiterate—why is Toulouse-Lautrec the only one actually speaking in a French accent; almost everyone there is French

since I’m aggressively referring to him, I think Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec merits a musical of his own, and that’s based on what first learned about him when I first listened to Starry

by extension, also Berthe Morisot

Monmartre’s artists be like “We’re very critical of ourselves and each other, and while that’s worth being intimidated by, don’t be intimidated by us! What do you have to bring to the table, foreign painter?”

Something poetic about how what Vincent wants being what all the artists want hereby making him a member of their squad is so warm to me—galleries are gravity INDEED

“We will embrace the madness we design, or lose our mind,” IS THIS FORSHADOWING BECAUSE IT FUCKING SOUNDS LIKE IT

“i am loving this! YES, GET ANGRY!” if only i can identify who said this

Something After All is directed towards Vincent, right? It better be, I lack context

Theo’s yearning is so relatable and I fear not being able to fulfill it

bless Kelly and Matt for giving Jo so much depth in Enlightenment

apparently she deadass learned English for the purpose of translating the letters she had compiled??? yo i love that

poetic how Jo invokes making a legacy since she’s the one who actually preserves her brother-in-law’s legacy (and by extension, herself and her husband’s legacies)

at first listen, i immediately drew a comparison to Hamilton’s Eliza; Jo is better both musically and literally, given that Vincent van Gogh is far more relevant than Alexander Hamilton will ever be, even with LMM’s musical

not trying to start beef, just an observation

Jo’s yearning is also such a mood

fire, light, and road imagery being invoked huh

it is by this point i’ve to the realization that the reasons one goes to Monmartre that was cited in Impress Me tie in very well to the individual characters’ desires in this show

Where Are We Going? goes so hard ugh yes

“I need a stronger strategy to seize my immortality!” Gauguin’s incredible ambition is the root of his dissatisfaction; doesn’t help that he’s impulsive both in the musical and IRL

Toulouse prioritizes integrity and Bernard prioritizes progression—I wonder what this means for their characters in the show

Toulouse and Bernard calling Gauguin out on his known shitty behaviors feels like they’ll be problems Vincent will have to deal with in Act 2, when they live together

this is where Gauguin leaves for Martinique, right???

which one is the act 1 closer, really??? The Sower or The Road??? help me please

everyone in town is really concerned for Vincent

it wams me how much Segatori believes in him

Bernard’s right, Vincent van Gogh’s artstyle IS a melting pot

learning that Toulouse-Lautrec capitalized on his art during the peak of his career really adds weight to his concerns on Vincent’s inability to sell

i like to imagine the everyone’s in the gallery during The Sower

Theo and Jo’s relationship progressing as Vincent’s works don’t sell hits upon realization

Theo falling hard when he learns that he and Jo yearn for the same thing tho

recontextualizing the imagery that Vincent found beauty in into imagery that demonstrates his person is just mighty good of Kelly and Matt

then again, so much of his person is in the artwork to begin with

“and everyone knows your reap what you sow.” w o a h!!!

The Road starts like a dramatization of one of Vincent’s breakdowns and how he copes with them, or perhaps this starts after one??? The opening verses suggest a lot

also ties his road to his dream of freedom with what i believe is his travel to Arles

“North, South, East, West—navigate from inside you,” = “With conscience as my compass,”

“i am guided towards the night” this Vincent knows the answer but is so clearly far from its reach and is desperately trying to figure out how to

soul of fire, crystal heart and blizzard-like brain; the man is passionate and everyone knows it

“Fascinating, but maybe just a little too soon,” sounds like that at this point, Toulouse-Lautrec and Bernard genuinely recognize and admire Vincent’s talents, but also understand that the world is still against him and that they have the experience to prove it

the “sunlight and storms” imagery always concern Theo, Jo, and Vincent’s relationship with each other

Gauguin popping up in this song with the compass imagery implies the show’s going to make him a pretty interesting foil to Vincent; this sounds like him traveling back to Paris, or at least him attempting to vibe in Martinique

this hurts when you remember what happens to Vincent

“curse of the gifted” is a phrase i am too afraid to understand

DYLAN SAUNDERS CAN SLAY ME WITH HIS VOICE

The Yellow House sounds yellow somehow

who clears their throat before writing a letter???

Gauguin’s frustration’s against Vincent’s admiration of him is amusing

sounds like Gauguin hasn’t found his “freedom” yet

Theo is one generous fellow

this arrangement lasts for only 2 months; given the apparent span of this musical, The Yellow House is a very “calm before the storm” song

wait a minute—

apparently, Vincent REALLY admired Gauguin and was so excited for his arrival at the yellow house

i fear the dramatization of their disagreements

“Don’t tell Theo I said that,” it amuses me how the van Gogh brothers’ relationship is so well-known to these painters

based on the gifs lurking, the ear incident WILL be dramatized and I am terrified for my heart on how it will be depicted

Sunlight and Storms quotes the original letter from Jo to Vincent surprisingly well (i attempted to read some—there’s so many! this was one of the first ones i came across)

this song hurts when it hits how little time Jo and Theo had together as a married couple

I am convinced a lot happened between Sunlight and Storms and On the Threshold of Eternity

this definitely was after a breakdown

i skip this song just so i don’t think about the obvious implications, i must confess

the meaning of “sunlight and storms” hits the hardest here

“we will not let your illness keep you from finding your freedom”

The Red Vinyard is so full of a brother’s love

this hits me, and i speak as an only child

“You’ve carried me more than you’ll ever know,” AH—

when Theo finally sees the new horizon, Vincent is seeing it too

and what Vincent saw he put on a fucking canvas

“i can see it—a new horizon” = “the sight of the starry night”

they say that at the time, not much was thought of the iconic painting

i could only wonder what might’ve happened between The Starry Night and Wheat Fields

all the piano motifs coming together in Wheat Fields/Finale Ultimo, just like that

“I’m ready for harvest time” is melodically similar to “The road is bright”, particularly when it’s just Vincent singing the line alone

despite the obvious, I don’t think I’ll grasp the meaning of the final song; i also skip this one so i don’t think about it

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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Lost and Found (Pearlax) - Puppy

A/N: Hello. Recent reader as of the summer, first time writer. I hope that you like this foray into the fanfic writing world. I had a general idea of what I wanted the story to be like when I first saw the prompt, so I hope you guys enjoy. This was also partially inspired by Ordinary Days, so… there’s that.

Summary: Grad student Pearl has a very important book. Max finds it.

Pearl Liaison did not want to be here.

 There were plenty of other places in Manhattan where she could be, but standing in the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art was not one of them. There were too many people and it was getting quite cramped. Pearl glanced down at her phone and silently prayed to the powers that be that she was in the right place. The longer the blonde wasted her time standing in this spot, the more eager she was to leave.

 For the first 18 years of her life, Pearl lived in Florida. Yes, Disney World was an hour away, but she eventually grew tired of the heat and humidity, so she left. She spent her years in undergrad in Chicago and a perpetual state of distaste. It turned out her initial plan of double majoring in music production and fashion design was not the smartest idea, and she didn’t want to be in the far too windy city more than she needed to. She had to drop one or nix them both.

After eight semesters, she finally got that music degree. However, there was always a catch to getting a degree you love: the lack of money. For two years out of school, she worked two part time jobs and neither of them were enough to cover rent. Despite the friends she had made and the reputation she had procured, she was getting pretty tired of the wind amid everything else.

Pearl then did the least logical option: start grad school in New York City.

It was decent enough. Living in Manhattan wasn’t terrible; she moved in with an old friend from high school and they shared rent. She had a good idea for her dissertation and she spent quality time with John Coltrane and library books, studying a potential pipeline between his music and how it has influenced modern pop culture. All of her notes, reference, feedback, and potential sentence starters were nudged away in a practical notebook, as her professor was a traditional sort of fellow. Things were going quite swell until she went home one day and realized that it wasn’t in her bag.

She was stuck in the art museum for that exact reason. She didn’t leave it there, but the platinum blonde received an email from a stranger who claimed to have found it. Instead of somewhere convenient like a library or a Starbucks, they requested they meet on the fifth floor of the museum in front of The Starry Night. If she had to stare at Van Gogh any longer, she might have just pulled her ponytail out of her head.

“You must be Pearl?”

She turned around to find another girl who was about a head taller than her. She had a mole on the right side of her face and icy blue eyes. There were two more things that Pearl had noticed about the younger looking woman. Her voice had a soothing affectation, like she had stepped off the set of an old movie or she came from overseas. It showed in her visage too. She was quite pale and her hair fit well with the silent era, if Pearl could put her thoughts kindly. “So, I guess you have my book? Miss…”

“Max,” The grey-haired lady nodded her head and shuffled some of the loose papers back into the book, “Max Malanaphy. You know I had been greatly anticipating returning this. I wanted to return it to you as soon as possible.”

“Well, my question is why didn’t you say your name, or phone number, or any distinguishing marks in that email? That would have made things a lot easier?” Pearl asked with a twinge of annoyance.

“I am terribly sorry about that. I was just too caught up writing that it just slipped my mind!” Max awkwardly chuckled. “I’ve also been fascinated by your writing style and-”

“You read my notes?””

“Yes. As I was saying I enjoyed your writing style, and it’s a fascinating topic. I’ve never listened to much Coltrane, but now I want to. I bet your professor is going to love this!“

Pearl was about to say something about an invasion of privacy, but stopped herself. Max’s heart was in the right place, albeit her methodology was unconventional. There wasn’t any ill will behind her snooping. Despite her appearance, there was definitely something sprightly and charming about the other woman "God, I sure hope he does. I’ve got to have this on his desk in a few hours.”

“Then, I guess I should leave?”

“No-no-no-no-no…” Pearl grabbed Max’s hand as she was about to leave, “I have time to kill. Wanna maybe… grab some coffee?”

The taller woman nodded her head and smiled. Pearl couldn’t help but mirror her face and hope she was single.

#rpdr fanfiction #pearlax #pearl liaison #max malanaphy #lost and found #puppy #college au #lesbian au #fluff #back to school 2020 #day 1: notebook #submission

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atypicalbipolar · 3 years

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Questions about the psych ward you’re afraid to ask

I was inpatient at three different hospitals in the Boston area between 2017 and 2018. Newton Wellesley Hospital (NWH) January 2017, McLean June 2018 and Mass General Hospital (MGH) twice September 2017 and November 2018

What about my phone? In January 2017 NWH did not allow cell phones. I went to the ER (at my hospital, MGH) with my mom in crisis. She had my phone, and kept it with her when they decided to admit me and send me to NWH. If you ended up on this unit with your phone they collected it with your valuables and handed them over to security for the duration of your stay. There were two computers in the OT room that we were allowed to use when the room was staffed. (So beware of logging into sites you had two factor authentication set up for new computers)

The other two places allowed phones with restrictions. At MGH the nurses kept our chargers locked in the laundry closet, all together. I still have my medical id sticker on my charger. If I remember correctly you had to surrender your phone at night. At McLean they supplied their own bank of chargers out in the common areas. We needed to be up and out of bed for vitals before we could use our phones.

You’re encouraged to not be on your phone so much, as you’re there for treatment. It’s hard to strike a balance because I did want to stay on social media, but I didn’t want to say anything about being in the hospital. The first stay at NWH was actually helpful for me as a detox. I do use my phone too much and being psychotic and on social media is not a good mix for me.

What do I wear? I wore my clothes in each unit. But each place had different expectations. At MGH it was perfectly acceptable for you to spend the day in your hospital PJs as long as you kept your hygiene. I hated those PJs, they were too warm and ill fitting so I wore my own clothes during the day.

NWH had an expectation that you were dressed in your own clothes. I remember they had a washer and dryer and staff would assist with laundry. What's important to know is that everything you bring in is screened for contraband and unsafe items. You can't wear clothing with drawstrings and that includes shoelaces. A lot of my sweatpants and hoodies had drawstrings. For one pair of sweats I let them cut the drawstring because I really wanted to wear it.

This is one of the reasons why it's helpful to have family or friends have access to where you live so you can get some creature comforts. And when I heard the laundry machine wasn't the cleanest at MGH I just cycled a few days of clothes with mom.

Do they feed you? Yes and it's hospital food. That means at both NWH and MGH I was given a menu to order each day, like any other patient there. There was also a fridge/cabinet area off the common room for snacks and drinks. Instead at McLean Sodexo had a contract to provide food. There was no menu as they brought meals to the dining room. You didn't have a choice in food but if you had your phone and cash you could call for delivery. There were binders of menus by the entryway. But as someone who has to keep an eye out for crohn's food triggers I did not enjoy having less control over my food.

Where do I sleep? The number of patients on the floor is based on the beds they have. At NWH I had a roommate and we had a room big enough for drawers/shelves, chairs, but shared a desk. We had our own bathroom, but had to be let into a common shower by staff. The unit was pretty old and claustrophobic and the plumbing and heating proved that. At McLean it was similar, except there were common floor bathrooms and showers.

MGH had real adjustable hospital beds and bathrooms with showers attached. Staff will still do their 15 minute checks and will knock on your bathroom door.

Checks? Staff must visually count you every 15 minutes. The person who is assigned that role will usually have a clipboard or list to check everyone off. At night it means opening your room’s door and visually spotting that you’re in bed, alive. After the first couple nights you usually can ignore it.

If you are having a hard time and dealing with suicidal ideation, or intrusive thoughts, you should let staff know. They may put you on a 5 minute list, meaning you’ll see them around more often.

What do I do? You’ll be assigned a care time to work on a treatment plan. Usually a psychiatrist and nurse will meet with you each morning, sometimes there’s more people like a social worker on your team as well. Whatever brought you to the hospital will be worked on, with the goal to stabilize you. That is their priority. In the meantime between rounds, meds, and meals there are groups scheduled. What’s available depends on the unit you’re in. There could be morning and evening check-ins where you just talk about the day as a group. Could be light exercise or yoga groups. Pet therapy and music therapy break up the day but it's all dependent on staffing levels. The pets are handled by volunteers for example when I saw them at MGH.

Back when I was at NWH I remember there were a lot of groups. From right after breakfast until post dinner check out. At MGH there were far fewer. The big difference was MGH’s visitor policy so the evenings were a lot more open. At NWH there was only a certain time in the evening that family and friends could visit during the week. And yes you’re expected to go to groups. Staff keeps track, and notes will go into your file. It will help, if not right now, then later when your care team sees good progress notes in your file. Even if you’re not into it, it’s a way to pass time and stay out of your room.

Weekends are quiet, sometimes to the point of utter boredom. There’s less activity and you will often just see the doctor on call instead of your assigned team. Depending on staff coverage there might be some structured activity, like open art block but not nearly as much as during the week. They emphasize visitor time.

Can I go outside? Depends on how the unit is set up and staffing. McLean is on a campus and I was there in June so I was lucky to go outside. There was a level of privilege - staff needs to know you're stable enough to go out. NWH had a little enclosed outdoor space that staff worked hard to clear ice from. I was so glad to get out. But unfortunately you can't go outside if you stay at MGH. There's not enough staffing or much of a protocol. Besides, the closest outdoor space to Blake 11 is right at the front entrance where cars do drop off.

What are rounds? All three of the hospitals are teaching hospitals meaning they’re affiliated with a medical school. I didn’t just see a psychiatrist. At the bare minimum I also saw a resident, a doctor who is in training and has picked psychiatry as their specialty. I remember a couple days the doctor let the resident interview me. I am pretty relaxed when it comes to teaching hospitals as I’ve only ever gone to MGH. But they have to ask you for permission. They want you to be involved in your treatment plan and give consent. If you're not comfortable having more bodies in the room then necessary you should speak up. And if you talk to your assigned nurse for the shift they will relay a message to the doctor.

What’s a shift? The floor has to be staffed 24 hours. There are different coverage levels for each shift. Night is the lightest for example as everyone is supposed to be asleep or in their rooms and quiet. Day shift is the busiest, with people running various groups as well as rounds happening. I remember NWH had 3 8 hour shift rotation and MGH had 2 12 hour shift rotation. I remember when I first went to MGH I was so confused because everything was different from NWH. They even called their non nursing staff different terms, probably because of the job requirements.

How long do I stay? Everyone’s treatment plan is different. For example someone who arrived after you may leave before you do. Generally your care team will try to figure out what’s going on and a game plan when you meet them for the first time. I’ve stayed about a week, maybe a little more depending on the stay. I stayed longer at NWH, but it was my first admission and I had a psychotic break while on steroids so it was more complicated. And my last stay at MGH was longer because we were doing a major treatment change, and rediagnosis. I woke up on the unit at MGH again and asked for a sleep study, but the attending had looked through my file of all the other admissions and diagnosed me as bipolar. I switched over to lithium which needed to be monitored and increased slowly.

What's next? For me I went to partial after I was discharged. I remembered as a teen when I was diagnosed with Depression I went to partial after being in the hospital. I found it's helpful to ease the transition. You might have only been hospitalized for a few days but it's a completely different routine. It's like going from 0 miles per hour back to 60 very quickly. Partial is a therapy program set up with structured groups during the day but you sleep at home and commute.

Tips

It is easier staying in the hospital when you can have visitors, especially someone who can bring you things. It is easier to have your phone to coordinate visitors.

Unless your psychiatrist and you agree to prearrange an admission, you will most likely be coming from the ER. Two times of the four I was put into an ambulance and sent to another hospital. The other two times I was sent upstairs to MGH’s unit on Blake 11.

Odds are there is no air conditioning. Don't expect any windows that can open either. Sometimes the temperature in the unit really varies, so you might want to wear layers.

You do not need to make friends. It does help to pass the time if you can talk to people, and you may feel less alone. If there's issues with your roommate you can ask staff for help.

Figure out when the meals should be delivered so you're ready. Sometimes they are late or they forget your tray. Try to be nice no matter what. I've never gotten warm food that was too cold for me but I've heard staff offer to nuke it in the microwave.

If you're at a teaching hospital be prepared for students to visit as well. I saw many nursing students at MGH. I would chat then up. It's a change of pace. I remember a medical student was on my care team and gave me psychological testing.

#psych hospital #Boston #Depression #bipolar #hospitalization

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ohshitmomitsawritingblog · 4 years

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Intelligent child ;; Tomoko Fujimoto

We’re gonna kick this off by introducing today’s birthday girl, Tomoko!

That’s right, Tomoko is born on April Fool’s day! Why? Because her life is a JOKE! Haha! But in all seriousness, this is the first of the few OCs I’ll introduce to you guys, if you enjoy these kinds of posts! I’m a little nervous about sharing these characters with you all, but I love creating unique, interesting characters and I love seeing unique, interesting characters, so I thought I’d share mine! I’ll be sharing basic character information, but if you guys ever want to send in asks about these characters, I’d be very happy to answer any questions. As always, thank you for reading my work and supporting my blog! Now without further ado, Tomoko:

Personality

THIS BITCH IS ARIES AS SHIT!!! I’m only partially kidding. Tomoko is a self motivated, Type A personality to the nth degree. The type of ‘used to be in the gifted program and she hasn’t lost her edge but she has a sense of humor now’. She’s assertive, often taking the lead in group projects, and is observant and considerate of people’s strengths and weaknesses. She’s practical, sweet, and is typically willing to help out. Very girl scout, in energy. Like, Tomoko ain’t no pushover, but she’s not a bitch without a reason, and is in fact very warm, a little silly and affectionate with most friends or people she’s close to. Can she be a bitch though? You bet. And she loves it. Tomoko often talks people into a corner, and has a bad habit of assuming things, or assuming that people should be able to tell what bothers her.

She jumps to confrontation easily, and while she’s not one for physical fights, typically she internalizes a lot of her issues until she explodes or antagonizes the people she has a problem with. She’s also convinced she has to do everything herself, and has, generally, a very, very hard time truly trusting people. She can be a bit melancholy, and often overthinks problems to death. It makes her great for managerial positions, but life isn’t about managing people, lol. She feels a deep need to be perfect, and this fuels her already competitive nature. any game with any kind of point system? All’s fair in love and war.

History

o know the history of Tomoko Fujimoto is to step back one generation, in the Village Hidden in the Mist. Tomoko’s mother, Aoi Fujimoto, is the sole survivor of a brutal massacre that befell her clan during one of Kirigakure’s many internal skirmishes. Their name is scrubbed from all official records, and little is known about them other than they were in possession of a truly unique bloodline limit, and that they were a reclusive and unfriendly people. Aoi, for her part, spent much of her young life a trophy passed around from one clan to the next, valued for her blood but never respected, and never allowed much freedom. That is until she fell hard and fast for the son of a small time Yakuza leader, and together they ran off, never staying in one place for long, but always doing as they liked. Robbing, gambling, drinking, nothing was off limits for these two. That is, until Aoi became pregnant, and she and her lover-turned-shotgun husband settled down in a secluded area in Fire Country, buying a small onsen with what little money they could scrape together, and trying to achieve some sense of normalcy. Aoi gave birth to Tomoko, and while business was never exactly booming and Tomoko lived a life of isolation from other children, things were okay enough. Aoi’s husband, Tomoko’s father, could never quite adjust to onsen life and was a poor father, to put it lightly. Strict, demanding, and violent, Tomoko and her father had an incredibly turbulent relationship. Tomoko grew close with her maternal grandfather, who came to stay with the family under vague, foggy circumstances, and the old man taught her basic martial arts and taijutsu.

After his death - a possible suicide - at age twelve, Tomoko had to work hard to maintain the onsen and care for her mother, whose life of chaos and violence caught up to her after her husband’s death in the form of a year of not leaving her room, and often sleeping for hours at a time. While other children started trade careers or continued their schooling, Tomoko learned the ins and outs of the hospitality trade, and over the years learned how to manage, schedule, pay, and control the somewhat unruly staff of the onsen. Cut to Tomoko, seventeen, overworked, underpaid, feuding with a mother who suddenly wants to take back control of her business, and ultimately, very lonely.

Either she meets Sasuke Uchiha just before the Fourth Great Ninja War, and while the two pass each other like ships in the night, they do, vaguely remember each other when they meet again, Sasuke with only one arm and a world of sadness on his back. Tomoko travels the world with Sasuke, and while neither were looking for romance, they slowly but surely find in each other the understanding and companionship they mutually craved for so, so long. Tomoko eventually marries Sasuke, and they have several children. In this alternative, Tomoko is less prickly, generally happier, and she and Sasuke have a much easier time, ironically, navigating the pitfalls of marriage than their peers. They’re an intensely private couple with a very tight, united front. To an outsider, they probably seem cold - until Sasuke runs his fingers over his wife’s elbow, and she, almost unconsciously, leans against his side. There’s a certain understanding between the two that’s almost creepy, but they also talk often, or write to one another. Tomoko is the Uchiha matron, and is a thorn in the council’s side. Radically political PTA mom vibes.

Alternatively, she meets Gaara of the Desert, days after the Fourth Great Ninja War’s end, and they two become odd, fast friends. They both share a love of literature, and Tomoko’s airy nature and the ease in which she fills the silence for both of them warms Gaara to her. They write to one another often, and one often visited the other in the intermediate years that blended into ‘courting’ and ‘we’re just penpals’. One anguished confession after a failed arranged marriage on Gaara’s end of things, and Tomoko and Gaara married at age twenty-two, which for ninjas, as we all know, is absolutely old as balls. Tomoko doesn’t take well to her position as Lady Kazekage, despite her and Gaara’s generally happy marriage. The council disliked the idea of a foreigner marrying into the Kazekage clan, and made a bit of a game out of making their new Lady’s life as difficult as possible. Between this, Tomoko and Gaara’s personal struggles in having children, being unable to communicate or understand the other well, and the onset of until-then-simmering mental illness brought on by the prolonged stress of being a public figure, the couples marriage was .... rocky. Yes i love this ship. Yes they go to therapy. Yes she (eventually) loves Shinki more than she loves 99% of everything else in her life.

In both of these Alternative Futures, Tomoko becomes an author, writing prose horror novels and poetry compilations.

Stats/Fun Facts

- Tomoko has PTSD, and later in her life suffers from chronic pain due to several broken bones that never quite healed right in her youth.

- Tomoko is a civilian with some martial arts training, but she doesn’t know how to perform ninjutsu or genjutsu, and has largely been insulated from the ninja world growing up.

- Actually has huge difficulty in achieving chakra control, and later comes to find out that she has a rare genetic disorder that disrupts the flow of chakra in her body. This is why, in conjunction with her PTSD, Tomoko struggles with her lethargy later in life. It’s slightly corrected with acupuncture, and if it had been caught at an earlier age, Tomoko would’ve been much better off, if not completely healthy.

- This bitch TALL at 6′2 ft. Yes the pink hair is natural. The boobs are too.

- Likes going on random, meandering walks. Hiking is her favorite hobby after writing.

- Her mom gushes over and adores either of her husbands. Sasuke or Gaara gets a MILF in law who hugs and kisses them every time they visit and that’s facts.

- as Lady Kazekage, her fashion sense drifts from kimonos and casual dresses to ... sexier waters. A council member made a comment over her clothing choices one too many times and now Tomoko wears floor length dresses for hot bitches and hot bitches only.

LIKES: Hikes, pomegranates, cooking, making lists, writing, winter

DISLIKES: Clutter, whining, apricots, folding laundry, anywhere with high humidity

below are some messy sketches of the girl, the gal, the main squeeze

#mod talks #oc tag #my oc tag #any resemblances to another pink haired aries is unintentional i SWEAR

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meta-squash · 4 years

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[Old Manics meta repost, originally written in 2015 or 2016. I was definitely in a....place....when I wrote this.]

Cue yet another long convoluted rambling strange post about Richey Edwards and Theodor Adorno. For some reason this has been rolling around in my head as half-formed thoughts for a while. They’re definitely still half-formed, but I wanted to get them out of my head and into something slightly more sentence-like.

[Uhh, TW for weird logic, ED-style thinking, and convoluted ill-formed ideas.]

In one of Richey’s manifestos to a zine in December 1992, he writes “THE GODS THOUGHT THERE IS NO MORE DREADFUL PUNISHMENT THAN FUTILE AND HOPELESS LABOUR. GROW UP, GET FUCKED, WITHER. NO ONE IN THIS COUNTRY KNOW HUNGER, TRUE HUNGER LIKE SOMALIA. EVERYONE HAS CLOTHES, FOOD, A DRINK. EVERYONE IS LAST, PATHETIC WRETCHED. THE ONLY FREEDOM LEFT IS THE FREEDOM TO STARVE. FILL YOUR HOME WITH ANYTHING YOU LIKE BUT YOU CAN’T INVENT ANOTHER COLOUR…” The “freedom to starve” quote keeps being attributed to him on the internet, or to Tom Morello, lead singer of Rage Against The Machine, who has a different but similar quote about capitalism and labor exploitation that includes the phrase. (It also appears in the comic V For Vendetta, apparently.) But the phrase didn’t originate with them. I keep seeing repeated uses of it when reading essays by Theodor Adorno from the 60s, and I’m sure the phrase is probably older than that. Morello’s quote containing the phrase is essentially summarizing one of Adorno’s ideas.

So far I’ve come across the phrase in two of Theodor Adorno’s essays. One is in “Freedom In Unfreedom”. In essence, it discusses the paradox of the idea of freedom in our current society. He essentially says that people no longer have a specific concept in mind when they invoke the word “freedom,” and that the nature of present society means that whatever concept of freedom we come up with is not possible because it contradicts current circumstances. He gives the example of early Nazi Germany, when an social-democratic organization took up “Freedom” as its slogan, but the concept and the term had lost its power entirely because employment was incredibly low, and people were struggling, so upholding freedom as a conceptual principle which implies self-determination looked foolish because in practice no one is free and everyone is unemployed and starving and unable to access food/wellbeing and therefore unable to practice self-determination. He says “In other words, freedom was exposed as the freedom to starve; people had direct experience of their dependence on society, a dependence that made a mockery of a freedom that was defined in purely formal terms.”

The other Adorno essay that uses the phrase is “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception”. Basically, in the section that uses the phrase he discusses the way that the culture industry (or mass culture) exploits and uses artists by homogenizing them. He says “anyone who resists can only survive by fitting in.” Freedom is supposedly given to each individual (in society, in art, in expression, in culture, in the workplace) but if a person doesn’t inherit the ability or resources to succeed in life, then this freedom becomes the “freedom of the stupid to starve”. People who aren’t able to adapt to society’s expectations/who question or refuse to conform are neglected and made to starve, literally or metaphorically. The blame is placed on them for their inability/unwillingness to adapt or conform, because they were “given” the opportunity to succeed (despite that opportunity requiring conformity, or changing their nature, or giving up morals, etc). So a person who is unable or refuses to conform to society and culture and the working class, who goes hungry or cold (literally or metaphorically), is an labelled outsider. They retain their integrity, or their morals, or their original artistic vision, but they suffer through loss of wealth, or faith, or by being rejected and called an outsider and being mocked or no longer listened to. They are free, but at a price.

Applying this to Richey, I thought it was interesting that he seemed to be taking freedom to starve both literally and figuratively. “Freedom to starve” becomes a refusal to consume in certain ways, ascetism, essentially. It becomes a literal or physical manifestation of the neglect that occurs when a person refuses to conform to society’s expectations. It becomes Richey refusing to conform to society’s expectations of food consumption while also refusing to conform to musical and artistic standards by creating The Holy Bible and specifically pointing out the wrongs of society. The band having complete control over the album, hiding in their studio and working together without any outside influence pushes against the expectation of producers/managers/sound engineers/labels/etc having partial influence or control over the sound of a band’s music. Richey’s inability to adapt mentally to fame, to touring, to the stress of schedule, etc etc also is a sort of manifestation of that “freedom of the stupid to starve”, in that he was unable to properly adapt to what was expected of him in terms of fame and touring, and he was blamed for it and seen as strange for disliking aspects of fame.

This is where I get into some interesting, if problematic, ideas. Richey seemed to kind of take the idea to another level through his eating disorder. Freedom to starve/freedom of restriction essentially becomes true freedom because it takes back control of body mind and spirit. Richey sort of talked about this in an interview with Simon Price in 94 in France. He mentioned that people can’t hold you down and force you to eat/watch you all the time, and that your body is your own and you should have a right to do with it what you want. Essentially, self mutilation/self harm/restriction becomes a mode of self-control, a reclamation of the body from expectations of society. Society expects excess and encourages/wants consumption. In creating consumption, the culture industry takes control of the mind and the body by telling consumers what they want even if they didn’t originally desire it, saying it over and over and continually producing under consumers are convinced that they do want whatever they are being given. Self-mutilation, restriction and ascetism removes that and reclaims the body as owned by itself and its mind. It puts control back into the awareness of the self and the body and the mind, which forces the self to be aware of the influence of culture industry. This awareness allows the self to refuse that influence, the refusal of which includes those actions or decisions that go against the expectations or desires or encouragements of society. It also confronts the fact that society sees certain types of expressions of emotion/mental state as “wrong” or maladaptive and those who express themselves a certain way are marked as outsiders. Repression and restriction and stoicism becomes revenge for society marking you as outsider for expressing rage at unfreedom/expressing emotions that are seen as maladaptive. Self-harm or starvation becomes a reclamation of the mind and the emotions, and increasing of that maladaptive expression in order to basically reject society’s expectations altogether. Richey essentially says that when talking about his time in hospital; self-harm or self-restriction takes back control of body and mind from expectations of doctors and society – they can’t hold you down and force food down your throat, someone can’t be with you 24 hours a day, it’s my body I do what I want with it.

The height of this could be disappearance/death: refusal to participate “correctly” in society, refusal to “be” in society in the expected way. A rejection of literally all things. James Bradfield notes that a major theme in Journal For Plague Lovers is a rejection of experience, a rejection of expected lyrical formats, and a rejection of some sort of answer or truth. A realization that nothing seems to be working. A refusal to continue to consume or participate correctly or to express consumption or participation correctly, especially in that the meanings or messages of most of the songs are completely obscured through unconnected phrases or disparate references that take research to decipher. The idea is sort of expressed in individual songs from the album as well. All Is Vanity asks questions of vanity extremes vs personal neglect – which one is refusal to participate correctly? Are they both refusal? Are they the same? Inability to adapt correctly compared to what is expected/right vs what you are doing and how your actions are called into question as incorrect. Discipline is respected, but certain types of discipline are seen as different/maladapted compared to the expectations of society or the culture industry, which allows for the question of which type of discipline is “wrong” or “right” and does it depend on perspective? Excesses are lauded in the culture industry, consumption is encouraged, as is vanity and obsession with the self, and ascetism or restriction and neglect of the self is seen as wrong. But extreme excess of consumption is also frowned upon or mocked. Society encourages a certain amount of excess and consumption in order to control and delude. In encourages and creates consumption so that the consumer doesn’t stop and thinking about how they are being made to overwork and overconsume in ways they probably didn’t originally want to be doing but have been convinced into by society. Refusal of consumption/vocal awareness of participation in consumption becomes maladaptive because it’s not what society wants, which is exactly the kinds of words and things the band was expressing.

And the idea of disappearance or death takes all of this to the highest level, in that disappearance rejects society’s expectations entirely, refusing to participate in society in a “correct” way. It is also expressing whatever sort of emotions or thoughts a person might have in a way that creates an absence (metaphorical and literally) rather than yet another thing to be consumed. Disappearance when a person is still living is a complete reclamation of the body and self because the person essentially is able to drop out of society as themselves, and even if they assume a different identity, they are still inherently refusing to participate in an expected way, still creating an absence of a person and an absence of an identity, and in using a false identity that refusal becomes even more complex. Death, too, and specifically suicide, is a refusal to participate in society, but in a much more final way. Suicide is yet another reclamation of the body, since it is by one’s own hand and willpower that one’s life is taken, not through illness or another person or old age. It creates a different kind of absence, since often a suicide, since there is a body and often a note, gives answers or at least there is a physical proof of refusal and a physical proof of that person’s death. A suicide creates a narrative with finality, with refusal as the finality and therefore certain aspects of absence are filled in with the assumptions that come with suicide and death in general. A disappearance has a narrative with an ellipses rather than a full stop, and because it is left open, the absence and refusal are left with unanswered questions, reasons, and unspoken ideas, specifically because it is a kind of refusal to participate that is completely unexpected and cannot be explained with a body or a note.

I don’t really have a conclusion to these thoughts or any sort of cumulative idea or whatever. I just was thinking about the phrase “the only freedom left is the freedom to starve” and what it meant in relation to Richey when Adorno is applied.

#manic street preachers #manic street preachers meta #old meta repost #from 2016

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 4 years

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‘The Absent Father and Spider-Man’s Unfulfilled Potential’: Rebuttal Part 1: Introduction

Master Post

Back in 2012 I read a very interesting book called ‘Webslinger: Unauthorized Essays on your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’.

As the title suggests it was an anthology book made up of several different essays about Spidey (and edited by Gerry Conway himself).

The essays are an interesting read, though there are questionable points made and some inaccuracies.

Today though I’d like to debunk some points made in the essay titled ‘The Absent Father and Spider-Man’s Unfulfilled Potential’.

The reason for my desire to debunk parts of this essay is partially due to my inherent instinct to debunk problematic or misinformed stuff surrounding Spider-Man generally. However it’s also partially due to the author, J.R. Fettinger.

Fettinger is the creator and author of the essays found on ‘Spideykicksbutt.com’ and a regular panellist on the Spider-Man Crawlspace podcast. I respect both and the content they provide though there have been times I’ve disagreed with both and other times where quite frankly I think they’ve put forward statements that are outright wrong.

Fettinger and his work was the inspiration to an extent for me even choosing to write so much about Spider-Man, helped bring me back into fandom and his work helped me reconcile some things that I had felt made me an uninformed minority within fandom.

However, there have been times, more and more as the years move forward, wherein my eyes have narrowed at Fettinger’s statements regarding Spider-Man.

He once said something to the effect of ‘alcoholics are just stupid people doing stupid things through no fault but their own’.

He has repeatedly attested that it is morally wrong for Spider-Man and Batman to not simply murder characters like Joker or Carnage.

He has said that Otto’s actions towards Peter in Superior Spider-Man render him the worst enemy Peter has. This is in spite of him being a huge Norman Osborn fan.

He has essentially stated criminal killers like Shriek or Vermin (who suffer from severe mental disorders) deserve no sympathy.

He has said Kraven’s Last Hunt was flawed (to put it more delicately than he did) because Peter ‘never settled his score’ with Kraven.

He has even said that whenever DeMatteis gets into the psychological aspects of the characters he ‘goes off the deep-end’.

These views are most especially chronicled in his on-going segment of the podcast ‘Spider-History’ wherein he takes a month’s worth of (usually 616 Peter Parker) Spider-Man comics from a bygone month decades ago, recaps them and analyses the stories.

However, what is so frustrating to me about these segments as time has gone by is that Fettinger is overly critical and incredibly cynical. He has put forward his opinions as fact with little analysis or consideration of an alternative point of view.

To be blunt with relatively few exceptions he surmises each month in this section as mediocre-bad unless it contained something by Marv Wolfman or Roger Stern, two of his personal favourite runs.

Even then he puts across reductive summaries of the events of the book, in particular phrasing things to make certain characters (like Spider-Man himself) come across as worse than they actually are in the stories in question.

This is particularly a problem in my view because Fettinger’s status as a long read, knowledgeable and analytical fan confers onto him a certain degree of authority in regards to his statements about Spider-Man.

And you know what? It should.

He really does know A LOT about Spider-Man and he has made some incredible assessments about stories and characters related to the wall-crawler.

I cannot recommend you check out his website Spideykicksbutt enough.

But here is the thing...I do not advocate blind trust in his word, or anyone’s for that matter. Not even my own. I know A LOT about Spider-Man but I’m far from infallible.

Think for yourselves, do your own research, present your own arguments and counterpoints.

It’s what I do and why Fettinger frustrates me. Because he’s so belligerent to changing his views, most of which are adamantly cynical and judgemental.

Some people I’ve spoken to about this attribute this to his age. Most of his writing and podcast work has been produced when he was in his 40s or 50s.

It is often said that everyone becomes more cynical, grumpier and more stuck in their ways as they age.

I disagree with that in so far as not everyone becomes like that. And 40-60 is not a point when you are ‘done’ becoming who you are going to be and beyond changing.

It is the prerogative of old men to speak their minds but the WISE men are not adverse to changing them.

This is the root of my problems with Fettinger and his cynicism. Not to mention, I find cynicism simply lazy and foolish under most circumstances. Much as I find Fettinger’s ‘kill all criminals’ mentality to crime to be lazy and foolish.

These thoughts struck me when I re-read his essay from Webslinger. I read the essay upon first discovering his work but I apparently have changed in 6 years as I find much of it ill-considered, cynical, judgemental and problem riddled.

Hence my desire now to debunk it.

The gist of the essay is Fettinger talking about how Spider-Man has lots of unfulfilled potential and attributing this to the loss of his father figure Uncle Ben. He goes on to list off different father figures Peter has had and what the end result of their roles in his life might have been. For context this was written around the time of Civil War 2006.

My first and probably biggest bone of contention lies in how Fettinger frames Peter’s ‘unfulfilled potential’.

It’s here where you start to see his overly cynical and judgemental side.

I will not quote him word for word here because it’d take too long. But early on he writes that Spider-Man’s powers come at the price of his happiness, peace of mind and the normalcy that we all take for granted.

This is partially true but still misinformed.

Peter’s mind is most definitely not peaceful most of the time and his life not normal. But there is that key phrase ‘most of the time’. Not all of the time.

Even during his career Peter has had several moments of grace. Most of the stories transpiring in the immediate aftermath of Mary Jane’s return to his life in ASM v2 #50 come to mind issue #51 even calls out that nothing bad has really happened to get in the way of Peter and MJ’s reconciliation.

This oversight is particularly egregious since that period had only been a few years before the writing of this essay.

But it’s not as egregious as the other thing Fettinger said. That being Spider-Man has cost Peter his happiness.

Er....no.

There have been many things that have made Peter unhappy in the course of his superhero career but as ASM #500 clearly confirmed for us Peter, in spite of all that, is ultimately happy. Which was a big deal as Peter had just relived all his old battles at once.

The omission of ASM #500’s ending is telling because Fettinger actively dislikes the story and the scene with Uncle Ben particularly. He’s labelled it as ‘banal’ and essentially said if he could talk with his own deceased father the conversation would’ve gone very differently. Problem is the the story was not about him and his family but about Spider-Man and HIS family!

Fettinger then asks if when Peter dies he’d be labelled as someone who fell short of his potential. He illustrates the point by comparing 15 year old Spider-Man to adult Spider-Man circa 2006.

He claims Peter made few adjustments to his fighting skills. Not true. The older Spider-Man beyond the Silver Age did in fact adjust some of his fighting skills, noticeably in regards to ramping up his speed during combat.

He also took martial arts lessons from Captain America in FNSM v1 #1, putting the techniques he learned from that into practice in the very same issue. That issue was published just a year before Fettinger’s essay by the way.

Granted these do not seem particularly significant.

But let’s flip the script a little bit. Let us presume Fettinger to be correct, Spider-Man between 1962-2006 had never evolved his fighting style significantly.

Is that really an example of Peter doing himself a disservice, of not fulfilling his full potential...or is it that the fighting style he had was not only adequate for the life he lived but in fact optimum?

Spider-Man after all has an incredibly effective and sophisticated fighting style. It is impossible to truly replicate by anyone exempting those of similar powersets to himself.

His immense strength allows him to plant himself on the ground and exchange simple punches, kicks, etc. with a lot of power behind them.

But with more room to manoeuvre his speed, wall crawling, web-slinging and agility allows him to augment that raw power to deliver a lot of hits in a short space of time from a near 360 degree axis. See his battle with Firelord above)for proof of this.

His webs can be used concussively, to distract, to incapacitate and can even act as a defensive shield.

(I know the Spider-Girl image isn’t 616 but it might as well be if you know the contex behind the story)

And then there is his ace in the hole, the Spider Sense. This ability is linked to his reflexes and intuitively enables him to know an attack is coming. It almost automatically makes him adjust his movements accordingly in conjunction with his immense reaction speed and agility.

This fighting style had been enabling him to defeat a wide variety of foes across what was then 44 years of published stories.

So was it really that Peter was slacking off in not evolving it? Or was it more that he early on developed something extremely effective that didn’t need any real reinvention?

Moreover isn’t it impressive (rather than a point of condemnation) that Spider-Man essentially figured out the best way to fight with zero instruction or training when he was just a teenager. That’s incredible so it’s far from something to chastise him for simply because he hadn’t radically altered it.

What’s worse is Fettinger claimed that Peter ‘continued’ to rely upon sheer strength, raw intelligence, dumb luck and the stupidity/lack of imagination of his foes to win the day.

Let’s put aside for the moment how Peter has whipped up gadgets or chemicals when needs be.

Let’s also ignore how his foes even upon trying new tricks have more often than not met with defeat anyway.

Let’s also entertain the idea that Peter truly does rely upon his foes stupidity and dumb luck in battle. Let’s do that even though he absolutely doesn’t, he’s very rarely just presumed he can win because a villain is dumb, but he has exploited that fact when presented with it; see 99% of Rhino fights. Hell let’s even ignore how Spider-Man uses his speed, and agility and webbing and spider sense in battle as much as his strength.

What exactly is Spider-Man supposed to rely on besides his sheer strength and raw intelligence?

Fettinger is calling Spidey out for relying upon his raw physical powers and his intelligence.

Like...what is an MMA or boxer supposed to rely on besides their muscle and their mind to strategize before and after a fight?

Fettinger continues to point out that exempting his Iron Spider outfit or his alien costume Peter has continued to rely on his ‘wash n’ wear red and blue pajamas’.

There are two waysto view this statement. Either Fettinger is being critical that Spider-Man has not opted to alter his costume aesthetically ever or else never opted to alter it in terms of being functional. That is to say it’s still just a piece of cheap cloth.

Both arguments are invalid criticisms.

Peter has changed his look more than once throughout the years, noticeably he wore a cloth version of his black suit, used two rubber insulated outfits to fight Electro, made an armoured costume in Web of Spider-Man #100 and used four different costumes when he adopted four new identities for himself, all of which were used for different functions.

The black costume however served no function beyond enhanced stealth and Peter retired it due to him and his wife not liking how it reminded them of Venom, a notorious publically known homicidal maniac.

The Armoured suit was only created with access to ESU’s scientific resources, was destroyed on its first mission and realistically was compromising to Spidey’s fighting skills (hence Slott’s version was redesigned). It was also impractical as it was composed of a new hardened version of Peter’s webbing meaning it was never going to last anyway.

His rubber suits were similarly impractical for continual use and severely damaged during battles with Electro. They could not be worn as casually as his standard suit, realistically would’ve impeded mobility to a certain extent and were designed for one specific foe anyway. In fact Spidey usually ran into Electro by chance or else with limited time to intervene in his crimes. Meaning he’d not have the time to locate the rubber suit anyway. Besides...he usually managed to beat Electro without it anyway. After all rubber gloves would be a fairly effective defence and his webbing was itself an insulator. That was his go to in Electro’s debut in ASM v1 #9 and brought up in New Avengers v1 #4.

True Spider-Man trashed his original rubber suit for seemingly no good reason, but since this so aggressively makes no sense I think it’d be safe to presume Peter’s rationale was that the suit itself was ineffective (it didn’t provide full insulation) and was literally held together by glue. The suit was likely unusable after the battle hence why Spidey trashed it.

The four new identities he created though are the hardest to defend. It really doesn’t make much sense for him to have retired those identities beyond the simple fact that, well...the book is called Spider-Man not Hornet/Ricochet/Dusk/Prodigy. I suppose you could go so far as to say pretending to be other people and not using his web-shooters compromised his fighting abilities as he had to consciously move and talk differently as well as use different weapons and tactics. Also maybe he heard about how well multiple alter egos went for Moon Knight. The costumes were to be fair stolen from him and used by other people meaning he’d have had to come up with entirely new identities for himself and ultimately Peter would prefer being Spider-Man having come to see it (for all it’s burdens) as part of who he is.

So contrary to Fettinger’s criticisms, Peter HAS changed his costume, but from a practical/functional point of view there really is little reason for him to permanently make any changes. Or else when he has done so extenuating factors have compromised his attempts.

Meaning all that’s left is Fettinger’s complaint that Spidey never changed the outward aesthetic. Which is not a legitimate complaint about his ‘unfulfilled’ potential. I’ve kept the same posters in my room for many, many years. It doesn’t mean I’ve failed in my potential. It just means I can’t be bothered to change them/I have grown attached to them.

Fettinger continues his train of thought by talking about how Spider-Man’s webbing and web-shooters have not significantly changed since his early days barring his adoption of organic webbing.

I will give Fettinger some leeway here. He never said the webbing/webshooters have remained totally unchanged, just that they’ve mostly remained unchanged. So stuff like Peter equipping a spider tracer trigger to his web-shooters, sedative stingers, impact webbing, an LED light to tell him when he’s low on ammo and adjusting the design and formula of the webbing over time I am lumping all under ‘mostly not changed’.

Even though objectively by 2006 the web-shooters had changed.

But again why does this demonstrate unfulfilled potential?

Spider-Man’s web-shooters are a brilliant feat of scientific engineering/chemistry and have served him well across the decades.

They didn’t need to be radically re-invented.

True, Ben Reilly found ways to improve upon them which Peter later incorporated. Does this not prove Peter was slacking off, of failing to live up to his potential?

Yes and no.

Yes because there WERE improvements he could have made.

But no because Ben had access to Seward Trainer’s scientific resources, less social responsibilities, a lot more time on his hands and was in many ways far less stressed out. As such he was better able to spend time dreaming up those improvements.

Said improvements by the way equated to wearing the web-shooters on the outside of the wrists, sedative stingers and impact webbing and he had FIVE years to dream all that up.

So you know...hardly him re-inventing the wheel.

The truth is if Peter had been in a similar position to Ben, he would’ve likely dreamed up the same improvements.

But he evidently didn’t need to since the web-shooters worked just fine. Ben himself didn’t spam the stingers or impact webbing during his career as Scarlet Spider or Spider-Man. Nor did Peter in the years after he integrated most of Ben’s adjustments into his own web-shooters.

And he did just fine most of the time.

Any further upgrading to his web-shooters, like the kind we saw in Parker Industries, would’ve required access to resources Peter simply didn’t have.

Fettinger continues that Peter’s relationship with the public he serves is tenuous at best.

Again, this is not an example of unfulfilled potential. This is the result of Spider-Man’s reputation being slandered by Jameson and the wider press getting in on the act. This was proven in ASM v2 #39 wherein Aunt May, decades after Spidey began his heroic career, attempted to find a newspaper that didn’t have a negative bias towards her nephew and struggled to do so.

In New Avengers v1 #15 the Avengers attempt to win Jameson over due to Spider-Man’s involvement with the team only for him to turn on the team collectively.

Combine that with:

a) The numerous times Spider-Man has been framed for crimes he was guiltless of

b) The instances where he was deliberately painted in a negative light, such as when he assaulted a seemingly innocent Norman Osborn in Spectacular Spider-Man #250

And it was summarily not Spider-Man’s fault that in his 15 year history his public relations had never been great. Nor was it a negative reflection upon him that he’d been unable to improve them in that time

The public have been fed a particularly strong and buzz worthy narrative for so long that it’d be difficult for him to ever rehabilitate his public reputation without working for the authorities legitimately, being pardoned for any real/perceived crimes he’s been accused of and unmasking publically. Even then it’d be no guarantee.

Not to mention (though Fettinger could be forgiven for not taking this into account from a 2006 perspective) in the world we live in today it’s sadly apparent that news stories about how bad things are simply sell much more than stories about something positive.

Fettinger continues to say that in spite of Spider-Man’s dalliances with team membership his stubborn independence and feelings of inadequacies ensure he remains a loner and at times a fugitive with many heroes regarding him as poorly as the villains he fights.

This for me was possibly the greatest ‘what the fuck’ moment in this essay.

Stubborn independence. Okay, maybe? Although the message of his role in the then current ‘Civil War’ storyline was that surrendering his independence was a bad thing! By unmasking, surrendering some of his independence to Iron Man and working for the government Peter found himself in an inevitable position. He was trapped from doing the most good by a corrupt system. A system that was actively demanding he help do bad things by rounding up fellow heroes and removing their civil liberties. And in the process he made his friends, family, colleagues, students and general acquaintances targets!

Fettinger didn’t know this at the time, but in truth when you follow the chain of events, joining the Avengers is what led to One More Day.

If Peter hadn’t joined the Avengers and let them know his identity, Charlie Wiederman wouldn’t have gotten approval for his experiments from Iron Man.

If he hadn’t performed his experiments he’d have never become a freak.

If he hadn’t become a freak he wouldn’t have eventually burned down the Parkers’ homes.

If they hadn’t been homeless Iron Man wouldn’t have offered them Avengers HQ to stay at.

If they hadn’t been living there Tony wouldn’t have taken Peter under his wing.

If Tony hadn’t done that, if the Parkers weren’t beholden to him for the roof over their heads and if Tony didn’t know who Peter was, there’d have never been an issue about Peter unmasking publicly in support of the Super Human Registration Act.

If Peter hadn’t unmasked publicly Kingpin wouldn’t have put a hit out on his family.

If Kingpin hadn’t put the hit out Aunt May would never have been critically injured.

If Aunt May hadn’t been critically injured there’d have been no need for a deal with Mephisto to save her life.

Joining a team led to one of Spider-Man’s darkest hours and ultimately his greatest defeat.

So you know…maybe there is something to be said for ‘stubborn independence’.

Moving on…feelings of inadequacy? That’s heavily debatable. Again, see ASM #500. Peter was an ultimately happy person. He had a firm sense of pride throughout his life as much as he’d beat himself up. His inadequacies always came in the form of ‘I could/should have done more to help’.

Typically inadequacies manifest as ‘I’m just not worth it’. Even if you disagree and argue they are more like ‘I’m not good enough’ the context is still different. Whenever someone laments ‘not being good enough’, it’s almost always coming from a selfish mindset. Peter in AF #15 was frustrated about his inadequacies before going off on a power trip. But the older Peter’s frustrations were about his inability to do more for others! Superficially they might be called the same thing, but the internal psychology behind them is very different. Fettinger is attributing the former mindset to the latter iteration of the character.

It didn’t even really apply in the early years of the character. After all his problem in ASM #1 when he tried joining the Fantastic Four was about being too cocky (understandable given his age and experience as a performer) than about feeling himself to be somehow ‘not good enough’ for the team.

But then you get to the part here Fettinger claims these inadequacies and independent streak ensure Peter will at times be viewed as a fugitive. And that’s the point where I began to question near damn everything Fettinger has ever said about the character.

That’s not about Peter.

That’s the result of Jameson and super villains. If he wasn’t so independent or felt so ‘inadequate’ then I fail to see how that’d change his situation beyond other heroes disbelieving the news and vouching for him. But his various friends in the superhero community for many years never fully believed such slander anyway, especially since some of them had been victims of similar stuff themselves.

For instance, circa 1996 (let alone 2006) I find it fundamentally unbelievable that Daredevil or the Human Torch of all people would ever honestly entertain the idea that Spider-Man simply assaulted an innocent man in Spec #250 or (beginning in Peter Parker: Spider-Man #88) that he actually murdered low rent thug Joey Z (a crime Osborn framed him for).

More mind boggling though is Fettinger’s assertion that Spider-Man was (and always had been) a loner precisely due to his independence and inadequacy. This is utterly inaccurate because by 2006 Spider-Man was (to much consternation within the fandom) a member of the Avengers!

He’d been one for 1-2 years at the time of this essay’s writing and it’d been a MASSIVE deal. With hindsight we know that to some extent Spider-Man more or less held some form of Avenger’s status up until 2019, around 15 years after he first joined.

The idea of Spidey always being a loner was also aggressively contradicted by Spectacular Spider-Man #75-100. In those issues Peter and his girlfriend the Black Cat formed a crime fighting partnership. Yes they were lovers but the point is Peter was more than capable of accepting an on-going team arrangement. True their team fell apart with the end of their romance, but that had little to do with his independence or his feelings of inadequacy. Peter broke up with Felicia because she’d lied to him and didn’t value him beyond his Spider-Man identity.

That doesn’t touch on his independence at all and more importantly is an example of Peter doing something because he had too much self-respect to continue to be with someone who didn’t value him properly. Which is the opposite of things failing because he had issues of inadequacy.

Heck Spidey at one point tried to form his own superhero team, the Outlaws.

What’s worse is that Fettinger himself wrote a detailed essay about Spidey’s history as a team player.

I’ll leave it there for now. We’ll continue covering the introduction next time.

Master Post

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straykidsupdate · 5 years

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Stray Kids Is Your Next K-Pop Obsession — Here’s Why

Just a little over a year after exploding onto the K-pop scene, the young nine-member boy band Stay Kids stands onstage thousands of miles away from their home in Seoul. The New Jersey Performing Arts Center is packed with thousands of fans, called STAY. The majority female audience — strikingly diverse in ethnicity and age — is shouting the opening “na-na”s of “My Pace,” the band’s gritty breakout hit about trusting in your own path and not comparing yourself to others. It’s one thing to hear it on the track, but another entirely to hear it thundering from nearly 3,500 young people in a cavernous space. It’s an empowering, rollicking battle cry.

K-pop has often been likened to a “factory” by the media — a “machine” that pumps out bands on a conveyor belt and hands them hollow, algorithmic pop songs to lip-sync as they move in perfect synchronization. The new generation of South Korean pop groups proves that stereotype resoundingly false. And few subvert it more than Stray Kids — with members Bang Chan, Woojin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, Changbin, HAN, Lee Know, Felix, and I.N — whose inventive mix of EDM, rap, and rock rebel against the norm, and whose sincere, self-penned lyrics are inspiring the rising generation to speak up, because they have something to say.

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“We want to be remembered as a team that not only makes good music, but makes the kind of music that really influences and helps people,” fox-faced vocalist and youngest member I.N tells Refinery29 ahead of the second the band’s two sold out shows in Newark, the first stop on the on the U.S. leg of their “UNVEIL Tour 'I am…' world tour. “That's one of our biggest dreams.”

“I don't think it's fair for anyone to say K-pop is a machine. It’s a stereotype." BANG CHAN

Ingrained in Stray Kids’ DNA is their creative agency. Bang Chan, Changbin, and HAN — known as 3racha — have written and produced the majority of the group's discography, but all nine members have had writing credits on their work, which isn't often seen from young bands in the industry. This ownership has allowed them to experiment and play with their sound, and even their videos — many of their visuals are of them singing and goofing off, filmed on GoPros (as one does when not questioning your entire existence). It’s also allowed them to showcase each member’s versatility. While many K-pop group members usually have defined roles within a group, there’s a joke within the fandom that Stray Kids sometimes feels like it has nine rappers and nine vocalists — whether it’s vocalist Lee Know dishing a scorching opening rap in “District 9,” or rapper Hyunjin letting his gentle tenor shine in “불면증 (Insomnia).”

It’s also this personal, hands-on approach that not only allows them to tell their stories as authentically as possible, but has allowed them to speak even more directly to their fans. This line of communication to the generation they speak for is the most vital to their success thus far, so the perception that their work could be anything but personal is ill-conceived.

“I don't think it's fair for anyone to say K-pop is a machine. It’s a stereotype,” says Bang Chan, turning contemplative. “But I think the reason why people might think that is because the way K-pop is built is very well-organized, and performance-wise everything is precise and well-crafted. What some people probably don’t understand is that we think of it as a gateway that allows artists to reach out to their fans.”

Stray Kids discography weaves a narrative that begins with the fictional dystopia of District 9, in which they are prisoners of a suffocating system that tries to define them. They then explored their own identities throughout the group’s I Am… trilogy as they grappled with questions that plague both them and their fans, who are growing up along with them.

“The question that we always come back to, that everyone asks themselves, that I ask myself is, 'Who am I?'” says 21-year-old Australia-raised leader Bang Chan. “I think I've been thinking about that from a really young age. Honestly right now I haven't found out who I am, and I'm still trying to figure that out. Through our music we wanted to express that and reach out to those who feel the same way, so we can have a connection with one another.”

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In March, they released a new, more confident chapter of their story, Clé 1: Miroh, led by the massive, boisterous single “Miroh.” Pulsing with brassy beats and lion’s roars, the song, according to rapid-fire rapper Changbin is about “gaining the confidence to face new challenges.” The visual, set in a Hunger Games-esque world, finds the members organizing a rebellion and literally grabbing the mic from the elite class in charge.

If anything, this is the machine that Stray Kids actively fight against — societal expectations and unmanageable pressure put on young people today. And while songs on Clé 1: Miroh such as “Victory Song” and “Boxer” share the same dauntless spirit, the group still leave room for vulnerability. “19” is a haunting, echoing song written by HAN about his fears as he teeters on the cusp of adulthood.

“When I was 19 [Koreans calculate age differently], going into my twenties, I was excited to become an adult,” says HAN. “But as the time actually came closer, I had so many emotions and thoughts running through my head. I was scared, but I wanted to express my feelings to my fans who are going through the same thing through this song.”

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Before Stray Kids debuted as a group, they were on a self-titled musical competition TV series. Felix and Lee Know were cut from the group, to the devastation of the other members, but were later added again after proving themselves once more. This emotional rollercoaster that the members endured is partially to thank for their close bond, and why the group treat each other and their STAYs like family. That and the examples set by their own families growing up.

“When we were young, whenever we went through hard times, my mom would always try to cheer me and my sisters up,” says Australian-Korean Felix, whose deep bass tone is in striking contrast to his lithe stature. “This example of loving and supporting one another is something I carry with me constantly. She inspired me to want to help other people, make others feel better by surprising or comforting them.”

“I'm so thankful to my mom for giving me unconditional love,” adds honey-voiced eldest member Woojin. “I learned a lot from her — she takes so much care in how she interacts with other people and keeps good, healthy relationships with the people around her as well.”

This all helped build the foundation of what Stray Kids is today — a group of young people who, by acknowledging their fears and faults, want nothing more than to unite with those who understand them across language and geographic borders, using the tools at their disposal. And even with only a year under their belts, it looks as if their message is already resonating.

“Each and every one of you have your own special story, right?,” Bang Chan said as the Newark show neared its close, and after fans finished a vibrant “We love you!” chant to the nine young men on stage. “[...] So I feel like today is not just STAY and people being in this beautiful venue: it’s a thousand stories all inside this really big space. I’m just glad that through music — and through the music that we make — we can gather all these stories and relate to each other. I think that’s really fantastic.”

Article Source: here

#stray kids #190524 #era: clé 1 miroh #t: article #refinery29

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ladyboltontoyou · 5 years

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Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter

Ask: Ok well I was wondering if you could write an Arthur Morgan x Reader where the reader is the daughter of a rich farm owning family and Arthur rides up to the farm/ranch one day to scope the place out and see if they're easy to rob but somehow ends up with heart eyes for the reader and starts sneaking around to see her. Doesn't have to be smut, but that would be awesome. Thank you!

Warnings: Probably cursing. A bit of an age gap since Arthur is, you know, like 30 something, and the reader is still living with her parents.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: So this turned out longer than I had originally planned oops. ALso apparently freezers were invented around the 1830′s so don’t come at me for having ice cubes in Arthurs drink ok. I really hope this is what you imagined and it doesn’t seem rushed, even though I spent like 4 hours on it. Hope it’s not too short or too long. OKAY I’M DONE RAMBLING YOU CAN READ NOW.

The last thing you expected to see on a Friday afternoon was a stranger on a white horse riding up your dirt road. You had been reading a book on your upstairs balcony when you saw him, at first just a small white speck a ways away. But when that white speck started making noise you looked up and saw it was a man on a horse, a visitor. You rarely got visitors here that weren’t two men on a wagon full of supplies.

You set your book down on the table and leaned forward to get a better look as he neared the front of your house. He looked handsome enough, even though you were on the second story balcony and he was on the ground below. From what you could see he was a rugged man about thirty or so, not the kind of men your parents usually dealt with. Your curiosity got the best of you and you walked back inside and downstairs where you saw your father opening the front doors. One of his work friends stood beside him in case things were to go south, his hand sitting comfortably on his pistol as a gentle warning to the stranger that stood on your porch.

“Sorry to bother you folks, I was looking for the Braithwaite manor and it looks like I got myself lost. Do you know whereabouts that is?” His voice sounded so friendly and warm, you would never expect that he was there to see if you would be easy to ransack. You watched the conversation go down from the bottom step of the staircase and tried not to look too obvious.

Your father was totally oblivious and way too trusting. “No worries friend, these back roads are tricky. Fancy a drink? You look like you’ve been riding all day. Come inside and I’ll have my wife draw you up some directions.”

The man looked hesitant but eventually shrugged. “You’re too kind. I’d really appreciate it.”

You took the chance to walk into the tea room since you knew they’d come inside any minute, and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Plus, you wanted to be nosey, it wasn’t often attractive strangers came by. You sat down at the table and picked up the book from the table, something you had already read before, and tried your best to look as if you had been doing it for some time already.

“Who’s that man outside?” Your mother had snuck up behind you and scared the daylights out of you when she leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I don’t know.” You said after you recovered from the scare. “But he sure is good looking.”

She peaked at the front door and nodded in approval at your taste. “You’re not wrong about that.” Thank god it was your mother and not your grandmother, she would have chided you for hours about being indecent.

Finally, they came in and the man took off his hat, looking around as his eyes adjusted to the change of light. He looked even better looking close up. His facial hair was trimmed neatly but looked like it had grown in a little, the hair on his head the same. His face was partially spotted from the dust in the air from horse hooves but he didn’t look truly dirty, nothing compared to your farmboys.

He looked around and seemed impressed with the place, his eyes looking into every room he could see from his spot. When he looked into the room your father began walking into, the tea room, he only spared you a short glance.

Alright, well, you weren’t used to that. Most men who saw you immediately started complimenting your parents on how gorgeous you were, praising you and never failing to remark some version of ‘You’ll make a wonderful wife/Someone a very happy husband/Beautiful children’. But he didn’t say a thing.

“Darling, would you be so kind as to draw some directions from here to Braithwaite manor? Our friend here has gotten lost.” Your father asked your mother who smiled and obliged, heading upstairs to get some paper. “Oh! I didn’t even see you there!” He said when he noticed you sitting on the couch. “Could you bring our guest some tea?”

The stranger looked at you and looked like he was about to decline and tell you not to worry yourself but you were already standing up. “Sure thing daddy, need anything else?” You asked sweetly with a smile.

Your father looked to the man who just shook his head and tried to say ‘I’m fine’ and ‘No thank you’ at the same time. “No, I’m, thank you,” He jumbled over his words and looked visibly embarrassed. “I’m alright.”

You smiled widely, amused by that. He looked away and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Your father paid no mind and led him to the couch, talking about how harsh the month had been with no rain at all.

When you got back from the kitchen with a glass of tea he looked up and accepted the glass from you happily, muttering a ‘thanks’ before he almost chugged the entire thing, even chewing on some of the ice. Your mother came down the stairs with a piece of paper in hand and one of your nice fountain pens in the other.

“You’ll have to excuse my writing, I’m not the best artist.” She joked and sat on the single chair across from the couch. “You should have told our artist here to do it instead, she could draw him the best map he’d ever laid his eyes on.” She joked and you tried not to let them see how bashful she made you. She always bragged about you and anything you did, you could draw something purposefully awful and she would still treat it like a priceless painting.

“Oh it’s alright, I’m sure I’ll manage.” He chuckled, taking more ice into his mouth.

You sat down on the other side of the couch and watched the man from the corner of your eye. He looked around the house while his jaw moved to chew the ice as if he was taking note of every single window and door. “Say, you folks-”

Your mother sighed in frustration, putting two fingers on her forehead in exasperation. “I’m sorry, I can barely draw a line. Darling, could you please?” She slid the paper across the table and gave you a sweet look.

“I’ll try.” You laughed and leaned down, taking the pen from her.

“What were you saying?” Your father asked from his seat and the man looked confused before he remembered.

“I was just going to ask if you knew of some good people to hire for security. Assuming those men at the end of the road are what I’m thinkin’ they are.”

“Yes, they work for a man named Michael, he hires men that used to be in the war and sells their services to those who can afford it.” Your father said proudly. Arthur just nodded.

“Here’s the house.” You said to the man as you drew a small house next to the scribbles your mother had done. He scooted closer to you carefully and watched as you drew. “And here’s the road. The corn fields are on the right, the tobacco on the left.” You kept talking as you drew and tried to focus on moving the pen instead of how close he was to you. His body heat radiated off of him and grazed your bare arm and neck, you could hear him breathing slowly. He smelt like smoke and day-old cologne mixed with the leather from his coat.

As you gave him directions he would never need Arthur felt morality tug at his heartstrings. You were such good people, welcoming him into your home and showing such hospitality. He would have to tell Dutch there was no way, there were too many workers and guards, he would make something up. He came expecting a snooty rich family but was caught off guard by good people. You all had the generosity, kindness, and respect of poor folk.

When you finished you slid the map over on the table. “Let it sit for a minute before you touch it, the ink’s still wet.” You warned and put the cap back on the pen. “Especially here.” You laughed softly and pointed at the words of his destination where you had spelled it wrong the first time and scratched it out.

He nodded and muttered an ‘alright’, looking at you from a side glance. Your father talked for a while about the people who lived in the manor, not being shy about his opinion. Arthur couldn’t have agreed more but he kept up his facade and played dumb.

“It’s dry now.” You said and Arthur looked away from your father. You were looking at the paper so he took the chance to actually look at you, unintentionally admiring you. Normally he was good about keeping his eyes where they belonged. If there was anyone who respected women it was Arthur, but it was hard not to appreciate your beauty. He figured your sweetness was the only reason he stared. It had been a while since he saw a sweet girl who wasn’t trying to pickpocket him or get him to spend a fortune in the saloon.

“Thank you.” He picked up the paper and admired your work. One of the few things he could really appreciate was art. You drew so effortlessly, the small roads and hills looked like the maps he’d seen the professionals sell. “Well, I reckon I better be on my way, I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

“Not at all.” Your father stood up and so did the stranger. They shook hands as he thanked your father who shook him off and pat his back a few times. “You sure there’s nothing else we could do for you?”

“You’ve done more than enough.” He promised and looked back to you and your mother, the paper held gently in his hands. “Thank you both for your hospitality. And for the map.” He held up the paper and you smiled, causing him to unknowingly do the same.

When he started walking out the door with your father you ran upstairs and almost fell off your balcony to watch him ride off. The hot wind hit your face when you reached the banister, just in time to watch him ride off. He put his hat back on and took one last look behind him, not failing to notice the beautiful young girl watching him leave.

***

The frogs and crickets sang while the fireflies lit the black air with soft pulsating gold. You were on your banister half reading a book and half watching the farmboys work in the fields below, their lanterns bobbing gently through the rows of plants, stopping occasionally to pull up weeds or a dead plant.

It was hard to read. It was stupid to even try. But there was nothing else to do to take your mind off of your thoughts, even though reading wasn’t doing a good job at that. At least it was something.

A dog barking in the distance made you set your book down. It was the dogs they kept up at the end of the road to warn when someone was coming. You waited a minute to see if they would calm down but they didn’t. You heard your father yell downstairs to the men at the end of the road, and they responded with something about deer in the woods.

You believed it for a moment until you heard rattling from the other side of your balcony. The first thing that came to mind was some kind of greasy gunslinging bastard but before you could start screaming two arms hooked over the side of the ledge, covered by that same damn leather jacket you had been so close to earlier.

It shouldn’t have made you feel any better considering his original intentions were to rob your family for everything they had. But for some reason you had a feeling he wasn’t a threat to you. That made you incredibly stupid and naive but thankfully, for once, you were right in this situation.

When he finally pulled himself over he looked surprised to see you standing there watching him. “Now, before you start screaming,” He said as he reached up to grab the lantern that hung above him. “I’m not here to hurt you or anything like that.” He blew out the small flame and the two of you were suddenly surrounded by darkness.

“Then why are you here?” You asked cautiously. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him again, but the last thing you expected was this. If anyone saw him your father's politeness would be out the window as well as Arthur.

He sighed as if he didn’t know why himself. “You been on my mind girl, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why my dumbass thought it would be a good idea to risk not only my ass but yours, just to come back up here and ask for your name.”

You covered your mouth to stifle that bubbled in your throat. “Truly? That’s why?”

Arthur laughed softly, shaking his head when he realized how ridiculous it was. “I suppose so. And I wanted to ask for another one of those hundred-dollar drawings you make.”

You laughed again and put your fingers on the bottom lip you held between your teeth. “Oh yeah? Was my map that good?”

He grinned and looked down at his boots, kicking them against the floor to kick some pebbles loose from the bottoms. He couldn’t believe how young he felt then, like he was only sixteen again flirting around with the farmer's daughter. The only thing different from that was he was much, much, much older. If the other men in the gang saw him they’d make fun of him till the day he died for sneaking around for a girl.

“Well, okay, I guess I can make you something.” You smiled while biting your lip. He put on a show of acting grateful, clasping his hands together and placing them in front of his forehead. When you recovered from quiet laughter you went into your room to get some paper and a pencil. You made sure both your doors were locked before you went back onto your dark balcony. You stopped in the open doorway, noticing how little you could see. There was no way you could draw anything out there unless a lantern was lit, but that would be too bright and anyone nearby would be able to see the two of you. “I can’t see out here, maybe we should go in my room.”

He was reluctant for a minute, considering how fast he’d be able to run and jump out the balcony if need be. “Yeah, sure.” He sighed and walked towards the doors. The spurs on his boots lightly jingled and you could hear fabric moving against fabric as he moved past you into your dimly lit room. “Been a while since I’ve been in a room this nice.” He admitted as he looked around your room.

“You live in a barn then?” You teased and sat down at the table near the windows. “Oh, I never told you my name. It’s (Y/N).”

Arthur leaned against the wall near you and crossed his ankles, nodding as he thought over your name. “(Y/N). Never met anyone with that name before.”

You smiled proudly, twirling the pencil in your fingers. “And yours?”

He paused, considering while he looked out the window. “Arthur.” He said finally and looked back to you.

“Arthur.” You mused before remembering what you were supposed to be doing. “Ah, sorry, what did you say you want me to draw you?”

He snorted and crossed his arms. “I didn’t give that any thought, do anything you’d like.”

You bit your lip and looked him up and down. “Okay. It might take me a little while though.” He wanted to say ‘good’, but held his tongue and settled for a ‘That’s okay’.

After about an hour of talking, constant talking, you were finally finished. “If I had longer I could have done better, but, here.” You slid the paper across the table to him. After a while, he got tired and had sat down across from you.

He took the paper in his hands and squinted before his eyes widened. “Christ, girl.” He breathed and looked over the lines and shading. “You’re better than me.”

“You draw too?” You asked with sudden interest but he didn’t respond, he was too caught up in the paper in front of him.

“I can’t believe this. Did you take a picture of me when I wasn’t looking?” He shook his head and scratched his chin as he continued admiring it.

You blushed and ran a hand through your hair, he made you into a flustered mess with those praises. They were different when they were coming from someone who wasn’t kin. “Thank you.” It was all you could say. You didn’t expect him to like it that much, it was a hurried sketch of him leaning against your wall, but as much as you liked to pretend your art wasn’t that good there was no denying that this was an exceptionally realistic drawing. You were almost sad to see it go.

Arthur shook his head and looked up from the paper, looking at you completely different. Like how your father looked at your mother the first time he saw her shoot a gun. Newfound respect and admiration glinted in those pretty blue eyes of his, all directed to you. He was going to say something else but the sounds of heels coming up the stairway stopped him.

“(Y/N)! I just found a letter from June, it came yesterday but-” She grabbed your doorknob and tried to open it, only succeeding in causing the door to shake slightly. Arthur looked at you with wide eyes as she called out your name a second time.

“Go, hurry!” You whispered and he sat up as quickly and quietly as he could, tiptoeing to the open doors. “One second, I’m changing into my nightdress!” You called back to her as you rushed the grown man out of your room.

He paused in the same spot he had climbed up, one hand on the jasmine covered lattice he had used as a ladder. “Could I come see you again?” He asked boldly, the paper in his hand slightly moving from the breeze.

You laughed in disbelief. “There’s no way I could say no to that. You better.”

Arthur smiled then, the widest and cheesiest smile he had worn in a while. If it wasn’t for the lantern sitting inside your room next to the window he stood near, you wouldn’t have seen it. You wanted to say more, but he swung his legs over the edge and left you to explain to your mother why you spent so long doing something so simple.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan imagines #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 x reader #ask #request #myfanfic #farmersdaughter

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vestigialtext · 4 years

Text

Euphorroria

[TW suicide, self-harm]

Imagine you turn around there’s suddenly a perfectly circular swirling hole open in the floor, emanating a hazy purple glow and a kind of pulsing, reverb-drenched celestial siren song, like the single sickest shoegaze riff you’ve ever heard.

You think, huh, wow, that’s a pretty weird trip-hazard, and erect some cordons to stop anyone falling in. But you become fixated on the hole, staring in unblinking for hours. It’s curious, it’s beautiful, it’s sonically enchanting, it’s perfumed with a kind of partially floral, partially cardomomic, partially metallic scent which just encroaches on the sickly-sweet – but you still want a taste.

The hole, as it happens, is a portal to insanity.

This is how I experience hypomania; standing steady-of-foot behind the barrier, gazing at wonder to the insanity, hearing its call but keeping a safe distance.

Mania would see me leap the barrier, approach too close, and invariably slip in screaming.

Psychosis, meanwhile, would see me fall in, try to either fight it or fuck it, turn it inside out and prolapse it back through into rational reality, the fabric of which world begin to collapse as internal and external landscapes collide and splinter into one and other and I approach self-oblivion.

A full psychotic break has only happened twice in my lifetime, and frankly I’m lucky to be here writing this drivel – my second episode, nearly a decade ago, almost killed me and left me with almost impossible-to-comprehend scars I’ll bear for the rest of my life, scars invisible to the observer but forever altering my perception of the world, scars I’ve made peace with but which continue to niggle every day. Without getting deep into the nightmarish details, I tried – and, thank fuck, failed – to blind myself, resulting in bilateral scarred corneas which mean that, while my vision remains entirely functional and luckily unimpaired to any significant degree, I experience constant, curious aberrations, especially in low-light where the world melts into a sea of halos.

Importantly, I’m still alive. I very nearly leapt into the Thames on the morning of 10/03/2010, and not through depressive, I-can’t-bear-to-live anguish, but due to chasing immensely powerful delusions and hallucinations to the same place that almost cost me my sight. There’s a lot I’ve written and lot I will write about my experiences of psychosis – particularly re the corrupted internal logic that catalysed much of my bizarre, life-ruining behaviour in 2003 and 2010 – but not here, not now.

Mania, the losing control of my inhibitions and tripping headfirst into hyperactive chaos, has occurred three times in my life, but only progressed through to psychosis twice. I had my first (and to date, only quickly-controlled) manic episode age 16, following a few months as an inpatient at an adolescent psychiatric in Newcastle (remember when the NHS used to offer those kind of services lol). Up until that point, I had been being treated for major depression, which was my diagnosis until the mania emerged. I don’t quite remember the specifics – I celebrated the 20th anniversary of my bipolar 1 diagnosis last month – but one day it seems the depressive fog suddenly cleared and my mind, robbed of feel-good shit for so long, lurched as far as it could in the opposite direction as some kind of bizarre compensatory push.

Perhaps the flip was inevitable, perhaps it was triggered by a chemical predisposition to mania plus guzzling down combinations of all the anti-depressant variants that could be feasibly prescribed for the preceding three months. Who can say. Whatever the case, suddenly I was bouncing around the hospital halls like Sonic the Hedgehog, talking borderline-gibberish garbage incessantly, getting back deep into abandoned A-level art projects and attempting to start roughly 1,000 extracurricular projects simultaneously. The doctors quickly took notice, brought me down with lithium and revised my diagnosis.

Hypomania, (literally “below mania”), is something I experience on average a few times a year, hitting in waves, usually with a clear trigger. It’s a glimpse at the maelstrom of insanity without actually dipping a toe. Delusional ideas can creep into my head, but I can analyse and dismiss them rationally with a firm “No.” I now have enough insight and experience of my own sensations and mood pattern recognition to usually ward off a manic episode, typically with self-seclusion and/or self-management, sometimes with medication. Zopiclone, a sedative, has proven to be something of a magic bullet at sniping down incoming mania, so I try to keep a stash handy – I popped one Saturday gone just to try and keep the train on the rails after barely sleeping for two weeks straight.

After accepting I was an alcoholic six years ago, I’ve gone entirely teetotal, and that itself has greatly improved my ability to monitor myself, to try and regulate my own mood – previously, I’d (technically binge)-drink more or less every single day, and drown out any troublesome hypomanic episode with even more booze, remaining entirely functional (if prone to starting each day with a big purging sick and then having a couple of practically clockwork spew breaks at work) until my liver and my nervous system started wildly red-flagging at the sheer relentless demands I was asking of them, the perpetual nature of my misguided self-medication, so I decided to stop dead drinking or risk further ruining my health.

Without in any way wishing to belittle or underestimate the impact of the disease (severe, bulk-of-a-year depression episodes have also nearly killed me) I feel like depression is something even people who don’t suffer from mental health problems can at least begin to comprehend, can take a stab at imagining the experience. Perhaps not the depths – the eroding, claustrophobic mental space, the glimmer of hope on the horizon disappearing into darkness, all sensory input turning to a grey mush, the head-in-a–tomb depersonalisation – but most people can relate to being “sad”, most people have experienced tragedy at some point in their lives. Hypomania, however, is a trickier prospect to explain. But I’ll try.

I can’t speak for others who experience the condition, but in my case, hypomania manifests itself across my whole physical, mental, emotional spectrum. Although other factors come into play, the biggest single trigger for me seems to be sleep deprivation. It’s no news that circadian rhythms and bipolar disorder are intrinsically interlinked, and I have very real first-hand experience. As a shiftworker (occasional nightshift worker) who lives on the opposite side of London to my office and has a four-month old daughter, my current sleep hygiene is pretty... ropey to say the least, so I’m trying to be extra vigilant. A few nights back-to-back of little sleep (I’m talking a hour or two, at the best of times my sleep is shit anyway and five hours is a good stint) I can often feel my mood changing gears.

Simply put, when I’m hypomanic, the world is a more engaging place; more detail fills the cracks, more edges pique my interest. All of my senses sharpen up – my vision becomes cleaner, brighter, more vivid, sound seemingly has additional frequency space, imperceptible before. My senses of smell and taste overwhelm me, aromas become intoxicating and normal food takes on gourmet qualities. My energy level skyrockets without any additional external input; I have much more impetus, enthusiasm about life, work, whatever. I can literally feel my mind starting to function differently – but not necessarily more efficiently – taking shortcuts, randomly accessing memories in remarkable detail without any prompt. I can think faster, but with less focus; I’m more distractible and will happily shoot off on wild tangents with complete disregard for my goal. Depending on circumstances at home or work, hypomania is a mixed bag – any lethargy is dispelled and my agency and job satisfaction is heightened, but I might, say, approach 20 tasks simultaneously when sequentially would be more rational.

Depending on social context, I expend varyingly extreme amounts of effort to varying degrees of success attempting to mask a hypomanic episode. You know how your body never really “heals”, and scurvy horrifyingly opens up old scars and shit? That’s kind of what my ever-simmering mental illness feels like when i’m consistently deprived of sleep for whatever reason, the cracks start appearing and it kinda seeps out a bit lol. I am well aware my hypomanic demeanour and delivery can alarm people, and I do try really, really, really hard to suppress things or if absolutely required, just remove myself from situations where a lasting, detrimental opinion could be formed. I am also fully aware I can become borderline intolerable to my long-suffering and remarkably patient wife, and I try to mitigate the condition’s impact on domesticity, again, only ever partially-successfully (sorry, Kate). On any given day, high, low, or creamy middle, I’d estimate around about 90% of my effort is put towards just trying to appear normal to others, trying to blend in. I imagine many other mentally ill people are broadly intolerant to open-plan hotdesking (not to mention the insatiable clock-in-and-hit-marks demands of capitalism).

I can physically feel my body “running hotter” when I’m hypomanic, like an overclocked CPU frazzling on a motherboard; headaches spark quickly if I don’t drink enough water. I’m not especially clued up on chemical synthesis of naturally-occurring hormones etc. but I kinda get the impression hypomania is little like organic, high-on-your-own-supply MDMA.

Hypomania seems to foster within me a deeper connection to and longing to revisit all of my favourite music, art, writing, films, games, people – chiefly, I go on obsessive listening binges of records I adore. As I mentioned earlier, my hearing changes when I’m hypomanic – songs sound better, richer, more punchy. One of my fondest ever memories of mental illness (sadly ruined by slipping into psychosis shortly afterwards) was walking around out at night listening to My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless on shitty earbuds via a Spotify stream and still hearing subtle elements blossoming from the mix I’d never clocked before; layers of what sounded like processed flutes fluttering under the wall of guitars, gentle tonal ebs and flows, what seemed to be entire hidden tracks I was only just tuning in to, a secret sound world unveiled.

This might well just be wild conjecture, but I like to think maybe some bands – the bands who “get it” – deliberately bury this audio information deep within the mix, only to be decoded by specific mental setups, be they drug-indicted or naturally, hormonally occurring, breadcrumb trails left in the studio production as a little nod by whoever put the music together that they understand the confusion, the dislocation and alienation of mental illness, something extra beyond the lyrics. It might well be bullshit but it brings me great comfort. I’ve put together a playlist of some favourite tunes I suspect were written about hypomanic states, knowingly or otherwise, or instead conjure up that specific vibe.

To be honest, the hardest thing I find about dealing with episodes of hypomania is that they can feel so good it’s very hard to not attempt to stoke the sensation, prolong it, succumb deeper to it. That way oblivion lies; please stand behind the yellow line at all times.

#hypomania #bipolar #mentalillness

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rpgmgames · 6 years

Photo

September’s Featured Game: Ghost Hospital

DEVELOPER(S): Lev, Kip, Rose, Tredlocity, C, Bittersweet ENGINE: RPGMaker MV GENRE: Adventure, RPG WARNINGS: Anxiety, Body horror, Implied child harm SUMMARY: Ghost Hospital is a game about anxiety, depression, despair, mental rock bottoms, and, of course, ghosts. You play as Robin, a twelve-year-old girl who has an anxiety disorder and is very much alive in this hospital meant for beings that are not alive. Frankly, her anxiety was already bad enough before she landed in a hospital full of dead people, the still-shambling shells of ancient ghosts who try to take her down for a sweet taste of life, and the hospital directors hellbent on keeping her contained, and more importantly, away from the reason she's REALLY there. Thankfully, you have your new friends Jay and Sarcastic Ghost- Jay is a ghost about your age, and still a very new arrival to the hospital, and Sarcastic Ghost…well, he's an amorphous blob of a ghost, who talks a lot despite not having a mouth.

Download the demo here!

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! Lev: Hey, my name is Lev! I'm an artist and storyteller, and though I've wanted to make games for a long time, this is my first serious attempt! Most of my work is about my experiences in mental illness. Kip: I'm a freelance artist being allowed to write cheap jokes in ghost form. Rose: I'm a freelance writer and editor for the game! I also work on dialogue and story drafting. Tredlocity: My name is Tredlocity! I do some character designs and writing in the game! C: c / ghoul is a character designer, comic artist and Halloween enthusiast. They're currently apart of several indie game teams and are writing the webcomic, This Dark Forest of Ours. Bittersweet: I'm Kendall (AKA Bittersweet), and I'm the resident music person (one of two, technically, but the other left the project unfortunately.) This is my first (and thus far only) major soundtrack composition project, but thus far, it's been a satisfying one!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Lev: Ghost Hospital is a game about anxiety, and the game was born out of an idea to put someone in the shoes of someone with clinical anxiety and depression without going for the prototypical 'horror game' or 'walking simulator', giving more game-friendly, practical narrative and gameplay examples of how it effects people.

How long have you been working on your project? *Lev: The game started development in late 2016 as a thesis project for college. At its inital completion, it was more of a beta or proof of concept than a demo- in its current state, it's far closer to what we have envisioned for the final project.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Lev: Absolutely! The biggest influences are OFF, Yume Nikki, and Sweet Home, and a lot of Gameboy Color graphics and aesthetics- namely, Pokemon GSC and the GBC Zelda Games.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Lev: RPG Maker is a versatile engine, but still fairly restrictive, so getting all the effects I wanted to work was challenging. Mental illness and real life have been taking a toll on development time, too. Getting things to work took teaching myself some javascript, and after being in serious development for this long, I've found ways to motivate myself to keep working. Having other people checking in on you helps, too.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Lev: In its very first inital pitch, it was much closer to Yume Nikki, being more atmospheric and serious. At some point in character and world development, though, I couldn't bear to make it a stoic adventure, and with most of the stuff I already take inspiration from, it's hard for me to not put jokes into the media I make, anyway.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Lev: At the beginning, it was just me working on everything. The first people I brought on board were my concept artist, Kip, my writer, Rose, and my musician, Bittersweet. I can't do music on my own, and I knew from word go that I wanted this to be the kind of game with a strong story and a lot of unique NPCs.

What is the best part of developing the game? *Lev: Call me biased, but the most fun part is making the art for it. It's hard for me to motivate myself to keep working if I'm just using default placeholder sprites, I have to make new NPCs to keep myself interested. It's not the most convenient, but it's fun to do, and it actually really does help with my workflow.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Lev: Oh, absolutely. RPG Maker games have a bad reputation for being very cut-and-paste, and there's a lot of those out there. But it just takes a bit of effort to make yourself and your game stand out, and it can be done absolutely beautifully! The latest one I've played was Hylics, completely surreal and wonderful.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Lev: Robin is a sort of proxy character for myself, so...I'm a bit biased on her. I love Jay a lot, too, he's kinda the friend I wish I had in elementary school when all this first showed up, haha. *Tredlocity: As someone who faces anxiety on a daily basis, I relate to Robin a lot. Though I would say my favorite character is Jay, since he can shoot plasma and has blue hair. *C: I'm partial to Coop [upcoming character], not just bc I designed them but bc I love big sister types. *Rose: I also relate to robin and jay! i try to control my anxiety while remaining positive and hopeful about situations. *Bittersweet: As an anxiety-riddled person, I relate immensely to Robin. However, my favorite character by far has to be Carna. (There's another character I'm particularly looking forward to when the full version of the game is released, though~)

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Lev: Honestly, there's a few things I wanted the game to be able to do at the start that I wasn't able to make happen. I spent a LOT of time trying to get it to work without having to go in and code it myself, and I wish I'd been able to take a step back, remind myself that this is my first serious project, and just stop worrying so much about what, in the end, would've been a minor detail, anyway.

Once you finish your project, do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Lev: Chances are I'm gonna leave it alone, but if I go back, I HAVE had a bit of a 'Ghost College' AU where they're exploring a haunted old library on their college campus instead of being trapped in a ghost hospital. It'd probably be cool as a point-and-click adventure, but it wouldn't exactly be a canon exploration of the postgame.

What do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Lev: I'm actually working on a few other projects, so being able to work on those more freely would be great, especially considering I'm really bad at keeping my own limits in mind, haha.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Lev: Mostly, I'm afraid that making a game about a subject like this, as a minority and with other people in my team that would be considered minorities, that releasing this game to the mainstream public would get me a lot of negative attention from people who think that people like us don't belong in the gaming sphere. It's pretty nerve-wracking, but after the positive reception of games like Undertale and SLARPG, it's getting easier to convince myself that I should be more afraid of people just generally not liking the game, haha.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Lev: Have someone to work with! DEFINITELY have someone to work with. Even if it's just a friend to bounce ideas off of or someone to ask if you've been working on the game, having someone else involved helps a lot. And specifically for RPG Maker- if you can, replace your default font with a different one. It's a minor detail, but it goes a long way towards making your game feel more original. *C: Always have a backlog of different projects. I have about four or five ideas constantly on rotation so I don't burn myself out on just one. *Tredlocity: My advice for any creatives is to start small, and just get it out. Feedback is a great motivator, and the only way to get better at something is to keep doing it! *Rose: I think some good advice is to write a few drafts of whatever it is you're working on in order to see which version you'd like to continue! let your work have different scenarios and situations based on various elements you insert or take out of a story, game, or other piece. *Bittersweet: Don't pressure yourself to a dead-set deadline. I know, you want to get this project out eventually, and if you're on a roll with development then all the power to you, but if you're struggling, don't let it burn you out. That's just unhealthy.

Question from last month's featured dev @toxicshroomswamp: How do you feel about your main character(s)? What piece of life advice would you give them? *Lev: I love my main characters, I love them like my own children. I would probably tell Robin that she'll learn to handle everything, it won't be so scary forever. I'd tell Jay that stopping for a minute and thinking is way more important than it seems. I'd tell Sarcastic ghost to shut up.

We mods would like to thank Lev, Kip, Rose, Tredlocity, C, and Bittersweet for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Ghost Hospital if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpgmaker #rpg maker #indie games #pixel games #ghost hospital #ghost hospital (game)#game of the month #gotm #game dev #game making #gotm september #september 2018 #2018

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neriad13 · 4 years

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Best of the Best Media Consumed 2019!

This year I had a whole lot of focus on nonfiction, film and comics. Resolution for next year: read more fiction. Seriously, I read over three times more nonfiction than fiction this year. I read a little over one novel a month. But I really do love picking up a book on something I know nothing about and coming away knowing more than something. X-P

Anyway! The list!

Books - Fiction

Out of the 17 works of fiction I read this year, the best of the best is...

The Snow Queen, by Joan Vinge

The Snow Queen was one of my absolute favorite fairy tales as a child. The 2002 film adaptation of it was one of the things I watched endlessly.

It was SO MUCH FUN picking apart this sci-fi retelling and discovering which characters are meant to represent the ones from the original story (of particular interest: the character representing the reindeer is human in this...and he has a one night stand with the character representing Gerta. Yes, I’m still cracking up about this. Yes, it actually was a pretty well written scene).

But the absolute best part of it was the masterful characterization. Every single character has ulterior motives and often heartbreaking reasons for why they are the way they are - especially including the Snow Queen herself, whose final scene is horrifying, tragic and beautiful.

I always like me some solid villain characterization.

Runner Up:

Fairy Tales: Traditional Stories Retold for Gay Men

I am not a gay man...but this very much spoke to me. It was at turns heartwarming and hilarious and the turns these fairy tales took felt so natural, like they’d been told that way all along.

There are also many allusions to AIDS in the stories - sometimes as something a character is directly dealing with whether in himself, or a loved one and sometimes under the guise of a metaphor for inevitability. These ones were my favorites (aside from The Frog Prince, which was turned into a metaphor for accepting the process of aging with grace).

Books - Nonfiction

Oh boy. There’s...definitely going to be more than one here. Of the 65 works of nonfiction I read this year, my favorites were...

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons From the Crematory

A memoir about the author’s time spent working as a crematory operator and her entry into the funeral business. This book was absolutely hilarious (it contains a story about the author getting absolutely soaked with corpse fat that wouldn’t stop flowing straight out of the incinerator), tragic (a 12 year old girl is cremated and her ashes are mailed back to her parents as part of a cremation mail-in program) and extremely poignant (the author talks openly about the time she was contemplating suicide).

I love Caitlin’s youtube channel and I loved this book even more.

My Age of Anxiety

Partially the memoir of a man who has battled his extreme anxiety his entire life, a historical study of famous figures who have also endured it and a scientific look into why it exists at all.

Ultimately, it offers no answers. As of the writing of the book, the author has found no treatment that helps him for longer than a few months. But what he has found over the course of his research is that he is not alone - that anxiety has historically been a factor in scientific breakthroughs and artistic accomplishments. And that perhaps most importantly, that anxiety has been a key part of human evolution from the start, which served a vital role in the survival of the species.

Mental illness or evolutionary adaptation? Is there even a line between them?

Cassell’s Encyclopedia of Queer Myth, Symbol and Spirit

This is the only book, period, devoted to queer mythology, that I have ever been able to find. But the good news is that it’s fairly extensive (though the authors themselves admit that they had trouble finding as much information about non-western mythology as they did for western mythology), is chock full of references and is extremely thorough in the information it presents.

I’ll admit that it was a slog to get through at times, but what it’s provided has been invaluable to my conception of history and my own place in it.

Also, I can now say beyond a shadow of a doubt that almost every culture on earth has at some point in their history had a tradition of transgender shamans.

Hope After Faith

This is the memoir of a charismatic Pentecostal pastor turned atheist. It follows him from teenagerhood and the beginnings of his dream to be a preacher to a little bit after his deconversion decades later.

The eventual crumbling of his faith was something that spoke to me on a deep level. The scene that I still think about months later is the one in which he finally gives up his belief in the afterlife and accepts the finality of death by saying goodbye to everyone he ever loved who has died with the words “I love you, but I’m never going to see you again.”

I was not a huge fan of the writing style at first, but this one won me over totally and completely. It touched me immensely at the time when I needed it most.

Comics - Fiction

I read 52 fictional comics this year and 46 nonfiction. I absolutely raided my library’s graphic novel section for months. It was a good time.

Beautiful Darkness

A French graphic novel wherein tiny people survive and feud over the corpse of the child they came from. It’s...hard to explain. Kind of a fairy tale Lord of the Flies, but more subtly horrifying. It’s a story about decay and collapse - of society, of the physical form, of the dreams of a child. It has no single interpretation and different people may take something very different from it. The most inventive horror story I read this year.

My Brother’s Husband

A story about microaggressions and how their buildup over time can drive a wedge between people without them even noticing. I cried. Go read it.

Mis(h)adra

A semi autobiographical account of a college student learning how to live with his epilepsy. I also cried over this one.

The art is stunning, the metaphors are amazing (the main character’s epilepsy is visually portrayed as a set of ghostly knives that follow him around) and the ending is extremely affecting if you’ve ever dealt with any kind of chronic illness.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

The absolute most fun I had reading a comic this year. Gets extremely dark and incredibly sad but never feels overwhelmingly heavy, thanks to its great sense of humor.

Edward Scissorhands: Parts Unknown + Whole Again

A series of adventures set decades after the movie, after Kim’s death, in a time when her granddaughter begins wondering if the stories about the castle on the hill are true.

It deals with such issues as the difficulties Kim had with her daughter growing up, when all she would do is tell stories about Edward rather than give her the emotional support she needed, whether removing the thing that both makes you unique and brings pain is worth it and how to stop angry villagers from burning down your house (again).

Also, seeing Edward be surrounded by a group of friends who care about him was extremely healing.

Comics - Nonfiction

My Solo Exchange Diary vol 1-2

A series of updates about the author’s continuing battle with mental illness and about how recovery is anything but a straight line.

Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant?

Finally, some light reading!

It’s a memoir about the decline and death of the author’s aging parents.

I found it...extremely comforting. Extreme old age, whether in one’s self or in one’s loved ones, is a scary and often obscured prospect, despite being a near-universal human experience. This book took the mystery out of aging and the fear out of taking care of aging parents. I’ve seen it done now. I’m more ready to do it myself.

The Best We Could Do

A memoir of the author’s family’s flight from Vietnam and their immigration to America, through the lens of the birth of the author’s first child. About how being a refugee changes a person in small, often unexpected ways, how trauma leaves its mark on families - and how, knowing all this, one can still keep living and raising the next generation.

Film - Fiction

I caught up on a lot of classics I’d not seen before and really got into Jidaigeki this year. Me putting only four of them on the list is a show of restraint. Of the 64 films I watched this year...

The Fall of the House of Usher

Impeccable costume and psychedelic set design. The unanswered question that bounces throughout the entire movie: is it the curse or is it the fault of human belief in the curse?

Patch your walls, dude.

A Monster With a Thousand Heads

A Mexican thriller about a woman whose husband is denied cancer treatment for seemingly no reason. The doctor gives her the runaround. No one can answer her questions. No one listens to her.

So, naturally, she and her teenage son spend a night kidnapping and holding at gunpoint every person she needs to get her husband’s cancer treatment approved. Wild and intense and timely.

Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

I watched a couple of Kubrick movies I hadn’t seen before and of them...I died laughing at this one. The tight plotting! The inevitable buildup to disaster over something so insanely stupid!

I did not live during the Cold War, but damn do I feel for the inherent ridiculousness of it now.

Seven Samurai

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAFGFTRTRNHUKIJUHNJNHHHHHHHHHHHHYHYHYHYHYHYHYHYHYXCVVGGERDSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

...this movie is insanely good. I watched Citizen Kane this year. This movie’s better.

It has a plot which can be described in its totality, in a single sentence - a group of samurai are hired to defend a village from bandits - but what they do with that premise is so much more than that.

This movie is three hours long. It did not lag once.

Hara Kiri

As the Tokugawas secure their grip on all of Japan, war ceases. Great houses are dissolved and their retainers, cast into the streets. The relevance of the samurai is ending and the cities are awash in starving ronin.

Once, one of these starving ronin approached a great house, asking if he might be able to end his life honorably, in front of witnesses there. So impressed was the lord with this ronin’s resolve, that he instead hired him on as one of his retainers.

Hearing this story, other ronin, having no intention of actually offing themselves, tried the same trick in the hopes of securing a job, or at the very least, a little something to eat.

It became a common scam which, in the end, fooled no one. Most houses gave the ronin a handful of cash and sent them on their way.

But one house, seeking to preserve their warlike spirit in these peaceful times, chooses to treat one beggar ronin very differently.

This is the story of vengeance taken for that death.

Yojimbo

A ronin enters a town that is being torn apart by gang warfare and decides to play both sides in order to end the conflict. It contains such comedic gems as:

- the ronin suddenly deciding not to take part in a street battle, leaving both sides evenly matched and extremely nervous about fighting each other, while he watches it all from the top of a watchtower, laughing his ass off

- the ronin is critically injured and being smuggled out of town in a coffin. A fight breaks out while this is happening and scares away one of the people carrying the coffin. A less intelligent goon of the gang he just escaped from is cheerfully recruited to carry the coffin the rest of the way

- standing up in the coffin, declaring that he’s fine and immediately fainting

Also, you should totally bring a knife to a gun fight.

Ran

A jidaigeki reimagining of King Lear.

A visually astounding, sweeping epic with amazing acting and a complex interplay of conflicting passions which might just be more bleak than the original play.

The scene in which the main character goes mad and is cast out into the wilderness is especially haunting.

Jojo Rabbit

I don’t think I’ve EVER experienced such violent mood whiplash in a movie before. One moment you’re crying-laughing from a joke that hit with absolute perfection and the next you’re...actually crying. In the same scene. Within thirty seconds. Multiple times. It is the oddest feeling to be so elated by the best joke in the entire movie while every character we’ve come to know across the course of the movie is in the process of dying violently. It’s not a feeling everyone’s going to like, but for me it was completely new and fantastic.

The best part of the movie is the main character’s relationship with Imaginary Friend Hitler. He’s wildly funny and relentlessly charming. I got excited every time he appeared in a scene and was, oddest of all, actually comforted by his presence.

He was all of these things until, in the most terrifying scene in the movie, he was not.

This movie shows you the mechanisms through which fascism becomes an appealing idea for a lonely child by putting the audience through a version of the same process. It’s so clever, so funny and so sad.

What do you do when your world is destroyed by absurdity and there is nothing left for you to return to?

You dance in the streets.

TV Series

Good Omens

Wildly hilarious comedy, fantastic costume design, multiple androgynous characters for which NO ONE bats an eye and honestly?? the best queer love story I’ve ever seen in television or film.

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance

I am not sure if I have ever seen a production with so much love poured into it. The dozens of painstakingly crafted sets and characters, the sheer level of artistry on display - the next thing I saw was always more amazing than the thing I’d seen before it and the amazingness just kept coming with no end in sight throughout the entirety of the show.

And the story itself! The way it deepened and played with the lore of the original movie in the most perfect and unexpected ways! It felt like I was watching the most fantastic and labor intensive piece of fanfiction ever conceived, that was written by a person with a deep passion for and knowledge of the source material.

Speaking of fantastic throwbacks...

Dororo

I’ve said a lot about this one already. While it ultimately fell kind of flat, what it did get right was phenomenal. The motherfucking FIGHT SCENES! The love between bros! The fascinating reconception of Hyakkimaru’s powers and its emphasis on a disabled character actually being portrayed as disabled! The journey of good characters going down the path of evil with good intentions!

Mwah!

Primal eps 1-5

Genndy Tartakovsky’s next big project after the completion of Samurai Jack!

It is gory. Like, extremely gory. Do you know how much gore a thing has to have before I consider it ‘extremely gory?’ It’s a lot. Like...really a lot. There’s a thirty second (or possibly longer. time lost all meaning as I watched it) sequence in which the main character punches the intestines out of a horde of hominids in loving, exacting detail. It’s like Genndy’s letting out all the pent-up gore he was forced to keep in check during the years when he was working on Samurai Jack.

But it isn’t just gore. It’s a journey about the main character’s grief over the sudden, horrific, unexpected death of his entire family. A story which is also mirrored by that of the dinosaur he joins forces with. There were parts during it in which I literally felt my heart being torn in two over the travails of these two, as well as wildly funny and completely adorable parts.

The settings, creature design and fight choreography are insanely creative, as is the decision to do it with no dialogue whatsoever.

And that cliffhanger, DAMN!! They’d better get the next five episodes out soon!

Honorable Mention:

Rick and Morty S4 eps 1-5

This one doesn’t entirely make the list proper because the latter two episodes...were rather subpar. But I can’t entirely keep it off the list because the quality of the first three episodes was off the charts. A particular shoutout to ‘The Old Man and the Seat’ and ‘One Crew Over the Crewcoo’s Morty’ - the former, which somehow managed to use toilet humor, of all things, to reach a crushingly tragic conclusion and the latter, which has a twist better than that of some of my favorite horror movies.

Games

Shogun 2

I didn’t do a whole lot of gaming at all this year. But what I did do is have a fantastic time getting into the Total War franchise. Shogun 2 was my entry point and a FANTASTIC game. The ninja animations! The tiny, exacting animations of every single person running around on a sinking ship! The way Realm Divide changes the game into something much more dangerous and the way I learned to dance on the edge of it until I was good and ready!

Plays

Love’s Labours Lost

One of two Shakespeare plays I saw this year, the other being The Tempest - which was also excellent (especially the part where it legit started raining when Ariel summoned the storm in the first scene and then that showing had to be cancelled. The second time was the charm).

Love’s Labours Lost had some excellent comedy and the usual absurd web of misunderstandings you’d expect to find in your standard Shakespeare romcom. But the thing which pushed it over the edge for me was that...it had a sad ending. It goes against the definition of comedy and has a sad ending. Because it was so unexpected, it hit unexpectedly hard and made it that much more memorable.

#jojo rabbit #akira kurosawa #rick and morty #the dark crystal: age of resistance #good omens #primal #a thought #long post

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Sarah Monette, the Victim Dilemma, the Aesthetic of Suffering and the Uncanny Valley of Arse Rape

by Wardog

Monday, 27 April 2009

Wardog fails to finish Sarah Monette's Corambis.~

Massive massive massive massive spoilers for about 1/3 of the book. Also, as the title suggests, this article is about nasty things so don’t read if you’re likely to be upset

Preramble (like a preamble but … d’you see?)

This is a bleak day indeed. I just got my hands on a copy of Corambis, the much-anticipated (by me at least) concluding part to Sarah Monette’s Doctrine of Labyrinths quartet and the truth of it is, I don’t think I can finish it.

Oh, Sarah, what happened? I do still love you, I just don’t think it’s working out.

I think it’s partially problems associated with reading through a series over a lengthy period of time. When I read Melusine, The Virtu was already out in hardback and I tore through at them enthusiastically, so drawn into the world and the characters that I barely noticed they were so heavily saturated in angst and woe that one could drown in it by simply opening the book a little recklessly. There was a bit of a wait for The Mirador – which I seem to recall I felt slightly less positively about but still adored – and I fell upon Mehitabel Parr’s I’m sure welcoming bosom to save me from the tidal waves of A&W. As much as I love Felix and Mildmay, it was Mehitabel’s narrative voice that made The Mirador bearable for me. It was such a necessary contrast to the boys: someone with some redeeming sense of self-irony, hurrah!

Of course, Mehitabel isn’t in Corambis. And, God, I miss her. There is a new viewpoint character, Kay Brightmore, blinded and imprisoned and weighed down by the terrible military failure that kicks off the book. He’s basically lost everything that ever mattered to him, can no longer fight on account of being blind and, needless to say, he has angst out the wazoo about it. I was broken and crying by Chapter three.

And, quite frankly, I just can’t take it. I know there is redemption in the future of these characters (characters I really care about, having spent three books with them), I know there is self-actualisation and the potential for happiness, I know because I cheated and looked, but I’ve really really struggled with Corambis. The worst of it is, I’m sure it will be a triumphant and satisfying conclusion to the quartet. Sarah Monette is an excellent writer, I love her world, I love the way she uses language, I love her characters, I love everything about her but I think I’m going to have to accept the fact I simply can’t read her.

Oh, Sarah, what happened? I do still love you, it’s not you, it’s me.

Maybe in a couple of years we’ll be able to work something out.

I think circumstances might be playing into this unhappy state of affairs as well. When I read the early books, there wasn’t a cloud in my sky. But having emerged from a rather bleak year, there’s something a little too close in all that guilt and grief and self-loathing and despair, and I can’t distance myself enough from it to enjoy it. There is a systematic aestheticisation of suffering to be found in all of Monette’s books. I’m not going to try and argue that as either a positive or negative quality in her work. I think it’s probably neutral: it’s

something

art

does

sometimes

. I acknowledge the difference between literary suffering and real suffering, in that there can be a romance in the former which is impossible in the latter. Also literary suffering exists in a wider, symbolic and allegorical sphere than that of an individual having shitty things done to them by life or others, mainly, I suspect, because it’s not real. Take madness – there is something deeply attractive and romantic about the artistic representation of madness (like Felix’s madness in Melusine) and it’s perfectly possible to appreciate that, and to find in it a kind of beauty, without ignoring the genuine distress suffered by the mentally ill. In short, Ophelia is not my friend who killed herself last year.

But the boundaries between the fictional and the real are not comprehensively signposted. There isn’t a traceable spectrum between Lavinia, daughter of Titus Andronicus, and Elizabeth Short. And ultimately I think there comes an impossible point when the literary and the real collide, corrupt each other and prove they are utterly irreconcilable and yet simultaneously inseparable. Yes, they must be understood as different things operating in a different way – a painting of St Sebastian is not the same as footage of the prisoners at Guantanamo bay – but there comes a point when it is necessary to remember what it is that’s being aestheticised and ask yourself why.

Page 152

Okay, so, there’s a gang-rape scene in Corambis.

Felix – former prostitute, broken gay wizard with ex-cruel master and traumatic past - ends up subjecting himself a thaumaturgic orgy in order to earn money to pay for his ailing brother’s medicine.

It’s awful.

It’s not that it’s explicit, just awful.

And I’m no wuss, okay. I’ve read Last Exit to Brooklyn. I’ve read The Wasp Factory. I’ve read American Psycho.

But something about this scene in this book bought me a first class ticket on the ARGH! Train and whizzed me straight out of my comfort zone.

It’s strange to say that something is “outside your comfort zone” in that it feels like a confession of personal failure (also something that’s outside my comfort zone). And then I thought about it more, and I thought: hey, so what, gang-rape is outside my comfort zone. Surely that’s normal. Gang-rape is absolutely something that should be outside all our comfort zones. But here’s where it gets complicated: in fact, fictional gang-rape is not outside my comfort zone. I play H-games, for God’s sake, where they’re ten a penny. You can’t take two steps in an H-game without stubbing your toe on a gang rape. So it’s something more specific than that. It was something about this particular portrayal of it.

It’s not shock value. Felix gets himself sexually abused on a pretty regular basis, so much so, in fact, that it’s kind of part of the fun, and it’s very much tied into Monette’s aesthetic of suffering.

I could not see, and I could barely hear, save for my own harsh breathing. But I could feel. I could Malkar’s hands like silk, running up and down my back, tracing the scars, the old palimpsest of pain. I could feel his body arching against me, his bulk, his heat. I felt his hands slide under my hips, stroking, exciting, felt the stiffness of him against my thigh. Pain, then, but not too much. Pain … and arousal all woven together like a tapestry. I was moaning, gasping; the only word I could form were “Please, Malkar, please, lease,” and I didn’ tknow if I was begging him to stop or continue. Not that it would made the slightest difference either way.

Let’s pin our colours to the mast here. That’s beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful and absolutely literary in its unrealness. It’s also about as accurate a portrayal of sexual abuse than St Sebastian up there is of martyrdom. Perhaps I’m just an irredeemable sicko but I’m pretty sure it’s there, to an extent, to be enjoyed, partially as spectacle (straight women do not generally write about beautiful gay boys sexing each other manipulatively because it’s a Serious Social Issue) and, also, partially as vindication for all the crappy things that have been done to innumerable female characters in a seventy years of fantasy fiction. I’m not, of course, advocating backlash (more manrape!) but there is something compelling and, even perhaps comforting, in characters like Felix, Alec and friends, these beautiful men, who are as sexually vulnerable as women, suffer and fear the sort of things women suffer and fear, and are very much created to be subjects of an extra-textual female gaze and the intra-textual male gaze. I’m not saying that men don’t get raped and looked at, but the sheer saturation is demonstrably less. I am not trying to say that what happens to Felix at the start of Melusine isn’t dreadful. It is. But it’s a literary violation, and it reduces him to a literary madness that is as terrible and as beautiful as the horror that creates it.

But let’s talk about gang rape. Now there’s something you don’t say everyday.

The scene itself written in a very similar style – opulent, not too explicit although more explicit than above, and contains the same awkward issues of dubious consent. In Melusine, Felix chooses to go to Malkar in a fit of self loathing. In Corambis he agrees theoretically to an orgy in order to raise money for Mildmay’s medical treatment. In both cases what ends up happening to him is far more devastating than what he originally signed up for but, equally, there’s an element of complicity to it. If you return to your abusive master, expect to get abused. If you agree to be the centerpiece of an orgy, expect to get fucked. This abject stupidity is granted a psychological plausibility because Felix is a messed up little bunny, with a supposedly tragic conviction of his own profound worthlessness.

Obviously I don’t want to get into real issues here, but I think the reason the dubious consent became one of the bothering aspects of the scene in Corambis is that the sex abuse came plot-approved. I mean, if Felix was walking down the street and happened to get jumped and gang raped by a bunch of guys I think many a reader might rightly cry “Sarah Monette, what the fuck?” as there are very few occasions in which it is either appropriate or necessary to get one of your characters gang raped. But this way he has a “real” reason to put himself voluntarily into a position where he might be. It’s even, perhaps, meant to be on some level noble – in a hopelessly fucked up way, of course. So what you end up with is a deeply uncomfortable situation in which everything conspires, including (conveniently) Felix himself, to create a scenario in which a horrible but beautifully written gang rape is, to an extent, okay. And this is where the aesthetic of suffering starts to come apart at the seams.

Essentially this scene falls right into the uncanny valley. If it was purely designed for titillation I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but as it is there are elements are titillation and elements of horror. We are meant to be shocked and appalled – and it is shocking and appalling – but it’s framed in such a way that we are simultaneously liberated to relish the aesthetic. And quite frankly that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I think there’s something profoundly hypocritical and, indeed, deeply disturbing in the idea of enjoying both moral outrage and illicit sexual excitement (see Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse). The scene bears all the hallmarks of erotic non-con (there are elements of psychological exposure as well as physical, the victim is physically aroused throughout, the abusers are appreciative of his beauty and his apparent eagerness, and so on and so forth) but worked through a guilt-appeasing filter of “oh gosh, isn’t this terrible.”

My ankles were still chained and somebody had me scruffed like a kitten; I was keening in protest, but I was dragged upright, forced to straddle someone’s thighs, while he continued fucking me with the same relentless steadiness. I was displayed for all of them, my arousal jutting out shamelessly, the tear tracks on my face attesting to my weakness.

Now, I know that, unlike erotic non-con, Felix is not secretly into what’s being done to him and that he’s breaking and being broken here but you still have a scene that’s running in two directions simultaneously and trying to have its cake and eat it. It goes out of its way to tick the non-con wink-wink boxes but then slaps you face in the face with its insistence that this a terrible and traumatic event. Essentially you can’t have a gorgeously written gang rape that positions itself within a carefully constructed aesthetic framework and a psychologically accurate and traumatic portrait of a terrible ordeal.

And, ultimately, I guess you have to ask yourself if it’s okay to have an aesthetic gang rape scene full stop. The idea bothers me less as pornography but here, I would argue, that it gains an added erotic piquancy from the fact it really is annihilating Felix, which, again is troublesome. Essentially it’s why raping Clarissa is so much more interesting than raping Justine, and why it’s all right to get off on the latter and not the former.

The more I’ve thought about this and tried to articulate my issues with it, the more complex and convoluted it has become. There is, of course, an element of the purely personal about – I didn’t like it and it upset me – as well as these more abstract, intellectualizations of it. I dug around on Monette’s Livejournal – on which is usually charming and sensible – to see what I could find and, lo and behold, she has written quite comprehensively on the subject, which I shall now quote pretty much in its entirety:

I knew from very early on that Felix was going to turn back to prostitution to get the money for a doctor for someone he loved (I knew this was going to happen before I knew Mildmay existed), and I knew that he was going to end up in a situation that was completely out of his control and that hurt him badly. Because Felix is reckless and self-destructive and because under all his vanity, he doesn't think he's worth protecting. And because it is a kind of answering horror to his being raped by Malkar at the beginning of Mélusine. And because he needed something that would force him to confront these issues--force him to see that he doesn't deserve to be abused--and it had to be something superlatively unbearable if it was going to get through to him, because Felix has way too much experience at ignoring his own pain.

Say what? So it’s redemptive gang rape, the sort makes you a stronger and better person? What … the … fuck? It’s like those Hollywood amnesia plotlines (one blow to the head gives you amnesia, another blow cures it) except with sexual abuse. I know, again, we’re operating in a fictional sphere but this is so made of wrong that I’ll just content myself with linking to Dan’s article on

the victim dilemma

and throw my hands up in despair.

I quite enjoy Monette’s aestheticisation of suffering, I could probably navigate the uncanny valley if I really had to but I am sick to death of male fantasy writers using sexual abuse as a textual shortcut for character development and I’m damned if I’m going to deal with women doing the same thing. Sarah Monette, you are better than this.

Sexual abuse is not good for you. It happens and people react. Constantly depicting characters who react to it in courageous and life-enhancing ways is not empowering, it’s fucking demeaning to people who struggle along every day as best they can.

I’m sure in a different time in a different mood I’ll pick up Corambis again and I’ll get to page 152 and I’ll shrug and go “gang rape, meh” and read right on.

But not today.Themes:

Damage Report

Books

Sarah Monette

Sci-fi / Fantasy

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~Comments (

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Arthur B

at 14:44 on 2009-04-27It's depressing when series go south like this. It's especially annoying when they burn down the virtues of the earlier volumes. I was looking at your first Monette review and you were saying how you were impressed by the fact that Felix was gay, but it kind of wasn't a big deal; I'm getting the impression that as the series goes on that becomes less true, since that LJ extract makes it sounds like Monette intended all along to reduce Felix to a weepy gay man being abused by angry gay men. (If I'm interpreting that right - if Felix pimping himself out predates the existence of Mildmay, that means that Monette was planning to make this happen since before the first book, right?)

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Wardog

at 15:11 on 2009-04-27Mmm, that's part of the problem though. I don't actually think it's "gone south" - despite the Xtreme angst I was quite absorbed until page 152. It was merely that scene that tripped me out. I'm sure if I could put it behind me and just get on with the book, I'd probably really like it.

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Rude Cyrus

at 20:32 on 2009-04-27Great, now I need a shower.

While I suppose rape can be presented as being aesthetically pleasing, like in erotic non-con, I still don't like it. I've always found consenting sex between happy, willing partners infinitely more pleasurable -- don't ask me why. This sort of stuff just makes my skin crawl.

What's funny is that I can make it through The 120 Days of Sodom without blinking, but I think that's because De Sade insisted on using the driest, most tortured language possible.

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Wardog

at 21:15 on 2009-04-27Sorry Cyrus. I'm not sure but I think it's probably easier to be into erotic non-con / rape fantasy if you're a woman than a man, either because you're more likely to imagine yourself as the rapee rather than the rapist which is slightly easier to deal with morally speaking or because the world seems generally reluctant to admit that women can rape people too. Whereas if you're a man who fantasies about forcing women to have sex with him ... well ... hostility many ensue from quarters unwilling to concede the very real difference between fantasy, reality and simulated non-con.

Hmm, I think the thing about 120 Days of Sodom is that, as you say, it's incredibly dull. And de Sade is a terrible writer. There's only one thing worse than a rape scene and that's a badly written rape scene!

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Arthur B

at 21:18 on 2009-04-27I do wonder sometimes whether deSade was an early pen-and-paper troll. Most of his books seem to be the literary equivalent of telling someone a particular link goes to an interesting and thought-provoking philosophy website when actually it points to goatse or 2girls1cup.

I mean, he went to jail for it, but you have to make sacrifices for "the lulz", as I believe the young people call it these days.

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http://roisindubh211.livejournal.com/

at 02:43 on 2009-04-28"Constantly depicting characters who react to it in courageous and life-enhancing ways is not empowering, it’s fucking demeaning to people who struggle along every day as best they can."

I have to disagree here- not with the point you make, but with the accusation being levelled at Monette. Felix has spent three books getting abused and every reaction to it has been, basically, "I was right all along, I am worthless. Hmmm, should I hurt myself again or just re-alienate everyone who cares about me tonight?" The enormity of the gang-rape is something he's not prepared to consider his just desserts, and it isn't the only influence on his growth as a person. A lot has to do with having Mildmay -who has been developing his own self-confidence, on his own, without the help of shitty things happening to him- be there for him and push and push to get him (Felix) not to hurt himself any more.

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Wardog

at 09:13 on 2009-04-28

The enormity of the gang-rape is something he's not prepared to consider his just desserts, and it isn't the only influence on his growth as a person.

I do see your point and I wasn't really dissing Monette, who I actually adore. There was just something about this scene, or the way it was presented, or *something* that was a bridge too far for me. And at first I was inclined to just ignore it and tell myself to stop being a wuss and then I got interested in *why* this scene was so problematic and, secondarily, I realised that, on a wider level, it should probably be okay to stand up and say "for me, this gang rape is not okay."

I will at some point finish Corambis, because I have *hugely* enjoyed the Doctrine of Labyrinths quartet (I have some reviews knocking around here in which I give much sweet sweet love), I think I just need some time to get away from the gang rape.

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Wardog

at 09:29 on 2009-04-28

I do wonder sometimes whether deSade was an early pen-and-paper troll

Dan and I like the idea of historical trolls, and also explains the Marquis far more than most of pop-psych nonsense I've read does =P

Lucifer, of course, would be the first troll - complaining about the mods.

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http://miss-morland.livejournal.com/

at 11:54 on 2009-04-28*giggles at the thought of de Sade and Lucifer as trolls*

I haven't read Monette's books, but I still found this post very interesting - it articulates my issues with non-con and dub-con in fiction very well. (I do wonder, though, if ambiguous portrayals of rape scenes are sometimes meant to make the readers think and question their own attitudes, instead of jumping to the safe reaction of 'OMG so horrible'?)

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Dan H

at 14:25 on 2009-04-28

I do wonder, though, if ambiguous portrayals of rape scenes are sometimes meant to make the readers think and question their own attitudes, instead of jumping to the safe reaction of 'OMG so horrible'?)

You might well be right, but even if that is the intent, it's a deeply flawed one.

Perhaps I'm just an arrogant shit, but I really hate it when people try to make me think about stuff unless it's in a medium *specifically designed* for that.

If you want to challenge my preconceptions about rape, write a book that is *about* challenging my preconcieved notions about rape. Don't try to do it in the middle of a fantasy series that is mostly about hot gay wizards gettin' it on.

If I want to have my ideas about absuse challenged, I'll read Lolita, or possibly I'll track down some abuse-survivors' weblogs. I won't read an otherwise ordinary fantasy novel or, for that matter, watch

Dollhouse

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Dan H

at 16:05 on 2009-04-28

The enormity of the gang-rape is something he's not prepared to consider his just desserts

I can't speak for Kyra, but the problem I have with this is that it suggests, falsely, that the more traumatic an experience is the less likely you are to blame yourself for it. I'm by no means an expert on the subject of abuse survival but from my limited experience people's tendency to self-blame for things is wholly unrelated to the severity of the abuse suffered. For that matter, the whole idea of rating abuse experiences in order of severity is a bit of a dodgy precedent.

Essentially I think there's an important, and worrying, difference between "Felix has experienced things like this before but, because he has grown as a person, and because of the influence of Mildmay, he does not blame himself for this experience" and "Felix has experienced things like this before but, because this experience is so much worse than the others, he cannot blame himself for it".

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http://sistermagpie.livejournal.com/

at 21:38 on 2009-05-01I haven't read this last book yet, but I'm glad for the heads-up. Having read the other 3 I can definitely see how this kind of thing would play, and I'm not surprised that she'd planned something like this from the beginning. It does make you think thought, about the idea that this character is constantly going through situations like this, and it's finally when he acheives the kind of abuse he might have always thought would be what he deserved, that he realizes he didn't deserve it. Even if Mildmay and other experiences are also part of his turnaround, I don't know whether that kind of catalyst will click for me the way another one might.

Like, rather than having him be in a situatio that's the same as before, but with one clear difference that makes him see it clearly, it's almost like Helen Keller at the well. Repeated fingerspelling over and over and finally he gets it.

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Wardog

at 15:28 on 2009-05-11I lost this temporarily in the deluge of comments about other things.

It is possible I've over-reacted to the gang rape; I suppose responses to these sort of motifs are always going to be extremely personal. I feel almost hypocritical because, as you say, there's plenty of indication previously that we were on the Sex Abuse Superhighway and something like this was probably bound to happen. But the way it's framed and written, combinated with its narrative function as a catalyst for change really really squicked me out. I know it's not necessarily meant to be psychologically plausible but there's something deeply worrying in the idea that there is a scale of sexual abuse, the extreme end of which teaches you self respect.

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valse de la lune

at 14:04 on 2011-07-12I tracked down

this interview

and I'm now extremely, thoroughly grossed out with Sarah Monette:

I think this does happen to gay male protagonists (the most obvious example is Mercedes Lackey's Last Herald-Mage books). And I think Felix does fall into this trap to a certain extent, although in my defense I will say that the reason he gets raped is because I was interested in the tension inherent in a character who could be both rapist and victim. Which could have been a woman, or a heterosexual man, but it was most obvious and easiest to mobilize with a gay man. I also chose a gay male protagonist because my abiding interest is in the power dynamics of human relationships, especially sexual relationships, and it is VERY VERY HARD to write about that with a heterosexual female protagonist without pigeon-holing her and yourself into either a re-inscription of patriarchal gender roles (male dominant, female submissive) or a simple gender reversal (female dominant, male submissive) (which I did work with some in my novella, "A Gift of Wings," in The Queen in Winter). A lesbian relationship is also a possibility, but it's far more interesting and attention-grabbing to take power away from a man than it is to give power to a woman. [...] Also, because we live in a patriarchal society and have for several thousand years, there's nothing new or shocking about the idea that women are victims. (I'm not saying this is a good thing, mind you.) You can get more narrative charge out of victimizing a man and you aren't reinscribing the same old gender role patterns into that ever deeper groove of men act and women suffer.

What the fuck, Monette? My word, lesbian relationships aren't just ~hawt~ enough unlike slender

yaoi stereotypes

wizards sexing it up and... female empowerment is just too boring? Female victimization is just too

banal

to write about so gay men being degraded (and in this case, often raped by women) has more "narrative charge"? There's also something toward the end that basically goes "well, if you are writing about male rape it's super

titillating

shocking so people will recognize RAPE IS HORRIBLE whereas women being raped is just so

every day

so... hey, manpain! That'll get people

thinking

, right? Right!"

I don't know, all of this reads like the slash fangirl's justification why she's not interested in writing girls but wants to write hot boys instead, all disguised under a pretend layer of ~*soshul justeese*~.

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Wardog

at 23:33 on 2011-07-12Oh dear. I'm actually really annoyed with myself that it took me to Book IV to unpack what was going on with the, err, sexay mainpain and all the arse rape. I did quite like Monette initially - I think partially because when I first read Melusine I was still under the impression that gay characters were pretty rare in fantasy. To give Monette credit, when she actually bothers to be interested in them, she does write interesting female characters - I mean I *loved* Mehitabel from this series.

I think what freaks me out the most is that, as you observe, it's blatant titillation under the label of trangression. I have no problems with people getting their kicks from whatever they get their kicks from, as long as it's a carefully demarcated fantasy space, but pretending it's anything else is deeply toxic.

Also that interview was just awful :(

Maybe it's just because it doesn't apply to me but I don't understand why so many women find two dudes so unbelievably hawt but two women apparently tedious. Ho hum.

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valse de la lune

at 05:06 on 2011-07-13I think gay characters are still pretty rare in fantasy, but the gay dudes all seem to come from the same wellspring of fanfic tropes. I've read all the arguments as to why dudeslash is a female-positive space that enables women to explore their sexuality and I do get some of it, but I can't shake the feeling that so much of that is hot air; no matter how hard a slash fan argues I can't really see how spamming rape at gay dudes is particularly, y'know, feminist. Maybe it plays with power dynamics and whatnot but, on the other hand,

rape culture

I don't get the thing with YAY HAWT BOYS EWW GIRLS ARE BORING either, though it's been explained to me that most female characters aren't decently written so people'd sooner generate fanfic about boys instead. But that doesn't fly because fandom churns out great volumes of fanfic dedicated to minor male characters, even though some of them barely have a presence in the book/show/movie--see Figwit of the LOTR movies fame--whereas women, primary or tertiary, still get written out or villified. There are even

bingo cards

. Somewhere in that

a valid clause regarding how we're trained to look at media through male gateways thanks to patriarchy and we internalize that. Still don't get it on a personal level because I've always preferred female characters over male, but there it goes.

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Melissa G.

at 06:30 on 2011-07-13

Maybe it's just because it doesn't apply to me but I don't understand why so many women find two dudes so unbelievably hawt but two women apparently tedious. Ho hum.

Speaking as a straight woman who gets paid to translate yaoi, I can understand that pretty well. :-) It's not that I find girls boring as characters, but as someone who isn't sexually attracted to women, I find myself gravitating toward situations where I can look at/write about two sexy boys instead if I'm looking for smexy times. (Though I'm very, very picky these days about yaoi because of tropes I'm sure I've mentioned before.)

I feel some sympathy for Monette because I do have a hard time verbalizing my tastes without resorting to those same basic arguments about power play or feeling the need to judge the female character and how she is portrayed specifically because she's female (which I wish I didn't, but I do so...). What I find odd is the fact that everyone insists on asking me *why* I find male-on-male romance so appealing, and then I'm stuck in this hem-hawing, putting-on-airs defense because I'm too embarrassed to just go, "Two guys doing stuff to each other is hot?"

(Uh-oh, now I'm having Dorian Gray flashbacks. Oh, Ben Barnes, you scamp, you!!)

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Steve Stirling at 07:07 on 2011-07-13

I don't get the thing with YAY HAWT BOYS EWW GIRLS ARE BORING either

-- you get exactly the same in reverse from male writers a lot, so I don't see that there's any mystery about it.

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valse de la lune

at 07:20 on 2011-07-13I don't think Kyra's asking "why male-on-male?" but more "why do people find women inexplicably boring?"

but as someone who isn't sexually attracted to women, I find myself gravitating toward situations where I can look at/write about two sexy boys instead if I'm looking for smexy times.

That doesn't make sense to me because, even outside of sexual context, a lot of slashers just don't want to write women period and I'm sure we don't always only write about what's sexually/romantically attractive to us (or no straight man would ever write male characters).

It also doesn't really answer why women are so villified and hated by fandom at large: why people like Monette believe "it's more interesting to take power away from a man than to give power to a woman," or why slash is passed off as some wonderful female-positive space when it involves a lot of female-negative things, including but not limited to slut-shaming and othering women. Ogle hot boys, whatever (but even so, why so much fucking rape all the fucking time? Why the infantilizing tropes?). But I think you can do that without contributing to misogyny and rape culture.

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Steve Stirling at 07:24 on 2011-07-13

I don't think Kyra's asking "why male-on-male?" but more "why do people find women inexplicably boring?"

-- I don't. I actually had to start flipping coins at one point to make sure my characters weren't predominantly female.

Maybe it's because I was in single-sex schools for a lot of my adolescence, but I just find women more interesting than men. More complex and variable, on average.

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Steve Stirling at 07:38 on 2011-07-13

Ogle hot boys, whatever (but even so, why so much fucking rape all the fucking time? Why the infantilizing tropes?). But I think you can do that without contributing to misogyny and rape culture.

-- I don't read much (any, really) slash, but the actually-published equivalents like the book described here don't seem particularly misogynist to me. Just obsessed with Hot Boys in Chains.

As for the rape and stuff, a lot of people get off on that. Trying to tell people that the sexual fantasies which ring their chimes aren't permissible is roughly equivalent to trying to scold water until it voluntarily runs uphill. Much effort, little result.

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valse de la lune

at 07:45 on 2011-07-13

I don't. I actually had to start flipping coins at one point to make sure my characters weren't predominantly female.

Thank you, Minority Warrior, but if you are a bloke that's not exactly addressed to you.

I don't read much (any, really) slash, but the actually-published equivalents like the book described here don't seem particularly misogynist to me. Just obsessed with Hot Boys in Chains.

I've only read the first book and the gang-rape scene in the fourth, but a lot of the women in this series like to rape gay men for some strange reason.

Melusine

opens with an anecdote about the pure, true love between men. Two women get between it; one proceeds to rape one of the men repeatedly until he wants to kill himself. So, yes, both fandom slash and published slash perpetuate a lot of the same crap. Then there's Monette's interview and strange leaps of illogic which read sexist as hell to me.

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Melissa G.

at 08:48 on 2011-07-13

I can't speak to that. I don't know why so many writers are so anti-female characters, and it would take me pages of musing to try and come to a conclusion. I was referring specifically to sexual situations (by which I mean stories centering on sex) because the comment I was particularly responding to was "why do so many women find two dudes so unbelievably hot but two women apparently tedious". Which I read as "why do so many women love writing about two guys (sexually) but find writing about two women so boring (sexually)". Perhaps I misinterpreted what Kyra was saying. I stated clearly that I don't find women boring as characters to read and write about, but that I understand why many women gravitate toward male homosexual relationships and why they might find it arousing when they are writing merely to titillate themselves/others.

I haven't read the series in question so I take everyone's word for it that the rape isn't handled well and misogyny abounds. And trust me, I'm the first person to get fed up with the kind of tropes male-on-male stuff tends to come with - especially when written by someone who's probably never even spoken to a gay man before. I got fed up with one author in particular because her protagonists kept falling for their rapists, yuck. But just because a lot of it sucks and perpetuates some seriously shitty stuff doesn't mean that it's not okay to find guy-on-guy stuff hot. And I really don't appreciate being made to feel like because I like it, I am somehow in danger of losing my feminist card.

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valse de la lune

at 09:57 on 2011-07-13I don't think I have been suggesting that if you like slash, you're in danger of losing your feminist cred; being a feminist doesn't exactly mean everything you consume must be feminist, after all, and we all enjoy things that are problematic to some degree. I just don't like how it's put forward as a YAY WOMEN field when it's not really. Likewise, I've been shouted down in fandom spaces for calling out misogyny in slash, something along the line of

you will find it is you who is misogyny

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valse de la lune

at 10:06 on 2011-07-13(Sorry that I'm coming down harshly such that you feel you're being discredited as a feminist, though.)

One more thing--I've been told over and over that there is a strong presence of queer women in slash circles, so for some it's not so much a matter of "I'm straight so more cocks yay!!!" In fact, with so many queer women around--so many lesbians even--you'd think there would be more F/F fanfic. But there isn't, so...

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Melissa G.

at 10:23 on 2011-07-13

I don't think I have been suggesting that if you like slash, you're in danger of losing your feminist cred

I think I was responding defensively to this comment:

Ogle hot boys, whatever (but even so, why so much fucking rape all the fucking time? Why the infantilizing tropes?). But I think you can do that without contributing to misogyny and rape culture.

It basically felt to me like my entire sexual preference/fetish/whatever was being boiled down to "ogling hot boys". It’s those kinds of dismissive, judgmental comments that make me feel like I need to somehow justify what I find arousing. That’s why you have people arguing that it’s pro-women or empowering or whatever to write and read man-on-man love stories. When an attraction is called into question, I think often women in particular feel the need to base that attraction in something intellectual and philosophical. Because it would be wrong for a woman to just find something titillating or arousing. Because women aren’t supposed to like sex just for sex.

I think there are ways that it can be empowering (I wouldn't go so far as to say 'feminist'), but most of it fails in this regard. For me, when I read a story with a male bottom that I can relate to as far as sexual behavior, it makes me feel less weird. There's something freeing about the behavior being related to the position and not the gender, for me anyway. I think that also relates to why an author might find it more interesting (and by interesting I mean because they find it hot) to take power away from men. For some women who are attracted to men, there is something very fascinating and seductive about a man submitting (either sexually or emotionally), probably because it's something so commonly associated with female behavior. So again, it becomes less of a gender thing and more of a relationship role thing. If that makes any sense....

I just don't like how it's put forward as a YAY WOMEN field when it's not really.

I totally understand that. I actually avoid fan written slash like the plague because most of it is just not good. Most of it is (I think) influenced by yaoi, which oh dear god, has such problems. There is so much rape and questionable consent and a lot of "I'm only gay for that guy" and such overly traditional female behavior (even though one of them is male, go figure). And the kind of people you've probably argued with are likely the kind of people who make me afraid to admit I'm part of the yaoi subculture.

But there is good stuff out there. I promise. :-)

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Melissa G.

at 10:26 on 2011-07-13

Sorry, I made my long post before I saw this! That is odd. Why don't they focus on yuri? Yuri is slowly becoming a more female dominated genre. It's kind of cool actually that the female authors are slowly co-opting a genre that was once basically male-written lesbian porn for men. To each their own, I guess?

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valse de la lune

at 10:59 on 2011-07-13

It basically felt to me like my entire sexual preference/fetish/whatever was being boiled down to "ogling hot boys".

But... I said that because I think it's pretty dandy if you're just in it for the ogling of hot boys, or balls being cupped gently, or even self-lubing anuses. I don't think you, or anyone else, need to justify it any further than that. Think it's hot? Go for it! That's excellent. Objectifying

men

in and of itself, separate from the concern over straight people fetishizing homosexuality, doesn't really bother me. I'm not questioning the appeal of slash: I'm questioning some of the tropes, the homophobia, the misogyny. Which certainly aren't universal, but there sure is a lot of them to go around. Hell, gay male characters written by straight men also get raped an awful lot (hi Richard Morgan, thank you for that graphic schoolboy gang rape).

Disclosure: I think lesbians are awesome. I'd like to read more stuff with lesbian representation. Being homoromantic does have something to do with it, though.

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Melissa G.

at 11:11 on 2011-07-13

:-) I think it just came off as hostile because of the swearing, lol. To be honest, I was probably overly defensive because it's kind of a touchy thing for me.

I'm not questioning the appeal of slash: I'm questioning some of the tropes, the homophobia, the misogyny.

Yes, I'm with you here. I have a lot of trouble with a lot of boy/boy stuff that's out there.

Re: Lesbians

If you're looking to try out some yuri, I can lead you to some scanlation sites. I haven't read much yuri so I can't totally vouch for the content, but these are sites that I know of:

Lililicious

Payapaya

Just be sure to check for ratings and such. There was one on Lilicious I read years ago that I was enjoying.

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valse de la lune

at 11:14 on 2011-07-13OMG yay :D :D :D Thanks for the links. My friend's been sending me some too. I'm also quite pleased to see that a lot of yuri writers are female. Awesome.

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Cammalot

at 15:23 on 2011-07-13I JUST WANNA WATCH DUDES EMOTE. ;-)

I actually got into yaoi (not slash for whatever reason) because I was attracted to what I thought was the innate equality in such a a relationship. There are a variety of reasons I don't really seek out much fanfic anymore (one of which is the decade-plus that has gone by) but one of them is that I don't really see that equality getting embraced. (I'm necessarily truncating this, I have to imitate being a productive employee at the moment.)

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Melissa G.

at 19:40 on 2011-07-13

I JUST WANNA WATCH DUDES EMOTE. ;-)

Ooh, yes, good observation. I like that too.

I actually got into yaoi (not slash for whatever reason) because I was attracted to what I thought was the innate equality in such a a relationship.

Ditto. That's what I really like about it too, which is why I hate when they skew the power dynamic too far in one direction without somehow compensating for it in another way. I've never been into fanfic, but I do love doujinshi.

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Cammalot

at 19:48 on 2011-07-13I wrote up this whole long comment yesterday, but today with you guys' further conversation I realized I was addressing something that Pyro was not talking about, so I'm tweaking, but I don't think I'll have a chance to get to it today.

The extremely short version is that there's a very definite blockage that some women seem to have about writing women, and I had it myself for some time (and that some more extreme versions of it outright baffle me), and have spent a lot of time trying to process, discuss, and debate what the fuck that is about. With theories. I have theories.

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Melissa G.

at 19:53 on 2011-07-13

The extremely short version is that there's a very definite blockage that some women seem to have about writing women,

Definitely noticed this myself at times. I gravitate toward writing male characters, or at least I used to. I'm very interested to hear your theories whenever you find the time to write them up. :-)

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Sister Magpie

at 20:07 on 2011-07-13

I would guess that that's probably not all that related to the whole "that's my kink" thing, only not all kinks are sexual. That is, expecting them to explain it would probably be similar to having anybody explain why they find one thing more hot than another.

For instance, I like het and I like slash, but there are certain kinds of stories that could definitely be considered non-sexual kinks that I am more likely to read about in a m/m pairing than a f/m pairing or f/f pairing. I suppose I could try to relate it to power issues with gender IRL, but it's probably more just a kink if it's something I've pretty much always been drawn to.

I don't find that rape or "I'm only gay for that guy" seems to dominate most of the slash I come across, but I think that might often come down to different pairings leaning towards different dynamics. Or else also some authors being better than most.

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Steve Stirling at 22:44 on 2011-07-13Pyrofennec:

-of the women in this series like to rape gay men for some strange reason.Melusine opens with an anecdote about the pure, true love between men. Two women get between it; one proceeds to rape one of the men repeatedly until he wants to kill himself.

-- that is odd. I'd say it was evidence of misogyny if a guy wrote it, but I have trouble -imagining- a guy writing it, even a gay man. You'd need a very strange set of quirks to do so.

#Ferretbrain #Corambis #Sarah Monette #Wardog

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