#leave it to me to fixate on one visual trick and think about it the whole time throughout the reading

[whamss]

Don't have a lot of thoughts on the HSBC update, but I am extremely stuck on this panel:

And the thought of how absolutely horrifying it must be for Rose if Roxy actually grew up to look like Mom Lalonde. And I guess the implication here that the other alphas might have also grown up to look like their guardian counterparts (although Dirk died in his early 20s in this timeline, and Jane and Jake are still way younger than Nanna and Grandpa, so the hypothetical doesn't hit as hard for the other three beta kids)

Just like, I guess this was already to some degree a thought that is implicit with the existence of the alpha kids, but spending your late teen years and early adulthood getting close to a girl who Rose probably gained a more sisterly bond with, only to slowly watch her become the spitting image of the dead mother who neglected her, who she also regrets never bonding with must be some flavor of horrifying, right? But also maybe cathartic in a way?

I don't know, this just threw me out of it a little. I like the depiction of the adults looking like guardians when the story shifts to the pov of the children, kind of neat if they keep that up. I just also think that seeing Roxy look exactly like Mom Lalonde is such an interesting play because like. It makes sense, but thinking about how that would fuck with Rose's head a little is doing great things for me (<- person who makes everything about Rose). Extremely interesting

#homestuck beyond canon #homestuck #upd8 #? i guess #rose lalonde #roxy lalonde #*microwave noises* this is barely about the update #leave it to me to fixate on one visual trick and think about it the whole time throughout the reading #talk tag

[newtonsheffield]

Hmmm so Anthony enjoyed the striptease and after clubbing when they went home Kate did what to Anthony?👀

Maybe save this for spicy sunday

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

We don't need to see slightly tipsy Good Girls Kate and Anthony stumbling home do we???

I'm kidding. Okay. Let's do this.

This is a continuation of my post from yesterday where Kate tricked old Anthony into going out to a club with her by looking like a babe.

He could feel Kate's hands up his shirt before they'd even gotten in the cab, her fingers trailing over the muscles of his stomach, her voice low in his ear, not quite a whisper

"Have I ever told you, you were the first boy I ever had a dirty dream about?"

Anthony cleared his throat, looking around at the other people in the line, several smirks sent his way. He shook his head.

Kate hummed, "I was 15 and I dreamt about us having sex behind the football field." Anthony suddenly felt a little smug, that even so many years before they'd been together, he'd been part of her wildest fantasy. But apparently Kate wasn't finished, "And that's the night I figured out how to finger myself."

Anthony choked as a man behind him clapped him on the shoulder, "Nice work mate!" Anthony shot the man a scowl as Kate spun around smiling brightly.

"Well who can blame? Isn't he handsome?" The girl clinging to the Man's side gave a covert little nod and a man further down the line yelled out

"He sure is, sweetheart!"

Anthony felt his cheeks burning as he tugged Kate towards the waiting cab, the smug smile on her face a little much, as her hand settled high on his thigh, Anthony stuttering out the address.

"Princess, please, you're drunk." Anthony choked out as her teeth nipped at his collarbone.

She hummed again, "I've been drinking, I'm far from drunk."

Christ she was right, she hadn't had a drink in hours, sure, there was the taste of vodka on her tongue as it moved against his but her movements weren't clumsy, weren't even hesitant as she pressed him against the door of the cab, her skin hot under his touch as she palmed at the front of his jeans, her already short skirt hiking up even higher.

"Oi! Lovebirds! We're here!" The cabdriver yelled out, honking the horn. Anthony flushed as Kate slid from the car, her eyes beckoning him to leave the car, as she sauntered backwards towards their flat. Anthony reached into his pocket fumbling for his wallet, grabbing a fistful of notes and shoving them at the driver.

"Sorry mate, you get it she's-" He gestured vaguely after Kate's swishing hips with a frustrated growl.

The cabdriver rolled his eyes, "Yeah mate, the girl you picked up in a bar's a babe. I get it."

Anthony sighed, clapping him on the shoulder, as he slid from the car "That girl's gonna be my wife one day, mate."

He didn't wait for a response before he hurried inside after her, practically panting already. Kate was already in the living room by the time he bounded through the door, a single chair in the middle of the room, his old school tie hanging from the edge, the sight sent a jolt right through him.

"Take off your clothes and sit down, Anthony." He couldn't move quickly enough, tugging his boots off as he jumped around, slipping out of his jeans a shirt hurriedly before parking himself expectantly in the chair, staring up at Kate.

"Am I getting a little show tonight?"

A predatory smirk spread over Kate's face. "I think so, but the thing is when you go to strip clubs you're not allowed to touch the girls."

He'd known where this was going all along, and still is hips jolted upwards, when she hadn't even touched him yet.

She waltzed around him tugging his hands behind his back on the chair, her fingers fiddling with the tie binding his wrists together and he had no intentions of trying to struggle, the front of his boxers was already too tight, but he couldn't resist teasing.

"Now how am I supposed to tuck £5 notes into your thong if I don't have my hands, princess."

Kate finished her work with a satisfied hum her lips ghosting over his ear. "Oh, honey, we both know you'd need notes much bigger than that to afford me."

Anthony couldn't help but whine, as she sashayed to stand in front of him, her hips already swaying, before the music had even started, Def Leppard suddenly blasting through the apartment, a slow smile on Kate's face as her hips started to move in time with the beat, her hair flipping in time , her hands roaming over herself and Anthony already wanted to touch, his fingers twitching behind his back, straining against the restraints as her fingers played with the edge of her top.

"Do you want me to take it off?" She was still moving with the music, her eyebrow raised expectantly. He nodded eagerly, desperate to see her. "Use your words please Anthony."

Her commanding tone was getting him there even quicker than the visual. "Please. Please show me, Princess."

Her top hit the floor seconds later, and fuck he wanted to touch her, to feel her warm soft skin under his fingertips. Wanted for it to be his hands on the zip of her skirt, tugging to down, wanted his tongue to follow the zipper down, and christ all he wanted was to be able to feel her.

"Kate, Babe, please I can't- I need-" Oh she'd dropped her skirt, the red lace of her underway stark against her skin as she turned to face him, walking slowly towards him.

"What do you need Anthony?" Her voice was low and rough, she was so close their legs were nearly touching, and he'd never felt so desperate in his entire life, not even when Kate had snuck into his bedroom one weekend and waited for him, tied to the headboard.

"If you tell me I'll give it to you, I promise." Anthony could barely hear her, his eyes had fixated on the way her breasts were swaying in his face, his hips bucking towards her, "Anthonyyy." Her voice was a sing song now, her fingertip trailing down his chest, making him shiver.

"I want you to ride me!" It fell from his lips i a bit of a panic, and he figured he may as well complete the thought. "And let me cum on your tits."

Kate's eyebrow lifted, her smirk a permanent fixture, as she moved to stand over him, leaning towards him just a little. Anthony strained against the chair to try and get their lips to touch.

"If that's what you want. You were such a good boy tonight." And then her lips were on his, even more relentless than they had been in the car, her tongue sliding sinfully against his as she finally straddled him, his hips bucking upwards immediately his shoulders burning as he strained against the restraints.

And then she was there, the pace punishing as she moved against him, obviously as desperate for him as he'd been for her all night, and he could already tell this wasn't going to last long, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as her arms held him close, desperate noises wrenched from his chest as he tried to hold back long enough. Kate's voice cracking as it was interspersed with gasps and groans

Anthony, Anthony Honey, I'm so so oh Fuck! Look at me.

His eyes snapped to hers and she shattered around him, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Desperate heat building in his stomach tugging behind his belly button and he covered her chest in himself.

Music still blaring from the speaker in the corner, Cherry Pie now, anthony noted vaguely, the only thing breaking up the sounds of their laboured breathing.

Kate hummed staring down at her chest before running her finger through it, bringing it to her lips, making Anthony groan against her. "I'm kind of surprised. since I stopped making you wrap it you never wanna do that anymore."

She trailed her fingers between her legs, bringing them to Anthony's lips.

He whined, "Are you complaining?"

Kate smirked, standing from his lap a little shakily Anthony noted smugly, "Definitely not." Her hands tugging hers free, pulling him to his feet, a soft sigh escaping him as she finally settled his hand on her arse. "Now come on, we're not done yet. There's a headboard you made in here, and I want to stare at it while you rail me."

This girl really was going to be his wife one day, and he couldn't wait.

#good girls au #spicy sunday🌶 #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #molly's asks and answers #def leppard's hysteria album is the shit #if you aren;t familiar do your ears a favour

[him-e]

what did you think of shadow and bone? have you read the books? i only read the duology

Thoughts on Shadow and Bone, now that you've probably seen it?

I think the show is alright? It lacks a real wow factor as far as I’m concerned, but it’s enjoyable. It’s especially enjoyable in those parts I didn’t anticipate to like / didn’t even know would be there. 

Whereas the main selling points leave a lot to be desired.

The good stuff: the visuals. The aesthetic. The overall concept. Production, casting and costumes are excellent, the setting is fascinating. The worldbuilding isn’t perfect and is sometimes confusing, which is probably due to the show jumping ahead of the books and introducing elements that happen much later in the book saga, but I’m loving the vague steampunk-y vibe of it mixed with more typical fantasy stuff and slavic-inspired lore, the fact that it’s set in dystopian Russia rather than your usual ye olde England.

I find it interesting that in this ‘verse the Grisha are simultaneously superstars, privileged elite, legendary creatures and despised outcasts, according to the context and the type of magic they wield. It’s A Lot, and so far it’s all a bit underdeveloped and messy, like a patchwork of different narratives and tropes sewn together without an organic worldbuilding structure. (there are hints to a past when they were hunted, but how did they go from that to being, essentially, an institutionalized asset to the government isn’t clear yet. There’s huge narrative potential in this, and I hope future seasons will delve into those aspects)

Many of the supporting characters are surprisingly solid. I appreciated that Genya and Zoya eventually sort of traded places, subverting the audience’s assumptions about them and their own character stereotypes, despite the little screentime they were given.

Breakout characters/ships for me were Nina/Matthias, and even more so the Crows, i.e. the stuff I didn’t see coming and knew nothing about (having only read the first book). (I thought the entire Crows subplot was handled in a somewhat convoluted way, at least in the first episodes; it was hard to keep track of who wanted Alina and why, but the Crows’ chemistry is so strong it carried the whole Plot B on its shoulders).

HELNIK. As an enemies to lovers dynamic, Helnik was SUPER on the nose, I’d say bordering on clichéd with the unapologetic, straight outta fanfiction use of classic tropes like “we need to team up to survive” and “there’s only one bed and we’ll freeze to death if we don’t take our conveniently damp clothes off and keep each other warm with the heat of our naked bodies” (not that I’m complaining, but i like to pine for my ships a bit before getting to the juicy tropetown part, tyvm). And then they’re suddenly on opposite sides again because of a tragic misunderstanding - does Bardugo hate high-conflict dynamics? It certainly seems so, because between Helnik and Darklina I’m starting to see a pattern where the slow burn and blossoming mutual trust is rushed and painted in broad, stereotypical strokes to get as fast as possible to the part where they *hate each other again* and that’s... huh. Something.

^That’s probably why I’m almost more interested in Kaz x Inej, because their relationship feels a bit more nuanced, a bit more mysterious, and a bit more unpredictable. (I didn’t bother spoiling myself about them, so I really don’t know where they’re going, but it’s refreshing to see a dynamic that the narrative isn’t scrambling to define in one direction or the other as quickly as possible)

-

Now, as for Darklina VS Malina... I found exactly what I expected. 

Both are ship dynamics I’m, on principle, very much into (light heroine/dark villain, pining friends to lovers) but both are also much less interesting than they claim to be, or could have been with different narrative choices. I’ll concede that the show characters are all more fleshed out and likable than their book counterparts, and the cringe parts I vaguely remembered from the books played out differently. And, well, Ben Barnes dominates the scene, he’s hot as HELL, literally every single second he’s on screen is a fuck you to Bardugo’s attempts to make his character lame and uninteresting and I’m LOVING it, lol.

But yeah, B Barnes aside, Darklina is intrinsically, deliberately made to be unshippable. 

It makes me mad, because it’s - archetypally speaking - made of shipping dynamite: yin/yang-sun and moon, opposites attract, COMPLEMENTARY POWERS AND SO ON. And what does Bardugo do with these ingredients? A FUCKING DELIBERATE DISASTER:

^ Placing the kiss so early on (season 1, episode five) effectively kills the romantic tension that was (correctly) building up until that point, and leaves the audience very little to still hope for, in terms of emotional evolution of the dynamic. 

Bardugo lays all the good stuff down as early and quickly as possible (the bonding, the conflicted attraction, the recognizing the other as one’s equal, etc) only to turn the tables and pull the rug so y’all sick creepyshippers won’t have anything to look forward to, because THEY’VE ALREADY HOOKED UP AND THAT BELONGS TO THE PAST, IT’S OVER, THEY’RE ENEMIES. This, combined to the fact that she falls for him *without* knowing who he really is, is the opposite of what I want from a heroine/villain ship (it’s basically lovers to enemies, and while that can be valid too, I wanted to see more pining and more prolonged, tormented symbolic attraction to the Shadow/Animus on Alina’s part). 

But here’s the trick: it’s not marketed as lovers to enemies - it has all the aesthetics and trappings of an enemies to lovers (the Darkling is, from the get go, villain-presenting, starting from his name), so it genuinely feels like a trollfic, or at the very least a cautionary tale *against* shipping the heroine with the tall dark brooding young villain, and I don’t think it’s cool at all. It makes the story WAY less interesting, because it humanizes the villain early on (when it’s not yet useful or poignant to the story, because it’s unearned) but it’s a red herring. The real plot twist is that the villain shouldn’t be sympathized with, just defeated: there’s a promise of nuanced storytelling, that is quickly denied and tossed aside. So is the idea of incorporating your Shadow (a notion that Bardugo must be familiar with, otherwise she wouldn’t have structured Alina and the Darkling as polar opposites who complement each other, but that she categorically refutes)

Then we have Malina. The good ship.

Look, I’m not that biased against it. I don’t want to be biased on principle against a friends to lovers dynamic that antagonizes a heroine/villain one, because every narrative is different, and for personal reasons I can deeply relate to the idea of being (unspeakably) in love with your best friend. So there are aspects of Malina that I can definitely be into, but it troubles me that in this specific context it’s framed as a regression. It’s Alina’s comfort zone, a fading dream of happiness from an idealized childhood, to sustain which the heroine systematically stunts her growth and literally repressed her own powers, something that in the books made her sickly and weak. But the narrative weirdly romanticizes this codependency, often making her tunnel vision re: going back to Mal her primary goal and centering on him her entire backstory/motivation, to the point that when she starts acting more serious re: her powers and alleged mission to destroy the Fold, it feels inorganic and unearned. 

Mal is intrinsically extraneous to Alina’s powers, he doesn’t share them, he doesn’t understand them, he has little to offer to help her with them, and so the feeling is that he’s also extraneous to her heroine’s journey, aside from being a sort of sidekick or safe harbor to eventually come back to. People have compared him to Raoul from Phantom of the Opera, and yeah, he has the same ~magic neutralizer~ vibe, tbh.

The narrative also polarizes Mal’s normalcy and relative “safety” against Aleksander’s sexy evil, framing Alina’s quasi-platonic fixation on the former as a better and purer form of love than her (much more visible and palpable) attraction to the latter. This is exacerbated by the show almost entirely relying on scenes of them as kids to convey their bond. I’m sure there are ways to depict innocent pining for your best friend that don’t involve obsessively focusing on flashbacks of two CHILDREN running in a meadow and looking exactly like brother and sister. LIKE. I get it, they’re like soulmates in every possible way, BUT DO THEY WANT TO KISS EACH OTHER?

Which brings me to a general complain: for a young adult saga centering on a young heroine and full of so many hot people, this story is weirdly unsexy? There are a lot of shippable dynamics, but they’re done in such a careless, ineffective way that makes ZERO EFFORT to work on stuff like slow burn, pining and romantic tension, and when it does it’s so heavy handed that the viewer doesn’t feel encouraged at all to fill the blanks with their imagination and start anticipating things (which is, imo, the ESSENCE of shipping). The one dynamic that got vaguely close to this is, again, Kaz and Inej, and coincidentally it’s also the one we didn’t get confirmed as romantic YET. Other than that, where’s the slow burn? What ship am I supposed to agonize over during the hiatus to season two? Has shipping become something to feel ashamed of, like an embarrassing relative you no longer want to invite in your home?

Anyway, back to Alina/Darkling/Mal, this is how the story reads to me:

girl suspects to be special, carefully pretends to be normal so she can stay with Good Boy

the girl’s powers eventually manifest; she’s forcibly separated from Good Boy

the girl’s powers attract Bad Boy who is her equal and opposite but is also a major asshole

girl initially falls for Bad Boy; has to learn a hard lesson that nobody that sexy will ever want her for who she is, he’s just trying to exploit her

also, no, there is no such thing as a Power Couple

girl is literally given a slave collar by Bad Boy through which he harnesses her power (a parody of the Twin Scars trope)

you know how the story initially suggested that the joint powers of Darkness and Light would defeat evil? LOL NO, Darkness is actually evil itself and the way you destroy evil is using Light to destroy Darkness, forget that whole Jungian bullshit of integrating your shadow, silly!

conclusion: girl realizes being special sucks. She was right all along! Hiding and suppressing her powers was the best choice! She goes back to the start, to the same Good Boy she was meekly pining for prior to the start of the story.

... there’s an uncomfortable overall subtext that reads a lot like a cautionary tale against - look, not just against darkships and villain/heroine pairings, but also *overpowered* heroines and, well... change? Growth?

Like, it’s certainly a Choice that Alina starts the story *already* in love with Mal. That she always knew it was him. The realization could have happened later (making the dynamic much more shippable, too), but no. 

#anon #asks #* #sab for ts #long post #darklina for ts #malina for ts #sorry it took me a while but i wanted to see the whole season first

[generalfoolish]

Mayhem Times Infinity

Part Two: Multiverse Mayhem

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader (enemies reluctant co-workers to lovers)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: cw mentions of death, gore, trauma; the snap, violence, comic mischief, language

Word Count: 4k

Summary: The duo finds out what odds they're up against, but Loki has other plans.

A/N: Hey babes! I couldn't help but put in the work ASAP on this one. Gotta chase that hyper-fixation high. I'm ready to move into the "will they" part of this story! Sorry, for that slow burn, guys. Also, this doesn't necessarily join up at all with the series, but I threw a little nod in there, a little Professor Loki at the end. Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part One | Part Three

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

“So, to summarize,” Loki drawled. “This is Earth-616, and it’s in danger.” Doctor Strange groaned, but nodded. Four hours. You had been listening to Doctor Strange for four hours. He had detailed the Multiverses, interdimensional travel, sling rings, all-powerful creatures more heinous than Thanos, and the ultimate demise of Earth-616--your Earth, your universe--and all Loki could do was joke.

You were reeling. Sure, you had considered the idea of other dimensions. You gulped as you tried to wrap your head around the gravity of the situation. There was a Multiverse jumper, Strange had given you all the information he could about the existence of multiverses and the area the villain was from, but couldn’t be more specific.

“Sure, in short. Now, listen, we don’t know who exactly is doing this. It would seem they’re working for Kang or Gah Lak Tus, but we aren’t certain of anything. We’re sending you for reconnaissance. Find out anything you can.”

“Yes, but why us? Why not the Guardians with Thor?” You asked. The tea in your hands too cold to enjoy, but you took a small sip anyway. You pulled a small face, and lowered the small cup again.

“They’re busy.” Strange told you without preamble.

“Well, so are we. He was just resurrected, and I’m technically homeless right now.” You argued, lifting the cup again, and taking another sip. The now pleasantly warm liquid tasted much better than it had even when you poured it. You raised an eyebrow at Loki, wondering if it was his magic, but he was looking at Strange, a small smirk on his lips.

“Then it should be less of a discussion. You’ll need to travel light, and neither of you are otherwise entangled. Now, do you recall our conversation of sling rings?” You nodded, and yelped when a thick bar ring appeared on your hand.

“I just focus?”

“Yes, visualize, focus and see the destination. Look beyond what you see. You know how to do that. This is the only way you’ll be able to travel through the multiverse, and I only have the one. You’ll have to travel together.”

“Okay. What about the Negative Zone?” You asked, your hand weighed down by the new accessory. The physical weight was negligible, but the mental weight left you straining.

“Start there. Remember Earth-616 is yours. Though it is unlikely anyone will refer to them as their numerical filing. What’s your job?” Strange asked, and you huffed, annoyed.

“Gather intel. We can handle it.” You snapped, and he lifted his hand.

Suddenly, a golden ring appeared before you, and on the other side an empty field.

“Go on, then.” Strange challenged, and you shot him a look, but walked through the portal.

You felt the portal close behind you, the energy rippling shut.

“That was strange.” Loki murmured, smoothing his leather jacket down. Without thinking, without pause, you replied.

“Doctor Strange.”

“That is not a good joke, darling.” Your eyebrows shot up.

“First, it definitely is. Second, ‘darling,’?” You asked.

“I told you, I refuse to call you ‘Stone,’ and you haven’t supplied anything else.” Loki argued, and began walking through the field. The grass, untouched, reached far up his long legs engulfing his waist, and you tried to pull your attention away from how he looked surrounded by the golden strands.

Celestial. God-like, you thought as you failed.

“Well, perhaps we should focus on the mission instead.” You cleared your throat as you walked to him. You tried to ignore how you had to incline your head to see him, failing again as you took in the height difference.

“Yes. I was thinking, we should perhaps change our clothes to fit in.” Loki mused, and you nodded.

“Good idea. Where are we?” You asked. It looked...vaguely Earth-like.

“How should I know? Aren’t you the one blessed with infinite knowledge?” He grumbled. You rubbed your palm down your face, and tried to perceive your location.

“I got nothing, Mayhem.” You mused, and began walking again.

“Casual linens, then?” Loki inquired, a ghost of a smile on his lips. You shrugged, and before you had relaxed your shoulders back down, you were draped in a dark green gown. You rolled your eyes at Loki’s shit-eating grin.

“Subtle.” You told him, gesturing down. He held his hands out in a shrug, and you laughed. He had matched his own ‘casual’ clothes in the same deep shade of green. You expected another jab, but instead he started walking away from you, and didn't break pace to see if you were coming. You jogged to catch him.

"Where are you going?" You asked, slightly out of breath. You were only just realizing how much taller he was than you. His long legs had carried him swiftly away from you in no time.

"Anywhere I please." He told you, barely looking down, but you could see his lips lifted in a smirk all the same.

"What do you mean?" You asked, looking around, wondering what destination he meant.

"Norns, woman, are you daft? I'm leaving. I'm free, finally. A better question for you would be: where are you going? Hmm? All that time on Midgard, now you're in space, darling. Where are you going to go?" He had broken stride to sneer down at you. You tried to hide your obvious shock at the sudden turn of emotion.

"To find the threat against our Galaxy. Why wouldn't you want to do the same?" You asked, malice lacing your tone. Here he was, wearing his true colors finally. The treacherous Loki, the one you'd been told about, the one you should've heeded the warnings about.

His nose crinkled in disgust, and you felt the vision coming before it hit. You'd seen this one a few times already, but nothing prepared you for it. You gasped for air as you felt Loki's throat being constricted, and winced when you felt the crunch of his neck.

His smug look told you he'd made that happen.

"I have a few reasons." He told you, his voice quiet and dangerous.

"We were chosen for a reason, Loki." You tried, grasping for any shred of logic that might convince him to stay. Treacherous or not, he had much more experience in space than you.

"Yes, we were. Isn't it obvious to you, yet? We were sent here to die." He held his arms out and gestured around at the field.

"What do you mean? It's just recon." You replied, noting his wingspan, the subtle way his lithe muscles pulled taut the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh yes, truly the omnipotent Dr. Strange would send a known liar and the newest avenger to stop a doom to the universe." He rolled his eyes and began walking away from you. You watched his hands trail lightly over the blades of grass, and knew he was right. You hated him for it, but he was. You had been pushing those feelings down since you had first found yourself in space looking at Loki. If this truly had the gravity Dr. Strange said it had, why wasn't he here? Or anyone of the other space faring avengers, or the guardians? Why were you sent here with Loki of all people?

You followed behind him, the grass reaching much higher on you, and contemplated your choices. You had the sling rings, so the options were endless. Yet, you kept coming back to the same one: do the job. Every fiber of your being told you Loki was right, but a small voice in the back of your mind told you he could be wrong. And it was enough.

You glanced up at your companion, his black hair curling at the edges of his collar, his back straight and proud, his shoulders broad and capable. He could handle himself in a fight, this much you knew. He'd be an asset. How would you convince him to stay? Trick him? Trick the God of Mischief? Surely you weren't dumb enough to try.

You threw your head back and looked at the sky. You knew you were. You knew you had to. You needed his help, but more than that, you actually wanted it. He was charming, after all.

"So, where exactly are you going, then?" You asked, breaking the steady silence. You watched his stride falter for a second as he turned to look at you.

"To the town." He told you, confidently.

"So, you do know where we are?"

"No."

"Then how would you know?" You challenged him.

"There'll be a town, eventually." He told you, clearly agitated at your questions.

"Sorry, just working out a few things." You told him, keeping your gaze averted. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You kept your face passive as the wave of wariness washed over you. You had thrown your plan together in about three seconds, but already it was going perfectly.

Step one: make Loki suspicious. It was easy to do. He had no real reason to trust you. Plus, he had to be expecting it anyway.

It led to the rest of your plan. He’d “uncover” your deceit, and you’d go along acting caught in a lie. Then, you’d gain his trust for real. Finally, you trick him into actually helping you do some reconnaissance for Strange.

Easy peasy.

Now, just to find this town.

I’ll be damned.” You muttered when you first saw it.  A light cascading in the sky, not the stars that littered it currently, but a new one. A man made, or alien made, one.

“Aha!” Loki called, looking at you expectantly.

“You did it!” You laughed, peering through the trees that stood between you and the source. Failing that, you reached out with your mind. No one was lingering about, so you focused on Loki. It was a mixture of joy and trepidation. It was all bitter endings.

He was planning a betrayal of his own, of course. What you couldn’t piece together is why he was feeling hesitant to do it. Clearly, he had worked out a way to get off-world.

“Perhaps we should make camp here.” He suggested, turning his steady gaze to you. You looked around, considering it. More open than the forest, but that could be helpful in a fight. Unlikely anyone would be able to sneak up on either of you. Especially if you took turns sleeping. But, didn’t you just feel his looming betrayal? Should you risk it so soon? You needed sleep. Would he leave you alone, asleep, in a field on an alien planet? Surely not. But could you trust it? Did you trust him?

“Okay, Mayhem. I’ll grab some firewood.” You told him, starting to head to the edge of the woods. He chuckled, and you heard the whoosh of a flame. You turned and your mouth fell open. He had conjured an entire campsite. The fire was contained within a stone structure, there was a clearing to sit, he’d even managed a few blankets.

"Surely this will suffice." He teased, a grin ghosting on his lips. You nodded, lamely, and grabbed a blanket.

"Can you be troubled with dinner?" You joked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

"What do you want?" He asked, settling down onto the ground, long legs stretched before him.

"Oh I don't know, what's your favorite thing?" You mused, snuggling under the thick material. It was softer than cotton or wool, warm but not hot, heavy enough to provide weight without being unbearable. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling against your skin, and nearly dozed. He startled you when he began speaking.

"The perfect night-meal is a sampling of delicacies. But the most exquisite taste is fresh champagne from the springs on Alfheim. Poured lazily by the Pleasure Elves, of course." You laughed.

"Pleasure Elves and champagne springs, what the hell are we still doing here?" He chuckled and adjusted the blanket around his shoulders, before looking at you seriously.

"I will show you Alfheim, if you wish." You resisted shuddering under his intense gaze. You could barely meet his eyes, a deep, dark green that rivaled the evening forest.

"I'd like that, someday. For now, dinner. Can you do...pizza?" You asked, smiling broadly. He frowned, clearly disgusted.

"I could, but I would not. Is that truly what you crave? Greasy, unimaginative mortal food?" You shrugged. "Very well." With a flick of his wrist, he brought forth two wrapped sandwiches. Curious, you pulled the wrapper off and smiled happily.

"A cheeseburger! How is that better than pizza?" You asked, laughing and taking a bite. You watched him peel the wrapper with grace, only touching the burger with his fingertips.

"I'm not sure. Thor described them much better than they appear." He seemed vaguely disgusted.

"We could have had alien food." You told him, laughing at his discomfort. He rolled his eyes at you.

"Technically, darling, you're the alien here." His matter-of-fact tone wrecked your mood. The way he said "darling" was more like an insult. How could he conjure burgers and then ruin the moment so seamlessly.

You didn't respond, just silently tucked into your sandwich. You still needed to work out how you were going to break his trust anyway. It couldn't be too clever, you thought. Just clever enough that it seemed like it would work, but not clever enough that he would suspect another attempt.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't see the way he studied you, mapping your face, reveling in how the starlight splayed shadows on you. He had put you in green as a joke, but lounging fireside under the thick blanket, you looked at home in the deep shade of mid-summer forest green.

You finished the burger and tossed the wrapper remains into the fire. You turned to find Loki already looking at you, he lifted a corner of his mouth but remained silent.

"I'll take first watch." You told him, hiding a yawn behind your hand. He waved you off with a flick of his wrist.

"Sleep. I'll watch over you." He watched you as he spoke, and you felt his dark eyes on you as you snuggled your way into the blanket nest. The fatigue from the battle with Thanos, and the rush of adrenaline from finding Loki and talking with Dr. Strange, and the long walk through the field came crashing into you all at once. Your eyes closed of their own Accord, and your limbs followed soon after tingling with sleep.

"G'night, Mayhem." You mumbled, your mouth and brain mostly asleep. You were drifting off, even as you said it, but you heard his response.

"Good night, darling." You smiled as you fell further asleep, his tone softer than it had been.

As sleep began to take you under, quieter than before, you heard Loki mumble to himself.

"Damn. She's adorable." When you awoke, you wouldn't remember, as it were, you barely heard it at all. Proof, you thought dreamily. It was proof, that Loki wasn't all bad.

~~

You blinked hard against the morning light and groaned as you rolled over. You remembered where you were quickly, the hard ground your first clue. The event of the previous day hit you at once, and you sat up quickly, scanning for Loki. You started to panic, he had slipped off during the night, and now you were alone on an unfamiliar world.

“Shit.” You cursed, rising to your feet.

“What?” You whirled on the voice and sighed deeply when you saw the God of Mischief staring back at you.

“I...thought you left.” You admitted, stretching your back out. His smile faltered a bit.

“I did not. I found breakfast.” He told you, tossing you something that looked like an apple. You smiled sheepishly.

“You didn’t wake me.” You said, and he merely shrugged. “You haven’t slept.” You continued, unsatisfied with his nonchalance.

“I was dead yesterday, darling. I think I can manage without one night’s rest.” You winced at his nickname for you. It dripped with venom and mistrust.

“Don’t act offended, Mayhem. Betrayal is literally your middle name.”

“What do you know of betrayal? Hmm?”

“Plenty. You may have cornered the market, but you didn’t trademark it.”

“I would not simply slink away in the dead of night. I am Loki, prince of Asgard, the rightful king of Jotunheim, and the God of Mischief, and I do not lurk in the shadows. My betrayal would be right in front of you, rest assured.” You scoffed, as you watched him pontificate.

“What do your titles get you here?” You asked and smiled in triumph when his face fell. You turned the fruit over in your hand, and looked back at him. “I’m sorry I thought you left, thanks for the fruit.” You mumbled, guilt already eating away at you. Why did his crestfallen face split you in two so quickly? You bit into the apple, and winced right away. It definitely wasn’t an apple. The texture was similar to a kiwi, but the flavor was unlike anything you’d ever had.

“It’s a local fruit, not one I’m familiar with.” He explained, his voice tight. “It isn’t dangerous.” You furrowed your brow to object, but he held his hands up. “I had one already to test it.”

“Thank you, Mayhem.” You told him, genuinely thankful. He waved the campsite away, and the two of you began your trek through the dense forest. The dark green clothes helped camouflage you as you picked your way through the vegetation, and while you knew he had done it to get a rise out of you, you were thankful to be out of the clingy spandex uniform you normally wore.

You had been training with Nat when the first power surge flowed through your fingertips, and the blast produced was golden. Nat must have alerted Tony, because within the hour you had a brand new, golden suit. You looked like an asshole, flying around in a shimmery gold suit, but no one would change it. Friday had told you to “Fuck off,” and that was the end of it. You’d become the Golden Avenger in the news, but everyone called you stone. It was a horrible joke, born out of horrible circumstances. You looked like a walking gauntlet, and you were treated that way too.

You focused harder on the ground, stepping around massive root systems, and avoiding areas where the ground had sunk into itself. Loki was right. You hated that you were thinking about it now. No one had truly accepted you as an avenger, except Nat. It was hard for them, you understood. The thing that gave you power was the same event that had destroyed them. But, it isn’t like you wanted it. You hadn’t asked Thanos to do this, you didn’t have control over the events that led to your origin. Yet, the first chance they got, they sent you away. You were the outlier, you were the uncertainty, and you were safer kept at arm's distance. Why else send you on an obvious goose chase with a wanted intergalactic villain?

You glanced at your traveling companion, and found him deep in thought as well. His brow was creased, and his mouth was set. He looked handsome, bathed in the filtered sunlight and the flecks of gold illuminated his dark features. He flicked his eyes at you, and relaxed his mouth into a small smile.

“Shouldn’t be long now.” He told you quietly, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking about. His double-cross to you? You needed to hammer your own plan together, but it could wait, you thought. You didn’t want to think too hard about it.

“Good, it’ll be nice to get a real seat,” You laughed and he smirked at you. “Is Alfheim your favorite place?” You asked, thinking about the pleasure elves, you could see the appeal. He cocked his head to the side, a ghost of a real smile playing on his lips.

“No, Asgard was my favorite place.” He murmured, and you wanted to disappear. Of course, his world was just destroyed, what a dumb question.

“Sorry Mayhem, I didn’t think…” Your apology died on your tongue, as he began chuckling.

“Don’t fret, darling. I’m not that fragile.” He teased. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat, stuck from embarrassment, but remaining still as you realized he had softened your nickname. No longer did your skin crawl, instead, a warmth spread through your chest. His soft tone had rendered you speechless, dumbfounded, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. What could you say? I was embarrassed at having brought up a potentially sensitive subject, and then you called me a flirty name and now my tongue is heavy. Why would it even matter? You were going to betray him, and then he would betray you. It was what your master plan was hinged on. Who cared if he was soft and pretty?

“Truly, it is not an issue.” He continued, confused, searching your face.

“Tell me about it?” You managed to squeak out, and you caught the look he gave you, the look of skepticism.

“It was a Golden City, built up in the mountains, and the rainbow bridge connected it to the bifrost. It was devastatingly beautiful. That was only the Palace, though. The forests around the city were as cruel as they were beautiful. It truly was a world fit for gods.” He looked wistful, and you pretended not to see the tears welling up. “Where is your favorite place?” He asked abruptly, and you smiled happily.

“You remember that place I took you yesterday, when I plucked you from the debris in space?” You asked, waiting for an answer. When he nodded, you continued. “It was my attempt at freedom. I had just broken up with a man who controlled me, and well, it was a little crappy, but it was mine, y’know? I had just gotten back in touch with my family who I had been cut off from, and it was so right. I was only there for a few months before Thanos’ attack.” You told him, fiddling with your sleeve, swallowing hard. “It was the first taste of happiness I had, and then it was taken from me just as suddenly as I had gotten it.” You wiped your eyes and cleared your throat.

“I know a great deal about that, darling.” He reassured you, and you were surprised to feel the pressure of his hand on your back. You gave him a tight small, and felt the smallest tendrils of affection reaching out to you. You widened your smile and turned to the forest before you.

“What’s your favorite power, then?” You asked, falling in step beside him. He laughed.

“Power?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, your powers?” You wiggled your fingers, knowing he’d never done anything like that.

“It’s magic, darling.” He rolled his eyes at you, but you could tell it was playful.

“Whatever, your magic. What’s your favorite spell?” He chuckled at you.

“Duplication-casting, then.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that? Conjuring?”

“They’re two completely different powers.” He explained with a long, suffering sigh.

“So, they are “powers” now?” You asked, laughing.

“Norns, you are so aggravating.” He huffed.

“Well, why duplication-casting? Why not the poison one?” You asked. He raised an eyebrow.

“What poison one?” He asked, looking confused.

“You can have poison without it hurting you.” You told him plainly.

“No, I cannot.” He was genuinely confused at this point, and you held your hands up.

“But you tested the fruit for me.” You told him, confused. He blinked slowly at you, and your face fell in realization. He had been protecting you. And immediately you treated him like a monster.

“Mayhem, I’m…” He fixed his lips into a small line. You were trying to form an apology, clearly you were the one deserving the monster treatment. You had actively plotted against him since you had landed, and he had done nothing but try to make you comfortable. He raised a finger to his lips, his face hard. You heard it then, the crunching of leaves and splintering of sticks underfoot. You were no longer alone with the God of Mischief.

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x fem!reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x f!reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki x female reader #loki x fem!reader #loki x f!reader #loki brainrot #tom hiddelston loki #mayhem times infinity #mcu loki #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fic #mcu fic #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim #doctor strange #multiverse mcu #mcu multiverse #his powers don't work like that #professor loki

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait Reacts To The AE 5/?

Hi! These reactions are written out every time a Chatroom opens and it’s done over the course of the day. So, you’re watching me react in real time as it is for me. So, Spoilers AHOY. Expect Another post like this later today, there is just too many chats to put it all in one post. So, hey, if you click this, you’re opening yourself to spoilers, you make the choice.

[11:37] 

Rika is with Saeyoung. They sent him over and there’s no denying that fact. She sends a picture not even a second after we can enter the chatroom and lets us know that he’s with him. I didn’t know that it would happen this fast and my real fear right now was something I thought about when they took Saeyoung in the first place and he was willing to go down for Saeran and the player. My brain said, when they send him to Rika, this is going to be like what happened in the Hunger Games with Peeta and the tracker jackers. I know that he’s going to tell lies and be willing to go along with it, but this is Rika. 

Rika will manipulate and hurt others to get what she wants. I don’t care if she says she’s changed. She’s showing us who she really is and how she has not changed in the slightest, and now it’s even worse because we have to go up against her once again and V. V, I’m not even going to get started. You’ve dug a hole in the sand and shoved your head in, no matter what happens, you would never be able to remove Saeran or Saeyoung from the agency, the Prime Minister or Rika. 

Rika makes her point really clear. She says that the boys will never be able to change their fate or escape. The Prime Minister wants to use them and it does not matter what happens, they’re going to come after Saeran. They’re going to keep them “healthy” enough to go out in public and lie to the media and the world about what’s really happening. Saejoong promised the agency a lot of money and things are going to burn down if we cannot change anything. We have a good picture. 

The boys are going to be kept captive until they die, or serve their purpose. I’m just so fucking angry right now at Rika and everyone that uses these poor boys because they don’t fucking deserve this. Stop making me right with my guesses, Cheritz. I guess I know Rika better than I want. What stands out the most is the fact that Rika does this after you say that you don’t trust her with the boys: 

Rika: I know why you think that.

Rika: But Now...

Rika: I have no intention of repeating my past failures. 

And then, she does this and that tells me all I need to know: 

It wasn’t enough that Saeyoung was willing to burn to ashes in the light of your sun, Rika. You’re going to do to him what you did to Saeran. You haven’t at all changed and you’ve proven to me what kind of person you are. This isn’t okay and it will never okay. This isn’t what they want and if you really cared for both Saeyoung and Saeran, you wouldn’t be doing this. You wouldn’t be trying to do this at all.

You would be helping us. 

Not making deals. 

Anyways... after I nearly snapped my phone in half because Rika was getting on my nerves again. I opened the Visual Novel. We’re meeting with Vanderwood now to talk about what happened... yeah, the trust is very thin here but it’s all we have and got to do what we can. Vanderwood makes it clear that he’s with Rika and that yes, they’ll be after Saeran once they get Elizabeth.

So, Elly is in danger now. But, we can’t worry about that right now. We have to worry about Saeyoung. Vanderwood reveals that Saeyoung is being kept at V’s place in the mountains, there’s agents in and out constantly. My trust in V is so low right now because he can’t change what’s happening, he’s just letting it go on and... I’m upset with him, I’m disappointed, and it’s complicated. Trust me, leaving a bad relationship isn’t easy but his eyes are dark and sullen.

 He’s resigned himself and I don’t know if he can come back from this anymore. 

Either way, Vanderwood is willing to sneak us into the place. It’s going to be easy for Saeran, but... sorry players that don’t identify as female, but it says that female agents aren’t common and we’re going to have to split up. As in, we can’t be with Saeran by his side. We’ll have to be with Vanderwood and use them as a cover to sneak in. 

What’s worse is Saeran... knows that with the drugs, they’re going to try and really warp Saeyoung like they did to him. I fear for him 

I really don’t want to separate from him. But, it’s all we have to do. Saeran asks if we want to go back to C&R again, but I just. I can’t leave him. I don’t know if it is the right thing to do here, but if we’re going down, we’re going down together and I can’t leave him alone. We’ve always been in this together and we need to see it through to the end. 

I just... there’s agents switching out every two days. It’s like a prison. I don’t even know what to think. We have to part. Saeran doesn’t want to do it. I want to hold his hand, like I said, I’ve told him that we’re in this together and that gives me a heart so that’s a good thing. All I know is that we’re clinging together with this hope that we can be together and Saeyoung will be safe too... 

And then we cut back to the boardroom of C&R. They’re planning on getting rid of Chairman Han and Jumin. They know that there’s not really any way to come back from what’s happening right now. Everyone thinks that they shouldn’t have even done this because the Prime Minister is involved with a lot of shady groups and they’re not wrong. It’s looking bad for Jumin. I don’t know how this is going to turn out to be honest with you. 

I’m worried about everyone. 

[13:15]

Oh, boy. This was a heavy chatroom and visual novel. I cannot even express to you what was going on inside of my head because I’m still reeling from what’s to happening and what’s to come and what may not come. I don’t know, I actually thought I hit bad ending when I got to the visual novel but I didn’t, so it must be the natural order of what’s happening. Anyway, Jumin’s awake now and he is... I don’t know how he keeps himself together, I envy that. He says he will not show his feelings in this messenger where the enemies can see it. 

But, he’s been stabbed in the back by the people he trusted most, and he’s losing everything that he ever had, and he still wishes that he could do more to help Saeran and Saeyoung. We can’t tell them completely what happened, not really, you can say what you know about the deal with the Prime Minister but not much else. You need to make sure that you’re watching what you share. The video that Saeyoung did... they saw it, and it’s just... wrecking everything so fast and hard.

Zen actually tries to reach out to Jumin but... he says in a text later than he’s never seen him so broken up before. I hate to see it. I really do. I don’t want that for them but we’re crashing right now and I’m struggling to see how we’re going to get our way out. Jumin wants answers from his father so he has to leave and see him about the deal with Seven, etc. We wish him the best but... God, I feel bad. 

This Visual Novel makes you hate and scream and cry all at the same time. There is just too much happening all at once for me to deal with it, to be utterly honest with you. Jumin goes to the board and he resigns before they can get him off the job. He takes everything. He takes all of the blame. He says that it is his fault. He was leading the RFA. He was doing this, he was doing that. He takes it and lets it be. It kind of hurts, he’s keeping it all balled up inside at this point and... I don’t know. 

I hate to see it. He’s doing this... and he needs to see his father, now. I have a hard time trying to think about how Jumin is going to come out of this. I don’t know how he’s going to react because... with V’s Route and Secret Endings, it was a lot different and it was more fixated on Rika. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t him being stabbed by Rika, V, the Prime Minister, and the Agency. He risked all he has and all he knows for us. 

He always will. 

Don’t ever doubt that faith he has in the RFA. 

I just... hate to see him hurting when he wants to continue to help us no matter the cost. 

We go with Vanderwood and Saeran has gone his own way for the time being so we can get things done... or so we want to think. I was really kind of rooting for you, Vanderwood, but I’m not upset that you wound up tricking me here for your life. They make it clear they’ll do things but they’re not gonna die for anyone or anything. I’m upset but I’m not mad at them like I’m mad at Rika or V right now cause I know what they’re up against. 

To be fair, I’m not totally... well, I think Vanderwood let Saeran get away here, but we also know that we can be used as leverage against Saeran. It’s kind of hard to say where it’s heading from here. I’m straining, but I know that Rika is going to try to manipulate us to get Saeran too. I refuse. At least Vanderwood felt a bit of remorse for this. 

But, Rika? No. Not with what I see. She planned this out. They all knew what they could do if they got Saeran and us. However, they only got us. But, I know this woman is going to use that to get what she wants. I don’t know what to expect but maybe we can find Saeyoung and... talk to him, I don’t know how he will be or how might play out because... the drugs.

I’m still trying to discern what poisons she’s using but I’ve yet to discern what type of plants are involved in my research thus far when I’m not writing out these as I’m playing. 

I can’t leave out the phone call because. V calls. V calls and he’s... I don’t know what the heck is up with him. I don’t know how... I don’t know what’s going on in his head and that really bothers me. This chat has two notes in it that really are bothering me. They are on opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of what he is doing. I’m having a hard time trying to read V and this is a first for me because I’m used to knowing what he is going to do but I’ve hit a wall. 

There is a part of him that knows this is wrong. But, he is denying his reality as he lets Rika into his heart thinking this is the only way to save her and to ensure nothing worse happens. I don’t know how much he’s lying to himself here about this. I think he’s just... lost, broken and. It’s hard to say, if this was all he said to me then I wouldn’t be so livid. If you know it’s wrong, stop this, stop doing all of this and stop Rika, V. 

You know it’s not right. Stop letting this happen. 

How am I supposed to feel about this V? You act like you’re caring but then you tell me something you would have told Rika years ago...? You like to watch me? What the fuck does that even mean? I’m not interested in what you’re selling to me here and I don’t want this. I won’t give up Saeran nor will I let Rika have him, I don’t know what’s wrong with you and why you’ve become who you have, I do not know nor did I ever think this was the extreme length of what you would do for Rika. 

I never thought you’d be an active player in this. But, you are. So, I’m torn here quite a bit and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again, V. You said you want Saeran to come. You know what happens if he does. I will not let that ever happen. Nobody will get him. 

God, what’s worse is: 

Of course. Saeyoung isn’t going to be the same if Rika gets her way, and we both know it. He’s not going to “stay that way” because she’s going to get him everything she did to Saeran and more. I’m not going to let that happen, either, I’m not going to let these boys hurt. I’m not changing my mind. Nobody is going to trick me with mind games. Been there, done that, Rika is about two decades too late. 

Yikes, you know? What the hell, man. 

[15:33]  Vanderwood is in trouble. They were meant to give us both over but he made sure that Saeran was gone and safe. We were the easier option hand over since we don’t really hold a lot of power or use in a way, they just need us to be able to get to Saeran and that makes sense, frankly. 

They’re... forlorn in a way, and I was right, they are willing to go out on a limb but they’re not going to die. They have been living this long and did whatever it took to survive. 

From a personal safety means, I understand why they’re doing it. I know that they do feel remorse. So, that sucks. I want to be able to help them too because they rightly deserve to be out of this. Oh, and we learn that they’ve been at this for twelve years, so in my mental game of trying to gauge their age, I’m roughly gonna say late-late twenties and early thirties. 

So, that’s something fun that we’re learning here! I don’t think I’m that far off, they said “Since they were young,” so that implies that they went through what Saeyoung went through. Saeyoung went in when he was really young as well so I have to gauge their age using that scale, you know? 

Well, I have to at least say that I better understand them than I did before and I learned a lot from this conversation. 

Oh, great. It’s my favorite time of day. Not. We’re sitting down with Rika and she’s made a point of warning us not to bother with Saeyoung. He’s getting to sleep while they’re pumping him with... I don’t know if we can call it the elixir but it’s something of the same caliber because Saeran is nearly immune to it after it was laced in the elixir. He took it so long that his tolerance of such is slim to none and that’s why their plan didn’t work from the start. Rika knows that Saeran isn’t going to leave us or Saeyoung.

I won’t feed into her, and I’ve noticed that I’ve gotten hearts when I’m utterly blunt with Rika. I appreciate that. This is a much better tone than what I had to deal with in V’s AE. I don’t want to forgive her and I never will, because she is proving to do this over and over again until she’s forced to stop, literally, by being taken away. 

I have a better idea of what’s going on with Rika now, though, thanks to her being her usual self. She tells outright what she’s thinking right now and makes her phone clear that she thinks she’s fulfilling Saeyoung’s dream, but we see the truth in her lies. This isn’t about Saeyoung. You can tell her that bluntly. This is not the boy’s dream. This is what you want. This was never about them. This is about what you want. 

You’re doing this for you and not the boys. If you tell her that, she sighs, and makes a point about how the world is harsh. She says if you want to be knocked down then you should bend, and if you want to be strong, then that means that you need to join the strongest, no matter how much that means the monsters are... the worst people alive. 

She says she and V decided to do this. I’m still trying to figure out V here but I’m not going to trust him anymore. I know I can’t trust Rika. I’ve known that from the very start. Rika just says that this is a waiting game after this, she says it’s only a matter of time until Saeran comes... tonight... tomorrow. It matters not, he is going to come and she will have him as she wants him. It ends with her telling us to wait, shall we?

Oh, and Jumin’s new of resigning is on television, we know now. We know things are doomed. 

I’m relieved after this wave of nausea, because Saeran calls. He escaped because of Vanderwood and he’s back to C&R. Nobody knows where he is and it needs to stay that way. He talked to Jumin. He’s made sure that nobody can try to trace him. Saeran thinks that Jumin is going to continue to try to help us just without C&R funds... and I expect that, I think. But at the same time, I’m really worried given what Zen said earlier. 

Saeran’s decided that the way to save Saeyoung is defeating Saejoong and the agency, and I agree. Our future has no hope unless they burn. He does his best to reassure us. He knows that they won’t hurt us... he wants to think they won’t hurt us because they want him, and until they have him, they can’t do anything to us. 

I think what I fear the most here is that... they’re not going to let me go. I know he wants to be hopeful but. They’re not going to let me go if they catch him. It’s obvious they’ll kill me and get me out of the way the second they get the chance, or worse, they’ll use the player as leverage to get Saeran to obey onward until the drugs are back in his system like they’re trying to do to Saeyoung or—

God, what if they try to drug us, too? 

What if we’re pawns as well? 

It isn’t up to V and Rika, after all. This is the Prime Minister. 

#KaitReactsToTheAE #Kait Reacts To The AE #saeran after ending #SaeranAfterEnding #spoilers #spoiler #mm #mysme #mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mysme saeran #saeran mysme #saeran mm #mm saeran #saeran mystic messenger

[dream-wreck]

A Song to Suit Yourself

It feels so good to write fanfiction again. Heck, it feels good to write again. This little thing started last summer, inspired by this post, and I’m finally sending it afloat upon the internet’s temperamental waters. Good Omens fandom, I hope you receive it well. Enjoy!

AO3

Title: A Song to Suit Yourself Rating: G Word Count: 2,186 Description: Crowley fixates on a new type of music, though Aziraphale can’t quite figure why. What would a demon want with lullabies?

Neither knew exactly how they ended up in the same Scottish field at exactly the same time beneath the same lonely apple tree, but it probably had something to do with their impending assessments.

Hastur and Ligur would be around soon to check in and report on Crowley’s Deeds of the Day, which were quickly becoming Brief Surveys of the Deeds of the Decade, as they hardly ever popped around anymore. Crowley didn’t dare complain. But he’d been putting off his Evil Deed -- you know, the Big One, which made up for a long dry period of demonic activity -- and it was time to get on that. So. Scotland.

Aziraphale still received regular unscheduled visits from Gabriel, “just checking in” to see that all was going smoothly. Aziraphale had begun to question his own understanding of omnipotence. Or, at least the Head Office’s ability to communicate sporadic schedule changes to literally the only active angel they had on Earth. In biding his time -- and seeking some overdue meditation -- Scotland.

So much for that.

“They’re calling them ‘lullabies’,” Crowley said. “They sing them at children. To make them fall asleep.”

Aziraphale considered this news while he cut off another slice of red apple. He offered some to Crowley. The demon curled his upper lip at the clean white disk.

“Humans have always sang songs to their children,” Aziraphale said once he realized that the news was not news at all. “Remember Babylon?”

They both smiled self-pleased smiles. You’d almost think they were sharing the same memory, but for Crowley baring considerably sharper teeth. “Oh yes,” he said.

“That poor woman you tormented for a spell,” Aziraphale recalled. “I was the one who recommended that she write her composition down. It was a beautiful tune...in spite of its inspiration.” 

Crowley shrugged. “I did not ‘torment her.’ She adopted me as the house god, what was I supposed to do? I was on assignment. Besides, she had a lovely home. It was nice to settle down for a bit. The point is, now they have a new word for it.”

“For tormenting?”

“No. The music. Keep up.” He let the pieces of the word roll off his tongue. “Lull-ah-bye…”

Aziraphale was occupied with his apple, plucked from the branches above. In his humble and learnéd opinion, few tastes in the world yet rivaled that of a fresh-picked apple. Being an angel, he also had an extensive understanding of the art of Music. Angels invented it, after all, but its purposes were rather limited in Heaven. If Crowley had come to him with news of a new kind of Music, or a new purpose for it, he would have been ecstatic and fully enthralled. But he hadn’t, so he wasn’t, and was therefore only mildly interested, though he tried his best to humor his associate. “Singing to babies helps them grow, you know. It teaches them new sounds, new words. And I personally don’t believe you’re ever too young to discover the joy of Music.”

Crowley chose not to tell him that he was missing the point, but he wasn’t entirely sure of his point to begin with. Something about the word struck a strange chord with him (all puns unintended and unrecognized). It had a sound like a plucked lute string and the curve of a lifting chin.

For a while, in silence, the two continued their survey of the Scottish countryside and a hundred miles beyond. Serious business. The evening began to settle in a comfortable calm, the sun yawning out a stretch of gold before its final disappearance beneath the hills. The angel and the demon each wondered what the other was thinking. Aziraphale wondered why Crowley had become so caught up in a single word. Crowley wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t.

The angel bit into another slice of apple. The satisfying crunch in the silence finally whet Crowley’s own appetite. He flicked his wrist and a bright red replica of the angel’s supper fell into his hand.

Aziraphale looked hurt. “I hadn’t realized this tree’s fruit dissatisfied you.”

“What, did I hurt its feelings?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, taking a moment to examine himself, not wanting to lie. “But I’m quite proud of this tree.” He sat a little taller. “I planted and raised it from seed myself, you know.”

Crowley -- who had been leaning against the apple tree’s trunk since the early morning -- sat up and scrutinized the bark as though he’d just noticed it were there. 

“Well what’d you go and do something like that for? When you could just --”

He snapped his long fingers. A few paces off, a plum tree that had not been there before shivered in a gentle breeze that had not been caused by anything but a general notion.

Aziraphale flushed. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. They’ve been cracking down on miracles that are not meant for a heavenly purpose. Besides, I found that I rather enjoyed the process of raising a living thing. You might try it, learn a thing or two. Watering, trimming, revisiting the little sapling now and again to encourage it out of the ground. And it clearly paid off. It took time and it took patience. And it was beautiful. The way God intended.”

Crowley gagged. Time and patience. The plum tree disappeared, but a pile of fresh, dark plums remained at his arm’s length, the skin so deeply purple they were almost black. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Just seems a waste of time.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Aziraphale said. “You know, it’s your constant need for excitement that gets you into trouble. You never sit still.”

“I do!” Crowley defended through a mouthful of bleeding plum. “I am now! And I do when I...you know, when I...you know.”

Aziraphale did not know, but he waited patiently for Crowley to realize that. Crowley did not elaborate.

He tossed his half-eaten fruit into the field, grumbling, “Who came up with the name ‘lullaby’ anyway? They’ve been rubbish at naming things from the Beginning. I’ll never forgive them for the turtle dove...Lullaby. Luhll. Ahhh. Bye. Stupid from the start. Lull....”

“For a dissenter, it sure sticks to your tongue easily.”

“So does mud. Doesn’t make it worth the taste. They think they’re so clever. If they’re so clever, switch things up a bit, do. All those songs, all lullabies ever talk about are dreams and trees and all the pain coming your way if you don’t fall asleep right this instant. All these languages since Babel and not a single one has whipped together hardly anything to move me to tears. Frankly, I’m just not impressed.”

He stopped. Not because he was finished. He felt eyes on him. Angel eyes, confused and concerned, and certainly out of their element.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Perhaps if you let them know that you have been their target audience all along, they’d show improvement. Better yet, put all that wealth of yours to use and commission one to your liking. Lord knows why you care in the first place.”

Aziraphale’s apple had finally been reduced to its core. The knife he was using ceased to exist.

“They’re too much like you lot,” Crowley continued. “Or at least you. Moving so slow. Doing slow things and inventing things that make them move even slower. Want to put the goblins to sleep? They’ve got spells for that. Spoon o’ brandy will do the trick. Or a knock upside the head. Practically instantaneous.”

Aziraphale bristled. “I thank God no one has put a child in your care.”

“On that, angel, we assent.”

The angel stood up, brushed out his jacket and tights. “I best get a move on. Several evening miracles to perform in the next town over.”

Crowley didn’t move, but he was suddenly standing. “Likewise. Which way are you headed?”

Aziraphale pointed to the north.

Crowley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the south.

“Will you be in Scotland long?”

Crowley looked out to the empty fields. “Depends on what I can find here. I suppose if you’ll be around, I’ll be around. You know. Cancel --”

“Cancel each other out. Yes,” Aziraphale said, low and bristling, turning to the north. “Well, good evening to you.”

He paused. “I hope you find a song to suit your heart.” And he started north across the field, leaving Crowley, who did not turn to the south, alone beneath the apple tree. 

Crowley slumped down against the trunk with his legs stretched toward the setting sun.

Sunsets start to look the same the more you see and the longer you live. There had been only a handful of truly extraordinary sunsets that stuck in Crowley’s busy memory since the Beginning, and few of them were memorable without their contexts. Context is everything. He’d given up long ago on watching sunsets for the hope of an explosion of color to beat the rest. But he still appreciated the thrill of witnessing night stretch over the world like a lumbering dragon splaying out for a nap.

He missed dragons. Not many of them left, nowadays.

As darkness settled in, Crowley began a meditation of his own.

All around him, he felt history’s fine threads weave through the air. Ghosts and imprints left on the surface of the earth and the face of Time itself that had disappeared from visual perception, but lingered as golden strands only few could ever see. Battles and laughter, deaths and creation, all tangled together and tumbling, just above the ground and through the rich soil. Threads thick as vines wrapping around the trunk of the apple tree. The eternal, distant echoes of screams and songs looping round and round the earth like Saturn’s rings, and if Crowley squinted hard enough, he could see their harmonies gleaming.

“I do sit still,” he said to no one in the dark. Or maybe, not to no one.

“Why do they get songs?” he wondered aloud. “What do they have to be comforted about? Everything is given to them, handed to them. All they do is sleep. Bet no one sings their parents songs. They’ve got the hardest of the lot. They’ve got all the troubles. No one writes lullabies for the ones who need them most.”

And he knew in his heart -- or the swirling matter he’d begun to think of as the place where part of his not-soul lived -- exactly why children got all the songs. Because children need distractions from all the Unknown they float in, until they can lift their heads and start finding answers for themselves. The Unknown is a terrible thing to dwell on, even for the youngest minds, whose curiosity more often than not sustains them.

And for the ones who know? Are there no songs for them? The Unknown scrambles the mind, yes, but the Certain, the Absolute, whittles the mind to a rounded end. Fixation on the Certain can be as maddening as floating in obscurity.

Crowley was falling back into fixation. Such was often the case whenever he sat still, so he tried to avoid it whenever possible. But true to pattern, his mind eventually numbed to the humming of the world, to the whispers of Time wrapping like gossamer around this green earth, invisible to all but the eyes of those who have seen more, who know more, and carry the burden of the Certain. And the boiling lake sloshing deep within the earth grew hot against his calves and the heels of his feet.

He tilted his head up to the sky and squinted into the cobalt. The harmonies of history came into focus, golden ribbons rippling in tired dance.

He hadn’t slept in nearly a century. When he last awoke, he’d missed a lot, and wasn’t anxious to miss any more. But now, unnamed weight rested on his head, a heavy fog that stings the eyes and confuses the senses. The kind with its own eyes lurking just beyond the haze. Not a comfortable Saturday morning fog, by any means.

He wanted to lie down forever. He wished this field were safe enough to do just that, but sensed beyond the hills the warm bodies of beasts waking up to hunt by dim starlight, and he fancied this body too much to risk its demise.

Suddenly, there was a snake, long, dark, and terrifying, and if someone were to notice this creature as it slithered around and up the wide tree trunk, they’d see its scales shimmering impossibly through the pitch black eve, reflecting an invisible light. It curled up on a scooping bough like an endless coil of shadowy rope, and it was thankful for the tree being there tonight. 

Snakes cannot hum. That’s impossible. But many impossible things had already happened that day, and the snake, feeling safe enough to do so within the dense shelter of leaves, tried his hand at melody, content for the words he deeply felt to remain unformed, unspoken, as the song was for him alone, and he was -- as he knew and feared -- quite alone for now.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #scotland #lullaby #lullabies #a song to suit yourself #neil gaiman #Terry Pratchett #infp-dreamwreck #fanfiction #fanfic #anybody catch the hadestown easter egg? #improperly proper nouns are so much fun #no wonder those two went crazy with em

[eldritchsurveys]

993.

5k Survey LXV

3301. When someone is 'crazy' why do we call them 'nuts' or 'fruitcakes'? >> I’m sure Google could tell you. 3302. What's the dillio? >> I could have happily gone the rest of my life without ever hearing that word again, lol. 3303. Where did the slang term 'dillio' come from? >> You’re asking me? 3304. How many even whole numbers are there between -5 and 5? >> Four?

3305. What words can you make useing only these letters: E N O? >> The only two I can think of are “one” and “neo”.

3306. What's the differance between foods that are low fat and foods that are lite? >> I don’t know, or care, because I refuse to eat foods like that. 3307. White or brown rise? >> The rice Sparrow buys is jasmine rice and that’s fine with me.  3308. Can you be content if you are physically uncomfortable? >> I don’t see why not, unless for you, all forms of contentment are contingent upon being physically comfortable. I suppose that could very well be the case for someone. 3309. What is the differance between discomfort and pain? >> Intensity. 3310. What is the most uncomfortable thing you can think of? >> *shrug* 3311. What do these names make you think of: britney spears? Toxic. walt whitman? ...Leaves of Grass? Did he write that? buddah? Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. william shakespere? you know. various plays that I know nothing about and have no interest in. pablo picasso? deconstructed faces. adam ant? I don’t know anything about him except that he made music. I think. franz kafka? when you’re so influential you become an adjective. nietzche? God is dead and we have killed him. madonna? Like a Prayer. orson scott card? Ender’s Game. frieda kahlo? that self-portrait of hers. god? Nietzche. :) salvidor dali? melting clocks. david bowie? my heart bursting out of my chest because I love his art. jesus? big hit at parties with that water trick. lars ulrich? being really upset at Napster. jim henson? Muppets. 3312. What are your favorite games to play? >> There are many games I enjoy playing but for the last month-plus I’ve been extremely fixated on FFXIV to the detriment of several other regular activities. So, you know. 3313. Are you quick to judge something as stupid just because you don't understand it? >> Nope, I’m quick to want to understand something if I originally don’t. I don’t always succeed, but I don’t default to thinking the thing is stupid just because I lack understanding...  3314. Are you obnoxious to others? >> I mean, it’s possible. Everyone’s got the potential to be obnoxious to someone, even if that’s not their intention. 3315. Do you feel superior to anyone? >> No. 3316. Shouldn't people take a good look at themselves before they criticize others? >> That’d probably be best, but it is what it is. 3317. Which is better and why: writing or saying obnoxious things about someone who isn't around to defent themselves or saying it straight to them? Which do YOU do more often? >> Hot take: Neither is good... I prefer to, you know, not say obnoxious (which I’m taking to mean rude or mean) things about people. I slip up sometimes, especially in certain environments, but I don’t consider it defensible behaviour. 3318. Do you appologize too often? >> I don’t apologise often at all. 3319. Does your mind play tricks on you? >> Sometimes. 3320. Have you read (any of): the bible? Just about all of it, barring the really boring parts (you know, “this guy begat that guy” for like fifty verses, shit like that). the koran? I haven’t read any of it but I do own one. the torah? ^ the kama sutra? No. the satanic bible? Yeah, I read this like a decade and a half ago. Are these mystical texts or historical ones? >> Yes. 3321. Do you own any possetions that you hide from parents, friends, visitors? What? >> No. 3322. Why does the cheese stand alone? >> ??? 3323. Do you watch any soaps? >> No. 3324. Have you learned something new today?/ >> Probably, but I don’t remember what it is right now.  3325. Do you believe in an 'oversoul' of all humanity? >> I’m unfamiliar with the intricacies of this concept, although I have encountered the word “oversoul” before. 3326. Have you invented your own style, just for you? >> Not really. I just wear stuff I like, I don’t consider it a cohesive thing that I intentionally created. 3327. have you invented your own religion, just for you? >> No. 3328. What files have you recently downloaded? >> Just some image files. 3329. Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard but I think: >> They’re wrong. 3330. Do you dance around a lot? >> Not a lot, but it is something I enjoy immensely and should probably do more often. 3331. Is the unexamined life worth living or not? >> It’s so crazy to me that we analyse lives to determine whether they’re “worth living”. Like, way to miss the point. 3332. What are you like when you're at your most beautiful? >> ??? 3333. What are you like when you are at your worst? >> Detached, cruel, emotionally blunted, irritable, that sort of thing. 3334. Why do you hide things about yourself? >> Because I was taught to be ashamed of myself. 3335. Why is anything 'too personal' to talk to others about? >> Because that’s part of having personal boundaries. It’s healthy to have those boundaries. 3336. Why should we be embarressed, afraid, or appologetic for ANYTHING we think, say or do? >> Because otherwise we’d just say and do shit with no regard for the consequences or the harm we’re doing to other people. 3337. Can true freedom exist in this world of doubt and guilt? >> *shrug* 3338. What do you have no control over? >> Most things, tbh. 3339. Do you own a vibrating pillow? How about a vibrating back massager? >> No. I would hate anything like that. 3340. Can you dance away your emotional pain? >> Dancing isn’t going to get rid of my pain, but it will introduce some joy as a counterbalance. 3341. When you dance is it a celebration of life? >> It does feel that way, when I do it. It’s very primal and exultant. 3342. When do you feel the most immortal? >> I don’t, really. 3343. Are you more of a painting, a poem or a song? >> As a human being, I’m sure I can imagine myself as any of those. 3344. Is lonliness a crowded room full of open hearts turned to stone? >> Er... I mean, maybe. That’s certainly one way to feel lonely. 3345. Is YOUR heart ever stone? >> Yes. Less often, recently, but it’s still a learned behaviour that I occasionally have to trick my way out of. 3346. Are we alltogether all alone? >> Hm? 3347. Does life end in a happily ever after way? >> I think life just ends. 3348. What's the warmest part of your body? >> My torso, where all my organs are. 3349. Are you more verbal or visual? >> Both. 3350. What do you long for? >> Connection.

#5000 question survey #not for reblogging *glare*

[jaaryl]

jaaryl (or if someone beat me to it, daaron)

Some answers are going to be based on the rewrite of my Daaron fic which is going to be set during 9.16 (that one day I will get around to finishing I swear lmao).

So, spoilers for that I guess lol. 

1. Who makes the first move and how?

It would have to be Daryl.

Even though Aaron has the most experience dating another man/ person in general, I have no doubt in my mind that he would find it incredibly daunting to even try and proceed a relationship with Daryl. His friendship with Daryl is one of the few bright spots of the apocalypse and it would absolutely break his heart if he scared him off or was rejected.

Since my fic is set during the 9.16 blizzard, the two of them are going on ahead to collect supplies at the next way station and, of course, it has to have the cliche trope of Aaron being all heroic and pushing Daryl out of the way of cracking ice so he’ll fall through instead… all while they are escaping ice zombies. Cue the trope of them cuddling naked for warmth and waking up with an awkward situation yada yada.  

Aaron: [incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out] This doesn’t have to change anything.   

Daryl: [also incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out, and just fresh off thinking Aaron could of so easily died one (1) day ago and not wanting to waste what time they have together] Ahhhh I kinda want it too????          

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Being seen as outcasts still bothers them a lot, even if they try their best not to show it. No matter how far into the apocalypse, or how important they have become to the success of the communities, there will always be those douches who look down on people for being different. And the best thing about Daaron is how leaning on each other for support and having each other’s backs when they are feeling this way is literally the foundation of their relationship.          

3. Who is the most romantic?

Aaron’s the obvious choice with his tendency to be extremely tactile and handing out affection left and right while also giving away huge gifts, like the bike. However, Daryl is incredibly sentimental, and loves and cherishes that bike like it’s one of his most precious possessions, and he also shows his love by making sure the people that he cares about are well provided for. So, it’s for you to decide.  

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Daryl is extremely touch-starved but he is also pretty awkward when it comes to asking for affection. Aaron is a mix of very tactile, begging to give hugs and super lonely. 

So, once Aaron figures out that Daryl wants to be touched more than the occasional hug, handhold or brush of arms all bets are off. I can only imagine how bad it will be when they get into an actual relationship.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I feel like Aaron has said those words long before they started dating, “Daryl, I love you, but no,” and completely mean them (both platonically and romantically). So, the moment Daryl says the words back for the first time…he is kinda worried Aaron’s smile is going to split his face in half.    

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Season 5: Eric, for obvious reasons.

 Season 9: Paul, most definitely, hot, gay, single and already someone they both trust completely. 

Post 9.08 though? Ah, no one? Aaron is literally the only male character that Daryl is close to lmao.  

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

I doubt there is much to do datewise beyond the wall, even for two bamfs like Aaron and Daryl. Maybe fortnightly overnight camping trips when it gets too stuffy in Alexandria and they need to escape for a bit.   

On the nights that they have the house all to themselves, it is pretty quiet. Just the two of them hanging out, kicking back beer, pressed up against each other, talking about mindless topics, and having sex etc.                  

8. What do they like in bed?

Daryl: when you said “magical in bed” this isn’t exactly what I was exp-

Aaron: *holds up 8 of hearts* is this your card

Daryl: *softly* holy shit

Aaron knows that Daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience in the bedroom department, and is happy to help guide him. I see Aaron as someone who is super into foreplay and body worship, especially on someone like Daryl who needs all the touch he can get and is v receptive to praise kink. As Daryl becomes more confident I do see him taking charge a little more, maybe some manhandling etc and he doeeesss have an oral fixation, always putting things in/exploring things with his mouth so take that as you will lmao.    

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Honestly, Aaron is pretty hard to embarrass. Like, sure, he does embarrassing things but he’s always the first one to laugh at himself. Things like his over-the-top dorky dances to make Daryl laugh, his celebrity impression of people Gracie has never even seen, or heard of, and she is super embarrassed about when he pulls it out as his party trick, his off-key singing to Disney songs with Gracie and trying to get Daryl to join in (AK can take Disney nerd Aaron from my cold dead hands these people have solar panels and the kids have definitely seen movies).   

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Damn, I can’t cheat and answer with ‘a book on how to build a raft’ or ‘survival guide for dummies’ because they are both very survival competent lmao.

For luxury items: Daryl’s crossbow and Aaron’s knife.

Ahhh I am worst at music questions! I can see Daryl being a sentimental loser and bringing Rick’s terrible music with him even if he hates it.

 Ross apparently headcanons Aaron’s favourite song as “Hand in Glove” by The Smiths, so why not?

11. What do they hide from one another?

Their unspoken feelings uwu (lame).

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Their relationship status.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

There has always been something simmering under the surface of their friendship. From the very beginning, Aaron has been incredibly fascinated by everything Daryl Dixon and Daryl in return has found comfort, acceptance and an overwhelming amount of fondness towards Aaron.

It has just never been the right time to explore the unspoken thing between them. But after the six-year time jump, Daryl is finally in the right emotional place to settle down and Aaron has been ready for a long while. Daryl is confronted once more that the world is a dangerous place when Aaron almost dies again (in the fic) and the prospect of leaving their relationship open-ended weighs on him heavily.      

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Aaron has been run ragged by the worrying he has done about sick Gracie all week (even just a cold in the apocalypse is a scary thing for Aaron with all that he’s lost). He probably got one good day in before his own immune system came crashing down hard. Daryl feels a little useless that he can’t really help him get better so he goes out and hunts whatever bird he can find so he can cook him something at least resembling chicken soup, and distracts Gracie for the next couple of days so he can get some rest.        

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

In this house, we appreciate animated films and since Lydia and Daryl are not really accustomed to the broad range of them they get the final vote. It would probably be Jungle Book (after years of rejecting civilization they finally rejoin it) or even something like Spirit (refusing to let anyone tame their wild).   

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Do I need to answer this one lmao?

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

Try and change the events of 8.02? Saving Eric and having the three of them adopt baby Gracie? Changing the events of 9.08, so Paul lives and Jaaryl can happen? 7.01, so Glenn lives? 9.05, Rick never blows up the bridge? 9.15, so there are no pike deaths? 

Ahhh there are just so many options, these two have such a sad life!     

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Out on a hike in the woods, a picnic is involved.  

20. Where do they go on holiday?

You and @boltsandashes have given me major daaron beach day feels, it’s an absolutely adorable visual. Aaron making sure Daryl has the best day possible visiting the beach for the best time? I dieeee.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

They are still both not the biggest fan of parties unless it is a family event with people they like. 

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Waystation cabin.  

Aaron makes sure to ask him if it’s okay if they kiss for the first time after they are already in a heated grinding session, the goober. 

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Beyond the walls and out in the woods hunting, hiking, exploring ect just like old times.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Waystation cabin.

25. Why do they fight?

Pissed at each other for being so damn self-sacrificing (“Whether we make it or not, we do it together,” remember that, asshole?!)

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Aaron’s first priority is his daughter’s happiness so it is pretty crucial to find out where their relationship stands before it gets way too deep (which good luck on that one), it would be different if Gracie wasn’t in the picture but she is so he needs to know if Daryl is 100% on board with being a parent to her or not.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

The shifty way they try and keep their relationship under wraps. 

There’s nothing strange about Daryl moving in with Aaron, they are both close friends, right? But what is strange is Aaron turning up to every council meeting absolutely glowing and grinning ear to ear, and Daryl being a super nice to everyone in Alexandria.

Are they sick???   

It goes on and on until Gracie accidentally spills the beans when she excitedly tells Judith that her daddy and Judith’s uncle are dating(not that Gracie knows all the details of their relationship or anything it’s just what she suspects lol).

They probably going to get married one day, and it will make her and Judith related!  

So, Judith goes home and asks her Michonne if Aaron and Daryl are dating, causing Michonne to finally connects the dots on why the hell they have been acting so weird.         

28. Why do they get jealous?

Aaron is super jealous over how cool Daryl looks on a motorbike, while Daryl is pretty jealous over how well Aaron can articulate his words to describe how he is feeling.    

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

When Daryl is being absolutely precious with Gracie, Lydia and Dog. It makes Aaron’s chest tighten and his heartbeat frighteningly fast. Those are the moments that Aaron wants nothing more than to raise a family and have a future with him.  

Aaron is probably being dorky af just to make Daryl laugh, for real not just an under the breath chuckle. Every time he pulls one from Daryl, Daryl can feel his heart expand tenfolds.       

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Oh man, I could write an entire essay on why these two are perfect for each other but to really simplify it: they already have a super strong bond, they are comfortable with each other and trust each other, both relate to feeling like an outsider, both like kids, they have history, their personalities balance each other out etc

It’s one of Daryl’s healthiest relationships on the show I don’t think there are any reasons why not?

#daaron #aaron twd #daryl dixon #twd

[ryouverua]

Trial 3 (Pre-Accusation Part 2)

WHAT A TWIST

I…. the thought never even crossed my mind…

She… she has a point?? But I just… it’s possible, but is it realistic? I think I’m actually seriously starting to doubt myself, especially since we had to select Tenko and everything… this feels like the Kaede trial all over again oTL

I-I mean I know Tenko’s fortitude is probably high but??? That’s like, next level?? Komaeda level, even???? never, EVER EVER go full komaeda

That’s what I’m saying??? I-It just seems so out of character???

….. Well shit, that’s actually a decent motive. And honestly, if Tenko had shown any inclination of being able or willing to kill Angie, I’d actually find this reason pretty compelling. But of course, Kokichi wasn’t there the way Shuichi, Maki and the rest of the audience were when Tenko turned down Maki the night before, so we actually have that information over him. As far as he knows, Tenko was absolutely obsessed with Himiko to the level of infiltrating the student council (and I do feel like Kokichi would have seen through Tenko as far as her lie of ‘being brainwashed’).

Basically what I’m saying is that there’s a good chance that this isn’t just Kokichi being an asshole (even though as usual, he’s doing it in a dick-ish way and the poor? guy is stuck with perpetual troll face) but him actually pursuing what is, to him, a legitimate line of questioning in a straight-forward way. Well, minus the whole ‘Angie killing Tenko’ thing, though I guess symbolically you can read that to represent ‘Angie (via guilt) killed Tenko’…

….

Kokichi and Beatrice went to the same liar’s school, didn’t they.

Kokichi you actually had me at least humouring your line of logic up to this point. 8′D Are you projecting right now? Is that what you’d do just to fuck with everyone one last time?

Y….. Yeah…. but……… no…………….

I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT FROM YOU, MR. MOST-SUSPICIOUS

It’s just so… interesting because none of what he is saying is wrong, you know? People reading this with no knowledge of Umineko must hate me at this point because I keep referring to it so I’m going to try refer to it in a more accessible way though borrowing examples from it still lolol

Like… oh, right. The wolf and sheep puzzle where you have to get both the wolf and sheep across the river while both survive is a classic example - except some sheep are just wolves dressed as sheep, and you don’t know which ones will attack you… but you know they’re there. Kokichi is basically taking the role of ‘everyone is a potential wolf’ which is smart, survival-wise! And even if it does put him at odds with everyone else, it’s still a perfectly valid viewpoint. 

KAITO JUST CALLED KOKICHI NAIVE I FEEL SO ALIVE

AND KOKICHI IS IN SHOCK

And here’s Kaito taking the complete opposite approach - ‘believe that all the sheep are sheep unless shown otherwise’ and oh by the way I can totally make a sheep out of that cute red-eyed wolf over there COME’ERE MAKI ROLL -

- but yeah again, perfectly valid view.

“BELIEVE IN THE ME WHO BELIEVES YOU IN YOU!!!!!”

T… The logic loses me a little bit over here, but otherwise yeah, Kaito’s arguably naive lol arguments carry a decent bit of weight behind them!

“COME HERE AND GET A HUG YOU BIG FLUFFY WOLF!”

HOLD HIS FEET TO THE FIRE MAKI, THATAGIRL

“YOU’RE OFFICIALLY ON MY SHIT LIST KAITO!!!”

“W… Why does it have hearts all over it? And is that Shuichi’s name -”

“It doubles as my crush list STFU.”

Oooh I forgot about that! Oh good 8′D Like I said earlier, the game was doing a pretty good job at swaying my heart!

sweet cheeks is a lying liar who lies and I enable him - nay, i encourage him

Kokichi is either incredibly good at seeing through people’s lies which means maybe he knows who the mastermind is already??? which is an interesting thought or he is so hyper-fixated on Shuichi that he can tell immediately when he specifically lies

“ah fuck now I have to lie too why do boys keep insisting on dragging me into their issues”

Are…. you shocked genuinely, or because you were banking on this theory to save you? Aaaah man for better or worse, going in with your own biases really colours the way you look at things…

YEAH GIRL YOU TELL THEM

Oh man he really can’t resist getting one good dig at her? I actually… wonder, you know? If he’s legitimately salty about her pretending to be something she’s not up until the end of chapter 2. Something to think about later, maybe?

“kaito I love you BUT KEEP YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH SHUT also did I mention I love you again please don’t leave me”

Yeah…. Yeah, I was thinking that was the sound of the sickle falling maybe? I think?

Kokichi is way too excited about this 8′D

Wait…. so like a lever system? That’s…. uh……………………………………….

oh shit that means the sickle was at the top of the cage AAAGH I KNOW BEING STABBED HURTS BUT SOMEHOW THAT MAKES IT MORE TERRIFYING literally being catapulted to her death adslfj

Somehow trap!deaths freak me out way more than in-person deaths? Is that weird?

spirit of justice flashbacks to that one case’s visualization made me so uncomfortable 

…… Seesaw…. trick.

Can I just say. I was so fucked up by the use of the word ‘seesaw’. Because once I saw the visualization, I had ‘lever’ in my head. I was looking for the letter ‘L’ during the hangman game and fucked up a lot because of that and there were enough ‘E’s floating around to make it seem legitimate. That just seemed to make more sense. Seesaw?!?! SEESAW WTF 

AS;DLFJASDF askldfj I cringed during the playthrough and I’m cringing now looking at the picture this legit makes me uncomfortable

YEAH GUYS

‘LEVER MURDER’

LEVER MURDER

yeah i know that’s the thing I’m fixated on

No Kokichi! You’re not allowed to enjoy this as much as me! Only I, as a witness game, can enjoy it this much! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED AS A PARTICIPANT

also you know he’s totally figured out who it is

See, this must be the point where everyone who wasn’t suspicious of Korekiyo started looking at him. Because honestly, he’s pushing so hard now. On the bright side, all of my own hesitations have been dispelled!

I…… I kind of love how Kokichi is spinning a yarn the same way I’ve been about Korekiyo. But joke’s on you Kokichi, because I’ll be right in the end! Right? …. Right? i’m not misreading the situation about his sister am I

Himiko my god I hope you know if you did or didn’t kill her!

#stopgaslightingHimiko

Monodam might help you guys with that. >3>

Again, I feel like all the Monokuma/Monocubs stuff is foreshadowing 8′D They are the only people with full knowledge of the situation and all the Monokuma Theatre pieces have been immediately relevant to the situation they’ve been in……….. but I don’t know if I have enough info to figure it out. oTL

STOP BULLYING MY PRECIOUS MONODAM

KOREKIYO BABE ILU BUT YOU’RE OVERPLAYING YOUR HAND

Survivor’s guilt 8′/

See, here’s Kokichi seemingly goading Himiko but like… you know, you can definitely (and I think on a second reading would be meant to but I already tend to look at Kokichi’s lines pretty favourable lol) look at it as a way to encourage her not to give up, right?

Also, you know that little weenie knows about the boards being cut in the other room, so there’s no way he doesn’t know Himiko’s being set up right now. I dunno if he can’t just bring himself to speak genuinely and encourage her or if he doesn’t think the others would trust a ‘turnabout’ coming from him….

WITH THAT SAID JUST TELL THEM ABOUT THE BOARDS IN THE OTHER ROOM DAMN IT

Honestly on top of the whole potential ‘Maki lying to Kokichi et al about her talent, therefore pissing him off’ angle, do you ever get the feeling that Maki and Kokichi don’t get along because they’re just… really similar? Honestly, between Kokichi and Maki’s backhanded compliments and encouragements… 8′D

Seriously, Kaito and Kaede couldn’t shine at the same time so one of them had to get knocked off. I wonder when the next body will drop? please never i want them both to live kokichi has a bigger target on his back than maki but we already lost komaeda last game let me have this KOKICHI ISN’T EVEN AS BIG OF A TROUBLEMAKER

“But then Kaito punched me in the face, dragged me to breakfast and then forced me into rigorous exercise training sessions in the middle of the night! Worked like a charm, too!”

“UM…. I’LL PASS, NYEH….”

“It’s time to get inspirational! It’s time to work with my classmates and corner the blackened! Are you with me, person who carries the key to Tenko’s murd -”

“WAKE UP WEENIE I’M TRYING TO GET MY PROTAG ON”

“oh shit”

smooth save

for fuck’s sake Miu you were the first one to accuse him at the beginning of the trial

YAY

YES WE GOT ANOTHER ONE FOR TEAM TRAINING

I’m so glad we got to slip in a bit more Saimota before the end of the post ~

OH SHIT IT’S ON BABY

list of things for you to do next trial while you defend yourself 

TAKE OFF YOUR MASK

TAKE OFF YOUR MASK

talk about the beauty of humanity

TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING MASK

#Kaito Momota #Korekiyo Shinguuji #Kokichi Ouma #Himiko Yumeno #Shuichi Saihara #Maki Harukawa #Ryou plays drv3 #Monodam #Miu Iruma #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #Tenko Chabashira #I usually tag everyone involved for my own future reference #but... tsumugi didn't really do much at all... lmao #or gonta 8'D

[maximuswolf]

The Serpent Decoded via /r/atheism

The Serpent Decoded

The serpent has a goal of looking like something and then it lies to itself that looking like something is the path to being something.

Genesis is a medley of poetic creative that conveys timeless truths to help the reader through life. The serpent is a warning about toxic human beings. He uses a set up of God's words as a poetic macrocosm for logical truth. So God tells Adam and Eve to not eat the fruit in the middle. Moses doesn't use over exposition as literary tool so it is left up to the individual reader to understand that all the fruit is the same.

The whole point of that beginning exchange is to poetically explain the power of God as all knowing and giving Eve all the tools to avoid a mistake.

It's also a clever way to point out that the serpent is not observed by God, which shows how advanced the Hebrews were. Think about it. The serpent is nothing because it is not observed by God, that's the observer effect.

Together, those things give a pivotal advanced life lesson that God isn't a diaper changer here to baby you. Think about it. God doesn't directly say to look out for the low life in your form that can talk to you that's scrounging around paradise. That wasn't needed to be said when all the fruit is the same and it's loving information to say to avoid the fruit in the middle. Eve was supposed to figure it out on her own. That to set the tone to the timeless saying, 'God helps those who help themselves' because you are supposed to be conscious so you can independently understand with accuracy. You're supposed to understand a serpent when you meet one.

They don't use words to exchange information for positive benefit at a level above itself. It only talks as a way to scheme to get something (from making you think that it's more advanced than it is to getting something from you like a gift or a date or an opportunity).

So Eve meets the serpent in it's latest scheme, trying to get understanding. The background is it has deluded itself that eating the fruit would magically make it understand. Now idiots add in illogical information that's not in the text by designating the fruit as magic because they are the type that Moses is lampooning with the serpent. What Moses was going for is that the serpent has a lifetime inability to understand and have tried many things and it never helped it understand so now it is fixated on the fruit but it never ate it before. The story is that simple but many toxic individuals like the serpent tries to confuse you about it.

So with a focus on the literary purpose and the situational set up it is easy to see how much work it took for Eve to get herself damned. Logic is the key, if something doesn't make common sense with sound logic then you are going out your way to cause your self trouble. So the serpent asks her what God told her about the fruit to slyly phish for information. So Eve's first mistake was not noticing that phishing attempt but that's a little bit of an advanced level of enlightenment.

The most important thing in life is being able to discern the motive of others. So Eve was supposed to understand that the serpent had a motivation of needing her to eat the fruit first and that was perfectly crafted poetry from Moses to display how mindless toxic human beings are by following what others do to fit in. Moses is conveying that the desperation of the serpent made it rise above it's codependent nature to trick Eve in to doing it first so it can follow along.

So basically the serpent turns Eve in to a crash dummy. She went out the way to allow it because God directly told her what the deal was. That is perfect poetry of how we go out the way to make mistakes and have no true excuses.

The rest of the story is the innovative literary tool of a connected medley of poetic universal truths. The way the serpent isn't punished is the most beautiful poetry because it is showcasing how the serpent was not punished. Get it. It was always helpless to the point of needing to use others like a baby crawling. It doesn't have legs because it stands for nothing because it is nothing. It never had arms to reach for it's own fruit. Moses also poetically tied the physical acts of child birth to Eve being so sympathetic to the listen to the helpless and desperate serpent that she went out the way for it and troubled herself.

Moses then tied Adam listening to her to a man being a laborer. That's one of the kinks in revealing that a man wrote it from their perspective because we all know that's not absolutely true in all ways because there have been early societies where women provided based on the connection to having children to take care of. A similar little hiccup shows up later in Genesis when Moses crafted a poetic scenario where angels in disguise visit Sodom and to denote evil he crafted a situation where the townsfolks tries to rape the angels. The fact that they tried to rape the angels isn't the wrong that was the focus but to understand how gays are attacked by that is to understand how simple minded toxic animals live with a permanent closed mind stuck in an animal pack system where they have to prey on easy weaknesses of others. They seized on that meaningless literary tool like vultures seizing on dead meat. Again, it's Moses displaying that amazing level of creative enlightenment when he used that situation of rape to set up a picture of true evil as not making sense by having Lot offer his virgin daughters to the stop the rape. Get it? That was the point that evil was shown. That's actually a good metaphor when you dissect it because it defines evil as not making sense. The assumptions by Moses, though, is the imperfections to prove that it was not written by God but is a sign of God because it is a creative masterpiece that shows someone at the height of creative enlightenment. Again, those of us with poetic souls and critical thinking that allows us to have wider perspectives can understand the poetry of being connected to God as being connected to logic.

There's a connection between the deeper and more detailed the truth then the more accurate the result is. Keep in mind that the serpent is incomplete from lacking a connection to God and in an Earthly sense that's a connection to logic. These loud mouthed losers acting like the poetry in the Bible of a hearing the booming voice of God is just them displaying that they're a crafty animal not made by the lord like the serpent.

The only personality it has is scheming it's something it's not to you and lying to itself to quiet the insecurity caused by the advanced subconscious logic of the brain. The need to scheme is just animal flight coming through in the skillset the DNA code allows for the human species. So the serpent is tasked with never being enough and can only result to scheming to trick others who may be viewing them that they are enough. That creates a handicap where their actions never go beyond eye level so that lack of forward thinking is a sign of not being able to critically think and incorporate control of emotions with logical benefits of desires and the effect it has on others because that's too complicated for simple animals like them

Look at the crafty animal not made by the lord and apply the motive, 'how can I scheme to get me a break' and you can see that it applies to everything they do.....seriously. Try it....the funny thing is whatever it is will never be smart enough to give them a break unless you're on the stupidity level of Eve and is listening to a scheming low life and ignoring what God told you directly.....you have to be so stupid that you ignore firm logic to listen to the scheming low life trying to talk to you.

They are so stupid that they can lie to themselves and that goes to an absolute level. Remember, the formula for lying to yourself is that you get a selfish benefit from it and it doesn't make sound logical sense to the point that it even makes you feel uneasy that makes you not even want to think to the point that you would rather risk hurting yourself with an avoidable mistake than helping yourself by catching a glaring hole you overlooked. If something has the belief that if they look like something they will be something then that means that they have no critical thinking skills. That means they are toxic and will even try to scheme on how being right is bad or how the truth can be bad because someone is crazy or how being unselfish means you're gullible. All those things mean that is a toxic individual who is capable of doing any level of negativity when under pressure.

The Bible is poetic universal truths. 'Serpents' lie to themselves that not being able to understand poetry doesn't mean that they are less than a person....if someone is a visual learner then that's showing they have no critical thinking skills. They're just looking what others do and mimicking like a parrot does with sounds. That's the basis of 'monkey see/monkey do to make monkey feel good'. The fact that they will then scheme to get a break by not admitting that they don't understand is what throws many off.

So the serpent is inspired by Moses' views on evil human beings through living in Egypt. They felt God was a selfish based word for their feelings and he leaves that for the person reading it to see by the serpent's use of the word.

Everyone looking for a big boat or talking about Adam and Eve as historic figures weren't the target audience of Genesis. Those types that don't have active and creative brains that understand poetry are like the serpent and capable of drowning in their thoughts because they're not swift enough to ride the winds of change.

Submitted January 31, 2021 at 04:33PM by KanyeWestisJesus via reddit https://ift.tt/39wmzHz

[ndrmag]

Contributor Interview with Kristine Langley Mahler

Kristine Langley Mahler lives and writes on the suburban prairie of Nebraska, where she is completing an erasure book on Seventeen‘s advice to teenage girls, a grant-funded project about immigration/inhabitation on native land through the lens of her French-Canadian ancestors, and a graduate degree in creative nonfiction. Her work has appeared/is forthcoming in The Rumpus, Quarter After Eight, Sweet, Split Lip, Storm Cellar, the Bitter Southerner, and received the 2016 Rafael Torch Award for Literary Nonfiction from Crab Orchard Review. Visit her at kristinelangleymahler.com.

How did the initial idea for “Club Pines” come together for you? How does the finished work differ from that original conception?

It started as a very ambitious multimedia EXPERIENCE: I had hand-drawn the neighborhood and I was going to have the houses hyperlinked so the reader could click on them to read the segments, but I realized that wow, I might have some coding skills but not enough to pull that project into place. So I scaled it back. Earlier versions of “Club Pines” had the neighborhood map reproduced before each “house,” with the house in question colored in and any previously encountered houses as empty boxes to indicate how they had become "vacant" for me, but again—it was too much. I loved the visualness of that neighborhood because it was such a maze, so winding and so metaphoric, but (and this is where I had to tone back my writer ego), that doesn't matter to the reader. In the essay, the map just looked like a visual distraction, an unnecessary bit of detail—the reader could ascertain from the narrative that Club Pines was a maze to me. They didn't need to see it shoveled in front of their face like LOOK SEE I WAS REALLY CONFUSED SEE HOW CONFUSED?

There were a lot of houses/girls who were in the original essay, but I tried to pare it down to only those girls who tied me to certain aspects of my adolescence. I thought about including boys’ houses, but that’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. Nearly every house in that neighborhood had meant something to me at one point: I had babysitters who lived there, or I had babysat there myself, or I went trick-or-treating there once and a woman handed out personalized toothbrushes she’d bought at the dollar store so I got RICKY or whatever. Stuff like that. But those are the sort of completionist tendencies that could have snowballed into a whole neighborhood ethnography, and the emphasis, here, was really on those girls. That’s where I felt out of place and in place, even temporarily.

What craft struggles did you encounter while writing this essay? How did you overcome them? What did you learn from the process?

Oh, you know, as a memoirist, it’s always a challenge to be comfortable with my portrayals of other people. I’ve always been very watchful, obsessive about retaining memories and situations so I can analyze them later, but I know it’s presumptuous to ascribe motives to others. These girls were so much more than the summations I present to y’all as paragraphs. So I tried to remain true to the way I knew the girls, at that time, and to make it clear through the way I sketch them that I’m laying my own biases out for judgment. There’s a moral code I don’t think I’ve broken, but I’m also protected from any real-world retribution since I’m only “officially” social-media-connected to one of the girls in “Club Pines.” I’m one of those tracking dogs who finds digital loopholes and can pick up a cold trail: they’re married, they’re mothers, they’re single and childless, they’re living their best Southern life and they’ve left for other regions, other countries. They’re unprotected and they’re on social media lockdown; they’re oversharing and they’re silent as the grave. Just like me, we’re all telling the narrative of our girlhoods the way we need to believe they happened; we’re all revising when we see a perspective we didn’t realize. If they ever came across this piece, I hope they’d know that.

"Club Pines" presents a neighborhood that simultaneously feels ubiquitous and incredibly specific in its details, particularly those concerning toys and media of the time, as well as the denizens and their spaces. In capturing a place that is both unique and typical at once, how were you able to decide what to keep and what to let go?

The essay progresses from age ten through age fourteen, crucial years when we’re all figuring out who we are, trying on friendships, trying out cruelties, jostling for place. I doubled-down on my feelings of displacement as I wasn’t a native North Carolinian, but honestly, the anomie and aloneness in adolescence are pretty universal.

I think I included so many details because they set the reader in the era of the early-to-mid 90s—an important era because it predated the Internet, predated the ability to form an escapism that might have allowed me to retain virtual connections with my old friends from my old town. Instead, I had to grind through adolescence in that neighborhood, which I name, in that city, which I don't (though it's not hard to figure out), where I was a regional newcomer bombarded with all this “knowledge” everyone else seemed to have and I’d never encountered: sweet tea, cotillion, tobacco, smoked and grown everywhere. When writing “Club Pines,” I fixated on the details in the girls’ houses that were NOT regional because those were the details that made me feel like I had an entry way into these Othered spaces: troll dolls, The Beatles, fortune tellers.

Part of what makes "Club Pines" such a phenomenally textured essay is the broad range of feelings it depicts. For instance, there's the bitter levity of  "I sneer at her because I may be a pleb but she is a snob" and, later on, more somber notes such as "when we still called it “playing,” when I still anticipated her calls, when she was still my best friend, when she was still." What advice would you give a writer attempting to establish such a tonal dynamism without things feeling unfocused?

I suppose it's important to remember, particularly in a segmented essay, that each section needs to be treated as its own narrative and needs to be able to stand on its own. To hover above a single moment as if it had to represent all the moments you’ve ever had with that person or space can force you to recognize the range of your emotions. The trick is forcing that range to harden into the meringued truth for one scene: fragile, beaten, but momentarily solid.

The houses are distinct spaces, yet are especially vivid because of the specific atmospheres you conjure. How did you go about capturing these atmospheres so lucidly and in such short spaces?

I had layered, multi-year friendships with some of those girls in “Club Pines,” and with others, complex and painful situations I didn’t even address here. I word-spattered all over early drafts, writing the first things I thought about when I thought about those girls, and as I cleaned up the mess, I kept the scenes that emblematized those girls singularly, for one blurt. More often than not, they were the first things I’d written.

There are a number of details I muted throughout the piece, little signals to myself which hint at outgrowths of moments I don’t describe here, and I think their hinted presence must have allowed me to restrain over-telling and over-showing. For instance, I used the word “nook” in describing the location of my house and Betsy’s final bedroom in her house because they were both places where I was hidden and ignored, and yet they were places of comfort. You don’t get descriptions of the girls’ appearances. They don’t matter, because these girls are Everygirls. These houses are Everyhouses. No matter where you live, adolescence is packing season, leaving season, replacing season, curing season. 

[lissyslips]

How could it be

I think PTSD is underrated. I always thought “everyone has some of this” but this is not true. I carried it with me for so long and now, it is chronic. So chronic that I was driving to the beach to kill myself today and had began the process of heading towards the liquor store near the ocean. I knew which one it would be. I fixated on that night we spent with the sun setting on the water, and then I imagined myself in that moment jumping off the cliffs. I had the medication I needed to do the trick mixed with as much vodka as I could stomach I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to go. Into the ocean I thought. I always dreamt of going that way. I saw a girl try on the OC once, that was sixth grade and that’s when my dad started beating my arms and legs and back with belts. As I’m driving alone, crying but entirely numb inside my body I have never felt such an intense calmness about leaving this earth. Usually, it’s mixed with hysterics and cries for help to friends/family. “I’m warning you I’ll do this.” Today I told no one. Just said I was headed for a drive. On my way it began to rain harder, my aunt called. She told me it didn’t seem safe. I turned the car around and headed home. Went and retruamatized myself instead by visiting an abusive family member. Old, but still as mentally abusive as before. Then I decided to do some mindful meditation and enjoyed the rest of my night with my baby cousin and healthy family. Kind family.

But this is what chronic PTSD is like, this is what it is to battle. It’s absolutely worse than when people so lightly diagnose themselves with this disorder. Then it’s even worse when it evolves into chronic, just like a fucking Pokémon.

I didn’t know life could be lived like this, I could be changed like this. Not gradual, intense and feeling it, like baby teeth coming in. Falling out. I wish I were dead. Right now I am not ok. Then tomorrow, it calms. But it’s every day and it’s heavy and I don’t think I can handle it much longer. The scarier part is, I’m accepting it and visualizing my heaven. I imagine myself without scars, curled golden hair, singing in heaven with Jesus and all the angels. Readying myself for it. I will be home and gone from here in the future. I don’t think I want to face 2019. It seems so cruel. Physical, mental and emotional abuse is hard, but it’s harder when you’re still in love with someone and they toss you in the trash. You’re in love with someone who would treat you in such a way. Highs and lows. Strangulation for God’s sake. Cheating. I can’t explain the pain it is in my core and my bones feel exposed. I feel people inside of my arms and legs and I don’t know them but their spirit inside of me rocks me. They say we transfer part of ourselves to our sexual partners. I wonder how many troubled women lay inside me that I didn’t ask for, that I don’t even know. All because someone wanted to be selfish and subjected my sacred soul and body to degradation.

Then I go and read a book and I’m ok again.

All day, every day. This is a constant battle. I feel it like a cancer and I wish to be relieved of my pain. Sleep is my truest companion.

Goodnight

#ptsdlife #complex ptsd #ptsdsurvivor #ptsd problems

[shewassoferal]

okay but from the list of autistic traits I reblogged here 

I’m bolding Jemma (and I’m going to put mine in italic just to confront them for myself because it’s been years that I’ve been side-eyeing this, though in my case there is so much more than that) 

Tends to analyze everything constantly

Often straightforward and practical in nature.

Often gets lost in own thoughts and zones out (may display a blank stare)

May appear naive or innocent (despite not being so)

Prone to honesty, has difficulty lying

May struggle to understand manipulation, disloyalty, vindictive behavior and retaliation.

May be gullible and easily taken advantage of, misled, or conned.

May have feelings of confusion and isolation in relation to others

Escapism frequently used to relax or avoid overwhelming situations.

Often holds fixations, obsessions, and extreme interest in specific topics.

Finds comfort in escaping through imagination, fantasy, and daydreaming.

Often has slower reaction times due to need for mental processing.

May have had imaginary friends as a child.

Frequently imitates (takes social cues from) people on television or in movies.

May obsessively collect, organize, count, categorize, or rearrange objects.

Often highly adapted to social imitation.

May find math and numbers easier to deal with due to logic and lack of objective answers.

May struggle to relax or rest due to many racing thoughts.

Often has comorbid conditions, such as OCD, anxiety, ADD or ADHD, depression, bipolar disorder, etc.

Often has sensory processing disorder (sight, sound, texture, smells, taste)

May have dyspraxia (Poor muscle tone, lack of coordination and depth perception)

May have dyslexia

May have an eating disorder or food obsessions

May have been misdiagnosed or diagnosed with other mental illness or possibly labeled a hypochondriac.

Tends to drop small objects

May frequently engage in “stimming” (self-stimulation) i.e., flicks fingernails, flaps hands, drums fingers, rubs hands/fingers, tucks hands under or between legs, clenches fists, twirls hair, taps foot/shakes leg, sways side to side, spins in circles, bouncing up and down, rocking, etc.

May use various noises to express herself rather than using words.

May have a tendency to over-share with friends and sometimes strangers

May have little impulse control when speaking

May accidently dominate conversation at times.

Often relates discussion back to self (sharing as a means of reaching out)

May be incorrectly seen as narcissistic

Often sounds eager or over-zealous at times.

May feels as if she is attempting to communicate “correctly.”

Often struggles with and is confused by the unwritten social rules of accurate eye contact, tone of voice, proximity of body, stance, and posture in conversation.

Eye contact often takes extreme focus, which may lead an individual’s eye contact to be darting and insufficient, or over-the-top staring/glaring.

May have difficulty regulating voice volume to different situations. Is frequently observed as being either too loud or too quiet.

Conversation, specifically small talk, can be exhausting.

May have trouble focusing on/engaging in conversation that is not centered on one’s primary interests.

May observe and question the actions and behaviors of self and others continually.

May have difficulty with back-and-forth conversation

Trained self in social interactions through readings and studying of other people.

Visualizes and practices how she will act around others and before entering various social situations.

Difficulty filtering out background noise when talking to others.

Has a continuous dialogue in mind that tells her what to say and how to act when in a social situations.

Sense of humor sometimes seems quirky, odd, or different from others.

As a child, it may have been hard to know when it was her turn to talk, may still be true as an adult.

Often finds the norms of conversation confusing.

Tend to say what they mean. Are often brutally honest, coming off as rude when they do not mean to be.

May feel misunderstood and tend to over-explain/ramble in an attempt to compensate for possible miscommunication.

Feels extreme relief when she doesn’t have to go anywhere, talk to anyone, answer calls, or leave the house.

Feelings of dread about upcoming events and appointments on the calendar.

Knowing she has to leave the house causes anxiety from the moment she wakes up.

The steps involved in leaving the house are overwhelming and exhausting to think about.

Must prepare herself mentally for outings, excursions, meetings, and appointments.

Question next steps and movements continually.

Often needs a large amount of down time or alone time.

May feel extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable in public locker rooms, bathrooms, or dressing rooms.

Tends to dislike being in crowded areas.

Difficulty sleeping due to sensitivity to environment

May be highly intuitive to others’ feelings, although may not appear to react to them ‘correctly’ in social situations

May take criticism and judgement very personally

May frequently adapt her viewpoints or actions based on others’ opinions

Dislikes words and events that hurt animals and people.

May have had a desire to collect or rescue animals, usually in childhood.

Often holds great compassion for suffering.

May try to help, offer unsolicited advice, or formalize plans of action.

Imitates others without realizing.

May exhibit codependent behaviors.

May frequently reject or question social norms.

Chameleon-like in social situations. Often switches preferences and behaviours based on environment and other people.

May outwardly appear to have little investment in hygiene, clothes, or appearance, often prefers fast and easy methods of style.

Clothing style is likely more focused on comfort and practicality, especially in the case of sensory issues.

May possess a youthful appearance and/or voice.

May have trouble recognizing what she looks like and/or has slight prosopagnosia (difficulty recognizing or remembering faces).

The emotions of oneself and others may seem confusing, illogical, and unpredictable.

Expects that by acting a certain way certain results can be achieved, but realizes in dealing with emotions, those results don’t always manifest.

Often speaks frankly and literally.

Certain kinds of humor, such as sarcasm and metaphors, may be difficult to understand.

Can be confused when others ostracize, shun, belittle, trick, and betray.

Often has trouble identifying feelings in others unless they are extreme.

Trouble with the emotions of hate and dislike.

May have feelings of pity for someone who has persecuted/hurt her.

Situations and conversations sometimes perceived as black or white.

The middle spectrum of outcomes, events, and emotions is sometimes overlooked or misunderstood. (All or nothing mentality).

May notices patterns frequently.

May be fascinated by words or song lyrics.

Tends to best remember/learn things in visual pictures (visual thinkers).

May have a remarkable memory for certain details, i.e., may find it surprisingly easy to remembers exact details about someone’s life.

Executive function is often a challenge

Learning to ride a bike or drive a car may be rather difficult.

Anything that requires a reasonable amount of steps, dexterity, or know-how can rouse a sense of panic.

The thought of repairing, fixing, or locating something can cause anxiety.

May have a hard time finding certain objects in the house, but remembers with exact clarity where other objects are.

May frequently second-guess oneself and ask a lot of questions before engaging a task or situation

(It was pointed out to me that feeling okay spending two months straight in my room surrounded by my fixations and finding extra tiring to engage in conversations with friends outside of those fixations isn’t exactly normal. I’m happy to be on my own but I’m too happy? one day I’m going to have money and find a therapist specialized in this. Not to mention how my diseases like celiac and food intolerance and maybe leaky gut are often connected to this too)

#about ele #about jemma

[findinganewshrubbery]

Old Bri’we

When the prospect of sparring Xo’catl came up, Bri would have been lying if she said she had dutifully stepped up as the most durable and adaptable of contenders and offered her services. No, she had -lept- at the chance, and didn't look back. Her preparations had seemed simple, but in truth there was a bit more to them than met the eye.

The first step, had been reaching for each of those segmented sets of instincts and gathering them up, synchronising bear, bat and cat to draw from each at the same time. Empowering herself with a little bit of what was normally inaccessible outside of shapeshifting. But there was more. She was always so controlled, when it came to things that excited her, knowing that it was easy to slip. Easy to get stuck with that itch that went to her bones that could only be sated by whatever she had fixated on revealing its secrets, every last one. Knowing that once she got stuck, it would change how things would be.

She knew part of the problem was the fact that she was clumsy in ways that seemed so natural to the meatbags that surrounded her, and that much as she tried to ape their methods sometimes the mask would slip and she would step left where everyone else stepped right to leave her in the spotlight she both craved and cringed away from.

Xo’catl had proven a unique companion, in that he was one of a handful people she had ever slipped up in front of, one of three it had been deliberate for. He hadn't seemed to judge her when she had stolen his jaguar pelt and plopped it on, merely recovering it and mentioning nothing of the oddities she had let surface. and then, with the chance to spar him… It both tickled that ‘nobody else has done this’ itch and the chance to let her mask slip and actually enjoy something that wasn’t her Necromancer. It was hard, letting go of that restriction she put on herself, far harder than trying to control her temper, but the major thought that ran through her head helped.

_-Just when was the last time I let myself cut loose? He’s the Apex. He can handle it. He won’t think less of me if I enjoy it.-_

Her fur floofed out as that first tingle of excitement ran through her, and she was ready.

_-I have to be careful. I don’t have to be careful. He is Xo’catl, and he is sturdy~.-_

She stepped back, rolling her shoulders and stretching and letting the anticipation tingle across her tongue. Xo’catl had the potential to be particularly dangerous; he was strong, fast, agile, and cunning. The restraint he would have to exercise would be an unfortunate shackle, if a necessary one, but that fact hardly did anything to dampen her enthusiasm. In terms of pure, physical combat, he was the best in the area. She fought to keep the excitement out of her voice, but only out of politeness. He knew. He always knew.

“You ready?”

_-Ohh, what a challenge~!-_

The Apex gripped his axes, shifting them in his hands as if to reassure himself already.

“We are.”

It was all the confirmation she needed, putting her head down and bolting forward. The mark on her face was cold as air hit the wet streaks of blood along her fur, and the same lightness that filled her while running as a panther surged through her. A quick trajectory was plotted, and just out of arm's reach she planted the end of the staffspear and flung herself upwards, leading with her feet. He twisted on the impact to steal most of the force of the blow, and her eyes widened appreciatively at how quickly he recovered. No stagger, not even a stumble as he came back around with the back of the axe to use like a mace.

She felt the impact against her hip, and shivered as she let instinct and thought blend together while the Panther curled and coiled under her skin, leading her through the steps required without a thought. As she spun through the air, she twisted herself using each following impact against the ground to orient herself back upright, already in the process of surging forward once more as automatically a shimmer of green trailed along her hip.

_-Broken pelvic flange, spreading cracks. Again~!-_

She knew would feel that one later, as her pulse surged with the adrenaline and the cracks reknit back together with each step. The druid had almost gotten all the way past the Apex, his head following her trajectory and stance shifting in a preemptive motion to pounce before doubling over as the staffspear connected across his torso to knock the breath out of him.

_-Clever Zandalari, too clever. Let go a little~. Match me. Fight!-_

She had settled lightly after the impact, watching how the Primals eyes had started to constrict, how his torso shifted to finally suck in a proper lungful of air and how he reached up and then brought that heavy axe down. Reversed once more to prevent a possible dismembering, Bri’we noted, and felt her lips starting to twitch upwards. She wasn’t settled properly enough to bolt to the sides, couldn’t move fast enough to get out from under it, and planted herself. The axe impacted atop her shoulder with the crunch of reinforced wood breaking under the strain, leaves dislodged, and -clack- of metal across the enchanted, sturdy wood of the staffspear.

She felt the blow in her hip more than her shoulder, heightened regeneration disrupted briefly as cracks spread once more from the point of the previous break. She had diffused most of the force of the blow, fortunately, preventing anything else from being broken. It would swell later, but for now the druid lost the throb amongst the storm that had suffused her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, even as delight and war danced in her blood. She pressed upwards, smiling as she started her counter.

_-I want proof. I want one of his tusks. I will wear it and the world will know that even the Best can be Beaten~.-_

The upwards press with the staffspear angled, and then went outwards to buy her that inch of space she needed to disengage the weapon and spin to gain some momentum so that she could crack it across those jutting tusks. Neither broke, but she didn’t have much time to mourn the lost opportunity as as Xo’catl stumbled back with axes raised, hissing and bristling. He took a more deliberate step back, giving ground, giving way.

_-Trap, tricks and falsehoods! The Apex does not give ground!-_

The line of thought was proven true as the Apex sprang forward with both axes raised, blades bared as he brought them both down towards her uninjured shoulder. Two things happened, in the heartbeat before the impact came.

She felt light, lighter than she ever had as she watched both blades descend while the world about her slowed. The intricate detail on both axes caught her eye, and she appreciated their beauty even as she started to bring the staffspear upwards on an angle. There was no fear, only that razor's edge of focus, and her eyes slid past the weapons to focus on the Zandalari’s face.

_-His face. I can see his FACE.-_

His eyes were blue. The colour had never registered before, in all the times she had noted the size or shape of the pupils. It had always been simply an indicator of his state of being. They were set under prominent ridges that gave his angular features a true raptor’s cast. His jaws had opened, revealing the fanged maw that, theoretically, she had known was there but was only truly seeing for the first time.

“BREAK!”

Ridges spread out from the enchanted wood in her hands as the axes were caught along the side of the staffspear and slid to the side, sparks brightening the darkened glade as they slid along the ironwood haft. Strength surged through her arms even as the jagged, spined end of the weapon rounded and blunted itself so that as she stepped in to whump it into his torso, it wouldn’t puncture him and go through.

“But I’m Havin’ FUN!”

This. This was what she had been seeking. In all the spars amongst the clan members, she had been right in guessing that only the Apex could provide what was needed to get her into this heightened state of awareness, of existence!

_-A worthy opponent! A proper Challenger! I Will Be KING!-_

The impact lifted the much larger male from the ground by almost an inch, and he stumbled as he landed, folding in on himself. Struggling to breath, the Apex shook his head as if to clear it before rearing back with his jaws pulled open in preparation to pounce and-

And he clapped the axes against his torso as he reached the height of what would have become a lunge, stepping back and rumbling. Every physical fiber of his being was primed to continue, and yet instead of the next step to their dance, words came forth.

“Stop! Stop. Win. You win. Need Stop.”

_-WHAT!? NO!!! I-_

_-This is not a win! You still stand! You still…-_

_-If I ever want to be able to do this again, I must do this thing, even if it burns.-_

The manic grin that had spread across her face vanished as she promptly lowered herself into a submissive crouch, keeping her head down to hide the way her teeth were bared in frustration. The druid backed away slowly, carefully even as she lightly set the staffspear down. Visual cues that she was no threat, no challenger, barely hearing a word that he uttered in broken zandali to bring himself down from the edge through the thundering tempo of her pulse.

It took a long moment for the Druid to settle into a comfortable niche between readiness and relaxed, a long moment spent focusing on mending the broken piece of her pelvis.

-That will hurt for a few days.-

Bri glanced at Xo’catl from under her hood, eyes holding a faint green glow.

_-Worth it.-_

She kept her voice low when she spoke, soft and gentle, analyzing the cadence of his responses coupled with the words he chose, and felt a coil of confidence curl through her chest.They’d do this again. It was only a matter of being patient until the next opportunity arose.

The druid lowered her head once more to hide the way a manic grin split her face.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: “A Year of Vomiting Color”: Sean Price Williams on Cinematography

Thirst Street, directed by Nat Silver with cinematography by Sean Price Williams

Cinematographer Sean Price Williams has been revered by critics and indie film fans for the better part of the last decade. While drawing particular influence from master filmmakers like Robert Altman and Roman Polanski, his visual thinking stays fresh by constantly seeking fellow image makers — whether cinematographers, photographers, or others — who make the vulgar and common beautiful.

Williams’s singular eye has kept him in-demand; you’ll see his name in the credits of four movies in 2017 alone. Michael Almereyda’s Marjorie Prime is a tale of technology simulating humanity and Good Time — the latest from Queens natives Josh and Ben Safdie — is a sprint through the New York City underworld. Golden Exits (which has yet to receive a theatrical release following its Sundance premiere) marks Williams’s reunion with Brooklyn-based director Alex Ross Perry, who has worked with the cinematographer on his four prior features.

However, Thirst Street, directed by Nathan Silver, is the truest visual smorgasbord of the batch. To tell the story of flight attendant Gina (Lindsay Burdge) as she fixates on a one-night stand in Paris, Williams draws inspiration from 1970s European art films and cinéma du look to weave tapestries of color that both beckon and repel viewers in following Gina’s descent. Ahead of Thirst Street’s screening at New York City’s Quad Cinema starting September 20, Williams discussed his unique gift for imbuing stories of misanthropes and criminals with raw emotion and neon glamor.

*   *   *

Thirst Street, directed by Nat Silver with cinematography by Sean Price Williams

Jon Hogan: Your first film experiences in New York City grew from your time working at now-closed East Village fixture Kim’s Video and Music. There, you met future collaborators like directors Alex Ross Perry and Robert Greene and actress Kate Lyn Sheil as coworkers. Why was Kim’s such fertile ground for cinematic creativity?

Sean Price Williams: Because it’s a library, and that’s what libraries should be. We could immediately be learning and catching up on the history of cinema with what was available to us, which was a lot compared to now. You have to illegally download, otherwise you don’t have a choice, because the streaming options aren’t very good as far as the history of cinema. I’m shocked by how little Filmstruck actually has. People are like “there’s so much.” No. There’s so little.

JH: In terms of streaming libraries, what elements of the canon are missing or not readily available?

Thirst Street, directed by Nat Silver

SPW: The first 100 years of cinema are barely represented at all in a legal way online. I encourage everyone to download … I think we have to encourage that if there’s going to be any kind of education for cinema at all. Otherwise it’s just directed to us by Netflix and Amazon, whatever their licensing agreement is. That’s not a way to be guided.

JH: You worked with the late documentarian Albert Maysles. What lessons did you learn from him? How does your vision change when filming documentaries like Maysles’s Iris or Robert Greene’s Kate Plays Christine?

SPW: When I first came to New York, I was shooting stuff for this website that had no means at all. We were shooting mostly documentary stuff (parades, events, concerts, things like that), but I’m not an avid documentary watcher. The documentary and the feature stuff were always criss-crossing, and I didn’t really think of it as two totally different things. I was always trying to make documentaries seem more cinematic with some sort of language that might seem more interesting on a big screen.

When I worked with Al, I knew his movies. I loved his movies. They had an elegance that was cinematic and totally unique to them. When I would go through his dailies as his archivist I would see things in the dailies that were confirmation about the unique kind of eye he had. It’s not something you can really pick up and learn. You can learn some things, but you can’t imitate him. He was impulsive and instinctual.

Thirst Street, directed by Nat Silver with cinematography by Sean Price Williams

JH: Your impressionistic use of color in Thirst Street is the highlight of the film. When Gina (Lindsay Burdge) visits a fortune teller, for instance, her face and hair are composed in various tones of red, almost appearing inorganic. However, the background boasts other colors. How did you go about creating these colorscapes?

SPW: Last year for me was a year of vomiting color between Good Time and that and another movie I shot called Jobe’z World. I had a gaffer in New York that I worked with a couple times that encouraged it. We got really nutty because there was a new light that came out early last year that we started using that made it very easy to dial in different colors. Then when I got to France to make Thirst Street, we just had lots of little lights and gels.

In the fortune teller scene, I had no idea what a fortune teller in Paris looks like. None of us bothered to really go and find one. Some on the production said they knew, but they all conflicted. We played with color there. It was an early enough scene that it made it okay to get colorful in the rest of the movie.

JH: With much of the action taking place in a Paris strip club, Thirst Street features plenty of moving, writhing bodies. What draws the attention of your camera in dance performances?

SPW: Hair. (laughs)

The trick is — and most dance is filmed badly — you either feel like you need to shoot the whole body or need to find small details that express what the dance is doing. And if you do anything in between, you’re kind of failing all of it. You’re missing something.

Thirst Street, directed by Nat Silver with cinematography by Sean Price Williams

JH: I did enjoy the shots where you segmented the bodies and focused on a particular body part. A leg. A head.

SPW: There’s a great dance film by Claire Denis called Towards Mathilde that has the greatest examples of focusing on a hand or a foot. The cinematography in that is just outrageous. As far as dance photography, it might be the best at isolating parts and following them. It’s very hard to do.

JH: You often favor close-ups focusing on the face, sometimes leaving tops of heads or chins off-camera. What about this composition interests you?

SPW: With [Ronald Bronstein’s] Frownland, we shot close-ups on faces because we didn’t have any art department. We didn’t have a beautiful room we wanted to showcase. You just end up going for the close-ups as a fallback almost.

But what’s better than the face? I guess that’s the bottom line. Josh always likes to talk about how the close-up is the one unique thing to cinema, to see a face that big on a screen. That’s pretty special. I never quite understood when people say, “It’s too claustrophobic.”

Thirst Street by Nat Silver screens at the Quad Cinema (34 West 13th Street, Greenwich Village, Manhattan) beginning September 20.

The post “A Year of Vomiting Color”: Sean Price Williams on Cinematography appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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[spnnmp-blog]

Dialogue reference

As I have stated, this project is about trying out new techniques and new ideas within my creative practice. One of these techniques I want to try is the recording of dialogue and sound for film. It crossed my mind to just do a musical soundtrack to accompany the visuals but I think a more effective way of firmly getting the ideas and context across would be to have a narrative element within the audio. The issue with just having the musical element is, you get the tonal changes in mood through key changes (major and minor reflecting happy and sad feelings) but it’s hard to convey a narrative within them, especially if - as I’m thinking - the videos are only quite short respectively. A dialogue element will much more effectively help convey the messages as we have both tonal aspects as well as content and words to help. 

My first reference for this inclusion of dialogue is the monologues and narration of ‘The Narrator’ in the film Fight Club. This film in itself is a film dealing with mental illness and depression that manifests in a split personality disorder. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exL51n3py6g

This clip from the start of the film, is an impressive CGI rendering of a virtual IKEA catalogue highlighting the way in which the narrator’s life is run by the draw of capitalist, mass produced products in order to fit in with his idea of ideal society. Over top of the sweeping slider movement, tracking the character on the phone ordering more furniture, we hear the narration explaining his need for these products and how he justifies this compulsion. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykdmnS-MtXI 

It is this scene in particular that stands out for me, most specifically the last 5 seconds as the narrator lies apathetically staring at the TV informercials. The visuals combines with Edward Norton’s emotionless, droning voice really communicates the state of lifeless depression. The way he reads the dialogue is as though the words just fall out of his mouth, said with conviction but without emotion. You know in another life he is a smart and well spoken person, he just lacks the confidence to run with it. No joy is to be found in his monotone voice, even as he describes the furniture he supposedly loves, theres no emotion or spark to his voice that suggests he has any actual enthusiasm for his belongings. Spending money gets him superficial joy. 

The visual element of this scene too resonates with my experience of depression at it’s worst. You don’t laugh or cry, you just seam to exist waiting for something to happen, often in the middle of the night. So you sit and watch TV, but you’re not really watching it, you’re just staring at the changing colours and shapes, thinking. I want to homage this scene in my own work due to it’s (and it’s a rather cliche thing to say now about this film) importance in my life as a creative person. 

I first looked at poetry back when I was first considering my final project. My initial idea was to take a poem of a selection of poems and build a story from that in a more traditional form. Since then, I have moved from a more formulaic approach to a more art-film based idea, meaning that I needed to adopt the style of narrative I was going to write. For a more formulaic film, you can get away with being a bit more descriptive and use exposition to guide the audience. Thus, you can do more and move around in time more within the narrative. However, for a more art-film medium, you can be more expressional with the narrative but it also tends to lend itself to a more generalised one. I started by looking at popular social media/ forum site, Reddit. On Reddit you can find a ‘sub-Reddit’ for near enough every topic you could think of and so I went and found the ‘r/poetry’ sub. On here I posted this question: 

To which I got 17 replies of people recommending me different poems specifically and poets in general for me to have a look at. One of my favourite suggestions was Aubade by Phillip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.   Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.   In time the curtain-edges will grow light.   Till then I see what’s really always there:   Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,   Making all thought impossible but how   And where and when I shall myself die.   Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify. The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse   —The good not done, the love not given, time   Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because   An only life can take so long to climb Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;   But at the total emptiness for ever, The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,   Not to be anywhere, And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true. This is a special way of being afraid No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast moth-eaten musical brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,   No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,   Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come round. And so it stays just on the edge of vision,   A small unfocused blur, a standing chill   That slows each impulse down to indecision.   Most things may never happen: this one will,   And realisation of it rages out In furnace-fear when we are caught without   People or drink. Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave   Lets no one off the grave. Death is no different whined at than withstood. Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.   It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,   Have always known, know that we can’t escape,   Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring   In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.

This is a very cleaver and resonant depiction of what it’s like to deal with depression (from my experience) on a day to day basis. The thoughts that go through you’re head that become debilitating and issues that make the difference between simply being down and having depression. 

“Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,   Making all thought impossible but how   And where and when I shall myself die.   Arid interrogation: yet the dread Of dying, and being dead, Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.” 

This part of the first stanza is a great example of the early signs that I was pre disposed for this illness, from a very young age, I have feared death. What does it mean, when will it happen and how will it feel? I think these lines sum that up, the words “dread” and “being dead” on context bring up ideas of the mystery of the situation, the unknowing. Whereas “thought impossible” “interrogation” and “hold” sound very similar to the way in which these thoughts can become incapacitating. Often, you fixate on one thing and it causes any other thoughts to stop. This idea that I have about death was one of the original ideas I wanted to explore when coming into this project - the infinite scale of the universe and the subsequent meaningless feeling of our fleeting existence. 

“—The good not done, the love not given, time   Torn off unused“

and 

“The sure extinction that we travel to And shall be lost in always“

Again, these lines summaries that feeling of uselessness and meaningless.

“Postmen like doctors go from house to house.“

The final line is very powerful, it shows (to me) that this is a viewpoint that is held by many people, it’s the every-day person that feels these feelings and that you are not alone with them, which is a positive ending in my mind. The postman acting as the every man but then followed with “like doctors” show that even the people who deal with death are subject to this way of thinking too. 

As a dialogue for my film, it’s a very good starting point for me. However, if I am to have these three separate films, splitting up this poem for each part (bad days, normality, and good days) may not leave me with a long enough reading to work the visuals around. It may also not break up perfectly anyway. To really get the idea across that these are different points of view, the poetry needs to mirror these points of view. Overall, Aubade is a very somber poem with only small hints of positivity at the end. Instead I need to make a selection of poems for each shot that fits better with the desired length and mood. 

Voices - Nationwide

Voices is a marketing campaign from the mutual finance group, Nationwide. Nationwide have commissioned a series of short films depicting “real customers” reciting poetry and spoken word pieces about 21st century life. There’s a total of 16 adverts that run between 20 seconds and 2 minuets. The shorter videos obviously being more practical for T.V. advertisement and the longer videos suited to social media due to the cheep cost of marketing through the likes of Facebook and Twitter promotion. T.V. too has more regimented pre-existing formats to enable lots of adverts in a short amount of time where as social media (especially Facebook and Youtube) lends itself to longer videos. Once the viewer is interested in a product, they are more likely to watch the entire video, whereas on T.V. audiences would get bored. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLw3Em2mGRE&list=PLF9206AD222A37AA8&index=4

The content of the videos is very simplistic in methodology, very simple documentary style filming in a montage style edit. The obvious ‘hand held footage’ shooting style and natural lighting (not obviously lit externally) sells the idea that these actors are every day people talking about the business. This in turn subconsciously says to  the audience that the people have sent in this footage themselves because they love the products they provide so much. 

The above video is one of my favourite from the series. The narrator in this case - Sugar J (again, use of informal names similar to how they would appear on a magazine write in column, sells the idea that these are every day people, not actors) - talks about the idea that technology, because of it’s inherent ease of use and connectivity, causes us to actually drift apart as a society. Sugar J proposes that we instead should see the ease of use as a means to connect on a real world basis. The spoken word in this project serves as a device to propose a deeper reading of the content. Because it’s not spelt out in simple terms, the audience have to think about what’s being said and what it means in relation to what’s trying to be sold. 

“...Sometimes, advertising is at its most effective when the hand of the client and agency can be least detected.” VCCP’s (Nationwide’s lead creative agency) deputy executive creative director, Jim Thornton says that he thinks the success of the project is because of it’s raw format, it’s simplistic nature and how it’s been taken back into the hands of the masses. However, when you look at the Youtube comment section, you see a different story, almost the opposite. People have taken to slandering the campaign for being blatant propaganda and soul-less. 

This is the tendency for internet and social media - youtube in particular - to dismiss something without properly understanding the background. A lot of people are dismayed thinking that Nationwide is a bank, whereas they are in fact a mutual finance so the profits of investors are put back into the company, not for the financial gain of the companies elite and outside investors. There’s also a dismissal from a certain proportion claiming that it’s pretentious and pompous. This is interesting when considering my own project as this could possibly be a reaction to my work too once I post it online. However, my work is being made for different purposes, as an art project not a commercial one. This will attract a different (and hopefully more open minded) audience and give context to the use of poetry. 

I think this campaign highlights (regardless of context and political agenda) the potential that spoken word and non linear dialogue methods hold in creating an engaging and thought provoking narrative. This is essential when creating more abstract or speculative work, and especially when discussing mental illness.   

#spnmp