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honeyhenry · 3 years

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A Tiny Valentine

A/N: Another little instalment of the Tiny!AU that I have been writing this month! I hope you all had a lovely valentines or galentines or palentines! Now onto my favourite little family! Please feel free to request some more about this AU or my Syverson AU because both are helping me through this month! 🥰

Warnings: none! just some sweet fluff!

Read Tiny here!

Read Tiny Vol. 2 here!

You’re awoken by the squeaks of a fussy baby, opening your eyes in time to see your husband shush the child cradled in his right arm ever so tenderly. Henry catches you looking from where you laid in the bed and grins, making his way towards you with Will in tow.

“Good morning, and Happy Valentine’s day, Mummy” his deep voice giving you butterflies still after all this time as he leans in to kiss you, 5 week old Will pressed between your chests, a warm safe haven for him as his parents shared their love on the cosy Sunday morning. Sitting up, you cradle Henry’s face in your hand, whispering a treasured valentine sentiment back, before turning your attention to your second, yet no less important valentine.

“Hello baby boy, good morning! Are you wishing me a happy Valentine’s too?”

Will now weighs in at an impressive 2.3kg, and hasn’t left your or Henry’s side in the past month. His tiny frame fits so perfectly into the crook of Henry’s forearm which is much larger than the precious child it helps to support. Somehow he’s managed to fit Will into a new, slightly-too-big onesie decorated with a large heart detailing the words “I Love my Mummy” inside of it.

“Yes, I have fed, burped, dressed, undressed, changed, re-dressed, and soothed him since 6am. He likes his early mornings but we did have a small poo-splosion. It’s been dealt with, and we’ve had a chat, haven't we Will?” Henry addresses the question to his son, who pays him no mind, other than to clench his little fist, making you laugh.

“Here, I’ll take him. I want cuddles from my littlest Valentine.”

“Oh I see how it is...maybe I’ll have to return everything I got you and only give you the gifts from Will.”

You’re about to reply that he needn’t worry, that his Valentines will come later tonight, but your jaw drops as Henry pulls a few bags onto the bed, alongside the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers that must be 10 times the size of Will, and have cost him half the earth.

“Henry!” you gasp, careful to hold Will securely as you shuffle up the bed to see the gifts he has presented to you.

“A couple of the gifts were supposed to be given just before you gave birth but I wanted to wait until now, so you’d still get them on Valentine’s Day.”

You look at him with utter adoration, tears almost spilling over and you manage to hold it together until-

“Oh no, Henry” you cry out, immediately setting a pit of uncertainty in Henry’s stomach.

“What? Is something wrong? Is Will okay? Is it the flowers?”

You sigh and let a few tears slip out, cuddling Will close, looking down at his sweet innocent face, not wanting to meet Henry’s gaze. It doesn’t do much good, as Will truly is his daddy’s double.

“I- I didn’t get you anything. I completely forgot, I’m so sorry” you whisper, wishing you could turn back the clock and remember to at least put some of his favourite chocolates or cologne in the shopping cart when you last went out. “Like, not even a card. I’m a rubbish wife.”

“Well that’s just ridiculous. I could’ve sympathised with you until that point but I’m afraid you’re completely wrong. On all counts.” He moves up closer to you on the bed, resting a large hand on your knee while using his other hand to gesture his points.

“First of all, you are not a rubbish wife. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You are perfect and I really hope that these gifts will be worthy of you wearing them or eating them or just having them exist around you. They cost money, but money doesn’t light a flame compared to what you got me for all my birthdays, valentine’s days and Christmases combined.”

He keeps one hand on your knee, with the other now moving over to hold Will’s whole hand with just the tip of his finger. Wrapping his palm around the familiar pointer finger, you hear the tiniest sigh from your son’s body, feeling utterly relaxed in your arms and holding Henry’s hand.

“But he’s 5 weeks old-”

“He wasn’t even meant to be born until the end of this month, and I would've told you the same thing as I’m telling you now if that was still the case. You grew him and nurtured him and now we get to know him and love him every single day. I can never thank you enough for the gift of our child.”

Resting his forehead to yours, you sit there in that moment, soaking it up in the hopes to carry the weight of the emotions for days and weeks to come. Upon the gift opening, with Henry explaining each gift while Will lay in his arms, you realised that you truly had been spoiled rotten by your boys. Will had “bought” you a framed picture of the constellations in the sky at the exact time and place he was born, as well as a year’s supply of your favourite breastfeeding cookies sitting in a large crate out in the kitchen.

Henry had truly outdone himself, assuring you that the flowers were from him “but Will helped with his floral expertise, obviously.” He had waited to give you the last gift deliberately - a long, smooth rectangular box wrapped very delicately. Opening it, you see a note inside, setting the box down as you read aloud.

“January is represented by the garnet stone. Derived from the word “seed”, this fruitful gem keeps the wearer safe. And May is represented by the emerald to mean “rebirth”...and gives the wearer foresight and good fortune...what does that....oh Henry!”

You lift the box and remove the protective paper to reveal the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. There are small diamonds detailing it and allowing it to glint in the light, alongside a small cut of garnet and emerald woven together in parts.

“Happy Valentine’s darling. It’s mine and Junior’s birthstones. Had to send it back when he came early to swap February for January. And more can be added...whenever they need be.”

You knew the tears would start again, and before they can mark tracks on your cheeks, you leap onto Henry to kiss him with passion, careful not to knock Will in the process.

“You are the most loving, thoughtful, wonderful person in the whole world. It’s beautiful and so personal...and I know it couldn’t possibly compare, but how about some Valentine’s pancakes? We can show Will how to properly celebrate.”

The three of you head to the kitchen soon after, cooking up a storm and dancing to the love songs playing on the radio. You even have the opportunity to feed Will again while Henry expertly flips the pancakes in the pan. He plates them up, drizzles them with your favourite topping, and feeds you while you feed Will.

One thing your son will never have to question, is the love that his parents have for each other.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican

request / feedback etc. here!

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill writing #henry cavill #cavillary #henry cavill x you #it's tiny will cavill's world we are all just living in it #dad!henry #dad!henry cavill #henry cavill fluff

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #tatooedlaura #laura sprys

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valkyrieelysia18 · 3 years

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RWBY Rewrite: The Relics

Hello there everyone! I’m back with another post on my Rewrite series that hopefully will delight you.

Admittedly, this might be an odd topic after my last post. Well, that one was pretty big and I wanted something a bit smaller to tackle. I had thought about getting into the White Fang next, but that post is going to be a dozy and then I thought of the Relics. And I thought “Sure, that’ll work.”

The Relics, in my opinion, were handled poorly in the show. Items that can grant great power and when collected something amazing/terrible have been done before and done well (which is honestly true a lot of stuff in RWBY). In RWBY, we didn’t know the Relics existed until over halfway through Volume 4, reduced the Maidens to essentially gate keys in Volume 5, and even at the end of Volume 6 we only know what the lamp can do on its own. I mean come on, Dragon Ball took one episode to explain its titular item (granted they were a lot more simple, but still)! So we’re going to tackle these things.

Now before we get into the individual items, let’s address some things that about the Items as a whole.

The first thing to note about the Relics in this Rewrite is that gathering the four together won’t summon the Gods back to Remnant. The Brothers in this Rewrite are much more distant figures, preferring to observe their creations rather than directly interfering.

So then, why does Salem want to collect them? The full reason will be in her and Ozpin’s backstory post, but to put it simply Salem has a more personal history with the Relics here and wishes to get them back. She views that leaving them in the hands of mortals will just lead to them abusing the items, causing more pain and suffering for the world. Not an entirely baseless viewpoint as we’ll get into soon enough.

The next thing to note is that before the Relics were under the care of the Academies and Ozpin’s group, each was possessed by a former Royal Family. Vale had Choice, Mistral had Knowledge, Vacuo had Destruction, and Mantle had Creation. Granted as time passed and certain things were failed to be passed on, by the time of the Great War only the Crown of Choice’s abilities were known and even then only to a select few.

Each Relic will have a have a spirit that will be involved with the item’s power. I’m not sure whether it was said in RWBY after I left that each Relic had a spirit or whether Jinn was an exception, but I’m going to roll with the first one. Also, each Spirit technically doesn’t have a biological sex, they choose how they want to look.

Also, only the Lamp will have the blue glow. The other Relics will associated with the color of their kingdom: the Staff having a White crystal, the Sword having an Orange gleaming blade, and a Green jewel in the center of the Crown. They can still have the gold, but this will make them more distinct from each other.

Finally, they are NOT the major Grimm magnets as presented in the original show. While they do give off a sort of a signature that Grimm can recognize, it’s a faint one. It would attract Grimm attention if it stayed out for too long in the wild or Grimm would be looking for it in an area if Salem directed them personally to it.

All right, now let’s get down to business!

Knowledge: Jinn

The Lamp of Knowledge is the only Relic we’ve gotten to know it’s full abilities as well as meet its spirit. Even then, I think that three questions every a hundred years is maybe a little too limited for something that is a power of the gods. So, I’m changing it.

Instead of granting three questions within a certain time frame, I like the idea of giving anyone who uses the lamp the ability to ask Jinn one question of the past and present. Everyone is entitled to knowledge after all and they should determine how they want to use it. I know, I kind of stole the idea from the scepter from the direct to video Aladdin King of Thieves, but I think it’s a good setup. It’s powerful, but it still has limitations. This will contrast with its opposite the Crown, which will be more exclusive and deal with the future.

Then there’s Jinn and am I the only who thought her design was lazy? I mean we get it, she’s a genie, but there’s nothing interesting or unique in her design. Pretty sure comparisons to Aladdin’s Genie and Magi’s Paimon have been made. I’d leave her redesign to someone who is fully capable of putting a new spin on it, but I would like the idea of her not having a consistent wardrobe. Maybe have her wear a top that was similar to something found in Central Mistral while wearing a hairpiece you would identify being at home in Eastern Mistral. Not only would this symbolize how multicultural Mistral is, but also how history is made of many different parts.

Now Jinn herself wouldn’t be that different of a character from canon. She would still be a rather pleasant, teasing spirit who is quite thrilled to finally be out of the Vault again. Amongst the Relic spirits, she’s probably the one who has the least regard for mortals, but that’s partly because of what people usually use her for. Most people would ask about power, riches, dark secrets; it got kind of boring and predictable for Jinn and it was less pleasant when they would get mad at her for telling them truths they didn’t want to hear. Let’s just say a few rulers of Mistral that used her Relic didn’t use it very wisely.

Jinn’s favorite type of petitioner would be someone like Oobleck: someone who would ask her about some part of history that doesn’t have much known about it and she doesn’t get to talk about nearly as much as she’d like to so she actually goes into more detail than necessary. She’d also respect someone who probably knows the answer she’s going to give them is not one they want to hear, but is resolved to face the truth whatever it is.

Creation: Eve/Ev

The Staff of Creation is a bit interesting in that works better for some than others. It uses what a person pictures in their mind to bring what they want to reality, within reason. So it really works best with someone very creative and has a clear vision of what they want to do. It can’t create something that’s alive (like a dog) or that had been living (like someone who has passed on). Also, the more detailed and involved an item is, the longer it will take for the Staff to recharge. For example, the little crystals (which are basically a crystallized form of the staff’s power) Ironwood has been creating as an alternative energy source would take a couple of hours to a day depending on how many were created at a time. Whereas a huge detailed palace would take decades to over a century, longer than it would have taken them to build in real time.

Eve is the Spirit of Creation and would have a rather androgynous appearance. I was also thinking that the Spirit could be called Eve or Ev depending on who’s addressing them. Their main color would be white, but their appearance would resemble that of artist. Perhaps having smudges of charcoal on their face or a splattering of color on an apron. I think it would be really ironic that the kingdom that banned the arts at one point would have a Spirit that is quintessentially an artist, heck Eve might have locked up during that time and forgotten about until after the war was over. Again, I’d leave the design to someone who is much better suited for it.

Now in this Rewrite, the Staff is no longer in the Vault because Ironwood took it out. He reasoned that having a powerful tool that could be used to in the fight against of Salem would be wasted simply being left in the Vault. Needless to say, Eve doesn’t like the way Ironwood is using them. It’s clear the power is just a means to an end to him, something he can use to make Atlas more secure. There is no love or passion for what he’s creating and he treats them with no courtesy or respect, not listening at all when they try to talk to him. When Watts eventually comes to retrieve the Staff, Eve is basically “Oh thank the Brothers! I could care less about your plans, just get me out of here!” It’s sort of a summary of what partly causes Ironwood’s fall: the inability to get that people aren’t purely logical beings that will do what they are told for the greater good, but emotional irrational people who will snap when pushed too far.

The best person Eve could work with is someone who specializes in the visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, etc. Someone who has a very clear vision and obviously very passionate about the things they want to create. Eve would also enjoy someone who is perfectly okay if they don’t get their creation exactly right on the first try and is more than willing to take Eve’s advice/criticism.

Destruction: Adamou

The Sword of Destruction is perhaps the easiest Relic to understand and use. Using the sword will increase your physical abilities and the sword can send out waves of power that can devastate a group of foes or alter the environment. However, using it takes quite a bit of energy. Best case scenario will involve a week of recovery. Worst case scenario you expend years of your life. Even the King of Vale with all his power, lost two or three years he should have had to live on that Final Battle of the Great War. This cost was so great to the old Vacuo Monarchs (and given that most of their past was peaceful) that it was hidden away and forgotten about until the Great War happened and the last King of Vale rediscovered it.

I’m still little unsure of how I would like Adamou, the Spirit of Destruction, to look like. The closest example that comes to mind is something like Nemesis from Fire Emblem Three Houses: a large older battle scarred man with light armor. Once again, I’m a writer and not a character designer so if anyone has ideas I’d be willing to see them. That being said, his name is actually a West Africa variation of the name Adam, putting him in contrast to Eve. Anyone who has a passing understanding of the Old Testament should probably understand what I’m doing here.

Adamou, despite his outward and intimidating appearance, is actually a pretty easy going spirit. He’s also somewhat disappointed in how he doesn’t get used as much compared to his brethren, but he does understand why and has great respect for the old rulers of Vacuo for doing what they did. He enjoys a good fight, but he also enjoys competitions of all kinds whether physical or mental. You could talk him into a little kiddie board game and he’d go at with as much glee as slaying a hoard of Grimm. As the Spirit of Destruction, he knows better than anyone that life is finite and it’s best to live and fight to the fullest until your time comes.

Adamou would gravitate to people like Yang or Pyrrha: those who enjoy combat and wish to live their life to the fullest. Those who’s spirits burn bright even if it means they burn out quicker. That said, he also respects those who fight to protect those they love and things they believe in (to an extent, he’s not fond of fanatics who would give their lives away without a second thought for something obviously sketchy).

Choice: Caesar

Whereas the Lamp reveals the past and present, the Crown of Choice is focused on the future. Those who wear it have the ability to see the possible outcomes of any choice they face. As such you can see what the cost and consequences of your options. That being said, it’s not a hundred percent as the future is always in motion and there’s no telling how other people’s actions and choices may affect what you decide. Still, the predictions do tend to be very accurate. There’s also the possibility that wielder may obsess over said choices or may become dependent on the Crown, but that has happened very rarely since Caesar usually stops their wielders before they go too far in this.

The thing about the Crown is that unlike the Lamp, it can only be used by one person. When its user dies, the Crown is free to be taken up by another and once it has bonded to someone they are bound for life. Now the Crown can be lent to another person, but every wielder can only do so once in their lifetime and those who borrow it can only use it for three days. On the fourth day, the crown will tighten around the person’s head, giving great pain and hallucinations, and will only stop if that person takes it off at which they can no longer use it.

Seeing the obvious issues of such a powerful item potentially falling into the wrong hands, the first King of Vale came to an agreement with the Spirit Caesar to set up a trap/test to anyone who would try to claim the Crown. The Crown would be placed in a special chamber when not in use with a multitude of different crowns and circlets in the room. It’s up to the person to choose the right crown with no outside input. Get it wrong and the crown will turn to ash and that person is forever barred from taking the Crown. The twist? The true crown’s appearance in the trial is in fact not a crown, but a wreath of laurels (which can be seen on Beacon’s symbol). And if you’re thinking this sounds quite a bit like the scenario from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, that’s cause it is as its kind of the sort of trial you’d find in a fable or fairy tale. It would take either a very thoughtful and self aware person to pass the trial as well as one not greedy. It’s also made a little more complicated as the Crown looks slightly different for each of it’s wielders, which will be noticed in an earlier scene with our group of heroes in a hall of portraits of the past monarchs of the Vale. Because that is what determined who would succeed to the throne of Vale.

And yes, we will learn a lot more on this when I do the King of Vale Rewrite Post.

As a result of the nature of Crown, Caesar is the spirit that is the most close to mortals as they build a strong personal relationship with their users. As part of this, when a new wielder is chosen, Caesar will take upon the appearance of their predecessor to guide the new one. I’m still a little torn over whether Caesar should appear as the old wielder when they first took up the Crown, in the peak of that person’s life, or how they looked when they died.

Caesar, for the most part, acts as a sort of advisor to their wielder. That can come off as them acting very parental which given how often the Crown would pass from parent to child is quite fitting. They will give advice when asked for, but in general will advise against using the Crown’s power if its a situation their user can more than handle on their own. They are very much the type of person who would advocate that “It’s the journey, not the destination” and is more than willing to let their wielder fail if it meant they could learn something from it. That said, they do get very attached and is probably the only Spirit that would openly speak positively about Salem due to her history with them and also has issues with Ozpin. They and Jinn will be the ones to eventually give the more specific details to group about Ozpin and Salem’s history after they got the general outline elsewhere.

Caesar has worked with many different types of people, but the main thing they each had in common is that they were the type of people who were always concerned with the consequences of their actions for those around them and the kingdom of Vale as a whole. They generally work best with someone who is humble and empathetic. However, they generally don’t like someone if they put a singular goal above everything else without consideration of all the consequences (again, issues with Ozpin).

Well, that turned out longer than I was expecting it too. I guess I just got into the creative juices. Anyway, I think I’ll do a different post before coming back to do Cinder. And just as a reminder people, I dropped this show at the end of Volume 6 so don’t bring up anything after that to me in a comment.

See you soon!

#rwby rewrite #rwde #the relics #jinn #relic spirits

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musashi · 3 years

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sending u this ask as an opportunity for u to talk to me abt fi!! i love ur thoughts n words on things nd i don't send asks as much bc i don't have. good words to talk to u abt stuff but i rlly enjoy just. ur Passion nd stuff. autistic people r the best at talking abt stuff i stand by that we r just Epic. anyways if u wanna, i'd love to hear more about just... how fi sorta. changes, over the game? like the Little Things that show her starting 2 care abt link more, or becoming more "human"!

i love this whole ask. you’re right autistic folks r sexy as hell idk how the divine powers that be fit so much passion into my tiny body but i’m glad they made the attempt.

ANYWAYS FI. i don’t think i’ve ever actually laid this out because for the most part it is incredibly subtle and requires a lot of filling in gaps yourself, and i think that someone who cares less abt her can probably come away from it with an entirely different interpretation. fi’s development of actual feelings are a very sudden a mysterious thing, and i have a LOT of thoughts about them going in a lot of different directions so forgive me if this answer isn’t particularly linear or coherent. i’m not just gonna talk about her slow burn into feeling things, i’m also gonna talk about... why i think it happens.

we don’t get to learn a lot about sword spirits and how they come into being, other than it takes great power to enchant a sword with a spirit/temper a sword with one inside it. hylia obviously created fi and, presumably, demise created ghirahim, and they are pretty much as opposite as two people can be with their only real characteristic in common being precision, intelligence & otherworldly loyalty to their respective masters.

we thus don’t get to learn how much control the creator of a sword spirit has over what kind of spirit comes of it, if their personalities are organic to their experiences or crafted from the moment they awaken. what i mean by this is like... ghirahim could have been a cold, calculating AI like fi when he was first tempered and gained his dramatics over time, we have no idea how long he’s been alive in comparison to her, if his personality is so much more extroverted because he was allowed a life outside his blade whereas fi was isolated in hers for millennia. or if he just came into creation immediately ready to scream and stick his tongue in ppl’s ears.

i swear to god i’m going somewhere with this. ok. anyways.

fi in the beginning of skyward sword is, i think, how most people remember her--data-interested, icy, and detached. there is a reverence in how she addresses link from the start, even before he formally becomes her wielder, but beyond that she is calculating and precise and rarely wastes words. all of this kinda paints a picture of hylia creating fi, to me--breathing life into the spirit and willing her to be effective, be efficient, be loyal, and be sharp. when you have that image in your head, a lot of how fi operates makes sense--she wasn’t created to have emotions, because emotions get in the way of what her purpose is. hylia made a weapon and a servant, not a friend. it sucks to think about, but that is fi’s purpose.

the game is very careful, however, to show you it’s not that simple from the beginning. because hidden in Ice Queen Fi’s introduction is... a surprising amount of personality.

like this shit, where she straightup just dunks gaepora in the trash because his #Lore is out of date. it’s hysterical because you really do not know if she’s just a) an AI who doesn’t understand when she’s being kinda Rude or b) being snarky On Purpose. and that ambiguity in itself crafts this beautiful air of mystery where you, from the get go, don’t entirely know what to expect of fi all the time.

or this, which she says directly after link hesitates to accept the blade:

this scene, which people who have edgier takes on fi constantly use to paint her as intentionally manipulative, where all i see is... her using emotional validation to calm link down enough for him to take in what’s happening. a really important thing about fi is that she’s paradoxically an empath? she can read auras and detect emotion with extreme precision even if she’s incapable of feeling it herself in the beginning. so she knows everything link is experiencing here, understands that it’s holding him back, and takes care to deconstruct the whirlwind of emotion he’s collapsing under and explain to him why he can and should trust her words.

again this is all in her introductory scene. they write her very specifically to be a seemingly flat character with this... rumbling of something more going on under the surface. so much so that the first time you get to a sacred spring and fi, completely randomly, just starts skating across the water’s surface and speaking ancient poeticisms to you, you don’t question it. you’re not like hey, why is sword alexa doing a little dance? you just accept it as something fi is doing, because fi always feels like she’s at her job, and you don’t know how she acts outside of work, but you kinda feel like maybe you want to.

fi’s affinity for music is another way they insert humanity into an AI without making you think too hard about it. singing and dancing are inherently human, artforms are something we associate with the heart and soul. even teaching a robot to paint is, in itself, an art project crafted by a human hand. but you don’t really... consciously think about that, when you watch her do these things. you just kind of accept that she is this otherworldly thing guiding you. you don’t think about the contrast of this programmed assistant performing music alongside you in a sacred ritual. you’re just kind of like, yeah? i can’t JUST play nayru’s wisdom on my harp, i need someone who can sing and god put a vocaloid in my sword???

throughout the game, fi’s dialogue chains when you summon her don’t change in any meaningful way (besides based on what you’re carrying, where you are, etc) but as you near the end, there are a couple things of note. one that sticks out to me is what she says about one of the mid-game minibosses, who is also an artificial intelligence--

a lot of people laugh abt this line and make jokes about fi being hot for the tall handsome robot pirate and they’re valid. but the thing is, like, from the beginning of her mission, fi knew she’d essentially be dying once the world was saved. and early game fi has no hesitations about her part in things regardless, because, as we know, she wasn’t created to feel things like that. she wasn’t created to fear death, to grow attached to life or anyone in it, or to experience sorrow at the idea of saying goodbye. but this is mid-game fi, who still... never says anything she doesn’t deem entirely necessary, but she says this. for no discernible reason, she says this. it’s an unskippable dialogue option, one they WANT you to see and one that is different when you know where she ends up. admiration is already something you wouldn’t really expect of her, but it’s more than that--she’s longing for her own story to mirror it. by the sand sea, fi has started to realize she doesn’t want to go to sleep.

it’s another one of those moments where you’re kinda like, ‘haha, what, fi?' and then move on. another one of those moments where she kinda does something a little unexpected, but not so unexpected you question it too hard. fi excels at those.

before you go off to fight demise, fi stops you to warn you that it is the final battle, and you cannot return. and when you tell her you’re ready, she says this:

as i’ve said, fi doesn’t waste words. almost always, everything she says is for the purpose of efficiency, and rarely does she offer thoughts without fixed probabilities and ultimate endgoals in mind.

this is a sentiment.

it serves no purpose. it is purely an expression of devotion.

and because of EVERYTHING i’ve mentioned thus far, this line both hits you HARD as significant and foreboding in how suddenly tender it is, AND manages to read as in-character for her to say. because the way they write fi’s humanity is so beneath the surface, so easily missable, so hard for me to even lay out with concrete evidence despite the fact that i’m a person who reads a text dump of all her dialogue before bed every night.

but to me, what lays out fi’s inner workings best is actually her actual goodbye, and... not the moment most people would think, tbh? it’s not her tender farewell that speaks her emotions loudest to me, but the moment right before:

these lines, which would read as perfectly in character if it were early game fi, cut you. her complete and utter flippancy, the way she talks about all you’ve been through together as though it were nothing to her, the absolute coldness here after everything. you as a player feel kind of pathetic when she says this, like you were misguided in growing attached to her and thinking of her as a friend. and you KNOW thats the intended effect, because this is what link looks like:

he takes a moment in that last shot to like. swallow sadness and turn away from her, but even as he’s turning his head, he doesn’t take his eyes off her until the last possible moment. she hurts his feelings! why.

because it’s an act, is why. of COURSE fi loves him. of course she’s grown attached to him, of course she’s happy to have known him, of COURSE they’re friends. but fi was NEVER supposed to feel that way, she was never supposed to have the capability to love, and there’s no calculation she can run to set the uncertainties of that at ease within herself. so those lines up above is her trying her best to reset herself to who she was in the beginning, to snap herself back into the role of an emotionless servant to the goddess, to convince herself--not link--that saying goodbye won’t hurt. she’s trying to cope with something she has no idea was in the cards for her, and that’s why she’s seemingly so cruel for a moment.

all of this becomes apparent when she calls him back moments later and tells him how she really feels. there’s major whiplash because fi herself is Going Thru It. but essentially what’s happening in that moment is she thinks she knows what will hurt the least, but she miscalculates and backpedals and realizes even if saying goodbye hurts, it hurts less than pretending she doesn’t want to.

i think a lot of people overlook that line--“the most precious data i have on record.” fi, who contains multitudes within her. who contains knowledge immeasurable, the thoughts and feelings and stories of thousands. of civilizations, of gods, of countless ages passed. everything she holds within her is dwarfed entirely by what she feels for link, beside link. nothing in her encyclopedic knowledge can even compare to her friendship with him in the significance it has to her. like all things, fi has her own way of communicating her meanings, and this is her way of saying she really, truly loves him.

in addition, she very carefully does this after he abandons the sword, so it’s clear that it’s of her own will, not a part of her purpose as his servant. for this whole cutscene, up until she end, she drops the honourific and calls him just Link.

and while i see a lot of people debate if she truly does ‘feel,’ anything, like... she says it right here, she does. whether or not she was able to feel from the beginning or not, she can feel now. she has trouble putting words to those feelings, or explaining to herself and others where on earth they came from... but she feels now. that cannot be disputed.

happiness that she was able to know him. loyalty she wants to transcend lifetimes. sorrow at the idea of them having to part. gratitude that he took the chance, and did so beside her.

let’s talk about gratitude.

in skyward sword, gratitude is a tangible source of magic. it opposes malice, which as of botw is a reoccurring thing in zelda lore. skyward sword has two items--evil crystals and gratitude crystals--that represent malice and gratitude respectively. while the first isn’t entirely relevant, the second is something you’re actively encouraged to more or less harvest by helping people and basking in their thanks toward you. these feelings of gratitude are so canonically powerful in the zelda universe that they can turn monsters into humans entirely, and the outpouring of energy that event causes makes every monster & hostile creature within all of skyloft turn docile at once.

according to batreaux, the monster in question, this is well-established legend, the idea of gratitude granting humanity to the nonhuman. skyward sword literally said the power of love was canon.

the song that plays over the goodbye, of course, is called fi’s gratitude.

this is just one theory i have on the matter, but... whether hylia intended or foresaw fi to be capable of feeling human emotion or not, i do believe it was gratitude that woke her heart up. whether she was meant to love or not, link’s spirit contained within it enough love for the both of them, enough to touch her soul and rouse her from her cold and emotionless state. as always, through everything, they work in perfect tandem--his passionate heart touches hers as it sleeps, her wisdom holds him steady and level-headed.

when fi says “may we meet again in another life,” she says it like a prayer, because it is one--she knows hylia, knows that hylia loved link’s spirit just as she did, and knows that hylia of all people understands what the sword spirit is going through. and fi also knows that hylia immortalizes those she loves with cycles, with reincarnation, eternal life without the pain of never dying. fi doesn’t have a soul that hylia can bring back from death nor a physical body to revive, but she works with what she can--and so long as link’s spirit breathes anew, he finds fi. in a sunlit grove, with light bearing down on her, safe and warm and always loyal, even as the world rages on outside. fidelis, she was named for--“faithful.”

the fandom doesn’t really talk abt it, but fi is an angel. she’s an angel god sent to watch over one human, and when god said your mission is complete fi faced god and walked backwards into hell. her divine mission is long passed, but it stopped being about what she was fated to do long ago.

fi began to watch over link because he was her master. and fi resolved to stay forever because he was link.

#skyward sword #long post #hand of sorrow #wendy rambles #Anonymous #wendy answers

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kokiri-at-the-pack · 3 years

Text

1004

October 4

Ranting like this isn’t going to be helpful at all…

...I must take a walk first. Better to relax my head.

...

Yes! Yes! YES! I know what I’ll do exactly!

I can’t believe a simple walk around my village gave me a huge inspiration!

Occasionally, homeless people and their children would wander around corners of some streets. They include Mr. Francis, an old man whom I have befriended as I have regularly listened to his magnificent and skillful play of guitar. Well...a guitar-like instrument exactly as it was made up of rubbish like cans, plastic containers etc. Still, it would play melodies that would sound just like an ordinary guitar. That was his ability. Creating a musical instrument and its function out of any material. That and his open-mindedness have allowed me to get closer to him. As usual, I headed towards the street he often dwells in to calm myself through his music.

Just like I expected, he welcomed me with a smile and played soothing balad music like he was a professional musician. I closed my eyes and let every single note fill my head. For a moment, I got oblivious towards my major concern with which I was stressing myself.

“That was awesome, Mr. Francis!” I exclaimed when his music ended, “what song did you play exactly?”

Mr. Francis chuckled, “this is my song actually.”

I could not believe what I just heard.

“You composed it?! I didn’t know you could make music! Seriously! Shouldn’t you apply to a company or something?”

However, Mr. Francis remained quiet and shook his head. Even behind his dusty hat and greasy gray beard which covered half of his face, I could observe sadness in his eyes.

“Been there and done that, young lady. Lost count of it.” he finally answered.

I immediately understood what his words meant.

“I gave thousands of my songs--now all burnt to ashes years ago--in every business I could find. I explained for many times what my ability can do. But maybe the Heavenly Father made a mistake of not putting me luck when sending me to this world. Every result was no different. Rejection. Your music is too bland and old-fashioned. The world has plenty of instruments today.”

I was speechless. Never knew Mr. Francis had such a tragic background.

“We do not need your ability,” he emphasized the last sentence as if that was the most agonizing statement stuck in his head.

Then he returned to his original bright face.

“You may expect what happened next. I spent too much chasing after my hopeless dream. My family lost trust in me. The debt was not paid on time. My home was lost, and... here I am,” he chuckled weakly.

I was lost in thought. Mr. Francis started to remind me of Father. Struggling with what others thought are disadvantageous abilities. Yet, after facing reality, they have both given up paths that could have made them happy. That could have made their loved ones happy. Despite all of that, Father did have his own skills. Mr. Francis just showed me his unique talent. Others would never have been able to imitate them. Is there really no way to make their abilities worthy?

Unless…

...My drawing!

I stood up quickly, “don’t worry, Mr. Francis. Everything will be better soon.”

I comforted him before I returned home, leaving his confused face behind.

I ran as rapidly as my feet could and reached my room filled with notebooks and sketches.

Why did I never think of it before? My ability and its critical effect can be put to good use. If I draw with care unfortunate people like Mr. Francis succeed by following their passion, not only will they have a joyful future ahead in their lives. They will no longer have to suffer from difficulties in the past. They will forget it and become totally new people!

And who knows! They might be seen as diamonds in the rough!

It would be okay. I’m not going to ruin their lives. Just… just helping them. As long as my sketches are safe, I can prove my ability to be supportive!

Ah, I should not waste time writing this. I should gather some newspapers, if there is an article about those who need help.

October 7

After days of searching, I have chosen and written down the list of people to whom I’m going to use my drawings to give them second chances in their lives. I have not written down their full names and addresses as I must respect their privacy. Instead, I have elaborated how they have lived before and the way I’m going to change them in more positive ways. I wish I could pick up more, but I do not have the skill yet to quickly draw all wanted events in detail. Anyways, here is the mentioned list:

Mr. Francis finally gets recognized thanks to his music and his ability.

A girl with a nickname of Jenna opens a pet shop for her ability to communicate with animals.

A lonely man discovers his love of life with his skills of persuasion.

An unpopular Pattern Creator winner of the Design Competition is invited to design products of one of the most famous clothing brands Whiskey.

A college student, who worries about her final assignments for graduation about using her abilities to help people, accomplishes it smoothly and receives honors.

October 12

Alright. I have finally finished drawing all the illustrations of the chosen people. Now, where can be the safest place for sheets of paper in my house? Oh, yeah. The storage room. My hands hurt right now from restless use of them to accomplish my work. But I must remain mindful of how I am going to store the drawings without my family finding them.

Hmm, that’s right. An old wooden box in the corner. There is no way they will even take a peek at it.

October 13

Is my ability finally getting the light it deserves? When I passed by the street where Mr. Francis frequently played his instrument, I was surprised to find that he was not there. In his place, I noticed other homeless people, who seemed to be his friends, having an excited conversation. I stepped a bit closer to the group and eavesdropped on what they were saying.

“You believe what we just saw?” asked one of them.

“Don’t mention it! Never thought about witnessing it at all!” replied another.

“Who was that fancy-looking man from a...very long car?” an old female beggar spoke.

“Dunno. He just said that he liked ol’ Francis’ music and took him away.”

Mr. Francis? Someone liked his music? So he brought him away to somewhere else? Can this happen on an instance? I thought it was just a super rare coincidence...at first.

It wasn’t until I saw my parents watching the small black and white television that I understood it wasn’t. Inside the screen, I recognized at once who that lady was. The Pattern Creator. She was having an interview about how she was happy to get invited to showcase her talent after all the years of namelessness.

“Sigh, even that woman with such an ability succeeds in this world,” Mother complained.

However, her words were barely worth attention to me at that moment. I rushed to ask Father to borrow today’s newspaper and scanned all the available headlines. Sure enough, there was that one headline I had been looking for. Jenna, the girl with an ability to communicate with animals, had just opened up her unique pet shop and wrote an article about how her ability differentiates her shop from others. She was also looking for employees to work with, the advertisement of which was posted at the end of her article.

It worked! This can be the new potential of my ability! They are all smiling. They have a wonderful future ahead! Jenna… Mr. Francis… The Pattern Creator… They have begun new lives thanks to me! If I can utilize this more efficiently, then who knows how far this positive influence can go?

I don’t think I would be able to sleep tonight. But it doesn’t matter. This is the day I discovered my worth!

#oc #lightonme #diary #original story #school #supernatural abilities

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psychicnymph · 5 years

Text

what happened to aphroditedolan?

hi everyone. i’m here to address the questions that i know many of you will ask. my sudden departure from the dolan twins fandom was not an entirely impulsive decision, so i’m here to explain.

first and foremost, i deactivated because of the sheer amount of blatant, cruel, and unacceptable disrespect i endured while writing for fun and for free. i would spend hours, upon days, upon weeks, upon months working on projects and i still got this disrespect. people were critical of my appearance, my strong-willed and passionate nature, the way i presented myself online -- but, amazingly, never of my writing. see, truth be told, arrogance in tote, my writing is phenomenal. it was rare that you’d catch a spelling or grammatical error (which is a direct result of my educational privilege, i recognize), each plot was well thought-out, each descriptor would bring the scenery, the characters, the erotic scenes to life; you name it, i took the time to near-perfect it. i wrote, edited, sometimes went as far as rewriting -- my point is, i was dedicated.

a few weeks ago, i even took the time to completely reorganize my blog; i gathered and linked all the small concepts & blurbs i wrote and put them into a masterlist, on top of updating my fic masterlist to be more aesthetically pleasing, cleaner, and editing pictures myself to put them on both masterlists. i did this because i was excited to continue the two short series which i had started: Let Me Get That For You and A Girl is a Gun. additionally, i had ideas, WIPs, and other projects i was planning and writing for that i couldn’t wait to embark on -- and then, it was like something changed in the fandom.

well, i suppose i can’t say changed. let’s say more like... got exponentially worse.

from the very beginning, there were two types of people who i noticed in the twins’ tumblr fandom: there were those who earned their numbers, and there were those who preached ideas of entitlement. there was also a hierarchy: big blogs, and small blogs. it was like a caste system of its own kind. i’d like to discuss this for a brief moment.

when i first started writing, i was absolutely nobody in the fandom. i wasn’t on other platforms, i hadn’t been a stan for very long, i didn’t know anybody -- the tumblr fandom was where i wanted to start and, for the most part, ended up staying. i mention this because at the time of aphroditedolan’s deletion, i was considered a “big blog.” how did i go from small to big, then? if it’s a caste system, how could i have transitioned?

the answer is simple. the system you all created doesn’t exist. in this fandom, you are either entitled or you are talented, and that’s about it.

i never sat around begging people to like, reblog, or read my work, and i never pleaded for followers. i got them because i put out good, consistent, beautiful writing. i interacted with people, i wrote for prompts, i reached out and cultivated friendships, i did what i went to tumblr to do: write and be part of a community that loved the dolan twins. that’s it. the numbers came through hard work, dedication, and most of all, earning every one of them.

no one on this earth or any other is entitled to likes, reads, reblogs, comments, kind words, attention, followers, or anything of the sort. yes, everyone deserves those things; no, you shouldn’t just get them. you should strive to earn these things. and honestly, while i think everyone is deserving of a chance, not everyone is cut out to be a writer. not everyone is made or meant for this art. because it’s an art. it’s a skill that needs to be developed and practiced. you can’t just sit down and bang out some writing. you absolutely must be dedicated and passionate about it if you ever want a taste of being successful. and that’s just it; some of you are doing this for the wrong reasons. you do it for the numbers. numbers do not fucking matter. they aren’t even real. it’s just a count of people who have physically interacted with your post, or people who actually decided to follow you.

everyone deserves to have their craft appreciated, but when you just start writing for the attention you think it’ll get you, that’s not a craft. that’s you doing the things you see others doing because you see the attention they get and you want a piece of that for yourself. it’s a shitty, horrible motive. and then, when it’s obvious that writing isn’t your strongest talent or even a genuine passion of yours, you whine about some system that isn’t fair, you create something to blame for your lack of success -- of course, it must be the bigger blogs.

i’m proof that that just isn’t true and y’all are lying to yourselves. in less than a year, i ended up with 4k followers and extremely successful pieces. again, because i earned it. through time, effort, and dedication, i earned it.

another thing that came with the culture of entitlement in the fandom was people being self-pitying in order to evoke guilt in their audience, so that people would go and tell them, no, your writing is so good, keep it up. they did it as a means of getting the attention they hadn’t earned. people got into the habit of trying to use me for more attention. they would feign friendliness, interest in my blog, etc., all to say, hey, can you check out my writing and reblog it?

i don’t fuck with that shit. it’s a huge part of why i had to turn my submissions off and my messages off from people i didn’t follow. i don’t like people who only care about numbers and want to use me for more numbers. it was beyond disrespectful that people thought i couldn’t see what they were trying to do; honey, manipulation is a skill just like any other, and i’m better at it than you are. don’t try it on me.

besides the overly-entitled, suffocating people who would shit on, criticize, and blame others for their low numbers which resulted from their sheer lack of effort and self-awareness (and by this i mean actually stopping to question 1. what is your motive here and 2. is what you’re producing actually good or is it slapped together messily?), there was also the culture of feedback to the writer from the audience.

it was rare that i’d get any other response on my writing besides “part 2?” “more?” “part 2 plzzzz” “you need to update this” and etc.

how many times is the writing community gonna have to say that those comments aren’t helpful, kind, supportive, constructive, or ANYTHING besides annoying? they’re demanding. they push the idea that they just want more of the same ol’ shit. even after i made it blatantly clear on more than one occasion that i don’t take requests and would not be adding a part 2 to something unless it was upon my own discretion, there were still constant, never-ending, tireless requests for more, or requests in general. it was frustrating and infuriating. i was so tired of repeating myself. and when i stopped repeating myself and started linking people to asks or my FAQ where i had already answered that question, people wanted to act like i had an attitude. people gave me endless grief that i was a bitch, aggressive, had a shitty attitude; no, babe. i just wasn’t tolerant of poor treatment. you should try to start adopting this attitude for yourself. respect yourself and know your worth. it’s really as simple as that.

when the biphobic comments rolled around, i’d had enough. it’s when i decided to take my break, truly because i was furious (as i had every right to be) and because that whole situation made me not want to write at all. all my passion and motivation to finish projects i’d been so excited to do for you guys went out the window. it’s sad that y’all pushed me over the edge this way. i gave it time, i let the wounds heal, i let the anger fade, and i started an official hiatus to do this. i’m also in school again, which meant i’d be less active anyway, and it felt like a good idea to just put some distance between myself and the tumblr fandom. but the distance has only solidified the feeling that i’m just not appreciated as much as i deserve to be. and i don’t mean in numbers. i mean for the amount of effort i put in to get constant backlash on things that don’t even have to do with my writing, to work so hard only to be pissed the fuck off, to dedicate so much time and energy to a group of people only for y’all to erase my identity, send me hate, try to act big and tough and like you’re the shit behind anonymous... i’m good luv, enjoy.

there are also other factors; truths about some of the people in the fandom that are idolized, the constant plagiarism of my work, the overwhelming sense of responsibility that came with keeping up with my blog like it was a job, among other things that i don’t care to elaborate on.

so that’s it. i got tired of the same old shit and i know i deserve better. below, i’ll answer some questions that i think some people may be left with:

are you and luna still dating?

yes. for the last time, yes. we are dating. we are a couple. we love each other. we are in a long distance relationship and we are actually dating. not like two besties pretending to date because it’s quirky -- we are actually. fucking. dating. and no, nothing happened between us to make me make this decision. we are doing great.

are you gonna write ever again?

in my life? yes. for the twins, in this fandom, or on this platform? fuck no.

are you still a fan of the twins?

yes! oh my god, probably always. no matter where they go or what they pursue, i’m there with them. they have made my life better, and i have a lot to thank them for. i’ll just be enjoying their content from alllllllllll the way over here.

are you gonna be blogging about the twins?

not at all. in fact, i don’t even follow rockstardolan because i’m keeping my dash away from all of that. i’m not following any dt related blogs. i’m gonna do my thing over here, and love the twins in private, on my own terms.

why did you delete all your writing?

in truth, after everything, i don’t even want it to remain there. i essentially wanted to erase my contribution and my footprint on this fandom. plus, having my writing just out and about, having already been plagiarized so i’m sure you can find some things in various illegal wattpad compilations, makes me worry about more people doing that. i wanted to keep that damage to a minimum. so yeah, they’re gone forever.

what about your friends, people you interacted with, etc?

the people who matter will stay in touch. there are some people i’ve cut out from my life for good because they’re toxic and quite frankly i just don’t like them. i’m done subjecting myself to people i don’t even fucking like for the sake of keeping others happy. but, the good friends who respected me, treated me well, etc, they’ll reach out when they can. i’d say i encourage it, but i have a lot on my plate as is and have a hard enough time keeping up with things in the real world, let alone things online. there’s still love there, i’m just keeping a safe, healthy distance and doing what’s best for me.

if you have other questions, you can feel free to ask, but i’m really not in the market for new friendships. it’s not that time in my life. i literally cannot handle more than what i’ve got on my plate, and i’m keeping my priorities in order. i don’t care if you think i’m rude, if you think i’m a bitch, if you think i’ve got a bad attitude, if you think i’m a piece of shit, if you’re angry, if you’re sad, even if you’re gonna miss me -- this is for me. i’m letting this out as a big, fat fuck you to the things and people that ruined my experience on aphroditedolan, and as an explanation for the few people who deserve it.

take care of yourselves. do the things that make you happy. don’t tolerate things that don’t make you happy. do no harm, take no shit, and most importantly,

stan the FUCKING dolan twins.

signed,

daniella/dani/aphroditedolan, however you have known me.

#aphroditedolan #what happened to aphroditedolan?#personal #an update

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch.44

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! I am pleased to announce that this chapter has been beta’d by @parisconstantine this time... I know, right? I’m working on getting back ahead of things, since March and April pretty much ate my buffer chapters.

I promised some of you that Simon not having Miys help him with social interactions would have some pretty hilarious repercussions, and hopefully I do not disappoint with this chapter. Also, we get to see a bit more of our favorite grumpy-puss, Alistair Worthington (created by @baelpenrose), and a little more of his personality beyond ‘total grouch’.

My new Administrator was thrown almost immediately into the thick of things. Simon had taken my suggestion to try interacting with people sans Miys proof ‘reading’ his conversation; this alone led to social gaffes by the minute, to the horror of the man newly forced to work in close proximity with us. Tyche, for her part, wasted no time in making it clear that she was no longer my acting Administrator, first by uploading my entire calendar to the former archivist’s data set and spending about an hour showing him how to set up the alerts necessary to ensure he was constantly one step ahead. New items and requests were directed to him, even while he was working to get on top of existing commitments. To top it all off, he had come on board in the midst of the Food Festival planning, which included coordinating with Sebastian Reed for the grand opening of his pub.

Alistair Worthington rose to the occasion like he had been born to do it.

“Why have humans never quite evolved the understanding that the word ‘no’ is a complete sentence,” he grumbled rhetorically. It had been only ten days since his replacement took over in the Archives, and only nine since he started devoting nearly fifteen hours a day to getting caught up.

“What is it this time?” I asked, more out of curiosity than any concern that he had declined something without even asking my opinion. Worst case, I could override his decline.

He simply glared at me. “One of the vendors for the Food Festival is adamant on being positioned between the halal and kosher vendors.” I gestured for him to go on, since that alone was not cause for alarm. “Miss Reid – “

“Sophia,” I interrupted. “We are going to be working entirely too closely together, so I prefer you call me Sophia.”

“Sophia,” he conceded with a chagrined look. “They want to set up a bacon buffet.”

I choked on the tea I had been taking a sip of, sputtering inelegantly all over the floor – fortunately missing Alistair. “That’s pretty brave.” I gasped, trying to convince my lungs that the tea was gone.

He shook his head and held out a cloth to wipe my face with. “Survived an assassination attempt, only to be felled by a cup of ginger tea. Your epitaph will be set the standard for decades to come.” As I fought to glare at him and smother a laugh, he continued. “I understand that all meat products on the ship are artificially constructed from protein banks, and therefore everything will be kosher, halal, and vegetarian, but that is quite beside the point. It’s rude.”

“I completely agree,” I conceded, holding my hands up in a peaceful gesture. “The entire point of the festival is to bring everyone together with respect and unity, which putting a pork palace between those specific vendors is most certainly not doing. My question is who even approved a ‘bacon buffet’ in the current climate? I love bacon as much as the next pork-eater, but come on!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “With all the terrorists who were just executed, it’s just tacky!”

Rather than answer immediately, he dug through the vendor’s application. With a groan, he flicked the file over to me. I echoed his sentiment when I saw the approver. “That explains a lot,” I sighed before looking up at the ceiling. “Simon, did you really approve a bacon buffet for the festival?”

The response was nearly immediate. “Yeeesssss?” he answered uncertainly. “It sounded like a delicious idea. Lots of people are really passionate about bacon, and did you see some of the flavors? Cayenne and tupelo honey, Sophia! It sounds amazing!”

My assistant looked like Simon had just asked him to eat waste materials. I just ground my teeth and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Simon. Why are we having this festival?”

“Ship’s unity,” he responded suspiciously.

“And why do we need that?”

“Because some people tried to sabotage the ship and kill everyone on board?”

“Correct. And what were those people?”

“Terrorists.”

“True, but not what I’m looking for. Arantxa Bidarte was…” I trailed off, praying he would figure out what I was getting at.

“A high-ranking – ohhhhhhhhhh. Shit.”

“Yep, a high-ranking shit. In the Baconist movement.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I wasn’t thinking clearly on the optics.” He really did sound contrite. I knew he was trying, so I wasn’t going to be hard on him.

“It’s okay,” I sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to do something like that. And we can fix this. How about you tell him you reconsidered his offer, and due to recent events we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to have an entire alcove dedicated to just bacon. However, there are several vendors who will be serving items that can include bacon, and we will happily put him in touch with all of them to let them feature some of his wares in their dishes, including advertising.” Alistair hummed and nodded in approval at that compromise. “And Simon? Before you send that, reach out to Sebastian with the entire list of this guy’s bacon flavors. Let him have first dibs. From what I’ve seen of the food he’ll be serving, he has a great mind for flavors and will probably have a dozen ideas before he even finishes reading the list.”

“You just want that sundried tomato and basil bacon in a Bloody Mary,” he accused playfully.

“You know it, because you do too,” I retorted before sticking out my tongue.

His voice softened. “Thank you for catching that, Sophia. Seriously. And for helping me figure out how to fix it.”

I waved my hand absent-mindedly. “It’s okay, Simon. You’re trying to figure out people again, and mistakes happen. If no one helps you figure out how to, we can’t exactly expect you to fix them, right?”

“I’ll reach out to everyone now,” he confirmed before going silent.

When I looked at Alistair, he had a very approving expression on his face. Before I could say anything, it was gone, replaced with a smirk. “Bacon, in a Bloody Mary?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure it’s something distinctly American,” I explained. “But don’t knock it until you try it. Perfect amount of salt, I’m telling you.”

He shuddered, but I had spent enough time around him at this point to know it was faked. “The entire drink is the most American thing I have ever seen, to be honest. Imagine, someone from the former United Kingdom naming a drink after the Usurper. Not likely, I am telling you.”

“Considered the second most common garnish is pickled okra, I can’t exactly argue with you on that,” I laughed. “I don’t think there is a vegetable more American than okra.”

“Corn,” he pointed out, distracted as he went through the items on his data pad. Since he started working with me, he had gone from hardly using it to keeping it displayed the majority of the day. Eventually, things would calm down, but until then it was a frequent thing to see him forget to dismiss it and just have it projecting at his side, following his gestures. “Councillors Kalloe and Hodenson have sent a notification that the gravity will be increasing – again? – and to be prepared for any inquiries. Wait, what is this ‘again’ nonsense?” Consternation and mild alarm warred on his face.

I nodded firmly. “Yes, ‘again’. The gravity on Kepler 422b is estimated to be half again the gravity of Earth. While it isn’t anything that will hurt anyone on the ship, the effects of such a sudden gravity change are enough to be worrisome if done to anyone suddenly. Fatigue, blood pressure slowing down, slight dizziness, muscle soreness, etc. The decision was made right before the incident on Level One to slowly increase the gravity on the Ark by five percent of Earth gravity at a time. Once we are certain that nobody is experiencing any long-term effects, or the effects have been addressed, we schedule the next increase.” I shrugged, since we had no reports of any effects from the first increase. As a matter of fact, no one even noticed.

“And you felt there was no need to inform anyone on the ship?”

“Oh, we informed everyone,” I assured him, though I felt a bit guilty. “We sent a ship-wide notification, including what to do if anyone noticed any of a long list of side-effects. And we will be sending another notification before we do the next one.”

“I would remember if I received such a notification,” was the stiff response.

“Yeah, about that,” I told him sheepishly. “We dropped out of FTL about three hours after it was sent. In our defense,” I held up my hands to fend of any protests, “that was entirely beyond our control, and the entire Council was too preoccupied to cancel the process or send a reminder. By the time it was all said and done, the change had been in effect for over three months. I’m not saying it was okay, at all. The goal was never to be sneaky. To make sure it doesn’t happen again, we are making a point to send the next one a week after the Food Festival, with full audio cast directly into our implants.” I tapped my left temple for emphasis. “And the process has to be triggered, rather than being set with a timed automation.”

“So, God forbid some other crisis occurs, the change will just have to wait?” he asked reproachfully.

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to be acceptable, as he quickly changed the topic. “About what happened with Councillor Simon. That was quite kind of you, Miss – Sophia.”

I could feel my face heating up as I shook my head, hair flying. “Simon has had a very unique experience, and he needs someone in his corner. The fact is, he was brought on this ship before anyone else, and there is a reason he was chosen, just like everyone else. He has value, but he and everyone else seems to have forgotten that. I refuse to do the same and just forget that, too. And until he believes in himself… well, I’ll just have to believe in him enough for everyone on this ship.”

With that, I stood to leave for the evening. It was Wednesday, and the first ‘family dinner’ in a long time. I needed this night, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Exchanging a nod with my Administrator, I padded out of my office. I hadn’t gone far when I heard a quiet comment, not intended for me to hear.

“With faith like that, I truly believe the mountain came to Mohammed,” Alistair stated softly as I walked away.

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#the miys #humans are weird #original fiction #scifi #aliens #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #apocalypse

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souly · 5 years

Text

Okay, people, listen up!

You know that I ignore every kind of hate directed at our fandom or people in our fandom or myself. I do believe that acknowledging said hate only invites a couple more problems, but I’m not going to get into this right now, because it’s neither the place or time to do so. However, I do have a lot to say about what is going on currently and how despicable some people behave lately.

We all know what a public figure is, right? Whoever is working in any kind of business that puts them right into the middle of the public eye is essentially a public figure. That means that celebrities, politicians, CEOs or big businesses etc. etc. etc. are all public figures. When you are associated publicly with a person like this and people know your name and you are constantly mentioned with those persons, you are a public figure yourself. And you know what happens with public figures? They constantly get criticized, scrutinized, judged etc. no matter what they do. This is part of the price they pay to be in the public eye. If somebody can’t deal with that, they have to get out of the public eye. Public figures know that. They know that people watch their every step and have their opinions about those. I bet that all of you have posted an opinion or critique about a celebrity or politician or somebody else like that on a public forum (including social media) more than once in your life. You all call it freedom of speech. It’s not about private information, but about the things they do or say or post on their social media accounts. The moment it is public, people judge them. This is not what some people call “bullying” though, even if that word tends to get thrown around a lot.

So, what about fans? About non-famous people, who just like to talk about a celebrity or public figure in general on any social media platform? They simply do that - talk. They share an opinion and critique about certain things. Things that were posted online by the public figure or their friends in a public post or on entertainment websites - ergo: publicly accessible information that is meant for the public. Does this mean that every person has to bow down to somebody and kiss their feet? No, it doesn’t. If a public figure has done questionable things in their life and/or are still doing those, everybody is free to criticize that or have an opinion on it and share those opinions. This is not about sharing any private information, but simply using everything that gets posted by the public figure or where they are tagged by people close to them. If something is questionable, it will get talked about. If an outfit looks odd, it gets talked about. Ever heard of those “best dressed, worst dressed” lists after every award show? That is part of criticizing something or having an opinion, too. It doesn’t mean that everybody has to agree, but that the author of such articles has a certain opinion or a public figure.

Now, where is my issue? Well, first of all, fans are not pubic figures. People can have an opinion on fans, of course, but the moment people take it a step further by making specific posts about individual fans or digging up information on fans and posting those, a distinct line is crossed and it has gone too far. Fans are not public figures. They have a certain passion when it comes to a celebrity or fandom etc., but they are not in the public eye. Fans are still private people and rarely ever post any information about themselves that is too private or get their official pictures taken at events or have articles written about them etc. Fans are not public figures for the most part. Fans should be treated as fans. The moment you start digging up information or making post after post about fans or groups of fans, you took it several steps too far. I’m not talking about bullying, since that is a very wide topic and bullying does happen to public figures as well, but I’m sure you all know how that works, right? Good. Just keep in mind that private information, private pictures, sending hate messages to an individual or addressing them directly is never okay.

I know that many people are saying that we “all do this to XY, too”. *sighs* Where should I even begin to explain this without anybody taking this out of context and making their own spin out of it? Let me put it like this: “We” are not really “we”. There is a big fandom. That fandom is divided into several sub-fandoms. Those sub-fandoms have different groups of fans with their own views on their own fandom. Meaning: We all might be in the same fandom, but we don’t think or talk alike. You might have read a fan make a post on their social media about something, and some others have reacted favorably on that post. Does this mean that the whole sub-fandom thinks that way? No, it certainly doesn’t. In fact, most sub-fandoms don’t even agree with each other, despite disliking the same people. Some are more laid-back, some are very outspoken, some are very loud and some get downright offensive - and some even do directly address the public figure in question. Does this mean that the whole sub-fandom in itself thinks that this is okay? Definitely not. Does any part of the sub-fandom have the ability to do something against it? Definitely not. People do what they do. Some people are louder than others, but this is how the world works. However, being loud doesn’t mean that somebody is attacking anybody personally/directly. You can be loud sharing your opinion on somebody in the public eye. Loud does not equal direct attacks. Or do you think that celebrity bloggers or gossip websites etc. constantly attack those public figures? Because if anybody does, you might have to think about a couple topics again and what having an opinion means. What I’m trying to say here is, that there are always people in a sub-fandom who are offensive or even directly address the public figure, but that doesn’t mean that everybody in a sub-fandom is like this. Please don’t lump all of the fans in a sub-fandom into the same group.

Over my years in several fandoms I’ve witnessed a lot of things. Granted, the majority was positive and I wouldn’t want to miss those at all. However, there have been several negative things, too. It ranges from people faking a severe illness to scam others in the fandom for money to bullying a whole sub-fandom so much that members of that fandom took their own lives - and a lot of other things, too. But it’s never a whole fandom or sub-fandom that does this, so nobody can say that it was the fandom who did this. Never ever treat a whole fandom/sub-fandom like one single person. There’s downright evil everywhere, but it still doesn’t make it okay to directly bully everybody who just posts their own views or opinions. Especially when those talk in their own group and don’t step out of that bubble. If you happen to stumble upon a post with said opinions, then you either sought those out or somebody you know did that, but this is never the fault of the individual fan. When a fan stayed in their lane, they did everything right.

So, please keep in mind what has been going on in this whole fandom for a while now and re-evaluate everything. Never attack anybody for their own views or opinions. By all means, discuss it privately among your friends if you have an issue with somebody in the fandom, but never attack said fan. I don’t have to tell anybody why, do I?

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mr-entj · 5 years

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Hi Mr. ENTJ. I gained a lot of value from your ENTJ to younger ENTJs posts even though I'm an ISTJ. May I request that you write one for ISTJs centered around communication and interacting with other types? I'm asking specifically for those that are not TJs. Happy new year to you and your wife! (and Mango!)

ENTJ to younger TJs (communication)

Combined with the following ask:

As an ENTJ, do you find yourself misunderstood sometimes? I’m a 19 y/o INTJ and I find this ridiculous and hard to believe because we’re one of the most blunt types out there so I default on thinking it must be something I’m doing wrong or my Te isn’t working right. Do you have any advice around this?

Hello, Mr. ENTJ. I am a 20-year old INTJ studying Computer Science. While I’m passionate about tech, I want to end up in a leadership position in the future, as I am (some say overly) ambitious and always want to do more and be better. Professional success is the most important thing to me and I am willing to work hard for it. Although I seem to be on track for a good career (top uni, good grades, future internship at Google), I know I should do more if I want to eventually reach the top. ½ My main problems are with communication and understanding people. I have been working on becoming more assertive and learning to seize opportunities and have made progress. Could you give me some tips on what traits would be desirable and what I could do to develop them? Also, is there anything specific I should do because I don’t have a Business background? (not sure if this qualifies as an extremely specific to my life question, as it might be useful for others as well) 2/2

Related answers:

ENTJ to Younger ENTJs

Advice to a young 8w7 from an older 8w7? Thanks!

I’m an ENTJ. My question to you is that my sister is an INFP and at times it is difficult to connect with her.

On communication, 3 things a young TJ (ENTJ, ESTJ, INTJ, ISTJ) should know:

1. A fact to you is an opinion to someone else. This is critical to address our trademark tendency to use facts to build arguments, guide actions, and push for a certain outcome. Other types interpret information through different filters and come to conclusions using different paths. This contrast will become glaringly obvious when speaking to users on the Ti/Fe axis because they don’t have Te. They don’t place the same weight on the same sources and methods that we do– and that’s something to take into consideration when you’re trying to effectively communicate.

Ask yourself:

“Why do I believe what I believe to be true? Why are my sources more valid and reliable than the other person’s sources?” Analyze.

“What evidence do I have to support my assertion? How can I use that evidence in a way that builds a bridge between the problem and my solution?” Elaborate.

“If the other person is resisting my point of view, what about mine is clashing with theirs? How can I step in their shoes to understand their perspective?” Solve.

And always remember that while facts may be concrete– outcomes are not.

2. You can soften your words without diluting your message. If you want someone to eat what you cook, then make what you cook palatable. If you want someone to receive your message, then make your message easily receivable. Our trademark bluntness and straightforward style, which other TJs may appreciate, can come off as harsh, rushed, and rude to other types who work differently. If someone doesn’t like how you said something, regardless of how perfectly true and valid it is, they’re much less likely to accept it. It’s the difference between gently handing someone a gift with a smile versus throwing it at their face and shouting, “You’re welcome, idiot.”

Ask yourself:

“What’s the communication and socialization style of the person I’m dealing with?” Observe how they start and stop conversations, how they start and stop explaining their ideas, and how they present and defend their ideas. How people talk is how they listen.

“How is the way I communicate perceived by the other person?” Check your body language, tone, diction, etc. What you’re saying versus what the other person is hearing is often very different.

“How can I adapt my style in a way that my message will be better received by this person?” Mirroring can work but if that’s exhausting then try tailoring and tweaking parts of your communication style.

The two common complaints about this suggestion will be these:

You may need to use more words to explain things because being short and to-the-point is socially interpreted as rude so adding more verbal “cushion” will soften the message. Understand that it’s better to take more time up front to do it right than to go back and have to go back and fix it and/or do it again. Instead of saying “No, I’m not coming,” you’ll need to expand further and add some verbal cushion: “Thanks for inviting me to the evening event but unfortunately I have a conflict at that time from a prior commitment. If anything changes and I free up during that time, I’ll try to stop by. Have a great time.”

You may feel “fake” like you’re speaking in a way that isn’t true to your personality (Fi trigger)– but that’s not the case. Understand that you’re being adaptable, not fake, by tweaking and tailoring your message to the receiver. Would you send a letter written in French to a Mandarin audience? You wouldn’t, because they wouldn’t understand your message. You could teach everyone else French but that would take more time and effort than simply speaking in a language they understand, getting it done, and moving on. Efficiency and efficacy are the goal here.

3. Remember the good. This is about our tendency to provide constructive criticism when someone does something wrong more frequently than positive compliments when someone does something right. We don’t tell people enough when they’re doing a good job because to our types, a job well done is its own reward, it’s empirical evidence of something that worked out correctly and saying that it worked out correctly seems redundant. Even if pointing out a typo in someone’s book is helpful to them, don’t ignore the rest of the story that was well-written. Say the good because they earned it.

It’s great to help other people improve by giving them feedback and help, this is how we show that we care, but avoid barraging people in a way that makes them feel attacked. Verbalizing what someone did right reminds them that you’re firmly on their side and that you mean well even if there are things that could still be improved.

Don’t just focus on preventing negative outcomes– help create positive ones.

#mbti #myers briggs #entj #estj #istj #intj #te #extraverted thinking #mbtiq #faq #communication #TJ #mine

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calleo-bricriu · 5 years

Text

Finally finished that awful book.

Go back and look at the rest of it if you want to make yourself hate the fact that anyone is able to publish their terrible, talentless fiction writing.

All right, Chapter 27, extra fun doing this with my parents here.

The faces dad's been making are kind of worth it though; mum just sort of looks up from what she's doing now and again, shakes her head--at the story, not me--and goes back to it.

I'm finishing this horrorshow of a book off tonight so I never have to look at it again unless it's to shove it at someone who hasn't read it but deserves to.

So, we're away from the, "I copied this straight from a newspaper article, look it up!" chapter (which, if you recall, I did look up, and it doesn't exist, he made it up) and on to Obera asking Leigh out of the blue if he'll ever regret having married her.

His answer is less a yes or no and more, "Did I do something to make you mad?"

Her response is even more inexplicable; she tells him he hasn't then adds on, "But you know how a divorced woman is treated by the world."

Not--strictly the right set of priorities here but, all right.

She mentions something about "the money" and I'm not sure if that means we're just skipping the entire part where Mizpra got power of attorney from her addled mother and Leigh--I don't know, physically fought her over or if we're still getting to that and the author forgot and this bit was meant to be closer to the end of the actual story.

Given all of the man's other writing, I think he just forgot.

"You were a child, Obera, when I first met you." Yikes.

And she found that somehow a really romantic way to start things because, "she clung closer to him, and her little body vibrated with thrilling emotions." Is it not possible for this guy to not write like a creep you'd find in the bushes outside a kid's bedroom window?

Obera has a bit of sense at some point and suggest maybe trying to mess with Mizpra, who has already proven herself to be pretty unstable or at least willing to murder a child, might not be the best idea but Leigh is the genius of the story and ignores her.

Sorry, I mean explains why he's right and she's just a silly little girl-woman.

Anyway, Leigh's plan is to have Mizpra shipped off to a mental institution; tells Obera she wouldn't understand that because she wouldn't understand the "diabolical nature of her (Mizpra's) insane passions" and neither would the courts.

So far, we haven't seen much of those though, apart from her getting off on stabbing her sleeping husband with a hat pin and trying to murder a toddler via sending diphtheria tainted toys; the first thing isn't that abnormal, there are whole scenes around--not with hat pins, though, with sharp, single use piercing needles.

The second one is probably a crime, however and I'm still not entirely sure why nobody had her arrested for it since they knew exactly who sent it and how it was tainted.

Whatever.

He then offers to take her to Hawaii, which is where she's from, being a Tahitian princess, after all.

Again, her reaction is described as very child-like. Ew.

He then mentions he heard Mops crying, she says he was because he didn't want to wear shoes, then threw the shoes at her--fairly typical behaviour for a four year old kid but Leigh the Genius Doctor starts telling her that means they need to watch his mental health because he's showing signs of "uncontrolled impulses" and might end up neurotic and insane and probably an alcoholic and a criminal.

Man, he's four.

That's just how four year olds act sometimes.

Even I know that.

They go off for a few pages discussing "training" their four year old and it's all kind of terrible and advocates stopping just short of what you could get arrested for in terms of beating them.

(( Stuff inside gets into--not graphic, but still BDSM which is the ‘shocking’ and ‘perverted’ parts of The Perverts, more casual racism common for the time, and the most disappointing ending to a book I’ve read in ages.))

That somehow goes in to him saying he thinks the states should regulate marriage by law so the "unfit" can't get married; unfit meaning criminals, mental illness, tuberculosis, and "the physically weak and diseased" as well as "the insane".

Then he spins off into how shameful it is the crime rate in the United States is increasing at a "fearful rate".

Obera cuts in saying she think shaving laws regulating marriage sounded terrible to her until her Genius Husband Leigh explained why she was a wrong, silly woman, trying to have thoughts of her own.

That all gets interrupted by a letter from Rev. Bald who brings up some comment he made on the "matter of modern flagellation from a psychologic point of view" on the train, he found a bunch of books on the topic, he's pretty sure you can blame Catholics for it, and that's what makes them insane. Catholics, I mean.

Next is a newspaper article about Mizpra's school for "little half-breeds and Indian girls" which doesn't sound suspicious or weird at all--I mean, in fairness, for the time it was written that was pretty normal language, it just didn't age well at all.

So that article makes Leigh mad, her sister being apparently successful because that's half the problem with Mizpra: She does things women shouldn't be doing, like, not having children, getting an education, not caring if she looks fashionable, not wearing corsets, doing her own legal and financial work--you know, like the horrid witch she is or something.

I mean, honestly by this point in the story I'd team up with Mizpra so one of us could hold Leigh down while the other one just kicked him in the ribs until the noise stopped, he's that insufferable and obnoxiously wrong about everything.

Where was I?

Don't care, the last ten pages were Leigh whining about Catholics.

Chapter 28.

This one starts with a letter, "Los Angeles, -----, 189--" What? Los Angeles is in California, and why are you censoring the year?

Whatever.

It's a letter from Dr. Bell to open this time.

Bunch of stuff about The Spanish, most of it not flattering and about how they make great servants.

Everyone likes Mizpra there, so that's gonig ot make things more difficult.

Lots of paragraphs about how well liked Mizpra is.

No men allowed in the all girls' school, which is framed to be a bad thing but seems pretty reasonable to me.

There's also a little old lady called Penitente that will kill on sight if you're trespassing. She sounds fun.

And, for no reason whatsoever and with no proof, Dr. Bell concludes the whole school is a front for a sex dungeon of Mizpra's that she operates under the guise of "religious ceremony".

I mean obviously, that's where the author is going with it but he really should have spent some time laying down clues that that might be what's happening instead of having no mention or even hint of it then having one main character just randomly know that's what's happening.

So, Leigh decides, this evening, he's going to go and confront Mizpra. I mean, he did some waxing philosophical for a few pages until getting to that point but it was just him thining out loud about how amazing he is; great businessman, great doctor, great author, all around god tier person--we get it, Dr. Howard, Leigh is literally your power fantasy character.

They head off to try and bust Mizpra in the middle of some kind of weird--I don't know what, "active criminal act" prove her insane, or something. And even if they find her in the place doing what everyone thinks she does: Being a decent, regular person, they'll all be fucked because then they'll look like trespassing, stalker weirdos--which is kind of what they are anyway.

They decide it'd be best to "pounce upon her in the height of oe of her deliriums" which, I think, means they want to bust her mid-orgy in the church basement. Fair enough, I guess; that's probably not the best place to have those anyway.

15 pages of explaining the plan where nothing is actually explained beyond describing the building's exterior.

10 more pages complaining about Catholics, particularly Spanish Catholics.

GET BACK TO THE MAIN PLOT. This is pointless filler.

Leigh eventually calls this all an "errand of mercy" like--just--no. It's not. You've been harassing Mizpra for about ten years in story time here, going out of your way to make fun of her looks, her life choices, her career, her education, her clothes, etc...she's not the bad guy here, Leigh.

Also, you named your kid Mops. Why would you do that to a child?

Chapter 24.

Two pages describing irrelvant scenery.

Look, even Tolkein would read this guy's book and tell him he's too long winded with unnecessary description.

Oh of course it's storming, why wouldn't it be storming? Convenient weather to bust the Bad Character.

So Leigh, being the genius at everything he is (including tracking now) hears a false owl call and knows someone is waiting for them.

Oh, it's the poor "Indian boy" from a few chapters back. "Indian boy here. Bad night, climb. Good night corral bad he squaw." I got nothing here--author didn't even bother giving that character a name.

"Indian boy" leads them to the building because he doesn't like Mizpra, I think. I'm pretty sure she's the "bad squaw". Or the "bad he squaw" except I'm not sure what a "he squaw" is.

Leigh, of course, has to describe the kid in a creepy way: "Leigh looked at the sweet-voiced lad who stood under the partial roof. His long black hair shining from the rain drops which trickled from it, fell on his bronze, bare shoulders." Leigh, please calm down.

And finally, after the third time in a couple hundred pages this kid appears, someone addresses him by name, which is Luis, which is definitely not his real name and likely one assigned to him by the church. Still, it's a step above calling him "Indian boy", I guess.

They plan a bit more and sit around smoking while waiting for the right time to go in and get by that Penitente woman who will shoot on sight.

Back to discussing the building layout and occasionally giving Luis many other slightly derogatory nicknames like "brave little Indian boy" and "our little black-haired friend".

He has a sister (re)named Angelia in the school, which is why he's helping them. One of the most reasonable people with a proper reason to want to break in.

He also calls the lady that will shoot on site "old hag squaw".

Chapter 25, finally after two chapters of pointless, repetitive planning, they're going to break into the damn place and of course now it's storming rather a lot.

SO! They get in and all three are immediately horrified by the first glimpse of the chapel. Red is, evidently, a colour they don't like.

Walls and ceiling blood-red, carpet of "funereal" black--just say black, and spell funeral correctly.

Big chandelier with candles that wer elit in a way that made the walls look as though they were on fire. Big ebony cross with a wax woman pawing at it--the sort of thing you see in religious art now and again, and under the chandelier there was pink and white silk for more lighting effects.

Onyx pedestal, golden crucifix, black and gold latticed confessional areas, gold curtains,"many signs of Mizpra's mania" on the walls: Haircloths, wreaths and belts of thorns, steel hooks, rods of iron, leather whips, knotted rope whips, iron and steel instruments of torture that are never described beyond that, a brilliantly coloured and painted altar that was "poisoned, destroyed by the lecherous and realistic painting which hung over it".

The painting is by, "the carnal and lewd Father Gerard", whoever that is.

This honestly sounds like a pretty cool looking room; if I'm meant to be shocked or horrified it's had the opposite effect. Mizpra has an eye for design.

"[...] the whole ch amber swam before his eyes as one flaming pornographic panorama" and that was enough that Leigh was just, "Nope, I've had enough of this, we're leaving," while everyone else went with--I mean they tried to be nice about it but the underlying tone is, "This was YOUR idea, asshole, you're not backing out now."

Noise is heard from the library, that gets drown out by the actual bells of the place going off with the time. Midnight, of course. It's always midnight for these types of scenes.

Nun comes in, they all sort of hide, Nun does regular Nun things and Leigh mutters something about death being marked on her face despite the fact that she's doing nothing out of the ordinary for a Nun but, she's thin, so he thinks she's gross.

Okay, finally something else is happening. Mizpra shows up, the Nun from before--I mean, Leigh, this is just someone's private life you're intruding on here but anyway, this is definitely a BDSM scene with religious overtones and nobody involved is objecting (and definitely didn't consdent to have these three fucking weirdos watch them).

I know this is meant to be shocking but, again, this is not an uncommon thing; Mizpra is being written as a pretty run of the mill Dominatrix, she's not forcing the other girl to do anything she does't want to do, and what's happening is clearly a planned out, scripted scene.

Apart from the three weirdos watching from the shadows.

More descriptions of Mizpra being "manly", of course, and suddenly the Peeping Tom Party decides to burst in and break up the scene.

"Sister, you are not well."

She was fine until you interrupted her, Leigh.

He very politely asks her to accompany him to the asylum which is not really a reasonable thing to ask someone, especially if you already think they're out of their mind and don't realise it.

Her respose was "vulgar voicing with which the vilest curses were mingled". Not an entirely unfair response to, "Please allow me to have you locked up in an insane asylum, thank you."

Luis very neatly bashes the head of the guard lady in with a crucifix, so that wraps up that loose thread but also seems to have angered Mizpra.

You know, because they broke in and murdered someone.

She flips it around and says she lured them all there and now they've all been caught murdering some old lady.

She makes fun of Bald for awhile, so he rushes her and tries to strangle her, and she doesn't appear to care in the slightest. She pulls him out to the cliff edge balcony, pulls a rope that apparently makes the balcony fold down for some reason, and they both fall off of the cliff.

And that's...it.

"A brilliant flash of lightning shot out from the heavens, and the white face of Mizpra, defiant as ever, was lighted up as she and Bald turned over in the emptiness of the abyss----THE END."

#books #antique books #hp rp #fiction #mizpra was definitely not the bad person here

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in-her-broomcloset · 5 years

Text

Addressing Recent Discourse

My apologies to mobile users for the length of this post.

Here are the posts in question. I’ve linked the originals, you can surf the notes.

These are the statements I’ll be addressing:

“Politics is not above metaphysics.”

“Just because you don’t “ever suggest” something doesn’t mean it does not work or is not capable of working.”

“if you want to influence everyone who votes, there is a way to generate enough energy: believe in your spellwork, call upon strong ass deities or spirits, call on the elements and the Earth, align all of your corresponding herbs/crystals/tools, and cast the fucking spell. ... You don’t just send it out into the world and hope its self-sufficient enough to keep the energy going. Go back and re-work it, keep adding your energy to it, work on it everyday and dedicate yourself to its success.”

“The physical realm, first of all, is comprised of matter, and matter is just condensed energy. Our spirits are partially contained within condensed energy casings which we tend to call our “selves” or our bodies.”

“you’re thinking of politics as an idea, but not what it actually is. ... Politics is a word, okay? It is made by and given meaning by people. ... So the root of this issue is people, not some word invented by people. ... And people are not beyond being influenced by magick, because magick deals with energy and will, and people are just layers of energy in varying densities.”

“Magick cast in such a broad net, is bound to be spread too thin, especially if it’s just one person or coven”

“I knew we agreed on the difficulties mass spells have that go along with them. (A) I don't agree with politics being outside magick's influence. (B) I don't agree with magick not affecting the physical realm. (C) I don't agree with magick dealing only with the subconscious. (D) I don’t agree with telling witches that something absolutely won’t work. (E) I don’t agree with not putting forth the reason behind an answer you’ve provided to a question and instead just saying it won’t work over and over.”

And the kicker: “If you think that magick produces no real results in the “physical” realm, why are you doing magick? Why do you practice witchcraft if you don’t even believe in the basic fundamentals of magick? Because what you’re saying here is that you believe magick is about tricking your subconscious to believe in your ability to control an outcome or situation without any tangible results. So explain it to me. What are you doing in your practice where you think that magick doesn’t apply to the physical realm? Because I am trying to understand this right now. You have all of these followers and listeners looking to you for advice and guidance, and you’re telling them that witchcraft isn’t going to change anything for them. It can’t even change a fucking word. A word.”

These are my responses:

I disagree. The fact that we disagree does not matter at all since we practice witchcraft separately and neither of us are trying to dictate the other’s actual craft. But I will share why I believe an individual or small group cannot use magick to influence politics in responses #5 & #6.

True and correct. I gave my advice due to the converse reason. It wasn’t “this won’t work because I said so.” What I intended to say was “I don’t suggest it because I don’t think it‘s effective because of how I understand magick to work.” But anyone who disagrees is free to ignore me.

Very good advice for every witch regarding any spell. However, you contradict yourself later to say that you can’t successfully influence everyone who votes. At this point it doesn’t mater to me what your stance is on that

True. Everything is composed of matter. Everything is composed of and radiates energy. Our bodies/vessels/shells/casings are included in that.

I don’t appreciate boiling down an entire social structure into “a word” because you can do that to anything. Justice is just a word. Equal is just a word. Dictator is just a word. But they hold meaning and it is important to attach the idea to the word. Otherwise our whole language and society is useless and left without structure. I’m confused because you kind of contradict yourself by saying politics is just a word but it’s also about people. I agree that politics is about people. It’s primarily about the government system and the people who make up the government, along with the citizens affected. The Ask in question asked about influencing the outcome of elections. You can do that by either A) forcing the majority to vote a certain way B) rigging the elections through voting machines or government officials C) causing the government to override the popular vote. We as citizens can’t do a single one of these physically. Because the government holds too much power over citizens. It’s not a fair or completely logical system due to the amount of corruption within the world of politics. You can’t fix corruption with magick. You can’t cure greed or malice or spite through magick. You can’t cure politicians. The same way you can’t turn me into a (insert opposing political party here) with a spell, you can’t change the minds of politicians with a spell from an individual. We can barely do it through individual physical actions. You would need a LOT of support.

I agree wholeheartedly and is the major reason why I feel politics cannot be influenced by magick. Politics = government = many many many individuals, corrupt individuals. You can’t harness enough energy to make a noticeable change amongst ALL these people. You would need a whole nation of citizens to do that. And at that point, if you have that kind of support, why rely on magick! Just take political action. Also I’d like to point out that politics should be taken very seriously at this time across all nations and we should be doing as much as we can to make a change for the better. Magick is a passive act when it comes to politics. We need to be ACTIVE. Casting spells won’t hurt but it’s just not enough. I will always stand by this.

There’s a lot to unpack here. A) Agree to disagree. In theory you could target your intentions at a specific politician, but if you don’t have a taglock for them or have never met them or had contact with them, it decreases the possibility for it to be effective. Not impossible!! But less likely B) I said “magick doesn’t work in the physical realm” and that is entirely different than “it doesn’t affect the physical realm.” We only know that our magick was successful when it manifests and does affect the physical world! What I meant by my original phrase is that the process of magick, sending out your desires into the universe in the hopes that they manifest, is done energetically with the use of physical tools and our vessels (physical bodies). We can’t SEE magick. We can only physically see our actions and hopefully our results. It’s exactly like electricity. We can’t see it! We can only see its physical manifestations (electronics, lightning, etc.) C) Again, it doesn’t affect our physical bodies. Just like vitamins, magick doesn’t miraculously cure our ailments. It can only aid in the process. You can cast a motivation spell to increase your productivity. If successful, you’ve affected your subconscious by giving it a goal to strive for. Your physical body will then follow as a result or effect. Your magick didn’t jump into the physical realm to eliminate your ADHD. It worked through your subconscious and energy. D) I don’t regret telling someone my advice. It wasn’t intended to be law. All advice should be taken with a grain of salt. The seeker of the advice is always free to do WHATEVER the fuck they want anyway. E) I see why not immediately supporting my statement was frustrating. But to be honest I just had better things to do first. I’m not as passionately invested in this as you. That might not be apparent by how long my responses have been, but that’s just because you added so many false annotations to my very short statements and mistook a lot of what i said. After this I am done. I’m confident that I’ve said everything I can on the matter.

To reiterate: I do wholeheartedly believe that magick renders results in the physical realm. It is the workings of the magick itself before results are seen that doesn’t take place in the physical realm. That’s the part that affects energy and the subconscious. Please do not misconstrue my words as strongly as you did anymore. I am simply driven by logic. I carry a healthy dose of skepticism with my in my craft to weed out what I find to be ineffective. However, my skepticism never becomes cynicism. I’m driven by logic and feel most comfortable practicing and sharing only what makes sense to me based on logical analysis. Sometimes disagreements happen. I don’t care. If I am asked for advice I will give it because I assume the seeker knows that I know I’m not God or think I’m preaching the Laws.

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zoyartt-blog · 5 years

Photo

Controversial painting from Beaverbrook gallery

Public Sculpture from Okanagan Gallery, BC

Flesh Dress by Jana Sterbak

National Gallery of Canada

Curtis Collins- Guest Speaker

One of the most influential speaker talks was by Dr. Curtis Collins- reasons being his preparation, him knowing his audience so well and his personal experiences as a curator. He started with introducing about gallery system in Canada and its types like National, Provincial, Regional, Artist Run Centers and Commercial.

He began with his experience in National Gallery of Canada, saying that galleries like National, Provincial or Regional ones; they address historical, social and cultural context of the region. He explained how National Gallery of Canada wanted to readdress the idea of What Canadian art is and gave an example of the Flesh dress, by Jana Sterbak. Jana made an Albino Anorectic dress by sewing flank steaks under curation by Shirley Thomson. The dress grabbed a lot of attention as it challenged the materials of art and also the idea of conservation of the piece. Thus, National Gallery set the tone of Canadian art in both historic and contemporary sense. Another example he gave was of Beaverbrook Art Gallery. When he joined there as a curator, it was in a phase of transitioning to Provincial Gallery. They wanted to bring a contemporary feature to the gallery. The gallery had a huge British collection selected by Lord Beaverbrook. Curtis decided to present it from their selected collection. However, he faced criticism by having to exhibit a controversial painting. The President of the committee found the painting problematic, reasons varying- it had strong art historic content, most of the figures in the painting had Nazi tattoos, one of the figure appeared to be showing a middle finger to a Salvador Dalí artwork on the opposite wall(as per work placement in gallery) and one of criticism was that a figure was on full anal flaunt. So, the committee wanted to take down the work saying it will affect the children coming to visit the gallery. However, Curtis refused to take down the work and came up with a solution. He took some smaller old artworks by the same artist and rolled easels to work and decided to hide the problematic areas with small paintings when children came to visit. This exhibition sure, challenged him and I really liked the way he handled the situation- He kept the integrity of artwork as well as the gallery and public. While telling the story about this particular exhibit, he quoted,” As a curator, you will come across two situations- Comforting your public and the other is challenging them and you have to make a choice”. I think in this situation, he sort of did both very well.

He went through a very similar experience when he was working as a Director/ Curator in the Gallery of Okanagan, which is regional. He went through the same struggle as the Mayor found the public piece disturbing, coming with the same reasons of nudity, the fact that it shows genitals. Well, Curtis was threatened to cover the disturbing area but he decided to talk to artist to make it obscure but obvious. However, the obscuring with metal plate resulted in revealing it more in a ridiculous way and the story went national. Curtis decided to fight for the work in a meeting with city council and the plate was removed later, on the basis of vote. This situation taught me how important the relation between the artist and curator is and it needs trust both ways. Also, a good curator, always stands strong for both art and artist.

The important thing he addressed in this talk was what an artist can do before sending in proposals and portfolios. He said an artist should always study the Venue first. They should be aware of the mandate of the kind of the work that institution shows. I think it really brought things to clarity for me, as I went for various field trips during this class and every place had a different vibe. Some felt really busy, some slow, some very polished and some of them very organic. I understood what he meant by studying venue and learning what kind of work is acknowledged in what type of gallery and how it takes them a second to reject the work because it’s not suiting the mandate of the gallery. I have learned a lot in this class already and he readdressed it by saying that participation, volunteering, going to openings, learning how galleries work etc. help one get in and that’s what I was trying to figure out as I will be out of school after this semester and now I am not as scared to start. He further told each centre or gallery will have a different orientation and one should apply accordingly, for example, Western Front takes Video Media art, not painting. He also said ‘how important it is to get to know the full arc of art production by visiting galleries, centres so that one should know, how to position self as an artist’. He gave examples of various galleries like University galleries present student works, commercial galleries have no mandate but they present work by type or collectors etc.

He further mentioned that presentation & editing is an asset. It is a slow learning process. An artist needs to make choices and it should be concise. It should be encircling around what is proposed and therefore, captures a curator’s eye. Also, rejection is a part of being an artist and one should not feel discouraged.He also said that Nobody is going to call you, it’s good to start somewhere e.g. in school, cafes but in order to progress as an artist, it’s very important to get it viewed by a curator, get it juried and rejection is a fact of being an artist. Being an artist is a building process, a slow one. There are multiple opportunities and it’s up to the artist to put the proposal together in a creative way.

He covered a lot in just an hour and I can write more about what I learned from this great Curator. From his exhibition experiences I learned that being a curator takes great commitment, passion for art, respect for artists and his work and most important, standing strong for art. Also, all the information about knowing venue, mandate, presentation, editing, rejection; is going to help me a lot when I will be stepping out of school. He projected my experience of all field trips in one hour. I am very thankful for this experience.

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yogurtbattle · 6 years

Text

Ginger Roger(s) Taylor? Chapter two

Again, any feedback is appreciated. This chapter is longer (about 3000 words).

Roger mindlessly shifted through the envelopes on his kitchen table. Bills, more bills, some boring letter from the bank… then his interest was captured by the last letter. The handwriting on the envelope was elegant and there was no company name on the envelope. He opened it and found a handwritten note inside. He flinched when he saw the name signing off the note at the end. Her. The girl he had been trying to get out of his bloody head the past week. The last person he had expected to write him a letter.

He lit a cigarette and then read through the note. It said:

“Hello Roger,

This is a small note to say I am sorry for being rude to you at the party a week ago. I have no other excuse than being intense as a person, very all or nothing. Even more when the person I am talking to is a stranger to me. I do not think ill of you as a person, I was just annoyed by you at that very moment. I hope you will accept my apology.

Hope you all the best in the future,

C.A. González Huntington”

That was a little unexpected and confusing. He had no idea what prompted her to write this note. And fuck, the worst part of it was that it made him hope. Hope that maybe he still had a chance with her. No, Rog, forget it. Forget her. She doesn’t want you, she made that more than clear. But he couldn’t forget the lively sparkle in her eyes or the chemistry that had been obviously there. She was unlike any girl he ever met before and he had met many. There was this intriguing mix of warm liveliness and regal composure surrounding her. It confused and attracted him at the same time. He had no idea why. But she was, above all, interesting, and that had captivated him.

After spending a few minutes debating with himself, he decided what the heck, life’s too short to not chase after your own happiness. It wasn’t often after all that he met a girl that left such a strong impression on him after just one meeting. Still, the thought of getting rejected again left Roger a little wary. Thinking through his options, he realised he didn’t even have any contact details of her. Nothing. A quick search on Google left him none the wiser. This was going to be even harder than he thought. Then it struck him: she hadn’t had his contact details either, so someone must have given it to her. And that someone was the person he was now going to plead with till he gave in.

“Hey mate, how’re you doing? Have you cured your hangover yet?” he heard Aaron say over the phone. “With another one. And some more,” he sighed, while running his hand through his hair, “hey, have you by any chance given my address to Camila? I received a handwritten note from her today.”. “Handwritten eh? That’s gotta mean something, mate! And yes, I did, I thought you might like it, you seemed a bit down at the party and what’s better than a gorgeous chick to cheer you up?” Roger clenched his teeth together. Down was one word to describe it. And she was the one who caused it in the first place. “Well, eh, I wanted to talk about that,” he frowned, “Do you have her phone number or something? I… want to talk to her and I don’t have it.”. “She didn’t write it on the note? Shame!” Aaron laughed, “I can’t give it to you, cuz I’m sure she’ll murder me if I do without her permission, but I can ask her to call you if you want?”.

Of course, this bloody world isn’t going to make it easy for me, Roger thought. “No, thanks,” he needed a Plan B quickly, “Do you… eh… have a public mail address of her maybe? Something I can contact her on that she wouldn’t hate you for?” not his best plan, but maybe he’ll figure something out. “Yes, I think have her work mail in my contact list somewhere. Let me see… it’s [email protected]. I’m not sure if she’ll read the mail herself though,” Roger wrote down the address on the first piece of paper he found laying around his kitchen table, which turned out to be his lyric diary. “I’ll find a way to make her read it. Thanks though. I owe you one,” his mind was already on the mail he was about to write. “That’s what friends are for, right? Get me a drink in next time and tell me all about your new date and we’re fine,” “Will do. Listen, I need to write a very important mail now so I’m hanging. See ya!” after a quick bye he put off the call.

Right. What was he going to tell her? He needed an excuse to see her again. He needed to feel if the chemistry was still there. And if she was as beautiful as he had imprinted in his mind. He couldn’t just ask her out on a date though. No matter how he would put it, she would always say no, he was sure of that. So, what was a good excuse to meet up again? That she still had something of him? No, there was no way she was going to buy that. That he needed her advice on something? No, she would just answer via mail and he would be no step further. He needed something better. He quickly lit another cigarette.

Wait. Wasn’t she a dancer or choreographer or something? She had mentioned that during their conversation. Good, at least now he had an idea in which direction he was going. He started writing:

“Dear Camila,” he hated being formal, and he was trying to woo her after all anyway, but he had to be careful not to be too slimy either. “I received your note today, thank you, it was nice to read. I must say I was surprised to see your fine handwriting lying on my kitchen table. Of course, I’ll accept your apology, although I still don’t know why you cut me off like that. I wouldn’t mind hearing you tell me face-to-face. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out on a date. I wouldn’t dare. But I have a small problem I need your help with. You see, the girl I like is an excellent dancer and even though I have some fine moves I must admit I’m nowhere near that level. And when you’re trying to impress a gorgeous girl that won’t do. You’ve told me you’re a choreographer, so I wondered if you mind teaching me a few extra moves etc.? I’ll thank you over a drink afterwards, if you want. Thanks, Roger. PS: If your assistant is reading this, please forward it to Camila.” He felt really pleased with his own mail. It had turned out exactly how he wanted it to. Out of fear of chickening out if he read it over he clicked ‘send’. All that was left to do was hope for the best.

Several hours later he was trying to concentrate on the book he was reading, but his mind kept wandering off to his laptop. His thoughts went back to that cursed party. At first, he had only noticed the way her dress had shown off her perfect curves and how delicate and soft her features were. He had noted how well she dressed: sexy, but subtle. Then he observed the way she said her name. Ca-Mee-La, like a pretty flower. It suited her. Her eyes, oh those eyes. The way they looked at him send shivers down his spine. There was a wildness in them, a rebelliousness that he had liked immediately. Her voice dry, but soft and smooth. The way she moved was elegant, as a dancer should be. She spoke very sharply and fast, like she was always on the edge of a heated debate. But when he said something funny, she would break into a wholesome laugh that lit up the whole room. But there was something about her, a certain amused look that he couldn’t figure out. As if she was thinking a lot of thoughts she didn’t want to share with anyone. And then suddenly she was gone. It had left him feeling cold, rejected and bitterly disappointed. The only thing that was left to do was getting absolutely piss drunk and that was exactly what he did.

Suddenly, he was disrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his inbox receiving a new mail. He stirred, feeling nervous and excited at the same time, when he saw her name as the sender. He quickly opened it:

“Dear Roger,

pleased to read you liked my note and accepted my apology. I am aware of my shortcomings as a human being, so I makes me happy I did not stamp on your feet too hard. As for a face-to-face explanation, there is not much to explain apart from it being in my character. Your ‘little problem’ amused me. You must think her very special if you are willing to go out of your way to impress her. You want me to help you? Well, as it happens, I just finished my work on a new West End musical, so I have some spare time in the next weeks to teach you. Why don’t you come to tonight’s show, so we can discuss details afterwards? I will give you backstage access if you agree. You do not need to buy me a drink afterwards, I am always willing to help someone for free.

Looking forward to seeing you in action! X, Camila.

PS: Victoria is not my assistant, but my partner-in-crime. We only use her mail address to stop men from trying to get into contact with me via my work account.”

He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. He felt a flicker of excitement inside. So, she did want to meet him now suddenly? She continued to bewilder and fascinate him. He wondered whether it was intentional and she was playing hard to get or if she was just a little strange as a person. And was she playing along or did she really believe his explanation? He didn’t know, but he was dying to find out.

A West End musical though? He hated musicals with a passion. He would never go to one out of free will. But this was also his only chance and he had already come this far… One evening wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. Who knows, it might actually be fun… Yeah, probably not Roger, stop lying to yourself. You just have to get through this bit.

When he arrived backstage at the theatre, he tried very hard to not get in the way of the production people preparing themselves for the show. He looked around but didn’t see Camila anywhere. No-one was paying him any attention and he was looking very silly, standing awkwardly around by himself. What a bloody idiot he was. He got himself a cup of water to at least have something to do. Suddenly he heard her calm voice behind him: ‘Hey Roger. I am pleased to see you.”. He turned around and there she was, as beautiful as he remembered her. “Hey!” he sounded a bit too enthusiastic for his liking. He took a deep breath. He smiled: “How is everything going with the show?”. “Fine as far as I can tell. I don’t know, I’m not involved in that bit. I leave the boring parts to Victoria,” a slight smile crept upon her face, “I see you already got yourself a drink, but there is more than just water available if you like.”. “You’ve got something stronger as well? Beer? Wine? I guess it should be wine in a theatre, wouldn’t it?” not that he cared about etiquette, he preferred wine anyway. He could really use a proper drink now though. “Yes. Red or white? Come, let’s go somewhere else for the moment and return when the show starts,” she waved her hand to show him the way and he gladly started walking.

“Or we could just not come back at all,” he said naughtily, “And white, please.”. He wanted to see if she would take the bait. “Oh, but you would miss a wonderful show. It is good to broaden your horizon, Roger,” there was a hint of amusement in her face. “Some horizons do not need to be broadened,” he groaned. They had come into an empty office room now and Camila picked up a bottle and poured him a glass of white wine. “This should get you prepared for an evening of random songs performed to a backdrop of spontaneous synchronised choreography. And some lines in-between that everyone will have forgotten afterwards anyway,” her eyes were sparkling with amusement now. “I thought you liked musicals?” he was slightly confused. He had yet to find a way to figure out whether she was telling the truth or not. “Oh, I do. There is much wonder hidden in the utter ridicule of it all. See, it is just a matter of perspective. You can spend your whole evening moaning about how much musicals suck, or you can spend it making jokes about the whole concept while bopping along to the songs. I know which one gives you far more pleasure in the end,” there was some truth in there somewhere, fuck. In the end he followed her back to the general backstage area to find out whether she was right or not. Or just so he could shamelessly stare at her all evening.

During the show they spent the whole time whispering to each other to avoid disturbing others. Camila’s sharp, somewhat absurd sense of humour kept him entertained throughout the show and he managed to get a few jokes in himself as well. He was pleased to the point of cockiness when he saw her laugh at them. As silently as she could, of course. When the wine started to work on him, he also dared to move close to her. She didn’t mind. After some time, he even wrapped his arm around her. She just smiled at him when he did so. Having her so near him swelled his heart. Fuck, he really liked her. He could smell her probably expensive perfume from here, which was feminine and sensuous, but also light and fresh. He still wondered why she had suddenly taking a shine to him again and he decided to ask as soon as the opportunity arises. For now he just decided to enjoy the moment.

That opportunity did arise once they settled down for an after-show drink. “So, are you still up for some dancing lessons? It is very beneficial for you, you know,” she smiled. “Like what? Getting strained muscles? I thought maybe I could take you out for a nice dinner instead,” he grinned. He had lots of ideas in facts. Dinner would only be the start. “Well, it was your idea to begin with. You are not going to chicken your way out of it now. I promise it will be fun,” she paused, then added dryly, “for me at least.”. He pouted, of course it would be. He had no intention of making a bloody fool out of himself though. So he had to come clean.

“Ah, that was just an excuse you know. To see you again,” he flinched. Camila laughed: “I know. More reason to go through with it.”. “Haven’t you already tried to torture me enough by making me watch a bloody West End musical?” he groaned. “Like I told you, there are several benefits to a few dancing lessons. Some which you will thank me for later,” there was a sincerity in her voice that Roger could not ignore. He thought: “Like what?”. “Your posture could use help. Plus, your movements could have more strength,” she showed what she meant. He laughed. “And I will be there,” she smiled a wide smile and he felt his resistance crumble away. Fuck.

“Well maybe it wouldn’t be too bad? Only once! But you must tell me first why we’re here in the first place, cause I’m a little confused right now.”. “Sometimes people change their minds, do they not? And I thought your mail was sweet. Very funny. As you saw, I can be too abrupt at times. Not my best personality trait. Now may I ask why you decided to try again? Rejection is not something one likes to encounter on a frequent basis,” she explained calmly and confidently. She thought he was funny. And sweet. She didn’t know anything. He couldn’t care less. “Well, it was too good an opportunity to ignore. It is not often I run into a special lady like yourself,” he smiled lazily.

“You say what? With your broad circle of female acquaintances it should not be too hard to find yourself a nice girlfriend,” she narrowed her eyes, thinking about something she wouldn’t tell him about. “I’m not just looking for a nice girlfriend though. In the end we all want something deeper than that, don’t we?” a soft glance fell over his face. “Real love you mean?” the amused look was back again for a second, then it got replaced by a more neutral one, “perhaps I should practise what I preach more often.”. He had no idea what she meant with that comment. “If I’m not supposed to be single by your reasoning, why are you?” he felt that perhaps they were discussing things a bit too deeply for what wasn’t even their first date yet. “I don’t consider myself relationship material. At least, every attempt I made failed miserably. And always because of me,” he appreciated her honesty, but was left guessing why. “You are warned, so to speak,” she raised one eyebrow. “It’s not like I don’t have a reputation either,” they both laughed.

After a little more time had passed Camila announced that she was going. He protested and wondered what she had to do that was more important. “Nothing,” was the only answer he got. She kissed him on the cheek and then left. He realised there was a long way to go before he would really understand her. But he felt it was worth it.

#my fic

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redditnosleep · 6 years

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Has Anyone Heard of The Left/Right Game?

by NeonTempo

A few points before we start.

Firstly, I am not the protagonist of this story. I just went to university with her, and though she went on to become a professional writer, I most certainly did not. She'll be taking over from me further down but, until then, please forgive my slightly awkward delivery while I give you guys the necessary context.

Secondly, I don't know what you will make of the following events, and I'm sure many of you might consider it all some sort of hoax. I wasn't present for any of what transpired in Phoenix, Arizona but I can vouch for the person who wrote the following logs. She is not, and has never been, a fantasist.

Ok so I once knew a girl called Alice Sharma. She was an undergrad at Edinburgh Uni the same time I was. My educational poison was History, a degree which has greatly benefited my career as a bicycle repairman. Alice Sharma studied journalism, though perhaps "studied" isn't the word. It's not an exaggeration to say that she lived and breathed the subject. Editor-in-chief of the campus paper, recognisable voice of student radio. She was frustratingly tunnel visioned, and she was a journalist in her own right before anyone gave her a professional shot.

We met in student halls and became friends almost immediately. A meandering waster trying to stay off his parent's farm and an intrepid, ambitious reporter may not seem the most obvious pairing, but I learned not to question it. She was inspiring, and smart and she proofread all my essays. I’m not too sure what she saw in me.

We were eventually flatmates down in London where she chased her dream and I chased my tail. She got a few jobs here and there, but nothing befitting of her skills. After months of fruitless internships and rejections, Alice called a flat meeting, telling us that she was moving to America, accepting a position chasing stories for National Public Radio. The job had come out of the blue, the result of a hail mary application she thought had been dismissed out of hand. We threw her a bittersweet going away party and put the room up for rent.

That party was the last time I saw Alice Sharma. She dropped out of contact a few months after her departure. Complete radio silence. I assumed she was just busy so I carried on with my small but happy life, and waited for her to pop up on television with some important words below her name; Chief Correspondent, Senior Analyst… something like that.

The radio silence was broken last week, and, for reasons you’ll glean further down, I’m less happy about it than I would’ve thought.

Arriving home from work I found a lone email in my otherwise bare inbox. An email that would later be described as "suspicious" by my tech literate friends. Despite being born in the early 1990's I didn't own a computer until uni, and I've missed several important lessons in the world of cyberspace. Lessons like "Don't call it Cyberspace" of course and more importantly, "Don't open emails with no text, no subject and no sender's address."

I realise most of you would have deleted this anonymous, blank email immediately, my friends certainly would have, but beyond my basic ignorance about online safety, something further compelled me to open it. The only thing of substance in the entire message was a zipped folder, labeled:

Left.Right.AS

I don't have to explain what I was hoping those final initials stood for.

Opening the zipped folder I found myself staring at a stack of text files. Each one titled with a date, continuing sequentially from the very earliest file "07-02-2017". (To any Americans in the room this is the 7th of February).

I’ve since read the files a few times, and shown them to some friends. They don't know what to make of it either, but they certainly aren't as concerned as me. They think Alice is just in a creative writing phase and, if I didn't know her, I’d have to agree. But the thing is, I do know her. Alice Sharma only cares about the truth and if that's the case with these files, insane as it may sound, then it’s very possible my friend has documented her own disappearance.

The people who suggested this forum said you discuss strange occurrences etc. If you guys have come across anything to do with the below, or know any of the people involved, then please send any information my way.

Has anyone here heard of the Left/Right Game?

The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 07/02/2017

They say great stories happen to those who can tell them. Robert J. Guthard is an exception to that rule. As I sit at his table, sip his coffee and listen to him recount the past 65 years it sounds like he's reading off a shopping list. Every event, his first job, his second wedding, his third divorce, none of them receive more than one or two sentences. Rob plows through the years, the curt, dispassionate curator of his own personal history. Yet the story itself is so fascinating, so rich with moments and so wildly meandering that it somehow stands on its own merits.

It's a great story, no matter how you tell it.

By the time Rob was 21, he'd gotten married, had a son, worked as a farmer, a mover, a boat engineer, and grown estranged from his spouse... Here's him talking about that.

ROB: Course my wife started to get dissatisfied, I was away a while.

AS: For work?

ROB:Vietnam.

AS: You were in Vietnam? How was that for you?

ROB: I ain't never been back since.

That was everything he had to say concerning his first divorce, and the entire Vietnam war.

Rob had four marriages after that, and even more professions. After the war he worked with a firm of private detectives, got shot at once by the mob, then he became a courier, which is how a poor boy from Alabama got to see the world.

ROB: I been to most of the continents with that job. I been to India. You from India?

AS: My mum and dad are from India yeah.

ROB: See I could tell.

He'd been arrested once in Singapore, after one of his packages had been found to be full of white powder. He spent three days locked up before someone got around to checking the substance. It was chalk.

A friend he made during his brief custody, Hiroji Sato, invited Rob to stay with him in Japan. Just getting over the breakup of his third marriage, Rob took the offer. He stayed in Japan for another 5 years.

ROB: The Japanese are good people. Good manners. But they got all these urban legends and ghost stories that Hiroji was crazy for, spent all his free time chasing them down. Like, you heard of Jorogumo?

AS: I don't think so"

ROB: Well she's this spider lady lives in the Joro Falls round Izu. Meant to be real pretty but real dangerous. Hiroji took us out there to get a picture of her.

AS: Did you ever meet Jorogumo?

ROB Nah she didn't show. None of them did. I didn't believe at all until we went to Aokigahara

Aokigahara, affectionately titled the Suicide Forest. The next stop on Rob's adventure. It's an area of woodland at the base of Mount Fuji, a notorious hotspot for young people looking to take their own lives. Hiroji, Rob's ghost obsessed jailmate turned best friend, took him to Aokigahara to chase "yurei" the ghosts of the forest.

AS: Did you find anything? In Aokigahara?

ROB: Well I ain't gonna ask you to believe me. But I was a PI. Professional cynic. Even I can't deny there was a spirit in those woods.

From that moment on, Rob's sentences start getting longer. A childlike excitement creeps into his voice. I get the distinct feeling we're moving beyond background, beyond Rob Guthard's old life, and towards his new one. The one he wants to talk about. The one that led him to contact the show.

ROB: It walked up to me through the trees. Looked like static you see on a TV screen but it had a human shape almost.

AS: Almost?

ROB: It was missing an arm. It reached out to me but I bolted outta that forest so fast. Hiroji never saw it, holds it against me to this day.

Hiroji had good reason to be annoyed. Rob says that Mr Sato had been going to the forest 2-3 times per year for three decades. To have a rookie come along and claim to have seen a yurei on his first trip? I'd be more than a little cranky.

But Rob didn't stay a rookie for long. In fact, it was in those woods that he discovered his current passion. The supernatural, or more accurately, the documentation and investigation of urban legends. Legends like Bloody Mary, the Jersey Devil, Sasquatch. Rob has looked into them all.

ROB: I figured if one was true then who knows how many others could be.

AS: How many have you proven so far?

ROB: Since Aokigahara? Ain't none of em had any proof to em. Except for one. That's why I called you guys up.

At this point, Rob can’t hope to repress his smile.

The Left/Right game appeared on a paranormal message board in June 2016. Only a few people frequently visited the forum and, of these regulars, only Rob took an interest in the post.

ROB: The whole thing had a level of detail you don't see in other stories.

AS: What details grabbed your interest?

ROB: Logs. High quality pictures. The guy documented everything, said he wasn't gonna play the game anymore. I think he wanted somebody to keep investigating.

AS: And you were that somebody.

ROB: That's right. I set about trying to verify his information right away.

AS: And how did it go?

ROB: Well... It didn't take long to realise the Left/Right Game is the real thing.

The rules of the Left/Right game are simple. Get in your car and take a drive. Take a left, then the next possible road on the right, then the next possible left. Repeat the process ad infinitum, until you wind up somewhere... new. The rules are easy to understand, but Rob says their not so easy to follow.

ROB: There ain't all that many roads where you can turn left and right and left and right and keep going. Most of the time you find yourself at a dead end or needing to turn in the wrong direction. Phoenix is built on a grid system so you can keep going left and right as long as you need to.

AS: Did you move to Phoenix for the Left/Right game?

ROB: That's right.

I try not to seem incredulous. Selling your house in another state, packing up and moving your whole life to Phoenix, Arizona just to play a game you saw on the internet? It seems like insanity. Rob smiles as he reads my expression. I can clearly read his expression too. "You'll see." It says. "Just wait."

I wouldn't have to wait long. Included within the 9 page submission Rob sent our show, was a long list of suggested items the chosen reporter should bring with them. Clothes for three days, a pocket knife, matches, bandages. There were also a set of qualifications the reporter should have. The ability to drive, basic vehicle maintenance and its human equivalent... first aid training. He didn't just want to talk about the Left/Right Game. He wanted to take one of us along.

Rob leaves a short while later to embark on a few errands, "Prepping the Run", as he calls it. He shows me to the guest room and we part ways, on good terms but very much aware of the other's poorly veiled opinions. He knew I saw him as a charming obsessive, chasing after a fairy tale. He saw me as a naive cynic, on the cusp of a new world. All I could think as I heard the front door close is that by tomorrow afternoon, one of us would be right.

More after this.

When I wake up the next morning, Rob is in my room, holding a tray which he'd knocked on the bottom of to rouse me. I don't manage to record the start of our conversation.

ROB: - I got bananas, strawberries, chocolate syrup. We got some more downstairs but I wanted you to wake up to something good. We won't be eatin' this stuff on the road."

Rob has made me waffles. He sets them down on the night stand and talks through the coming day as I eat. I'll admit it feels a little uncomfortable, waking up in a stranger's home to find said stranger already standing over me, but I quickly move past it. I tell myself that he’s an older man, accustomed to living alone in his own house, not usually having to think about boundaries. Anyway, he certainly knows his way around a waffle iron.

ROB: We hit the road at 9. I wanted to give you time to get ready before everyone shows up.

AS: There are other people coming?

ROB: We got a 5 car convoy on the road today. They'll be here in an hour.

This is the first I’ve heard of a convoy, and to be honest I’m surprised. The game is Rob's obsession, and I’m here at his request. The idea that anyone else would have an interest in today's drive is a little perplexing.

Half an hour later, sated, showered and dressed in the "functional clothing" Rob had so painstakingly outlined, I take my pack out to the porch. Rob’s already there, waiting for his associates to show up.

AS: I thought you'd be conducting a few more errands.

ROB: If you ain't prepared by the morning of, you ain't prepared.

AS: Hah ok I guess that's fair. Oh, Rob is the garage locked? The inside door won't budge and I wanted to mic up the car.

ROB: Yeah it's locked up I'll open it for ya.

AS: Thank you.

ROB: In fact it's about time I wheeled her out. Fair warning Ms Sharma, she's a thing of beauty.

To Rob Guthard, beauty took the form of a dark green Jeep Wrangler. Rob climbs in and lets it roll out of the garage, where it dominates every inch of driveway. The car is large; four doors with a roof enclosing the entire compartment. It’s also been modified extensively, yet another example of Rob's dedication to the game.

ROB: What're you thinking?

AS: I think you're two caterpillar treads short of driving a tank.

ROB: Hah yeah I fixed her up good. I put the winch in, heavy duty tires, the light rig on top is LED's. They'll make midnight look like noon but they don't use hardly any power.

AS: Aren't Jeeps open top usually?

ROB: Not all. This is the Unlimited. I like to have a covered car when I head on the road.

I climb in and stow my pack. Rob had removed the back seats to afford more storage space. The place is packed to the brim. Jerry cans of gasoline, barrels of water, rope, snacks and his own neatly packed set of clothes.

I wonder if the rest of our convoy would take the game so seriously.

ROB: We got Apollo coming up in 10 minutes. No one else has given me a time. I sent the schedule weeks ago, this always happens.

AS: His name's Apollo?

ROB: That's his call sign. Apollo Creed I think he said.

AS: Why are you using call signs?

ROB: Did I not tell you? Oh yeah we're gonna use call signs on the road, keep communication clear.

AS: What's your callsign?

ROB: Ferryman.

AS: ... What's my call sign?

ROB: I thought about it. I was thinking London, you're from London right?

AS: I'm from Bristol.

ROB: Bristol? That’s fine I guess.

It’s less than ten minutes before Apollo turns the corner. Rob jumps out of his chair and paces briskly over to the edge of his property, as his first guest pulls up and steps onto the sidewalk.

Apollo vaguely resembles his namesake, dark skinned, tall and noticeably well built, though it’s clear he couldn’t be less of a fighter. This Apollo Creed is all smiles and seems to have a penchant for laughing at his own jokes.

AS: How far have you come?

APOLLO: I've come out of Chicago. Took three days hard driving.

AS: And you know Rob from the forums?

APOLLO: Everybody knows Rob, Rob's the god! Ahaha

Rob walks over to Apollo's car, gesturing him over to talk shop. Rob’s clearly impressed with Apollo's choice of vehicle, a blue Range Rover packed to the ceiling with kit. I was more impressed with Rob himself. Somehow this 65 year old farmer's son had become respected in a vast online community. My dad is Rob’s age and he's just discovered copy and paste.

The rest don't take long to arrive. Two Minnesotan librarians, also around Rob's age, pull up in a grey Ford Focus. They’re brother and sister, and they've shared ghost hunting as a hobby their entire lives. I find it hard to suppress a smile when they meekly introduce themselves as Bonnie and Clyde.

CLYDE: We would have gotten here sooner we had to drop by to get some blankets. Pleasure to meet you ma'am.

AS: Pleasure to meet you too.

CLYDE: Would you be the journalist?

AS: That's right.

CLYDE: You used to write for the town paper didn't you?

He's talking to his sister there, she nods. Clyde is clearly the spokesperson for the pair, yet they both seem incredibly shy. Whether they admire the famous outlaws, or just the name, it's pretty clear they couldn't be more different from the real thing.

Next to show up are Lilith and Eve, English Lit students at New York University and proprietors of the YouTube channel Paranormicon. Unlike Bonnie and Clyde, Lilith and Eve have no issue holding a conversation. As soon as they learn who I am, and what I do for a living, they attempt to conscript me for an expedition to Roswell.

LILITH: We have a friend there, he's been seeing some-

EVE: -He's a seismologist

LILITH: Yeah and he's been recording readings over the years that show subterranean movement. Predictable movement.

EVE: We're going to see him in July, but we could work it around you if you're free.

AS: I'll have to check my schedule

EVE: OK cool let me give you my email...

They quickly hurry off to film an intro for their latest video, featuring a quick interview with Rob, who seems pretty welcoming of the attention.

The last two cars arrive within a few seconds of each other. A lithe, strong willed older lady who goes by Bluejay and a younger man going by the callsign “Ace”. Bluejay has arrived in a grey Ford Explorer. Ace, much to Rob's annoyance, has arrived in a Porsche.

ROB: Did you think that's gonna help on the road? I didn't write that-

ACE: It's my car. What am I meant to do,? It's my car.

ROB: You didn't read my itinerary, you got nothing packed in there.

ACE: I did read it sir OK? Calm down. I have a bag, I won't ask you for anything.

ROB: Well I know that's true.

Ace and Rob were off to a bad start. Ace takes a phone call, and despite my best efforts to get an interview with Bluejay, she doesn't seem interested in talking to a journalist.

With five cars, and seven travellers waiting for a green light, Rob hands out radios and charging packs, then launches into a quick safety briefing. Wear seatbelts. Stay in position. Communicate clearly and often. It’s at this moment I start to feel a little dismay. I like Rob, and clearly so does everyone else. He'd convinced all of them to drive across the country to join in with his game. I start to worry what will happen in the likely event that the whole thing isn’t real. Would Rob lose the respect of his peers? Would he accept failure when it comes? After seeing the effort he’s put into these runs, the next few hours have the potential to be wildly uncomfortable.

With a smile and a few encouraging words, Rob ends his briefing and beckons me over to the Wrangler. I clamber inside and make myself as comfortable as possible.

ROB: You ready for this Bristol?

AS: I'm ready.

ROB: Ok then let's hit the road.

The Wrangler pulls out of the driveway, and the convoy follows in order of arrival. Apollo, Bonnie & Clyde, Lilith & Eve, Bluejay and Ace keep a steady pace behind us as we come up to the first corner.

Rob slowly and deliberately turns left, checking on the others in his rear view mirror. He looks back to the road as Ace’s Porsche completes the first turn of the game. Shortly afterwards, Apollo checks in on the CB radio.

APOLLO: This is Apollo for Ferryman. How many to more go Rob? ahahaha

ROB: Hah as many as it takes.

I can tell Rob wanted the to reserve the radio for something other than Apollo's quips. But he seems to like Apollo enough to let it slide. I'm not sure Ace would have received the same treatment. We take the next right, then another left. Now safely assured that everyone's following correctly, Rob speaks my thoughts aloud.

ROB: You're wondering the same thing Apollo is.

AS: What do you mean?

ROB: You're wondering how many turns we're gonna take before we hit some wall or something. Before you find out this is all just a story.

AS: Does that disappoint you?

ROB: I'd be disappointed if you weren't thinking something like it. But now we're on the road I gotta say something and you gotta listen to it.

AS: OK...

ROB: We're coming up to a tunnel soon. Any time before we reach it you can get out, walk in any direction you like, and you won’t be in the game no more. Once we go through, you gotta retrace the route we took to get yourself back out that tunnel. That's when you’re home. And you gotta convince someone to take you back in a car coz I ain't ferrying you back 20 minutes in. You got till the tunnel to skip out on this, understand?

AS: I understand. Though I have to say I'm getting little nervous.

ROB: Ain't nothing wrong with a little nervous.

We've taken 23 turns by this point. Already I feel like we're traversing the city pretty effectively. Rob's heavily modified Wrangler solicits a few impressed glances from passersby, as well as several honks of respect from other Jeep drivers. Other than those few moments, everything seems completely indistinguishable from a regular morning drive. I even start to worry if there’ll be anything at all for this story. “Reporter Takes Drive With Interesting Man” isn’t exactly Pulitzer worthy.

Turn 33 leads us onto a short, unassuming street. A row of small businesses in a quiet Phoenician neighbourhood; liquor, second hand clothing, tools and, at the end of the street, a little shop selling antique mirrors. Ten or so people shuffle along the sidewalk, smiling, talking, planning their weekends. The only lone person is a young woman in a grey coat..

I briefly glimpse her at the end of the street, standing on our next corner, the back of her coat reflected in fifty old mirrors. Even from a distance I can see that she’s sullen, wide eyed and nervous. She shifts constantly on her feet, tugging at the button of her coat.

I look away to write some notes as we roll down the street. When I look up again, the woman is standing by my window, staring right at me. She’s smiling, a wide, unfaltering grin that seems almost offensive in its complete insincerity.

GREYWOMAN: Lambs at the gate. Hoping for something better than clover when all they find are things worse than slaughter.

AS: Rob what's happening?

ROB: Ignore her.

GREYWOMAN: He wanted to leave me so I cut him out. The lake was hungry it drank the wound clean.

AS: Miss, are you alright?

The smile vanishes, it snaps from her face and suddenly, the woman is furious.

GREYWOMAN: What do you think you're doing?! Have you gone mad?!

I reflexively press myself back in my chair as the woman, wild eyed and gaunt, slams her fists against my window, with every intent of breaking through.

GREYWOMAN: Would you dance down the lion’s tongue? It will shred you, you whore! It will shred you down to your sins! You fucking bastard!

Rob puts his foot down, and the Wrangler rolls defiantly away from the woman. As we turn the corner I watch her as she wretches, her every movement cradled in abject hysteria. She yells despairingly at the rest of the convoy, bursting into tears when the last car passes her by.

As she shrinks into the rear view mirror, I see her turn to a large mirror on the side of the shop, which the owner is in the process of polishing. I watch as she walks up to it, and with a convulsant scream, slams her head into the glass.

The mirror cracks around her forehead, the owner jumps back in shock, and as the woman pulls her head from the mirror's surface, the fractured spider’s web is dripping red. It all happens in a split second, and she quickly swerves from my view as we take the next left.

AS: Rob, what was that?

ROB: She's there sometimes.

AS: On that street?

ROB: On the 34th turn.

AS: Who is she?

ROB: I don't know. She's never acted out that much before though. Must be a special trip.

I find Rob's lack of concern a little unpleasant, and his implication that this woman's ravings were the symptom of an internet game leaves me more than a little perturbed. As I see it, there are a few explanations for what just happened, and none of them lead to a comforting conclusion.

If we had just encountered a bonafide crazy person, then one could argue that Rob is just seeing what he wants to see. Maybe he'd bought into the game’s story so much that every strange but explainable occurrence would be rationalised as the next step in his favourite paranormal narrative.

Alternatively, the woman could have been an actor, a more elaborate theory sure, but not unheard of. People have lied to the show before and Rob was receiving a tonne of publicity for this attempt from Lilith, Eve and I. I admit, Rob didn't seem like a liar, but good liars never do.

There is a third alternative however. An alternative which, if you put logic aside, explains the all troubling little details that I couldn't help but notice. Because as strange as the grey woman was, isn't it stranger that no one on the street would react? I couldn't recall a single glance in her direction by anybody on the sidewalk. Perhaps that theory falls apart when you consider the shock on the mirror seller's face but, when I think about it, he only reacted once the mirror shattered, and even then, I feel like his attention was on the mirror itself.

The radio crackles.

LILITH: Lillith to Bristol. Sara... Eve got that on camera! Do you have audio?

AS: I think it picked her up.

LILITH: My god that was so weird. Can you send us the file when we stop? Can you ask Ferryman when we're stopping?

AS: When's our stopping point?

ROB: For them, in about 30 minutes. For you? Well, you tell me.

Rob turns off a busy street just before a large intersection, onto a much quieter stretch of two lane road. Ahead of us the road slopes downward, leading into an underpass, which disappears into darkness.

We'd arrived at the tunnel.

AS: What is this supposed to pass under?

ROB: Ain't supposed to pass under anything, it's just there.

AS: And if we weren't playing the game?

ROB: Then it won't show. The question is, are you playing the game or not?

Rob turns to me. It’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the road since we started. He pulls the car to a slow stop at the mouth of the tunnel.

ROB: You get out now you can go wherever you wanna go, but through there you'll need a car to get yourself home and, like I said, mine ain't turnin round for a long while. You understand?

It’s a dramatic statement, but unsettlingly, it doesn’t feel like he’s attempting to dramatise. It feels like I’m having something genuinely asked of me. Am I ready for what’s to come? Do I accept the risks involved? Do I consent to be taken down this road, and the next road, and the next? Am I prepared to see this game through, real or otherwise, to its end?

AS: What are you waiting for?

Rob smiles, and turns back to the road. He picks up the CB radio holds down the button on the side. The microphone crackles.

ROB: This is Ferryman to all cars. Anyone want to step out then pull to the side now. Otherwise, stay in formation and have some supplies at hand. We got a long ways to go.

Much like the game I’m so tentatively playing, my view of Robert J. Guthard seems to change direction frequently. I’d heard all about his life, but I’m sure that I know him. I like the guy, but I’m not certain that I trust him. And though I admire his dedication to the Left/Right Game, I’m not sure I’ll like where it might lead us. Yet as he takes us into the tunnel, his face vanishing and reappearing under the dim sodium lights, I can that tell he expects this trip to be a major step in his already impressive story, and this time, for better or for worse, I’m along for the ride.

#creepy #horror story #series #left right game series #author: NeonTempo

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