#//i am actually going to fix his pages...hurray.

[thenightling]

The Dreaming: waking Hours issue 11 review

Okay, there’s a  lot to unpack here.   First the good.

Daniel was actually portrayed as competent and compassionate. Hurray! 

Too bad those sparks of intelligence from Daniel don’t seem to last very long when he’s not being written by Neil.  

 Also I was right that Heather is trans and that was not treated as a major plot point.   More on that later.

Though I have to wonder, with all her power, why she transitioned medically instead of magically.  I imagine if she used magick to transition she wouldn't need permanent hormone medication.  I know it helps to represent the real trans condition but sometimes you want a little convenient magical escapism of making it easier. 

Now for the picking apart / bad stuff.   

Though G. Willow Wilson is well-versed in faery lore enough to know the rules about true names and concepts like The Unseelie I am afraid she mishandles them a bit.   For example she treats the Unseelie like this one specific faceless type of fae instead of an entire fae court of dark fae that usually entails goblins, trolls, drow, imps, etc.  

She also doesn’t seem to know that in most depictions of Oberon and Titania they were nonchalant and very familiar with each other’s infidelities.   Oberon should not have been surprised (especially this far into things) that Titania slept with Morpheus.  

Titania all but bluntly spelt it out at The Wake.  I am fairly certain Oberon was there.  Where was he when she spoke?  Drinking in the back?

In some faery lore Nuala was Oberon’s lover.  I had figured that was the reason Titania saw to it she was given as a gift to Morpheus.  It was both a means to possibly get rid of her or if Morpheus didn’t accept the gift (she must have known his anti-slavery stance) it would have given a justifiable excuse for the Fae to go to war with The Dreaming and potentially lay claim to the key to Hell in Season of Mists.   

Even Disney’s Gargoyles acknowledged this aspect of their character dynamic. When Oberon learned that Titania had a half-human child in the episode The Gathering Part 1 of Disney’s Gargoyles his response was (while grinning and chuckling) “Mother?!  Titania, what HAVE you been up to?”  

In the Shakespeare play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it was pretty clear that Oberon wanted Titania to sleep with Bottom while he had an ass’s head (blatant metaphor) as a means to humiliate her. 

Moving on.

Yes, I was right that Heather is trans.  I am very glad it was not a major plot point before now.  However, the way her “True name” was handled wasn’t as good as I had hoped.  I had hoped that the fact that she chose the name Heather After that this has become her true name.  But the implication here is her deadname could have been used as her true name.  That bothers me.

I always figured true names (the name that can be used to summon and bind a magick user or supernatural creature) didn’t necessarily have to be the name you had at birth.  For example Vlad III of Wallachia is more well known as Drakulya (Dracula), the name he chose for himself as a patronymic homage to his father and so got used as his own house name.

In the 1985 Fright Night the character of Peter Vincent at first said “That isn’t even my real name.” But after he undergoes considerable character growth and puts protecting others before his own fear he starts saying “I AM Peter Vincent, the great vampire killer!”  The persona became his true name. 

True names are NOT necessarily the name you had at birth.  This is part of why I feel the previous aspect of Dream may have Morpheus as as close to a true name as he’s got.  That’s why he’s credited as Lord Morpheus instead of Dream in The Sandman audio drama and calling out to him by the name Morpheus is how he came to rescue Rose from Funland in The Sandman: The Doll’s House.

 So anyway, I’m conflicted about this scene in The Dreaming: Waking Hours.  I’m glad the deadname didn’t work as the true name but I would have felt better of Heather had become her true name.  That would have, in my opinion, been more satisfying than “There’s no such thing as a true name.”

Something else that bugged me... All the ham-handed anti-monarchy commentary.  In real life monarchies are not great buuut we’re talking about the faerie court here. They’re not human.  Can you even imagine what the goblins would vote for if they had a democracy?   “Okay, that’s 97% in favor of abducting every infant in Manhattan.  And 3% wrote in ‘Chilli dogs.’  I didn’t know they could spell...”

It’s become a little embarrassing to me how every fantasy written by Americans has become anti-monarchy. Disney’s Descendants, Once Upon a time’s finale (they voted...), Game of Thrones’ ending, because having any sort of vote in a world that never had any before would totally work out well at that point in their culture....  Even on Tumblr I came across someone who thought they could “fix” the “Dumpster fire” that is Nightmare before Christmas by having the mayor strip Jack Skellington of his Pumpkin King title as punishment for what he did to Christmas since “You can’t learn your lesson if you do wrong without punishment.”    Frankly, I’m tired of the anti-monarchy stuff where it doesn’t actually work.  

And the deliberately weak argument written for Titania of “But I’m Beautiful and Ancient!”   Also what’s with the weird almost-fetishism that she’s still wearing those manacle cuffs? Why didn’t Oberon or even Nuala take those off of her yet since they’re working together?  

This is interesting because right here in the final page Heather quotes the very spell that invoked Morpheus.  I have been mentally conditioned that every time I see black talk bubbles with white text in a Sandman universe comic my first thought is “Morpheus?” even though we have already seen it used for other characters in things like the Dan Watters run of Lucifer.

But the combination of quoting the invocation spell that trapped Morpheus, the talk bubble, and the golden thread (that resembles Morpheus’ life thread) has me intrigued and I don’t want to get my hopes up at the possibilities. 

And still, for all my nitpicking, this IS the best version of The Dreaming to date. 

I love Heather.  I think she’s very well written.  She’s the best original character of any Sandman spin-off.  I just think the anti-monarchy ranting is very misplaced in the realm of Faerie.   Think of what their parliament would consist of.   It’s like the minion of Jadis, The White Witch from Chronicles of Narnia, combined with the goblin muppets from Labyrinth, and the fae from Lost Girl combined.  

[sentofighta]

Atelier verse details for Sohrab

BASIC INFORMATION.

NAME: Sohrab Errol

AGE: 19 [Rorona], 27 [Totori], 32 [Meruru]

GENDER: Male

EYES: Green

HAIR: Dark Brown

HEIGHT: 179 cm

COUNTRY: Kingdom of Arland

HOMETOWN: -

CURRENT RESIDENT: His Father’s atelier

RELATIVES: Parents & a little brother

WEAPON: summoned sword via alchemy & various daggers and items

OCCUPATION: Alchemist | Merchant | Traveler

BIRTHDAY: 11th of January, XX

FACE CLAIM: Iwatani Naofumi | Tate No Yuusha No Nariagari

SHORT DESCRIPTION.

Sohrab is the son of Saleh and Harriette who owns Errol Atelier and Sohrab took over the atelier from his father after growing more interested in alchemy. Sohrab’s fascination with alchemy comes from his father’s love for science and alchemy. Sohrab is still training on different sorts of recipes but he is not an amateur around the cauldron.

APPEARANCE.

 Sohrab stands tall 179cm, dark brown messy hair, green eyes that turn to gold when he is synthesizing or summoning his sword. his skin tone is fair but tans easily whenever he stays outside in the sun for long hours picking up materials. He wears a black cape, brown undershirt, green pants, brown just below the knee boots. Honestly, he changes his clothes colors when he sees fit especially if he wants to blend around, thanks to Alchemy. Belts around his waist that holds the pouches that contain the materials he gathers. A hidden knife in his left boot in case he was cornered in a fight with no chance to use alchemy or his supply ran out.

PERSONALITY.

 Sohrab is the guy who you can miss if he did not speak up. For him, he rather stays in the background because it is less of a hassle. This does not mean he is grumpy or a gloomy person, it’s just a way to observe and wait for the good chance to butt in. Being in the background allows him to perceive better than being in the forefront. It often leaves him perplexed to certain reactions, especially these oddballs (the extreme people or the overall weirdos.)

 The Alchemist is honest, more like blunt when needed. Though, as any human, he often falls short to lie at some points. Sohrab is lazy who tends to skip training or any physical activity; not a big fan of moving when it is not necessary. He prefers to be in a quiet place to synthesis in peace.

 Dabbling in alchemy, it requires a certain degree of level-headedness to be able to craft and forge things. Sohrab can be calm but when someone pushes the right button he is certainly someone you do not want to anger. Sohrab can hold a grudge against someone but in the end, he will let it go because as he dislikes overtaxing his body, he dislikes overtaxing his mind over useless emotions such as grudge.

SKILLS.

Alchemy, observing(body language and manner of speech), sewing (from his mother), tutoring (from his father), haggling and trade skills (from Duncan and the merchants), decent sword fight, decent one on one combat, tracking, high magic resistance, camping and laziness.

Verse tag:  ⌈⌈verse[in my atelier]. (sohrab)

[toddykun]

duckvember 2018: 3. game duck & 5. competitive duck - Duck Siblings (HDLW), Daisy’s Triplets (AMJ), Gladstone Gander & Donald Duck.

game over! or try again?

summary: Louie found a new indie video game made by an unknown developer inspired by their favorite superheroes! Hurray! Only problem? The last level seems impossible to complete. Could anyone in the mansion do it? Also, obviously the Duck Avenger is the best character to play with, right? No, Gizmoduck! No, Darkwing Duck! ...Huh, better ask Uncle Donald.

word count: 1994

n/a: inspired by this wonderful piece by @neon-shesh. april, may and june’s designs inspired by @avespecora, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing.

“Oh, come on! Not again!”

“Umm, Louie, what are you doing?”

Huey looked at Louie, sprawled on the floor dramatically, holding his phone like had betrayed him. Louie just looked at him with this indecipherable expression and then showed him his phone. A pretty high score was glowing in the screen and the words of two options: ‘try again!’ and ‘game over’. It showed too, the international high scores. The colors looked cool and the little animation too, Huey murmured appreciatively.

Huey sat beside him. “But you have a really high score, and into the internationals too, Louie! Why are you so frustrated? What is the game about?”

Louie sighed and got up like it was a trouble for him to do that but he smiled anyway, happy to ramble about his new discovery. “A person on the internet developed this new indie game with superheroes from real life! They have the Duck Avenger even when he’s retired. You can choose between Gizmoduck, Darkwing Duck and the Duck Avenger. I chose the Duck Avenger, of course, he’s the most badass.”

“I would like to argue that. Duck Avenger was the most badass, he retired, he’s no more. Gizmoduck, however, it’s a new superhero and he has so much-.”

Louie interrupted him immediately. “Yeah, yeah. I will fight you on that later because that doesn’t change the fact that the Duck Avenger is the most badass. Anyways, the game is pretty simple. But I can’t past the last level no matter how much I try. It’s stupid, I’m thinking it’s rigged.”

“Maybe the character is not the one adequate for the level?”

“That’s ridiculous, they’re all supposed to pass the levels.”

“Well, only one way to find out. Come on, let me try it with Gizmoduck.”

Louie passed the phone to him and Huey tried it. It was, like Louie said, an actually simple game. Like some Mario Bros game. But the animation was actually pretty cool and fluid and the levels were even more interesting. Until he got to the last level, and he lost. Multiple times.

“This doesn’t make sense! I have changed every little thing that went wrong went I played and none of them work?”

“I told you! It’s rigged!”

Dewey entered the living room and looked at his brothers being a little too mad at a simple phone. “Guys, what are you doing?”

“We are playing this game and none of us can pass it.”

“Oh, can I see? Mmm. I will choose Darkwing.”

“So, Launchpad made you like it, huh?”

“Shut up. Pass the game.”

.

“WHY THE HELL I CAN NOT PASS IT?”

“WE KNOW!”

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS!”

“Boys, whatcha doing?”

“WEBBY, TRY THIS!”

“Oh, ok. HEY, IS THAT THE DUCK AVENGER? I WILL CHOOSE HIM!”

Louie just smiled proudly. “Good choice, little sister. Good choice.” Huey and Dewey just rolled their eyes.

.

“WAIT, WHY I CAN NOT PASS IT?”

“UGH, COME ON, NOT EVEN WEBBY?!”

“THE GAME IT’S RIGGED, I TOLD YOU!”

“Maybe the developer made a mistake?” Huey took his book out of his hat and looked out for the page on developing independents video games.

Louie and Dewey rolled his eyes. “Not everything can be in that book, Huey.”

.

“Even Uncle Scrooge tried, and he lost too. Well, he didn’t like to play, kept saying that’s it was a ridiculously simple game and he shouldn’t lose his time. But when he kept losing he almost threw my phone like it personally offended him. No good.”

“Cousin Fethry tried too, but well, he didn’t really understand the game either. He thought it was cool though.”

“Well, atI least I’m glad they all have great taste. They all chose Duck Avenger.”

“Yeah but, boys, we have not found a way to win. Granny didn’t want to even try it though.”

“Launchpad tried too, he lost with Darkwing and he was actually good at playing it.”

“Maybe we could ask Uncle Gladstone? I mean, if someone it’s able to win, it’s him, right?”

All the kids looked at each other and then nodded. All of them went to look for Gladstone.

.

“Do you think anyone is going to ever catch up that you fucked up that last level on purpose so no one can find the secret passage, April?” May asked, making her basketball’s ball turn around in her finger while resting on her bed.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I don’t know why no one is finding the secret passage in the last level!”

“Well, you should fix it, dear sister. Like me and this little buddy. Right, little buddy?” June cheerfully said from her place in her own bed. She was trying to fix a little robot she was making.

“I. Am. Trying. To. Fix. It! You’re not helping!” April declared, furiously typing on her computer.

May and June just rolled their eyes and shrugged, continuing to do their own thing.

“Girls, let’s go! April, to your programming classes! May, to your basketball practice! June, you volunteered to that activity in the park!”

“Yes, aunt Daisy!” May and June responded and went to look for her things. April made a frustrated noise and started to write even faster. “UGH, WAIT, JUST A LITTLE. I STILL NEED TO SEND THE UPDATE.”

“I’M NOT WAITING. APRIL!”

“UGH, OKAY.” April ended giving up, taking his things frustrated, putting her laptop in her bag. Well, she could just apologize to the gamer community later and post the update, she supposed.

.

“Sorry, little beans. Guess video games are not my thing, not even for my luck.” Gladstone did seem weirded out by the result too. He didn’t lose the game but for a really weird reason his character (the Duck Avenger, Louie was glad most of his family had such great taste) got stuck in a weird way, he didn’t lose like everybody else, he wasn’t killed even once but his character kept moving and moving without another obstacle on the way but the way didn’t end for minutes. Until they themselves stopped the game. It was like the game couldn’t let him lose but it couldn’t let him win either. It was actually ridiculous.

Webby sighed but smiled. “It doesn’t matter, Uncle Gladstone. Thanks anyways.”

Louie raised a brow and looked Huey and they both nodded. They were thinking the same thing. “In a way, Uncle Gladstone didn’t lose, he’s actually the only one that didn’t lose, and he never died in the game,” Huey concluded.

“The game is rigged, it’s impossible Uncle Gladstone had not won.” Louie ended saying.

Gladstone seemed to consider it too and then he smiled. “Have you asked Don to play it?”

“Do you think the most unlucky duck in the world can win this game?” It wasn’t like Dewey wanted to underappreciate his Uncle Donald but it was just. Good luck vs. Bad luck, you know.

Gladstone shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “Why not try it? Don holds a lot of surprises.” Also, he is going to flip out if he sees someone has done a game of PK, he deserves a little pleasure once in a while, he thought. “Good luck, kids!”

The kids looked at Gladstone going away to whatever business he had. Well, that only left them with an option.

.

“Kids, I’m kinda busy.” He was still repairing the boat, he didn’t know why the thing could just hold it together. All the kids made puppy faces. Donald sighed, it wasn’t fair. “Ok, ok. Give me that. Wait, is that the Duck Avenger?” He seemed to blush but Webby wasn’t so sure.

For a reason unknown to Webby, it was like that simple phrase lighted up something between the boys that she had not seen before. She blinked confused, the air smelled like competition out of nowhere. She looked at Donald and made a simple question. “Who are you going to choose to play, Uncle Donald?”

It seemed like the wrong question when the boys’ aura of competitiveness grew even more. Louie was the first one to attack, trying to be smooth about it. “It is incredible that the Duck Avenger is in a video game and he deserves it because he is super badass, you should choose him, Uncle Donald.”

Huey jumped next, his spirit wasn’t going to submit to the younger and more spoiled brother. “But Gizmoduck is a promising young hero! He has so much room to grow, and he is super smart and heroic and-!”

Dewey, not about to be left behind, jumped too, interrupting his older brother, determined to make his Uncle choose his hero. “But Darkwing Duck is amazing too, he is a great detective and does some pretty sick moves! You should choose him, Uncle Donald!”

Donald tried to calm them down. “Wow, wow. Calm down, boys. Let’s see.” Donald looked at the screen and then nodded. “Ok, I’m choosing Gizmoduck.”

Huey made a pleased cry, his fist in the air. Dewey and Louie looked at him, feeling betrayed. “But Uncle Donald!”

“Well, Huey is right, Gizmoduck is a promising young hero. Darkwing Duck is from another city and he has more experience, and Duck Avenger is retired, so. Anyways, this is just a game, it really doesn’t matter who I choose.”

“Ha! In your faces!” Huey jumped, happily, the winner of the unsaid competition. Dewey and Louie groaned.

“Huey,” Donald warned.

“Sorry, Uncle Donald…”

Webby tried to regain the attention to their actual issue. “Well, let’s play, Uncle Donald!”

Donald lost more times than any other person they asked for, the kids were about to give up until, eventually, he screamed ‘It says this is the last level!’, the kids jumped and hovered around him to see the screen. It was, in fact, the last level. They all felt dread over their bodies. Even Donald was starting to tense over this simple game. He started the level and the kids even felt like they couldn’t breathe. For now, it was going well. He avoided the obstacles even when the kids distracted him with their shouts of ‘be careful!’, ‘no, to the left!’, ‘uuuuugh’ and ‘jump, no, run, no, just walk!’. He was almost getting to the same point that Uncle Gladstone was. He only needed to make a simple jump and not fall into the hole. Simple enough.

He fell. The kids’ spirits fell too. Nobody had ever felt into that hole, it was an easy jump.

“NO!”

“UNCLE DONALD, HOW? WHY DID YOU LOSE LIKE THIS?”

“WHY? WHY? IT WAS A SIMPLE JUMP!”

“UGH, SO CLOOOOOSE.”

“Um, kids, I fell into a secret room.”

All the kids stopped their wailing, confused and asked at the same time. “Secret room?”

In fact, there was a secret room. The kids started to shout again, happy and almost hysterical. Donald kept moving his character until he got to a door. It read ‘FINAL BOSS’. They all gulped. Donald made the character enter the doctor without much thought.

Donald did give the final boss, Negaduck, a fight. It was sad that he lost, anyways.

Donald sighed, mad at himself, feeling the dread of the disappoint he probably left in the kids. “I’m sorry I didn’t win your game, kids. I-”

The kids couldn’t care less, they all hugged him. Donald returned the hug, greatly surprised but confused nonetheless.

Huey was the first one to talk. “Are you kidding? You were the only one that found the secret room, Uncle Donald!”

“Yeah, that was pretty cool!” Dewey followed.

“Especially since not even Uncle Gladstone could. I mean, he didn’t lose, but he didn’t win either. It was weird.”

Donald was even more confused now. “Not even Gladstone?”

Webby smiled and reassured him. “Not even Gladstone. You’re the best, Uncle Donald!”

Donald smiled harder and hugged them harder. The kids just laughed, happily, hugging him in return. Who knew that what they actually needed was some little of bad luck?

[lastlycoris]

I’m the proud owner of a black eye and the winner to a trip to the Emergency Room.

If you can’t tell, my Sunday was far more eventful than I would like.

The day started out quiet which probably should’ve made me suspect something. I didn’t get a single page, all the patients were stable and on the road to recovery, and rounding with my attending doctor was a simple affair. The morning passed uneventfully.

The trouble happened when I was about to leave for the day; I get a page from the floor nurse that’s taking care of one of my patients. As I reach over for the phone to call the number back, I suddenly hear the overhead calling a rapid response and the room to one of my patients.

I immediately start running up the stairs and reach the patient’s room. The floor nurse and rapid response nurse give me the rundown of what happened. 

Remember that patient with the diseased heart valves due to IV drug use and needed to stay in the hospital for four weeks to complete treatment with IV antibiotics - y’know.... the one who kept inappropriately hitting on the female staff.

Well, his nurse found him completely unresponsive. 

He’s clammy and barely breathing, eyes half-lidded and gazing blankly at nothing. He’s only breathing eight times a minute and barely maintaining a O2 saturation of 90%. I ask the nurse to hook him to oxygen. 

I call out his name. No response. 

I shake him. Nothing.

I pinch his arm as hard as I can. Nada. 

I lift open his eyelids and immediately notice his pupils are completely contracted. I connect the dots immediately. Pinprick pupils, altered consciousness, and depressed breathing - he’s likely suffering from opiate overdose - how he did it, I didn’t know. I ask the rapid response nurse to grab a vial of Narcan - an antidote for opiate poisoning. 

As she goes to inject it, we both notice that the IV line is actually orange with tiny bits of whitish debris in it. I stare confusedly as the medication fails to go in before I hear the nurse curse out loud. And when I hear her explanation, I wanted to swear out loud too. 

So we’ve been giving this guy oxycodone pills to take for the chest pain he’s been having due to his endocarditis. And said genius decided to crush up said pills and inject it directly into his veins. As a result, he overdosed. Mystery solved. Now the question is how do we fix him when he’s ruined the only access he has because the Narcan isn’t going through that IV. 

As the nurse tries to stick him in an attempt to get new IV access, which is easier said than done because he’s probably ruined his veins from his IV drug use - at least that’s what his arms looked like. I ask one of the bystanders to grab an ultrasound from the supply closet because I figure it’s going to come to that eventually. 

When I’m given the ultrasound device, I find a somewhat decent vein in his hand and place the IV catheter within it. Hurray. The Radiology Prelim is good for something, I guess.  Anyway, we finally inject the Narcan, which thankfully didn’t blow out the vein, and observe.  

Like magic, the guy quickly comes to and starts cursing and yelling at us for ruining his high. His nurse and I try to calm him down as he continues to yell at us and tell us to leave. Alarms ring in my head as his hand juts for the bedside phone.

I grab the nurse by my side and immediately force us to duck as he swings the phone at us. 

To my credit, the phone base with the dialing bits misses us by a mile and shatters on the wall behind us. The problem was that there was a phone still attached to that base by a cord. As a result, said phone whips straight into the right side of my face. 

As I dizzily try to get my bearings, I suddenly hear the overhead calling Code Grey to the room I’m in - essentially calling in security for an unruly patient / visitor.  

The patient stumbles out of bed and bolts for the door. No one stops him. I just stare in a daze upon realizing the complete FUBAR this day has been. 

...And then I yelp in pain as I feel a sharp pinch along my inner thigh. I belatedly realize the nurse I sent to the floor had been trying to get my attention for the past minute or two. 

Needless to say, I earned myself a trip to the Emergency Department and am currently lying in an ER Bed, waiting for the read on my head CT, so I can finally go home and get ready for work tomorrow.  

[kitsoa]

Lyric Comic Q&A

So it turns out when you work on a project for half a year, you get a lot of Thoughts and want to express them whether people are actually curious or not. Without further ado, your un-requested Birdmen Lyric Comic Q&A

(Warning: I’m long winded)

*Why a Lyric Comic?

Dude, lyric comics are cool. I’ve always been fascinated by the beautiful, multifaceted artistic experience they provide, because of my love for music and art. Furthermore, I am often plagued by cinematic trapped in my head, spurred by the movement and lyrics of my favorite songs. Since I have no means or experience in the animation category (which would free these phantoms from my head) the lyric comic was a godsend of a medium for this inspired idea of mine. Kiki-kit of the Gravity Falls fandom and Tides-miraculous’ lyric comic in the Miraculous Ladybug are my main inspirations, I’ve adored their sense of motion and emotional savviness. It’s quite the powerful medium.

It’s also a good medium for me personally. I am a ‘looper’ with my music, allowing me to listen to something over and over without tiring. This is useful in the drafting stages! I loved the challenge (though I definitely didn’t anticipate it’d take this long).

*Why this song?

“Out of Mind” was one of those songs that spoke to me, in an overly cathartic, heart-yearning-- almost funnily sardonic ways. Birdmen being on the brain, I started to easily see how much the singers voice reflected that bombastic frustration our Eishi is so known for. The Pre-Chorus “Are you kidding me?” speaks to me the most, reminding me of his cry of frustration during his first blackout, screaming against his fate as he fell from the sky (this exact image did not make the final cut in the end, but I certainly vied for it until other themes overtook it-- let’s face it, there are many screaming Eishi’s to choose from).

This period of time between Takayama’s disappearance and the inevitable reunion is super intriguing to me. Eishi’s in the role of the heartbroken singer, hopelessly betrayed and unable to get over the good thing they had.

*Breakdown the story:

The progression goes like this:

Eishi’s loneliness consumes the first verse, Takayama’s empty seat, Eishi standing alone… all the while peppered with Takayama’s broken promise, which culminates with Eishi’s defiant Death Tweet. The Refrain then serves as these hallmark moments that define them. This is what they had. Every rescue, every proclamation or venomous defying of fate-- it’s what made them. And you’d have to be out of your mind to think that these moments could be forgotten.

Verse 2 is all about that shift in Eishi to follow him. Wistful memories drive Eishi as he chooses to leave and depart from everything he knows, just to get him back. Meanwhile, that opinion of Takayama is still weighed down by that grating irritation (like hell he’s in touch reality, how could he do this?) culminating to his call for him in the Himalayas. The Refrain fires again with the same point as the last but this time I tried to go for a more fervent angle, some of the scenes actually focus on Takayama’s feelings for Eishi and ultimately the pull they have towards each other.

The Bridge is where things get desperate. The moments in the manga where Eishi is in physical pain because of the Whiteout shake me so much. It reminds me of a straight up panic attack. I let this crescendo with the music, making the black void swallow the chaos in a quick snap. Building to the final chorus.

The whiteout is special because Eishi both yearns after this figment emotionally (his friendship with Takayama) and intellectually (what the hell is it and what does it mean?). It represents his unique position in the realm of the story being able to see it, but it ultimately captures the almost divine force behind the relationship of Eishi and Takayama. The outro then brings us back to Eishi failed call at the Himalaya’s, the whiteout ripping him up and forcing Takayama to save him. All the while calling back to that first interaction between them. A mysterious moment that obviously held more weight than any world shaking rescue. And I cap it off with a warmer depiction of their reunion.

*Are you shipping in this comic?

Despite the romantic song, my affections for the pairing, and any other subtext I’ve provided, I went in with the project with a platonic angle. Like I’m not lying. I’m on the ace spectrum or whatever so I kind of interpret every strong bond in the same realm. So that means, if you think it’s a romantic interpretation-- then you’re right. If you think it’s not, you’re also right. Love comes in many forms. Have fun kids.

*What was your process?

Storyboarding

Listen over and over and figure out where to phrase the panels. I then divided the lyrics up accordingly in a draft and reviewed the pacing over and over again. Does it flow? How many words would comfortably fit with each panel?

Determined the thematic arc. At this point I already had a few anchoring moments so I wrote a description of the panel in the draft. I went with the formula of Verses= move the ideas, Refrain= emotional accents, and the Bridge is like… the climax with an epilogue of an outro. This was tricky step. I debated a lot of ideas and some lyrics didn’t feel like a good fit until I really sat on it for a while.

Fill in the draft. This is where I sketch the general shape of panels. This is also where I look at the gestalt of the thing and make sure the composition is easy on the eyes. I tried to make it dynamic and zig-zaggy so as not to be boring. This is the step where one gets really excited about the project. Cause it’s no longer trapped in your head.

Sketching

Gathered references. Surfed the web, made some myself.

Made time to sketch, I did a lot of them at my summer job, made sure to draw about 2 or 3 a day. I had the time then because it was before I took on my day job. I was very surprised to find that I rarely went back to edit a picture or dispose of a draft. I went through with the mantra that I was going to finish the picture no matter what.

Stayed disciplined with said time. I would not let myself take a break from drawing because half the success came from the fact that I was on a roll.

When I finished them I then went through the process of scanning them (my scanner broke between the first 20 panels so RIP)

Coloring Stage

...Good lord. This is where I probably went the most wrong. Make sure you have a good process in place before starting out this stage.  I was not one to digital art much as of late so my familiarity with my program was lackluster (and it also is literally the worst program  in the world), and my laptop couldn’t handle more than 10 panels. So hurray for a very desperate fix. I did everything from my brothers computer, in his room. Sometimes at terrible hours because that's the only time I’m home.

Color planning. I rushed this process but I pulled up the textures and color pallets and reference images from internet searches and stock piled them. While planning I approximated the overall ‘tone’ of each pane; (is it a dark shade, a light shade, blue, or red in hue…) and then I adjusted that so the colors didn’t repeat or blend unless the panels where connected in the same scene. There was a lot of problem solving in the actual coloring so some of this was not as smooth and I paid for it later.

Sketch Editing. I was able to go back in, move around things and edit certain aspects of the sketch without compromising the entire work. This was a life saver.

Actually coloring. Because I color sketches it’s actually a painstaking process where I can’t use a wand or a fill. I’m not familiar with certain masking and coloring methods that would have sped the process up and I wanted to be consistent. This would take 3 to 5 hours a panel which I would do in small bursts.

Type-setting

Deciding font. I was hunting around for a good font for ages until I just decided… to use my own handwriting. This meant that I had to makes sure my tablet pressure specs were up to date and I had to practice my style. It’s not perfect but its cool.

Apply font to panel. There were moments when I literally said ‘screw it’ and left my handwriting a little more sloppy than standard.

Consultation. I worked with my graphic designer friend on improving the placement of text and the color choices. This was an interesting step she is a saint.

Finalize

Every single panel is extremely large. I had to resize each one. Before this I had many tests in the drafts to see how certain sizes would load or format.

*Will you make another?

Probably. Like, there is nothing more satisfying than getting something stuck in your head out of it. I have a lot of tunes I am fond of but barely any qualify for lyric comics (need to have a good pace, easy to latch on musical phrases, thematic content that works etc.) The fandom is important too. Now that I think about it I have storyboards for an old DCMK ‘lyric comic’ idea to Imogen Heap’s “A-ha” (it was like some hidden dark side!au shit I still come back to it). I can’t let my interest wan or it straight up dies. Birdmen is a really unique series for me because its held on for a remarkable amount of time and strongly at that.

Fun Facts:

I colored a total 77 panels, 11 of which were scraped versions of the core 66 because perfectionist tendencies.

It took me 3 months to sketch all the panels out, sometimes drawing 3 a day. I would often cradle my sleeping kitten while I drew.

Panel 54-- the final chorus, whiteout splash page-- took three days to draw. At first it was two pages taped together, then it was three. I had my friend mend the images together into a massive pic for me to color, then break it apart for blog distribution. The full version is used in her video edit of the lyric comic.

I didn’t use pressure sensitivity on my tablet until I got to the last chunk. RIP

It usually took me over a day to do one picture.

I do not have a computer in my room that utilizes the art program I need. I literally did every panel after #10 in my brothers room. Sometimes hella late at night too. Props to my generous brother, he tells me he likes the company.

I took a few notable breaks. All of Inktober was used on the art challenge. The weeks leading up to Birdmen Week. And at least half of the Christmas season was spent on coloring hiatus.

I like adding a ring around the pupils of the seraph eyes. This is not canon, but an error that I really liked. You can see it as a sort of glow.

I am having my friend edit the panels into a video for your convenience. I have no idea how long it will take but I’m tired.

[simonesamuels]

I had a major epiphany last week.  Are you ready for it?

It’s not you.

It’s not me.

I am actually not necessarily the cause of all of my problems.

Some of you probably just read that and thought “duh,” but this was an earth-shattering, ground-breaking revelation for me.

I know I wrote about something similar in a recent post, but I felt like I had to reiterate it again.  I think it bears repeating.

It’s not you.  And it’s actually not me.

I can be very hard on myself.  When I look the great pervasive (read: utterly baffling to the point that they keep me up at night and have me crying in my journal) questions of my life (Why am I single?  Why don’t I lose weight?  Why aren’t my Zumba classes growing? Why did I fail the bar? Why? Why? Why?!!!!), the answers I come up with have historically been rooted in finding something deeply and desperately wrong with me (You’re not pretty enough.  You’re too picky.  You’re too religious.  You’re too self-sufficient.  You’re not interesting enough.  You’re not fit enough.  You need to eat better.   You’re not doing enough strength training.  You’re slow.  You’re too fat. You sometimes act like a know-it-all.  You lack discipline.  You didn’t study hard enough.  You didn’t pray hard enough.  You didn’t trust God enough.  You didn’t have enough faith.  You trusted God too much and didn’t work hard enough.  You misunderstood or misapplied some sort of discrete, obscure Biblical teaching.  Your class is too hard.  Your teaching style sucks.  You’re hard to follow.  You’re not fun.  They don’t like your music.).

(Side note: I realize that half all of these are “lies!” *Tamar voice*)

(God I miss having Tamar on “The Real”.  Oh the lies we tell ourselves.  But I digress…)

“Yourself to Blame”

If things go bad for you And make you a bit ashamed Often you will find out that You have yourself to blame

Swiftly we ran to mischief And then the bad luck came Why do we fault others? We have ourselves to blame

Whatever happens to us, Here is what we say “Had it not been for so-and-so Things wouldn’t have gone that way.”

And if you are short of friends, I’ll tell you what to do Make an examination, You’ll find the faults in you…

You’re the captain of your ship, So agree with the same If you travel downward You have yourself to blame

We are taught in our culture that we are solely responsible for our own successes… and failures.  That if there is something that is wrong in our life, it is up to us to fix it.  After all, we need to pick up ourselves by the bootstraps.  God only helps those who help themselves (which is not written anywhere in the sixty-six books of the Bible, by the way).  We are taught to analyze our role in our disappointments.  We are taught to take responsibility for our actions — and the outcomes.  Sara Eckel writes in her book It’s Not You: 27 (Wrong) Reasons You’re Single (this book has become my saving grace/bible), “We’re a nation that believes strongly in personal efficacy — if there’s something in your life that isn’t working quite the way you’d like, then the problem must begin and end with you.  Even people diagnosed with serious illnesses are instructed to maintain a positive attitude, as if that will make the cancer go away.”  This entire message of responsibility and taking action was meant to be empowering, to teach us not to live life passively, to take charge of our lives, and to be active in creating the change we want to see.

What has happened, however, is many of us have taken these messages to heart, and when things don’t work out the way we planned or despite our best efforts, we take it out on ourselves because we have learned that there is no one else to blame, and it is childish and immature to blame our misfortunes on others.

Where these cultural messages fail and fall short, however, is they leave no room for fate, circumstance or situations beyond our control.  My life is teaching me that sometimes it’s not my fault, and that while I own my actions, I don’t control the outcome (Proverbs 16:33).  I’m learning that sometimes — many times — it’s not me.  It’s just the circumstance in which I find myself.

In case this all seems abstract, let me explain.

Last week Sunday, I went to Movati Trainyards to teach Aqua Zumba only to see that my class had doubled in size from the week prior.  If you read my last post in my Chronicles of a Plus-Sized Zumba Instructor series, ever since I started out as a group fitness instructor, I’ve had small class sizes.  Perhaps I am not as popular as I had expected/wanted to be (Side bar: Sooooo… you should know that I have a slight preoccupation with class sizes that I need to get over).  My Aqua Zumba class at Carlingwood, on the other hand, has now dwindled to about 2 or 4 people on a Monday and Wednesday.  But lo and behold — here I was that Sunday at Trainyards and I was greeted by 20 smiling women in the shallow end.  I was so taken aback I began thinking about what would happen if this class grows anymore.  It was a pleasant surprise. 🙂

So what changed?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  At least, I didn’t change.  I had the same choreography as the week prior.  I teach the same choreo at Carlingwood and Trainyards.  I didn’t really change my songs.  I’m the same person and I teach the same way at all of the facilities where I teach.  The only change I could think of was that we turned the page from the month of April to May.  Similarly, my “land” Zumba classes are also growing.

It got me thinking… “Hmm… So maybe the size of my classes is not directly correlative to my teaching after all.” Yes Simone. Maybe it’s the weather.

In my earlier days of teaching Zumba, there was a lady in my class who would hardly acknowledge my existence when I said “hi” or “bye” to her.  Months went by.  I wondered why she was so shy and why she would never make eye contact with me.  One night, after class, after everyone had left, she came back into the studio and we chatted a bit (much to my great surprise!).  I learned that one of my songs — “YMCA” by the Village People — reminded her of her ex-husband who she discovered was gay….  Hmm… It got me thinking, “Maybe it’s not your teaching after all.  Maybe people don’t make eye contact with you because they are hurting.”  Basically, maybe it’s not you.

I have finally swallowed my pride and I’m seeing a therapist.  We talked about the bar exam (among other things).  She said, “It makes no sense — to have all of these good grades and then fail the exam over and over?”  I nodded.  We determined that it wasn’t necessarily my studying strategy — it was how the law societies test students, how they give feedback (or not, depending on the law society) and the fact that I don’t typically do well on multiple choice exams (I already knew that though).  There are systemic issues to be taken into account as well.  Bar exams, especially the Ontario bar, don’t test knowledge; they test a student’s ability to test well.  They test how well one can conform to testing mechanisms and how well one can perform under manufactured stressful circumstances.

Basically, it’s not completely my fault.  It’s not me (or, at least, it’s not just me).

Every once in a while, I’ve been having “coffee” with this guy I used to work with.  Ok  yes — he’s cute, but it’s nothing serious — just someone to talk to and touch base with once in a while.  He’s currently finishing up his dissertation, and he shared with me the challenges of trying to date while writing a thesis, and the difficulty in and inevitability of breaking off these budding relationships due to competing obligations.

Let’s pretend this was actually going somewhere (because who knows — the jury’s still out on this one.  God I hope he is not reading this post!!!).  If he hadn’t shared that tidbit of information with me, and if he had suddenly stopped all communication, I would definitely have personalized it (“Another one bites the dust.” “Maybe I’m not interesting enough?!” “Maybe I’m not attractive.” “What is it about me that make men run?”).

But now I know that if I don’t hear from him for some time — it wasn’t necessarily my fault.  It’s not me.  He has a thesis to finish.  That’s important, and I can’t blame him.  He may not have intended it as such, but I’ve been forewarned.

Last year, a guy invited me over to his place and cooked me dinner.  Yes.  I know right?  I was like, “Wow.  Finally!  A real date!  Yay!”  A friend of mine later told me that this very male friend of mine — yes the one who cooked me dinner and danced salsa with me in his kitchen — was gay.

Again, if I didn’t know, and the person had suddenly stopped expressing interest, I would have torn into myself and picked at each one of my flaws one by one.  Sometimes it’s not you.  Sometimes the guy is gay.

Knowing all of this background information helps me put my many insecurities at rest, keeps me from beating myself up, allows me to cut myself some slack and permits me to extend myself some grace.

What I am trying to say is that so many of us blame ourselves for our failed love lives (or lives in general).  Our friends and our relatives often join in too (hurray!).  The thing is, often times there is more going on behind the scenes to which we are not privy.  There are other factors and challenges unbeknownst to us and having absolutely nothing to do with us.  Sometimes it’s as simple as the right person but wrong time.  You can’t change that.  It’s not a matter of will or effort.  It’s a matter of fate and faith.  And so when something seemingly promising doesn’t work out, sometimes — many times — it’s not you.  It really isn’t.

So I sigh with a deep sigh of relief.  Knowing it’s not me is a comforting thought.  It relieves me of guilt.  It keeps me from holding a magnifying glass to my flaws.  I rest in peace.  It allows me to move on and go forward.

It helps me exercise more self-compassion.  And by exercising more self-compassion, it helps me be more compassionate and empathetic in general, which I think is important.

I wrote in my “Sometimes It’s Not You” post:

Sometimes it’s not you.  Sometimes you can be doing all of the right things but not seeing the desired outcome.  You can be eating well and having sex and still not get pregnant.  You can be exercising and eating well and still not lose weight.  You can be dating a whole bunch of people, “putting yourself out there” as they say, and still be hopelessly single.  You can study hard for an exam and still fail.  You can be giving your all as a group fitness instructor, and still have a small class.  Sometimes it’s not you.  Sometimes it’s just the circumstance.  Part of life is learning how to live with the discomfort and yet still move forward.  Not that you need to be a victim of circumstance, but each disappointment gives us an opportunity to address the unrelenting question, “Now what?” and our answer will determine the scope and depth of our disappointment.  Sometimes the answer is, “I’ve given all that I got.  Imma just do me and enjoy the ride.” And that’s ok too.

Sara Eckel writes in her book, responding to the reception and acclaim of her New York Times article, “Sometimes It’s Not You”, “I think I reconnected them with a small kernel of wisdom they already had, one that said, I don’t think I need to change.  I think I’m perfectly lovable, exactly as I am.”

I am perfectly lovable, exactly as I am.

I am perfectly lovable, exactly as I am.  It’s not me. *Sighs deep sigh of relief*

In closing, to quote Sara Eckel again (God I love her), “What’s wrong with me?  Plenty.  But that was never the point.”

Featured Photo Credit: Brian Rea

It’s Not You: Why We Need to Stop Blaming Ourselves for Every Little Thing I had a major epiphany last week.  Are you ready for it? It's not you. It's not me.