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chibimyumi · 4 years ago

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Dear Chibimyumi, this is a rather odd question but do you think O!Ciel sometimes forgets he's a child? Because he says he wants to be seen as an adult...but I don't know if people actually see him as an adult or just a child who is mature for his age. I apologize for not explaining this well..

Dear Anon,

The Victorian Era was obsessed with manhood and unkind to all who weren’t “proper men”. That society would not miss out on any chance to remind O!Ciel of his “““sub-man””” status, let alone allow him a second to forget it.

It is not for nothing that he wears high heels in a vain attempt to be taken seriously. Even in 2020 men would receive much ridicule for wearing ‘women’s shoes (even though high heels were invented by men FOR men), let alone in the 1880s. But to O!Ciel, I think he rather be judged for ‘effeminate fashion senses’ than to be seen as a little child.

It is only those who feel like they have something to prove (whether it is justified or not is another story) who would be so aggressive about this ‘thing’ they wish to prove. Think of macho masculinity for example... truly confident men have no need to puff up. In Grell’s case, because people don’t believe that she’s a woman she feels like she has ‘something to prove’. So, to ““compensate”” for her male-coded body she therefore aggressively uses hyper feminine speech.

In O!Ciel’s case of course, he is for all intents and purposes a child, and therefore he does actually have something to prove. Whenever he says he is ‘not a child’, all people might do for him is shut up to prevent further provocation. And O!Ciel must know very well that people only spare him further comments because of his exceptionally noble status. He must know all the better that if he really were and adult, he’d never have to wear heels. (I count myself lucky that he never attempted wearing a fake mustache.)

Throughout the manga O!Ciel consistently does not get taken seriously because of 1. literally being a child, and 2. looking even younger than he factually is. Even though status wise he ranks much higher than Sir Randall, the latter still refers to him as a ‘cunning brat’, with much emphasis on the ‘brat’ part. Even O!Ciel’s allies refer to him as a child, with notable examples being Sebastian and Lau.

Sebastian and Lau know very well that calling the Earl a ‘child’ or a ‘brat’ stings the most, because O!Ciel couldn’t even defend himself without spouting an objective lie. In chapter 39 for example, Lau introduced O!Ciel to a stranger as ‘little child’, and though O!Ciel refutes the ‘little’, he did not deny the ‘child’ part.

The most beautiful ‘backup’ Sebas and Lau have is ‘The One and Only Royal Majesty the Queen Almighty’ herself. Every time the Queen addresses O!Ciel she calls him ‘cute boy’. (可愛い坊や・Kawaii Bouya). This ‘bouya’ in Japanese is used solely for VERY young boys; boys a bit older (12+) are usually referred to as ‘shounen’ (young man). The fact that even his boss calls O!Ciel ‘boy’ means that there’s only so much he can do to tell people they’re wrong. If he went too aggressive about it, he would be implying that the Queen is ‘wrong’ too, after all. And he can’t criticise the Queen!!!

Duty vs Right

So, does O!Ciel sometimes forget he is a child?

I think a very important thing about O!Ciel is that he is hyper focused on his duty to the Queen and to his own revenge. I think he probably does realise that his duty is not something that would be fair to make any other child bear, but at the same time he also cannot convince himself to ‘indulge’ in his right as a child to live at peace. Not to mention, Sebas won’t allow him.

In the Circus Arc O!Ciel wasn’t even allowed a small break to recover from his triggered trauma. He moped for probably not even a few minutes and Sebas already tried to shame his master for being triggered and ‘threaten him out of trauma’ again. Trash Demon™ really takes fighting fire with fire quite literally.

Though Sebas is unforgivably abusive towards O!Ciel, he is also walking evidence for the boy that he is very worthy of respect. As explained extensively in this analysis, Sebas does not see his master any differently from older humans. Sebas judges somebody by their actions, not their identity. Though it had been a long road towards achieving mutual respect, O!Ciel did learn that the respect his butler has for him is truly earned.

O!Ciel is a strategist; his ability to play the cards he has been dealt is amazing. It is likewise because he knows he is a child, that he can use this card also in his favour when need be.

Conclusion

I think O!Ciel knows painfully well that he is a child and the social implications that come with it. He just doesn’t know what being a child is supposed to mean for him personally. Should he live his right as a child but be considered “sub-man”, or should he “grow up” to prove his worth? All in all it is not so weird, because in crisis some children are forced to mentally ‘grow up’ as a survival mechanism. These children never forget they are children; they might just not know what ‘normalcy’ is for a child. It would be reasonable to say this is exactly what happened to O!Ciel.

When he says “I am not a child” he does not mean “I am not underage”. I think he means: “take me as seriously as you would an adult.” As discussed before in this post, a strong thematic of this series is “you are who you prove yourself to be”. He knows he is more than what people give children credit for, and he wants that to be acknowledged.

Our Ciel is SUCH a well written character, I love him with all my heart.

#A love letter to O!Ciel #O!Ciel #Our Ciel #Ciel Phantomhive #Analysis #Character study #Character Analysis #Bocchan #Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler

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lynxalon · 3 years ago

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Lynx!!! I arrive with asks to help! I'm still working on responding to your ask! :D We have a lot of similarities in music taste, I think!! Sending safety vibes!!! I really hope that person doesn't bother you,, For dsmp asks, would you like to talk about bench trio and their respective love languages?

I'm safe dw, it's just an icky situation and my paranoia has Not been great lately but OwO is me

Benchtrio love languages! I was kinda obsessed when I first found out about love languages, cause for once I could explain to people how I specifically felt loved, and I could also finally understand why what I did to show love didn't make Others feel loved. So, you have the classic five love languages: Words of affirmation, gift giving/receiving, physical touch, quality time, and acts of service. There are also nontraditional ones, which are niche and very person-specific but that don't quite fit into on of the classic five. My best comparison would be a uquiz I once took where someone assigned people niche love languages like remembering a person's order. What I'm going to do it talk about the classic love languages in order of Most to Least effecting, and then assign niche love languages to them that they've either portrayed or just have the vibes of lmao

Ranboo:

- Acts of service

- Gift giving/recieving

- Quality time

- Words of affirmation

- Physical touch

Starting off! Ranboo! I'm starting with him because I've been watching his streams everyday since early Feb, so I've had time to understand his vibes and just how he interacts with people. His main seems to be acts of service, very closely following by gift giving. He's often seen doing things for others, even going as far as grinding resources to Potentially do things for others. (I say others but. We know who I'm mainly talking about lmao...) He seems less concerned with receiving, and seems content to give out. Chances are the way he Shows love isn't the way he Feels loved. Anyways, his first two tie into each other really well, which is really interesting because tbh most have One main one that they show love with and feel loved with (mine is quality time, paired with a niche love language I like to call pestering). Next is quality time and words of affirmation. The first two were definitely how he showed love, but these two seem to be how he Feels loved. From him hanging out Tubbo, and us seeing how Tubbo's fixed sleep schedule affects Ranboo, it's clear that he very much enjoys spending time with people he cares about. (And by seeing how if affects him I mean. We have heard the dude bring up Tubbo so much the last couple of days, absolutely unprompted, like he talks more about Tubbo than I think about him which kinda says something cause my current hyperfixation is my fave streamers so. Huh.) Words of affirmation is in part tied with the last, cause sometimes people compliment him or something and mans really just goes 😮😄 Which, super endearing, hearing him smiling after Tubbo compliments him (which Tubbo does in a /j way but also a /hj way which is so funny to me). Lastly is physical touch, and tbh this is at the bottom cause we can't quite gauge if he's a touchy person and I don't think he is very touchy only cause the other four really stand front and center for him lmao. The niche love language I'd assign Ranboo? Pestering. I'm not biased, I'm just right OwO The way he pestered and messed with Tubbo saying he had the best mcc win rate? Yeah, that's something I'd do.

So, halfway through I lost motivation and confidence so I'll just be putting what I think Tubbo's and Tommy's are, cause I just do not have the energy to go as in depth as I would like! Rip to me lmao 😔😂 I hope the rest is still interesting though UwU

Tubbo:

- Quality time

- Acts of service

- Gift giving/receiving

- Words of affirmation

- Physical touch

So, quick run down! Tubbo's main is quality time! Unlike Ranboo, his first two aren't too terribly close. He enjoys spending lots of time with people, and I definitely understand as my main is quality time as well. One of the main examples of this I would point out would actually be streaming! Homeboy streams A Lot, like a lot a lot, to the point where it's a common inside joke that if you leave a Tubbo stream (especially alt) and come back later, he'll still be there. One of the main reasons I want to start streaming is so I can hang out and share stuff with others, cause I think there's something suuuper cool about playing games and sharing those experiences with others. Like, I remember watching Jacksepticeye play Life Is Strange, or Guardians (personal fave). It was like watching a friend play, which I really needed at the time. It was quality time without the anxiety of Being There completely. And Tubbo loves streaming, and has said it lots of times, and I think that it's really great ^^ Now, acts of service is one I think has definitely moved Up in the order, because of Ranboo specifically. Hear me out, hut something doing something for you because they want to can actually be so Loving and Tender... And no, I'm not jealous... But, Ranboo! Ranboo likes doing things for people he cares about and I think that for Tubbo it's a way he feels loved, and knows he's cared about. Gift giving and receiving was originally in second place, but has since went down one. I think this was used to be much more prominent, and I definitely think it still holds the same weight and value as it did before, but now it's vaguely overshadowed by acts of service. Fella enjoys receiving things, but also seems to be constantly getting people things (or similarly, influencing someone to get something that he thinks they definitely should have. lol). Words of affirmation is definitely a nice surprise kinda situation. Like, being complimented or someone being proud of him is Very pog. And, I, for one, am very proud of my streamer 😄 Sometimes I really be like. Head full... Tubbo. Lmao 😂😂😂 Anyways, he doesn't necessarily seem adverse to physical touch, it just seems like it's less important that the rest. I do think that for him he'd be more physically affectionate with someone who mains that (dunno how else to put it lmao) cause he wants them to feel loved in a way that makes sense to them! Hope that all makes sense! And tbh, I lied! I'm a liar! I fr thought I wouldn't open my big mouth and just gush about this some more but man. I really proved myself wrong OwO Also, I assign Tubbo the odd niche love language of sharing videos about things he enjoys as a way of affection.

Tommy:

- Physical touch

- Words of affirmation

- Quality time

- Acts of service

- Gift giving/receiving

Tommy is very interesting! Cause, the first is a little bit ahead of the rest, but all of these are very close together in value and importance. I haven't been able to watch as much from Tommy, so all of this will be very loose. The first seems most common as a way he shows love, and I think it's also how he feels loved. My reason for this, dude just trust me 😂 Words of affirmation for my boy plz, he is so loving and I just really love him. He reminds me of that meme where the landlord's like 'I don't allow pets' and the person sends a pic of their pet and the landlord's like 'Ok I'll allow him because he looks very polite' That is literally every inniter, anyone who watches Tommy, they're like 'I'll allow him because he looks very polite'. Is he polite? Eh maybe lmao. Also mans likes spending time with friends. Understandable. Likes hanging out doing silly stuff. People help him with things sometimes and that is Nice. Gifts are also neat but he's not a very material person is he. Hmm. I assign his niche love language to be sending pics of animals. Just think it fits him lmao. He likes cows and such a little too much, people who like cows often send lots of pics of animals, I know from experience OwO

This was fun to answer, thank you for this ask Lina! 💚💚💚 I enjoy personality analysis, things like love languages, enneagram types, mbti, and astrology charts. So yeaah this stuff is super fun to think about XD Also, this isn't like Entirely factual or anything like that, just mere observation and analysis for fun ^^

#lynx speaks #answered asks #lina my beloved ^^ 💚💚💚#ranboo #tubbo #tommy #benchtrio #big oof owo #this took me a shorter amount of time to answer than most asks so i am Proud OwO #this was fun to write out ^^#long post

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funkymbtifiction · 4 years ago

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Hello, it is me again, the girl that can not figure out if she is an ESTJ, INFP, ENFP or ISTJ. Yes, coming to think of it, it was probably lazy of me to just say “Hey, here are these characters you have previously typed that behave and think just like me, so what is my type?” instead of actually explaining why do I identify with these functions. But I have to say you really made a point by referring to the lack of substantial, concrete information given to you by me and my habit of identifying with a lot of these characters as Fi traits, which is something I had not noticed before. Anyway, here it goes:

Si/Ne: I have always had a very unhealthy obsession with my past. I still have lots of things and toys from my childhood and, like what you pointed when you typed Blair, I am always watching the same movies that bring me a sense of comfort whenever I feel out of place. It is something paradoxal, but, even though sometimes I feel like longing for a big change in my life, I always feel very distressed when out of my routine. Whenever I am about to do something I have been wanting to do for a long time, like starting college and moving somewhere I have always dreamed of living, I get very anxious and hesitant for a moment, feeling a sudden urge to give up on everything and just stay where I feel comfortable, if the change is for good (usually, it is) and something, ironically, I have been vocal about wanting to do for a very, very long time. To illustrate it better, it reminds me of Rapunzel getting out of her tower: something she had spent her whole life desperately wanting to do, but she is suddenly afraid when the time comes for her to actually do it. About Ne, well, I consider myself a very excitable person with a lot of ideas all of the time. My best friend said days ago that my habit of easily taking life-changing decisions in a matter of seconds concerns her a lot. I have, from month to month, random, very specific obsessions, and I can get very passionate about the subject, but it just ends abruptly when, one day, I wake up no more interested in that and then, there I am, starting a new fascination.

Fi/Te: Like I said, even though the other two functions are great aspects of my personality, these ones are the most recognizable in my behavior. Bossing people around, not even thinking about harsh things I may be about to say, demanding from the others all the time and being, overall, very direct about what I want are things that come naturally to me. I am extremely pracical in my work and have clashed with other people because of this very method of just doing it instead of learning, learning, practising and pracitising before actually trying. Speaking of learning, I hate to do it in a subjective way when it comes to my work field. However, I am also extremely sentimental, to the point of not knowing if it is a sign of low or unhealthy Fi in action. I said I identify with Hermione Granger, for example, because outright insulting people and proceeding to go cry in the bathroom after hearing they say they don’t like me is totally something I can see myself doing. Nevertheless, ever since I was a child I have been living in my own world. I have my own pre-set expectations towards life that, according to some (well, actually, all the people I know) are ridiculously high and, for me, it is all a matter of all or nothing. Another personality trait, which I attribute to Fi, is being able to always have a clear, objective opinion over anything and anyone. I always know what I want and what I don’t want, what I like and what I don’t like, who I think is worth my time and who is not, and people are always commenting on that, because it can make me sound very blunt most of the time. Marianne Dashwood reminds me a lot of myself in that aspect (and so does your amazing typing of her), as much as Sarah from Labyrinth does. Mary Lennox would be more like the type of Fi-dom that comes across as very Te-ish, another reason for my identification with her.

Regarding my enneagram, yes, that is me, you got it totally right in your description of the 468 type, which makes me think even more that, contrary to what I used to think, I am actually a 4w3 and not a 3w4, even though the 3 wing is strong in me, making my behaviour seem very 3-ish (which, according to Beatrice Chestnut, is also due to the Sexual Four subtype), as “faking being more of a hard-ass than she is” basically describes my behavior. All of that makes me wonder: is it possible for someone to switch enneagram type and wing over the time? I could swear I am a 4w3 right now, in this very moment, and have been prior in my life, but I can also swear I used to be a 3w4 from high school until a year ago. It feels like I have neglected the 4 aspect of my personality for a long time, instead putting all of my effort into my social persona during high school and, in college, my schoolwork and internship. I wanted to have this “mean girl” image in high school, so I just did. It felt boring when it felt I had made it, so, when I went to college, I wanted to be the best academic and most ambitious professional in my work field. I came to the point of considering myself a workaholic and have had a very unhealthy mindset during all of that time, but since last year, I just said a big “fuck it” and started to develop my 4 side, to the point of coming go believe I had been much more of a 4 all along, desperately trying to sustain an image that, once I managed to finally feel I had, did not satisfy me at all. Could it be, instead, my 3 disintegrating into 9?

Thanks for everything.

Generally when someone has a large push-pull / over-reliance and confidence in two functions working well together, it’s in the middle of their stack. What you describe sounds like inferior Si – you have reduced Si down to “sentiment,” which is more an NP thing than an SJ thing. With an SJ, Si is what they live every day and breathe: the factual details of the outer world, being present and active in it, learning and growing at a steady rate as they absorb and file away new information, often becoming experts in a chosen field of personal interest. Not wanting to let go of childhood, clinging to the past, dreaming and then becoming anxious about abandoning “what you know” as soon as it’s about to become REAL is far more Ne/Si than Si/Ne. NPs tend to live in fantasies, chase after dreams, and then freak out sometimes when they realize it means… abandoning every single familiar, sensory thing they have ever known or experienced. They throw themselves, either mentally or physically, headlong into things only to realize they bit off more than they can chew and retreat, abandon the project, or chase after something new and exciting.

Your “just do it, let’s not learn it or practice it” it is a very NP way of doing – just throw yourself into it and figure it out as you go (Ne/Te). SJs are more practical, detailed, and hands on in the learning process, and usually want a clear agenda before they start important things.

Enneagram wise… I don’t know. Nothing you said about 4 shows me that you understand on a deep “UGH… why am I like this???” dumpster fire of being a 4. If you tried on identities in high school only to discard them, and focused on high levels of achievement instead of allowing crippling self-doubt, having to wait to be “in the right mood” to finish things, overreacting to perceived slights, and adopting an anti-society stance of “NOTHING IS ME IN THIS ROOM” etc., that’s malleable behaviors – so 3, 6, or 9. Over-working and then relaxing as you get older could be 6′s line to 3 and to 9 respectively. (Why are you not a counter-phobic core 6? Faking being a bad-ass is pure 6. 4s don’t fake anything except their entire identity, in the form of militant constant “That’s not me” adherence. They are pathologically afraid that they might be normal, ergo their problems are solvable and therefore their ego fears of separation are... fake. And you don’t have to convince me – you have to face yourself.)

You seem more focused on the sx4 description than on Nanjarano’s entire description in which he bluntly and brutally lays out the self-destructive nature of the 4 and outlines all their problems in-depth. Read it again. If it’s “not you” it won’t feel torturous. If it is you, you just might burst into tears, or get furious, because of how true it is. (One 468 I know who read his 4 said she wanted to punch him in the %$^# face – a total overreaction… just like a 468 would have to having to confront all the crap they do, but don’t want to admit to doing.)

Enneagram isn’t there to make us feel good about ourselves. It’s there to show us the box we climb into and lock ourselves into it by closing the lid. It’s there to show us our brand of dumpster fire and give us the keys to freedom by forcing us to look the hideous truth of ourselves in the face and then choose not to fall into auto-pilot. Until you feel like you’ve been punched in the face repeatedly by an Enneagram description, you either are in denial about your type (as one of the more positive types who “whitewashes over all the bad stuff about me” like 9, 7, or 3) or you’re focusing on the wrong one subconsciously to avoid the EWW NO OH MY GOD WHY of the real one.

One 9w8 I know said she loathes the 9 descriptions because of what “doormats they make 9s out to be.” She refused to consider herself a 9 for several weeks until she caught herself merging with other people – and then she felt a wash of disgust and shame at having found her true type. She has told me a few times that her 8 wing despises her 9 core. It’s true we often prefer to focus on and think about our wing than our core, because the wing is far less painful. It’s like squinting at your reflection instead of having your eyeballs bleed. ;)

- ENFP Mod

#question #enneagram #mbti #submission

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atomicsuperhero · 4 years ago

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Books That Influenced My Perspective

I didn’t write a gift guide because I feel like it's such a personal thing, and also that most of us don’t really need more stuff. But books are something that has been a mainstay in my life, and especially around the holidays. They’re an escape for me from the tension and stress that I associate with the Christmas season.

So I thought I’d write about a few of the books I’ll probably be dipping into over the next few days between Christmas and the new year. I have read all of these in ebook format, so they’re not more physical clutter. Though, I’m all for gifting books, or buying them for yourself, in whatever form is preferred.

I also listened to the Scotland Outdoors podcast this past weekend that talked about the Icelandic tradition of gifting books that everyone then runs off to read on Christmas Eve. It’s called Jólabókaflóð, or Yule Book Flood. It’s past Christmas Eve now, but it's still a great time to read.

Books change our minds and our perspectives, and these are four books that have had a significant impact on my life and how I view the world, nature, gardening, and mental health.

Rambunctious Garden: Saving Nature in a Post-Wild World by Emma Marris

This book was a real eye-opener for me. It delves into the paradox of wilderness and how there isn’t really such a thing anymore because we manage it so heavily. We strive for this pristine wilderness, which in reality, is based on a static historical idea we have of what wilderness should be.

That “pristine” we aim for is always an idea of what nature looked like at a specific point in time, usually shortly after settlers and colonialists arrived. Generally, this view makes no account for the indigenous people who were part of this so-called wilderness long before we were. So the idea we often hold as “pristine wilderness” is also racist and erases the perspectives and existence of the indigenous peoples who already understood and managed the land.*

That idea of pristine is entirely impossible to return to, for various reasons, not least of which is the fact that nature is in constant flux. Regardless of what we do, nature keeps changing. Even if all humans disappeared from the earth, it would keep changing; we can’t stop it.

We need to work with nature instead of attempting to return it to the landscape that Ansel Adams explored and photographed. Change is constant, and we must work with the change and do our best to counteract the adverse effects we’ve had on the world as humans. We must learn to coexist with nature. We could take many lessons from the people who were here before us settlers.

This book is not a depressing, doomsday climate change discussion. It is full of interesting theories and ideas of how we could better take care of nature, as a global collective of humans, not just as individuals.

*I don’t recall the book discussing indigenous perspectives. It might, or it might not. It's been over four years since I read it. If it doesn’t include indigenous perspectives, then I would probably detract a few points from it and advise you to read it with that in mind.

The Old Ways: A Journey On Foot by Robert Macfarlane

This book connected with my heart and my head in ways that no other book ever has. I have read and reread and reread and copied entire chapters of this book by hand because it has affected me so much.

This book showed me that writing about nature could be compelling and imaginative, and all-consuming as fiction. Previous to this book, I had separated non-fiction and fiction as “learn factual things” and “escape the world to a fantasy universe.” This book crossed that line and let me escape into a fantasy that was the real world, on another side of the globe.

Don’t ask me why this is the first time I made this realization. I’ve read a ton of travel memoirs, which in hindsight, do precisely that: let me escape my life for a moment. But this one was the first one that made me really understand that it was possible to do this with nonfiction.

I have since read several of Macfarlane’s other books, and they have all been beautiful and take me out of my current life and away into an obsession with nature. Most importantly, this book made me realize that the possibility of writing about nature was a real career that people did. And maybe that meant it was something I could do too. I can only hope to someday write as compellingly as Macfarlane.

Waterlog: A Swimmer’s Journey Through Britain by Roger Deakin

I learned about Roger Deakin through Robert Macfarlane’s books. All of Deakin’s books have made an impact on my passion for nature and the environment. But Waterlog has had a particularly profound effect on me. This book is probably the precursor to my adoption of nearly-daily cold showers as an anxiety treatment. This is another book that I’ve read and reread and copied passages out of by hand because I love it so much.

This book, and The Old Ways, are my default escape books when I’m having a shitty day. Similar to Macfarlane, Deakin’s words make me feel like I’m there, in the exact moment he writes about. Like I’m stepping into the water, warm or cold, clear or murky, for a swim right with him. It makes me feel close to nature. It makes me feel comfortable and that it’s ok to want to retreat and be in solitude with the world by myself. It reminds me that I’m a piece of nature too.

At the end of the day, nature doesn’t give two shits about my deadlines or financial worries; it just keeps keeping on. And so maybe the problems that are overwhelming my brain are rather insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Not in a: “I don’t matter, so what’s the point” way, but in a: “there’s more to life than this crap that I’m currently stressing about” way. It helps me remember that I am a human first and foremost and that capitalism is bullshit.

The Jewel Garden: A Story of Despair and Redemption by Monty Don

I found this book after watching many seasons of Gardeners World with Monty Don. I’m obsessed with this show, and when the season ends in October, I watch old episodes to get me through the winter until it starts again in March.

The natural progression of my obsession with wanting to be the Canadian version of Monty meant reading everything he’s written that I can get my hands on. This has been one of my consistent favourites. It was hard to read, in that it was an emotional experience for me. And it has been every time I’ve reread it since.

But it has also given me hope. It has reminded me that gardening and plant care is consolation for my mind during the hard days of mental illness. It has given me hope that writing will get me through and that I can survive through the hardest days. That however dim it may be, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That no matter how dark it gets, the days always get brighter after December 21.

And no matter what human drama happens in the world, plants are always growing. The best thing I can do for my own mental health is to be a good steward of the earth, tell my stories, take care of plants, and learn the lessons they teach me.

How Books Have Improved my Mental Health Management

There’s a theme here. These books have affected the way I look at the natural world, where I fit into it, and how I write and interact with it, and as a result, have had an effect on my mental health. All of these books have given me new ways to think about my mental health and manage it.

I would highly recommend reading any of these titles during the holiday season.

I have not included links to purchase these books because I know that independent bookstores are really struggling right now, and I know that lots of people are also struggling right now. So if you do choose to purchase physical copies of these, try to find an independent book store. They’ll probably order it in for you if they don’t have it in stock.

If you can’t purchase them, check with your library. Chance are good they’re in the library system somewhere, and your library will most likely be able to bring them in for you; just ask.

#Mental Health #Nature #environment #books

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thepilgrimofwar · 4 years ago

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Bloodlust

The manor had emptied as twilight began to deepen. Bodies had been piled outside by the House Guards. Bloodstains in the courtyard had been scrubbed by an army of servants. Soldiers from the local garrison began to gather outside the fortress-like structure, and mobilized militia had begun to turn up- drawn to their liege’s seat of power like moths to a flame.

Relriah made her way towards the guest rooms, deciding to take the place of her son. The boy had already spent the day making his pleas for help and her hands did not tremble the way Stenden’s did. He hadn’t figured out his relationship with bloodshed in the way she already did.

She knocked on the door. “Lady Highdawn?”

There are no words, but there is no silence that answers her.

The weight of the woman striking the floorboards and traversing that short distance to the doorway is too palpable, too solid, to be unheard.

Little had been asserted of her presence following the Manor’s defense: Thanidiel had sent courier to speed up the march of those following, she had turned in her ceremonial armour for repair, and she had sought her solitude.

But now it was to be broken, and the woman dressed down to tunic and trousers bows her head upon catching view of Relriah,

“Highdawn will do,” is the immediate correction.

“Highdawn then,” the lady affirmed her with the slightest of nods. Reflexive, subtle, courtly, betraying to the soldier that she had been no more than a court lady all her life. “I’ve spoken with my family, and I’ve been given the authority to speak on Stenden’s behalf. May I come in?”

Once inside, her gait seemed to relax. Her posture uncoiling from strict procedure, as her shoulders seemed no longer pulled back by an invisible corset.

“My son is not one to mince words, so I neither will,” Relriah gave a brief pause to the gravity of what came next. “We need your help. We’ve received word that the Emberhearts will be fighting this war alone. Shalemarch to our east have responded to our declaration of war with Westheath by advancing their armies across the provincial border, throwing their lot in with them. The Cloudrend Glades to our South have declared their independence- And will serve neither side.”

“All we have to fight this war on two fronts are the militia still loyal to our Banner. In regular circumstances, My Father’s gambit would’ve paid off. My family would be dead, and their armies would cross into our lands unopposed, except for our truest loyalists.”

“But-” She gave a meaningful nod at Thanidiel. “Arenias did not take into account that Sederis was friends with the greatest killers the Kingdom of Quel’thalas has ever produced. All of them tested in war, and none of them have been found wanting. I’d have us use this against him.”

The veteran speaks up at last. “You all keep saying that - ‘the greatest killers of Quel’Thalas.’ Do you know what that means for those left over? I question as it appears that the aristocracy here is not as blooded as those Southern outside of Sederis and Lirelle.” As callous as her manner is - the intonation of her voice does not imply insult or criticism; but the seeking of awareness.

“We drove most of the slaughter of the Phoenix Wars outside of what the Blackbloods committed, and even that was minimal compared to what would have been if they had lived and rode with me,” further contextualises, reminds, of the consequences of accepting such a manner of guardianship to the cause of Emberheart.

There is want of more to be said - the unspoken words held suspended in the lift of her breast and the tension of muscle in her throat. But for now, the Phoenix Guard’s ear flicks and her jaw steadies as Thanidiel awaits Relriah’s thoughts there.

Relriah took neither offense to her mannerisms. It was in-fact refreshing, to speak with someone who did not have to hide her intent behind honeyed words and speechcraft. She nodded as Thanidiel plied her points. The Lady had kept up to date on the war’s events as they progressed. An obsession that pulled her through the depths of her grief over Sederis.

“In the case of the Emberglades, it was we who were the leftovers of Mereded’s slaughter,” She explained. “Sederis’ father forged the nation with bloodshed. Unifying the provinces under one banner. It’s reflected in our borders, our conscription laws, and why our sons and daughters have it in them to fight to the death.” She gave a pause. Wishing away thoughts of that ill-fated battle for the isle. “For better or for worse, killers are exactly what we need now.”

Thanidiel’s understanding seems to clarify some with mention of Mereded; the heldback hesitation there ebbing into a nod; it was not as though she would have been judged as hard to convince in the first place. The once-Kintaris thrived off the warbeat of horses and spears and battle. Though it would be also as easy to observe that her drive had taken on a different note, here, in the Emberglades - it showed in her steadfast presence over the family than to fly into the heat of bloodshed.

But such a stalwart demeanor did not dismiss the predatory search of conflict underneath.

“I ask for one thing; a land parcel in which either myself or those like blood to me may settle in the aftermath of service.”

“Then it is yours,” Relriah replied with no hesitation. “The end of this war will see Lords disposed and their lands... redistributed. Or, there is the Broken Bulwark- A place that has been given a clean slate, if it is a clean slate that is preferred by you and yours.”

“Then a deal is struck, one as old as the kingdom itself. Your sword, for your land.” Relriah’s expression remained grim, even as they came to terms. “But if I may, I had another request. One that is more personal in nature. So do not feel obligated to see this through.”

“Do you have children, Highdawn?”

The soldier takes a moment to narrow her eyes at the courtlady - a squinting sort of expression of ‘Are you serious?’ before some manner of context for Relriah’s benefit is added to her thoughts. It causes a relaxation; all of that sharp dwindling to something simply factual.

“I have been in the standing military since I was of fifteen winters, Lady. Domestic matters are beyond my placement in life.”

Relriah takes Thanidiel’s expression harshly, more still her response. It reminded her that the lady in front of her was the personification of the Thalassian soldier. Doing battle so the ones like her did not have to. But she swallowed and took it all in stride, for it proved that she, of all the others they had called for aid, was the right person for her request.

The Lady nods. “Domestic matters have been my entire life. Like a good and proper lady, I’ve always stood dutifully by the way-side. To be traded from one family to another. One brother to another. Like a thing. And I bore with it. I bore with it, because I did not mind.

Relriah looked Thanidiel in the eyes, as truth began to spill from her lips. Her truth.“If I was the price that needed to be paid for peace and a loving family- Then so be it. I did not mind. My importance was secondary to such things. But I love Stenden. More than myself. And I can bear it no longer,” her voice wavered for a moment, showing the cracks between her courtly demeanour. “I love him fiercely. I would burn worlds for him. And though his hands shake at the sight of carnage, mine don’t. My blood rushes at the chance to cause it to those that would dare threaten him.”

She composes herself once more, pushing the anger that had risen within her down inside her chest. It was a righteous anger- and it burned as bright as any star. “So. My request: It is tradition in the Emberglades that their Lord marches with them into battle. I will be going in my son’s place. Solendis is already creating pronouncements that will rally the militia to the cause of a mother trying to protect her son- and I need to be able to defend myself. I have no illusions, I am no front line soldier nor will I to pretend to be one. But should it become necessary, I must be able to hold a guard- make a strike- and at least die a death befitting of an Emberheart.”

Thanidiel spoke. “He is not ready to soldier? He is not too young for such things - even if he is merely to be present with the army than to ride into any battle. There were those as young as me when I enlisted, and some a winter or two older. Soldiering is more than bloodshed; it is the maintenance of order, roads, food supply. The men would be spirited to see such care.”

Still, her words end on a contemplative rumble, like a great beast stirring from underneath snow.

“It is not that I do not think my son is not ready for such things. Rather my husband intends to make me a symbol for the people to rally round. A mother protecting her cub. A woman with a fury unlike any other against those who would bring harm to her family.” She recalled the headliners that Solendis had been drafting in his office. The Steward had busied himself there, lacking the facilities of his usual headquarters in Kearn- Under Illithia’s jurisdiction.

“But I will not lie. I prefer it this way, because it keeps Stenden out of harms way. Should I die, only a court lady falls. Should he die, the Emberglades will likely die with him.”

“There is much put into Stenden,” Thanidiel replied. “Concerning the fate of Mereded’s legacy. Solendis seems capable, as do you. And if you are close to Sederis’ age, then it is not as though a death of… any family member would cause such harm outside of the heart.”

It is both an observation and a question on Relriah’s views of the Emberglades - why things are the way they are.

“Of course,” the lady of the house conceded. Another heir wasn’t out of the realms of possibility, as much as the thought angered her so. “But men with good hearts are hard to come by- and there is no guarantee that the next of my loins will be as suited to the Legacy Stenden carries.” She banished the thought from her mind’s eye.

“If I conduct myself right-” Relriah added. “If we can see this war through as I hope we can, then it shouldn’t need to come to that. Hence my intent. Hence my request.”

“You would not be the first greenling I’ve trained,” is the slow enunciation that drips from her maw, almost confused that Relriah’s request was one to strengthen herself. Thanidiel seems to have expected the woman to have asked her to ward the Lordling, if the other were noting the shift of muscle in her expression when words had declared otherwise.

“This would be accelerated, but you will have peers to guide you as well when Crow and my personal men reach these lands. Many of the latter were raised under my own command, fresh from the fields of the Dawnspire province.”

Lady Emberheart felt a weight she had carried since that decision was made began to lift off her shoulders. “Then you were more perfect for the role than I had imagined,” Relriah smiled. “I will absorb whatever I can in the time between now and my first battle. My life has kept me from the martial aspects of life, but I am a fast learner. Moreso when there will be lives at stake.”

“It will not be a matter of you retaining the rote of it all, as we drill even when we are all blooded, but I suspect you will be… uncomfortable for many weeks. The physical realities of combat and the tools we use, for bloodshed or civilwork, is beyond the strength of body cultivated in a courtwoman. We will need to target that and ply you a different mealfare.”

That is strangely polite of Thanidiel to not outright say that Relriah will be aching of body and her bowels afoul - nevermind the discomforts of camp and march.

“I am prepared for the hardships to come,” Relriah bowed her head, accepting what Thanidiel had to say. Though the Lady was soft, she was not weak. It took a different sort of strength to be used, to exercise restraint, and to be cowed by life yet retain any modicum of herself. Bred and raised to be a chess piece on her father’s chessboard- before she was stolen for Mereded’s. She was not a stranger to suffering. This would just be a different sort of pain. And for her son, she would gladly bear it.

@retributionpriest @stormandozone @thanidiel

#Epilogue #Funerals #Aftermath

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voracious-pumpkira-starr · 5 years ago

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VORE COMMUNITY PSA

False information was spread about me with very little truth. While some is truth, others are either taken from untrustworthy sources or were said by people whom are enemies i made in the past to make me more hated. I dont know if all of you know the post im refering to, i wont link it here but it has been causing me a lot if stress

Now I’m not going to deny some parts of the post because they are factual. But other parts are false. I havent blackmailed people for roleplay, and I dont charge back payments. The charging back of commissioned artwork is only from the artists point of view. And even then its heavily exxagerated. What happened was I spent too much money on porn commissions using a family members credit card on my own paypal, i paid this family member to do this of course bit they didnt know what i was buying. After i spent over $1000 CAD they realized I was spending it on porn and called paypal to charge it back. Paypal charged it back. I tried and tried to get paypal to send the money back but they locked me out of the account and the family member refused to let me send the money to them. Since then I was only able to pay back one artist of many, its not just artists. Paypal took back all payments and I even lost some of my art programs such as Clip studio EX because of this. Ive also lost many mobile apps and more. This caused me a lot of stress and I wasn’t allowed to use a credit card for a long time. Now, You know who. A certain artist who made these claims. Yes I admit I tried to roleplay with them but I will be honest. This is a honest statement from my own mouth. There is many many people in the community who KNOW I’m sumlur and are of age who roleplay with me and I wont name them to keep them same from harassment. Im not innocent but neither are the people like YOU who spread this information. And I will send you this post privately. Yes it is not my place to be in the vore community but because I have it helped with my depression and I learned many things that made me better as a person. I know my mistakes and I understand even when 2021 comes I will be hated in the community or even not let back in at all. But all I’m going to say. Is that yes I was immature and regret a lot of my decisions. But i stopped ban evading and all that long ago. It is now 3 years since this ekas portal drama has started with me, I, because of outdated or false information spread by you and many others have been Doxxed and had my info leaked on 8chan by a user named cloud runner teeny on 12/24/2018. Its been over a year since i was doxxed and I have been struggiling with depression and at multiple times even was suicidal. I nearly killed myself on lean (purple drank). Im not asking for pity because we both know I did aome messed up shit but making a PSA about me and spreading things from your point of view is only half the story. Many people have harassed my social media because of this or even turned me into a laughing stock. So here, if it makes you happy Cham. I’ll make a statement right here right now publically for all to see. If i lose friends for this then whatever it is what it is. It took me a lot of guts and a long time to say this but the stress has gotten to much for me. for the sake of peace I’ll admit to everything Chammy was correct about me ane everything that was false along with some misconceptions about me: so firstly Chammy is right about my age. My birthday is 01/30/2003. I am nearly 17 years old. Chammy is also correct about me asking him for roleplay stuff. However many adults i know who know my age are fine roleplaying with me and I will make this very clear for all of tumblr and the world. Yes I know the underage law and why you think you would be at risk of becoming a sex offender. But hear me out, I’ve actually talked to online lawyers about this and there was never a statement in US Federal law about roleplaying with minors being wrong. The only thing that is bad is if your doing it with malicious intent or send real nudes. As for the age of consent, that is 16 and as far as I know you can legally have sex with anyone within 5 years apart from you as long as its not recorded at that age. So I would assume roleplay would be legal unless its recorded or screenshotted just the same. So yes although it might be risky there is almost a 100% gaurentee your not at risk unless you go bragging about it or the minors parents

Report you. And I don’t have parents, my birth parents abandoned me for a life of crime and my grandparents had custody over me since i was 2 years old. My grandparents know about my vore fetish and although they think its weird they are fine with it to some extent. I can assure you for a fact they won’t report you unless your asking me for literal nudes, which I’d never even give away. Secondly I wanted to bring up the fact I did NOT try to sneak into Cham’s server I was asking if somebody could vouch to let me in so at 18 my friend Andy (WHO KNOWS MY AGE) could vouch for me since he/you closed all invites because of people insulting male predators.

Nextly I want to say this, Chameleonette is not a bad person. They aren’t spreading lies about me on purpose they are only saying what they were told which was spread around by many people who hate me such as aljenserp, AlluringPredation, Reffles, Cloudrunnerteeny, and artists who think i charged back on purpose. Now I also want to bring up the accusations of blackmailing adults who roleplayed with me. This is false, the only adults i ever blackmailed where ones who knew my age and asked for nudes, or were ACTUAL MINORS pretending to be adults which i know for fact.

Now I will admit I exposed some of these friends as minors out of anger and lost friends for this. I regret this so i wont say which ones, But I blackmailed them about exposing their age for some fights in the past.

But I will also admit again I did some stupid shit in the past and I understand the hate I have but its been causing me lots of stress and Harassment on social media. Look cham, if you actually take the time to read this I’m sorry for everything ive done to you and the vore community but I want to say that the adults arent entirely innocent either. I caused these problems by lying about my age, joining ekas, ban evading, manipulating people, and buying art when I shouldnt have. All of it has come back to bite me in the ass. Combined with the stress from real life I couldn’t take things anymore and essentially ruined my life. As of now I dropped out of highschool because the stress was too much and couldn’t work anymore. Now I’m educationless and most likely won’t get a job. For those who are curious in one year and 29 days is when I will be 18. And if any of my friends whom dont know my age read this I want to say I’m sorry for lying. I strongly have issues and am really clingy to people I like so I end up lying to make friends. And i know many people are going to block me for this so in turn I will end up more stressed but its the most mature thing i could think to do. I would love it if nobody blocked me and we just talked like friends and save the vore stuff for when I’m 18, which I do with many of my friends already. As stated before the whole reason i joined ekas in the first place was to join a community i felt like i fit in with after getting depression from losing a friend i really cared about named anatoily

Many times in the past i used anatoily as an excuse for my actions but thats not what im doing. Anatoily if you see this i want to know im sorry for using your name as an excuse for my wrong actions. I originally joined Ekas for that purpose and used that as an excuse, on there i made many friends some of which i have even today. At one point i planned on leaving ekas but then I found somebody who reminded me of anatoily. I had an obsession with them and it led me to well ruin that friendship. Around this time i was exposed underage by Reffles on a minecraft server who had a incorectly dated birth date from a Enjin server about me claiming i was 14 when i was 15 which now i am 16 turning 17 and that link would display 15 turning 16. To explain this I want to say when I made this enjin account I mistyped the age and never bothered fixing it because I rarely used Enjin. I just used it to apply for minecraft admin positions.

I regret many of the things ive done and cant stress this enough that I’m sorry but in all honesty this is the true story of what happened with me and the vore community

In 2017 I joined ekas because my mind didn’t care about the consequences I was upset about anatoily, which isnt an excuse for my actions. I lied about my age and all was fine i was getting away with it. I met the person who reminded me of anatoily in February of 2018 whom helped me grow as an artist. I started working as a artist practicing for when I’m 18. When reffles found me out i was upset and was banned from ekas and the discord Work to Feed. I was upset for many reasons, one even being that i just got the first person ever to commission me and even today was never able to do the art or send it to them making me feel like a thief

So a lot of ban evading and ruined friendships later some problems happened with me and a friend named Aljenserp who like me was a minor. I was watching one of Silent_E’s streams and got banned because Tyrion13 recognized me. I betrayed Aljenserp like an asshole saying he was underage (i dont think he is underage anymore but he was at the time this happened) because he was a staff nobody believed me and i was banned from the stream and lost all trust aljenserp had in me. He became my enemy. Now after this a lot of people started hating me more and more, there was some drama on 8chan about me which i posted on being some idiot as i was younger and didnt know what i was doing.

This caused many people to not even feel any pity for me thinking i was stupid and deserved what i got. This was shortly before the problem happened with paypal. After that i was hated immensely more and many people startee saying some stupid rumors about me

One really dumb one was from the ekas user ExplosiveWaifu who has a Dragon OC named Lydia. Goes by DragonWaifu on discord. In one instance i was talking to Lydia about how one of my friends was a Maoist communist and his beliefs and how i support him because he is my friend. She believed because he had communist beliefs and i supported him that i was a terrorist and ceased all Communication with me for this. Another false rumor about me was spreaded by a friend of Explosivewaifu who i cant name as they are always changing their name. she is a trans woman, me and her used to talk a lot and whenever she got drunk she would well... be really irl lewd with me so i started calling her a pedophille (which is where the blackmail stuff ties in partially though i didnt blackmail her it was somebody else)

Many times this friend while sober would claim that i act to mature and that I couldnt be a minor, thus a rumor spread around that inwas a adult pretending to be a minor to get kicked out of the community for purposfully causing drama to make people think im a believable minor so i could easily prey on minors like a pedophille... honestly this is a really dumb rumor and dunno why it was believed by anybody at all

Next I want to talk about the ID theft accusations. Mettra Tonic gave me a health band from the hospital which in July of 2018 i tried to use as a ID to get me unbanned and it failed, this led to trust issues with Mettra who also spread false information about me which is mostly well known for the accusations of blackmail against her friends who were minors. There was another ID issue with a man named worthylightning and Kobayashi whom I tried to. Let them both help me get unbanned because friendship. It didnt work and i felt bad.

Lastly the only true case of ID theft is the one with reffles. Reffles gave somebody her ID who gave me the ID and I cropped out the age part of her ID and tried to use it. I since regret this action but i wouldnt concider the age part alone to be ID theft.

There was also accusations that I steal artwork which i dont own which is false. All artwork of Pumpkira is owned by me, either drawn by me, won in a raffle, requested, or given to me as a gift.

Moving on later in the year CloudRunnerTeeny doxxed me and made a group on discord called the Sumlur eradication squad where he blackmailed me and threatened to leak my info (which he did on christmas onto 8chan before it was taken down for breaking ToS) me and my friend tried to mislead him do he wouldnt Dox me and dox a fake person but this failed, made things worse infact. After that me and teeny came to a truce to leave eachother alone if i stay away from him and his friends. A promise I Semi-kept to today.

I already explained the whole issue with the art charged back, false rumors, and blackmail.

But I want to say this. Please stop sending information that is outdated or just speculation about me. Hear both sides of the story.

And yes when I turn 18 in 2021 I know I’ll still be hated and I have come to terms and accept that is my punishment for my mistakes. But please stop sending drama my way as I am very tempted to just delete all my social media at this point. Its gotten really stressful and I just cant...

Also Chammy again you aren’t a bad person i dont blame you for my hate as Its deserved. Although some of your claims were wrong or from your point of view, others were true and It is good you made a statement about me. But please tell people not to harass me and just block me. I’m going to make this post Private for a while before making it public. I want you to read this before it goes public on my Tumblr.

Lastly I heard you were feeling sick and hope you get better.

From artist to artist I have been improving my art and stories which like you one thing i hope for when im 18 is to be a successful artist or writer. Im already planning a large scale SFW webcomic as many people know. Though I feel like it is going to have a negative impact because Pumpkira is the protagonist and i gaurentee at least one person from the vore community would expost past me to everyone who reads future me’s work

Anyways thats all.

Update 2020: now 17

Update: 2021 now 18 as of January 30th 2021

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aeondeug · 6 years ago

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So @thedrunkenminstrel did this so I might as well too. Let’s get an Aon’s Top Ten Ships list running! I will say right now that this list is honestly a very shaky thing. A lot of is something that is subject to heavy shifting around, and some of the things that are on it currently probably wouldn’t be if you asked me another day. The top three I can more genuinely state are like Actual Factual Top Three Material and wouldn’t shift much at all. But the rest are up to heavy degrees of change.

10. Naruto/Hinata from Naruto We’ve got to start this list off right and to do that let’s put one of my weirdly enduring baby ships in the ten spot. This was honestly kind of tied with three other ships that I’ll mention later as honorable mentions, but Naruhina gets to win out its spot for its bizarre personal significance to me. Namely the ship is weirdly instrumental in my realizing I was trans, by way of an AU I worked on where Hinata was a transman. And the entire thing was very heavily focused on that woe and also romance with Naruto who tried to teach Hinata the ropes of being a dude. Which sounds like a beautifully terrible trainwreck now, honestly, given that it’d probably involve him showing Hinata the local pornshop and being like YES. THE HEIGHT OF MANHOOD. titty mags. Stepping away from that weird personal significance that no one else save me holds for it though...Naruhina is one of those early ships I clung to really, really hard because I heavily related to one half of the ship and saw, in the other person, traits I found admirable. Like, yes, Naruto’s an irritating jackass who fails all his classes but he’s loud and out there and keeps trying even though he basically always fails up until the point when the plot deems him Ninja Jesus. All traits a nervous kid desperately wished he had and ones that I found endearing or attractive. Even if so much of the rest of him is so grating. Also this sets up the major theme of this list, namely that if you’re earning my undying shipper love chances are I relate to one half and have a crush on the other half. 9. Saria/Malon from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time This is really low on the list, but it’s here for one very important reason. And that reason is is that it is the crackship that will not die. Years have past since a little kid went ‘but what if the cute farm girl and the fairy girl were a couple!’ and the ship’s stuck. It’s also evolved over the years. Evolved into something that by its very nature is doomed to tragedy. Because really if you think about it there’s no real way it could be anything but. Saria dies in the end and is also a weird eternal child type deal. Malon’s going to grow up and move on from her first dumb little kid crush. It’s not really a ship I like am actively, emotionally obsessed with but it is one that I repeatedly go back to and just toy with the idea of every so often. Like it’s just an idea I find compelling to toy with. Early childhood love that by its very nature must die between a human and what amounts to a fairy. 8. Satoko/Rika from Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Alright now we’re back to something I am like deeply and emotionally invested in. As someone with an abusive family seeing Satoko’s story in Higurashi was a harrowing experience as a kid. Especially as a kid who has outright lied to CPS before to avoid further abuse. It was also a comforting one in a fashion. Since even before saving Satoko, Rika and her friends are always there to at least try and save her. Satoko’s a horrible brat and a horrible brat that I relate to. Rika’s...weird meanwhile. She’s someone who’s technically a child but due to magical fuckery is actually mentally matured past that. She’s also been pretty scarred by the trauma of what she’s gone through and it’s left her not entirely ��human’. So much so she needs to eventually go through an arc just to realize that, no, it’s time to give up being a witch and to just...try and find what’s normal. Even though everything about that sounds wrong or even impossible. And that in itself is also relatable. But even then she’s still Satoko’s best friend and Satoko is her best friend. They stick by each other and I’d imagine they would later on in life. But even later on in life there’d still likely be mental disconnect there for a good chunk of time. And one also has to keep in mind that while Rika’s mentally lived for at least one hundred years she’s still not an adult. She’s just a child that was forced to grow up too fast and that’s eventually going to bite her I think, when she realizes that in itself isn’t adulthood. That’s an interesting thing to think of an toy with, I think. 7. Porrim/Aranea from Homestuck An entirely unsurprising pick from me if you know anything about me from my Homestuck days. Which are like my normal days, honestly, but the fervor’s kind of died down. Give it a bit though and we’ll get right back to Hamsteaking. Porrim is just...a very one-note little joke. In all honesty. But she’s one that provides like a vast sea of unexplored potential. Porrim is, like so much of Homestuck, a perfect Barbie doll to play makebelieve with. She is also a vampire. This nets her like 50,000 bonus points immediately. Then there’s Aranea. Aranea is a bad person. Let’s make no bones about that. She is a bad person. But she’s cute in a way, when she’s not being awful. She’s also someone that reminds me somewhat of the person my current boyfriend used to be, while also having troubles that I myself find relatable. And the most important part of the ship is that they canonically broke up. Which sounds like a weird ass reason to ship a thing I suppose, but the breaking up is what makes the ship interesting to me. It’s basically a tragedy in action. It can’t work out in the main timelines, though it might in alternates. And I like exploring what led up to it not working out. 6. Chise/Elias from The Ancient Magus Bride This is sadly not in the top ten yet as I don’t quite feel comfortable putting it there when I’m not caught up. But given where I currently am in the manga I have to say that this is one of the most disgustingly me romances I’ve seen in a bit. We’ve got a spooky monster man, an awkward abused girl...He calls her puppy and gives her head pats and they nuzzle each other like dogs. He kind of wants to eat her and he’s kind of a creepy weirdo to her at times, but she’s also not seeming like someone that is just going to bow down and eternally accept that and... And they’re both learning how to people. They both are. Neither of them really knows how to do this whole human thing that well. They’re both emotionally fucked and dysfunctional in their own ways. And they’re learning from each other. In such a fashion that I legitimately cried while reading my comics. Which is a bit hard to manage. Given proper time and catching up they may well travel up this list. 5. Malus/Carrie from Castlevania 64/Legacy of Darkness Alright. Back to childhood ships. Also more monsters. Also these were kind of awful ass games and neither Carrie nor Malus really have much personality at all. Carrie’s personality is mostly relegated to material in the manual, which paints her as an incredibly angry and distrusting child that hates adults and also God for failing her repeatedly. But that’s all just stuff in like a summary. And Malus’ personality is NYEHEHEHE I WAS EVIL THIS WHOLE TIME. So what, pray tell, is the appeal of this besides my obvious vampire fetish. The answer is that like...the bad end of the game has Carrie promising to marry Malus. Malus asking her to marry him presumably so he can like make use of the Belnades bloodline’s magic. Also Malus is Dracula. Dracula and human women do not have a good track record. Both in terms of him being able to resist the rare strong willed woman willing to put him in his place and in terms of keeping those women not murdered for witchcraft. Malus and Carrie is a ship of potential. Potential that plays into one of the central themes of Castlevania’s storyline which is that Drac really just wishes people would stop killing his girlfriends. I may or may not have also had an OC who was their kid who is also kind of basically another character on this list. 4. Glinda/Elphaba from Wicked Listen to What is this Feeling. Now listen to it again. Listen to Popular. Now listen to it again. NOW LISTEN TO DEFYING GRAVITY. NOW LISTEN TO IT AGAIN. We’ve got a green woman who is kind of hideous and who thinks she’s ugly! She’s also angry at the world and wants to change shit! She’s also tragically fucked! In the book at least. How is that not a me character? And Glinda. Gods. Glinda. She’s not stupid. She seems it in the book a lot of the time and Elphaba assumes she is right away but...Glinda’s not stupid. She’s actually very smart and putting on a front. Also she basically annoys Elphaba’s tsundere ass into being her bff. And if there is anything I love in my ships it is one half having to be annoyed into friendship by another happier character who is weirdly trusting and accepting of this horrible monster. Why? Who cares! But they are! Now listen to What is this Feeling. Please. 3. Zero/Fiethsing from Force of Will And now we are finally in the top three. We have also reached the part of the list where we have a character with alarming similarities to my weird kidfic OC from Castlevania. So Zero. She’s cranky and serious. Kind of nervous. Really nervous honestly. She’s also pretty cynical and at her worst points actively gives up on trying to save the world and attempts to destroy it or is like on the brink of giving up again. She’s also got abandonment issues, self hate problems, and uncompromising sense of justice that can be reasonably connected to the self hate problems and shit’s just not a good time for Zero. Also she’s a vampire. And then there’s Fieth. Her Most Important Partner. Lovely, stupid, irritating Fieth. Fieth who adores freedom above all else and who is seemingly full of endless optimism and hope and who is a cocky bitch and who lies and sleeps and is basically a cat become an elf. More importantly though there’s what they are. We don’t get to see Zero and Fieth becoming friends. We meet them when they’re friends already and have years of established history with one another. And shortly after we meet them they adopt a child. Or, rather, Fieth declares she’s going to raise the baby into her apprentice and Zero declares that she refuses to let Fieth raise a baby on her own. And then...they become a family. Just. A family. A pretty happy one at that. It’s eventually torn asunder by death and war but before that they’re just two mothers and their daughter. They are in a sort of quantum gay state like poor Nanofate despite their whole deal, but to me they do unquestionably read as a couple. One with problems. A laundry list of them. But a couple with a kid and, in a weird sort of way, a future. 2. Jame/Tori from The Chronicles of the Kencyrath I adore this ship. It is hard to quantify how much I adore it. But it’s quite a lot. It’s dysfunctional. It’s got issues. It’s incest and that shockingly isn’t one of the issues. And that’s why I love it. Because Hodgell has managed to take fantasy characters and mythic archetypes and humanize them with some of the most starkly real depictions of mental illness I’ve ever seen. Hands down. Tori’s a nervous wreck. He’s an asshole with problems from trauma and Jame doesn’t just take his shit. She actually does the exact opposite and tells him to fuck off. That’s important. Tori not just getting the girl despite being a human disaster is very important. The fact that his very behavior is why the girl does not want to get with him even though she really, truly wants to deep down is very, very important. Jame/Tori is the awkward and rough tale of two people having to recover from frankly atrocious abuse. Two people who are deeply drawn to one another but who also fear and kind of hate the other. Two people who can barely stand being in the same room as one another currently. It’s a bumpy road. It’s a road we’re not even sure they can make it down. But that’s why it means things to me as someone whose undiagnosed BPD almost destroyed his relationship. 1. Sakuya/Remilia from Touhou This just barely beat out Jame/Tori and the sole reason it beats out Jame/Tori is I have shipped this fucking shit for literally almost half my life. And I’m still not through with it or tired of it. It’s been years and years and it is still one of my most favoritest ships ever. So I feel pretty confident saying it is my One True Pairing. It’s also got a vampire. Wow. It’s got a human partner who is bad at humaning too! Double wow! And what it’s got in particular is exceptional flexibility. Like all the Touhous Remilia and Sakuya are kind of just left up to the mercy of the fandom. There’s canonical traits they have and we have seen them interact together and with others, but in a far more limited degree than what is seen in a lot of other works. And the fandom is what basically runs Touhou. It is a self perpetuating machine and Sakuremi is still chugging along years later and with a bunch of variety in it, even if it’s got some tropes I am really tired of seeing at this point. But why is this the Touhou ship to end all Touhou ships? Besides the obvious answer of ‘Duh, it’s a vampire and her maid. What the fuck else do you NEED?’ we have the ever important identification and wish fulfillment aspects. Which breaks into my own personal conception of the characters and their relationship with one another. So Remilia’s like...a kid. Forever. She was turned very young so even after five hundred years she still looks like she’s ten at best. She’s also kind of a brat and at times fairly naive in the way a kid might be. But we do see that she puts on airs. She’s TRYING to be this intimidating, sophisticated vampire lady and she takes pride in the fact that people ‘respect’ her. But that respect is more fear of the fact that she’s a vampire and vampires are stupidly powerful in her world. And as someone who had an extended childhood forced on him by his family and who is trying to learn what it is to be an adult and never being treated like an adult or not being able to handle it when he is...That’s just. Something very ripe for playing with. Especially when you mix it with Sakuya. Who’s an outcast among her own kind and who gave up on bothering with them for it. She’s someone who might have been a vampire hunter than failed to kill Remilia. She takes care of her and chides her like a child, but she also is most definitely subservient to her. And she’s said that she’ll always be together with her as long as she lives. Always. Sakuya’s like this weird mix of a sweet, caring goofball of a woman and a hate filled, mopey edgelord that really only could get along with monsters. So like, I like to think, that they’ve basically ended up finding what exactly the other needs. Remilia gets someone who sincerely respects her authority and takes her seriously, but who also will not entirely put up with her bullshit. Sakuya gets someone who...cares. At all. Someone to give her a name and talk to her and not chase her away for being monstrous. And perhaps more than any of these ships freedom to fuck around is there. It’s what I want to make it. Honorable Mentions We have three of these. Nanoha/Fate from the Nanoha franchise, Usagi/Ami from Sailor Moon and Shimako/Sei from Maria-sama ga Miteru. They were all just barely beaten out by Naruhina, hence their inclusion here.

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valgee · 7 years ago

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416 Cigarettes

I walked out of that job; the second job I’ve flat fuckin walked away from because a corporate promotion was a way to get paid more to do more to get paid less to still do more. This aligned causally with an actual factual divorce, my own, I was spiraling down the familiar avenues of self-destruction and loathing in Las Vivas.

I found inspiration in an old flame. She messaged me sweet music and abruptly left the conversation when I hollowly expounded on my future plans to move away with my spouse. The declaration felt empty; I realized that she in my shoes wouldn’t continue to be unhappy. That was the genesis of my resolve.

My grandmother was in the hospital again; my dad made it sound quite dire. I resolved to visit and then never return home once I was on the open road. Ocean Springs had become a broiling cesspot of bad emotions and confusion infused negativity. The literal plan was to drive forever, see every friend on the planet, run out of gas, and fling myself off the nearest bridge. What actually happened was 20 days of pure unadulterated traveling and freedom, 65 hours of road time, and 4,242 more lodged into my personal mileage.

The first stop was Obligation, I visited my ailing grandma who was more assailed by a macabre atmosphere centered around her inevitable death that she would prefer not to be constantly reminded of. It was my between my father and my Aunt Mae to take care of her, as her third and youngest child had eschewed responsibility in the wake of my grandfather’s death, who had been paying her to take care of grandma and “When mama dies, that’s when we’ll get the real money.” The iceberg of disgust was rearing from an ocean of contempt when my cousin and Aunt Mae addressed me sincere, for the first time, about my relationship with my father, or the lack thereof. In my two decades of visiting there, it had never been explicitly stated by any member of the family, at least not direct to me or my sister, about how my father had fought in court for partial custody, two weeks every summer, except we went for two months because it was a full half of our family. My sister and I never saw our dad during those two months, save for a few days at the beginning and end. Vindication was the sensation of Obligation, a rider to the discomfort so fine; we were all discovering the darker natures of each other amidst the cloud of deaths future and past. I found mine in a father estranged yet so much like myself, I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to become him. I was an excuse to escape his own Obligation, time spent with offspring was a rare chance. The irony was lost on him, that it was so rare of his own volition, and now sought rabidly as a superior solution to fomenting his mother’s wasting away with his candid appeals to activity that she sloughed off for the dishonesty it was. I sloughed off him, too, and escaped to my next destination after a terse visit.

I ran out of gas in Ohio. I trekked a mile to the nearest gas station that did not sell gas cans. In the adjoining Subway, in the bathroom, I made a friend who only came there to piss, as he told me, and I, too, came there to piss, but also pick grass out of my socks, accrued from the highwayside walkabout. As I set out to the next gas station, the bathroom man offered me a ride, promising me he had nothing but time. I acquired my can, I acquired my gas and he extended his offer to drive me to my car. On the ride over, he told me his entire fuckin life story. He was a drug dealer from the podunk town in Ohio I was now in, he’d gone to Miama (Ohio) one weekend and come back with a kid, can you fuckin believe it, my baby mama only ever calls to fight or fuck and my girlfriend, who I’m livin with, hates that, you know? But Iunno, I’ll go over there and lay a line of coke down and she’ll, like, bend over, and rip it and back that ass up, she’s got a nice ass, you know? My girlfriend does, too, they got nice asses, Iunno. See, I like you, I can tell you anything and you don’t know shit, you don’t fuckin know anyone.

The second stop was Liberation, my dear friends Parla and Kelly in the Windy city I love. I rediscovered my Air element in the playful streets and inviting sunshine; this would be the last time I brought nice weather with me. I found Parla in a trend of bashful but passionate feminism but I was not yet shook of my tangled brain to connect with her genuinely, but I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to qualify her validity to me, to me. She taught me macrame on a heated roof, we let strings dance in the wind. We laughed together in sopored stupor. I met her downstairs convenience bang, he brought me to his brazilian jujitsu class and I flattened myself for the experience. At first, he seemed threatened by me; he couldn’t fathom a masculine presenting presence having a dual platonic relationship with two attractive feminine presenting entities. He thought I had to banging one of ‘em. I couldn’t just be being friends. But we do. We are. I love them. We broed out with the irony lost on him; I struggle to relate my newfound gender identity to new people. I struggle to relate it to old friends who knew me before I knew me, but I felt as accepted as I ever was with them. Kelly came to me, drunker than she’d ever been, and cried in my lap. I wasn’t sure why she was upset, she couldn’t seem to articulate it or anything else, but I helped her into bed, glad I could be there for her. I may have overstayed my welcome, squatting in the daybed for a week, but I love that city. I reconnected with Roni and they gave me my highest highs, and my lowest lows, journeying to the highrise dance parties, and the basement bar belows. I left Chicago only with the promise of my closest friend to see next, my Water.

The third stop was Reconfiguration, I reconvened with the squidlord, TJ, and he opened his home to me fully and I could feel my soul reaching exponential bouts of healing here. I walked the streets of Perkasie, Pennsylvania, and garnered strange looks for my queer appearance. I got lost but I enjoyed it. He played hooky and took me to NYC where we see the Times Square, we Tai Chi in Central Park, and he misses his girlfriend’s texts. I am reminded of the spouse I left and the passive aggression for my identical transgressions. I ate street food, I poured out my entire romantic history to him as he strummed his ukelele. I didn’t mean to keep it so secret; our time together in college lent to a dual lifestyle: romantic and social were separate. I don’t know that he understands more now, but he knows more now; water struggles to perfectly reflect the shape and source of fire. Since the beginning of my trip, I had struggled with my break-up. In Chicago I had made peace, in Perkasie I found it. TJ, ever the empath, skirted the topic of suicide, and renewed his disdain for the exit. We listened to Listener, their newer work topical. I wanted him to reinvite me to live with him, but he didn’t. I left for my next destination, between NC and Chicago, my oldest internet friends implored me to visit, and given the week between opportunities to link up, I had gone to Perkasie. So, I carted off to Fort Wayne, Indiana.

My fourth destination was Sublimation, the subtlety, the transcendent, the phase change. I showed up late, and was greeted with first a soft intensity inside eyes. I descended into their basement and ensconced my weird ass in their wonderful family. Soothing cold fingers lightly brushed my heated skin as I imbibed the alcohol I’m super allergic to, to catch up with everyone else. I remember dancing, I remember thinking to be careful and respectful, she has a boyfriend, I remember dancing close enough to nudge once accidentally, and every subsequent wanton nudge was frivolously shameless. I don’t remember what happened next. I woke up, still drunk, and naked, in a bedroom I didn’t recognize. I regrouped and pissed and found my bearings, and she was there, her neck torn to shreds, a signature of mine reserved for my deepest drunken emotions. I haven’t done that to someone since I had my skeleton rended from my body, years ago. I didn’t remember, but the memory was there, buried in her earth, and I could feel it, and I do remember that next morning I spent digging for the memory with her again. And again and again. I almost made her late for work. I slept on the couch to shake off the drink and hangover, and awoke to dinner plans once she and her mother returned home from work. I was made conscious of my current unemployed status, and I wore the bruises she gave me on my neck defiantly. We talked about what happened without remorse. We flirted casually and lightly, hunting Pokemon with her family in their mammoth obsessed hometown. I tried to climb one at her behest, but I could feel my core trembling, my legs still weak. I had given her all of my fire. We returned home and made love again and again. There wasn’t single awkward silence in the immense amount of silence we shared, the intense longing eye contact we shared, the energy flowing between us that we shared. By this time, I had no money left to simultaneously feed myself and put gas in my car to make it home. I didn’t want to leave her, but I promised to return sooner than possible. I left with a heart beat I could hear again. I had forgotten what it was to fall in love with someone naturally and not try to force it for old times. My final destination was the only one planned before I left.

My fifth stop was Syncopation. My friend, Brandon, in Memphis, and his musical stylings. I arrived through the night, into the day, and met his improv friend on no sleep. I wrote for him in his journal, and he wrote for me. By this time I hadn’y paid my phone bill for a month and had no chance of doing so now. Without data, I couldn’t message Her without a wifi connection. It was a less than optimal situation; I feared giving the impression of nonchalance. Brandon played me a ballad, dedicated to me and my journey, and I rapped over it with an honest retelling of the Story So Far + Some Other Tangential Things. He lamented not recording it. I love things that live in moments. I spent one night and the next day. While he worked, I went with Shelby, his roommate, and also my old friend from college, to her place of work, the Memphis Zoo, where she got me in for free. I wandered the animals, and took in the sunshine. I saw a woman hit her head on a wall in the Nightmare room, but she was fine. I proceeded to get ultra lost in Memphis, and unable to connect to even Starbucks wifi. I navigated by touch and cavalier direction picking and arrived at his house. I was unable to access the inside, though a former lover of Shelby’s was sleeping off a hangover within. Brandon came home, let me in, and I played videogames and read until he came home. The ex eventually left, and Shelby broke down in tears, disgusted by the experience. The ex was an emotional vampire, and Shelby struggled to say no. She blamed herself for reasons she shouldn’t have, the ex took advantage of her and Brandon’s hospitality. I remember being good at the kind of honesty good here.. I felt for her, but I didn’t know yet how to show it again. I’m glad I could be there for her, though. I left that night and arrived in Ocean Springs, only falling asleep at the wheel 14 times. I crashed direct into my bed, a cool $0.14 over target to make it home, indicator on E, and slept for a long time.

Over the last two weeks, I’ve done nothing but pine for someone in Indiana, and my life on the road. By tomorrow, I’ll have both back, if the road only for a little while.

#me #journal #road trip

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imagine-loki · 8 years ago

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House of Cards in The Wind

TITLE: House of Cards in the Wind CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Four AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you were a powerful villain who was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. and put in Cryogenic storage because there was no other way to deal with you. After doing some research, Loki learned about you and became obsessed. So much, that he looked for you and woke you up, knowing that you’d seek revenge and he would be more than willing to help. RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES/WARNINGS: This story is the result of an imagine I saw on another blog theartofimagining13. The credit for the imagine goes to the author on that page.

Warning death of minor characters and violence in this fic

“Banner, where are you?” Tony thought to himself as he found himself looking fearfully on as Loki walked across the room, with one flick of his wrist, he sent Barton careering into the far wall, his body making a sickening crunch as he did so. Then he walked over to Rogers, who finally stopped glaring down at Wanda and noticed the God. As happened in Stuttgart, Rogers, though he put up a fight, was little match for Loki, all too soon, Loki was able to pierce his sides several times with his blades before the super soldier fell to the ground, leaving Stark as the only one standing, though that was partly because he could not physically move. “Who is the girl?”

“That is none of your concern really, though she is brilliant, do you not think?”

“So she’s like you, a ‘God’?” “I think her to be, a God among pathetic little ants.” Loki grinned.

“What is she doing? How is she doing all of this?” “You seem every interested in her.” Loki sneered. “When she is only interested in aiding me to hurt you.”

“You are using her?” “I do not need to, she is doing this of her own free will, that is what makes it all the more fun.” “What does she want with Fury?”

“Revenge.” “She’ll never find him.” “Don’t you realise, you already told her.” Loki chuckled, his finger coming to his temple and tapping it twice. “You thought it in here and she saw it. As for Dr Banner, I fear I have to be the one to inform you, he cannot be of assistance to you now, he and the one with the metal arm are busy tearing the S.H.I.E.L.D. base to pieces and everyone they find in it.” Tony’s eyes widened at that. “How…” “Do I know about the other supersoldier, it is so simple, she told me. And how does she know about him, you all told her. Do you know how she is viewing this very situation right now?” He pointed to the ceiling, which Tony could not see, a moment later, a raven swooped down and came into his line of sight. “She can control animals too, is that not fascinating?” “You almost sound like you are in love with her.” “In truth, I think I might just be, a little. It is so rare to find one that can surprise me. She is so very unique.”

“I’m sure the wedding will be splendid,” Tony commented sarcastically. “She cannot control Banner.” “Banner was easy if I’m honest.” The voice returned to his mind. “The Hulk, he’s a little more challenging, but I figured it out. You see, the trick is just pointing him in the right direction, the ‘smashy smashy’ sort of comes naturally to him.” She chuckled.

“You are killing people.” “Well, technically I am killing no one, I am just sitting on my little perch watching as they kill people. But I suppose, yeah, I am by extension, but you see, that’s sort of the tragedy in all of this. I was just minding my own business, hurting no one, I never stole from those who could not afford it, big business can take the hit of a sandwich and a bottle of water when S.H.I.E.L.D. came after me with guns and the heavy artillery. If they had just remained calm, it would never have ended with me having to protect myself, I mean, that is a thing in this country right, being allowed defend yourself? So they died because I do just that and I get labelled a vicious killing machine and am punished for it, so what I am doing now is being what they wanted me to be, what they labelled me as. Really, it is nothing short of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Fury wronged you, he was in charge, he made the call, so you are getting revenge on him, that’s your gig?” “You see, this is why I liked you, you are smart, able to see the overall picture. Oh, hello.” There was a sudden hint of joy in her voice. “Looky what I found.”

“I assume your little search is over?” Loki grinned. It was then that Stark realised that the girl had kept Loki fully aware of everything she was saying in his head.

“Yes, now, this is going to take a bit of concentration, let me try something, ooh, perfect.”

Only what seemed like moments later, there was a loud roar and the ceiling of the building shook, sending dust falling on the badly wounded Avengers. Then came several loud bangs before finally, the Hulk crashed into the room, both Fury and the Winter soldier in his two hands, both barely conscious. Loki eyed the Hulk carefully, but the green beast seemed to be completely ignoring him.

Stark heard a door open behind him and Loki’s look of concern turned to a small grin. “Rebecca Cahill, I should have known.” Fury shook his head slightly, he was beaten up, but not overly so. “Of course, of anyone for Loki to consider to help him, it would be you.” “A smart choice really.” She grinned. “So, Director Fury, you know why I came for you, right?” “Does it matter?” “Wait, you’re like a kid.” Tony stared at the girl that came into view, donning a pair of Converse, a pair of torn jeans and a hoodie. How…” “I was cryogenically frozen half a decade ago, so I guess I look young for my age. At nearly thirty, I suppose it is good to look like this, right?” Tony’s face was one of reluctant agreement.

“You killed fifteen men.” Fury spat out. “I defended myself against them.” She corrected angrily. “I was attacked by over twenty armed men and you think I was going to allow them to riddle me in bullets, why the hell was there so many?” “There clearly weren’t enough.”

Rebecca’s face turned almost vicious at Fury’s words. “I just wanted to be allowed live.” “You illegally came to this country and were stealing.” “You cannot exactly use air to get a home address and a way to earn money can you One-Eye? I wanted to be able to get something resembling an education and get a normal job and live my life, but you and your pathetic minions decided to ruin that.” “You honestly think anyone would believe that that is all you wanted. You could control anyone in power’s mind, you are too dangerous.” “I am only as dangerous as you made me.” There were tears of anger and hate in her eyes as she spat out those words through gritted teeth. “I only wanted to live, you made it a war when you told me I couldn’t.” She looked at the Hulk, who for as long as the exchange was taking place remained like a statue. “I could have been of use to you, help control him, but now…” She took a deep breath, after which the Hulk threw the Winter Soldier to the ground violently, rendering him unconscious next to Rogers who could hardly remain so himself, witnessing everything that was taking place before Banner grabbed Fury’s leg and repeated what he did to Loki in Starks Tower to the S.H.I.E.L.D. director, the difference being the director did not survive the second strike, and when the thrashing ceased, was beyond recognition. “Ready when you are.” She stated to Loki, seeming almost exhausted from everything.

“Stark and the Beast.” Loki reminded her.

She looked at Stark for a moment before shrugging. “I suppose.” She walked over and looked at the armour for a moment, “It’s cool, very flashy, very you.” “Have we met, how do you know about me?” Stark asked worriedly, looking down at her. “Anyone with basic internet knew who you were.” “Were?”

“Well, locked-in syndrome means you will be nothing of what you were.” She stated factually before pushing the heel of her hand to his head. Stark immediately felt his body function fail him, he could not control anything outside of his mind. The only thing keeping him standing was the suit. She then turned to the Hulk. “Can you drown him?” “I do not know.” “I suppose we can find out.” She forced him to leave the building and jump into the nearby river, having the beast dive in and hold onto a pipe so to not allow him up. After a short period, he lost consciousness and turned back to Dr Banner. Bored, Rebecca broke her control over him and turned to Stark, whose face was now drooped from lack of muscle control. “I thought at first to kill you all, but as he said,” She indicated to Loki, “Where is the fun in that? Now you have destroyed one another, left to rot in the guilt of what you all have done to each other, the soldiers and archer to your very allies, and you to stand here and do nothing the entire time. Have a nice life Mr Stark.” She smiled before turning and walking away.

“You know, she was hateful and angry before I met her, but even I can admit I have left something of a mark on her, don’t you agree?” Loki beamed before he chuckled and followed her.

Soon after, help came in the form of police and ambulances, but there was little they could do, Fury was dead and the Avengers were destroyed.

#loki #other #submission #Submitted fic #Wolfpawn #house of cards in the wind #chapter 4 #villain #S.H.I.E.L.D.#cryogenic storage #research #obsessed #revenge

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leonardo-artista · 8 years ago

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Leo is not a supportive partner but Riario goddamn needs one

On writing Leario, on writing platonic bonds, on the importance of communication and being heard, on identifying with characters and asexual spectrum headcanons, on the false "sex fixes everything" belief and the false relationship hierarchy.

Warning: less meta and more me trying to explore and explain my feelings

There's something that bothers me about writing Leario post season three; in some ways Leo takes a step backwards. In season two he and Riario worked together and Leo understood that his actions had consequences for him and for other people. In season three however he fails to fully exorcise Riario's demons and leaves him to almost be executed and again become brainwashed, becomes obsessed with a Crusade instead of considering other options, abandons Vanessa to her fate, loses one friend and almost loses another one.

For me it all starts to go wrong when Leo does not ask Riario to stay when they return to Italy from their voyage. Riario has been through many trials. His faith has been tested and found wanting. He needs redemption or renewal. Leo could have offered him a new path, but instead Riario is left to beg for a redemption he is refused.

But let us suppose Leo asked Riario to stay with him. Let's imagine Riario made it clear that's what he wanted, because Leo is, as I'll come to again in a moment, dense. They return to Florence together. There's Zo's hostility to contend with, Lorenzo's brutality to contend with, the invasion to thwart. But let's say Leo triumphs, with Riario a part of that victory.

Is that a happy ever after?

Probably not.

There's a reason I frequently give Riario friendships outside of Leo's influence when I write Leario. In particular with Vanessa, who is a good listener and a source of comfort for Leo. She's an obvious choice. In au fics, there is often no blame attached to Riario for Guiliano's death/departure; sometimes Guiliano is alive. But regardless, it is important to me that Riario has someone who listens.

Because Leo does not.

I imagine life with Leo, especially a s1 or s3 Leo would go much like this:

LEO: Look at this awesome painting I'm working on

RIARIO: It is beautiful. I'm also working on something.

LEO: Sure. Look how the shadows fall here…

RIARIO: You said I am an artist too.

LEO: You are, you are. I liked that painting you did of the birds.

RIARIO: You love flight. I know. But this is something different I'm working on. I told you. A series of watercolours to illustrate Greek epics.

LEO: Right. That's not going to be that popular.

RIARIO: But my passion lies there.

LEO: Then go paint it.

RIARIO: Paint them.

LEO: Yes, them.

RIARIO: Are you even listening?

LEO: Of course I am. I think more sienna in this area, what do you think?

RIARIO: You don't even recall what day this is.

LEO: Thursday?

RIARIO: This is the day I killed my mother. (does not remind Leo he promised to go and take flowers to the grave because Leo has clearly forgotten)

LEO: Ah. Sorry.

RIARIO: It's a difficult time.

LEO: I'm sure. But you can't change the past. No, not sienna, maybe something lighter.

RIARIO: You don't care at all, do you, when you're lost to your obsessions.

LEO: That's not true.

RIARIO: What is the first watercolour an illustration of?

LEO: ….The Iliad?

At which point Riario is going to understand why Zo spends so much time saying "Fuck you, Leo," and going off to the tavern where he can talk to Nico and Vanessa about what an ungrateful bastard Leo is.

Except maybe Riario doesn't have anyone else to talk to.

How to fix this problem of oblivious, self-centred Leo? Friendships, as I stated above. And/or having Leo learn to pay attention to the larger picture, to the people around him, to truly listen when Riario is confiding his secrets, his needs, his pain.

When I wrote "Weather Every Storm" the Vanessa & Riario was an integral part of the story. And furthermore Leo was more self-aware. He had enough sense to recognise that he is not always good at being in a relationship. He takes people for granted. He acknowledges that he needs to prioritise communication and to truly listen. Riario's problems can't just be fucked away. The Leario is the thrust of the story, and while there is sex within the fic, the plot follows the characters' personal growth as Riario attempts to build a new life, away from the influence of his father, and Leo learns to be more supportive. It's still my favourite fic.

I extrapolate this desire for someone to understand, a strong friendship to other fandoms. In another fandom I have a largely unmet desire for fic with a particular platonic m/f bond*; so much that I'm writing it for myself, pointlessly, because smut fic is the most popular thing. Same reason I have to write 99% of any Riario&Vanessa myself.

I'm usually headcanoning the male as somewhere on the asexual spectrum, possibly grey-a or demisexual. Sex isn't the most important thing for them. In this second fandom, it's been pointed out that "conversational intimacy"** is the most important part of his sexual relationships.

The female is someone skilled at listening. They don't brush people's concerns aside; they see the real issue and explore it. They can be a shoulder to cry with no expectation of sex resulting from a bond. They listen and assist where possible.

Part of the reason the male characters – Riario, in Da Vinci's Demons – resonate with me is that they can be read as on the ace spectrum as I am, and because they are often alone, with no or few trusted compatriots. Fic that suggests sex is the be all and end all of a relationship does nothing for me and even more so when it's a character I've come to identity with, as with Riario. Fic that has sex "fixing" all issues does nothing but piss me off. Fic that has sex as the One True Allowable pleasure makes me beyond enraged – and when Leo is a pansexual hedonist visionary I can't imagine he's suddenly only into vanilla buttsex but I’ve seen both he and Riario given this mindset in fic. There is more to a character than who they are fucking.

So what do I do with these characters? I put them through hell because that's we do, isn't it? We write to explore them, to explore the world, to explore ourselves. We learn from pain, we get to acknowledge our pain, we get to see how we might get survive our pain.

And then I put them together again. I give them support systems that work, by giving them not a sex obsessed lover but the friend down the pub. Someone who genuinely listens and tries to understand, not someone mostly interested in smoothing things over so they can get back to fucking.

This is a little raw because I'm tired and stressed. The person I'd normally turn to isn't available at this moment for me to lean on – that's part of the reason I'm stressed. The one person I can open up to and know I will be heard rather than dismissed. And trying to explain that, trying to explain how anyone, a friend, a sister, a colleague, is the most important person in your life is difficult; you're not fucking them so why do they matter so much? It's no big deal if you lost them. Not like getting a divorce or being widowed. That's the relationship hierarchy***.

The relationship hierarchy appals me. The idea of a relationship where one partner is oblivious to their partner's needs is worrying. sidenote: I can write Leario in my sleep at this point. It's lost its edge somewhat to write origin stories though I have one more major fic to come. Established relationships, where Leo has learnt to do better/where Riario is friends with the Scooby Gang; OT3s/other pairings; gen. Maybe I need to explore those before I can recapture my passion. And I can write platonic m/f scenes and fics and gratify my own needs; but fic written but unread is half-done in many ways. But sometimes it seems smut fic is all anyone wants; not the emotional component.

Sometimes you just need someone to listen. But sometimes the best you can do is write someone else getting the comfort you so badly want.

Please be gentle with comments. This is a pretty personal post, despite my initial framing; I always find it easier to begin with, and to support my assertions, with factual or fictional examples. There's a reason certain characters and dynamics resonate with me, after all, and why I turn to them when I'm trying to illustrate my own troubled feelings.

#not really meta #but some thoughts on relationships #with leario as an example #and on why platonic ships appeal to me too #I am so tired #I have not slept properly in about a week #I'm stresed #this is me venting #go easy on the comments please #i've tried talking but no-one wants to actually listen so i write instead because writing is something i understand #i tried to spend time outdoors and away from the pc today #it helped a little #and writing this piece this evening helped marginally too #so much ranting #so much whining #so damn tired #let's post this shit and then try and sleep #hahahaha

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refractionslondon · 8 years ago

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The dark, intrinsic humour of W.G.Sebald

Sizewell beach, with mysterious fridge that appeared one day - photo by author

When I first read W.G.Sebald, around 10 or 12 years ago, as a result of reading some review in either the London Review of Books, or was it the New York Review of Books, I forget which and certainly cannot recall which book was under discussion, I was like many before and since mesmerised by the dreamlike narrative flow, its meandering sentences that wind their way through sub-clauses and conjoin to form paragraphs that offer no natural pause for breath for many pages, its seamless shifts of direction, subject and focus, the aura of melancholy, the obsession with decay and destruction as the only historical constant, the omnipresent references to learning and facts that were often so obscure that verification would have been impossible or at least hard to achieve, even if there had been any point in seeking to ascertain to what extent the author – or was it the narrator, at whatever level, and in that near indistinguishable tone that left one uncertain unless the author constantly reminds us as often is the case who is indeed the narrator at a given point - was indeed imparting knowledge or learning grounded in what might be historically or factually verifiable material, and not least by the somewhat flat monotone of the English language of the translated text that was both natural yet incongruous, given the sad or so to speak dismal quality of so much of the content, and yet which seemed to match the gentle undulations of the ever-eroding Suffolk coastline that is the scene of his pilgrimage in the Rings of Saturn. Which is still my favourite.

What I had not registered, when I had read his main four works first time round, was any sense of the comic as part of, indeed intrinsic to, Sebald’s armoury. The books indeed gave the opposite impression – a hypnotic but constantly depressing perspective on the human condition and human history. But I now smile a lot as I read, in between the melancholy.

In recent months, and in part inspired by my desire to become more fluent (as reader, alas not yet as speaker) in the German language, and in part with an amateur’s interest in the techniques of translation, I have re-read both the Rings of Saturn and Austerlitz, this time in German as well as English, with the two language versions side by side. Or more precisely, around one page at a time in German followed by the same page in English, to see how far I had correctly divined the meaning. It was a very slow but often inspiring process. I saw - and also heard, as I read many passages half aloud to myself - how the German language version (which is the original) has a very different rhythm and tone from the English; it is far more expressive, alliterative and even onomatopoeic in the original, which is no criticism of his very fine English translators.

But above all, I had to read each word and clause closely, often several times, in order to understand the text, and thus gain a far stronger sense of what effect the author was aiming to achieve. And I have concluded – for all the terrible matters that Sebald recalls and recounts – that interwoven in the whole serious Sebaldian enterprise there is also a mischievous and dark sense of humour, almost always swimming beneath the surface and which from time to time emerges from the depths as evidently comic writing.

Sebald’s picture of Dunwich empty beach in Rings of Saturn

Or indeed, comic photography. For can we really believe, to take a random example, that Sebald’s photo (p.155 in the English version) of the North Sea at Dunwich, showing a dull unpeopled shingle beach devoid of interest or aesthetic quality, was chosen for any non-comic purpose? Dunwich, of course, was a godsend to Sebald’s general narrative of decay and transience; an example of a once-thriving port that has been destroyed and washed away by the forces of time, tide, storm and erosion. But the photo selected and inserted deliberately exaggerates and ironises the (in reality non-existent) contemporary boring-ness of the remaining hamlet.

Author’s photo of empty Sizewell beach, from which one wife has been ‘disappeared’

Now no one can accuse Sebald of not being mischievous (and misleading). On the very next page we find a picture of the “Eccles Church Tower” standing in the sand, just yards from the sea, which, he tells us, “still stood on Dunwich beach” until about 1890; moreover, “after Eccles Tower had also collapsed, the only Dunwich church that remained was the ruin of All Saints”.

I had never heard of Eccles Tower at Dunwich, but had assumed Sebald would not have made this up… but Sebald never claimed that he was writing pure documentary or accurate material. And he certainly wasn’t in accurate mode on this occasion. The Eccles Tower was so named because… it was never in Dunwich but in Eccles-by-the-Sea, 50 miles away on the north-east coast of Sebald’s own home county of Norfolk! The village and church of Eccles did however suffer a similar fate to Dunwich in that, over centuries, it was washed into the sea. (I learnt all this from a blog by Homo Ludens dated October 2007, though it is written about in more ‘literary’ reviews).

It is inconceivable that Sebald was confused or negligent about the Eccles Tower; since the facts are easily ascertainable by anyone truly interested, he can surely not have been hoping to deceive yet avoid discovery, nor does the insertion add any obvious narrative or other advantage (save maybe to underlines the unreliability of both the narrator and of memory in general). It seems to me that this is one of many examples of Sebald simply teasing his readers with games, amid his many horrific themes, setting them puzzles if they wish to delve further.

I am sadder (but wiser) to learn that there is no evidence that the train on the branch line from Halesworth to Walberswick was ever in the service of the Chinese Emperor in Beijing, as is proposed by Sebald.

Photo https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_rail_transport_in_China#/media/File:OpeningDay.jpg

It is a ‘truth’ that all readers surely yearn to believe, and the link is a literary necessity for Sebald to slide into the tale of imperialist interventions in China in the mid 19th century. Yet the fact that this tale of the Chinese train is pure invention is plain to see, once we realise that Sebald mixes playful post-truth with his more serious intent to recall past sufferings that humans have imposed on each other. He lures us into his false linkage as follows:

“According to local historians, the train that ran on [the branch line] had originally been built for the Emperor of China. Precisely which emperor had given this commission I have not succeeded in finding out, despite lengthy research; nor have I been able to discover why the order was never delivered or why this diminutive imperial train, which may have been intended to connect the Palace in Peking, then still surrounded by pinewoods, to one of the summer residences, ended up in service on a branch line of the Great Eastern Railway. The only thing the uncertain sources agree on is that the outlines of the imperial heraldic dragon, complete with a tail and somewhat clouded over by its own breath, could clearly be made out beneath the black paintwork of the carriages, which were used mainly by seaside holidaymakers and travelled at a maximum speed of sixteen miles per hour.”

http://thelostbyway.com/2013/09/w-g-sebalds-southwold.html

In retrospect, I cannot but admire and smile at the references to unnamed “local historians”, to the author’s “lengthy research” - which, alas!, does not help him succeed in finding out more - and to the unspecified “uncertain sources”.

Over the years, I have read many articles and exchanges about Sebald’s writing, but very few comment on the comedic dimension of his work, and those who do sometimes seem uncertain whether the effect is comic despite the author’s intention, or because he was, in the end, an implicitly witty writer, alongside his other qualities.

In her Introduction to “The Emergence of Memory: Conversations with W.G Sebald”, the American writer Lynne Sharon Schwartz emphasizes

“His dreamlike narratives, meandering yet meticulous, echo the lingering state of shock that is our legacy – not only from the wars of recent memory but from the centuries of colonialism that preceded them, indeed, history’s ‘long account of calamities’”.

But she adds,

“In the Rings of Saturn, to my mind Sebald’s best work, his imagination is given free rein and his digressive bent carried to its most extreme – almost comic – reaches. The swirling paths of thought cast a spell: if the reader is willing to submit, the author’s sensibility will carry him toward ever more tangled and distressing tales of decay, entropy, and destruction.” (My emphasis).

In a brief survey of the various authors’ contributions to her book, Schwartz notes that

“[Tim] Parks, incidentally, is the only writer to mention Sebald’s humor, which glimmers slyly through his pessimism and is often overlooked.”

And Parks himself refers to Sebald’s “accustomed blend of slyness and grim comedy” and describes how

“All too soon, however, and this is one of the most effective elements of comedy in Sebald’s work, the concrete will become elusive; the narrative momentum is dispersed in a delta as impenetrable as it is fertile.”

For me, and seemingly also for Parks, it is certain that Sebald knowingly wove comedy into his darker narrative meanders; and I am equally confident that many (though not necessarily all) of his factual errors (like the Eccles Tower) were likewise deliberately placed, either as a means of sliding the narrative apparently seamlessly in the direction he wanted next to explore, or simply as a game played with the reader.

Others are less sure whether the use of comedy and the falsified “facts” were deliberate. Michael Hutchins, in his contribution on Sebald in another collection of essays, “Authentisches Erzählen: Produktion, Narration, Rezeption”, claims that

“It often remains unclear whether Sebald’s faulty statements represent “learned jokes” or the work of a dyslexic scholar.”

And even the late Jenny Diski seemed uncertain about his comedic intent (or lack thereof). In an article in 2000 for the London Review of Books, she says:

“After a while this super-sensitised melancholy becomes comic. One’s patience is tried as it is with those tormented heroes of Dostoevsky, if you read them after adolescence. For God’s sake, Raskolnikov, get a hold on yourself, pull yourself together. Sebald’s narrator is for all the world a middle-aged existential wanderer, out of place, out of time, and wallowing in every miserable moment, sizing himself up against other grim, unhappy wanderers: Casanova in prison, Stendhal hopelessly besotted, Kafka tormented about his longings and terror of love in a clinic in Riva. There is comedy in the grim solemnity and it may well not be accidental, because, after all, if life is not appalling, it is absurd.” (My emphasis).

In his book “Understanding W.G.Sebald”, Mark Richard McCulloh sees the frequently satirical elements in Sebald’s writing, and clearly views this as intended by the author:

“The overriding mood many perceive in Sebald’s work is still the melancholy, the mournful, the autumnal. If one examines Sebald’s corpus as a whole, however, it becomes apparent that similar appellatives such as “melancholy” and “somber”…are simply too sweeping. There are satirical elements that emerge in his prose, products of his humor and astute powers of observation..”

Sebald has many critics who perceive only the dark side, and none of the humour which I consider to be the natural counterweight to his pessimism. Alas, Alan Bennett is one who only sees Sebald hoving to the darkly depressive side:

“Sebald seems to stage manage both the landscape and the weather to suit his (seldom cheerful) mood… ‘Never yet on my many visits […] have I found anyone about.’ The fact is, in Sebald nobody is ever about. This may be poetic but it seems to me a short-cut to significance.”

Whereas for me, the fact that for the narrator “nobody is ever about” is itself a reflection of the twinkle in Sebald’s authorial eye.

Michael Hofmann likewise fails to see much (well, in fact anything) positive in Sebald. In an article in Prospect magazine in September 2001, entitled “Sebald’s fog”, he not only dismissed his writing as a whole, but pointedly refers to his lack of humo(u)r:

“But what was even stranger was that Sebald operated without any of the rigmarole or pleasantness of the novel. The complete absence of humor, charm, grace, touch is startling – as startling as the fact that books written without them could enjoy any sort of success in England…”

And horror of horrors, in her 2003 New York Times review of “On the Natural History of Destruction”, the literary critic Daphne Merkin (1) sees any humour displayed by Sebald as simply being in poor cultural taste:

Needless to say, the colorless, nomadic universe he inhabits, where the pizzerias are dreary and the hotels unwelcoming, offers few flashes of humor except of the most heavy-handed, ironic variety (the eponymous Jacques Austerlitz recalls ordering an ice cream that turned out to be ''a plasterlike substance tasting of potato starch and notable chiefly for the fact that even after more than an hour it did not melt'').

I think this wilfully misses the broader point that in Sebald, the humour is in fact intrinsic to the very relentlessness of his dystopian narrative. Those constantly dreary pizzerias or hotels never fail to make me smile, knowing their type all too well…

It is true that on occasions – though they are not frequent – Sebald unleashes an overt, darkly ironic polemic, directed against some unsuspecting icon of modern life, great or small. In the Rings of Saturn, his description of the once (but no longer) prosperous and fashionable coastal resort of Lowestoft attracts his most biting prose.

Victoria Hotel Lowestoft with 1954 price list - including for servants. Photo http://www.oldlowestoft.co.uk/?post_WW2...:Hotel_Victoria_1954

The particular victim is the Victoria Hotel (in the English version, it is called The Albion; could it be the publishers feared a libel suit?) which seems in reality to have been a rather genteel establishment, but this is Sebald’s take on it in the mid 1990s:

I stood for a good time in the empty lobby and wandered through the public rooms, which were completely deserted even now at the height of the season – if one can speak of a season in Lowestoft – before I happened upon a startled young woman who, after hunting pointlessly through the register on the reception desk, handed me a huge room key attached to a wooden pear…. That evening I was the sole guest in the huge dining room, and it was the same startled person who took my order and shortly afterwards brought me a fish that had doubtless lain entombed in the deep-freeze for years. The breadcrumb armour-plating of the fish had been partly singed by the grill, and the prongs of my fork bent on it. Indeed it was so difficult to penetrate what eventually proved to be nothing but an empty shell that my plate was a hideous mess once the operation was over. The tartare sauce that I had had to squeeze out of a plastic sachet was turned grey by the sooty breadcrumbs, and the fish itself, or what feigned to be fish, lay a sorry wreck among the grass-green peas and the remains of soggy chips that gleamed with fat.

(The German language original is even better in its display of contempt for the offering – no attempt here at subtlety!). (see footnote 2)

Or take Sebald’s diatribe against the (then) new Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris… For me, this is again comedic, though not in any way that risks causing laughter. It is its sheer relentless grumpiness that – as it progresses - induces a smile in the reader, at least in me. The attributed narrator of this passage, Austerlitz, as cited by the principal narrator (who gives us no name but while doubtless resembling is not necessarily identical to Sebald) searching for traces of his father lost (and almost certainly murdered in a death camp) in the war, takes time out in the book to express at some length his utter loathing of the new library. One feels that Sebald is here hardly bothering to maintain the thin dividing line between himself and the narrator(s) – that he is simply using the opportunity to express his own contempt for the Mitterandian pharaonic building and its Kafkaesque minders; we sense that Sebald himself must have been displaced from the much-loved old Bibliothèque nationale in the rue de Richelieu (which by coincidence is the very same street in which the Paris office of the Conseil des Communes et des Régions de l’Europe (CCRE) was situated when I was its Secretary General…)

“I do not think, said Austerlitz, that many of the old readers go to the new library on the Quai François Mauriac. In order to reach the Grande Bibliothèque you have to travel through a desolate no-man’s-land in one of those robot-driven Métro trains steered by a ghostly voice, or alternatively you have to catch a bus in the Place Valhubert and then walk along the windswept river bank towards the hideous, outsize building, the monumental dimensions of which were evidently inspired by the late President’s wish to perpetuate his memory whilst, perhaps because it had served this purpose, it was so conceived that it is, as I realized on my first visit, said Austerlitz, both in its outer appearance and inner constitution unwelcoming if not inimical to human beings, and runs counter, on principle, one might say, to the requirements of any true reader.”

Photo via https://ilovearchitecture.wordpress.com/page/2/

And so on and on, not releasing its prey for pages, nor pausing for paragraph breaks:

“When I first stood on the promenade deck of the new Bibliothèque Nationale, said Austerlitz, it took me a little while to find the place where the visitor is carried down on a conveyor belt to what appears to be a basement storey but, in reality, is the ground floor. This downwards journey, when you have just laboriously ascended to the plateau, struck me as an absolute absurdity, something that must have been devised – I can think of no other explanation, said Austerlitz – on purpose to instil a sense of insecurity and humiliation in the poor readers, especially as it ends in front of a sliding door of makeshift appearance which had a chain across it on the day of my first visit, and where you have to let yourself be searched by semi-uniformed security men. The floor of the large hall which you then enter is laid with rust-red carpet, on which a few low seats are placed far apart… And of course, Austerlitz continued, you cannot leave the red Sinai hall for the inner citadel of the library without more ado; first you have to put your request at an information point staffed by half a dozen ladies, whereupon, if this request to any degree exceeds the very simplest contingency, you take a number, like a visitor to a tax office; you then have to wait, often for half an hour or more, until another member of staff calls you into a separate cubicle, as if you were on business of an extremely dubious nature, or at least had to be dealt with away from the public gaze, and here you must say again what it is you have come for and receive the relevant instructions.”

Even quoting these passages at some length fails to give their real feel, since it is precisely their being embedded in the constant unending flow of thoughts and prose that gives (for me) the clear feeling that Sebald is having a kind of malicious fun, a verbal revenge on those who created and now control the new fortress-library and jealously guarded and restricted access to its store of knowledge. And yet the humour is always embedded in the most serious; the overt purpose of Austerlitz’s research is his quest for a father lost to him, but who was no doubt destined – with assistance from the French authorities - for the Nazi death camp. Thus the comedy, which undoubtedly infuses his prose, is dark indeed.

For my final example of Sebald’s humour, I turn to Vertigo. Now, Vertigo – like the Rings of Saturn and Austerlitz - can hardly be deemed light relief; to cite Jenny Diski’s LRB review again

��Sebald’s vertigo is caused by the centrifugal force of uncertainty that pervades everything, including our consolations.”

Nothing evidently humorous there; yet as she later says, “After a while this super-sensitised melancholy becomes comic.” Her problem, as I have cited above, is that she is not clear whether the intent was humorous, or merely the effect. But, to take an example from Vertigo (p.103) cited by Tim Parks, can one really doubt that Sebald was quietly joking when he describes the narrator’s reaction to the sight of a beautiful nun and girl in a railway compartment?

“Opposite me sat a Franciscan nun of about thirty or thirty-five and a young girl with a colourful patchwork jacket over her shoulders….The nun was reading her breviary and the girl, no less immersed, was reading a photo story. Both were consummately beautiful, both very much present yet altogether elsewhere… I admired the profound seriousness with which each of them turned the pages. Now the Franciscan nun would turn a page over, now the girl in the colourful jacket, then the girl again and then the Franciscan nun once more. Thus the time passed without my ever being able to exchange a glance with either the one or the other. I therefore tried to practice a like modesty, and took out Der Beredte Italiener, [“the eloquent Italian”] a handbook published in 1878 in Berne, for all who wish to make speedy and assured progress in colloquial Latin.”

The Eloquent Italian! Yet Parks can only - rather comment,

“Only Sebald, one suspects, would study an out-of-date phrase book while missing the chance to speak to two attractive ladies.”

A page of the alleged phrase-book’s translation is offered us in a picture adjoining this text, with a few words or phrases underlined by someone… in English, these would be ‘all saints’, ‘Carnival’, ‘angel’, ‘sin’, ‘fear’, ‘truth’, ‘lie’ and ‘pain’…

The two females, as the train approaches Milan Central Station, insert bookmark or green ribbon into their respective tomes, and when it arrives “disappear”, leaving the narrator standing on the platform claiming a sense of having been abandoned but still able to pose ludicrously grandiose and meaningless questions, and to generalise from his own momentary attraction to the duo, to the generalised human yearning to copulate and populate:

“What connection could there be, I then wondered and now wonder again, between those two beautiful female readers and this immense railway terminus which, when it was built in 1932, outdid all other railway stations in Europe; and what relation was there between the so-called monuments of the past and the vague longing, propagated through our bodies, to people the dust-blown expanses and tidal plains of the future.”

Photo of Milano Central Station via https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Skateboarding_at_Central_Station,_Milan.jpg

Here, Sebald has descended into surely conscious self-parody – the questions are meaningless, as he knows, and no answer is given. All the narrator does is stroll down the platform, and buy himself a map of the city. A city map which contained on its front, we are told, an image of a labyrinth, and on its back a claim to be “Una guida sicura per l’organizzazione del vostro lavoro” - “A secure guide for the organisation of your work”.

I cannot finish without citing one eminent source that supports my own view of Sebald:

“[His books] are notable for their curious and wide-ranging mixture of fact (or apparent fact), recollection and fiction, often punctuated by indistinct black-and-white photographs set in evocative counterpoint to the narrative rather than illustrating it directly. His novels are presented as observations and recollections made while travelling around Europe. They also have a dry and mischievous sense of humour.”

The eminent source is of course none other than Wikipedia – and against the last sentence we find the following addition: “citation needed”. Well, here I am.

Postscript

In reading quite a lot of articles about Sebald and his use (or non-use, or abuse) of humour I was happy – since my blog is named “Refractions”, to find two comments that refer to the Sebald as having a “refracted” view of the world:

“Sebald’s refracted and sometimes alienated views of both his native Germany and his adopted English homeland have had astonishing resonance in the German- and English-speaking worlds.”

Note on Amazon.co.uk page to W. G. Sebald - A Critical Companion (Literary Conjugations) Paperback – 1 Jul 2004

I was immediately hypnotised by the curious prose style, so flat and ostensibly inconsequential, which describes a kind of meditative interior monologue, not at all the world as it is seen and described by an ordinary person, but a view of the world seen through a glass darkly and refracted through the strange and sometimes uncomfortable imagination of a dyspeptic and exceptionally knowledgeable, middle-aged professor of German literature, whom one presumes has never been married and who decides to take a long and entirely purposeless walk round the shores of East Anglia meditating on aspects of its history and what he sees en route.

Charles Saumarez Smith Review of Austerlitz, The Observer 30 September 2001

Footnotes

(1) I know almost nothing about Ms Daphne Merkin but her review leaves me with a very, very dim view of her sense or sensibility - she says this in the same essay:

Who else but a gloomy, deskbound intellectual would warm to a narrator who chooses as his ''favorite haunt'' the Sailors' Reading Room in Southwold, which is ''almost always deserted but for one or two of the surviving fishermen and seafarers sitting in silence in the armchairs, whiling the hours away''?

Speaking for fellow deskbound gloomsters (not sure about the intellectual bit) I can assure Ms Merkin that the Southwold Sailors’ Reading Room is a wonderful, peaceful place overlooking the sea, in one of England’s favourite (for the middle classes, at least) coastal resorts.

Photo of the Sailors’ Reading Room via http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2607778

(2) The German passage, concerning the delicious fish and chips:

Dieselbe verschreckte Person ist es auch gewesen, die später in dem großen Speisesaal, in dem ich an jenem Abend als einziger Gast saß, meine Bestellung entgegennham und die mir bald darauf einen gewiß seit Jahren schon in der Kühltruhe vergrabenen Fisch brachte, an dessen paniertem, vom Grill stellenweise versengten Panzer ich dann die Zinken meiner Gabel verborg. Tatsächlich machte es mir solche Mühe, ins Innere des, wie es sich schließlich zeigte, aus nichts als seiner harten Umwandung bestehenden Gegenstands vorzudringen, daß mein Teller nach dieser Operation einen furchtbaren Anblick bot. Die Sauce Tartare, die ich aus einem Plastiktütchen hatte herausquetschen müssen, war von der rußigen Semmelbröseln gräulich verfärbt, und der Fisch selber, oder das, was ihn vorstellen sollte, lag zur Hälfte zerstört unter den grasgrünen englischen Erbsen und den Überresten der fettig glänzenden Chips.

#culture #language

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sarahburness · 6 years ago

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3 Ways to Stop Obsessing and Start Enjoying More of Your Life

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.” ~Marcus Aurelius

I’ve come to realize that worrying and obsessing don’t help or change anything.

Hold up. Wait a minute!

Let me rephrase that, because worrying and obsessing do change things. They make your life worse. I think pretty much everyone in the world knows this, but how hard do we try to stop doing these things?

What If?

Every day you wake up and you think and obsess and wonder, “What if?”

What if I lose my job? What if he leaves me? What if I lose everything and end up homeless?

Day after day your mind spins out of control contemplating all the things that could go wrong with your relationship or your life. On and on and on it goes, and where it stops nobody knows.

Aren’t you getting tired of thinking all the time? Isn’t obsessing about possibilities wearing you out? At what point do you decide you should stop getting caught up in your thinking, but then actually do that?

I’m tired, and I know relentless thinking wears me out. Just to let you know that I understand, I’ll give you an example.

Honestly, I have the best boyfriend ever (for me anyway) because he doesn’t let a lot of things get him down. I mean, the guy is genuinely happy and content 99 percent of the time. Me, not so much. He has been through multiple deployments, many of them combat, and still he never lets stuff get to him.

But, how does this happen? Where can I get some of what he has? This, I have been contemplating.

How Does One Become Happier?

I’ve come to realize he feels happy more than I do because he doesn’t overanalyze life, question everything, and obsess about the future. And he probably also doesn’t obsess about how happy he is and how he can be happier!

Here’s how it goes:

Me: “Does he even love me? Is he ever going to totally integrate me into his life? Am I too boring for him? I really need to get some hobbies. Am I settling, or do I expect too much? I’m so fussy sometimes and I don’t know how he handles it. Where are we going to move? When is he going to deploy? Where is he going to go? Is he going to leave me here all alone?”

I look over at him longingly, wondering what’s going through his mind, because it must be something serious and important, and he must be contemplating the fate of our relationship or the existence of the Universe, right?

He knows when I look at him with that longing look I want to know what he’s thinking about. So, I say, “Tell me, I must know!”

Him: “I need some new pants.” Or he’ll utter, “I want a key-less ignition for my bike.” Or, the earth-shattering statement, “My feet really stink.”

It’s possible he’s just not telling me what he’s really thinking, but if he is obsessing like I do, it doesn’t show in how he lives his life.

The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I’m wasting my life away obsessing about what might be or what could be or what isn’t instead of simply enjoying the moment and living in gratitude for what I have.

My guy gets all happy and excited about the little things, and for some reason I don’t. I try. So far, I have failed. But, I vow that going forward I will not fail. I will stop obsessing all the time and I will be a lot happier as a result.

Do you know why you obsess? Is it serving a purpose anymore? If not, you can change it. Here’s how.

1. You have to want it.

Are you at the point where you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired yet? If not, keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe obsessing still works for you in some way and you aren’t yet ready to change. That’s okay. We all change when we’re ready, and we get to different points at different times.

Wanting to change starts with a conscious choice you have to make. At some point you decide that you want to take control of your life instead of letting your life, your history, and your mind control you.

Think long and hard. Do you truly, really, honestly want to be happier? I believe that I have struggled with this notion for a long time. In my head I want to be happy, but in my heart there’s a seed of doubt.

Happiness is something I had briefly when I was a small child, but it was shattered by abusive adults. What if I get it back and it gets taken away again? As an adult I know that isn’t logically possible because no one can take away my happiness, but it’s still a lingering fear.

Do you feel something similar?

Despite this fear I’ve decided that I want to be happier. I’m running out of time. We’re all running out of time. Your life is ticking away every day, and you never know when it will end.

Decide you want to enjoy more of your life. Decide you deserve to enjoy more of your life. Decide you will do something to change, and then you will.

2. You have to rewire your brain.

This is the hard part. Your mind has been wired a certain way, possibly due to traumatic events, abuse, or neglect. There’s a roadmap that takes you from Point A to Point B, without fail. Before you know it, an innocuous thought like, “Does he really care about me?” has turned into you remembering every instance he showed you he didn’t care (or at least that’s how you interpreted those events), and you have now convinced yourself you should break up.

See how this works? Often, it isn’t logical, and it isn’t factual. You’re making up an ending that doesn’t exist because your mind is trying to contain and assuage your fears, put them in a box, and allow you to function with the ever-scary “not knowing.”

The fact of the matter is, you don’t know. You don’t know if your partner will leave you (they might die or cheat or break up with you—or they might stay forever). You don’t know if you’ll die tomorrow. You don’t know if you’ll lose your job or have financial struggles or end up winning the lottery.

Recognize when you’re obsessing, then decide to stop getting caught up in those thoughts. Do it once. Do it twice. Do it over and over and over until you have a little peace. If meditation helps, then do that. If sitting at the beach or reading a book helps, then do that. Do whatever will help you bring a little peace to your mind.

Once you’ve created a little space in your head, you have to start believing. When you realize you’ve been wondering, “Does she really care about me?” remind yourself, “She shows she cares about me.” Start believing the good instead of the bad.

It took me about a year to convince myself that my boyfriend really cared, even though his actions showed he did. He kept showing up and didn’t run away, but still, I had to get over my fear that no man would ever really care about me and they’d only want to use me.

If your partner doesn’t show they care, then that’s something you need to actively address. Obsessing about something can’t change it. Only action can.

3. You have to learn to love the little things.

I know this is hard sometimes. If you feel apathetic or tired or depressed it’s hard to see the good in anything. But every day there are usually little things that happen that could bring you joy even if for a few minutes.

Yesterday I went to the beach for a few hours. Being in the sun, feeling the wind, and hearing the ocean brings peace to my soul. I try to do this as often as possible because it reminds me to appreciate being alive.

Watching him cook breakfast makes me happy. I had to learn to sit back and let someone do something (anything) for me, and now I smile a little every time he whips up some eggs and bacon.

They have a baby hippo at the zoo. He weighs five hundred pounds, but he bobbles around like a fat, happy, little apple in the water, and watching him makes me happy.

I decided to buy some flowers to put in our bedroom so I can look at the sunny little yellow bunch every day.

And I’m thinking we need a dog so I have something else to focus on.

I’m trying to find simple things to make me happy instead of waiting for some big, giant event or some magical time when life suddenly changes and becomes more fulfilling, because that won’t ever happen. You create your reality, and if you keep waiting for life to happen, it will slowly pass you by.

What about you? What makes you happy? There must be something you’re grateful for, and if not, find or create something. Do you paint or write? Maybe you like animals and want to volunteer at a shelter. Maybe you need to get out in nature every day even if only for an hour.

Think of those little things that bring you joy and make sure you do them as often as possible. Try to focus on what’s good in your life, because we can spend all day focusing on what’s wrong or what isn’t working or what could be better, but honestly that doesn’t get us anywhere but into a negative spiral.

Most importantly, don’t give up if you fall backward. Don’t let the outside world make you feel like you aren’t enough if you aren’t perfect and happy and smiling all the time like everyone else on Instagram. A picture isn’t life, and social media can make you feel like a failure if you let it.

It’s okay to struggle. You don’t have to be perfect. You’re enough just the way you are, and as long as you keep moving forward and make peace with your journey, you are doing all you can and you should be proud of yourself.

So, get out there. Stop letting obsessive thoughts control you and start living your life for today!

About Lori Deschene

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The post 3 Ways to Stop Obsessing and Start Enjoying More of Your Life appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/3-ways-to-stop-obsessing-and-start-enjoying-more-of-your-life/

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char27martin · 8 years ago

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Finding the Right Writing Inspiration for Your Life

“Writing takes a combination of sophistication and innocence; it takes conscience, our belief that something is beautiful because it’s right. To be great, art has to point somewhere.” —Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Writing helps you find the lost pieces of yourself—those pieces that were misplaced, forgotten, or squashed long, long ago. Through words, we may carve a new path for ourselves or recapture the power to own who we are.

Writing brings intention. It is a permanent place to settle and explore who we are in this one tiny moment of eternity.

This guest post is by Jennifer Probst. Probst is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. Her book THE MARRIAGE BARGAIN was ranked #6 on Amazon’s Best Books for 2012, and spent 26 weeks on the New York Times’ bestseller list. Her work has been translated in over a dozen countries, sold over a million copies, and was nominated for a RITA award. She was dubbed a “romance phenom” by Kirkus Reviews.

To create on a daily basis and dedicate endless, precious time to making up stories, writers must have faith in themselves and the stories they are driven to tell. This career allows you to believe in magic, because though the work must be done—and it’s sometimes a brutal path—I have found my words often take me to a new level of expression and understanding. I can step back after the grueling process, read, and be struck by the wonder of such a gift.

Of course, this lasts only a short while. Then I’m back to picking it apart and judging. Still, a tiny piece of grace and brilliance balances those long periods of confusion and hopelessness.

But the real food for my soul is inspiration.

Where do you get your ideas?

Would you believe that’s the number one question writers are asked?

This question fascinates people. To take the kernel of an idea and allow it to grow and sprout within the pages of a book is a miracle. Without the seed of an idea, there is no book. Our all mighty, beloved, bitchy muse is the one who sifts through our potential writing inspirations to eventually cling fiercely to one idea and whisper, “This one is it. I must write this.”

My entire life has become an inspiration. If a creative artist is feeling flat and lifeless, inspiration is the food for the soul that will nourish and hydrate. If we lose our bit of magic, we may become wooden. A pale, robotic image of our best selves. We will scratch the surface and never unlock the rusty old cellar that contains our dreams and visions, and eventually, our greatness.

That’s creative death.

Writers must pay attention. You need to open up as life unfolds around you. This will keep you full of stories.

Here are some of the places I continuously find inspiration.

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Reading

Reading in various genres will sometimes act as a springboard to the excitement you need to power your own work. I want to be that good, I think to myself as I read a brilliant passage from another author. I need to work harder to create such magnificence.

I love this quote from Kyra Davis, a New York Times bestselling author:

To be a truly successful writer you need to be a voracious and eclectic reader. If you’re writing romance and all you’re reading is romance, there’s a good chance you’re going to end up writing a romance that’s very similar in format, style, and tone to all the other romance novels out there. In a market this crowded, you can’t afford that. So pick up a Donna Tartt, an Anne Rice, a David Sedaris, an Elizabeth George, and any other book written by a respected author outside your genre and figure out what makes their books sing. Use that information as both inspiration, or even as a loose guide, for creating something very original within your specific area of fiction.

Movies

Movies and television have inspired some of my most passionate ideas. I decided to create the Billionaire Builders series because of my obsession with HGTV. Whether it’s House Hunters, Property Brothers, or Fixer Upper, I’m fascinated with the process of building and making things new. So I created the Pierce brothers and their family business, which has been passed on from one generation to the next, and they allow me to live in an HGTV world.

Television series have reached an all-new level. When I watch Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, I’m able to break down how an episode is created with a specific character arc. It has also helped me study the way a powerful scene is developed. If you consider each hour installment as a chapter in your book, inspiration is rich in regards to character, motivation, growth arc, and themes. Next time you watch your favorite show, step back as a viewer and study the content like a writer.

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Real Life

My past dating disasters and close female friendships inspired my Searching For series. I had so many terrible dates that I laughed about years and years later. The series became a way to relate to all the readers who had gone through similar experiences. Taking disasters and spinning them with humor is a way to reach people.

In my book, Everywhere and Every Way, my heroine is getting ready for her date with the hero and is trying to find a way to make sure she doesn’t sleep with him. She decides not to shave her legs as a way to curtail any intimate involvement. Imagine her horror when a kiss leads to more, and she realizes her mistake and is forced to confess her secret to the hero. I heard from many readers who identified with the scene, even though this famous feminine secret has now been outed.

Quotes

Quotes from writing masters, religious leaders, or brilliant thinkers inspire me. If you’ve read any of my books, I always insert quotes that have made a difference in my life. Hearing words from someone else that strike a chord makes me feel part of a tribe, and therefore less alone. I’ve penned entire stories powered by the inspiration culled from a simple quote that struck me as a core belief of one potential hero or heroine.

When you hear a quote that inspires you, make sure to write it down in a journal or copy and paste it into a document that you go back to every now and again. You will be able to reference quotes that touch you for future blog posts, social media, and stories. I also use quotes to dig deeper into my character development. For instance, when I was creating my hero, Caleb, in Everywhere and Every Way, I picked a few quotes that would resonate with him. I did the same with his two brothers in the subsequent books, and the difference in what quotes affected them showed me the unique aspects of their personality.

People

People inspire me every day. If you are involved in any type of group, sit back and watch the dynamics. You can see the leaders rise to the occasion, the reserved stay in the background, the social chatterer who keeps things lively, and the academic who is usually serious and on point. Of course, these are exaggerations and stereotypes, but you will be able to witness how personality types can become characters, and then you’ll get a better idea of how to write their stories.

People’s stories are important in the world of writing. My favorites are the underdogs. I love hearing about up-and-coming wiz kids who create their own companies with only their intelligence and a belief in what they are building. The boxer, who keeps getting up and finally wins the big fight. The bullied kid from school who becomes a billionaire CEO. The poverty stricken, who triumph and then decide to give back. I am always pondering these brief newsflashes on morning programs, local news, and social media. They’re all stories in the making, as my muse sorts out the ones that will eventually stick, those that will appear on the page.

The rescue shelter I work with, Pets Alive, publicized a cry for help in social media featuring a beaten, abused pit bull whose back legs were paralyzed. The dog was about to be euthanized when workers from Pets Alive looked into his face and saw hope still burning bright in his eyes. Even with all the pain he’d been through, he held onto the goodness of people. The shelter decided to save him.

His story went viral. Robert was finally adopted and fitted with a special scooter so he could get around. His owner created his own Facebook page, Rockin’ Robert, and he has become a beloved public figure. Robert’s story inspired me, and I knew I needed to write about it. I incorporated his story into my book, Searching for Someday, as my heroine’s companion. I reached out to Robert’s owner to interview him and find out about Robert, so that I could write his story as factually as possible. The love between Robert and my heroine in the book became as important as the primary love story between my heroine and the hero. I mingled the two stories to create a far-reaching theme that left readers more thoroughly satisfied. When my hero succumbed to Robert’s charm, I knew the book had an extra layer that made all the difference.

I still receive e-mails regarding readers’ love for Robert, and many have posted on Robert’s Facebook page. Incorporating stories that inspire can help you write an extraordinary book.

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The Internet

The Internet can be very inspirational. Well, the good parts of the Internet—where there are lovely dog videos, people who rescue animals, real-life heroes who go out of their way to save others, and funny everyday people who want to make us happy—can be inspirational. These parts of the Internet remind me of the goodness in people and how one brave, kind act can topple a world that’s sometimes too dark. It reminds us what it is to be human.

Taking some time to explore new websites and read articles helps bring fresh information to your stories. When I was writing the Searching For series, I investigated dating sites and matchmaking agencies, and became familiar with the social parameters of Match, eHarmony, and Tinder. Research has never been easier! Most answers are at the tips of our fingers.

Music

Music is a part of my soul and an integral part of my writing. I always listen to music when I write; certain theme songs resonate with me. I have created an entire novel based on one song that touches me deeply. Music is a passionate love in my life that goes hand-in-hand with my writing.

Many authors use playlists to set the mood of a book. In my self-published works, I’ve begun to include iTunes links at the back of my books so readers can easily purchase my playlist.

If you’re struggling with your manuscript, try changing the music. Listening to specific songs while writing a sex scene or a fight scene can bring a burst of energy. If you write in silence, you may want to experiment with background sounds that boost creativity. There are wonderful sites that play soothing background sounds such as rainfall.

Open your senses to all possibilities in order to bring richness to your writing. Inspiration is the fuel that drives us forward as writers.

Fan this fire, allow it to burn hot and bright within you, and your days will be filled with stories.

An Exercise: Write a list of everything that inspires you: people, books, movies, television, music, or any situation in your life. Anything and everything goes. Then study that list; allow yourself some precious time to ponder where you receive most of your inspiration. If you target something specific, make sure you honor your soul by giving yourself more of what inspires you.

Need More Inspiration? Write Naked is filled with the lessons and craft advice every writer needs in order to carve out a rewarding career. Order now!

The post Finding the Right Writing Inspiration for Your Life appeared first on WritersDigest.com.

from Writing Editor Blogs – WritersDigest.com http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/there-are-no-rules/finding-right-writing-inspiration-life

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