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rainbowchewynuggets · 1 year ago

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IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE

I've been grinding away at this for months. I can't wait for people to see it. This project turned out to have a lot of gears behind it, so check out the artist statement below!

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I love this song. The first time I heard it, I already began picturing a story where a woman stumbled upon a gathering of birds in the forest and became so enthralled by their song that she partied with them until she became a bird, herself. It turns out that isn’t too far off from the singer, Yma Sumac’s, first experiences learning to sing. She would imitate the animals near her home in the hills of the Andes mountains as a very young kid, developing a vocal range that would make her famous later on.

From there, I fell into a montage of research on her life and the Peruvian festival music that defined her early career, as well as the complicated story of the exotica music she became most known for in the United States. I followed that up with a month-long dive into northwest Peruvian culture, mythology, ornithology, flora, and topographical studies. Then, I blacked out somewhere during the drawing phase, and now I’m here.

While I really value what I’ve learned while doing this project, I think it’s important to note that I did it all as an amateur researcher and a foreigner to the subject. I decided it would be a little conceited to try to make a totally accurate depiction of a traditional Peruvian festival, so I instead focused on referencing the regional variation of these traditions. Costumes and music have their own specific designs and textures depending on the area, and dances and festivities reflect local history. Yet, it all shares the same themes of celebrating prosperity and surviving hardship. Common motifs and characters reflect a shared heritage and cultural identity that coexists with individuality. It’s all just very cool to me.

So I asked myself, what if these birds had their own version of these traditions? What would a bird sing a folk song about? What would be new and cool to Yma, but still familiar enough that she could join in? (I got lucky, since Peruvian festival culture is already very reverent of birds and feather patterns.)

What I ended up with pulled a lot from the Carnaval de Cajamarca, which originated in the next town over from Yma’s childhood home of Ichocán. It also references these dances, among others:

Huaylarsh - Los Emplumados - Marinera - Tondero - White Dance / Los Chunchos

It’s also important to know that I took a lot of creative liberties with my research to pull the story together. I hope I haven’t used any elements in a harmful or insensitive way–and if I have, I’d like to know so that I can apologize. (I also missed out on some cool stuff, like the White Dance always having shaker beads on the legs.) I highly encourage you to have a look at some of the sources I did, and to look further if you’re interested. I found it all very enlightening, and I hope you will too.

Yma’s wikipedia, which seems like a mostly accurate overview based on other sources

Her official website, curated by a fan and friend

A segment on NPR about her musical career

The interview I got the opening from

The ornithology archive that saved my ass

I’d like to work on uploading all the frames as an image reel somewhere so they can be looked at individually. Might take a while, though.

Thanks for watching!

(To those using a screen reader, the video description follows this message. I'd like to apologize for putting the description as the last thing on the post. Not only is it extremely long, but this seemed to be the rare instance where the description would benefit from the context of the post's commentary before being read itself. I wrote and formatted this description in a way that I hoped would apply to aid various disabilities that impede enjoying music videos, and I am very interested in getting feedback.)

DESCRIPTION

[The following is presented as an animatic (a series of still images edited into a video) set to music. The art is drawn with condensed yet fuzzy pastel-like linework and full color. The song used is “Chuncho” by Yma Sumac. The song was composed to imitate the various sounds of tropical birds and animals. It has no lyrics, at least in a traditional sense. I, the describer, have tried my best to translate the especially abstract nature of this song into language that can be interpreted through text. Please use the best of your imagination to fill in the rest. An audio description will always refer to the visual description that follows it.

Audio: A male interviewer asks, “Since you are referred to the bird who became a woman in your native Peru, Ms. Sumac, may we hear your exotic voice?”

Visuals: A title card appears with gold lettering on a black background. It reads one word: Chuncho. The word is depicted as if it were carved into a flat surface with loose individual strokes.

Audio: A woman answers, “I will try to imitate the birds, as I did in my earliest years in the mountains of Peru.”

Visuals: Credits appear, also in gold text: Sung by Yma Sumac (Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chàvarri del Castillo. Drawn by Carlie Hughes (rainbowchewynuggets).

Audio: The music begins with the steady four-note strumming of a guitar, which will continue throughout the song. Then, it is accompanied by low ragged notes from a heavy woodwind instrument.

Visuals: A green cicada flicks its wings as it rests on a plant with jagged leaves and a little white flower growing from the middle. Beetles of green, red, and yellow crawl around on trees and ferns among puffy yellow blooms. Yellow humpback beetles huddle together on a cold stone surface as mothlike butterflies cling to hanging purple-grey moss in the background. A cluster of butterflies of black, green, blue, orange, purple, and red flare their wings along stems and vines. A line of spiny cocoons hang from a vine leading up the center of the group.

Audio: A vocalist, the same woman as before, begins to sing in vocables. Her first notes are short, round, and bubbly, like the chirping of a small bird. The lilt of a flute follows.

(“B-bm, bui-bui-buiii…”)

Visuals: A small village sits on the side of a forested and scrub-covered mountain at night. Buildings twinkle with yellow and blue window light through the darkness. At the edge of the forest, a tall lean woman appears with warm orange skin, long black hair, a simple green dress cinched at the waist with blue trim on the neck, hem, wrist, and waist, and a powder blue shawl tied at the chest. She sneaks away from the village into the temperate tropical forest, glancing back to make sure hasn’t been followed. She grows more at ease as she leaves the buildings behind and strides between bushes, deeper into the trees. She passes a flowering plant with orange petals. Its bulbs are held aloft on long, long stems.

Audio: The vocalist sings in elongated threads of notes, wavering in a minor key in a mischievous way.

(“Whu, hu-uuuu…”)

Visuals: The woman grazes her fingers along a bush with little black berries and white spiky flowers. Her hand passes up and down with the shape of the bush, like the rise and fall of an ocean wave. She walks uphill, past pink clover and increasingly frequent stones.

Audio: The vocalist clicks and rolls her tongue with her notes, like drops of water splashing across stones.

(“Dlu, dlu-dlu-dlu-dlu-buiii…”)

Visuals: A voice suddenly gets her attention. The voice passes by as a green line with wide wave forms. The woman follows it. She passes through a stone forest–dense moss-covered rock formations that reach up toward the sky. The ground below is streaked with snake trails. The line of song is now yellow. It leads her forward along a trail through the rocks. She climbs a more precarious formation of boulders, through dense shrubbery and a dramatic rocky landscape. As the voice shifts redder, her colors shift pinker. Even the environment’s colors are shifting to pinks and blues. She climbs a hill, past tall spindly trees and a nearly vertical mountainside. The pink line of song leads her still upward.

Audio: The vocalist belts out the deep throaty call of a tropical bird trying to be heard far and wide. The notes increase in frequency, then widen into a whoop that softens to a murmur. The flute follows her with a few short forceful notes.

(“Ah, bya bya bya-bya-bya-bya-bya-byaaa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-wi, wa-wa-wa wiii…”)

Visuals: When the woman reaches the top of the hill, a light shines up at her from the other side, returning her original colors. Below, she sees a gathering of human-sized bird people celebrating on a leafy platform. They’re dancing in different sized circles around a tree at the center. Rainbow colored ribbons of different lengths have been tied to the branches of the tree and hang down to form the silhouette of a condor. More ribbons and colorful bulbs hang from the leaves above. The line of song (now light blue) travels in a circle around the tree trunk. The camera zooms in, revealing details of the birds and their costumes. The birds are pigeons, hawks, cuckoos, seedbirds, and corvids. They’re all dressed in colorful hats, vests, slacks, and dresses with patterns that reflect those of their feathers. A circle of spotted woodpeckers closest to the trunk wear purple gowns and party hats. The party’s singing expands the blue circle of light. A wider circle of yellow, green, and white birds sit and watch the celebration from the edges of the platform. As a line of bright manakin birds zip by with their hands clasped together, the woman approaches from a nearby branch. She’s enticed by the party and joins the dance, clasping hands with a green parrot and leading the line with a broad smile on her face.

Audio: The vocalist makes a quick sudden series of escalating notes, then makes a hard sound with her teeth and returns to a low whoop. The flute echoes her.

(Ba-bana-baba-cht!, waw waw waw waw waw waw waw wiii…”)

Visuals: The birds switch to individual dances. A short red woodpecker and a tan long-necked bird with ribbons in her hair dance and sing together, their lines of song intertwining. The woman and three pigeons in red and black dresses stomp their heels in a quartet dance. She follows their steps flawlessly, familiar with the type of dance. When they begin to sing and whistle, she joins them–though her voice isn’t as strong as theirs and her line of song is thin and brittle.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low growl, at first imperceptible, that grows to a steady rumble. The flute follows.

(“Rhhh…, rhh, rhh rhhh…”)

Visuals: Then, the lights darken and redden. The woman stops to notice all the other birds heading to the back of the platform. They climb and flutter up to sit in fruit-bearing branches that grow just beyond. The woman finds herself a spot and picks a piece of fruit to eat. She takes a bite as a show begins. A band of various birds wearing ponchos and cloth hats sit down by the show platform. They play their instruments (flute, guitars and a drum) and count in the performance.

Audio: The vocalist makes more short bubbly chirps. They grow higher in small strings of notes until the phrase ends with a low long note.

(“Bom-bom, t-bom-bom-bom, mbom-bom wiii…”)

Visuals: Five owls appear, bathed in magenta spotlight before the center tree trunk. All of them have their yellow-spotted wings wrapped to mostly cover their black and gold-trimmed dresses. The four owls on the sides are short and red, while the one in the center is tall and bright purple. As all five begin to sing a golden song, they operatically open their wings and extend their feathers. As the light darkens to violet, the black and gold patterns in the folds of their wings leap out as if exposed to blacklight. They extend their arms upward and then double over to kneel on the stage, fully splaying their wings in a dramatic display. The woman watching is transfixed.

Audio: The vocalist rolls a noise from the back of her throat. Once, twice, three times–before hitching the roll up and down and letting it trail off. The flute makes a low hollow arc of a note.

(“Ghhh, ghhh, ghh gh-gh-gheee…”)

Visuals: Cut to the next performance. Two teams of blackbirds with long waving feathers compete, standing on each other’s shoulders to form two pyramids. The one at the top of each team lunges forward to try to strike the other with a long stick, propelled by their team. Their feathers glow with yellow light from above. The team on the left—with orange vests and red sashes—strikes first, only nearly missing. They gloat as the lime vest and green sash team on the right recoils and protests. Then, it’s the green team’s turn to take a confident lunge, forcing the red to frantically pull back in time to dodge. On the next strike, the red team buries the stick in the top of the enemy pyramid (actually tucked under the green leader’s arm). The victim feigns a mortal wound, and the entire team flies away. The red team poses, victorious. The red leader gets down to the floor to greet the widow of the green team, wearing a green dress. She peers at him from behind a silky black wing. As soon as he lands, she whacks him over the head with her own concealed stick. He is surprised. She is unamused.

Audio: The vocalist lets out a ghostly wail that wavers wildly like an eerie wind, higher and higher. A shaker instrument rumbles beneath her voice.

(“Woaaa… woaaa… woaa–”)

Visuals: Next, it’s dark. Three colorful birds in masks and costumes tread the air at an angle on the left side of the screen against a blue and green background. There’s a yellow spiky one, representing lightning. A blue round-feathered one, representing rain. And a spade-feathered green one, representing trees. Long beaded threads tied to their wings and tails wave and tangle across the screen as a group of five hummingbirds in shades of red struggle to survive the “storm” raging around them. The colored ribbons of the central tree are muted and flutter with the power of the wind. Two other birds hug the trunk, nearly out of sight. There’s a prop on the floor to the right made to look like a stone alcove, where more hummingbirds are hiding. The storm bringer birds beat their wings hard, casting the strings of lightning, water, and leaf shaped beads in huge chaotic waves. The five hummingbirds in vests and dresses wince and tumble against the wind, flying together in a tight circle. The threads crisscross behind them, an overwhelming force on the tiny birds’ scale. A red line of song floats up to reach them, guiding them down to the nest.

Audio: When her wail is at its highest, the vocalist pushes it further into the voice of a shrill songbird. The note hangs high in the air, then takes a few steps down and up. The segment ends with the sudden interjection of the low round voice–as if in surprise–and a trailing mumble.

(“Haaa, aa-aa aa-aa aa-aa, hoa? Ah, bw-huh…”)

Visuals: Those in the stone nest finish singing and reunite with the others, pulling them down to safety. A blackbird hiding behind the trunk spreads its wings, sitting on the shoulders of a brown woodpecker. The blackbird’s vest and wingspan are covered in yellow, signaling the coming of daylight. The storm birds retreat and sit still on a nearby branch. The wind is suddenly gone.

Audio: The guitar plays alone.

Visuals: After the stage performances, the audience members move back to the platform. They’re gathered off to the far left side of the central tree trunk, standing in a circle around a single figure. The light of the gathering area is deep plum-purple in far off areas and warm dull pink over the crowd. The empty space around the single dancer is salmon red, and the figure herself is blue.

Audio: The vocalist perfectly mimics the sound of a flutter, of delicate waving in the wind.

(“W-w-w-w-w-w-w”)

Visuals: The camera zooms in on her hand as it flits a pink handkerchief in the air.

Audio: The vocalist belts a pair of bold staunch vocables. The second note is held for several seconds before fading out.

(“Kyen, kyen…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to reveal the rest of her. She’s a blue eagle with wings that grade from red at the arms to pink to blue at the wingtips in a wavy pattern. Her smiling beak is bright pink. Her dress is royal blue with reddish-pink trimmed ruffles on the hem of the skirt, waist frill, neck frill, and the flower decoration on the side of her head. She stands with the hem of her dress in one hand and the handkerchief extended in the other in an open invitation to dance. A pale pink spotlight frames her head and shoulders against the darkness, and a dark pink line of song passes behind her. Her partner, an eagle of the same coloration with a blue vest and pants, pink shirt, pale orange sash, a blue hat in one hand, and a pink hanky of his own raised in the other, is calling to her. He puts his hands behind his back and takes high steps toward her. When the two are close, they turn and walk parallel to each other in a slow circle. The male’s back is to his partner. He looks at her over his shoulder with a smile and abruptly splays his feathers to be cute. There’s a layer of pink under his outer coat. She grins, entertained.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the two vocables, twisting the end of the second up into a high wavering trill that eventually soothes and disappears.

(“Kyen, kye–eee, ee, eee, ee…”)

Visuals: The two turn to face each other, circling tighter and tighter in unified song until they’re face to face, looking deep into each other’s eyes. With another turn, they’ve passed by each other and out of sight.

Audio: The vocalist makes a whisper, a ghost of the two vocables. Then, a few quick whistles, barely loud enough to hear.

(“Hyo, hyo”)

Visuals: The woman, who has been captivated by the dance, suddenly notices that the crowd has dispersed around her. Partners are walking off in all directions, leaving her alone. The dance is over.

Audio: The guitar picks up, getting faster and louder for a bit.

Visuals: The woman walks alone in the blue night air along a tangle of tree branches that form a pathway. She walks with her hands behind her back, her face looking preoccupied and a little disappointed. Bushels of soft leaves pass by in the background.

Audio: A high, light pleasant note from the vocalist overtakes the guitar. It grows until it fills the soundscape.

(“Aaa…”)

Visuals: An orange song reaches her from the direction she came, and she stops. When she turns, she sees a blue swift standing on the branch path, far behind her in an opening in the trees. The underside of his feathers is dingy orange, and he’s wearing a black vest, white pants, a rusty red sash around his waist, a bright green kerchief around his neck, and an orange rectangular accessory tied around his neck like a necklace. His face is obscured by a white hat with an orange band. He bows low with a hand on the hat. The hat comes off, revealing inviting eyes and a smiling orange beak. The woman grins and accepts the invitation with determination.

Audio: The vocalist draws long high vocables that resemble a wail. They trail off with a low note.

(“Whoa whoaaa…”)

Visuals: She and the swift untie the fabric around their necks and step toward each other as the line of song forms a ring above them. The woman holds the ends of the shawl in her hands and her hands at her hips with the body of the shawl hanging behind her waist. The bird holds his kerchief out in one hand with the hat in the other, held behind his back. He takes measured winding steps along the branches. The woman mirrors his steps, then pushes off of the main path and lands on an outcropping branch.

Audio: The vocalist’s song wavers back up and demurely bobs up and down, intertwined with tweeting from the flute.

(“Hoa… ohee…”)

Visuals: Her voice, seafoam green and a little stronger than before, trails behind her. She darts back onto the main branch and ducks behind the bird, then circles around to face him, the two only a few feet apart. They exchange steps pushing the other forward and back and flicking their garments in time with their movements. The woman’s voice grows stronger, nearly matching his. The bird quickly catches up as she moves backward, dancing beside her. The two dancers then leap from the main branch and fall down into the rocky forest below, passing by grassy plateaus and vines creeping through stone. Their song follows all the way down. They leap across boulders in the moonlight, side by side. The swift suddenly stops and folds his kerchief around the center of the shawl, hitching the two together.

Audio: The vocalist belts a complex series of syllables that mimic the heavy majestic cawing of a large bird or hawk. The flute makes itself known a little as the voice fades out.

(“Hlau-lau-lau hau-au-wau-wa-wiii…”)

Visuals: The woman, at the receiving end of the momentum, is swung wide and lets out a vibrant complex line of song that could match any bird’s. The two pull closer to each other and end their song on a low steady note. Then, they bow to each other as the camera pulls back. They’re standing on a rock that rises above a basin of water among huge formations of rock. Pairs of birds dance all around them in the shallows.

Audio: The guitar takes over for a bit.

Visuals: The camera cuts to an upward view of a varied group of birds sitting in branches, staring downward with interest. The light from the moon coming down through a break in the trees above is now cool green. The light coming up from where the birds are looking is orange-red.

Audio: The vocalist lets out the aggressive growling of a cat.

(“U-wau, wau-wau-wau-wau”)

Visuals: Below, the woman is dancing in a line with three reddish woodpeckers in a greenish clearing in the trees. They wear intricately detailed dresses in different combinations of bright green, yellow, red, and black with geometric and floral embroidery. The dresses are cinched at the waist with a piece of fabric covered in colored bands. Their heads are covered in scarves with the same colors and patterns. They sing and step aggressively toward the left of the screen. At the other side of the clearing, a line of four red and white faced woodpeckers with green beaks and wings face right. They wear bright green hats, kerchiefs, and sashes, yellow and black striped vests, and dark red pants with yellow tassels at the ankles. Their black shoes tap against the ground as they make quick little dance steps and flutter yellow handkerchiefs. They hold onto the brims of their hats and then lean down with a flourish of their arms, exposing the red crests of their heads sticking up underneath. The dance then changes formation. The girls dance in a line to the left as the boys step in a line to the right.

Audio: The growl hushes down to a wavering whisper, like wings beating in the dark.

(“Tchwahh-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah…”)

Visuals: Out on a cliff by a waterfall, the scene is bathed in cyan. The line of dancers–alternating male, female, male, female–do a hopping dance from partners on the left to those on the right and back again as they move along the cliff, passing behind the waterfall as it disappears into the greenery in the foreground.

Audio: The guitar asserts itself again.

Visuals: Everything is suddenly red. A guitarist in a blue poncho and a red neck sash frets the neck of a guitar with a brown feathered hand. Rainbow ribbons are tied to the headstock. A deep orange song emanates from the strings.

Audio: The vocalist quickly accompanies the guitar with a harmonized version of the growl that revs up climatically, taking steps up the scale until it’s at its absolute height.

(“U-wa-wa ee-ee eh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-ohh!”)

Visuals: A congress of the partygoing birds stand in lines facing each other, all wearing blue outfits with red kerchiefs with rainbow tassels on them. The group jumps up and down in unison as part of a dance. The party breaks into smaller dances, and the woman dances by herself. She’s wearing a green skirt and flowy purple top with red underskirt, waist cinch, and scarf. Rainbow tassels are attached to the overskirt, and they swish with her movements. Beside her are a hawk woman and a pair of long billed bird men dancing in a circle with their ankles locked. A pair of red birds with white streaks on their wings suddenly hoist the woman into the air, as other birds are hoisted in the distance. As she’s held aloft, she sings and spreads her arms, revealing more tassels on her top, resembling wings. Her song is immense and beautiful. The camera focuses on one of the hoisted birds in the background, who has executed a handstand with the person who threw them. The blackbird’s feathers are all sorts of bright colors. The song passes by behind him. The excitement of the party disguises the presence of a looming pair of yellow slitted eyes peering out from a dark spot between the leaves nearby. A trio of purple pigeons dancing in a line with twigs and colored strings in their hands dip and weave together. The one in front balks, noticing the threat at last.

Audio: The high energy of the music suddenly cuts out. The shrill call of a small bird climbs up out of the silence.

(“Eee…”)

Visuals: A striped short legged pampas cat pounces into the center of the dance field. It misses the birds, but the illusion is shattered. The bird people are just birds again. They fly in a frenzy up through the trees to the safety of the early morning sky. The hilltop erupts with silhouettes of wings.

Audio: When the small bird’s call is at its highest, it tumbles back down and transforms into a low disquieting wail. The guitar re-enters.

(“Ee-ee-ee-ah-ahh ahh oohhh…”)

Visuals: The pampas cat has retreated into the dim tawny forest. It stands on a bent tree branch among bushes and hanging moss and stares into the camera with glowing yellow pupils. A tiny rodent scurries by and into a bush. The cat notices and darts after it. Nearby, dozens of bats hang from the underside of a rock formation that extends over a field of berry bushes. Their sleepy heads are tucked into their folded wings. A straggler flaps up to join the rest as the sun continues to rise. Elsewhere, a hive with wasp-like insects resting on the outside hangs over a rock. Sunlight gleams over the scene from a break in the trees in the background. A large brown mouse climbs up on the rock, backlit by the sun. It grabs a wasp in its teeth and leaves before the rest of the hive can wake up.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low steady murmur. A couple shakes from the shaker instrument follow.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: A colony of green and brown frogs with purple eye ridges, yellow faces, and orange bellies are asleep on dewy ridges of rock. A green cicada hangs out on a leaf off to the top left corner. The mouse jumps down through their resting spot, waking them all up. The frogs croak a green song as the cicada hangs on for dear life on the swinging leaf. The wind moans through the crevices of another stone forest. The little flowering shrubs that grow on the rocks bristle in the breeze. A variety of green, yellow, and blue lizards poke their heads out of the rocks, into the morning light.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the murmur. The flute follows this time.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to view the entire rock formation. The still rising sun shines only on the top half of right-facing stones. Long spindly tree trunks grow from the top left, out of sight. Long grass waves on the ground below. An alpaca-like vicuña raises its head from the long grass, facing the light. In the branches of the trees above, various birds perch facing left.

Audio: The vocalist makes a mysterious sound that begins as a harsh sound between her teeth and ends as a whisper. It echoes in the background.

(“Chwah-ah…”)

Visuals: The camera turns back to the village. Golden light casts diagonally across the brown roofs and tan buildings. The silhouette of a small bird flies toward the center of town.

Audio: The vocalist makes the sound again, then pulls the whisper up into a harsh repeated rasp from the back of her throat.

(“Chwah-ah qwah-qw-qw-qw-qw-qwah-qwah-qwah”)

Visuals: Down in between the one-story houses, the bird flutters down. Long shadows lay across a passage leading toward a door on the side of a building. We see the shadow of the woman land in the soft dirt path where the bird’s would have. She heads toward the door at a walking pace.

Audio: The call returns to a whisper. The vocalist clicks her throat in a short series of hollow sounds, nearly like the creaking of wood.

(“Qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk, qwk qwk qwk qwk”)

Visuals: As she opens the door to enter the purple interior light of the house, we see that she’s back in her green dress, but now her shawl is red. The sun glints in her hair. Before she goes inside, she looks back and winks at the camera with a smile. Then, she slowly pulls the door behind her until it’s shut.

Audio: The vocalist lets out her breath entirely as the accompanying music trickles into silence.

(“Haaa…”)

Visuals: The screen is black for a few seconds.

Audio: The high whistling call of a green manakin can be heard over the rustling of forest trees. The call’s tone is raised at the end, like it’s asking a question.

(“Twee?… Twee?… Twee?… Twee?”)

Visuals: The end card appears. Yellow and green lettering and a border lay on a black background. The text reads: Yma Sumac. Peruvian soprano and composer. October 13th 1922 until November 1st 2008. Biographical and reference info in description. Chuncho, 1953. Written by Moises Vivanco. Capitol Records, Universal Music Publishing Group. Carlie Hughes. Tumblr @rainbowchewynuggets. www.carliehughes.com. End ID]

INDEX

#chuncho song #animatic #chuncho animatic #night festival animatic #the night festival #yma sumac #the birds #the forest creatures #this was supposed to go up on her birthday but i got sick aaa #Youtube

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the-wip-project · 1 year ago

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SloMo WriMo: Confronting Your Fears

There’s a voice in my head. And it’s telling me to stop writing.

It makes me afraid, telling me that my writing is worthless, that there’s no point, that nothing I do matters. That I suck. That I need to check my ego, pretending that I’m any sort of expert in a position to give advice to others. That if I post this then I’ll be opening myself up to attacks by trolls. Why even bother? It says. No one wants to read your ramblings anyway. Why not just keep your ideas in your head? Where it’s safe?

If you’re reading this? It means that once again I’ve beaten the voice back and written anyway.

There’s a lot of names for that voice. Impostor Syndrome, The Critical Voice. The Inner Editor. Writers Block. (Yes, I am including writers block on this list.) The Superconciousness.

And like it or not, we all have a version of it in our heads.

Writers who write often and freely are not magically free of that voice. The only difference is that they (including me— most of the time) have learned how to corral and even shut out that voice.

How? Every writer has a different bag of tricks, but it’s not as simple as using a program that stops you from rewriting, or only writing in sprints. That can be helpful, but treating the symptoms without confronting the problem will eventually lead to failure.

First you have to pay attention to exactly what is that voice in your head whispering to you. (And don’t let it trick you into believing that it’s not like other inner voices, and is actually is helpful, or truthful.)

Everyone’s inner voice is unique, but if you find yourself:

Needing to do just a bit more research before you can start (even though you’ve already accumulated plenty of knowledge on the subject)

Endlessly editing a section (often the opening!) and never moving any further forward

Suddenly bored with a story even though you were excited to write it just a few thousand words ago

Frequently abandoning writing, and having a hard drive full of almost done manuscripts

If you find yourself frequently doing any of those things? Most likely it’s fear stopping you. Fear of what? Again, it’s different for everyone, but here’s some common ones:

What if it’s bad?

What if it’s made fun of?

What if I fail in my vision?

What if I offend someone (reasonably or not) and a twitter mob descends on me with pitchforks and torches?

What if no one wants to read it?

The thing is, on the surface those fears sound very reasonable. If you write something it could be bad, or stupid, or boring, or offensive.

So what should you do in the face of all these risks?

Honestly? There’s really only two options. Quit, or write it anyway.

Me? I’ve decided to face my fears and write anyway. I assume that anyone reading this wants to do that too.

But how?

In the end it comes down to awareness, and permission.

Here’s how it works for me. I get an idea: What if it’s like Leverage, but in SPACE!!!(but in space is a common idea I have lol) I start writing: This is exciting! Writing an ensemble cast is a fun new challenge! And then suddenly I feel like I’ve hit a wall: This sucks. The characters are boring and hackneyed. No one will ever want to read it. How would I even market something like this? Why am I writing this? I should just quit. I have a different idea that’s much better anyway.

Sound familiar?

But ha! It’s familiar to me too. I know those negative thoughts are just the fear voice talking. So I face them: Fears? You might be right. It might be bad. But I’m going to write it anyway.

And I keep repeating that, reminding myself that it’s okay to write something less than perfect, that it’s okay if it’s bad, and that I still want to write this story, until the writing gets fun again. And it does get fun again. For me at least. I’ve had enough practice at this that the fears really only grip me at certain moments. Unfortunately if the fears have a powerful hold on you, you may have to battle them all the way through. Even if that’s the case, every time you beat them, they will get weaker.

And that’s it. It’s three simple steps.

1. Identify your fears, and how they stop you

2. Challenge the negative thoughts, and give yourself permission to write anyway

3. Keep writing

Easy to say, and hard to do! (Of course I’m not a mental health professional, this is simply my experiences. If what you’re dealing with is severe and/or harming you, please seek professional help.)

I'd love to know what you do to confront your fears!

#slowmowrino #facing fears #writing problems

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tamelee · 9 months ago

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I love your artwork, it's so cool! I'm an amateur in art, do you have any tips? Thank you!

Thank you so much! 💕 And sure! (Have you seen my other posts as well?) It’s a bit easier when it’s more specific >< But I’ll try my best;

- Keep notes about the things you want to learn as you draw! Someone gave me a tip to have an art-goal so you know what to work on and then improve these particular things as you go, but for some reason I found it really hard to set these goals? (Am I the only one?) I kept thinking I just wanted to ‘improve’ everything, but that’s not very tangible and I can’t effectively measure whether I’ve succeeded… (it’s also not always easy to see your own improvements… at least I rarely can ><)

But when you draw and you come across these little things that make you go “hm, I wish this was easier” or “I really love this sketch I made, but I’m not sure how to go about coloring it”, anything like that— then your desires regarding your art or your process become a lot more specific, right? Write these down! What specifically would you like to improve on?

I’ve noticed for myself and many others talked about it as well that once a piece is done, it’s like you forget a lot about the process and your mind is set on a new project. (Also, yay! You were in the zone~) You can either use your current project as practice (all of them are in a sense, really) or start a new one later, research what you need (on YouTube, books, or perhaps a course from an artist you really like if you can afford it) and work on your goal!

- Also keep notes for any ideas you may have. We always think we’ll remember something and then we don’t. These sudden, often spontaneous glimpses you receive seemingly out of nowhere can be some of your best and it’s a shame if they fade back into the void. This also applies to anything that inspires you.. it can really be anything. I think I’ve said this before, but if you do this, try and organize a bit. Otherwise you’ll end up with a bunch of notes that’s more overwhelming than anything else.

You can use folders to keep images, notes, a dedicated Notion page perhaps or if you can afford it, keep an extra external SSD for this.

- Well, this also applies to research or video’s you’d like to watch. If you end up with too many tutorials or books, or they aren’t goal-oriented specific to your art desire, it may get really hard to get you started on something. If you’re like me and it’s hard to focus, I’d highly recommend taking some time to sit back, think about the thing you really want, organize and structure a way towards it and go. That way you don’t have to make all these decisions along the way— you know what to do already, it’s written right there!

- And that also applies to tools and brushes xD I know it’s really fun to download all of it because many are free and what if there’s ever a time you may need this specific texture on a brush? What if you can’t get this style that inspired you with the brushes you already have? But truth is, you don’t need them all and if you do, you’ll notice there are many you won’t even touch. And well… as you can see in my art as well, apart from the pencil ones, it doesn’t necessarily encourage consistency if that’s what you strive for. If you want to practice, most often the basic round brush will do, the less opacity or blend, the more you can practice shapes and clarity. In that case I’d stay away from the airbrush whenever possible.

- Depending on the program you use (CSP has their own), you can use these to help you with facial angles, or this if you rather prefer a basic skull. You can use the site if you can’t get the angles quite right for many things.

- For coloring I highly recommend James Gurney’s articles or book ‘color and light a guide for the realistic painter’, even if you’re not a realistic painter, it still contains most (all?) of what you need to know about color.

- A great way to experiment is to just… open a blank document and do whatever. I know it often feels like you have to draw something (preferably something good), but you can actually learn a lot by just scrabbling away. Here’s also often where you find the things you feel like you need to improve. Certain angles are especially hard for me, but I hadn't known that if I didn't try >< Oh, I also found this site by accident and I haven't read it all, but it covers many subjects! Hope these are helpful! 🌷

#asktamelee #art talk #art tips

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virgo-dream · 2 years ago

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Glitter Glue and Butterfly Stickers 🦋✨

general audiences / dreamling / domestic fluff / retired dream / 1052 words

a gift to my beloved @littledreamling. as I’ve told you before, you are the hope to my sadness. thank you for never losing sight of me when I feel lost. inspired by this post. read here or on ao3

Sometimes, it was impossible for Hob not to marvel at how lucky he truly was. He and Dream had been married for about 10 years, after Dream had decided to step down from his role as lord of the Dreaming for good. Retirement suited his husband quite well too. Dream was making quite the name for himself as a painter and sculptor, and took great joy in taking part of the small tasks of their everyday life. They’d moved to a nice house away from the city, big enough for a nice office for Hob and a large studio for Dream, along with a library they both shared. The move had been great for other reasons too: Dream tended to get overwhelmed in the city, and the both of them could enjoy a lot more privacy too.

When they decided to adopt a child, a bigger house had also been ideal.

Hob had been sitting on his desk for what felt like an eternity, but had in fact been about 8 hours. He was hunched over his computer, eyes already stinging from the strain of looking at the screen for so long. He’d written quite a lot that day, and read even more from the pile of printed out articles, papers and books, research material for his new thesis that he much preferred reading the physical copies of. His main source of comfort while he worked was a single mug of warm tea that filled itself back up every time he reached for it, courtesy of his above god-kind of a husband. Hob reached for the mug, taking a sip of tea that could only be described as “childhood memory” flavored, let out a soft sigh and leaned back on his chair, allowing his mind to wander for a moment.

A soft knock on the door brought him right back to reality.

“Dearest, may I come in?” Dream’s voice was soft, almost like he was afraid he might interrupt Hob while he worked. Hob found it endearing, how much Dream respected and honoured his work hours.

Hob got up, stretching his arms and back quickly, before walking over to the door to open it, smiling as he was greeted by the face of the person he loved most in the entire universe. “You know you don’t have to knock, love. It’s never a bad time for you.”

Dream allowed a private and gentle smile, eyes filled with a fondness that Hob was perpetually greedy for. “I prefer to not interrupt your writing process. I have learned that an interrupted flow of ideas is preferred by scholars and artists alike.”

“And I am thankful for it dove, I really am.” Hob leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Dream’s lips, letting his hands rest on his husband’s hips. “But as you well know, I can always use a visit or 10 from you while I work.”

“You would not get any work done if I indulged you.” Dream’s tone was humorous, as if his smile was evident even in his voice.

“But I’d get to do you, and that would be even more rewarding.” said Hob, winking at the end to get his point across. It earned him a soft flush on Dream’s cheeks, so even if he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he’d done so far, his day had already been won.

“You are impossible, Hob Gadling.”

“So are you, Morpheus Gadling.” 10 years into their marriage and Hob still felt the need to say Dream’s name out loud to believe it had even happened. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come here just to praise me.”

“You would be correct.” Dream reached into the back pocket of his jeans, producing a bubblegum pink envelope filled with glittery butterfly stickers. “Lucy requested I deliver this to you. She said it was of the utmost importance that you read it before dinner.”

Hob took the small envelope from Dream’s hand, his smile growing larger by the second as he read his name written in the handwriting of his 7 year old daughter. “From Princess Lucy to Doctor Gadling” he read out loud, looking at Dream as if his heart would not be able to make it through reading the contents of the letter.

“Ah, yes. Princess Lucy of the Dream Kingdom. I find it very appropriate, don’t you?” Hob had never seen anything like the look of pride that currently resided in Dream’s eyes.

“Of course, I should have known.” Hob let out a soft chuckle, carefully opening the envelope as not to damage any of the many stickers Lucy had used to glue it shut. He then unfolded the letter, written in flower themed stationary with an array of different coloured pencils.

“Dear Doctor Gadling (Dad),

Dad Morpheus read me an article you wrote. I was amazed by it! ^u^ It surprised me that took you 4 months to write it! :O I’m sure it took a lot of work. I found out a lot of things about medieval times! I also liked learning about the things you teach. A lot of things made me say “awesome”! :D I want to read what you write next!

A+!

Princess Lucy of The Dream Kingdom (your daughter)”

Hob tried to read it aloud, but his voice got shaky midway through, and he was glad when Dream pulled him into his embrace and finished reading it for him. “Dream, I—“

“I know.” Dream pressed a soft kiss to Hob’s temple, wiping his tears away gently with his thumbs. “She is very proud of you, Hob. As am I. It was her idea to write the letter; she wanted to give you encouragement in writing your thesis.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing any more writing today after this.” Hob’s eyes were filled with tears, but he couldn’t be happier. How he’d landed this life was beyond him.

“Thus my hesitance in interrupting you.” Dream pressed a kiss to Hob’s lips, then brushing a strand of hair that had escaped Hob’s bun away from his eyes. “I shall get dinner ready. Perhaps you could play with Lucy while I cook. I have heard she’s in need of a knight.”

“Ah, of course. Can’t keep the princess of the Dream Kingdom waiting now, can I?”

#dreamling #dreamling fic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fic #dream x hob #morpheus x hob #ao3 fic #kidfic #domestic fluff #parenting fic #ao3 author #for littledreamling #love this bit me and kai have where we're unconditionally in love with each other I hope it never ends

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putnamcapital · 7 months ago

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get to know me tag

thanks for the tag @stretchoutfics

do you make your bed?

yes! at least, if i’ve not made my bed, it’s a clear sign of a significant depressive spiral.

what's your favourite number

8. i loved the shape it made when i was learning to write.

what is your job?

researcher and teacher at a university. also lawyer.

if you could go back to school, would you?

i am basically … still in school … or as one perceptive eight-year old asked me when i was doing my PhD, “You’re still in school? What happened to you?” her parents wanted the floor to open.

can you parallel park?

yes. i am not very good at self-promotion (British), but i will on this one occasion boast that i can in fact park in a sardine can - even on the left (i.e. on a one-way street)

a job you had that would surprise people?

i had an internship in marketing of generic pharmaceuticals. i credit it for everything i know how to do in Excel.

do you think aliens are real?

yes, but i wont necessarily allow that our definition of ‘real’ accords with all the possible ‘reals’ in the universe.

can you drive a manual car?

yes, and i love it.

what's your guilty pleasure?

This. And eyeliner.

tattoos?

No.

favorite color?

red

favorite type of music?

instrumental neo-classical at the moment, but have gone through heavy folk and alt-folk periods, as well as pure classical.

do you like puzzles?

what kind … the jigsaw kind, yes, though due to bereavement, they make me sad now. it was something she and i did together.

any phobias?

the ocean.

favorite childhood sport?

if childhood means ‘something i no longer do much of’ - since i still do a lot of sports and dancing: pick-up soccer with friends.

do you talk to yourself?

obviously. not always kindly though.

what movies do you adore?

there are too many. just off the top of my head: In the Name of the Father, Sense and Sensibility, Antonia’s Line, Arrival, Aftersun, Carol

coffee or tea?

tea, in industrial quantities.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

i can’t properly remember. teacher, maybe?

No pressure forward tagging, not sure if you've done this or want to? @margotdanslebois, @sadhappylady, @sflow-er

#get to know me

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cleascozycorner · 25 days ago

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The life of a mute person

Mute people are very rare. You just have to open a search engine to realize it. Doing research on muteness automatically means coming across articles talking about deaf mutes when deaf people are not necessarily mute. It’s just that some people no longer see the point of using speech.

To be truly mute, apart from psychological problems, there must be damage to the larynx or vocal cords (maybe also to the speech center in the brain, but I’m not sure).

Okay, but apart from being the perfect woman, what are the consequences of being mute in your life?

I’ve been mute since I was a baby and a mute baby is an inexhaustible source of worry for parents. A mute baby means not hearing his cries and therefore not knowing when he is hungry or needs to be changed, not knowing if he has hurt himself, not knowing if he is still alive until you look at him. My parents slept very little during this period.

Both my parents were drug addicts. They met during a detoxification treatment.

From what my father confessed to me, my mother always thought that my tumor was due to her addiction and always blamed herself. That added to the stress that I caused must be the cause of her relapse and her departure.

Growing up, I learned French sign language but above all I developed an incomparable talent for miming things. There are sadly few people who speak sign language. Besides that, I always carried a notebook and a pen (then a pencil when my dad got tired of the ink stains on my clothes) on me. Until the blessed day I got my first smartphone.

When I talk to my dad or my close friends I use sign language and of course people who don’t know me think I am and who see us talking think I am deaf so they start shouting to talk to me which tends to annoy me. If I were deaf I wouldn’t hear any better because they talk to me louder but eventually I think I could become deaf.

It had some positive sides. I often changed schools when I was little because of my father’s job which meant we traveled a lot. So in middle school and high school people would talk next to me thinking I didn’t understand what they were saying. It was handy to be aware of all the rumors of the moment.

Another really annoying thing is getting rid of a pain in the ass who doesn’t want to understand that you can’t talk and who thinks you’re taking him for an idiot because he thinks you’re trying to pass yourself off as deaf while you’re listening to music in your headphones…

Finally, another worry when you’re a mute girl: I never leave my house alone when it’s dark outside. Being mute means not being able to shout “help” in case of danger. I’m aware that I’m easy prey for any crazy person.

Don’t feel sorry for me!

Beyond these inconveniences, I’m not complaining. Apart from becoming queen of karaoke, there are no activities that I can’t do. And then I’ve always known this state so I don’t miss my voice. And in intimacy with my boyfriend, I still have the possibility of whispering sweet words in his ear.

I think I’m done with this post. If you have any further questions, please feel free to use the comments.

See you soon!

#handicap #rare diseases #mute

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redley-of-many-noodles · 10 months ago

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Hello there,

Welcome to my blog.

I’m Redley. Relatively new to Tumblr still, but I’ve been finding that I’m comfy here. Though it still feels awkward (thanks, dysphoria), I prefer she/her pronouns. I don’t mind they/them, but… meh. Note that Redley is neither my legal or chosen name; it is solely a handle, and I will only tell you my chosen name if I feel comfortable with you. If I extend that trust, please treat it with respect. If you don’t, I will remember.

Here’s the main stuff I’m comfortable sharing or want you to know about me:

1) I’m transfem, but haven’t had an opportunity to do much actual transitioning yet. Dislike my voice, adore my hair. My luscious, glorious, flowing hair.

1.5) I am likely pansexual, but I haven’t done enough research to know for sure. All I know is, people are… well, people are hot.

2) I live in Florida, but was not raised here. The climate and scenery are nice; the local government sucks ass though. Also, I miss snow.

3) I’m a diagnosed autistic, falling somewhere on the high-functioning end of the spectrum. I’m on prescribed antidepressants, but have not been able to find a psychologist/psychiatrist yet because it’s fucking Florida.

4) There are a lot of things and people I don’t understand, but I’m always open to learning. Trying new food is a special passion of mine, and I’ve met some quite fascinating new people since starting this blog. (*eoughck* @potentially-a-poser *aucghk* @analogue-system *ahem*)

5) I will not tolerate hateful behavior. You will be immediately blocked for shit like denying any of the shades of aro/ace individuals as being part of the LGBTQIA+ community. If you see me spreading misinformation or saying something that excludes members of the community, please tell me. I’ll research the matter, as well as review any sources you send me.

5.5) okay so I think I’m demiromantic

6) I do not mind being tagged or sent asks or otherwise brought into conversations. People who abuse that will likely get blocked, but whatever your social anxiety is telling you probably comes nowhere near ‘abuse’ in my book. Anonymous asks are enabled, but that can likewise change if the feature is abused. Hate asks will be blocked, naturally.

7) I would prefer being asked before you directly message me. If you don’t, there is a possibility you’ll be blocked, but it’s not a guarantee. I don’t want me and my friends’ conversations getting buried by anything.

8) If you consistently and frequently post tiktok/reddit memes with little to no commentary, I may block you simply out of annoyance should you repeatedly show up on my dash. It’s not personal. If something about you makes me suspicious or uncomfortable, but not outright offended, I’ll most likely notify you of my reason before I block you.

9) Age: pick a number between 1 and 100 because it’s none of your fucking business. None of you are entitled to any of my personal information, regardless of the reason. I will share only what I want.

My Behaviors

There are certain things I gravitate towards or away from on this site. Here’s some:

1) I am most likely to follow people who are part of the LGBTQIA+ community, are mentally ill, or are dealing with some variety of personality disorder. This is mostly just due to the fact that I find the most common ground with those people. But even those who I have little common ground with, I’ll tend to find very interesting.

2) I don’t mind things like roleplay and hornyposting on my dash, but will almost certainly not interact myself, or make original posts in that category. More extreme examples won’t necessarily get you blocked or unfollowed, but… well, my filtered tags list may grow.

3) I don’t always tag reblogs. This may mean that my followers will see random things that caught my interest. It could be art, shitposting, tender affirmations, politics, or just goofy-ass Tumblr shit. If something I regularly reblog/post about bothers you and isn’t properly tagged, let me know.

4) I am discovering that maybe, I might, perhaps, be a little bit nosy. When I see someone receiving hate or suffering and stressed, I am likely to take it upon myself to do or say something to try to make them feel better. If I bother you with this, I will not be hurt or offended if you block me. In general, I will do my best to be respectful of it when people draw boundaries, so don’t hesitate to draw any you feel necessary.

5) If your intentions are pure, you will likely find that I try to be forgiving and/or understanding of your mistakes, at least in regards to interacting with me. (The /or is a very important distinction.)

6) I will often be attracted to dark, tragic, or dystopic works of art/fiction. I get a form of catharsis from such media, and some of my writing will reflect that.

That’s about it.

That’s all the important stuff I can think of, aside from tags which are at the end. Still, this post may be updated or rewritten in the future. In general, just be kind and open-minded, and we’ll get along fine. Even if you disagree with me, as long as you are civil and rational about things, I’ll likely have no problem interacting with you.

Be safe, and be yourself! <3

🇵🇸🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

My Tags:

#redley’s playlist - Some of my favorite songs!

#redley’s photos - Photos taken by/of me!

#writing - Writing related things and occasionally stuff I’ve made! (#poetry will also contain some of my work)

#let me just frame this one - My personal favorite posts by others. Put that right up on the wall!

#cw/tw: [content] - I will tag posts that I recognize may be disturbing to others with content warnings and/or trigger warnings. This way, you can filter content that may be harmful to your mental health to view. If a post is missing an important one, let me know.

#intro post #transgender #autism #writers on tumblr #lgbtqia+#demiromantic #queer #free palestine #🚗🔨⚒��💥#not really a part of any fandoms but i love browsing them. it’s very fun #fuck tumblr staff #fuck the us government #maybe if the site survives photomatt swinging his cock around i’ll upload timeline photos one day

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beeapothecary · 2 months ago

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AI Pollen Project Update 1

Hi everyone! I have a bunch of ongoing projects in honey and other things so I figured I should start documenting them here to help myself and anyone who might be interested. Most of these aren’t for a grade, but just because I’m interested or want to improve something.

One of the projects I’m working on is a machine learning model to help with pollen identification under visual methods. There’s very few people who are specialized to identify the origins of pollens in honey, which is pretty important for research! And the people who do it are super busy because it’s very time consuming. This is meant to be a tool and an aid so they can devote more time to the more important parts of the research, such as hunting down geographical origins, rather than the mundane parts like counting individual pollen and trying to group all the species in a sample.

The model will have 3 goals to aid these researchers:

Count overall pollen and individual species of pollen in a sample of honey

Provide the species of each pollen in a sample

Group pollen species together with a confidence listed per sample

Super luckily there’s pretty large pollen databases out there with different types of imaging techniques being used (SEM, electron microscopy, 40X magnification, etc). I’m kind of stumped on which python AI library to use, right now I’ve settled on using OpenCV to make and train the model, but I don’t know if there’s a better option for what I’m trying to do. If anyone has suggestions please let me know

This project will be open source and completely free once I’m done, and I also intend on making it so more confirmed pollen species samples with confirmed geographical origins can be added by researchers easily. I am a firm believer that ML is a tool that’s supposed to make the mundane parts easier so we have time to do what brings us joy, which is why Im working on this project!

I’m pretty busy with school, so I’ll make the next update once I have more progress! :)

Also a little note: genetic tests are more often used for honey samples since it is more accessible despite being more expensive, but this is still an important part of the research. Genetic testing also leaves a lot to be desired, like not being able to tell the exact species of the pollen which can help pinpoint geographical location or adulteration.

#bee #honey #research #python #AI #machine learning #programming #research project #AI Pollen Project

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lavender-teardroplettes · 1 year ago

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Thank you for that post about To. and I am so sorry about everything. This was so well put together and not throwing around straight insults in each sentence. I see both sides throwing around hate without even explaining their sides of why they're sticking up for him or why they're mad. I was also one of the people giving him a chance to come back and apologize, people say stuff in the moment all the time and I felt like he deserved that chance. But, then he just left.

At first I thought his post was okay, I understand not getting neopronouns, not liking the idea of people showing too much at pride parades, or people under 18 getting surgery. Those are things I could understand but when the n*zi and racism down play happened? I was in shock and upset. Still, I wanted to at least give him a chance to comeback fresh and see if he would apologize... but he left.

If I'm being honest. Both sides weren't handled at all properly and you guys who explain it make it so much better to understand then others just writing it off as hate, telling people to kys, or getting called cis and not trans, which I am, as an insult. Everyone is still upset so I'm letting it go but I will stand by what I said and if that gets me hated just for giving him a chance or not supporting either side than that's okay. Thank you again for your amazing post and I hope you have a wonderful day.

TW: I’ll be detailing some of my experiences subtly and trying not to go into full detail.

Hi there. I don’t know who you are, but thank you for reaching out.

There’s a lot I want to say on Tom’s views, but many people have done that for me with their own time and energy and I appreciate them. I’m going to use this space to come out and say that I use neopronouns now in light of the situation. You’re allowed to use he/him, they, them, and fae/faer/faers when talking about me. I’ve been wanting to use these pronouns since first learning about them back in…idk…2014(?), but….I’m Black and of indigenous heritage, it’s hard enough being nonbinary on top of everything.

I highly suggest taking courses in gender and sociology, it was one of the most informative and open spaces for discussing gender, gender expressions, and touches on intersectionality within the Black community and being Queer during my college years as someone who was told that if I entered those spaces that I’d be molested…despite that happening more in the spaces I shared with cis/straight people .

I will echo what a lot of people have said and what I know from my own personal research as a trans person in an unsupportive family and as someone whose partner’s adopted little brother is going through: Children don’t go through gender affirming surgeries. In some cases, a 16 year old can with expressed consent from a therapist, their parents, and themselves. And honestly? It’s no one’s business. Out side of that, most children are placed on hormone blockers until they’re over 18 and able to take the right hormone replacements to experience puberty properly and develop what they need to before surgeries are viable.

On the topic of pride, in my experience in both small communities and going to San Francisco pride, there are safe spaces for children. Parades usually have an itinerary that parents can look at and guide their children appropriately. I am 100% on the side that human bodies aren’t inherently sexual as a demisexual person. It’s on the parents to PARENT their children appropriately, not complete strangers just trying to exist and feel good about themselves for ONCE instead of being afraid of hatred, death….so much…it’s so fucking much…

That being said….yes, I wanted to give him space. I really wanted to give him a chance to do better, but he’s going to have to do a lot more now before I forgive him or accept an apology and actually move on and want to engage with his content again. I just want people to really sit and conceptualize the situation and just how much people are hurting. And if I have to be that voice, then I will be. Please bare with me. 🙏🏽

Again….no harassment towards anyone. You’re allowed to realize your mistakes and apologize, but there’s work you need to do to make it stick.

Edit: Also, people are allowed to be upset, but there’s a line when you send death threats. I AM, however, in the sentiment that the only good N*zi is a dead one. Half of my family didn’t flee to America for no reason- if they weren’t already fighting against them. Those are harsh words, but it’s my truth seeing the PAIN it’s caused my family first hand. I wouldn’t ever wish that on anyone, but you are NOT in good standing with me if you support any form of N*zism.

#si speaks #lurking for love #carnivorekitty

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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I am writing a story where the MC has a guide dog. I am struggling with writing the relationship between the MC and the dog, and with writing the dogs behaviors and personality as well. I’ve watched tons of dog videos and read blogs, as well as scientific articles on dog behavior and characteristics, but so far nothing has helped with my understanding on how to include the dog realistically in the story. Do you have any suggestions?

Struggling to Incorporate Researched Element

If you've spent a lot of time and effort researching an element but still aren't sure how to incorporate it into the story, here are some things to consider:

1 - You need to learn about the element. Guide dogs assist people who are blind or visually impaired, so if you haven't done enough research and character development on your character who is blind or visually impaired, that would certainly be an obstacle in incorporating the guide dog into the story even if you've learned about guide dog characteristics and behavior. You need to understand how guide dogs assist their person, too.

2 - You haven't fleshed out your story enough. If you have fully done your research, both on your MC who is blind or visually impaired as well as how a guide dog would assist them, another reason you may be struggling is you don't really know what needs to happen in your story and why. If you're not sure what your character is doing, why, and how, it would be difficult to visualize how the guide dog fits into that.

3 - You may not be the best person to write this story. While representation is important and we should all strive to write characters who reflect the world around us, if you're struggling this much, even with research, I think you have to take a step back and ask yourself why you think you're the best person to tell this blind or visually impaired character's story. If you have a guide dog yourself, have a family member or friend with a guide dog, or work with guide dogs, then it would certainly make sense for you to write this character. But if you're feeling stumped even with a lot of research, it may be a sign that this isn't your story to tell. If you feel strongly that it is, I would suggest finding out how you can volunteer to work with guide dogs and/or people who are blind and visually impaired in your community to get some firsthand experience.

Best wishes as you work through this!

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numerous-bees-in-a-skin-suit · 2 years ago

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OKAY SO

I got really distracted + busy mid to late December with the holidays and family being over, BUT I was finally able to finish Pidge’s design for my VLD DP AU!!

So, I have finally finalized who is gonna be who in the AU, and unfortunately some characters won’t have a direct one to one parallel, but I’m very happy where I’ve put everyone (this was not done alone, and i will tag everyone/give a way to find the people who helped)

So, Pidge is in Corvus’ place in this AU (thank you so much Red* for helping with that, you literally saved my life). She’s still younger than the rest of the paladins, but she’s assigned to be Allura’s bodyguard all the same. I’d like to think that she’s fairly new/still in like “training” to become her bodyguard. I have a bunch of notes for everything to do with her (and everyone else, and the document isn’t even done), but here’s a few fun things for her:

she knows a lot about flora and fauna because since she’s in corvus’ role, it makes sense to me that she would know that

she knows some medicinal things (again, it makes sense for me)

in her free time, she’s often found in the library researching a wide array of things

I have a lot more for her, but I don’t wanna reveal it all yet until I’m done with designs (and maybe learn how to write)

Hunk!!!! Hunk is basically the baker here, but more important. His moms are the ones who are in charge of and run the bakery, but he’s been steadily doing more and more in preparation to take over the bakery from his parents. While yes, he is a baker, he is still very much the way he is in the show. In this, he’s childhood friends with Lance and Allura, and he was with Lance when all of this started in the first place, so that’s why and how he’ll be involved. There’s more on this but again, won’t talk about it more until later. Here’s a few fun things about him:

his weapon for the first part of this is going to be his favorite rolling pin, and while it’s very much NOT a weapon, he wields it very well (thanks @anonaeonn for that, it’s brilliant)

he knows how to forge weapons and such, and often combines different kinds of weapons to get like a better weapon (thanks again aeon, your brain is huge)

he will be more open to elves than a lot of humans are in the beginning show, but he will still not be the most educated and will still be confused about things. (think of all the “galra Keith stuff. Not malicious, just not informed and makes comments like; Hunk: “wow look at that super cool elf punch!! that looks like it hurts a lot” Keith: “it’s just a regular punch”)

So that’s the both of them, and I don’t really have too many additional things that I have to flesh out for characters, so there won’t be any more rambling or notes here, just know that I am super happy with where everyone is in this. I still have a huge list of characters to design stuff for for this au, but I think it’s gonna be super fun. After I do my Shiro (+another’s) design, I’ll probably do a quick sketch of a fake promo for this.

(*Red doesn’t have a Tumblr, but Red does have an Ao3! Red’s Ao3 )

#voltron dragon prince au #voltron #voltron: legendary defender #digital art #fanart #hunk garret #pidge #pidge holt #vld fanart #in progress au #i am so excited to do stuff for this i just wish i could clone myself to do everything quicker

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nightskywriter · 2 years ago

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Layla Meets Jake

A/N: This fic is also posted on Archive of Our Own under the same name! This is a fanfiction. I do not own any of these characters. Comments always welcome (and greatly appreciated)!

CW: This fic references previous child abuse, but doesn't actually show anything. It also shows Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). I did a lot of research on DID for this fic, but I could have gotten things wrong. Sorry in advance.

Characters: Marc Spector, Layla El-Faouly, Jake Lockley, Steven Grant (briefly)

...

Marc and Layla checked into the hotel and lady at the front desk gave Marc the key. Layla knew they were a sight. They were both covered in sand, Layla even more than Marc. They had been digging most of the day and they were both sweaty and gross. She had stayed mostly clean from sand until she got in that fight. She was pushed in the sand before Marc showed up. The man who attacked her hadn’t even been interested in the dig. He wasn’t there for that. He just saw her and thought she was alone.

But currently, Layla was fighting to appear amicable for the clerk. She tried not to look at Marc because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop her eyes from narrowing and glaring at Marc. Marc and Layla always tried to appear to be getting along in public, but that didn’t mean they were actually getting along.

Marc put the hotel key in his pocket and picked up their luggage again. He insisted on carrying both of their bags.

“Am I just a liability to you?” Layla asked in a whisper once they were out of earshot from the clerk.

Marc didn’t look at her. He was focused on the dialog lights showing what floor the elevator was on. “We really doing this?”

“I grew up at dig sites. I can take care of myself.” Layla could feel the grit from the sand in her shoes and it was only making her mood worse. All she wanted was a shower. She felt like she still had blood on her from the splatter after Marc cut the man’s throat with one of his stupid crescent blades. It itched even though she knew she had wiped the blood off before they even came into the city. Blood splatters got the wrong kind of attention and the wrong kind of attention led to the wrong kind of questions from the wrong kind of people. Even though she knew it was gone, the itch wouldn’t be gone until she took an actual shower.

“Yeah. I know you can,” Marc said.

“I had that guy.” The elevator door opened, and they walked off together. “If you hadn’t gotten in the way, I could have knocked him out instead—” of you killing him. Layla stopped herself before she said the last part, but Marc knew what she was going to say anyway.

He opened the door to their room and set their bags down. “You don’t know what that guy was thinking.”

Layla crossed her arms, glaring at Marc’s back until he turned around. “I’ve got a pretty good idea. People like that man are why prisons are built. You didn’t have to kill him.”

“So what?” Marc threw up his hands. “You would have done the same thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t—”

“If he was going after another woman or a kid, you wouldn’t have killed him?” Marc knew she wouldn’t answer because they both knew the answer. Layla would have without hesitation. “We were there for the artifact. We were there on a job. But just because we were doing our day job of collecting artifacts doesn’t mean I get a day off from Khonshu. Khonshu wanted him dead and after Khonshu told me what that guy was planning to do, I agreed with him. Congrats, tonight you were a Traveler of the Night.”

Layla shook her head and scoffed. She ran her hand through her sweaty hair. Layla hated arguments like this. She wasn’t going to budge; she knew what killing people did to Marc and she hated him doing it. But she also knew Marc wasn’t going to change his mind. No matter how bothered he was, he believed he had done the justified thing and there was no convincing him otherwise.

“You need to learn when to stop,” Layla said, getting undressed so she could take her shower. She took her belt off and Marc froze.

Every muscle went rigid, and his eyes became unfocused. He blinked a few times, and his eyes softened a little.

“Marc?” Layla asked.

“Um, not right now,” Steven said. He looked around the room, confused. Marc had told Layla that it was hard for them to watch what was going on when the other was fronting and it seemed that Steven hadn’t been using the extra energy to listen in on their spat. “What happened? Marc just…left.”

Layla started to answer and took a step towards him—then Steven’s eyes hardened. Instantly, his postured changed to a more defensive stance. He cleared his throat.

Something about this change made the hairs on the back of Layla’s neck stand up.

“I wouldn’t come any closer, chica,” Not-Marc-or-Steven said. His voice was deeper than the other two and had an accent that sounded Hispanic. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Who are you?”

“Please answer the question. I’m being polite for Marc and Steven but everything in me is telling me not to.”

“I’m not sure, that’s what I was asking Steven. We were just talking.” This new guy didn’t say anything, just kept watching. “I wasn’t going to hurt him if that’s what you think. We disagreeing and then he just…switched with Steven and now you,” Layla said.

Layla and Not-Marc looked down at her hand that was still holding the belt. She dropped it and covered her mouth with her hand. “He didn’t… Did Marc— Did he think I was going to hit him?”

“Were you?”

The question was like a slap. Layla thought back to everything Marc and Steven had told her about their past. After the Harrow situation, Marc had decided to tell Layla everything. She knew about his past and why Steven developed but she didn’t know he was scared that she would hurt him until now.

Layla shook her head. “Never.”

“Hmm,” Not-Marc said. “I believe you.”

Layla was so focused on her own thoughts that she barely heard Not-Marc. She thought back to all of the arguments she had had with Marc over the years. He had always kept his distance from her, never getting within arm’s reach. She hadn’t thought much of it.

Peripherally, Layla saw Not-Marc walked over to the bed and sat on the end. “This sucks.”

Layla looked up at him. “What?”

“Cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it? You weren’t supposed to know I exist but now, now you know.”

“Why wasn’t I supposed to know? Why didn’t Marc tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t know.”

Layla blinked. Marc seemed to be so aware of Steven that Layla never considered others. “Who are you?”

“Jake,” he said, “Lockley.”

#Moon Knight #Marc Spector #layla el faouly #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort

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