#but then i realised it would be 200 pages long

[heuheu-art]

In September 2022, I started writing a new comic about Dundee. I ended up producing an entire script and the majority of thumbnails for a 200 page comic. Unfortunately, I'll probably never make it. 200 pages is a lot; I have a job and other projects I'm working on. I made a fair amount of concept art for it though, so I thought I might share some of it.

The story takes place when Irwin was young, shortly before Darren walked out of his life. It is both a prequel and sequel to Jackaroo Dundee and was going to be called Paper House. I'm going to leave the rest of the story a mystery in the hopes that I'll eventually do something with this script.

^This is Darren! Everything was written and drawn before we knew what Darren looked like, and I'd always imagined Irwin was the spitting image of his dad. It was thematically important to the story for them to look alike, so I'd planned to keep it like this even after we met Darren.

The dialogue is blurred in the first two panels because Irwin is deaf in his left ear and couldn't hear Darren until he was behind him. At the start of the story, Irwin uses a hearing aid, but it's later broken.

Windows and door frames are significant! There's nothing behind them. Ever.

I designed an outfit for each character for every scene they were in, paying close attention to fashion trends of the era and items of clothing that they might wear frequently with different outfits.

Sheila's clothes in particular were fun to design. She starts getting more adventurous with her style after Darren walks out.

I realised very quickly that the tone of the story demanded a more realistic style, so it was fun to adapt my pre-existing design for Irwin to this.

The core idea behind Paper House was a young Irwin who hates his dad, but feels powerless to stop himself from becoming just like him. I put a lot of work into this comic and would love for it to see the light of day at some point, even if it ends up in a different form.

[rippersz]

𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨

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☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

(Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader) (NSFW; Thigh-riding; Titles) (~4.7k words)

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“I think this is my favouritest place in the entire universe,” you admitted softly, your words slurred and muffled against the sweet-smelling skin of your lover’s neck. 

“I thought your favourite place was your bed,” she huffed, lips twisted into a smirk. 

“It is. But this is my most favouritest.” You moved your head, pushed your nose further beneath the curve of her jaw, and nuzzled closer into the corner of her shoulder and neck with a dizzy blissful smile. 

The urge to sigh took over quickly and as you breathed deep, utterly content with your soft witchy pillow, the mixed smells of wildflowers, bourbon, jasmine, and gardenia filled your lungs. It was the most comforting combination, full of happy memories, a reminder of home, a staple of your Lilia, and when you breathed out, you caught the notes of the lemon shampoo clinging to her damp curls. Which, as beautiful as they were, were still incredibly unruly and slow to dry after a relaxing shower. They tickled your nose and chin, drawing damp streaks of water, and you reached up to tuck them away behind Lilia’s neck. 

“Quit it,” she nudged you gently, shifting you on her hip. 

“I’m not doing anything, your hair is getting in my way.” 

“Oh now she blames the hair,” your lover drawled, “What next? Is my lap not comfortable enough for you?” 

“It is. And it would be even more comfortable if you weren’t reading that stupid book.” 

She knew you weren’t being serious–you loved when Lilia got a moment to calm down and read peacefully–but she’d had her nose buried between the pages of the damn thing since the moment you settled. It was about flowers and sigils and ancient forms of casting and other things you didn’t care to remember because you were snuggled up on the right side of Lilia Calderu’s body and you would not move even if the Divine Mother herself had begged you to do so. She was simply too comfortable, simply too soft, simply too perfect. Braless, relaxed, matching your rare choice of pyjamas for the evening: Underwear and a T-shirt, the latter having been stolen from Lilia’s closet even though you had your own. It was flimsy, old, thin, and also the best thing you had ever worn as you’d straddled her thigh, wrapped your arms around her waist, and happily realised that you could still feel each warm part of her body through the two layers of cloth. 

That alone was a feat you had to accomplish together once upon a time—getting out of your comfort zones. It took a while before you were secure enough to open yourselves up intimately, to even think of getting undressed in the same room, to even kiss without skirting around each other first. You had your fair share of insecurities, but Lilia was a different story. She’d lived a life unlike any other, being a fugitive witch, skilled in divination, who travelled the waves of time as a skipping rock rather than a sailboat. Her upbringing wasn’t very liberal, much less accepting of homosexuals, and though she managed to get through life regardless, her preoccupied on-the-run mind steered her away from debauchery. All in all, that meant sex and intimacy simply was not as important to Ms. Lilia Calderu as it was to most of the population. She still felt the urge of course, she was a woman with such needs, but there was no time to desire a physical outlet - no time and no energy and no candidates. There was one girl in her youth, part of her original coven, and maybe a few flings in her mid-200’s, even something a little more long lasting toward the end of her 300’s, but the itch was never so persistent. It didn’t wait in the back of her head or lurk around right before going to bed, and it never came up in her thoughts when out in public. She was an adult woman with too many things to think about, focus on, and consider. She didn’t have time for desire. She didn’t have time to want.

And then you walked into her little shop on a rainy humid Wednesday afternoon, fuzzy-haired and wild-eyed, and the sight of you sent her careening into the future. She returned quickly, with an awed look, serious eyes, and the soft murmur of “The Wheel of Fortune”, and only after some time passed did you both realise that yes, change for the better was indeed in the cards. 

And Lilia found herself wanting that day. 

Then most of the days after it. 

For about three years, that was her normal. The sudden uproar of desire, not incredibly strong (for her subconscious would not let it get that far) but definitely noticeable. She found herself thinking about you often, about your skin, your hair, your hands, your fingertips, your legs, your smile. She found herself wanting to touch. To reach. To caress and to kiss and to bite. Once the two of you recognised your attraction, you quickly agreed that anything sexual or intimate would be postponed. It simply had to come at a time in which you were both ready, open, and uninhibited. And if it took a while, then it took a while.  

It took only two years, after which you finally gave yourself to Lilia and she gave herself to you. It was all very romantic; a dark evening, slow and desperate, wet and hot, quiet and needy. Completely unforgettable. It opened a gateway of sorts, a chance for you both to expand and explore, and after a lifetime of not being able to embrace sexual liberation, Lilia was finally given the opportunity. You encouraged her as best you could without overstepping boundaries, always willing to try what she wanted to try (even though she often found herself on the receiving end of your innovative thoughts instead of the other way around but nevertheless), always eager to do the necessary research if that’s what your time together required, never a complaint on your tongue whenever she admitted she wasn’t in the mood. No corners were ever cut when it came to the desire you had for your lover. 

Except when it came to book corners. Those were cut instantly. 

“What would you rather have me do, hm? Movie marathon? Bake a cake? Swim my way to Egypt? This is how I relax, now deal with it or get off,” Lilia snarked, moving her hand from the cover of her book down to your thigh to give you a small pinch. She was too quick for you to jump away. 

“Owch! Mean!” You flinched from the sting, dislodging yourself from your comfy drape over her shoulder to fix her with a playful glare. 

Lilia didn’t hesitate to meet you head on, taking her eyes away from her book to look up at you through dark lashes, right over the rims of her glasses. Glasses that she only wore when alone, when with you, with a little chain that held them in the place, with a shape that complimented her face so perfectly. They made her seem so… sophisticated. So… strict. A red candy-apple coloured body, slight cat eye details around the rims, and curved well enough to always be perched at a very specific angle on her nose at all times. You hated them. You really hated them. You wanted them gone. You wanted them away. You wanted them to stop being so tempting. She was already attractive enough - she didn’t need the fucking things setting your pants on fire every two seconds. And whether she knew about their effect or not, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter either way - her attention was excruciating, and to it you would never be immune. 

“Get rid of this book right now,” you started strong, straightening up in her lap with a haughty cross of your arms. 

“I’m busy with it,” she tightened her hold on her prized possession as if you were about to lunge forward and take it from her. 

“Yeah? Well I’m busy with you, so lose the book Calderu.” 

Her perfect lips pursed, displaying playful disdain, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow - just to be bratty. You watched as she considered her options, as she glanced down at her book, then back at you, then back at her book. And when she looked up for the last time, you changed your tactics and shuffled closer, moving up from her thighs to the curve of her torso - right by her lower belly. You pressed yourself there, dropped your eyebrow, and gave her the sweetest eyes you could conjure. 

“I just want to cuddle, Lili. Is that too much to ask for?” You sighed, moved your hands, and placed them on top of the book. 

Without fail, as you’d hoped, Lilia conceded. She almost always did whenever you addressed her like that, being so unaccustomed to pet names and terms of endearment as she was. To hear it from your lips was a tantalising thing, a sign of worthiness and ongoing love, and you saved it for your more intimate moments - just to coax her into doing something you knew she wanted to do but was simply too stubborn to go through with. Like putting her book down and giving you all of her attention. 

“I guess not,” she grumbled a few seconds later, melting into your efforts, and you grinned as she moved to set her book down on the bedside table. 

“See?” You hummed as you reached forward to gently pull the glasses from her face, being careful to first slide the chain from around her neck. “I knew you’d come around.” They were placed next to the book a moment later and you didn’t even wait a passing second before you were pouncing into Lilia’s arms. 

Like an overexcited puppy, your body went squirming and pushing into your lover’s, wiggling playfully as you worked your arms around her waist. She accepted you happily, letting out a sigh and a big eye roll before you tucked your face into her shoulder again and finally let the stress of the day properly wash off of your body. As Lilia’s muscles relaxed, allowing herself to give into the comforting weight of your clinging, she placed her lips to your shoulder and gave it a small kiss. 

“You’re going soft on me,” you murmured into her ear, delighting in the low hum that rumbled from her chest. 

“That’s the point,” she whispered, lighthearted and gentle.

Lilia couldn’t see the smile that spread across your face, but it was most certainly all soppy, soft, and loving. Utterly gormless, completely bewitched. She had you wrapped around every one of her fingers, oh her delightfully nimble fingers, and you never wanted to be unravelled. Not when paradise existed in her arms, flashing itself behind your closed eyes as Lilia began rubbing your back and tracing mindless shapes through the fabric of your shirt. Circles, squares, stars, triangles, trapezoids, words and phrases, squiggles and lines, suns and moons. Eventually, her pattern changed and she began following the same familiar loops and curves you’d seen her do a million times. 

From the top of your left shoulder blade diagonally to the plush fold of your right hip. 

L

I

L

I

A

A pause.

From the top of your right shoulder blade diagonally to the curve of your left hip.

C

A

L

D

E

R

U

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Lilia retraced her writing with the lightest press of her fingernails, going back over the loops of her ‘L’, the hills and dips of each letter, until she reached the tail of her ‘u’ and lingered there. One second. Two seconds. Until your skin began to tingle, and then she started to draw little circles, going from small to big in a slow spiral, and your skin began to buzz. Her caresses made it sensitive, bringing it to life, forcing the expectant attentiveness only an eager body could have as you sat in her lap and started to squirm. The circles quickly faded into nothing before the pattern reset. Back up to your shoulder blade, again across her name. 

“L-Lilia,” you breathed, feeling your body grow hot beneath her attention. 

“What?” Came her whispered response, soft like satin against your ear as she closed her eyes and placed her chin on your shoulder. 

She didn’t seem to realise what she was doing. All the warmth that she spread through you, continuously, while her traces turned to touches and she started pressing her palms to your back. She felt so good and gentle, so caring and calm, and when you took a deep stuttering breath to try and grasp your bearings, to delay the inevitable downfall of desire, you were once again overcome by her scent. It blanketed your lungs, purred within your soul, and the wildflowers, bourbon, jasmine, gardenia, lemon, love… the smell of love… made you whine. It was just so Lilia. So nostalgic, gentle, light and intoxicating. 

She sparked a warmth—a stringy, viscous, thick warmth that settled in you. Like a pool in your abdomen, it burned and lapped. It called to her from the inside, reaching for the sweet kiss of her mouth, the gentle curl of her fingers, the way her tongue felt when it dragged along the inside of your thigh. You’d felt it before, yearned for it before, gone hours with and without the careful delicate heat Lilia always managed to coax from you. And it didn’t take much. It never did. All you needed was a thigh between your legs. Pressed up against a thin piece of cloth, the only thing separating your cunt from her skin. Hands on your back. Warm and grounding, the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. A mouth by your neck. Soft breaths fanning onto your shoulder, the only thing that broke your flimsy resolve.

“You’re making me horny.” It was blunt, soft, and said with such  tightness, you knew that it was obvious you were embarrassed.

You clenched your eyes shut. 

How pathetic was it, after all, to be incapable of lasting a few minutes on your lover’s lap, receiving all of her attention, without succumbing to an eager lust? How pathetic was it to be unable to focus when she felt so good beneath you? Was that how your mind worked? So one-tracked? Was that how your body worked? So easy and loose for Lilia Calderu? Like a slut?

Yes. Yes, exactly. 

You would do anything she asked of you. You’d be anything she wanted you to be. If Lilia woke up one morning and boldly decided that she always wanted you on top, that she wanted to stay in her pillow princess luxury and succumb to your tongue and hands until she couldn’t take it anymore, you’d do it. If Lilia decided that she never wanted you to touch her ever again, in history, and that she was the only one to harness any control in the bedroom, then you’d relinquish your own. If Lilia wanted you on a leash, if Lilia wanted you chained to a bed, if Lilia wanted you in a crate, on the floor, against a wall, against a table, against a ceiling, wearing nothing, wearing everything, wearing too much or too little, you wouldn’t stop her. You wouldn’t refute. Not because you couldn’t, but because you didn’t want to. She was a witch, a powerful witch, and a woman, a powerful woman, and the very second you looked into those neverending puppy dog eyes and saw the sadness and the strength, you were whipped. You were totally, absolutely hers. Lilia’s slut. No — Lilia’s girl. 

But even Lilia’s girl made mistakes sometimes. Even Lilia’s girl was, in certain moments, too greedy. And the moment the words were out of your mouth, your depraved confession, her touch stopped. 

It was excruciating. 

Your chest hit hers with every deep inhale you drew, growing deeper the longer you sat there, and it began to shudder as your heart crawled into your ears. She was so still, so rigid, that your mind descended into worry. Did you ruin it? Did you say the wrong thing? Should you have left it? Ignored it? Maybe she just wanted to cuddle. Maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself, tried controlling it better, and returned to it in the bathroom after she fell asleep. Maybe you screwed up the evening because you couldn’t cuddle with Lilia for one second without wanting to fuck her brains out. Maybe..

“Do you want me to stop?” 

You blinked. You didn’t really have a response. Of course the answer was God, no, but if Lilia wanted to stop, then you wouldn’t push her. You didn’t want her to feel obligated. 

Lilia breathed slowly through her nose, off put by your silence, and pressed her still hands harder into your back. 

“I- if-... if you want to,” you whispered quickly, terribly unsure with your wavering confidence but so desperate for her touch that you felt your mind grow hazy. Goodness, she was so close and she felt so warm. Your heart returned to your chest, eager to beat in sync with your lover’s as you felt her body slowly relax underneath you. 

She let out a steady breath, so quiet you could barely hear, and then shattered the peace a second later.

One of the lingering palms on your back shot up to your hair, wrapped a thick handful of it into the curl of a fist, and wrenched your head back. You squealed, eyes tearing up with the sudden sharp pain in your scalp, and your body went falling into Lilia’s other hand. She held you up with only a flex and kept you there, suspended, unable to move.

“Be assertive,” Lilia commanded, not even giving you a moment to recover. “Do you want me to stop?” Her whisper was gone, replaced with a quiet serious depth, and you shivered as you looked into her eyes. 

They were dark. Hypnotising. Swirling with chocolate desire, with the honour of love, and at the sight of her focus, her undivided attention, the knowledge that she knew — she knew you were dying for her – the flame in you soared into a blaze. It was a wicked sludgy sort of thing, intense and impulsive, and its hunger, its ache made you throb. Lilia’s hand twitched in your hair, feeling so much better the longer the sting settled, and the words were tumbling off of your tongue before you could catch them. 

“No, no please. Please don’t stop Lili…,” your chest heaved with breath, affected by the feverish way she handled you, and you could feel the sickening helplessness of your expression. Brows furrowed, eyes wide and glossy, lips licked and cheeks dark. Pure want for your lover. Pure desperation. 

“Please.” 

Lilia considered you, running her deep gaze over your face. She took in the look of you, the need, and you watched her perfect lips purse, her beautiful eyes narrow, her dark brows furrow - before she hummed, relaxed the hand holding your hair hostage, and went to cradle the back of your head. You let her do it all without worry, knowing she wouldn’t hurt you, and sighed with bliss as she put pressure behind her fingers and brought you forward. Your eyes closed as your body was returned to its previous position, propped up against her, forehead pressed to the curve of her shoulder. Your legs clenched at her gentleness, at the contrast of her touch, and you shuddered as you felt her thigh, thick and soft and heavenly, stop you from getting any friction. 

“Lilia-” you didn’t even know what you were going to say, if you were going to beg or if you were going to question or what you were going to do - but it didn’t matter. 

She cut you off like a knife through flesh as her hands moved to trail down your sides, from the swell of your breasts to the soft plush of your waist to the dip and bend of your hips. Her touch was sure, strong, certain, and your hands flailed to grip at the back of her shirt when she suddenly settled her fingers into the hinge of your thighs and slowly, slowly, pushed you back. Slightly, a few inches, enough to have your legs falling open, leaving you there for a quarter of a second……. and then forward, slowly, to erase the space she made, to close the distance, to drag your core along her thigh. Once. Twice. Until you got the memo and started moving with her, whimpering as the ache in your abdomen started to ebb and flow. 

Your forehead pressed further into her shoulder, lightly muffling the whimpers that dripped from your lips, and you moaned when she shifted herself forward to move her mouth up to your ear. It was velvet against your heated skin, teasing and sensitive, and Lilia took a soft breath in before she kissed the shell and whispered, quietly, like there were others in the room and she didn’t want any other soul on Earth to hear… 

“You look like a whore.”

Then she sped up the pace, grasping your hips with more strength, nearing the point of bruising, and began pushing and pulling with smooth, quick tugs. You couldn’t do anything but hold on and move with her, shifting your hips back and forth on her thigh, and shiver every time your clit caught the fabric of your underwear. Your body had no trouble reacting; throbbing for her, dripping for her, ruining your panties while you clutched at her back and eventually abandoned her shirt to run your hands up over her bare skin. She was smooth, perfect, she felt like a woman beneath your touch, a lover, and you squished your cheek into her shoulder as you moaned. Loud, desperate, and unashamed. 

“Lilia… oh god.” And she let out little pants for her efforts, lips parted and eyes hooded while she watched the way your hips moved for her, gliding with grace, slow like a dance, and the breaths quickly tumbled into soft groans as you shuffled closer and pressed your right knee up against her core. 

“You feel so good,” you turned your head to whisper hurriedly, raggedly, into her ear. “S-so good…” And Lilia shuddered, biting her lip to hold back a moan as you began lifting your hips every time you were dragged forward. 

Your sounds mixed so well, soft and loud and husky and whiny, twirling together in a lustful little symphony as your movements got faster and sloppier. And when your eyes fluttered closed and open in lazy blinks, you saw the tantalising skin of Lilia’s neck, shifting as she breathed, and you couldn’t resist. A strangled moan rumbled up from her throat at the feel of your tongue, wet and hot while you leaned in, closer, more, until your nose was also pressed to her neck and you could breathe her in. She tasted, smelled, felt like Lilia. Your Lilia. Sweet Lilia. Her head dipped as she pressed her nose to your neck, making you pant with desire at the closeness of her lips. You just needed them on you, painting you, opening up so she could be free to sink her teeth in and drink your life from your body if that’s what she wanted. 

“I love you,” she husked, her breath making her deep voice shaky, and you responded with a harder thrust of your hips against her thigh and an open-mouthed kiss against her throat. 

You were too far gone for words at that point, with her practically wrapped around you. Your mouth was open, your tongue was licking lazily, lolling like a dog’s, and your mind was fuzzy, dripping toward your cunt, only working to move you back and forth on your lover’s leg like a depraved little animal. A sickened beast. You couldn’t help it. Her thigh was the perfect surface, strong when she flexed, soft when she relaxed, thick and delicious, and shivers wracked your body as you followed the gestures of her hands. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A heavenly friction against your clit, leaving the desperate weep of your hole to ache. It felt neglected, throbbing for Lilia’s fingers, but riding her thigh felt so good and you didn’t want to get up, you didn’t want to stop, even when your panties began sticking to your skin. You didn’t want to stop, even when your head got so fuzzy, your belly got so warm, your body got so hot that your grinding started to slow. It was hard to keep the pace as you felt your muscles burn, but Lilia wasn’t having it. 

“A little longer,” she huffed, finally kissing your skin, melting you from the inside out with her soft lips. “Just a little.” 

You nodded, choking on a whine as you started up again and forced all your strength into your grinding. 

“Good girl,” Lilia hummed, pushing the hem of your shirt away from your neck with her chin so she could have more room to kiss. “Good girl…” 

“L- Lili-a- I’m… hngg… I wanna- mmmnnn….” Cum. You wanted to cum. You wanted to cum on Lilia’s thigh, you wanted her to help, to encourage, and you nearly fell apart instantly when her teeth started pressing lightly, gently, into your shoulder and her tongue began to swirl around your skin.

“Come on,” she moved her mouth to your ear. “Come on, baby,” her tone was soft, coaxing, and you could sense the tease in her words. 

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. You were left on the burning edge, singing your fingers, whining to near tears in Lilia’s arms as you heaved, shuddered, whispered pleads and begs beneath your breath. The pool of desire only grew, glistening below you as you hung above, so close to falling, dangling by a thread, rutting your hips over and over like it would help. The friction was barely enough, pressing so deliciously against your swollen clit, but you were so wet that only the smallest thrusts, the littlest shifts, were all you could handle before the sensation slipped away. It was so frustrating, pulling a groan then a distressed whimper from your lips as your legs began to shake and your hands scratched at Lilia’s back. Not too hard, you didn’t want to hurt her, but the little red lines and the sting were enough to signal that you were having trouble. 

“Relax,” Lilia whispered, making you choke on a breathy whine. “Relax for me.” She spoke slowly, softly, and you breathed in deeply through your nose to calm your pounding heart. “Listen.”

You nodded and nuzzled into her shoulder, slowing the pace of your hips but pressing harder into her leg. It felt so good, so good, but not enough- not enough.

“You’re beautiful,” Lilia panted, making your thighs twitch, “My beautiful girl.” 

“Hmmpngg- Lilia- Lilia-,” you whimpered, letting out a little moan each time you moved. 

“I know. I know you need it,” she nodded, then pressed another kiss to your neck. “Can you let go for me?” Her voice was like warm honey drizzled over your bones and your skin. “Can you let go for Momma?” 

A thick, blinding bolt of heat flashed through your body, making you sweat and shiver against Lilia’s body. No no no- Momma’s body. You felt the desire bubbling, brimming, so close to falling into bliss that you could only close your eyes and go quiet.

“I know you can do it,” she spoke slowly, taking the reins back and using more force to speed up your thrusts. “Let go for me, sweetheart.” Her lips brushed your ear. “Be good and give in.” 

“M- Mo-” you were red-faced, vision blurred with tears, your lower lip quivering, and Lilia came to your rescue.

“Momma gives you permission.”

And just like that, saved by the same woman that tortured you, the thread was cut, the ledge crumbled, and you fell.

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BOO. - Rip x

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[actual-changeling]

my brain's kinda dead after therapy today but has anyone ever thought about when aziraphale started writing diaries?

in 1827 he says he is on volume 603. now, we COULD simply assume that he uses one diary per year, which would put our starting date in 1224. however, there's two things that bother me about that line of thinking. it is a very late time to start writing diaries considering that paper and writing have been around almost as long as he has plus over six hundred volumes - that's some fucking dedication right there. he LOVES books and thus probably loves preserving stories in general, so the second he heard of diaries being thing he started keeping one. or maybe he even invented them.

on top of that, crowley and aziraphale do not perceive time like we do, and after almost six thousand years memorable events have probably become a bit rarer.

which leads us back to the question of when he started documenting those events.

we have to entirely guesstimate this but let's say the average diary he uses has 200 pages (notebooks have a big variety of page numbers and this one's easy to work with) and he writes a minimum of one entry a month across 4 single pages. we see him NOT use the backside of a page and his handwriting is quite large.

but he probably doesn't always have an entire story to tell and we do have one other entry that really isn't very long (which can be found in the bonus section of episode 3).

so if we go with 4 pages per entry on average we'd have 50 entries per diary. divided by 12 makes around 4 years contained within one volume.

4 x 603 = 2412

1827 - 2412 = - 585

585 AD is pretty damn early and doesn't really ring a bell and that's when we use some very generous numbers and assume he writes a lot.

but.

what happens when we loosen up a little?

let's say he doesn't write 12 entries per year and that the average is less than 4 pages of writing - let's give him some more time to fill 603 volumes which. again. is quite a fucking lot and there is the very real question of where he keeps them and if crowley has seen them.

anyway. more time. paper around 3000 BC but also heaven and hell don't stick to human developments and crowley had paper in heaven.

have you guessed where i'm going with this yet?

tell me beloved tumblr bestie, do you remember the first time we get to see writing on paper that isn't celestial sketches on celestial paper?

if your answer is "job in 2500" then congrats, you won!

the conclusion to this rambling is that there's a good chance aziraphale started keeping a diary after the entire job incident. when he was exposed to earthly pleasure. when he had to start keeping track of what happened and what crowley did vs. what he SAID he did. when having a record like the god/satan contract became important.

however i want you to consider the funniest possible answer to the question "why did aziraphale start writing diaries" - he and crowley fucked and had incredibly mind blowing sex in that cellar and when aziraphale realised he had no one to talk to about it he sat down and invented diaries.

[steamberrystudio]

26/08/2024 Devlog

Hallo everyone!  Tumblr devlog time. Sorry I missed the last one. Sometimes I just miss the notification when it pops up. Sometimes I remember on the off week but don't want to throw off the schedule and end up just waiting for the next one to roll around.

Summary:

Finished Yren's Play test

Finished Raif's Play test

Finished Noel's Play test

Started Kav's Play test

Finally got the colour slider in the game with help from Windchimes

New music room (slightly redesigned)

New gallery screen

Bonus scene page

Wrote the rest of the ch1 bonus scenes

Got the affinity indicators coded

Multiple new BGs

Finished Yren's Ch 2 CG

Started Noel's Ch 2 CG

Worked on coding sprite expressions

Set affinity scoring up through Ch 5

Worked on the premium and public game guides

Writing/Playtesting:

I have been working on my own play test of the game which is essentially another round of reading and editing. Last time I said the script was 616,000 words. Well it's now 621,000 words. 

I'm not just cramming in filler. A lot of that is additional choice options. Sometimes I would find places where you went a really long time without choices. Others I would encounter a choice menu that had 3 options when it needed 5 or 6 options (one for each LI).

Adding menus and choice options can increase your word count pretty rapidly so that is where most of the increase has happened.

I'm also fixing a lot of small continuity issues. This usually results in a small variation or callback being added into the script for clarity or to correct a seeming contradiction. For instance, at one point I realised that I  needed an additional variation in Ch 5 to account for a game state that wasn't accounted for in the existing options. And I had to do it for all 6 LIs. Which meant that a 200 word variation became a 1200 word addition to the word count.

So yeah, those things add up fast when you have 6 LIs.

I am continuing to work on this. And I will do one full play test of everyone's "best" ending before beta testers touch it.

I also have decided to add in "bonus scenes" these will basically unlock at the end of some chapters. Some of these will be POV scenes and some will be other scenes and content told from the MC's point of view. These are just extra scenes that I think help flesh out the characters and relationships but really didn't fit into the main story because you just...can't fit everything in the main story. I will be writing any bonus content as I work on the episodes and as I get ideas for them.

I don't have any specific rules I'm going to hold myself to for bonus content. They're just fun extras. They may be quite short in some cases. The ones for Chapter 1 are 1400 or so words.

Art:

Art wise, I've received new BGs - they're about 90% done at this point.

I also completed Yren's CG and started on Noel's. Raif's is already done, Kav doesn't get one for Ch 2.

So yeah. Getting those completed bit by bit.

Other Stuff:

Lots of other stuff. 

We managed to get the colour slider set up for Wil's sprite (we being me and my friend from Windchimes games). This required re-colouring the original sprite and original CG for Wil in greyscale and then coding in everything necessary to have Wil colourised by Ren'py rather than by  me.

As you can see from this Wil's hair and eyes are not colourised. Wil's eyes being silver/grey are just kind of a plot element and is related to their species. And while I contemplated having Wil's hair be on a slider too the reality is that the hair styles were not designed to be colourised in this way and some of them don't look as good. Particularly the curly hair which doesn't have strong outlines or, really the same type of shading to give it depth. Some colours looked quite good on it and others looked quite bad.

I tried redrawing that hair half a dozen times to see if I could make it look better while retaining the same overall look and feel and it just was not possible. I could have redone the hair but frankly. I didn't want to. And some of the other styles didn't look *amazing* recoloured. They were just okay.

I think if I want to revisit the slider in the future then I just need to approach the art with that in mind versus trying to add it to art not designed for it.

But in any case, Wil having only black/silver options was also originally with intent so I don't mind keeping with that set up.

In terms of other features that are finally in game we have affinity indicators, a newly designed music room, the bonus scene page, the gallery screen and things like that.

I did the affinity scoring up through Chapter 5 which is when the route gets locked in. That was primarily so I could test that section properly. But yeah. That's done.

And I've been working on coding sprite expressions. If you have been following me for a while you know that sprite expressions are an *ordeal* for me.

I have a lot of expressions coded in which means I tend to change the expression every 1-4 lines - especially for the main character. Gilded Shadows had about 6500 expression changes per route. Including the common route, that's about 60,000 expression changes coded manually. Which is a lot.

About half of those probably...were Morgan. She is on screen more than anyone else, of course. All the narration is her internal dialogue. She is on screen for it and her expressions are changing based on what she's thinking.

WSC is very much the same.

So the expressions are a lot.

I got Wil's expressions completed through Chapter 2. This chapter is about 50,000 words and of course I've been working on a ton of other things so I've only dedicated an hour or two a day to work on expressions. It's very tedious. It's also impossible to not edit as you go because you have to read the script line by line to decide what expressions people are using. Inevitably you see typos and stuff that you fix as you do expressions.

So it's just kind of a time sink that isn't *difficult* but does tend to take some time.

Upcoming Weeks:

My huge checklist has become smaller and smaller over the last few weeks.

The main things now are...CG creation, flowchart set up, coding expressions and getting my play test done. 

Those are kind of the things that have to get done before Episode 1 can go to beta testers on Patreon.

There are always features and elements I consider big milestones when they get ticked off the main list. The colourised sprite was one of the remaining "big ones" - the flowcharts are another.

Anyway, that is all for this update. I will hopefully see you all again in *two weeks* this time.

(I swear I need a less easy-to-miss reminder). LoL

[bp-zb1fics]

My heart keeps on

pairing: na kamden x secret s/o reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canonverse  (finale), angst ish, fluff

tw/tags: long distance relationship, very emo in general, a lot of tears LIKE A LOT, you surprise kamden twice, citing ep 12 as my ref for all this, kinda secret relationship, realities of dating a trainee/idol, reunions so more emo, cuddles, cheek kissing, using a pic as a page break, yes the title is fr kam’s rap in switch ty for noticing 💜

wc: 2178

summary: kamden hasn’t seen you in over a year. you surprise him.

a/n this was supposed to be a gift fic for 101 followers but y'all are 200 now 😭😱 omg so thanks so much for supporting my little blog!!! I know this took a little longer than expected so thanks so much for patiently waiting! 💜Special thanks to the anon who sent me an ask about missing kamden and especially to @seok02 for giving me the motivation to finish this fic and kinda just helping me with the overall process 💜💜💜

check my pinned for more fics!

“Star Creator, we always thank you and love you!”

They wrap up the pajama party livestream, thanking the staff and staying to chat as the cameras are switched off. (Or so they think, lol)

“The vibe was pretty good,” Kamden tells Matthew. The other boy agreeing instantly.

“I think we were able to show new sides of ourselves.”

Suddenly the staff play a recording, surprising them all. It’s video messages from Star creators all over the world for them to watch. Kamden grabs a fluffy pillow as he watches everyone slowly get emotional. Seungeon cries. Zhang Hao cries. Yujin cries. Almost everyone is crying. 

Kamden gets a message from a fan in Norway, which is pretty cool. Then, something he never expected happens. He recognises your voice before he even realises it’s you.

“Kamden, annyeong~”

The pillow falls off his lap.

It’s you. It’s really you. You who he hasn’t been able to video call in a few days because of practice and your schedule and the time difference. He almost calls out your name but it sits tight in his throat, unable to reach you. 

You’re on screen, wearing one of the shirts you’ve stolen from him, holding onto the plushie he bought for you at that silly little shop after you insisted it looked like him. God, he hasn’t seen you in over a year.

“Dude, you okay?” Jay asks him softly.

He must look like an idiot, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly open, hanging onto every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I’ve been watching Boy’s Planet since the teasers were released. And you’ve always been my favourite.”

Kamden knows. You’ve been spamming your chat with him with all these little clips from the PR videos to the behind the scenes footage. Screenshots of you voting for him on the Mnet+ app, comments you’ve left on his fancam videos, even the funny memes you found of him on Twitter all greet him when he opens his phone after practice.

Hope my favourite trainee is doing well and staying healthy! Take care of yourself and know I’m always rooting for you! I love and miss you so much! Hoping for your debut!

Your messages are his favourite. And speaking of:

“I’ve made a little compilation of photos right here. I hope you like how I decorated them, I really tried my best~”

All the trainees ooh and ahh over the handmade album you bring up to the screen compiled with photos of him from the program and cute little notes and stickers. Kamden can’t move, can’t talk. 

Because that’s your album, the one you had insisted on starting when he and you began dating. He knows that if you flipped to the other pages, it would be full of photos of both of you, dates, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, awards that either of you might have won, events that were important to you or him or both of you, everything carefully labelled. It was one of your favourite things to print out all the photos and he’d help you decorate them.

He can’t believe you kept that up after he left for Korea.

“You’ve stood out to me in every performance. You’re so talented and so many people are cheering you on so please remember to have confidence in yourself.” Your voice wavers a little towards the end of the sentence and as slight as it is, he catches that. He knows you.

Kamden only registers the wetness on his cheeks when the tears are already going, fast and furious. He reaches up, trying to dab them away gently with his sleeve. On screen, you blink rapidly and he knows you’re trying your best not to cry either. Even thousands of miles away, on a video you probably recorded weeks ago, you and him are still in sync. Maybe the rest of the trainees don’t see it but he does. Of course he does.

“I hope you take care of yourself always. Make sure to eat enough and get enough rest. I’ll be voting for you everyday so just do your best in practice and performing and us Star Creators will take care of the rest. We’ll support you so you can achieve your dream of debuting~”

To everyone else, you were just a particularly supportive fan. But to Kamden, you were his person, the one he was devoted to and he can’t help it, sobbing a little into his sleeve. Several pats on the back as the other trainees around him try to comfort him. He can’t help but cry even more. Why were you so far away? Why couldn’t you be here where he could hug you and kiss you and just be with you?

“Na Kamden hwaiting! Saranghae~”

That’s it. He turns and buries his face fully into his hands as if doing that would soak up all the tears that won’t stop coming. Matthew and Jay have scooted over, voices overlapping as they rub his shoulders and back and ask what’s wrong. Even Zhang Hao’s hovering a little on the side, equally concerned.

Maybe he’ll say something later, when there are no mics and no cameras. He’s been training for years and you’ve both agreed that in a career like the one he aspires to get into, keeping it quiet would be the best. Idols don’t date. Idols don’t have a significant other in a whole other country that they call when they can find free time. Even when it comes to casual conversation where there isn’t a camera directly trained on them, Kamden just doesn’t say anything.

They do ask him later. And when he says you’re a close friend he hasn’t seen in awhile, their faces light up in recognition. He leaves it at that.

You walk into the arena with a little trepidation. 

It’s all been a blur. Packing your things, flying to Korea, meeting up with Kamden’s mom and brother who have been kind enough to get you a ticket pass for the family section. Of course, he has no idea you’re even here.

You’re quite a bit more nervous about surprising him than you thought. While you’d give anything to see him again, it was a little risky in such a public venue with so many people watching and cameras everywhere filming almost any angle. Maybe you can be discreet enough if you do break down but Kamden’s on stage, the spotlights bright and on him. Fans are probably filming him on their own devices.

At this point, you’ll just have to trust your boyfriend to keep his reactions to a believable level. You don’t stand too close to his family, trying to keep your distance but also staying near enough that you’d be in the same general direction if Kamden glanced your way.

You end up on the side, along with a few other people who seem to be dressed as discreetly as you, masks on too. The looks you exchange seem to come to a general understanding of why you’re all here and who you’re here for.

Kamden doesn’t notice you when the Top 18 first file in. You don’t expect him to but you see him though. There’s a growing knot in your stomach, emotions welling up from actually seeing him not through a screen but so close that you could walk on stage and touch him. You don’t do that, of course. But still, he’s so near that it almost hurts not being able to throw yourself into his arms for a hug.

You’ve wanted this so much, especially after more than a year of not seeing him. But right now, you feel frozen. You only watch as they start getting into positions for the signal song. Fans are cheering, even the family members and friends of the trainees are calling out words of support. Still, your voice sticks to your throat, as much as you want to shout out, something keeps you from doing it.

Good thing Kamden’s brother does it for you. It probably surprises you and his mom more than it should but who can blame you when he almost never does that? Kamden’s surprised too, maybe it’s a twin thing but he immediately stands up straighter looking for where his brother’s voice is coming from.

And then he sees you.

His eyes meet yours and they widen considerably. His mouth even drops open a little. You’re smiling so much and you’re sure it shows from how your eyes crinkle, just a little glossy. But you’re not going to cry just yet. Instead, you wave at him. He can’t do much more than give a little wave back before they seem to be ready to start filming. 

Suddenly, your heart feels just a little lighter. You step back and watch him dance the signal song. You’ve seen him do it a thousand times, every time you stream his video. It feels so surreal, being able to see it like this, right in front of you. When the song ends, you see his eyes flick back in your direction, searching for your face. When he finds it, his expression brightens.

It’s amazing, watching someone you love do what they love. Sure, you’ve seen Kamden dance, you’ve gotten him to sing and even rap for you a little before. But it’s different with the stage and the lights and the crowd and he looks so comfortable there. You laugh when you see the Jelly Pop teaser, maybe you’ll get him to wear that dress again, just so you can get photos. The final song is almost bittersweet and you try your best but a few tears do slip out.

He’s messaged you about barely making it to the finale, you’ve monitored the program, watched his rank. You both know his chances are slim. But they’re possible. Still, he’s told you that he’s prepared for the equal possibility of not debuting. His company should have plans, he assured you. You watch him walk over to every one of his fellow trainees who’ve made it to debut, offering hugs and congratulating them. And as the number of spots dwindle, you keep your hopes up but you begin to accept it as well.

By the time they’ve called third, you watch as he walks over to Matthew, one of the trainees he’s closest with from what he’s told you. Maybe he lingers a little longer. Maybe you catch his eyes as he looks over. Hwaiting! You mouth, shaking your fists a little in encouragement. The emotions are swirling inside you. When the camera pans over to him, he’s teary eyed, covering his face the way he always does when he gets like that. You can’t help it. The emotions are starting to spill over and you breathe between the occasional tears.

After they announce the ninth place, everything suddenly starts moving so fast and so slow. They wrap up filming. The audience begins to file out. The cameras switch off one by one. You go backstage.

When he walks in, mic gone, still in that uniform that you keep teasing about, you don’t hold back. His arms wrap around you and you fall into him, holding him so tightly you wish you didn’t need to let go. And then both of you start crying.

“I missed you so much, Kam.” You’re holding onto the fabric of his jacket, gripping at it so desperately you’re almost afraid it might rip.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He manages, his head somehow buried on your shoulder, tears soaking the cloth of your shirt.

“Surprise?” It comes out weak, a little shaky as you both laugh brokenly through your sobs.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He holds you even tighter, like he’s afraid you might fade into thin air.

“I’ll be here for a while.” You tell him. “I wish I could’ve come sooner but-”

“It’s okay seriously, you’re here now.” If he squeezes you anymore, you feel like your heart might burst. “I’m so happy to see you.”

He goes back with you. There’s few brief introductions to Jay and Matthew and a few other trainees he’s grown close with, nudges and knowing looks and raised eyebrows. But it’s nothing to stress about, you manage to make it back under the radar.

You feel him watching you as you grab a few more things from your suitcase after both of you have showered and you’re wearing another one of his old shirts. Before you know it, your legs are tangled together, your head resting on his shoulder, your hands intertwined. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to wake up and find out this is a dream and you aren’t here.”

“You aren’t dreaming, Kam.” You reassure him, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. Even in the privacy of this room, he blushes.

“Even if I didn’t make it, at least I have you.”

“You do, Kam. You always do.” And you know he will make it, one day.

[notsofriendlyfriendlyreminder]

LADIEEES AND GENTLEMEN

I have just finished The Secret History, reading the last circa 120 pages now.

HOLY FUCK.

HEAVY SPOILERS ON THE SECRET HISTORY GO FUCKING READ IT. GO. GOOOOOOOOOOOO.

First of all my heart aches for Francis, yet his story makes so much sence? I hate that. I hate that I knew, subconsciously, that his end will not be the happiest one.

SPEAKING OF NOT HAPPIEST ENDS THE TWINS? First of all, ew, second of all, Camilla my dear I want to hug you but also do I think her decisions and her love to Henry caused Charles's demise? Yes. Do I have a lot of feelings about Charles? Also yes. It was inevitable that she had to leave Charles, he is fucked up and he needs to stop drinking, but if this was going on for so damn long she choose the worst time to do so and Henry, goddamn Henry, is also at fault.

BUT also I like Charles in the same way I like Callum from the Atlas series. Conflicted, but I think they could be so much better.

(Can you tell how fucking conflicted I am about the twins?)

HENRY

FUCKING

WINTER

I think the book is brilliant simply because in the end, you feel the same towards Henry as Richard does. You love him (Richard you are not straight), his looks, his inteligence, his devotion to his ideas, but you also blame him for everything that happened. He was the mastermind, he told everyone what to do, and the question of Why did we listen to him is so perfect!

Also the only way Henry would die is suicide. There is no other way. He, maybe not even realising it, had the incredible need to be in control of everything and everyone, mainly himself.

Richard, oh Richard, in some ways I feel towards him. A man who decided he wants more from this stupid life but let's call him Icarus, he flew to close the sun called Henry.

I DO THINK HIS NARATION CANNOT BE TRUSTED!!!

Simply, and I already talked about this, he definitely drank and took more pills than he let on. He talks how Charles is constantly drunk (even though they all are to a degree), with a certain sadness and worry. Yet, he could very well be the exact same. We just don't know it, because we are following him. Humans are critical of themselves until they want to share something bad they actually did do.

ALSO the way Richard detaches himself away from the murder of Bunny is incredible. He was there, he helped plan it, and even though they all call Henry the one behind it all, they all went along. Richard is in a sence manipulated by Henry, they all are (just like they are all manipulated and isolated by Julian), but jesus christ you could step away in any minute. You could call the police the first time Henry proposed it. Or tell Bunny.

Bunny is an annoying prick. He is a dick. But I also think Richard focuses on his negative factors (even though he does talk positively about him) because throughout the book he is trying to justify the murder.

And that's what I think this book is at it's core, Richard Papen subconsciously justifying the murder of Bunny. That's it and I love you Donna Tart so much I want to scream and read 200 pages more of your stupid book.

[festivalofthe12]

No but it really is starting to settle on me just how much MORE popular Yuki/Kakeru is since the new anime came out.

Like: I recently regained access to my old livejournal from the late 00s!!!! And unfortunately I made that after the height of my Fruits Basket phase, but I still did make some mention of Yuki/Kakeru... And, well.

18) A pairing that is woefully unappreciated! YUKI/FRICKINGKAKERU. I swear, there's less than a PAGE of this on fanfic.net. Less than a PAGE. Geez, it's implied SO MUCH in so many scenes, even WITHOUT the whole 'I'll brake up with you' thing. Bloody fandom, don't appreciate good characters and pairings when they see them... (8/3/2008)

And as I implied in an earlier post, while I was trawling through the Ao3 tag (still on-going!!) I decided to give myself a blast from the past and re-read through the Yuki S. and Kakeru M. filter on ff.net, which I remember checking religiously. Today? Three pages.

Ao3 has 10 pages and 200 works!!!

And even then, like, lately I've been going through my old bookmarks (sadly I've only found one Yuki/Kakeru, which I'd already remembered anyway), with a current focus on Zuko/Aang. Well, even just by googling I can immediately summon up whole rec lists of livejournal snippets and fic memes and the like, so I was excited to see what I could dig out for Yukeru, since I certainly remember Fruits Basket having a big presence on that site!

Nothing. Literally, I haven't found anything yet. Save a livejournal comm with exactly three posts, long-dead.

Of course, it makes sense that the new anime brought in new fans: Kakeru famously never showed up in the old anime, so people would only have ever even met him if they read through to, what? Volume 8? Later? of the manga. And I do recall the fandom being far less... Yuki-positive, back then. Yuki/Kyou was a popular ship, of course, and Yuki/Haru was around, but those ships had Kyou and Haru fans behind them; you'd only ship Yukeru if you were really invested in Yuki himself.

But it's still just boggling me. I did find Yuki/Kakeru rec lists, but they're all from the last few years. They alone have as much fanfic as ff.net had of Yukeru total back in 2008, when Kakeru had surely existed for a good half a decade at least, even in English.

Is there something about the current fanfiction landscape that is far more amenable to Yuki/Kakeru? Probably, yeah, I think: it's a pairing very situated for queer coming-of-age found family type stories, which are much more popular now. (Not that they never existed before! But fandom was much less... consciously activist-y. Maybe I'm just betraying my age back then, but it was much more common to ship boys simply because they were ~smexy~ together, as I think I myself cringefully wrote about Yuki/Kyou in my very first livejournal post...)

And it's. Such a strange feeling. I remember when I realised that season 2 of the anime had come out, and on a whim deciding to check the Yuki/Kakeru fanfic tag on ao3. And I thought I found only a small number! And I read one, and went 'oh cool, my old ship has Plural New Works!' and moved on!!! I truly had no IDEA there were so MANY... or that they were so GOOD.

Yuki/Kakeru was one of the first ships I ever wrote. The fic was very long and I'm sure very bad, though unfortunately this is from the period of my writings lost to time, so I'll sadly never be able to check it out for my (current) self. I think it was the first lemon I ever wrote; on a Pirates of the Caribbean fic I exclaimed that this second lemon was much better than my first, and I have a sneaking suspicion Yuki/Kakeru is who my 14-or-so old self had written like that.

I made a friend on ff.net because they were one of the very few Yuki/Kakeru writers. I have a visceral memory of coming upon the 'I'll break up with you' scene while reading the manga at school during lunch, and how I immediately exclaimed it aloud in great excitement, startling a poor teacher who had been talking to one of my friends and no doubt knew me as being very quiet. I'm sure I must have drawn it in all sorts of little doodles; I saved a lot of my old high school arts, so maybe I should try going through those as well?

I don't know. I'm just feeling a great sense of awe, I guess, haha. That ship was *so important to me*, and it was *so hard* to find anyone else who felt as strongly as me! (My friends all liked Fruits Basket with me, of course, but we've always tended to have divergent ship tastes.) And right beneath my nose, it has had a renaissance! It sprouted and bloomed and then went dormant again while I twiddled my thumbs, vaguely promising myself that I'd get back to the new anime at some point or other!

God I just. REALLY wish I'd been paying attention while the anime was airing, hahaha. :') My inner child has been so thoroughly validated by this all, that this ship I cared so much about really IS as great and important and meaningful as I'd always thought it was! But how must it have been to be in the thick of it all, when the ship tags were thriving? When I could've seen the new viewer's reactions to famous scenes? When everyone else was thinking about Yukeru as much as I have been, this last month or so?

But I'm not only unhappy. i can't not be grateful that these people have come and made works which I can still now and enjoy, and that there are still certainly people around to like my silly little Yukeru posts and even maybe make new ones. Things are so much better now than they were back then.

It's just. Incredible. Why didn't any of this happen back then?! Why did this Understanding take so long to spread and percolate?!? I don't know. But I'm happy. My younger self... is so, so happy. :'DDD

[ala-baguette]

Fic Stats Game

Rules: Give us links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and fic with the least amount of words.

Thanks thanks for the tag, @turanga4! (even if it took me a while). I haven't spent a great deal of time looking at my AO3 stats in detail, so this was fun to explore. Just going to focus on AO3 stats and ignore FFN's because trying to combine them made my head hurt.

Most Hits: Predictably, Knowing Where to Look. It's loooong and been going on for quite a while, so no surprises there. The more chapters, the more hits, so I don't know that this stat says much to me.

Second Most Kudos: A Lonely Path. My only other long-fic, so again not too surprising. Interestingly enough, however, when I first looked a few days ago, it was actually KwtL. Those two have been battling it out for first place on my stats page for a while, but it looks like KwtL finally won out (of which I am proud). Another interesting observation: while I would consider KwtL my most popular work on AO3, LP (first published in 2009) received way way way more engagement on FFN. So interesting to see how times have changed in the fandom and how the culture is different between the two sites.

Third Most Bookmarks: Never a Free Elf (Kreacher's Left Behind installment). I'm stupid proud of Kreacher. I wrote this story thinking, 'Wow! This is such a fun pov to write but no one is ever actually going to read it, because who gives a shrivel fig about Kreacher.' But then people did read it! You lot warm my heart.

Fourth Most Comments: A Life Filled with Laughter and Ice Cream (Florean Fortescue's Left Behind installment). Again, one of my more random side-characters to explore. I fell in love with Florean while writing this one, so happy to see him get a little attention. Florean was a man who fought hard for his little bit of well-deserved happiness. It breaks my heart to know that would he later give it up. He was too good for this world.

Fifth Most Words: Lemon Drizzle (Justin Finch-Fletchley's Left Behind installment). Justin deserves this tiny bit of recognition because it's the only recognition he's likely to receive, poor love. I don't believe that any story is a flop, but... objectively, this story was a flop. At just 200 hits (for context, while there's quite a bit of variability, my Left Behind stories average at ~13-1400 hits), I can't really fault the writing when no one ever really clicked on him to begin with. He's a nice reminder to not to take stats too personally.

Least Amount of Words: Mix Tape. This was intended to be a silly little drabble for Hinny day. 900 words later I realised I am incapable of writing drabbles. Brevity is not my strong-suit.

I know this post has been floating around for quite a while, and honestly, I don't know which authors have enough individual stories, so consider this an open tag to any who would like to participate!

[man-reading]

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Book Review - A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Fiction Book Review

22 Jul

It's difficult to know where to start with a review of 'A little life'. If you've read it, you'll know what I mean. It's the story of four graduates who move to New York to make their way in life. Willem is an aspiring actor; Malcolm wants to be an architect but finds his job unfulfilling; JB is talented and trying to break his way into the art world; and Jude, an ambitious, brilliant lawyer, but deeply troubled.

We follow their lives over the decades, as their relationship with each other changes. They come together, drift apart, fall in and out of love and deal with addiction. But it's Jude with his body damaged by injury and childhood trauma, who is the centre of the book, both for his friends and the reader. Can he overcome his demons?

That's about as much as I can say in terms of an overview.

Yanagihara

I bought this book at the Sun bookshop in pre-pandemic Melbourne, December 2019. I had a gift voucher, so picked this and a couple of others and dragged them back half across the world to Ireland. I can only think the sun and bushfire smoke must have affected my brain, because it must have pushed my luggage allowance close to the limit.

‘A little life’ has taunted me from my TBR bookshelf. I had heard about the subject matter, so kept putting it off until I was ready for it. Truth is, having read it, I don't think that time would ever have arisen. I did eventually read another Yanagihara book called ‘To Paradise’ which I found interesting, if a bit long, and decided this summer, with the sun arriving early in Ireland (as if that would help) I was going to tackle this 700-page door stopper.

Word of warning - this book contains descriptions of abuse, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. If you're not in a good place mentally, I wouldn't be reading this book.

Immersive

Initially, I found this book completely immersive. It doesn't happen so often to me these days, but one afternoon, I think around the 200-page mark, I realised I'd read for an hour and barely stirred. There it is, I thought, that’s the book I've been hearing so much about it.

But this was soon to change. I think this is a great book if you have a fitness tracker, as increasingly I had to put this book down and go for a walk. Sometimes into another room, sometimes out of the house and into the local park.

There are a lot of disturbing scenes and thoughts in this book. It was a challenge for me to lift it from around the 500-page mark, and there were times I could only manage a few pages. But of course, I was so invested in the characters of Jude and Willem that I was never going to walk away from the book. The characters are so rich and detailed, the prose is clean and evocative, and the storytelling and structure keep you engaged.

Jude St. Francis

I found it hard to imagine Jude's character. For some unknown reason, he became in my head Rami Malek's character 'Louis Dega' from the film 'Papillion'. Even when he was described slightly differently, it was too late. I think the lack of details from Hanya Yanagihara was deliberate - the reader had to compose their own Jude.

I liked how Yanaghira paced the book - the story of Jude's childhood is told incrementally, interspersed with a matter-of-fact narration of his life in New York. It's not dumped on you all at once.

For all the pain and trauma in the book, I think it's important to highlight the love and kindness shown to Jude by Willem, Harold, Andy, and others.

It asks the big questions - how much can a person take? Can someone be saved if they don't want to be and if they have suffered so much? Can you truly shield yourself through your money and career? And is love and friendship enough?

Polarising

Of all the books I've read and reviewed, I've never been more on the fence than I have with this one. On the one hand, it felt incredibly depressing and bleak at times, much too long and depressing ( I realise I said that twice).

On the other hand, parts of it, especially the initial sections, are completely immersive and it has a lot to say about the importance of love, of art, of friendship. And it will most likely break your heart a little, get under your skin, and I think that's a good thing too.

It's a book that has polarised opinion and I can see why. I am glad I read it and it's not taunting me from my bookshelf. I will never forget the character of Jude St. Francis, and I'm glad that this book challenged me - I think that's a good thing.

I think I would have to know you well before I could recommend this - only you know if you'd be able for it. Incidentally, reading it in an Irish summer didn't help, as the weather soon turned to shit.

If you've read it, please let me know below - I think I need to talk to someone after reading 'A little life'.

720 pages, Hardcover

Published March 10, 2015 by Doubleday

Amazon UKAmazon US

Hanya Yanagihara talks about ‘A little life’.

A Little Life Quotes

“You won’t understand what I mean now, but someday you will: the only trick of friendship, I think, is to find people who are better than you are—not smarter, not cooler, but kinder, and more generous, and more forgiving—and then to appreciate them for what they can teach you, and to try to listen to them when they tell you something about yourself, no matter how bad—or good—it might be, and to trust them, which is the hardest thing of all. But the best, as well.”

“….things get broken, and sometimes they get repaired, and in most cases, you realize that no matter what gets damaged, life rearranges itself to compensate for your loss, sometimes wonderfully.”

“Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.”

“Who am I? Who am I?” “You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs. You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen. You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way. You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it. You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again. You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.” "And who are you?" "I'm Willem Ragnarsson. And I will never let you go.”

“He had looked at Jude, then, and had felt that same sensation he sometimes did when he thought, really thought of Jude and what his life had been: a sadness, he might have called it, but it wasn't a pitying sadness; it was a larger sadness, one that seemed to encompass all the poor striving people, the billions he didn't know, all living their lives, a sadness that mingled with a wonder and awe at how hard humans everywhere tried to live, even when their days were so very difficult, even when their circumstances were so wretched. Life is so sad, he would think in those moments. It's so sad, and yet we all do it.”

“Harold sighs. “Jude,” he says, “there’s not an expiration date on needing help, or needing people. You don’t get to a certain age and it stops.”

literary fictionContemporaryLGBTMental Health

[sneakymystique]

Mystique Origins

I’m doing a clear-out of some old master links on my page which were from rp days and are long redundant.

One of them is a Mystique bio I wrote for X-Men Evolution. It’s probably the closest I’d come to writing a comics origin story, as nowadays I’ve swung round to the view that Mystique’s origins are better left shrouded. Also, canon has moved on and confirmed that Mystique pre-dates the 19th century, so it’s also obsolete for that reason.

Over 200 years ago a little girl was born to a young couple in the Austrian Empire. For the first ten years of her life the girl was much like any other, although times were hard hers was a loving family and as she grew older it was obvious she was going to be a great beauty, leading her father to hope he’d be able to make an advantageous match for her and his family. But soon after her fourteenth birthday everything changed when the young girl’s skin started to turn blue. The changes didn’t stop there, soon the girl’s raven black hair had turned an unnatural blood red and her eyes began to turn yellow and glow with an ‘unholy’ light. The girl’s parents and the villagers believed the girl had been possessed by the devil and knew what they had to do. A pyre was built in the village, and the girl who needed several men to drag her kicking and screaming, was tied to a stake and set fire to. In those few desperate moments, with the fire licking at her skin, the girl wished she could fly away and her body responded.

A bird, its feathers singed from the flames, escaped the pyre unnoticed and landed in one of the mountain forests. Badly burned, traumatised and starving the girl thought she would soon die, which she indeed did, for the girl did not survive that forest, Mystique did. The first winter was the hardest, although she didn’t feel the cold, there was little to eat on the frozen slopes of the mountains and plenty of predatory animals who could smell a fearful girl from miles away. But she was slowly mastering her powers, working out that she could change into virtually any animal in the forest, become bigger and meaner than anything that stalked her and soon she was the queen of the forest.

Her revenge against her birthplace was brutal. One day a group of hunters from her home village stumbled upon her by accident, they were no match for her, but as she stared down at them she had a sudden realisation. Could she become another human, could she look like them? The villagers were dismayed when the badly wounded hunter returned, talking of an enormous bear. Nobody noticed the yellow glint in his eyes, and soon the villagers began to die one by one. People from a nearby village who eventually came to investigate found the entire village deserted with no traces left save for the remains of a giant pyre in the main square. The rescuers soon left, convinced that the place was cursed, taking with them the village’s only survivor, a stray dog.

Mystique never looked back. The road took her to Vienna, where she used her shapeshifting powers to assume the identity of a wealthy aristocrat. She travelled all over Europe, living in luxury, assuming and discarding hundreds of identities, ingratiating herself with the rich and powerful, her only goal being her own survival. Mystique drifted for most of her first century, sampling the lives of actors, soldiers, spies and politicians. When the First World War came along she sold information to the highest bidder and helped to stir up revolutionary crowds in Russia. During the twenties and thirties she worked for the Soviet Union, Nazi Germany and the United States, hiring her skills as a spy to whoever would pay the most. Shortly after the war Mystique met Eric Lehnsherr and for the first time began to understand that she wasn’t alone. She soon became hooked by his ideology of mutant supremacy and put her talents to use furthering the cause.

Taking the role of Principal of Bayville High, Mystique used the position to recruit young mutants to the cause and keep an eye on the X-Men. Following Magneto’s betrayal, Mystique broke away to pursue her goals independently, creating the identity of Risty Wilde to spy on the x-men and later captured and replaced Professor Xavier and blew up the X-Mansion.

Following the revelation of mutants and the Apocalypse incident, Mystique has killed and replaced National Security Advisor Valerie Cooper whose position she’s using to further her own agenda, which includes the destruction of the X-men.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

I'm curious, do you enjoy reading fics with trauma recovery as much as you enjoy writing them?

And is there anything you enjoy writing but hate/dislike reading? And vice versa?

Hi anon!

I do enjoy reading fics with trauma recovery! It's mostly what I read when I'm looking for something longer, however, I don't like trauma recovery just because it's trauma recovery? It needs other stuff too. A lot of folks assumed I'd like the Steve/Bucky Marvel pairing because Bucky has PTSD, but I actually can't stand that pairing (though I like both characters) and don't care as much about those specific narratives of PTSD (interpersonal trauma recovery interests me more than military or natural disaster trauma recovery, for example).

I don't know if I enjoy reading fics with trauma recovery as much as I enjoy writing it. In fact I'd say that's not true anymore because I've read very few fics with trauma recovery since I started writing Falling Falling Stars and I kind of realised I could write exactly what I wanted. Ever since then, reading the fanfiction of other folks doing trauma recovery is a harder sell to me personally, though I still do look for hurt/comfort etc.

I do still reread old fics I love, and old novels with trauma recovery / hurt/comfort that I love. But I don't... reread that content as much as I write that content, so if we're talking about 'time spent reading trauma recovery' vs. 'time spent writing/editing trauma recovery' alone, then I would definitely like writing it more.

Most of the original novels I've recced here and on Goodreads, particularly in romance but not always, generally have trauma recovery as a centralised theme or major part of the story.

As for stuff I like writing but hate/dislike reading:

Horror and supernatural horror (can't watch it, don't love reading it, really enjoy writing it)

Stories that are too long (lol)

Probably other stuff I'm forgetting.

And for stuff I don't like writing but really like reading:

Like, too much to list! I don't like writing nonfiction novels but I read a ton of nonfiction novels, lol. I don't really like writing high literature but I still read it. I don't like writing plays for the stage but I'll read 'em.

I mean isn't this true of most writers? Most of what we haven't written and/or don't enjoy writing is often what we're still going to really love, because we can't do everything. Idk, I have no interest in writing The Great British Bake Off, but I really like watching it. I have no interest in writing police procedurals but I love watching them.

Specifically in terms of romance fic, I'm not sure. Probably areas where I'm extremely concerned about the level of work involved in making a slightly accurate fanfiction - like getting terminology, customs and costumes right in certain fandoms like say, Natsume's Book of Friends or Mo Dao Zu Shi, and the actual process of writing seems extremely intimidating but I like reading (or have liked reading) stories in those fandom/s where other people are willing to do that work. I've definitely been thinking about researching this a bit more with an intention to writing fic going forward though.

I can be a really lazy writer, but I'm also a writer who can really appreciate when another writer has done the hard yards in areas of fandom where I want to read, but writing fills me with :/ feelings. Like, I really respect when you can see an author's care and research, but it's not weighing down the page and I don't feel like I'm getting a lecture that feels like a Wiki page that's been condensed down. Some of my favourite fandoms for like weird random niche knowledge included Dragon Age: Inquisition, and that was a fandom where I ended up doing a ton of research myself (i.e. what did horses eat 200 years ago, how did you prepare and store their food).

In terms of genre, there's not a ton of difference honestly. I don't love writing or reading gen. I don't love writing or reading fluff in the absence of hurt/comfort. I don't love writing or reading hurt-no-comfort. Maybe the biggest one is that on the very rare occasion I'll read a heterosexual PWP that has a kink I'm really looking for, but I don't intend to ever write het again.

(Finally pressing post on this after forgetting I had it in my drafts for ages!)

[queersatanic]

The Yank Who Became a God

Cevin Soling is the co- or sole owner of most of The Satanic Temple's various corporations but goes by the pseudonym "Malcolm Jarry" when associating with TST in public, including—alarmingly—on many of their legal documents.

We've talked before about how before and during the early years of the Temple, Soling (as "Cevin Soling") was visiting the South Pacific island of Vanuatu, filming  a documentation about himself as a would-be cargo cult messiah, fulfilling a prophecy of "John Frum".

And we've shared before that photographer Jon Tonks and writer Christopher Lord were on the island at the same time as one of Soling's trips, sharing some of the articles about the book they published.

And we've shared before that photographer Jon Tonks and writer Christopher Lord were on the island at the same time as one of Soling's trips, sharing some of the articles about the book they published.

And we've shared before that photographer Jon Tonks and writer Christopher Lord were on the island at the same time as one of Soling's trips, sharing some of the articles about the book they published.  

[Guardian] ‘There was a prophecy I would come’: the western men who think they are South Pacific kings 

[Blind Magazine] How to Be a King: a Beginner’s Guide

From the second link:

“I think as soon as we had met Cevin, we realised that that was the interesting thing,” says Tonks. “And we knew that if we spent a long amount of time there we would see all sorts of people doing the same thing."

But, until now we never had the full context for Tonks' and Lord's visit to Vanuatu or why seeing Soling arrive was so important.

We're sharing that excerpt below, but if you're interested and want more about the island, the John Frum movement, and other would-be messiahs, check out their book The Men Who Would Be King and Tonks' website.

For our narrow interests, the text suffices but the book it comes from primarily visual and covers several other would-be cargo cult messiahs as well as the communities those men visit, so if the below sparks your interests, pick up a copy.

The Men Who Would Be King by Jon Tonks and Christopher Lord £39.00 / $55.00 hardback (dewi lewis publishing) 200 pages, 72 colour plates & numerous illustrations ISBN: 978-1-911306-43-6

[alloracart]

Well so much for updates while Art Fight was going, I guess this now a recap of the season.

So I though of making a post after my initial attack, but then I thought “no I should do work on my next one.” Three attacks later and here I’m am. I thought I could get a quick update in three weeks in just so I posted anything about Art Fight. I would do this by making a draft tumblr post and hoping I would feel the urge to complete it. Turns out I did not.

Let's get on with this recap of my first Art Fight season. I was on team Werewolves, had only 2 characters, and only 5 bookmarked characters. Unfortunately, I would not get any attacks over the month, but I can understand that. It's just 2 characters, and there's no way to search characters by creation date (other than the 8 newest characters on the front page). There's basically only a few friends that know my Art Fight stuff anyways.

Hopefully next year will be much easier to get an attack. I'll probably upload more of my characters to it in addition to the Florida Collection. Now let's get onto my attacks.

#1: Downy

Of course I would start off with a Rito. I wanted to find avians to draw, and I found this guy by @venonatt. You can see that it has a similar style to my 2 Art Fight OCs, though I varied outline thickness all around as how The Windwaker does it. and so will the next 3. I also added a more basic background with a nice, coloured in name. This was also probably the quickest drawing I made in the past while, taking just 4 days. I really like this character, especially how their hair came out. While I did take colours from the original drawings, this one took the most liberty with colour selection. The last thing I'll say about it is that the mouth was the most difficult part. It seems I cannot do open mouths or smiling for my life. The only reason their face doesn't look 200% weirder is because I put a white line to be their teeth. Otherwise it looks like they're looking at a burger.

#2: Finch

Here's my second, this is based on a character by @fimvie. It took quite longer. That was mainly due to Zeldathon, but this was a little tough to make, there were many redraws. I was initially going to have more outlines for the wings, but that looked too busy. I had to erase all the lines for the wings and redraw them. Beyond that, you can see it's mostly similar to the first attack, except the outlines don't have much varying width. I could've done an outline or not having shading or a background, but I just didn't feel like submitting the attacks that way.

#3: Rowan

So I'm not a person to draw a lot of fan stuff since I came back, but I do still like The Owl House, and this character by @coxinhadoce47-art got my attention. I kept to the same style as before, but I also did the eyes in an slightly TOH style. I was very surprised that this character used mainly purples and red. I'm not sure if any colour on the character is between orange and blue. I also really love the background I made for it. The sky and snow were amazing to make. I especially like adding the bright celestial objects which I added, even if they're small dots.

Also, at this moment, I realised that attack titles didn't need to be just the name of the OC. With that, I wanted to test how long they could be by creating a 2600-character long recipe for buffalo blue cheese hot dogs. Unfortunately only 256 characters can fit in there, so I couldn't put that in, but I didn't leave a character to waste.

#4: Tanniet

My last drawing of Art Fight, and my first friendly fire. This character is by @majoracats. While I thought it would be initially quick, fast enough to maybe do a fifth attack as an outline, I has to turn this in several hours before the event ended. I had to switch my schedule this week to ensure that. It's mainly because I had to redraw the shape of the body multiple times. Tanniet was way taller before, but I felt she needed to be shorter. I made her shorter, but that also involved changing other most other things to keep it proportional. Regardless, I'm proud of what I got to do.

This also has the most detailed background. There's plenty of stuff, textures, and shadows. Surprisingly, that wasn't what took most of the work.

Final Thoughts

Now that this is over, I'll be returning to regular art soon. The thing with Art Fight though is that it completely reset my plans for drawing. I have little idea as to what to make next now. Will I keep up the pace? Probably not, this required doing little in my free time other than drawing, and I want to do other things again. But it won't be long until the next piece.

As for next years, I think I learnt two things. First, after the next attack you submit, post it here with nothing but the credits, rather than writing a million words like me. Second, draw outlines faster. That seems to be the main slow down, I need to get outlines better quicker so I don't need to spend time doing revisions.

Beyond that, I would like to see if I'd be interested in just doing an outline drawing or just simpler drawings. The main reason I went all out on these four was because I liked doing the textures, shading, and text. It's been quite a while since I've done just outlines, but it would be a way to quickly learn them. Art Fight has also gotten me more interested in art events, I can use them to figure out how to draw more, and keep within a time limit.

Anyways, that was my first Art Fight season. I can't wait for the Art Fight postseason.

[novemberdevils]

I will be rereading while waiting for puck drop so be prepared for a long rambling session.

But honestly im the happiest person that the calendar is 24 races -purely because I will get more of the masterpiece that you are writing but please guys consider 18 races it’s perfect and enjoyable for everyone and not tiring-, IMOLA MY LOVE so excited for her so I will cherish and love her-imola is my favourite race if you cant tell btw-, the light is here to trick you and us into thinking everything is good but then boom suddenly there is no light and we are just walking blindly with Jack leading us deeper into the tunnel because we followed him thinking he figured it out.

Indy paddock THE most fun place ever, even with the general admission tickets if you are lucky you could meet some drivers who are walking-a fun story time I was wearing merch for stingray and I was walking around with my brother when I saw him and he was like oh let me sign this for you and take a picture I had a GENERAL ADMISSION TICKET f1 could never-, but f1 paddock are so weird like for my birthday my friends and family bought a Ferrari paddock ticket for monza weekend and the place was weird because there were influencers who didn’t even care about f1, when Charles won it I swear to you there were two person who were there who didn’t give a fuck and then there was the rest of us who was jumping up and down and half crying because he won it, and honestly im just waiting for our yearly Alex Palou contract drama; it would never be a silly season without it, but yeah stingray joining JUNCOS is definitely the start of silly season.

I KNEW IT!!! But I thought I was overthinking because like a normal fan who doesn’t watch NASCAR wouldnt know about dalton but I knew it! Please never apologise about taking about Logan he is like my Roman Empire I have followed his entire career and was so sad about his season in f1 and I always always WILL talk about logan and would mention him every opportunity I get-he is my favourite outside of Ferrari drivers-.

Anyways I feel like this would get too long if I rambled about the fic in the same comment so I will be sending another ask with the fic because good god it’s this long and I haven’t even talked about the fic yet in case you still havent somehow realised this but I yap a lot -can you believe that I don’t actually yap a lot in only English because it feels weird to me because its my second language? If I also incorporate my first language I fear that you would hate me, my friends have established a system where I can yap for two hours but then I take a 15 to 20 mins break where I dont talk so I dont ruin my vocal cords-

i am always prepared for a long rambling session. thrilled and riveted

no fr 24 races is so many. both in real life and also in the scope of this goddamn fanfiction... re: i am STILL writing round seven of twenty-four and the fic doc is over 200 pages. which is awesome

imola is great it is a great time it has been running away from me since i started writing it like. almost every scene i write for imola i start with some kind of direction and it all immediately goes out the window and then i'm like. well what the fuck. getting into a lot of uh. non-racing drama. Well. it's all racing related in a way but like. Drama. i've been writing a lot of dialogue for it

i love indycar so bad <3 the one (1) race i went to was so fun i need to go to another one sometime. and yeah i remember seeing people who did not give one fuck about f1 being in the paddock or whatever and i'm like. cool for you but do you even?? care?? i see it less now just on the proxy of i pay less attention to the entire everything of f1 but i did see that carlos and lando went golfing with COLTON HERTA and CONNOR DALY today. which was not on my bingo card. the joys of f1 races in america i think

i was logan sargeant's #1 fan when he was a rookie i got sooo endeared to his stupid american ass it was not even funny omg i could not help but shove in some good old fashioned References since now i'm writing a fic starring an american f1 driver who is also just jack hughes. my bad. i had a twitter mutual who knew me in my loganisms ask if the jack/trevor friendship is supposed to be logan/kyle coded and i was like yeah you got me. my bad. self-indulgent fic continues to be very self-indulgent

i love the yapping. if my answers don't give it away i too am a certified yapper so! thank you for the continued excuses to keep yapping. i love

[nattosushi]

Popsugar reading challenge: A book set in space

Luke Skywalker and the shadows of Mindor- by Matthew Stover

Luke Skywalker is definitely one of my all time favourite character, and I basically sat through the whole seventh film waiting for him to appear. I was extremely upset when he did in the eighth film because this is Luke Skywalker! You just don't kill Luke Skywalker! But I always really wanted to read about him after the events of the original film but obviously before what happened in the final three films. This book seems very promising in both the setting and many other Star Wars fans has recommended it.

Regarding the book, I enjoyed reading the bit about Luke, but I find that by having too many various narrations, it does take away a lot of my enjoyment. It is not that the rest wasn't well written, but it was a bit hard to stay focused. But all the original characters from the film are written really well and it is interesting to see how they deal with the aftermath of everything. The truth is that the end of the Return of the Jedi is only a mere triumph, they are still faced with a lot of problems they have to deal with.

For me, the best part of the book is definitely the Luke parts, because his character is written so well. Even though he is a Jedi who has a wisdom and understanding that many others does not, there are still a lot of things he is uncertain about. I actually really like what Lando said about him- that Luke has seen a darkness that neither Han nor Leia could understand, and that he is clinging onto doing the right thing partly out of fear for what would happen if it is not done.

A minor issue is that for some reason, the e-book version I borrowed has 600+ pages, but only the first 400+ pages is the actual story. The rest 200 hundred are background and other previews. But the problem is that before I realised that, I was thinking that this story is a bit way too long.

Overall, I do recommend this book, because it shows the aftermath of the Return of the Jedi, and it does write about Luke really well. However, there are a lot of bits about other characters and other issues, and at times these other aspects are dragging the story out a bit too much. If you read the book for the sake of Luke (like me), then be prepared that this is not the complete case with the book.

[spogwam]

Final Year Project Research - 5

As previously discussed, In the Breeks will not be adapted to a grad film project for now. However, as a final post, I would like to discuss the process of research and development that I have undertaken in producing my final script.

Research

Much of my research for this script was reminiscing with old members of the TYT (Tain Young Team). Upon returning home for a long weekend, I met up with my old pals Lewis and Brandon for a walk and to discuss my film. They were both enthusiastic about the idea, they liked the rebellious nature of its protagonists and the visual element of graffiti, recommending spots around my hometown where I could get away with it (lol). We discussed a show called American Vandal we had all watched, which is great fun, but I told them it was too thematically light for comparison. I told them I wanted to tackle the problem of drug deaths in the Highlands are other rural areas. I asked them whether they thought drugs were more prevalent in the Highlands but they disagreed entirely.

Brandon responded: "You students in Edinburgh do way more gear and drinking than us. Its just our stuff is worse quality."

This was a great insight, which I further researched through government statistics, discovering that in certain rural Highland towns, the rate of drug deaths were over ten times higher than those in Edinburgh for example (200 per 100,000, compared to 18 per 100,000). This reassured me on the importance of making the film, as the three of us personally knew people who died after taking impure substances.

Other help I was offered was in relation to the graffiti element, I originally planned on having Bailey paint cutting, ironic paintings that reflected his cynicism. Lewis and Brandon thought this was unrealistic, and if they were doing graffiti it would be something small and simple as to not get caught in the act, like a penis for example. This is where this element came from, and when I realised I had been in Edinburgh too long and needed a look back at the archives of my youth.

I looked through old photographs of the TYT to research costumes and props and remembered that to avoid the police we would drink alcohol with mixers from 2L plastic bottles. I also found many locations for the film this way, recalling overgrown alleyways and side streets that we'd stop for a smoke in when kicking about. I later walked my dog Ghillie about the town, stopping off at my old haunts to get a feel for the film's setting, the stark contrast between the beauty of the countryside and the dire state of the council schemes was a primary takeaway during these wanders.

I wrote a draft of the script while I was at home, the first of three, that would change dramatically as I worked through it with Kate.

Script Development

1st Draft

In the first draft, Bailey was instead Tupac, which was of immediate concern to the course tutors, having his actions and character associated with a pop culture icon would detract from the characters individuality and so the name was changed.

Structurally, the script had no inciting incident, at least not until the 5th and 6th pages. This was far too late, and meant the viewer could lose interest in Tupac and Trig's meandering before Laura informing Tupac about the circumstances of Jamie's death propels the plot forward. There was a lot of fat to trim, namely an emotional conversation between Tupac and Laura following the revelation that was unnecessary and too student film for me, and was also unrealistic as canonically Laura would not willingly spend this much time with Tupac.

It also opened with a flashback of Tupac, Trig, and Jamie messing about down the beach on the night of his death. This fundamentally broke the principles of realism that I was trying to instil, and laid things out too plainly, without room for interpretation.

It had some good stuff in it, but was rough and the pacing was off, so Kate encouraged me to make the climactic incident of the script, the confrontation with Conner, instead the inciting incident near the beginning, switching it around.

2nd Draft

In the second draft the film kicks off at a pace with the revelation from Laura and the confrontation with the dealer wrapping up by the fourth page. This effectively instigated Bailey's vendetta against his hometown, but fundamentally meant the film lost momentum after this point. Also, this draft muddied Bailey's motivation, as him being drunk was the primary reason for him and Trig's fallout. This is an entirely separate theme that was not developed and so needed the chop.

As an exercise in building tension, it was clear the confrontation had to be positioned at the end of the film as the pacing was way off, so I returned to this structure in the third draft.

3rd Draft

The structure of this draft is one I am sticking with, a kind of jakey detective narrative that gives the film and its characters great momentum until its climax.

The inciting incident is Bailey's conversation with Laura, but instead of knowing where to go right away, Bailey and Trig set off to question those who were with Jamie near the end of his life to find the person responsible. They start at Jamie's old workplace, the local joinery, which leads them to the town nightclub, where they find some jakeys who know the dealer who gave Jamie the deadly dose.

This structure worked perfectly, establishing motivation from scene to scene, and involving the audience in the mystery of Jamie's death, learning as the film progresses.

The climactic scenes of this draft were the confrontation with the dealer Conner, and a following argument between Bailey and Trig over the ethics of letting rage out on people who are innocent.

Both of these scenes perfectly foreshadow Trig's death, showing Bailey's true colours and introducing Trig to a drug dealer.

4th and Final Draft

There were only minor changes to be made as I worked on my final draft, mainly in trimming the fat in new scenes added in the "mystery narrative."

I say the changes were minor, but the ending of the film in which Bailey takes the drugs was also changed, as many people interpreted this as a suicide attempt understandably, which was a bit too bleak for my liking. Instead, Bailey sits down next to Trig's body, spending a moment with him in deep introspection before all of the shit goes down.

This was as good as it gets, and Kate's help was invaluable in exploring the many different routes these characters could take in their odyssey to land on the perfect one.

In conclusion

I've learned so much over this past semester about screenwriting and story structure. My skills in pacing, writing character arcs, and subtext has vastly improved over the course of writing In the Breeks. I hope to adapt the script at a later date as I still think it is a story that needs told, but am satisfied with the work I have done for this module.