#instead I am rereading space between worlds my beloved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

six-of-ravens · 9 months ago

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aloha friends and people who left annoying incorrect opinions on my posts, raistlin is a waif he is the waifiest waif it doesn't matter if his twin is a brick shithouse you are WRONG I am kinda sorta back. maybe only for one tipsy night, but who knows. listen, I'm 1.5 ciders in and feeling Properly Tipsy as opposed to last night when I drank jack and cokes for the first time in a while and just felt nauseous, so I'm Thriving atm. ANYWAY.

i feel like i have cleared some cobwebs from my brain. kind of. mostly i redownloaded bc i have the irresistible urge to natter about my life. tbh i considered deleting tumblr for a while bc there are some things about this site (but also social media in general) that annoy the absolute shit out of me, and also i feel like I dedicated too much ~mental energy~ to this site in the past (not to sound like some new age crackpot) and I need to cut down on how much scrolling and getting mad about other people's incorrect opinions I do. However, there are a few beloved mutuals on here that I miss talking to and also tumblr is kinda Home, y'know?

anyway TLDR I'm back, kinda. might still delete the app during the day so I can focus on IRL shit instead of being a zillennial social media addict, so I apologize if I miss messages etc but. yeah. for the sake of my mental health I have to be better at self-policing. Also, no longer going to allow myself to use the For You tab, so sorry if I don't see your posts bc tumblr only served them there. I can't control it lmao. frankly the algorithm here just ain't good enough and I don't want to cry AGAIN bc a video of a naked woman jiggling her stomach with a caption about how much she hates herself and wants to lose weight came up on my feed. Frankly since this is tumblr I'm not sure if that's porn or self-harm, but either way, fuck off with that shit, man! I kinda hate my body too and I don't wanna see that!! I don't want that in my brain!! Hence why I quit and went to ig-only for a while. My IG is all pottery and miniatures and painting and European travel vlogs it's so PEACEFUL!

now onto the fun stuff, a list of things I consider interesting that happened in the past 3ish weeks:

have done a whole lot of reading lately: Homesick for Another World by Ottessa Moshfegh which is weird and off-putting by very worth reading, then a reread of the Unicorn series by Vicki Blum (always a delight) and finishing Princess Jellyfish (there's quite the plot twist in the last few books but overall it's a delightful series), then my hold for Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk came up (extremely interesting and worthwhile read, especially after listening to the No Dogs in Space punk series, very sad ending though bc of course a lot of the punk musicians passed away young), and now I'm rereading The Mermaid's Secret and The Dragon Prince by Vicki Blum as a palate cleanser, and then hopefully I'll start the LoTR reread I've been meaning to do for a while. So yeah I read like 16 books in 3 weeks. this is the power of quitting social media.

Also I've kinda discovered that I'm just pretty... disenchanted with all book-fandoms online. it's just so...kinda annoying? nowadays? just the same old drama over and over and I don't caaaare lol. Read what you want, at whatever speed you want, idc, none of it matters. I read for funsies after work. Some people read 24/7 because being a book blogger is their career. Some people are 17 and still have the mental stamina to read a 500 page book in 2 days. Idgaf if you read Maas or Austen or Sanderson or whatever, there's no moral high ground (except maybe not giving Sanderson money bc WOW BYU is a shitty organization). Also I don't necessarily want other people's opinions on what I read or if a book I just bought has "mixed reviews" or whatever (unless the person is a mutual whose opinions I value lol). So I might start posting on the book blog again but just....not interact with booklr. Torn between the desire to communicate with others and the desire to keep my hobby all to myself and free from unnecessary judgement or bullshit.

Finally rearranged my bookshelves, by ~vibe or whatever~. Might post photos tomorrow but the living room is once again in a state of chaos since I started gardening today.

On that note, started my garden! planted some veggies, herbs, and a whole boatload of tomatoes in seedling trays (listen, MacKenzie seed were on sale 3/$5 today at the store and I'm weak for weird tomato variants and herbs. Still need to find rosemary and fennel though). Have more stuff to do, but I'm going to give the seedlings a couple weeks to get started and then maybe plant everything else Easter weekend. Last year was nice, garden-wise, but this year I really hope we don't get 30C weather in May. My allergies cannot handle it 😭

saw the Alien/Aliens double feature our cheap theatre put on and it was a DELIGHT

we also got a record snowstorm that weekend, which sucked bc it was the same week I'd had a random friday booked off (previously for traveling with my aunt, very glad that was cancelled now) so I basically did none of the other things I had planned.

also after said double feature, had to make my first 911 call. luckily I rot my brain with true crime All Day Every Day so I handled it like a pro 😤 (i am fine it was for another person, and uh, it turned out to not be so serious once the emergency people were able to get them to stop crying hysterically and realized this poor person was just intoxicated, underdressed for the weather, and a bit lost)

discovered the health foods store near my place has a bunch of funky herbal teas for like $5.50 a box so I've been going a little nuts there. I LOVE FENNEL TEA IT'S SO GOOD. ALSO LAVENDER MY BELOVED! they also have a bunch of local coffee blends, and I'm seriously considering getting a coffee bean grinder so I can try them

saw Lisa Frankenstein the week after the Alien double feature at that same theatre, it was fucking excellent I laughed my ass off, also at that theatre you can get your ticket and snacks and drink for the same price as a Cineplex ticket, it's excellent

finally watched Saltburn, which was great. love the Donna Tartt vibes. i watched it while somewhat drunk off Soju, which I think is how it's meant to be viewed.

also started a Ghibli rewatch, to justify not cancelling my Netflix just yet (I know I know, I should but I technically can afford it and it's my emotional support streamer you know? how else am I going to instantaneously watch Gilmore Girls on a bad day?) So far I have only watched Kiki's Delivery Service lol

Also, funny anecdote: last week I got my period and was VICIOUSLY craving alcohol. like I went to the store and bought the most bizarre range of random things (soju, honey jack, and mead...and then proceeded to drink them at my normal rate lmao). Realized afterwards this is a combination of my usual craving for sweet things + my very stressed coworker constantly joking about how we need to crack a bottle of something when this stressful project is finished. At the time however I thought my uterus was trying to make me an alcoholic.

Did my budgeting with my new rent and discovered that I'm actually fine, because I had DOUBLED A NUMBER SOMEHOW! and I basically had $150/month freed up. I'm so smart. I continue to procrastinate my income tax though (shhhh I have another month....)

Started writing a vague story about two women hiking to a portal to elfland, which is located near an abandoned train station. There are cultists called vampires living at said train station who are such a fucking delight to write (not real bloodsucking vampires tho, they are currently eating paella 🥘). It's fun and weird and I'm having a good time with it.

started listening to a podcast called No One Should Believe Me about cases involving Munchausens by Proxy, which is very interesting. the host has a sister with (alleged) MbP and genuinely wants to get her (and of course her kids) help, so it's actually a really good, compassionate take on an issue that's usually played for shock value. I have to listen to it slowly though bc it's Heavy

started knitting again! made 1 dishcloth and started a second. have decided I'm going to take these into work when I have a few done. If my boss won't buy us proper cloths then I'll pawn my knitting practice off on them lol

there is a lot of early road construction near my office since, aside from that random snowstorm, it's been a mild early spring. be glad you haven't had to listen to me rant about that lol

finally bucked up and got a duvet cover for my comforter that was lowkey falling apart at the seams. it's a good comforter aside from some light "my washer is evil" damage so I'm happy I can stuff it into a (less expensive) duvet cover instead of having to replace the whole thing

#hey hi hello #also goodbye and goodnight if my sober self decides to not redownload this app tomorrow #i will probably post less and interact less than usual and i apologize but you know how it is.#i feel SO MUCH BETTER when im just doing my irl stuff during the day and only on socials during certain times

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alias-b · 5 years ago

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Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 7: Every Breath You Take

A/N: The Snow Ball was so much fun to write. :) Camille hands Billy his ass this chapter after he fucked up at the Byers’ House. I stan a queen. Also rereading Hopper’s first impression of Billy is basically “who the f* is this ugly dumbass?” and it still kills me

The party came back together again in the shambles of Joyce’s yard. Thankful words and hugs were shared between them. They took soft beats to relax again. To appreciate the gifts of life and friendship.

“Uh, who the hell is this drooling kid in the Camaro?” Hopper broke the moment when he peered into the car to see Billy with his mouth open, still passed out in back. "Was he even here before? Am I losing track of you guys already?"

“That’s the new Keg King, Chief.” Steve began, touching his cut lip. “All hail.”

“My stupid brother.” Max shrugged, gesturing to Camille. “Her stupid boyfriend.”

“Not even close.” Camille decided, draping Billy’s jacket over his torso as if to tuck him in there. “He attacked us looking for Max. We kind of had to…maybe drug him. Just a little. He’ll be fine. Don't even worry.”

“You, what?” Jim spun on his heel so Camille touched his arm.

“Just a little bit. He is... He was a friend and he...lost it. Also, he knows…some stuff. About me.” She clasped her hands to shrug with innocence. "He won't say anything, I'll make sure."

“Another squirrely kid I get to keep quiet.” Jim grumbled, shutting the door to leave Billy there snoring. “Hawkins lab is finished. In this town, at least.”

“Jonathan and I made sure of that.” Nancy came forward. Joyce and Jonathan were holding Will between them, wrapped up in blankets on the steps. His friends crowded.

“And my mother?” Camille lifted her eyes.

“We can get you out of there.” Jim nodded but, instead she frowned. He realized it then. Camille noted he seemed truly disappointed. “You’re going back.”

“I have to go back. I have to finish this part. My father is dead. Hawkins lab will be gone. Mostly. Gate’s closed. I’m not leaving that house until I have everything I need. I don’t think it’s safe still. Just as you said, I can’t make waves. I have to pretend. Have to go along with whatever half-baked story we have now.” She was stern. “It’s going to crush her. My mom. Fake mom. There are people out there who could come after us still. I have to play house. If I'm unaware, they might think they're safe. Experiment can continue. Just a bit longer.” Camille held herself and Hopper dropped his hand when she went around him. “I’d like to know you better, El.” The little girl reached to take her wrist, nodding. They went up the steps into the house together to begin sharing.

** ** **

“Still asleep back there?” Camille drove Billy’s car up to a cliff overlooking Hawkins. The sun would rise soon. A brand new day. A brave new world. Max turned and nodded. Steve drove his own car behind them.

“He’s out but…moving.” Max looked up, buckled in next to her. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Camille stopped the car and turned to get into the back. "Billy." She shook him, rousing him further. Billy hitched a moan, eyes glazed when they opened. His head and neck both ached something awful. Camille was in his blurry line of sight. Soft again. Face cleaned. She took the time to wipe drool and blood from his chin with an old t-shirt on the seat.

"C-Cam...ille." His tongue slurred, trying to function.

“Hey, you.” She'd eased. Steve’s car came up along side them to park. Billy saw her clearly and gave a jerk, lifting his now bound hands.

"The fuck?" He'd mouthed.

"Don't worry about those, sit still for a sec so we can talk. You attacked us. Do you remember everything? Don't lie.” His bright eyes darted across her face. “Nod.”

“Yes.” The tone scratched. Eyes huge. He tried to take in the surroundings all at once, licking his lips to wet them. “Untie me.”

“I have something to say to you first. Few things I just need you to hear.” Camille brought her legs up to the seat, arm propped by his head. Delicate fingers tucked a loose curl from his temple. “You look nice. Devil's pride nice. The cologne is to die for. You know, I had a whole outfit planned. I think you would have liked it too." She sounded wistful. "First, you’re not going to talk about anything you saw. There are people out there who will kill us. They'll come for you too if you make a mess. Nod.”

“Camille.” Billy squirmed in the seat belt.

“Nod.” She ordered again so he did. Max watched from the front seat.

“Second. You’re…You are not a good person, Billy.” She saw him glance away, groaning before he tried to sit up. Her finger tipped his chin so he was looking at her eyes again. “Maybe I’m not either some days. What you’ve done is…disgusting. You disgust me. What you did tonight. Attacking Steve and…Lucas. A child. Don’t think I also didn’t notice how you targeted a young boy with dark skin. You probably didn’t realize that at all too but we did. Interesting how parents rub off on us without us realizing it until we're spitting their venom.”

“It’s not like that. They-”

“Not like that? I'm sure. Do you think it matters? Intentions? We notice shit. And now you know because your greedy Jew whore told you. As if I haven’t gotten that ever. Do you really want to look back and remember how your father’s words sounded coming out of you’re mouth? How they tasted? I know you, Billy. Well enough. He is awful to you and I know you’re in so much pain. But, to use that to cause pain to others. That ugly shit doesn't fly. Life is a god damn pain and there are people out there hellbent on making it worse. I'm not sure why you're fine being one of them.”

“Please-” His eyes crushed shut, teeth clenched.

“But, I know there is a little girl in that house that needs protection too and you could give her what your father never gave you. Do you realize that? That’s a chance you wasted.” Camille gestured to Max. “You both could spit Neil’s terrible words back in his face by being better. You think Max would let you do that alone if you tried just once to love her? Tried to be a brother. Didn't bother to try. You’re gorgeous but now…I see you. I see you for what you are.” Billy let tears fall. Just a few. Exhausted. Teetering. Torn to shreds. Utterly wounded. Camille was gentle when she wiped them. Harsh and truthful. Unworried. Explicitly tender to break through Neil's rough conditioning.

“I-”

“You know, I watched my father die tonight and…what’s terrifying is that I’m most upset about all the things I never got to say. The answers he took with him. The fact that there had to be something flickering in him that loved me back and it wasn’t enough. This father who chased my monsters away turned out to be one himself. He hoarded me from them to keep me all for him. I was a beloved family hamster in a wheel and I'm fucking done with it all. But, the loss of my father. I know that I’ll live. The fact that I let him die…I think I’ll forgive myself for that too. Little by little.” Camille's eyes welled and he just watched her expression. Impossibly still.

“Billy…” Max sighed then. “I know you miss your mom. And California. And everything. You think I don’t miss it too? You think I want to see my mom cower from him? She can’t replace your mom but she can care about you. I just… I miss it all. I hate it. I hate it but, I don’t hate you. You're an asshole but, I don't hate you. I’m angry too, you know. I can’t…fix any of it.” Billy’s eyes slid to her carefully then panned to focus on Camille.

“I know what I said. You are not a good person, Billy Hargrove. You are a bully. You’re lost. You’re abusive and too damn young and above all that shit, you are better than that. You're a fucking asshole but, I'm telling you right now that you can be better. Maybe Neil neglected that fact. But, is being him and completing the cycle the future you want? I think you just needed to hear it. From a friend. You want to waste that, it's no one's fault but your own. But, right now, the only thing I can give you is pity. Nothing else. It’s on you. Awful or not, you can still do good things. Maybe they won’t forgive you in a million years but you can still do good things despite it. Scariest thing about humans, I think. A choice like that in a world so fucking messed up. I just want to be brave and be happy again. With some help from my friends, I think I can do that. But, you know, we’re just kids still…we have a lot of time to grow and I don’t want to waste it anymore. I truly wish that you don’t either one day. People are liars and bullies…and some grow out of it. Maybe you’ll try. It’s on your shoulders and…I hated myself once and I was a damn bitch and a coward but…I think I’m going to keep trying to be more that that. I hope it works out for both of us. Goodbye, Billy. See you around school.”

“Let’s go.” Max opened the door when Camille cut Billy’s ropes and dropped his keys in his hand.

"That's all I had to say." Camille shrugged and slid to leave.

“I can’t…” Billy lowered his head, near silent. “I can’t go home without Max.”

“Steve and I will take her home. She already called to check in. Covered for you too. Because she’s a good sister. You can follow us. I just don’t think she’s safe to be with you right now. Change our mind.” Camille watched his face, those trembling lips, before she got out to get into Steve’s car. They drove back in silence. Camille opened the door to hug Max tight when Billy emerged to park. She turned to go but he stopped her quietly.

“Camille.” He tried not to beg. Voice grounded and low. “Let me show you something before you leave.” She debated it and nodded to Steve, turning. Max raced up the steps to go in first, hurrying to see her parents in their room. Camille clasped her hands and Billy walked her down the hall in silence. Didn't try to touch her or invade her space.

“This was for you. Had to ask the guy which one it was. Stupid thing is dying already.” A pink peony. Beginning to wilt. Two fingers offered it so she took it from him, nodding.

"They do that when they're cut from their home." She began, eyes trained on his when she touched the soft petals to her nose and lips to inhale. "Little attention and care though, they can make it farther. You stop dragging your feet and put in the work."

“One more thing. I lied to you.”

“About?” She watched him lift his mattress and pull an old, tattered photo out. Tentative, he entered her space to show her. A woman in a long sundress grinning with a young boy next to her. He had a toothy smile and surfboard in hand. The beach behind them was full and gorgeous. His mother. “She’s very beautiful. You have her eyes.” Camille lifted her gaze and he nodded, voice hushed and honest. “You look happy.”

“I was.” He took it back when she extended it out, thumb tracing the corner. Something to show them both it was obtainable. She hesitated and offered the truth with a great belief that resonated.

“It’s possible, I think, to get there again.” Camille touched his face and Billy let his eyes close. That too soft grain of compassion heated his skin.

“I won’t say anything.” He whispered, sighing as she slipped away from him. Too far away.

“Take care of Max. Take care of each other. Own your shit... And tell my friend that I miss him.” Camille paused again when he pulled his saint pendant off to offer it. “I can’t. It’s your mother’s necklace.”

“Just watch it for your friend... Until he gets back,” Billy slipped it over her head, shifting hair aside. There it was reciprocated in one tiny flicker. Hope. She stared at him so he spoke. “Goodbye, Camille.”

“Good luck, Billy.” Camille left the house and got into Steve’s car.

“You okay?” He touched her shoulder while she looked outside at the brightening sky.

“Yes.” Camille exhaled. Not red. Not at all. “Let’s go.”

** ** **

“I can’t let you do this.” Jim Hopper shook his head.

“She was my mother once.” Camille replied. His Blazer pulled up to her house, flocked by police cars. “We can’t do anything else. I have to be oblivious. Until it’s safe again. We went over the story several times, I got this. She won't know.”

“I’ll watch over you, all right? You need anything, you call me first.” Camille welled up and took off her seat belt to hug him. A man who also lost too much and who was trying to make things better for a girl he barely knew in truth.

“I’d like to see El more when I can.”

“I’ll try to make that happen.” He followed her out and up the steps.

“Camille! Camille!” Her sobbing mother raced outside, pushing officers aside to hold her. Camille didn’t want to crumble. Yet, it happened. She needed a mother right now. “Oh, god. Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there. I will be.”

“I know… I know.” Camille cried it out, fingers scrunching up her mom’s dress. "And Daddy..."

"Hush, I have you. I'm so sorry, baby."

"Milly, thank god." Edna approached and Rosemary hissed.

“You’re fired. Leave us.”

“You cannot do that.” Edna, for the first time, looked deadly. Cold. Camille peered to meet her eyes. Sink. “Mrs. Harper, this is not over. We both know that.”

“It is,” Rosemary led Camille into their house, rubbing her back and cooing to calm her. “You’re all mine now, my sweet. It’s over, baby. It’s all over now.”

Camille knew better.

** ** **

“They boarded the whole place up today,” Nancy poked at her lunch a week later. Life continued. Mostly. Camille was met with students sorry for her loss. Hawkins Lab grasped some of the blame it was owed. School picked up again. Her mother was home almost every night for dinner. Almost. Mourning her husband even still. Her own work and grief pulled. Unknowing that Camille found out the truth. She played the part. Good daughter. “And Barb’s parents…they’re holding a funeral.”

“I’ll be there,” Camille nodded. “How’s Mike?”

“Frustrated. Wanting to see El again. Hopper said to give it time.” Nancy smiled when Jonathan sat down and Steve joined the table with him. “Heard that you and Dustin are best buds.”

“I keep good company.” Steve was wistful. Accepting. A good person. “Taking him to the damn Snow Ball in style.”

“Nancy, Jonathan, and I are all volunteering for that.” Camille smiled, she ate a meal with her friends. Queen Bee again. Freak. Camille. Lunch ended and they scattered, Camille caught up with Nancy at the door. “Want to go to the movies tomorrow?” She took her hand.

“I’d like that.” Nancy grinned this time. Friends again. Camille missed this part most. Billy barely said two words to her when school life resumed. Leaving a space between them. Not like a gaping, endless pit. More like a cool moving river. She watched him give Max rides and scurry to class.

They minced few syllables in chemistry, he stuck his nose elsewhere and she didn’t pry. One occasion, Billy dug into his empty bag for a pencil and Camille slid one over as if it were a peace offering. His hand slipped to take it. No words followed. She only ever spoke during labs they had to do. Aloof and even. No energy to be spent and wasted. Billy took to following her lead. A new position for him. Quiet as he did. Careful not to shatter the cracked and mending glass. He avoided Max’s space at home too. Leaving the room when she entered on occasion. Distance was better for him. So he told himself. Susan found him curled up in his room on a Saturday and he didn’t bark at her for once.

“Max left for her friends.” She began and he sniffled. Footsteps crept closer to his bed. "It's Saturday...you're not going out?"

“Leave me alone.” He begged instead, face muffled into a pillow. Tone changed. “Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Susan reached to touch Billy’s hair. The first time she’d ever reached out for him. He whimpered so she pulled away. “I’m making breakfast now. Omelets. Green peppers. You should come eat something, Billy. I could bring you a plate.” His head lifted at that. His favorite. She went out of her way for him.

“Okay.” He was barely audible. She was trying. He decided to try too. When it didn't bleed, Billy let himself relax.

“Haven’t seen that pretty girl in a while.” Susan turned. “Camille was sweet.” Billy turned his eyes, sighing out before he wiped his face. “Neil…he…he can’t say much if she comes over as a tutor instead of a friend. Just a thought.”

“I’m not like him.” Billy paused and the realization brought him to a complete halt. “I don’t want to be.”

“Then don’t be.” She was careful.

“What he thinks about certain people. I don’t think that. I don’t. I didn’t…know. Fuck.” Billy clenched with tears, pressing the pillow closer while he faced the wall still so she wouldn’t see him. “Do I? Dad wants me to be... But, I'm so fucking...tired. I hurt people. I hurt Camille. She... What if I’m already like him and I can’t…I can’t fix it.”

“Do you think he ever stayed in on a Saturday and stopped to ask himself these questions?” Susan was honest at last and Billy felt his heart give a great shudder. There was a beat.

“I’m sorry, Susan.” His simple, raw words stilled her entire world. “Bout…my dad...and me.”

“You can give Max a ride to the Snow Ball.” She replied, earning a nod. “Thank you, Billy.”

** ** **

“Hey, Harper!” Chief Hopper pulled up to the school before Camille could get into her car. One month later. Time didn’t heal all wounds but it was a start.

“Am I in trouble, Chief?” She approached with a grin.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “Need a favor. I have an address and I need you to bring some items to it in the next two hours. I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, you have a mission for me?” Camille clasped her hands.

“Your biggest one yet.” Jim beckoned her to the window. Camille raced down the road an hour later. Dressed to help at the dance. Excited, she tapped the steering wheel. Snow trickled down in little flurries, barely sticking. She thought of her mother. Holidays to be spent alone this year. Her father was buried. Rosemary still played the game of house and Camille with her. She never broke down. Not once. When would the right time emerge? Still, she was contented to be with her friends. Pulling up to a cabin, she got out and craned her next. Eleven ran down the steps in flannel with Jim behind her. They hugged and she pulled back.

“I missed you.” Camille came to her level. “I may have brought too much.”

“What the hell…” Jim watched her heave a whole trunk from the backseat. “Seriously?”

“Girls like options, Jim.”

“Yeah, we like options,” El agreed and he rubbed his face. Camille lifted her hand, teetering before the trunk came up. Eleven helped, arm out and they beamed.

“Okay, cool it with that.” Hopper followed them back in. El opened the trunk to see clothing. Nothing she’d ever worn.

“Old stuff. Should fit her, I was about her size at that age.” Camille smiled. “Hair first then makeup. Ready?” Eleven grinned now. Sister. A long lost sister.

“Yes.”

** ** **

Sparkling lights played off the winter decorations. Music echoed into the auditorium while awkward children roamed. Camille poured punch with Nancy, setting cups upon the table. Across from them, Jonathan took photos, waving at the two girls.

“Want to come over for our Christmas dinner? The boys and Max are going to bring toys that night, play some D&D. Mom has like twenty desserts planned.”

“We could dust off some old costumes.” Camille giggled. “I’ll convince Hopper to bring El over.”

“How’s Rosemary?”

“Sad. Still working by force. It’s just us now. We care for the house and…it feels normal. No one came for me. Not yet. I can’t…read her all the time.” She sighed. “Hopper offered me a place when…if things go sour. I know it’ll come out one day. I think I’m looking for something first. Something inside her. Just to see if it’s there. Can't find it in dad anymore after what I did. She knew where I came from. She knew and had a huge part in it. She tried to make amends. Even if it was sick. And if I make noise…”

“I hope you find it. Whatever you need.” Nancy offered. Across from them, Dustin entered with a style dressed similar to Steve’s. Hair and all. “Oh, my god.”

“Aw, can we keep him?” Camille touched her heart. “Precious thing.”

“Ladies,” Dustin passed.

“Hey,” Nancy spoke as he went to greet Mike and them.

“Max,” Camille stopped to hug her. “Pants? How edgy of you.”

“Mom did this to my hair,” she grumbled.

“You look great. Promise. How are things?”

“Quieter.” Max nodded, eyes brightening. “Nice.”

“Good,” Camille gestured. “I won’t keep you, go have fun.” Max hurried away and they poured more punch. Fixed up the table. Enjoyed the night. Another song started and couples came together. Max and Lucas joined them. “Remember when it was that easy, Nance?”

“Was it ever?”

“I try to think it was,” she joked. “Uh, oh, check my three o’clock. Boy down. Mayday.” They watched Dustin try to ask girls to dance and get brushed off. He looked crestfallen. “I’m going in, cover me.” Camille followed Dustin to the bleachers while he sniffled. “Hey, Dusty.”

“Cam…Camille,” he hurried to wipe his face and she sat down. The most popular girl in her school smiled at him. Other kids took note.

“Not giving up already, are you?”

“Ngh…no.”

“Good, because the Dustin I know faces all frights head on. Especially when one of the party needs assistance.” She crossed her arms over her knees and nudged him with her shoulder, he brightened just a little at that. “A very wise kid taught me that after he roped me into monster hunting. I used to help babysit him.” She kissed his cheek, earning a smile and Nancy paced over.

“Wanna dance?” She put her hand out.

“Uh, Nance, I’m talking with Dusty here.”

“Snooze, you lose, Cam.” Nancy took Dustin away and Camille laughed after them, shaking her head before she stood up and watched the couples move. Heels clicked while she made her way back only for Max to stop her, hand in Lucas’s.

“By the way,” she began, “he’s outside.” Camille turned, arms crossing. “Just in case you needed that information.” Max pressed a sort of half smile and went back to the floor. Another song bloomed when she decided and headed out. Eleven appeared at the same time, nervous and looking around.

“You look amazing,” Camille touched her shoulder. “Own it, it’s your night.” Eleven spotted Mike standing and crossed over to see him. Heading outside, the air chilled when Camille saw Joyce and Hopper waiting together.

“Ms. Harper. Up to no good?” The Chief regarded her.

“Me? Never.” She batted her lashes and smiled at Joyce. “They’re having fun in there.”

“They needed it.” She agreed.

“I hope you’re well too.”

“Thank you, Camille. You take care.”

“Just where are you headed?” Hopper added, lighting up a cigarette.

“Oh, I…” The teen regarded them. “I was just…uh, going for a walk. There are way too many hairspray fumes in there. Not good for the brain. Why are you two here, huh?"

"Just friends." Hopper was too quick.

"Right…so…bye now and mind your business, Chief.” Camille smirked and Jim scoffed with amusement. She hurried off before they could question it further, rubbing her arms for warmth. Camille spotted that familiar blue Camaro up the hill, parked off to the side under the stars. Billy took some time to look at them, half seated on the hood with a cigarette between two fingers.

“Look nice, do they? Finally taking the time to see them.” She watched him snap to focus on her. Blue eyes awed and looking her up and down once. Lips parted to mouth her name, too scared to offer it to the cool night air. A beat lingered.

“Harpy. You clean up nice. Devil's pride nice.” He didn’t move an inch more so she paced around the car toward him, standing a few feet away. Pretenses lowered.

“You feel like sharing that?” She shrugged and he flicked ashes aside, lifting his hand to offer it. No interest in going home as usual. The company was well received. Camille joined him against the hood, smoke slipped from her lips. Billy stared for a quiet moment when she instead looked up at the sky. A slight hum of contemplation sounded. She exhaled and gave a soft shudder against the cold weather. "Not a bad view from manure land. Not one bit." Billy agreed with that, eyes direct on her. Shifting, he shrugged off his jacket. That brown leather bomber she loved. Camille offered him the smoke back so he put it between his teeth and helped her into the coat. Music was still echoing soft in the distance. “You know, I got a strange call from a concerned stepmother a few days ago.”

“What?” Smoke billowed out soft lips.

“Had a few things to say. Good things. Hopeful things.” Camille took the cigarette again to inhale. Her nerves subsided. Billy studied her face and panned to see the stars again. “Nothing red in sight today, huh?” Silent, he agreed again, finishing the last drag before crushing it under his boot.

“What did she tell you?” He puffed slower.

“That you’re still angry a lot. Naturally. And sad. And quiet. Extremely quiet. That you take Max to the arcade almost every day when needed and you pick her up. That a mysterious new skateboard appeared in Max’s room…"

"This fucking asshole ran over the old one with a Camaro."

"I'm sure... She also mentioned that green peppers solve just about everything.” She chuckled and Billy turned his head when his lip quirked. “That you avoid Max but you don’t lash out like you used to. That Neil hasn't stopped despite it all. And when your Camaro had a recent engine problem, your sister was out there silently passing you tools to fix it. You let her do that. Progress. Always happens in small bouts if we stop to notice them. She also invited me to dinner Wednesday. Said your dad would be working late.”

“Haven’t heard that one.” He lifted his eyes.

“You’re having pot roast.” Susan was not his mother. But, she cared.

“She always burns the damn edges,” he joked, softening. Camille shifted to brace her hand back and covered his.

“I want to try something.” These syllables always brought stillness to his world. She tugged once without fear and he stood up with her. Camille guided his hands to her waist, shifting to touch his shoulders.

“Never been to a school dance. Just hit the parties after.”

“Smart. And it’s easy,” she watched his eyes flicker to the pendant hanging from her neck. Gentle hands clasped behind his shoulders and she swayed to the music in the distance, bringing him with her. “You haven’t lived until Hawkins High prom season starts.”

“Think this year will hurt your chances as prom queen when we’re seniors?” He cocked his head as they turned and she shrugged. Glowing. Beautiful.

“Ah, I guess we’ll see.” Camille watched his eyes, something connected again. Small but still there. Billy swayed closer until her head came to his collar. Two hands laced. Her arm went around his shoulders and he slipped one hand along the small of her back. The dance continued. Perfume invaded his senses so he closed his eyes. “I really did miss my friend, you know? Tell him that again for me.” Friend. Billy felt himself smile. Only slight. This amazing chance she'd offered without fear or anguish would not be wasted.

“I’ll let him know,” he nudged his head into her own. There it was again. The pull that things might turn out fine. Or something close to it. The belief that they both deserved better here. The song ended for another and they stayed there in place. Camille inhaled and came up to see his blue eyes in the moonlight.

“I have to get back.” She whispered against him, slipping away yet again. Cool and light. Hope filled the river that ran between them.

“Keep the jacket.” He winked and she sucked in her cheeks, hugging it closer. “See you around, Harpy.” Camille shifted down the hill, spinning on her heel to see him as she went. Her luminous smile resonated.

“Be kind to yourself, Billy.”

** ** **

“How was the dance?” Rosemary busied with a new drawing when Camille came into her studio.

“They had fun.” She stayed at the door until the older woman looked up.

“Lawyer and I got your father’s affairs in order finally.” She went on. “We’ll be fine. I’ll try to be home as much as I can but with him gone…”

“I get it,” Camille held Billy’s jacket around herself. "I'm sorry." The words just came, eyes welling.

"About what, sweetie?"

"Just..."

"He loved you so much, you know. I love you, I always will. You and I will make it. We will be just fine. We have each other." Her mother pressed her lips. Camille felt guilt and shame pool. But, not all over Noah. He made his bed. She tried to tell herself that. The shame that this was not enough. That it never would be. That the reality of it all was too ugly and that ugliness could rub off on her. That the cycle was not broken.

"Just...sorry." Camille would find what she needed another day. Her heart stilled. Tried to be brave. Rosemary looked at her eyes. There had to be something. Anything. She hadn’t kicked Camille out or given her to enemies in the distance who would love to study her.

“We have a long supply of your medication as well.”

“Oh?” Camille flushed them each day. “Good.”

“Our party this year will likely not be happening. But, we can still do gifts and candles. Chinese for Christmas morning before my flight?”

“Definitely… Nancy invited me over after. Almost everyone’s getting together. Heather went on some ski trip for winter break.”

“I’ll be out around New Years time. Will you be alright here alone, Camille?”

“I’m not alone.” Camille admitted, lips lifting because saying it with such conviction felt amazing. “I never was.” She turned without explaining to go up to her room for the night. Billy’s jacket hung over the vanity mirror. Her hand gripped a little crochet doll before she was lulled off to sleep.

Hope made the world less red.

#Hopper: Where the FUCK did this mullet kid come from???#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #without the lights #BILLY X CAMILLE #Camille Harper #writing #mine

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jenniferstolzer · 5 years ago

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Color of Magic spoilers a thoery

Ok. So. Id be lying if i didnt admit that this reread was started mainly bc I encountered Twoflower in Interesting Times and wanted more. So therefore it would be foolish of me to pretend that i am not reading the book with unfair foreknowledge of circumstances that at the time of writing Color of Magic were not even a glimmer in TPrat's eye. So while yes, i know there are inconsistencies in history and lore and that the author himself has admitted to these things with the shrug of someone who doesn't think his audience should be all that bothered as long as they are having fun, i have issue with Twoflower's behavior at the very end and a theory to help me reconcile it. Ok? Here we go.

So Twoflower admits at the edge that he would love to see the worlds in the stars. Not being able to makes him angry. He's a travel buff, i understand that. Him being wanderlusty at the stars is actually rather sweet. Its cute. He wants to see everything. This explains why hes interested in getting on the ship and voyaging... with a way to get back. The men intended for the trip we can assume were going to come back and report about the space below Atuin's tail, but that wasnt explained to our heroes. Twoflower flings himself into endless depths, knowing you can fall forever and land in other places and not get back to see your kids (heard from Tethys who actually suffered that fate and was sad about it) with a "mad" smile on his face.

Now at the point of the writing, he did not have a family, but taking the whole of discworld canon into account at this point in his /life/ he does. And he's not estranged from them or anything, all evidence points to them being pretty fond of each other.

I will accept of course that Twoflower will be Twoflower. He will absolutely leap at the chance to see new things without considering consequences, and if he'd been assured the ship was on a bungie or something and he'd be returned to discworld without trouble then I'd absolutely buy him launching that thing. But there was no such assurance... and not only that, Tethys was deus ex machina'd to Krull along with them, implying buly circumstance that the ship was leaving forever to maybe fond HIS world. I mean i dont know. If nothing else Tethys would be a reminder of what happens when you slip over the edge without a tether. As a final illustration i also want to dwell on that sudden snap of madness. Like the scenario could have been easily manufactured by having the ship on a lead or a return flight calculated on the wall in the prep room, but instead him going crazy was the way we justified this decision. Thats lame, ima say it right here. Twoflower went star crazy to manufacture a drama point for the break between books. Sure, whatever, story.

This is when my theory comes in. Theres no direct evidence of this being true but i can build a bit of a conspiracy about it. We know Fate and The Lady are playing dice over the lives of these adventurers, specifically over Rincewind. We know Fate is pissed about the outcomes and is now determined to kill both boys. So much so that he visits Death to make sure he is there (he isnt btw. He sends Scrapulous bc he knows its not going to work.) Immediately before the launch, The Lady reveals herself to be riding in Convenience Frog(tm) and says she's "visited upon" Twoflower a couple times without his knowing. This just means hes been lucky, which yes...yes he has. But if we also take this to mean that he's a pretty easy vessel for the gods to manipulate we can accept my theory.

At the moment of launch. The very second he gets that weird smile and starts babbling about stars and worlds. He is being puppeted by Fate. They've already escaped his other arrangements for their death (double sacrifice, wizards, arrows, spears, a once-in-a-lifetime magic storm) and are about to escape Krull entirely when Fate grits his teeth in fury, turns over a table and decides to just fling them into space. He reaches through the astral void and sticks a finger in the back of Twoflower's head, activating all those desires for stars and driving him mad for just long enough to do the deed. He wanted to anyway after all, the only thing holding him back was that pesky loyalty bit that tied him to this world and his loved ones (including Rincewind.) Forget himself and off he goes like a windup toy. Twoflower doesn't even realize its happened, but Rincewind can see it on his face just before being dragged after.

And thats my theory to justify what i feel like is an uncharacteristically cruel decision made by a generally kind but excitable man with two daughters waiting for him at home... but since its just a theory and there's no proof i can also go on record saying that was a real dick move by my beloved son and he will be sent to his room just as soon as he returns to the disc.

#discworld #twoflower #fan theory #the color of magic #spoilers

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elfstuck · 7 years ago

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War in the Chessfields

I have realized that, no matter how busy my life gets (guys, guuuuuyzzz, it’s Night of the Nocturne right now and I could be searching for Strange Chests that might contain the new Smirch gene!), I really need to get farther along in Homestuck because it’s starting to creep into mainstream politics. (He was told about Homestuck, and then he started reading it.) Also, Chibipaw says there is “good stuff’ coming up soon (that’s as much detail as my anti-spoiler policy allows) and I need to hurry up and get to it.

So... where did I leave off? Oh yeah. NinjaJade had taken out the wearer of my future cosplay project, but had missed PM sailing off into the sunset (moonset? Prospitset? Do they even have a sun on these planet-things?), so she’ll have to get the ring back to her later. To expediate that, Jade marries herself.

Oh wait. The four dots. Agh. I mean, aside from being equally spaced in a way that would make them endlessly annoying to wear, they... they may signify the four fingers. Homestuckians have four-fingered hands. I’m not sure if I’ve noticed this before.

Jade is immediately overwhelmed with the Spirit of the Ring: she gains wings, a tri-pointy hat with horns, tentacles, and a fake through-the-body sword. So... an amalgam of all the sprite encodings so far.

Next panel, turns out she was only thinking that happened. It doesn’t work that way on humans.

Elsewhere (dammit, I should’ve stuck with the last post a few more panels so the POV shift happened at the beginning) we have yet another WV. This one is WARWEARY VILLEIN who is either an animated stick-man, or is waving a stick on a banner: crossed beams, ragged red-and-purple robes and a white sash. He/it has a bucket on its head with the familiar Sburb spirograph.

Next up (aagh) is something with flash and sound. This is probably the Cool Thing Coming Up Soon that Chibi told me about. eep. Flash takes forever.

WV is being told to “Rise Up,” which is probably not supposed to make me think of Hamilton as this was written several years ago. But those words are gonna be attached to that song for a long time.

I click to the next screen. I am faced with this:

And I remember two things: (1) Firefox always thinks Flash is out of date, because every time Firefox updates ANYTHING, it decides Flash is out of date. My Firefox is a couple of editions behind (I’m not “updating” to Quantum that will kill several of my beloved extensions), so I’m going to see this A LOT. Sigh.

And (2) aaaaagh my laptop does not have a “print screen” button. It had a “print screen” macro that stopped working. (I have an Alienware laptop. WHODAFUK decided that a gaming laptop didn’t need a “print screen” button? Like, is that now an obscure and rare function? I STILL HAVE A CAPSLOCK BUTTON. I DO NOT NEED A CAPSLOCK BUTTON; CAN I REPLACE IT WITH PRTSCRN? (I typed that without using the capslock button, because remembering to un-capslock is always worse than just holding the shift button with my left pinky and using the wrong finger for “A”, and I guess “q” and “z” but those don’t come up as often.)

Quick check to the Alien “TactX” command center... huh. Print Screen is working now. It wasn’t last week. Yay, I guess? (Someday, I will once again have a boyfriend who speaks fluent Linux, and this time, I will get him to TEACH IT TO ME and I will defenestrate my laptop.) Anyway. Here we go.

3x3 chessboard; the kings move a bit, and then run into each other and the whole thing turns white silhouette. This means this is a meta-story-thing, related to the previous Grand Chessboard event, which I have mostly forgotten. (I have the link saved, though, so I can watch it again anytime. It’s on my schedule. “1. Run out of Stucky and Stony fanfic. 2. Rewatch Homestuck chess scene.” Blame dsudis for the delay.)

Clownsprite image appears. Chess pieces keep moving in the background. I have to screencap several times to get a good picture of the chess pieces (sometimes there’s only one visible) and the sprite with the pretty shade of aqua in the middle instead of white. I’m sure you’re all thrilled that I’m focused on the important parts of the story.

Next, he flickers and I fail to s’cap the transition between that and the full-layout chess set.

Please, someone tell me that someone makes these chess sets. That several people make these chess sets. Tell me the are sold with the label, “This Is A Chess Set, Not A Collection Of Marital Aids. We Promise.”

Birdsprite appears. (At least, I think that’s birdsprite.) Oh wait, no, that’s catsprite in the princess outfit. It is lavender, Rose’s color. Or one of them. Does that mean the davesprite will be red? (Do I really need to screencap all of these? Probably not, but this is as much for my entertainment as anything else. Also, I want to be able to reread them and figure out what I was thinking.) I considered re-trying to catch one with a darker purple circle or other higher contrast, and decided not to bother.

The music seems nice enough, what I can hear of it before I hit stop so I can screencap. (If you’re new - various suggestions have been made on how to deal with the Flash bits in ways that aren’t “stop & screengrab every couple of seconds.” I have nixed all of them. I enjoy doing this one fragmented piece at a time.)

And then the scene changes: the board is replaced with a WHOLE PLANET BOARD.

Rose and John’s sprites are in the upper corners, starting with top right and moving widdershins. Widdershins is a destructive direction; they are unmaking the world. (Erm. As obscure as Hussie gets sometimes, I have doubts that that particular bit of symbolism applies here.)

Aaaand here comes the davebirdswordsprite. Orange, not red.

Davesprite tucks away into the bottom left corner, continuing widdershins, and the cubeworld backs off or is replaced by a round world, very bright and faint, with VERY BRIGHT FLASHING blue lines around it. (Same blue lines as above. They just got brighter.) Then the planet darkens (this is what happens when you stop the Flash every second or two; you wind up giving far too much import to transition scenes.)

Imma make a prediction: Jadesprite is due to make an appearance. (Does Jade have a sprite yet? Something with a pumpkin?)

BUT NO! The world gets bigger, moves closer, until it FILLS THE WHOLE SCREEN! Then it fades out to white, and gradually (well, gradually if you’re stopping every time something moves or flickers), we get a new scene:

Aww, the rolling hills of Chesslandia, with its famed pixeltrees. We float over the landscape until we reach the castle. (Or maybe, “a castle.” I dunno. Maybe there are hundreds of castles in Chesslandia.) The pixelgrass fields bring color to the landscape, and a couple of pixelfolk play hide-and-seek in the tall grass near the aqua river.

Well, it’s got a turret and banners, and that kinda says “castle,” along with the whole, y’know, chess kings & queens motif, but that looks kinda small for a castle. Also rather isolated. Why build a castle if there’s nothing near it to defend? I see that there are people, but no town. Is the castle all that remains? Am I looking upon the desolate post-apocalyptic wasteland of Chesslandia?

We pass the people and zoom in, seeing the yellow banner waving madly in the gale-force breezes near the castle turret. This is, apparently, to introduce the army of Chesslandia, because the scene whites out again, and then switches to the marching hordes.

I am probably not supposed to think their little ± symbol reminds me of a leviathan cross, a.k.a. the Satanic cross. (Hey, if I make a CD cosplay outfit, can I have a purple banner with a pentagonal ± symbol on it? Or is he not part of this army?)

Then we pull back to see the huge crowd of them, and they fade, and a different banner fades in: this one is purple - and behind it is a yellow-clad army.

AAAH! The yellow flag is for Prospit, and that’s the Dersian army marching on it. And the purple banner here is Derse, and the Prospit army - complete with the same ± symbol - is marching. Here, have some Prospit army:

This isn’t because you need the picture, but because I captured the flash at that point so I can watch them marching and waving weapons, with the sky flickering in the background. It’s very soothing. Wish I could capture it as a gif.

And then... FIGHT! Armies meet on the battlefield! Sparks fly from their blades, which are apparently made from different metals. They both wear stripey shirts and chessboard tabards, of different color combos.

Guys. Gals. Whatever. Readers. I have been cheated. I thought Homestuck cosplay was limited to “t-shirts with a zodiac symbol + horns & weird sunglasses,” or “one of these four kids (also t-shirt with symbol).” There is AWESOME cosplay opportunities in this series. Nobody told me.

I mean, they told me about the tentibulges, because my friends know where my interests lie (or squirm, as the case may be), but even the friends who knew I’d done 6+ years of RenFaire didn’t bother telling me, “omg you should see the amazing costume options, and also, they wouldn’t be impossible to make!”

(I mean, I’ve looked into WV’s costume, but it looks difficult and too hot to wear at most conventions.) (See how I focus on the important parts of the story?)

Spaceship takedown attempt. Or maybe this is a drop ship. Looks like there are many such ships. Anyway, we see battles, and it pulls back to show the larger scene, and the horrors of war:

Well, the horrors of neon, purple-vs-yellow war. ... Is that a giant horse shadow with tentacles on its back?

Why, yes it is. Knight vs... King? Queen? We’re back to the chessboard, with only a tiny hint of a pixeltree in the corner to let you know this is the large-scale war happening above the ground. Then we get this:

I’m not sure what’s going on here, but they’re too cute to pass up. There are 9 little fellows, so they’re not “pawns.” Then a giant black chesspiece stomps into the center of them and they fall aside, scattering (I didn’t catch that picture), and then... the WV banner thingie is raised again.

That makes it seem like we’re wrapping up this storything, because that’s the image that we started on. It slowly pulls back to show an empty Chesslandia with a flower stand, waving a red banner.

The pixelgrass has return to the fields, although the pixeltrees have not. Or maybe they just don’t grow here.

AAuugghhh nooo... that was a picture of the past. Now, the lovely flowerstand is in ruins; fire everywhere, and a lone derseling wanders the war-ravaged fields of Chesslandia. :( We pull in tight to his grief-stricken, bleak expression (don’t ask how I can identify that from two white dots on a black circle; I just can) and then he (or she) oversees the huge battle on the fields below.

Woe. Woe has come to Chesslandia. Woe, and fire. Woe, and fire, and pixels.

Zir face is shadowed by woe and fire and pixels.

Zie is not looking nearly as woeful in this image. Hrrm. Then we see the Black Queen rise...

Then we zoom in again, this time to the scepter, which is full of clouds and the spirography thing:

This is all getting a little too “Men in Black,” with the world in a marble and all that. Are we going to zoom into the scepter again, to the center of the spirography symbol, and find ourselves moving into John’s balcony?

Well, no. We do zoom in, into the world and the cubeworld and such, but we get a black-and-white image of something shadowy flying over Chesslandia.

We zoom in again, and we see... not Spades Slick, despite the cut on the eye. That other character with the same appearance.

It flies with malice (don’t ask me how I can identify malice from that), but is faced with a lone Dersian defender:

We cut back to the war on the ground, the clashing swords and all that, but the combatants move aside. And this had better wrap up pretty quickly, because my printscreen macro just stopped working. (WTF? If anyone knows how to give advice on this, plz contact me.) Anyway. They move aside, and then snap into line.

Our lone Dersite with the tattered red banner leads them through the pixeltrees toward a set of checkered ruins.

Elsewhere, PM lands, and notices the missing ring. White Queen is not happy. There’s another huge scepter waving. White Queen flashes white all over, and shrinks - and hands the scepter to PM.

Looks like PM is in line to be the new WQ. However, the handoff is spotted by someone who is Definitely Not A Member Of The Midnight Crew.

Meanwhile, the Dersite hordes march to confront the Black Queen. Our purple-robed hero(ine) glares, and then looks upward, sees the flying not-a-bird person overhead. The Spadesy-person waves a swords and slices through the black scepter.

(I think I figured out the screencap problem. It won’t work if I have the Flash selected. Which is stupid. Really stupid.)

Black queen, missing her scepter and its four spinny baubles, also shrinks.

Heartsy spy leaps out and attacks the new white queen. (Gonna knock her into next week. This is a problem, because next week is a massive international holiday and it’ll be hard to find time to liveblog.) White scepter goes flying over a waterfall.

We see, inside the white scepter, the purple-robed defender, and it pulls back to see the world, and then the scepter itself, which lands by the banks of the aqua river surrounded by pixelgrass.

(That picture’s superfluous; it’s not relevant to the story. It’s here becaue I think it’s pretty.)

Aaand now I should watch it again and get a sense of the whole story instead of stopping every two seconds to ponder the meaning of each cut scene.

***

Two minutes and 15 seconds of flash that takes me an hour and a half to write about, all the while worrying that Tumblr’s going to have some weird hiccup and lose the whole thing.

So: back queen dead; white queen deposed by losing her marbles; new manager of each; war possibly stopped at the moment. White scepter maybe recoverable and could be combined with Jade’s ring to fix it. Black scepter broken; would need something else to fix. (Superglue?)

Jade has not yet entered the chessgame at the macro level. Jade needs to install Sburb and get into the game.

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #prospit v derse #white queen #black queen #elf meets trolls #act 4

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spamzineglasgow · 5 years ago

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(REVIEW) Isha Upanishad by Mario Petrucci

In this review, Nasim Luczaj considers the metaphysical wonders and linguistic oscillations of Mario Petrucci’s new translation of the Isha Upanishad (Guillemot Press, 2019).

> You know when you walk into a museum and either breeze through or get hit and pressed down to the tiles by the sheer age of everything? The latter, in my experience, is best facilitated by mummies, even when these are considerably younger than standalone stone or coral in the cabinet next door. Their shape recalls you; you recall death. You’re ever so transient but if you really try, an outline of your body might remain.

> For an ancient text, like a mummy, to be ‘preserved’, it must be adjusted to its onlookers while offering just the right level of peep into its age. The balance between affirmation of time gap and making contemporary is crucial to how we receive the work – to whether we breeze through, get hit, or something in between. What the thing to be preserved is (the frame? the possibility of movement? the weight?) and how much dragging into the current state of our language it requires will depend on the text as well as personal taste.

> There’s not much I can say about the original text of the Isha Upanishad. I have only just walked into this particular museum on a whim. I am walking around reading the plaques and exploring its reverb. I have no knowledge of Sanskrit or much in-depth acquaintance with Hinduist texts. What I do have are insights of an observer in a new beloved space and some sense for how a text might be performing the balance between overtly archaic and openly present. I will approach Mario Petrucci’s new translation of the Isha Upanishad chiefly in relation to how I receive this performance.

> The Isha Upanishad is one of the shortest out of over 200 Upanishads – ancient Vedic texts, some of which were written in poetic form, which lay out the central ideas of Hinduism. Mario Petrucci’s rendition, recently published by Guillemot Press and contained in a near-square, thick-papered book the height of a child’s hand, neither allows you to breeze past the fact of its age and sanctity, nor lets you worry about it too much. Whenever I read it, it’s like looking at a stone I know is old and savouring the opportunity to hold it in my hand, to choose how tightly I hold on. It shines with the grease we put on it by asking it back into our palms via translation and reading. The persistence of its stillness, its parallel timespan, carves its way into us. Just what we want. A stone carried out of a river, cool with current, balancing quaintness with a sense of refresh. Coming back from old renditions is like going back to reading a Sappho not translated by Anne Carson having already read If Not, Winter. You want to believe the original is this flippant. You want to trust the calm density of the translation, much like that of a body of water, and play its brim like a glass with your finger. It’s that kind of thinking, that kind of prompting, that kind of whoa you’d like to receive.

> Here, perhaps slightly too much quaintness is reinforced by regular capitalization, then counterbalanced, in places, by neologism. Some stanzas shout novelty, others hardly suggest our century. There is a charm and controlled purposefulness to this oscillation. Nevertheless, it forms a rift between passages. Creases emerge in their unity. Depending on the verse, you’re either ignoring the age of things as you walk through the museum, or you have your forehead placed against the glass dividing you from that time and also allowing you to glimpse it. You’re on one side of the valley or the other – the stream in between inconsequential, only a letter – but somehow the vegetation is noticeably different on either side, and the presence of alternatives, within smell and sight, distract.

Here’s one side – verse 3:

Ignorance is a form of possession

whose owner dons perfect sunlessness.

They follow death in procession:

those hollowed by flesh who bodily

deny consciousness.

The neological quality of ‘sunlessness’ adds to its no-caps feel, although this term is present in all other translations I have encountered and follows the original closely. The rhythm of the second stanza, too, oddens the verse – the sentence structure seems necessary but nicely impossible. It also withdraws our attention from death. Emphasis naturally falls on ‘procession’, the colon, the ‘hollowed’ sonically enacting the following. Then the denial is like a twig being bent very nearly to breakage but not quite allowing for it.

> That same death, in verse 14, surfaces capitalized:

The Eternal and its Effects –

those who place these two together,

by the Destructible need no rebirth,

by the Indestructible taste no Death.

Perhaps there is a difference between these ‘deaths’ that is supposed to be signalled here. In the Sanskrit original, however, this would not have been done via capitalization, which, to my knowledge, did not exist in their alphabet. The capitalization can be productive when demarcating ‘This’, ‘That’, ‘It’, which do require additional ballast for us to focus on them to the extent we focus on ‘Sun’ or ‘Cosmos’ by default. Nevertheless, Petrucci’s choice to capitalize more heavily in some verses than in others becomes stylistically confusing. I cannot read the original – perhaps there are differences in tone between parts of the Upanishad that are conveyed in this way, but I doubt it. You might end up longing for a striking off of pompous capitalization or for a more consistent marking of the more important concepts in relation to nouns of less stature, instead of taking the text in as a unified piece which does not admit tweaking. I found it dizzying to oscillate between verses, though each had a tremendously cohesive, complete, and self-contained air when read on its own. At times I would lose myself in testing comparisons – is this more like Anne Carson, Blake, Winnie the Pooh, or, God forbid, the opening paragraph of Lolita (an association I owe exclusively to ‘Pillar of All, / Lone Fire / Orchard-keeper’ – but still)?

> To my mind, the greatest strengths of Petrucci’s translation lie in aspects in which he has the most poetic license – punctuation, line breaks, stanza division. You can tell he is free. You can tell he is purposeful. There are fantastic clusters of dashes and colons, and full stops that you would just like to thread between your toes to look down on as you walk. My previous encounter with Petrucci’s work involved not his translations, but a poetry collection – i tulips – which I remember mainly for the daze of its line breaks – smooth mirrors sharpening up both all in view and all out of it. I wanted to read this Isha Upanishad if only to see what happens to such an angular style when confronting the mould of ancient text, an entity we may be prone to conceptualise as claylike, earthy, elemental, but must resort to try to get in touch with via Spark-Note-sharp-dull renditions. The poetically-minded translator can cookie-cut to whim, but to do so with the same cookie cutter as they use for their own work would most likely amount to getting carried away (when professing to be a responsible driver of a metaphysical tour bus).

> What makes this Isha such a nourishing reread – I’m really not sure how many times I flicked through, tasting the same lines over and over without the slightest loss of pleasure – is its staccato. Sentences never stumble, yet they are persistently gritty in the way they call out, firm while exhibiting an awareness of the inherent issues with conveying truths in words. Our words are like those toy cars set in their own rink for kids to collide with. Sometimes they need seizing and readjusting to true roads. This driver is slow with moments of clutch and then perfectly eager acceleration until a pedestrian – another thought – pops up and we’re clutchy again. My favourite stanza, which demonstrates clutch to perfection, comes from verse 5:

It is action – yet It

remains dormant. Beyond

all reach – It

is more intimate than blood.

I find no mention of intimacy, not a dash of blood or even just a dash, in other translations of the Isa Upanishad. There’s nothing of the velocity, the gift of oceans, rivers, the multitudes of loud trees, the ‘Orchard-keeper / of Karma’ Mario Petrucci offers as generously as he can while staying true to the philosophical content of his source text. The world comes towards our mouths. The world is our eyes coming towards world. The world is modernised through elementality, not technical fervour. You get to it and it turns out to be compact, just as you want more.

> The free meat-grindery translations I glimpsed online didn’t have a tree in them. They merely made me skim and mourn the insistence on the persistence of a dichotomy between light and darkness which never does darkness justice. This still hurts me here but is inevitable, an essential part of the original message that I can get past through focusing on the wonders of everything else. For example, of how the lines in verse 5 stop at ‘It’ to change gear and keep ploughing up a hill – a hill which actually stands for encouragement to stop trying to make it up anywhere. I’m not sure how far up I park in the shade of Upanishad, but park I do. Nothing left to read. I open the door and air comes through from somewhere, at some angle, some temperature, at some leg of mine, which is hesitant at the touch of something holy. Light hits all manners of dust, especially the broken CD input. I like being here. A seatbelt gleams like a hiccough of holiday sea. Everyone has moved on and maybe they’re wrong. It can be so fast to stop. ‘Take stillness from stillness: / Stillness still remains.’ It can take you everywhere, the halt. Thank you.

Isha Upanishad is available to buy here via Guillemot Press.

Text: Nasim Luczaj

Image: Guillemot Press / Cover design by CF Sherratt.

Published 6/11/19

#review #reviews #poetry reviews #nasim luczaj #Mario Petrucci #Isha Upanishad #Guillemot Press

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kmbezner · 6 years ago

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A New Favorite Series

The Wayward Children series by Seanan McGuire

This series is everything I wanted (and more) from Miss Peregrine’s…of which I was not a fan. The first book, Every Heart a Doorway—and how can you not love a book with that title—wasn’t my favorite, but was special because of what it was: a love letter to days spent wandering through attics and cellars, woods and riverbeds, and all the other mysterious places I spent my childhood in search of that One Magic Thing.

I never knew what I was looking for when I dug through my grandmother’s sewing room or lingered in the wooded patch behind my elementary school, but whatever it was, these kids, these wayward children, found it. Or rather, it found them, and led them to a place that suited them…sometimes a bit too well. When these underworlds, fairylands, and other fantastical realms spit them out they were left traumatized, heartbroken to find themselves back in a world that didn’t want them.

This is where Miss Eleanor and her School for Wayward Children comes in to soothe their ache and, if possible, help them find their ways back home. In Every Heart a Doorway we are introduced to Eleanor and her cast of Alices, Dorothys, and Wendys returned: Sumi, whose destiny is to return to Confection and overthrow the Queen of Cakes; Cade, who was expelled from Prism when the fairies discovered they had taken a little boy instead of a little girl; Christopher, who fell in love with a skeleton girl in Mariposa; Jacqueline and Jillian, twins who found love in a dark and dreary world called The Moors; and Nancy, Eleanor’s newest student and recently returned from an underworld ruled by the Lord of the Dead.

It sounds like a lot, but trust me when I say that McGuire introduces this varied and sometimes ridiculous cast organically, in such a way that it makes perfect sense when Cade and Eleanor start explaining high logic worlds vs. high nonsense worlds discussing the difference between underworlds, netherworlds, and afterlifes. It’s a book written for readers of fables fairytales and fantasies, so many of the concepts will feel familiar even if it’s almost impossible to describe to a stranger.

The main plot of Every Heart a Doorway revolves around a series of tragedies that begin soon after Nancy arrives at Eleanor’s school, and while this main plot is a fairly straightforward mystery, it is propelled by the sense of magic that pervades McGuire’s fantastic storytelling.

Down Among the Sticks and Bones, my favorite book in the series so far, is a prequel to Every Heart a Doorway and tells the story of Jacqueline and Jillian’s time in The Moors. It’s spooky and dark and plays out much like a horror movie, but it’s impossible to shake the magical optimism of McGuire’s tone. This might hinder the book’s ability to be a true horror story, but instead turns it into something new. Though this place is terrifying and cruel creatures hide in every shadow, the twins know the Moors to be home.

These books are short, about 4 hours on audio, and while I didn’t have an issue with the pacing in the first book, Down Among the Sticks and Bones is a simpler story that is much more suited to this length. We get a good deal of story before the twins find the Moors, and still have time for them to find love, find themselves, only to loose it all in the cruelest way possible. Their time in their true home becomes like a mean prank by the end, and my only issue with this book (or rather, where their story concludes in Every Heart a Doorway) is that we have yet to get a true resolution to their story.

The third book, Beneath a Sugar Sky, was much less satisfying.

Had I read this one first I probably would not have been as disappointed with it, but it just didn’t live up to the rest of the series. (Note: Even though this series is very loosely connected and could be read out of order, I also would have been severely spoiled, so if that’s something you care about don’t take this as a suggestion to start here instead.)

My biggest problem was the pacing. The beauty of the first two books is that they are contained in a single space, and their scope mirrors the fairy tales that inspired them. The characters in Beneath a Sugar Sky travel through several doors to several worlds, as different from each other as night from day from cake from onions. It’s all over the place, but the length of this book is the same as its predecessors: about 4 hours listening time, which is not nearly long enough to do this story justice. Because of this certain plot devices feel awfully convenient, and characters who were not already introduced in previous books were left underdeveloped.

This leads me to my second problem: Cora. The POV character of this story, she is relatively new to The School for Wayward Children after returning from a water world where she was a mermaid. This was an odd choice for the series, since by now we’re all familiar with the way these worlds work, and by introducing a new character for the POV we end up wasting a lot of time listening to the other characters explain things to her that we already know.

She is also characterized entirely by the fact that she is fat. The trend so far in the series is to characterize people by the world they came from, since the doors seem to appear to those who need them and send them to the places they need to be. So it is that calm, still Nancy ends up in an underworld, inquisitive and observant Jacqueline is apprenticed to a mad scientist in the Moors, and nonstop Sumi rules a world of sugar and nonsense. But by the end of the story Cora’s defining trait is still her weight. This wouldn’t be as bad without the added sting that we are constantly reminded that in addition to being fat Cora is also an athlete and has been her entire life, a fact that McGuire casually tosses around as if to apologize for including an overweight character. “She’s a fat girl, but she’s the right kind of fat girl,” she seems to say at every turn, reminding us, intentionally or not, that fat girls who aren’t constantly trying to not be fat are unacceptable.

The fact that this lingered throughout the book was the tipping point for me, and while I still loved McGuire’s writing and I adore the world she has created, it was one problem too many and too large for me to really enjoy the latter half of the book when I realized that this was as far as Cora was going to be developed. It’s thus far my least favorite book in the series, and one that I might even recommend skipping if any of this has left a particularly bitter taste in your mouth.

All of that aside, I am still very much looking forward to In an Absent Dream, the completely standalone fourth novella in the series out next February. I hope it hews closer to Down Among the Sticks and Bones, as there are few things more heartbreaking to an obsessive book nerd than being let down by a beloved author.

Perks of being a bookseller: ARCs! I snagged an early copy of In an Absent Dream and put all my other books on hold to tear through it. I’m happy to report that it does read more like Down Among the Sticks and Bones, though I don’t know that it’s completely standalone, as much as any book in a shared universe can be. It follows Katherine Lundy, Eleanor’s right hand woman from Every Heart a Doorway, through her own door to the adventure to the Goblin Market and eventually to Eleanor.

Despite the fact that Lundy moves between worlds several times during the novella, it isn’t as disjointed as Beneath a Sugar Sky. The narrative is still not as smooth as I would like, but the occasional temporal whiplash we suffer as readers mimics the disconnect Lundy feels moving between worlds. Like any of the books in this series, they could easily be novels, and we know McGuire is prolific enough to pull it off, which leaves me wondering if their short length is a nod to the narrative structure of classic fairy tales. But it still leaves me wanting a little more meat: more development of Lundy’s relationships with the Archivist, Moon, and Mockery; more details on her various adventures in the Goblin Market; and more about how the concept of fair value trade functions in practice.

But this book isn’t about any of those things–it’s about Lundy, which is fine, I guess. I still loved reading it, even though the experience was different since I listened to the others on audio. These stories lend themselves really well to audio, but I did appreciate getting to really immerse myself in McGuire’s language (which is one of the main things that keeps me coming back to these books–they are so well written) and reread passages I especially loved.

One thing I really wanted was to know more about Mockery. They die in the battle with the Wasp Queen, which we don’t even get to see and only hear about after the fact. Lundy returns to her birth world after that, victorious but traumatized and determined never to go back, but McGuire never really digs into that trauma in a meaningful way. Only so much to be done in such a short book I suppose, but Lundy’s adventures with her friends are glazed over throughout the book to focus instead on Lundy’s growing conflict about where she will spend her time. She needs to either 1) take the citizenship oath and agree to stay in the Goblin Market forever, or 2) be kicked out on her eighteenth birthday. She has family in both places and it’s tearing her apart, especially once she discovers that her father was also called to the Goblin Market. But her indecision grates on you by the end, when she inevitably tries to cheat the rules by taking a serum that will prevent her from turning 18, theoretically allowing her to travel back and forth indefinitely.

But everyone else, including the readers, knows where Lundy’s inability to choose is leading, and the knowing makes it that much more frustrating. This isn’t a bad thing, especially knowing what happens in Every Heart a Doorway, but maybe we would be less frustrated and more understanding if we had a little more insight into her relationships with both worlds.

So because my brain likes lists, the current ranking of this series is: 1) Down Among the Sticks and Bones 2) In an Absent Dream 3) Every Heart a Doorway 4) Beneath a Sugar Sky

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bookrecollection · 7 years ago

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Saying Goodbye to Books

I hate getting rid of books because they are like time capsules for me. I generally remember the who, what, where, when and why of ownership. But space is finite, and I must allow some of my beloveds to move on. Here is where I shall remember them.

Another Night in Suck City by Nick Flynn The author did a reading for my grad program ... Actually, he did a masterclass on poetry workshop. I ended up buying this book and getting him to sign it. # of Years Unread: Probably 5

John Keats: Selected Letters by John Keats It was the beginning of my creative reset in Europe. I was at Keats’ House surrounding by Keats’s things, and I was promised his letters were scintillating. They not. I’ve never been so bored, and I tried. I really tried. RIP John Keats. #of Years Unread: 3

Poetic Reflections by The Watts Prophets (Otis O’Solomon, Richard Dedeaux, Anthony Hamilton) Watts Tower is an architectural landmark in Los Angeles. But I found this book while browsing a local bookstore in South Pasadena while waiting to pick up lunch in between strategy sessions. Usually, I love a good poetry find, but I just never got around to this one. # of Years Unread: ?????

Found Poetry Review Vol 6 I probably got this at an AWP.

Variations on the Body by Michel Serres I found this at a local book fair with my favorite AH. I think I also got some titles from Les Figues Press here. Anyway, this book of translated philosophy particularly caught my eye because I was deep into my own project ToE at the time. I always planned to read it for inspiration, but I never did. And because ToE moved onward anyway, I believe this book’s time has passed.

Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion I believe I got this book in college. I was an English major, and it was my job to continually expand my understanding of literature by reading. I probably chose this book because Didion was a famous modern female writer, but I don’t remember being really drawn into the story. I always assumed I’d reread it (because rereading can do that). But of all the things I could reread, I just don’t get excited about this book. So farewell!

Continental Drift by Russell Banks When Barnes and Noble was in its heyday, I found this book here. This was also a college book, and I specifically wanted to read more literature set outside of the US or Europe—although this book is set in America, so I paid attention to the back cover well. Since then, I’ve read lots of other books that fit that criteria, and that’s why it’s time to set this one adrift. # of Years Unread: 20?

The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker I actually can’t remember when I got this, but I know why I bought it. The premise is that the entire 130 page story occurs between two floors—the main character steps on an escalator to get between them. I think I attempted this book several times. ZzzzzzZzz

Perdido Street Station by China Miéville I’ve read many great things about Miéville, and I still would like to read one of his books. My first attempt was with this one, and I made it about halfway through. I just was very much not in a scifi or fantasy stage. Although what I remember most about this book is how it accompanied me to Boston while I was decided on grad programs. I remember trying to read through the chapters at night.

The Golden Age of Myth & Legend by Thomas Bullfinch I think this is one of the seminal collections of Greek mythology. My aunt gave it to me while I was in my European creative reset. She got it to practice her English, but it was too hard so she passed it on. I thought it would be a good refresh of Greek mythology, especially because I used to know ALL OF IT. But it just didn’t capture my attention. There were other worlds to conquer.

Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys I have no idea what this book is about. But I got it while living in Japan during our book club trade (probably at that restaurant in the arcade that had that little patio). I loved reading classics at the time, and I felt like I needed to read more modern women writers. But it just never happened.

Dances for Flute and Thunder: Poems from the Ancient Greek translated by Brooks Haxton From my local used bookstore that officially really closed down (T_T), I picked up this poetry title. I used to get all my high school reading from here, so I always liked to stop in an purchased something. The poetry didn’t really snag me, so away it goes.

Microscripts by Robert Walser I believe I read an article about this Swiss writer and his enigmatic hand-written papers. A whole story was deciphered on the back of a business card. When I found the book, most likely in Silverlake, I had to get it—it was a beautiful poetry book with pictures and an interesting format. I don’t think I was able to get through a few pages; it just seemed like random thoughts to me. Roland Barthes’s collected musings on mourning were more intriguing.

Enchanted Forest: an inky quest & coloring book by Johanna Basford Adult coloring books are one of those ideas where I get to say, “I thought of it first.” Obviously, if I had done something about it, then I would be RICH! RICH! But I didn’t, and so instead I got this one as a Christmas gift. I’ve colored one page. It’s time to send it on to someone who needs it! # of Years Unread: 4? Box Girl: My Part-time Job as an Art Installation by Lilibet Snellings This was actually really fun! Especially because I know the author and the publisher and the process in how it all came together. I’m excited to send this on to someone else. # of Years Unread: 4-ish The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu Also a book acquired in Japan and most likely from a book club gathering. I always assumed I’d read it, but instead I toted all 1000+ pages across an ocean and through several moves.

Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson In college, I read a poem by Denis Johnson called “Sway” and it remains one of my favorites. So at an AWP, when I saw them giving away free hardcover copies of his new book, which was also a National Book Award winner, I thought: Gimme. It’s still beautiful, and it remains virginal in that it’s never been read by anyone. Hopefully someone else will try.

Jesus’ Son: Stories by Denis Johnson Our grad program gave free copies to all students, and I could not stand any of the stories.

A Typographic Workbooks: a primer to history, techniques, and artisty by Kate Clair and Cynthia Busic-Snyder I love typography and everything about it, but this remains one of the dullest books I’ve ever read. AND THE TYPOGRAPHY IS GRATING! Purchased for a class and never dumped because all the information was technically accurate.

Strange Pilgrims: Stories by Gabriel García Márquez I love GGM a. lot. LOT. This book also hails from the book club in Japan. Widely traveled just never read.

Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism edited by Robyn R. Warhol & Diane Price Herndl Gifted by an uncle, but being given up because I have so many anthologies and only so much space. Although I am keeping the other anthology of women poets.

Zone: Selected Poems by Guillaume Apollinaire I want to read more French poets, but I just keep having bad luck with translations. In this one, I felt like the translator worried to much about maintaining rhyme instead of imbuing meaning. And it just got repetitive and dull fast. I keep trying though. Oh yes! This was bought in New York in the East Village or in a feminist/queer bookshop called Bluestockings or trendy little hipster-ish joint in the West Village called Three Lives & Co. (after a Gertrude Stein book!)

And last but not least, design books bought for design classes for design programs that are no longer sold on discs:

Dreamweaver CS4 Adobe Illustrator CS4 Adobe Indesign CS5 - bought for me by my mentor when I first started working for her!

“Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.” ― George Eliot

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