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fromzerotoeuphoria · 4 years

Audio

In Which I Lose My Sanity Over a 6-Minute Audio Drama (aka my Reaction to a RinHaru Drama CD Track)

Okay so I just discovered what Drama CDs are after overindulging in RinHaru goodness on tumblr, and I came across a post from @donamoeba that had an excerpt of Track 10 of the official Free!DF Drama CD Extra Short Film titled, “Haruka’s and Rin’s Road Trip.”

And only a few lines into this thing and it’s already gOT ME LOSING MY MIND.

Haruka: You’re such a rough driver that I’m too worried to fall asleep.

Rin: Heh, speak for yourself.

Haruka: Beside…

Rin: Huh?

Haruka: This is the only time we can talk properly.

I’m actually scREECHING Haruka wanted to have some one-on-one time with Rin so they could “talk properly” just the two of them 😭😭😭

Well STRAP UP LADIES & GENTS that was only the tip of this RinHaru iceberg and I am THRIVING.

So I read the full translation thanks to @donamoeba over on Tumblr, and omg the way Haruka was so sentimental and mushy with Rin gave me so much LIFE MY STARS WERE RATTLING. Like, usually it's Rin that's the sentimental one and Haru that's all inexpressive and aloof, but this time around it was like they switched and Haru kept wanting to talk about sentimental things with Rin and 😭😭😭😭 the way I'm wrecked.

I'm going to post the full trans here and give my rinharu fangirl commentary because I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS. It's so sweet and sentimental Haruka is EVERYTHINGGG, especially when he's all sentimental with/about Rin <3

(my commentary is italicized in purple)

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Rin: There’s… still another 3 hours until we reach the training camp. You can sleep if you want, Haru.

Haruka: You’re such a rough driver that I’m too worried to fall asleep.

Rin: Heh, speak for yourself.

Haruka: Besides…

Rin: Huh?

Haruka: This is the only time we can talk properly. < I SEE YOU HARU 👀 literally so cute and sweet that Haru wants to talk with Rin properly yes babe I want that for you both too

Rin: Well… since I’ve been back in Japan, both you and I have been stuck in training camps practicing, I guess.

Haruka: It’ll be like this until the All-Japan Swimming Championships. It can’t be helped.

Rin: But what we did today is pretty crazy, huh?

Haruka: It’s not crazy, it’s free.

Rin: Haha, there he goes again.

Haruka: They all worked really hard for the high school championship.

Rin: Yeah. Since it’s the last tournament in high school.

Haruka: It reminds me of us last year.

Rin: Yeah, we were totally like that. We couldn’t tell when we were part of it then, but we were fired up, we were reckless, and it kinda makes you cry. It’s a Memorial Summer that we will never return to.

Haruka: Waxing poetry, huh…

Rin: Shut up.

Haruka: But then, that’s what we were like. < idk why but Haru saying this just makes me emo T_T He’s usually not the one to be expressively sentimental, and yet he gets like this with Rin

Rin: Yeah. It’s only been one year, but it feels like such a long time ago.

Haruka: You sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?

Rin: Nope, I’m fine. When it comes to driving technique, I’m better than you.

Haruka: Are you implying that I have better swimming techniques than you, then? < literally Rin is the only one who brings out this cheeky competitive side of Haru, like I legitimately do not remember seeing Haru get like this with any other character

Rin: That’s what we’re gonna find out at the All-Japan Championships next week, right?

Haruka: … < I wonder what he's thinking about, cuz he suddenly got all quiet thinking about the All-Japan Championships. Quiet Haru always makes me wonder what's going through his head

Rin: Are you nervous?

Haruka: If I’m nervous, I won’t sneak out in the middle of the training camp to go cheer for Rei and the others.

Rin: That’s true.

Haruka: Did you drive when you were in Sydney as well? < this is literally just a normal question but my delulu self squees at Haru asking Rin about what he did while he was away from him in Australia T_T like Haru is still curious about Rin’s time away from him

Rin: Hmm… only on my off days. What about you, Haru?

Haruka: I don’t get much of a chance to drive in Tokyo.

Rin: You live in the city, so I guess you really don’t have to.

Haruka: What is it like living in Sydney? < *squees* [see previous commentary]

Rin: It’s pretty good. I train with my friends every day, then we go eat after training.

Haruka: So you made new friends there. < J;AJKFDAKJLFJLK OMG HARU IS THAT SLIGHT JEALOUSY I'M SENSING HERE?????

Rin: Yeah. There’s David, Chris, Johann, my coach Mikhail, and many more.

Haruka: Were you able to see a sight you’ve never seen before with these friends? < LAKFKFJDKJLFSDKKLAKJSK YES IT FRIGGIN IS SLIGHT JEALOUSY I AM LIVINGGGGGGG. Haruka is highkey trumping himself over Rin's foreign friends like, "Yeah well so you've made new friends but can your new friends show you the world the way I show you the world??" I AM SCREAMING, RINHARU OTPPP

Rin: Eh? I wonder… I probably did see it, but…nothing compares to the sight I saw when swam with you and the others, I don’t think. What about you, Haru? < Yes babie tell Haru how no one compares to your friendship with him (and the others)

Haruka: Same here. < AHKSLJSFSDKFLJLFSD

Rin: Hehe. But we can’t stay this way. We can’t stay fixated on our past and be stuck in our memories, right?

Haruka: Yeah. We will move forward to the future.

Rin: Hah, you’re pretty poetic yourself, Haru.

Rin: Actually, I AM pretty tired. We got up early after all, so let’s take a break. There’s a service area around here.

Haruka: Yeah.

Rin: Let’s nap for an hour?

Haruka: Okay.

Rin: Do you know how to put down your seat?

Haruka: Right here?

Rin: Yeah.

(silence)

Haruka: This reminds me, around this time last year, we slept together like this, Rin. < AKFDSJKLFAKJFDKJLKDSFLJ I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT HARU IS THE ONE TO BRING UP HOW THEY SHARED THE BED TOGETHER IN AUSTRALIA OMG OMG THIS LITERALLY IS EVERYTHING (the reason I'm dying so much over this is because Haru isn't the type to get all sentimental, but he's really out here getting all sentimental with Rin now that they "cAn tALk pRoPeRLy" and he really brings up out of the blue their time in Australia and how they had to share the bed. It must've been a highlight in Haru's life, something he remembers fondly, especially since it was this trip with Rin that Haru discovered his dream. So for Haru to be so sentimental about it enough to bring it up on his own…*cries* ugh it's just…I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Rin: Huh? …oh you mean the hotel in Sydney?

Haruka: My whole world changed since that day. < *DECEASED*

Rin: And it will keep on changing. Yours, and mine. < HARU'S JUST OPENLY TELLING RIN HOW HIS "WHOLE WORLD CHANGED" SINCE RINHARURALIA & RIN SAYS BOTH THEIR LIVES WILL KEEP CHANGING TOGETHER I LOVE THIER RELATIONSHIP SO FRIGGIN MUCH 😭💜

Haruka: I wonder what we’ll be doing next year at this time.

Rin: Maybe we’ll be at a hotel somewhere in the world where there’s a tournament going on, and we’ll make the same mistake and end up sleeping next to each other again. < ahahahaha Rin you cheeky lil...ilysm

Haruka: Never again. < mhmm riiiiiiight Haruka, keep pretending like you don't cherish that night 😏

Rin: Hehehe.

Haruka: I want to… swim relay again. < and it's all because of Rin

Rin: Let’s swim together. But on the world stage this time! I don’t know what the team will be like, though. < YOU’RE GONNA DO IT BABES, YOU’RE GOING TO THE OLYMPICS TOGETHER 😭

Haruka: Yeah. One day, definitely. < yes babies sooner than you think!

Haruka: Rin.

Haruka: He’s asleep.

Haruka: One day, definitely, we’ll see a sight we’ve never seen before again. < yes I'm ugly crying and so are you

THE END < of my existence (:

(reposted from original blog July 25, 2020)

#AHHHSKDJSDKLFDSJK??!#THE WAY I ACTUALLY LOST MY MIND #I CANNOT HANDLE THESE TWO #SENTIMENTAL HARU IS TOO PRECIOUS #RIN MAKES HARU SENTIMENTAL #it's canon #how is rinharu NOT canon #rinharu #harurin #free!#free! iwatobi swim club #free! drama cd #free! translations #me reacting #otp #you don't know how long it took me to make this post because tumblr's text editor SUCKS #rin matsuoka #haruka nanase #free! dive to the future

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cyberhwas · 4 years

Text

➳ pairing/characters: hercules! mingi x reader, wooyoung as terpishchore (muse of dance), seonghwa as erato (muse of love poetry), hongjoong as euterpe (muse of music), jongho as polyhymnia (muse of hymns), yeosang as thalia (muse of comedy), san as clio (muse of history), yunho as urania (muse of astronomy)

➳genre: fluff, greek mythology au, inspired by hercules (the animated disney film), romance, angst, mutual pining, denial of feelings (reader is very stubborn hehe)

➳ tw: mentions of death, slight violence, light swearing, soul-selling, servitude, mentions of bullying (nothing too intense)

➳ disclaimer: may contain slight inaccuracies concerning dates, i also changed the story a little bit to make it a less bit intense, so there won’t be anything like what happened in the movie, which is honestly a bit intense? i mean, hercules goes to the underworld and retrieves meg’s soul after she gets crushed by a boulder so i won’t be including that outcome in this series.

➳ rating: m, 18+

➳ wc: 5.8k

➳ summary: after your first relationship had ended quite tragically, love was the last thing on your mind. however, after countless encounters with song mingi, the beautiful hero, being open to love again seemed possible.

➳ note: this was originally supposed to be a drabble, but i guess it’s a mini fic series now? oops? anyways, i hope you all enjoy this, and, as always, feedback is always appreciated💖!! i adore all of you so much and i hope all of you are staying safe and drinking lots of water!! please take care of yourselves my loves!! also this is my first time posting a fic on this blog, so it’s lowkey nerve-wracking but here goes nothing!

“it’s too cliché, i won’t say i’m in love.” - megara (hercules, 1997)

( june 1, 1300 b.c.e)

you sighed, wringing out your wet hair, gaze shifting to the muscular male a few feet away, whose cheeks were flushed with pink and looked quite embarrassed. “s-sorry about that.” he mumbled, blush deepening. despite that fact that you had just gotten splashed with water, you couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. “don’t worry about it, wonder boy. besides, you saved me from the nessus, after all.”

he laughed softly at the nickname, hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “it was nothing, really.” you rolled your eyes, fingers combing through your damp hair, ridding it of tangles. “you are too humble, wonder boy.” “i-it’s mingi, actually.” “hmm, it suits you, but i think i like wonder boy better.” you smirked, trying not to laugh at how flustered said male was, turning a shade equally as red as his hair.

out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a flash of pink and green, as well as a tendril of black smoke, and tried not to grimace at the sight. “well, i better go. thanks for saving me, wonder boy.” you turned to go, ignoring the dread pooling in your stomach at having to talk with hades again. “wait, can i at least get your name?” mingi blurted, stopping you in your tracks. you glanced over your shoulder, making sure to keep your expression as neutral as possible. “it’s y/n.” and with that, you disappeared into the heart of the woods, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart.

you braced yourself for the annoying lecture you were going to receive from the god of death himself, watching as he took physical form, tendrils of black smoke filling the air. a few seconds later, hades stood in front of you; his two minions standing attentively at his side. “y/n, how was your first meeting with wonder breath?” “fine.” hades frowned. “that’s it?” “nothing, you know, dramatic happen?” you tried not to roll your eyes at how clueless hades was acting, as if he wasn’t the one that summoned the monster in the first place. “the monster grabbed me, i pretended to act like a damsel in distress, wonder boy saved me; i got splashed with water, that’s about it.” “so, he didn’t, you know, show a weakness that might help me defeat him?”

“no, wonder boy’s as strong and unbeatable as they say.” hades’ dark eyes narrowed. “we’ll see about that.” he murmured, and you ignored the uneasy feeling in your stomach. “good work today, y/n. once wonder boy falls for you, then we can find out what exactly can break him.” you swallowed against the bile rising in your throat, and managed a weak nod.

“don’t forget the deal we made.” you resisted the urge to scowl at the way hades’ lip curled at your reaction.

centuries ago, you were a completely different girl, romantic and open to love. you had fallen in love with your then boyfriend at the time, only to have him taken away from you, permanently. a sickness had plagued the small village you lived in at the time, and your boyfriend had been unfortunate enough to succumb to the deadly illness, and died just a week after he had contracted it. you were desperate and heartbroken, and then during one rainy day, hades had appeared before you, offering you a deal. he would revive your boyfriend, but only if you would sell your soul to him, as well as promising years of servitude. agreeing to such a deal would be foolish and unorthodox, especially for a dead lover, but because your heart and mind were so broken, you had agreed to hades’ terms.

hades had summoned a scroll and a black feather quill, and thus, your soul had been signed away. the god of the underworld had kept his word and revived your lover, but he had soon ripped your heart out by leaving you for another woman. you had never felt so foolish in your life, and from that day on, you swore off love, and built walls around yourself, refusing to let anyone in, afraid of suffering the same fate you had with your first love.

“you’re my servant, don’t forget that. and what i tell you to do, you do it, unless you want to be thrown in tarturus, or maybe suffer the same fate as him?” you fought the urge to punch hades in his horrifyingly gorgeous face as you shook your head, careful not to let your anger show. “i don’t have any complaints.” hades smiled, seemingly pleased. “good, you know what to do, with wonder breath then?” you nodded, tearing your gaze away from his dark, soulless, eyes.

hades gave you a mock wave as he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. when you were finally alone, you collapsed onto the soft, green grass, burying your face into your hands, sobbing.

(months later)

you allowed yourself a small smile at the dainty, white flower in your hand, the sweet-smelling petals invading your senses; the petals soft and velvety against your fingertips. it was a particularly beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly above you, the sky cloudless and a gorgeous shade of light blue. there was even a small breeze that tickled your skin and hair, fresh air washing over you, relieving you from the otherwise unbearable heat. you were sitting on a stone bench in a garden, enjoying the great weather and admiring the flower in your hand. it’d been nearly four months since you had begun to flirt with mingi, and there were days where you had forgotten the reason you were talking to him in the first place. mingi was not only unbelievably gorgeous, with fiery red hair and forest green eyes that turned into crescents whenever he smiled, but he was also unfailingly sweet, gracious, humble, clumsy, and polite.

mingi would also turn an adorable shade of pink whenever you would compliment him, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. you also tried your best not to stare at his arms, which were corded with muscle, as they were quite distracting.

and over the past few months, you had found yourself becoming more and more intrigued and infatuated with mingi, of which you couldn’t help but scold yourself for. there was a part of you that was convinced the sweet words he spoke so often were sincere, but then there was also the part of you that thought otherwise. after all, your last lover had left you to wallow in your own sadness, without so much as a goodbye, even after you had sacrificed so much for him to be able to live again.

suddenly, annoyance coursed through you and you threw the flower over your shoulder in disgust, not bothering to see where it landed. “y/n, seriously? you’re throwing away a perfectly good flower? it’s like you don’t even care about nature.” you fought the urge to roll your eyes. “wooyoung, i didn’t throw it away, i just carelessly tossed it.” “uh huh, sure.” you couldn’t fight the fond smile that tugged at your lips as you turned to look at the muse, who was standing behind you, mock disapproval on his face. beside him, a tall, silver haired male scoffed and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “would you quit being a pain in the ass, woo?” seonghwa scolded good naturedly. aforementioned male pouted, the gesture nearly childlike. “you’re so mean seonghwa-hyung.” the older rolled his eyes, expression brightening upon seeing you. “hey, y/n, how’s everything?” you shrugged, ignoring how wooyoung’s hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “alright, how is everyone?” “oh, you know, being a pain in my ass, as always.”

“ignore him, he’s been having writer’s block and has been moping about it for days, so he’d taking out all his pent-up anger on us by being a mother hen all the time.” “kim hongjoong, you better shut it right now before i throw you into tarturus.”

said muse giggled, head popping out from behind a tall tree, blue hair falling in strands across his forehead. “hi!” hongjoong called out from his hiding place, small hand waving in greeting. “hi , joong, it’s nice to see you!” “likewise!” “what are you doing over there?” “o-oh, i was picking flowers, i was going to weave them into a flower crown.” hongjoong mumbled shyly, a light shade of pink settling across his cheekbones, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight.

“you’re adorable.” “am not. i am older than you, you know.” “yes, but you’re as intimidating as a baby bunny.” “shut up, i am not adorable!” “fine, fine, whatever you say, joong.” “i hate you.” “aw, i love you too.”

hongjoong sighed as he stepped out from behind the tree, a bunch of pink flowers in his hand, settling down on a patch of grass a few feet away, setting to work on his crown. “if any of you dare to annoy me while i do this, i will bite you.” “wow, cannablism much, hyung?” “san, shut up.” “wow, hyung, you’re so cruel! i just got here and you’re already insulting me!” “san, i swear to zeus, you better shut your mouth and let me weave this gods-damned flower crown before i strangle you.” “damn, someone has a-” “san, would you please just stop being a pain in the ass and listen?” “ok, ok, fine.” san plopped down on the ground next to wooyoung, who was busy admiring the flower in his hand, violet eyes shifting towards you, a smile breaking out on his gorgeous face, dimples indented in his cheeks. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in a millennia! how are things?” “alright, how are you?” “oh, you know, just trying to make sure wooyoung doesn’t get kidnapped or thrown in tarturus, the usual.” “why am i always being bullied?” “because you’re so easy to pick on, woo.” the blonde male gasped in mock offense. “san! how could you say such a thing? i thought we were friends!” said male only rolled his eyes. “quit being so dramatic, will you? you’re giving me a headache! and would you stop yelling? i’m pretty sure zeus can hear you.” “y/n, help me! i’m suffering!” wooyoung whined, falling dramatically into san’s lap, white chiton billowing with the movement. you laughed. “sorry, woo, i’m kind of outnumbered here.”

wooyoung huffed in annoyance. “stupid hyungs won’t go away and leave me alone.” that earned him a finger flick to the forehead, causing him to cry out in pain. “san, what was that for? that fucking hurt, you know!” the former ignored him. “you should be grateful we’re even around to look after you, you big baby.”

you rolled your eyes fondly at their incessant bickering, and settled down on the grass next to san, leaning your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. immediately, you felt an arm wrap around your own shoulders. ever since you had met the muses all those years ago, you had become extremely close with all of them, and they were not only your best friends, also the older brothers you’ve always wanted. they always looked out for you, no matter what, and was there for you when no one else was, and had always treated you like a sister.

“seriously, though, what’s up with you? you seem happier these days.” san’s tone was light, teasing, but the question was enough to make your face flush scarlet. “you’re as red as a tomato, are you seeing someone?” wooyoung asked, hazel eyes alight with curiosity. one of san’s perfect eyebrows raised in question. “well?” “there’s no one!” “liar.” seonghwa sing-songed from where he was sitting with hongjoong a few feet away, watching the latter with a fond gaze as the petite male wove flowers into a crown. “ok, ok fine, there might be someone.” you mumbled, immediately regretting it when san’s face practically lit up, green eyes twinkling with mirth. “oh? who is it? maybe we know him?” you hesitated, not sure if telling them about mingi was the greatest idea, but you decided to just do it, for you knew that the muses would keep pestering you about him for gods knows how long.

“i-it’s mingi?” as soon as his name left your mouth, san and wooyoung gasped. “NO WAY! SONG MINGI??? AS IN THE HERO HIMSELF??!” “yes?” san gave your shoulder a light shove. “how long?” “how long what?” “how long have you been seeing him for?” you blushed furiously. “we’re not dating.” “oh, so do you have a crush on him?” “what? no!” san chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “y/n, you’re not fooling anyone. you definitely have feelings for mingi, don’t you?” you sighed in defeat. “i really don’t know yet. i’m still trying to figure out my feelings.” san hummed in acknowledgment. “well, you didn’t confirm nor deny, which means that we have the right to tease you about your potential lover!” “say it a little louder, will you?” you hissed, a light shade of red settling across your cheekbones.

seonghwa snickered, ducking his head down slightly so that hongjoong could place the now finished flower crown on his head. “there’s no shame in being attracted to someone, it’s normal.” “it’s not that i’m embarrassed, it’s just.. i don’t know if i’m ready or willing to be attracted to someone, not after-” san cut you off by throwing his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “don’t you dare finish that sentence. that jerk deserves to rot in tarturus for hurting you.” wooyoung nodded, expression darkening. “i really wanted to punch his face in that day.”

‘‘we all wanted to.” seonghwa mumbled, crossing his lean arms over his chest, frowning at the memory. “i’m sorry for ruining the mood.” “oh, don’t you dare. you did nothing wrong, y/n. and you did not ruin the mood.” “i did though?” hongjoong shot you a look from across the garden, chestnut eyes flashing with warning. “y/n, please stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault. i hate seeing you miserable, we all do.” his voice was gentle, yet firm, and your heart clenched at how sincere he was. “i really don’t deserve you all as friends.” seonghwa scoffed. “i think it’s the other way around, y/n.”

where’s yeosang, jongho and yunho?” “jongho’s probably forcing yeosang and yunho to listen to one of his newly written hymns. he’s very picky about them, you know.” “but aren’t they-” “the muse of comedy and astronomy? yes, which is why yeosang and yunho always complain when jongho asks them for feedback, as they know nothing about music.” “yeah, that’s my forte.” hongjoong mumbled, a slight pout on his lips. “he never asks me for help on anything, hyung.” seonghwa rolled his eyes half-heartedly, reaching out to ruffe the younger’s hair affectionately. “it’s ok, joong, he’ll ask you one day.” “i’ve literally been waiting for a whole gods damn century, hwa!”

seonghwa tried not to laugh as he pulled the younger into a hug, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “i know, i know, just be patient.” hongjoong huffed, but didn’t say anything after that, burying his face into the crook of seonghwa’s neck, sighing. “the day jongho asks me for help on one of his hymns is the day i will throw myself into tarturus.” “please don’t do that, joong. someone has to help me keep jung wooyoung and choi san in check, i can’t do it on my own.” aforementioned muses cried out in protest. “hey!” seonghwa ignored them, hugging hongjoong tighter. san rolled his eyes, falling back onto the grass, pulling you and wooyoung down with him. you laughed and closed your eyes, letting sleep take over.

mingi couldn’t help but smile as he tossed a stone carelessly across the smooth surface of the river, face flushing scarlet as it always did when he thought of her. cheesy and cliché as it was, she was truly unlike any girl he had ever met, for most of them practically fell at his feet, which made him highly uncomfortable, especially when they would propose marriage. he shuddered, remembering coming back from a particularly difficult mission, which had included killing the hydra, a three-headed beast that had begun terrorizing a small, defenseless village, and as he had walked through the streets once home, girls had tried to grab at him and even went as far as to chase him around the town.

while mingi was happy that the village acknowledged him, the female attention was well, irritating. people had teased him for it, claiming that he secretly loved it and just was pretending not to like the attention. he really truly hated it, dreaded it even, and would breathe a sigh of relief whenever he managed to escape his very, very, enthusiastic admirers.

you were different. while you were aware who he was, you didn’t know the “heroic” side of him, which was something that mingi could rarely keep under-wraps lately, and it both surprised and relieved him that you didn’t have a clue about his accomplishments. mingi always felt so awkward whenever people would constantly praise him for his bravery, heroic deeds, the like. he never knew what to say, as he didn’t want to sound arrogant or narcissistic. deep down, mingi hated it when people would talk for days on end about his heroic deeds, for it made him feel a bit uncomfortable. and yes, maybe he asked for all the praise and the glory when he had practically begged maddox to train him, in hopes that people wouldn’t see him as “different” or a “freak.”

when he’d been living with his parents in the small village he used to call home, all the kids wanted nothing to do with him, for they thought the unnatural strength he possessed was scary and abnormal. after enduring their harsh words for years, mingi decided to leave home and try to find someone who would help him control his strength.

at first, maddox had been reluctant, especially after all the past heroes he trained died tragically, but eventually gave in when he realized that mingi wasn’t going to take no for an answer. training was difficult, and there had been times where maddox was ready to give up on mingi entirely, to tell him to go back home, but mingi was determined, and he began to improve.

the training had paid off, mingi supposed, as fighting was something that now came naturally to him. “still thinking about that girl, huh?” mingi fought to hide the blush that was spreading across his cheekbones. “n-no, what makes you say that?” maddox scoffed. “kid, please, you’re making it obvious. you’ve been spacing out a lot recently. plus, you always have that look on your face.” “what look?” “oh you know, the look that says i’m a fool in love, something like that.” “i-i’ve only known her for a few months.” “and?” “there’s no way-” maddox held up a hand, silencing him. “look kid, i know i may not look like the type who’d be in love, but i’ve been there. and you definitely look how i felt centuries ago.” “i mean, i guess i am, i don’t know.”

maddox leaned against a tall tree, scoffing. “you are kid, trust me. i can see the way you look at her, you’re very much smitten.” “i-i guess?” “you’ll see for yourself one of these days.” mingi ignored how his face flushed at the thought of you having feelings for him, and turned away from his mentor, looking out at the smooth surface of the river in front of him, trying not to let his mind wander.

“so, are you sure you’re not in love with him? not even a tiny bit?” yeosang asked, lifting a perfect eyebrow in question. you scoffed, placing the scroll you’d been reading off to the side of the large wood table in front of you. you and yeosang were currently in the spacious library that the comedy muse often occupied during the week, reading various scrolls. “did the others tell you?” yeosang rolled his eyes. “of course they did. well, it was mostly wooyoung. you know that little shit can’t keep his mouth shut sometimes.” “wooyoung may be loud, but he’s the sweetest and he means well.”

“yeah, yeah. anyways, how’d you meet mingi?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “how much did wooyoung tell you?” yeosang chuckled. “too much.” “i will kick his ass later.” you mumbled. “i’ll help.” the former offered, lavender eyes twinkling with mirth.

“he saved me from a nessus months ago, and from then on, we just kept bumping into each other after that.” “by coincidence? or by chance?” you shrugged, ignoring the pang of guilt that shot through you. “probably by chance. we just somehow end up seeing each other in the most unlikely circumstances.” yeosang hummed thoughtfully. “you definitely have it bad.” “what? what do you mean by that?” “y/n, even the dumbest person alive can tell that you are in love with him.”

you threw your hands up in exasperation. “why does everyone think that?” yeosang reached out and gently patted your shoulder, as if to comfort you. “y/n, i love you, you know i do, but it’s kind of obvious. you’re kind of shit at hiding your feelings. even i can tell, and i’m the muse of comedy!”

“he’s right, you know.” you turned to glare at the source of the voice. seonghwa was leaning against one of the white pillars that surrounded the outside of the library, golden eyes practically sparkling in the warm sun. “not you too, hwa.” aforementioned muse shot you a sheepish smile. “sorry, y/n, but it’s honestly undeniable at this point.” “but i’ve only known him for a few months!” seonghwa shrugged, pushing off the pillar with a sandaled foot, making his way over to the center of the room. “so? love is a funny thing, you know. you can realize you’re in love with someone in a short span of time, it’s not unheard of.” the love poetry muse plopped down on the chair next to you, hastily tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“how you long were you standing there?” “not long. i was just passing by and happened to overhear your conversation.” “where are the others?” “they’re in the garden, doing gods knows what.” “is hongjoong with them?” seonghwa nodded. “yeah, but he’s probably making a flower crown and purposefully ignoring wooyoung and san’s antics.” “but, jongho is there, and he scares the shit out of those two, for whatever reason, so i trust that he’ll keep an eye on them while i’m gone.”

yeosang huffed a laugh, picking up one of the discarded scrolls on the table, lavender eyes scanning the contents curiously. “so, what are you doing here?” “i needed a break from san and wooyoung, and well, i thought that, since i’m here, i can look for some inspiration for poems. like hongjoong mentioned, i’ve been having terrible writers’ block recently.”

“do you want help? i’m not doing much today anyway.” seonghwa’s expression practically lit up. “you would do that? it’s not going to be a lot of fun, though.” you shook your head. “i love looking through scrolls, gives me an excuse to read.” “want to join us, yeosang?” said muse in questions shook his head. “i’d love to, but i have some errands to run. i’ll see you two later at the garden?” you nodded and waved him goodbye, smiling fondly as the blond male rushed off.

“he was lying, wasn’t he?” seonghwa asked, an amused smile on his face as he scanned the massive shelves that took up a quarter of the other side of the library. you chuckled. “definitely.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes fondly at the sight before him. jongho, wooyoung, and san were in a heated debate about which olympian god was the best, of all things. he sighed in exasperation and turned back to the flower crown he’d been working on for hours now, ignoring wooyoung’s petulant cries. it was nearly done, and all he had to do was string one more flower together. hongjoong furrowed his brows in concentration as he wove the last flower together, sighing in relief when it stayed intact after he’d finished tying it off. he’d always loved making flower crowns, as it was something that calmed him after a particularly difficult day, or when lyrics for a song just wouldn’t come to him immediately like they normally did. weaving flower crowns often made his anxiety and worries dissipate like smoke. the others often teased him for it, but their words never had any bad intent behind them. he had been mocked for his favorite hobby in the past, and hongjoong was glad that he finally found people, a family, who accepted him for who he was, flower crowns and all.

hongjoong hummed softly to himself, placing the finished flower crown onto his head, making sure it was secure, and laid back onto the soft green grass, letting the cool night air wash over him. he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he felt someone shake his shoulder gently. “joong?” hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and seonghwa was next to him, golden eyes twinkling with amusement. “did you fall asleep again?” hongjoong blushed as he slowly sat up, adjusting the crooked flower crown on his head. “n-no.”

seonghwa rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond as he helped hongjoong to his feet. the former led him to a more secluded part of the garden, where the rest of their friends were waiting, gathered around a table of fruit and bread.

you waved at hongjoong, a sheepish smile on your face as he drew near with seonghwa. “it’s not much, and i know it’s not quail eggs or anything luxurious, but i thought i’d try and prepare something nice for once, since all of you have done so much for me.” wooyoung shook his head and pushed past san, bounding forward and throwing his arms around you, hugging you tight. “don’t say that, y/n! this is more than enough! and you really didn’t have to do this! you already do enough just by tolerating us.” you huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around the muse of dance. “you guys are too kind to me.”

“we love you, and you know that you’re like a sister to us. you never have to do anything for us.” “i wanted to, though.” “yes, and we appreciate it a lot, so don't you dare say it’s not anything special.” yunho declared from behind san, light green eyes bright with happiness. you fought back the happy tears that were threatening to spill and smiled. i love you all.” “aww, we love you too!! group hug!!!!” yunho shouted. a few seconds later, you were being squeezed tightly by seven muses, and you had never felt so loved in your entire life, which made you feel even more guilty for what you were about to do.

after a light dinner of fruit and bread, you found yourself laying on the soft green grass of the garden that you now considered your safe place, surrounded by seven muses, staring up at the midnight blue sky, stars like tiny specks from afar. the night air was crisp and cool, and you allowed yourself a smile, leaning your head against seonghwa’s shoulder, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently. stargazing had become a daily thing after hongjoong had first suggested it after a practically exhausting day of work, and you had come to love it.

suddenly, you felt a wave of sadness crash over you, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a warm and firm chest, strong arms wrapping around you, comforting circles being rubbed on your back. “y/n, what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked, and you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was extremely worried. you didn’t answer, burying your face into seonghwa’s chest, feeling your heart ache with immense guilt. “i-i’m s-sorry.” you choked out, voice shaking. “darling, what could you possibly be sorry for? you’ve done nothing wrong.” you shook your head, reluctantly pulling away from seonghwa’s warm embrace, refusing to look any of your friends in the eye, instead focusing on a blade of grass.

“i really don’t deserve to have you all in my life, and i am the shittiest person in the world. i-i lied to you all.” “about what?” you closed your eyes, turning away from the people you never deserved to call your friends. “about how i met mingi. it wasn’t a coincidence. it was all on purpose.”

“what? what are you talking about, y/n?” yunho asked, and your heart broke at how confused he sounded. “hades.” you mumbled, voice barely audible, but you knew they heard you, from the way the tension in the air seemed to thicken. “what about hades?” seonghwa asked, voice deadly calm. “d-do you remember my past lover?” “the one that broke your heart into pieces? we’re familiar with him, why?” san asked, clear disgust in his tone. you fought back tears as you forced the words to come out.

“w-when he died, i was so heartbroken and desperate for happiness that hades appeared to me and he offered me a deal, which was that if he would bring him back, only if i agreed to sell my soul to him and become his servant. and then, he wanted me to make mingi fall in love with me in order to discover his weakness. hades wants to kill him. i wouldn’t have agreed, but he then threatened to hurt all of you, and i- i c-couldn’t let that happen so i-”

you couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, and felt your knees give out from under you, your pale blue chiton billowing around you as you fell. you didn’t dare open your eyes, as you couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces. to your surprise, you felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you tight. you felt your eyes flutter open due to shock, and tears practically leaked out of your eyes.

your friends, no, your family, were gathered around you, hugging you tight. san looked up at you, violet eyes glimmering with tears, smiling sadly. wooyoung, lips quivering, reached out and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. seonghwa had his face buried in your shoulder, crying softly, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing tightly. hongjoong was curled up in your lap like a child,small hands gripping the fabric of your chiton, trembling as he cried. yeosang had his lips pursed tightly as he placed a gentle hand on your head, fighting back tears. jongho and yunho were both a mess, swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, resting their heads on each other’s shoulders.

“h-how can you all forgive me? how can you all stand to even look at me?” “we could never hate you.” “b-but-” “you’ve gone through so much, darling, and you grieved in your own way. if i was you, i would’ve probably been desperate enough to do the same.” “i really don’t deserve to be forgiven.” that earned you a light shove to the shoulder. “shush, don’t say that. you could lie to us a thousand times over and we would still love you just as much as we do now.” you allowed yourself a soft, sad laugh as you buried your face in the crook of san’s neck and cried happy tears.

after your shocking revelation and the tears had subsided, you lay back down on the grass with your head resting on san’s lap, letting him play with strands of your hair, while the others were curled up next to you. “thank you.” you whispered. “no need to thank us. just promise us that you won’t keep stuff like that from us again.” you nodded. “is anything going to happen to you?” “probably, you never know with hades.” “we’ll protect you.” you smiled sadly. “i know you all want to, but hades is too powerful. i don’t want any of you getting hurt.” “y/n, we would never be able to live with ourselves if anything happened to you!” hongjoong exclaimed, chestnut eyes glimmering with determination. “the same goes for me, if anything happened to any of you, i would never be able to forgive myself.” “don’t worry, y/n, we’ll figure out a way to protect you.” san reassured you, ruffling your hair affectionately. you returned his smile, but deep down, you weren’t so sure if that was possible.

➳ a/n: this was part one, and i hope you all enjoyed this! let me know if you have any suggestions for the sequel! this was so much fun to write! what do you think will happen in the sequel? let me know your predictions!

tagging: @deonghwa @subinily @hwacinth-main (ily all MWAH)

#mine #drabble #this is for my fellow disney/greek mythology enthusiasts hehe

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rachelthompsonauthor · 5 years

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Writing fears suck, don’t they? If you’re a writer, you have them, no matter where you are in your career. Yet writing fears are especially ominous when you’re first starting out. The endless loop of:

What if I’m not good enough?

What if people hate my book?

What if someone gets hurt by my book?

What if people write horrible reviews?

What if what I think is good is just crap?

and on it goes.

I can fully relate. I didn’t start my writing career until my forties (I’m 55 now) for many of those same reasons. I also didn’t know how to start – what’s the proper, right way to start? To publish? To market? It’s overwhelming for someone just starting out, especially if that someone is super process-oriented like me.

Are These Fears Valid?

Of course, they are. All feelings are valid, even if they aren’t always logical (like toddlers in the sandbox, thinking and feeling don’t always get along or agree). For more on this, here’s an article you might find helpful from Scribed Media: 6 Writing Fears and How to Beat Them.

I work with many writers (as both a survivor and advocate, as well as in my BadRedhead Media business) who don’t give themselves permission to write because of these fears. Here’s what helped me – and it’s so simple it’s almost stupid. A quote. One quote. I’m almost embarrassed to share how enormous an effect that one little quote had on me; how it freed me from my mental fear prison, yet it did.

From Lorrie Moore, author and professor, via a widely quoted interview in Elle Magazine

“Compared with her students, who are often still deeply involved with their parents, Moore says she had a more formal, old-fashioned relationship with hers—which helped her make the “romantic and bloody-minded” decision to commit wholly to her art when she started writing seriously in college. (“The only really good piece of advice I have for my students is, `Write something you’d never show your mother or father.‘ And you know what they say?” she says, wide-eyed with disbelief.” `I could never do that!'”).

That’s it. I wasn’t even a college student – I was a full-grown adult with my own kids. There I sat with a pen and paper (okay, computer laptop) on my desk, journals at the side, ready to write about uncomfortable truths. Sexual topics. Surviving sexual abuse, sexual interactions with past lovers, relationships, PTSD, triggers, and other ‘things’ you don’t typically talk to your own parents about.

And I thought: Geez, Rach. You’re forty-fucking years old. Stop thinking about what other people will think (Nonfiction Writing 101: You cannot know what someone else thinks – only what you think). So, I went for it.

You’re an adult. Write like one.

And with that, I started to write my first memoir/poetry book, Broken Pieces.

Drawer Of Fears

Take a piece of paper (I suggest a page in your journal or in your online notepad). Write down your list of writing fears. Write down everything you’re afraid of, whether it’s based in reality or sounds like something full of magical fairy dust. Whatever it is, write it down. Pages and pages, or three little bullet points. Whatever.

Okay? When you’re done, come on back. Oh, be sure to print out what we’ll call your Page Of Fears.

***

Good, you’re back. Now take that piece of paper with all your fears and put it away in your Drawer of Fears. Make sure that drawer has a lock (or needs a password). Physically give them a kiss, and tell them goodbye.

Don’t worry! They’ll still be there. You can visit them anytime you want to. However, for now, I want you to know that you have cleared them from your mind and body. Kinda like burning sage but without the burning. Or the sage.

Writers cannot write around clutter. It’s a known fact.

Let Go Of Your Perfection Fears

Your first draft is where you start. Your first draft of whatever it is that you want to write. You may not even know and that’s okay.

This stumped me at first. And when I say stumped, I mean I did not move from the doing anything about with my writing stage for years. Where do I start? How do I structure my writing? Don’t professional writers have official outlines and plots and characters with histories and plots all devised, etc? Well, sure, some do. However, some don’t. Plotters vs. Pantsers, etc.

This entire thought process alone sent me into Analysis Paralysis. What’s the right way?

As a creative nonfiction writer, I didn’t know how I wanted to format my writing. I did kinda sorta know my thematic structure (which, by the way, completely changed after my first developmental edit) – I also knew I planned to work with a structural (aka, developmental) editor, so I took that fear (see point number two) of how to make it “perfect” in the end, put that in my Drawer of Fear, and wrote what I refer to as my word vomit.

Just Start Writing

Nobody will see what you are writing unless you want them to. I repeat: nobody will see what you’re writing unless you want them to. It could take you a month, a year, or several years before you reach the point where your writing is in publishable condition.

Your ‘shitty first draft’ needs to be free-flowing, non-self-edited crapadoodle. You hear me, you little perfectionistic drones? Give yourself permission to purge your words.

It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to make any sense which, honestly, is why journaling is so great. It’s a wonderful mental purge and can be a great stepping-off point to your writing. (Need help getting started? Visit the fabulous Leigh Shulman. She’s got a free plan for you.)

Your first draft is not even your dress-rehearsal. It’s more like…practice. It’s just a draft. It could take 30 or 50 or 100 or 300 drafts before it becomes a book.

Then you keep at it. Writing isn’t a walk in the park. It’s work. It’s a job. It’s a career if you decide to make it one and you’re good at it. And you work hard to become a better writer. Whether you believe in the 10,000 hours concept or the old ‘How do I get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice,’ joke – either way, the only way to become a better writer is to learn how to become a better writer.

How did I get better? Even though I took a number of classes growing up (in high school and college), I didn’t feel that prepared me for how I wanted to write now. So, I read a ton of creative nonfiction books (some of my favorites are below) in the style that appealed to me. I took online classes that helped me improve my writing. I went to readings by writers I admired (most are free or cost the price of the book).

I continued journaling (as I had been since I was a kid). And I continued writing – all kinds of stuff – articles, short stories, poetry, ideas for articles, short stories, and poems. And I began blogging (in 2008). Blogging absolutely makes you a better writer and I’ll fight anybody who says otherwise. Rawr.

Investing in myself helped me get over my fears. To face my fears. To crush my fears.

Don’t Forget About Your Fears Completely

Everything I mentioned above took time. Just about every writer I’ve ever met wants their first book to be a massive bestseller right away, pay off all their bills with the royalties, sit on Oprah’s couch because of it, and have everyone reading it on the train a la Fifty Shades.

That’s all great. How are you going to make that happen?

Have realistic expectations. Have a plan. Write the most fantastic, professional book you can. Figure out what you don’t know about not only writing but also marketing and publishing, and then learn.

Above anything else, deal with your fears. They’ll still be in that drawer, waiting for you. Just like trauma, your fears don’t magically disappear because you’ve set them aside. They’ll pop up like that whack-a-mole game, except now you’ll have experience and time to hit them back with.

And yet…I don’t recommend hitting your fears back like an enemy. Change that paradigm. Make friends with them. How can your fears help you? What is it about a specific fear that’s got you so wound up?

Sometimes, it’s what we fear most that motivates us.

Just as I discuss how I made friends with Shame in my fourth book, Broken Places, do the same with your Page of Fears. Make your fear work for you so you can become the writer you want to be. You’ve lived through so much, writer friends! You can absolutely write about it.

I know you have it in you.

Here is a list of my personal favorite creative nonfiction books (disclosure: affiliate links provided).* I also recommend reading short stories by Raymond Carver. He’s a master storyteller.

*Note: These are not books about writing creative nonfiction. That’s a future post.

Calypso by David Sedaris

Night by Elie Wiesel

First, We Make The Beast Beautiful: A New Journey Through Anxiety by Sarah Wilson

Cathedral by Raymond Carver

The Liar’s Club by Mary Karr

The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls

The post How To Crush Your Writing Fears Right Now appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

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emmaekay · 6 years

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Galaktikon II - Post Lyric Release Analysis

Hello friends! If you follow this blog for Dragon Ball content, avert your eyes from what is about to be a full critique, breakdown, and analysis of my favorite metal album of the last 5 years.

Released on August 26, 2017, Galaktikon II is the 2nd studio album of Galaktikon, combo metal outlet of Brendon Small, Gene Hoglan, and Bryan Beller. I say “combo metal” because what the fuck even is this, other than holy?

At times, melodic death, at times speed metal, at times operatic metal - it’s everything good about all those subgenres and none of the trite or campy elements. This weekend, to celebrate the year’s anniversary of the release, the official lyrics were released to the album - that’s a big deal for a lot of reasons.

See, Galaktikon II is special in another way, too. It’s the unofficial end to the Metalocalypse story. Criminally cancelled before the story could draw to its planned close, fans everywhere have protested, petitioned, spammed, come just this side of rioting... and a certain exec at Adult Swim just can’t be arsed. Small has said in this-side-of-legal ways that Galaktikton II is the true end to Metalocalypse.

But when I listen to it, I hear something else, too. I hear the story of someone who spent 10 years building a world, only to have it burned down by someone else. I hear a love letter to the fans, but also a plea to let the end be the end. To accept that that world is over. From The Ocean Galaktik to Rebuilding a Planet, this is Small’s story, of trying to find the right combination of factors that would force that network to allow him to finish his tale, to his own acceptance of the fact that that will never happen. He has been clear about that in interviews - it’s over, and he’s ready to move on to the next project - the next world - he’s ready to rebuild. In this album, I hear an ask - will you, my friends and fans, come with me to the next?

So, here it is - everything I heard and everything I think about each track on Galaktikon II. SIDENOTE - this review is in the VINYL track order, which is also the “story” listening order. The CD/digital track order will not be followed here, and I really recommend listening to it in the vinyl order only.

1. Some Days Are For Dying

This track picks up right after the end of The Doomstar Requiem. The “Doomstar” is not the same thing as the Dethlights, which is the power that the band gains control of when they get Toki back. There is a huge asteroid or meteor heading for the earth. It’s freaking people out, destroying satellites, causing chaos. It’s being predicted that it will hit the Earth and destroy the planet.

Triton is nearby, but doesn’t appear to want to get involved.

Fuck this, never was my occupation.

He sings, correctly, since he’s not a planet savior but a bounty hunter.

On the Earth, various forces are mobilizing, militarizing, magnetizing. Nathan is still drawn back to the Whale goddess in the sea: The voice in my heart still speaks to me / It beckons me back to the deep. Nathan seems to want her help, for the first time - he doesn’t want the planet to be destroyed and actively wants to seek out that “Right Song” that has been eluded to since season 4. Any gift in this haze that the gods bestow / remove the blindfold, enlighten my soul / Would aide in the poetry I’m to sing.

The Church of the Black Klok is predicting the end of the world. We forsee blackness. We forsee doom.

Both the soldiers in the Falconback project AND the Gears are assembling for a serious battle. Fall in - Fall in - Fall in. (This cadence is echoed in Could This Be the End when Nathan asks the band “Alright?”) Prepare your captains. Prepare your flag. Prepare the battlements. Prepare the bloodied ram.

The song ends with a threat.

I will make you twist and burn. (Nathan)

I have waited, clock must turn. (Halfman)

Who is threatening who? I take it as both the Halfman and Nathan threatening each other, noted above, but it’s the Halfman who gets his say in the next song.

2. Nightmare

Full disclosure, this is my favorite track on the album. Man, this manages to be powerful and sinister even as it touches on a poignant key of sadness.

This song is a soliloquy by the Halfman. He was cursed with this demonic affliction, but says he isn’t the devil - Mephistopheles isn’t me - he sings, though people have made him into the devil. He explains how he died, then came back from the grave... half alive. Half of what he used to be. Based on later tracks, one can infer that Vater Orlaag is who brought him back to life and imbued him with the powers and overall creepiness he displays.

He doesn’t want to let go of the half life he has, but the impending star will change that life into something entirely different. Even while expressing feelings that he was misunderstood and even of fear, he still stands out as a villain. He seems to vascillate in the context of the song between fearsome and fearful. He has, after all, lived this way - waiting to see what would happen - for a very long time.

This cold heart keeps on beating

I’m the darkness you’re feeling.

The delivery of that lyric, at the same time powerful and ominous even as it hints at uncertainty. The song ends with the Halfman’s trademark “we’ll see” sort of sentiment.

I still wait

Time will tell

Falcon flies

Magnetize

3. The Ocean Galaktik

This song, I think, is where Small really gets the most personal on the album. This is the story of both Nathan’s return to the deep to find the music - the right song - and of Brendon’s own quest to release the end of this story, to come to terms with the falling out on the network, and to find the right way to release this music, these songs, and to end this story.

Some hearts will grow cold (The network)

Some of them outshine them all (the fans and the band)

Show love through it all (Small himself)

Breathe through my soul (Release the story the only way he can - through the music.) Leave this all behind, and look within (stop trying to get the 5th season)

Though we must all die, we don’t all live (Everything has an end, not everyone gets to do 4 seasons + a rock opera on tv, so he’s grateful for what he DID do)

and of course, the obvious: “Could this be what I need to set me free?” Small is asking himself, could this denial from the network, and also this album, be what sets him free from doing the same thing over and over - allowing him to invent and explore?

“I’m ready to serve my planet now.” I also hear the word “storm” laid over “serve” in this lyric. Officially, it’s serve, but Small is a tricksy little minx, so I’m not ruling out storm. In fact, the dual lyric makes the most sense - Brendon is ready to storm the planet with his next project. The “storm” thing comes into play later in the album, too. But also, Nathan, storywise, is ready to serve the planet because after meeting with the Beast Queen (who I think is Abigail but might just be that cool ass whale, who I’ve taken to referring to as the Whale Goddess) he has THE Song.

4. The Agenda

This is, simply, Vater Orlaag and the Halfman programming a poisoned Murderface to do some fucked up shit.

Oh - be anything I want to be?

Oh - is this just a dream?

Oh - give away so willfully

Oh - please carry me away.

These lines are Murderface himself, seeing the immortality and adoration offered by the two villains. Already poisoned, Murderface falls for it.

“Just lock the door, and trap accused. Just flip the switch & light the fuse.”

5. My Name is Murder

Well, yeah, it is. This song describes Murderface luring the rest of the band into a trap where they nearly die. The idea is that when the rest of the band dies, the Dethlights will all flow into him, which I can only assume Orlaag and the Halfman intend to take from him at that point. Murderface runs away after lighting Mordhaus on fire, the Gears chase his ass down though. He thinks about taking his own life. He chooses not to - I interpret this as Murderface himself breaking the possession/poison a bit. The Gears appear to catch him.

6. Exitus

Oh man, if this song doesn’t give you chills, check your fucking pulse.

The rest of the band tries to think of how to cure Murderface. The reason that “there’s gotta be a relationship between the water and” the Halfman based on the fact that water has been protective and healing for the band in the past, and appears to have driven the Halfman out of “the man in green” which I think is General Krozier.

The Gears & the Band take Murderface to the cove from the end of Season 4 and literally fucking drown him. Brutal.

I have always thought this next verse was from the perspective of Ofdensen:

Come back to me.

Blink if you hear me.

You gotta fight to breathe.

Hold my hand - look in my eyes. The klok within your chest gives back your life.

Too soft for Nathan. Anyway, Murderface is cured and comes back to life. Holy shit this bit kills.

You live, you live in your body

You live, you live in your soul

You live, you live in your heart

And we live, we live with you.

And now we stand here believers - a pentagram of black faith.

So Murderface is back with the boys and the Dethlights are powering up again. Next stop? FUCKIN SPAAAAAAACE BOYYYYY

7. Icarus Six Sixty Six

The boys literally go to space? Based on the video for Nightmare, where the whale goddess meets up with Triton, I’m guessing that Triton shows up and is the “UFO” referred to in the lyrics. He helps the boys rig a fucking planet wide sound system like the one in the Dethkones Israel/Palestine episode but EVEN BIGGER. (This is also the current cover photo on the Metalocalypse Facebook as an additional clue.)

Louder than the world believes

Defying physics all perceive! Shit goes tits up and they end up having to eject from a crash landing on their way back to Earth.

Not now! Eject? Not now! Eject? Not now! Eject? BUT NOWWWWW.

Thanks for helping the boys save the planet, Triton.

8. Become the Storm

Nathan literally uses a planet wide PA system to notify the whole population that the Earth is about to get fucked up royally by the Doomstar - a possessed star with a demon inside it that’s going to take up residence in the Halfman’s body and really, really wreck up the Earth

Nathan inspires people all over the world, civilians and fans and Gears, to unite and “become the storm” that will wipe this evil out.

From the land to the sea

There’s no them - only we!

That might be the warmest thing said on this entire album, not leastwise because I’m starving for some kind of unity in humanity lately. No division here - it’s the people of the planet vs. Orlaag & the Halfman.

Also there are robots on Orlaag & the Halfman’s side. That’s the Falconback project. Robots that will serve them and the demon - literally soulless people who have been mechanically augmented. Bwomp. And also there appears to be some kind of big machine at work - also hinted at in Some Days Are For Dying and later in the album in Could This Be The End?

“We march forth to his throne

We will die for our home.” The Army of humanity heads for the Halfman. Look out, motherfucker!

9. To Kill a God

Well, the title says it. They’re heading out to kill a god - or really, prevent the birth of a new one. Orlaag and the Halfman are holed up in a snow covered mountain range. The band sends the main wave of soldiers to “dismantle their magnetized machines.” The sky will part to let the demon soul descend.

Yep. The star is a demon. And it’s coming to chill inside the Halfman’s body. The rest of the song is a battle between the robotic Falconback soldiers and the Storm. Nathan urges them to fight on - “Don’t leave the gods alive.”

10. Could This Be The End?

This song is a fucking rollercoaster. Okay:

The Storm is fighting outside and the band is waiting in place. They turn the Falconback magnetized weapon against the star, trying to destroy it or override the machinery. It, of course, goes tits up. The band decides to use the Dethlights against the Doomstar, even though it will probably kill them. They form a “pentagram of power” and basically go toe to toe with this fucking demon asshole. They’re willing to die. The machinery is overloading. The star gets nearer and nearer to anchoring in the Halfman. Oh oh, leave their souls. We were always meant to go.

Let it be one last strike with our sword

Save them

Call the lights

We must die

But we lived our lives

They choose to save the Storm soldiers and all of the planet, opening themselves up completely to the destructive power of the Dethlights.

The Falconback machine explodes.

The demon tries it.

Doesn’t win. Dethlights fuck it up totally.

Because of their bond, their commitment, their pure brutality - the Dethlights are strong enough to repel the demon WITHOUT killing them.

Nathan compels everyone to hold on - “We know that we must die,” he says, “But for now we live! ”

Alright

Alright, we live!

He asks each of them and by context gets an affirmative answer.

The song closes with the question - Could this be the end?

11. Rebuilding a Planet

This is totally instrumental, so you know, imagine whatever scenario you want. Do they return to playing music? Do they rule the world? Do Nate and Abigail have the most metal wedding ever? Do Toki and Skwisgaar still pretend to hate each other? Whatever you want “rebuilding” to mean, it can and it does. This, maybe even moreso than The Ocean Galaktik, is truly a love letter to the listener. A gift. An absolute salve on the burn we’d all felt for so many years of unresolved plot line. A promise, that Small isn’t done and Galaktikon will be rebuilt with new stories and new potential. Overall the tone is hopeful, peaceful, soothing - a satisfying goodbye to five goofballs Small loved, and that we all loved, too.

#metalocalypse #galaktikon #galaktikon ii #galaktikon ii lyrics #metal music #album anniversary #metalocalypse season 5 #long post

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snarktheater · 6 years

Text

Ready Player One — Level Two (Chapters 17-18)

“I’m not crazy about reality, but it’s still the only place to get a decent meal. —Groucho Marx”

Hey, at least the book isn’t quoting a fictional text that only exists in its own universe this time. That said, you know, when the quotes you give the biggest highlight to all have to do with how much the world sucks, it’s kind of killing my buzz about the whole “being alive” thing. Oh, and I guess it makes it look like you’re trying too hard to be edgy.

But I guess these are all shallow, surface problems. Let’s dig deeper as we enter Level Two and find out how much worse the infodumping gets. Because yes, it’s back in full force.

See, the book actually does justify splitting itself in multiple parts. At least for now. Specifically, it does so by way of a time skip. Well…sort of. More of a compressed time frame of a few months, which is mostly summarized to us through Wade and Artemis’s chatlogs.

Because, yeah, they’ve been chatting. Or, I should say, Wade has been harassing Artemis until she caved in and agreed to talk to him.

Parzival: Yes! Hey! I can’t believe you finally responded to one of my chat requests. Art3mis: Only to ask you to cut it out.

I will skip over the ensuing banter, because yes, of course they start bantering in spite of Artemis making it very clear she does not want to talk to him. Banter which pretty quickly takes a deep, hard dive into…questionable territory.

Parzival: So you’re telling me, definitively, that you are a female? IRL? […] After analyzing the available data, I’ve concluded that you must be a female. […] Because I don’t want to find out that I’ve got a crush on some 300 lb. dude named Chuck who lives in his mother’s basement in suburban Detroit.

I think there should be a ban on men using the word “female” as a noun. Preferably until the end of time. The correlation between that and misogyny is too high. Although, I don’t know, maybe it’s a useful alarm bell.

Artemis challenges that, and expresses suspicion that he wouldn’t care about her personality, and not “the package it comes in”. Parzival claims that he totally does, and…put a pin in that, we’ll get back to it in a short moment. But first, Artemis flat-out rejects the idea of engaging in romance with Wade, mostly on the grounds that he doesn’t really know her, only the side of her she lets him see. Which is fair, although I’m not sure if you can really act like that’s only true online (or even more true online, in their world at least).

But if you think rejection is going to deter Wade “I have stalked this girl for years on her blog” Watts, well…I mean, refusing to take no for an answer is how this chapter started, so you know that’s not happening.

So he insists. And insists. And insists some more. Oh, and did you know the Sixers tried to blow up Wade’s trailer?

Art3mis: You shouldn’t reveal stuff like that! I could be a Sixer spy trying to profile you. Parzival: The Sixers already profiled me, remember? They blew up my house. Well, it was a trailer. But they blew it up. Art3mis: I know. I’m still freaked out about that. I can only imagine how you feel. Parzival: Revenge is a dish best served cold.

You sure sound torn up about it, Wade.

Yeah, the book is basically going to flat-out ignore the ramifications of Wade’s house blowing up and him being forced to move to a new location and forge himself a new identity. No consequences—not practical ones nor emotional ones. It’s especially weird, because…moving to Columbus on the money he earns through his endorsement deals was already his plan to begin with. If the only purpose was to get Wade from point A to point B, the setup was already there. But since there’s no other consequences to IOI blowing up his home…what was the point of IOI blowing up his home? From a pure storytelling perspective, I mean? I’m just puzzled at this point.

Somehow, Artemis is still talking to Wade, so they start playing a game of one question each. We do learn that Artemis is 19 years old, studying poetry and creative writing in college. Not very important information, but it’s something. Assuming she’s telling the truth, but I’m sure she is.

And now, we get back to that “Wade doesn’t care about the package Artemis comes in, only her personality”. With bonus transphobia!

Parzival: […] Now, spill it. Are you a woman? And by that I mean are you a human female who has never had a sex-change operation? Art3mis: That’s pretty specific. Parzival: Answer the question, Claire. Art3mis: I am, and always have been, a human female.

I…hopefully don’t need to explain the problem with this, right? It’s basically transphobia 101: he states that trans women aren’t women, or at least not “really” women; he overfocuses on their body and specifically genitals (using some outdated and offensive terminology even by 2011 standards, I’m fairly certain); and they both equate genitals with gender, since Wade acts like you can only even be a woman post-transition, and Artemis’s response implies that pre-transition trans women aren’t women.

But it’s even worse in the light of that thing I told you to put a pin on. Because if Wade doesn’t care about her body, only her personality…shouldn’t it not matter that she’s trans? Hell, shouldn’t it not matter that she’s trans and pre-transition? And if he does care about her genitals, shouldn’t it still not matter that she’s trans if she’s post-transition?

I’ll stop this discussion here before I myself get too close to talking about trans people’s genitals. All I’ll say is this: if you think the transphobia is an isolated issue, you’re not thinking hard enough. With this statement, Wade doesn’t just prove he doesn’t consider trans women as real women, he also establishes that he does care about Artemis’s body.

It’s easy to make a grand statement about how you love women no matter how they look. It’s much harder to maintain that stance in how you actually talk to and about women. It’s a similar problem that plagued the Nerd Porn Auteur poem: it’s one thing to say you want all women and all body types to be viewed as attractive, but when the rest of your poem clearly establishes that you just want to enforce your own standard, it belies your thesis statement.

For the record, I knew this quote was coming, but it’s still awful to read, especially in the context of this guy harassing her into talking to him in the first place, and repeatedly making advances at her in spite of her constant rejection.

You’d think there would be some lull in the misogyny in this book, but apparently that’s a tall order.

Finally, Artemis says she has to go, and says they shouldn’t talk again until one of them finds the egg. Wade’s reaction?

Parzival: Can I at least keep e-mailing you? […] You can’t stop me from e-mailing you. Art3mis: Actually, I can. I can block you on my contact list. Parzival: You wouldn’t do that, though. Would you? Art3mis: Not if you don’t force me to. Parzival: Harsh. Unnecessarily harsh.

You’re literally saying you’ll harass her more, so…no, clearly it’s not “unnecessarily harsh”, it’s exactly the right response.

So of course, after a scene break…

I started e-mailing her.

Yup. He starts emailing her weekly, and Artemis, for some reason that’s totally unrelated to being written by a man who’s likely never experienced that kind of harassment and also has no empathy for the people who do, replies to him. Well, not just replies to him; she starts going back and forth and goes all the way to meeting him in private chatrooms.

We played vintage board games, watched movies, and listened to music. We talked for hours. Long, rambling conversations about everything under the sun. Spending time with her was intoxicating. We seemed to have everything in common. We shared the same interests. We were driven by the same goal. She got all of my jokes. She made me laugh. She made me think. She changed the way I saw the world. I’d never had such a powerful, immediate connection with another human being before. Not even with Aech.

For the record, while this is still pretty shallow character and relationship development, I feel like this might be the closest we’ll get to fleshing things out in this book. This is as good as it gets. Or…as good as it’s gotten so far, I should probably say. I have my expectations for what comes next, but it’s wrong to assume, kids.

Speaking of rushed relationship development, we’re now in full skimming mode, to the point where Wade and Artemis now share their research regarding the Hunt, even though that’s basically antithetical to both their established characters. Is this what love is for straight people, becoming the opposite of who you were before? No wonder they have so many hang-ups about marriage.

Wade also tells us about how he missed his graduation and got his diploma by email, and…you gotta wonder at which point the Sixers will catch on to him still being alive, you know. I mean, the endorsement ads with Parzival, I can get that these could go on with Wade dead. But school? Did nobody even bother to identify the corpses in the stack?

If you think I’m asking this for something utterly trivial, don’t worry, we’ll get back to that too. But enough about the plot; I guess we’re giving up on it now.

When I finished school, I’d intended to devote all of my time to the Hunt. But all I really wanted to do was spend time with Art3mis.

Yeah. The girl’s what distracted you from the Hunt. Not the attempt against your life, though. That barely registered as a blip on the radar.

We also get a brief recap of Wade leveling up to 99, the maximum level in the OASIS. This includes a description of a quest where he and Artemis play as characters from the Goonies. And you might be wondering: wait, weren’t the flicksyncs supposed to be this revolutionary new feature? Well, apparently all the quests in the OASIS (or most of them, anyway) are also based on just…replaying the story of existing properties. In fact, it’s starting to look like the OASIS has two types of planets: the ones built by players, like IOI’s planets, and the ones that are built to match existing properties. Which begs the question: what was the OASIS’s launch content, when it had neither of these? Just the starting planet and Ludus?

Anyway, the book suddenly remembers about the Easter Egg, in the most random of fashions imaginable: by having Wade go on a rant about how there are no longer toys in cereal boxes.

It was a tragedy, in my opinion. Another sign that civilization was going straight down the tubes.

Yeah. Toys in cereals, the true canary in the civilization coal mine. Good job there.

But anyway. From this, Wade remembers a hacker from the ’70s (and…yeah, the 70s are fair game all of a sudden) who took on the moniker Captain Crunch, who used the toy whistle from the eponymous cereal to hack into analog phones. From this, wade decides that “the captain” and “the whistle” in the Quatrain are references to…the cereal. Not the hacker. Sure sounds to me like you’re stretching the guess a little far there, book.

I mean, even if he’d stuck to just making the connection, this is still just the character getting divine inspiration to solve the puzzle. Nothing of actual import causes this reveal. This passage is literally introduced as “Then, one morning” and him thinking of the connection. Because, you know, it’s not like giving your readers a riddle they’re able to solve along with the characters would keep them engaged or anything.

And with that random epiphany out of the way, we’re back to a whole lot of nothing, since Eureka moments are apparently the only way Wade solves any of the riddles. And by “nothing” I mean more obsessing over Artemis, and how he wants to meet her face to face, even though earlier this chapter he wouldn’t even send her a picture of himself.

I was certain she had strong feelings for me, but she also kept me at a distance. No matter how much I revealed about myself to her—and I wound up revealing just about everything, including my real name—she always adamantly refused to reveal any details about her own life. All I knew was that she was nineteen and that she lived somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. That was all she would tell me.

You know, the impression I’m getting from this is that you misread her completely and she’s not interested. I mean, she keeps rejecting your attempts at communication unless you pressure her so much that it’s easier to just talk to you, and she won’t give any personal detail. That does not strike me as someone who’s into you.

Wade also grows distant from Aech in this time, because fuck friendship now that he has a woman to stalk, I guess. I mean, of course, they barely qualified as friends in the first place, so…no big loss there.

Somehow, without my realizing it, my obsession with finding Halliday’s Easter egg was gradually being supplanted by my obsession with Art3mis.

I was informed that I used the “Big red flags” gif too soon last time, and…yeah, I’m seeing why now. This is just the worst case scenario. You’re romanticizing some really unhealthy behavior there, book.

And it keeps going. They go on dates now! In the OASIS of course. And they do so in spite of Artemis protesting that it’s not safe for Wade to make public appearances, since, again, IOI wants him dead. Plus, they’re afraid of tabloids.

But there was one exception. One night, she took me to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show in a huge stadium-sized movie theater on the planet Transsexual, where they held the most highly attended and longest-running weekly screening of the movie in the OASIS.

Oh dear. Let’s…let’s move on. I’m not touching the fact that the book dropped Rocky Horror in the same chapter as it featured an incredibly transphobic statement. Someone more qualified will have to take that one.

That night was easily the most fun I’d ever had in my life up to that point. I told Art3mis so afterward, and that was when she leaned over and kissed me for the first time. I couldn’t feel it, of course. But it still set my heart racing.

Yes, yes. I know. Obviously the book means for her to be into him and all my earlier ranting about her not being interested was wrong. Ha, ha. Except, you know, not. Of course she’ll fall for him—she’s designed to, as the love interest. The issue is with what the book chose to portray as her being interested. That is to say, her showing every sign of disinterest. Which is rape culture. No, I’m not mincing words—it is. Equating a woman’s constant rejection to her being into you is exactly what rape culture is about. If you look at what rapists say when on trial, the defense is almost always a variation on “I thought she wanted it”. So this book, providing a fantasy where she really is into it, deep down…yeah, it’s rape culture. And if that phrase sets off your triggers and you have a problem with that, big whoop, just re-read the paragraph and skip them this time. The message still stands.

Thankfully, we don’t have to deal with them being together for too long.

And then one night, like a complete idiot, I told her how I felt.

Well, mostly because the book probably couldn’t handle writing a romance where the characters actually are together for very long, what with its inability to write emotions. But sure, let’s go with “telling someone how you feel about them is an idiot move”. There’s no way that could feed into toxic masculinity or some bad relationship advice.

So, after this line, we get a chapter break, which I guess is supposed to act as a cliffhanger of sorts, since after that the book backtracks a little to set the stage. I’ll go over this quickly: remember Ogden Morrow, Halliday’s best friend? He hosts his birthday party in the OASIS every year, and it’s a big exclusive event, and of course the High Five are invited. Aech is busy, Daito and Shoto never enter a PvP area unless necessary, which leaves Artemis and Wade. Artemis wants to go, and Wade decides to as well to impress her or something.

She said she couldn’t pass up an invitation from Og himself, despite the obvious risks. So, naturally, I told her I would meet her there at the club. It was the only way I could avoid looking like a total wuss.

Wow. You big strong manly man. I’m sure she’ll swoon right into your arms and—oh wait, you ended the previous chapter by telling us you were gonna confess your feelings and it’d end badly. You kinda blew your load early there to be trying to milk some tension out of this there, buddy.

And I hear you. Back up, you say, a PvP zone? Yes! Ogden Morrow has his party in “the Distracted Globe, shortened to ”the Globe". No Shakespeare involved here, since he’s not from the 80s; instead, it’s a zero-gravity dance club. Except you can swim and dance in zero gravity, because this book for nerds didn’t think to research its physics properly. I mean, what are the odds that a bunch of nerds would criticize the science of your science fiction book, right?

And it’s also a PvP zone. I guess Ogden’s party runs on the honor system and hopes that no one is going to attack anyone here.

The book spends a massive paragraph describing Wade’s car to us. It’s a modified DeLorean crammed with references to other sci-fi movies, because apparently, the book doesn’t understand class. And yes, I’m forced to point out that Cline has a very real version of this car:

Which…okay, not the worst thing ever, I guess, but don’t you think it’s a little on the nose?

After this (and another paragraph telling us how everyone will want to steal his car, but it doesn’t matter, because he has a miniaturizing spell and keeps the car on his person, because MMORPGs letting you put your mounts in your inventory is not a concept that the author has heard of), it’s on to the party. In which Artemis and Wade name-drop a bunch of songs, and…dance. Kind of.

Her avatar lost its human form and dissolved into a pulsing amorphous blob that changed its size and color in synch with the music. I selected the mirror partner option on my dance software and began to do the same. My avatar’s limbs and torso began to flow and spin like taffy, encircling Art3mis, while strange color patterns flowed and shifted across my skin.

Is this someone’s kink? I’m extremely confused that this is the imagery you chose to go for, especially when the book tells us everyone else on the (spherical, zero-gravity) dance floor starts following suit and dancing as colored blobs.

After this, it’s time for the cliché slow dance, and Wade tells Artemis he’s in love with her.

“You aren’t in love with me, Z,” she said. “You don’t even know me.” […] “You only see what I want you to see.” She placed a hand on her chest. “This isn’t my real body, Wade. Or my real face.” “I don’t care! I’m in love with your mind—with the person you are. I couldn’t care less about the packaging.” “You’re just saying that,” she said. There was an unsteadiness in her voice. “Trust me. If I ever let you see me in person, you would be repulsed.”

Such foreshadowing. As for his statement…see my earlier rant about his transphobic statement.

Once again, Artemis keeps telling him no, Wade keeps insisting, and she decides they have to stop hanging out.

“Are you breaking up with me?” “No, Z,” she said firmly. “I am not breaking up with you. That would be impossible, because we are not together.” There was suddenly venom in her voice. “We’ve never even met!”

She’s right, of course. But before the book can linger on that detail for too long, let’s have the Sixers randomly attack the club! Which they do by sending troops inside, even though we established the game has nukes already and they could just make the whole place explode without wasting any avatars. Whatever. Fight scene time.

Then I realized that most of the Sixers’ incoming fire seemed to be directed at me and Art3mis. They were here to kill the two of us. […] I knew my own recklessness had brought them down on us. I cursed myself for being so foolish.

…Are you implying Artemis wouldn’t have been a valuable enough target? No, of course it’s all about you. Dick.

This scene, by the way, goes nowhere. It’s devoid of tension. Mostly because, before anything really major can happen, Ogden reveals that he apparently has god mode turned on, and fries all the Sixers in the club. Thus also making the attack entirely pointless. Well, unless Ogden does turn out to be the main villain and this is a showcase of the threat he is. Which I’m still somewhat convinced he might be. Or should be.

But anyway, when the dust settles, Artemis is gone, and Wade is sad, I guess. Boo hoo. Whatever shall he do, the object of his obsession is gone.

#ready player one #ernest cline #book reviews #ya books #young adult #books #young adult books #ya #reviews #book #book review #review #st: ready player one

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anannd-morrighan-lus-mor-blog · 7 years

Text

Why I call the Morrigan “Mother” (Please Hold Your Hate Mail Until the End)

You know, I think when most people are speaking of the Morrigan, even the aspect of the Morrigan that they work with, something like this is what first comes to mind.

(The Morrigan, artist unknown)

And this is both right, and fine. Because no matter whatever other aspect you work with her in, or whatever constellation of the Morrigna has called to you, the Morrigan is a war goddess (or spirit, as I have heard others say, but this post here will offend you enough...we’ll get to that in another post...), and very likely her biggest focus is war, all aspects of war. But especially victorious, bloody war. She is not a soft goddess. She is not a tender touch. She rains fire and blood on her enemies (literally, read the lore), her battle scream incites her favored side to rage and strikes fear into the hearts of those who oppose her. She is the death of Cu Chulainn, one of the greatest heroes of Ulster, because he unknowningly offered her extreme disrespect. She is still, despite her growth in popularity, one of the more feared and respected goddesses in the modern pagan world along with Hekate, Kali (when we appropriate her from Hinduism, that is) and Hel. She is Weapon, she is the Weapon of Weapons, as she is Leader and Beserker and Strategist, the worst atrocities of war and the best, most bloody results. At the end, she is the gatherer of Macha’s Acorns: the heads and souls of the slain. (The head was the spiritual seat in the Celtic World.) She is bloody death smiling at you at the end of a spear point, and the crow calling out your name.

Which is why so many people look at me like I’ve grown a second head whenever I call her “Mother” and insist that motherhood is one of her little known areas.

And the images that come to them are likely something along these lines...

Happy, lovely, fluffy mother who loves us all and will heal our boo boos and make the earth bloom with flowers and unicorns! (This is “Gaia” by an unknown artist, by the way.)

Well, no, mostly no.

Or they think of this one!

Fecund! Fertile! Bursting with life! The all-source of life that serves as Mother to All and that is her only REAL function! (Venus of Willendorf that we all know and love.)

Erm, no. Again, mostly no. I mean...no.

She’s a Maiden, Mother and Crone since she’s a triplicate! Of COURSE she’s a mother since it’s a part of the...

...I can’t even finish that. Good Heavens No!

(I think this sculpture is by Maxine Miller, who actually did a very nice Morrigan statue.)

Okay, and since I am who I am, I am going to get this out of way now...

She’s the peaceful, pacifist, loving mother! In her heart! She secretly wants everything to be all peace and all good and she wants to do nothing but watch over us and pray for us...

Again. No. No no no no no.

Have we got that out of our systems, now? All the ridiculous assumptions that are often made when connecting the Morrigan with the word “Mother”? Good. Let’s talk about how the Morrigan IS a Mother, and how the Morrigan accomodates such a role, and how limiting our gods/spirits is just as bad as making them out to be everything for everyone.

---Why we can’t limit her to lore, why we can’t rely only on UPG---

The lore is all we have to get culturally significant information on the Morrigan and concerning the Tuatha De Dannan. Notice I didn’t necessarily say “accurate”- the Celts did not keep much in the way of written records, at least not for the time period wer’re looking at... for materials that speak of a pre-Christian age, most of them were written down by Christians from the twelfth century onwards. While the great cycles of Irish Mythology have been recorded for us to enjoy, they were not exactly copied down by people without motive or who did not change the texts to suit their own religious views. This is not to say that everything, or even the majority, was changed to demonize or ridicule the old gods, but we’re pretty sure it happened. An example is the appearance of the Dagda being described as “gross”, with a tunic that barely covers his stomach or backside (depending on who you ask) and a penis that drags the ground in a comic display. We all know the Dagda as a great King, mighty Warrior and Father god who had a voracious appetite for life, women, mead and porridge. We know that Christians sometimes twisted the appearance or characteristics of the pagan gods to make Jesus seem better by comparison. We also know that fertility gods and humorous appearances (especially extra large genitals) go together like peas and carrots, and if you don’t believe me, google “Sheela Na Gig”. There are places where it is really hard to tell!

Further, it’s likely safe to say that the lore we have is likely not all of it. There are myths from many cultures that have been lost to time, and it is a possibility that important myths of the Morrigan are included in that group.

However, the lore is what we have, and through it, we are able to glimpse the stories and mythos of the Tuatha De Dannan, because much still survives that pulses with the life from before the first century. While this should be our first source, we must also keep the other points in mind.

Sometimes, the Morrigan will grant us UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis). Sometimes, this is something meant for you and the Morrigan only, and this is fine. Sometimes, UPG might hearken back to lost lore, and the best way to judge that is to see how many others end up drawing the same conclusions...like following a thread. You can’t prove it, but something about it rings with authenticity. And...sometimes you’re just hearing what you want to hear. We all do it. I can usually tell this happened to me or someone else if the UPG fizzles fast, or if someone clings to it for dear life. If there is something to it, the UPG will stand for itself. Don’t discount your UPG, but don’t run after all your UPG...compare it to the lore.

A good example...why do so many of us assume the Morrigan’s hair is black? I mean, yeah, she loves her ravens, but there aren’t a lot of references to the Morrigan with black hair. The majority of the lore states the Morrigan has blazing red hair, red eyes brows and in one instance, “9 undone tresses” which means her hair is likely very, very long! Or full. She even appeared to Cu Chulainn in mostly head to foot red: hair, eye brows, dress, cloak. I have even seen references to her eyes being red. There are even references to her being “white” or “brilliant in color!”

And yet...so many of her representations are primarily dressed in black, adorned with black hair, with the head of a raven, with raven’s wings...and she is pleased! It’s because this UPG has become part of her presentation, and since it does not conflict with her nature, she is pleased by it, can be connected with by it. Is it explicitly in the lore? No. But it works!

Finally, keep in mind that the Morrigan may choose to change (even more than a hairstyle), and while we would still have her past forms still valid, there are also new forms that may or may not make themselves known. Brigid is an excellent example of this: She was/is Brigid the goddess of poetry, smiths and midwifery (among other things), she was/is St. Brigit, also called Mary of the Gales and proved to be mostly, if not entirely based on Brigid, and she is also Mama Brigitte, one of the few white lwa (in Voodoo, wife of Baron Samedi) and a result of the comingling Haitians and Irish (I think especially in New Orleans, but I could be wrong). (The more romantic story is the Baron fell in love with Brigitte, seduced her and brought her from Ireland to Haiti.) The same life runs through these figures, and each form is powerful, true and alive in it’s own right. Each form is still accessible without taking from them other, through the story still moves forward.

And yes, the above is my own UPG. Tear it apart later, there is more.

---The Morrigan is MY Mother---

Just like so many have matron goddesses, tutelary spirits and others that take a motherly role, the Morrigan has taken a motherly role with me. I address her as mother. Even over the years when I pursued other interests, she has always been there as my mother. And now, she has gone from being in the background to taking me in hand. Since then, she has not only acted as my High Queen, my High Priestess and my Lady, she’s been my mother, too.

This is solely a personal part of our relationship. I’ve seen her come to others this way, and I’ve seen her come to others a different way. It doesn’t have to be the same for everyone, but this is actually the number one reason I call her mother.

That’s it. That simple.

---The Morrigan is a mother, and no, it doesn’t necessarily make her a Mother---

I’ve not often seen references to the Morrigan’s children, though they do exist and I will mention them briefly.

1. Meche, sometimes said to be in the form of a drakkon, sometimes not, definitely said to have a heart, or three hearts that were filled with three serpents that would devour all of Ireland. He was killed by Dian Cecht.

2. Sometimes she is said to have Danu’s triplet sons who were smiths, their names escape me. (I’m writing most of this off the top of my head.)

3. Sometimes she is said to have 20-30 sons and 20-30 daughters (or even 50 of each!)...a testament to her fertility and strength, surely.

Being a mother doesn’t necessarily make her a Mother goddess. But to deny her motherhood in this way is insulting to Herself. To borrow from another mythos, Nephytys was the mother of Anubis but NOT considered a Mother goddess. To outright say, “Just because she gave birth doesn’t make her a mother” is really blasphemous, and the same goes for the Morrigan.

Even if you never agree that the Morrigan is a Mother, she is always mother.

(The Morrigan by Unknown...see blog in water mark)

---The Morrigan’s Many Faces---

There are honestly so many ways to see the Morrigan, so many ways she can appear, that it makes your head spin...part of this is because she’s a shape shifter and can pretty much appear the way she wants. This is made abundantly clear in the Tain, when she and Cu Chulainn are making their respective animosities known to one another. So already, we have a goddess who can appear as she pleases and who, by her nature, takes up many aspects.

The Morrigan very obviously oversees death and war and sorcery, which I think we’ve covered above. She also oversees prophecy (as evidenced by the prophecy she gave at the end of the war with the Formorians...) and poetry. Not the same kind of poetry as Brigid, but specifically poetry linked to prophecy or war. Nevertheless, I doubt that skill in the craft is lost on her. She oversees sovereignty (likely through her association with Macha) and guardianship of the land...some say she IS the land (hang on, we’re getting there), and fate, and I’ve even seen some people insist upon rebirth since she is so intimate with death. Same with performing the role of psychopomp, being compared to Norse Valkyries. Perhaps we are straying from lore, but some of this is relevant. I have even seen that the Morrigan represents the full circle of life, to represent water and overflowing emotions (and boy, is THAT another post!) and, finally, that she is indeed a mother, and a fertility goddess. Which is appropriate, since she’s also a goddess of sex, sacred sex and the marriage with the land in particular (see the Dagda). She is also associated with ghosts, with the Sidhe and witchcraft, usually of the darker or negative kind. Livestock was also a big part of her guardianship, as are storms, which can be linked back to the rain of fire and blood mentioned before. Some of this, we will return to.

So, wither or not we can find this in the lore (and most of it we can), we can certainly see where a lot of this comes from. I’ve heard a lot more over the years, but I’ve only included a short variety of what I personally give credence to. Your mileage may vary, and that’s okay. But let’s continue into briefly talking about the Morrigna.

The Morrigan is often simply listed as a singular entity, The Morrigan. And as any of us know, the Morrigan can be seen to seen to be a name or a title: An Mhor Rhaign, usually translated as “The Great Queen” or “The Phantom Queen”. Seeing this, I’d say that Queenship and Sovergnity, along with Identity with the Land, go hand-in-hand with this. Just sayin’!

She is often associated, or identified with other goddesses with their own identities, termed the Morrigna (or as I heard before, each Morrigna is like a piece of the whole Morrigan...don’t know how I feel about that, but I thought I’d include it anyway). Sometimes, the Morrigna as seen as sisters of the Morrigan, or as sisters that make-up the Morrigan.

Many of the Morrigna are as follows...I’ll leave their Wikis rather than do a lot of writing and distract from the article:

Badb: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Badb

Macha: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macha

Nemain:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nemain

Fea: Sorry, she doesn’t have a wiki, but you can find her online.

Anu:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anu_(Irish_goddess)

Most often, you will see references to Badb, Macha and the Morrigan. This is the primary triplicity in the lore.

Sometimes, you’ll see Badb, Macha and Nemain or Badb, Macha and Anu. I’ve even seen 3 Badbs or 3 Nemains. I’ve seen UPG combinations. The list goes on.

But let’s go back to the primary triplicity...this one is found in the lore, I might mention. The listing is for Badb, Macha and the Morrigan, whose name is Anand. Which, in case you didn’t know, is one of the cognates of Anu.

Now, we can look at this two ways:

1. So this just means that Anu is one of the goddesses associated with the Morrigan. Anu, who everyone probably associates with all those pictures of mothers that I posted to be antagonizing. Who personifies the land, might be the same as Danu (who IS Mother of the Tuatha De Dannan, IS a Mother Goddess)...who is all about all those life and rebirth and fertility things I mentioned...

2. Anannd is the Morrigan. Which means Anu and the Morrigan are the same goddess in different aspects. What about Danu? Which means Anu REALLY isn’t who we think she is, at least personality wise.

I really have doubts about #1. For the simple fact that the other goddesses are associated with her, and Anu was said to BE her, outright. So that really leaves us with #2...which we should look into further.

--- Anu and the Morrigan---

Some information on Anu...Anu is mostly known for being a bounteous Earth-mother type, associated with the wealth and abundance of the Earth. Morpheus Ravenna (Pg.101) also suggests alternative definitions of the name, such as womb or vessel. Hmmm! Her breasts are immortalized as the Paps of Anu (and I do believe the Morrigan has a similar monument): two mountains in green and lovely Ireland in the shape of breasts, with expertly placed cairns on the top and center. While she doesn’t have any known myths herself, she has been described as “the one who nursed the gods”, and she has often been put in the shadow of, or completely identified, with Danu (more in a minute). To quote Ravenna, again, “...once we have disentangled her from the shadow of Danu, we can more easily recognize her own maternal identification as a territorial land-goddess and provider of wealth and plenty through the land itself...Anu is mother not in the sense of primal creatrix, but in the sense of one who nurses, nourishes and sustains.” (Pg.106) A goddess of the Earth, of the fertility of the land.

As I will say below, there is more than one way to Mother.

(By the way, “Book of the Great Queen” by Morpheus Ravenna is my absolute favorite out there, and is worth every penny to get it. I heartily suggest you get your own copy.)

Okay, fine: I’ve pointed out that the Morrigan and Anu are equated and I’ve talked a bit about Anu. It sounds like they have nothing in common and we should leave Anu and Danu together and forget this whole mess.

Well...except that Anu and the Morrigan DO have some pretty important things in common.

- not only is she equated with the Morrigan several times (yep, several), she is listed, with Macha and Badb, as a daughter of Ernmas.

- She is EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED with the Morrigan, as the goddess bearing the name as a title. Morrigan, who is Anand could be read as “The Great Queen, who is Anand”, using the name Morrigan as a title.

- They both intimately identify with the land and fertility and they both have similar monuments, i.e. the Paps.

- Both are linked to poetry.

-Anu, like the Morrigan, is thought to be one of the wives of the Dagda.

-Sometimes, Anu is said to bear three sons who are smiths, similar to the Morrigan.

On the surface, they are very different. But underneath, through the cult of the land, fertility and sovereignty, they link intimately. The lore we have to identify with even identifies the two as one. You CAN’T get more explicit as that!

(Ravenna, Pg. 102-105)

However, that leaves the question of Danu. Some like to say that Anu was absorbed by Danu, and that the two are one divinity. They certainly seem to have more in common.

Except that scholars and pagans are split over wither or not Danu existed in the ancient world. Unlike with Anu, Danu’s existence may be purely literary as even her name is a reconstruction from the name of her people. Many of the traces we do find of her can be attributed to either Anu or the Morrigan. She and the Morrigan have the same father and again, Danu is the mother of the same set of triplets.

However, I would like to say that the Tuatha De Dannan would not be the same without Danu, and whatever her origins, she is a living, vibrant goddess now! (Perhaps, evidence of UPG gone right.) As opposed to Anu’ s earthy fertility, Danu has become a Mother in the way of Divine Creatrix, an ancestral figure, a maternal source of secrets, strategy and wisdom...the personification, if you will, of the divine waters of creation.

And while I leave it up to you to make up your own mind, I do not equate the two. I think of them (The Morrigan and Danu) as sisters with tastes in common, but who are different enough as they wouldn’t be mistaken one for the other. Perhaps the absorption of Anu’s cult, at whatever time, has done this? Finally, I do not equate the two since it is not in the lore, and is not at all mentioned.

And so, Anu/Anand and the Morrigan are one...Anu gives the Morrigan a whole different presence, the Morrigan gives Anu a different vibe. Perhaps both names fit the same complex, savage, loving, wonderful goddess.

This is actually why I call myself Anand Morrighan- in homage to my mother as a Mother of Life, as the land upon which I stand that feeds me, helps be get stronger, shapes me and then will eat my bones and drink my blood when I am placed back in her arms.

(Yes, I am aware that my Irish is terrible. I’m working on it. In the meantime, it is what it is!)

Because of course your Land shapes you. Where you live. Where you’re from. Where you’re going. Where you will rest. It’s a two-way relationship, though we don’t know it anymore.

---So, what kind of Mother IS the Morrigan?---

Well, to draw from other cultures, she’s not Demeter. She’s not Isis. She’s not the Coatlicue or Gaia and she’s not any other you can think of. Although, these mothers also have their terrible aspects.

But considering everything, and using the Wiki definition (since it’s there and easy to get to), “A mother goddess is a goddess who represents, or is a personification of nature, motherhood, fertility, creation, destruction or who embodies the bounty of the earth”...The Morrigan can MORE than add “Mother” to her titles, based on this alone.

Let me ask you one question...why assume an Earth Mother is soft? Is Gaia soft? Would Uranus call her soft, who loved him and them had him castrated? How about Coatlicue, who wore a necklace of human hearts, hands and skulls, and was depicted as a loving mother and insatiable monster...still a mother? Is Demeter always soft, who would have let creation die unless her daughter was returned to her, who still lets the world freeze, in some parts to death, waiting for Persephone? I’m sure you can think of other examples.

But don’t worry, the land is a brutal mother, and she has to be- I am not saying that the Morrigan is a fluffy, sugary mother. Quite the opposite. Because, well, what is life, if not war?

In our cushy lives, we’ve forgotten that survival is not a guarantee. Some places in the world truly know this. The same land that lifts up the crop devastates it, or withholds it all together. Storms run through and our blood feeds the earth, just as the same storm cleanses the junk we’ve stuffed the land with. She, as the fertility of the earth, makes the buds blossom and as the land in blight, makes them wither. Livestock flourish, as if cradled, and then fall to disease. The weak and feeble among the newborn do not survive the winter. The same hand that blesses, chastises.

The Morrigan is the mother who would fight to the death to defend her children, who would sacrifice our of her own self to nourish us and watch us thrive...but she’s still the same mother who would cull the pack, leave behind who couldn’t follow and, without hesitation, fatally wound to ultimately cure.

Because life is war, in the end. And the Morrigan is a goddess of war. All aspects of war. But especially victorious, bloody war. And life is a bloody endeavor from the beginning.

Our Mother is a good mother...but she’s a brutal Mother, too. I believe the term often used is “Dark Mother”? She is strong, warlike and uncompromising, even in her tenderness and her love. But having her love is more than worth it.

(Mother by Someone really awesome)

#Morrigan #Celtic #faery magick #celtic reconstructionism #Celtic Shamanism

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riccardoscire · 7 years

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The greatest love story ever, starring Nina and me

It’s almost two am in Soho when Nina asks if I want water, and that’s the first thing she says before I know anything about her. “Water?” She must have sensed I’m pretty drunk just as I’m sure she is — it’s Saturday night in Soho so what else could we be but poor drunk souls. The part of me that still lives in a romantic comedy written by an overpaid obese screenwriter thinks of this as the beginning of the greatest love story ever, starring Nina and me: «It started with her asking if I wanted water at 2 am in Soho, it ended at 11 am with me asking her if she wanted coffee the morning after in her two-bedroom apartment near Brick Lane». But the part of me that’s hanging on in the real world says no, no, no, a softer version of Amy Winehouse, and smile — the most decent smile I’m able to give right now. Nina seems to like me anyway. And I can tell she’s looking for something she couldn’t find in the club next door that we’ve both just come out of, and I can tell it just took her one look in my eyes to decide I might be the right one for tonight, so I think I’d better tell her the only thing I’m sure know about myself: watch out, Nina, ‘cause I’m just great at first, but then the magic fades. She still gives me the water nonetheless and as I drink it she introduces herself as Nina. I tell her my name and that I’d never met anyone named Nina in my whole life and now she’s the second Nina I meet in the last two weeks. She smiles and tells me «I hope I’ll be your favorite after tonight», and that her real name’s not even Nina, they just call her pequena with the tilde, so she’s Nina to everyone; I smile but already know how this ends ‘cause it always starts like this: they want to be number one and when they’ve got everything they need they’ll just drop out. After years of telling HER she was the best person in this whole entire universe she must have started believing me, and then I wasn’t needed anymore. I think of one of my favorite writers, who said «love makes everything wonderful, including you». I think I even say it out loud, even if it doesn’t have to do with anything, but Nina doesn’t hear this part, maybe I don’t really say it, maybe the water’s drugged, but I hear her suggesting to go back dancing. The Christmas lights, still hanging over our heads, are the only thing that’s lighting our face. I think of that song, «I thought I loved you / it was just how you looked in the light», and pity the fact I’ll never be able to quote it about HER, ‘cause it really wasn’t because of the lights. More like she’d given color to my black and white world. I think of what the overpaid obese screenwriter would say about this picture: a hot twenty-something spanish girl, London at nighttime, chaotic and cosy at the same time, Nina trying to seduce me and me thinking about HER who’s thinking about someone else — but then I think even he must have gone to bed, bored to death to be stuck in script-town where everything always ends the same: you want something from someone who can’t give it to you but wants to give it to someone else who wants it from someone else instead and so on, and sometimes for a brief moment (that lasts a week or a year or a decade) two people want the same thing at the same time from the same person and that’s what’s commonly known as l-o-v-e, as if the whole world stopped to stare in silence, stuck in awe, but then everything goes back to normal, everyone wants something or someone else they can’t have and the world goes back to brutal chaos. Nina puts her hand on my arm and asks me how my night’s been so far. I tell her I got bored in the club and wanted to go back to my hotel to read some poetry and then collapse — until I met her. She says it’s full of pretty girls inside, and I answer I’ve talked with this english girl I quite fancied for quite some time, until she said she runs a fashion blog — and I ran away from her faster than Usain Bolt. I’m not ready to go to bed with a fashion blogger, I don’t think I’ll ever be. Nina laughs. She says «I’m jealous but I’m glad», and I must look like that’s the last thing I care about on earth, ‘cause the next thing she asks is if I’m in love. I tell her I am, but with someone who doesn’t really exist anymore. I miss the idea of HER, I miss HER memory, but SHE’s not that person anymore, SHE sounded like a heartless and bloodless robot the last time I called HER, answering as if I was some kind of annoying relative, and that’s the saddest part of the story. I used to be HER everything and now I’m nothing. And SHE’ll never be that amazing, not ever again, and so won’t I, and we’ll never be as happy and as smiling and as young and as right as we have been, and this thing pains me to death. SHE gave up the fight and now I’m dancing on the ruins. I tell Nina people keep insisting there must be a reason for everything, and maybe there is and I just can’t see it right now, but reasons are almost always imbecile ways to talk you out of something, and this time I knew it was real love, the one and only that should last a lifetime, but then I’m reminded I’ve never really told HER I loved HER. Nina asks how. ‘Cause I can’t say things, I just write them. She asks why. I tell her it must be my father’s blood or dna, ’cause it seems to me like every negative side or trauma everybody has always goes back to your father. She asks how many times I must have wanted to tell HER but never did. I think I’ve counted them, for some time, I tell her, and I really have; every weekend I came home with this moleskine full of pages filled with pencil lines, and each line was a thought of telling HER I love you but never actually getting around to saying it. I’ll always remember how one night I was about to, I really wanted to, ‘cause it seemed the best moment of my life, but then I thought that saying it right after having made love would be too standard and then SHE fell asleep and I stared at the ceiling for a couple of hours trying to whisper it without ever getting around to doing it. To be fair, I add, we had a million different ways of saying it and meaning it and showing it, we just never said it, as if it was too banal for us. The last time I saw HER I wanted to say it, it would have been right — but the look in HER eyes told me I shouldn’t because it wouldn’t mean anything now. Nina says that maybe some art must come out of it, sometimes the world leads you to something and then takes it away in order for you to create art, and maybe that’s not even the purpose, the purpose might be that someone else will find that art useful and you’ll never know but that’s what it was all about. So I ask her why should we suffer this much if our pain won’t even be useful to us. She says she has an answer, but that to me it would sound like an imbecile way to talk me out of something. She grabs my hand and tells me she’s going back inside. I look for the overpaid obese screenwriter in my brain for some kind of ending, some kind of closure, but he must be still asleep, so I decide that for now I’ll settle on «She just wanted to fuck, but I just wanted to talk» as Nina and I make our way back into the club.

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jillmckenzie1 · 4 years

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Time Is Like a Cold Wind

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is streaming on Netflix

The movie isn’t the problem. I’m the problem. Nobody ever said art was easy, right? Making art can be something that goes beyond difficult. It can go to a place that feels like self-flagellation, as if you’re hurling your entire body against a brick wall. All in service for…what, exactly? The slim possibility that your artwork manages to escape into the wild, a viewer sees it and thinks, “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Good work.”

Art is a two-way street. It requires both an artist and a viewer of the art.* I get it, and I’m someone who works both sides of that particular street. On one side, if I’m writing, I understand sweating over a particular turn of phrase. I feel the seemingly endless rewrites to refine the project and shape it into its ideal self. I know the terror of putting in all that time and effort and feeling like it simply isn’t good enough.

On the other side, if I’m writing a review, I’m trying to figure out if what the filmmaker is doing works. Whether it’s worth our time and money, well, those questions don’t matter. Most of the time, when a filmmaker pulls it off, I enjoy the end result. Once in a while I don’t, and that’s very much the case with Charlie Kaufman’s newest film, I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

We meet a young woman (Jessie Buckley), whose name could be Lucy, Lucille, Amy, or possibly Yvonne. She gets into a car driven by Jake (Jesse Plemons). They have been dating for a few weeks, five, maybe six, or maybe far longer or shorter than that. Their plan is to drive to the desolate farm where Jake was raised, and for Jake to introduce the young woman to his parents.

The drive is a long one. We know that as this first scene with the two of them literally runs a little over 17 minutes. Do they mind the length of the journey? Perhaps, though the conversation is wide-ranging. Yet during it, we repeatedly hear her voiceover, saying, “I’m thinking of ending things.” Does that mean a break-up? Does it mean suicide? Does it mean a radical shift in her perspectives? The only thing we do know for sure is that the weather is getting worse.

The drive has a sense of foreboding, and their arrival at the farm doesn’t improve matters. Jake guides her into a barn, shows her the surviving sheep. Some of them have frozen to death, and when she points this out, Jake tells her a story about the family’s pigs becoming infested with maggots. As this happens, a different narrative is intercut, one showing an old man working as a janitor in an empty high school. What’s his connection to the couple?

As the couple enters the house, it’s too quiet for too long. His parents come down the stairs. They’re all smiles when suddenly the young woman finds herself alone at the foot of the stairs, and everyone is waiting for her in the dining room. Mother (Toni Collette) is happy to see her boy, so much so that she edges into hysteria, while Father (David Thewlis) makes quiet asides that are barely understood.

During the dinner, we’ll see them become older, become younger, and edge in and out of dementia. We’ll see the couple leave afterward, and Jake will mention a number of events that the young woman doesn’t remember. As the bad weather gets worse, they’ll stop for ice cream, encounter a group of sinister employees, and one of them warns the young woman about something indescribable and awful. All the while, she continues to think about ending things.

You can be forgiven for reading the preceding paragraphs and reacting with, “The hell is that all about?” Relax, I’m here to help. I’m Thinking of Ending Things was written and directed by Charlie Kaufman, a filmmaker with a profoundly unique voice. Kaufman has exactly zero interest in pandering to “regular” moviegoers, as evidenced by his involvement in films like Being John Malkovich, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Synecdoche, New York.

As a director, Kaufman seems to have made exactly the film he wanted and made it with precision. His cinematographer Lukasz Zal shoots in a claustrophobic 4:3 aspect ratio, making the screen shape feel tight and focused. So much so that we have to pay attention to what we’re seeing and consider what’s missing. Carefully chosen edits, from an interrupted sentence to the disappearance of a roomful of people, creates a building sense of unease.

Kaufman based his script on the novel of the same name, and while it’s a fairly faithful adaptation,** he allows his idiosyncrasies to come to the forefront. His script focuses on, among other things, how we perceive time and how we try and fail to make connections. It’s positively drenched in dream logic and surrealism. If you treat it like a puzzle to be solved, you’ll come away from it frustrated. The script doesn’t make it easy, with long conversations, poetry recitations, and a moment where a Pauline Kael film review is quoted verbatim. I found that when I relaxed and let it just wash over me, I got the gist of it. At least, I think I did.

To perform a role in a Kaufman project, you need to be an actor of considerable intelligence, one that can dig through heavy dialogue and seemingly confusing character motivation to bring out something relatable. His cast does outstanding work, and I loved the almost anti-chemistry that Jessie Buckley and Jesse Plemons have as the couple. There’s something severely off about Plemons’ Jake, yet he never plays the character as simply a weirdo or a maniac. There’s a deep wound to Jake, one that never healed as he aged. Buckley does outstanding work as the young woman, and she plays the role with intelligence, humor, and curiosity.

In a just world, Kaufman would receive a few million dollars every couple of years to go off to make something fascinating and stubbornly outside the cinematic mainstream. His work is complex, intelligent, and always funny to a degree. In the end, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t care for I’m Thinking of Ending Things. What matters is that Kaufman made art. He made it his way with skill, intelligence, and no interference from meddling studio executives. How can you not respect that?

*Is it still art if nobody sees it? I didn’t expect to write a Buddhist koan, but there we are.

**Ironic considering the plot of his screenplay Adaptation.

The post Time Is Like a Cold Wind first appeared on The Denver Guide.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/time-is-like-a-cold-wind/

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onewithoutcontext-blog · 7 years

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Let’s loqui code-switching

“Excuse me Mr Blogger person but . . . What?”

You there! my Dearest Reader. Welcome to our little discussion about Code-Switching. Now you might be a little confused with the title of this post. If not, I want to congratulate you on being a smart cookie. But if you didn’t understand you might be asking yourself questions like:

What does the phrase “Code-switching” mean?

Loqui? Is that even a word?!

Your perspective huh? So you’re basically going to be telling me how you feel about something and how you experience it compared to the perspective of others?

And the answers to those questions would be:

Code-switching is when a speaker switches between two or more languages within the same conversation or sentence. Inserting sentences or words into proper context and making sure that what they say still makes sense.

Loqui means “talk about” in Latin and yes. That was me trying to be clever, but it’s also a good way to explain what code-switching (or code-mixing) is.

Correct! Couldn’t have explained it better myself.

“Oh, now I get it!”

Good to hear it! let’s movere(move on) shall we? – I promise I’m done.

We’ll be talking about code-switching from the perspective of an up and coming blogging youthster(Me) who lives in a country(Iceland) where most people, including me, are very proud of the native language(Icelandic) and where the matters of its future in the global age(Now) have been in local discussion a fair bit in the recent years.

Let me tell you a little bit about code-switching Dearest Reader

Code-switching is probably something you’ve experienced or participated in doing before in your life. It’s more common in countries that don’t have one of those widespread global mega languages such as English or Russian. This is especially common nowadays where things like:

The world-wide broadcasting of media.

Immigration & international commuting.

Improved quality of education resulting in more language study.

And especially The Internet

Have never been more apparent. It’s hard to talk about things relevant to current, modern day life without using English words you know. This message goes directly to all you English as a first language whipper snappers out there who don’t know what convenience you’re living in. But then again it’s much more of a rarity for you to get to exercise code-switching.

It’s a beautiful thing really, and people think it can be quite tasteful to insert the occasional French or Latin word etc. into their dialogue like avant-garde or Hola!

SIDE NOTE: Hi! It’s me the Side Note man here, wanting to tell you that code-switching is not the same thing as using something like the words kindergarten or homo-sapiens in an English sentence because although the word kindergarten is German, it is also in a cultural sense, and a practical sense, in the English language and will be found in most English dictionaries. And in the case of the word Homo-sapiens. Latin yes, but just as English in the sense that it’s derived from Latin. The same goes for using singular terms. Not code-switching. Have a nice read!

“How do people feel about code-switching?”

Well, something I’ve come across is that if you do this excessively. Code-switch “too much” that is. Some people won’t appreciate it.

Another big thing people fret about when it comes to this subject is that it might make people worse at traditional and “standard” speech and grammar. They’ll forget the classic terms and idioms of yore and they’ll be lost to the coming generations. And yes. Ok, fine! that might be an actual possible problem but do you know what I think? That’s perfectly acceptable. It’s OK. It’s good actually. A little spring cleaning for languages to make them a bit more connected. But that might be just pro-world government side of me talking.

“So what’s your take on it?”

Like I said, it’s fine. Words and grammar rules dying out because of irrelevance and inefficiency, being replaced by new ones is nothing new. The words we use the most are a reflection of the world we live in. That’s why we’ve got to record and preserve records of our languages as they change. It’s a big part of human history that would be a shame losing. Keep in mind that I don’t want people going around forcing themselves into code-switching. But people shouldn’t go superimposing their subjective opinions about the beauty of language on other people either.

I’m fascinated by the variety and diversity of languages but keeping that alive and in use is more of a nation-wide hobby really. Like how poetry is a cool & amazing way to utilise words but not a mandatory thing. To me, the practical use of code-switching is reason enough to do it.

I personally code-switch quite a bit in my daily talk. Between my native language Icelandic, and English. I do this mostly whenever I can’t find the right words in either language or when a phrase just works better in one or the other. There are also a lot of things that do not have a relatively accurate corresponding word or phrase in Icelandic in a lot of the subjects I like to talk about.

I’ve been flat-out asked “why are you speaking so weirdly” and “can you stop doing that” on several occasions. And what has stood out to me about these comments and what I find quite interesting is that they’ve never come from the people I’m speaking directly to. It’s always a third-party. And I think that’s because the people I choose to speak with by code-switching are very particular people. People I know will understand what I’m talking about. Understand the phrases and the words I swap out and therefore benefit from the larger sample pool of terms and idioms, and will return the favour by doing the same speaking back to me.

I wouldn’t code-switch when speaking to my grandmother for example. I know that when she was growing up, she didn’t have the same English media and education I was blessed with so I don’t do it.The same goes for using a language that the recipient of the message doesn’t speak like talking in Norwegian to a native Egyptian. It would be both difficult and inappropriate. Remember Dearest Reader, that the proper well-mannered gentleman or lady only code-switches when it is appropriate.

I have a bone to pick with people opposed to heavy code-switching

Now you might be someone who doesn’t appreciate code-switching. If so I want to persuade you to change your opinion. Here’s how I see it. Let’s start with an example:

So one day I was playing the card game Yu-Gi-Oh! with a friend. There are many elements to this game and it’s very very complicated so we need to be active in telling each other what we’re doing. Here is something we might typically say whilst playing out our turn.

SIDE NOTE: What you’ve got to understand here is that all of the cards and rules are in English so we are almost obligated to code-switch a lot. To highlight this: (English is bolded)

“Ok, ég dreg. Main phase eitt, ég setta eitt spil og summona Nova summoner í attack position og læt Herald í defence. Battle phase. Attacka þig directly með Nova. Og ég enda turnið mitt.”

This probably is just gibberish to someone who doesn’t meet all the criteria of understanding Icelandic, Understanding English, knowing how to play the game and being aware of the context in when it is said. Something both I and my friend fulfilled. Unlike his mother who was also in the room and told us we should stop speaking like that and instead communicate completely in Icelandic. I asked why and the answer I got was: “because it is easier to understand.” But that’s not what I think. We’re were doing the opposite of being unclear.

SIDE NOTE: The opposite of unclear would really – probably – most definitely be the word clear but in this particular case what the author is trying to say is that he and his friend were being more clear. This is something me, the Side Note Person thought you should know. Now, are we clear? Positively crystal! Then by all means on to the next paragraph.

I think you shouldn’t abstain from it. Embrace it instead

From my perspective, if both parties are in fact comfortable with it, it is both a waste of time and just counter-productive not to allow yourself the luxury of code-switching. Language’s most basic function is, at its core, a tool to relay information between two or more individuals. We are doing just that. And in the quickest – most efficient way possible when we allow ourselves to code-switch.

Only the intended recipients of the message actually need to understand the message and, as you should only code-switch appropriately, they always do.

You’re getting your message across, to one another, in disregard to other people. And isn’t that all that matters? Like speaking a secret made-up language except you’re only cryptic as a side effect. We can be such klutzes like that can’t we Dear Reader? It’s not intentional. Nor is it a problem as long as both parties are benefiting from it.

Sometimes words, even though they technically mean the same thing can have vastly different meaning and context between languages to the point that they hardly mean the same thing anymore. People aren’t going to swear at you by calling you a flaming pile of faeces anytime soon. (We all know what they’d say instead.) What you say only gets more accurate as you allow yourself an expanded vocabulary from multiple languages.

In conclusion

Now Dearest Reader, after reading this post. Don’t go speaking French to your Spanish teacher just because you can. Code-switching is something to be done in appropriate situations when it’s beneficial to both the one trying to get his message across and the one receiving it.

However when possible, I fully encourage that you to do so. If you are fully comfortable with it and find that it benefits you. I think that it adds a lot more flavour to your communication and makes it more accurate & concise, it can also be a lot quicker and more efficient.

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