#quote is from the novel for anyone unfamiliar!

[chewyena]

"With full certainty this I can declare: it was a delight to have you, my friends, a joy beyond compare." ❤️💛🩵🤍

[darthnell]

6, 8, 14, 16, 23, 25, 39, 51, 56, 71

Ooh ty for the ask !! <3 This one is so fun, I'm excited :D Thank u for sending so many also !! Okay, I'm putting this one under a readmore because it's quite long lol.

6. Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

Okay, I've actually only had one of my works beta'd and that was the recent one I posted, The Bridges We Burn. I wrote this one for an event in the THG server I'm in, and this story has... I'll just say, one of the gnarliest injuries I've ever written, so I really wanted some extra eyes on it to make sure it read as I wanted to and also tied in with the themes I was writing about. Oh, and making sense from a medical standpoint LOL (one of my betas for that fic has knowledge in that area hjvfh).

In general though, I'm my own beta. Maybe I'll look into getting one for my next fic, but we'll see !

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Oooh... Writing or reading..? Hm either way, I don't know.. I do love opening scenes though, both reading and writing. And also ending scenes... And the middle is.. well you could do anything there HBJDH. I do also love coming back to the start of a story after finishing writing or reading, it's refreshing almost. But. Yeah, I don't really have a good answer for this one. I just love stories ;-;

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

Mannn I looooove emotional scenes !!! I think... making myself feel what the characters are feeling is part of the process for me. Maybe that's one of the reasons I like writing so much...? I don't know ! Also re: personal experience, hm. That's a hard one.. I think I have like. Personal experiences that I can sometimes vaguely apply to scenes I'm writing, just as a reference for certain emotions, but it's never like. Explicitly copy-pasted from that. I've never watched a human being get brutally murdered in front of me, so I just have to get creative on that front LOL. (Uh context for anyone unfamiliar - I write hunger games fics bvdbfh)

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Oh lord.. So Many. I have a list in my personal discord server, it's... a Lot. Some of the main ones, I guess... I have some drafts for the events of what happened for both of Venatrix's parents' Games, since they're both Victors (different years). I also have a sequel to True Vengeance planned. I'm planning to rewrite the Victory Tour fic for 168th Games. And I'm also planning an SYOT for the 175th Games, where the Quell twist is Victors choose the tributes. :D

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

God, I say this so often but. Write for yourself !!! If you're not obsessed with what you're writing, then no one else is going to be ! And I'm not saying it's a sin to want feedback or praise or comments or kudos for your writing. I simply mean that, since You're the one writing, you damn well better love it. Gonna end this response with a quote from Mary Shelley about her novel Frankenstein (which I just read ahah) that really resonates with me:

"And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper." <3

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Oooh.. Hm, well, I'll never say no to more responses for True Vengeance LOL. But I think for the moment, I'll have to plug The Bridges We Burn since it's my most recent project. I did just post it, and all at once, so it makes sense that it hasn't gotten much traction outside of the discord server yet!

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Oh god a wip.. I haven't. Written anything for TrV in ages, but I do have one chapter in the backlog. ...Oh this one is fun (:

Growing up, there had only been one instance in which Venatrix truly felt terrified of her father.  Before any of them were permitted to start training, their parents decreed it necessary to watch the entirety of their respective Games. Eight years old, he’d taken her down to the basement of their home, alone, and turned on the screen. She’d been excited at first, to find out what exactly made her dad a hero. It melted away with the fire.

:D totally normal family events.

51. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Ahaha... Total: 467,503. For just THG: 448,413

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Oooh.. I think I write fighting and action scenes well. I know that's something that people often have trouble with, but I've been told I do a good job with it. And I enjoy reading back what I write generally. I also think like... my writing is very visceral, and it has to be because that's how I feel the stories. Idk. If I feel it in my chest, that's generally a good thing. Does that make sense? No? Yes. Yes it does.

71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Oh god.. question of the century lmaoo.. The only real example I have of this is True Vengeance (the fic stands at 250k rn) and its. Honestly a horrible example HJBVHBVFH. "How do you keep track of outlines" well first off my outline for this fucking fic is 130 pages I am really not who you should be asking BHVDHBFV. It's literally unusable, but on the bright side, being 253k into the fic means I know the characters and story like the back of my hand pretty much so that's good.

The outline was basically my original dumping grounds for any thoughts about the story that I wanted to include. Yes, there is an outline within the outline. Yes, I had to go through and reorganize the entire outline at one point for anything to make sense.

But yeah, story wise, that's where I'd put all the little details and then major details that I wanted to include. Right now though.. In my current fic document, I have a few notes under the sections where the remaining chapters are gonna go. So when I go to write those chaps, I'll see my notes down there (that I migrated over from the outline) that I need to make sure I include as I write.

Timeline is pretty straightforward since the story is linear. But I did make like.. a concise outline of the timeline of what's happening in the Games themselves by day, which was very helpful. I also have notes for each character to track the injuries they get and when (the comments function in gdocs is v helpful for that, I use it Frequently).

The development I guess is just. Idk... that's the meat of the story. Being aware of like. Where Venatrix's mindset has been during each part of the story has been pretty important. Since I write very closely to her character, that's basically where I get like.. the tone, I guess? It's been especially important as we saw her, uh, mcfreaking lose it last chapter so. That was fun. Like, the characters are naturally gonna be in a v different place at the end of the story versus at the beginning, and being aware of the steps it took to get there is. Good.

Ven isn't the only pov char of the story, and even w the characters that don't get povs here (like Mariposa and Dagmara and Percy in the case of TrV), it's important to be aware of where they're at and make sure they have agency outside of the pov char's head. So... yeah my main recommendation is to write everything down. Just Everything. But.. also ideally in a manner that's organized enough where you can reliably use it as a reference. And if the story changes as you go despite your outline, that's fine too ! Good even - it often means the characters are developing wills of their own and wanting to take the reins, and most of the time, you should let them.

Thank you again anon for the questions !!! Hope you enjoyed my rambling LOL

[ajeanhalning]

#BLOG POST NO. 4

Book Review: Possessive Series 21 Knight Velasquez by Cecelib

By Angel Jean Gupit

June 2023

Knight Velasquez doesn’t know the word ‘No’. What he wants, he gets. As a Spaniard Count from a Noble Family, he was taught that people with no Royal Bloodline and no Royal Status in the society are beneath him. He was made to believe that to control people around him, it is necessary to lie and pretend.

And he’s good at it.

His father’s words: Never show your true color. Never let anyone see behind the mask you use.

He already perfected the art of lying and pretending, until she cam into his life.

Suddenly, he was thrown off and confused as hell.

And slowly, his mask fell.

Since his father is a powerful man, he is powerless to do anything other than ensure that the things he values most are protected, even if doing so makes him appear to be a villain. As a result, he suffers severely at the hands of his father, who has bound and shackled him to comply with his every request. But like a miracle, someone caused his mask to fall, convincing him little by little that he is worthy.

In Cecelib's entire story, Count Knight Alastair Minrod Velasquez is my favorite character. His story has taught me numerous life lessons and opened my eyes to a lot of things. One of the reasons I adore his character is that it taught me that everyone has a facade, which means that even we are unable to fully understand who we truly are. However, one person in a million would embrace those qualities in order to be with us. In addition to this, possessive 21 taught me to value the word "promise" and that you should only make promises to specific people if you truly mean them. The character of the knight being saved is yet another aspect of this story that makes me adore it.He sees himself as someone unworthy of everything, he pushes those who showed him sincerity and questioned those with pure intention towards him. he doesn't believe in good deeds, for him, there must be something the other person wants from him. However, his growth throughout the book is so significant that it demonstrates how he battled to succeed while facing enormous obstacles. The quote from the book " I act like i don't care but i swear, deep down it kills me, I would say that I'm okay" shows a lot about his character, if you learn to love his character, you would surely feel sadness when reading this quote, not only that but many can relate to this, a lot of us can see ourselves in knight's shoes in other situations.

Furthermore, all of the characters—not only Knight's—deserve praise; as the author, Cecelib, promised her readers, she did not let them down. Because every character in the novel serves a purpose and isn't just there as filler, that is the reason why this book is well-liked. In addition to this, the heroine's character stands out since she doesn't act like a normal female lead who would wait for the male lead to emerge. This serves as another evidence that the book is worthwhile to read because it discusses feminism and women's empowerment. In addition, Knight's story encourages the LGBTQ+ community, , with a quote that said "being gay doesn't make you a less of a person". Me as a reader felt proud when i read that. Additionally, the narrative has a fantastic plot, little to no flaws, which makes it praiseworthy, and it also aids in growing readers' vocabulary by using words with deep meaning that are unfamiliar to them. However, since the author came from a place where english and tagalog is not her second language, grammatical errors can be observed in many chapters of the story. Moreover, this doesn't affect the flow and plot of the story.

To properly appreciate and comprehend not only Knight's narrative in possessive series 21, but also the other characters in the novel, I advise starting with possessive series 1. Additionally, Abigail De Silva, popularly known as Cecelib, is the author of the well-renowned possessive Series. She creates stories that captivate readers' attention while simultaneously imparting valuable life lessons. It is definitely worthwhile to read all of her work, not just the Possessive Series.

[spitdrunken]

PLEASE more creeper Bruno aggh anything is alright I just need more content!!!

:)! your wish is my command anon!! (and i wanted to write this anyway)

pairing: bruno madrigal x reader notes: gn!reader, (implied, one-sided) incest w/ an uncle, (implied) stalking, large age gap 

The whole family is buzzing now that you’ve been getting notes from a ‘secret admirer’. You should’ve known better than to mull about what to do with them out loud. Dolores can’t keep a secret to save her life. You’re trying to ignore most of the comments, from good-natured to teasing. (Though Camilo’s really been getting on your nerves with how he keeps making up ridiculous parts of them. He’s never read any!)

You can’t say you’re unfamiliar with romantic advances. As an adult, single Madrigal, there are plenty of people who would like to court you. Exactly because of that, you always have to question if there’s anything genuine there.  But... It’s different now. There’s no name on any of them, nor a return address. You’ve got no clue from who it could be from. And yet, it has to be someone who knows you well, with how much commentary on your days is in them. Concerns you’ve only shared with close friends or family. Everyone denies all involvement, however. 

At first, they had your heart pounding. It was written with a kind of clumsy, endearing quality, like the person in question didn’t know exactly how to write one. There were flattering comparisons regarding your beauty, poetic ones eve, but the things you were being compared to were always just a little off. They had you laughing, and maybe it wasn’t the intention, but it made you look forward to the next one nonetheless. Plenty of crossed through sections too. Eventually,  they had started to quote and cut out parts from romantic novels and plays. It became a bit of a hobby to figure out where the passages came from. You can’t help but think they’re someone young and inexperienced, like yourself. A first love.

...Somewhere along the lines, it changed.

They’re so long now. It’s pages and pages, all crumpled and torn at the edges. On some of them, there are clear marks of drops of liquid. Clear droplets. But all the paper smells dusty, so you can’t be sure what it is. You’re getting somewhat uncomfortable at their frequency. How can they write so much when you can never respond? It doesn’t help that the words themselves have been getting more and more desperate, the descriptions of their feelings so overhelming it leaves you feeling choked. This is no wanting or loving, it’s needing, and it drips from every word.

You don’t know why they’re so lonely, why they don’t have anyone but you to talk to- Why they feel like you’d be the only one to understand, how you’re the only one who’s nice to them. Every compliment turns into a kick to the gut, as they’ve started dragging themselves down as they’re praising you up to the heavens. You can’t be sure either why they are deadly convinced it couldn’t work out between you, and saying so, but clinging on to you nonetheless. ...There’s no way you’re qualified to deal with something like this. To drag someone out such deep of a ditch. They’re begging for a response, but there’s no address to respond to. W-what are you supposed to do? 

At the very least, you can try to write something back. To offer a bit of support. Maybe you could ask Dolores to listen and get an idea of when they leave a letter again, to figure out who it is?... To repay you for spreading the knowledge around in the first place. Then you might be able to deliver it to them. But when you leave your response letter alone in your room, you return with it being nowhere to be found.

...In the meantime, your tío Bruno is curled up in the stolen chair in his room, pressing your letter to his chest. He’d snatched it away as soon as you left. Knocking on wood the whole way he stumbled his way back into safety. There’s no way he’d miss an opportunity to see it, even if it wasn’t finished yet. He’s so nervous, so happy (and disgusted with himself), that he can’t bring himself to read it just yet. Instead, he brings the paper to his nose, and inhales.

[ascendance-bookworm]

Hello! I meant to ask you what site do you use to read the English translations of the Light Novels (besides running a translator extension on the Japanese Web Novels). So far I've been using Kindle, since I'm unfamiliar with purchasing in the other websites (J-novel Club, Bookwalker, etc), but I'd like to explore my options going forward and your thoughts as another reader of the LNs would be of great help.

I like J-Novel Club, you also get access to all their WIP series, and sometimes they have free access to entire series so you can check them out for free - these rotate every couple of months. You get a free credit every month, so it kinda pays for itself, so I think it is a good deal and use it quite a lot for the new releases (just read a couple of new chapters yesterday. Bookworm is MON and FRI :). It is great to get it early, but it is hard waiting week to week, lol

This might be odd of me, but I mostly listen using Speechify on my phone - it is an text-to-audio reader app. I upload the LNs to Speechify using Dropbox so I can listen to them. This is how I usually re-read the series while I work (other LNs and books too, unless I can get it an audiobook version, which isn't always available for LNs :). You have to get used to a digital reader voice, so not for everyone, but I've been using them for so long that it doesn't bother me.

Otherwise I do read sometimes and use an epub reader, like Adobe Digital reader, when I want to run a search or copy paste a quote for posting. Adobe is free and good enough for the limited use I need it for, there might be better digital book readers though, if anyone has any other recommendations, please comment!

shroom-reblogs asked:

Also!! I can't believe I forgot to mention this before, but thanks for always answering my questions and listening to my rants! You are one of the blorbos from my dash

No problem! Happy to talk about bookworm ^_^

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

15, 32, 35 <3

Thanks for the ask! 💜

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

I do not write, draw or highlight in books, nor do I dog-ear pages (with the exception of when I don’t have a bookmark, so it’ll just be the one that gets folded back when I read on). I don’t really have a reason why not, other than I often times don’t want to stop to do something like that. I’m usually too engrossed in the story. Not when I’m reading for pleasure anyway. If it’s for school or work then yes, I write all over them because I’ll come back for reference.

On the rare occasion I have taken a bath, I have taken a book in with me. I also take my books where ever, so they can get quite messy. Food, sand, water marks, sometimes mysterious stains. If I don’t read as often as I can I’ll never finish a book. A girl has to multitask!

And omg yes, I don’t fault anyone who does any of these things. (Especially the writing in books.) In fact if you are passionate enough in your books to do this then I probably love you even more because unbridled love/enthusiasm is the best!

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I am terrible at remembering lyrics/lines/quotes etc. (At least in their entirety. I remember the vibe or idea sometimes.) I do have, like visuals very strongly in my head. Scenes that are imprinted there. Like I don’t remember the exact lines from the scene in Wayward Son when Baz uses Kiss it Better on Penny and she chastises him because it’s a “family spell” but I have a very clear picture of that scene burned in my brain, untouched by fan art interpretations of it. I don’t know why I thought of that particular scene, except for the fact that I’m often kissing owies for my kiddos and it makes me think of that scene. (So probably daily lol.) I’m soft for Baz and Penny’s relationship, and also for a spell that uses love to work. I’m healing you with love! And it really does work, even without magic.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

I don’t think I know a lot of writing “rules” (or at least I can’t think of any beyond like, punctuation/grammar rules). I never studied creative writing so maybe that’s why. I do like reading writing advice, but I think they should be taken with a grain of salt. Like yes, write what you know if that provides inspiration, but don’t let that stop you from doing some research/reading up on a topic, and then trying your hand at something unfamiliar if you are inspired to do so. Yes, show and not tell, but not if that leaves you staring/crying at your doc because you can’t think of the words to do that. Just tell and move on, baby. That’s the beauty of writing for you/for fun. Do it your way if you are into it/have the words. Bother the “rules”. If you like it, then rock on!

Questions from this list of asks

[raayllum]

canon rayllum quotes

show quotes

hey sad prince. let’s go get your cube.

rayla is kind and good. she’s fast, fearless, strong—

come get some rest.

i don’t care if you’re crying, i’m here with you.

i can’t lose you like this, you mean too much to me.

that was brave, rayla.

good thinking with aspiro.

you’ve got to stay with me!

rayla is selfless, strong, and caring.

she’s not a fool.

so are you two, like—did-did i interrupt something? between you and—

i’m afraid of hurting him.

you are so...

callum, are you okay?

i wasn’t sure if you guys needed two blankets or just one?

just remember me, okay?

rayla, if today is our last day... i want you to know—

strong relationships need honesty. the full truth.

he’s smart and kind and brave and he’s... 

oh, i get it. kind of a secret forbidden romance situation?

i know that face. it’s the dumb idea face.

see, you know you’re amazing. you’re smart and fast and beautiful.

if you die out there, i swear i’ll kill you!

i want to show you everything!

when you care about someone it’s hard to hurt them, even when what you’re telling them is the truth.

i thought you’d like them!

yup, i draw when i’m upset.

he’s noble, and true.

that’s what makes her a hero. that’s what makes her... rayla.

just hold onto me.

you okay?

you’ll get through this, you big dumb human.

i do trust you.

i’ve been thinking about something someone once told me [...] you did.

say the word and i’ll go back into that tower with you.

rayla, i love you.

my friend. my best friend.

thank you.

hold on rayla!

no, not at all. but i enjoyed it. 

we should decide together.

listen to me! rayla doesn’t deserve this!

are you doing alright?

i’ll catch you!

because you’re with a girl?

rayla, you’re the most amazing person i’ve ever met.

it doesn’t matter what you did before. i just want you to be okay again. 

cause i love you, rayla. i really do.

i believe in you.

we’re gonna be okay. 

maybe so. ask your next question. 

and then you called me a mage, and that felt right.

wait. you’ll want to see this.

i love you, too, callum.

novel quotes

and for some reason she found she wanted to share what she had seen with callum, even if she didn’t tell anyone else.

he’d been so focused on his drawing the hadn’t even noticed her looming over him. this foggy-brained behaviour was not good. he had to be more aware of his surroundings. he shook his head as he looked back down at his drawing. oh no! he’d been drawing the elf! 

but callum lingered. “are you okay?”

rayla met callum’s gaze and held it for a long while, as if trying to decide what to say.

callum watched rayla in the early morning light through half open eyes.

“you’re a talented artist.”

he felt a hot blush creep from the bottom of his neck to the top of his forehead. why did he keep embarrassing himself in front of her?

rayla wondered if callum could see in her eyes that yes, everything was wrong

“look... rayla,” he said, feeling the still unfamiliar name on his lips.

he couldn’t let rayla carry that burden alone.

despite herself, rayla grinned.

additional material quotes

i couldn’t lose you.

a young, talented, dorky mage, but like, cute dorky.

but the second it seems like you’re in danger, i’m jumping in after you.

[my character] cannot help but look at her.

stay away from him!

how long have you two been a thing?

when i woke up, i saw that rayla had been watching over me the whole time. that made me happy. and something else made me happy too: i finally understood the sky arcanum.

that’s... poetic, callum. 

i trust you. and you’re right.

you’re doing great!

i thought you’d make a cute face — but it’s more of a uh, angry cute.

you know i’m always here for you, right?

that’s not cheesy at all, callum. magic is love!

so i know this was supposed to be a family call, is it okay if rayla joins?

i’m not going to risk both of us. 

come here, dummy.

i let you jump into the nexus alone and i knew right away i made the biggest mistake of my life. i could have lost you.

a mysterious elven assassin with two beautiful blades to match [her] two beautiful eyes.

i never want to lose you either. i love you, callum.

i felt stupid for risking my life — and zym’s — but rayla made me feel better, like she always does.

viren has taken away everyone i love — except you.

i love you, too.

[snarkwrites]

ssw | embry call; he looks down. she looks up.

NOTES:

I preface with the following.. I am not a medical professional. I have never had any kind of amnesia, temporary or otherwise. So.. yeah. Anyway.. the tldr here is this idea came to me and it’s weird and i didn’t know what to think of it at first but honestly, having written it out now I kind of like it? And I think it’s gonna be a short series... kinda? Allow me to elaborate.. normally, for the ssw prompts I use like 3 or four six word sentences as ideas / parts of the oneshot, etc but with this one, I think I’m going to use one for each part because I did that with this one and I like the way it came out?  Since I had four other equally good prompts chosen for the doc I started with him, I’m just gonna use the rest of those to kinda continue this? To an extent?

Anyway, enough rambling. 

PROMPTS:

Taken from [ here ] or [ here ]. 

Inspiration / prompt used here was He looks down. She looks up.

FANDOM/CHARACTER:

Twilight / Embry Call x Imprint!OC, Merisa.

WARNING:

Amnesia tw. Injuries mentioned very vaguely. Beyond that, I guess mutual pining / a kinda slow burn and mentions of a jerk soon to be ex boyfriend.. Embry and this original character are both adults, approx 23-24 years in age just in case anyone’s wondering...

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee​​

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | request rules | sfw masterlist | tag list doc ]

The last thing I remember is hitting a water pocket. My head bouncing off the steering wheel. The sound of metal groaning and glass shattering before everything went totally black. 

And now, upon awakening, everything is foggy... At first,I can’t remember my name, where I was going or where I came from. I can’t even remember what day or year it is.

When I really started to come to, everything hurt. From the roots of my hair all the way to the tips of my toes. I grimaced as I pulled myself up in bed. My stomach was growling. My eyes darted around the unfamiliar room and the scent of bacon frying only worsened the pronounced hunger I was feeling.

“Where am I?” I muttered to myself as I gingerly made an attempt to slip out of bed. But the second my bare feet connected with aged and cold wooden floorboards, the mild pain I’d been feeling only intensified. When the door to the room creaked open quietly, I was just getting back into bed.

The man standing in the doorway didn’t spark a shred of recognition. God do I wish he did because I like to think that if I even have a type, he has to be it. He kind of looks like a man you’d find gracing the cover of the cheap erotica I read.

At the realization that I’d just remembered something, even if it was something insignificant, I was laughing softly at myself and shaking my head about it. I took a deep breath.

“Uh.. hi.” I muttered finally, just to break the silence and the sudden thickening of the air around us.

He hadn’t broken his gaze or made a step into the room. When I spoke up, he jumped a little as if I’d startled him. My brow raised and I tried again. “Do I know you?”

“Not likely. Not well, I mean...” the guy answered after a second or two of hesitation.

I blew at a strand of hair fallen down in my eye. Dragged my fingers through my hair as I mulled it over. “Okay, let’s try this… How did I get here?”

“How much do you remember?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off of me. Avoiding the question I’d asked. I swallowed hard and really tried to think. Trying to grasp at anything, any shred of a memory.

I remembered the sound of metal groaning. Glass shattering. The icy chill of water as it lapped at my feet. Feeling like I was about to die at any second. My brows knit in frustration and the guy was at my side in seconds. Sitting hesitantly on the bed near me. Close but not close enough for my liking somehow.

I pouted about it for a second or two and pushed it to the side, taking a deep breath. “I was in a wreck, wasn’t I?”

“Mhm. You almost died, actually.”

“I thought so. Okay, now it’s your turn.. Where am I?”

“You’re in La Push.”

The words stirred little bits. Fragments of memory. An older woman with a kind but aging face. The smell of bourbon and a man with long black hair shouting at another woman. Stepping forward like he was going to shove her at any second. A little girl crouched out of sight behind furniture until the older woman picked her up and carried her out. And I knew without knowing somehow that the little girl was me.

I grimaced. Both in confusion and irritation that I couldn’t remember more. Because whatever I’d just recalled felt like it happened a lifetime ago and not recently.

How old was I?

“You remembered something, huh?” he asked, studying me quietly. A look of concern on his face.

“I think… But it doesn’t answer anything I’m wondering at the moment.” I sighed and took a deep breath. Asked another question after a few seconds that seemed to drag on forever. “What’s your name?”

“Embry.”

Another random trivial memory surfaced. The woman  was there again. Introducing me to a group of boys who were all dirty from playing in the mud. I strained to focus. Honing in on the fact that she introduced me to the group as her granddaughter. My name was Merisa.

I cheered a little in triumph, forgetting for just the briefest of moments that I was literally a breathing ball of pain at the moment when I shot up off the bed to pump my fist in the air. Embry’s hand caught on my hips and he managed to keep me from crashing to the floor.

He smiled. A smile so bright that it seemed to bring light to the dullness of the room we were in. A smile, I found myself thinking, I’d give anything to see again.

“Easy. Whoa. The doctor said you’ve got some pretty gnarly injuries.” Embry scolded as he looked down at me in concern.

I nodded. Excited when I opened my mouth and started to babble about remembering my name. Remembering my grandmother and possibly growing up here in town. And on the heels of the happy came the sad.

A casket. A graveside service with gray clouds overhead and a fine mist of rain. Feeling numb and empty. Angry for some reason. This had me frowning. Shaking my head sadly.

“She’s dead.” I muttered the words. Deflated. Numb all over again.

Embry watched me like I was a landmine waiting to be triggered, his brow raising as if something I’d remembered was wrong but he didn’t dare tell me so. Sitting up like he was on high alert. Like he wanted to move closer. To attempt to offer comfort. But he didn’t dare.

A tear rolled down my cheek. I raised my hand and stopped it midway. Taking a few shaky breaths. The night of the accident came flooding back, the gaps filling themselves in as it did. I’d been crying when I left my mom’s funeral. Trying to call my grandmother. But I remembered that she was at a tribal meeting and she didn’t keep her phone turned on during tribal meetings. I must have taken my eyes off the road for a second, tops. The car hit a water pocket and went off the road. Hitting trees and flipping over a time or two before settling at the bottom of a steep hill. Next to water. Someone was pulling me out of my car. I recognized in an instant that Embry had been the one to pull me out. I remembered that he volunteered with fire and rescue.

I went quiet as I finished telling him what I was remembering. Wiping at my eyes.

And then it hit me. I didn’t really know Embry well but I did know of him aside from the fact that he pretty much saved my life the night of my accident... He was also the quiet kid down the street. One of the boys my grandma introduced me to that day.

“I do know you, actually.” I smiled at him softly, wiping at my eyes. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t mention that I knew he saved my life. 

“Yeah, but not well. Kind of why I figured you’d have a meltdown when your grandma asked me to sit with you while she was out.” Embry muttered quietly. Leaning in just a little. His hand raised. A thumb rolling over my cheek as he wiped away another tear. Our eyes met and my breath caught in my throat.

“So we’re at my grandma’s. My old room.” I looked around at the room again and it felt right. From the books piled on my desk, an erotic novel turned face up and open where I’d left off reading to the posters tacked up on the wall. A contrast to my apartment I realized as soon as I started to remember the fact that I lived in Seattle.

I racked my brain trying to remember whether anyone there would be worried or missing me. I felt like there was someone waiting back there, but at the same time, I felt like maybe being here was better than being there.

Like whoever it was that might be waiting was someone I wanted to get away from.

“Greg called.” Embry spoke up after a second or two. He dragged his hand through long black hair as he held my gaze. A slightly irritated look on his face at even mentioning the guys name. “He wanted me to make sure I didn’t forget to tell you.” Embry chuckled at this, going quiet again.

When he said the name Greg, the mental image flooded my mind and my previous thought about someone waiting in Seattle proved correct. Greg was my boyfriend and honestly, he was a bit of an asshole. Uptight and moody. A bit on the controlling side under the guise of ‘this is for your own good’. I immediately started to remember a huge fight we had because apparently, he wasn’t happy about me coming back to the reservation for my mom’s funeral. Leaving him. But he refused to come along with me because to quote him “It’s not my type of thing.” and “I’m not good at emotional stuff, Mer.”

 I grumbled and shrugged. “I’m not in the mood to talk to that bag of dicks.” I muttered, brushing it off. More concerned with my own current situation than I was with calling Greg to check in. It wasn’t as if he’d magically care enough to come anyway, he hadn’t come back with me for my mom’s funeral. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth because I remembered several instances in a rush. All of them were me, giving up something I wanted because Greg insisted on it.

,, Christ, why am I even with this mega asshole? I mean.. My grandma lives next to the literal embodiment of sex...” the thought had me perplexed because I didn’t remember enough to really pinpoint a good reason. Something told me that may or may not be a blessing in disguise. From the little I was able to recall about Embry, I found myself wondering why I wasn’t with him or someone like him instead.

Seattle must have changed me a lot. And apparently, not for the better. Why had I even left La Push to begin with?

And then I remembered.. My mom met another guy and we wound up moving to a military base in Seattle. And we moved around so much that I never really got to spend much time with my grandma because we were too far away to make the trip back and too broke to afford it. So leaving La Push hadn’t ever been my choice.

“Yeah, he seemed like an asshole.” Embry muttered, his gaze settling on his legs. The tension between us was so thick I almost couldn’t breathe. My breath actually caught in my throat for a second or two and desperately, I tried to come up with something to say. Anything.

“I smelled food…” I muttered quietly. Looking down just as he looked up after I’d said it. He chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to mentioning you’re hungry. Your stomach’s been growling for a while now.”

My cheeks heated up and I bit my lip, nodding. Embry stood and eyed me for a few seconds. “Do you think you can make it?”

“I don’t know..” just the thought of even trying to stand again given my amount of pain had me tensing a little. Quickly and gracefully, Embry grabbed hold of me, scooping me into strong arms. Carrying me down the hallway and into the dining room. He sat me down in a chair and made his way into the kitchen.

He came back out a few minutes later with a plate full of food. I eyed it hungrily and he sat down, taking a sip from a glass of orange juice. I dug into my food and more than a few times, I felt the weight of his stare. At one point, it prompted me to look up and meet his gaze, both of us laughing.

“What?” I asked, swallowing the bite I’d just taken.

“You act like you haven’t eaten in years.” Embry replied, giving me a teasing smirk as he spoke.

“I haven’t eaten anything this tasty.” I replied, wiping at my mouth because I felt syrup on the corner. “Sorry, this is good. So good.” I groaned through another big bite. Promptly almost choking.

With a chuckle, Embry reached over, patting me between the shoulders until I stopped coughing and when our eyes met again, he teased quietly, “Can you stop trying to die on me?”

I gulped. Getting lost in his eyes and almost not managing the nod I gave in response. “Yeah.” I muttered quietly. That tension I felt before only grew thicker. Mostly to ease it and try to keep a conversation going, I took a slice of bacon and held it out to him. “C’mon. Eat a little. I feel bad, sitting here pigging out and you’re not eating.”

He eyed me and took the bacon. Biting into it as he answered, “I ate earlier.” and shrugged it off. 

The door to the house opened and my grandmother stepped inside. Dropping everything to rush over and give me a tight hug. I hugged back just as tight. “Ouch yikes.. Grandma…” I muttered. She laughed sheepishly, pulling away. Looking at me and wincing as if she felt my pain.

“At least you’re alive.” she mused. “You can stay here while you heal. I’d rather you stay here while you heal.”

I nodded, happy to agree to it. If I were to go back to Seattle, I didn’t see Greg being much help at all. Besides, I thought to myself, La Push is home. I never wanted to leave to start with.

Embry was silently making his way towards the door and my grandmother stopped him. “Thank you for sticking around today, Embry.”

“It’s not a problem. If you need me, I’m right down the road.” he answered, giving my grandmother a smile. As he said it, we locked eyes all over again. I shuffled my feet. But I didn’t look down or away. I was getting lost in his eyes all over again.

Almost as soon as the door was closed behind him, my grandmother turned her attention to me. Lecturing me about my choice in men. Filling me in on the fact that apparently my ‘lover’ couldn’t be bothered to come and see that I was safe or even alive but damned if he wasn’t calling every ten minutes demanding me to call him back. Irritated because my grandmother apparently told him at one point if he wanted to talk to me so badly, he knew where I could be found. “He’s a bum.”

I sighed and nodded. Dropping my gaze to the glass of orange juice in front of me. “I know. I wish I could remember what the hell made me choose him…”

My grandmother eyed me in concern. After going through a long list of questions, noting the ones I had trouble recalling easily for my follow up with the hospital, she sighed. “At least you remember enough. And you’re still with me. If I lost you that night…” she paused.

I got the feeling that she wasn’t good at emotional things either. But unlike Greg, she did manage to show she cared in her own way. 

“But you didn’t. I’m going to be alright.” I reassured her and she nodded. When the phone rang, we shared a look at let it keep ringing.

“If you want to talk to him, Merisa..”

“I think I’d rather focus on myself and healing for a change. Getting my whole memory back. I get the feeling if I talk to him, it’s only going to stress me out.” I admitted after a long pause.

The phone went silent.

My grandma cleared away the dishes and found the crutches that the doctor had given me to use in the aid of getting around. Then she went over all the things the doctor told her about my injuries and the healing process.

“What about my memory?” I asked, curious. Anxious to know what I might be up against. Grateful that I remembered the most basic things about myself that I kind of needed to know.

“The doctor thought you might have some memory loss. I believe he said it would be short term because of the side of your brain the injury occurred in? With a little time and patience you’ll be fine.” my grandmother slipped an arm around me and then added in a more thoughtful tone, “Maybe the parts you don’t remember clearly are a blessing, yeah?”

I eyed her, considering what she said. She might not be entirely wrong…

“Embry’s always been a kind young man. Quiet. Respectful.” my grandmother mused after a few seconds of quiet. I gave a soft laugh and muttered, “Yeah. He seemed like a good guy.”

I won’t bother lying.. I hope I see more of Embry while I’m staying here at my grandmother’s… Something tells me I definitely will...

[rpbetter]

Hey, can I get some advice on improving my descriptions / becoming more literate? I feel like I'm really dull when it comes to my writing and would like some advice! Thank you!

You absolutely can, thank you for asking! I apologize it took me a bit to get to this, tumblr didn’t show me notifications and I’ve been rather busy. Hopefully, I can offer some good advice!

Please, keep in mind that, as always, it is just my advice. If these things do not work out for you, don’t feel bad about it! You just need to find what does work for you. And, if you have anything that jumps out at you that you wish me to elaborate more on, or even that simply occurs to you more specifically to ask as you read, please, do ask! I am always happy to have those questions, of course.

Being more literate in itself can help. It can also be a hindrance, however, as we tend to compare ourselves to others negatively. I’d say not to do that, but it’s something you have to unlearn, not something you can simply stop doing. We’re taught a lot of self-criticism by comparison in both the educational system and our society. You’ve got learn to approach material you enjoy as just that, something you enjoy, not a standard you need to uphold. All writers should be unique, they’re all individual people! I think the death of a good many unwritten works hinges on that, honestly; the writer couldn’t live up to their own expectations, born of comparison to their literary heroes.

That being said? Read.

Read new and diverse things, and revisit old favorites. Learn as many words as you can in whatever way works best for you; through reading alone, through word of the day apps, or looking up novel words you run across/looking up words as you write to compare them to synonyms. I know, tumblr has gotten really nasty in recent years about writers who seem to have “regurgitated a thesaurus.” There is always a bad way to do something good, there are always excesses when you’re passionate about something. Don’t replace every third word with an exotic one simply because you think it looks better. Do replace words that are, legitimately, better in how they evoke the setting or mood you are going for. Remember that word flow is important, perhaps especially when it comes to descriptions.

If you do not tend to read much material that is description heavy, I’d suggest doing so. Try to find works that are still descriptive, but fit with the genres you like to both read and write the best to get you started, but don’t stay there exclusively. It doesn’t need to be something like...let’s say, Tolkien. Not to piss anyone off, I’m not anti-Tolkien or anything, but I could never get into his works, regardless of interest or effort, because they’re so description heavy, and in ways that don’t pique or hold my interest much. So, if you find that you are not into description laden works, that isn’t a poor reflection on you! It’s more likely that you simply aren’t into those specific works, you need to find something that is more of interest to you, personally.

If you do tend to read many works that are descriptive at all, take up a few of your favorites and pick some passages within them that you enjoyed the most. Ones that you could feel. When they described an outfit, you not only saw it, you saw the way it moved on the character, knew what it would feel like to touch it. When they described a setting in nature, you had a sensory experience there as well; you could smell the hyper-specific scent of wildflowers on a warm breeze, or the electric chill of a sudden summer storm moving in.

Ask yourself what does this for you so that you can experiment with doing it yourself. Is it the words, the word flow? Is it what the author isn’t saying, leaving the reader to automatically fill in with their own sensory recollections? There are so many ways of being descriptive in writing, as many as there are writers, and as many as there are things to be descriptive about.

So, it’s, again, a bit of a situation of finding what naturally pulls you into those descriptions yourself. While there are always good rules that can apply across the board with writing, it is a creative art. If you’re only following the rules others have set down, you can end up feeling negative about the process, yourself, and the product...or your readers/RP partners feel like the work is lacking or boring. Even when people can’t quite put their finger on something, forced work feels forced, unnatural, or lacking substance.

Diversify what you consume.

I know, I just said that thing about the familiar stories! Once you’re better able to identify what it is that stands out as evocative to you, though, you can better feel that in unfamiliar works. You can get a better idea of how language itself works as a living thing. Read some things out of your usual genres, ask for recommendations from friends or family who read, check out some older works, and even follow some blogs that post a variety of poetry quotes or full poems.

Reading song lyrics and a variety of other spoken-word style things like slam poetry and rap is helpful as well. They’re all doing the same here, evoking imagery and emotion. That is what you are trying to do as well! These formats, additionally, use highly evocative words to describe in a shortened way. They are great for realizing unique ways that familiar words can be paired.

By going outside of your usual bounds, you may encounter words, writing styles, and other descriptive qualities you hadn’t considered before. If you don’t, you still end up with a fuller grasp on writing itself. Everything is a potential learning experience if you are willing to approach it that way! Use it to play around with words and styles, Use this as experimentation, and realize that it is perfectly alright for it not to work out. That’s part of the exercise of finding what works for you; realizing what doesn’t work.

When you have some ideas of what makes you experience the things being described, practice. Pick anything. In fact, incredibly mundane, irrelevant things are perfect for this. If you can describe a sock in good detail, in a way that isn’t either inaccurate or boring, giving it relevance and life, you can describe anything.

Use ask memes and writing prompts, and write them out from your character’s perspective.

Even if you are not writing a first person account, it helps you to use narrative language that the muse might use, or that gives the reader a intuitive feeling for the muse. Don’t try to fill the whole thing up with descriptions. Sometimes, just simplifying is a good thing, and will help more relevant details stand out.

For example, I will often use things in the environment around my muse to help pair with, further denote, and give the reader a feeling for the muse’s emotions, psychological state, and so on. If that muse is in a hectic state, I’m not going to describe something in the environment that isn’t, like a peaceful meadow. I’m going to describe the seeming chaos of some ants in the grass taking apart their food, the erratic seeds or spores on the wind, or the clatter of an old farm truck on the roadway that breaks up the peace of the surroundings.

It’s a very different effect than describing the entire meadow in high detail, in ways that are perceptible to my muse and not, down to a blade of grass or a rock. It then takes over too much of my reader’s imaginative process and agency without giving them anything of nonnegotiable importance about the scene or the muse. Details that reflect a state of internal distress, like the ants, seeds, or truck, then fall by the wayside of this massive scene-setting I’ve done. And, as unfortunate as it is, if you are writing RP especially, your audience is looking for details that are pertinent and impactful. They’re likely to, intentionally or otherwise, skip several paragraphs of descriptions no matter how beautiful they are.

Since you just said “descriptions” and “writing” {nothing wrong with that, I just want to be sure I’m covering as much as possible that might be of help to you}, I’m not sure if you are meaning external descriptions or more internalized, character-driven ones, and not sure if you are writing only RP, only traditional writing, or a combination thereof.

As I said above, using descriptions that reflect things about the muse is useful and interesting, regardless of how or what you are writing. So, even if you were not meaning internalized descriptions, doing the things I’m about to talk about relating to this will still be helpful!

Internalized descriptions include things like: mood, thoughts, memories, and sensory perception.

To do these things any justice, you have to really know your muse, be able to experience things from their unique perspective and not just your own - or just what you wish the reader to experience through them.

If you didn’t have inspiration for the muse, you wouldn’t be writing them, but inspiration isn’t the same as knowing them as well, maybe better, than yourself. To do that, it is a process of learning and experimentation...and practice.

Those memes I mentioned above? Those are useful here, too! It doesn’t matter if it isn’t an ask meme you want to reblog, or if no one sent you anything from it; you can find a variety of memes, save them, and ask yourself the questions.

On sentence memes, or “starter memes,” ask yourself what your muse’s internal reaction to having that sentence said to them would be, how it might externalize (or not), and if these things are true, or just your perception/what you would like to have happen. If you’ve developed this muse from scratch or spent time learning them from canon, you should have some pretty good ideas as to how they’ll feel. Expand on that instinctive or learned idea. Does it change if a different muse or character type says this? Say it is an inflammatory sentence, something accusatory, derogatory, or pushy. Do they react the same way if a loved one says it instead of a stranger? How about a person who is obviously intoxicated, or a person who is under the influence of youth, so to speak? Take that, and write out two different scenarios.

On ask, or “headcanon/development memes,” pick a question and answer it yourself. Just answer it in depth. Now, have your muse answer that question. You may notice that the muse didn’t want to answer as clearly, is lying or omitting things, and/or had other thoughts generated by that question. If you didn’t already do it this way, answer the question again as a story in which your muse goes through those thoughts. Describe their emotions using words that carry the same emotional resonance, not all descriptions need to be lengthy if the right words, right word order, are found for optimum impact on the reader. Write out the thoughts they are having, just as messy as they are naturally having them.

Outside of memes, you have yet more options for helpful exercises that get you in touch with your muse and your writing.

Try out photography and inspiration blogs. Pick a some pictures that drew your attention, and write about them descriptively. Write out how the picture makes you feel, what it makes you think about. Practice not just describing how something looks, but how it would feel to be there. Using the same pictures, write as your muse in the same way. Put them in this scene to give their experiences. It helps you get a grasp on putting impressions and experiences down in creative ways that allow others to experience it the same way, and it helps you more easily step into your muse’s mind and experiences.

Seeing things through your muse’s eyes (through the lens of their life experiences, preferences, biases, emotions, and thoughts) is critical in giving authentic descriptions. To do more of this, you can practice in every day life. Even if you cannot write it out, or write it out yet, you can consciously think as your muse. If your muse was watching this TV show or hearing this song, what would they think? Don’t just answer as, “they would/n’t like it.” Answer as to why they would or would not, what it makes them feel and think. You can continue doing this with your muse’s impressions of different environments and people.

You can even simply contemplate an emotion and how your muse feels and expresses it.

Adding on underlying and overarching emotions to the mix as you go along; emotion, and thought, is complex. We very rarely are only angry, sad, or happy. We are very rarely only thinking of a single thing, and even rarer, thinking of it out of nowhere. It’ll help you identify the way your muse experiences emotion and thought, as well as how best to describe these things.

For example, I write a muse that can easily present as simply being quiet and angry. Additionally, as the character develops, his actions and general behavior can seem to not match well with his overall, genuinely kind nature. It’s necessary for me as a writer to identify where the anger comes from, what its components are; it isn’t just anger. It’s built on the things anger so often is; frustration, sadness, and fear. It gives the reader insight and helps delineate the muse’s expression of “anger.” When the anger is coming more from a place of insulation and protection than it is frustration, it presents differently.

I describe the sensation of the most obvious emotion, the anger, but also the underlying states that have led to it being apparent. How it really feels to be a wounded animal in a corner. I describe an experience or two pertaining to the emotional pain and fear, keep it relevant throughout the text in callbacks (what set him off is related to those experiences in some way, and during or after the experience of anger, those other situations are referenced again). Maybe it is an outright flashback, maybe it is less thematically stated. The descriptions I use, again, of his surroundings-not just his expressions, tone of voice, or movements-denotes that he is in this particular state of mind. He might notice similarities in the environment relating to a previous bad experience, since he is in that mindset, or he might be noticing things in a more critical way than he normally would. Things he might see every day are being processed as hateful in some way; garish or otherwise visually displeasing, might be seen as outright harmful, or even menacing. Bold colors, sharp lines, stand out. Things come into high relief and are painted in large swaths of color, the minute details missing suddenly.

Further, you can think of things that make your own similar state of mind so much worse in these situations. Is there a repetitive sound in the background? Is the person he is speaking with seemingly blowing him off in some way? Is he hungry, tired, thirsty, in physical pain? I then write those things throughout as additional, building irritants. 

Using your personal experiences isn’t a bad thing, I really wish tumblr hadn’t gotten into that mindset. Unless you really have written a 100% self-insert character, they shouldn’t experience things exactly as you do, no. However, you have a basis to go off of already when you are describing their inner life; your own.

Maybe you have never been so wracked with grief that you collapsed, but you have been caught up in a significant loss of some sort that you can build upon. If you can better imagine what your muse’s experience is, you can describe it not only better, but also in a way that reads as legitimate. It’s not a description of grief that you could have gotten from anywhere else, doesn’t have cliché lines in it about grief, such as, “though he was drowning in an ocean of loss, he knew he had to be strong for his friends, so, he put on a brave face.” (There are other issues with that, but that’s a whole other post!)

My point is, you have the tools of accurate inner life within you, and you should use them to build that accuracy in your writing. Again, play with the words and structure, make sure you are building the feelings or otherwise being immersive about them. Keep them throughout the thread, do not have a muse magically become the opposite of what you’ve described because it is no longer convenient, and do not forgo little reminders that the muse feels the way they do, no matter what their actions might be saying.

When you describe your muse’s actions that are being influenced by an emotion, good or bad, use words that evoke the emotion while describing those actions.

If the muse is very sad, do not use words that bring to mind vivacity and passion. Don’t use metaphors that bring to mind those same things. Your muse doesn’t slink like a jungle cat to the table when depressed, but they might move in a daze, like a shadow, or a have to put maximum effort into their every step as though heading to their own execution.

I don’t think anyone should describe, let alone to an extreme, every action their muse undertakes, but when you are imparting these things with emotional tone or thought processes, it really shouldn’t be done. It’s exhausting for you to write, and just as exhausting for your reader, who is very likely going, okay, we get it, she’s angry. Like the descriptions of the surroundings, try to keep it to important and telling actions. You needn’t describe your muse’s every eye movement, but if they are so embarrassed they’re having trouble keeping eye contact, or so annoyed they glare, that is a description you want to add.

Writers never seem to forget facial expressions or dramatic body movements, which is reasonable, considering how visual a species humans are, but quite often forgo tone of voice and word pronunciation entirely. These are great ways to denote what your muse is feeling. Consider how your muse speaks most often, whether they work at proper pronunciation and hiding an accent, or if they simply let their most natural speech flow. Then, consider how different emotions might impact that. I’m not talking about the only go-to many muns on tumblr have, the “my muse speaks -first language here- when angry” thing. I’m talking about your muse entering into any emotion strongly enough to drop crisp pronunciation, outright mess up familiar and easy words, stumble, stutter, or pause. Write emotion into your muse’s speech, and don’t keep it to adding things like, “said angrily.”

That’s telling, not showing, and is the death of descriptive writing of any sort.

Doing any of the above in a document is highly recommended. Not only are you less likely to encounter tumblr eating your drafts as you work on them, you have more freedom to open it up later and play around with the structure. Additionally, writing directly on the platform can be distracting in more ways than just the desire to dash scroll! It can make you feel like you need to be doing what you owe instead, need to be responding to messages, posted memes, comments. Taking it off site feels more like your own space and time for experimentation.

I know this was long, and covered many points (though, it could always use more). So, I’m going to kind of rehash some below!

For learning and inspiration:

read things both familiar and not in order to figure out what sort of descriptions speak to you, then practice doing them yourself

read a variety of works, not just books, and not just new books; oftentimes, the lessons in older books will stand out to you even more for using descriptions that are no longer common. Those lessons still hold, like the very act of using common, highly recognizable objects and settings to describe a person, place, or thing. In those cases, see what you can rewrite that would give the same feeling using things that are currently so recognizable

don’t count out things like music and poetry, they flow with emotion and it is imperative that they give emotion and setting in unique ways

use ask/starter memes, pictures, and even common situations occurring around you to experiment with both writing descriptions and getting into your muse’s mindset

think on your own experiences with your environment and emotions

consider how your muse’s perceptions may change based upon thoughts and emotions, and/or how you can describe the setting to reflect and drive home these factors

really get to know your muse by exploring headcanon memes, giving yourself a refresher on their canon (yes, even if you wrote it), and comparing and contrasting your experiences with your muse’s on the same topics

experiment with new words, their use, and their flow

seriously, practice! Outside of writing you intend for anyone else to ever see!

Things to Remember:

you are unique as a person, therefore, you are unique as a writer...and that is a good thing, you just need to find what works for you

describe things that are important in setting the scene in ways that are not just visual; be emotive, and pick things that have bearing on the immediate topic

don’t forget that your muse’s voice and spoken words use can, and should be, impacted by thoughts and feelings

just like you, your muse is unlikely to see the same objects in the same light under any manner of strong emotional influence

also just like you, who is saying something and in what context is extremely important in how your muse reacts internally and how that is presented externally; if your muse feels and reacts the same way no matter the other party, they’re a little cardboard and you’re not being descriptive or thoughtful enough

listen, if you just really need to describe something utterly irrelevant to live another second? That’s fine, but you need to make it relevant. Perhaps, your muse noticed the cracks on that rock because they’re in an altered state - be that by way of a substance, or an emotion

there is a reason why we use clichés, and I am not going to say they should never be used, just that you should try to be more creative with them, and they should always be viable ones that truly match the mood

the same is true of words, we have some words that are just so commonly expressive of sensations and emotions that they come up quite often, but again, try to find something similar if possible, and always make sure it’s still evoking the right thing

I repeat: get in touch with your muse, even if you do not write them from first person. The language you use as a writer to describe them and their world is better if it feels like them

no support for tumblr’s anti-wordiness, but huge support for optimizing word use for maximum impact

to that end, if you’re a RPer, even a fic writer, please know that your desire to write descriptively isn’t going to be appreciated by some people. That’s their fucking loss, and you are better off without them. You will find the audience that will properly appreciate what you’re doing!

I hope some of this helped to give you some starting points you might not have thought of!

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

The Star — Literary References Analysis Part 6: Name One Hero Who Was Happy

Welcome to the (probably?) final part of analyzing the literary references found scattered in each of the endings of Cyberpunk 2077. If you haven’t read the other parts, you should do so through the masterpost here! The Devil was rough — straight up an indirect roast toward V for being an idiot. But I’m thankful to report that The Star has a far for optimistic tale.

I found two references, and believe me, I looked everywhere. If I missed something, let me know! Otherwise this part is fairly short. I may move on later to analyze the meanings behind all of Misty’s readings during the credits, but for now let’s dig into the two references I found: Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West by Cormac McCarthy, and a portion of The Illiad (Book 9). 

The first reference is really subtle, and real easy to miss (I did the first time I played). If you speak to Cassidy before leaving, he’ll say to you:

“See the child. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt.”

He’ll then basically follow this by saying you look like shit, but the family will never turn it’s back on you. This quote is the first line of Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West. If that makes your bowels ache and quake like it did mine, then you may be entitled to financial compensation for pain and suffering as a result of being forced to read The Road as a teenager. I don’t know what absolute fuckshit McCarthy was on, but I want none of it. Cormac McCarthy actually ties into Johnny’s story in a really weird way. Not only does McCarthy also have a novel called No Country for Old Men (ring a bell?), but the story of Blood Meridian has striking similarities to Johnny’s past in the wars. Both characters leave whatever childhood they had, for whatever reason, to join an American militia/military situation in their early teens. Both of these wars take place in souther/California Mexico, and our protagonist sees unimaginable horrors. Both barely escape with their lives.

Less related, but you want to know another weird coincidence? The book opens with three epigraphs. The first is by French poet  Paul Valéry. Valéry. As in “just-V-only-people-who-really-know-me-can-call-me-Valerie”. Hmm…

There’s a lot more we could do with McCarthy’s novel: Ask ourselves who the Judge in Johnny’s story is (Smasher? Alt? Johnny?), and what it says about the nature of man, violence, immortality, blah blah blah. If that’s something you’re into, have at it. But why does Cassidy say this to you? Why choose the book that haunts AP English students dreams just to tell you that you look like shit? Why mention the idea of a found family having your back in the same breath as a quote from a book that asserts that family absolutely in no way has your back, and that you either die before they do or they’ll let you down in some way (either by dying and leaving you or stabbing you in the back)? Cassidy, a certified literary hoe, would know that Blood Meridian doesn’t exactly have a rosy outlook on family, found or blood. 

I think the answer is simple: at the end of the book, we don’t know jack squat.

Just like we don’t know exactly where V’s going, or what Panem’s contacts will be able to pull, we don’t really know what happens to the protagonist at the end of Blood Meridian. Is V truly marked for death? Is Johnny truly gone forever, or is there a chance that his body is out there somewhere, and he could be restored? Is Mikoshi supposed to symbolize hell’s fire or heaven’s grace? (Or something completely different, if we listen to my boi Blake).

It’s such a weird quote to pick, such a weird story to pick. I wish I could derive more meaning from it, but  McCarthy isn’t exactly my area of expertise. If anyone more familiar with his work has more to add, please do!

The next piece we find I believe provides more answers to our ending. It is a section of the Illiad, Book 9, found in a shard before you leave with Panem. For those of you unfamiliar with the Illiad, it is about the end of the Trojan War. If you recall, we get another piece of this story in The Devil ending via a section of The Odyssey, which tells the story of Odysseus trying to return home after said war. In this section, Agamemnon has just made a generous offer to Achilles if he aids in helping end the Trojan War, which he has previously refused over a matter of honor. According to Fate, Achilles is slated to die once Hector is slain, which is exactly why Agamemnon needs Achilles to fight since Hector is on some X-games shit. The shard contains Achilles response to the offer of riches, wealth, and the safe return of his favorite slave (who Agamemnon has taken from him):

For my mother the goddess, silver-footed Thetis, telleth me that twofold fates are bearing me toward the doom of death: if I abide here and war about the city of the Trojans, then lost is my home-return, but my renown shall be imperishable; but if I return home to my dear native land, lost then is my glorious renown, yet shall my life long endure, neither shall the doom of death come soon upon me. Aye, and I would counsel you others also to sail back to your homes; seeing there is no more hope that ye shall win the goal of steep Ilios...

Achilles is grappling here with a tough choice; if he stays and fights, he will die a legend. But if he goes home, he will live a long but quiet life.

Sound familiar? What is it going to be, V? Quiet life, or blaze of glory?

The Sun ending seems to be that blaze of glory, much like the ending Achilles’ eventually is forced into. But The Star seems to be the choice of a quiet life; staying with family, living with peace. I like to think that this is the story of Achilles and Patroclus has things not gone awry. A softer, happier, ending for all involved. 

But there’s no such thing according to Johnny. Achilles story doesn’t end with the quiet life. Will V’s? According to McCarthy, we’ll never know, and we’re not meant to know. But there are parallels between V and Johnny, Achilles and Patroclus, that are tough to ignore. Achilles meets his demise after Patroclus dresses in his armor, impersonating Achilles, before being struck down by Hector. Achilles, mad with grief over Patroclus, kills Hector, and continues to fight with the ferocity that can only come when one no longer cares if they live or die. His rage threatens the Gods so much they intervene and cause his demise at the hand of Hector’s brother. Achilles’ final request is that his ashes be mixed with Patroclus so that they may become one in the afterlife.

Lots of parallels, right? The merging of two souls — both in life and death. Just as Patroclus adorns Achilles armor, V has the option to dorn Johnny’s clothes (at the very least, obtaining his jacket is not optional), just as Johnny can “wear” V’s body/identity. V even refers to Johnny as “a comrade and a piece of their own soul.” And as time progresses, they are becoming one indistinguishable entity — just as the Greeks believed that each person is one half of a soul, Johnny and V are one half of each other (or the Soul and the Body, inseparable, as Blake would say).

So what is this saying? That they’re both slated to die together? Perhaps. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll fall into the grave together hand-in-hand. I believe that this is meant to give us hope: that V’s salvation is through saving Johnny. If they truly are two halves of one soul, as several other pieces of literature in the game suggest, saving one means saving the other. We don’t know whether V’s new goal is to save Johnny, save herself, or to live out their remaining months quietly (unlikely, especially if you’ve chosen The Sun ending). But I don’t think that saving Johnny and V are going to be opposing goals anymore; just as dooming Patroclus slated Achilles for death, I think the road to both V and Johnny’s salvation are one they must walk together.

[sleepless-rain]

Karasuno studies! – View from the second years (Part 5) –

Translator: Leo | Sleepless-rain | Leoppii Editor: San | Naffnuffnice Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

NOTE: PLEASE READ ALL THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE (or at least part 4) as understanding the punchline of this section relies on the previous parts.

Kageyama left the bookstore with his monthly volleyball magazine, head filled only with thoughts of tako-pho. Combined with the post club activity hunger, Kageyama stumbled down the street. With a bump he walked into someone...

“WHAT?”

TRANSLATORS NOTE:

Please do NOT repost this translation ANYWHERE. If I see the whole thing elsewhere I will stop translating novel chapters and delete all chapter translations I have done. Sharing small snippets are okay but not the whole thing. Please link back to this tumblr post if you want to share it.

Jerking his head up in response to the angry outburst, Kageyama found himself looking up at the volleyball club’s second year member, Tanaka Ryuunosuke. The others, Nishinoya Yuu and Ennoshita Chikara, were here as well.

“…wait it’s just Kageyama. Why are you walking around all spaced out? You alright?” Tanaka asked.

Kageyama, still dazed, answered, “Huh. Uh, I’m fine. Just went to buy the monthly volleyball magazine.”

“Oh, lemmie have a look tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks… wait, that’s not what I meant! You’re looking spaced out! Are you seriously okay?” Tanaka gave Kageyama a worried look.

“No…” Kageyama pouted.

“What’s wrong? Is it something you’re worried about? You can tell Tanaka-senpai anything!”

Behind the proud Tanaka, Ennoshita had given up. “There it is, the senpai thing...”

But Kageyama played into it and told him, “Well, uh… I was just wondering what tako-pho was… ”

“Tako-pho?”

Upon hearing the unfamiliar word the second years exchanged glances. 

“What is it?”

“Do you know?” 

“Never heard of it.”

Ennoshita smiled teasingly, a second’s worth of eye contact saying, “Hey, you’re the senpai he can talk about anything to.” And flustered, Tanaka opened his mouth.

“Ah, well you know, it’s that thing! Ah… that thing! Yes! Like… the octopus version of pho!”

And to that Kageyama muttered quietly, “Ah, that’s what I thought…”

“What about it?”

“It’s just that I heard that Hinata and Yachi-san were going to make tako-pho…”

Why he was so concerned about them making tako-pho was unknown to even Kageyama himself. But it stuck to him like a thorn in his side and that bothered him. What was tako-pho?

Kageyama had clammed up and Nishinoya piped, “In other words, is it like imoni*? An imoni party? Is it time for this imoni leader’s debut? ” (* Imoni: this is a traditional dish in the Tohoku area, literal translation being “potato boiling” usually done in autumn on the riverside (this segment takes place in winter). A massive pot is set on rocks, and seasonal vegetables are put in to make a soup. The main ingredient is something called sato imo. There are different versions of imoni depending on where in Tohoku you have it (for example using beef instead of pork, miso instead of soysauce for the soup base). The original reference was to gyuujiru (a supposed beef version of tonjiru) . But I didn’t want to replace this whole Imoni section so it may seem a bit random for Nishinoya to suddenly bring it up. I apologise. )

“I don’t really get what you’re saying…” responded Kageyama, and Ennoshita cut in.

“No, isn’t it too cold for imoni?”

“What are you saying? If you put your spirit into it you can do it!”

“Really? Isn’t it too cold out?”

“Put some spirit into it Chikara!!”

“Imoni and spirit have nothing to do with each other!?”

“What are you saying Chikara? This is imoni we’re talking about!”

A sense of discord began to descend between Ennoshita and Nishinoya before Tanaka interrupted, “Wait, you guys. Stop it. We shouldn’t be arguing about miso based soup or soy-sauce based soup, or sato-imo or potatoes, right now is some precious time before the spring tournament, we don’t have time for this.”

Just as T anaka finished, Kageyama came to a realisation.

That’s it.

He wasn’t sure of the details of what Hinata and Yachi were talking about. But he was curious as it involved a topic similar to imoni. It wasn’t about the soup base or the type of noodles, not about the beef or chicken but….octopus. Thinking about it weighed on Kageyama’s thoughts and his hunger increased.

Imoni – this was a problem involving the identity of someone from Tohoku and Kageyama was a fine Tohoku born person.

“I knew I could count on you senpai…” he muttered and looked up at Tanaka, his face completely different from before, free of worry. “Thanks!” He bowed energetically, and took off at full sprint.

Tanaka, watching Kageyama’s silhouette, commented after him, “What was all that about just now…”

“I have no idea but it seems like he’s cheered up so it’s fine right?”

Tanaka replied to Ennoshita’s words with a “RIGHT!” He picked himself back up. 

“It’s your senpai power!” Nishinoya responded with a triumphant pose.

“You’re right! Senpai-power!”

Ennoshita started walking, leaving the laughing Nishinoya and Tanaka behind. “Hurry up, let’s go, it’s cold.” 

                                                            ***

“Hey sis, can I ask you something?” Tanaka, who had just arrived home, turned stiffly towards his sister, Saeko, who was wearing a face mask. 

“What is it?”

“So… what do you think tako-pho is?” Tanaka asked his face mask covered sister awkwardly.

“Huh? Tako-pho? No idea. Like an octopus version of pho or something? Is this a new menu item at the restaurant?” Saeko replied through her teeth as to avoid wrinkling the mask, and hearing her response, Tanaka laughed in relief. Thank god. 

He didn’t tell his precious junior any lies. Thank god...

Seeing her relieved little brother, Saeko let out an unrestrained laugh. “I’ll be the one to tako-pho** this Tanaka household though.”

“A pun, really? You drinking already?”　Tanaka frowned and Saeko’s expression changed quickly.

“Shut up. Get to your room and start studying already. Didn’t you do badly on the term tests?”

“What? Did you look at them without telling me? It wasn’t a failing grade so it’s fine!” 

Seeing Tanaka’s face go red, she gave his head a poke. “Haha, you can’t fool me. You just missed the failing grade. With a brain like that, are you really my little bro?”

“W-what!? You mean you lied about seeing my papers!?” 

“High school students should be studying! Study!”

And so the pitiful Tanaka was pushed upstairs to his room by his older sister who had taken over the house and its residents. 

                                                              ***

“Studying… huh…” Tanaka laid out over his bed and reached over to take a textbook from his desk. And as he opened it to look at the pages, as if he had been knocked unconscious, he fell asleep.  That was quick. A strangely clean and new English textbook closed neatly on the bed covers. 

It seems that it’s a little too early for some of the first and second years to be focusing on studying.

And so the third years will graduate soon and new students will start high school. Tanaka and the others will become third years and a new Karasuno volleyball club will be born. And when that day comes, this responsible senpai will surely be the support for an amazing team. Probably. 

TRANSLATION NOTES:

**Tako-pho: In this case a better translation would be “rule the roost” but Saeko has used the same word play from part 4. Her intention for it to mean  “Take over“ as Hinata had used when speaking to Yachi.

As a small disclaimer:  I have taken some liberties in translation to make the novel read smoothly. So please don’t quote specific words as canon. That being said I tried my best to stay faithful to the original.  For this reason I will not allow translations into another language using this as the base text. I apologise to anyone who is keen on sharing it in another language but please do so using the original Japanese text.

Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter please consider supporting Haikyuu and buying a copy of this novel (volume 11) ! I may consider doing more novel translations in the future!

I do have a Ko-fi so if you do feel like it, please donate!

[relatetonothing]

[mdzs long ass rant] Would WWX have committed suicide?

I thought about making this post for a while now, it’s a subjective topic and non-core to the MDZS plot but interesting to me all the same.

The cliff jump scene from The Untamed is probably the only scene that I didn’t sit well with me in the show – nothing against the adaptation, it’s more about how this scene chipped away WWX’s main character traits. I feel like WWX is such a memorable and influential character precisely because of his fortitude and resilience, which this scene fails to capture. Let me explain my analysis:

1️⃣ The Yunmeng Jiang Sect’s motto is [明知不可为而为之] or ‘to attempt the undoable’. WWX’s behaviour throughout his adolescent life is an embodiment of this phrase. For someone like him to commit suicide, he would have either: accomplished all he wanted to in life and had no more reason to live, had to die for the benefit of someone else, or had his entire view of world, outlook in life and values completely and irreparably shattered. He’s just not the type of person to choose to die just because someone close to him passed away, even if it’s Shijie.

Why? We all know that his first reaction to the Jiang elders passing was rational and collected – telling Jiang Cheng to stay calm, reminding him that revenge is never too late. We also know from the novel that he died trying to cultivate the other half of the Stygian tiger amulet, which backfired on him during the siege of the Burial Mounds. His inventions were still unrefined – he was trying to put his skills to good use up until the moment of his death! WWX is someone who exists to explore the unknown, hypothesise on the unfamiliar and create new tools for the benefit of the cultivation world. He still had unfinished business!

2️⃣ Many would say it makes sense for WWX to commit suicide – he has no one left by his side; the fact that everyone hated on him would have built up resentment and grief internally; he would have felt everything he’s done and sacrificed for went to nothing. Regarding this, let’s think of some of WWX’s own morals:

His most famous quote [是非在己，毁誉由人，得失不论] translates to ‘Right or wrong is in oneself, one’s reputation is made or ruined by others, there’s no need to discuss gain or loss’. Clearly, this shows he doesn’t care that it’s him against the world. He will stand up for what he believes is right even if he’s the only one to do so, no matter what this does to his reputation as it’s all externally determined anyway. Another famous line [这世上每个人都有各自的事要做，有各自的路要走], means ‘In this world, everyone has their own things to do and own paths to pursue’. This indicates he’s not afraid of loneliness and having zero support system. As if he had anyone to help him when he became the founding father of demonic cultivation! Lastly, he keeps something his mother taught him close to heart: [不要去记你对别人的好], means ‘don’t try to remember your own kindness to others’. He never complained or felt sorry for himself once after donating his golden core. He’s not a believer of others needing to repay him for good deeds he’s done, or for his sacrifices to lead to anything beneficial for himself.

3️⃣ If WWX really had wanted to commit suicide, how could he possibly continue living happily after his resurrection? Based on 1), if he chose to die it would have been a renouncement of the entire world. For someone with his life principles, it would be difficult to be convinced that life is still worth living only because there’s still someone in the world that loves and cares for him.

What we do know is that WWX used his death for his own self growth, rather than let memories of his previous life cripple him. He learnt to take a step back from the world and not let trivial things get to him anymore. After his resurrection, he’s still thrown back into the same circle of people who previously condemned him to death, whose views differ vastly from his, but he chose to not let that hurt or anger him any longer. Instead, he chose to live as a ‘smaller’ character (no longer as the Yiling Patriarch) to focus on the things that matter to him. He still kept his interests in inventions, night hunting, teaching, travelling, keeping the same tastes in food and drink, teasing other people the same way he’s always done. There’s no sign that his death affected him in anyway – heck he practically started studying and cultivating again immediately after coming back as MXY.

5️⃣ In the novel, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu doesn’t ever go into detail about things most would think are crucial to the story: what WWX went through when he was first dumped into the Burial Mounds by the Wens, what made his personality change 180 there in the space of a few months, what actually happened during the final siege and what/who caused his death. The pain he must have gone through when donating his golden core. All of these were glossed over by the author herself. There are two likely explanations for this. One, readers are left to imagine the scenarios for themselves, which may enlarge/intensify the proposed effect better than having the details explicitly articulated. Two, the author didn’t feel the need to emphasise on WWX’s suffering and torment, as he’s much bigger than that. She’s made him out to be an optimistic and resilient person who’s always going to come out stronger, someone who stays true to himself forever and always.

Artist: Oten太一

[eliminatedtheimpossible]

Cryptographers and the Hunt for the Anser

A client stood in the sitting room of 221B this morning with a disconcerted gaze and the annoying nervous habit of tapping their foot while talking. They detailed how their friend and business partner had disappeared from an out of the way antique bookshop the two co-owned. It was odd that the client had chosen to come to me, as the person in question had only been missing for twelve hours. Normally, I am my client’s last resort, not the first. They hadn’t yet contacted the police. That was interesting. 

After yesterday’s odd comings and goings, John was more than happy to join me with today’s case. I take it that whatever matter occurred between us has now been resolved. There are several times during our partnership where I will admit, I have underestimated John Watson. 

While our client spoke, John listened diligently scribbling notes in a small casebook he uses to review and recount our adventures. I expected his scribblings to note the obvious: the name of the client and their missing business partner, where they were last seen, and the stringent schedule the missing person adhered to which made their disappearance all the more out of character. However, upon inspecting his notes, it was evident John was becoming better at observing than most of Scotland Yard’s idiots. 

.- .--. .--. . .- .-. / .-- . .- -.- / .-- .... . -. / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / ... - .-. --- -. --.

It was the rhythm tapped out by the client’s restless feet. It was a clue more valuable than anything which had left the client’s mouth. As John and myself are familiar with Morse Code, him from his military background, myself from the necessity of my own occupation, we were quick to translate it. 

‘Appear weak when you are strong’ 

This meant little to me at first. Obviously, it was a message but what did it mean? In the end, it was John who recognised the words as a quote from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, a piece of literature which was important enough for me to have not entirely deleted from my memory but not so important that I should be able to quote it. Again, John’s military background saved us some time. Though with it being the twenty-first-century, he really only saved us a Google search.  

We soon took our search across town to the client’s bookshop. Where little excavation led us to discover a copy of The Art of War. Within the front page was another note, this time a series of vague, seemingly nonsensical numbers. Of course, another code. 

42.22.52.51.34.53.34.25.14.22.11.54.55

This was another simple cipher for anyone familiar with cryptography but for those unfamiliar with the art, such as my companion John, I will inform you it is a Polybius Square cipher. Without an encryption key, the deciphering of the code would prove difficult. However, upon finding the referenced quote from the previous code amongst the pages of the text a scrap of paper fell from the book revealing the key. 

Any original suspicions I had regarding my clients and their possible involvement with the government or more nefarious agencies were put to rest. As the more deeply my companion and I delved into the case, the more it felt like a children’s scavenger hunt. John, as always, was a little slow on the uptake and was quick to scribble out the encoded message. I have placed the encryption key within this text so that the readers are also able to decode the message. I hope this task will prove to be as trivial to you as it was to me. 

The next piece of the puzzle stared up at me from John’s notebook. ‘I am unknowable’. Given the nature of our scavenger hunt thus far I found the next logical place to search annoyingly simple. The theme of today’s case, as the reader has likely already noted is ciphers and cryptography. Therefore, with my expansive knowledge of out of the way topics, regarding my work, it was simple to guess. Ask yourself reader, what is an unknowable cipher likely to be found in an antique bookstore? 

Placed on the front desk under several hardback Oscar Wilde novels was a copy of The Voynich Manuscript. Nestled between two crudely drawn images that vaguely resemble plants was a final sheet of paper. This message wasn’t encoded. 

While writing up this recount of the case with my knowledge of the events which come after finding this piece of paper I can see it for the innocuous scribble it was. However, I will admit at the time the note sent a shiver down my spine as I looked down at the address of 235 Baker Street.

I have never been the type to make small talk with our neighbours. I knew very little about them other than what I had heard in passing. Their landlady Mrs. Turner often had tea with Mrs. Hudson on Sundays. Her tenants were two men, a married couple. According to Mycroft, they posed no immediate danger and so they have been filed away in my mind as unimportant. This was a mistake. 

Upon arriving at 235 Baker Street I found myself ushered into the sitting room by a man who eerily fitted the description of my client’s missing business partner. I came to realise something was very wrong. One look at the smirk on John’s face told me everything I needed to know. I turned from John to watch as my client entered the sitting room, his eyes also trained on John. My client, their missing business partner, and our neighbours Jonathan and Shannon Norbury were one and the same. 

John had orchestrated today’s case and the subsequent goose chase as something of a ‘lesson’. There was some insufferable monologue involving ‘a taste of my own medicine’, ‘immoral experimentation’ and chastising about my inability to recognise my own neighbours. Needless to say, John is not invited to join me in my next case. 

S.H.      

[tearapline]

BTS ' blood sweat & Tears Japanese ver mv ' Colours meanings/Code  theory

No one can ignore the strong Colours shifting through BS&T jap ver MV! & of course it’s not Random (BH Do Everything For A Reason)!There are Already so many Great theories regarding symbolism, So Here I will just Write about colours as the title Sets.

I know it’s too late to write about this, But I didn’t find anyone Do a separated article So Why Not? (I’m a New ‘April019’ ARMY HeHe)

Sorry for the long Intro (•^•) …. LET’S START. READY? SET, GO: (its long, brainstorming & All; so Bring snacks)  

Colours that keep appearing on the mv are Blue, Red, Green, Purple & somehow Yellow. let me explain each one of them shortly & then Clarify How do they together interfere with the symbolism!! (let's assume there two personifications of each member adult persona immature one)

First: BLUE:

Blue represents the Wisdom & stability of being Mature.

Suga & jhope Aura (adulthood)

JHope dancing on a Blue background:

Young jimin looking around feeling unfamiliarity towards adulthood (blue room)

Second: RED:

Red refers to Juvenile joy & pure Passion of youth.

Here is young jimin 

-Young jin Gazing at ‘The crash of the fallen Angels’ painting & His sight is all red (being on pure realm realizing the existence of dark)

The painting actually depicts the rebellious angels dragging Down other angels to Hell.

Young jungkook aura 

Even V :

Jimin dancing on a RED background :

THIRED: PURPLE

Purple is the colour of mystery, symbolizing The unknown complex Feeling of Meeting the devil & Facing maturity Pain! The cruelty of realizing the existence of the Dark realm. Mixing Red (childhood) + Blue (adulthood) → Purple (Between them: Youth)

-J-Hope’s Legend ’ Wings comeback trailer: BOY MEETS EVIL ’ aura portrays it perfectly. Clearly the whole MV is on Purple background:

Jungkook awakes finding purple Blood mark (maturity pain) showing wings (maybe his wings are protruding?)

Jimin eating an Apple (apple symbolizes temptation sin forbidden apple of garden eden)

The scene of Jin suffering  

V dazing, as if he is Drunk?

GREEN:

One of Green colour meanings is ’ Rebirth’. Reminding me of ‘DEMIAN’s Breaking the Egg concept (Demain: a novel by Hermann Hesse the inspiration of Wings album entirely I’m sure you know about this) Green is to Shake Hands with the Devil, to Sin! This colour meaning is the most obvious on the MV & Even clearer on the Original ver (Korean one):

Jimin Here is literally mixing the apple with the juice then it turns into green 

Let’s talk about the most interesting scene (ladies & gentlemen Fasten your Belts!!)

Okay ehm ehm we have a residence on blue light & RM siting so manly on the left side (adulthood) (the residence represents stability)

A Hotel on Red light  & jungkook siting so politely on the Right side (youth) (the motel represents uneasiness of the young)

In the Frame we got a green light as RM is about to offer a liquor to jk (SIN, ruining purity).

(As you see the scene proves my whole theory.)

What happens after jk is forced to drink the liquor?

His surroundings become BLUE & he Looks dazed cause The maturity is hitting him so hard.

Then a yellow light!

(I will explain it further Below)

YELLOW:

yellow = Enlightenment !! the exact moment of noticing the wickedness.

the painting jin looking at is on yellow (the actual painting is colourful) (enlightenment) even the Binocular is Golden LOL

getting back to the very start: jk waking up looking surprised inside a ’ mainly ’ yellow room, even the light above him is yellow!(enlightenment) other colours are green & purple (the pain of realizing the evil is reason he astonished)

On the wall Colours are painted in a way looks as they’re jk’s wings woow!!

-Jhope sits in front of ‘Pietà ’: (a subject in Christian art depicting the virgin Mary cradling the dead body of Jesus) pointing an arrow (if we consider it as pointing to his left symbolizes warding off evil if right protection. both meanings interfere with being on motherhood realm) the lights are purple + yellow

Keep reading if you Don’t wanna miss the real joy! (bring a cup of coffee it’s deepening)

Further Explanation:

Young jimin (Red lighted) looks at His maturing-self in the way reaching Adulthood (the one inside Blue room) & suga quickly covers his eyes as he looks Hesitant to eat the apple (to accept his fate going through maturity). (What if jimin is just a visitor on Suga own world (as suga is his mentor, showing him the way toendure maturity)?  I mean in the mv beginning there is a piano (suga first love) who knows!! (yall lets appreciate how the walls looks like piano inside)

jk entering a restroom in a red light to spit out the Green liquor (going back to his pure young side refusing maturity) suga is trying to stop Him (encouraging jk to handle maturity soreness move on) feels like the same thing suga did with jimin when he closed jimins eyes preventing him from yearning & longing to his pure young-self. but jk pushed him away!!

lights changed to purple jk fainted + black smoke spreads

jhope pulling an arrow (pulling an arrow back symbolizes conflict tension life struggle facing maturity releasing it from the bow represents positive transition in one moving forward mature)colours meanings of Yellow & purple interfere.

Is jhope pulling the arrow towards V? Does He want to Help V breaking His world? (OH! Does it sounds strange? Then let me quote the most famous line of the novel DEMIAN: ‘the bird fight its way out of the egg. the egg is the world. who would be born should first destroy a world’ I’m Gonna use this concept a lot so please put it on mind.)

-V is Suffering inside a blue veil, trying to be out to the Red surroundings but couldn’t(v agonizes maturity pain desires his youth back)

What Do you see?

On a purple light Jimin & jungook holding V, V looks worried & scared, Jhopes hand aiming something Green towards him (not sure what is it, Green small arrow?) (the point is jhope about to ruin v pure youth)

If you gonna argue how on earth I know it’s jhope’s hand then:

Same shirt!! yeah .

As jhope ruins V purity the arrow is pulled, it hits white bringing in green & red (hitting purity: youth been ruined)

Jhope on a blue room wearing half Blue half red T-shirt (mature jhope is aware about adulthood youth) throwing pills into a yellow can while smiling (jhope is no longer suffering letting go of his past struggles he throws pain away) (jhope’s facial expressions says it All

Look at this again (oc I didn’t take this screenshot to convince u about jhope t-shirt sleeve only haha)

On this scene it Seems like all members are already matured (the way they sit) leaving the pain behind them as they watch jhope throwing the pills. jk with a blue lollipop (matured) (I couldn’t point out all but) suga’s piano, Rm mirrors, curtains (jin) all behind. Also there’re so many small palms all around the room (palms symbolize victory triumph peace as they overcome the struggle)

¬

RM’s room is Red & green: on green light there’re so many red items ‘roses, curtains’ even the walls painting is red-green scratches! but How?

(I know what’re you thinking now: like ‘why isn’t it purple you’re manipulating.’  Just keep reading)

first Look at the very left, the surrounding of the room is Red (the director could cut it to directly show the inside but bighit is leaving clues) or simply mirror’s reflection shows Red. So Rm is actually on his young realm which is starting to be ruined. this scene timing comes with jk being forced to drink (which are very interfering with youth being ruined concept). Red roses symbolize romance love + in front of Rm there’s the same cup of Green liquor he offers to jk (both ruins purity) the existence of the dressing partition & the mirror support the idea of RM being his young-self (changing cloths symbolizes personality changing the reflection refers to self-reflecting ego shows instability of youth)

Still not convinced? What if this whole scene is made to prove Yellow meaning? (green and red mixture makes yellow: pure youth being ruined so one be enlightened)

Rm looking at his reflection the light changes to yellow while the lyrics goes ‘the wings resemble the Devil’(rm acknowledges what looks devil to him is makes mature gives wings fly) (his facial expression be like I know it all now)

you see now? it’s a state of enlightenment not suffering this is why there’s no purple. What happens after that?

The mirror breaks into pieces & the Blue rays shine (as rm breaks his egg finding way out to maturity concept)

¬ Mixing specific shades of Green & Red doesn’t give yellow but Brown. on the mv Brown appears on some scenes giving the same meaning of yellow:

-Jin’s scarf before it gets purple lighted:

-The lamp 

The painting 

Curtains & the sofa 

& here, HERE!!

¬ what’s going on here?

Blue lighted V is scratching a Green wall walking up stairs (mature v is rebelling he wants to go back his young-self) (look at the thing he’s scratching by it is Red.)

The colours gradually change ‘Green, purple, then Red’ from down to up, as V is trying to return to his pure youth BUT!… 

V finds out there is no way back, he is already trapped as the whole sky is ruined green & his world is changing.

-          The fact that youth & adulthood are unseparated is expressed a lot through the mv specially at the ending:

What bangtan is telling us is that “it’s alright!” Maturing is hard, painful, storming & makes you feel not yourself but “it’s alright!” Sensing the existence of the evil, passing by it or even commiting it- doesn’t mean that’s who you are. You’re just maturing. Forgive yourself Learn & move on.

Jin young world falling apart:

The room jk awakes in breaks down (it Goes from yellow to green then into blue/ a galaxy of Red, blue, yellow & purple interfere)

Scares on Rm hands left after the mirror breaks, the room is no longer Red but green & yellow. (the paint that Revealed on the wall is “the Fall of Icarus” by Pieter Bruegel: Icarus fell from flying too close to the sun. Allegory of pride, youth & the dangers of going to extremes) see? very interfering.

Look here(Red through blue/ Green through blue):

Green & Blue crossing: 

Bonus:

The station RM works on (you can see the Red though everything is black & white):

Jin gives RM a Green lighter!!!

Trivia: I’m sorry if anything sounds wired or clingy I’m not native, I truly tried my best wording this theory but English isn’t my first language after all. Please support me.

[thecloserkin]

book review: Carolyn Slaughter, Relations (1976)

Genre: Gothic psychological suspense

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: yes

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: I read this concurrently with Wuthering Heights and allow me to play sommelier—10/10 recommend this wine pairing for maximum gothic extraness. tw: suicide

There’s boatloads of sex but this is not a horny story. It’s a lyrical story—in the sense of expressing direct, spontaneous feeling. Not that a story couldn’t be both (Wuthering Heights is both horny and lyrical) but I actually want to spend a minute defending this book to my past self. The first time I read it, I was unimpressed because Relations wasn’t much of a Love Story. You know the kind I’m talking about, you know the beats you’d expect it to hit: here is a pair of siblings tOrMeNtEd by their iLLiCiT pAsSiOn!!! I mean, the mode isn’t always tragic or dark but even the cream-puff versions of this arc entail some sort of line being crossed or feelings being caught. We are used to characters who begin in initial-state, a journey brings them to end-state and a clear delta separates the two conditions. This book says: fuck that. Fuck change. Fuck growth. My best days are behind me and I’m ok with that because now my brother is lost to me and I give zero fucks about anything else. We have a novel steeped in the symbolism of winter (the season of loss & deadness that is impermeable to change). Our pregnant heroine dreads her impending due date, in part because the child is not her beloved brother’s; but mostly because having a baby is just about the biggest change a body can be subjected to, and she’s actively averse to change. All she wants is her brother back. If you’re looking for characters to fall in love, as in transition from feeling one way to feeling another way, this is most likely not the book for you. But I enjoyed it a whole helluva lot and let me tell you why.

The predominant note of this story is MELANCHOLY. It’s backwards-looking rather than forward-looking, things just keep getting worse and worse for our protagonist and yet she’s unapologetic about what she did: she loved her brother, loves him still and always will. What I admire is that she is steadfast in the face of remorseless despair. Compare these quotes, this one from near the beginning: “I feel listless, often close to tears. I am beset by fiendish pangs.” This is from near the end: “I am hollow, clanging with emptiness; there is no solution.” Do you see what I mean by no delta between initial-state and end-state? I think there is an important distinction between this book and Forbidden, which holds out the promise of a happy ending only to snatch it away at the last minute, in that Relations puts its cards on the table & promises no such thing. It’s melancholy all the way down (well, three-quarters of the way down it transpires this book is in fact a high-concept Folgercest prequel I SHIT YOU NOT friends read it yourself).

In the novel’s present, our girl Catherine is entombed in a emotionally sterile marriage; in the past she grows up warmed by the sun of her brother Christopher’s regard & affection. Slaughter chooses to locate these strands at two crucial points in Cathy’s development—age ten (prepubescent) and age thirty (the age at which women’s “biological clocks” start ticking—this is relevant because Slaughter is writing in the 1970s even if Cathy is living in the late Victorian Era). We should note here that Christopher is older than Catherine by two years, aka the universally acknowledged INCEST SWEET SPOT (I know some of you favor twincest but you are WRONG and I will prove it in my forthcoming monograph on the topic). At age ten, Cathy and Christopher have intercourse for the first time after stumbling on their father’s secret porn stash. The sex is more mechanical than enjoyable, and that’s the point: they start banging out of curiosity, keep banging out of habit, and only later do hormones and feelings kick in. Ten- and twelve-year-olds just don’t get horny the way older kids do, and that is, again, the entire point. Slaughter structures it so the sex happens first (in the very first flashback chapter). The feelings don’t follow, the feelings don’t emerge, the feelings were there all along. What the sex does is seal a secret between the two of them, the secret of their father’s porn stash (hidden in an abandoned wing of the house).

If we turn back to the present, we find Catherine yoked to a man who excites zero feelings in her. By her own admission she married him because “I found him pleasant to listen to and he never made any demands upon me.”These are the qualities that recommend a husband to her—that he impose no psychic demands whatsoever! All her energies are already absorbed in reminiscence lol. We find out he proposed to her with a speech worthy of Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Collins, and that he possesses not a particle of passion. Which is exactly how Cathy wanted it:

I entered the marriage in a state of apathy; simply undergoing it because of Mamma’s pressure, and because there seemed no other real alternative apart from marriage open to me.

We were married in the winter of my thirtieth year.

I walked down the aisle in a state of complete inertia, my sense muffled by the laudanum … I wished with all my heart he could have been my brother.

File away that glancing reference to winter; more on that later. For now please focus on how numb she is—not discontent, just apathetic. Cathy insists the present brings her nothing but pain and insists she doesn’t regret the choices that brought her here. She’s unrepentant about loving Chris, and explicitly rejects the conventional moral framing that would view her past self as “sinning” and her present self as “redeemed”:

I could not rid myself of the old and over-riding passion of my childhood. I decided eventually that no one would ever, could ever, be what my brother had been to me.

If I could have felt then, and now, that there was some evil in what we did, then I could have borne it. But I could find no evil in it.

I would not be so oppressed if I could but feel my past was wicked and scandalous. If I believed that, i could gladly submit to the institution or the grave. But some buoyant spirit within me keeps insisting that what I had was fine, and contained elements of true beauty.

“The institution or the grave,” she says. Those are the choices. If you want to have Thoughts and Feelings and not just a Body, then your lot as a woman is to end up either in a sanitarium or dead in childbed. Only when she looks back at her childhood does Cathy perceive a time when it was different, when Christopher, at least, saw her as a whole-ass person. Yes, this is another entry in dr. thecloserkin’s ongoing “Incest vs. the Patriarchy” series; if you guys thought I was going to stay off my bullshit for more than ten minutes then joke’s on you hahaha. Here are some quotes that show she was getting her emotional needs met as a child (she’s borderline suicidal as an adult):

leaves me with only the memory of such complete intimacy. It is beyond my reach now, and perhaps I shall never agin recapture it though I live to be ninety.

there was no discord in our interests and desires.

We talked all the time. We never ran out of conversation; I never grew tired of his speech.

It never occurred to me…that we would not always be together. There seemed no need for anyone else—he filled out my present and my past.

Ok so if everything was so idyllic back then what the heck happened? How did it all fall apart? Slaughter withholds the crucial revelatory scene until close to the end, but the story up till then is permeated by a very Gothic sense of creeping dread. The elephant on the horizon is change. Cathy and Chris are on the precipice of puberty, which portends seismic changes in their bodies, and the accompanying changes in their roles as they inch toward adulthood. Cathy doesn’t handle it well:

the old fear. A fear of things changing; of his face looking at me in an unfamiliar way; of our world altering and growing cold about me.

There seemed no question why it should not always continue in this way, and no reason why our bodies or our minds should change or suddenly not fit.

Our life became a little cloister: and I never wanted to leave it. The idea of change haunted me.

I was insisting, always, like a child, the nothing must change; nothing must happen to destroy our life together.

And here is where I connect her fear of change with her favorite season, winter:

I was afraid of change. It seemed menacing. I realized the sadness and bleakness of the winter really suited my nature best. It made me feel more real; sadness now seemed more real than happiness; more permanent, and therefore easier to bear.

the seasons change and find me the same. Nothing touches me, nothing makes me laugh or weep. I have no real substance.

OMG SHE’S A FUCKING REVENANT

”You are so thin. Your limbs are slim as these winter branches.”

I have touched my roots, my beginnings, the things that have formed me.

This book is an anti-change pro-winter manifesto. Winter is the season of desolation, where nothing grows, and if there is one change she adjures above all others it’s the life presently taking root within her womb:

If I am a seed about to burst, if I am to flower, the old seed, my Self, must die. Some new thing will grow out of me; but I must perish. I cannot have it; I cannot allow it to happen. I must protect myself from this that would devour me.

My body continued to change according to its own will, nothing could shift the determined embryo within me … I cannot bear the thought of this thing growing within me, living off my blood … I feel nothing but doom, and a great fear if this shall finally come to pass.

The progress of her pregnancy is literally making her mentally ill. I want to link this horror imagery to child!Cathy’s musings on the decomposition of her father’s corpse:

I wondered if all the flesh had fallen off by this time. I imagined his bones growing into the wood of the coffin, and the trees growing into his skull, the roots twisting around his rotting limbs.

People who read this passage and think “this is a really tight horror aesthetic but what is it doing in the middle of my luscious love story” are missing the point. This is a horror story. But instead of framing the incest as the impure act that violates and threatens our accepted categories, we are invited to view the pregnancy as a gross & unnatural hijacking of Cathy’s body. Her body’s fecundity defeats and puzzles her. She actually tells us about her nightmare wedding before she tells us about her real wedding; in her nightmare she looks at her bridegroom and:

transfixed with horror because he is without the male member — all that resides in the space between his thighs is a burnt-out stub—like the hacked branch of a tree deadened and blacked by many winters.

So far we’ve had body horror associated with (1) her father (2) her husband (3) her unborn baby. Notice who’s not on this list? Notice who she always thinks of with tenderness? Notice who doesn’t ever evoke an iota of fear or horror in Cathy? That’s right! Her brother. The whole incestuous affair is really an own-goal on patriarchy’s part, because the same doctor who warns Cathy’s mother against Cathy’s “wild and unnatural attachment to her brother” goes on to say:

Little girls, Madam, are the scourge of the earth. They have no future, but to grow into that unhealthy state of womanhood, with its unclean festerings and grotesque swellings of the abdomen. I would that little girls could always stay the pure young things they are before the age of eight.

This is some next-level IT WAS EVE’S FAULT SHE ATE THE APPLE spin. Can you blame Cathy for taking this venerable authority figure at his word, and staying “pure” by staying a child, by warding off womanhood and childbearing altogether? goodforher.jpg

Real quick here are some lighthearted episodes from their childhood since it’s not all doom and gloom: Christopher marches next door to confront the Frenchman who is maybe sleeping with their mom and is definitely perving on Cathy. Christopher returns the Frenchman’s gift of silk stockings with a grand declaration of “My sister Catherine has no need for these.” That’s right shut him down Chris!!! Also: Cathy falls into a frozen pond and Christopher rescues her. Their negligent mother blames Christopher. Cathy is shaking with pneumonia and all she wants to do is “make the sad look leave my brother’s sweet face.” Christopher refuses to leave her side until she rallies from the fever. He is thirteen:

I think that Christopher and I half-died together in that terrible week, and afterward, when the terror had passed, we were never quite the children we had been before.

Congrats kids you have undertaken a symbolic journey to the underworld!!!! Good job.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It wouldn’t be a real incest story without a third sibling, an odd-man-out who helps us triangulate our main pairing’s relationship. Edward is a sociopath and a bully. Parents playing favorites always wreaks havoc with children’s sense of self-worth, but I think in this case it’s 90% down to Edward just being a bad egg (fwiw their father, when he was alive, did favor Christopher). Edward is a peripheral figure for most of their childhood; he appears only to “bang on our door to tell us to be silent for our giggling kept him awake.” That’s right, our door—teenage Catherine and Christopher share not just a room but a bed (!). Edward resurfaces as an adult to beg for Catherine’s intercession with his wife. He married an heiress, and now he seems to have soured on her. He talks about her “malady” and her “hysterical nonsense.” She has “phantom confinements.” They are “phantom” because she is barren. Sir you are literally a Victorian dude named Edward who keeps his mad wife locked up in the attic, you can sit allllll the way down. A heavily pregnant Catherine rolls up to Edward’s house just in time to witness his wife’s suicide: ”I had to make sure there was nothing inside me,” explains the poor woman, lying in a pool of blood after cutting her abdomen open with a knife. This seems fine. This whole society seems fine, right? Catherine reflects: “Ill-health or madness was her only solution, married as she was to a man who so complacently felt himself her superior” and “We are sepulchered alive in this close world, and want more room.” If this applies to her sister-in-law’s tragic fate it applies with equal force to her own situation. Cathy may not be physically barren but her inner life is empty af.

I’m going to talk about the breakup now. The climax of this book is the last time Cathy and Chris have sex. Contrast the arc of many slow-burn stories where the climax is the first time the main pairing has sex. Cathy’s menses doesn’t even arrive until after the incestuous affair is over! And what precipitates the breakup? Well, their mother decides to take the family on a seaside vacation. This is the summer when everything changes (Cathy’s favorite season is winter, and she abhors change). As for what changes, exactly, it’s kind of unclear? Wasn’t like they got caught having beach sex (which they had a ton of). The forces of change are wholly internal. They’re growing up. They’re waking up to the existence of social taboos that will brand their love “unnatural” & worse. As readers we can see that Catherine and Christopher’s attachment is as natural as breathing, and it’s actually the Incest Is Icky crowd that’s drawing harmful artificial boundaries. What happens is there’s a local girl who has obvious designs on Chris. She’s a nonentity but the mere existence of someone outside of Catherine and Christopher, someone who views one of them as an object of sexual desire, sort of punctures the bubble they’ve hitherto been living in. They can’t pretend society doesn’t exist or that what they’re doing isn’t immoral by its lights:

”We have never felt bad before. It just happened and there was no harm in it. I see no harm in it now—I cannot feel suddenly that it is wrong … but even if it is, why does it signify? Nobody knows.” ”Yes, but why does nobody know? It must be because we have deliberately tried to hide it?”

Christopher is the one who unilaterally decides that incest is wrongdirtybad and it has to end. Christopher is the one who seeks out Rando Local Girl and fucks her just to prove how serious he is about ending it with Cathy, which imo was inflicting a pointlessly cruel injury for no reason?? Wtf Chris I thought you were one of the good ones. What I love about Cathy is the steadfastness of her conviction—she accepts Christopher’s decision but she is far from convinced by his reasoning, his deference to social norms. Here’s Cathy’s take: “it seems to me that to live in a way that is contrary to one’s own nature, to live in a way that is false, that is the evil. The discontent grows like a cancer.” Authenticity ought to count for something, no? But these kids and their beautiful love are ultimately outmatched by, and broken by, the weight of social mores:

I could not bear to think of anything changing. I wanted it to stay the same dear way it had always been; ever since I could remember … but the spell was broken; we could not pretend any more. We had to stop being children. “Please. Once more.”

And that’s the breakup scene. It’s devastating. Cathy keeps staring at this one beauty mark on Christopher’s familiar well-loved face and she’s crying and I’m crying too. Recall that they’re still sharing a room/a bed up to this point? “The first night alone was the worst,” says Cathy. Imagine losing the person who is your whole world….overnight. Oof. There’s a time-jump of a few years, and Chris announces he’s off to—I think South Africa? I think this is around the time of the Boer War? I didn’t make any detailed notes and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fish for my copy of the book just to confirm what we already know, that it’s the 1800’s and the sun never set on the British Empire:

”I must get away from here and see something different; begin again…I cannot imagine a day without your face, or your sweet companionship. I do love you. But this must be for the best.”

Christopher goes off to doing colonial-settler stuff, initially. Here’s his first letter home:

I want you to be happy and grow up straight without me.

As opposed to growing up crooked, or growing up gay?? Here are subsequent letters where he seems to have done a complete 180:

thought it would be simpler to be away from you, from the constant temptation. It is not. My nightmares terrify me, they are eating my brain. I don’t know how long this can last.

AND THEN he writes he’ll be coming home for Christmas! I must’ve missed the memo where this story turns into a straight-up Folgers fic but that’s about where we are. It’s literally Folgercest. He goes to Africa explicitly to get away from her. Time and distance cannot suppress their feelings. He comes home to find her still waiting for him:

”Why have you clung to me, or rather the memory of me. For surely the memory is better than this twisted, pathetic creature before you?” “I have found no one better,” I said simply.

Asdfdfkdfjd this reunion scene is heartbreaking bc Christopher and Catherine are barely five minutes in each other’s company before Edward intrudes, claims to have found them in a compromising position, claims to have suspected all along about the incest, almost comes to blows with Christopher, tells him to get out. And Chris does. Cathy doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Edward’s presence is so clearly a case of entrapment—he was expecting Chris to come to her, he was expecting to catch them doing something “inappropriate” even though it sounds like they were only embracing—that there is no doubt in my mind Edward’s intent was to hurt Cathy and Chris, rather than to protect Cathy’s reputation or whatever bullshit he was spouting. We have seen from Edward’s abuse of his wife that he is no kind of moral authority. He does, however, succeed in “making me feel unclean, and dirt was attaching itself to me with every foul word he said.” In this scene Edward is handy synecdoche for patriarchy, which berates Cathy with accusations of sinfulness while actively stifling her every creative impulse and intellectual endeavor. If this book has a villain (and I don’t think it does; it’s not that kind of book) Edward is it. I find that edifying. It’s not Cathy’s husband who’s the primary antagonist standing in the way of her self-actualization—the husband is no more than an empty suit—it’s her other brother. One brother saves her and the other damns her.

After Edward runs Chris off and Chris goes back to Africa there are a few more letters, including this one: “that nothing has changed in my heart. That I love you with the passion of our youth, with the strength of all these long, long years.” Thank you for the affirmation Chris! I needed it even if Cathy didn’t. But the war is ramping up and Chris is headed into a combat zone and the odds of his survival do not look good. Cathy is already preparing to grieve him. She’s also preparing to go into labor any day now. These two threads, her brother’s impending death and her child’s impending birth, merge in the final pages of the book where Cathy is just clearly SO OVER IT:

I have nothing to fight, yet the waiting is most terrible … I have nothing to do but wait. I have nothing to leave.

It is hard to go on. How can I escape this life, this round of boredom and other births? O, that I could be ten and happy!

That’s the end but come on. Raise your hand if you don’t think this girl will 100% yeet herself into the sea and they’ll rule it “postpartum depression”? Anybody? No?

[goldinavonlea]

okay okay so just off the top of my head AS PER USUAL OF LATE Rachel Lynde needs a punch in the throat, Bash needs a babysitter for Delphine I swear to god if they even sniff at a storyline of anyone trying to take Delly from her family I will SCREAM so that’s stressing me some, ditto I still can’t land on whether I think they are or aren’t gonna push Bash and Miss Stacy but am somewhat consoled by the fact that Miss Stacy is employed full time and thus would be no help re. lightening the load of care for Delphine. Ka’kwet’s dad not having heard from her was gutting to hear even knowing he wouldn’t have: I can only hope we’ll get to see her back home soon.

that’s the stressful stuff.

the rest of the stuff... fuck me were we fed for joyful and hilarious content this week i can’t even process all of it I just... Diana and Jerry taking it up to 11 on the cute (though I am nervous for the inevitable fallout of the secret keeping, though I don’t think Anne likely to be opposed to it or even much upset once Diana’s explained why she didn’t tell her straight off, but I imagine she’ll be a little miffed at the concept of her (as of yet) limitted remaining time with her bosom friend being encroached on). I mean, boy presents you with and quotes from a female authored novel in order to tell you that he’d be alright with being outcast from the rest of the world if he could be with you??? that’s what we’re here for guys gals and non-binary pals.

gilbert talking to the bees??? just... beautiful. as a devoted lover of bees if anything could have endeared me more to this boy, that was it. gilbert obviously not having abandoned medicine entirely but becoming more interested in research and taking lessons from other viewpoints than he’s been presented with before, his eagerness and curiosity to learn from the Mi’kmaq medicine woman (and let’s be honest how CLEARLY he was deeply enjoying watching Moody’s leg get stitched as someone who wanted to be a trauma surgeon for the longest time that really hit and I laughed a lot), his willingness to question the Established Authority of things, to take new knowledge in stride and ask why it’s been omitted from the materials he’s had before rather than cleaving to the status quo and rejecting to unfamiliar, how quickly and unhesitatingly and enthusiastically he listens to voices which would so usually be ignored by society he lives in... like they’re really giving me boundless gifts of exactly why I love this character (honestly the more we get of gilbert catching an attitude towards the Established Order and Way Of Things in any area, whether directly or indirectly, the better) he fundamentally finds joy in embracing that which is different and unfamiliar to him (coincidentally why he and Anne are such a good fit)

BELLE THE HORSE!

The dancing the DANCING i... that’s gonna get it’s own post obviously I lost my actual mind

Just the centrality of womanhood and female empowerment in this episode? All the girls taking to the forest to light a great big fuck off fire and dance around it and recite rites to their own worth, their strength and gentleness and fierceness and intellect? Finding a fierce joy in womanhood in a society which seeks to subjugate them?

god there’s too much there’s just too much i can’t process it all at once i’ll get back to you i will i just need to go lie down

WAIT NO ALSO THE GIRLS ROUNDING ON ANNE AND FORCING HER TO ASK GILBERT SEX ED QS?? Anne obviously desperately pleading with her eyes for Gilbert to leave before she was forced to ask anything that would embarass the both of them further?

WAIT NO NO NO FUCKING ALSO Gilbert going home and being like ‘If i feel something for a girl does that mean she’s the one I should marry?’ like we all KNEW he was like this but to hear him say it out loud? already sprinting up the aisle?? god GOD extra kudos for Bash ‘You can tell her [Delly]. She won’t talk.’ AND HE WAS CHOPPING CARROTS god stop stop i can’t it’s all too much for me it’s too much