#which i could live with if they didn’t contain two vols i need to continue/start two different series

[neixins]

good morning beloveds <3 (it’s 7:30pm)

[orangemoonxworks]

KINGDOM HEARTS: DIVERGE, VOL. 0 MARCH OF THE FOOLS, PART I — III WRITTEN BY: Naude Lucem -------------------------------------------------

The First District was the central point of Daybreak and at its heart stood a massive clock tower that rose into the clouds. If one were to reach the highest point of it, not only could they see all six of the districts surrounding it but a vast stretch of grasslands, an endless ocean to the west, and a barren wasteland far out in the distance. The clock tower, Arx ad Arbitris Tempus (“Stronghold for the Arbiters of Time”), was the base of operations for the Foretellers and the Lux Unitas. Of the seven districts that made up Daybreak, the First was naturally Ira’s jurisdiction.

As the others gradually arrived in the assembly chamber, finding their place around the long oval shaped table at the center of the room, Ira stood by the row of wall-sized windows gazing outside. Once everyone was fully present, he made his way to the head of the table. Since they amongst themselves, neither of them wore their iconic masks.

Ira cleared his throat then began. “Good. You’re all here.”

“You summoned us.” Gula snarkily replied.

“Well, I know you’re all busy – myself included. I’ll try to keep things short.”

Invi asked a question. “Is this about the Second District? Has any progress been made?”

“That happens to be one of the purposes of this meeting.” Ira replied. “We’ll be discussing what’s been happening lately concerning the scourges and the catastrophe that befell the Second District. I’m sure you’re all eager to know what’s going on, so that’s where we’ll begin.”

Ira continued. “We’re still eradicating the darkness. It hasn’t been easy, and we’ve lost some people in the process. I imagine it’ll be a long time before the district can return to any semblance of normal. Still, we’ve made some strides. We’ve managed to clear out a big portion of the district which has allowed our Guardians to advance further in. We’ve also strengthened and condensed the size of the barrier as we’ve progressed to keep the remaining darkness contained, and our mages have been hard at work cleansing the darkness and restoring the aether that once permeated the district.”

“Unfortunately, aether degradation is a serious concern. The black coats the Master provided us do well enough to stave off the darkness, but they were made specifically for us. The Master didn’t leave behind blueprints for them either, so reproducing the black coats is next to impossible. That means our Guardians and Mages are unprotected and perpetually at risk. And that’s something I can’t allow to continue. I’ve asked the Ars Magna Guild to study the coats and see if they can come up with an alternative. For now, we’ll have to lend our spares to those stationed in the district.”

Invi spoke in agreement. “That’s fine. I’m sure no one here has an issue with that.”

Aced interjected. “Tch. I don’t mind handing over the coats, but don’t go speaking for everyone.”

“It’s not as if it’s negotiable. Our Guardians and Mages need them.”

Aced replied, “Even so, our choices aren’t dictated by circumstance. We just happen to collectively agree on the matter at hand. It isn’t as cut and dry as you believe.”

Invi’s eyes narrowed. “These are trying times we’re in, Aced. You can feel however you want but we don’t have the luxury to be selfish and petulant.”

“What was that?” Aced sharply replied, arms folded against his chest.

Ira quickly interjected. “Enough, you two.”

Gula mumbled under his breath. “Looks like the meeting’s starting smoothly as always.”

Ira continued. “Anyway, let’s move on. Putting aside the Second District’s restoration, there is another important matter that must be addressed. Many lives were lost during the scourge – an estimation of 700 according to the Vitalis Registrum.”

Invi’s eyes widened. “700? That’s… so many.”

Ira went on. “An entire district of unsuspecting lives was taken. It has… been a challenge dealing with the aftermath. Understandably, people are in distress. Loved ones, friends, partners and whatnot all perished either due to fatal encounters with the shadows, or affliction of aether degradation. We’re doing what we can for those in mourning, but we can’t alleviate their sorrows.”

Ira extended the palm of his hand in Ava’s direction. “Ava and I have been preparing a grand ceremony to honor the lost. Their names will also be engraved in the Garden of Remembrance’s Wall of Memories. It is the least we can do. From this point forward, our goal – no, our mission – is to ensure something of that magnitude doesn’t happen again.”

Ira briefly paused. “That being said, although we’ve been working to the best of our abilities to pinpoint the cause of the shadow scourges, we’ve not made any significant progress other than detecting them the moment they occur. It isn’t enough time to act or prevent catastrophes. With the recent spike in scourges, our realm is in danger. We need to figure out what’s causing them and why.”

Aced chimed in. “We all have our own theories. You know where I stand, but I’m curious to know what everyone else’s thoughts are. Maybe one of us could add some insight.”

“Yes, and that’s next point of discussion.” Ira declared. “It’s why I’ve summoned you all here today. Of course, if there are other issues you’d like to bring up, they will be accepted within reason and discussed afterward. With that said, the floor is all yours. Any thoughts?”

Invi spoke first. “Hmm, well given the frequency in which they’ve been appearing, I can only assume that gaps have formed along the barrier. Even when the Master was here, it was under constant threat from the darkness. Luckily, he was able to maintain it. Without him here, the barrier likely can’t sustain this realm anymore. I believe the scourges are splinters of the darkness that’s managed to push its way in.”

Ira nodded in agreement. “Then you and I are of the same mind.”

Gula interjected. “Anyone could come to that conclusion. Since this realm’s inception, there haven’t been any run-ins with the darkness. The fact that we’re dealing with this now is reason enough to believe that.”

“Then what’s you’re take?” Invi asked.

“I don’t have one.” Gula replied while sighing, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “We don’t know jack shit and speaking on hypotheticals is a waste of time.”

“If you don’t have anything to say, then don’t speak.” Aced said, irritated.

“You don’t decide that. Gula isn’t wrong, but this is still a discussion.” Ira told him.

“That he should contribute to!” Aced angrily cut in. “He doesn’t get a pass for being a lazy prick!”

Gula grinned. “Wow. Those are some sharp words. Someone’s been studying comebacks.”

“You cheeky little bastard. Don’t make me –”

“Enough. Both of you.” Ira sternly spoke.

Ava spoke up. “If you’re both done, I’ll offer my opinion. For the sake of discussion, let’s assume that there are two truths; one where we have darkness intruding from the outside, and one where there’s someone orchestrating events from the inside. I take it that you lean toward the latter right, Aced?”

Aced responded with a nod, arms tightly folded.

Ava continued. “If there is someone causing the scourges to happen, then that means we’re likely dealing with someone who follows the path of darkness and knows how to wield its power. Darkness warps the heart, the mind, and the soul but it can’t strip away a person’s will. Whatever they decide to do is purely their own choice. The darkness only gives them a nudge.

“So? What are you getting at?” Aced asked.

Ava replied, “If we’re going to stick with that theory, then a reason has to exist.”

Aced’s face instantly scowled at her suggestion. “Tch! Does a reason matter if they’re a traitor? That should be enough for them to be dealt with.”

“Understanding their motives is important for what we’re dealing with.”

Gula responded, “Anyone who follows the path of darkness is either inadvertently or directly carrying out its will – which is to erase light from existence. We all know this from our teachings. That doesn’t help us solve the problem of who’s responsible.”

Invi agreed. “Right. We need to pinpoint a culprit.”

Ava continued, “In a general sense, you’re right Gula. But apart from the will of darkness, people have their own goals and desires that they pursue. Let’s think about it this way; if there was something you really wanted from the bottom of your heart, then you’d do whatever’s necessary to get it, right?  We should look at a potential culprit the same way; what would they want that’s worth the destroying this realm? And what if the shadow scourges aren’t just coincidences but calculated distractions?”

Ira spoke. “You’re implying the culprit is searching for something? I assume you have an idea.”

“It could be many things.” Ava replied then explained. “Our realm’s Heart crystal, the Kingdom key, the Hands of Caelum, the Cubis datums on Project Vitas Replica, or even the Book of Prophecies. These are all things that have been carefully hidden – all of which are important to the future of not only this realm, but also the continued preservation of light.”

Aced nodded. “Hmm, that makes sense. But if what you’re saying turns out to be true, then we’ll have no choice but to address the elephant in the room.”

“Being?” Ava asked.

“The only people who know they exist are the people in this room.”

A deafening silence immediately filled the room. Although Aced wasn’t fazed, the glares from Ira, Ava, and Invi were scathingly sharp enough to stab through one’s soul.

Ira spoke, his voice dark. “Aced, you…”

“I can’t believe you. Are you seriously implying that one of us is a traitor?!” Invi shouted.

“Everything Ava’s said so far falls in line with what I believe to be true. It’s almost uncanny.”

“I was just posing a hypothesis, nothing more.” Ava responded.

“Are you sure? You seem to be very interested in the matter.” Aced eyes narrowed suspiciously. “In the eight years I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten deeply involved with anything other than the Academia. Of course, that is your district so that’s to be expected. But still, it’s uncharacteristic of you. Hmph. I wonder, if what you’ve been saying this whole time is your actual thoughts, or…”

Ava’s brows and voice rose. “So, you think I’m a traitor??”

Invi furiously yelled, “No, I’m not letting that slide! Nobody in this room – including you, Aced – is a traitor! That you would even come to such a conclusion is sickening!”

“And she wasn’t nudging us to this point?!” Aced angrily shouted back. “We’re the only ones who know about those things! A traitor being in our ranks makes perfect sense! If one of us was corrupted by the darkness, then they’d have the power to bypass the barrier and allow darkness to break through!”

“For what reason would any of us need to risk the well-being of this realm?!” Invi responded. “Over the Heart crystal whose domain is protected by the World Gate and can only be opened with the Kingdom Key of which neither of us knows where it is?! The same goes for the Book of Prophecies! And not to mention the Hands of Caelum is a lost art! We’ve barely, barely scratched the surface on that! And Project Vita Replica is nothing more than a fantasy that will never be realized! Don’t you understand that?!”

Gula chuckled. “Wow, Aced. You’re on fire right now.”

“Shut your damn mouth, lazy bum!!!” Aced screamed.

Ira raised his voice. “Aced, calm yourself now!

“I won’t! I’m not backing down from this!” Aced furiously yelled back. “You say the traitor couldn’t be anyone in this room, but what of the people around us?! Anyone could be eavesdropping on us at any moment! Anyone could know about those things and gain an understanding of how to weaponize them against the realm!”

Invi jumped in. “So, what? We’re supposed to be suspicious of the entire realm?! By your logic, everyone is a traitor. The people’s trust lies with us, and ours lies with them! You’d rather we trample on all that just so you can feel some sort of vindication?!”

Aced’s large beefy fists crashed down onto the table. “I’d rather we get rid of the damn traitor so we can keep protecting this realm and the light!! You’re all too soft, naïve, and indecisive!! At some point, after everything that’s happened over the past year, it should’ve crossed your minds that there’s likely a traitor amongst us! Even that know-it-all buffoon we called our master would’ve come to that conclusion!!!”

Invi’s eyes widened and burned ferociously. She could tolerate Aced’s vitriol to a certain extent, but his disrespect for the Master was something her heart wouldn’t let slide. As the air rushed from her lungs to her mouth, the veins in her neck bulged bright red. “Don’t you dare speak about him like that!!”

Ignoring her outburst, Aced turned to their leader Ira. “And you – the man of the hour. You’ve let things spiral this far out of control to the point that the realm is on the verge of collapsing. And you’re supposed to be our leader? Tch! What a joke. I knew he made the wrong choice.”

Invi summoned her keyblade and, in a flash, appeared above Aced swinging her keyblade down on him. Aced quickly drew his own keyblade, blocking strike. The clash sent a small shockwave through the room. Despite the intensity of her strike, Aced’s raw strength easily overpowered her. He swung his keyblade. Invi leapt back, avoiding his attack, and landed on the table. She extended her arm out slightly, turning her keyblade sideways while still gripping the handle, then grabbed its tip with her other hand. Thin streams of water begin swirling in the air around her.

Aced kicked his chair back and readied himself. Suddenly, a white beam of light shot between them. It tore through the table, cutting it clean in half. Instead of piercing through the wall and leaving a gaping hole, it bounced off and traveled around the room hitting several other surfaces before returning to Ira’s keyblade. The chamber was nearly demolished – only the others stood unaffected. Invi, lying on one half of the split table on the floor, glared at him. Ira lowered his keyblade and sighed.

“I’ve had enough. This discussion doesn’t seem to be going anywhere meaningful, and I’d rather this not escalate any further. For now, the meeting will be adjourned. We’ll resume another time.”

Aced withdrew his keyblade and cast it away. “Fine by me. This was a waste of time.”

As he walked away, Gula smirked. “How about that – we actually agree on something.”

Ignoring Gula’s comment, Aced left the assembly chamber. Gula and Ava quietly followed shortly after. Invi pushed herself off the halved table then dusted off the back of her robe. Once she stepped out of the way, Ira cast a restoration art on the room, bringing it back to its former state.

“That didn’t go as well as I hoped.” Ira said.

“You should’ve expected that at this point.” Invi replied. “It was foolish of you to think that we’d all be on the same page, or even come to a collective agreement. That might’ve been true over seven years ago – before the Master disappeared, but definitely not now.”

“Maybe so. But we all took an oath to protect this realm together. As comrades, we should –”

“Look at us, Ira. Whatever comradery we had back then is long gone. Neither of us are who we used to be, and the divide between us keeps growing with each passing day.”

“I’d like to believe we can mend that.” Ira said then cast his keyblade away. “I can’t deny that it’s been difficult for everyone these past seven years. Being thrust into undertaking massive responsibilities all while shouldering the fate of an entire realm is too much for anyone to bear. Being the leader of the Lux Unitas and the overseer of this realm, trust me – I understand. You’re not alone in this.”

Ira paused, taking a short breath and briefly shutting his eyes. “To be honest with you, I find myself questioning if he made the right choice. The Master was known for his bizarre and illogical judgments but, in the end, they were always correct. I can’t help but feel this is the one time he was wrong.”

“Regardless of how things have become between us, I don’t want you to think for a second that that’s a reflection on you.” Invi said as she walked over to him, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “The Master chose you because he believed in you – just like I do. You’ve always been a leader, Ira. No matter where you go or whatever’s going on, you always manage to inspire everyone around you. You’re a light in the darkness. People see you as a symbol of hope because of how brave and selfless you are.”

She moved her hand then continued, “You go out of your way to help anyone – even to your own detriment. You’ll willingly sacrifice yourself for someone else’s sake if it means they’ll survive. And whenever the going gets tough, you never give up and never back down. You’re too stubborn for your own good. And while that does irk me sometimes, I admire that. The Master did too. That’s why, in spite of our differences, we come together whenever you need us. We trust you and you trust us. Tell me Ira, doesn’t that sound like a leader to you?”

Ira’s eyes slowly brightened and the tenseness in his body began to dissipate. All that escaped his mouth were small breaths, but subtle smile on his face was clear enough. But even so, he was still the leader of the Foretellers. Even if her words were enough to temporarily soothe his heart and mind, he had to keep up the role. And so, Ira turned away, averting her gaze, then cleared his throat. “I guess so.”

Invi’s eye lids slightly narrowed. She briefly shut her eyes, then took a small quiet breath. “Even if I think it’s futile, I’ll do what I can to help. You’re right; we may not be comrades now, but we must put our issues aside. We owe it to everyone to continue protecting the light of this realm and ensuring it thrives into the future. That was the oath we took and the promise we made to him.”

Ira’s brows nudged a bit. For some reason, his eyes dimmed.

“I’ll be looking forward to your assistance.” He replied.

“I’ll be on my way then.”

Invi said then started toward the chamber’s door. After she opened the door, she held it open with her palm pressed against it, then looked over her shoulder. “Oh, the next time you step in between me and that hot-headed grizzly bear, make sure you don’t accidentally slash my robe again. This took days to thread, you know. And this robe happens to be my favorite one.”

Ira choked then sighed. “Right, sorry about that.”

Invi closed the door behind her. Standing alone in the assembly chamber, Ira looked around the room. A ray of light broke through the clouds and shone through the thick glass windows, but it was short-lived. It was soon snuffed out by the clouds above – their shadow cast over most of the First District. Going over to the window, his gaze fell to the grounds below.

“The future, huh.” -------------------------------------------------

[esandcasg]

Chapter Ten - Something Kinda Oooh

The landing on the glacier was hard. During my younger days of pioneering base jumping and wingsuit sky diving off Preikestolen, I had become accustomed to state of the art parachute technology, flaring the canopy around twenty feet above the DZ and generating a silky smooth landing that the average Ryanair pilot could only dream of.

But not here. Whilst Andrew’s rudimentary blanket parachute had saved our lives – as had his quick and imaginative thinking – it didn’t make for a particularly aerodynamic and controllable descent, like a Boeing 737Max in override mode.

We crashed into the hard glacial ice and the three of us were immediately pitched into a roll, becoming entangled in the blanket, like three sausages in a meaty triple layered Gregg’s. To make matters worse, Andrew hadn’t shaken vol-au-vent crumbs off the blanket after his lunchtime offering, so as we tumbled down the glacier I was blinded by sharp flakes of puff pastry that swirled around my face as we rolled.

We came to a sudden stop and my face slammed into what appeared to be a wall of granite, which I assumed was Ifan’s abdominal muscles. The three of us wriggled our way out of the blanket, disentangling arms, legs and other appendages on the way.

“Where’s the door?” Asked Ifan.

I sat up, neatly brushing my hair back into its standard windswept mountain bouffant styling, as vol-au-vent crumbs rained down on my lap. We were on a nondescript glacier in the middle of a nondescript mountain range. In truth we could have been anywhere, and I’d totally lost track of where Andrew had taken us in the last chapter. A few meters further down the glacier was a ten meter wide crevasse. I walked to the edge and gazed down. I shuddered slightly. It seemed as bottomless as Ifan’s drinking ability when handed pints to finish. If we’d rolled just that little bit further we would be dead, no question. I walked back to Andrew and Ifan and sat down next to them.

We sat in silence for a minute trying to comprehend what had just happened, and the series of events that we had been lucky to survive. The second Ifan. The avalanches. The parachute jump. As a blissful serenity surrounded us, like the time we drank beer on the pontoon by the lake in Sweden, I gazed up at the summit of ‘Craven Mountain’. Even some minutes after the series of avalanches and serac explosion that had nearly claimed our lives, snow and ice particles still rained down the mountain like a giant white blanket of fog slowly creeping its way through a horror movie set.

I looked a bit further down the mountain and saw the burning wreckage of the BMW M3 that had suddenly appeared in the story as a reference to my younger days. I thought back to the last time I had sat in an M3. My sister had picked me and Rob Buysman up from Marylebone station on our way to Earls Court to see Oasis on their proclaimed Be Here Now tour. Except her drunken ass of a boyfriend had other ideas and directed us all across London to the point where we missed The Verve who were supporting, and my sister turned up halfway through the Oasis setlist.

But the question that lingers on from that experience was why didn’t I take Ifan? Why did I end up going with Rob? Maybe these are questions to be answered in the Vertical Summit 2 Author’s Notes.

I was brought back to the present by Andrew breaking the silence, as he one-cheek-sneaked and let rip.

“I have no idea where the hell we are,” he said, as he cupped his fart and deposited it in Ifan’s face. “And I have no idea what we do now.”

We turned in unison as we heard the unmistakable mechanical throbbing of a tank drawing nearer. It was accompanied by shouting of Craven’s men. They were looking for us. And by the sound of it they weren’t far away.

“Well, we can’t stay here,” said Ifan, wafting fart away from his face. “It fucking stinks.”

We stood and started making our way up the glacier, in the opposite direction of the approaching troops. We had no equipment, no rations, no weapons. Ifan and I simply held an ice-axe each. Andrew still had his 5L daypack, but at that size I didn’t hold much hope of it containing anything useful. Perhaps an owl or two that we could grill later for dinner.

As we climbed we kept as close to the medial moraine as possible, hopeful of staying out of sight of the troops below. I could only hope that the tank couldn’t make it onto the glacier and cross the series of crevasses, but this is Vertical Summit where anything is possible.

As we reached something of a plateau that probably didn’t make sense from a geographical perspective, we had our first real opportunity to try and get a fix on where we were.

“There,” said Andrew, pointing back slightly the way we had come. “There’s K2. Next to it is Elbrus. I think we’re on some sort of tributary spur of the Godwin-Austen glacier.”

“That’s all very well. But where does this leave us?” Asked Ifan, picking up what appeared to be a sweaty sardine that had been left out overnight from another expedition. He inspected it before delicately putting it in his mouth.

“I have a theory,” I started. Both Andrew and Ifan looked at me expectantly. “I think we need to go back to Kangleong.”

“What?” Barked Ifan, as bits of sardine bone and flesh flew everywhere. “Kangleong is destroyed. You know this.”

“I know. But think about it. All this shit started that moment I tore those prayer flags from the summit. All of it. The storm that killed everyone, Craven, our lives being ruined, now this. It all leads back to that defining moment.”

As Ifan rummaged around on the floor for the bits of the all-important protein that he had lost, Andrew stared at me for a moment before nodding.

“You are right. I mean, at the time I thought it was really funny. But clearly you have angered some sort of mountaineering disaster novel god. The prophecy spoke of this.”

“But you are still missing the point,” continued Ifan. “Kangleong doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Something will exist,” countered Andrew. “Even if it’s just a pile of rocks. We climb it and put flags on the top. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” repeated Ifan and I in unison.

We set off for Kangleong, nestled deep in the Himalayas. In theory, it would have been a two month expedition to cover the twelve hundred kilometers, especially if we had taken the slow but necessary precautions to avoid Craven’s troops. But after half an hour we gave up as we had the Swansea 10k the next morning and had to save our legs. Andrew didn’t even want to risk a cheeky spot of parkour.

Worried about DOMS, Ifan drew back his sleeve to reveal a wrist mounted computer, like a 1980s Casio calculator watch on steroids. He punched in some numbers, and a few moments later his C-Max appeared. A red light oscillated from behind the front grill.

Whilst Andrew and I climbed in – I had called shotgun - Ifan opened the boot and dug out three Tesco’s meal deal bags, handing two of them to Andrew and I. Climbing into the cockpit, he put the C-Max into flight modus, and we sat back as he ignited the boosters and we shot off into the mountain air, leaving the Karakorum and Gasherbrum ranges behind us.

Once at an appropriate altitude, Ifan hit the hyperdrive switch, and the light around us was distorted into a rounded tunnel as we were propelled towards the Himalayas at lightspeed. I didn’t even have time to take a bite from my soggy southern fried chicken wrap before Ifan hit the switch again and we came out of hyperspeed. The journey had taken a mere 0,004 seconds; just long enough for Andrew to finish his lunch.

As speed slowed to normal I was startled as something hard hit the windscreen; a loud thud that seemed to resonate through the car as it bounced through the air. And again. I noticed a small fissure of a crack open up in the glass between where Ifan and I sat. As more and more objects hit the car I saw a buildup of ice on the windscreen that slid in an upwards trajectory due to our speed.

“Have we come out of hyperspace in a meteor shower?” Andrew asked from the backseat. He leaned forward so he was between Ifan and I.

“It’s ice!” Shouted Ifan above the noise of the impacts. “We’ve come out in a hail storm.”

“I’ve got a very bad feeling about this,” I said.

As golf ball sized hail stones hit the car, smoke started to seep out from under the bonnet. A moment later it was in the cockpit, pouring out of air vents. Lights and warning alarms flashed on the display panel.

“Hey, what’s that flashing?” Asked Andrew, pointing towards the dashboard.

Ifan wafted his hand away. “Hold on guys, we’re going down.”

As he wrestled with the controls my stomach lurched repeatedly as we lost altitude in big chunks. As we came down through the cloud line I noticed a snowy clearing in a valley ahead of us, between two Himalayan peaks.

“Over there,” I pointed.

“Yeah, that’ll do nicely,” said Ifan, as he tried his best to aim towards where I was pointing. Once more the car plummeted in altitude and I thought for a minute we wouldn’t make the landing zone. But in a battle of strength – Ifan versus mother nature – there would only be one winner.

“Brace yourselves…” warned Ifan, as we came over the clearing.

We hit the ground hard, and I felt the impact resonate through every bone in my body. The front suspension on the C-Max collapsed sending the nose of the car into the snow. As we ground to a halt, snow was pitched forward over the windscreen, a lot like when Luke crashed his snow speeder on Hoth.

Ten minutes later, Ifan had finally managed to finish parking and we all climbed out of the steaming wreck.

Whether it was Ifan’s brilliance as a pilot or my lazy writing, but fortunately we had come down just off the Yangma glacier, a big slug of ice that ran up to Kangleong base camp, which left us just a few hours trek to the start of our climb. Or maybe I should say where Kangleong base camp used to be.

I let out a sigh as I thought back to the last time I was here. It was 2013. I was working at BP and was bored to the point that my brain was turning to mush. But back then I was actually trying to write a serious mountaineering disaster novel. My how things have changed in the last eight years.

I shook the memories out of my mind and followed Ifan and Andrew into the local prayer flag shop, where we picked up a few tasty offerings that would hopefully restore peace to the galaxy. After that we popped into the adjoining Yangma Tavern for a cheeky pint and pub meal, and with that we set off for Kangleong.

I didn’t know what to expect as we approached Base Camp. My mind wandered again. Ground zero. The series of events that had changed everything from me. From seeing Ifan topless for the first time, to summiting the world’s toughest climb. Adrenaline and nervous energy built as we approached.

But as we climbed the rise that would give us our first view of New Kangleong, whatever I expected, it wasn’t this. The majestic granite monolith was gone. In its place was a pile of rubble and debris that rose a few thousand meters into the sky. Sitting on the top was a vertical slab of ice and rock that stretched a further one thousand meters up into the Himalayan air, and now represented the new summit of New Kangleong. It almost reminded me of a flake sticking out the top of a 99.

“What the fuck is that?” Asked Ifan.

“Don’t you guys see?” Replied Andrew. “It’s The Sill. In the explosion it has remained intact, somehow.”

He was right. The Sill was a mystical feature on Kangleong that changed both elevation and size based on what chapter you happened to be reading in Vertical Summit 1. But mountaineering purists and geologists would argue that it was approximately one thousand meters long and three hundred meters wide. Except now it stood on its own as the peak of Kangleong.

We would have to climb it. In some ways the climb of Kangleong had suddenly got even harder, especially as it would have to be done without ropes. Something referred to as free soloing.

I saw the fear etched on the faces of Ifan and Andrew. Whilst I came from a free soloing background, I knew that this was new territory for these guys. In my youth I had pioneered new free soloing routes up some of the worlds hardest climbs, most notably The Dawn Wall on El Cap, a climb that featured in a Netflix documentary The Dawn Solo. The documentary also focused on my penchant for a morning Tommy Tank.

People asked all the time why I did it. Why did I climb without a rope, harness or other safety equipment? Aren’t I scared of death? The truth was that I got really tired of answering those questions over and over again. But you can’t blame those who ask the questions: fans, friends, me, any rational, thinking, non-suicidal human being. Why is it not enough to be one of the best climbers in the world? Why remove the protection? It’s as if Novak Djokovic played a grand slam tournament where the penalty for losing was beheading. Which they should introduce.

But the questions were valid. Was it because I wanted to push myself? Because I didn’t value my life? Because I wanted to achieve absolute sporting perfection? All good questions. The answer was that I knew that it was the only way a guy with my ears was going to get a babe like Sanni McCandless.

I stared up at the summit of New Kangleong. Something about it made me uneasy. It wasn’t just the climb in front of me, but it was almost as if…  as if I felt a presence up there. Something that I hadn’t felt since…

I faced Andrew and Ifan. “I’ll go alone.”

“Don’t be stupid, we do this as a team,” said Andrew, but I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t quite convinced of his own words.

“This is my mess, I will fix this. Plus, Craven is up there. And I have to face him alone.”

“What? How do you know Craven is there? Why do you have to face him alone?” Asked Ifan, the questions spewing out of him like the infamous cous-cous honking episode.

I turned to face The Sill. I didn’t want to see their reactions.

“Because he’s my father.”

There was stunned silence behind me as I set off for the summit. I tried my best to keep my emotions in check. I had to be clear of thought and one hundred per cent focused if I was going to make this climb. Free soloing something of this magnitude was like a gold medal level of achievement, where years of preparation comes together in one moment of perfection. There would be no place for silver.

After a few hours of scrambling up broken rock I reached the smooth granite and ice face of The Sill. I placed a hand on it, felt it’s smooth surface and the energy running below it, as if it was the force that I would harness and help me climb this beast. I looked up. A sheer vertical slab of rock with an endless series of elite level ice and rock climbing pitches lay in front of me.

I took a deep breath.

“Fuck this,” I said to myself. I checked around to make sure that the Netflix film crew were nowhere to be seen,  before digging out my Mandalorian jet pack that I had concealed under my jacket.

I snapped it in place and hit the booster. I mean, it’s not my fault that no one challenged me with the whole ‘pictures or it didn’t happen’ ethos.

I blasted my way up the thousand meters in a number of seconds, and landed smoothly on the top of Kangleong. I was back. Seven years and lots of memories later. Except this time I was the first person to conquer the new mountain. New Kangleong.

But I knew that this was only wishful thinking. I’d known it since I saw Kangleong from base camp. Since I sensed it.

As I stared out over the shrunken view from the summit of Kangleong, I heard the unmistakable mechanical breathing from behind me. I turned slowly.

Twenty meters away stood Craven.

“You came alone. That was unwise.” Even at this altitude the wind was strong and he had to shout to make himself heard.

“I came to finish this, father.” I shouted back. “The ride is over.”

“Oh, no, no. l say when it's over.”

From his waist holster he pulled out his ice axe. He hit a button which turned on a series of red LEDs around the rim of the axe. An innovative feature that allowed climbers to see cracks in the ice, almost like an illuminative dye-pen. But in the hands of Craven it looked sinister.

He took a step towards me.

[missstormcaller]

BLEACH JET Artbook Talk Vol 5 - Translation (Q50-51)

ABOUT BURN THE WITCH

Published in Weekly Shōnen Jump's 2018 issue 33, the "BURN THE WITCH" One-shot drew a grand response. The sequence of events which lead to its composition and the inside story are revealed for the first time.

—— J: Now we move to the final subject matter, these are questions regarding "BURN THE WITCH" contained in the booklet.

Q.50: Around when does the setting of "BURN THE WITCH" occur in relation to "BLEACH"?

Kubo: "BURN THE WITCH" is a tale that takes place 12 years after the final battle of "BLEACH", and 2 years after the concluding chapter.

Q.51: The West Branch [of Soul Society] was revealed in "BURN THE WITCH", but what kind of world is the North and South Branch?

Kubo: From the start it was a manga I had drawn solely for the purpose of declaring that "hey there's also a branch in the West." I drew it in order to get the readers to expand their imagination by asking "if there's one in the West, could there not be more in other places too?"

—— J: Is "BURN THE WITCH" an idea that had been kneaded out during the serialisation of "BLEACH"?

Kubo: That's right. The "East Branch" appears in only a single mention within bleach, although the concept had been established at the time, I felt that the main plot would be unable to progress if I proceeded to draw as far as both East and West. I tried not to dwell on it because otherwise I'd grow worried thinking "when will 'BLEACH' come to a conclusion!?" So I thought perhaps there is no longer any need to depict the subject of East and West. 

Then, the current editor-in-chief Nakano-san came with a request saying that he wants me to draw a one-shot composition on this occasion; when he asked me, "do you want a continuation of 'BLEACH', or would you prefer a new work that's entirely separate", I said "naturally, I want to try my hand at a new work as well, but there's a live-action movie adaptation too so I also want it to be 'BLEACH'. In that case may I draw two pieces?" (Laughs)

So I composed it after saying "well then I'll draw something that can be read like a new work, but it will develop into 'BLEACH'." Though, I think I had no idea what I was even talking about until I was finished.

—— J: The space in the title at the end of the manga has been shaded in so that it can be read as "BLEACH", I didn't notice it at first.

Kubo: Seems like there's quite a number of people who aren't aware of it. However, I think it would be nice if those who haven't noticed go "no way!?" after hearing this information from somebody else. It started with devising the title of "BURN THE WITCH" first, I reached a result after wondering whether or not I could somehow connect this to "BLEACH", I thought it would be cool to scratch the letter "W" here. It was a good idea to create this using the typeface design, but after thinking that the way it's revealed during the action is what leaves an impression, I incorporated it into the story. 

—— J: There are many cute designs for the accessories too. Their guns for example are especially cute.

Kubo: They were originally horns rather than guns. I decided that "the rearing of dragons would make a good story'', I thought "speaking of 'rearing', isn't that kind of like a shepherd?" and that's when I had them carry horns. Then, I was struck with an idea thinking "if I turn the horn upside down, it ends up looking like a gun", which is how it evolved to this current form. Incidentally, I was thinking about their outfits at the same time too, so the pattern on their capes became a shepherd's plaid. 

—— J: Is the title "BURN THE WITCH" from a Radiohead song?

Kubo: That's right. After hearing the original title, I thought it had a nice ring to it. The contents of the story is completely unrelated to the contents of the song though.

—— J: Some points of similarity between Hollows and dragons have also been vaguely depicted, right?

Kubo: Upon reading it back, I was pretty much like "oh, come to think of it, these things remind me of Hollows." I thought, if anything, the dragons should have a design that didn't overlap with Hollows, the mere fact that they 'have horns' was made into a distinct characteristic of dragons. The scene where all those dragons appear was composed after I hoped to achieve a game-like feel, or the atmosphere of a game similar to "Monster Hunter" or "Dragon Quest Builders". That was a lot of fun for me because it was a concept introduction page, something I didn't get to do much of in the original story of "BLEACH".

—— J: I did get the impression that the more enjoyable aspects are portrayed in the worldbuilding rather than the battles.

Kubo: Yes, that's true. I tried to keep battles to a minimum. Although I sensed that I started with some reluctance after receiving this task, it was more enjoyable than I expected once I began drawing. I suppose this is because I was able to put forward concepts that could not be made to appear with regard to the flow of the story in "BLEACH".

—— J: So did it feel like you had wrapped things up in one go? 

Kubo: As a matter of fact, only the opening monologue had been drawn instantaneously. Before deciding on the characters that I would have enter the stage, the words "I like uniforms" sprang to mind, when you hear the line "I like uniforms", it sounds like a lewd remark, however I wondered whether or not there could be some different justification behind it. Like asserting that "one likes uniforms" with a distinct set of values. Noel was born as the character who possesses that set of values. After sketching this scene on one or two pages, I left it to the side, as is, for a long time…. Then, I pretty much began drawing when the deadline eventually got too close for comfort (laughs).

—— J: This applies to the logic you mentioned earlier, 'after observing the incident, after giving it careful consideration, if this individual was not the culprit, then in what way will the situation come to develop?' [1]

Kubo: 'Even though everyone is saying it's like this, what if it's the case that it's nothing like that?', there's a fair few things that come to mind from considering this side of the equation.

—— J: After reading a few pages, I immediately got the impression that "Kubo sensei has returned!"

Kubo: I think people who like my manga, will likely be touched by the monologue here. Even if one tries to interpret the word "uniforms" alone, the feeling that "there's various ways of considering this huh", I want the audience to experience that when they read my manga. The same goes for the lyrics of a musical composition. And it's also true of Shakespeare's poem which I talked about at the start. "They have o'erlooked me and divided me" is what everyone regards as the main point, but from "one half is yours" to "the other half also yours", these lines present one with new findings. [2]

—— J: And so we conclude by showing our appreciation to Kubo sensei for answering everyone's questions which were received in various languages from around the world. Allow me to express my gratitude one more time.

Kubo: I am very grateful to have received so many questions!

Translator’s notes:

1. See Q.41

2. Quotes from “The Merchant of Venice” by  William Shakespeare see Q.1

[echristides-blog]

Blogs

Methodology - 11/12/19

Dear Blog,

As a part time student at the beginning of a three-year journey of a qualifying degree and as placement won’t begin until January 2020 I thought I’d take the opportunity to embark on this adventure by looking into what spurs my curiosity and interest along the way, letting my intuition, reading and teaching guide my methodology and inform my self-growth:

My main approach was visual, searching for art exhibitions at galleries that really spoke to me and I felt very drawn to, this includes one film that was heavily based on the mental ill health of a fictional character. This method allowed me to experience, be influenced by the visuals as well as view the artist or subject through an art therapy lens - looking and thinking like a trainee art therapist. The most important part of this approach was supplementing my reflections with qualitative scientific input from art therapy literature and from peer-reviewed articles in related fields giving elements of validity and reliability whilst enhancing my learning as I explored different areas and possible meanings under the concept of art therapy.

Having come from a musical background and understanding the influence sonic environments have had on me, one blog is of experimental thinking - again approached scientifically, as I am interested in exploring the idea of using sound in an art therapy setting. My research has shown that this is still a developing area in the context of art therapy even though some professional writing has been contributed here. I feel this approach would have been more complete for me had I made some response art to an environmental soundscape.

Two blogs are purely experiential, based on the process of making my own  piece of art and experiencing working with different art materials. I felt I had to document important realisations that shaped my understanding and learning of the art making experience for myself and also what it could be like for clients in therapy.

I also felt it was important to include some reflexivity in my methodology as this is key in developing practice and I hope this is reflected in a number of my blog posts. Because of this, I believe that a reflection on personal therapy could have been a good addition here.  

Back to School! - 01/10/19

Dear Blog!

I have just come home from the ‘official’ first day at uni. Going back to academia makes me a little anxious… Will I quickly remember how to be a student again? How will I juggle work, study and life? I’m a little nervous about the journey the MA Art Therapy will take me on. Even though I have a cloud of thoughts above me, it was great seeing familiar faces from the Foundation course – we bonded and shared experiences so feeling that sense of safety was comforting… The Foundation taught me that Art Therapy is a creative route to better self-understanding but its unpredictable process is a little bit of a scary thought. I guess all these emotions will be coming into play at some point, this is an MA in Art Therapy after all.

Today was very exciting. In fact, as soon as our lecture on Research and Enquiry began I couldn’t wait to get started! This emotion continued throughout the taught lessons.  I'm already thinking of areas in Art Therapy I want to explore; sound/music in art therapy, the intrinsic properties of art materials, gender in art therapy, art and psychoanalysis, art therapy and the criminal mind. So here I am, my mind travelling at 100 miles per hour after having a plethora of information thrown at us. Although I'm loving that we can navigate our way through the course, I do have to slow down as I know that my starting point is research, research, research!  

I found it quite intriguing today that I started doodling during our Research & Enquiry class as I realised that I was doodling the same shapes I drew on the first day of the Foundation. Although the patterns were identical there were differences in size, in colour and they were positioned on different parts of the page in my notebooks.  This was very interesting to me... (Interesting…a word I’m sure I’ll be using a lot…). I do wonder what the role of an intuitive image is? (Case & Daley, 2013: 124). While doodling has been associated with being disinterested in a primary task, recent research shows that the act of doodling releases mental stress, which in turn improves focus and helps memory and recall performance (Gupta, 2016: 17). Dr Robert Burns relies on doodling to reveal what is going on in the unconscious, claiming that the way that EEG leads transmit brain activity to a piece of paper, one’s hand also does (cited in Pillay, 2016). Even though I believe I could try to make sense of my doodling, I’m certain that art therapy theory, psychoanalytic theory and neuroscience could shed a lot more light here...

Word count: 434

(Doodling in first lesson Sep 2019)

(Doodling in first lesson September 2018)

References

Case, C. Dalley, T. (2013) ‘The Art Therapy Handbook’, London & New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group.

Gupta, S. (2016) ‘Doodling: The Artistry of the Roving Metaphysical Mind’, Journal of Mental Health and Human Behaviour, Vol 21 (1), pp.16-19. doi: 10.4103/0971-8990.182097. (peer reviewed)

Pillay, S. (2016) “The Thinking Benefits of Doodling”, Harvard Health Publishing, https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/the-thinking-benefits-of-doodling-2016121510844 – Accessed on 02/10/19 at 19:15.

If ‘Joker’ (fictional character, 2019) was in Art Therapy… - Reflections 07/10/19  

Dear Blog,  

Last night I went to the movies to see Joker, a psychological thriller focusing on the main character’s mental illness. This film emphasized that what we are at birth and what we become and why, are very different identities. Everybody has a story...  

The film makes it known that Joker was never really in a nurturing environment, loved or cared for and that he had a very dark upbringing. It was a memoir of the criminal before he became destructive to the world around him. Joker is a fragmented individual and sees a therapist who didn’t succeed in developing a therapeutic relationship between them. The irony is that Joker seemed to be collaborative during their sessions by opening up about his emotions but she wasn’t very interested in understanding him or responsive to his needs.  

It made me think about the significance of the art therapist, the art therapy process and its multitude layers of containment through the different therapeutic relationships within art therapy. In his therapy journal he wrote “The worst part about being human is mental illness”, which striked me in particular as he was aware of his disturbances but was really struggling to deal with them. I guess he was trying to fight his demons alone. Mental illness is like being in a prison you can’t free yourself from and no one can understand the suffering if they haven’t experienced it. His sense of powerlessness lead to him making use of a gun - he used it for physical, emotional and psychological protection. It became his shield, forbidding anyone to upset him. It really saddened me that the therapist failed to create that “holding environment” and that she in fact discouraged emotional nourishment (Murphy cited in Liebmann, 1994: 16). What if he missed his last chance for positive change because the professional was incompetent?  

Perhaps the art therapy setting and process would have been more suited to Joker as he is a very visual individual, constantly daydreaming and painting a clown’s face on his. His imagination made him creative but he was only able to be this expressive alone. It felt like he was self-soothing himself through his creativity but even his creativity was imprisoned in his own sense of self. Art therapy allows one to be free and creative through play in what Winnicott calls the “potential space - an environment which can tolerate the successes and failures of experimentation, but which is ultimately reliable” (cited in Liebmann, 1994: 16). We can’t release on humans the pain and aggression we can release in the art therapy room... His creativity could have been his way out.  

Word count: 434

References

Murphy, J. (1994) ‘Mists in the Dark’, in Liebmann, M. ‘Art Therapy with Offenders’. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.  

Joker (2019), [Motion Picture], Todd Phillips, USA: Warner Bros. Pictures – Viewed 07/10/19.

Sound in Art Therapy - Reflections 15/10/19  

Dear Blog,  

Yesterday in our Introduction to Art Therapy lecture we talked about how to approach our first art therapy session as trainees. How we could prompt a client if he or she is struggling to engage in art making was a question posed and this triggered a thought I have a lot of faith in... Although usually the visual sense for humans is perhaps the more dominant, we are nevertheless multi-sensory and senses can stimulate subjective experiences. Art Therapy is a creative way in to the psyche just as much as externalizing what is part of the psyche is – therefore, exploring creativity when utilizing art therapy is very important. “Sound can be an invasive phenomenon of everyday experience in that it assists our engagement with, immersion in and commentaries with the environment in which we live” (Taylor & Fernstrom, 2017: 4). I am very interested in non-musical sounds evoking memory and emotion as there seems to be a lot less written about it in comparison to great work on memory and music.  

Sound has the capacity to mark time, place and narrative “making the past psychologically present or problematized, creating a dialogue between the present and the past” (Bao, 2013: 208) and we fathom sound in terms of phenomenology, memory, imagery, associations and even phantasy. As sound is tied to different experiences, the use of sonic prompts can elicit memories and involuntary memories. “Our ability to interpret the world around us crucially depends on how the brain organizes meaningful auditory information in memory” (Hendrickson, Walenski, Friend, Love, 2017: 2). This could strongly suggest that sound has potential to aid a client into and through the complex process of art therapy sessions. So, it can very much be considered to be a stimulant... Referring to good and safe practice, could it be risky for some clients to be played recorded sounds during an art therapy session? Perhaps it could be, but the acousmatic approach creates an illusion for the client, it allows the client to be connected and disconnected with the sound at the same time as the actual source of it would be unknown. Sound is also ephemeral and what could be triggered in the art therapy room when sound is played can be contained by the therapist, by being in the art therapy room and maybe even in the artwork itself. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular interest in the natural soundscape as a therapeutic resource and it being used as a calming agent (Franco, Shanahan, Fuller, 2017: 1). Of course, this is all very subjective but more research is without doubt needed here as I am a firm believer that nature can be a healer in many different ways...  

The effect of sonic elicitation is multisensory as sound evokes visual, tactile and olfactory as well as auditory memories (Harris, 2015: 22) and this fits in to art therapy very well as art therapy is a whole body experience. It has been stated that multimodal sensory input can drive positive mental states such as tranquility, unlike monotony, which is a cause of stress (Franco, Shanahan, Fuller, 2017: 2). Allowing sound to play an active role in the triangular relationship (therapist-client-artwork), to prompt and be part of a therapeutic relationship seems to be a creative avenue to explore... And creativity is not just a non-threatening way to access and express memories and emotions but has the power to create a corrective experience in the brain (Perryman, Blisard & Moss, 2019: 80).  

Word count: 563  

References  

Bao, Y. (2013) “Remembering the Invisible: Soundscape and Memory of 1989”, Journal of Chinese Cinemas, Vol 7 (3), pp. 207-224. doi: 10.1386/jcc.7.3.207_1.  (peer reviewed)

Franco, Lara S. Shanahan, Danielle F. Fuller, Richard A. (2017) “A Review of the Benefits of Nature Experiences: More Than Meets the Eye”, International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, Vol 14 (8), pp. 1-29. doi: 10.3390/ijerph14080864. (peer reviewed)

Harris, A. (2015) “Eliciting Sound Memories”, The Public Historian, Vol 37 (4), pp.14-31. doi: 10.1525/tph.2015.37.4.14.  (peer reviewed)

Hendrickson, K. Walenski, M. Friend, M. Love, T. (2015) “The Organization of Words and Environmental Sounds in Memory”, Neuropsychologia, Vol 69, pp. 67-76. doi:10.1016/j.neuropsychologia.2015.01.035. (peer reviewed)

Perryman, K. Blisard, P. Moss, R. (2019) “Using Creative Arts in Trauma Therapy: The Neuroscience of Healing”, Journal of Mental Health Counselling, Vol 41 (1), pp. 80-94. doi: 10.17744/mehc.41.1.07. (peer reviewed)

Taylor, S. Fernstrom, M. (2017) “Acouscenic Listening and Creative Soundwalks: Evoking memory and Narratives Through Soundscape Exploration”, Leonardo Music Journal, Vol 27 (27), pp.3-6. doi: 10.1162/LMJ_a_00999. (peer reviewed)  

‘Protreptic’ (2018) - Reflections 26/10/19

Dear Blog,

I recently came across artist Despina Zaxaropoulou and her eight hour a day, three-week long performance Protreptic in Bangkok and became fascinated with the power in endurance art... I decided to watch a clip of the performance and view images taken from it without reading its short descriptive summary to have a more authentic response to it... Dressed in an almost completely transparent dressing gown, Zaxaropoulou lies silently and moves around on a wooden transporting container inviting audiences to interact with her... Her purpose was instantly and unmistakably made clear to me, it was that effective and meaningful...  It pushes the artist’s physical and mental strength to the maximum, makes the power relations between artist and audience prominent and tests boundaries. She embodied herself and her inner reality into her artwork, becoming the image under the gaze and available to be physically handled by many different individuals. It was very interesting to see different reactions to Zaxaropoulou’s loss of autonomy and even though her body language seemed sorrowful... she was still objectified and touched in a sexual way by some. From a trainee art therapist point of view my immediate response was to want to create a safe space for her and hold that space for her... my mind couldn’t stop thinking about the significance of complete respect for the client’s intrapersonal meanings...

From an artist’s point of view I really admire her bravery in her performance. It made me question my own art practice and how stepping out of my comfort zone is something perhaps I should attempt more often as my artwork consists of only my own personal experiences, emotions, memories and fantasies. Although I felt very uncomfortable and bothered by the performance – Zaxaropoulou being exposed, vulnerable and receptive to many different interpersonal experiences, reminded me that “creative work has been associated with ‘a-ha’ moments of self-realization... that stimulate personal growth” (Hinz, 2017: 143). Being experiential is often about taking risks and experimenting with different environments, materials and exploring the psychodynamics. Sitting with uncomfortable feelings and being reflective as well as being reflexive is necessary for my own creative practice and development as an artist and as a trainee art therapist. These different thought processes have shifted my perception of me as an artist and have made me eager to transcend my boundaries and embrace challenge and uncertainty. They have spurred further curiosity for learning and I feel I need to honour those interests.  

Word Count: 407

Reference  

Hinz, L. D (2017) “The Ethics of Art Therapy: Promoting Creativity as a Force for Positive Change”, Journal of the American Art Therapy Association, Volume 34 (3), pp. 142-145. doi:10.1080/07421656.2017.1343073. (peer reviewed)

First Art Making Session in MA! - 29/10/2019  

Dear Blog!  

Today we finally made some art work at uni! And it was really, really, REALLY liberating. Since we started I haven’t had the chance to sit down and take my time to make art and today’s session just proved to me how long overdue it was to do so, especially being on this course...  

We were told to bring wool and newspaper to today’s class last week, but we were only told today that we would each be making a person and I really enjoyed having that direction. I enjoyed working in silence in a quiet room, getting lost in the moment without any distractions as I was able to tune in with myself. Usually, I instantly get a visual response to an exercise but this time I hadn’t, so I knew I would go by my method of “what feels right” to make art. This is how I selected my materials and then let the process take its course. From the selection in front of me I ended up using only the earthy materials such as string, crinkled shredded paper, tissue paper, curly moss and stuck to earthy colours. It was interesting to me that I didn’t end up using every material I chose in the beginning, even though I tried to incorporate them, certain materials and colours didn’t feel suited.  

I realised I was spending a lot of time on the legs and was feeling irritated trying to get them looking and feeling the way I wanted them to. When I became conscious of this, I started asking myself why the legs were so important to me...  

I then worked on the arms, needing them to take a slightly firmer form but I still needed them flexible so I used curly moss. I wrapped the body in white tissue paper to give it a lighter, transparent feel visually. Finally, the head I felt needed “consolidating” so I sewed all around the newspaper with navy and beige string – as if I was bringing my thoughts together, sewing and securing them all in one place. Interestingly enough, I didn’t want to hide the newspaper effect and was picky only using parts of it that had no images but I only thought about how fussy I was after I had finished making my piece. At the time I only wondered why I chose those two shades of colour of string...  

I instantly felt at ease with my creation and connected to the entire product. As I had some time left to reflect on it I thought about my emotional journey when making it; the time it took to get the legs looking springy and unrestricted – flexible and ready to run, made me think about how much I love freedom and spontaneity, it made me question if I am struggling with that part at the moment. The body felt as light as a feather, the arms were spread out and bendable... perhaps because I feel like I am on a new adventure. It wasn’t long before I realised that the head seemed to be the only solid and heavy part of the body... maybe because I have much to think about and organise at the moment... I felt I identified with my piece and my object became real to me, it had its own existence in the space and its positioning became an important decision. Today’s session seemed to have mirrored my invisible reality, it was enlightening and educational and even though not in a therapy session, felt the concept of the triangular relationship come alive.  

Word count: 596

  ‘Same Bed, Different Dreams’ (2018) by Song Dong and Psychoanalytic Thinking - Reflections 02/11/19  

Dear Blog!  

I came across the works of Chinese artist’s Song Dong today in London’s Pace Gallery and was captivated by his art work Same Bed, Different Dreams (2018), which represents the expansion of Asian cities and their modernization that has not only changed the face of the cities but the citizens lives with it. His concept and artwork resonated with me on a metaphoric and symbolic level, and its title seemed to meet my intuitive feeling towards it quite well: that his artwork was dream related... It made me question if the title was a conscious or unconscious attempt to be ambiguous.

In Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams (cited in Strachey, 2010: 338-339) the unconscious surfaces when the censor is frail, which occurs during sleep and the repressed comes out in a dream-form... a dream is a thing that is pictorial and is capable of being represented. This to me was Dong’s unconscious sitting within the physical space – or should I say his psychical space – in concrete form. 

A very large beautifully crafted, multi-coloured and polished dream-like case made out of many different windows in the centre of a pale room makes itself known. In it were household objects including crockery, pendant lights and decorative knick-knacks... objects that carry history, memory, emotion. Dong having constructed it by using rubbles from old Beijing confirmed to me that its every detail was meaningful and left me feeling that past and present were undefined here. According to Reiser (cited in Fonagy et al., 2012: 78), the manifest dream draws out past and current life issues and conflicts, in hope to resolve them. Perhaps these raw materials and objects inside are more raw than they seem… Dreams disguise impulses and substitute them with symbols – an operation accomplished by primary processes of the unconscious where the repressed return in confusing ways through visual imagery (Rocha, 2012: 20). Both, dreams and artwork have their own dimensional measurements and in Dong’s artwork, the dream could be preserved in the large dream-like case. The pendant lights dangling in it are lit up, which could suggest psychic activity. Lacan wrote that “dream is a phenomenon of psychic activity” because the unconscious is always at work and never sleeps... so perhaps this is what is being presented by Dong unconsciously (cited in Rocha, 2012: 17). Although the dream-like case is completely closed, one can still see through it, some windows are more transparent than others giving an indication that the hidden parts of the psyche are reachable through dreams. I have always been fascinated with how personal, mysterious, enchanting and unfathomable dreams are. I hope to inform my practice with psychoanalytic literature but I know that it could take me a lifetime trying to understand some of it. Even though exploring psychoanalysis feels like stepping into a whole other world, I believe it is a study that sheds light on the bigger, deeper and most complex parts of the psyche. Dong’s political artwork displays the relationship between his life and his art... And I can’t help but wonder if he was to bring this to an analytic setting, what would come up?  

Word count: 510  

References

Fonagy, P. Kachele, H. Leuzinger-Bohleber, M & Taylor, D. (2012) ‘The Significance of Dreams: Bridging Clinical and Extraclinical Research in Psychoanalysis’, London: Routledge.  

Freud, S. & Strachey, J. (2010) ‘The Interpretation of Dreams: The Complete and Definitive Text’, New York: Basic Books.

Rocha, G. M. (2012) “The Unconscious: Ideal Worker?” International Forum of Psychoanalysis, Vol. 21 (1), pp. 17-21, doi: 10.1080/0803706X.2011.624546. (peer reviewed)

‘The Anthony Gormley Experience’ - Reflections 07/11/19

Dear Blog,

Today I finally managed to go and see Anthony Gormley’s exhibition and what an interesting one it was. I had booked my ticket last night for this morning as I wanted to go in with a fresh and clear mind to simply experience it. The focus was the body: we all have a body but the world within it, is unique every time.  As I was walking around each room my responses to his different artworks were authentic and instant to what was happening in that present moment: What I was feeling, what I was thinking, what I remembered, what I imagined, what it made me question, what it made me want to do… it all came to consciousness. Seven rooms really spoke to me:

Clearing VII (2019) Approximately 8 kilometres of aluminium tube coiled against the space, restricted by the walls, ceilings and floor to bounce and expand. I felt I was in a child’s scribble and wanted to play in it – it activated a physical impulse and I felt I was part of the artwork.

Subject II (2019) A single life-size male body form made of steel bars became my complete focus and it was his posture that really captured me – he seemed sorrowful and I felt the impact of that emotion. Perhaps the heaviness of the material that he was made out of played a part in the intensity of that emotion making it more prominent that he was alone and seeming lonely in the space...

Matrix III (2019) An enormous cloud made out of steel mesh, its density increasing as you walk towards its centre and looking up at it whilst walking beneath it triggered a memory. I remembered swimming in deep water unable to see the world above it and swimming towards the surface – remembering the feelings of fear and relief that came with that experience, essentially reliving it.  

Lost Horizon I (2018) Many identical male figures made out of cast iron, positioned in many different ways across the ceiling, walls and floor.  Walking amongst these figures, I noticed that the male figure was Gormley. It made me think about him and his life experiences, every figure felt like it had a different story to tell about him. I became very aware of these presences in the room, I realized I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was feeling with each one but their presence was intense – making me think even more.

Cave (2019) A steel sculpture on an architectural scale imitates a hollow human form. Going through this hollow body I felt my visual, auditory and tactile senses heighten as it got completely dark; using my eyes to spot anything possible, my ears to hear what I could and touch to navigate myself though the darkness. At the same time I felt like I was walking into the unknown as sensations were very present but not obvious. This artwork stimulated and activated my body and mind together, and led to a combination of observations on the self, experiencing my own body as an entity – externally as well as internally.  

Drawings II Exiting the Cave led to a room with more basic and natural material artworks. Gormley used his own blood to make drawings representing the interior of the human body, which I found very uncomfortable to look at making me want to turn away. I was quite surprised to have felt quite nauseous at the sight of that and it made me realise just how disturbing I found it. There was something about his blood, its varying texture in the artwork and being displayed for many years now that didn’t sit well with me at all and made me question why. Why was I affected this much?  

Host (2019) Gormleys final room was kept separate by a single solid piece of stone, a room consisting of earth, water and air where water covered the whole ground. This room is the only room left uninterrupted by visitors. Still, it offered me an incredibly soothing experience by gazing at it and smelling the humidity that was produced – I was so drawn and nourished by it, I wanted to sit there. I realised this was the only room I felt so relaxed by as it made me imagine that I was looking out of a window to natural landscape, envisioning forests and being by the beach. It was the perfect note to end on as I felt safe near it... bringing to the surface my strong connection and love for natural surroundings… It also made me think about the counter-transference in therapy, the feelings a therapist feels in response to the client or the clients artwork as Gormley’s exhibition certainly did that...

This exhibition was all experiential reminding me of Hakomi Psychotherapy: based on mindfulness, Hakomi is body orientated psychotherapy accentuating somatic awareness (Rothaus, 2013: 208). The body is a powerful resource as it stores influential information and can guide us to deeper places in the psyche. It seemed as if Gormley took the role of the therapist using his artworks as experiments to evoke experiences for the visitors… gently accessing unconscious material and bringing it to conscious awareness so that it can be processed. Having gone first thing in the morning allowed me to be relaxed, and being calm helped me to be more open and receptive to new experiences when engaging with the artworks. This is a vital part of mindful self-study as it allows you to focus on body-mind connection in the here and now and “the quality of mindfulness heightens mental imagery”, which in turn could increase degree of healing (Morgan cited in Rothaus, 2013: 212). In an Art Therapy setting I could have externalized my body-mind experience, have the process and my artwork contained before safely reflecting on it… A really rich combination of approaches to consider…

Word count: 977 

Reference 

Rothaus, M. E. (2013) ‘Hakomi and Art Therapy’ in Rappaport, L. ‘Mindfulness and the Arts Therapies: Theory and Practice’, London & Philadelphia: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

   ‘Other Spaces: Vanishing Point & Our Time’, Psychosis & Realizations - Reflections 10/11/19 

Dear Blog,

I have always had a very strong interest in Psychosis and having studied music even composed an electronic piece based on my understanding of an episode of Psychosis. My purpose of composing music like this was to try to interpret psychological disorders guided by my readings so that I can raise awareness on how difficult it is to be on the other side and to help me understand sufferers state on a deeper level. By doing this I felt I would be able to relate and connect better with these individuals. Vanishing Point and Our Time are exhibitions I visited that played with one’s visual perception. Both in dark rooms Vanishing Point used laser lights and projected beams of light to a vanishing point, and Our Time used smoke and a kinetic light installation that swung back and forth – both playing with reality and illusion.

Psychosis is the severe distortion or even erosion of the normal functions of perception, thinking and feeling and of the capacity to communicate (Sass cited in Killick & Schaverien, 1997:134). For me the visual nature of this exhibition resembled a hallucinatory experience placing me in the mind of a psychotic client. From a trainee art therapist point of view, this exhibition made me panic slightly at the thought of some tricky but vital questions… How could I contain a severely psychotic client? How would I approach this? Where would I begin? I took a moment to consolidate my thoughts and reverted to our core learnings so far… I have to create a safe and facilitating environment for the client, which means being resilient and being able to tolerate different behaviours, by providing safe art materials and a place where artwork could be stored, by having a regularity of sessions in that same space. With all clients and especially clients suffering with severe mental health problems, getting them to experience a level of relatedness to the art therapist through repetition is essential. According to Killick “containment can be mediated through the experience of continuity” (Killick & Schaverien, 1997: 50). And what if there is no artwork?! I remembered my tutors words: “It’s still art therapy!”.

I am also a very firm believer in body language as it is penetrative and a universal form of communication. Searle focused on the therapist’s facial expressions being fundamental for the symbiotic relationship between the psychotic client and the therapist stating that through the therapist the psychotic client can recognise their aliveness (cited in Killick & Schaverien, 1997: 219-220).  

I am beginning to understand the complexities that come into play with the different clients and the importance of not being reactive to alarming thoughts but responsive – remaining patient and having faith in the process. This exhibition and the readings that followed highlighted that as a trainee art therapist I have to learn the language of each of my clients and adapt my way of working to their needs in order to get them to connect with me and engage in art making. Although I am trying to prepare myself for my upcoming placement as much as possible, I understand that I can’t know fully what to expect… The responsibility for improving the mental well-being of another and thoughts on what my counter-transference will be in the process, are thoughts that make me a little... or a bit more than a little nervous…

Word count: 552

Reference 

Killick, K. & Schaverien, J. (1997) ‘Art, Psychotherapy and Psychosis’, New York: Routledge.

Charlotte Salomon’s ‘Life? Or Theatre?’, Looking at Her Paintings - Reflections 16/11/19  

Dear Blog,

What an exhibition... I am so captivated by how deep and penetrating it was...  

“The war raged on and I sat by the sea and saw deep into the heart of humankind”, she said and she really did (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).

Salomon, a German Jew in Berlin lost her mother at the delicate age of 9 and grew up living in fear witnessing the heartache and devastation the Nazis spread when they came into power in 1933. Her father eventually remarried opera singer Paula Salomon-Linberg and Salomon fell madly in love with someone her step-mother worked with, Alfred Wolfson, only to be sent to stay in southern France with her maternal grandparents due to dangerous circumstances. After witnessing her grandmother hang herself, her grandfather brutally let her in on what was being kept from her all these years – that their seven family losses where suicides, including her mother’s.  

“I will create a story so as not to lose my mind” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).  

Salomon created a series of autobiographical paintings attaching tracing paper, writing words and melodies, adding a narrator and introducing characters giving them a theatrical effect... I thought about why she chose to paint the way she did...

Her paintings presented her internal and external reality in a very defined and cohesive manner. She used paint, a medium that could be messy and which can be daunting when there are issues regarding control (Robbins, 1987: 109). Everything happening in her life was beyond her control but her choice to use paint, for me, was a sign of wanting that power over how her life story was illustrated – a valuable challenge of tolerating all the toxic feelings depicting her struggle through life. This left me with an incredible impression of her inner strength and her being well-balanced. Perhaps her faith in religion gave her that power... “Dear God, just let me not go mad” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009).

Her paintings shift from bright to dark colours and her writing from witty to grim as her story proceeds. They start becoming colourless and dull as she began feeling fed up with feeling fed up and she contemplated committing suicide herself. Colour communicates the felt experience and makes a visual statement about a person’s current state of being (Robbins, 1987: 107-109). Their flatness could metaphorically represent her lifeless life. But Salomon’s paintings were all of notebook size and of a repetitive style of painting completely limiting her body movement, which according to Robbins are signs of offering herself containment and of protecting herself (1987: 113).

Salomon seems to have had experienced cumulative trauma having lost her mother, being away from her father and her lover, being in the midst of war, not being able to communicate with her loved ones... Emotionally and psychologically exhausted by it all she fought to live every day. Her efforts at art therapy saved her, she confronted her harsh reality and realised that death can’t be worse than what she was she was mirroring in her images, which made her want to live... “I will live for them all” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009). Research has linked psychopathology with avoiding thoughts, emotions and memories but Salomon engaged with her process over and over again...769 times before being killed by the Nazis (Skeffington & Browne, 2014: 116).  

“Keep this safe, it is my whole life” (Salomon cited in Felstiner, 2009). Salomon’s artworks are incredibly inspirational and influential as they document honorable aspects about her and make it evident that she was her own art therapist. In an audio-visual recording at the exhibition, it was said that Salomon was an introvert. Externalizing her mental images the way she did, may have been a conscious wish to be able to communicate them to someone other than herself (Schaverien, 1992: 83-84). This was her life but I think it was her desire for it to be unreal, for it to be theatre...  

I walked out of the museum feeling so moved and emotional over Salomon’s life story... her pain, her fear, her struggle. I was astonished at her outlook on life, how she relied on her creativity to regenerate strength and ignite hope in a dark hole. I felt very grounded by the way she made me think about the way I see my own life and how she made me look at it from the outside, as if that too were theatre...  

Word count: 715

References

Felstiner, M. L., (2009) “Charlotte Salomon: 1917-1943", Jewish Women’s Archive. https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/salomon-charlotte  – Accessed 16/11/2019 at 17:15.

Robbins, A. (1987) ‘The Artist as Therapist’, New York: Human Sciences Press.

Schaverien, J. (1992) ‘The Revealing Image: Analytical Art Psychotherapy in Theory and Practice’, London & Philadelphia: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Skeffington, P. M. & Browne, M. (2014) “Art Therapy, Trauma and Substance Misuse: Using Imagery to Explore a Difficult Past with a Complex Client” International Journal of Art Therapy, Vol. 19 (3), pp. 114-121, doi: 10.1080/17454832.2014.910816. (peer reviewed)

‘Leonardo: Experience a Masterpiece’ (2019) - Reflections 17/11/2019  

Dear Blog,  

I visited the National Gallery today to see Leonardo: Experience a Masterpiece (2019). As well as being one the world's most famous painters, Da Vinci is known for having extensive knowledge in scientific subjects that fed into his artwork such as architecture, science, mathematics, engineering, anatomy, geology, astronomy, botany, palaeontology, cartography and the list goes on. This exhibition focused on Da Vinci's the Virgin of the Rocks (1508) by introducing unknown truths in four different rooms that allowed me to reacquaint myself with his famous painting ultimately making me see it in a new light.  

Entering the Mind of Leonardo as he begins his journey of creating the Virgin of the Rocks, his thoughts are text written backwards and reflected on mirror surfaces so that they could be read easier. "He who is only good at painting figures seems to be a poor master" (cited at the exhibition). I wondered how he meant this.. I wondered how he meant "figures"… Could he have been insinuating that one can only master figures if his soul invests in it? Was he insinuating that a true artist should master how to depict elements of divinity in his figures? His connection to religion perhaps? An unclear yet powerful statement, where I felt he meant both... This mirror effect was done against a backdrop of the Italian Alps and it stated at the exhibition that many of Da Vinci’s geological sketches and observations were situated there so he must have felt something special about this location. According to Andric he was constantly striving for the heights, which could reflect his desire to elevate the spirit (2016: 7). This led me to think that he wanted viewers to experience the search for meaning in what is around us, to search for mystery that exists in the world and is to be sought and to acknowledge that we are part of this mystical and miraculous creation. According to Gal (cited in Vladislav, 2004: 53) searching is a method by which we implement and connect with faith, and is kin to art.  

With this in mind I left that room to move on to the next looking for the bigger picture and tuning in with what was around me - a circular hall that connected all rooms in the shape of a cross. This reinforced the feeling that his own spirituality played a bigger part in this painting than I had thought...  

The Studio. "The figure that does not sufficiently express with action the passions of its soul is not worthy of praise" (cited at the exhibition). Da Vinci refers to the "figure" again and its "soul". This seemed to imply spiritual art, which is dependent on the artist's capacity to understand spirituality and on the experience of the knowledge of God in order to achieve "art in spirit", otherwise known as iconography. (Vladislav, 2004: 58-60). Scientific investigation that was carried out on this painting using infrared reflectography and hyperspectral imaging revealed lost content beneath the Virgin of the Rocks we know today. So if we are to think of Da Vinci as an iconographer, this piece of work would not be one of self-expression or scientific precision but rather a method and practice towards transfiguration of his nature through his experience of the revelation of the holy by which he would be able touch upon the mystery of incarnation of the Divine (Vladislav, 2004: 56-59). His first attempt can't have been definitive enough in what he was trying to portray and it seemed Da Vinci was trying to transcend his painting methods and touch elements of divinity in his work, as if he was aiming for perfection.

How he achieved that was by mastering two techniques that were introduced in the third room - The Light & Shadow Experiment. "Your tongue will be paralyzed by thirst and your body by sleep and hunger before you can show with words what the painter shows in an instant" (cited at the exhibition). Da Vinci paid great attention to Chiaroscuro and Sfumato, skillfully shading and blending in colours. Translucent layers of paint are at once seen as ethereal and the light radiating is from within the figures outward, "enlivening the action of uncreated grace” – Da Vinci not only worked towards making an instant impression that he was depicting sanctity but also that he was able to do that, he had stated that "perfect faith is perfect knowledge" (cited in Andric, 2016: 9). It is through the artist's ascending journey looking for Truth that he begins to see that "good art" is done in a more human way and "spiritual art" is reflecting what he practices within (Vladislav, 2004: 62, 65).  

The Imagined Chapel. The Virgin of the Rocks was to be an altarpiece for a chapel in the church of San Francesco in Milan but the church was demolished. Only artworks that have an adequate symbol of holiness used for uniting the invisible and the visible, where the artist contemplates the image of God within his own soul mirroring his glory, are able to have a permanent place in the church – works of art that are a shared activity of the Creator and the created (Vladislav, 2004: 62-63, 66).  

I feel his in-depth knowledge into the order of the world made him search for the beyond, made him search for God. That this painting wasn’t about what Da Vinci is much known for – his scientific precisions in art and science, but much much greater than that. 

Going to this exhibition reminded me of our lecture on Supervision. It made me realise that total objectivity when seeing a client's artwork is quite impossible as we all have our biases. It highlighted the importance of having a supervisor to see what I can't or to put me in different thought processes. Even though it takes some pressure off knowing that I am able to share clients artwork with another, it also made me feel that much more responsible to be open to seeing that there is more than just one way of viewing artwork and that it is important to try to look for those different ways and those details on my own before relying on supervision. Every different way of viewing artwork could lead to a real depth of one’s psyche just as the way I viewed Da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks. Moreover, my experience and reflection on this exhibition directed me into thinking about spirituality and religion in art therapy as it often is a big part of who we are and it can be a big part of our everyday life and lifestyle, which is an extremely interesting area to explore. It also made me think about art therapy in palliative care as end of life gives rise to the feeling of spirituality whether one has a faith or is agnostic or atheist. However, palliative care is an area I’m not ready to go into...  

Word count: 1,134 

References

Andric, N. (2016) “Religious - Philosophical Aspects of the Novel ‘The Romance of Leonardo Da Vinci’ by Dmitrij Merezkovskij”, Russian Literature, Vol. 86, pp.1-20, doi: 10.1016/j.ruslit.2016.11.001. (peer reviewed)

Vladislav, A. (2004) “Art and Religion: Creativity and the Meaning of Religion of ‘Image’ from the perspective of the Orthodox Icon”, Theology Today, Vol. 61 (1), pp.53-56. (peer reviewed)

Experiential Workshops: Material Realizations - 02/12/19

Dear Blog,

We have now started our experiential workshops after having been given the foundations on art therapy theory and art therapy practice. I am gradually feeling teaching beginning to merge together - what feels like - "the separate pieces" of the first year of the course and I can now understand the direction in which it is going. (Now that I mention separate pieces I'm remembering my doodling on the first day of uni, how that too was separate pieces floating around in a section of my notebook page, maybe there's an emerging meaning...).  

(Doodling in first lesson Sep 2019)

These workshops are familiarizing us with different art materials... Our first workshop was working with dry materials: marker pens, pencils, coal on sticks, chalk and pastels. The second workshop was working with wet materials: paint, water colour and ink, where different sized, shaped and type of paper were used in the first two workshops. The final workshop was with clay and plastecine. This was really great as it put me in a position to ask myself why I work with certain material and why I don't work with other, why I like some and why not other. It made me wonder to what extent is the use of certain material subjective and to what objective? Being restricted to a group of materials each time, allowed me to explore the intrinsic properties and to reacquaint myself with those I seldom choose when art making, but in this blog I will discuss material experiences that stood out for me.  

I was instantly drawn to certain material: coal as I associate it with historical times and keeping warm in the cold, the mysterious effect chalk can have when it is smudged and its sharp dusty lines when it isn’t, ink reminds me of sentimental writers and poets of a previous era such as William Shakespeare, Edgar Alan Poe, William Blake and Ralph Waldo Emerson that I love to read, clay being 3D really brings emotions and thoughts to life in an organic way and requires a lot of physical handling that arouses the senses. I became aware that there were symbolic and metaphorical meanings behind the use of these materials that I identified with and this was confirmed to me during the art making and also in the way I used the material. As we were only allowed to use coal tied to a natural tree branch from a distance, I believe drawing a tree with it was from an unconscious driven force related to that. This generated further questions... What if coal wasn’t attached to a tree branch or natural object? What if it was attached to something else or not attached at all? How would this affect my art making instincts and decisions? Knowing how much I love nature, would I have felt disconnected to the art making process and art product if the medium in between wasn’t natural? Is this what it could feel like for a client with a disability?... Although I like using water colour with brush effects and layering different colours, I really struggled to use anything more than a single colour to do this as I found that the size and shape of the paper really influenced my working with this material. In a similar manner with regards to paint, although I tend to mix different colours to get blends as well as create thicker and looser blends, the workshop only had certain colours available that I couldn’t make use of in a satisfying way so having a limitation in colours became very frustrating...  Why are certain blends so important to me?

(From left to right: paint, paint, ink, water colour)

(Coal)

Pencils and marker pens have never been a preferred medium for me even having rubbers provided in the workshop I found pencils were too definitive needing a lot of control to create something representative of me and marker pens rather aggressive and unforgiving, which in turn made me feel uncomfortable... But I questioned now if this is can be absolute as what is emerging in these workshops are the different material associations and the different experiences of their materiality in the structured workshops. It was intriguing to me that I actually ended up reacquainting myself with most of the materials through the different processes and my usual ways of creating art with certain material often changed. This stirred new emotions and I thought about how these processes made me feel... Ultimately, the material processes became unpredictable. At the beginning of this blog I wrote about the workshops familiarizing us with different art materials but I think it is wise to add, that they are familiarizing us with different art materials through different personal interactions. As an artist I am so use to having a variety of materials to choose from with no limitations where having directive workshops urged me to consider art making in another way as they tapped into something specific within me, perhaps contacting other areas of my psyche that I knew not about but thought I had, that are completely unconscious...  

(From left to right: chalk, pencil, marker pen)

(Clay container)

Most importantly, these workshops have now started to make me think in more complex ways when considering clients and different settings... What are certain client groups in need of and how could I meet their needs? What could be helpful and what could be harming?...

Word count: 900

[ppgang]

Column Parade vol.1 “BiStory and beyond: gang parade!”

Starting 2019 we are introducing new projects, one of them being columns written by fans! Want to write something about GANG PARADE? Perhaps a review? Send us a message and we’ll post it in our blog!!

First one is a look in the group’s history written by cal (@konchugun), admin behind the jun togawa fansite!

BiStory and beyond: gang parade!

Hello and welcome to another timeline of one of the world’s best idol groups. “Know Your BiStory” talks about BiS so this time, we’re going to talk about what a certain bald member did afterwards.

Where we last left off, the BiS tour final and their breakup. They were performing to a sold out crowd of diehard fans, Brand-new idol Society were leaving their mark. 

And when one door closes, another opens. Manager Watanabe announced the start of Watanabe Artistic Creative Kabushikigaisha (Corporation) and their first act would be an idol duo featuring Saki Kamiya, the ex-cosplayer and all around vocal powerhouse popular with both men and women~ 

Just like BiS started with Pour Lui, this new group would start with Saki.

Watanabe already had the backing of thousands of rabid idol fans who were hungry from more, and Saki was a pretty popular member! Pre BiS she already had a name for herself as a cosplayer and model, apart of the Dolly-Style (or Dolly Kei) fashion community.

So… why not combine the two things Saki’s fanbase love her for into one to maximise the profit squeeze? The fusion of idols and otaku, enter… PLANIME/PLA2ME

Dressed like schoolboys at a sporting event in the year 3000, Saki was joined in late august 2014 by her new partner Mari Mizuta!

Mari already had a small but established fanbase as she used to perform as a solo idol under the name Izukoneko. She sound was very… electronic modern style technopop. If you’re familiar with solo idols, think Yufu Terashima (shoutout to leaving BiS!) but with significantly less budget.

They debuted together with the song “Plastic 2 Mercy” at Tokyo Idol Festival, and the music video released with the single was made of footage from that day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g75uL_YApIU

A far cry from BiS or even Mari’s solo work… Pla2me’s debut was drum machine heavy but with an almost synthpop twist on power-pop. The choreography for the song involved involves a lot of physical activity, unlike BiS songs with relatively simple choreo, Paprika now withstanding. Both girls are clearly using all of their strength and using all of that stage as much as they can.

Tokyo Idol Festival is, as you can guess, an idol festival. Typically for your regular idols (since alternative idols were still peeking through into the mainstream at this time), the kind that don’t headbang or have fans who engage in lunatic behaviour. Saki and Mari RAN from the stage, jumped the barrier and finished their performance in the middle of the crowd with a circle of fans around them pumping their fists and headbanging. Surprisingly there was no huge controversy surrounding this but the organisers weren’t happy. Idols aren’t meant to stage dive and fans aren’t meant to mosh even if you are an ex member of the legendary lineup of BiS. Saki encouraging un-idol like behaviour and fan misbehaviour at TIF would land her in some hot water in the future though, but we’ll get to that later~

So, Pla2me were off to a STRONG start and they were more than living up to their name too. The girls even cosplayed together!

They even performed as Ryuko and Mako!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWKNXspDDog

And if the love of anime and nerd culture wasn’t already enough, Pla2me also appeared in a Digimon game as promo for Plastic 2 Mercy:

See that incredibly blurry poster on the right there? That’s them! the other groups are other acts on T-Palette Records (the people releasing their songs in joint with WACK).

Pla2me started in late 2014 and they had a successful last quarter of the year, closing it with the emotional video to new song “UNIT”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8s4TjEUh94

Still their fresh power-pop inspired sound, UNIT is more of an emotional ballad where they talk about never wanting to leave each other, with the video being the two of them literally being chained together and climbing a mountain. 

In early 2015 the single was released proper, just like they said there’s no meaning if this unit can’t stay together… 

Well… Guess there’s no meaning then! Mari left.

Late into March, Mari was breaking up their unit. “Creative differences” were stated, but remember this isn’t BiS. Saki isn’t Pour Lui and Mari isn’t Yufu. The problem was that Mari lived in Osaka whereas Saki lived in Tokyo and Mari had to travel from Osaka to Tokyo and sleep at Saki’s apartment whenever they performed. Made worse by the fact that Pla2me weren’t getting booked in Osaka.  Saki felt bad about things, Mari had talked about how she was struggling and Saki said on her old blog she didn’t feel like she did enough to help her. But they’re still friends so no need to worry! And she still works as an idol albeit under a different group even to this day.

So, a hunt for new members began! Can’t perform as a solo idol if you only have 4 songs and one of them is about staying together with your friend! Watanabe announced that they’d be holding auditions for both girls AND boys. No boys passed the audition though so feminism wins once again.

Meet the new lineup! from left to right we have Maya Inukai, Miki Yamamachi, Saki Kamiya, Yua Yumeno and Ao Shigusawa! Pla2me was out, POP was in. standing for “Period Of Plastic 2 mercy”

Also spoilers Maya and Ao don’t survive. But they’re here for now!

Since Pla2me never released an album and they needed more promo than just a few solo shows and music videos here and there, POP came out with a full release relatively quickly called… POP!

If you’re an anime fan you’ll recognise this art style instantly: their album cover was drawn by Studio Trigger’s own SUSHIO! Turns out he’s actually a huge wack fan! He posts fanart of Gang Parade and BiSH on twitter too!

The album release was marked with a music video for “pretty pretty good”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K07xAFm7x-Y

How many idol groups debut their album by being hoisted from a crane in the middle of the night and being forced to sing while dangling hundreds of feet off the ground? The tradition of being un-idol like idols continues onwards. And yes the uniforms for this era were actually trash bags with chains.

Saki kind of makes it work honestly.

The above picture is actually from a now infamous event… remember Tokyo Idol Festival from last year? The new unit were performing there this year, three days prior to their album release! Remember how Saki managed to piss off the management with her stage diving and encouraging the fans to mosh? Well, there are more things that are basically forbidden at what would otherwise be a pop (not our kind) festival and Saki managed both herself break and encourage fans to break every last one of them.

“Mosh pits, excessive jumping, crowd surfing, touching audience members, removing shirts and throwing objects.”

If you’ve ever been to a rock show all of this might seem… commonplace! Which let’s be real when your fanbase is made up of fans of the disbanded alt-idol group who basically just said “fuck it” and removed any sense of decorum from being an idol they could, this is going to happen at your shows. The fans not only destroyed the stage but POP, notably Saki, helped them! BiSH were playing at the same festival too and their fans did similar things, which led to both groups getting ousted. Pity the janitor who had to pick up after these wild women~

While it’s a theory that Watanabe orchestrated this, as BiSH and their leader Aina the End encouraged similar behaviour albeit on a smaller scale, Saki acted of her own accord. The fans got rowdy and Saki got rowdier while knowing the consequences of this but did it anyway.

Even if this is a post BiS group, disciplinary action was still taken. Watanabe was probably not actually furious with Saki but she was indefinitely suspended from POP. The more time went on, the more pissed off fans were getting. This was Saki’s kingdom and they demanded an audience with their queen! 

Saki spent her time while barred from performing helping behind the scenes, effectively becoming a staff member. She helped with taking chekis (polaroid selfies) with other members while being unable to take them with fans herself. Fans were getting even more and more annoyed! So, watanabe gave her an ultimatum, she could rejoin POP…

…if she could complete a 24 hour 100km marathon!

Which sounds daunting but let’s be real, Saki is a young athletic woman. The choreography for Plastic 2 Mercy basically incites violence and you need to be in shape to be a model/cosplayer. There’s also the fact that during a BiS marathon in 2013, Saki was the only one that actually finished.

Saki finished her 100km jog with two hours to spare and returned to her royal court. Just in time to conveniently release their new single! The music video and promo shots of which all contained Saki despite the fact they would have had to be filmed and shot when she was “suspended”. Makes you think!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWOPysoZI2k

“Happy Lucky Kirakira Lucky” was another fast paced aggressive techno-post-power-pop (those are all real genres I promise) bop with a sugary sweet twist. The video shows off the choreography along with… some puppets! Drop some new music Miss Piggy, POP are here.

So, we end 2015 with some destruction, an album and new single! Just as Pla2me went to POP, they also went from strength to strength.

The next major release was another single: Queen of Pop!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnkR0oIYWGk 

Another release in their trademark sound which i’m running out of adjectives for, the music video is… I don’t know. There’s morph suits and faux religious symbolism. They had fun with it though!

As was the trend so far, new year, new name! POP were now GANG PARADE. Saki and Watanabe were toying with the idea of a name change and adding new members for a while, and the words that came up the most were “gang” and “parade” so hey let’s just stick them together! Time went by and the name would become more apt but for now: the next single.

“WE ARE the IDOL”

New uniforms, new hair for Saki but… the same sound! WE ARE the IDOL was still typical of a POP era song despite the name change. The music video however was more in tune with the direction they’d be travelling in creatively: it’s very theatrical and heartfelt with some very professional camerawork and cryptic messages written in English.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFEIW0k_5u8

Shortly after, Ao’s time with Saki and friends came to a close. She had to withdraw from the group due to a lack of support from her family. We don’t know where she is now, but with or without her family’s support we can hope at least she’s having fun.

The heartbreak doesn’t end here though, Maya had to leave too for family reasons, though hers were more understandable. Her dad’s health had been declining and it was up to her to look after him. Gang Parade had her sisters, but her father needed her more.

Gang Parade as “Gang Parade” really starts here. Between the two members leaving, BiS had reformed and scouted new members. How is this relevant to Gang Parade you ask? Well, the girls who were talented but didn’t make the cut for BiS were placed into a sister group called… SiS. Creative, right? 

And of course everything went as planned and SiS to this day have a long career as BiS’ rivals and- just kidding! They disbanded after one show. They disbanded literally less than a single day after the show. Allegedly for their manager (the other manager, not Watanabe) mismanaging something or other.

The SiS girls didn’t become outright unemployed however, three of them were moved to Gang Parade (the fourth works at a clinic in Tokyo now and also entered a modelling contest. Honestly if my idol group broke up after about 12 hours i’d not want to continue as an idol either) and debuted almost right away!

But before the SiS girls were added, new girl Can Maika came along in early October. during Maika’s debut, moshing and stage diving were banned at Gang Parade lives but recording was 100% okay. If you know anything about Japanese music venues, this is genuinely incredibly rare and as a result basically every gang parade live gets posted on YouTube in about 4K HD where you can see the sweat dripping off of Saki’s head.

They also revealed that Gang Parade fans had their own name! Asobinin, which in English you could call… Players! Like a playboy but there’s no gender associated with it, so think a player of love, sleazy, likes to have fun more than they like to work, a layabout… a kind of immoral name for fans of the kind of immoral idols.

So of course now that we have a large troupe of girls, it should be time for an album right? Absolutely! Gang Parade’s “Barely Last” arrived shortly after:

Though if you can count you might notice that there’s a few girls missing… The album was recorded and the promo material all shot before the SiS girls arrived. That’s Can Maika in the orange there. She didn’t get to wear the new uniform for long because promo for the album basically started and ended in a flash, they couldn’t promo something with three of the members missing! The album didn’t even get any music videos.

If I had to describe the sound, it’s basically a stepping stone between the power-pop of POP to the chaos that would become Gang Parade’s trademark.

So a month later… Gang Parade was finally more in tune with how “Gang Parade” are now. To celebrate, they released Plastic 2 Mercy again in December of 2016 

Let’s meet the new girls! Please ignore Satan on the left there. From the left we have: dear leader Saki Kamiya (sporting the longest her haircut has been in about 3 years), the quirky and curious Yui Ga Dockson (who’s name is apart of the first thing Buddha said upon being born. “ I alone am honoured ”), the rich girl with a heart of gold: Coco Partin Coco (who’s name is a dick joke because tinco means cock), our old friend: Yua Yumeno, the gravure perfectionist who sure can: Can Maika, the adorable sea otter fanatic: Yuka “Yuyu” Terashima and squatting on the floor sporting the green highlights in her hair that haven’t left since: Miki Yamamachi! 

Plastic 2 Mercy even got another music video, featuring the girls making a nuisance of themselves in the streets and being coated in a plastic-like substance while spooning one another. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81rF2jZpB7g

So roll on 2017! Gang Parade are finally the “Gang Parade” they were destined to be and they started performing without a hitch and- just kidding again. This is a group run by an egomaniac remember.

Gang Parade were kicking off 2017 after a long period of touring (which they basically do constantly, GP are genuinely the hardest working WACK group) with a new single! “FOUL”! This also marks a period of… Dockson shaving off her eyebrows and painting new ones on with glitter. For somebody named after the Buddha talking about singularity and serenity she is certainly a deeply chaotic individual.

But chaos is fitting for Gang Parade! The song is slow but it’s heavier than they’ve done before, stepping from power-pop and fusing that with almost synth rock. The music video is a callback to “pretty pretty good”, starting in the same construction yard three of the girls were suspended from a crane in and ending with Saki shaving her hair off in a Tokyo backstreet.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6NCSt3dLug

The song is also the source of the phrase “body and 7soul”, which is a huge part of Gang Parade’s identity. Well until they add more girls and they have to rerecord it and change it to “body and 9soul” but that comes later.

If you’ve read “Know Your BiStory” the next part wont come as a surprise, but as a preface 2017 is where WACK as a company starts to get a little… wacky. A temporary rental trade of members was announced! Queen Saki was leaving her kingdom once again to go back to BiS in exchange for Aya Eightprince.

Of course the fans rioted just like when Saki was absent during the POP days and demanded th-I can’t keep pulling these bait and switches. Aya was welcomed to Gang Parade with open arms by both the fans and her new sisters!

In fact, Aya loved being in Gang Parade so much she actually talked about how much she hated being in BiS because of how disrespectful and rude the leader Pour Lui was to everyone - especially her. Gang Parade felt… right for Aya - and the fans felt so too! Of course everyone missed Saki but Aya’s presence in the chaos just worked well. She started touring around with them almost instantly and after a few months, it was time for a new single

Beyond the Mountain! Gang Parade had heartfelt ballads and fast paced songs before but this is #that song. The song that pierces your chest and makes you want to scream the lyrics while crying. About broken promises and broken hearts but, despite being left alone, you should smile. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdsASPb4l4Q

And of course promo for this included new member Miss Aya. That’s her on the bar stool looking curious. 

And what was Saki doing? On a single in her traded group too but also probably kissing Kika.

During the next few months, Gang Parade and BiS went on a joint tour together where it was announced the rental trade would be extended! Then in October, more label clownery happened and the shuffle unit/supergroup “SAiNT SEX” debuted with their only song. SAiNT SEX featured Aya, Saki, Miki and Yua along with various BiS and BiSH girls.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CbRmVdd-Kk

Even while on a rental trade, the girls from both groups remained close with one another. For the time being.

After this it started to get a little more serious for Gang Parade in terms of promo: they were gearing up for a full album. Gang Parade’s first promo music video for the album was called… GANG PARADE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=100K-pSVWZM

The girls show off their new uniforms in a warehouse while dancing and well… it’s a good thing moshing was made forbidden at their shows because this song was their wildest to date. Aggressive synthy rock with a pre-chorus involving a lot of chanting which turns into an aria of screaming “GANG PARADE EVERYDAY”. Like i said, their most chaotic to date… until “IMINAI UTA” (pointless song) got a music video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQxb88zX2FA

Following in the footsteps of the last song’s harsh sound, this is that but turned up to 11. Electronic screeching mixed with nonsensical lyrics shouted at you and a music video that combines glitch art with vaporwave, their new album was destined to be their most extreme yet. And on stage? It always starts with Coco doing cartwheels.

https://i.gyazo.com/3a8932dd671668b3078ae9be69f584e7

A few days later? “GANG PARADE takes themselves higher!!” arrived

And the name was more than apt, Gang Parade had elevated themselves in sound, image and status. A far cry from the original bubbly drum heavy technopop that Pla2me started with, Gang Parade’s sound can now be described as “sheer chaos”. From Beyond the Mountain to Iminai Uta, they were here to make noise, play with their fanbase of players and just generally revel in anarchy.

They also took themselves higher with their status in the industry - Gang Parade were stepping out of the shadow of “ex BiS group led by Saki Kamiya” and were being written about just as “Gang Parade” - you can even find interviews from the time translated on the English Gang Parade fansite pretty pretty GANG (this advertisement is non-sponsored)!

At the very end of the year, the “Wack and Scrambles” album was released featuring SAiNT SEX. The album also came with voting codes so fans could vote for which members they would want to get a solo debut single. Since BiSH are the most popular wack group, Aina the End placed in first. Our favourite strange siren Yui Ga Dockson placed pretty low, in the band where members would have to eat something called “death sauce curry” - but she didn’t have to do that. Her punishment was a surprise for later~

Roll on 2018 and Gang Parade, now higher than ever, did the only thing you’d expect an idol group to do: new single and music video! Breaking the Road was here!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRP-wmdG-fA

A continuation of their aggressive synth rock sound, Breaking the Road is high energy, fast paced… Everything you’d expect at this point! The music video also contains heartfelt messages from members in a serene beach setting~

The b-side to the single also received a video: Sushi Song! No guesses as to what it’s about.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRTTvdrugQI

Meanwhile, back over in BiS, the girls were preparing for Pour Lui’s funeral graduation, marking the end of the trade between the two groups. Aya would go back to BiS, Saki would come back to Gang Parade and Lui would vanish into the ether. “WHOLE LOTTA LOVE” marked Aya’s comeback and “DiPROMiSE” heralded Saki’s departure.

So welcome home saki! The eight of clubs switched hands with the queen of hearts and gang parade continued on as their body and 7soul…

C’mon, this is a WACK timeline! Did you really think it would be that simple?

In march, the next WACK audition camp and exhibition took place. Various girls won and were placed into various groups. Gang Parade gained two new members: the gothic ice princess Usagi Tsukino and the 15 year old baby idol with a cute voice Haruna Bad Chiiiin! That’s four i’s in case you lose count!

There was also a contest which Can Maika lost so she’d have to change her stage name so! please welcome “Can GP Maika”. It’s not much of a punishment but hey, maybe cruelty can be matched with unusualness?

Just as they welcomed Aya with open arms, Tsukino and Haruna found their sisters instantly too. But not without a prank first, on their first day Dockson pretended to be an authoritarian leader with an iron fist! Sushio even drew fanart of it!

So what better way to introduce the new girls to their new fans than with a new single? A month later, “GANG 2″ dropped!

So from the bottom left we have Miki, Yuyu, Coco, Dockson, Yua, Haruna, Saki, Maika and Tsukino sitting in the bottom right.

GANG 2′s sound was closer to Beyond the Mountain than any of their more recent singles more aggressive sounds. It’s still got pounding synths and drum machines but it’s the kind of pounding that matches your heart and not your feet dancing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyaEby0Wu2U

The video depicts Saki as a holographic ghost who regains her physical form, rejoining Gang Parade after having been gone for so long.

The b-side recieved a video too: meet the slightly culturally insensitive love-letter known as “Lai Le”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB5hx0hkioE

Next up in June we finally get to Dockson’s “punishment”. While she didn’t win the election for the solo single, she was getting one anyway! “Now how is that a punishment” you ask? Well! It’s a throwback to the 90′s era of Japan’s eurobeat inspired techno-pop but with a twist! The lyrics are about being horny and involve chanting “HUGE COCK”. Also they made her wear ganguro makeup.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CytBUpNV-k

Honestly? The song is good. It’s dancey and fun but I think it’s understandable why somebody wouldn’t want to get up on stage and hoot about getting busted in for about 4 minutes. Dockson even had to perform it live a few times, and during one special performance she bought a $1 magician’s wand off of Amazon that turns into a bouquet of flowers when you tug on it. Fans loved it and she hasn’t had to don the questionable makeup since!

The month after, more WACK clownery happened again. A new shuffle unit/supergroup debuted: The HOLY SHiTS! Thankfully the only gang parade girl they managed to torture with this was Maika. Though unluckily for her, the concept was “you have to eat fake excrement from a toilet while singing over a dance track that had a production budget of about $5″.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQpxOBB3ma4

It’s awful and we’re just going to pretend it never happened. Thanks.

August comes along, and it’s new single time once again. The anthem for going against the pain and continuing on even in bad circumstances! No, not the BiS song, Gang Parade got their own song with a similar theme: CAN’T STOP!

The music video shows our favourite body and 9soul pushing against a wall with their heads seemingly without any luck before the wall shatters and they all walk together, as friends, as one cohesive unit, as GANG PARADE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0pEQFo3y78

Gang Parade then embarked on their next tour, which ended with a tour final at Zepp Tokyo where they announced that they’d have a new album out in the first weeks of 2019: LAST GANG PARADE 

Of course, this name worried a lot of fans. Were Gang Parade breaking up? What did last mean? Was this Saki’s graduation? What was Watanabe up to? Many other fans pointed out that the “last” could be the “last” in “last night” or “last man standing” which quelled some fears, but fans continued to talk and gossip

And in-between the announcement and album release, the tour final was released as a special blu ray which included re-recordings of old songs with the current lineup. Saki took Aya’s spot on songs from “Gang Parade takes themselves higher!!” and of course the two new girls got their share too. And they finally chant “body and 9soul” instead of 7 in FOUL.

Now for a little detour… instead of Gang Parade we’re going to talk about you!

That’s right! Saki is more than aware that she has asobinin cheering from overseas! The first leader of a WACK group to acknowledge that she has English speaking fans. maybe she reads pretty pretty GANG~

However, she isn’t the first member. International asobinin managed to figure out that Coco uses a third party Twitter application to make private lists and a few lucky fans are more than likely on it, because she keeps liking tweets about her that don’t mention her by name that can be vanity searched and her tweets aren’t tweeted from a standard twitter app.  Coco even speaks a little English too! At a promotional live outside of a giant Gundam statue, Coco tried to engage with tourists by introducing Gang parade to an international audience in English. But, a member of the pretty pretty GANG fan community was there and the tourists… Were Spanish. Whoops! Thank you for thinking about us anyway Coco!

In the runup to Last Gang Parade’s release, a week of promo started with a surprise video drop: Yoru Kurai Yume (Night’s Dark Dream)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts8KnDkrrKI&

Written by Yua and Haruna, even with composition by Haruna, the song and video reference… Edo Period prostitutes! Do Haruna’s parents know what she writes about? The video even ebbs onto the more gravure side of idol, with minimal appearances from the GP girls in lieu of some genuine working girls on their walk around a red light district. A relatively laid back sound in contrast to the high energy they’re known for, the song is a standout on the album and unlike the rest of the promo tracks to come.

Over the course of the week, fast paced aggressive bops like “Jealousy Marionette” dropped in addition to emotional heart-pounders like “Message” on Soundcloud until New Year’s Eve… the video to LAST!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y932g_4QfOE

With motifs taken from primal. by BiS, LAST was set to become Gang Parade’s trademark song next to Plastic 2 Mercy. In a similar vein to Beyond the Mountain and CAN’T STOP, LAST deals with the struggle of moving forward against it all, making it clear that the “last” in “Last Gang Parade” is about how long you’ve lasted and how proud you should be.

With the girls all lifting each other’s spirits when things go wrong and generally playing together, the video is a heartwarming playground culminating in the phrase “making a new chaos” floating above them while they run around a football pitch.

And then a few weeks later in 2019, LAST GANG PARADE finally arrives proper

Gang Parade were closer as a sisterhood than ever, going from taking themselves higher to standing tall on a peak beyond the mountain. They were at the top of their game, one of the hardest working and strongest units under WACK.

But then… the second meaning of “LAST” finally came to light…

Just kidding! Not every surprise on behalf of Watanabe has to be awful!

On the first day of the ggWACK tour, a tour celebrating all of WACK’S major groups, Gang Parade announced that they were getting a MAJOR LABEL DEBUT! A sub label under Universal Japan created just for them: Fuelled by Mentaiko! Who says when you’re at the top the only way is down? Gang Parade were continuing to go higher and higher, they can’t stop. The “last” was also their last indie label release! As a surprise and a goodbye to T-Palette Records and their manager, the album contained a hidden bonus track called “PALET”

And that’s the history of Gang Parade! From a badly behaved cosplay duo stage diving over drum machine beats to a power-pop unit who trash the stage to a ragtag band of sisters here to incite a new form of chaos, the ashes of BiS’ legendary lineup had became something new entirely. 

Gang Parade refuse to stand in the shadow of another group, they cast their own and with their first major label single coming in April, Gang Parade will keep taking themselves higher and higher and HIGHER.

[hookahazz]

Chronicles of a Black Girl Vol 3:  Family Reunion |Harry Styles|

Warnings: Fluff, lil angst, cursing

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N:  Don’t kill me LMFAOO ik I said this morning but ya got it tonight. You got the trick from trick or treat. But this one is real cute and ish and I kept the same concept I just made it so that he meets her whole family and not just her parents. Please give me feedback and tell me how you felt. It’s much appreciated. Tell me how you honestly felt. I’m about to post the master list and it’ll show you the title of the next fic and that one and man y’all gone die its adorable. Enjoy pt 3 and thanks for reading all of them I appreciate y’all a fuck load. <3 

ASK BOX

If you don’t know, black people have three main values that are held above others: their hair, some good “put you to sleep after you eat about 2 plates” soul food and family. Family reunions and get-togethers are the highlights of the year. It is the time where they could all be together in one setting and enjoy one another's presence, the time where the adults would play spades and talk grown folk talk, and the time where your distant relatives would pull you into a hug filled with a strong perfume and hit you with that, “Oh hi baby, I haven’t seen you since you were two years old! You remember me?” There’s no greater feeling than being surrounded by those foil trays that were filled to the brim with mouth-watering sweet potatoes, potato salad (not the shit white people make with apples and all that other bullshit! as (Y/N) would put it), and that creamy, golden mac n’ cheese that black people would kill for (if made correctly, (Y/N)’s mom refuses to make anything but baked macaroni). The feeling of satisfaction one gets from being surrounded by uncles and aunties, grandmas and granddads, and listening to them tell stories about stuff that happened decades ago that still makes all of them laugh until they're crying. And the music! Oh yes-- that authentic soul music that was carefully constructed by the legendary artist who had the power to change peoples lives and move somebody's soul (Maze featuring Frankie Beverly, Michael Jackson, The Temptations, Gladys Knight, Ms. Lauryn Hill ((Y/N)'s ultimate favorite) , New Edition ). It was the music that would make those same aunts and uncles get up and dance horribly until their heart's content without the fear of judgment. Black people live for moments like such: to just sit around and be unconditionally black.

At the start of the semester, Harry and (Y/N) had been paired to do a project for their business law course (a class both of them regretted taking). At first (Y/N) was a little wary to be working with Harry, she'd never had any interaction with the boy except for when he asked to borrow a pencil and surprisingly gave it back in the end. After just twenty minutes of working with him, there wasn't a reason to be worried at all. In all her twenty-one years of living, she'd never met someone so goofy in her life (except her two older brothers). Harry was so sweet and funny it was almost hard to stay concentrated at the task at hand. That probably explains why they got a B- on the assignment instead of an A. Since then the two became friends, then best friends, and after months of teasing from Harrys best mate, Niall, they'd become boyfriend and girlfriend. 

They'd been dating for nearly three months and so far Harry's only met (Y/N)'s older brothers, Anthony and Caleb. Their first meeting wasn't in the most typical way. For one, all four of them were drunk off their asses after a night out at a frat party. Caleb and Anthony played multiple rounds of patty-cake with Harry, giggling while (Y/N) lied on her couch laughing at her toes. Her brothers adored Harry in every possible aspect. The three of them have become the best of friends and hang out all of the time which makes (Y/N) so, so happy. She's had a plethora of boyfriends (she’s quite the chocolate catch) and her brothers have hated every single one of them, always making sure (Y/N) knew that they aren't good enough for her. “You saw what he was wearing? His pants are sagging and falling to his fucking knees! His knees, (Y/N)!” Going from them to Harry was a drastic but much-needed change that both Caleb and Anthony appreciated a lot. They wanted nothing but the best for their baby sister and they knew Harry was as good as it was gonna get.

"So do you want to go with me? You don't have to if you're not ready, babe."  

On her way home from work she'd gotten a call from her dear mother regarding the annual family reunion and of course she invited Harry. Went on for nearly ten minutes about how “the two of you have been dating for three months, that boy's gonna have to meet the family sooner or later!” The conversation mainly consisted of momma (Y/L/N) talking and (Y/N) giving her a couple of mhm's and yes ma's here and there. "Course I'll come, lovie. Been dyin' to meet your family!" he beamed, excited as she had predicted. Harry valued family more than anything so meeting hers was a big step in their relationship. "You're not nervous or anything, right? I mean for real, if you are then we really don't even gotta go. They won't even miss us," she assured him. In all honesty, (Y/N) didn't want to rush anything with Harry. She really really liked him and she was fully aware of how rowdy and wild her family can get. 

"No babe, it's gonna be fun! M'excited!" he grinned wrapping his arm around his girlfriend's waist.

↫ ↬

Harry was never a shy or nervous person, it just wasn't him. He'd never really been in a situation where he was incredibly anxious and meeting (Y/N)'s parents were no different. He was absolutely positive that they'd love him and he assured (Y/N) that multiple times when she'd brought up meeting them. He was a people pleaser, someone who wanted to satisfy everyone, someone who naturally appealed to everyone. Harry had never been in a position to which he had to appeal to someone who didn't like him because everyone liked him, even if they didn't want to. 

"When is it again, button?" Harry questioned, playing with (Y/N)'s kinky locks.  She'd just finished washing her hair and Harry absolutely loved watching her condition and style it. "Uh, the day after tomorrow. So Wednesday? Yeah Wednesday," she concluded, slabbing on a generous amount of leave in conditioner. He grinned, doing the same to another section of her hair (he also enjoyed assisting her in styling her hair, the conditioner smelled of coconuts and almonds that nearly made him drool). "You're really excited aren't you?" she questioned. "Course I am. S'a big step in our relationship and I've always wanted to meet your parents. You're mum especially," (Y/N) snorted. Like the majority of black moms (Y/N)'s was crazy crazy. Her childhood consisted of a ton of life lessons that stemmed from a simple joke (Y/N) would make or a movie that wasn't meant to be taken way out of context, her mom constantly telling all her friends (some of which (Y/N) didn't even know) all of her business, and plenty of ass whoopings with the following: a switch, a belt, or any random object momma (Y/L/N) could get her hands on. "Oh yes, you'll love her. She's a peach."

"Oi, why are you laughin'?" he poked her sides.

"No reason baby,' she chuckled, pressing her lips to his cheek.

"I'm positive you're parents will love me. M'gonna be the first boyfriend your family likes. Even Caleb and Anthony said so!" She rolled her eyes, of course they would think so. They adore Harry because he's nothing like the lot of old boys she used to fool around with. "Yeah and you'll also be the first white boy I've brought home so that'll be something." she joked. Harry stiffened, "you're serious? They're not gonna like me then (Y/N)!" He began panicking. Not once did he think he'd need to worry about someone not liking him because of his skin color. Not once did he have to feel worried about being picked apart and judged based on the color of his skin. In fact, he'd never worried about anything regarding his skin tone because it has and would never affect his daily life. 

She turned, stopping the commotion with her hair to focus on her very panicky boyfriend who looked as if he were going to cry at any given moment. She wrapped her arms around him pulling him into a tight hug, rubbing her soft hands up and down his back (a tactic she learned only but weeks ago that would calm him down). "Hey, hey, hey. I was just joking, baby. You don't have to be worried about them not liking you because you're white. They don't care. You could be green and they'd still love you," she smiled, trying to contain a laugh. It was amusing to see how worked up he would get over minute situations like such. (Y/N) thought it was so adorable that he'd even cared so much.  "You're sure? They're not gonna kick me out or somethin' right?" he looked up at her. "I promise they won't," she laughed, she knew her family wasn’t like that. They loved everyone. Even with that, Harry was still convinced that (Y/N)'s family were going to hate him. He simply smiled and nodded and continued to work conditioner into her hair and twist it in hopes to calm him down.

↫ ↬

Now, the both of them were standing in front of (Y/N)'s parent's house waiting nervously for someone to answer the door and Harr, for the first time, really felt as though he was about to shit his pants on their poor porch. He wanted to run and hide behind her mothers beautiful rose bush and stay there until this whole conjuncture was over. He wrapped his long digits around (Y/N)'s and squeezed her hand for reassurance. "Hey, it's gonna be alright. I swear," she whispered just as the door began to open.

"(Y/N), my sweet grandbaby. I almost thought you weren't gonna show up!"

"Grandma!" (Y/N) smiled, engulfing the short woman in a hug. "Missed you so much," she smiled. They had a short conversation before she turned her attention to the six-foot boy behind (Y/N) who had been smiling at their very sweet interaction. "And who's this handsome young man you brought with you, suga?" Harry smiled, his nerves calming somewhat. He introduced himself, going in for a handshake but (Y/N)'s grandma slapped his hand away and pulled him down for a hug professing, you’re family now, act like it boy! "How cute. Oh!-- And muscular too! Chiiiild, wait till ya auntie gets a load of this one. Come on now, the rest of the family's in the backyard. Ya mommas in the kitchen talking shit per usual go help her, baby. I'll take care of Harry." she smiled, wrapping her arm around his. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled at her grandmother's goofy antics and kissed Harry before walking away and assuring him that she'd be in the kitchen if he needed her.

Harry charmed (Y/N)'s grandmother, Kelly (grandma K is what she told him to call her since he was apart of the family now), rather fast. She led him to the back and introduced him to (Y/N)'s uncles, aunts, cousins, and all of her (including great) grandparents. All of them welcomed Harry with open arms. They had so many questions regarding his family and life in the UK, what he did for a living (he was CFO at a major marketing company, they were so proud of his title at such a young age, ya gotta be a stable man while dating our niece! her uncles would say), and his feelings about their (Y/N). An immense amount of aww's was given from the way he talked about her (Y/N's younger cousins, Mikayla and Jordan (ten), thought Harry was so cute and were really just aww'ing at how good he looked). Everyone was easily able to tell how in love Harry was with (Y/N) even though they haven't said it to one another yet (it’s only been three months)

"Harry, I fixed you a plate baby." (Y/N) smiled, interrupting a playful but heated conversation that Harry, her younger cousin Anthony (seventeen), and her father were having about the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers. He smiled and grabbed the plate from her and motioned for her to sit in his lap. He pressed a kiss on her cheek and thanked her. Harry finally felt calm, that is until another short woman stepped in front of the two and began staring him down. It didn't take long for Harry to realize that it was (Y/N)'s mother, the resemblance was uncanny.  He nearly choked, becoming nervous yet again. This was the big boss. He thought he was going to be more afraid of (Y/N)'s dad who, though still wary of his little girl dating, (she's twenty- one) loves Harry. He even went as far as to invite Harry to the next super bowl party and he's never done that for any of (Y/N)'s boyfriends!

"(Y/N) who's this?" she questioned.

"Ma, this is Harry, my boyfriend. Harry this is my mom, Christine," Harry stood up to formally greet the woman with a handshake but she, much like her own mother, pulled him down into a bone-crushing hug. For such small women, they both had deadly grips. "Harry, it's so nice to finally meet you! Dunno why (Y/N)'s been hiding you from us, baby." she pinched his cheeks. "You's bout the cutest thing too!  Oh my lord!" she grinned. By now Harry was feeling like an idiot, the biggest fucking idiot. (Y/N)'s family had actually taken a liking to him. He did all that worrying for nothing, all that crying to (Y/N) over the phone at 2 AM because he couldn’t sleep for nothing, and spent all that time googling good reasons as to why you can't go to your girlfriends family reunion for nothing! 

"What are these?" Harry questioned.

"Those are called greens. It's good I promise." (Y/N) stifled a laugh. He’d been asking a lot of questions about the food simply because he’d never heard of some of it. After swallowing his first bite, he couldn't stop. Harry had devoured three plates of food and somehow managed to fit a serving from both her moms homemade banana pudding and her chocolate pie. "Bloody hell, that was so good." he yawned, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. "M'sleepy (Y/N)," she giggled, knowing good and well of the after effect of soul food, and kissed the top of his head.

"Damn it, why’d it take you so long to bring him ‘round here (Y/N)!" her aunts asked, playfully slapping her thigh. 

"I just didn't wanna rush anything, hop off! And on top of that, I told him he was the first white boy I'd ever brought home and he flipped shit on me! Thought y'all weren't gonna like him!" The lot of them erupted in a fit of laughter. "Oh child, you ain't gotta worry about that. We all love you to pieces. Such a cute thing you are. Better than those ol' raggedy hoodlums she used to bring 'round here before!" her grandmother interjected, swatting at her thigh as well.

"Grandma K! See now why you gotta go and bring them up. That was in high school!" (Y/N) whined, gaining a loud laugh from her grandmother. She'd never been any good at picking boyfriends. None of her family members ever liked any of them, they truly were a bad influence on her.

The rest of the night concluded in her family telling the most embarrassing stories from her childhood to Harry. (Y/N) didn't think they were funny at all but Harry was proper amused. I'm talking doubled over, gasping for air, tears spilling down his cheeks amused. What made it even funnier was how annoyed she was getting, stomping and whining like a two-year-old. "Ugh, man I swear I hate y'all! You're supposed to be on my side Harry!" she shoved him to the ground.

"Baby, stop!" he nearly choked, trying to catch his breath all while laughing and trying to keep his very cute (but very annoyed) girlfriend from attacking him. "(Y/N) stop! You're gonna mess his face up!" Mikayla and Jordan tugged at her shirt, somehow pulling her off of Harry. Now everyone was laughing at the scene.

"M'very sorry for laughing at how you shit on your mum's hand as a baby, love." Harry smiled, kissing all over her face (a tactic he learned that made her forgive him almost immediately). She shoved him back one last time and laughed. "I hate y'all for real!" Harry grinned, settling back in his rather comfortable fold out chair and pulled (Y/N) back onto his lap.

"M'glad we came. I really did all that worrying for nothing, petal. Your family loves me like I knew they would." he joked.

She rolled her eyes, "don't act like you weren't about to shit yourself earlier, big shot."  "Lower your voice!"  he warned, earning yet another laugh from grandma K.

"No need to get embarrassed suga! I told ya, you's apart of the family now. Now come over here and dance with an old lady," she commanded, gaining a large grin from both Harry and (Y/N).

[mimiplaysgames]

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. II)

Fandom: Pre-Birth by Sleep Rating: K+ Pairing: Terra/Aqua Other characters: Master Eraqus Word Count: 3,488 One-shot (part of a series) Fluff / Childhood / Friendship

Summary: Eleven-year-old Terra finds that he keeps messing up even with the smallest of actions. He tries his hardest to learn his lessons as he attempts to make Aqua feel better from her threatening illness.

AO3         FF.net

A/N: IT LIVES. I nearly deleted this several times, in a kill-it-while-it-sleeps fashion. And what I mean by this is that I imagined hitting the delete button dramatically, as though I am Light Yagami writing in the Death Note, as operatic music played in the background in my mind. But here it is. Undead. On a more lighthearted note, I subconsciously put in foreshadowing into this, so as devil horns formed on my head, I purposefully sprinkled it throughout. I also couldn’t help but imagine little Terra being Syaoran Li from Cardcaptor Sakura, except way nicer.  I hope this is halfway enjoyable at the very least.

A Tale of Lessons

The hike up the mountain was arduous, but doable. Terra had somehow convinced Aqua to follow him all the way to the peak of the massive spiral that stood several miles away from the academy, telling her it had the best view of the entire area.

It was true, he’d been up this trail before. Just not by himself.

For an eleven-year-old boy, Terra certainly had spirit. “The Master always said that hiking was good to build strong ankles,” he said as he hopped up several rocks.

The two children were blocked from continuing further due to a rather short cliff side that stood in the way on their trail. It was probably seven feet tall at most, but they were so close to the peak at this point.

“This will be easy to climb. Like a tree. No problem,” Terra began to position himself to start climbing. For a kid who had been playing on these mountains since he was six, this really wasn’t much of a hassle.

“Easy for you to say,” Aqua muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. The ten-year-old had only arrived at the academy two years earlier, her long hair tied in a ponytail and graced in a white bow.

The climb was a little trickier than Terra had initially expected. There were one too many times where he had to stay in one position to search for another crevice to use as a grip, and this was tiring. However, he had a distinct advantage, considering that he had been growing so tall so fast.

“Terra, you promised this will be a good view!” he heard from below him. She sounded very annoyed.

“We’re almost there!”

And right he was. When they reached the summit, the academy stood far below in the distance. Beyond, they saw silhouettes of mountains that were not visible to them down by the academy, snowcapped, beautiful, and strong. Against the light of the sun, this was a sight to behold. Birds flew far below them. The sky was overcast, and this gave the entire view a misty look. The wind blew hard at times, and it was sharp and cold.

“Wow, I wonder what it’s like to fly from here.” Terra couldn’t keep his eyes away from the horizon of mountains.

Aqua spit hair out of her mouth and tried to keep it off her face. “Let’s not do that.”

“Hey, did I ever tell you the story about a demon that sat on top of a mountain?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I tried reading it from a book the Master had when I was little. It was full of evil stories. A monster sat on a giant mountain like this one.” He waved his arms to gesture the grandeur. “And it would summon ghosts and stuff.”

“So what happened to it?”

“I don’t know. Master got mad at me for reading it and took it away.”

“What’s the point of telling me a story with no ending?” Her hands found her hips, and her hair blew all over her face.

“Sor-ry, Miss Smarty-Pants.” Sometimes, she could get really annoying. Why have an attitude when they went through all this trouble to get here.

In the distance, the clouds grew thicker and darker. A troubling sign when alone on such treacherous and unpredictable terrain.

Terra’s stomach dropped a little bit and his throat clenched, unable to hide the nervousness in his voice. “Maybe it’s time we should head back. We shouldn’t get stuck out here in the rain. If it thunders, that’s really bad.”

The wind blew harder as they made it down the trail they had just finished climbing up. They both wore light jackets, but it wasn’t enough to keep them warm, the cold now shearing through their clothes. 

At the cliff side, Terra tried to climb down as fast as possible but he slipped, and fell on his back with a resounding thud that knocked the wind out of him. Aqua was stuck near the top, not knowing how to get down fast enough.

Very sore and a little dizzy but otherwise alright, Terra brushed dirt off himself, feeling droplets of water slowly hit his face. “Aqua, just jump, I’ll catch you!”

“I can make it eventually!”

“We don’t have time for that!”

Aqua moaned as though she was trying to protest, but let herself fall. The landing sent Terra reeling backwards as his back took another blow.

He quickly got up, grunting when his knee nearly gave out, and clasped her hand. “C’mon, we really have to run.”

The two friends, hand in hand, ran down the rocky terrain as fast as they could. The rain started to fall in full, soaking the children with a freezing punishment. Terra slipped in the mud, dragging Aqua down with him. Ugh, he was way too sore for this.

They continued after she helped him up. Visibility was getting low as the rain came down harder. Thunder struck loudly.

Oh no.

“We need shelter.” They headed immediately to an area spared by the downpour, protected by a ledge that jutted far out from the cliff side. It didn’t stop the muddy water flowing down the mountainside, which continued to soak them. But this was better and far safer than being out in the open air.

Thunder crashed again so loudly that Aqua jerked. They held each other, shivering as they waited out the storm. Terra tried to cover her with part of his jacket, even though it was soaked. The rain beat down so loudly that it drowned out their voices, making it hard for them to speak without yelling.

Heat overcame him, accompanied by a green aura, which was both welcomed and foreign. She was running her hands over his back with healing magic, melting away the pain. He mouthed her a thank you.

Still shivering, she then conjured a fireball to burn continuously and spin in her hands, which helped to keep the two of warm.

For what seemed like forever, the rain continued to scream down at them, even after the thunder wore off. Terra contemplated making a run to the academy again. Or is that going to hurt her? Master always said I was the oldest, and I should look out for her.

They were shivering so much that it began to get painful when they got rigid. But a voice called their names, competing with the loudness of the watery onslaught. Master Eraqus, covered in a tarp that did little since he was just as soaked as they were, looked under the ledge where the two children huddled together.

“I’m amazed the two of you made it all the way out here. Look at you, soaked to the bone,” he said as he gave them tarps of their own. Terra wasn’t certain if the Master was too worried to be angry, but he didn’t look forward to getting home now.

The next morning, Terra arrived to the dining room by himself. The night before, the Master drew them both hot baths, and the children threw themselves in with their clothes on. Eraqus was strict when he ordered them to get into dry clothes, although he served no punishment... yet. Maybe it was because he was too relieved that they were alright.

Still, it was weird that Terra woke up first. The Master entered the kitchen and began preparing a stew.

“Master, where’s Aqua?”

“She’s very sick, Terra. She can’t get out of bed.”

A hard lump formed in Terra’s throat. 

“Is she... “ Terra’s voice was soft and nervous.

“Terra.” The Master sounded as though he was going to give Terra a scolding, but contained himself as if to spare the boy. “Where did you get the idea that taking her up the mountain was going to be beneficial to you?”

“I... I just wanted to show her something cool.”

“Terra, you really need to learn to think things through.”

“I- I’m sorry... Is she going to die?” Terra’s voice was shaky. She’s my only friend.

“Terra.” The Master was stern. “She’s not going to die. I do not think I will punish you for this, but you will need to make up for it. I think you understand your guilt, and you will probably feel worse when you see her.”

Terra had nothing to say to this.

“Do you want to do something to make her feel better?” The Master took out a tea kettle.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then come. I will show you how to make the best teas for any kind of sickness.”

The cough coming out of Aqua was hoarse, deep, phlegmy, and loud.

Eraqus touched her forehead. “What an awful fever,” he said quietly.

Terra slowly approached the side of the bed, a cup of steaming ginger tea in his hands. Aqua’s cheeks were flushed, and her hair damp as if she had been sweating. She opened her large eyes, and Terra could barely refrain from crying out loud.

“Here, we made you this,” was what he said instead.

Aqua sat up weakly, and took the cup in her hands. When she drank it, her eyebrows went up and she was taken aback.

He could have messed it up. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I like it. It’s just strong.” Her voice broke a little, too much energy spent in speaking.

“It looks like it’s going to be a long recovery for you,” the Master said. “Terra has been tasked with making you tea every day.”

“I’ll make it better next time.” Terra smiled meekly as Aqua coughed. He didn’t think she would accept an apology if he gave it.

Days without Aqua were boring. Terra had been assigned by the Master to read several books on medicinal herbs to prove his commitment to redeem himself after putting her in a dangerous position, but he was still allowed to play whenever he wanted.

But it was of no use to play without a mate. Eraqus used to play with Terra when he was much younger, far before she came around. Now, when she wasn’t there, Terra was left to his own imagination, which didn’t talk back.

Terra sparred by himself by practicing his posture and movements, but there was no one there to cheer him on when he was doing well, or to help him improve. Or to argue with him when he messed up and he didn’t want to hear it, in the snarky way that she would do because she needed to act like she knew everything. Or to tease him when he tripped.

Their favorite past time was always to sit in the field close by the academy and stare at the stars. Seeing so many of them in the sky by himself only made the loneliness worse.

He noticed each night he brought her the third cup of tea for the day that she would stare out her window from her bed. It was much better to stargaze with her here, and he would bring her different games every night. Sometimes, he’d bring her new storybooks for them to read together.

As the Master predicted, her illness really did take long to recover. Eventually, Terra needed to do something different. Something to make up for getting her sick. A simple discarded cardboard box was the perfect canvas, and he carved images into it. When he brought her tea that night, he replaced her lampshade with his box, and it formed lighted shapes all over her room, covering her walls with speckled man-made wonders.

“Stars!” She laid back into her bed, taking her time to inspect each shape he made for her.

“Some of them are.” Terra laid down on the floor next to her. “Can you tell what the other ones are?”

“There’s a sun,” she pointed, her nose still stuffy. “And I can see a moon there. That one looks like a bird.” She paused for a moment and then pointed to one that hovered near the corner of her room. “What is that supposed to be?”

“A lizard.”

“It looks like a blob.”

“You try carving a lizard if you think you’re so good at it.”

Aqua laughed as she turned to her side to view him from above. “I like it anyway. Can I keep it?”

Terra blushed at the thought, but luckily it was too dark in the room for her to notice. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Hey Terra, what about that story you told me about? The one with the demon that sat on the mountain?”

“I told you. The Master wouldn’t let me finish it.”

“You don’t think that book will be in the library?”

It could. “Hm, I want to find out what happened, too. I’ll find it, the Master never throws books away,” he said, with all the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

In daylight, the library looked massive and tall, gold accents spread all over the white walls. The windows were just as impressive, giving the impression that everyone who wandered in floated among the mountains. Terra took continuous laps around the shelves, trying to spot the book. He finally caught a glimpse -  there was no way that he could forget the look of it. The only black book on this specific shelf, thick and adorned with vine-like designs on the spine.

However, it was way up where he could never reach by himself. Fine, there was always a ladder kept somewhere around here. It was a rickety, thin, frail ancient thing. Easy to move around, but it shook when he climbed on it. He reached for the book as soon as he got to the top, but he still wasn’t tall enough to get to it. The ladder shook heavily as he stood on his toes, and he grabbed the shelf to stabilize himself.

He remembered his Master’s words. How he really needed to learn to think things through. Aqua was usually the one to heal him so he often avoided trouble, but she’s forbidden to use magic now that she’s sick. If he fell and hurt himself, there wouldn’t be a way to hide it from the Master.

He carefully climbed back down, and thought about this plans. It was most likely inevitable that he would fall, and the library had way too many hazards.

The only solution, then, was to let himself fall without getting hurt.

The bookshelf stood close to a long table and chairs, a spot where they would normally read books together. If I fall on that, I’ll definitely break my bones. That has to go.

He pushed the long table up to be parallel against the wall opposite the shelf, and stacked the chairs on top of it. It left an open space of bare floor - a terrible surface to break his fall.

There were several couches and lounge chairs around the library. From them, he brought back eight pillows, and placed them neatly around the ladder. It looked naked of full protection, however.

So, he went to the foyer on the ground floor, where a couple of more lounge chairs stood, each with an adorned pillow. But they were still not enough to soften the blow.

He traversed throughout the entire second floor, where several smaller libraries, the kitchen, and guest rooms were located. The long hallways had a few couches spread throughout, like small sanctuaries for anyone too tired from walking through them all. And he took pillows from every single one. From this floor alone, it took him three trips.

And yet, they still didn’t give enough padding, just in case the worst happens.

Understandably, he explored the rest of the floors. Seven of them total. The uppermost floor was mostly storage, many of the antiques and old furniture were covered by a bedsheet to keep dust off of them. Terra removed these sheets to see if he can find old sofas and lounge chairs. He opened chests to see if anything inside was useful to him. In the end, he poured all the pillows he could find into a makeshift wrap, perfect for carrying his spoils. He then thought it would be a good idea to have these sheets as a final layer to keep all the pillows together, and went back up to collect them all.

When he finally finished, he had enough pillows and sheets to makeshift tall beds for at least ten older children. There’s no way I can get hurt now.

He climbed to the top of the shaky ladder, up on his toes again to reach for the book, and he leaned on the shelf for stability. Now though, there was room to push his limits.

The book was barely out of his grasp, and he focused on stretching himself to his maximum as the ladder shook harder under him. Success - he grabbed the book by the tips of his fingers, and with all his force, pulled it out. The momentum pretty much threw him backward off the ladder.

He landed on the pillows - a soft, but dusty, landing. There were so many, in fact, that when the ladder fell to its side, it didn’t make any loud noises.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, reading the title of the heavy trophy he finally won. Tales of Darkness, it read, the ornate decoration of a woman’s face with snakes for hair on the cover. It was definitely the right one.

He scuffled off the pillows, tripped over them, and ran off from the library to show her the book.

The book was full of many different tales of monsters, demons, and vague stories of dark powers possessing people. It even had colored drawings of what these demons looked like.

“What a scary book,” Aqua said, her loose hair covering her shoulders. She stood up and sniffled as Terra showed her the contents, the sun shining through her window. “Are you sure we should be looking through this?”

Such an Aqua thing to do, to be more careful even with ideas that were hers to begin with.

“Well...” Terra continued to flip through the pages, eager to find the demon that captured his imagination years before. “I was seven when I first read it. I think I’m old enough now.”

And there it was. A drawing of a humongous man with glowing yellow eyes,  horns and bat wings. He was so large that his body was part of the mountain itself. What a complicated name, though.

“Cher-na-bog?” Terra read.

“Let me see,” Aqua turned the book around so she can take a look. “He looks exactly as you described him.”

Terra took a moment to read a little bit. “He sleeps on a mountain, and every 100 years he comes out to haunt the villagers in the valley by summoning ghosts and lesser demons. They suffer an endless night until they can banish him.”

“Yeesh. How do you stop him?”

Terra scanned through more words, but footsteps coming from behind stopped him from reading aloud. He turned on his chair to see the Master standing in the doorway to Aqua’s room.

“Terra,” the Master said, with the tone that spoke volumes of how he thought the boy was most definitely guilty of something. “Can you explain to me the mess in the library?”

“I got a book for Aqua.” It should have been obvious to the Master that this was the case.

“What book is worth all that trouble?” Eraqus touched his own forehead to grovel over what could possibly had possessed his apprentice to do such a thing. He sighed loudly the moment he caught sight of the book. “What are you doing with this?”

“I wanted to find out about...” Terra held the book close to his face. “Cher-na-bog. But I don’t understand what it’s saying about stopping him.”

Aqua leaned forward and scrunched her bedsheets in her hands. “Please Master, tell us how he was defeated.”

“Yeah, please Master. I don’t know what it means when it says that he was turned away by the sound of bells and the light of... ann-gulls?” Terra said.

“It’s angels,” Eraqus said.

“What’s an angel?”

“Some worlds believe that light can be personified as figures of guidance and protection. This demon was banished because these beings came down to stop him.”

“But what does that mean?”

The Master gently took the book out of Terra’s hands. “Terra, there isn’t even proof that such a creature exists, anyway. They’re all old fables. But what does exist is that mess you left behind. And a proper Keyblade wielder knows how to tidy up his affairs.”

Terra crossed his arms and scowled.

“Terra, I promise you will get the answers you seek when you are older. Think of yourself as a future angel when you finally are able to forge your own Keyblade. Do you think an angel, therefore, will be messy?”

With a flick to the boy’s head and a small grin that still expected obedience, the Master left with the book, and Terra took his sweet time to stretch when he stood up, delaying his chores for a long as possible. Aqua laughed behind him.

“I wonder what it was you did,” she said as she tucked her knees to her chest. “Thanks for taking care of me, Terra.”

Terra blushed and made sure she didn’t see it. “Yeah, well, okay. You’re welcome. Whatever.”

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 9. Random thoughts.

Oh, neat! I didn't know the Rem and Subaru AU was going to be in this book. I thought it was just a separate sidestory or something extra sold with special editions of the Blu-Rays like the Overlord sidestories. This is good because I was planning on reading it eventually anyway.

[Literally the page right before the interlude]

Well, f**k you too, story.

Sloth, because I cannot wipe away your tears.

Lust, because I want us to melt together and become one.

Gluttony, because I want to consume you, to take all of you for myself.

Greed, because I want to have everything that I love.

Wrath, because I cannot forgive the absurdity of it all.

Pride, because I scorn everything that is not you.

Jealousy, because that is all I feel for the world that embraces you.

Now I'm kind of wondering if Return By Death's purpose is to bring Subaru closer to Satella or if it's a way of keeping them apart. Satella later calls it her and Subaru's place when Petelgeuse dares intrude upon it, so I'd assume it's the former but always just when the two seem to be connecting Subaru is ripped back to the land of the living.

You know, it just occurred to me how passive aggressive sending a blank letter as a declaration of war is.

When Emilia thought about it, she hadn’t seen the girl a single time since returning to the mansion.

“Maybe Beatrice is angry I left Subaru behind...”

Subaru and Beatrice got along rather well, so maybe she was upset.

I have no idea if this is the case or not but it is kind of nice to imagine Beatrice is at least a little upset that Subaru is gone and is intentionally or unintentionally shunning Emilia over it. Not that she and Emilia hung out much to begin with, from what I understand. Outside of Puck, Subaru was the only one to ever actively hang out with her and try to get her to have fun.

“A strange presence in the forest...?”

“Yes. Unpleasant fellows against whom even my Clairvoyance is ineffective.”

There was some really nice set-up for this. It was established all the way back when we first learned about Ram's Clairvoyance ability that it works by letting her "see" through the senses of all the insects and animals within her range. And what did Subaru keep noting almost every time he encountered the Witch Cult? The silence. The lack of noise from any birds or bugs, because everything avoids the Witch Cult if they can. Ram's Clairvoyance can't see the Witch Cult because there's nothing around the cult to see them. That's just a really clever little bit of detail there.

They had already thoroughly examined every concern and misgiving Emilia might have. They persevered, slapping down one doubt after another, until Emilia had no room left to lodge any objections.

This should have been a good thing, but the current Emilia could not help but feel tortured by an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. They had prepared answers to any question she might have, thought through whatever worries she might have, and if she did as she was told, everything would be taken care of through the goodwill of others—

A nice little parallel between Emilia and Subaru, facing a somewhat similar problem of their own powerlessness and needing to rely on others.

It became a ritual. Every day, Emilia would accompany Subaru down to the village and do radio aerobics with the villagers. Emilia was always watching when Subaru gave his stamp of approval with the potato stamps he’d carved himself.

These everyday scenes were the tangible bonds Emilia had formed with the villagers.

I think one of the reasons I had trouble shipping Subaru and Emilia in the anime was because I didn't really see what she got from knowing him aside from him saving her life. Here, being able to see Emilia's thoughts and get a look back at their time together from her POV, it's a lot easier to see. It's like why I ship Subaru and Rem. It's not just that they've saved each other's lives but that they helped each other in very personal ways, and that's something Subaru was doing for Emilia. I can buy why she's upset that he's gone.

So the apparent reason the Witch Cult was after Emilia was to see if she could be a vessel for Satella to be reborn through, and that maybe the reason she died before in a previous loop wasn't just because Subaru had told her about RBD but because she had failed the trial of being a worthy vessel. It feels like a weird twist on the old actual witch trials, where they drowned those accused of being witches. If they lived, then they're a witch. If they died, then they were innocent. Emilia survives the trial she becomes a witch and if she dies then she doesn't. It does make me wonder what the conditions for passing the trial are. First guess would be they have something to do with Subaru. Satella has some kind of infatuation with him so maybe part of it is trying to have Subaru's love through Emilia and Emilia pushing Subaru away was part of why she "failed" the trials.

Even in the anime, I loved how Subaru bested Petelgeuse. It's a trope that's great when it's done well; defeating the bad guy by technically giving them what they wanted (kind of like in Aladdin). "You want to meet the witch so bad? You got it! And everything that goes with it!" Petelgeuse was defeated via being rejected by the girl he liked. And then he goes through a similar stage of denial like Subaru did in his first loop after Emilia dumped him, throwing himself into delusion and thinking he can win back her favor by...continuing to just keep doing what he already was. It's why I love the lines:

It wasn’t worth listening to a word from him. Petelgeuse was just a self- righteous creep indulging in unrequited love.

Wilhelm had said as much—that it was absurd to call this love.

I'm a big superhero fanboy and this is something that comes up a lot. A lot of the best kinds of villains are those that are a reflection of the hero.

Also, did anyone else get kind of a Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? vibe from Petelgeuse during certain parts of this book? An inhuman creature pretending to be a man, his face is not his real face, going crazy and then going on a rampage. "Holy smokes, he's a toon (spirit)!"

When I was reading through the Goblin Slayer light novels, one thing I praised the series for was that everything the story introduced later came back and was put to use. Very little was ever wasted or pointless. Subaru's final battle with Petelgeuse reminds me a lot of that, with Subaru putting to use so much that'd been established prior in the story and through his own experiences. Otto's oil. What happens when you go outside the land dragon's protection against the wind. The gospel and Petelgeuse's own obsession. Even his practice of falling properly during his sword practice with Wilhelm, which Wilhelm himself criticized, proved itself to have its worth, He uses everything at his disposal, everything that he's learned, to pull off a win.

There, where Subaru’s greatest desire was to reach out and offer Emilia his hand, she had turned her back on him. That had to have been a great betrayal.

While I believe Subaru was definitely more at fault for the split between them, I do like how Emilia apparently has been feeling just as guilty as he has been, blaming herself just as much as he blamed himself.

“----- ”

However, Emilia’s reaction was completely different from what Subaru had expected.

Don't you do it.

“Subaru.”

“Yes?”

No.

When Emilia called his name, Subaru looked straight her.

Emilia resolutely faced Subaru’s determined eyes head-on. However, her gaze also contained bewilderment, and Subaru couldn’t understand why.

NO.

"Who's Rem?"

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

So, I was actually spoiled a bit before starting the LNs that Rem would be erased from everyone's memories again. I just didn't know when it would happen, or how, and I certainly didn't know it's was something that would have happened at the anime's end if it hadn't be cut out. Is it weird to say that I'm somewhat grateful it happened so soon so that I didn't have to keep anticipating it? If you're gonna punch me in the stomach, just do it and get it over with. Knowing it's coming and not knowing when is much worse. Of course, the story can't let me off that easy, and my exact reaction when the book cut back to Rem on the carriage was "Oh shit! Crusch is there with her!" Somehow I'd managed to avoid the spoiler that she gets attacked along with Rem and gets her memories erased. This series really feels no need to hold back, does it? Two characters it got me to really like and now they're both gone in one way or another. And it's even worse because I like Ferris here more than I did in the anime and now he's basically lost his friend and person he's sworn himself to. A direct comparison is made by Subaru that Ferris has basically lost his Emilia.

On the positive side, this line from Rem:

“Someday a hero shall appear—a hero to destroy you all. However self- serving you are, however much misfortune your self-satisfaction creates, that man, the only hero Rem loves, shall surely bring you what you deserve.”

You're damn right he will! No idea if he actually will but I need hope right now. And, of course, with Emilia by his side to get Rem back.

As I've made no secret, I ship Subaru and Rem, starting with the anime. But obviously I didn't want to go into the LNs with a bias against Emilia, especially since it's not like I disliked her in the anime. And this book especially gave me a lot about her character to get invested in. Her inner thoughts, her feelings of powerlessness and having to adjust to people trying to help her, self-hatred, and all the parallels and similarities between her and Subaru. It really makes Subaru confessing his feelings for her feel like a much more impactful scene. I feel the connection between them much more than I did in the anime and it really feels like something Emilia needed to hear, that she is loved. I really want to see where things go from here. Subaru and Emilia vs. the Witch Cult!

And it was a very good move of Subaru's to give Emilia time to digest his feelings for her and to let her eventually fall in love with him. It's the same as why I don't mind that Subaru didn't immediately return Rem's love when she confessed to him like other Subarem shippers do. Love takes time. Love takes work. I think it shows that Subaru's love for Emilia and Rem's love for him is genuine, that they don't want to just pressure the other into being with them. They want the other to be with them because they love them and they are willing to wait for that time. While the AU section of this book is from a timeline where Subaru and Rem ran away, I don't have trouble believing he did eventually truly fall in love with her after all they've been through and raising a family together. The problem with that timeline I feel would just be the regrets they'd have over leaving behind everyone else they cared about, thus why I think they made the right choice in the main timeline.

I haven't even talked about Beatrice crying for her mother after not even Subaru can help her leave the mansion or Wilhelm's wife maybe being part of the Witch Cult because of his old wound reopening. So much happened in this book!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gzrul3/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_9/

[helenarlett-rex]

Happy New Year everyone!

And happy new decade. Looks like we are officially living in the 20s now. Everyone break out your fedoras, beaded evening dresses, and argyle socks!

But what does the new decade hold for Helen Arlet, you may ask? Well for starters I plan to get back to more writing. I mean, I know I haven’t stopped writing. I have continued to post new stories over on my eka’s page. But there hasn’t been a published book since Megalodon Trouble. With the start of the new decade I plan to fix that and start putting out books on a more regular schedule again. I may be able to start as soon as January, but more realistically it will probably be February before I am back on a regular publishing schedule.

And what do we have to look forward to in this coming year? I normally try to keep this stuff under wraps in case I don’t manage to get it written like I intended, but I hoping that maybe actually making some announcements will give me the drive I need to get this stuff finished. That ‘I already announced it so I have to put the effort in to finish it’ kind of thing. This could backfire horribly, but let’s hope it doesn’t. So that being said, here is a little sneak preview for what I have coming this year.

Rainbow Sharks - A collection of LGBT erotic shorts set in the same universe as my Miss Nolly stories. I’ve had a lot of fun writing this one and it’s nearly complete. I’m pretty excited about it. Provided there are no setbacks we should be getting this one as soon as late January, early February.

Other coming attractions (which I don’t have finished covers to show off yet) include the following.

Miss Nolly’s Class 2 (Title subject to change) - About 3/4 of the way written and quite an exciting and interesting turn in the Miss Nolly series in my opinion. Can’t wait to see what everyone else thinks about this one.

Snow Bunny: Double Black Diamond - A long awaited, and very overdue, followup in the Snow Bunny series which will be taking place immediately where The Dino Sisters: A Snow Bunny Tale left off. So if you aren’t up to date in the Snow Bunny series you may want to go correct that before things start getting real. This one is also about 3/4 of the way written.

Unnamed Yiffpunk project 1 - I have a squeal to my first Yiffpunk novel currently in the works that should be coming out sometime later this year. Although at the moment extensive re-writes are probably going to be in order so I don’t even know yet if this is one book or if it will be re-written into two books. So I have no real time frame on when it will be out. I really hoping for this year though.

Unnamed Yiffpunk project 2 - I also have a second Yiffpunk book in the works that isn’t a direct sequel to the last book, but still connects to the others in some way, just like all the Yiffpunk stories do. This one is a bit more straight forward and coming along better so it may actually be out before the other one.

The final The Dino Dimension Saga book - No title yet, but I have planned an ending to The Dino Dimension Saga. I will be releasing a final book in the series followed very quickly by a complete collection edition which will contain everything I have written in that setting across all of the platforms I release stories on. So in other words, the final book on it’s own will pretty much just be for people who want to read the last story through Kindle Unlimited. While the complete collection won’t be eligible for KDP Select enrollment and will be more for people who just want everything and are willing to pay $3.99 in actual money to have it. Oh but don’t worry. Just because I am ending The Dino Dimension Saga doesn’t mean you have seen the last of those characters. I have something special planned. But you’ll have to read the last book to find out what.

The Dank Wildcats Vol. 2 - Another one I’ve been planning on for a while but didn’t make myself sit down and actually start writing it until just recently. This book has been SO MUCH FUN so far and I can’t wait to have it finished. If you enjoyed the first volume of this series then I think you’re really going to like the second one. And if you haven’t read the first one, but maybe you’ve been reading my Miss Smalls stories, then you may want to go check it out. It’s set in the same universe and some of the characters have already made appearance in the Miss Smalls series.

And speaking of Miss Smalls...

Miss Smalls collection - Not really any new content here, but I’ve written enough in this series now that I think I’ll probably publish a Miss Smalls collected volume just for anyone who is interested in having that. Probably full of author’s notes and behind the scenes stuff for anyone who is into nerdy stuff like that. Who knows... If sales are good this year we may even get some illustrations...

That’s about all for now. I hope you all have a happy new year and looking forward to seeing you in 2020!

[aion-rsa]

Best Stan Lee Comics: A Marvel Reading Guide

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If you only know of Stan Lee from his MCU cameos, you need to read his Marvel Comics work with Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, and others.

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It’s tricky to pinpoint what would be considered the best Stan Lee stories, because he was a consummate collaborator. Lee was a writer, an idea man, and scripter who worked with some of the greatest storytellers in the business to bring characters to life in tales that were greater than the sum of their parts. And thus, a history of the best Stan Lee Marvel comics is also a showcase of some of the other historic talents in comic book history as well, with two looming larger than any others: Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko.

With apologies to Don Heck, John Buscema, John Romita, and many others, it was with Kirby and Ditko that Lee did his best work. There are, of course, controversies surrounding all of these collaborations. Lee's working relationship with Ditko was particularly contentious, and the issue of the Kirby/Lee partnership is still the subject of heated debate to this day, and will remain so for all time. I’m not here to unpack any of that. I’m just here to outline what, for someone who may not be overly familiar with the early days of Marvel, are the most essential segments of an impossibly large body of work.

I hit the big ones here. It’s not that I forgot about the early Hulk, Avengers, Iron Man, or Daredevil comics so much as I never considered those, especially when taken as a whole, to be the best work of Lee and his respective collaborators. And before you kill me, I'm not talking about the characters themselves, I'm just talking about the body of work Stan Lee did on those characters with his collaborators. It's good stuff, but little of it, in total, is the kind of legendary, essential reading I feel these other books are. The same goes for the Lee/Kirby X-Men series. While the essential elements of the X-Men as the ultimate metaphor for the ongoing fight against bigotry in all its forms was more or less in place early on, the concept (and the overall quality of the stories) didn’t really come into its own until the 1970s, under the guidance of other creators. That’s just my opinion, of course, and by all means, feel free to seek out all of the above, but in terms of sheer scope, and as the best possible showcase of the kind of power contained in Marvel’s early days, I give you these stories by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, John Buscema, John Romita, and others...

Fantastic Four

For some modern readers, the earliest Fantastic Four tales might not land with the kind of impact that you would expect, considering that they essentially redefined superhero comics. But rest assured, this is the foundation of the entire Marvel Universe, and the proper beginning of one of the greatest collaborations in all of comics with Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

But if the first two volumes (Fantastic Four Epic Collection: The World's Greatest Comics Magazine and Fantastic Four Epic Collection: The Master Plan of Doctor Doom, which make up roughly the first three years of the book) are too dry for you, then just go ahead and jump right into Fantastic Four Epic Collection: The Coming of Galactus, which is really when Lee and Kirby find themselves in full flower. By this point in the series, you’ll find more ideas per page than most comics usually crank out in a year, and the book truly earns the title of “World’s Greatest Comics Magazine” with the legendary "Galactus Trilogy." And while the “Galactus Trilogy” itself is often (rightly) cited as the pinnacle of the Lee/Kirby team, this volume ends with “This Man, This Monster” which is possibly an even better example of what Lee and Kirby could do with extraordinary characters, even when the fate of the planet wasn’t at stake.

And the amazing thing about that volume? It’s still only the halfway point of the Lee/Kirby Fantastic Four stories. But before I dive deeper into the Lee/Kirby partnership, or the Lee/Ditko years, there is one brief diversion worth taking...  

Silver Surfer

At the moment, there isn’t yet an Epic Collection for the second half of the Lee/Kirby Fantastic Four run (you can find them in assorted Marvel Masterworks volumes, though). But what there is is Silver Surfer Epic Collection: When Calls Galactus. What this volume does is reprint all of the early Silver Surfer appearances in the next two years or so of Fantastic Four. The Surfer here is a much more alien figure than he would later become, owing more to Jack Kirby’s continued influence on the character he created.

Follow that up with Silver Surfer Masterworks Vol. 1, where Lee and artist John Buscema fleshed out Norrin Radd’s backstory and gave him a little bit more of an interior life. These are really the tales that have essentially defined the Surfer for the rest of his pop culture history, and John Buscema at the height of his own artistic powers is a real treat to behold, even as Lee took the Surfer character a little further afield from the roots that Jack Kirby had tried to imbue him with. Still, key to these early Surfer tales is "The Power and the Prize," the first appearance of Marvel's Mephisto, and an important example of Lee's gift for high drama and melodramatic dialogue.

As a bonus, you absolutely should check out Silver Surfer: Parable, in which Lee partnered with visionary French comics artist Moebius, to tell a short, but weighty and compelling, tale that melds the end times imagery of Galactus with religious fanaticism.

Thor

While the earliest Thor stories (collected in Thor Epic Collection: God of Thunder) might feel a little tough to take for modern readers, often utilizing relatively traditional superhero storytelling tropes combined with faux-Shakespearean “elevated” dialogue, stick with ‘em and you’ll be rewarded. But really, starting at the beginning is overrated. You know the broad strokes of all these characters otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this site, right?

read more: Thor Comics Reading Order

You want another pure, unfiltered blast of Lee/Kirby awesome? Start with Thor Epic Collection: The Wrath of Odin, which is when Thor goes full blown Marvel Cinematic Universe cosmic god mythology mash-up, complete with familiar MCU figures like Destroyer, Ego, the Living Planet, and plenty of Loki. Like When Calls Galactus, you get Jack Kirby in his finest form, and it’s incredible that the pair were able to produce both Thor and Fantastic Four on a monthly basis. Just follow that right up with Thor Epic Collection: To Wake the Mangog for even more cosmic mythology mash-ups. While the Lee/Kirby Fantastic Four is the true bedrock of the Marvel Universe as we know it, their collaboration on Thor is just as impressive. 

Basically, if you loved all the crazy comic-flavored visual goodness in Thor: Ragnarok, you'll want to settle in with a stack of these.

Captain America

No, Stan Lee didn’t have a hand in creating Captain America (but Jack Kirby sure did). But Lee DID bring him back from publishing limbo in the early 1960s. And that’s the focus of Captain America Epic Collection: Captain America Lives Again, featuring the tales that first brought Captain America back into the public consciousness.

Kicking off with Avengers #4 and then following up with the Tales of Suspense stories featuring Steve Rogers (before Marvel was confident enough he could sustain his own title), this, perhaps even more than the original Joe Simon/Jack Kirby Cap stories from the 1940s, is ground zero for Captain America fans.

read more: Captain America Comics Reading Order

Roughly half the stories deal with Cap readjusting to the modern world and the overwhelming guilt over the fate of Bucky Barnes, with plenty of Lee’s trademark introspective, soul-searching dialogue. Meanwhile, Kirby delivers some of the most spectacular fight scenes ever put on the page. This volume contains many of my favorite Captain America stories, and for my money, it's the definitive Cap. As out there as Lee and Kirby got on Fantastic Four and Thor, this is pure costumed superhero adventure on as "grounded" a level as you're ever likely to see from that team.

Doctor Strange

There have been plenty of talented creative teams who put in the time on the Sorcerer Supreme (we’ve written about plenty of them here), but none have ever matched the original Lee/Ditko stories. Hell, they’ll probably admit to it if you ask ‘em.

read more: The Doctor Strange/Pink Floyd Connection

Stan Lee’s creative partnership with Steve Ditko was always a tricky one, and perhaps nowhere was it more strained than in their collaboration on Doctor Strange. Ditko certainly maintained that Lee's input in these tales was minimal. And while these stories are indelibly stamped with Ditko’s style and philosophical sensibilities, perhaps even more than their work on Spider-Man, it’s nevertheless Lee’s lyrical dialogue and inventive, bizarre names for the numerous magical devices, dimensions, and demons that populate these stories that helped give Stephen Strange his unique identity. By the way, if you're ever in need of a thorough cataloging of the magic spells in these early Doctor Strange stories, you should really check this out. 

I have long maintained that there are no three greater words in our modern language than “the complete series” which is why you should just stick Doctor Strange Epic Collection: Master of the Mystic Arts on your shelf. 

Spider-Man

It’s remarkable how Spider-Man remains relatively unchanged from his earliest appearances. The costume is the same, the origin (one of the most oft-told in all of popular culture) has not only remained virtually unchanged, it has downright rejected any attempts to foist extraneous elements on it, and the central principle that guides the character was there from the very last page of his very first story. All of that just speaks to how solid the storytelling by Lee and Ditko was from the very start. Like Doctor Strange, these early Spider-Man tales have aged far better than their contemporaries, and still serve as the blueprint every time anyone looks to reinterpret the character, whether on the comics page or the screen.

The entirety of the Lee/Ditko Amazing Spider-Man partnership can be found in two Epic Collection volumes, Spider-Man Epic Collection: Great Power and then Spider-Man Epic Collection: Great Responsibility. You can almost pretend that these two volumes comprise one complete story, so cohesive is the storytelling, and if again, like their Doctor Strange, if these were the only stories ever told with this character, they would be enough.

After Ditko departed the book, Lee continued on as writer, partnering with John Romita, Sr. You can see how the story shifted with the transition from Ditko to Romita, as Romita’s more romantic style turned Peter Parker and his supporting cast from a group of regular folks into matinee idols, and even as Peter found a little more luck in the romance department (while Gwen Stacy had been introduced in the latter part of the Ditko years, it was Romita who formally introduced Mary Jane Watson), the spirit of Spidey as a hard luck hero remained.

Perhaps more than any other book, the years Stan Lee spent guiding Spider-Man with Ditko and Romita encompass the elements of Marvel's unique brand of superheroics. Nobody else in the entire stable embodies the everyman the way Peter Parker does, from his personal struggles to his homemade costume. And a single panel, the final panel from Spidey's first appearance in 1962's Amazing Fantasy #15, sums up the ethos of the Marvel Universe as a whole, in a perfect meeting of words and images.

Mike Cecchini is the Editor in Chief of Den of Geek. You can read more of his work here. Follow him on Twitter @wayoutstuff.

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Feature Mike Cecchini

Dec 28, 2019

Marvel

Stan Lee

Jack Kirby

Steve Ditko

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[angeltriestoblog]

Sophomore year recap, vol. 1

Funny how I only ever go on this blog to give sporadic life updates, which are honestly just lengthier versions of what goes on my Instagram dump. But, I'd hate to let this practice die—plus, I love to write, so it continues for another year. I recently wrapped up my first semester of sophomore year—yet another testament to how fast time flies by—and it's safe to presume that it was the most rewarding chapter of my stay in Ateneo, thus far. I admit I did spend most of my freshman year in my comfort zone (while still managing to make my fair share of rookie mistakes, go me!). Although I don't completely blame myself for not being able to adjust from the get-go, I do admit that my life would have been much easier if I didn't take so long to warm up to the idea of embracing change and taking risks. Upon realizing this, there was a certain pressure that came with it to make up for lost time and try to do as much I could before my body eventually gives out.

For starters, I became more active in the three organizations I am a member of, all of which demanded so much of my energy, and pushed my brain power and time management skills to the test, but were very fulfilling to be in nonetheless. (A little note from Editing Angel: This is where this post starts to look a little bit like a LinkedIn profile.)

I signed up to be a part of the Sanggunian, the student government of the University, under the Commission on Mental Health, since I am an advocate for challenging the stigma that surrounds this issue, as well as providing the proper support to those who need it. I was eventually put under Secretariat, where I was in charge of the databases and documents, taking minutes of the meeting, and updating attendance and post trackers. Although it wasn't the department I had originally planned on getting into, I did enjoy learning about the more technical side of the team and took pride in the fact that I was able to put some of the lessons I learned in ITM over intersession to good use. And by that I mean conditional formatting, but whatever ok!

But, at some point the forces of the universe decided to pull some strings and bring me to my first choice: Humans of Ateneo (HOA), a page that aims to share stories of those within the Ateneo community with the hopes of inspiring others. To this day, I work there as a literary editor, who is basically in charge of transcribing recordings of interviews and turning them into the text posts our audience sees on their Facebook timelines. I love what I do right now, because not only do I feel endlessly inspired by each story of resilience I encounter, but also fulfilled since I am partly responsible for getting that story out there for the rest of the world to see. But, I guess it wouldn't be entirely wrong to say that my favorite story so far has to be Mayor Vico Sotto's, especially because HOA Core (minus Marice, and plus Yanna) and I travelled all the way to Pasig City Hall to hear it from him in the flesh. I can confirm that he is definitely more good-looking in person, that he establishes eye contact when he speaks, and that he is one of the most insightful and substantial human beings I've ever met.

Since being a part of the team, I have also had access to opportunities both within the sub-commission and Sanggu, as a whole. I've been given leadership positions that allowed me to step up to the plate, one of which was directing a video we launched in celebration of World Mental Health Day. My co-project head Bel and I had to conceptualize it from scratch based solely on a spoken word poem given to us, and plan and plot its shooting over the course of one week—definitely a feat given our conflicts in schedule, and the unpredictable weather. Next year, I'll be pretty hands-on when it comes to manning the Peer Support Group of our commission, as I have been assigned as a member of the core team, so that's definitely something to watch out for.

I've attended active listening workshops to help me be better in tending to the needs of others: by either providing them with a newfound support system, or sharing sound advice. I was a part of the sub-core team behind Humans of Ateneo: IRL, where prestigious alumni were invited to speak on their journeys, much like three HOA posts come to life. I also ended up emceeing a freshman drug talk all by myself, because I was only informed at the very last minute that my co-host had other commitments to attend to. I remember practically shaking from the nerves and squealing right in front of the speakers that day, but I managed to pull through with more confidence and less awkward finger guns than I thought possible.

I think this is the org where I took the most initiative and was therefore the busiest, but I didn't mind at all because I was surrounded by such wonderful people. I met most of my team over intersession during a workshop that I wasn't even wholeheartedly willing to attend (because it coincided with what was my last chance to catch Ben&Ben live on their Limasawa Street tour), and thus wasn't expecting much out of. But, we meshed so well together almost instantly as we opened up to one another about experiences and secrets we only would have shared to our closest friends. The acceptance and belongingness was palpable from that point on, and it continues to manifest in how strong our bond is right now.

Aside from that, I got in The GUIDON, the University's student publication, as a Features writer. This is going to sound like such a humble brag, but I honestly didn't expect to be accepted. I'm well aware of how rigorous the week-long application process is, I got the news from friends who failed to make the cut and even saw it for myself during the general assembly they held specifically for applicants. I remember checking my e-mail and being greeted by a list of requirements I needed to accomplish for both of the staffs I applied for: mock articles, interviews, live tweets that all needed to show my unique writing style and authentic take on issues both in and outside the four walls of the campus, that were so overwhelming in scope that I had to call up a friend just to yell in her ear for 10 straight minutes. For the next few days after, tears were shed, friends were ghosted, drafts were created then scrapped, fished out of the Recently Deleted folder, and revised in an endless and vicious cycle—I don't think I had ever written as eloquently, gone as long without checking my phone, or listened to only one playlist on loop for literal days prior to those moments, and yet I was still very unsure of my chances because I knew I was up against some tough competition: veteran staffers of high school publications, and liberal arts majors who looked like they had more personality in their thumbs than I did in my entire body. I remember beating myself up for backing out of my second choice (hi Vantage), which would significantly decrease my chances of getting in. It's just that I knew I was incapable of submitting anything that wasn't half-assed at that point, and I couldn't bear to show them anything that I myself could not give an Angel Seal of Approval.

Thankfully, all of my hard work paid off eventually. Only two days after I had submitted the folder containing my requirements to the respective editor, I was working on a paper in a cafe (the table adjacent to the door of Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Robinsons Galleria, to be very exact) when I received the acceptance letter in my inbox. I burst into tears, crumpled to the floor, and replied with the most articulate response I could muster: “SKLDFJSDLKFJSDLKFJSDLFJSLFSDKJ THANK YOU SO MUCH I am literally crying in the middle of this coffee shop.... thank you.... so much....”

As of this writing, I've published two articles under Features: one about the ghosting phenomenon that remains prevalent in romantic relationships, and another about the experiences of Ateneans with autism spectrum disorder. My job honestly feels like both work and a vacation at the same time, because it allows me to talk about a diverse set of topics with interesting people who are experts in the field, while doing what I feel like I'm best at. But, since a part of me will always consider Vantage my TOTGA, I took on some extra work for them and wrote a film review on "G!", a movie that came out as part of the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino earlier this year, which has proven itself to be the worst I've seen in my entire life for reasons I cannot even begin to explain. I didn't necessarily have high expectations of it upon seeing the trailer, but I hyped myself up for it nevertheless. I even bought tickets for me and my friend Christine online because I was afraid that they would be sold out, and we dashed out of our MSYS classroom as soon as our professor said goodbye to book a Grab and hurry to SM North EDSA to make it to our screening... only to barge in the theater and see that we were the only two people in the cinema. I mean, there was one couple in the far corner, but they didn't look very present. In addition to that, I did a food review on a JSEC stall called Chopsticks. I honestly think that food is the most challenging topic to write about, because it's hard to convey how something tastes. When someone asks me to describe the viand I'm eating, I often end up just giving them a spoonful so they can see for themselves. But, I hopped on it anyway, because how could I even say no to sampling an entire menu of Chinese food for free? Several plates of dimsum and chicken later, I gave them a well-deserved five star rating and consider myself as a frequent diner. The experience was made extra fun since I was able to chat with the owner of the business, and my photographer who turned out to be someone I followed on Instagram way back in 2015 and admired for how clean and curated her feed was! (Hi, Kim and Alexis hehe)

As if all of the things mentioned above weren't already enough, I also covered a talk on the future of scientists in the Philippines (which I also have an article on—this goes to show just how diverse the scope of my work can get), attended workshops on feature writing and the relation of journalism and mental health, participated in a rally against professors involved in sexual harassment cases in the Ateneo (pretty badass behavior, if you ask me!), and became a facilitator for a high school publication in this event called Point One. I guess I have The GUIDON to thank for my lack of writer's block: they've managed to keep my brain running on hyperdrive, and my creative juices flowing more than they ever have before.

Last but not the least, of course I chose to stay in my home organization, ACTM. Although I didn’t run for any position or apply to be a part of the Leaders Core (yet), I did my best to make myself visible and show my support in any of the events we participated in or projects that we spearheaded. I signed up as a part of the logistics subcore for the annual Prepcourse, where I helped out with set design and ran some errands for officers in the different booths they manned throughout that day. I honestly have a soft spot for the project, since I remember that the first time I felt genuinely happy during freshman year was during my own Prepcourse (Orsem didn't really do it for me, sorry friends) so even though I missed the chance to be a facilitator, I still wanted to be a part of the event in some way. I also hung out with blockmates and friends all throughout Tambay Week, supported our candidates for Mr. and Ms. SOM, as well as our dance team for RIB eliminations, and dressed up as Kim Possible for the annual Halloween party we held—I was even able to go with Ron Stoppable, thanks to my friend Iverson, who dressed up as him as a surprise.

Although the obvious highlight of my stay in ACTM so far has to be attending LEAP, a three-day leadership training seminar in Iba, Zambales. I remember this particular moment where I was wandering around the beachfront, lowkey frolicking in the water, while my groupmates were playing capture the flag. (In my defense, I was never the physically adept type of person, and knew I'd be helping my team out more if I stayed out of the playing area and cheered on them from the sidelines. But, anyway, I digress.) I could see the golden flecks of sunlight glistening on the waves, and the froth from the seawater hitting my toes, and when I looked back beyond the shore, I saw my friends having fun, running back and forth across the sand. As cliche as it sounds, I couldn't help but mutter to myself, "Wow."

Because at that time last year, I clearly remember being slumped on my couch, scrolling through one LEAP-related IG story after another, feeling this sense of FOMO that I didn't know how to deal with. On one hand, I hated that I wasn't part of something that looked equal parts fun and value-adding, but at the same time, I knew that if I were there, I'd be sticking out like a sore thumb and suffering all the more because I was at the point where social interaction had become physically painful for me. Maybe that's why this LEAP was extra special to me: besides all of the great people I met and the insights I picked up along the way, it served as a reminder of how far I've come, and how much farther I have to go during the rest of my stay in college.

(That honestly would have been the perfect way to end this post, but I have so much more I have to cover. How anti-climactic.)

Aside from my newfound love for organization life, I gained a lot of new friends and strengthened the ties I have with old ones. Back then, I was very selective of those I talked to and let in my circle: I let first impressions get the best of me, or allowed shyness to take center stage every time there was a chance to meet new people. Now, I'm close to both blockmates and batchmates: I go to their birthday celebrations, support events that they're a part of, hang out in their condo units to binge on fastfood, or sometimes just sit on the Matteo Steps with them in the middle of doing requirements to vent for 10 minutes before begrudgingly returning to our tables.

I miraculously also had time to sneak in some pretty fun stuff in my schedule despite my workload. Although I wasn’t able to prioritize making content for this blog, I got my writing on the national paper! It was in the first semester of my freshman year when I heard about Inquirer Youngblood from my English professor. Apparently, they accept essays about any topic under the sun from anyone aged 29 and below. Since I felt there would be no harm in trying, I crafted this little piece that aimed to show a different side of being an only child, as opposed to the “spoiled and entitled” stereotype that is usually stuck on us. I didn’t get my hopes up so as to not be disappointed, so when a couple of days had passed and my article wasn’t showing up on print, I gave up and moved on. Good thing my friend Bea sent me a photo of the September 8 issue of the newspaper (coincidentally the same day I got accepted into The GUIDON!), or else I wouldn’t have seen that I got published. I admit that even though writing is all I’ve ever really known since I was young, I’m not a hundred percent confident in my skill, nor do I always see the purpose behind what I do. But, it’s instances like that, that remind me of why I keep at it.

Another capital-G Great thing that happened was getting tickets to the UAAP men’s basketball championship game! As someone who made Ateneo her dream school at age five because of how much she loved the Blue Eagles, witnessing them end the season with a sweep and a championship was everything to me. And getting to do so with my closest friends in my block just made the experience even better than it was. Also, seeing Renzo Subido play in person—all my friends can attest to the fact that I was facing a huge moral dilemma mid-game, because every time he made a basket, I would end up cheering for him. (With a face like that, how could I not though)

I even found my way back in the gig scene after a long hiatus, with no less than Ang Bandang Shirley, Over October, and Munimuni welcoming me back with open arms. I had got tickets on a whim with my friend from my days as a full-on K-Pop stan, Reanna, even though it was the weekend before a big Accounting exam, if I remember correctly. But, I have no regrets: I have a feeling that very few moments in life can make me feel the way I did when Umaapaw (one of my favorite songs in the world) was being played right in front of me. Surprisingly, I didn't cry when that happened—same for Wait and Sa Hindi Pag-alala, but then again maybe I was too dazed to process what was going on.

I saw Ben&Ben just a week ago, which served as the perfect way to cap off this stressful semester. The last time I saw them was way back in October 2018: conflicts in schedule due to prior commitments, or location issues kept getting in the way that it's like they had to take matters into their own hands and head on over to Ateneo just so I could see them again. Although they didn't perform my favorite song, I can't exactly say that I was disappointed because nothing really beats the feeling of seeing them and singing along to tracks that have served as the soundtrack of my life, and are practically etched on my heart. (I am actually tearing up just writing this paragraph god am I emo! I miss them already, wow! Just wanna hear Araw-Araw live, what do I do about this!)

I also managed to finish all 10 seasons of Friends despite my irregular viewing patterns—I started it during our trip to the States before the school year began, and constantly teetered between watching one or two episodes as a reward for finishing a reading due the next day and binging one season during rare weekends that do not require working on deliverables but honestly could have been used to get ahead in lessons. This is a pretty big deal, considering that I have the attention span of a sleep-deprived cockroach and haven't finished a single White People Show since... well, Austin & Ally back in 2017 (which I actually marathoned on Dailymotion, but that's a story for another day). But, I guess there's just something special about this group of pals going through the motions of their everyday lives in the eccentric, sometimes borderline stupid ways that only they can, because I admit: the emotional investment was and is very, very real! I personally identify myself as a Chandler-Rachel hybrid now (thank you, Iverson), try to see which character the people I meet are like most out of fun, and argue to no end with anyone who ever claims that Ross and Rachel (1) were on a break, and (2) are endgame.

Most importantly, I was able to do all of this and still clinch a spot on the Dean's List. I started this semester on an optimistic note: I found all of my subjects interesting, and the professors who taught them, engaging. I'd even make notes on the readings the day before they were to be discussed in class, complete with pops of color here and there courtesy of my fineliner pens and Stabilo highlighters. But, once I reached the halfway point, my motivation started waning. Papers and quizzes, oral exams and video projects were thrown in my direction at breakneck speed: I often found myself cramming output for the sake of having something to submit, and not even having the time to look at readings due for discussion the following day. It came to a point where I thought of shifting out, because I felt I wasn't doing well enough in my majors to justify my stay. Sounds pretty stupid when I look back at it, I guess I simply mistook extreme stress and fatigue with falling out of love with the only program that I ever wanted to get in when I was applying for Ateneo. Thank God I didn't give up though, or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy the fruits of my labor right now. I honestly wasn't expecting stellar grades, considering the number of extracurricular commitments I took on, but now that they're there, I'm not complaining at all! Shoutout to my favorite professors of the semester: Mam Vaswani, who taught me that there is always room for improvement even in my own area of expertise; Sir Atienza, who made lectures feel like casual kwentuhans (or sometimes even chillnumans); and Sir Rebato, who broke the world record for longest patience in the world.

I guess it's safe to say that I am the happiest and most content I have been in a while, and although I am afraid of jinxing it, I feel like it's only gonna go upward from here. I am beyond excited to see where the new year and semester take me, because I know I'll do my part in making sure it's even better and brighter than this one. If you read up to this point, you deserve a pat on the back! Maybe you only scrolled to this point to see if there were any pictures with your face on them, but who cares! It adds to my website traffic, so thank you, happy holidays, and I wish you nothing but love and light always!

[maximumsnow]

Captain’s log part 2

Continuation of this story: http://maximumsnow.tumblr.com/post/163889903236/captains-log-part-1

For some reason, the perspective shifted, and that’s why I split the sections up. Mom decided she wanted a say in the story.

An older dragonborn eyed the young one as he darted around town for errands before speaking to a female dragonborn with a powerful resemblance to the young one. "That boy's not right."

She coldly asked, "Are you sure it's wise to talk about my child like that in front of me?"

He thought about placating the mother, but he refused to back down, "We've had this conversation before."

Her patience was clearly running thin, "And I tire of it."

Either ignoring her tone, or not caring, he continued, "I still don't know how Chronepsis chose such a young'un. He's so wild, and that's not what our god needs."

Finally, she snapped, "Who are you to judge what the God of Fate and Prophecy needs?" Deciding the pointless conversation was over, she stood up. As she walked off, her wings "accidentally" knocked over the pitcher that had been sitting on the table she shared with the old, gray dragonborn. He spluttered in indignation, and she sarcastically apologized, "Oh, I'm sorry." This timed nicely with her son finishing his errands, and she headed back to the hut they shared.

She stepped into the sparse building and surveyed their home. Their home was barren even by Dragonborn standards. All they had were the straw mats they slept on and a few bags that contained their few personal possessions. She sighed deeply as she waited for her son's return. He was her child through and through, and it showed more and more each passing year. She had hoped that his father's genes would temper hers, but the boy was hearing the call of the ocean far too strongly. She hoped that he never knew that Chronepsis had nothing to do with what he was. Or what she was. She hated the idea of following the law of the judgemental god, but if it meant her son could live out his life without prejudice, then she would endure it. Unfortunately... it seemed like he had also gained a longer life span from her genes. He had been a child for much longer than he should have. He was taking too long to fill out like a proper adult too... Explaining why they had to go to a different isolated community was getting harder as he grew older and smarter. Boy was too smart for his own good.

A loud clang reverberated through her ear slits, and she looked up to see her gangly son face down on the path. A rope was haphazardly wrapped around his foot, and the rest of it was in his arms. An empty pot was a few feet in front of him, and presumably the cause of the sound. She smiled and bit back a laugh. He might have been smart, but he was not above dumb mistakes. She asked, "Need some help?"

He scrabbled back up and nearly tripped again, but he caught himself in time to call out, "I'm good, Ma!" Once he found the offending object still tied around an ankle, he removed it, picked up the pot, and met his mother at the door. He passed the metallic object to her before asking, "Can I go back to the beach? For training?"

He looked so eager that she had was having issues coming up with a good way to tell him no. "Why do you keep going to the beach?" She asked.

At least he knew to look embarrassed, "Uh... I just like it there?"

She glanced past him to see where the other Dragonborn of the village were. It seemed quiet. Which was even more reason to be careful of eavesdroppers. "Maybe later. I need to talk some things over with you," she stated.

"Awww. But..."

"This can't wait."

"Fine..."

He followed her inside, and she shut the flimsy door behind them. She sat down cross legged on her mat, and patted his to indicate that he should join her. When he did, rather reluctantly, he asked, "Why is everyone so weirded out by me going to the ocean? You used to not care when I was younger..."

Inside her head, she cursed. She had been too happy to have her own child back then to temper his love of the water. She should have stopped it, but the idea of swimming with her own child had been too joyous.  "Because... That urge isn't normal for Dragonborn."

"I figured that much, Ma," in an uncharacteristic moment of nervousness, he looked her in the eye and asked, "Why do I have it? I feel this pull inside me to the ocean, and not to Chronepsis. Like I should." He paused for a moment to catch his thoughts before continuing, "I know everyone thinks I'm defective. Everywhere we've gone, that's eventually come up. And we left soon afterwards." He narrowed his eyes at her, and in a quiet whisper he spoke in the language only they understood in this village. "There's only two things, Ma. I'm either broken. Or I am not a Dragonborn."

Even her years as a spy couldn't prepare her for her own son saying those words. She couldn't meet his gaze after the question. She knew he wasn't broken. He was a perfect... No, if he couldn't hide it, he would live a shunned life. "What makes you say that?" she asked innocently. Even she knew he wasn't fooled. She tried again, "You're so young for a Dragonborn, it's possible that you just need to grow a bit more before the call to Chronepsis sets in." That was a better lie, at least.

He wasn't convinced, "Dragonborn are made to serve Chronepsis, Ma. I know how they're made. I do not have the pull to serve him." As he spoke, he got closer to her face and his eyes demanded answers. As she gazed at them, she was terrified that he already suspected. She had talked to much about the dragons.

"Boy, you're too smart for your own good," she sighed. Defeated. "You're right. You are Half-Dragon. Not Dragonborn."

Even if he had expected it, the confirmation still threw him. There was the triumph of a mystery solved, but the implications were slowly trickling in. She wondered how long it would be before it hit him why she had been so quiet. ["I'm guessing my Father was a dragon, then?"

What a strange first question, but it was laughable. She chuckled, and when he gave her a confused look, she started laughing even harder. "No, dear. I have the ability to assume many humanoid shapes. Including Dragonborn."

His jaw dropped. That was obviously not the answer he had been expecting. Looks like even if he figured out the big secret, all the small details were guesses. "You're a dragon? And you've been hiding as a Dragonborn for this long?" He was incredulous and even a little hurt.

"Yes. I'm... Sorry. Do you remember anything I've told you about the lives of Half-Dragons?" If he wasn't getting there himself, she needed to guide him there quickly. He couldn't just run out and yell this to the world for his own safety.

"Yeah... They're...” He paused as the next words hit him, "Not generally wanted." The half-breeds were unwanted by both dragonkind and most humanoids. He held his head down as he muttered, "That's why." With a sudden fervor, he snapped his head back up to ask, "If they're so undesirable, why stick with me, Ma. Why want me?"

"Because you're my son," She met his fiery gaze with a calm look. "When I held you after you were born, I couldn't..." she looked away briefly, unable to finish the sentence. He didn't need her to spell that out, thankfully.

"Ma... Before I started piecing things together, I thought there was something wrong with me. Bad. Why would being a half-dragon be so bad amongst the others?"

"I..." She wasn't sure how to put this worry. It hadn't come up yet... Hopefully it never would, or bad things could happen. "Your father... He was... a Half-elf. A d’Lyrandar."

All the lessons she had taught him about the Dragonmarked houses of Khorvaire hit him like a ton of bricks. "Dragonmark of Storm." His eyes narrowed in fear, [i]"You were worried about... a repeat of the House of Vol. The war to destroy it and the... Dragonmarked Half-Dragon."

"You've learned well, my son. Now you know why... I must forbid you from constantly going to the beach. You... You can't let your draconic urges out you." She started speaking quickly. Now that he understood... She stopped to see his whole frame shaking. His eyes were wide with fear, anger, confusion... Despair. She knelt down to embrace her son as he started to cry for the first time since he was a child.

"I... I don't know if I can, Ma. Everything feels wrong. I love the fight training. I love your lessons. But. Everything else burns. I can't..."

"It'll be fine, dear. I promise. We can do this."

She was concerned about how he simply fell silent after that. After the tears stopped flowing, he laid down and told her, "Need to take a nap." She figured he just needed some time to process everything, and she left their hut to give him some space.

After a few hours, she came back... Her heart dropped. He was gone. His bag. His few personal items. The huge spear he trained with daily. All of it was gone.

[shelfcompletionist-blog]

#005: Let Us Now Praise Famous Men - James Agee and Walker Evans

James Agee and Walker Evans’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men is not the book that I expected. Before I get into what I understand it to be, I should first describe what I understood it to be.

I thought it would be John Steinbeck.

I thought it would be a clearly-written narrative-heavy nonfiction novel charting the plight of the poorest (white) Americans in the late first half of the 20th century. I expected The Grapes of Wrath with pictures, basically. Nothing too experimental or modernist, but a socially-conscious slab of realism meant to illustrate the struggles of poor folks for the literature-minded.

Blame Walker Evans, I suppose.

In those middle school classes on 20th century American history, the syllabi package Evans and Steinbeck together, quite literally. Mr. Erickson would hand us a small packet that included an excerpt of Grapes (I don’t remember which scene exactly, but rest assured it was not the final one) and have one of us read it aloud. The rest of us would flip through the packet, looking at the bulletpointed history of the dust bowl, where we would come upon one of Evans’s signature hardscrabble faces, maintaining the ambiguous labial pose of an unscrubbed Mona Lisa. Then we would watch John Ford’s useful adaptation of the novel, matching the creased and genuinely dirty faces of the photographs to their cleaner, marquee-ready film counterparts. (I call the film useful from the teacher’s perspective, in that it eats up the good part of three 50 minute class periods.

So when I first began hearing mention of James Agee and Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, the mental chain of relations began rattling in my mind. Oh, he worked with Walker Evans. He wrote about the people in Evans’s pictures. And then my brain and I jumped to baseless conjecture: this is the guy who isn’t quite as good as Steinbeck, he isn’t worthy of taking part in our (middle school history class) syllabus. And that’s where Agee sat for about a decade of my life: the scribe of B-grade Grapes of Wrath knockoffs.

But then, at the neighborhood Goodwill, I cracked open a finely weathered copy of the late 80s Vintage edition of Let Us Now Praise Famous Men (the late 80s aesthetic is a terrible match for Famous Men, and this edition’s cover’s bizarre mismatch of the pop-pastel graphic design that gave birth to early 2010s vaporwave net art and the color and visual texture of dirt proves this) and everything I thought I knew about Agee and his book fell away instantaneously.

You could ostensibly read Let Us Now Praise Famous Men sans context and not even fully grasp which era and which group of people the book refers to. It isn’t so much a work about the rural poor of midcentury America as it is about the gap between the subject of the work (Agee’s New York literate member of the creative class) and the object (the aforementioned rural poor). Agee obsesses over how that gap can be bridged, how verisimilitude can be reached, and how to do all this ethically. As a result, Agee has created a tremendous book-as-object, stuffed with ancillary material and labyrinthine constructions. It’s a postmodernist tour de force, a book stuffed to the brim with all that life contains. It’s a Ulysses for America.

On the other hand, it’s a literal-minded, deliberate, and programmatic examination of how a certain class lives, taking the reader spatially in a step by step tour through their house, picking up every object along the way to describe it, and surrounding environs, as well as temporally, through their daily and yearly schedules, missing nary a minute action. It’s like those Icelandic “slow TV” programs that depict someone knitting for eight hours.

As a result, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men is a maddening and brilliant work. And maybe also a failure.

I had an incredibly hard time reading Agee’s prose. It takes patience and literary intelligence. I try to imagine him (or his secretary), upon publication, packaging up a few copies of the book and sending them to his subjects, the Ricketts and the Woodses and the Gudgers, and then having them arrive there. What do they make of this 500-page treatise on them and their lives? Do they even read it? It isn’t for them, not in the least. It may not even be for Agee and Evans’s friends back in New York (actually it most definitely isn’t, considering the reception it got on release) but it definitely isn’t for them. That gap of subjectivity between Agee and those southern families could never be crossed by this. Instead, Agee has traversed that gap by himself, and brought back what he could from them, taken rather than traded.

Which isn’t to say this isn’t a great work anyways. Who is to say that what Agee did by putting those families into posterity wasn’t an equally noble goal?

Read in the Interim

(I apologize for the two or three sections of time in which I blacked out and didn’t write blurbs about the books that I read, but let it be known that I read them)

The Consequences of My Body, by Maged Zaher - A smart and humorous long poem about how one person can leave their interior-body to make connections (mental, romantic, physical, etc) with another. Can occasionally be a bit crude/dude-ly for a poetic work, but spun the right way it could be said to be ‘honest.’

Night, by Etel Adnan - I didn’t connect with this slim duo of poems, but I’m willing to accept it’s my fault. Adnan seems erudite and I’d be willing to check out more of her work.

Pillow Book, by Suzanne Buffam - Canarium Books is killing it this year. This is the second book by them that I’ve fallen absolutely in love with, after Darcie Dennigan’s Palace of Subatomic Bliss. This book, like Dennigan’s work, is a prose-poem hybrid of fragments, this time focusing on insomnia and thoughts confronting the ability to sleep, kind of an opposite dream book. Female-centric books of intellectually top-notch fragments for life.

Negrophobia, by Darius James - Whew, it’s hard to talk about this brilliant, disturbing book. If you thought The Sellout wasn’t edgy enough, read this. The basic set-up is that Bubbles, an entitled white teenage girl, insults her black maid, who then casts a voodoo spell over her. What follows is a phantasmagoria of racial nightmares meant to fucking petrify Bubbles (and maybe show her the errors of her racist ways, or just terrify her into submission). Negrophobia is written as a screenplay, and the idea of anyone having the chutzpah to stage this, full of rape, lynching, and all sorts of other gruesome stuff as it is, is pretty hilarious in and of itself.

For Frank O’Hara’s Birthday, Alice Ordered Me to Be Made, and Songs for the Unborn Second Baby, three works by Alice Notley - Continuing on my read-through of Notley’s bibliography. I feel like these three don’t hold a lot of surprises, but do begin to show Notley leaning into the longer-form experimental style of her later work. I was actually kind of disappointed by Alice Ordered Me to Be Made, which is the first chronological work of hers that I’ve read that isn’t a mimeographed collection put out by a small (basically micro) publisher, but an actual bound book. Near the end of that collection, though, there were a couple lines that absolutely blew me over, and won me over.

What the Lyric Is, by Sara Nicholson - These are some truly great poems

Shelter in Place, by Alexander Maksik - A phenomenal novel, one of my favorite of 2016. There’s nothing that showy going on here, but Maksik shows an astute understanding of grief and failures of understanding in depicting this family dealing with traumatic events in the PNW.

Suite for Barbara Loden, by Nathalie Leger - An interesting hybrid work examining the actress/director Barbara Loden and her only directorial work, Wanda. I still need to check out the movie to get the full picture of this work, though.

Blackacre: Poems, by Monica Youn - I thought Youn used the central concept here very well, much better than in her breakout collection of poetry.

Saga, Vol. 4, by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples - When I read Saga Vol. 3, I hoped that Saga wasn’t turning into a ‘Walking Dead’ scenario, where the troupe of main characters move from one situation to another, familiarizing themselves, getting into trouble, and then moving on to the next place. While on the surface, this volume of Saga seems to fall into this trap, the details make this a compelling portrait of domesticity under siege, a successful balance of hectic plotting and abatement. The art continues to pop. Vaughan also succeeds at maintaining a manageable division of subplots, so there aren’t too many things going on at once.

Emergency Brake, by Ruth Madievsky -

Corinna A-Maying the Apocalypse, by Darcie Dennigan - I loved Dennigan’s new book so much I went back to read her first collection as soon as I could. This one starts out just as strong; the first section absolutely knocks me out, including “Eleven Thousand and One,” the best poem in the collection without a doubt, in spite of (or perhaps because of) its elitist overtones. The second section consists of one longer poem, “The Feeling of the World As a Bounded Whale Is the Mystical” which I was not feeling as much. The collection struggled to reach the heights of the first section after that, but it turned in some quality work throughout. I probably wouldn’t start here, but it’s enough to satisfy my Dennigan itch.

Madame X, by Darcie Dennigan - Dennigan’s second collection, from 2012. I can see how Dennigan’s mastery over tone (specifically the tone of snark) develops here, especially in poems like “The Matriarchy,” that will come into full bloom in Palace of Subatomic Bliss. I think the poetic form that Dennigan uses for most of this collection (I’m not quite sure what to call it.. Celinesque?) is a bit of a misstep. It seldom reads especially well to me, but that may just be personal preference. This collection, like her other two, still has wit and mood for days. Read it.

Swing Time, by Zadie Smith - I don’t have much to say about this other than it is a satisfying master class on mainstream literary narrative construction. Smith has made a worthy novel in which the characters are just inscrutable enough to be perpetually interesting.

Power Ballads, by Garrett Caples - Kind of like a B-grade Michael Robbins. For a book of poems titled Power Ballads, I expected a bit more flourish and fireworks. Too many of these poems just come off a little too easily. That said, this collection is far from a lost cause, and poems like “Gut of Brando” are enough to make me chuckle.

The Performance of Being Human, by Daniel Borzutzky - The National Book Award winner for Poetry, 2016, everyone. It’s not bad, and I certainly understand why it was selected, as it rides the zeitgeist in matters of borders and refugees, which needs more attention now more than ever. It can be more than a little cloying, though, in its balance of privilege and compassion.

Double Zero, by Chris Hosea -

Prairie Style, C.S. Giscombe -

A Legend of the Future, by Agustín de Rojas -

Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City, by Matthew Desmond -

Algravias; Echo Chamber, by Waly Salomão -

Against Everything: Essays, by Mark Greif -

Cities at Dawn, by Geoffrey Nutter -

Black Wave, by Michelle Tea -

The Art of the Publisher, by Roberto Calasso -

I’ll Tell You in Person, by Chloe Caldwell -

The Babysitter at Rest, by Jen George -

The Wangs vs. The World, by Jade Chang -

The Subsidiary, by Matías Celedón - A concept piece that takes place within an office-universe in which some sort of disaster has taken place, and the narrator can only communicate through the stamps that litter his desk. The conceit doesn’t quite work for me, but it’s relatively painless (it took me about thirty minutes to read) and I could easily be missing some of the nuance from Celedón’s Chilean setting.

Whatever Happened to Interracial Love?, by Kathleen Collins -

Memories That Smell Like Gasoline, by David Wojnarowicz - This book accurately captures a type of art coming out of gay communities in the eighties and early nineties for me (a person who has no experience with that time or the communities formed then). Blunt, honest, and radical, Wojnarowicz mixes pornographic sketches with recounts of

The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories, by Ken Liu -

The Irrationalist, by Suzanne Buffam - The first section of Buffam’s 2012 work (previous to 2016’s loved-by-me A Pillow Book) had me a bit nervous but I was won over by the middle section of “Little Commentaries” that deployed dozens of aphoristic little witticisms to great effect.

Partly: New and Selected Poems, 2001-2015, by Rae Armantrout - Armantrout’s poetry seems to be loosening up from the rather strict structure she has been writing in the past couple years. While she has perfected that particular structure, it’ll be interesting to see the formal variation that also pops up in the earlier work from this collection come back again. We’ll see if this is a throat-clearing moment or an opportunity for something new.

Ariel, by Sylvia Plath - What more could I say?

Another Day in the Death of America: A Chronicle of Ten Short Lives, by Gary Younge -

The Service Porch, by Fred Moten -

Journal of Ugly Sites and Other Journals, by Stacy Szymaszek -

Black Lavender Milk, by Angel Dominguez -

A Series of Un/Natural/ Disasters, by Cheena Marie Lo -

The Attraction of Things, by Roger Lewinter -

The Old Philosopher, by Vi Khi Nao -

All That Man Is, David Szalay -

Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right, by Arlie Russell Hochschild -

Structure from Motion, by Tom Raworth - RIP Raworth

At the Foundling Hospital, by Robert Pinsky - PINSKYYYYYYY

The Mountain and the Wall, by Alisa Ganieva - Hmm, a novel about the construction of a wall that cuts off part of the world from the rest of it, which fuels a lot of anger and fundamentalism? Where have I heard that one before? Actually though, read this. It’s a fascinating look at a different part of the world that also serves as a funhouse mirror look into our own situation, minus all of the fun.

Ethics in the Real World: 82 Brief Essays on Things That Matter by Peter Singer - Dude doesn’t want us to eat meat.

My Private Property, by Mary Ruefle - Not as enthusiastic about this as I would have hoped.

Moonglow, by Michael Chabon - Not a terrible book by any means, but the novel-cum-biography of Chabon’s grandfather is very paint-by-numbers Great Male Authors of 21st Century America stuff here. Paging the Jonathans.

Fish in Exile, by Vi Khi Nao - A brilliant, brilliant work that screams POET’S NOVEL!!!!!, Fish in Exile refracts the death of a child into enigmatic prose pumped full of classical signifiers. Read this.

The Hermit, by Lucy Ives - Fragments based around the challenges of literary work and creation. Pretty alright, but not as delightful or insightful as I would have wanted them to be.

Among Strange Victims, by Daniel Saldaña París - Watch out for this one, it starts out with stoner comedy charm and ends in a completely different place. Worth reading, even if it isn’t super sticky in the memory.

Difficult Women, by Roxane Gay -

The Espresso Between Sleep and Wakefulness, by Roberto Echavarren -

Soft City, by Pushwagner - Praise be that this book was rediscovered and subsequently published by New York Review of Books. Pushwagner created one of the most succinct and beautiful interpretations of the postmodern late-capitalist experience around, one that doesn’t rely on overly dystopian imagery or egoistic experimentation.

Future Sex, by Emily Witt - I wanted a lot more out of this book than I got. Maybe this isn’t the fault of the book, per se; I think the book was mishandled and misadvertised by the publisher, building up false expectations. Ultimately, this doesn’t feel like the best melding of author and subject. Witt writes well, but writes from a reluctant and withholding perspective, so we don’t get a lot of either personal insight or philosophizing being done about the different aspects of ‘new sexuality’ that she explores, just observation.

Mister Monkey, by Francine Prose - What is the name for the literary form when a novel goes round-robin, hopping perspective from one character to the next chapter by chapter? It must go back a ways, at least to The Canterbury Tales if not before, but I feel like this form has gotten even more popular recently, something that could probably be attributed to the success of Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad. Mister Monkey examines the people associated with the titular children’s musical, and while there are bits to commend, it can just as easily feel a bit rote. One of the main facets of this form, the chapter that takes the perspective of an omniscient/mythic figure pops up near the end, right where you’d expect to see it (that the figure is an ur-monkey, the Mister of all Monkeys, makes this more forgiveable). Prose’s prose (who can resist?) works well on a micro level, but I’m not sure whats to be gleamed from the big picture, and the book isn’t rollicking or emotionally touching enough to get by on its own graces. Ultimately good, but inessential.

Bestiary: Poems, by Donika Kelly - A well-wrought collection of thematically cohesive poems that use creatures, both real and mythic, to interpret the writer’s relationships, primarily to their partner and their father.

300 Arguments, by Sarah Manguso - A book of aphorisms that mostly hits its mark. It’s kinda weird, considering this is a somewhat buzzy book that just came out, and I don’t usually associate the genre of aphorism/fragment to work at that register. Books like this should,

We Love You, Charlie Freeman, by Kaitlyn Greenidge - I didn’t expect to dig this one as much as I did, mainly because the conceit of a family living with a chimp for an experiment is a bit uninspiring. We don’t need any more contemporary fiction about monkeys and chimpanzees, people. But this book got its hooks in me with the smart ways Greenidge depicts and dissects race, and she has a real talent for ratcheting up tension and uncomfortability, without you really noticing, until it knocks you over all at once. Chimp-nursing scene, I’m talking bout you!

Idaho, by Emily Ruskovich - What is it about the northwest that fosters these earnest, loving, and harsh novels about grief and loss? This may be 2017′s version of Shelter in Place for me.

Sex Object, by Jessica Valenti - While I agree with everything Valenti is saying here, and I think that the stories she shares here are necessary experiences to share and be exposed to, I found that the overall construction of the book was a bit lacking. Valenti jumps back and forth in time through her life from chapter to chapter without a reason to be so nonlinear, and I didn’t find much analysis or a clear thesis of either the entire work or each individual chapter. It would have helped to build little segways between the sections at least, so it didn’t feel so disconnected as a whole.

Human Acts, by Han Kang - Very different from Kang’s English-language breakout The Vegetarian, Human Acts is a fragmented novel about Korean uprisings and protests, and features a huge cast of characters in a rather compact frame. I don’t think it works quite as well as the singular Vegetarian, but I appreciate the scope of Han Kang’s writing and will pick up whatever is translated next.

White Blight, by Athena Farrokhzad - An intense poetic look into the stress of assimilation as consumes a family from the inside and out. The white text over black bars used here is particularly evocative; I’d even love to see it in more works, so it becomes a widespread stylistic protest, and not a one-time gimmick (not that I would accuse it of that).

The Vision, Vol 1: Little Worse Than a Man, by Tom King - An interesting take on the subgenre of superhero narratives about superheroes that just want to hang up their cowls and capes for a while to be normal people-- or synthezoids, as it were. A great pacing of plot in this first volume, so it’s not all set up nor does it feel like it’s rushing into something; the two murders that take place are given a unique emotional heft here. What I’ll be looking for in further volumes is a refinement of the type of humor that this comic wants to strike. The humor here worked for me but was a bit erratic.

Savage Theories, by Pola Oloixarac - The first truly astounding novel of 2017 that I’ve read (technically published in 2013, but new in English). I don’t know if I could accurately describe the contours of this story, but it involves a woman semi-obsessed with a decrepit literary theorist, a couple getting into group-sex, and some early anthropology. This is probably a trite statement, but I wish more of English-language contemporary literature would get this dense and knotty.

The Invention of Morel, by Adolfo Bioy Casares - A strange little tale, loved by Borges, of a man on an island watching the woman he loves from afar. This is one of those books that seems to necessitate a double reading, to finish it and go right back to the start again (which isn’t a tall order considering it’s barely 100 pages). While I did not to do that, and while I do appreciate it, I feel like when I make the second trip back to this strange little island I’ll find it even more profound.

Shadowbahn, by Steve Erickson - I loved this book. I know it’s a book detractors could easily tear apart for being a smoothie of every postmodernist novel trope and figure that Erickson could fit in there (9/11! Elvis! JFK!) but the amount of daring that Erickson had to have in order to pull this off is immense. I just love how it shambolically comes together.

The Making of Donald Trump, by David Cay Johnston - A quick-hit summation of many shitty things Donald Trump has done leading up to his campaign. Good background. Sigh.

A Separation, by Katie Kitamura - Apparently trying to be the Gone Girl (but reverse?) of the year, but in the end it’s kinda a big nothing of a book.

Astrobolism, by Caroline Crumpacker - A playful and theory-heavy collection of poems that I liked a good deal. Crumpacker doesn’t give you an easy way into most of these poems, with titles such as “Against the Gorgeous as Eternal Team Sport” and “Aesthetic Symbiotic” and they can at times feel like they should be pre-packaged with annotations, but that isn’t a bad thing. Crumpacker bounces through academically potent words and phrases to deliver something rebellious and fun.

Barley Patch, by Gerald Murnane - An interesting autofiction novel about the author’s attempt to give up fiction/writing. I would definitely check out more by Murnane. I’ve also barely read anything from Australia. Why is that not a thing in the US?

Invisible Man, Got The Whole World Watching, by Mychal Denzel Smith - Smith’s depiction of his education and progress to become a feminist black man. Worth reading as an enlightening perspective on how black masculinity can be intersectional and how it needs to get there.