opha-the-awesome - Tumblr blog

opha-the-awesome · 3 months

Text

It’s finally finished.

*This is an author’s note as a cap for the series of 3 works that took me over 3 years to complete. My very first attempt at fanfiction—no fewer than 371,550 words. You don’t at all have to read this note if you don’t want to. I myself very easily feel that the thoughts and feelings I often have are pathetic and melodramatic. So if you feel that way while reading this, I completely understand and give you full rein to feel those things; but if so, maybe don’t feel the need to read all of it. Being transparent, I don’t have anyone to talk to—certainly not about this—and this series has been such a big, precious part of my life for the past 3 years. So for once, I’m going to indulge myself and say the things I wish I could say to someone. I hope I don’t seem too self-important, prideful, or neurotic. I don’t really expect anyone to read this note, but I had to write it. I just need some personal closure.

Though I know there are a precious few of you, thankfulness doesn’t begin to capture what I feel towards you, my readers.

Incidentally and funnily enough, for me, there has been a level of mental intimacy between you and me that is unmatched by anything in my life. Nothing even comes close. No one in the world gets to read these thoughts but you guys. Things that reside deep in my heart, that I’d never be able to explain, that no one else cares to try to understand, that would easily be intensely embarrassing or appear extremely silly, are unhindered here by me as writer and are entirely reachable to you as reader. I have to tell you guys—when I receive your comments, every single time I inwardly gasp and think, “Just a few seconds ago someone in the world was reading my thoughts, and now I'm reading theirs!” I know it may seem silly and might just be part of being a writer, but I’d like to think that’s special and unique. These last couple years have been by far the loneliest of my life, and it means a lot to me to have those few shared moments.

I’ll start by saying, I know we share a deep love for Arthur and Red Dead Redemption 2. It’s such a work of art, I think it’s impossible to play and not love it. Arthur especially, we all know too well, is so brilliantly, beautifully, humanly written. The depths of his heart, that know no bounds, that selflessly drive everything he does. The self-worth tragically running on empty. The tender, painful loss and viscerally aching trauma he carries with him. And all at the very same time, the courage in the face of such harsh realities, to smile, to laugh, to hope. To be moved to compassion. He is incredibly, starkly human and relatable. We experienced all his desperately beautiful highs and lows. And our hearts leap out for him and deeply yearn for the best for him.

When I learned of two people in his past, I’ll readily admit, I took it extremely hard. It was so stringently tragic to me, not just that he’d lost Eliza and Isaac, and not just how he lost them, but that in the present time they seemed to hardly have ever existed at all. If I had known them, if I had been related to them, or if I had been them, that fact alone would absolutely, utterly have killed me.

I can only imagine what it must’ve been like for Arthur. Of course, there are the facts that losing them was a big part of his story as a person in that, he took it to heart, ‘learned’ a lot from it, and a lot of that lesson bears itself out in his actions, especially by the end of RDR2. There is a ton of poetic mirroring in his story, and his arc as a character wouldn’t be what it is without that very tender, unspeakably tragic loss.

But I wanted to look at and treat Eliza and Isaac themselves as real people. They had their own precious lives and stories. Their own sorrows, losses, joys, and legacies. For some reason, I was deeply compelled and driven to try to look the tragedy in the face, to go there. I also deeply wanted them to be real, so I tried my best. There’s just so little about Eliza and Isaac, especially as far as their personalities. I had to make them from the ground up. And I’ve always tried hard to portray Arthur, Eliza, and Isaac authentically, which was two totally different yet monumental tasks, because one is a canon character, and the others came from me.

To start with, I knew I not only needed someone who deserved Arthur, but I felt I needed someone who deeply loved Arthur the way he deserved and so desperately needed. But someone very real and human, with her own balance of strengths and struggles. Someone with insecurities too, but someone with a huge, tender heart just like he has. Someone who loved him with all of her and would never ever give up on him. Someone who, like one lovely reader so brilliantly put it in one of my questionnaires, was “ride or die.” Someone selfless and strong, who would give anything for her family. Someone with loads of compassion and patience. Someone with a ready wit and a lust for life, who would encourage those things in him too, those things we know are already present in him, but just needed space and nurturing and reassurance to grow. Someone who needs him just as much as he needs her. And isn’t that what we all long for? Just one person who will love us no matter how we fail, no matter our worst flaws. Someone who will never turn away and desert us. Someone who will love us enough to stick around.

I needed Arthur to know that love.

I think I realized something while processing the basic details of the events that we know happened with Eliza and Isaac, and while working on “Only Fools Hold onto Hope.” I realized I feel that in fact, Eliza chose to stick by Arthur the very best he would allow her to. The truth is, she never took their child and moved away, never severed contact with him. Of course she stayed so Isaac and Arthur could have a relationship with each other too, and so that Arthur could continue to offer the support they needed, that he wanted to provide. But she stuck by Arthur the best way she could—simply staying present—until she couldn’t anymore. I don’t know why, but once I realized that, I had to believe she loved him. We know how entirely easy it is to fall in love with Arthur, entirely. I just personally found it very easy to believe that she loved him. I know that that’s probably very naïve; but for me, it fits. And I’m okay with that.

I also wanted to highlight how mature I felt she must’ve been at ages nineteen and twenty to work through the moral implications of accepting Arthur’s help, knowing his life and where the money came from. If she was a decent person, I’m certain she must’ve wrestled with that, as we saw Mrs. Downes did in game. I just think it would’ve spoken a lot for her maturity to have to think through something like that at so young an age, and I was glad to bring attention to that for a moment in “Only Fools.”

I never lengthened her name to Elizabeth, never conjured up a surname for her, throughout the whole series (except for when she marries Arthur in his dreams and becomes a Morgan) because I wanted to show by its absence that she was not just a name. She was so much more. She was a person, with a life. As well as the ideas that, not only did she deserve a full name imho, but even if they hadn’t afforded her a surname, they still could’ve done any number of things to honor her better as a person. I’m not saying they had to flesh her out as much as I have here. It’s a simple statement on my part of the lost potential in ways to honor her better.

I’m not even saying I needed a visual memory, though it might’ve been nice. (The creators and devs did a brilliant job of giving us just enough to stoke our imaginations.) I would’ve given anything to have had even a simple entry in his journal, or even a line about them there—maybe after speaking with Rains Fall, or maybe closer to the end of his life. Maybe it’s part of the nature of writing in a journal—some things we know so well about ourselves, we don’t feel the need to dredge them up on paper. Of course, it does say something of the depths of his pain that he can’t even bring himself to muse on them within himself—in his own private place that only he sees. I just feel that something simple in his journal would’ve managed to both keep consistent continuity for his character AND honor them beautifully, where their existence is so scarcely acknowledged anywhere else in the Red Dead world. Believe me, I know that the fragilities of existence, legacy, and the painful little memory of one’s life after they’re gone are the very things Red Dead beautifully discourses about and grapples with in its narrative. The lack is just really hard for me to take.

Eliza came forth right out of my own heart. I had nothing to go on as far as personality, so I poured my own into her. The differences are that she is beautiful, young, and strong; she holds much more tightly to hope than I do; and she is much bolder than I could ever be. She is everything I wish, I so, so wish I could be, and simply cannot be.

Though I’ve shed so many tears in firm solidarity with each of these characters, I often second-guess myself wondering if it all boils down to nothing more than useless melodrama (that’s the harsh critic in my head). But I most definitely put my whole heart into it. I feel I’ve done exactly what I set out to do—given Eliza and Isaac life. So if they've ever felt real to you while reading, that's exactly what I’d hoped for and means so much to me.

It’s probably easily clear by now that I have an extremely soft spot for women and children. I see them, as I see all humans of course, as extremely precious and deserving of being cherished. I know that writing—especially fanfic writing—with such themes so heavily prevalent is not at all very popular. To be honest, I’m shocked, humbled, and beyond grateful that even one person cares at all about anything I care about or write about—meaning Eliza and Isaac and those parts of Arthur’s life, as well as these soft familial themes.

I think one big part of it is being a woman myself and harboring such deep fear that I will never be able to even have one single chance to know the love of a man or my own children. Or that, if by some miracle a man ever does look my way, it will be too late for me to have children. So I made them up. And my deep yearnings spilled over into creativity and imagination for what I wish for.

I understand that, with that being a reality of me as a person, it’s very possible that at any point, the Arthur I wrote slid out of what would be considered as in-character for him. If that ever happened too starkly, I genuinely apologize. I also realize that, especially given the extent of the backstories I had to create for most of these characters, for many readers this story will always be a bit too far “removed” from the canon source material of the game’s story. I do understand that, and I know the readership will probably always be small because of that.

I’m also well aware that the likelihood is high that much of what I’ve written could come across as naïve and overly innocent, even boring. Naïve to the hardness and evils of this world; innocent to the nature of most relationships, whether romantic or not; and boring as a result. Truthfully, if you’ve felt that while reading my writing, I wholly grant that it’s founded. Despite my age, I have not lived much life at all. In any of those directions. My writing, I’m certain, has suffered for that. I wish with all of me that I could change that. But it’s occurred to me that maybe some people only ever live on the page or in the mind. If that’s true for these characters, it’s true for me too.

I regularly struggle to believe I have any worth as a human being. I haven’t managed to keep a single friend; though I can speculate, I’m not totally sure why. I’ve never experienced romance in even the slightest sense of the word and naturally have never experienced a loving relationship. On the contrary, that part of human existence has kept itself very far from me, and I’ve only experienced the opposite—men making it clear how disgusting I am. As a result, I don’t really have anyone in my life. It’s left me very, very, deeply lonely. It only serves to make me feel worse about myself and more pathetic. When you live like that, romantic love, marriage, and children are just so, so, so far from what is plausible and possible. I just don’t hope for those things anymore, and I haven’t for a long time. Someone told me recently that some people simply don’t ever find someone to love them, be it friendship or otherwise. I think maybe that’s true, and maybe I’m one of them. I have to try to believe that even if I’m never worth anything to anyone, that I’m still worth something just by living. I have to take it one day at a time and look for reasons to smile and ways to be kind to others. Even if I don’t believe good things will happen to me, I have to try to live as if I do, to make today worth something.

So now you know why having such “fluffy,” romantic, familial things living in my head is so horribly embarrassing.

I’ve also begun to realize that naturally a lot of “angst” was needed when writing for the topic of Arthur, Eliza, and Isaac. I’m not completely sure why I felt so compelled to write such painful angst. Someone online mentioned recently that writing angst can be very cathartic. So when I take a step back after the fact, I guess can actually see a few themes that seemed to form in my writing, though I know it’s because they originate in my heart and my life.

As I mentioned earlier, I can see the theme of fear of never being precious to anyone, and being completely forgotten once your time has come to pass away. That is a deep and very painful fear that I live with, and it’s no wonder to me that it showed itself in both Eliza and Arthur here. It seems to me that it’s a very human fear, and I think that’s something that the Red Dead universe does a beautifully subtle job addressing. I felt the weight of exploring it—what it means to be precious to someone; to be remembered, in life and in death; and to leave a legacy. The idea that Eliza and Isaac might’ve experienced the absence of those was devastatingly heartbreaking to me. We experienced the completion of Arthur’s redemption arc and saw the ways his life was remembered and the impacts he had. I guess I wanted a chance to experience and give that to Eliza and Isaac too.

I can see the theme of being self-conscious about appearing immature, and the fear of being belittled and ridiculed for it. This specifically arose in Eliza, because I thought it said a lot in many ways that Arthur recalled her age when speaking of her to Rains Fall, the one time she is ever mentioned in the universe. In it, I envisioned a person doing her best to learn and grow, while at the very same time having to work through the hardships and trials of life, the way we’re all required to. And I think if we admit it, it’s difficult to do both at the same time. It’s easy for me to long for wisdom I don’t yet have at the outset of something painful, that I know will only be acquired at the end by going through it. When I think of Eliza that way, it speaks to me of a very mature person. Maybe unwittingly so. And try as she might, due to the oft-times stigma of her young age, she doesn’t have people around her to give credit where it’s due and encourage her in it. I think I was glad to add that struggle to her character as a person, since it’s very relatable to me and is something I really struggle with.

I can see the theme of feeling and being very alone. This was something that made itself readily apparent in both Eliza’s and Arthur’s lives. I was glad, especially towards the end of “Only Fools Hold onto Hope,” to give voice and expression to what I can only imagine was the deep loneliness and isolation Eliza might’ve experienced throughout her circumstance. I cried a heck of a lot of real tears while writing that. I relived the very same thing when writing Arthur’s end in “Dreams to Daylight.” And it occurred to me that I find myself really relating a whole lot to many aspects of Arthur’s non-voluntary/voluntary bachelor life. (I think the case could certainly be made that he is not spouse/partner-less and childless by choice. But the case can also be made that it’s a result of some of his choices.) He wholly relies on himself for everything in life and is so accustomed to doing so that he doesn’t think anything of it. He derives help from no one else, not really. He does and goes where he pleases at any time; his whole life is like a big, long camping trip. He does truly have the ability to regularly enjoy raw and untouched nature, which can be a spiritual experience and is something that I’m sure is an extremely wonderful comfort. But even so, most moments of his daily life are completely alone and empty of anyone else but himself. This, this is something I relate to heavily. I can feel the heavy weight that loneliness and empty air ironically inevitably accumulates, like a snow-balling boulder on your chest. And I can only imagine Arthur felt it. Everyone needs a balance of alone time and time with loved ones. And it’s true, Arthur had the gang. When Isaac and Eliza died, he clung to them as if they were blood, to help him press on and get through. But when I experience the practical realities of Arthur’s daily life in game, I can’t help but feel it’s not enough for him, not really. It’s not the deep, relational intimacy and love that I think he longs for. That I think so many of us as humans long for.

I wish I could make my writing worth more than it is. I wish I could make the characters real people, friends and loved ones for us. I know it sounds crazy, but these characters are so dear to me, they’re like friends. I often re-read different scenes when I’m feeling sad or even just because I know I can almost live in the scene for a little while.

I have sincerely wholly adored and been enchanted by stories and words since I was a very, very, very young girl. I knew early that stories and words were a part of me as a person—my mind, heart, and soul—and that I would spend my entire life loving them. Not only do I know that using words well and orchestrating stories masterfully is a lifelong pursuit I am nowhere close to conquering, I also realize that emotion itself, of any kind, can be difficult both to express and to experience via the written word. And if anyone has ever experienced the smallest emotion while reading my writing, I’m amazed, humbled, and grateful.

I tend not to think much of my own writing. And though I wish I could say the opposite, sometimes it’s intensely difficult for me to believe that my writing has improved over the course of this. Maybe it’s improved in a few ways, but I almost feel it’s become weaker and flimsier, if not outright lazier, in others. Especially when I read some other writers’ work, I’m all but wholly ashamed of my own benign, inert use of words. But for one, I can say I have a much greater compassion for typos. Ha! And at the very least I know I can say it’s kept my writing from growing weaker over time. And, for the most part, I can say it’s been a whole lot of fun. Without a doubt, I’m filled with gratitude that I was able to bring the series to completion.

I don’t at all know how fiction can manage to have the ability to capture and hold such deep worth and meaning for a person’s soul. I can say it almost holds a magic and almost rises to a spiritual level for me personally. But very strangely, at the same time, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been somewhat embarrassed by the deep level with which I love and want to express myself with fiction. And as an adult, I think that embarrassment has only grown and intensified. Something about it not being real and tangible in our world, about it not being about things that really exist. Something about it being an art form, about it seemingly having no perceivable benefit and effecting no real change. Something about it being imaginary. I don’t know what it is, but it tends to make me feel very self-conscious, immature, and the opposite of adult. So when I tell you that I’m deeply thankful to you for your ability to indulge me by successfully using your imagination, please know that I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

I started writing this series because it had been bubbling up inside me since playing the first time. I understand that Eliza and Isaac were truly not characters, per se, in the game—their story is in essence already over when the canon story has begun—and I think that is one of the main reasons they’re hardly thought, written, or read about. Coupled with the fact that their end was so early, tragic, and depressing. From our perspective as an audience, there was no hope to be found there. But I guess I found it so intriguing that if Arthur were to be mentioned in RDR1, we as an audience could’ve seemingly been able to say the same about him—that his life was simply tragic, ended too soon, meant little to nothing, and that there was no hope to be found there. Sorrow and hope, tragedy and love can certainly be mingled together, and I think that’s one of the very things Red Dead communicates so beautifully. That huge tug-of-war between sorrow and hope, life and death, is so compelling to me; and I couldn’t not see it, even with Eliza and Isaac. I guess that propelled me to consider what Eliza’s and Isaac’s story might’ve been.

My main goals were to honor their lives—for some reason, I so desperately wanted to feel that their lives didn’t mean nothing—and to understand both Arthur and them better. I don’t know if that makes any sense; they are only characters, after all. There seem to be quite a few different opinions on how Arthur, Eliza, and Isaac could’ve all felt about each other. Based on his behavior, we know at the very least he was deeply, deeply affected and took the tragic loss to heart. I have to believe he loved them. I have to believe that once he got over the anger and despair, they taught him to hope and to be loyal to what mattered. That in a way, they were to Arthur what Arthur was to John.

This whole thing has been a labor of love and self-expression for me. I loved the characters so much, I felt I needed to both understand and honor them. It’s been such a journey, and though I’m certain I’ve made many mistakes and missteps, I feel I have done that. But I think what finally really spurred me to actually write, after years of a desert dry spell, was wanting to read something, so desperately, that just was not there. If you find yourself wanting so desperately to read something that just is not there, it may be one sign that you’re supposed to write it. No matter how afraid you are, no matter how you doubt yourself, give it a shot. You might really have fun. And I’m certain you’ll make something wonderful.

I sincerely apologize if I have ever come on too strong when entreating for comments or interaction or have ever come across as too desperate or needy. At the risk of sounding overly pathetic, the truth is that I poured so much of myself into this, and I just don’t have anything else or anyone else in my life, and no one really to talk to. And it’s not because I moved last year from everything I had ever known, and it’s not because of the pandemic, though those things didn’t help. It’s really just because I’m me.

I know we have gone through a lot of hard, really, really tough things recently. Each of us in our own way have probably felt we had uncanny things happen to us to make things extra difficult or painful. And sometimes looking forward can really, truly feel absolutely absent of hope. I just want you to know that you gave me something to look forward to, when I had just nothing else. (I’m at a bit of a loss to know what I’ll do with myself since this is over, but it’ll be ok.) I know we can’t do much of anything else for each other, but I like to think that we touched each other’s lives, even if in a tiny way, even if for a little while. And I think that’s wonderful.

Here at the end of this series, I really do have a wealth of mixed feelings. I’m going to dearly miss it, in many ways. But I think I’m realizing it’s time for it to bow out gracefully. I won’t miss pushing and pushing and emotionally and physically exhausting myself to achieve my idea of better-quality writing, just for it to often feel pointless. But I will miss the characters, the story, the few wonderful people I’ve been fortunate to meet here, and the exciting experience it’s given me.

I’m just really, really struggling with the concept that all my hard work here will now gather dust at the back of the shelf. And I’m also very afraid that without the push I had to finish this, I’ll be so deflated and won’t find the motivation to write again. I hope I’ll be able to. I’m trying my very hardest to smile and to believe that my writing is worth something, to believe that anything I’m able to write from now on will only be an addition to the wonderful gift this has been to me. I don’t want to appear more immature for love of something that can be seen as so simple and trivial, but this has all really meant a lot to me. In my very dark moments over the last few years when I didn’t want to keep going, it has helped keep me going.

I do dearly hope to be able to continue to write, because it’s a part of me. I have ideas for a few more RDR2 fics; though I doubt very seriously anyone will want to read them. 1. Believe it or not, I have ideas for “fluffy” familial bonus scenes to this series, additional random scenes of Arthur, Eliza, Isaac, and Hope and their life as a family. I do hope to write them, because as of now, these characters really do still live rent free in my head. But it’ll be a conglomerate of scenes in different stages of their lives and even different time periods; it’ll be a true “bonus scenes” work, since for the most part it won’t be a necessarily linear storyline. 2. Since I was nudged by someone to try to write a more “plausible” storyline, I have an idea for another very sad version of Arthur’s experience with Eliza (it would be an entirely different Eliza from the one in this series); but I’m not sure how motivated I am to get it written. And 3. I have ideas for more chapters for my Arthur x female reader work; though I’m very terrified I’ll ruin it. (If I manage to write any of these things, even if no one at all ends up wanting to read them, I’ll definitely post them.) So I do have some ideas. I just get very bogged down with loneliness and what I think is probably depression. But I do hope to continue to write.

I don’t know if there’s anyone still around who’s read the whole series and is reading this now. But if you’ve read any small part, please know how thankful I am to you. (Since there’s so much of it, if you stuck around at all, you must’ve enjoyed it! 😊) I offer sincere thanks to each of you who have given this fic a chance, who have shared your time and imagination with me. There have been moments when you have made my heart utterly soar with your comments. This experience would not have been the same without you. No matter where you are in the world or what you’re going through, I hope you know you can always reach out to me with questions, requests, just to chat, or if you feel lonely. Even though we can’t really truly know each other, please know that I care for you and hope the very best for you.

Thank you. 🌻

28 notes · View notes