#cant rearrange these images? ok..
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More refs :)👍
#cant rearrange these images? ok..#me op#digital#refs#ref sheets#oc: jackabee sadler#oc: cornsilo baqri#oc: finnur nørgaard#i made ck a bit tan. oops. i was blinded by the amount of pink in the image
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HSJKSKSS THE BF WHO FCKED THE GF ON A FACE TIME CALL 💀💀💀 I usually don't send requests but i cant help myself with this one because you quite posibly have created my dream man 😍 the way he was speaking to her and teasing her 🙈🙈🙈 he was soooo sexy the way you wrote him groaning and bucking like my heart (and other things) hurt 🥲 can you write something with him and reader and basically she tells him she's not feeling well so she stays home at her apt but he goes and finds her at a club instead, dancing with her friends that she hasn't seen and her ex also happens to be there 👀 nsfw if you're okay with it, with him fucking her in front of said ex. I read your rules so its ok if this doesn't pick your interest but i still wanted to let you know how much i love that yandere!!!
Got a little inspired by this idea anon so here's my take on it😋I really loved writing the kind of public, riskiness of that fic so I'm glad you cared for it dude!!
TW: Noncon, toxic relationships/yandere behaviors, punishment, NSFT, yandere films himself rearranging readers guts
Your first mistake was when you tried to use the old “out-sick” approach. You weren’t the world's best actor but even if you were, you probably still wouldn’t be able to fool your boyfriend. He was too skeptical, too observant and too invested for your own good. He always managed to find out; always. And each time, you got less and less confident about being able to escape him, even for a little while.
“I’ve got a fever of 105, and I’m really contagious. I promise we can go out tomorrow, I just…. Need some alone time to rest for now. To get better, so I can see you.”
You knew it was a poor lie, that there was the chance that he would come over anyway, trying to potentially take care of you or scold you for letting yourself get this sick. But, he hadn’t even needed to. It wasn’t long after the phonecall that he got a ding from his phone, your location having updated. You were in an unfamiliar area, one that wasn’t recognizable as one of your many common stops. It was a bar, one that was hosting a small event with karaoke and cheap booze. It made much more sense to him when he came to find you and saw your friends surrounding you; he was disappointed, angry, and felt betrayed; but those feelings only lasted for a second. The image of you talking to one of your ex’s, sent him into a different state. It was just a quick turn of your gaze where he caught the corner of your eye, standing next to a barstool.
Pieces of his phone crunched in between his fingers, his eyes blank as he saw your face morphed from shame to grief. It felt like a rock sank in your stomach, the panic of him having caught you in your lie making your feet go wobbly.
You were the first to approach, excusing yourself from the conversation with your ex-partner, who your boyfriend was already getting malicious ideas towards. He was more angry at you, though; for having tricked him so openly. You walked to him slumped, ashamed of yourself but upset that your boyfriend was even here in the first place.
You knew your short-lived freedom was over, feeling the pinch of his fingers wrap around your wrist. He pulled you to the car, forcing you in with a slam of the door. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to your friends, even though they were halfway to being in a stupor.
The punishment wasn’t pretty; the worst, most embarrassing part of it came when your boyfriend managed to get his hands on your ex’s number. Thankfully, only the one you had been talking to that night. But that one number was enough of an audience for your boyfriend to have a field day.
At first you didn’t know why he was holding the phone up, though you could barely see it from how restrained he had you. But it didn’t take long for him to shove it up and close at your pretty, worn out face. You could hardly keep your eyes straight, shuddered breaths leaving your sticky mouth. He enjoyed the positions where your whole body could be seen, could be displayed on camera to show your ex what was his, how he was using it. Especially when he could hold your jaw, telling you to look pretty, asking you to smile for a “little picture.” He got the chance to shove his face against your neck and show how deeply he could fuck you, could make you into nothing but a mess for him. What he loved most to send was the pictures of deep, swollen lovebites, of the marks his nails make on your skin.
“C’mon baby, don’t you wanna say something to the camera? Maybe beg for them to come and save you?”
Each thrust had your insides rearranged, your boyfriend lowering his phone to show the mess that was him inside of you, the drips on your thighs and the sweat that clung to your skin. The worst part of all in this punishment-- was the lack of control you had, the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from bellowing out sounds caused by your pleasure. The will he had on your body had you saying things that made it hard to look at yourself in the mirror.
You knew you’d never be able to escape from the blackmail he now held over you. It was hard to come to terms with that, but the more often it happened---the harder it was to pay attention to it.
#kn1ves rants#knives rants#writing#x reader#reader insert#yandere#self insert#yandere x reader#male yandere#nsft#yandere smut#smut#yandere x you#yandere boy#yandere imagines#yandere oc x reader#yandere writing#yandere scenarios#yandere x y/n#yanderecore#tw yandere#yandere male#yandere boyfriend
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Ok! Finally got the balls to try a mira myself.
First of all, I think that the fact Lev's very receptive to me, my energies, my fateweaving, and also to divination in general because he's very good at divining makes them far stronger with him than they actually are. He does journeying all the time, of course he gets thrown into wild visions without any ceremony
When I ended up eating one... I mean. its obvious even now that things in my brain are shifting. Its like the... the image is that the vitreous body is shifting and rearranging, but the lens isn't focused so I dont see anything. Its like the core of my mental ocean is shifting but i cant actually see past the air above it. Theres changes going on, that which happens with visions is happening, but it's exceptionally difficult to see.
I keep getting the start of visions but the water surface scatters so easily
I definitely think theyre best taken in ritual format. They absolutely want to bring people into the ocean - that symbols probably going to be different per person but... there should definitely be some kind of eye-opening ritual that these are a part of rather than just eating them expecting something to happen
i am. definitely more comfortable sharing these now though knowing they arent as heavy/severe as i thought they were. and. i thought for a minute about changing that and adding some eye-opening element to them and i may do that, i may make them themselves temporary eyes into their workings but i actually dont know if i want to do that. As much as Madness feels bridled and reigned and pulled back and tamed, theres a time and a place for Liquid Mercury and this is the work of the weaving Day, thank you Madness
- love coming across this, good timing
anyway. i really think something else is supposed to be the eyes, and i hate to say that its "initiation" but like. lmfao
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[Image ID: A reply from the-last-knight-of-avalir, reading: Hi! I can't really talk a lot rn bc very tired after work but I'm sorry to hear that you are not well and I wish you all the good things! I adore your art and your headcannons make me feel seen as a nd person Also, do you think Caleb is nd coded? I see a LOT of autistic traits in him, including the ones that I have myself. Like, I imprinted on him within like, ten minutes after Liam opened his mouth bc even just the vibe was sooo relatable. End ID.]
hi :-o . glad you like them ;w;; thankyou
yes caleb nd coded for sure, specifically autistic coded. 100%. im pretty sure (cant find screenshot) that liam has even addressed this saying it wasn’t on purpose but if people want caleb to be autistic then he is, basically, something like that. so... its canon to me. i lov all his routines and things.. hell yea caleb count all your coin and organise your spell components and rearrange your cat figures!!! omg i just remembered abt a conversation in one episodes, i cant remember at all which, between caleb and cad where they both finish talking and are both like O_O ok i dont want to speak anymore that was too much talking (or something to that vibe) , and leave kjnkankskfjsk autism moment
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barok for the ask game? 👀
first impression: ok so like it took me a while into finally playing tgaac for the first time last year to remember it but there's definitely somewhere in the depths of my blog teenager me being like I Just Know I'm Going to Fall in Love With That Man Immediately way back when the first trailers or w/e were shown. Then it took years to come out so I just kinda completely forgot about it at some point lol but THEN i finally played it last year and omg little me was so right, the prophecy was fulfilled
impression now: my WIFE!!!!!!!!
favorite moment:
barok and ryunosuke prison conversation... save me..
save me barok and ryunosuke prison conversation
idea for a story: not an extremely barok focused idea, but more a baroryuu and General Fruend Group Antics idea from my notes app ramblings, is me trying to justify having an escape room sort of attraction existing in victorian london so i can force them to have sitcom-like silly hijinks in there (such as almost getting trapped for real because of sholmes fucking with it aftet deciding it was too easy/boring or something)
unpopular opinion: i cant really think of anything other than i mean liking him so much is somewhat an unpopular opinion itself i guess lol
favorite relationship: baroryuu... my most enriching brainworms.... like hoenstly truly i could go on about them forever these 2 bitches are everything to me BUT im too sleepy for it to be coherent probably so instead i will leave these silly images i have filed under baroryuucore in my phone
Favorite headcanon: idk what my favorite would be but the first one that comes to mind is the ocd i assigned him because what else in the world compels an individual to rearrange a bunch of wine casks every day.... what a weirdo (affectionate)......
but yeah thanks so much for the ask!! it was fun <3
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now I'm not a ~Spooky~ enjoyer so target audience but if this is marketing or whatever it's just.. eh at best.
#vwoop.noises#then again i do not feel like im the target audience for a lot of the non gaming Content#its underwhelming enough that its not compelling yet bothersome enough for some people to be an issue.#like when your childhood friend in third grade decides they're a vampire.#i am rolling my eyes w a bit more criticism than normal. for i... am Susceptible To The Brain and unresolved things does bother me.#generic instagram memes n just enough generic scary images </3#meant to go earlier bc i forgot i omitted it but u cant rearrange on mobile#L + get better memes + engage w ARGs of my own choosing + ratio#^ ok thats harsh i dont care about the memes i dont have a sense of humour but the spirit of it.
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ok this tumblr update sucks, i cant rearrange images on desktop
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Constructive Critique
‘Hiiiii-’ Joan swung herself into Maggie’s cabin, narrowly avoiding the myriad of shoes and cigarette packets that littered the floor, and flopped down onto the bunk. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Mmm.’
Maggie didn’t look up from her laptop.
Joan was used to this- when Maggie was in her ‘creative zone’ (otherwise known as the ‘fuck off and dont talk to me zone’), it sometimes took her a while to be able to leave it.
She settled in for a wait and made herself comfy on Maggie's bunk- as usual, the bed was unmade. Unable to help herself, she twitched the covers into place before she sat down.
No response.
Hm.
That was odd. Maggie usually hated anyone tidying up after her.
Joan could still remember the time she’d relegated Anne to sitting on the floor for having the audacity to fold up her pajamas for her. Granted, Joan was never subjected to quite the same level of temper as everyone else….but still, even she was used to being ordered sharply to ‘just leave it alone Joan, jesus-’.
She smoothed out the bedspread.
Still no response.
Weird.
Biting the bullet, she rolled onto her stomach, rearranged Maggie's pillows and started to order the bits and pieces scattered on the bedside table, expecting every second for Maggie to look up and bark at her to stop.
Nothing.
Sitting up, she looked at Maggie more closely.
She was staring intently at her laptop screen, but she didn’t look how she usually looked when working- the peaceful faraway look was gone. She wasn't typing or clicking through. Her hands were in her lap.
In fact, they were clenched into fists.
‘Maggie?’
Nothing.
‘Mags- are you ok?’
Joan crawled off the bed and came over.
‘Mags?’
Maggie jumped as if waking up when Joan touched her arm. ‘What? Oh, sorry-’
‘Are you ok?’
‘Fine...did you want something?’ Already, her eyes were drifting back to the screen and Joan felt wrong footed.
‘I just….we were going to get something to eat?’ She wondered if this was Maggie's way of letting her know she wasn't in the mood- a bit of a change from her usual ‘Fuck, can we take a raincheck?’ but still a possibility. ‘We don't have to if you don’t want-’
‘Oh-’ Maggie seemed to catch onto Joan’s hesitancy, to notice the way her fingers twisted anxiously ‘Sorry- of course we were....’ She shook her head. ‘Of course we can-’
But her tone was off- Joan was more used to Maggie's flat affect than anyone, and she could tell what was normal and what wasn’t. This….wasn’t.
She put out a hand to pause Maggie in the middle of her perfunctory hunt for her wallet and keycard.
‘Mags? Something's up. Tell me? Please?’
Maggie got her stubborn look for a moment- as if planning on flat out denying all and making Joan fight her over it- but then she sighed and shrugged.
‘Oh, it’s nothing. Honestly. Really really stupid-’
‘What?’ The suspense was killing Joan. She was seconds away from breaking her new year's resolution to give up biting her nails. (Three months in and going strong. Maggie’s- to give up smoking, at Anne and Joan’s joint request- had lasted all of two hours and twenty minutes.)
Maggie bit her lip, obviously debating whether or not to actually finish.
‘-someone left a review on my last recording-’
‘Oh!’ Joan bounced happily for a moment. She knew how much reviews meant to Maggie- despite her repeated claims that her music was for her not for anyone else, Joan knew that the rare confirmations that someone else had actually noticed the piece of herself that she’d thrown into the void of cyberspace were precious. ‘What did they say?’
In answer, Maggie tilted her laptop screen so that Joan could read for herself.
‘-know you’re only starting out as musician….constructive criticism….whoever taught you really missed out on a few things didn't they?.....irritating tendencies….poor technique...know you’re sensitive…..would be happy to point you to some online resources….’ And then the sweetly poisonous ending ‘Please know this comes from a place of wanting you to be better and improve...’
There was no name, no address, no picture icon.
The first time she read it, the faux-concern and almost paternalistic tone made her want to laugh.
Then she read it again- and looked at Maggie, drooping in her chair and looking so very tired- and hot anger took over.
‘It’s...polite, isn’t it?’ Maggie quirked an eyebrow in her usual sardonic manner but her hands didn’t unclench. ‘I didn't think people talked like that any more-’
‘Oh Maggie-’
‘I feel like blaming my teacher was a bit harsh….poor Mr Greyson isn’t even here to defend himself. And it’s hardly his fault I never paid attention in class-’
A muscle gave a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch, just under Maggie's right eye.
‘Mags-’
‘Nice of them to concede I’m still learning though. I guess. Although-’ Maggie turned to face Joan properly for the first time. ‘They think my technique is bad? Imagine how much worse it is for me, I’m the one actually trying to play despite it, jesus, like c’mon, cut me some slack-’
‘Maggie!’
‘What?’
‘Fuck them!’
Maggie blinked at her. ‘What?’ It wasn’t often that she was able to surprise the other girl, and Joan made a mental note to let Maggie know just how adorable she looked when she was really, truly taken back, when things were less fraught.
‘Joey?’
‘Fuck them, Mags! Fuck whatever patronising little-’ she paused. It wasn't that she was reluctant to swear, more that she was afraid of Maggie laughing at her for her choice- she’d never heard the end of it when she’d frustratedly called a queue-jumper an ‘inconsiderate dick-face’.
Ironically, it had been an attempt to prove to everyone that she was adult enough to swear if she wanted to. The attempt had, she had to admit, backfired spectacularly well.
‘Go on-’ There was an amused quirk to Maggie's eyebrow- obviously their thoughts had followed a similar vein. ‘A little-?’
‘Never mind. Point is-’ She stabbed a finger at the laptop screen. ‘I cant believe anyone would have the nerve to say shit like that- as if they’re the arbitrator of what good music is, when they’re not even brave enough to come off anon!- and to then call you sensitive!’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Constructive criticism and all that-’
‘No! Constructive criticism is-’ Joan groped for a good comparison. ‘When I tell you that I want tips on how I can make the others listen to me. Or when I direct you guys during rehearsal. Not….this. This….’Oh I’m such a good person, I’m so wise and talented, let me point out all your faults in a really unnecessarily nasty way and then call you thin skinned’...if they really care, why aren’t they linking you to their own page? So you can get tips from them, if they’re so good. Or even so you can ask them questions privately?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Maybe they just don't want to- I mean, they don’t have to-’
‘Maybe they know exactly how nasty the message was and don't want to face any consequences from it, you mean-’ Internally, Joan wondered if it was bad form to snap at someone when trying to stick up for them. Oh well. She’d ask Maggie later, Maggie would know. ‘Maybe they just like patting themselves on the back by pointing out non-issues or things you’re already aware of and are working on by presenting themselves as this master musician, but in a way that means you’ll never ever be able to respond to them! Well, I have a response-’ she leans forward ‘Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck your help and advice!’
She was breathing a little harder by the time she’d finished: Maggie was leaning back slightly in her chair.
‘Um…..wow....are you….ok?’
‘Yeah….’
‘....I already wrote a response, you’ll be sad to hear. It was a bit different to yours.’ On the screen, Maggie's finger pointed out her polite, calm message of reply: ‘Thanks for your interest….always appreciate feedback...thanks for listening’.
Joan suddenly felt foolish. Maggie clearly didn’t care that much. What was she even doing, ranting and raving when what Maggie probably wanted was just to forget about it?
She probably wasn’t even all that bothered by it- sure she’d seemed a little off, but Maggie was the absolute pinnacle of taking things on the chin, she’d probably barely registered the thing. Stupid Joan, overreacting; stupid overemotional Joan….
Hic-
Joan had never wanted to die more. Hiccups- was it possible to have a more childish marker of distress?
‘Yeah…..’ She tried to hold her breath surreptitiously and then gave up. ‘Sorry, just….I got cross…’
‘I can see….’ Maggie's lips twitched. ‘Pity whoever wrote that if they come across you, huh?’
‘Yeah….’ Her face was burning. Why was she so stupid? Why couldn't she have just passed over it like Maggie obviously had?
Because you’re thinking about how you’d feel, the little voice in her head responded immediately, because you’re imagining how you’d feel if you got a message like that, how you’ve felt when you have got messages like that- like you don't want to make anything anymore, like you're embarrassed for people to see any of your work-
She shut it down. That was her, not Maggie- cool, collected, talented Maggie. As if Maggie would be affected by a stupid review.
She shook away too the image of Maggie hunched in her chair and staring sadly at the screen. She’d probably imagined most of it.
‘Shall we go get food then?’
As if in evidence of her okay-ness, Maggie almost bounced out of her chair, grabbing her phone from the floor and stuffing her keycard deep into her pocket as she made for the door, Joan trailing behind.
‘Ok-’
‘Where do you want to go?’ Maggie pulled the door firmly. ‘We got pizza the other day, so I’m feeling maybe Thai- or ramen, we haven’t had good ramen in ages-’ She paused. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Yeah.’ Joan nodded quickly. ‘Fine-’
‘Cool- so….maybe ramen? Unless you’re not feeling noodles….also there’s that creepy guy who works there and I think I heard he works extra shifts now so maybe not-’
Half way down the corridor, Maggie suddenly stopped. Joan wondered if she was going to say she’d forgotten something, but instead, she grabbed Joan's hand and squeezed it hard.
‘Joan?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Thank you-’
Joan felt a bit nonplussed. ‘What for?’
Maggie looked at her as if she was an idiot. ‘For….you know….’ She gently bumped her shoulder against Joan’s. ‘For caring enough to get angry on my behalf? For saying fuck a million times- it was funny, cheered me right up-’ Her expression sobered. ‘Just...thanks. I know it’s ridiculous to let some internet random get to me but….yeah.’
She gave Joan’s hand a parting squeeze and let go, straightening up, back to normal again. ‘As you say, fuck them, next time i’ll just let you reply and save myself the trouble…’ Her lips twitched and she tilted her head. ‘Anyway…back to important stuff….food choices and that.’ She looked at Joan ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yeah-’ Joan hid her smile and started down the corridor. ‘Let’s go.’
#I saw the title and I already knew what this was gonna be about#AND SIS YOU SNAPPED#you said what I couldnt!! and it’s all true!!#DRAG EM SIS#okay but actual comments!!#maggie not liking people picking up her things? love that 👌#I also love the bit where joey bites her nails! and then maggie not giving up smoking haha#god the parts where joan defended maggie is so valid and well stated and true and 👌👌👌#I love joan snapping!!#and then her cussing the anon out oh my god#that’s so funny!!!#and maggie being actually pretty shocked#THE HICCUPS!!! YES!!!!#bro put joan’s hiccup tendency in a fic and it automatically becomes good#just some tips 👀#aww joan beating herself up over yelling :( poor baby!#but maggie coming in clutch and making her feet better!! 🥺🥺#AAAA I JUST LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!#THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR SATING MY HUNGER THE BA GIRLS!!#but you know im gonna need more now right? 👀 I crave your writing#not my writing#six breakaway#breakaway joan on the keys#breakaway maggie on the guitar#submission
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three anons: what the hell was all that in S7
Picking out the three that are most to the point for this answer, but I’ve got another dozen or so that overlap. Not sure I’ll have time/energy to answer the rest individually, so hopefully this meta will be sufficient.
I mean it could be that they had different execs back then who were better at their jobs and kept Shiro around. No one disliked black paladin Shiro, even the DotU fans were ok with it, and the writing in s1-2 was mostly very good. Changing all that was a bad idea. I would have left on the spot if Shiro died or was benched, like now, I'm only around for closure. Maybe they were different execs with this decision & the EPs leaped at the chance. Well, we know who's also gonna be in trouble if that's the case.
With your theory on how storyboards were reused and characters shuffled around for cost cutting, might this not also partly explain the Adam flashback scene and how it was staged? I mean, they were originally supposed to be roommates and the scene was meant to appear in season 2 but got cut. What if they just reused the storyboard (or even animation, if it was already mostly done) the way it was and then just changed the dialogue? This could explain the lack of intimacy in the staging, too. Ezor and Zethrids interactions were more openly intimate maybe not (just) because they‘re villains who die immediately after, but because the decision to make them an item came before storyboarding was done, so the staging is more suggestive. I mean, if you think Shiro was mostly pasted in in the first half of s7, that might make sense.
If cost was the issue and they already had the black paladin Shiro version written, and got the greenlight to change it to Keith then things don't add up. Because they changed it once more! Which could have been avoided if they stuck to the Shiro one. And it goes without saying it would be better written to follow canon instead of the mess we got, like, I cant imagine this NOT discussed. So if it wouldn't be cost effective to change it again for Keith and it would be badly written, why did it happen?
Behind the cut: the most likely chronology of revisions, the clues in S7 as to its original form, and what this means for S8 and the Black Paladin position.
This is everything I’ve been able to figure out between interviews, podcasts, tweets, plus researching the industry and a few reality-checks with friends more familiar. As always, any mistakes are my own.
version 0: "five teenagers"
This would’ve been the first pitch after getting the green light, and probably only a loose synopsis, with just the pilot given a rough storyboard. A post-apocalyptic Earth conquered by the Galra, who are seeking Blue. The execs rejected JDS' mechanism for the discovery of Blue, in favor of simply having Keith ‘sense’ Blue. The execs also rejected the idea that Shiro would die only a few episodes in. This summary seems to be the basis of the "five teenagers" part of the teaser.
version A: "shiro kicks the bucket"
Timelines would've dictated moving onto an outline pretty quickly, detailed down to the episode level, including bits of dialogue, motifs, turning points or emotional beats. In this revision, Shiro dies/leaves at the end of S2 and does not return. This is the “originally we wanted him to kick the bucket” version, which the execs rejected.
version B: "shiro goes away for awhile"
If I'm interpreting the hints correctly, the "does Shiro die or not" question got tossed back and forth all the way into S1/S2 pre-production. Rather than rearrange everything, the easiest fix would've been to leave most of the story intact and write only a new ending where Shiro returns. The execs reject this rewrite, saying Shiro can’t be gone that long. This is the “we tried to just have him gone for awhile, but the execs said he had to come back sooner” version.
version C: "enter the clone"
Again, easiest fix is to insert Shiro/Kuron, remove Keith, and reverse that just before Shiro's return in version B. This impacts only the middle seasons (S3-S6); the clone compromise satisfies the execs. Kuron's characterization makes a lot more sense if it’s Keith, in visuals (ie Kuron leaning against the wall in Keith fashion), dialogue (fighting with Lance), and action (leaving without consulting the team). It's also why no one mentions Keith's absence. Because in the original version A, Keith was standing right there.
version D: "wtf is going on", aka Season 7
When JDS mentions having a full season written with Shiro as Black Paladin, it didn't make sense how they'd have a script and not use it. With @ptw30's visual detective work, I think I may've figured it out.
Technical notes: first scripts are all written for a season, then voices are recorded, and then the combined script+recording is used to storyboard. Production seasons are 26-episodes, independent of actual broadcast seasons; VA may be recording scenes across two 13-episode seasons completely out of order, since the recording schedule's going to be based on who's available, not chronology of the file numbers. The biggest staff changes are usually in April ('staffing season') when new shows get the greenlight and start sharking around to catch writers, designers, directors, etc.
In March of this year, S5 was released. At least some of the storyboarders were released in time for staffing season; in April, Hedrick moves to a new project. With S7/S8 being unchanged since version B, I suspect Hedrick delivered the scripts for S7 and S8 by winter of last year, at latest. Even that would be tight, since that's expecting animation to deliver 26 episodes in an 8-month timeframe. [edit: probably delivered much earlier, given the studio leaks show images we can recognize from S7/S8, so some amount of these seasons were in production by then.]
In June, S6 dropped, and a week later, Hamilton was announced as the new story editor via the Lets Voltron podcast. With the lead time required in production, there doesn't seem to be any reason to even need a story editor, at this point. All the pre-production work should be done.
In August, S7 dropped. Hedrick's editor credit is only for the first half of the season; Hamilton gets it for the second half. That means the last six episodes were written after Hedrick's departure. (May Chan's S2 script was reused in part, and she gains a belated co-writing script credit for that. Hedrick should've received the same; it's standard.)
Let's recap a few things we know (and a few we can intuit) about S7:
The season was already written with Shiro returning as Black Paladin, possibly also recorded and storyboarded.
S6 reversed the S4-S5 trend, lending strength to exec arguments that Shiro is necessary in the story.
After S6 dropped, the EPs said the wolf's name was a spoiler. See this post from @pwt30; tl;dr is that perhaps the EPs intended the wolf to be Shiro's spirit.
Despite Shiro's return, he's absent for the majority of the first half; when he is present, he barely speaks a half-dozen words, and none are plot-relevant. See @ptw30's post for more details.
There's a glaring incontinuity when Allura says the paladin armor protected the team, yet Shiro is frozen with the other non-paladins despite wearing armor.
Keith never offers for Shiro to pilot, nor mentions it, nor even seems to consider it an issue.
Not everything dovetails since I don't have the full picture, but here's my theory: S7 was originally outlined with Shiro's spirit in the wolf, rather than Black. I have no idea when/how JDS would've thought up the CA:WS parallels for his sole writing credit, but Shiro's "I died" and Lotor's psychotic breakdown are squeezed into S6E6, which was written by Josh Hamilton, Hedrick's later replacement. The only other Shiro-in-Black point is a few minutes at the end of S6's final episode. Shifting from Shiro-in-wolf to Shiro-in-Black really only affects one episode, with a bit of editing for another.
Anyway, S6 ends version C, and we segue to version B. For the first half of S7, the clone's body may have been in stasis while the team traveled through its various non-adventures. The episode we now know as S7E1 may have been the mid-point, with about six episodes of Shiro being unconcious. After watching the numbers drop from S3 to S6, the execs may've rejected another six episodes of where-is-Shiro and insisted he come back ASAP.
S7 only has two episodes that must be in order; the rest are pretty rearrangeable. All they had to do was insert Shiro into the background and record a few lines. (Several lines are pure voice-over, which also saves cost/time by not needing to animate moving mouth.) But the moved episode is only his memory/awakening, and the logical next episode would be Shiro's reconnection, and the rest of the season would roll from there. Without moving the entire second half of the season to the start, moving only his awakening episode would mean Shiro does nothing for 5-6 episodes and then abruptly reconnects.
In a recent interview, JDS said at first the execs weren't enthused until JDS talked up the new mecha they'd give Shiro to captain. Honestly, there's no way JDS got to be EP without giving a really good pitch, but there may've been another element to his argument: nostalgia. The EPs seem certain everyone suffers from their same nostalgia dementia, which if you do, then you probably have been waiting for any glimpse of that og!Keith. If Shiro returns at the start of S7, then Keith's time in Black has been limited to a few disastrous episodes in S3, and a single big battle in S6. The beginning of S7 is the only time we'd ever see the Voltron84 formation working as a unified team, and returning Shiro too soon would defeat the whole purpose of showing how the team has grown in his absence.
The solution seems to have been to remove Shiro's reconnection completely, and keep Keith in Black. That would mean re-recording Shiro's lines from the midpoint onward, and editing in Keith over Shiro. The savings would be that only half the seaon would have to be reworked, not all. The loose end of the space wolf --- an artifact of version B --- was left in place.
What I'm not sure of is whether the following are significant enough changes to warrant removing Hedrick's name and replacing it with Hamilton's. It could be, if supervising the revision process is enough to override the previous credits. I have no idea about that part of the industry, and it's the kind of edge case you're just not going to find a lot of blog posts about, so if you know, tell me. Otherwise, your guess is as good as mine.
Anyway, this would've meant Shiro was switched in for Allura, Allura was put back in a lion, and Keith was switched in for Shiro. This would explain why Shiro speaks as the leader of Voltron despite no longer being a paladin, and the uneasy sensations a lot of people got about the characterizations. It was most striking in the last three episodes: Shiro felt like Allura v2, while Keith felt like Shiro v2. And that further, the Altean-Earthian ship just 'lighting up' for Shiro --- and becoming that oversized white mecha --- may've meant as Allura's fourth (fifth?) deus ex machina.
I'd be willing to bet that mid-battle, Allura repeated her stunt from the end of S2, heading out to destroy Sendak's crystal by herself. She wouldn't need Sam to hack her brain, and then we'd also have a call back to when she got knocked down by the crystal-ball thing on Naxzela. If she was the one meant to go toe-to-toe with Sendak, that would explain the bizarre neutrality of Sendak's words --- he says nothing personal to Shiro, at all --- and the even more bizarre silence on Shiro's part. Allura's words wouldn't fit Shiro, so he's silent.
And lastly, it'd mean that the one leaping out of Black to cut down Sendak wouldn't have been Keith. It would've been Shiro.
Where would the story go from here?
If I look at the events of S7, the first half is terribly disjointed, really. If Shiro was supposed to wake at the midpoint, an episode (or two) is missing. One for him to reconnect with Black, and a second that would provide some minor conflict to settle him back into position. Those two episodes were likely replaced with the unexpected and frankly over-told two-parter of the Earth flashbacks.
Two problems with that, one technical, one structural.
First, the flashback two-parter has a lot of moving parts. Brand-new designs, characters, and backdrops. It's far too elaborate to be done in an ultra-compressed timeframe, not without several heart attacks and therapy bills on the part of the animation staff. (Plus, the US-based storyboarding team is already downsized, so fewer hands to do the work.)
Second, it doesn't make a lot of structural sense, especially against the big revelations in S6 of an existing Altean colony. Within the story, there's no reason to halt everything and travel across the universe to take however long to build a new castle, when the Altean colony question is far more pressing. Returning to earth also violates the structure, because it's really just a standard milieu: start on earth, head out to have adventures, and return home at the end.
But here, they're returning home and then possibly leaving again. That's just... a rather peculiar and imbalanced way to do it. It doesn't help that doing so means literally telling Romelle her people are just gonna have to rot, the paladins are certain they need the castle more. Why would you take one of the more compelling storylines you've come up with, only to background it again, and wreck the traditional bookending milieu structure at the same time? Especially if that means coming up with major set-pieces and brand-new designs in the space of several months, after a chunk of your core staff are already onto other things.
I think those two flashback episodes -- and the rewritten finale episodes --- may've been cribbed from S8. In other words, the second half of S7 was the original end of S8. That would mean repurposing already-created storyboards and animation artifacts, so there's a huge time savings there (not counting the need to re-record voices and edit the visuals to match the changed-around parts).
[note: if there’s anywhere you want to frontload introductions for the spin-off, it’d be in the final season, not the penultimate season. Here it feels like a big honking distraction, rather than an organic segue into the next iteration.]
That change necessitated that utterly bizarro mecha that appeared out of nowhere with the most ridiculously impeccable timing. There needed to be a reason to pull the team back out to space to deal with Haggar and/or the alt-Alteans and/or Lotor or whomever else it turns out to be.
So... where we go from here depends on when S8 gets released, because that’ll tell us how much they did (or did not) edit the episodes. Another clue will be whose name gets listed as head editor for an episode; if we see Hedrick’s name reappear at the top, we’ll know we’re dealing with episodes that are enough unrevised to qualify as being Hedrick-edited, that it’s a version B episode.
My expectation? They’ll move Shiro’s reconnection to the first part of S8, and add an episode or edit pieces of another, to blend it into what would’ve been the first half of S8 (probably with filler to mask the gap). Then add an episode to segue into the version B finale of S7, where we’d end with the original VLD lineup. With the time needed for animation, that’d be the easiest (if potentially awkward) way to repurpose as much as possible of existing artifacts.
If we don’t get S8 in the next 1-2 months, though, all bets are off, and there’s a much greater possibility that the entire final season is being redone from scratch. I’d expect Keith to stay in Black, in that case, but I’m always willing to be pleasantly surprised.
edited to add: see this followup for another detail that supports the reversed-seasons theory
#vld#voltron#analysis#story structure#television production#come for the sugar stay for the salt#sol thinks about stuff
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The Forgotten Revolutionary
Cw: alcohol and food
Ok to rb
"Youve heard of all the founding fathers except one.
Hid by history for their identity we present to you.
The genderfluid revolutionary"
-- Standing here looking out the Window.
To the streets of New York.
Scared because I dont fit into their box.
I see women with dresses and heels, and men with boots and coats under the trees.
Whats of me if every day the image on the mirror changes what Will they think of me.
How do I go out
Do I dress like a woman or Man.-- they turn away from the Window walking to their vanity, Tying their hair into a bun, grabbing the yellow beanie Putting it on.
After changing they go downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing the already made food in a bag and walking outside.
They pull the hems of their trenchcoats closer and walk to their art studio.
Or more likely today, his own art studio.
The little bell ontop of the door rings as he rearranges some of the canvas laying around in there, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the coat hanger.
He sits there infront of a nearby Window that Provided him with natural light,hoping to finish this painting that he had been comissioned to work.
The day feels slow,even if he enjoys doing what he was doing, the business has been slow this week,and boring too.
With the final stroke of his brush,the painting was finished, jerico stretched proud of his work, when he realized it was almost closing time.
He stands up washing his hands stained with paint to then head to home for the night.
He wasnt much for drinking, but he'd been invited the week prior, looking himself in the mirror she sighed looking away, its been always hard to accept himself the way she was.
Someone knocked on the door,she heard it all the way from upstairs
--Coming!--Jerico quickly changes into her yellow dress and heads outside, breathing deeply before heading out to the pub.
The bar was quite busy that day, jerico was having a Blast, Flirting with the men around her, laughing with her Friends.
Suddenly a Man steps in, Bulky build and tall, with some other quite good looking Friends.
-- Well ill be damned!-- the bartender exclaimed-- what are the four revolutionaries doing here?
--you know what!-- lafayette exclaimed sitting on a table with hercules, Hamilton and Laurens-- catching up with some Friends the usual!
The bartender laughed,-- sure, dont get too crazy
The frenchman shrugged-- cant promise anything
Jericos heart skips a beat when she lays eyes on hercules, one of her Friends snaps him out of her trance.
Unaware of hercules himself looking at her
Herc panics when he feels his heart flutter, chuggin the beer that Hamilton hands him.
-- well who are you looking at--alexander Hamilton asked with a raised brow.
-- no-one-- he says taking another swig.
Alexander raises a brow at his Friends behaviour.
--Come on mon ami!--lafayette pushed him-- its the first time I see you panicking over a woman
-- I think herc here is intimidated by her-- Laurens said.
--haha...so funny-- hercules said-- im not intimidated by her
--oh really?--laurens leaned in-- cause shes looking right at you right now
Herc jumps on his Seat fixing his beanie, his Friends all laugh-- the great hercules mulligan, the Man who spied on the brits during the revolution scared of talking to a woman
Mulligan pushes lafayette-- we're kidding herc-- the frenchman said -- go talk to her Man, its gonna fine!
--Wait!-- Alexander said-- remember that portrait of Philip? -- his Friends nodd-- thats the artist who made it, ill go talk to her and invite her to the ball im throwing for Philips birthday!
Hercules sighed--do I have to wear a suit?
-- yes you have--the other three answer.
And so said and done Alexander approaches jerico, inviting her and her Friends to the ball, and when the night is over both hercules and her cross glances, and meekly waves their hands saying "goodbye"
When both get home, in disbelief they wait for the ball to hopefully see eachother again.
It was only a matter of time.
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this really nice scottish guy- lost connection and couldnt talk more :(
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH HONG KONG AGAINST THE CCP!
Stranger: Hi
You: hi
Stranger: How’s it going?
You: could be better, cant sleep
You: u?
Stranger: I’m not bad I suppose, just really bored ha!
Stranger: Where are you from?
You: georgia
You: you?
Stranger: Cool, I’m from scotland
You: oh wow
You: what time is it there
Stranger: It’s nearly 10am
You: woah
Stranger: What about you?
You: its 4:52am
Stranger: Wow that’s wary ha
Stranger: Early*
You: yeah, i have insomnia
Stranger: Aw that sucks
You: meh its okay, been like this for a while now so :/
Stranger: Aw, I suppose you must be used to it by now then!
You: yeah
You: how old r u
Stranger: How old are you?
Stranger: Ha
You: haha
Stranger: I’m 24, what about you?
You: im 20
Stranger: Cool!
You: gender?
Stranger: I’m a guy, what about you?
You: im a girl
Stranger: Cool. What’s your name?
You: rebecca
You: yours?
Stranger: Nice to meet you, I’m Jay.
You: nice to meet you- you lived in scotland your whole life?
Stranger: Yea ha. What about you, have you always been in Georgia?
You: pretty much, just different parts.
Stranger: That’s cool! Are you guys on lockdown there too?
You: yeah, the whole shebang
You: been in lockdown for about a month and a half now
You: so why are you up so early? working?
Stranger: Yea it’s pretty crap ha! Yea I’m having to work from home. Suppose I’m just looking for distractions rather than working haha!
Stranger: Do you work?
You: haha- i used to when i was at school
You: but since everything's been shut down, my workplace closed for a while
Stranger: Ah ok
Stranger: Cool, do you go to college then?
You: yes, i do. i'm a sophomore at the university of georgia
You: studying economics and international affairs
You: #godawgs
Stranger: Nice! You must be a smart girl ha!
You: ha i hope so
You: you? what's your line of work?
Stranger: I’m a mechanical engineer.
You: oh very interesting
You: that's not an easy subject
Stranger: It’s mainly office work though. Hence why I can still work at home. I actually hate my job lol
You: lol i think that's normal haha
Stranger: Do you come on here often?
You: not really
You: tonight is actually my first time
You: on omegle that is
Stranger: Ha
You: you?
Stranger: I’ve been on a couple of times before, but not much.
You: ha i was going to ask if you spoke with an accent but i guess we both do technically
Stranger: Hahah well yes I have a Scottish accent ha!
You: yeah, i have an american one i suppose haha
Stranger: Haha cool
Stranger: I suppose the American accent can be totally different depending on what state your in. I can’t think what a Georgia accent sounds like lol
You: well, im not from southern ga so my accent is not very heavy. i would say i speak average, but then again- there's so many different accents in the US
You: i'm from the more urban area of ga so it's not as pronounced as some of my peers
Stranger: Ah ok ha.
You: have you ever traveled to other parts of europe?
Stranger: Yea, I’ve been to Germany a few times, Ireland, Paris, Amsterdam and Spain a couple of times.
Stranger: And Italy
You: Very cool- any languages you might've picked up?
Stranger: Hahah Na, I can only speak english. I just learned how to say hello, thank you and how to ask for a beer wherever I went lol
You: oh well i would say that's all you need when traveling haha
Stranger: Have you travelled outside of the US?
You: i have- my mom is from mexico and my dad is from honduras and we've visited family in mexico before
Stranger: Wow nice!
You: never been to europe tho
You: desperately want to visit italy
Stranger: Yea Italy is a cool place
Stranger: I would recommend visiting there
You: so do you look like the stereotypical scot?
Stranger: 😂
Stranger: Depends what you think a stereotypical Scot looks like haha
You: well the image in my head looks like a tall white guy, ginger, with a beard and a flannel hahaha
Stranger: Hahaha! Na I’m definitely not like that lol
You: and not saying it to be rude lol
Stranger: Haha no offence taken lol!
You: so how would you describe yourself?
Stranger: you're correct, I am white ha. I have short brown hair, blue eyes, I don’t really have a beard, more just stubble ha. I’m about 5’8 and slim
You: okay, im rearranging the image of you in my head lol
Stranger: Haha! There’s no flannel or tartan or gingerness haha
Stranger: We only really wear kilts at weddings and special occasions
Stranger: What do you look like?
You: i'm white- well, my skin is although i am hispanic. im also about 5'2 with long, dark brown, curly hair and green eyes
Stranger: Wow you sound very pretty!
You: thank you! im glad you don’t look like the stereotype i had in mind haha
Stranger: Haha thanks
You: so was i right in my assumption of a majority of the population?
You: or is it just media messing with my head? haha
Stranger: Hahah actually no not really. There is obviously a lot of ginger guys. But I think we look pretty normal for the majority lol
You: ahh so a good number of gingers haha
Stranger: haha I’m beginning to think you like the ginger look!
Stranger: Were you wishing I was haha 😂
You: i mean... i'm not particularly fond of the appearance of gingers although i dont want to discriminate against any group of people- i just assumed you would be
Stranger: Haha
You: sorry for that lol
Stranger: Hahaha it doesn’t bother me lol
You: okay good
You: did you have any preconcieved notions about the way i look?
You: just wondering lol
Stranger: No, I obviously was imagining you were Hispanic when you said where your parents were from.
Stranger: You sound quite hot though ha
You: haha thank you i guess
Technical error: Lost contact with server, and couldn't reach it after 3 tries. Sorry. :( Omegle understands if you hate it now, but Omegle still loves you.
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Horsewomen
May i enter. Quietly. For insight. And take back nothing but truth.
____
I sit here waiting.
I sit here waiting for you.
This is uncomfortable. This is actually a rather unsettling feeling. My breathing is no deeper than my upper chest. I am distracted. I want some distraction. Watch something nonsensical. Eat. Eat plenty. Something to comfort me. This sense of hunger, of not being full, no matter what i am putting in - from the healthiest to the junkiest.
He wants to mute me.
He is making pulao and raita. Just what i need maybe. Maybe with that i’ll be satiated. Calm this restlessness.
Weight on the chest. Cant go, oh damn! on it. Just watch it. Even if i spent the last month and a half working this weight off.
Actors freeze writers block.
Dont i have anything to write? After steam rolling for a week.THe point when i assumed things would come together into a giant revelation?
Breathe into the belly. Reach out from formula.
“What do i mean by…”
I miss. I miss kalari. Its a fact. I miss. I miss thiru. I miss. I am a miss. I am amiss, between a miss and a missus.
Something in the face sharts shifting. Music is hindustani. Kishori amolkar he announces, informs, sticking is head out of building pulao.
Watched S’s viva. As she discussed body widsom as the maker and keeper of stories, and the source of the individial truth and meaning making process we all search for.
Watched Su’s body leave her home of 85 years. Watched Su’s body after her spirit left its home of 85 years. He brows were tight together, as if frozen amidst a painful exercise to recall something.
Mid sentence, mid building he walks over for the hug, hug of reconciliation, hug of understanding, a hug to acknowledge, a hug to reassure - one of us, both of us.
A death happened.
Finally. After a dance on the edges that lasted almost 2 years. I remember sitting in the room with my therapist as art of the Art Therapy studies, and role playing with a strange dream, where i was arguing with R and having some experience of the Buzz road first floor centered around my possessions- why it cant be moved or something and his friends being around and me feeling alientated; while down in the ground floor abyss, the dreamer was distinctly aware of death waiting. The house didnt quite look like this, but was the same. In a way that spaces rearrange them selves in dreams, an additional corridor there, an elevation somewhere else, a door connecting two opposite ends of the house directly.
I dont know her at all. I have barely spoken to her more than a few handful of times in the 4 years that Buzz road has been my home. And none of the conversations have lasted more than a few minutes. She was a fine looking thin lady. Who i was told was a shell of her former robust self, and had alzheimer's setting in. So the main door, which is the common entrance to all the three floors had to be locked early enough. She would have anxieties otherwise.
Nothing too loud or boisterous.
Its never been loud or boisterous at buzz road from the time i have known it. Maybe when i got to know it, it was around the time it had gotten contemplative, retrospective, nostalgic. With not enough energy to hold the heightened states of merry making and large groups splashing their vibrance around. But finding them quietly in the folds of memory, back and forth, and reweaving them, alone.
I came into the quiet buzz road; a buzzing road thats quietened now, i realize.
People were talking about the sheer energy she possessed. I can imagine. Even when the last time we exchanged pleasantries, as i walked to junk the compost into the new compost pit we had going in the back yard, she was clear in her gaze, her glance inspire of all the tubes running out of her. Was that the last time she saw me? Or when i had my lungi pulled up, carrying the water cans to the first floor. I had put on an effort to be myself, anticipating judgements for my hairy legs, or my unconventionality inspite of my desperate attempts to fit into the conventional. Whatever conventional means.
I now wear diamond earrings to honor a memory. Of someone i have only met in books and ideas. WHo would have thunk!
He comes over from the pillars of pulao. Share a few grains of his memory.
The sense of community he is experiencing at the moment - in the virtual world with the responses that came in response to his tribute to her, -in this space, with his cousin who he felt he had nothing in common with. A point he always kept making. Until now, when he seems to suddenly have noticed a shared childhood. He accepted his cousin’s invitation to be there on the 10th and 13th day and was touched by the gensture, though he trailed off a “my beliefs are my own” as he made his way back into the kitchen.
From the kitchen he recounts and as kishori continues to inspire the pulao, how his aunt took him to the hospital after his infamous fall off the rockface, he had managed to get back home pushing his conked motor bike before fainting in the loo with a shirt soaking in blood. Quite dramatic. This bit of the story is new to me. I knew of the fall. And the 7 stitches. I didnt know she featured in the story, which i imagined to be the grand fall that shook the 3 worlds and its from that impact on the earth that i was born.
He was 18. My parents copulated. 1983.
This is quite a nice start to the mythical story.
What is this sentimentality? I am not a sentimental person. Sensitive yes. Sentimental? Not really.
In all senses i am aware of the fact that death doesnt mean anything. Other than the change of the playing scene. For the person who dies. Atleast for most people who die. A change of play for the actor.
For the co-actors, yea its awkward. Suddenly, the improvisation has new energy, an unknown. Space available for new possibilities.
Also a sense of a loss of the playing dynamics, which has to be refigured in new context.
Thats all death is.
And i myself must be dying in a million ways in the million multiverses, never mind “the other” dying. The infinite stages strung together and the actor playing out the infinite possibilities of each second.
The thought of him dying was obsessive,for last two years. Its only of late that i have been able to relax. Otherwise it was a high alert since his tryst with the fissure and bp. I would be up at night watching and monitoring the deapth of his breath as he snored on. The thought of him dying and the paranoia that set in was a pattern repeat of the tightly controlled panic I experienced regularly as a teenager when my mother came home wheezing and we spent the whole nights praying and trying to help her get some relief. With no one else to turn for help. Sheer holding-on to the the caregiver, protector, provider.
Sheer holding-on as the intermediate caregiver, protector, supporter.
Today i am lot more relaxed. The pattern that was triggered two years ago has eased. It gave a sample of the minefield of triggers that lay dormant in my mindscape.
Last night when he spoke of his will, after the initial reaction of sheer panic setting in, and then watching it pass, i was able to engage in the conversation - who should the bangalore house be left for? A. She has plenty in her name already. What about AV? Wonderful idea. He is a lonewolf with a strong sense of community. And will find some meaning and continuity, “make something with it, share it”.
Pondi house is for me.
There is no house in pondi yet. There is land in pondi. And our dreams for the home. Our mutual curiosity of this human instinct, nesting. What does it mean to make a nest with someone - which is neither his nor mine, but ours.
Pondi house is for us.
Its ours.
Quite fitting for the closet romantics that we both are.
Such a relief this sentence gave me. Pondi house is for us. Its ours.
What a burden it seems to be lifting from my shoulders.
My self image moves, glides past the harshly lit railings where it was held prisoner by my critical self - ever questioning my intentions of initiating and insisting on insisting on a home in pondicherry. Is it greed? Is it the easy way out? Are you in this for the money?
To something lit with a much softer glow of depth and wisdom. And love and respect.
Ustad Ali Akbar Khan takes the manch.
Nobody else may understand this. But we do. You and i, do.
That ours is a dance of light and shadows. We love and hate. Trust and mistrust. We make love with the enemy. Sleep, cook. Learn to trust. Love. The historical “ other”.
Far from Romeo Juliet. Far far from it. Infact, it probably starts where SSpere left off.
Imagine in play space: Romeo is reborn. Some 20 years ahead of Juliet, who was stuck in a limbo in some portal. And they finally meet. And there is nothing in the way- no warring families, no borders, no jealous friends, no helpful friends either - there is nothing helping, there is nothing standing in the way - except themselves. And all their assumption and presumptions.
“oh! I dint realize you were so obsessive.”
“Oh! I didnt realize you had such a nasty streak”
“You dont listen”
“This is far from the ever after i imagined”
Well, as i write this i suppose this is following the graph of every relationship there is. Nothing unconventional here. Inspite of all our ideas and stories of how unconventional this is.
Also, we arent really gear shifting because we have no kids.
Am i ok with that? Not having a child? Yes. In many ways. It will be nice to have someone to shape and mould and protect and spoil. But when i imagine, i dont think i will be doing something very different from what my mother did - circumstances and conveniences may be different - but the structure is the same - shape, mould, protect and spoil and love - with different degrees of ingredients - but still a replication of the process. Thats what nature is best at, no? Replicating. I dont want to do that. I can see past that temptation.
A cat will do. Or a squirrel. Or a raven. Or a garden lizard, according to him.
Coco.
One coco gone from the terrace. So many coco’s playing around in the goundfloor garden.
Sleepy.
Call with K is postponed to tomorrow.
Project Objex continues to delvelop and offer rich insights offline. Though the thread is held online. No, The thread is seemingly held online.
I find myself pretty uninteresting at the moment.
Stitching classes with mom is nice. Nice is a strange word. And a strange word is what i need to describe it. She is clear and simple. With sketchy camera angling skills. But in her area of expertise, she leaves me with no room for doubts or confusions. Reminded me of how she used to teach me as a child. I remember she used to say a thing only twice, if i made her repeat a third time, i would get whacks for not paying attention. And now she seems to be the epitome of patience, as i also notice my child self coming to the fore, to provoke and test, with disinterest and wandering attention and confusion. She holds the thread with such firm clarity and patience, that i notice the child self dissolving away, making way for me to inhabit the present. In the beginning, 15 minutes into the session, i noticed fatigue and disinterest and irritation setting. And by the end of the class i was clear and inspired and received the information she was clearly trying to transmit. I notice myself eagerly summarising all that i understood at the end of the session. Satisfaction and closure for her. And for me.
All that the giver has to give, needs a taker.
So that the giver can give fully and completely. And be free.
I feel when i am listening to my mother, i feel i am also simultaneously receiving from my grandmother. A line of women who understood cloth. And clothes.
A line of women, who were a few generations ago not permitted to cover their breasts, fashioning the most interesting and quirky ways of covering and revealing.
A line of women, some of who also sliced and placed a breast or two at the altar of life unlived.
A life of women who may have forgotten the joys of sun and wind and rains on naked breasts.
For me to understand R, i had to bring it closer to home. Last night the news of his aunts passing, meant that the inevitable event of his parents passing is clearer in the minds eye. I wouldnt have understood it, if i hadnt played out the scene of mom passing. And i notice that i keep telling myself that i will hold it together, like a stoic -like the stoic. Though the physical sensation is of a collapse a caving in. Like it matters. As if what matters is how i respond to it.
And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...
Ashwini BIde Deshpande takes the mach.
The transformer catches fire. In a way that i have never seen it catch fire before - with a big long sideways trialing flame. And abruptly stops. WE gather candles and he goes to alert the watchman to make the calls to the electricity board. And i wonder if its a hello from the other worlds.
And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden appearance of an actor...gentle drizzzle
And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...and the only thing that matter there is how you respond to the moment, to the change in space, how i respond to a new space.
He does the tadka, a vertical flame lover the ladle he uses for tadka.
We are such theatre.
But why is our sensation of it so mundane and unheightned. As if there is no audience.
The sense of audience , of someone watching is what has fuelled most of the adventures in life. Like on is at once living at writing ones autobiography, and featuring in a biography, all at the same time. The vantage of the witness. Is what inspired this whole era of camera and film and now virtual.
Very many ways of the mirror.
The vantage of the inner witness. Makes me relax a little, teeny weeny, into the belly. The breath is quarter an inch deeper.
What was the word that mom used for leaving a little extra provision of cloth - side something...let me check the book. Not side - seam. Seam Allowance. At least i got the first alphabet right. S. Mom and me have a long way to here, i see.
I didnt realise or register that R’s aunt used to play male roles in the play. She was an actress. I didnt know R’s very married aunt was happy to flirt with the handsome doc while R was getting stitched up from his fall. But around her, knowing that she lived down stairs, and maybe from the kind of home she lived in and her seemingly very traditional exchanges with people around her, I shrank. I felt I would be judged for not fitting in line with the expectation of a space. Walked past her awkwardly, pausing only for pleasantries. Not visiting her in her room as often as i could have and as often as i wanted to even, for the strangeness of the exchange.
Nor having the balls to suggest playing some classical music to her. Some respite from the dreaded TV.
Did i judge her illness or her age or her wealth?
Made it all about me?
Wanting to listen to music quietly together with a practical stranger at her bedside, we must share some language no? Some connection had to have happened. Some step one and two had to be crossed to find that step three. Or could i have straight have jumped to three? Long and short, that want, which kept appearing as an image, i believed was a response to her experience of intense loneliness. And my helplessness.
Which is understandable, one of the first descriptions of her from people who knew her was how social she was -how she was surrounded by friends. Yet in the past year and a half she saw no one except the nurses who were with here round the clock, her children, daughterinlaw, sister who regularly visited and maybe us once in a while and her, and occasional visits from her nieces and nephews. Watched plenty of TV. And went in and out of a hospital. And lived in looping memory. Ate mostly from a tube. The dabba that formulas came in we now use to store flowers for the pooja room everyday.
I would have really liked to go and sit and listen to her, her stories. But i didnt have the balls. What if she rejected me. I would take it very personally. I would be very hurt.
Because i kept dancing on the brink of the rejections. Dreading rejections from R, from friends, from peers, from the kalari. That i so intensely yearn to belong.
And so imagining that possible rejection, and a cruel word - i never made an effort. Even when i wanted to.
Just before she left to the hospital the last time round, I didnt go into her room. Walking past the gesture of one of her nurses to come in - justifying it mentally with “not wearing a mask”. Maybe i was arguing a lot with R and had no bandwidth for the extended family at the moment. Maybe when i argue with R i see no reason why i live here. Maybe when i am arguing with R, i feel I dont belong here. And my whole presence here is a lie. And i dint want her too catch my dishonesty of intentions, of superficiality. My fears.
I have often been plagued by the feeling of helplessness here at buzz road. Much lesser now. This round of our stay has been far more hands on, “empowered”, and with room for changes and play of dynamics. Me allowing myself to do the things i feel like doing at the cost of being “seen”.
Noticing caste encoded in the body memory. Because i have no lived memory of it. My earliest association with identity is being told by my father that i had “no caste, no gender, no religion”, i was human and a girl as equal to any boy.
Why then did i feel my space shrink here? Did i subtly read your judgments without even noticing it? R tells me that you singled out your daughter for her dark skin. Not moer than half a shade darker surely, because i didnt at all notice any color variations in your skins; you all looked like you were from the same family and that was it. Is that why i feel great kindship with the people who work here - because i unknowingly somewhere by the color of my skin maybe they judge me as one of them?
So there is a story of rejection here that i picked up from the space and wove into my story.
Kabira khada baazar mein
Mangey sabki Kahir
Nahi kahoon sey dosti
Nahi kahoon sey bair
I spent an hour faffing to escape finishing this page. Because it doesnt seem to be getting over. One think is linking to the next and then to the next, faster than i can write.
Or want to write.
I can let go.
Yes.
I can let this go.
I dont have to hold on to it like the bag that L and I tugged between each other other over compulsion to be the ideal daughterinlaw/good samaritan.
Lets me just summarize to myself that today i glimpsed the family, this group of people bound together by blood relations, a lot deeper than i ever have. I noticed wounds, as much as i noticed bonds. I noticed bonds, as much as i noticed wounds.
And i have no idea how i walked into this story, which seems to be an epic in itself with my own sense of great mythical journeying. I want nothing from them except peace and resolving and healing of wounds.
And thats what seems to be happening.
No one is counting all this work we are doing in the GDP. I always liked micro economics over macro economics.
Something.
Sleep
___
I gently close the door behind me. Notice the skin a bit shirvelled from time spent a touch too long in war. Thank you for keeping me safe in your waters. Thank you for the waves.
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