#these also convey such similar but indescribable emotions
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Hana-Bi
Kitano Takeshi’s Hana-Bi is a beautiful film. The thing that stuck with me the most throughout this film was the gorgeous soundtrack. Every single moment that the orchestra swells, the flutes chime in, everything is filled to the brim with life. I don’t think I’ve ever been so compelled by a soundtrack upon first listen like I have with this film. Upon further research it was no surprise to learn that the composer was none other than Hisaishi. The opening song evoked similarities to that of The Merri-Go-Round of Life.
Getting into the film, I was impressed with Kitano’s acting and directing. From gorgeous shots of the Japanese landscape, contrasted with close ups of a firefly on a leaf in the snow, to lingering shots on various pieces of artwork, this film is extremely artistic in many aspects. Kitano is able to convey profound emotion without speaking a single line, something that not many actors can accomplish so effectively.
The theme of the inescapability of fate and the powerlessness one feels in the face of it is strong in this film. After Nishi suffers so many indescribable losses and painful events, despite his ability to take out multiple yakuza members like John Wick and easily rob a bank, in the end he cannot bring back his daughter or save his wife from her illness. Death is also very prominent, as Horibe attempts suicide after becoming paralyzed. Nishi also, in a way, attempts suicide, always facing impossible odds and a string of questionable actions that he knows he will not be able to run away from forever. But, in the face of losing everything he loves, he would rather do what he can to have the best life possible with his wife in the time they still have left together. It is in the inescapable face of death that Nishi and his wife live to their fullest.
The combination of violent scenes of death and beautiful scenes of relaxation and life paint a poignant picture on the nature of human existence. We strive for love and happiness in the moments that Nishi shares with his wife, but those scenes are always underscored by the inevitable truth of their loss and fate that they are condemned too, which does not allow the viewer to fully experience that joy. Nishi is the same, however, only really showing lots of emotion in his acts of violence. Throughout the film, he embodies a walking corpse, a man so defeated and scarred by loss that it seems he has no true emotions of reasons for continuing. Kitano’s portrayal of Nishi plays into this fantastically, as his rigid slow movements and void facial expressions capture this state of being expertly.
Horibe’s story is somewhat opposite to that of Nishi, as after his failed suicide attempt, Horibe rediscovers his will to live in painting. His paintings embody the essence of life, nature, human being. His story starts towards death and rises up, while Nishi’s plummets towards death. In this dichotomy Kitano expresses his true feelings about life and death, not as opposites or separate entities, but inevitably intertwined, defining each other. Both characters have intense interactions with both life and death, yet their paths are vastly different.
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Sementra.com presents:
Here’s Why You Say Oh My God During Orgasm
The most interesting fact about orgasm you’ve probably heard.
WRITTEN BY: ANJA VOITA, MSc
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Photo by Jay-r Alvarez from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-lips-of-woman-4285630/
Have you ever thought about why you say certain things during climax?
Me neither. Until I stumbled across this podcast on Sacred Sexuality by philosopher Aubrey Marcus that blew my mind.
I dug deeper and discovered the fascinating meaning behind saying “Oh God” and other phrases during orgasm. Knowing it will help you understand why sex is one of the most beautiful and addictive things on earth.
The Meaning Behind God
According to a study mentioned in the podcast, most people say “Oh God” or the name of their partner during orgasm.
“God”, in this case, means nothing else than feeling an indescribable connection to the divine. As Aubrey Marcus says:
“All of you dies and you merge with something ecstatic that’s beyond your comprehension.”
The Greek word ekstasis means “being rapt out of oneself” — literally, outside of your body, experiencing something bigger than yourself. Unsurprisingly, all ecstatic states are linked to dissolving the ego. Some people have indeed reported their thoughts stopped completely during peak states and their egos disappeared.
During the climax, for a few moments, you feel “one” with God, with everything. You lose the sense of self and everything else melts away.
“God” has nothing to do with religion. Many non-religious or agnostic people even say ”Oh God” during orgasm, as author Hank Davis writes.
Instead of God, you can call it the Universe, the creator, the invisible field, the spirit, or whatever you like. The key is you’re describing an altered state of consciousness you can’t fully grasp with your mind. As science has proven many times, orgasm is indeed a natural high.
In her book “The sexually confident wife”, Shannon Ethridge depicts a similar meaning behind the “Oh God” analogy:
“…maybe there’s a reason we sometimes shout ‘Oh, God! I’m coming!’ as we experience orgasm. Perhaps sexual climax brings us closer to God than anything else on earth. Isn’t a powerful and pleasurable sexual connection, when freely enjoyed between husband and wife, a sweet foretaste of the connection we’ll one day experience in the afterlife?”
Other Words We Say During Orgasm
In French, some people call orgasm “la petite morte” — meaning “the small death”. Again, this is trying to describe that during climax one part of you (“the ego”) dies while another part opens up to experience something godlike.
Here are some other terms people say during climax:
Their partner’s name
Fuck
Yes
As Marc Gafni describes in his book “A return to Eros: The Radical Experience of Being Fully Alive” all of the above are synonyms for “God”. For instance, when saying your partner's name, you recognize your partner as the portal to experiencing “God” through sex with them.
The same goes for the word “fuck”. Osho, a spiritual guide and author from India, argues that when Nietzsche declared that God is dead, “fuck” has become the most important word in the English language.
“If God is dead, then you lose the most important word in your language. And you will need a substitute.” — Osho
While “fuck” can literally refer to sexual intercourse, it’s also used to express an indescribably strong emotion or reaction — is there any stronger bodily reaction than an orgasm? No. Thus, it’s the perfect synonym for “God”.
“Yes” is often described as the most powerful word in the world but there’s also this interesting verse in the bible that could explain its direct relation to “something bigger”:
For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ.
As explained in this article, it conveys that Jesus is the “yes” of all God’s promises, meaning that Jesus is the confirmation of God’s promises — representing God himself. Again, using these words during climax doesn’t point to a specific religion, but this Catholic origin is a great explanation of why we use the word “Yes” which surely has similar stories in all religions.
Even pop culture recognizes orgasm as a means to connect with something bigger, as Aubrey Marcus said. For instance, some of the lyrics of the song “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails state the following:
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God
Are You Still Doubting Why You Say Oh God?
When you ask people about the best sensation on earth, many say an “orgasm”. When you ask them how they’d describe it, you often hear things like “indescribable, ecstatic, or explosive”.
Orgasm: What is it, what does it feel like, and how long does it last?
An orgasm is considered the peak of sexual pleasure. It includes a series of muscle contractions in the sexual o...
There’s no doubt the human climax is bringing us closer to something bigger we can’t fully describe whilst remaining a bittersweet mystery. Next time you’re experiencing your “Natural High”, I hope you’ll notice the things you say and will think of this article.
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what kind of political compass is this
#tag yourself#I was in tears at et tu bestie#feeling the bottom two on far right hard 2nite babeyy#these also convey such similar but indescribable emotions#and the best part is I can’t remember what post I clicked that suggested me such works of art
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DCember Drawings for Week 1 :D
hi hi, tis i
here’s my DCember drawings for this week. in order to like, make sure they all look like they go together i made sure i did line only drawings with gold as the main color. this is also finally my Ella tribute lol
also, i accidentally made a connection between Ella and Digi by giving ella and digi a bouquet of flowers ahahaha. for Stargiver i made his wings out of the stars to symbolize how the stars raise him up, and (as you may have noticed, some of the stars are broken or cracked) as the stars are broken he will fall.
the Eden drawing was supposed to look completely different, because i remember a time Eden on the tumblr had mentioned that her creator’s stories were dark and abstract, and i was going to do something similar in the drawing but it would’ve looked too different so i went with what we have now :) more of a falling apart looking kind of drawing, i guess
hope you like it :D
Ali’s Notes: ZEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I AM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS RIGHT NOW HOLD ON
I have RUSHED IT SO FAST to this ask I’ve been trying to get to it for so long because THESE HAVE HAD ME IN ABSOLUTE SHOCK FOR SO LONG... You put so much time and detail into every single one of these, I can’t believe you went all out for the cast YET AGAIN for DCember, I want to scream over all of them individually, even when I can’t BEGIN to tell you how hard these hit me and how beautiful it feels every second looking at them. I never, ever want to look away. I swear I spent a straight fifteen minutes just staring and trying to think it through or mentally process any of it at all
EVERY. PIECE OF THIS. Doesn’t matter if it has lesser detail like Kloud’s, or insane detail like Ella’s or SG’s. Just... Absolutely flawless. I’m so heartbroken circling back through them all, you don’t need intense expressions or dark imagery to convey how absolutely crushing some of these things are, it genuinely hurts every part of me to see them in pain like this sometimes and you are just an absolute master. I could go on about the emotional part for hours, but let’s just say it’s indescribable.
THESE THEMES!! The flowers for Digi, rain for Cloud, wings for SG, THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE. There’s nothing I can say, I’m absolutely speechless to how gorgeous and wonderful you are with all of this. Every piece if it is so eye catching and gorgeous in it’s own way, Ella’s is a masterpiece alone and it got me (and others, I can tell you that) staring for quite a while. You are the ultimate art god, and I can’t imagine how much time you spent on this because it turned out absolutely flawless. I wish I could say more to you, or use better words or just hug you in general, but I can’t tell you how hard this hit me or how many things I want to tell you about this piece. So just... Thank you. For the Ella tribute, and the cast, and redrawing everyone so many times despite likely having 398423 other things to do. I love and appreciate you so much.
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Been busy but I finally had time to share this. There are still a few more to share but since I want to recommend the best based on my preference, it'll take time to look for them as I've read hundreds of fanfic already.
So these 2 are my utmost favorite fanfiction ever. The story is still in progress though.
Personally, the best anime for me is Naruto and Gundam Seed and I never get tired of rewatchibg them. Sadly, because my ship in Naruto is SasuHina, most of the fanfics I read are about them. I'll share it here too. But Naruto for me is already an epic story so I only read the fanfiction usually because of the ships I like.
The category of my fanfic is GS and Bleach. I stopped liking Bleach after the death of Ulqiorra because it became repetitive and I hated like the main character. But since I liked Ulquiorra-Orihime pair, I read fanfics regarding them and found some gems.
I'm now gonna start explaining and please do read the summary provided above.
Samurai Seed by aj-writer. This fanfic had blown my mind. It's very indescribable and just amazing in everything! It has an in depth and thorough development & understanding of the plot as well as the whole structure of the story. It started first as mundane as described in the summary however the plot development is surreal and will surely take you on a ride. It also has great background story and every detail in the story is well thought of- from connections of past and present, the made up history is thoroughly explored, the depth and development of major characters - just that every detail is really well thought of, organized and delivered. It could be placed in a crossover type of fanfic as well because characters from various animes are there since its a massive type of universe. However the best thing for me is the point of view and the moral of each significant character. It resonated with me well because it is similar to how the real GS is portrayed. "Different beliefs, morals, and each side can either be right or wrong but I will forge my path and see where it leads me". That kinda stuff is my genre. The complexity and simplicity of humanity. Honestly, i cant convey how good this story is but this is my most highly recommended fanfic to read.
Consonance & Dissonance, Atonal, and Crescendo & Decrescendo by EIV-JKR. Its a quartet of fanfic but the latest is only up to the 3rd part. The author/s have a definite story style. It's usually dark and angst and full of drama with twisted type of love blossoming but really devoted. The characters also have similar and distinct attitudes. The male is timid with a lot of self issues to deal with which makes them suck as a lover. The female is aggressive, positive, usually has the sound mind but have a penchant for masochism and troubled males. The antagonist, usually female, have obsessive behavior and just literally insane and mentally unstable. Although I don't know what the moral of the story is, only thing I learned is that I should immediately avoid people with similar attitude/behavior as the characters in the story, I still like the dark side and complicated side of the characters. It's not hearts and romance but a twisted darkness. The characters' emotional side is really explored as well as their emotional and mental response to relationships. What's more, since it has mature content, it gives spice and reality to some extent. If you aren't the type to explore angst and dramatic story, then this is not for you because this quartet of story will clench your heart, make you frustrated and angry with all the drama going on.
Anyways I'm not really advertising the stories well. My words aren't enough to express the magnitude of its potential and greatness. Just, if you're ever bored, come check these fanfics and tell me what you think of it.
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Along with the Mona Lisa and American Gothic, Edvard Munch’s The Scream has become one of the most ubiquitous pieces in all of art history. It has been parodied and referenced in TV shows and movies spanning from The Simpsons to Home Alone yet despite our virtually inherent familiarity with The Scream, we’ve forgotten so much about the meaning of its content and the man behind the canvas. The entire history of the painting’s eras of cultural progression and regression is incredibly extensive and nuanced, certainly an area of study I couldn’t do justice with a 500-something-word post (for a more in depth discussion of Munch and The Scream, I’d recommend reading So Much Longing in So Little Space: The Art of Edvard Munch by Karl Ove Knausgaard). Suffice it to say, I’ll do my best to give an adequate introduction to Edvard Munch through a basic analysis of his most famous painting, a story that--for our purposes--we’ll start in 1893.
To start, Munch was a prominent artist of the school of Expressionism. Stylistically and dogmatically running along a similar vein to movements such as Neo-Impressionism and the Vienna Secession, Expressionism sought out to capture human experiences and emotions in a way that didn't conform to the traditional ideal of realism. This general philosophy is well exemplified in The Scream. In the foreground, the sexless, waif-like namesake of the work stands as the focal point of the piece. Any clue as to the identity of the figure is left intentionally ambiguous as they possess only the most elementary characteristics of a human being; they aren’t any person in particular, simply a representative of anyone and everyone. The backdrop surrounding the figure is hazy and distorted, though not calming. The fiery sky violently streaked with hues of warmth sinks to meet the cool and neutral world beneath it. Munch didn’t disguise his bold brushstrokes or the chaotic energy of the piece. The distressed character in the foreground seems to be the only one cognizant of their threatening environs as life seems to continue outside of their anxiety: two passerby stroll along the bridge and boats ferry across the horizon. Though cartoonish and obviously not a literal reflection of our world, The Scream is especially relatable in that it captures the essence of the almost claustrophobic helplessness of coming into solitary adulthood in a rapidly evolving social climate.
The Scream is Munch’s best known work, but the whole of his portfolio with such collections as his Frieze of Life, strengthens his claim as one of the most inventive and talented artists in conveying emotion. Ranging from bleak devastation to joyful celebration, Munch’s basis for his art was deeply nestled in his reality, a reality passable as a modern Greek tragedy. Munch’s childhood was shrouded in paralyzing fears of death, loss, and trauma. He lost several of his siblings and his mother at a very early age and was primarily reared by his paranoid, obsessively religious father. He spent his early life bedridden with thoughts of losing himself to mental illness and disease only to be met with an end of righteous punishment. In summary, Munch’s life was tragedy, an inescapable one at that. In his established career as an artist, Munch finally found an outlet in painting, one of the few joys he had growing up. Through his work, Munch expressed indescribable sensations of longing, contentment, feeling at home, and feeling like there was no place of belonging at all.
Though a significant portion of Munch’s work like The Scream evokes objectively negative feelings, in the same sense, there’s also a feeling of morbid comfort in looking at it. To know that, someone understands and sympathizes with how you feel even if that connection is built vicariously through their work. The Scream certainly isn’t a pretty painting, but it’s undeniably powerful. It confronts us with what we should already know about ourselves in a way that's scarcely been challenged. Though it approaches us through some inherent familiarity, The Scream and other Expressionist work have catalyzed novel discussions of how we relate ourselves to our psychology. In other words, the real legacy of Edvard Munch is his art’s propensity to inspire social change. With that, Munch will likely always be initially recognized as the painter of The Scream, but it would greatly serve us to also remember him as Edvard Munch, champion of the human experience.
If you have an artist or a specific piece you’d like my take on, comment on this post. See you Saturday!
#art#art history#19th Century#19th century art#munch#edvardmunch#modernism#modern art#expressionism#european art#helloblarty#blarty#the scream#scream
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Frozen Fanfiction: Søsken
Summary: Even though Anna loved her sister-in-law, she couldn’t help but notice there was something peculiar about Elsa. Everything starts to make sense after an accident and a forced family reunion.
Modern AU. Kristanna - Frohana - Kristoff & Elsa BrOTP
Chapter 1 - North mountain
Chapter 2 - Aftermath
Chapter 3 - Family
Chapter 4 - Siblings
Chapter 5 - Confinement
Before going back to his apartment, Kristoff took Gerda home. The old woman had stayed in the hospital most of the time Elsa had being there, and it was obvious she was exhausted. Gerda didn’t really accept she was no longer young, and she had a tendency to overwork herself whenever the health of one of the family members was compromised. She insisted it was her responsibility to make sure everyone in the family was okay, something Kristoff and Elsa loved about the woman but also considered a little ridiculous. They were both adults who could take care of themselves. They understood the woman’s desire to see them well and help in everything she could, but they didn’t like seeing her exhausted. As Kristoff expected, Gerda had complained about his decision before getting off the car, but after a few minutes of insistence Kristoff and Elsa were able to convince her it was for the best.
It was late afternoon by the time the siblings reached Kristoff’s apartment building. To Elsa’s disappointment, her brother lived in the second floor which meant she was not going to have access to the yard nor the street on her own for the time she was going to stay there. But she didn’t feel it was something she should complain out loud, her brother was doing everything in his power to help her and she couldn’t be more grateful. Even if she knew she was going to need a lot of help in the following weeks, she had made the mental promise not to be a bother to Kristoff. The man had a job and a girlfriend to pay attention to, and she didn’t feel comfortable being in the middle. Her desire not to bother her family had been one of the main reasons she had opposed to the idea of staying in the city. Granted, she didn’t like the city, she didn’t like being confined to a relatively small apartment surrounded by strange neighbours, but she guessed she didn’t have another option given her situation.
When Kristoff parked the truck at his garage, she stopped him before he stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Kristoff?” she said grabbing his left arm.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure about this? Mum can be a little insistent sometimes. I don’t want you to do this just because she forced you. I don’t want to be a bother.” She asked, not daring to look at him in the eyes. She hated feeling so insecure but old habits die hard.
“Of course, I’m sure about this!” he said. His eyes softened when he noticed Elsa’s lack of confidence. “Elsa, I would do anything to help you. Besides, this was all my fault. If I had listened to you and I hadn’t messed with your motor ski, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” He grabbed her left hand tenderly and added, “Not to mention you saved Anna from a terrible accident or worse… I owe you.”
She took her hand from his grasp and patted his hand, “You are conscious I’m not going to be at my best these following weeks, right? I’m not even sure I’ll be able to have good control over my powers. Especially if I’m in pain.”
He felt her hand was a little colder than in the last few days, but he believed it was normal given everything that was going on, “It’ll be fine, Elsa. You have more control than you give yourself credit for.”
“So far, I’ve been fine because I’ve been under the constant effect of the drugs, but I don’t know how I’ll react once the effect starts to fade…”
At the mention of the drugs, Kristoff remembered all the medicine he had bought for her and thought it was a good opportunity to talk about that topic, “About that… I know you don’t like being under the effect of palliatives but I honestly believe it would be best if you continue taking them for at least the first two weeks. It’ll help you with the pain and the stress.”
Elsa clasped her hands together and looked away. She tried to convey her feelings about the drugs in a simple statement, “You know I hate them…”
“I know. But it may be for the best. Just the first few weeks, okay?”
Elsa thought for some time before nodding, “If it makes things easier for you…” She then remembered she had one last question and turned her head towards him again, “What about your neighbours?”
“What about them?”
“What if something happens?” She gave her hands a quick look and Kristoff understood what she meant.
“Nothing will happen, Elsa. And it’s not like you have to interact with my neighbours. They won’t even know you are here.” He decided it was best to change Elsa’s mood a little, “Well, they will know, of course. They’ll see me carrying a grumpy, scary girl in the staircase whenever I’ll need to take you somewhere.”
The last statement caught Elsa off guard and she raised her head in a sudden movement, “I’m not scary.”
“At least you accept you are grumpy then,” laughed Kristoff.
“You are an ass,” joined playfully Elsa.
“And you love me anyway,” said the man proud of getting Elsa to smile since the conversation started. “What I really mean is, nothing will happen… and if it does, winter is setting earlier this year, they won’t notice a thing. Don’t worry.” He watched the time and finally asked, “Can we go inside now?”
She nodded. She was feeling more relaxed now that her brother had assured her everything was going to be all right. She trusted him more than anyone, and his confidence had helped her since she was a little girl.
Kristoff got off the truck and went to his sister’s door to help her out of the truck. He picked her up and left Elsa’s wheelchair in the back of the truck while he climbed the staircase with his sister in his arms. When they entered the apartment, Kristoff had to avoid an overexcited Sven who tried to jump on top of them to greet them. Brother and sister made everything in their power to calm the animal down until Kristoff was able to help Elsa sit in the sofa-bed he had prepared before leaving the apartment at midday. The moment Elsa was properly sitting in bed, the animal jumped on top of the mattress, tried his best to sit in Elsa’s lap and started licking her face. Kristoff knew the dog had been in a state of alarm since the accident had happened and he had been eager to see Elsa again. So, he let the dog do whatever he wanted. He just laughed at the dog’s devotion and at his sister’s defeated expression accepting the dog’s kisses. Elsa was not a fan of Sven’s displays of affection but she was obviously not complaining. When Kristoff saw the animal was not going to let the girl go anytime soon, he took the opportunity to return to the truck for Elsa’s things.
Elsa was able to calm the dog down after a minute and convinced him to get off her lap before he hurt her. The animal lied beside her and rested his head as close as possible to her while she petted him. She was grateful for the dog’s company; even if at the beginning she had refused to the idea of getting a dog, she was now grateful Sven was part of the family. The dog loved them no matter what, he didn’t need a further reason than the fact that they were part of his family to show his unconditional love. She thought that in a way, Sven and Kristoff were really similar. Both of them had tried their best to earn her trust and once she had let them in, they had loved her more than she thought she deserve. They didn’t care about her flaws, they cared about her the way she was and she couldn’t be more grateful to have them in her life. Maybe staying with Kristoff was for the best, as Gerda had suggested, spending time with her brother was going to have a more calming effect than any drug out there. After Sven began drifting off by her side, Elsa noticed it was the first time in the last few days that she had the chance to be on her own. Her family had made sure she had company at all times while she had stayed in the hospital. And, being honest, she couldn’t be more grateful they had been there for her. She felt an indescribable apprehension every time she was in a hospital room on her own. She felt vulnerable and she hated it. But now that she had a few minutes on her own, she felt the heaviness of the previous days lifting off her shoulders. She felt calm and she chose to close her eyes and she laid beside Sven to rest.
Elsa opened her eyes by the time the sun had set and she was surprised to wake up to an amazing smell. She tried her best to sit on the bed without disturbing the dog that laid by her side, and looked at the brother who was in the kitchen cooking. She thought it was a little odd to wake up and be able to see the living room and kitchen at the same time but she guessed it was better to get used to that idea. Kristoff’s apartment was small but comfortable enough for two people to live in. Elsa was used to sharing a living space with Kristoff since they were children, so living in a small apartment was not going to be a problem for the them. The problem was, it had just one bedroom. Its dining-living room was big enough for him to set up the sofa-bed for her but she knew she was going to miss having a door to close if she felt her emotions were too overwhelming. She knew it was going to take time to heal and go back to the mountain, but if every day was going to be as nice and tranquil as that particular evening, Elsa knew staying there was not going to be a problem. She just needed to find something to do to keep her mind off of unwanted thoughts, and everything would be back to normal before she imagined.
Although she had felt confident the first evening being in Kristoff’s apartment, the pain and boredom proved to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. The first few days were tolerable for Elsa. She noticed it was going to be a little more difficult than she originally thought to bear being bedridden, but she was taking it in a calm way. There was no reason for her to freak out. The pain was a more intense than she had anticipated but she guessed it was normal. Her muscles and skin had received a lot of damage and where still tender; even under the uncomfortable cast she felt the muscles complain with every little movement. Whenever she was alone at the apartment, Elsa spent her time sleeping or boring herself to death. Since she had started living with the Bjorgmans, she had had adopted the habit of working and helping around the house or keeping herself busy. Therefore, it was normal for her to be bored now since there was little she could do in bed. She was thankful for Sven’s company, even if the dog had liked the idea of being in bed all day and slept most of the time.
Gerda and Kai made time to visit a couple of times before their big trip, to see how Elsa was doing and to help Kristoff with the house chores. She loved their company but to her dismay, the whole family was convinced the best thing for her health was taking the doctor’s advice seriously. He had made emphasis on the importance of the first weeks of the recovery. And even if Elsa agreed it was for the best because she wanted to keep practicing sports, she loathed staying in bed. In her visits, Gerda made sure everything was okay with her arm and she even took Elsa’s head bandage off on the fourth day. Allowing the girl to feel a little less like a patient and more like a normal person. The old woman had also explained the arm was going to take a few more days to heal than the head, but she was positive everything was going better than expected.
Things became a little more tedious for Elsa on the second week. Her parents left for their trip, which meant she was not going to have someone to spend time with whenever Kristoff went to work. She also became more tired of being bedridden since there was nothing interesting to do on her own and, to her disappointment, Kristoff started working on the afternoon shift instead of the morning shift as he had expected. All those things combined with Elsa’s awareness that winter season had began and she was missing clients, resulted in Elsa’s mood changing for the worst. Her patience wore thinner and thinner whenever she cancelled a new client who called asking to book a class or whenever her leg throbbed in pain. She desperately wanted to move around, she wanted to go out, she wanted to work, and she wanted to be on the mountain; but none of those things were possible.
Elsa’s bad mood was evident to Kristoff. The girl spent most of the time sleeping and she wasn’t talking as much as she did in the first few days. Those symptoms made him worry for her emotional stability in the long run. He knew things were going to improve once she was allowed to move a little more freely, but that didn’t mean he was not going to try and help her before that time came. Kristoff believed some company could help her keep her mind away from unpleasant memories and could help her with her mood. He also believed inviting Anna over when he was at work was going to be a good opportunity for Anna and Elsa to bond too. Anna had mentioned to him in the past that she wished she could get to know Elsa better, to understand Kristoff’s sister better. And he had to be honest and admit there was nothing he wanted more than for his sister to find a friend in Anna. Elsa needed a friend in her life to talk and open up to, and what better person for that than a possible sister-in-law. Kristoff had only been dating Anna for a year and half but he was convinced there was no-one out there better for him than her. He was sure they could have a perfect family one day; but for that to happen, he needed Anna to know everything about his life and that included his sister. Elsa was one of the most important people in his life and he had promised to always be there for her; he needed Anna to know and accept Elsa the way she was. In short, he wanted to make Anna part of every aspect of his life before taking any big step. It was for those reasons he came up with the idea of asking Anna to keep Elsa company.
It was one night, while they were having dinner, that he chose to tell Elsa about his idea, “So, I asked Anna to come visit one of these days.”
“That’s fine,” came simple reply.
“You don’t mind?”
Elsa raised her head from her food and look at him in the eye with a puzzled expression, “I know I haven’t been in the best mood lately but that doesn’t mean you can’t invite your girlfriend to your house, Kristoff.”
“Oh, no. I mean… Not only to visit me. To visit us.”
“What?”
“You know, to keep you company.”
“I don’t need company,” said Elsa as returned her attention to the food on her plate. “Don’t force Anna to spend time with me just for the sake of it. I’m perfectly fine here.” When she didn’t hear an answer, she looked at her brother once again, “Honestly.”
Kristoff noticed Elsa’s ‘honesty’ was not what it claimed to be and insisted once again, “You spend most of the time here alone. Don’t you get bored?”
“Well, yes,” she shrugged. “But there’s no reason to make another person miserable too,” she picked at her food while she explained her reasons. After a minute in silence, she chose to tell Kristoff the real reason, “And think I wouldn’t be really good company.” If she was honest with herself, she was thrilled about the idea of having a distraction, but she didn’t want Kristoff to force Anna to waste her free time with her. She knew the girl had started winter break the previous week, when they had gone to the mountain. And even if Elsa had no idea how many free days Anna had she didn’t want her to waste her holidays babysitting her.
“What are you talking about? You are a blast to be around lately,” he joked trying to lighten the mood but his idea backfired and it only got Elsa angry.
“It’s not my fault I’m in a terrible mood,” she countered. But she soon noticed she had overreacted and calmed down before suggesting something that had been on her mind for the past few days. “I was thinking of not taking the drugs anymore. I’m not myself when I’m under their effect,” she said, trying to explain her outburst.
Kristoff was surprised at first, he definitely had not anticipated Elsa’s temperament change, but he was not so sure about Elsa not taking her medicine. “I was just joking about you being bad company... And about the drugs, I know you hate them but I think you should keep taking them.”
“But-”
“No buts, at least until we visit the doctor. And don’t try to deceive me, I’ll make sure you take them.” He hated bossing people around, and he loathed being the one forcing Elsa to take drugs but he believed this time they were for the best, as his father had explained to him the previous week at the hospital. He watched her take in the information before he returned to the previous topic they had been talking about. He chose to explain better why Anna was coming and to see if Elsa agreed, “About Anna… it isn’t like I’m forcing her. I told her to come because she wanted to visit you. She likes you.”
“She does?”
The question was simple but full of self-doubt. Kristoff could only look at Elsa with a little pity. It had been years since she had joined the family and she had realised it was possible for people out there to like her, but she still had the same doubts whenever she met someone new. “Of course! Why wouldn’t she? She is coming tomorrow and I think she said something about helping me with dinner until I can change my shift back to the mornings. What do you say?”
“I guess it could be nice to have someone else around...” she finally accepted.
As Kristoff had promised, Anna visited the following day and the day after that, and she kept visiting. She had even named herself the siblings’ ‘Official cook’ by the second day and she had taken her role seriously since that moment. At first the two of them didn’t have much to talk about. They liked each other and enjoyed their conversations but it was true Kristoff was a mutual link between them and, without him in the room, it was a little awkward to find something to talk about. But, to Elsa’s relief, Anna was a really open and talkative person. She didn’t mind speaking for minutes on her own. As long as she knew Elsa was listening, she could speak about anything and everything at the same time. Elsa had been a little wary of the topics Anna would like to talk about, or the questions she would do, but after some time she noticed the girl had a big heart and was very respectful of her privacy. Therefore, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the company. From time to time, Elsa had to ask Anna’s help for the simplest tasks and the younger woman would simple smile and help her any way she could; something Elsa began to adore about Anna. Her predisposition to help, even when she didn’t have to, made Elsa realise she had more in common with the girl than she had originally imagined.
Things worked fine between the three of them for a few days, but Elsa’s tiredness and mood swings didn’t simply disappear. Day after day she began to feel more trapped and, even if she knew she was being ridiculous because she was safe in her brother’s apartment, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering into the past. It was by the end of the second week, on the day of her birthday, that she felt overwhelmed for the first time since she had started living with Kristoff.
Kristoff entered the apartment that evening with a joyful expression on his face and he was not surprised to find his sister laying in the middle of her bed – sofa-bed to be specific – with her eyes closed and Sven resting his head on her stomach. The two looked too peaceful and so he decided to go directly where his girlfriend was. She was cooking dinner for them in the small kitchen singing a silly song. He greeted her with a tender kiss on her cheek and sat by the table behind her.
After chatting about their day, Kristoff asked, “How did the animal behave?”
Not really knowing where the question was coming from, Anna answered truthfully, “Uh? Uhm… Fine? I mean, it didn’t really move from the bed to be honest.”
A mischievous smile formed on Kristoff’s face, “Great! And how did Sven behave?
“Sven? I just told- Ugh, Kristoff!” Anna had no idea what he was talking about until she realised it was another one if his jokes.
Anna was about to complain about him making her part of his games when both of them heard a tired voiced from the other side of the room, “I’m awake, you moron.”
“Hahaha. Good! It’s even better if you can hear my comments.”
Anna felt ashamed for falling into one of Kristoff’s jokes. She knew he loved messing around, she should have known better, “You should grow up one day, seriously.”
“Nonsense, that’s for plants. Besides, Elsa loves my jokes.”
“You have no idea… Now shut up. I’m trying to sleep.” Came Elsa’s reply as she put her right arm over her eyes.
“Oh, the two of you are no-fun,” said the man before getting up and walking towards his sister with a broad smile on his face. He wanted to make sure she stayed awake. It was an important day after all. When he was close enough, he sat beside Elsa and raised her arm from her face to make sure she paid attention to him, “what do you mean you are trying to sleep? You just woke up! Come on, get up!”
“I can’t.” The reply was short and it leave no place for argument, or that was Elsa’s original intention. She had forgotten about her brother’s persistence.
“Oh, yes. You can.” He got up from the mattress, grabbed Elsa’s good arm with his and tried pulling her up. “Come on. I bought you a present.”
Anna, who had turned her attention to the sibling’s conversation, was surprised to hear the last comment. “Present?” she asked.
“But I guess if you stay in bed you won’t be able to enjoy it.” He continued not paying attention to Anna’s question. He smirked when he saw Elsa’s curious expression and finally said, “It’s a chocolate cake.”
“Chocolate cake?!” said Anna a little louder. The sole idea of a chocolate cake in the house made her wish she had started cooking dinner sooner that day.
Noticing Anna was a little more invested in the present than Elsa, he turned around and answered, “Yup!”
“Wait… Cake as a present? Am I missing something here?” asked the younger woman noticing there was a connection there.
“It’s Elsa’s birthday!”
“What?” Anna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had spent the whole afternoon with Elsa. Both of them had talked and enjoyed their time together, even if Elsa looked a little more lost in her thoughts than usual; but the older girl had never mentioned anything about her birthday. She felt terrible for not knowing the date, but she guessed it was Kristoff’s fault too for not telling her earlier. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I told you!”
“Like a year ago Kristoff, you didn’t remind me it was today!” she was angry with Kristoff for thinking she was going to remember the specific date if she had heard it just once in her life. She dried her hands on the apron she was wearing and walked towards Elsa’s improvised bed and apologised, “I’m sorry, Elsa. I didn’t know.”
Having Kristoff pulling form her arm and Anna apologising next to him obliged Elsa to open her eyes and finally agree to stay awake. There was no point in fighting when it was obvious the couple was not going to leave her alone. She chose to let Anna know she didn’t mind before sitting in the bed, “It’s not a problem. It isn’t really important.”
“Yes, it is!” came Kristoff’s reply.
Looking at her brother with a tired expression she said, “No, it’s not. It’s just another day in the life. Nothing big about it.”
Kristoff had been in a good mood that day, but Elsa’s denials were getting on his nerves. He loved his sister to death but sometimes he just wanted to shake her out of her pessimism, “You are so cynic sometimes. You could be a little more joyful.” He crossed his arms on his chest as he waited for an answer.
“I’m utterly drugged and sleepy, Kristoff. I don’t really see the difference between today and any other day.” She raised her voice a little. She had been in a foul mood all day, and his brother was not helping her at all.
The man’s patience was wearing thin but he tried to keep things away from useless arguments, “The difference is today we eat cake. Now come on, I’ll help you get into the wheelchair.”
“Nothing says ‘Happy birthday’ like sitting in a wheelchair,” muttered the girl with sarcasm.
That last statement got on Kristoff’s nerves. He knew Anna was still blaming herself for the accident and Elsa’s comments were just going to increase that guilt, even if his sister didn’t know that. “Okay, cut it out. We are trying to celebrate your birthday. Can you at least cooperate a little?”
“Sorry, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just not in the mood right now.” She used her good hand to help herself sit in a better position. “I’m tired and in pain. Thank you for the cake and the birthday dinner idea but I don’t feel like celebrating this year.”
Kristoff, acting as if he hadn’t listen, got Elsa’s wheelchair closer to bed, picked her up and placed her in it by force.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You’ll have dinner with us. Anna cooked a nice dinner just for you.”
“She didn’t even know it was my birthday. Don’t guilt trip me!” she countered with anger.
Once Elsa was properly seated, he pushed her to the table not really paying attention to her comments. He knew Elsa was going to be pissed with him for a while but he was not going to act as if her birthday didn’t matter.
After the three of them were seated at the table and the food was served, Kristoff decided it was time to cut with the silence that had took over the room. His sister had remained silent with a lost look in her eyes while she looked out the window. Anna, on the other hand, had opted to wait for the siblings to speak before she did. She had the feeling she could mess things up if she said the wrong thing.
“Did mum call you?” asked Kristoff, not coming up with a better topic for conversation.
Elsa, who had been picking at her food pretending to eat whenever she was not looking out the window, answered truthfully, “No. I told her not to call. I want her and dad to enjoy their holidays.”
At the mention of the holidays, Anna saw a perfect window for a pleasant conversation to start and she took it, “Where did they go again?”
“Italy. They’ve always wanted to visit Rome and Venice” said Kristoff, glad his girlfriend was trying to help.
“That’s so cool! I hope they are having a good time.”
He smiled and said, “I bet they are.”
The three of them stayed silent for another while, the conversation about the Bjorgmans holidays had not worked as Anna expected and she was getting tired of the sour mood of the room, so she chose to ask Elsa what she thought was an honest, simple question. “So, Elsa, this is your birthday number…?”
Elsa rested her chin on her good arm on the table and looked outside once again as she answered, “Twenty-four or something like that.”
“Or something like-? Oh! so you are older than Kristoff!” Anna was curious at Elsa’s strange way to answer the question, but got distracted when she noticed she was actually older than her boyfriend. She had always pictured Kristoff as the older brother, probably for the way he tried to protect Elsa at all times.
“For a few months, apparently” she said.
Anna thought the conversation was picking up and she felt assured she could keep it going and help get rid of the awkward situation. “Where were you born?”
Elsa sighed; she knew the girl was just trying to make conversation but she was not willing to pretend she was okay with being forced to participate. She thought it was better to just answer vaguely, it was not Anna’s fault she was feeling down after all. “Here, I guess. Who knows…”
“What?”
Kristoff noticed the conversation was sooner than later going to turn into a bad direction and he tried to avoid Anna asking more questions than necessary, “Anna remember the thing we talked about in the cottage, the night before the accident?” He wished reminding Anna Elsa was adopted was going to be enough for her to stop asking questions. But he didn’t imagine his comment was going to irritate Elsa even further.
“I’m not a child, Kristoff. You don’t need to talk that way,” said Elsa irritated. She turned to Anna; she was mad but not necessarily at the girl so he felt a little bad for sounding so harsh, but she wanted the questions to stop and for her mind to give her some rest. “Look, I was an orphan. Many things about my past are unclear and I don’t like talking about them unless I’m in the mood to do so.”
“Hey, come on! She was just trying to start a conversation!” Kristoff interrupted not liking the tone his sister was using.
“And I told you I was not in the mood for a birthday dinner.”
“You are not in the mood for anything lately!”
“And whose fault is that?! I told you a few days ago I didn’t want to keep taking drugs but you didn’t listen and kept pushing them down my throat! You keep saying you trust everything will be fine but you don’t seem to trust me if I’m not drugged!” She stopped herself when she felt her emotions quiver under her skin and realised it was best if she left the room before she regretted it. With a sudden change from anger to sadness she muttered a simple, “Thank you for dinner,” to Anna and rolled her wheelchair to the balcony’s door. She needed to be alone for a few minutes and she knew the cold air of the night was going to help her calm her nerves.
The freezing air from outside got into the room and Anna shivered. She felt terrible for being the reason Elsa finally lost patience and decided to leave the room. She had noticed since early afternoon that Elsa was not behaving as she typically did. From the argument, Anna noted the older girl blamed the drugs, but she couldn’t help feeling there was more behind her sadness and anger that day. Anna noticed too that, since Elsa didn’t have a proper bedroom, she was forced to go outside whenever she needed time on her own; and that just fuelled Anna’s guilt. The girl was going to freeze out there with just a light jacket. She thought it was best if she just went home. “I should go home. It’s better if the two of you are on your own right now” she said.
Kristoff, who had stayed silent with his eyes focused on the balcony’s door with a dejected look, cleared his throat and answer in a low voice, “Please don’t take this to heart, she can be a little…”
“No, Kristoff. We were out of place; I should learn when to ask questions. And you, when to stop bothering her,” Anna interrupted. She knew the two of them had ignored Elsa’s wishes that day and she wanted to make sure he understood how it was their fault and not Elsa’s. “I just want to respect her wishes right now. The fact she is on the balcony on this weather clearly means she wants to be alone. Don’t you think?”
He looked at the balcony once again and agreed with what Anna was trying to tell him. He knew Elsa was outside in that weather for more than one reason, but there was no point in letting Anna know about that, not yet at least. He stood up and said, “I’ll drive you.”
Both of them grabbed their coats and left the apartment in silence. They knew Elsa was going to notice they were gone by the stillness of the place, there was no reason in letting her know. Maybe it was best to give the girl some time to herself.
A/N - I know Elsa was a little out of character towards the end, but it was completely intentional. I wanted to show her reaction to being forced to take drugs and being confined to bed.
As Anna starts to befriend Elsa, will find out more about Elsa’s past.
Please share or comment if you enjoyed it! Constructive criticism is welcomed!
Tagging those who liked/commented the last chapter: @lastdaughterofthehouseofel @elsisselene @thegeekogecko @ellacarter13
#frozen#frozen au#frozen fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#anna#elsa#kristoff#kristanna#ice bros#modern au#sosken#chapter 5#frozen 2
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aaaa i read why you love Katsuki and Izuku's dynamic! Can you also tell as why you love Killua and Gon's? *w*
[ WARNING: Discussion of the Hunter X Hunter anime/manga/characters below. If you haven’t read the manga or watched the anime and don’t want any spoilers of any kind, do not read. ]
*Holds breath.*
HOLY. Oh damn. This. THIS is where it gets real, my friends.
Anon. You have no idea how pumped I am to answer this. I’ve got it all ready to go, and please, if it’s a bit scrambled at times… that’s just how my brain is. All composed of bunny trails and dumb theories that may or may not be connected.
Alright. Here it goes.
Why do I love KilluGon?
Or… why do I love the dynamic between Killua and Gon in general?
As I’ve stated in my response to another Anon about why I love the dynamic between Katsuki and Izuku from Boku No Hero Academia, my love for a ship is constructed based on a few important details.
It depends on whether or not I respect and intensely admire both characters involved in the ship, and whether or not I find their dynamic interesting, with or without evidence to support a romantic inclination.
Now, in order for me to dive into the reasons why I just… honestly, adore Killua and Gon as individual characters as well as the ship, I have to pinpoint my connection for respecting them to the manga/anime as a whole.
Hunter X Hunter is my favorite anime of all time.
Now, there is a reason I’m pointing this out, as seemingly unneeded it may appear. For, the main core reasons why I adore Killua and Gon as characters and their ship so much is connected to the overall appeal of the anime/manga in general.
It’s common sense to those who have watched Hunter X Hunter (and if you haven’t… what are you even doing with your life?) that numerous traditional shōnen manga tropes are either inverted, discarded entirely, purposefully subverted, or deconstructed within a story that contains arcs with no conclusion, but rather a continuous, streamlined story.
As far as my personal experience, I started watching Hunter X Hunter with little to no expectations. I was completely blown away with what I received, and almost all of that is owed to the reasons I listed above out of pure respect, awe, and wonder at how the mangaka has been able to craft a story that’s so complex and rewarding with characters that face continuous hardships, growth, and struggles that we can relate to.
I consider both Gon Freecss and Killua Zoldyck to be two of the greatest anime characters ever created, especially when considering the shōnen demographic.
Those who have watched the anime and read the manga know that both characters subvert traditional tropes presented in their storylines as well as their personalities.
The author has taken numerous risks with showing his star characters in incredibly twisted circumstances that presents them in extremely nontraditional (and even, at times, antagonistic) ways. I love the risk factor taken with this series.
Now, without including any spoilers in this post, I can safely say that Gon Freecss, in particular, is one of the greatest deconstructions of any character-specific category I have ever seen.
And Killua, while incredibly complex and going through tremendous character development alongside Gon, introduces traits that are highlighted in the other that the reader/watcher would never expect upon entering the show/manga for the first time.
Alright. So. I want to make one thing abundantly clear with this ship.
Many people consider Killua Zoldyck to be canonically in love with Gon Freecss.
I respect that opinion, and I’ve entertained the idea myself, particularly with the dialogue choices, artistic liberties taken in the 2011 anime, and the reputation the author has in general of subverting shōnen tropes in his other works.
However… I do not believe that we have enough evidence to actually pinpoint Killua being romantically interested in Gon, simply because of the genre in particular. At least, for this very moment in the manga and where the anime ended.
I do think that the potential is there, but it depends on where the story will be heading in that regard.
Could I be wrong? Absolutely.
Could I be right? Yeah. I could.
But, that’s a discussion for another time.
Does this make their dynamic any less human, complex, or phenomenal?
Absolutely not. Not in any way, shape, or form.
It’s because of the fact that we’re not sure about the possible romantic undertones between Killua and Gon that we have the freedom to deconstruct, theorize, and discuss these characters in general.
And, this is only made possible through fantastic writing, characterization, and the undeniable one-of-a-kind friendship and connection formed between two incredibly flawed, damaged, and different characters.
Gon and Killua go through the unimaginable and demonstrate the true essence of friendship with elements that are so human and complicated that it’s just… so impressive, that it’s able to be conveyed at all in an anime.
There are specific aspects that make their parallels all the more interesting. As I’ve noticed myself, and my two OTPs, I tend to ship characters that have very fascinating parallels and have “foil”-like connections to one another.
Gon and Killua are not foils, as far as I can tell, but they do challenge and push each other to reach the ultimate goal, and it’s due to their mutual companionship that they are able to face the struggles they come across.
Similar to my other post regarding the dynamic between Katsuki and Izuku, I would like to present more complicated bulleted lists showcasing the inner complexities that balance Gon and Killua as well.
So, hopefully this helps.
Let’s Focus on Gon Freecss First.
Gon, for all intensive purposes, is very simpleminded and driven mostly by a slightly skewed form of logic that is only understandable to him, both morally and culturally.
He is ambitious and ultimately one-track-minded, very driven towards a goal that could either cost him or others’ lives.
Because of these factors, Gon is ultimately a bit of a selfish character, despite his normally good intentions. He is very much driven by his emotions.
Again, Gon’s logic is a bit skewed, though in a way that is far more complex than some give him credit for. It’s shown often in the 2011 anime, with his judgment and, at times, butting heads with Killua’s far more perceptive views on certain situations.
Gon’s logic is based on what he sees as a genuine fact brought to attention by what he sees as the path towards success and growth.
Both he and Killua are extremely hard workers and have been ground to the bone to achieve the strength they have.
Gon acts primarily on adrenaline and instinct, in definite contrast to Killua’s personality elements.
Because of these factors, Gon seeks the balance to his temperament and recklessness through Killua’s (rather ironic) stability and caution. Of course, the over-reliance between the two leads to catastrophic consequences, which all ties back to the elements of them both that are, ultimately, human.
Now, Let’s Focus on Killua Zoldyck.
Killua, as stated above, has been referenced in the 2011 anime to be the offset to Gon’s temperament. In other words, he’s very much the person who calms the other down and redirects his outbursts towards something else.
At times, Killua demonstrates the need to assert control in their dynamic, which Gon does not have a problem with despite the intense way that they can, while unintentionally, take advantage of one another’s weaknesses while simultaneously boosting one another’s strengths.
Killua is cautious, analytical, observant, and both outwardly cocky and insecure. He is also, above all things, loyal.
Despite the intense nature of his character, the only person who rather effortlessly breaks down Killua’s walls and introduces him to a new understanding of the world is, in fact, Gon.
Killua’s loyalty is, arguably, the main factor of his character that roots himself to Gon. No matter the situation, he will pull through for Gon. Gon is, essentially, his world.
Killua comes from a rather twisted family background with traces of moral ambiguity and questionable relations to his parents and siblings.
Gon is an only child and is seeking his father, while Killua seeks his family companionship in Gon and values the other’s perspective to a point that is both freeing for him as a person and damaging.
Another thing needed to be made clear with discussing the gray, less-than-pleasing aspect of their friendship…
None of these discussed personality traits and reasons excuse any elements of their relationship that are damaging, because there’s plenty of pain in what happens between them. But, that’s part of what makes it all fascinating.
And, I think that’s what it all comes down to. Despite the craziness in their world, in the two of them as characters individually and the indescribable, believable connection they have, one thing is made abundantly clear.
Killua and Gon’s relationship is the most complex, fleshed out, beautifully presented, tragic and fulfilling dynamic between characters I’ve seen in an anime. Ever.
This is, of course, my opinion. But there is something that needs to be said with Killua and Gon and their inseparable connection.
It’s because of Gon that Killua knows he must take a step forward and grow on his own while being apart. It’s because of Killua that Gon has reached the milestones he has, that he’s even alive.
The both of them balance each other out, survive together, challenge each other, suffer through the worst of the worst, and still remain steadfast in a companionship that is so brutally human and complex that I will forever laud the two of them (and their fantastic ship) for existing in the first place.
I love them as best friends. I love them as characters. I love them as romantic interests because I’ve never been so convinced that it could happen not only in theoretical discussion, but also in the canon universe.
And that is something that I don’t think will ever be repeated.
Gon and Killua are the epitome of complex, relatable friendship that treads the lines of the ugly and the beautiful in the best possible ways. These factors make their dynamic breathtaking, awe-inspiring, tragic, wonderful and human in both platonic and romantic ways.
*Releases breath.*
Believe it or not, I could say more, but… those are the overarching reasons. Anyone who hasn’t seen Hunter X Hunter needs to just watch it right now and experience it for themselves. No amount of words can express the justice of these two. Ever.
THANK YOU ANON.
#KilluGon#Killua#Gon#Killua Zoldyck#Gon Freecss#Character Dynamics#Character Analysis#Hunter X Hunter#HxH#Anime#Manga#Ask DriftingGlass#DriftingGlass#Ships#GonKillu#Anonymous
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New BROCKHAMPTON album
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cucHc2vef4
So! New BROCKHAMPTON album. This is the boy band’s third album in the Saturation Trilogy. 3 amazing, coherent albums in one year. The group is making a name for themselves in the rap game for sure.
The album was preceded by a release of a single entitled, “BOOGIE”. It was also released with a music video to match the pure spazziness of the song. The track features samples of what sound like police sirens and a ripping saxophone riff repeated. All around this is an amazing intro track that gets the listener hyped up and ready to match the intensity of this album. One of my favorite lines from the songs being from Kevin Abstract, “Best Boy Band since One Direction, Makin’ n****s itch like a skin infection” Because that’s actually me. I’ve been waiting so long for this album and I’m just ecstatic that it’s here.
The next song, “ZIPPER”, includes a staccato string sample met with a Slim Shady-esque intro from the groups Joba who tells us that he probably has a dual personality. His unhinged appearance and edge in his voice reinforce that. His verse goes on to tell us about despite all his fame, it doesn’t affect who he is. The rest of the song goes into a similar theme stating that they are above all of their wealth, calling themselves Aladdin as he started from poverty and became a prince.
In “JOHNNY”, one of my favorite tracks, all the verses are beautifully accompanied by guitar chords and a muted trumpet riff. Joba’s verse steals the show for me in this song. Not to discredit the other verses, but this one stood out. Further playing his crazy personality, Joba is mellow on this track. He reflects on how immature he is. He’s quit drinking and drugs but still cannot find the happiness he wants. He goes on to talk about how life is truly unfair and this line is interesting. “I spin a little wheel when I’m feeling moody” This is either a reference to a bullet in a chamber or a fidget spinner. I’m hoping its the latter.
The next track is almost an interlude but has enough substance to stand alone. “LIQUID” illustrates the sadness that surrounded the group before they took off. The beat is certainly minimalist and contains synth jabs throughout. Kevin struggles at home. Dom talks about a troubled neighborhood and growing up in poverty, eating ramen noodles. The outro is Kevin singing about growing up with only imaginary friends and no actual friends. Not something you truly want to jam out to so-to-speak. But the track really evokes emotion with some hard-hitting lyrics in the brief time it's playing.
The Interlude “Cinema 1″ is a track continuing the ongoing story between all the albums and the music videos.
On, “STUPID”, a piano pedal note is heard before Meryln’s hard entrance. The whole gang takes on a more staccato, accented, and jagged flow which is backed up by the quarter notes. My favorite verse is CT’s own Dom McLennon. He raps about a seemingly aggressive weapon to aim at the human race but his intentions are to ease tensions and relieve stress while also calling out people who claim to be tolerant but truly are not. Kevin is a runner-up with his verse in my book, as he again speaks his mind about being gay in a community that isn’t all that accepting of homosexuality. He’s fed up with the rap game’s lack of empathy towards gays and is very vocal about it. Although at this point, he’s getting to the point of Logic saying that he’s half black. One gripe I have with this song is the chorus. I just find is droning and having no real relevance to the message of the verses.
My favorite song on the album is “BLEACH” By far the most chill cut on the entire record. The hook is addictive thanks to Ryan Beatty, who Kevin mentions he's gay in a tweet. This is another emotional song, getting into the heads of the members of the group. Certainly clashing with the upbeat single released before. My favorite verse has to go to Ameer Vann here. His monotone delivery hides truly heart-wrenching lyrics as Ameer is ashamed of what he is. He tries to drown his sorrow in materialistic things but hides in his sheets and hope he one day doesn’t have to face judgment from God. If there’s one thing I love in a rap song is a beat change. And I’m so glad BROCKHAMPTON experiments with this in this song. The outro provides us with a verse from Joba and Kevin Abstract to bring us even more emotion.
The next song leads us to the latter half the album, “ALASKA”, which features a minimalist beat with a jabby bassline and weird vocal samples. Then the beat adjusts into staccato strings progression similar to “ZIPPER”. The boyband takes turns in stating how much hard work they’ve put in and how their new fame has affected their lives. Favorite verse goes to Kevin Abstract. He has worked restlessly, pumping out 3 solid projects in one year. He has led them to something extraordinary. His verse talks about just that. He never quits and references Mark Zuckerburg in either one of two ways. One as himself. A creative mind who worked to be successful. Or, Zuckerburg being rappers who are out to copy people like Kevin and claim it as their own.
Initially, I hated, “HOTTIE”. The frankly annoying chorus stuck out completely. But the more I listened to it, the more the production as a whole grew on me. The weird, windy, whistling sample in the back is mixed in perfectly. You hear it enough that it grabs your attention but it doesn’t overwhelm the listener with how annoying it could be. Joba shines on this track. I was very surprised to learn that the vocals were him in some of the verses. He has an incredible range and is my opinion, one of the more talented in the group. He sounds like an easier to listen to Alt-J.
“CINEMA 2″
“SISTER / NATION”. Now, this is a track. Definitely second behind “BLEACH” The immediate change in feeling is instant as the only sounds in your ears are this electronic synth-bass and Merlyn Wood repeating some words over and over again. The hard-hitting 808 and angular lyrics make me think how much Death Grips influenced this song. Again, Joba gives us an inside about his psychotic tendencies where he talks about his mental problems and going off his meds. He mentions “I juggle all my personalities” and how he hears voices. This is clearly a sign of DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). Matt Champion’s verse really resonates with me as his he matches his flow with how hard the beat is. His triplet flow only escalates the tension the beat, as if he’s feeding off it. What definitely solidifies this as one of my favorite tracks, is his call out of the people who claim to be making music for the “Culture” while making the most money out of it. I happen to agree with this sentiment. Beat switch into Dom McLennon’s verse. I dislike this verse actually because of the almost mumble-rap autotune effects on his voice. I would have much preferred to see no effects for that part and see how much he can do with his own voice. The second part of the track enters as only the black members rap. This half of the track’s theme is clearly racially driven and the negative experiences all the members have faced. Favorite verse goes to Dom McLennon who, this time, conveys his emotion of the situation through the speed of his flow. The spacey beat and echoey effect create the perfect platform for this rapid-fire section. Dom sets up a society in which there’s no skin, no heart, no face. He wonders how the world would be if existence was just that.
“RENTAL” is the next on the track list and in my opinion is lacking any lyrical genius. I like the song to listen to. But there is a lot of musical talent. This is definitely proof that BROCKHAMPTON are musicians, not just rappers. They can create a solid song without making hard-hitting lyrics. However, Don McLennon’s verse is the only solid one on the entire song. I relate a little too much to his lyrics. Solid song.
“STAINS” comes next on the list. A very modern beat with synth driving the whole song. Minimal drums and an all-around catchy background sound for the musical and rapping going on over it. At this point, I don’t know if it’s preference or just talent but Dom McLennon steals my favorite verse yet again. His relatable thoughts and emotions that were once indescribable are so easily written down in this verse it’s hard not to relate to anything the dude is saying.
“CINEMA 3″
Finally, the album ends on a much different note. “TEAM” is completely different from all other songs. It gives way to bearface laying smooth vocals over Mac DeMarco level of distortion on the guitar. He sings about someone named Evanie. I don’t know who that is and I don’t really care because I much prefer the second half of the song. However, I do appreciate the heavy guitar strumming towards the end of the first part. It’s just a good vibe. As we enter the second half, Kevin Abstract starts backs into the rapping. Backed by some hard funky lines in the background. It’s definitely a good moment for the end of the album. Sadly, only a portion of Dom McLennon’s verse made it onto the track but he released the rest of it on his twitter. Just an amazing fact that the last track on the album leads right into the first track on the first Saturation which is a nice little easter egg which ends it perfectly.
All in all, this was a solid album that BROCKHAMPTON created all in one year. 3 albums in one year. Each one could stand on its own. This is truly a feat and should not be taken lightly. My rating of the album is 8/10.
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Carson of Venus: Pirates of Venus #2
Carson of Venus: Pirates of Venus #2
American Mythology Productions 2018
Originally Published in DC Comics
Korak, Son of Tarzan #50-53, Jan-Aug 1973
Written by Len Wein & Michael Kaluta
Illustrated by Michael Kaluta
This is the thrilling conclusion to the masterpiece adaptation of Pirates of Venus by comic book legends Michael Kaluta and Len Wein! Edgar Rice Burroughs' incredible imagination takes off as "Wrong Way Carson" makes his historic trip to Venus and encounters a world of fantastic creatures and civilizations.
By the all-knowing Thoth opening this up and seeing the first page I am taken back in time and just seeing the work that Kaluta does the feeling it gave me is pretty much indescribable. I will say I miss this level of illustration in comic books and it makes me realise how I don’t say lazy but perhaps unaware or uneducated artists are these days and that makes me sad. While no one way say it or like to acknowledge it there really is this eroticism to the work that we see here and the only person who I know was able to capture it even remotely as innocently as this is Grell. I do male eroticism of the male persona here not of the female so take that for what you will.
You forget how well books were written back then as well. There was no need to throw in this huge amount of angst because if the story was done right the circumstances could be both dark and light in nature without leaning heavily on creating the situation you want in order to convey feelings and emotions. Just the way that this is structured so that how the reader sees and learns how information, revelations, twists and turns in the story are revealed is utterly phenomenal. Len was such a master storyteller and to have this reminder before the boys and girls relaunch Carson’s adventures could be a double edged sword as the crew has a lot to live up when the new stories emerge.
The characterisation is wonderful and to see how Carson cultivates his friendships and how the natives think and act show off the differences and similarities to our own culture. Though with only knowledge of our own to go on it’s really hard to imagine how to show this any other way. There is also another thing that sets this apart from what we see today and that’s the fact that this is fantasy and as such it doesn’t have to make sense so life on Venus much like life on Mars is and doesn’t have to be explained scientifically.
I have talked about the interiors already but to continue the discussion I love the utilisation of page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels. How we see technology that they have and use which is pretty amazing and the imagination and creativity on display here is stunning. From the indigenous life to the spectacular views of the city, the jungle or on the sea what we see has meaning. Hell even backgrounds are utilised so well, I keep telling people that blank backgrounds are a no-no and when they are close to naturally being blank Kaluta throws in birds or clouds so we generally don’t see a blank background.
The adventure, the romance the bonds of friendship and escaping the plot of those who would do evil are brought to us in these wondrous ways. It is so easy to get lost in this world, on Carson’s adventures and amidst all this glorious and stupendous imagination that Burroughs had and that Len and Michael used to further his vision. If you ever want to see what the past looked like or when folks refer to Silver Age as being the most influential, at least to many alive right now.
Mike and crew are obviously fans and we’ve seen that time and again from them. Now more than ever I look forward to seeing what they are going to be bringing to us next.
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Love never changes. Nor does it eat, nor age, nor laugh, nor blink, It’s war. I’ve lived a life with many men who only ever use anger and joy to justify feeding and breeding constant war. Hate adapts and evolves. The difference between the two can seem blurry, but when the line between love and hate is stark, you’ll know. But you can’t always. That fantastical shit can’t exist. No, there’s a bunch of times where one must scream incoherently and without language to convey indescribable human emotions. Sometimes, that’s the only way to rid oneself of such feelings.
This right here is my personal masterpost and autobiography.
Even in the grim excesses and radically-different expressions of the human form, it is always just that- human. But though every human is human, not all humans are humane. What good is a human who only wants for themselves? What good is any thief or hoarder? That’s an unnatural human; a walking corpse designed by generations upon generations of class division and specific manufactured complacency in postmodernity.
In my story I encountered several fiends involved with thievery and acrimony. Why would anyone try to say there is a good thief? Where is the justification for mass destruction for brief momentary pleasure and profit? What justifications can someone possibly have for exploitation, mechanisation, and, again, general thievery imposed against the majority of humankind? Where’s the love in that? The rich will take and hoard all they can and make sure the needy and impoverished will die off, and that gives them their sickening feeling of love, which complacency then turns into the norm. Workers below are commanded “die off and shut up”. And I’m aware this is a tumblr post, so I trust you know that a plurality of folk receive such a message. I have, and perhaps you have too.
As I type this, I’m beginning to question how I should even say what I need to. Power is a strange thing. Having the ability to affect others’ actions is the definition I was given for it (as well as a confusion with it and Newtonian physics in my youth). The origins of where those in power come from often involves going through hundreds of years of violence. For example, stuff X is his. Why is it his? His great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather stole X from everyone else who had a say on it and had fewer qualms about using whatever means to get X. Now everyone agrees X is rightfully his when it almost always is obviously not. There’s a lot of powerful power analogies I could use, but I’ll keep this post spiritual.
Many will criticise, say, the Christian religion, due to the abhorrent, bastardly and genocidal ways with which they’ve gained and kept their power, particularly in Europe and the Americas. However, the history of early Christianity shows an absurd cabaret of many characters, some of whom I’d coöperate with, in another life. My favourite is Valentine. Why? Because he is a joke relic of history; a legend so cool that nobody ever decided to soberly (or accurately) figure out his or their life or lives. There were many Christians at the time with his name, and the stories people have of him/them are all over the place. Reading about ‘him’ is like looking into the files of a bunch of stoners who can never properly sort their shit, saying “yeah man this Valentine guy cured this old hag…or maybe... no she was like 18... anyway… and he, like, made them hear because they were deaf!” And then another guy says that the girl was blind and could then see, and that that particular guy wasn’t actually Valentine but possibly someone else (or maybe even 20 people; apparently it was a very popular name at the time).
An early memetic guy was he, who was such a courageous badass (or dumbass) that the stories don’t really have to make sense or be consistent- his character of a martyr helping Christians get Christian weddings during the time of illegal Christianity just sounds like the type of radical non-conformist that modern Christianity needs. He did what he felt was right and told Roman authority to fuck off. When Rome became Christian, the Christian became Roman. Rome was, of course, decadent. Thus became the Christian. The Roman elite had stolen Christianity from the poor and subverted it to justify later European atrocities for profit.
But the original idea is still there- where the weak can feel as safe and strong as the already powerful. Modern Christianity is such a watered-down, bigoted bore. What happened to those willing to behead or get beheaded for to fight against oppressive systems of power? Or of the teachings to men to gouge out their eyes so as to not sin against women? As someone who loves salty food, I must admit that modern Christians are not the Salt of the Earth, but rather the Grease of the Earth. Peanut Butter and such.
You could easily describe me as angry. Anger is a bit of a drug that can appear to try to assist in any and every given situation. Despite the many times I may have let my anger go too far, I don’t get bogged down in my regrets because of the outlandish and downright advantageous times where said anger has helped me deal with nasty people who hate general humanity and only crave destruction if and when it means they can profit. Many of these people use the Christian god to justify their own expansion. Nowadays the Christians and romantic, godless Pagans are both plebeians with the actual patricians now wealthier than ever; we fight and snatch what little we have from the claws of a pesky, greedy, and stubborn crab while said crab says it is handing out all it has. As if.
Valentine did likewise in the Roman Empire. He wanted to let others feel validated as they loved one another, to the death, and if he’d seen the church’s vast history of refusing to let others be themselves and love who they love, that he’d have been agitated at that. It makes you wonder if heaven is now filled with anti-Christian converts who collectively decided “fuck, we all fell for a scam!”
As you can tell, this is gonna be a long one. My story is profane but it’s the life I’ve lived. If you can’t already tell, I’m a bit unsure as to where to start. I don’t want people identifying me but I’ve never stood out. I’m neither tall nor short- 5′7″. I have green eyes, and I have i have dirty blond hair that’s thick yet soft. I indulged in henna in my youth; by age 6 I was a regular to having sleeves. I’ve personally never been one to dress fancy-like. For most of my childhood and adolescence I exclusively wore black, white, green, yellow, and red. One for each day of the work-week. These weren’t always worn in that order, but it was a tradition for me to wear them because I didn’t bother to look any different. Lazy, sure. But it’s not like you’re gonna come in from the screen and get me and tell me ‘I should’ve been more outgoing in my youth’. I was raised to not care about superficial stuff like that by my mom, Eunice
She died in 2007 from stomach cancer. My dad was already a mildly incessant depressant from a poor, sad family, so he never really got over her loss.
The Housing Market Crisis© the following year left my uncle, a financial business executive, completely broken and destitute. He lost a considerable fortune and could no longer to afford his home, rendering him unemployed and homeless. This meant he had to move in with my widowed father and my motherless self. I remember seeing a distinct change in his behaviour from him as he no longer treated corporate and government higher-ups with the same respect he once had; now heavily invested in organised economic ideas he’d dismissed in his youth. I was concerned but my dad was still far too sad to care. In the end it ended up being benign and incredibly beneficial.
I remember specifically having to point out to people which of them was which in my youth, due to their similar, slender, pale appearances with dense strawberry-blond hair and the same bright shade of blue eyes. My father, Yves, got many (ink) tattoos for my mom, but also for myself, his family, his love of art, mythology and more. He showed them to anyone who’d ask. My uncle, Wymer, wore heavier clothing to try to stand out but people would still mistake him for my dad being all covered up or what have you. He had to work at Walmart©, and when I told him to wear his fucking uniform out in public to differentiate him from my dad, he responded by growing a beard and never once shaving it. He also decided to never get tattooed whatsoever, and to bring books with him wherever he went because everyone in town knew Dad didn’t read a lot. The two together were altogether sad, angry, but nevertheless goofed.
I won’t lie, saying that line to him was rude, classist, and bitchy on my part, but in the end he had a righteous fuckin’ red bush on his face which covered his mouth and neck. He was stubborn like that- to make subtle reminders of others’ statements to him was always amongst his goals, and he really enjoyed that follicle expansion.
Their differences didn’t end there.
A big one was how extroverted Wymer was compared to his brother. Even around my mom, Dad was always shy, and he frequently put himself through a lot of feeling of self-disgust, self-hate, self-pity, remorse, regret, and seemingly infinite sorrow. He often made long visits to mom’s grave which only gave passerbys the look of a vacuumous void. He was the eldest child in his family, already in his late 50s. He plead hindsight to her early warning signs; saying he “should’ve known better.” I encouraged him to find someone new, but he never dated anyone ever again. In fact, only with the exception of when he got blitzed out of his mind on cocaine in 2010 Christchurch and demanded an aged sex worker, he never even wanted to fuck again. I actually spoke to her before she left our room; I forget her name, that youngblood, for she told me only once, but she told me some stories of the industry down there. She surprised me at the end of the night by saying he spent almost the entire time with her just asking questions about the problems related to said industry; having her nevertheless conclude him a “sadist”. The following morning, he found her again and invited her to brunch, eventually allowing her to stay with us the rest of the trip. She never took her word back on dad or gave us her name. She slept alone, and she got annoyed with dad paying for all her stuff. He wrote to her off and on for the next three years using the pseudonyms she’d give him.
My uncle was more generally angry and restless; wanting to fill people in on what he felt they were missing. He would regularly attend the local bars and it wouldn’t be uncommon for him to leave and come back sober. He just wanted to witness to them folk about stuff such as the labour theory of value, the frequency of market crises, the importance of understanding global industrial pollution or something along those lines. He often complained of his mental health, namely his short attention span’s relationship to his reading. Because of this, despite him having had few years of a head start on me in political economy, I quickly read far more than him. He began paying out of pocket to attend college classes and debate professors to get a 2nd or 3rd or 8th opinion. The 2008 crash shattered his life of finance, such as an earthquake shatters a busy bridge, and he quickly realised that he’d landed far left after the debris settled. He directed his anger at profit-driven actions and abandoned belief in the free market, instead looking for community-made creation/distribution systems. ‘Finally’, he thought, 'I can lash my anger out at those who deserve so much worse than the average, common fiend.’ His willingness to learn and desire to understand were enough for me to ignore his beard’s smell and his pronounced and maddened approaches, countenances, gesticulations, and obsessions.
None of what I’m saying is a complaint, though. I loved those two. Wymer spent a lot of his time online reading books, essays, and articles on the environment, philosophy, world history, sociology, the residue of western colonialism, and systemic societal buffoonery. He also wrote about communist witch-hunts and handed pamphlets of his thoughts to the townspeople, which the local cops weren’t ever pleased with. He was never much of a good economist but he had grand social scope. In 2019, y’all’d call him ‘woke.’ Meanwhile, Yves would spend his time painting or playing croquet with the neighbours in the backyard. He had a bit of a substance abuse problem which he always seemed to be weaker than. The cigarette lighter industry loved him. If he read at all, it’d be some cheesy novel or children’s literature. He wanted to spread happiness to others as he felt he had none himself. In 2019, y’all’d call him ‘a beta’.
Both of these men were always ones to keep me safe. Mom and dad told me they were my guardians, and my uncle swore the same thing to me after her death. They fought a lot as children but learnt to appreciate one another into adulthood with their mutual love of, among other things, listening to metal. Their quirks were what they were, and few quirks can distract from basic kindness, humility and human decency. This meant they were hostile towards all that I deemed a threat. This was such a honour I had to have those good, safe people with me. And seeing as it were that I was the only openly gay girl living in a conservative Christian town, I couldn’t have had a safer upbringing. I was a ‘witch’ surrounded by a bunch of Puritans, Papists, Quakers and Messianics who all seemed to behave similar to, and want to live in, a golden moral past which never actually existed. My father and uncle were truly the best men I ever knew, and everyone else knew that (maybe they even knowingly acted upon it). I lived in an apathetic town. ‘Other people are not my concern.’ Those people shit on the idea of being ethical, except for my home.
Every time that I’d have friends over, they’d say that our family dynamic was the best they’d ever been to before the end of their first visit. Every single time. And they knew it was because we all had a respect of each other and a desire to understand ourselves in there. I really wanted to help both of them out and they felt the same for me. My dad was specifically very gung-ho on wanting the boys at school to leave me alone. In fact, that was among the first things he said when he found out- he actively called out death to all those who sought to wish me harm, and he kept going on about contacting the school. Mom and Wymer did the same. It was a bit much, and as much as I loved and appreciated him loving and accepting me for who I am, again, it was a bit much. I’m not short and I have never lost a fight. A small part of me thinks that Yves was just scared that in whatever harassment scandal he’d imagined that I’d come out as victor and be convicted of manslaughter.
He put a lot of effort into protecting me to distract himself from the fact that I, spiritually, was now protecting him. Appearances deceive. He never fully learnt that from me.
He also forgot my friends Shane, Mack, and Albin. These boys were quick to learn and prudent in judgment. They were among the first I came out to since they were generally nice, soft-spoken nihilists who didn’t flirt with any girl or woman under any circumstances. They all generally looked alike, so it’d always be easy to look for them in the streets. These three hated each other but were the type of outcasts too lazy to care about making other friends. We all loved playing soccer and othergames Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokémon and Magic the Gathering as kids. Since we grew up in the same neighbourhood, we played with each other enough to turn our friendship unbreakable. We all had a sacred blood-bond in our own type of weeaboo mysticism.
At some point in 8th grade I made them all swear a type of Knight’s oath in service to none other than me if and when other boys wouldn’t take 'no’ for an answer. I was going through an edgy phase so my exact wording was probably something more like an order to “defend their queen against normie, goblin scum” or something to that effect. They and I all read the same fantasy and sci-fi bullshit so I really wanted my message to stick like jizz glue. I was their queen because I always beat them at their games. I always found the rarest Pokémon wasting the least amount of Pokéballs. I always found the most Minecraft diamonds. I always ended up killing the most enemies on COD. That shit was glorious; if only Twitch© were a thing back then. When you’re a girl and you’re consistently better at games than a cis male gamer, boy oh boy does it upset them. Normally it angers them, but these three specifically were far too nihilist to be that rude- my skillz instead humbled them, and a bunch of kids in my position would milk friendships like that for all it’s worth. Those three agreed and kept their word in flame.
This plan sorta backfired. The boys stopped flirting with me and knew I sought no romance with them, good, but now all the girls avoided me and started giving me harsh glares (One even gave a free pink King James Bible, with the irony sadly being entirely lost on my giver). I didn’t quite realise my plan immediately led to them telling others. In hindsight, that should’ve been more obvious. I felt a formidable and frosty chill from said others, as well as glares that made me feel like I was a carefully-watched animal. I’m thankful that dad and Wymer didn’t allow me to have a smartphone at that time, because cyberbullying has always been such a steaming pile of aardvark mucus, and I, in middle school, needed to see none of what they wrote.
Most of the staff pretended not to notice and gave slaps on the wrist for punishment. But I had a secret weapon- friends and family who always loved me despite not always trying to understand me. They meant well in defiance of their occasional insensitivity, their budding awareness of ignorances and their lack of any idea of what it was they were trying to do.
It was all I had; better than nothing- better than many. They’d listen. Listening is classically underrated; people have spent way too long not shutting the fuck up. This allowed them to try to understand. When you get someone primed for some understanding, then can you extol to them whatever bullcrap it is you must say. And, if in-fact Yves and Wymer understood, then they’d go apeshit for the next week and a half on the staff. They never realised how often my friends got suspended for the same reason.
There’s several good tales I could tell, but my favourite started by Albin simply talking to a school administrator about certain new policies which seemed to be very excessively Christian-in-nature and vaguely queerphobic. He was irate that he wasn’t able to go to a school dance with Shane, since Mack was my date and we didn’t care to go with other people. This staff member was higher up than a mere teacher so he was in a position to cast judgment on my friend. But Albin always fucking hated this guy so he didn’t cower in fear. This administrator was a real prick and everyone there knew it, so when Shane and Mack heard them two screaming in an abandoned hallway, they went to the source of the sound, with Shane recording on his camera. He recorded a short, rambunctious, vague, and incoherent dialogue with the two which included the administrator saying, among other things, that he’d “wipe the school clean of all you disrespectful millennial f*ggots”. Albin went full steam ahead through that horsecrap, instantly declaring him a kind of religious oligarchical czar; saying to him that he was forcing the school board to bow down before a type of ugly deity.
“It may as well be called Holy Law! Whoever does not fall down and worship shall be instantly cast into a white-hot furnace? Is that what you’re saying? That’s basically what you’re saying! Obey or perish! Is that what you want? Will you condemn those who you refuse to let exist?” The administrator made them leave their space when he realised a sizable crowd had watched him make an ass of himself.
Before he could leave, however, Mack joined in- “Hey administrator-”
The administrator genuinely looked at Mack as if he were expecting cold-hard cash- as if Mack was going to be a perfectly obedient, whipped coward. That stupid man had no true emotions. Mack said,
“If our god, whom we now serve, can save us from the white-hot furnace and from your hands, oh mister, may he save us! But even if he will not, know, oh you, we will not serve your interpretation of god or worship your fools-gold societal standards which you set up!” Shane was laughing the whole time.
They all got 8 days suspension for that, 8 times longer than normal. The administrator thankfully got fired, though, for the content of what was recorded. I have no idea where the worship ceremony thing came in but I loved it, and ‘the white-hot furnace’ was our class’ inside joke for the rest of the year. In town we’d hear “Look! I see four of y’all walking around in the fire, unbound and unharmed, and the fourth looks like one of the gods.”
This was typical in my hometown of Yeastville for what seemed like a very long time. It was claustrophobic and filled with a lot of frustrating people, but I knew I had it better than many others in my position. Wymer in particular was always a strange source of comfort with all his bitterness toward the rich and his genuine tenderness towards almost everything and everyone else (except those amongst us poor who wish to maintain the status quo of the current flow of capital; he had no sympathy for those who defend parasites). On my 16th birthday he gave me lectures, essays, rants, and even comedy bits in a type of crash-course on women, communism, class-conflict, and the nightmare of ecology, with tons of books. I literally have never met or heard of anyone learning Marxist theory from their uncle. Dad was never much into politics which let him and I go buck wild with reading. They both also allowed me to get the internet in my pocket, allowing me to access all of recorded human knowledge. Learning the hardships of life throughout history all relating to the ways European colonisation and christianisation made their effects on the world made perfect sense when I considered how Shane, Mack and Albin always had a type of assurance that they’d be alright in the end after getting in trouble at school and that I’d always end up getting shat on by most of the rich, Christian staff. We’re living in a society. Uncle Wymer was a very staunch commie who never tried to make enemies, but rather had among the softest of intent all the while nevertheless gathering more and more enemies. Having a man like that in my proximity, in the country, is luck. Dad gave me life and general feelings of warmth and love but Wymer gave feelings of inter-personal and inter-sectional solidarity with red-tinted love.
They were both very optimistic yet sad.
However, if I had been raised in any other home at any other time by any other parent or guardian then I’d never have realised my potential that I and y'all have to be the type of total badass who writes shit like this. Those two always told me to strive for what I want and need, no matter what society’s expectations are. You’re always you, yourself, and the stains of other people, so get some fucking confidence. When I was put through the fear of 2013, that confidence gave me wings with which I’ve soared ever since.
Back in early 2011, a new girl came to the first day of school. She was in my grade and all we were told about her was that she was colourblind, tall, and from a rich family. I clearly remember thinking thinking was going to hate her, as I assumed she was going to the type of bitch spoiled by an extravagant and decadent bourgeois family- the type Wymer would always warn about.
When she walked into homeroom, she was looking at her feet. She was visibly nervous and uncomfortable. She was indeed less than a foot shorter than our 6'7″ teacher, Mr. Young (no relation). She was lanky with medium-length black hair. She looked tired and thoroughly spooked, with a thoroughly frightened glare in her big, green eyes. She wore a medium-length beige dress with dark boots. She’s giggling next to me as I type this. Whatever, lovely. I don’t want people identifying you either.
She eventually started walking toward me, looking at our first names on the desks placed alphabetical order. I believe in the power of first impressions and she did not meet my expectations.
For context, Yeastville is a poor rural town with few resources which still had 90s technology and desks from the 70s. One of those desks broke with some kid in it as she was passing me, and this pushed her, making her fall on me. She promptly got up, looked at my name on my own desk, said “I’m sorry, Yasmine,” and immediately went to the person who broke their desk, having no discernible concern for her new bruises.
We just so happened to have some extra desks so there was no actual problem, it just became the story of the day. After staff made sure everybody was okay, she sat down behind me. I knew I’d never known anyone named ‘Ymir’. She formally introduced herself by apologising profusely and showering me in compliments. This was not the behaviour I’d expect from someone from her family. She was different than any rich folk I’d heard about from the news, books, or from Wymer. Then again, he wouldn’t necessarily have been researching the children of millionaires.
And yes, she was very rich. Her father was a lying lobbyist-loving liberal- a bureaucratic Bonapartist shitlord by the name of Yair Yellowhammer. I’d like to once again clarify that I’m not short, but he wasn’t much taller than me, so he actually was short. Very short. Fucking shrimp. He had meticulous, balding grey/blond hair with a big nose, filthy ears, and a carnivorous smile. His eyes always had anger within them and they were a shade of brown akin to an overcrowded prison’s cesspool. Wymer had told me about him from his twitter©, of all places. Yes, a logging company with which the congressman worked had been looking to send lots of working class folk into our vast forest, making way for chicken farms among other things. He had moved to town because it’s still within his district but remote enough to make his poor and willingly-ignorant supporters think he fought for them in any way. Yellowhammer advanced ahead policy which would benefit his bank account and kill his enemies the fastest every single time, and Wymer’s comrades were always there to complain about the hideousness of it all. In 2019, y’all’d follow him on Twitter© a lot more.
I soon clearly saw, though, that all I knew of her father had to be cast aside because ‘for now’, I thought, ‘she’s not being hostile. Is she an enemy? Time will tell.’ I had to suck in repulsion to her family and bite my lip as we all waited for the bell to ring. This got harder to do as the day went on. She and I shared many of the same classes, and they all put the students in alphabetical order, so I was forced to spend even more time with her.
But I noticed her act like myself. Mannerisms of my persona with individual agony. At some point she said that she enjoyed my smile the most ‘out of all that she’d seen.’ All? I was nervous, genuinely starting to wonder that she was not who I thought she was. I asked about Yellowhammer and her expression turned glum. She was his daughter and she wasn’t proud of him. I stopped my questioning when I realised she clearly wasn’t straight and that her dad’s sexist, homophobic rhetoric may have given her a big can of worms that I was not quite yet in a position to open. Every answer I got from my interrogations only made her more visibly uncomfortable. She hated him, and I was now acutely aware of that.
I asked those brothers at home what they thought and they both told me to ‘just go for it.’ This frustrated me because with all I said I never mentioned if I liked her, but that was the extent of their advice. Even Wymer had little to say:
“She sounds like a nice person…she sounds like the reason why Yellowhammer keeps his life private.”
Eventually, I confirmed this. She’s a fine and strong ‘degenerate’ who, in any other form, would easily strike terror into the heart of Yair. But in her true form she was subject to cruelty unlike that seen in most parts of the country. She told me story after story of him forcing her into all sorts of awful shit- from weeks of forced scripture readings, to a specific 2-week stay at conversion camp, and even the threat of circumcision. Her step-mother, Yannick, added to this torment. She had married Yair only to birth a new son who’d receive the Yellowhammer inheritance instead of Ymir, who, like me, was an only child. She said to me it was her speaking out against the loggers and industrial farmers which led him to admit to such a thing. She had no uncles or aunts to turn to, and her grandparents had long since passed.
“You’re meek,” he said, “You already have the earth.”
Shane, Mack and Albin tried to help me help her and were their typical selves after I got a girlfriend, having now the chance to compete amongst themselves in their games without fear of me beating them. We four discovered her love of astronomy and the English language. She also helped those three with their Spanish to the point of the four of them having entire conversations, where I’d mock them all in French.
Those were, and these still are, times of love; romantic and platonic.
This was then how it was for many months, with both of our home lives getting progressively worse. The Yellowhammers became poorer in spirit and my family became poorer in general.
In late 2012, my other uncle and aunt Eugene and Ulysse Yarborough died in a mudslide, leaving my only cousin, Ywain, out in the world on his own. Neither Yves nor Wymer had the proper income to adopt him, so he was forced by the state to enter foster homes. We weren’t ever real close, but I thought about him a lot when I’d consider whatever unimaginable shit he’d have been going through. These thoughts asked similar questions about Ymir.
By senior year, she and I had a bit of a routine where I was, according to the Yellowhammers, her tutor. This was a big, big lie, hiding raged, adolescent fever, which I’d never get into for y'all. I have no need nor desire to indulge you sick fucks with your disgusting, overactive imaginations. I’m no historian, but I would rather refrain from espousing details on this website because I believe it also gave us the word ‘turbovirgins.’
Anyway, the actual most dastardly and illegal thing we’d do was when we’d go on walks and we’d stumble across logging sites in the woods where trees were being cleared. Stories began circulating throughout the people of the town. Everyone started blaming a secret cabal of conspiratorial green-freaks putting sugar into the fuel tanks of the many construction machines. Every single time, however, it was just me, with Ymir keeping watch over my shoulder (except a few times when I went with Wymer; he would always obsessively check every single machine to make sure it was thoroughly fucked for weeks. He never thought he’d ever become too old for that shit). Nobody ever figured us out, and the developers became years behind schedule.
The last time she and I did that was in early February 2013. After looking from our vantage point on a wooded hilltop onto the main street, I saw an unfamiliar face in the Yeastville crowd. No…it was familiar…familial. It was Ywain. He looked dirty and tired. His jeans were green from travelling through grass and his trench-coat was covered in a thick layer of pollen, dust and snow. His scarf was tattered and his short, dense hair was a mess from lack of rest. I knew not of his plans, and I knew Yves and Wymer were also unaware of them, as none of us had been contacted. I thought little of it. Valentine’s day was in less than a week, and I didn’t want to get distracted from the celebration. When I told those two brothers at home, they assured me there was nothing to worry about, letting me sleep.
The day before the holiday, Ymir tells me that her dad would be taking her to a private school within the next two weeks to finish her education. This was his response to her telling him about me, and prom, I guess. ‘Great’, I thought. I never had or wanted any money- just peace of mind. Society’s expectations of a person can truly break them if they aren’t cut out for them, and I was never looking forward to tending the land of the Young Farm- even with the thought of having it with Ymir. This was my only option, since college was basically never an option for my incredibly indebted family.
No, I always wanted to lead a life with the only expectations ahead of me be ones that I placed. Suicide is the easy way out, but I’ve always wanted to deny death, and have personally always been afraid of reincarnation. This means I’ll always either concoct a plan or wait it out. But I was not looking to wait until my heart stopped beating. No, I needed an alternative and I needed understanding. I got the former and have since realised I may never get the latter.
It started at 2200 hours on Valentine’s day. I’d been running late home from a painful get-together with Ymir when I notice my home having broken windows. I looked inwards after having crept forward, and saw Ywain snoring on our couch. He was even more of a mess than before. I scanned in the dark with my vision and saw my father and uncle laying in bloody pools on the floor. I realised now that Ywain had invaded the home to kill all three of us and take all of grandpa’s inheritance for himself.
There were a lot of recent arguments about the inheritance from our grandpa, an old black man named Kanye Young (that really was his name, true story- there’s a hundred rants I memorised of Grandpa Ye having to tell people he generally hated music and wasn’t related to mister West). It all amounted to a little more than $30,000, thanks to government interference. I had asked both grandpa and dad if Ywain could be included in on the inheritance after the accident but all the adults involved refused, citing my aunt Ulysse’s direct orders to not include him. This type of fucking behavior I now saw may have been why. The stories I heard about him were always that he was a self-centred brat who always wanted more than everyone else and felt that he deserved it, and it showed. He would’ve rather killed his family to go through a legal loophole rather than face the fact his past actions made his mother feel the way she felt and try to change for the better.
It seems that after he killed his uncles, he realised his cousin wasn’t home and decided to nap on the couch waiting for me. I wanted to cry, but then I took a second to contemplate my situation, and I saw potential. I now felt I had been offered the strength of the cosmos, but I rejected it, as I was, and still am, so much stronger. I was not about to let myself be a ward of the state. This is not the tone I wanted my story to have. I was not about to abandon their lessons those two gave to me of fighting for what I need and to be an annoying, squatting prick when it’s needed. I was told of a promising future, so who’s to say I can’t build one for myself? In general, what is there to say? I now had motivation to act- to let myself legally die. The potentiality of a plan ran through my body like oxygen-rich blood, so I ran to Ymir’s house with said plan.
She’s next to me as I type this and she and just got into a bit of an argument for that last, misleading sentence. It wasn’t really a plan. Plans have lots of precision, detail and a need to be made with a careful attitude. I, on the other hand, made a glorified to-do list and went into the Yellowhammer residence guns-blazing. Literally.
I had brought out Wymer’s guns and knives for my trip. Wearing his goddamn Mitt Romney mask and dad’s goatskin leather jacket, I looked like both death and a total meme. The Yellowhammer residence was situated on the outskirts of town in a remote location with no neighbours, so I was able to get to their house with no problem. I’d never been able to explore much of it beforehand, but Ymir had described it to me to the point where I could easily go about my way. When I found Yair and Yannick in bed, I even knew the right places to walk to ensure they couldn’t hear me (Ymir said she’d do this to mess with Yair’s stuff as he slept). There was no conflict or fight; it was anticlimactic and faster than it seemed. For her last words, Yannick thanked me.
Ymir, when she eventually ran into me, was understandably nervous, but after I explained everything, she relaxed and asked how she could help. We stole a bunch of gold and clothes before setting the house ablaze.
We ran back to my house, where Ywain was till asleep on my couch. We sneaked up behind him, drugged him, and bludgeoned him until he was completely out of it. We had a bag on his head so he couldn’t see us, and made sure to speak to each other in fake voices in case he could hear. Afterwards, we took off his clothes and replaced them with Yair’s. My plan was that Ywain would then be blamed for the murder of both our families, ourselves, and the Yellowhammer arson.
After we were done with that, we exited my house for the last time. It was around 3 (AM), so the town was still relatively quiet. She was nervous and asked if we could have one last walk through the streets. I made sure to show her all the most beautiful views across many streets. After this, we started walking in the woods toward the city. After changing our names, vocal patterns, styles and certain aspects of our attitude, we were ready to take on the world. It’s 2019 and we still are!
When we got to the city we knew we had to keep a low profile and not try to attract attention. I decided to do this by taking up the mantle from Wymer and I got a job in retail. He’s giving me a grin from heaven. You know the grin; the overtly smug grin that’s only ever 100% condescension, and even when they say they’re not trying to be condescending that just makes you feel it more. Ymir, on the other hand, works at a popular bookstore; keeping stock whilst also writing both book reviews and poetry. We make just enough money to get food, weed, and keep our landlord at bay. I hope you people on this site saw the post about some person who bought a dog whistle to make their landlord’s dogs incessantly bark to the point where the poster could then complain to their landlord that their ‘dogs are barking too much.’ Ymir and I did the same thing, and I recommend it. They’ve probably got the first two Rage Against The Machine albums memorised by this point since that’s all she and I ever listen to. In short, we gave him constant hell.
Things were going surprisingly well for us. It was weird to talk to others about ‘where we came from,’ but we never lied enough to have inconsistencies with our stories. But one day, I had to deal with a co-worker- a Wiseguy. This Wiseguy’s often talkative, but on that day they seemed quiet, tense, anxious, and struck with overwhelming terror- especially when working with me. I asked them if all were well, and they said no. I asked why, and they gave me a look of someone falling to their death.
They swallowed their spit,
“I was watching a YouTube video yesterday about freaky, unexplained crimes, and there was one in particular that caught my attention. A man had apparently killed a congressman and his family, then proceeded to burn down the entire house to ashes before then killing his own two uncles and cousin on the other side of town.”
I looked on, screaming internally, saying calmly,
“…Okay?”
“But,” they continued, “The bodies of the congressman’s daughter and the murderer’s cousin, who was living with his uncles, were never found. There’s also some inconsistencies in the times of death, along with the fact the perpetrator specifically only ever plead guilty of his uncles’ deaths, not that of his cousin or of the congressman’s family.”
I stared in silence. They weren’t done.
“I looked a little into it, and it seems that the congressman’s daughter had a diary that survived the flames. One section that caught my attention was how she was going to have deal with a new baby brother because she was not seen to be a proper heir to the congressman’s wealth.”
This wouldn’t have bothered me at all if Ymir hadn’t told them less than a week prior of her new tragedy involving a tyrant wasting his life in the prospect of a male heir since he hates the princess, our narrator. I felt trapped and exposed. Goddammit, I always told her to check TvTropes© and she never did.
“Are you ready to go?”
It was Ymir. She was standing by my side since her shift had apparently ended early and mine was due to end at any given moment. I turned worryingly to Wiseguy, who had a huge smile on their face. They said,
“I really, really fucking hated Yellowhammer. His death did wonders for the planet, and, uh, I am your friend…so just please tell me what you can when you can!” They then sent me home and walked away.
I eventually told Wiseguy everything. There was no reason to hide; they figured out that I was Yasmine Young. They didn’t have any kind of scared or nervous reaction. Quite the contrary, they were utterly fascinated. And they wanted to help, giving us stuff from make-up tutorials to online spots where we could maintain pseudo-anonymity. They were a comrade much like Wymer, becoming something of my and Ymir’s best friend, being the only one who ever figured us out.
And then, everything went quiet. Nobody said anything after that. ‘Finally,’ I thought, ‘it’s all in the past.’
Last week, after a while of having muscle cramps in our abdominal regions, we learn we both have terminal stomach cancer, the disease that killed both our moms. We can’t afford treatment, and even if we could, we don��t have enough time left to go through thosr miles of legal red-tape. She and I took a while to decide on what we need to do, and we decided to post this. My wife and I have story and we won’t die silently. We have voices that can be heard and words that can be read.
But I’ve said enough about us, back to you, reader- you can do so much better. Practice and improvement is always an option. We, collectively as a people, are stronger than we admit to ourselves. We are the true rulers of the earth; letting a small bunch of ornamental fucks hold our shit for us. The ruling class is a parasite, and like every parasite, it can be killed by, and is smaller than, its host.
Come and get me, INTERPOL, because we have loaded guns and more than enough ammunition to kill ourselves and well over 100 landlords. You can’t get cigarettes with a fake ID but you can get a gun license with it. However, I have no faith in the ability of the cops to use 2019 technology in general, let alone tumblr. Eat santorum, cops.
I’m posting this to Wiseguy’s blog without their permission, and I hope someone on this site can hear me and preserve my words. I hope you read this entire thing because I now that I’ve looked through your blog I have to tell you that you’re a bit inarticulate and shitty at economic theory. I’ll have to send this post to Shane, Mack, and Albin’s blogs, since they appear to still be active.
To end this, I must speak again of Valentine. He may as well have been an anonymous tumblr blog for all history cares because the affects an action matters far more than the individual who performs it. His history is inconsistent and chaotic, but is love not chaos? Not a Petersonian “"“chaos”“”, but an unrivaled, unparalled and uncanny type of lustful wrath that can take out all of hate’s laziness. You can reject both pure nihilist sloth and desire-driven consumerism. Total freedom should not be seen as an extreme!
There’s a lot to take in; you can’t get it all. Do what you know helps. Do what we know helps.
To decontextualise Richard Dawkins-
“…be satisfied with not understanding the world.”
Sin with pride
#christianity#writing shit#weed content#this is an old post from Valentine's day#abuse cw#homophobia cw
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Amelia’s Bipolar
Something like a regeneration is almost indescribable. For Amelia, after her 2nd regeneration, for a long time, it felt like her new mind was still playing catch up, despite how hard she tried to figure out who she was now. It didn’t seem enough and only felt like it was getting worse. A strong but slow-building depression started in her mind and even a thought of suicide popped up there. But, she was still hopefully enough, and still strong enough against her depression to know that suicide or hurting herself wasn’t the answer, nor would it help anything. Still, the Time Lady didn’t want to live a life in a fog anymore.
Once they ‘came to’, in a sense, from their most recent regeneration everything was so different. Of course, that was to be expected; they’d gone through a regeneration once before and knew all they could of a Time Lord’s regeneration before that. Still, no matter how prepared they were for the change, some changes are just too big or too fast for certain minds, and that was the case with them now.
Of course, Amelia understood what had happened to her, and why she was different, but the facts couldn’t force her mind to accept the differences. She felt as though she were wrong, greatly comparing her new self to her previous lives. The more in the past her 2nd regeneration became, the more it felt she’d properly left her emotions in her previous life. They felt hard to get to. When at first she’d concluded that the distant feeling and foggy-like brain were just side effects of her regeneration, or even just how she was now, they just got worse, not better like she’d hoped, as time went on.
It had taken her a few days to figure out her new self last time, so maybe she just needed more time this go-around? Years passed and as hard as she tried to do what she wanted; what she loved to do, just traveling around Time and space got harder to do as the depression in her mind made her feel weak, tired, like she couldn’t do it, but also like she could and just simply was choosing not to because she was just that selfish and bad of a person now.
Now, Amelia didn’t feel weak because their mind felt wrong in so many different ways, or because she was having problems with her mind, but rather, they felt weak physically as if the mental turmoil going on inside of her brain was also beating her up physically. She tried to train herself, but she couldn’t even be bothered to get up onto the treadmill in her own flat some days. Her depression grew and crying on her couch one night she’d decided she’d had enough. NO. This was NOT how her life was going to be!
On a show that had been playing on their TV, the Time Lady barely paying attention to it, talk of mental health had come up in the conversation and how one of the characters went to see a therapist for their anxiety. It gave them the idea to maybe do that themselves. The problem was; Amelia wasn’t human. All of this had started when they regenerated, and how could they possibly explain that in of itself let alone what they were feeling when it was very possible that the doctor wouldn’t even believe that they weren’t human in the first place! It’d been a good idea in theory, but it couldn’t ever work for her.
The show continued to play and one of the characters mentioned that they relied on their mom instead of a therapist. Now that could work for her! Of course, their mum had died long ago, but their dad was still alive! And, although he wasn’t a Time Lord himself so he’d never gone through a regeneration, he’d listen, and maybe that was just what Amelia needed?
She went to go see her dad that minute and the two talked for the rest of the day and night. It worked out well as she’d appeared near her dad it was roughly around noon and so they had all the time in the world!
Jack told his daughter about a woman he’d gone to, all those years ago, when Amelia’s mum had died. It was one of the reasons he’d leave for hours during the days after that. She knew of aliens, and other worlds, of Time Lords, and even how Jack himself couldn’t die. And she understood. She listened well and offered advice that actually helped, at least it had for Jack. In the midst of the conversation he’d also mentioned that he was there for her no matter what; whether the woman he’d gone to see helped her or not, he’d always be there for her for whatever she needed.
Amelia had nothing left to lose, and, if she wanted to stop living life in a feelingly endless fog which only seemed to break long enough for her to go so high that when she came down she’d crash harder and lower than she’d ever felt before, she had everything to gain.
After a session of just talking to the woman, of explaining their lowest-lows; screaming to the world alone in their flat that if this was what their life was now, they’d rather die or regenerate all over again; and her highest highs where she’d felt better than she ever had before! She felt like herself; strong and secure, and confident. Her emotions weren’t out of reach, or just her body’s reactions, but rather they were HER. She explained how those high always seemed to end, and the crash down felt worse and worse the older she got.
Amelia was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder and depressive tendencies. During her lows and her crashes, her depression would kick in, but, as a silver lining, her highs were a result of her fighting off her depression and winning. But, even that winning was affected by her Bipolar as she’d go up too high until she had nowhere left to go but down, letting her depression in once again.
The most important thing the woman conveyed to Amelia was that it wasn’t their fault; it hadn’t been anything they’d done wrong but rather a crappy loss in the lottery that was regeneration. They had a chemical imbalance in their brain and their brain was doing its best to react to it and “fix” it. But, those fixes weren’t working as, at the end of the day, it was simply them comparing herself to her past selves.
The second most important thing was that Amelia knew that she was a completely different person now. Yes, there would be similarities to her previous lives, but the differences didn’t mean that they were a “failed” or “worse” version now, they simply showed that they were a new whole new, separate, and individual person now, which was what would always be the end result after a regeneration. She needed to stop comparing herself.
Ultimately, Amelia hadn’t even realized that was what they’d been doing, or even that their thoughts during their lowest-lows were their depression talking. She hadn’t even realized she had depression.
The woman had reminded her that every single cell in her mind was different now, new. It was okay that she might need someone to remind her of that from Time to Time. In fact, that was what she was there for!
Through many more sessions with the women, Amelia started to feel more and more better a mixture of letting it all out and realizations helping her to feel so. She learned coping mechanisms; how to notice when she was going up or down to high or low, and how to help herself level-out. She needed a mix of work and rest, cause as important as it was, in general, and to her, to go out and help people, sometimes SHE was the one who needed help! Sometimes she just needed to get everything out, now that she felt more and more able to properly explain things. Sometimes she needed someone to see her situation from a different point of view to help her see it that way as well the change of view allowing her to take it all in differently and quite often in a less harmful way to her person. She learned how to notice when she was comparing herself to herself, and what she’d unreasonably expected in her previous and now current life.
Through trial and error, the Time Lady even tried some Bipolar and depression medications, but the ones safe for a Time Lords to take either didn’t work at all for them or gave them bad side effects. And so, to make up for it, they take vitamin supplements taking vitamin D, vitamin B, fish oils, Calcium, and Magnesium. They take breaks when they feel like they may need them whether from an actual need or want or by realizing that their Bipolar or depression may be acting up. She takes care of herself, not just physically but also mentally. Their grave desire to help others actually ends up helping themselves as well as it allows her to take steps back from herself, give herself breaks but also lets her open up when she needs it and all while not thinking of solely taking care of herself, which sometimes in of itself is all she needs.
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1,2,4,89,15,27?
Hoo boy, I just realized how rambling I was with some of these questions, I got excited.
1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?
Read Beowulf, I love the epic grandeur portrayed in the poem and feel a craving to understand what these tales meant to the people who first heard them. Also Harry Potter, which kind of feels like a cop-out but I love the groundbreaking imagination and the huge, friendly community it has inspired. Finally, Uno’s Garden (A children’s book) my favorite when I was little and its VERY pertinent and portrays a real issue in a way that children can grasp from a young age. Watch Firefly, by far and away my favorite show, It portrays an amazing and truly unique spirit of adventure, a strong sense of family, and a strength that comes from that sense, all things I wish I had. Also, like with HP, The amazing community that came out of the show is inspiring to me. Listen to James Blunt, Zac Brown, Phil Collins, Dawes. Some specifics if you’re interested are Bones, Miss America, and Best Laid Plans (James Blunt), Jolene, Colder Weather, Free, and Quiet Your Mind (Zac Brown Band), Both Sides of the Story, Take me Home, and No Way Out (Phil Collins), My Way Back Home, Little Bit of Everything (Dawes). Also Rachel’s Song (James McMurtry), Desire (The Black Lillies), Make you Better and On the Bus Mall (The Decemberists)
2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?
Not a writer (yet, I hope to find one) but an artist, Keith Haring. I feel like he thought about social issues and the importance of art and beauty in conveying these ugly topics in a way similar to how I think about them.
4. do you like your name? is there another name you think would fit you better?
I don’t really like my name, It feels pretentious to me, particularly given the atypical spelling (normally spelled Hayden). Haydon is also not my first name, Harry is, but both my dad and granddad have that name, and I don’t want to be that close to them, so I think of my name as Haydon. I don’t really like it that much, but I can’t picture myself with a different name. (BTW interpreting the Starbuck’s barista spellings/pronunciations of the name has turned into a great game)
8. what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?
Billy Joel is a personal hero/role model for me, apart from the music which I have always loved, I strive to have the class he has and sense of decorum that he has with his fans, and I mean class like his gracious way of interacting with people. Also, I am always amazed by Bob Dylan every time I listen to him and how he can be on the surface arhythmic and have a not-so-awesome voice but be so captivating and Indescribably perfect at the same time. But, most of my music is rather eccentric and unknown. I really can connect with an old folk musician named David Mallett, because his music helped me get through the most difficult period in my life when I was too young to understand what was happening to me. I also connect with Peter, Paul and Mary, along with Simon and Garfunkel because of this. Also see question 1.
9. are you an artist?
Yes, I don’t really have much of a focus, but the biggest part of my artistic life is my job working with a group in the Industrial Arts Co-Op called mobile sculpture workshop operating from Carrie Furnace, an abandoned blast furnace in Homestead. We apprentice kids in welding and arts, and we create large-scale public metal sculpture. I’ve been with them since they started, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Also, A day where I don’t pick up my guitar is just not a good day, I do mostly folk music and a little bit of alt/acoustic rock. I also, though I don’t get to do as much as I like, I am a jeweler, and I write and draw, occasionally something I’m happy with happens, but it’s pretty rare, the most recent piece I’m happy with was a small dice box I made for a friend last year.
15. five most influential books over your lifetime.
The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
even though I originally read this book for a class, I loved the richness of the writing and found it a great introduction to my fascination with high classic literature. I also feel like I can oddly identify with the main character, An old English butler who is trying to reconcile the conflicts in his life between what he wanted to happen and what actually happened.
Mother Courage and her Children, Bertolt Brecht (Technically a play, not a book)
I found this play heart-wrenching enough to promote real action, and it has changed my outlook on war permanently, coming from a family with a lot of military history I had a lot of preconceived notions about war and conflict, and Mother Courage challenged them all
Beowulf, unknown
I know I already talked about this, but it was really important to me and influenced my personal writing style heavily.
Our Town (Also a Play)
I found an appreciation for the simple emotions that are felt in Our Town, while it is a very wistful and nostalgic piece, the emotions of sadness and regret felt by the characters are uncomplicated, and the play gave me an appreciation for minimalism that I still carry.
I also feel like the book I’m reading right now, Moby Dick by Herman Melville, may become one of the most important books I have read, of course I’m not sure yet since I haven’t finished it.
27. do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?
I don’t really know, I worry sometimes that my somewhat large size intimidates people, I wish that wasn’t the case sometimes. Also I really hate my smile, it just sort of doesn’t work, so I don’t really smile, at least consciously, all that much. (sidenote, if I do smile at you, its probably because I enjoy your presence, I’ve been told I smile sometimes without realizing it)
Thanks for sticking with me if you read, thank you queenie for my first ask, I was very excited!
ask away
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