Admittedly, most of it's because my sister seemed skeptical about the whole thing and I'm just... not having it. Seriously, fuck her. I get that she's not the most athletic person I've come across, but I actually do enjoy it. Just because I didn't enjoy P.E. classes in middle school, doesn't mean it's not for me.
I try to work out every day and I'm kind of obsessed with arms, which, hilariously, doesn't go well with my uniform (an outrageously fancy dress) at my current internship, but hey! I've only got two days left there, so it's not a big deal that the dress sleeves aren't particularly accommodating.
Anyway, I'm really looking forward to the test session -- I'd love nothing more than to prove my sister wrong.
( SCENE )
See, the thing is—I'm kind of terrible at being emotionally affected by things. Media consumption, regular assholes in day to day life, deaths in family—it's, I don't know. Some weird glitch in my brain. It's whatever, I have to try hard to get there and sometimes I still don't. So it's a real fucking gem to me when something does draw a reaction from me and I just—fuck you Jonathan Stroud. You've pulled off a miracle and I want to know all your secrets so I can use the same methods in my own writing.
So let's talk about the scene.
Nathaniel's obviously not doing so great. His side's bleeding and there's a good chance that the only thing keeping him alive and even vaguely alert is Bartimaeus' life force. Most readers have probably hated him throughout the entire series and it's easy to see why, though personally, I always kind of related to him. But he's on the right track. He's doing the right thing and then he makes this decision—and it entirely redeems him. So yes, Nathaniel does need to die for this entire thing to work. Nathaniel needs to die, because otherwise his sacrifice isn't worth shit. If he doesn't die, we don't get the I rather think he knew anyway. Because Bartimaeus is drawing parallels between Ptolemy and Nathaniel. Ptolemy himself couldn't have got away with not dying and had Bartimaeus' respect-love-trust, whatever you call it. Bartimaeus would never have worn Ptolemy's face had he died peacefully, had he not sacrificed himself and he wouldn't do it for Nathaniel. Especially for Nathaniel, because these two have an entirely different relationship which—
Alright. I think it's very clear why I love the main trio in this series—everyone's an asshole. Literally none of those three is particularly considerate. They all fuck up majorly and just pretend nothing's happened. These are actual characters you can relate to. They feel real. So when Nathaniel goes to free Bartimaeus in the end, he can't just do it sincerely. He has to be a dick about it because that's what they do. That's what they've always done.
So in conclusion. Nathaniel had to die. Bartimaeus had to be freed so he can go on being miserable and wear the faces of two people he had once loved. Kitty had to be disappointed that Nathaniel broke his promise, especially since they were just starting to like one another. It's supposed to be frustrating that we don't find out whether Bartimaeus and Kitty got to talk, whether Bartimaeus delivered Nathaniel's message.
And I guess, in the end, Nathaniel got that statue he wanted.
I think a lot of what brings me happiness are the little things.
In fandom, it is finding a rare gem of a fic that sticks around in my brain for months afterwards. The ones that I'll read over and over again. Or at night when I'm feeling down and I need something to cheer me up in my cozy cocoon of blankets. I have an ever growing list of them and I always wonder if I should just create a rec list, go through them all and leave all the comments they deserve.
But the bright things don't end with that. It's also meeting someone who matches my vibe, the details I pay attention to and of course, headcanons. It's bonding over rarepairs and obscure details that bother both of us. It's someone to use as a soundboard for messy fic ideas or unfinished artworks who doesn't actually mind doing it for me. Unfortunately, that is something that I currently don't have. I've made many friends in fandom and they are all so wonderful, but we don't really talk as much these days.
There's also creation, something I'm pretty sure is my life force. I feed on creativity, on working on fanfic, art or any type of projects and more so the incredible high I get when I actually finish something and am satisfied enough to post it online. Not gonna lie, the feedback isn't bad either.
But on quiet days and outside of fandom it's the rainy days, the mud, the first time I get to walk on asphalt after the snow's melted. It's warm drinks and fairy lights in some of the less headache inducing combinations. It's putting on lipstick and feeling like I've masked my vulnerability. It's Spotify playlists and Pinterest boards that all scream aesthetic and are kind of utterly pointless except for the fact that they bring me happiness.
I really wish I weren't the type of person to overthink things few days a month and entirely flip flop in all my convictions, but that's mental illness for you. Not that I don't accept the blame. If I screw up, I screw up and it's no one else's fault.
I deleted my old AO3 account, made another one for "anonymity" and promptly proceeded to reupload all of my old fics that are so obviously connected to this account, I honestly don't know what the fuck I was thinking. So I just... changed the username back. I lost all the comments and the kudos and other stats I was quite fond of, but I guess it isn't the end of the world. Nothing ever is, I'm just so tired of my own bullshit. Anyway, I'll do my best to not do this again for the love of god E—
I rewrote this fic in January. It's now 900 words and not much better than the original, because it doesn't include all that paranoia the original had. I got 2 comments, only one of them confusing this time, but appreciated anyway because it's such a small fandom and practically dead... which brings me to my point:
Is it worth putting time and effort into something that won't get any feedback? On one hand I love the series, I love the characters and I love working on it, but I cannot help but be a bit disheartened when I get only 13 kudos for my efforts. It's... not great. I feel like I'm shoveling a pile of gold into the void, lost forever. I suppose that's just how it is with small fandoms.
And yet, I have this idea for a fic... one I'd love to illustrate as well. I just wish I had a cheerleader. Someone who'd check the progress and encourage me to keep going. I might just write the first part of the story, wrap it up neatly and then decide later if it needs the sequel. No need for a cliffhanger. Besides, it's still practice even when I don't get concrit. I'd just really like that.
Look, I'm well aware I'm not exactly a picture of sanity, I'd just like to pretend I'm capable of finishing one bloody thing without crashing and burning. And I hate it. I hate it because it is not what I wanted to do and now it'd be stupid to change direction. I'm sick of everything, but most importantly being a burden on everyone around me. It's time to start recognising the patters and accept I'll fuck up even when I try my best.
I'm tired just thinking, but it's worse when I actually say something, mention the issues. I'm already making an effort, because I hate talking about it. However, there's a line when you just cannot deal, and then I get is a casual "this is normal" brush off. No. No, it is not normal.
I won't lie, Simon Lovelace was my favourite villain from the series. I fell in love instantly. You just cannot resist how exceptionally dull he is.