devils_solitude: (death)
While it is not rare for me to stay awake at the most ungodly hours to partake in what many may consider a frivolous teenage girl's hobby, I tend to have little to no qualms about sacrificing sleep and time to immerse (at least I didn't say drown) myself in some fanfiction once in a while. Fine, maybe not some, but at least these episodes tend to flutter by a little less often than before. It's been a while since I've stumbled upon anything decent, let alone breathtaking, but it seems like my determined trudge through Archive of Our Own (or as we affectionately call it, AO3) has not been in complete vain after all.

The funny thing is that I've long given up hope of finding anything I would find remotely mature, yet true enough to the series/characters in this particular fandom, and especially not in this pairing, my OTP -- Puppyshipping. Don't you scoff at me. And wipe that ugly smirk off your face. How, just pray tell, how in the name of the heavens, can anything written for a pairing fortunate enough to be coined such a name be anything but pure crack? But thankfully, and for the love my sanity, amidst the growing pile of utterly ridiculous plots concocted by those I can only swear to be a bunch of particularl gifted repubescent girls who have decided that allowing their pets to randomly smash a keyboard is an infallible method of creating a masterpiece worthy of eternal remembrance, this little gem appeared.

Don't worry, this particular piece definitely steers clear of that stereotype.

Because sometimes the heavens take pity, and answer our prayers of hope
[Trigger Warning: Rape/Non-con][M/M; Graphic]

Before you either lambast me for my utter lack of taste in choice of fics courtesy of the trigger, or lament about how I probably oversold it, here's a quick summary if you may, of what you can expect.

What I love about this piece is not that it has incredible writing, or because it boasts an exquisite plot. What captivated me was the maturity in which it handled the theme, especially - don't hit me - in a fanfiction. The impression I got when reading the piece was that of careful (meticulous might be pushing it, just a bit) planning supported by sufficient (as with before; in-depth might be pushing it, just a bit) research. The protagonist's emotional journey depicted lightly mirrors my own (fortunately, that was a product of something significantly less devastating, but still painful enough in relative), and the actions and conversations were sufficiently believable despite occasional slips-ups. The overall plot is rather predictable mostly, yet not enough to dull the interest of the reader. Although I do have a bit of a nit to pick with the healing process in terms of credibility, I will leave it at that because while unlikely, it can, and has happened before.

If what I have mentioned above has done little in coaxing you from either ambivalence or just plain steadfast disbelief, take comfort in that you should stumble upon several nice mentions, and thus rewarded with a slight increase in knowledge of a certain place once you have completed the fic. Nothing overly elaborate, neither are they in casually fleeting and disjointed mentions, but just enough of a suggestion for you to paint a ghost of a backdrop in your mind, and perhaps if you begin to enjoy it, create a rather lovely atmosphere as well.

I just wish more people will give longer and proper plot-driven fics a chance. I am not even hoping for these pieces to get any acknowledgement (i.e. reviews and comments), just for others out there to actually try reading them. Given the average age of the fandom, most tend to skim over these little gems, beelining towards the plentiful collection of PWP (Plot? What plot?) smut in attempts to satiate their unrelenting hedonistic desires. It will be hypocritical of me to say that I relinquish all forms of desires myself, but the composition of the fandom's demographic unfortunately creates what I find to be the most depressive skew against anything which requires the slightest semblance of independent thought as a preamble to enjoyment. It's no wonder the quality of fics has steadily declined since I took a hiatus from the fandom years before. Who in the right frame of mind will continue painfully crystalizing endless days of efforts and sleepless nights into a fic if there is no one else out there who can appreciate it?

Perhaps I'm a tad biased because this particular piece is centered around a pairing I still love with a near maniacal fervor after all these years; perhaps I'm just actively yearning for something that does some form of justice to a couple that possesses such potential, if only under the skillful pen of an author who can tame their fiery personalities; perhaps I'm growing old and lonely, gradually reduced to silently longing for something of a fantasy relationship; perhaps it is just because I'm feeling particularly vulnerable and susceptible today. Whatever the reason is, I don't really know, but at the same time, it doesn't matter. Because what I take away from the fic is not an elaborately spun embroidery of wistful longing and daydreams pertaining to the story/characters, but an unwilling introspective journey of my own, in which I've learnt, or relearnt some aspects of myself for better or worse. And that is what makes the words of another linger amidst a whirlwind of my own.

How can you truly let go of something you’d just barely gotten, something that you’d dreamed of for your whole life, forcefully taken, stolen from you in cold blood; or maybe, just maybe, willfully departed. How can I forget the taste it had given me -- the mist of fantasy illusive in the night, and how, finally, that hope, that hope that I’d once thought had abandoned me, reignited, if only temporarily, in the belief that perhaps, I’m not alone. It felt like the soft caress of a waking dream; canvas fading, crumbling into nothingness as my eyelids involuntarily flutter to life, only to find that I’ve left it behind; lost in the myriad of euphoria that feels nothing more than the remnants of a cruel trick of the mind.
Hope is a precarious thing. It feeds desperately upon the finest threads of illusions, calling out to what you know will never come, unendingly conjuring up and nursing falsities that perhaps, just perhaps, the heavens will take pity, and relieve you of the abyss of pain and loneliness that you have thrown yourself into. Or at least perhaps, finally release you, setting you free into the veil of deception and embrace of sweet insanity.

And yes, the title is meant to be a double entendre; quite apt a choice don't you think?
devils_solitude: (Default)
I never thought I'd be able to feel again, let alone write.

It's an... Indescribable feeling you can say, for the lack of a better word. And all thanks to a seemingly insignificant fanfiction by a stranger hidden in a corner of cyberspace.

Sounds crazy doesn't it? How is it that a mere fanfiction is able to elicit such a response from me; breaking the 2 years of dry writing spell (and around 1 year of 'unfeelingness') I was trapped in?

Before you shrug it off as me massively inflating the significance of this incident due to my innate rabid fangirl instincts for the fandom (which by the way, I'm not even *that* crazy over, yet), I suggest you read, or skim through it.

Looks like a typical fic? I'll let you continue reading it for another 10 or 15 minutes before you decide.

Besides the absolutely divine use of the English language, the other element of it - which probably helped me immensely in rediscovering the meaning of passion and emotions - is that of the setting. Instead of spinning this ludicrous world in which all the characters are variations of a fairy tale's Prince Charming, the fic was set in a world mirroring that of ours, with each character endearingly flawed. I guess that's why the imagery created was so real, so vivid.

While many are lured by the impossible exaggerations of fantasies, I find myself most captivated, and humbled by the beauty of normalcy. Your senses and imagination dulls over time with repeated, increasing doses of these perfect mythical worlds, wishing for a sinful release from the mundane. But in the end, it is only when you discover, or rediscover the hidden dimension of beauty in the ordinary can your heart finally be content. It was never about drowning yourself in the ideal, but learning to look at reality in a new light. 

That was basically the... Revelation? Epiphany? I had after reading it. 

I fell into a dreamless, yet happy, and perhaps relieved, sleep after reading all 5 parts just before the break of dawn. Only after 20 hours or so later am I able to gather my thoughts in a... Slightly more coherent train, enabling me to write this post. It's rare for me to sing praises for anyone, let alone an annoymous netizen whose path I'd never crossed before. I guess that just says how the story managed to strike a chord deep within me, the resulting notes resonating in my soul, releasing me from the mental prison I was trapped in.

Thank you for releasing the latent feelings in me. Thank you for letting me rediscover my long-lost love for the language. Thank you for motivating me to start, and continue writing again, even if I'll never be able to match the brilliance you have shown me.

Thank you, for showing me that the world is indeed worth living for.


devils_solitude: (Default)

May 2017

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