#Dizzy has such a good support system built up and it’s all characters who I can absolutely see Why they want to be there for her

[golden-stag]

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Gggahh… It’s still so sweet seeing characters support Dizzy like this and seeing more of Testaments soft side ;v;

[novantinuum]

Bi the Way...

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.8K~

Pairings: Steven/Connie

Summary: Connie has a question, and also something to say.

Or: the one where Connie comes out as bisexual :D Set post Steven Universe: The Movie.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

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Bi the Way...

Outside the familiar coziness of Steven’s bedroom, the late autumn rain pours steadily, the choppy waters of the Atlantic crashing onto shore with a ferociousness Connie hasn’t seen for a number of months. Historically, Beach City has been blessed to be host to consistently good weather. But even the most consistently stable meteorological systems aren’t immune to the odd unexpected shake-up. It’s a necessity to clear the air with a great thunderous clap, sometimes. It relieves pressure that’s built up long term amongst the clouds. It leaves the atmosphere noticeably cleaner, the dirt below sparkling with that fresh scent that comes about after torrents of cool rain.

On this particular afternoon, she’s found that this is a lesson that holds just as true for people as it does the weather.

It begins with a stray comment, as things often do.

They’re watching TV, the two of them, tangled together on his bed. About once a week they’ll try to have one of these cuddle sessions, just some time alone together to relax and enjoy each other’s company in private. Working alongside a myriad of Gems to aid in the restructuring of an entire society can be excruciatingly stressful at points, and so can rigorous AP classes and the eye-rolling drudgery of high school drama. There’s no placing a hierarchy on these things for them, no matter their outward difficulty or importance, they’re all just... the challenges in life they have to win. And on occasion, they’re the challenges they need a quiet break from. Both of them are no stranger to throwing themselves at a problem and working endlessly towards a solution until they hit rock bottom and crash, but over the years they’ve started to recognize this tendency for the bad habit it is. It’s okay to take 'me' time, Connie’s constantly reminding Steven (and herself) whenever she catches him about to stubbornly sneak away to the galaxy warp with clear stress lines rimming his eyes. And without fail he’ll groan halfheartedly, knowing he’s been caught red-handed, and retire to his room to relax with a book or a board game or a few rounds of Lonely Blade: Resurgence instead.

Today’s workaholic distraction is a marathon of old Under the Knife episodes. It’s been a while since they’ve binged through this show, and when Steven brought it up and she started to feel super nostalgic about it, in a flash their entertainment for the afternoon was selected.

“Gosh, I honestly forgot how good this is,” he says in the middle of an episode, nudging her arm with his elbow. “The satirical nonsense, the passion, the drama? Eh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty pulpy,” she giggles, nudging him right back. Then, directed at the unhearing characters on screen: “Ughh, Marigold, come on, just go out with him already! We all know you like him!”

“I can’t believe they kept this a slow burn for five entire seasons,” he comments, pursing his lips. “They’re literally perfect for each other!”

Connie throws her arms down against the mattress, palms stretched wide open. “I know, right?? Adrien’s like, a total dreamboat of a man.”

“Yeah, he is pretty cute,” Steven says, an unmistakable blush coloring his face and ears.

Connie pauses upon hearing this, gazing at her boyfriend thoughtfully with a soft smile as he continues to watch this old episode with the same level of investment he exhibited upon its first airing. He props his chin in the cradle of his hands, which of course only further exaggerates the curve of his chubby cheeks. His eyes are blown wide with youthful endeavor, the TV’s glow glinting against his irises in a myriad of continuously shifting colors. He is pretty cute, she thinks, his own adorably smitten words echoing through her mind. And then that blush...

There’s a question she’s had for quite a while but has never asked. Something she’s suspected of him, but had no concrete proof of. The reason? Even if they’re best friends, and now— boyfriend and girlfriend on top of that— the idea of asking him something like this just felt too... what’s the word... invasive. Not that there’s anything wrong with discussing this sort of stuff, no, no, of course not! That’s definitely not what she means. But talking about something as important as this, she just knows it would turn into an in-depth conversation, as most worldly topics tend to do with Steven Universe, and it’s only inevitable this conversation would eventually turn back on her. On why she cared to ask in the first place. And that answer was... well, straightforward, but something she’s not sure she’s ready to broadcast. As if she’s taken command of but a single fragment of Garnet’s future vision, in her restless mind she’s already mapped out what feels like every possible response he could have to her. Most of them are no more than anxiety laced fabrications, things he would never ever dare think of with his upbringing, but believe her when she says she’s been burdened with considering every possible outcome in great, excruciating length.

Now that she knows for sure there’s a strong chance he’s the same way, however... that narrows down these possibilities significantly.

Connie threads her fingers together, gathering the courage.

Come on, you. It’s just Steven. No script, no planning, just... say it!

She opens her mouth to speak before her anxiety laden mind can beg to differ.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask- do you like girls and guys?”

Steven glances away from the television set to meet her curiosity head on. “Oh, you mean like, romantically?”

Running in automatic, she nods in confirmation. Here she goes. The answer to both her spoken question, and the question of which river of possibility this conversation will careen down.

He grins, scratching at the side of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I do! But I think I could like anyone, really. Guys, gals, none of the above. Doesn’t matter to me. That’s... okay, yes?”

“Silly, of course it’s okay! You don’t need my permission to like who you like. I just asked because I-“ Her heart pounds as she pauses briefly, focusing on the nervous jitters, but not in fear. Not anymore. Instead, that soft fluttering in her heart is nothing less than sheer exhilaration. She parts her lips once more, bravely speaking her inner truth into reality for the first time in her life. “I’m like that too. I... I’m bisexual.”

Her boyfriend’s whole expression lights up so bright she may as well be looking at a newborn star.

“Oh, really? That’s awesome!” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder to side hug her. (Knowing him, his keen empathetic ability likely led him to sense the internal battle she waltzed through just to state this out loud.)

The forgotten soap opera continues to play in the background as Connie gives a bashful laugh.

“Hehe, glad you think so. You’re actually, um... the first person I’ve ever said that out loud to,” she says, blushing.

Steven looks as if he’s about to say something in response, but then he pauses— fades into a silence that’s deliberate and measured— as he gazes back at her. Drinks in the moment. Wonders how he could be so lucky to hold her trust like this, or how— heck, he could be thinking anything, she has no idea! Unlike him she can only catch small glimpses into how he feels, the truth woven like gossamer threads through his words and actions, but in this one hallowed moment she doesn’t need to guess. The spark of affection dancing within his dark eyes is soft, perhaps softer than he’s ever looked at her before.

More than anything, Connie feels seen. Years back, long before sword training and Gem missions, long before that fateful day she discovered the beautiful temple (it looked like it could very well be a Hindu goddess, and that cultural connection alone made this slice of beach instantly familiar) hidden on the other side of the hill and decided to park herself there with a book, she’d grown used to feeling invisible. Before she bravely chose to step into this world of magic, it’s as if she forgot that she even had a choice to stand out, to openly shine as the unique, extraordinary individual she is. Admittedly, she still struggles with that to this day. But whenever she’s with him, with her Steven? It’s as if her universe explodes into a kaleidoscope of dizzying color where everything is so, so beloved and worthwhile. She’s worthwhile.

She can only hope being with her makes him feel the same way.

“I know it’s silly after everything we’ve been though,” she continues in time, still having a few things on her mind she suddenly has an exhilarating need to set free, “but I always kinda worried that people... would belittle me for it, I guess. Especially my parents. That like, there’s some upper limit to the number of unusual things about my life they’ll accept.”

“It’s not that unusual, though,” Steven says with a shrug. “I mean, Ruby and Sapphire are legally married. Sure, the Gems aren’t exactly women, but they do present that way. And then Pearl was in love with Mom, of course. Oh, and Amethyst once told me, and I quote, that ‘like a whip, I swing in every direction.’”

Connie snorts at this, and even he can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s see, what else...” he muses, peering at the ceiling thoughtfully as he continues to list the queer individuals he knows of. “Jenny, Buck, and Sour Cream are all dating each other. Mr. Smiley finally reconnected for real with his old comedy partner, and they’re dating. And my dad may not be seeing anyone but he’s always been openly pansexual.”

“Well, it’s not usual in my family,” she says glumly, nestling her chin into his bed’s comforter as the terrifying possibility of rejection hits her harder than expected. Her glance roams. On the television screen, the episode they were watching had paused automatically, a message asking if they’re still there popping up. Clearly it’s been a while since anyone’s handled the remote. She blinks past tears, shame settling at the pit of her stomach for even daring to cry them when others have gone through so much worse, and you’re lucky, what do you even have to feel lost about, and suddenly she begins to feels shameful just for feeling shame, and what cyclical, bittersweet irony is that, and what’s wrong with her, why can’t she stop obsessing over distant possibilities that likely have zero chances of coming to pass, why can’t she—

Steven breaks through her downward spiral with a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing away the physical evidence of her stress. She melts into his touch, forever smitten by this kind of casual intimacy they get to experience together here, alone. It’s innocent, still merely the wandering hands of two teenagers barely beginning to break the boundaries between close friendship and romance, but when words fail she’s discovered that touch can be a language of its own. And right here, right now, she knows he’s talking her down from the mountain of anxiety she’s marooned herself on. He’s leapt effortlessly into the stormy sky and cradled her in his arms, ready to float back to Earth’s surface together.

Outside, the rain continues to slap in rhythmic sheets against the deck. She shivers. Maybe it’s in reaction to the gloomy weather beyond the sliding glass door, maybe it’s despite it. She has no idea.

Steven scoots forward on his belly a bit, and rolls to his side so they can talk face to face without turning their heads. During this, his shirt rides up— ever so slightly— ambient light catching on the lower facets of his gem. The reassurance found in that beautiful, familiar smile of his is dizzying. “Well, at least no matter what happens with your family, you have more than one, huh?“ he says.

“Yeah,” she breathes shakily, eyes glistening with emotion at the metaphorical hand he’s extending with that statement.

Hopefully it’ll never have to come to that, though.

“I do think my parents will be fine with it, if I ever do tell them,” she continues, dabbing the dampness from her eyes. “Especially my mom. She works with queer patients all the time at the hospital, so she’s pretty used to stuff like that. I just... get anxious sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s tough dealing with identity stuff.”

She hums, mind immediately harking to the years he spent doubting his own personhood. Seeking any kind of physical connection she can get, she nuzzles her cheek against his forearm, which he’s currently leaning on. They lay there like that in comfortable silence for a good while. Steven, laying on his side, one hand lazily trailing through her wavy hair, and her, curled up close to his heartbeat, hugging his free arm.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic, can I ask you something?” he asks eventually.

She nods. “Anything.”

“How’d you distinguish bi from pan, when you were figuring all this out? I know they’re pretty similar, and my dad tried to explain it a while ago when I asked, but I still don’t exactly get the nuances.”

Connie shifts to sit up, pursing her lips as she considers her words here. She’s done a lot of research into queer identity in her time, checking out books from the school library and looking up stuff online on incognito mode, but there’s probably still a ton of holes in her knowledge. “Hmm, okay... so I’m no sole authority on any of this of course, but to the best of my knowledge bi means you’re attracted to two or more genders, and pan means you’re attracted to people, but like... their gender isn’t really a factor in the way you experience that at all? I‘m pretty sure? There seems to be a lot of overlap. From what I’ve read people just sorta pick whatever feels the best to them.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Steven says. “So picking labels is kinda like fusion, then! Whenever I fuse, we decide our own name, and it’s sorta... based on a feeling, y’know?”

“Yeah! And like, with Stevonnie... Even though Amethyst kinda inspired the name, they still had to figure out who they were as a person on their own.”

“Exactly! And then, even if two fusions are made of the same gem types, they could still have different names because they’re different people, and that’s what they choose. Anyways, that’s just what this reminded me of,” he says, glancing up at her with a bashful smile. “Honestly... I don’t actually know how I identify.”

The corner of her lips edge upwards. “That’s fine,” she reassures him with a pat, “it took me a while to sort through all this stuff.”

“I really wanna figure it out, have a word for it, but nothing’s clicked yet. For a while I thought I was pansexual like my dad, but that didn’t quite... feel right. Like—“ he too shifts to sit up, folding his feet under his legs as he continues to speak— “I love getting to kiss you, but no offense, I don’t... know if I'll ever want to have- to do anything more than that, y’know?”

She snickers at his inability to simply say the word sex. He’s seventeen now, he knows full well what that is, yet still his faux innocence on the matter remains. It’s one of his charms.

“None taken. Love and attraction is a bizarre, complicated world.”

“You can say that again.”

“Bogus.”

“Whack,” he agrees with a playful grin. Reaching for the remote, he presses play a few times to wake up their streaming site. The episode starts up right where it left off, and they continue to watch together, the air somehow feeling sweeter after her much needed release of emotion.

The satirical medical drama quickly fades into the background, though, as Steven’s hand curls around hers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, blushing. “Even if I don’t know everything about labels yet, I do know one thing for sure.”

She raises a curious brow. “What?”

“I know I love you.”

And before she can open her mouth to respond in kind, he’s kissing her cheek, swooping in like a bandit just like she did for the first time all those months ago, and her heart swells with affection for this boy. He leaves her with one kiss, then two. At the exact moment she turns her head to reciprocate— to sneak a gentle kiss to his cheek right back— he turns as well and she ends up meeting him at the lips. It’s but a quick peck, but she's almost floating. The two of them stifle a laugh as they gaze at each other, their noses almost brushing together.

“Hey, it stopped raining,” he comments then, grinning against her cheek.

She drapes her arms around his shoulders, and hugs him close. Her eyes trail to the glass sliding door. The clouds outside are still thick, but after releasing their load they’re visibly lighter now.

“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling her muscles finally relax as she sinks into her best friend’s embrace. “Yeah, I guess it finally has.”

[dumbbelle]

robber!Minghao

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Minghao Robin Hoods the frick outta his life, and quite literally bumps into you in the process. 

✄ Word Count: 3402 ✄ T/W: Swearing, attempted robbery, cute shit ✄ A/N: Heyo it’s Belle, I’m back with something that nobody asked for but I thought was necessary.

Masterlist

Contrary to what his best friend and roommate says, Xu Minghao insists that he’s a decent person.

(“And Mingyu can go fuck himself with his morals, the asshole’s the most notorious bootlegger you’ll find on campus”)

But honest, Minghao is a simple college boy.

He came to Pledis University when he was 18 as an international student, double majoring in Visual Arts, and Korean Language and Culture.

He’s there mostly on scholarship but he also has financial support from his parents, so he’s never really had to worry about his economic status.

He’s not the most social of kids but he’s also not the most introverted, so he always has just enough friends and just enough parties to attend as to not get bored.

But he gets bored anyway, because he’s always been an active child itching to do more.

So really, this whole mess started when he decides that he should pick up his old hobby:

Breakdancing

It’s mostly just a passing thought that comes to him when he comes back home for holiday and rewatches a VHR tape of an old b-boying competition.

But it lingers and every once in awhile he considers the possibility of him just quitting school and becoming a b-boy star like he once dreamed of.

After all, he was pretty damn good.

(He accidentally thinks this out loud during dinner and his mother throws her chopsticks at him)

Anyway, he returns to college for the new year and he’s almost completely forgotten about his old dreams.

Luckily enough (or maybe unluckily enough, depending on the perspective), there is a campus b-boy squad that he happens to stumble upon during his second-year clubs fair (as in, they barrelled into him with a flier and bombarded him with questions).

To be truthful, it seems pretty lame and Minghao’s sure that if he went underground, he could probably find a cooler scene,,,

But also, they said that there would be snacks at the interest meeting,,,

And so he makes the considerate decision to attend.

The interest meeting is where he meets Seokmin of all people.

The acting major makes a scene when he announces that he’s not there as Lee Seokmin but as Kang Hajoon, a lower-class high school drop out who finds his way through the power of breakdance.

(“Nobody knew who you were in the first place, dipshit–“

“–I said to call me Hajoon–“

“–Just sit down.”)

And people are snickering at Seokmin because they find his method acting lame.

But Minghao finds that lame so he proceeds to sit down right beside the boy and stare daggers at any jerk who directs a snide comment their way.

He hangs around just long enough so that he can decimate the rest in a b-boy demonstration, pretty much showing them all what they’re going to miss out on.

And then he gets up and leaves the meeting, Seokmin following behind him.

They grab some chips on their way out and properly introduce themselves.

“Hey sorry about all of that in there, Seo- uh, Hajoon. B-boyers usually aren’t assholes… Just them. Don’t let that bleed into your portrayal, you feel? I’m Minghao, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m over it. Thanks for what you did back there... It’s nice to meet you too. And you can call me Seokmin now, I’m done with Hajoon for the day.”

Which starts an odd, but well-oiled friendship.

Seokmin introduces Minghao to all of his friends, and that’s how Minghao ends up with an incredibly,, diverse,, friend group.

And by diverse, he means that he’s positive his friendship with them will likely result with him going to jail.

He should’ve realized it when the de facto leader Seungcheol introduced himself as “S.Coups” and made him sign a waiver of liability before joining the group.

It was scribbled on to the back of a receipt but yeah, it should’ve been a little concerning

But Minghao just kinda rolls with it.

And this is how he finds himself inducted into their so-called “League of Good Doers Doing Not So Good Doer Things”.

It’s a working title; LoGDDNSGDT for short.

(“What do you do, Seokmin?”

“I’m a recruiter!”

“… That’s fair.”)

It takes him a few months to solidify his role in the group (he’s the last to join), but in that time he manages to become especially good friends with Mingyu, so much so that he becomes his roommate.

Mingyu’s known for using his technical abilities to bootleg high quality concert footage, videos, textbooks, and whatever else you need.

(“We’re all just a bunch of broke college students with a bunch of broke college student needs. We’re just making those needs realities.”)

Also alcohol, he sells a lot of alcohol.

And though Minghao initially scoffs at this, it also makes him check his privilege a little

He’s always been fortunate enough to grow up with money and be smart, free to do whatever he wants when he wants.

Growing up, he’s had a lot of interests and a lot of phases, all of which he more than excelled in.

Gosh, there was even that one ninja phase…

THE NINJA PHASE

He’s eating a brownie that’s probably been laced with weed one Friday night as he watches tv with Mingyu and Seokmin when he remembers the ninja phase.

He remembers how stealthy he is and just how good he is at picking locks.

And so he decides to Robin Hood the frick outta his life, robbing the expensive belongings from the richer students and pawning their items off so he can donate to the poor.

He excels at this too, much to Mingyu’s chagrin (“the kid’s just fuckin’ good at everything!”)

It definitely alleviates him of his boredom, and he’s so subtle and precise with it that most of the time, people don’t even notice when things are missing.

He’s become some kind of town legend, and so many people idolize this mysterious robber that the authorities aren’t even too concerned.

He’s also somehow acquired this odd nickname?? The8?? They say it’s because you never know how his crimes begin or how they’ll end.

Like the only thing anybody knows about his victims is that they’ll be wealthy (but gosh, Pledis U has too many of those roaming the place),,,, but then next thing you know the underfunded art department will suddenly get a donation of a few thousand, or the Culture Club food drive will find a gazillion non-perishable cans when they come back the next morning.

Minghao likes to think he's spontaneous.

Now this is where you come in (“finally,” I can hear you sigh from behind your screens)

Unlike everyone else around you, you do not have the biggest crush on this mysterious figure.

(“Just for the record, ‘The8’ is literally the dumbest robber alias I have ever heard.”

“How many have you heard before?”

“Not. The. Point.”)

All he does is go around and undermine people’s hard work, invading their personal space and infringing on their privacy.

All so that he can make a quick buck.

And sure, maybe he’s not spending all that money on himself, but to make students feel unsafe and unprotected in their own freaking homes and dorms?

And to have nobody do anything about it?

Absurd.

It becomes such a constant source of ire for you that you rant about this almost daily.

But it’s like you’re the only one who understands the gravity of the situation.

Your closest friends are all about this guy, singing his praises and commending his selflessness.

Your junior, Chan, is particularly adamant about the quality of his character (you have no idea about his involvement with the LoGDDNSGDT, of course; after all, he also had to sign the receipt contract).

So you’re a party of 1 in the Anti-The-8 Movement.

He’s three months into it when he makes a rather stupid mistake:

He decides to rob you.

Minghao will later complain that anybody could’ve gotten the wrong idea.

He sees you for the first time in his Korean History class.

He doesn’t exactly know how he missed you before.

First of all, you’re fucking gorgeous

First of all, there is a certain air that you carry yourself with–

It’s poised and self-assured and kind of breathtaking.

You raise your hand to read a passage and even the way you speak is levelled and controlled.

You remind him of royalty some of the other wealthy kids on campus.

Probably trained to uphold a certain degree of eloquence so that you can one day take over your parents’ company and maintain good business relationships. 

And socialize at those hoity-toity parties with the little hors d'oeuvres.

His thoughts are confirmed after class when he overhears you talk with your friends.

You’re asking your friend to take notes in place for you when you go off to vacation with your family next week.

“Heading off to the island?” Your one friend chirps.

“Yeah, dad just finished a successful case and we’re celebrating.”

And wait, an island? These guys must be fucking loaded.

Your friend lets your name slip and it’s all starting to make a lot more sense.

Now he’s heard of your name around campus.

Your parents are lawyers who built an empire, opening up law firms around the country.

They’re known for being ruthless and never sharing their wealth.

In short, they’re prime targets!!

Minghao feels like it’s Christmas– this will be his biggest catch since that one kid who was the heir to the electric toothbrush company.

He trails you and your friends for a few minutes just to confirm the details and then he’s off to plan.

Fast forward a week later to when you should be going off to vacation.

But instead you come down with the stomach flu, and not a pretty one either.

You experience the full range of systems:

Vomit, fever, dizziness, fatigue,,, There’s no way your parents are letting you tag along on the trip.

And you’re too busy vomiting to argue.

So they ditch your ass and head off to vacation by themselves, once you assure them that you’ll be fine on your own.

After all, you are a certified GDI who can take care of yourself.

… Who just so happens to be dressed up in a onesie, cuddling a large teddy bear as you watch Netflix from your nest of pillows on the couch.

You’ve scrolling through your recommended feed when you hear it:

The door opening

And you have to wonder if the vacation ended early because who else… Would…

You gasp when you realize what’s going on, rushing to turn off the television as to eliminate all sources of sound.

All your nightmares are coming true, and you haven’t even fully developed a game plan to approach this awful situation.

Now you’re not dumb, you’re not gonna run headfirst into a situation where you don’t have the upper hand.

Instead, you’ll hide and discreetly notify the authorities when you activate the alarm system.

And so no, you’re not dumb,, 

But you are clumsy.

You’re trying to navigate your way to your bedroom, remote in hand as a backup weapon, checking over your shoulder at every possible moment.

Perhaps you’re checking over your shoulder a little too much, because next thing you know you’ve crashed into a wall.

Except the wall moves and you know that it’s definitely not a wall.

The wall makes a sound, a little grunt and you snap your head back around so quickly, you think you hear the whip of the wind.

The man in front of you is tall and skinny, and seems oddly familiar even with his ski mask on.

You don’t have too much time to contemplate this however , as you’re too busy trying to whack the heck outta him with your remote.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU ASSBUCKET.”

It's all just too much, and you're surprised you haven't shat your pants because of how scared you are.

But,,,, The8 is kinda just taking it??? He's trying to block you of course (and mostly succeeding to, the jerk) but he's not trying to fight back. What kind of shitty robber…?

You're c o n f u s e d, which is why you stop to look up at him expectantly.

“You done?” His voice incites a whole new wave of panic to wash over you, and you raise your remote to start hitting him again but The8 quickly raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey now, I'm not here to hurt you.”

You're skeptical, of course you are. But you think back to all the gossip you’ve heard about The8, and realize that you can’t recall any accounts of violence.

This doesn't change the fact that this asshole is robbing you, so you use the remote to gesture towards his ski mask.

“Take it off.”

And he sighs, as if it's inevitable, but holds up a finger and starts to negotiate,,,, as if he has any right to in this current situation,,, and gosh, how is he so damn calm right now??

“Okay, but if I do, promise you won’t call the cops immediately.”

You don't know why you agree to his terms– you're sure it won't make a difference.

He’ll get the cops called on him sooner or later.

But if it gets him to cooperate… You agree with a swift dip of your head.

The tension in the room is palpable, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as he starts to take off his mask.

And oh fuck you know who it is you know who it is you know who it is.

You recognize him immediately as the cute guy in your Korean History class, the one you've had a crush on since forever and a half ago.

The one that's always hanging out with that group of loud kids…Chan's Precious Seniors

And somewhere in your subconscious, you're freaking out about the possibility of Chan being involved in a crime syndicate.

And further freaking out about how you’ve confided in Chan about your crush in Xu Minghao, who just so happens to be The8 and holy fuck you can’t believe it’s him.

You really don’t have much time to dwell, because the shock and overexertion of the situation starts gets to you, and you’re starting to feel dizzy. It’s like the fever finally catches up to you–

And then you’re falling, fainting–

The last thing you hear before you pass out is the startled cry of your name.

…

You wake up to the smell of broth, and the feeling of a damp cloth pressed to the top of your forehead.

Your headache is devastating, but you’re otherwise positioned comfortably

It takes you a minute to process that you’re back on your living room couch, low hum of the television sounding from somewhere to your right

You try to locate the smell of broth, which is when you meet eye-to-eye with a very timid looking Minghao

He’s more tense than earlier, as if he’s scared you’ll jump up right then and there to attack him

And you would, honest, but the broth,,, smells,,, so,,, good,,,

You motion for him to give it to you and he relaxes before quickly complying, letting you sit up before gently placing the bowl in your hands.

He settles into a stool beside you– one that definitely wasn’t there before, but it’s whatever.

You sit there in silence for a good couple of minutes, Minghao watching the drama playing on TV as you drink your broth.

It’s kinda nice

Minghao’s the first one to speak.

“Please don’t exert yourself like that if you’re sick. You could’ve had a heart attack or something.”

He sounds so small that you just manage to resist throwing the rest of the hot soup at him in the sudden bubble of anger that erupts from you in the form of a hiss.

“Um, my memory might be wrong here but wasn’t it you who broke into my house in the first place, assbucket?”

He chuckles at that, and you’re slowly losing that sliver of self-restraint.

“Assbucket, that’s a new one.” You notice that his accent is more prominent when he’s amused.

“You deserve worse, you assbucket.”

At that he really laughs, and you have to look away to distract yourself from how attractive the sound is.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, and Minghao can tell. He quickly changes tact.

“Listen, I get why you’re mad.” Oh, now wouldn’t that be the understatement of the year.

“But I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I-I won’t even steal anything from here anymore. But please, please don’t make yourself more sick because of me.”

And man, fuck Minghao for making it damn near impossible to call the police on his ass. You don’t say anything more until you finish up your broth.

“Why… Why do you do it?”

Minghao shrugs. “Just because.”

“Just because? You’re violating my home, Minghao. This is my private space, and you’re infringing upon it without my consent.”

Minghao furrows his eyebrows, as if he’s never considered it before. And God, why did it have to be him?

Minghao finally hums. “Would you miss it?”

W-wha… “Huh?”

Minghao nods towards an abstract modernist piece that hangs high up on your wall. “Would you miss it?”

Your silence is more than enough to answer his question.

“But I’m sorry, you know. I truly wouldn’t have come around if I was aware you’d be home. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“. . . Minghao, that’s creepy. Don’t do that. Besides, how do you know my name?”

“How do you know mine?”

The fucker. You blush, shrugging and dropping the subject completely. You’re avoiding his eyes so much that you miss the fond smile on his lips. He’s about to say something when a phone sounds. You realize it’s coming from Minghao’s pocket and watch as he takes it out, curious.

Minghao checks his phone and immediately scowls, closing his eyes in what seems like exasperation.

“I… I have to go, so sorry. My roommate just did something unbelievably stupid because he’s unbelievably stupid.”

You refrain from asking; you really don’t wanna know.

“Will you be alright by yourself? I’m worried… I’ll try to stay longer if you don’t think you will… I mean, if you want. Or I can call someone to come or–”

Where was this bashful kid an hour ago? For the first time that evening, you let out a small smile. He sees it and is stunned, momentarily blinded by your beauty.

“I’ll be fine Minghao, go help your roommate.”

He nods, getting up to leave, but not before taking your phone from the coffee table. He holds it out so that you can unlock it, and you do, though the question hangs in your eyes.

“I-I’m not taking it, just wanted to give you my phone number. In case you start to feel worse. Call me or don’t... It’s whatever.”

And so you do.

...

Bonus:

Three months later, you’re recounting the tale to the rest of the boys during one of their weekly movie nights. (You don’t dare touch the brownies, Minghao tells you they’re fucked.)

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Your boyfriend ignores it, though Seokmin stubbornly keeps his hand up and waits for anyone to complete the exchange. You tap your palm against his in pity.

“Actually,” Minghao starts, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “I would say Y/N is the one who stole my heart instead. Just had to fall straight into my arms like that… A true master of seduction.”

You giggle, turning your head to peck his lips. The boys groan, losing interest in your story and turning back towards the movie.

From somewhere in the corner, you hear Mingyu fake a gag.

(Perhaps it’s the brownies, you can’t really tell.)

Masterlist 

[aion-rsa]

Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 2 Review: Far From Home

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This Star Trek: Discovery review contains spoilers.

Star Trek: Discovery Season 3, Episode 2

Star Trek: Discovery season three continues to take its time in the second episode, which acts as a satisfying parallel to the season premiere. Last week, we followed Michael in her first day in this strange, new frontier. This week, we’re doing the same with the rest of the Discovery crew. Like Michael, their introduction to this new time begins with a traumatic, dizzying fall from space. Unlike Michael, they have one another to lean on, not to mention an entire starship to keep them safe. With sloppy writing, this kind of retread of the “stranger in a strange land” plot could have been redundant and boring, but Discovery nails it for the second week in a row, giving us further insight into how the values and the experiences of these 23rd century characters fit and don’t in this new world.

There’s something deeply unnatural about seeing a starship on the ground. Usually built in space and equipped with shuttlecrafts for away missions, a starship could conceivably live out its whole life without ever touching the surface of a planet. Because of this, if a starship is on the ground, something has probably gone terribly wrong, for example: the starship has jumped 930 years into the future and come out in the middle of an asteroid field with many of its systems straight-up not responding. Or something like that.

Like Michael in the premiere, Discovery’s first experience in this new time is crash landing onto a planet. A planet that the crew quickly realizes is not their intended destination of Terralysium (aka Burnham’s mom’s home base). Where are they? Doesn’t matter! Discovery can’t fly and can’t communicate, and Saru makes it clear to his crew that fixing these problems needs to be the priority, even if there is a shiny new future out there to explore. (Shiny new futures are like cat nip for these Federation types.) The crew goes about fixing the plasma manifold rupture, which means finding and fixing all of the EPS conduits that went boom.

But, really, where are they? OK, fine. The planet doesn’t really have a name; the few people who live in the man-made pockets of breathable atmosphere simply call their home “The Colony,” and that no-name status tells you pretty much everything you need to know about this place. It’s a backwater that no one cares about, especially, presumably, now that its mining colonies have been sabotaged. If this were a western, a genre the episode mades several explicit references to, then this would the mostly-abandoned frontier town way down on its luck.

The Colony may be a dusty frontier town, but it’s still 930 years ahead of the Discovery when it comes to tech, which is good news for the battered ship. While the crew works diligently to make the repairs necessary to get Discovery flying again before the planet’s parasitic ice crushes the hull and everyone in it (did I not mention there is parasitic, hull-crushing ice?), Saru and Tilly travel to one of the settlements in search of a repair for a broken transtator. As with any good western, they find a saloon filled with trigger-happy locals (well, two trigger happy locals). But even future folk can’t resist the one-two punch of Sar and Tilly’s earnest likability. They agree to help.

It helps that one of the miners, Kal, believes in the Federation. Like Mr. Sahil in last week’s episode, Kal is a true believer, someone who hopes for the Federation long after there is evidence to inspire or support that hope. Unlike Mr. Sahil, Kal has bigger problems than keeping his teeth clean and. his bird alarm clock set. The Colony is under the thumb of local bully Zareh, a violent courier who uses his position to exploit the remote community. When Zareh shows up on the saloon scene, the situation quickly takes a violent turn. Kal is killed, and Zareh plans to send Tilly out into the parasitic winter to retrieve the dilithium Saru has promised in exchange for their safe release.

But Saru and Tilly aren’t in the same situation as Michael: they have backup, even when they don’t ask for it. Emperor Georgiou, highly critical of Saru’s plans to simply ask the locals nicely for their help, has followed Tilly and Saru. She saunters in and turns the situation on its head, quickly taking Zareh and his henchmen out. The backup definitely saves Tilly’s life and probably saves Saru’s too, and presents an uncomfortable truth: Saru might not like Georgiou’s methods, but it’s hard to deny that she is a useful ally in this lawless future. Still, Saru won’t let Georgiou kill Zareh, after he has been safely apprehended, giving the choice of justice to the remaining miner instead. Georgiou goes along with it when Saru pulls rank, but it’s not clear how long that will work. Right now, Georgiou is of value to the crew and willing to, more or less, follow the rules of Discovery, but it’s not hard to imagine that there will come a day when this is not the case anymore. When that day comes, Saru will have some hard choices to make.

While Saru, Tilly, and Georgiou secure a messy victory on the planet, the crew of Discovery manages to secure a last-minute victory repairing the ship’s systems, with a huge assist from a very injured Stamets. (Yeah, his medically-induced coma has been cut short.) We often speak about Star Trek, at least in its initial incarnations, as a utopian show and, for me, I understand that utopia as directly related to workplace. Star Trek: The Next Generation especially is a show about the best office ever, one where everyone is excited to be there, is good at their jobs, and will show up for their colleagues’ poetry readings. It’s a depiction of a workplace that is so healthy and functional that the near non-existence of everyone’s domestic lives is depicted as not a problem. Past Season 1, the Discovery has had more of this happy workplace vibe—that being said, this ship has a serious problem with employees working while sick and/or wounded (a very American work culture flaw). In this episode, we see both Detmer and Stamets work through their serious injuries. While it works out for now, especially in Stamets’ instance, it’s a dangerous game and one that, at least in my workplace utopia, is sad to see. While this is a lesson I need to internalize myself, addressing any and all medical concerns and listening to your doctor’s advice (as is demonstrated in this episode by Reno) is necessary for a healthy and efficient workplace. (But, seriously, someone needs to check on Detmer.)

The episode ends with a hell of a plot twist that, while many viewers may have seen coming, still packs a punch. A mysterious ship shows up to help haul Discovery out of the ice. It’s Burnham, and she has finally found Discovery… after a year of searching. Frankly, she looks great, and is probably overjoyed that she didn’t have to wait longer for Discovery to appear in this time. (In last week’s episode, she and Mr. Sahil agreed that it could be days or it could be centuries.) We’ll have to wait until next week to see what Michael has been up to, but, now that the Discovery crew has been properly reunited, this future feels one step closer to restoring the Federation.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Additional thoughts.

It’s a very broad title, but it makes me laugh that this episode has the same name as the last Spider-Man movie.

Is there anything scarier than having your helm yell “Brace!” because there is nothing else they can do?

Having the bridge crew cheer Detmer after that crash landing was a nice touch. I love this group.

The sickbay needs to step up its game. Dr. Pollard, right now I’m looking specifically at you. (But, again, Detmer, you got to speak up about those symptoms, friend!)

“Um, you have some Leland on your shoes.”

Stamets’ “Worse than me?” upon being awoken from his coma so that someone else can have his bed is a real metric of the situation. I am still unclear what the capacity of this medbay is. How many beds does it have? It always seem to have a skeleton crew of doctors.

“OK, what the f-?!” Tilly snaps at Georgiou in a highly relatable way.

Different incarnations of Trek have had different policies and patterns when it came to how often the captain would go on away missions. Thoughts on Saru, the captain, leaving the ship during this crucial moment?

“We are introducing ourselves to the future. You, Ensign Tilly, make a wonderful first impression.” I love that Saru (and this show) recognizes this quality as the skill that it is.

Beautiful Iceland!

We get some great Saru as captain moments in this episode. He is kind and clear-eyed, communicative and firm, smart and calm under pressure, and he also kicks some ass when it is called for.

“What an unbelievably shitty decision.” Georgiou’s thoughts on Nhan’s choice to ditch the Enterprise in favor of Discovery. I mean… I kind of get where she is coming from on this.

“Bureaucracy is where fun goes to die.” Emperor Georgiou, not a fan of Section 31 or, most likely, Starfleet.

“We’re odd and strange.” “Not to each other.”

Do you think we will see Zareh again? I kind of hope not.

Gene is credited as “Ensign Hazmat,” which is a nice touch. I hope we see him again.

Like the season premiere, this episode was also directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, and it was beautiful.

While I am excited to see Michael and the Discovery crew reunited, it would have been interesting to spend a good chunk of the season alternating episodes between these two groups, a la Farscape Season 3, and only having them reunite well into the season. But I am cool with this too.

What did you think of “Far From Home”? Let us know in the comments below.

The post Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 2 Review: Far From Home appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3mcBYAp

[maziijapanesedictionaryblog-blog]

The secret to learning Kanji for beginners

If you've ever studied or were simply interested in Japanese, you've probably heard the Kanji alphabet - the apprehension of anyone who wants to be friends with Japanese.

1. What is Kanji?

Kanji is the kanji used in the Japanese writing system along with Hiragana and Katakana. Learning Kanji for beginner that Japanese people are using now include Chinese characters imported from China and Chinese characters created by the Japanese.

2. Why learn Kanji?

Japanese has many homophones but different meanings, it is necessary to rely on Kanji to determine the meaning of the word.

Currently in Japan, the names of stations, shops or signs are mostly written in Kanji, so learning Kanji is essential if you want to travel or live in Japan.

Studying well Kanji, you will be able to read and translate Japanese documents well, because Kanji accounts for 70% of the content of Japanese articles or documents.

Although necessary, learning kanji for beginners is not easy at all. Today, I would like to share some effective ways to learn Kanji drawn by myself after studying Kanji

3. Learning with software

If you've ever learned about effective Learning Kanji for beginners methods, you probably already know the flashcard method. I have tried this method before, and from my personal perspective, it is quite boring and ineffective for me.

Instead, I choose to study on the phone, the web is both fun and convenient. If you are proficient in technology, you will easily find effective Kanji learning apps on your phone. If you are not proficient in technology, you can use it directly on the website. When I found out, I know this product is both supported on mobile applications and has a convenient web version that has been researched and built by a team of experts from countries, Asian countries and throughout Asia. u. The most interesting point in this Japanese language learning software is that you can study, entertain and especially take the free trial exam. You are curious, but you can try it right now: Learn Japanese Kanji

4. Learning and associating

Since Kanji is a hieroglyph, the way to learn Chinese characters in Japanese is also interesting. Hieroglyphs are words of the ancients seeing things and things and rewriting them, describing them in their own way of thinking and imagination. Therefore, one of the tips for learning Kanji for beginners is to imagine and compare Kanji according to things and phenomena in real life. This way the kanji will be imprinted more deeply in your brain than just learning rote as you normally do. There are quite a few good books to help you supplement your Kanji learning by this association: "Remember the Kanji" by James Heisig or "Kanji Pict-O-Graphix" by Michael Rowley.

5. Study in a spiraling pattern

As I said, learning Japanese, especially learning Kanji, is quite difficult, not only for foreigners studying Japanese, but even local students are "horrified" during Chinese Han hours. schools. In the beginning, the previous learning forgot, even if I could not remember the font, just seeing the Kanji as "dizzy dizziness" probably made many people flinch. However, don't worry too much and force yourself to remember all the Han characters in the first lesson or give up too soon! Try to study into many times. Study in conjunction with the test of old Chinese characters. The process of learning and forgetting and repeating is the process that you repeatedly print that Kanji on the brain. At some point from that Kanji will imprint your brain so that when needed it can be easily removed for use. The process of memorizing many times takes place in a spiraling pattern. This means that your new words will increase and the level of memory will increase. 

Currently, the tool helps to improve the method of memorizing vocabulary, learning kanji according to smart applications, and suggesting that you can use Mazii as a daily support tool for your learning Japanese with kanji.

Free download:

iOS: http://bit.ly/Mazii_iOS

Android: http://bit.ly/Mazii_Android

Web: http://bit.ly/Mazii_web

[pungent-things]

Greater Dreams and Open Letters: Part 2

Greater Dreams and Open Letters: Part 1

A full year has passed since Shane Newville’s Open Letter to All Who Treasured Monty Oum. Many people want to forget this letter existed, and I don’t blame them. The amount of turmoil and conflict this letter brought forth was severe, traumatizing, even. People took multiple sides by supporting Shane, Rooster Teeth, or opting to wait out the storm. It was not a good few weeks to be in any fandom related to Rooster Teeth.

Ultimately, nothing happened. Rooster Teeth never acknowledged the letter’s existence. Total silence. People gradually forgot about the letter and standard fandom operations resumed.

Why bring it back now after so much strife? Good question.

In my previous post (linked at the top) I was quite clearly on Shane Newville’s side, and I still am. Time has passed since then, and I’m still searching for closure.

According to Wikipedia, Rooster Teeth was acquired by Fullscreen in early November of 2014, for an undisclosed amount under the guise of “gaining the resources and tools needed to compete against other producers”. When was the last time you heard of a company buy-out another for an “undisclosed amount”, especially from a company that prides itself with being open to its community? This lack of disclosure becomes an alarming trend, especially when Shane’s Open Letter gets involved.

February 2, 2015. People were told Monty Oum died from an allergic reaction during a simple medical procedure. It took 15 months to find out the “allergic reaction” was from a maintenance allergy shot. Why keep this information from the public? For the longest time, many people believed the reaction was caused by anesthesia, which would have made sense. But a maintenance allergy shot? Inside of a hospital? Where these procedures are performed on a regular basis?

He [Monty] had only gone in for a maintenance allergy shot— this sort of thing doesn’t happen. -Page 15, At the Hospital

Shane suspected something wasn’t right.

Rarely, a serious systemic reaction called anaphylaxis (pronounced an-a-fi-LAK-sis) can develop. Symptoms include swelling in the throat, wheezing, a feeling of tightness in the chest, nausea or dizziness. Most serious systemic reactions develop within 30 minutes of allergy shots. This is why it is strongly recommended you wait in your doctor’s office for 30 minutes after your injections. Your allergist is trained to watch for reactions, and his or her staff is trained and equipped with the proper medications to identify and treat them. -Source in reblog

I have to ask why this detail was omitted from Rooster Teeth’s original announcement of Monty’s death. When Satoru Iwata died later that year, the details surrounding his death were made fully available to the public. So, why not for Monty? Why omit so much? Did the full story make the circumstances surrounding his death suspicious? Was the vague report just a trap to stop people from looking into things further?

I was suspicious from the very start. Whenever someone neglects to tell the full truth, my trust in them drops significantly, and this was the second instance of omitting the truth in three months.

There are three major points in the Open Letter that I want to draw attention to:

In fact, throughout Volume 2 and up to his death, Monty was trying to figure out a way to take RWBY offsite to his own studio (likely somewhere in LA), with his own team (myself, Sheena, Kristina Haku Nguyen, Max Song, Ein Lee, maybe a few more animators, etc.) so we could craft it the way he intended it to be from the start.

[...]

Of course that was not exactly a realistic situation... at least not yet. But he wanted to do things his way. He did not like what was happening and where production was taking things as it continued to grow bigger and less efficient. -Page 13, A Small Team

After much discussion over coffee he came up with an awesome tool for Poser he called the “Pivot Tool”, where we could easily animate the change of weapon parenting from its holster, from one hand to the other, or both, etc. It would let us change between world and local rotation, and it had a built­in blur tool for weapon spinning. It was something we had been hoping to make for years and it was finally ready to go. However, for Volume 3 they decided we weren’t allowed to use this awesome tool because it “breaks” the new pipeline they implemented.

Monty also developed a facial rig to make all the new animators happy. Everyone else on the team came from the professional industry where they are used to using Maya and standard face rigs with little objects off to the side representing the eyes, brows, mouth, etc. Monty’s tool simulated those facial rigs that Maya animators were used to using because they kept complaining about how much easier it was to do in Maya. Unfortunately, no one got to use it because it was later decided not to be important enough, or something. So this tool went to waste. -Page 12, New Tools

Monty liked to create characters based on people that he knew. Winter Schnee was created in Sheena’s likeness, and it was his intention that she would also be doing her voice. Sheena is a great concept artist and had already crafted her design. This had been approved by Monty for Volume 3 back in December of 2013. Not only did Rooster Teeth take away any possibility of Sheena playing the part, the design was scrapped and recreated as what we eventually saw in Volume 3. -Page 18-19, Winter Schnee

These three points are some of the most important parts of Shane’s Open Letter.

The first point: Monty taking RWBY offsite with a small team, including his wife, Sheena Duquette. Ideally, Monty should never have considered taking production offsite if his current studio at Rooster Teeth wholly supported his workflow. The simple fact that he wanted to should speak volumes about what he thought of standardization. Not to mention that Rooster Teeth saw fit to ignore Monty’s workflow, which had worked for the company for years, in order to conform to industry standards.

The second point: New tools for Poser. I’m no animator, but I can understand how useful the tools Shane described could be when it comes to animating. The facial animation tool could be seen as an olive branch toward the standardization Rooster Teeth was undergoing. Many of the animators worked with Maya, which came with tools for facial animation, tools that Monty did his best to emulate. Unfortunately for Rooster Teeth, that meant sticking with Poser instead of converting to Maya, lest they invoke Monty’s wrath. Monty’s popularity meant that Rooster Teeth couldn’t say no in order to keep him from turning his fanbase against the company. How strange for Monty to fall into a coma less than a month after developing these new tools.

The third point: Winter Schnee and Sheena Duquette. For some unknown excuse, Rooster Teeth despises Sheena.

It was at some point in March that we finally had our first pre­-pre-­production meeting to start talking about how to move forward with the show. Right away, one of the producers made a strong statement that I did not like.

“Just so you know, Sheena has absolutely no business, whatsoever, with any part of RWBY.”

It was clearly aimed at me, the only one in the room who actually spent time with Sheena and Monty discussing RWBY. -Page 16, March

These people singled out Sheena, announced her alienation as their first order of business in their first meeting, and no one has any idea as to why. Monty approved of Sheena’s design of Winter Schnee back in December of 2013, and even wanted her to voice the character. Why would Rooster Teeth spend the resources to fully scrap a Monty Oum approved character design and defy his wishes? Why is Sheena portrayed as such a threat to them?

These points feel more like a motive than anything else.

Rooster Teeth wanted to standardize their work environment and alienate Sheena, for some excuse. Monty got in the way just by doing what he loved for the fans. How does a corporation deal with someone like this?

The thing is, Rooster Teeth might not have had a choice. It is completely possible that Fullscreen was the one to make the decision in the end.

RWBY was gaining popularity at an astounding rate. Fullscreen wanted to profit from its success, so they offered to buy Rooster Teeth and provide the “resources and tools” that would undoubtedly interfere with Monty’s workflow and original vision. Rooster Teeth couldn’t say no, but Monty would have rejected those “resources and tools” vehemently. As soon as Monty and Shane develop their own animation tools that likely emulated those provided by Fullscreen, Monty suddenly falls into a coma and dies ten days later.

Instead of having to deal with the crippling aftermath of Monty taking RWBY development off-site, he dies, Rooster Teeth and by extension Fullscreen get to enjoy a massive wave of monetary support on the deceased image of a Hero, and no one ever thinks to suspect foul play.

Coincidences don’t line up like this by mistake. Something rotten occurred at Rooster Teeth, and I would love to hire a private investigator to find out exactly what happened.

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 1

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER I

LOG ENTRY: SOL 6

I’m pretty much fucked.

That’s my considered opinion.

Fucked.

Six days in to what should be a greatest two months of my life, and it’s turned in to a nightmare.

I don’t even know who’ll read this. I guess someone will find it eventually. Maybe a hundred years from now.

For the record… I didn’t die on Sol 6. Certainly the rest of the crew thought I did, and I can’t blame them. Maybe there’ll be a day of national mourning for me, and my Wikipedia page will say “Maia Watney is the only human being to have died on Mars.”

And it’ll be right, probably. Cause I’ll surely die here. Just not on Sol 6 when everyone thinks I did.

Let’s see… where do I begin?

The Ares program. Mankind reaching out to Mars to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah. The Ares 1 crew did their thing and came back heroes. They got the parades and fame and love of the world.

Ares 2 did the same thing, in a different location on Mars. They got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when they got home.

Ares 3. Well. That was my mission. Well, not mine per se. Commander Lewis was in charge. I was just one of her crew. Actually, I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew. I would only be “in command” of the mission if I were the only remaining person.

What do you know? I’m in command.

I wonder if this log will be recovered before the rest of the crew die of old age? I presume they got back to Earth all right. Well, guys, if you’re reading this: It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do. In your position I would have done the same thing. I don’t blame you, and I’m glad you survived.

I guess I should explain how Mars missions work, for any layman who may be reading this. We got to earth orbit the normal way, through an ordinary ship to Hermes. All the Ares missions use Hermes to get to and from Mars. It’s really big and cost a lot so NASA only built one.

Once we got to Hermes, four additional unmanned missions brought us fuel and supplies while we prepared for our trip. Once everything was a go, we set out for Mars. But not very fast. Gone are the days of heavy chemical fuel burns and trans-Mars injection orbits.

Hermes is powered by ion engines. They throw Argon out the back of the ship really fast to get a tiny amount of acceleration. The thing is, it doesn't take much reactant mass, so a little Argon (and a nuclear reactor to power things) let us accelerate constantly the whole way there. You'd be amazed at how fast you can get going with a tiny acceleration over a long time.

I could regale you with tales of how we had great fun on the trip, but I won’t. We did have fun, but I don’t feel like reliving it right now. Suffice it to say we got to Mars 124 days later without strangling each other.

From there, we took the MDV (Mars Descent Vehicle) to the surface. The MDV is basically a big can with some light thrusters and parachutes attached. Its sole purpose is to get six humans from Mars orbit to the surface without killing any of them

And now we come to the real trick of Mars exploration: Having all our shit there in advance

A total of 14 unmanned missions deposited everything we would need for surface operations. They tried their best to land all the supply vessels in the same general area, and did a reasonably good job. Supplies aren’t nearly so fragile as humans and can hit the ground really hard. But they tended to bounce around a lot.

Naturally, they didn’t send us to Mars until they’d confirmed all the supplies had made it to the surface and their containers weren’t breached. Start to finish, including supply missions, a Mars mission takes about 3 years. In fact, there were Ares 3 supplies en route to Mars while the Ares 2 crew were on their way home.

The most important piece of the advance supplies, of course, was the MAV. The “Mars Ascent Vehicle.” That was how we would get back to Hermes after surface operations were complete. The MAV was softlanded (as opposed to the balloon bounce-fest the other supplies had). Of course, it was in constant communication with Houston, and if there were any problems with it, we would pass by Mars and go back to Earth without ever landing.

The MAV is pretty cool. Turns out, through a neat set of chemical reactions with the Martian atmosphere, for every kilogram of hydrogen you bring to Mars, you can make 13 kilograms of fuel. It’s a slow process, though. It takes 24 months to fill the tank. That’s why they sent it long before we got here.

You can imagine how disappointed I was when I discovered the MAV was gone

It was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying. Then an even more ridiculous sequence that led to me surviving.

The mission is designed to handle sandstorm gusts up to 150 km/hr. So Houston got understandably nervous when we got whacked with 175 km/hr winds. We all got in our suits and huddled in the middle of the Hab, just in case it lost pressure. But the Hab wasn’t the problem.

The MAV is a spaceship. It has a lot of delicate parts. It can put up with storms to a certain extent but it can’t just get sandblasted forever. After an hour and a half of sustained wind, NASA gave the order to abort. Nobody wanted to stop a month-long mission after only six days but if the MAV took any more punishment we’d all get stranded down here.

We had to go out in the storm to get from the Hab to the MAV. That was going to be risky, but what choice did we have?

Everyone made it but me.

Our main communications dish, which relayed signals from the Hab to Hermes, acted like a parachute, getting torn from its foundation and carried with the torrent. Along the way, it crashed through the reception antenna array. Then one of those long thin antennae slammed into me end first. It tore through my suit like a bullet through butter and I felt the worst pain of my life as it ripped open my side. I vaguely remember suddenly having the wind knocked out of me (pulled out of me, really) and my ears popping painfully as the pressure of my suit escaped.

The last thing I remember was seeing Johanssen hopelessly reaching out toward me.

I awoke to the oxygen alarm in my suit. A steady, obnoxious beeping that eventually roused me from a deep and profound desire to just fucking die.

The storm had abated; I was face down, almost totally buried in sand. As I groggily came to, I wondered why I wasn’t more dead.

The antenna had enough force to punch through the suit and my side, but then it got stopped by my pelvis. So there was only one hole in the suit (and a hole in me, of course).

I had been knocked back quite a ways and rolled down a steep hill. Somehow I landed face down, which forced the antenna to a strongly oblique angle that put a lot of torque on the hole in the suit. It made a weak seal.

Then, the copious blood from my wound trickled down toward the hole. As the blood reached the site of the breach, the water in it quickly evaporated from the airflow and low pressure, leaving only a gunky residue behind. More blood came in behind it and was also reduced to gunk. Eventually, the blood sealed the gaps around the hole and reduced the leak to something the suit could counteract

The suit did its job admirably. Seeing the drop in pressure, it constantly flooded itself with air from my nitrogen tank to equalize. Once the leak became manageable, it only had to trickle new air in slowly the relieve the air lost.

After a while, the CO2 (carbon dioxide) absorbers in the suit were expended. That’s really the limiting factor to life support. Not the amount of oxygen you bring with you, but the amount of CO2 you can remove. In the Hab, we had the Oxygenator, a large piece of equipment that could break CO2 apart and give the oxygen back. But the spacesuits had to be portable, so they used a simple chemical absorption process with expendable filters. I’d been asleep long enough that my filters were useless.

The suit saw this problem and moved in to an emergency mode the engineers call “bloodletting”. Having no way to separate out the CO2, the suit deliberately vented air to the Martian atmosphere, then back-filled with nitrogen. Between the breach and the bloodletting, it quickly ran out of nitrogen. All it had left was my oxygen tank.

So it did the only thing it could to keep me alive. It started backfilling with pure oxygen. I now risked dying from oxygen toxicity, as the excessively high amount of oxygen threatened to burn up my nervous system, lungs, and eyes. An ironic death for someone with a leaky space suit: too much oxygen

Every step of the way would have had beeping alarms, alerts, and warnings. But it was the high-oxygen warning that woke me.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

The sheer volume of training for a space mission is astounding. I spent a week back on Earth practicing emergency space suit drills. I knew what to do.

Carefully reaching to the side of my helmet, I got the breach kit. It’s nothing more than a funnel with a valve at the small end, and an unbelievably sticky resin on the wide end. The idea is you have the valve open and stick the wide end over a hole. The air can escape through the valve, so it doesn’t interfere with the resin making a good seal. Then you close the valve and you’ve sealed the breach.

The tricky part was getting the antenna out of the way. I pulled it out as fast as I could, wincing as the sudden pressure drop dizzied me and made the wound in my side scream in agony.

I got the breach kit over the hole and sealed it. It held. The suit backfilled the missing air with yet more oxygen. Checking my arm readouts, I saw the suit was now at 85% oxygen. For reference, Earth’s atmosphere is about 21%. I’d be ok, so long as I didn’t spend too much time like that.

I stumbled up the hill back toward the Hab. As I crested the rise, I saw something that made me very happy and something that made me very sad: The Hab was in-tact (yay!) and the MAV was gone (boo!).

Right that moment I knew I was screwed. But I didn’t want to just die out on the surface. I limped back to the Hab and fumbled my way in to an airlock. As soon as it equalized, I threw off my helmet.

Entering the Hab, I doffed the suit and got my first good look at the injury. It would need stitches. Fortunately, all of us had been trained in basic medical procedures, and the Hab had excellent medical supplies. A quick shot of local anesthetic, irrigate the wound, 9 stitches and I was done. I’d be taking antibiotics for a couple of weeks, but other than that I’d be fine.

I knew it was hopeless, but I tried firing up the communication array. No signal, of course. The primary satellite dish had broken off, remember? And it took the reception antennae with it. The Hab had secondary and tertiary communication systems, but they were both just for talking to the MAV, which would use its much more powerful systems to relay to Hermes. Thing is, that only works if the MAV is still around.

I had no way to talk to Hermes. In time, I could locate the dish out on the surface, but it would take weeks for me to rig up any repairs, and that would be too late. In an abort, Hermes would leave orbit within 24 hours. The orbital dynamics made the trip safer and shorter the earlier you left, so why wait for no reason just to make the trip take longer?

Checking out my suit, I saw the antenna had plowed through my biomonitor computer. When on an EVA, all the crew’s suits are networked so we can see each others status. The rest of the crew would have seen the pressure in my suit drop to nearly 0, followed immediately by my biosigns going flat. Add to that I was sent tumbling down a hill with a spear through me in the middle of a sandstorm… yeah. They thought I was dead. How could they not?

They may have even had a brief discussion about recovering my body, but regulations were clear. In the event a crewman died on Mars, they stayed on Mars. Leaving their body behind reduced weight for the MAV on the trip back. That meant more disposable fuel and a larger margin of error for the return thrust. No point in giving that up for sentimentality.

So that’s the situation. I’m stranded on Mars. I have no way to communicate with Hermes or Earth. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I’m in a Hab designed to last 31 days.

If the Oxygenator breaks down, I’ll suffocate. If the Water Reclaimer breaks down, I’ll die of thirst. If the Hab breaches, I’ll just kind of explode. If none of those things happen, I’ll eventually run out of food and starve to death.

So yeah. I’m fucked.

[colour-is-sound-blog]

SLY & THE FAMILY STONE

Fred Wesley, a key player in James Brown’s mind-blowing 60’s and 70’s masterwerks, before heading to hyper-space with Parliament-Funkadelic, reckons that:

“If you have a syncopated bass line, a strong, strong heavy back beat from the drummer, a counter-line up from guitar or keys, and someone soul-singing on top of that, in a gospel style, then you have the funk”. (Funk:The Music,The People, and The Rhythm of The One”).  

You heard the man, you have the manual - now go find the funk!

Music and not just the evolution of funk, reached a watershed moment with Stand, Sly & The Family Stone’s fourth album. To reach such dizzy heights, Greg Enrico had been tricked into joining Sly & The Family Stone on drums, aged 16. Sly also recruited Funk’s version of The Ox, Larry Graham, creator of the hugely influential ‘thump and pluck’ attack of the bass strings. A rhythm section that could set sail for the furthest regions of Funkalonia and wouldn’t miss a heartbeat.

Jerry Martini (great name for a jazz-man) joined on saxophone and the amazing Cynthia Robinson on trumpet. A horn section which drew heavily from RnB innovator Junior Walker to become the Motorhead of brass. Sly wrote, arranged and sang the songs, whilst he and brother Freddie took care of guitar and Sister Rose sang and played piano.

From the first rehearsal, everyone knew they were creating something completely different. The band’s earliest supporters were high-fiving a unique sound unlike anything else in soul or rock and roll, and when you consider the number of musical geniuses pushing the boundaries in 67, Sly’s music is even more incredible

MONSTER SIZED URGENT FUNK THAT EXPLODES IN YOUR HIPS; AS IF SOMEWHERE IN THE MUSIC IS EMBEDDED THE ZEITGEIST, AND ONLY DANCING UNLOCKS THE CODE

A Whole New Thing, the often-overlooked debut LP opens with Underdog, soul’s version of a ram-raid. A tune that kicks harder than the Chemical Brothers, jumping out the speakers to grab your funk glands until they swell and groove. A prime candidate for breakbeat theft and reinvention. It’s one of those songs that make the rest of an album think,” ah sheet-we gotta follow that?”.

A dense complex innovative ambitious and playful first record which weaves between psychedelia and soul towards the birth of funk, three years before Norman Whitfield’s amazing Psychedelic Shack.

Before Sly formed the Stone, he started a band called ‘Sons of Ray’ with Billy Preston, inspired by the one and only Ray Charles. Sly was also a popular DJ, spinning platters that matter with no time for the transistor broadcast formula. In his supposed ‘soul only hour’, Sylvester would sprinkle the airwaves with The Stones and Dylan, early signs of an eclectic appreciation of music, one which would influence the sound and structure of his next project.

Sly put together one of the first male/female/ black/white bands in America and unlike the leadership style of James Brown, Sly gave his brothers and sisters free reign to go find the funk. Boy, did they find it!

Dance To The Music, the band’s second LP, did exactly what it said on the tin. Life, released 6 months later, began the ascent towards perfection. As the music grew ever more stellar, Sly’s observations became more sophisticated, sensitive to the subtleties of power and the manufacturing of consent to quash individuality. Colour Me True show-cased Sly’s ability to more fully define and articulate the individual’s struggle for integrity, equality, for inner-outer peace.

SEE AMERICA THROUGH SLY, CURTIS OR CHUCK D EYES; GIMME SOME TRUTH AND UNCLE SAM AINT LOOKING SO FREE

Life is superb, driving funk agile as a cheetah, the song’s arrangements allowing the band to effortlessly shift through the gears, always on the one. The Family shake their tambourines harder than Moonie hits a drum kit and the interplay between the band is astonishing.

The BIG BANG, the unified funk surge, arrived in May 1969 with the release of Stand, one of the most powerful and original records ever made. The album opens with the brilliant song of the same name, a tune containing one of the best breaks ever, allowing the band to lock into a seriously heavy recurring funk-out. One minute you’re below the mirror ball, then that change, and boom; your looking down on the club from the clouds, way beyond the spires.

If John Lennon had written Don’t Call Me Nigger Whitey it would be rightly considered the bravest song of all time. A snarling slab of truth, defiance and soul power, aimed right between the eyes of hatred and intolerance. Lean and mean with a kick like ten tons of dynamite, a song unrivalled in 60’s America. Dylan at his hypnotic causeless rebel best, or even the mighty MC5, didn’t aim the guns of the guitar army so accurately towards the dark heart of broken America. A monster track and safe bet as the last song on side A (no other song must follow it), but not so on a SATFS long player.

I WANT TO TAKE YOU HIGHER IS A RELENTLESS PULVERISING HIGH-ENERGY SOAKED BLAST, WHICH SOUNDS LIKE THE LAST NORTHERN SOUL SONG EVER TO BE PLAYED BEFORE RAPTURE ENGULFS THE DANCEFLOOR

Catch your breath as the song dissolves and the haunting glide of Somebody’s Watching You flashes past. Bitter sweet existential soul blues. The compartmentalised fragmented production accentuates the feeling of dissociation felt by the characters in the song. Everyday people trying to keep it real, battling the duality of life and wage slave compromise.

To fully appreciate Slymania, check out the live albums from Woodstock and the Fillmore East. Electrified non-step medicine strong enough to knock down Lourdes and replace it with a Sound System playing only Sly & The Family Stone. Watch as pilgrims, lost in the beat, throw away their crutches.

One can only wonder at what happened to some of the unfortunate souls who did ingest the ‘not necessarily good’ Brown acid at Woodstock. Seekers who may have peaked past as Sly’s cosmonauts swung into the acapella section of the all-out funk assault M’Lady. The band’s blistering Woodstock set is as good, heavy and fresh as The Who’s oomph wallop capow juggernaut performance a few hours later.

Legend tells of Sly being given joint-headline billing with Jimi Hendrix in New York that year. Sly went on first, played a blinder, then led the band and audience down the aisles, out into the street. Even guitar arson struggles to top that in front of an audience whose DNA has just been reconstructed by an hour and half of high voltage sub-bass funk.

It’s a measure of just how good the original Wailers must have been, to get booted from their support slot after playing only four of the seventeen dates booked on Sly & The Family Stone’s tour of 73. The Wailers were at the very height of their powers whilst Sly’s Family had imploded two years previously. Bob’s Rastaman’s vibrations were too powerful for the host as powders from Columbia burned bridges quicker than they could be built.

Sly was snow-blind exhausted as the sixties slipped from view and the band discovered a ghetto in their musical utopia. Left to drift, 1971 finally saw the release of their long awaited fifth album. There’s A Riot Going On is the dark master of funk, devoid of hope yet inspirational, warm but desperate, experimental yet reassuring; laying down the blueprint passed onto Miles, George Clinton and the birth of Hip Hop.

Unlike the previous four records, this last gathering of the original line-up saw the band record individually with Sly, who recorded his vocals lying down, deep inside the grip of free base addiction. A non-local approach which heightened the sense of isolation and claustrophobia within the songs. As America fragmented so did the band, one still able to deliver a modernist masterpiece, and certainly one of the most important records of the 20th Century.

A prophetic record which literally teeters it’s so heavy. An album that begins with Luv & Haight, a song which is groovy as hell but tired as a four-day bender, “I feel so good I don’t need to move”, sings an aching numb-buzzed Sly, suspended in a free base tunnel. The contradictions within the record are incredible, creating tensions which are never resolved. The record crawls on its belly through the highs and lows, towards the final track, “Thank You For Talking To Me Africa”, funk’s odyssey of pain, confusion, fear, hope and renewal.

Lookin' at the devil, grinnin' at his gun.

Fingers start shakin', I begin to run.

Bullets start chasin' I begin to stop.

We begin to wrestle I was on the top.

want to

Thank you f-lettinme be mice elf

Agin.

Flamin' eyes of people fear, Burnin' into you.

Many men are missin' much, hatin' what they do.

Youth and truth are makin' love,

Dig it for a starter.

Dyin' young is hard to take,

Sellin' out is harder.

I -- want to

Thank you falettinme be mice elf

Agin.(Lyrics by Sly Stone, Epic Records 1971)

Despite the fall-out from the Riot, Sly somehow managed to keep it together to record new albums in '73, '74 and '75 before it all got too much for the world's first funk pioneer.

The riot’s still going on.

Sly & The Family Stone discovered the one within the one - go get them in your soul.