#anyway it’s not a novel sentiment but it is one I’ve had a hard time grappling with
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skyfallscotland · 7 months ago
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Hi! I hope you’re feeling better. 💜
When I’ve heard writers talk about their process, some outline a character before they start writing and outline everything- the charcater’s history, personality, etc. While other writers say the character “talks” to them as they write and they don’t plot a lot out before hand. I’m curious- how much of Remi’s personality did you determine before you started writing? For example, did you know she was wonderfully snarky before you started writing? Did you always know she struggled with depression?
I know you’ve written other OC’s too. Has your process changed since writing Tessa and co?
Hi!
I...am incapable of lying lol. I'm not really, but I appreciate the sentiment 💗 Not looking for sympathy, just keeping it real 💀 The depression be doing some depressing. But hey, *sobs as I smash at my keyboard* it makes for great content!
I don’t hear it. I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my own heart and one memory on repeat. You can love someone and hate them a little at the same time. My mind is stuck on that. I know he loves me, but—he hates me, he hates me, he hates me—I fucked things up.
I never outline an entire character before I start writing. I have an idea in my head, but not a whole profile. I don't even name them until I'm part way through a story, they're "Name" usually until like chapter five-ish and then I hate their names until like chapter ten.
The case of Remi is a little different, honestly I've kind of done things backwards. When I created Tessa I had an idea of what her personality would be, based on what she'd been through living in Illyria and there were small parts of myself I incorporated into her, like her struggle with social settings and relationships. With Stella I was more just having fun, but keeping in mind the (broad overview) history I had planned for her. They do kind of just write themselves, if I'm honest. It's why I like to write ahead, because I only ever have a broad plan in mind.
I don't know that I ever really planned to publish BRV outside of like a little wattpad adventure. It was entirely self-indulgent. I tried very hard with Tessa and Stella to have them be...measured? I guess you'd say. To not pour too much of myself into them.
Remi was cathartic. There's so much of me in her. She was my 'whatever, it's not serious' character and story. I just threw whatever I wanted at the page without worrying about whether things were realistic or too self-indulgent and I guess that worked for a lot of people.
I knew she'd be snarky and a realist and that she wouldn't be as settled as Violet with her chronic illness. I knew she'd be depressed and quick to anger because that's me and my experience and it was a therapeutic process pouring all that out onto the page. So I guess I didn't really need to determine anything, I just wrote from the heart. She's almost self-insert. It's made it really comforting that people relate to her so well, because it feels like they relate to me, when no one else does outside of the internet.
It's funny because I'm trying (and never making time) to plot out the original novel I plan on writing and there's this voice in my head like saying I have to be measured and I have to plot out these characters first and their whole histories and personalities because it's a Serious Thing, but then I'm reminded that the character I wrote who resonated the most with people was just me throwing my unhinged feelings into the void, so???
Also, I had intended my first original fantasy novel (featuring a chronically ill fmc and dragons) to have two main characters—Remi and Caden. Then Fourth Wing came out and I screeched in fury. I used the name for BRV anyway, but... 🙃
And the MMC for my sports romance is named Liam and I wanted to give the FMC a nice tough girl name like Sloane 😭 but I guess the universe said fuck you, again, so that's a nope, so if anyone has suggestions here I am.
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literary-illuminati · 1 year ago
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Book Review 65 – System Collapse by Martha Wells
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I’ve had this on preorder long enough to have entirely forgotten about it by the time I got the email that it’s available for pickup – but thanks to the magic of an extremely obliging local book store, I was still able to pick up and read the entire thing before it’s technically released. So score one for buying indie, I guess.
The book is set directly after Network Effect – directly directly, to the point where I needed to look up a plot summary to remind myself what the situation was – following our beloved rogue and rampant SecUnit, ART, and their assorted humans as they try to convince an abandoned and alien-contaminated colony’s inhabitants to trust them and accept evacuation with them (and also go along with the colonial charter they’re forging) rather than the indenture offers the corporate mission also on site are offering. Along the way there’s hacking, shuttle chases, gunfights, and plot-critical media curation.
Mostly though it’s about Murderbot having PTSD (on account of all the horrible trauma in Network Effect specifically, and also just its life generally) and absolutely zero idea how to cope. After a false memory/panic attack makes it crash out of nowhere it spends the majority of the book terrified that it’s going to crash or freeze up at some vital moment and get everyone killed, dealing with constant alien-related paranoia, and generally second-guessing itself and feeling useless and depressed. Absolutely no one around it has any idea how to deal with this, and their awkward attempts to be supporting are both endearing and entirely unhelpful.
Anyway, this is a Murderbot novel. Do you like Murderbot? Then you will like this. Do you not know the series? Then by god start with All Systems Red none of this will make any sense at all without context. Do you dislike murderbot? I mean hateread as you like but it is largely more of the same, don’t expect any series-saving twists for you.
It’s kind of absurd to call the series ‘cozy fantasy’ – by the end of the book SecUnit is down several extremities and bleeding out on the floor (as is traditional by this point) – but I feel like the series fills about the same emotional niche for me as like say Becky Chambers does for people with normal tolerances for low-tension sentimentality. The setting is a horrible dystopia and the plots are full of violence and trauma, but all that is more or less set dressing to stories that are actually about SecUnit making connections and deciding at a tortuously slow pace what sort of life it wants to have (usually several hours after commuting itself without thinking) while consistently running into the best possible friends and forming mutually affectionate relationships it absolutely did not want. It’s a story about fun, low-tension character dynamics, corporate kill teams aside.
I am being entirely sincere when I say the fact that SecUnit has no idea what it wants or what its doing is a selling point. In the same way, the fact that there’s never any real ~breakthrough~ or moment of sudden recovery is absolutely key to the book working. The story closes with it being hopeful and doing better but from any remotely reasonable baseline still being pretty far from ‘okay’ (in much the same way, it is utterly vital to the whole series that it has absolutely zero angst over ‘not being human’ or pinochle syndrome and only cares about ‘not being normal’ insofar as its had to work really hard on some automated scripts for walking and idle motions to pass as human while doing infiltration work).
Anyway, speaking of character dynamics – look, I’ve always been the first to roll my eyes when people complain about not being able to keep tracks or large casts. But every time I open one of these books, I realize I have only the vaguest idea who the vast majority of the (human) supporting cast is. Not really an issue with actually following the story, but I’m absolutely certain I’m missing out on some things.
The non-human supporting cast are great though. ART best spaceship, and I cared significantly more about the colony’s central control computer than any of the actual colonists. I’m like 70% sure this is intentional.
Stepping back, it’s interesting how the series’ setting has evolved over time. In All Systems Red the universe around SecUnit was incredibly broadly sketched, generic sci f playing with space opera and cyberpunk tropes it pretty much relied upon readers already being familiar with. This never exactly stops – especially for the aesthetics and technology, the book has a profound lack of interest in the specifics of what ‘projectile weapons’ look like or how spaceships work beyond the convenience of plot – but as the books go on the world definitely gets more specific and also broader. You can mostly blame ART for this, I think – there’s a definite shift in the tone of the setting when you introduce an institution like the University with power like it can throw around, and more generally make active resistance to and subversion to the corporate status quo a plausible and fruitful endeavour.
All this to say that there’s an offhand mention at one point about ‘intracorporate violence’ increasing and the system being increasingly unstable, and I’m curious what Wells is going to do with that going forward. Especially with the book’s final resolution and the status quo it sets up going forward.
Anyway like I said, it’s murderbot. This is the 7th book in the series. If you’re considering reading it you’ll probably love it.
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communistkenobi-archive · 4 years ago
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this isn’t like an in depth post or whatever, and I need to think about this a lot more, but I’ve been reflecting a lot on an essay I listened to recently about how leftists need to move beyond revanchism, that using symbols such as the guillotine or other similar expressions of state violence are ultimately reactionary because they’ve historically been used by the bourgeois state on the working class as opposed to the other way around, and that serious expressions of things like prison abolition have to include giving up the idea of taking revenge on your enemies in a post-capitalist society, regardless of how deserving they may be. which isn’t to say that violence itself is always politically reactionary (it absolutely isn’t), but that like, using guillotine memes or expressing the spirit of that sentiment (ie, using the power of the state to punish or destroy all of your enemies) is a reactionary one that we need to guard against.
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windblooms · 4 years ago
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liyue boys – how they touch their s/o
headcanons and scenarios of how childe, chongyun, scaramouche, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli would romantically interact with their s/o.
gender-neutral reader.  sfw scenarios for each character, with additional suggestive implications for childe, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli (since they’re confirmed legal).  2309 words.
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childe
the Touchiest of the liyue boys
he just really, really fond of touching you, whether it be with his fingers through your hair or having you a hand on your lap. 
the first time he wanted to touch you, he actually asked (yes, verbally) if you were okay with him doing so
at least one of his acts with you could be orthodox, yeah?  although, looking back on it now, he supposes that he was attempting to be a bit more serious and wasn’t sure how to convey the sentiment when his reputation often preceded him
since then, he’s made a habit to have you next to him at all times
you don’t mind, since his attention is admittedly nice, but understandably neither of you want to display affection towards each other in the presence of his coworkers.  
if you were to be in public, such as walking down the streets of liyue, then he’d have his fingers laced between yours
if he were to be in a particularly good mood that day, he’d actually have you hook your arm around his.  you’re not sure why – but maybe it’s because more of you would be pressed against him that way.
an avid displayer of fleeting touches.  some are playful, like tapping his finger on your nose to get your attention, while others are slightly more teasing, like trailing his fingers up your thigh when you’re working and really shouldn’t be getting distracted. 
“i can’t help it.  your expressions are always the best part.”
so long as you’re next to him, he’ll find any excuse possible to have himself on you.
you’re cold?  take his coat, but also a complimentary hug because wow he’s kinda sorta warm for a snezhnayan native. 
got work to do?  he’ll stroll over to you every once in a while, claim he’s checking on you, and then place a kiss on your cheek as “encouragement.”
just got home from a long day out?  take some time to lay on top of him, he makes for a comfy mattress
his favorite ways to touch you: gloves off, thumb rubs against the back of your hand, hands cradling your neck or squeezing your hips in more passionate moments.  especially enjoys contact the more of your body he feels.  not sexual all the time, but definitely sensually pleasing.  he’s reassured when he feels you next to him. 
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chongyun
chongyun is relatively inexperienced in acting out his romantic impulses.  
hand holding?  yeah, sure, he knows it’s what people do, but apparently there something about interlacing fingers . . . ?
also, there are different ways to hug?  he thought that just wrapping his arms around your shoulders would be fine, but is there a specific instance where he should “back hug” you?  
he thinks there should be a lover’s manual for how to go about with physical touch, but sadly there isn’t, and he’s left by himself to make sense of his confusion.
he’ll have to learn first-hand – something he quickly realizes he won’t mind.
chongyun’s touches will reflect his nature: gentle and initially somewhat shy, but he will gradually become more confident as time goes on.
the first time he tries to initiate hand-holding with you, you’re sitting next to each other on the couch
you can tell something’s a bit off by how he’s staring straight into your skull, as if he’s conflicted over something even when there’s nothing to be distressed about –
and he lifts his hand, hesitantly, and you swear that he’s shaking, before he mumbles something along the lines of “screw this” and just
places the tips of his fingers over the back of your hand and
just leaves them there
and you’re blinking, not quite sure what to make of his awkwardness, before connecting the dots when you see him absolutely red in the face. 
he’s startled when he hears you laugh, and especially when you move your hand to securely grasp his own. 
you’re warm, incredibly so, and when he looks up from his lap to affirm that he hasn’t made a complete mess of the mood, you’re there to give him a pat on the head.
“y-yeah.  can we stay like this?  hey!  no, don't laugh – ”
the take-away: soft boy.  will realize that he loves it when you squeeze his hands but will be flustered when admitting it.  also internally enjoys it when you put your chin atop his head, and when you let him put his hand on your shoulder.  will become more confident over time with showing affection, whether it be through light touches or shy pecks. 
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scaramouche
scaramouche is admittedly one of the more destructive harbingers
meaning he wouldn’t be one to be gentle in the slightest
probably doesn't even know that hugging is supposed to be an act of affection and instead registers it as another method to crush someone’s chest
the least likely out of the liyue boy to even be in a romantic relationship 
but in the off chance that he is, 
warm affection won’t be on the menu unless you’re in a dream sequence.
yes, he might not be as irritable around you.  yes, he won’t immediately scowl at your presence, and maybe even request for you to be beside him once in a while.
but that is a far cry from assuming stable, healthy intimacy.
the closest he’s ever gone to touching you kindly is by pulling you towards him – nearly winding you with his forcefulness – and insisting that you play with his hair
(definitely a pushy one, and it would be endearing if not for the fact that he does not know how to interact constructively with others.)
so it’ll take time, lots of explanations and dialogue to tell him that no, he doesn’t have to be so rough with his grasp, and yes, it does bother you and you’d insist that he learn to be gentler before touching you again.
he won’t strike you down for speaking your mind – that’s exactly why he’s with you to begin with, since you were able to back up your wit with fight.
he’ll grumble, as if you had told him the most unpleasant of news (which you suppose you just have), but nonetheless attempts to mimic touches you would approve of.
scaramouche is, admittedly, easy to vex.  while he might generally be a hassle to handle, the only time you do let him give in to his harsh tendencies are when you two are kissing each other a bit too hard or grabbing each others’ clothes too eagerly.
in other words, making out.
it’s obvious that he enjoys these more aggressive instances over the ones you’ve convinced him to be satisfied with.  it’s an agreement that both of you have come to terms with: if he’s to  command  ask for little things, he better be respectful about it.  but when you decide to reward him for exercising restraint publicly, it’s behind his door where you let him go unrestrained. 
“so long as you’ll still let me do this, then i might tolerate your . . . other preferences.”
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xiao
he’s not sure when you became more comfortable with one another, but for some reason he’s certain that it had to be after you commented on his hair
something about it being soft and appealing to braid – not that he would ever let you,
okay, maybe if you ask enough times.  but for now the answer is definitely no.
anyways,
you were actually the one to ask to hug him first.  he was a bit perplexed, wondering what you were thinking that prompted you to ask, but then realized that neither of you had been physically affectionate before.  
as in, not even hand holding.  or hand squeezes.  or anything else that would be considered basic between partners.
as quickly as you asked, he affirmed that it was all right, and has since become attuned to your need for physical assurance.
something about him “feeling like home” and “safe.”  at the time, he wasn’t sure what feeling like a home meant, however through time he realized that you felt like home as well.
soothing.  as if automatic, he fits your body into his and holds the back of your head against his chest, lets you twirl your fingers in your hair, and carries you into bed.
under the covers, he feels more alone with you, as if the closed door isn’t already enough.
even in the dark, his eyes will roam all over your face, and he’ll run his fingers over your cheeks, down your neck, and over your collarbones. 
he can feel you shudder slightly under his touch, and he’ll always stop immediately, concerned for your discomfort. 
but when you take his hand to your lips and press kisses on his fingers, he’s relieved that he’s still doing right by you. 
so long as you’re sure, he’ll continue his ministrations.  whether it be holding your form flush against him as you drift to sleep, or crooking his finger under your chin so he can mold your lips together just the way you like, so long as you both know you’re safe with him.
in short: inexperienced, but always concerned for you.  won’t do anything unless you ask or suggest, and even then, his care for you is more obvious than the wake of day with the sunrise. 
“i’ll hold you as long as you let me – if you’d have me be with you.”
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xingqiu
simple: dramatic.
if you thought that the novels he’s written have gotten to his head, then you would be completely right, because he does not miss an opportunity to add in some flair to your relationship. 
produces a glaze lily out of thin air each time he greets you after your day of work, “fairest, this is for thou,” and has the audacity to look pleased with himself.
a nerd at heart, and you might unironically think it’s cute if not for the laughs he allows himself afterwards.
is always smiling when you touch, even if you’re just bumping into him accidentally.
it doesn’t take much to make him happy, you realize, but that assumption morphs into wow he just.  really loves with his whole heart.
xingqiu’s a magnet when it comes to your shoulder, somehow always leaning against you when given the opportunity
you could be sitting next to each other at the table, or even standing up talking to other people, and he’ll latch onto your shoulder.
“i’ve got you right next to me.  why not capitalize on the moment?”
absolutely adores it when you let him play with your hair.  you’re not sure what it’s about, but after his obvious attachment to your arm, you just decided that he was a very physical lover and you’d be more than willing to indulge him.
if you come visit him when he’s reading or writing, he gets especially excited because!!!  head rest!!!!
and consider yourself occupied for easily the next hour as he rattles off yet another plot of a novel, or attempts to woo you with sappy lines that he decided to mentally bookmark just to tease you with later.
in the instances when he isn’t occupying your lap or shoulder, he actually likes it when you lean on him as well, especially if you’re sleepy.  he finds the whole act endearing, either you being too lazy to move to bed or finding him comfortable. 
so long as you don’t tire of his antics, he’ll be sure to indulge you in the same. 
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zhongli
despite being what some would call oblivious when it comes to human interaction, zhongli is surprisingly romantically competent so long as you give him time to adjust.
he’s quick to notice things you like and hones in on them with relative ease.  admittedly, the first time you hugged him, he was a bit stiff, but was actually the one to initiate physical affection the following time.
 it gives you hope that there aren’t actually cobwebs still in that thousand year-old brain of his. 
already a traditional man, you soon realize that he’s fond of more innocent touches, such as when you slot your fingers against his or unbind his hair to play with the strands. 
he might even fall asleep if you comb his hair long enough, enjoying being spoiled.
forehead kisses!
at least twice a day, he’ll brush aside your bangs and place pecks on your forehead.  if not your forehead, then definitely your cheeks.
lowkey wants to pinch your cheeks.  you’re not sure why.  maybe it’s the childish curiosity that peaks out of him every so often, and he’ll absent-mindedly comment that your cheeks remind him of crystal shrimp balls.
you’d stutter every time, finding his sense in compliments endearing yet flustering at once, and he’d just blink, the sincere man he is.
“but they do.  flush with color.”  a pause.  “could i maybe have a bite?”
ah, yes, when he does want a bite –
his touches will be unbearably soft.  so much so that you’re not even sure he’s real, with the tenderness on his fingers and warmth in his voice.
zhongli cherishes you as if he’s waited a thousand years for you.  in the back of his head afraid that if he’s any more present then he might break you, as if he would ever capable of doing something like that –
he’ll have your thighs around his waist, body above your own and mouth leaving fleeting pressures along your neck
each time his lips press into your skin, he leaves sweet words behind.
he only wishes to enjoy the moments he has with you, so long as you enjoy yourself as well.  zhongli will be attuned to your preferences, and take delight in spoiling you rotten – even if he might be a bit unorthodox with his speech, his sentiment is never in question. 
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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago
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Recognition
@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New
Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One
In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.
Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.
Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.
And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.
He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort. 
Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.
“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”
“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”
“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”
Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order. 
“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”
“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”
“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”
“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence. 
“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”
“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.
The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.
“I didn’t mean to pry-”
“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”
Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.
“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”
“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”
Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”
The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough. 
No, you’re not that kid anymore. 
And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.
“What’s that look for?”
He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”
“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”
Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”
Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”
“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”
Martin blinked. “Sorry?”
“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong? 
He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”
Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing. 
_____
He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.
Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.
“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”
He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.
“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”
Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”
“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”
“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week. 
They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple. 
Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318
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musette22 · 4 years ago
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Drunk in Boston
Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: A week or so ago, I saw this post. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I decided to write a ficlet, a little Evanstan AU. It’s a bit late maybe, since Christmas has already been and gone, but it’s still technically the holidays so just indulge me? :p 
Also, I hit 3k followers this week, so this is also a sort of thank you to all you amazing, wonderful, beautiful people for getting me here. Love you all as much as I love these boys as much as they love each other 💘 Hope you enjoy!
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
It’s 3 p.m. on 17 December, and Chris is a little bit drunk. Maybe even a lotta bit.
In his defense, he is currently in Boston for a bachelor party and they did just do a tour of the Samuel Adams Brewery. It’s not like he makes a habit of daytime drinking. Not this much, anyway.
Chris stumbles out of the bar that’s attached to the brewery, surrounded by a dozen or so old school friends, all of whom are in a similar state of inebriation, when they pass the gift shop and a familiar image catches his eye. Chris stops in his tracks. On closer inspection, what he saw turns out to be a photo, displayed in a stand outside the shop, of a park in Concord near where Chris grew up.
No, not a photo.
A postcard.
He plucks the card from the stand, swaying on his feet a little as he peers at it. In the image, the park is covered in snow, much like it would be right now, and stamped across it in a red, gothic font are the words ‘Happy Holidays’.
Instantly, Chris is hit by a wave of nostalgia. No doubt the feeling is heightened by the alcohol – he always tends to get a little sentimental when he’s drunk – but it’s not just that. It’s also the fact that Chris and his friends have been reminiscing about the good old days all afternoon as well as the sudden, depressing realization that despite all he’s achieved in the past decade or so, his happiest memories are probably those of childhood Christmases spent in Concord.
These days, Chris lives in on the West Coast. He’s kind of a superstar now, after all, and superstars live in LA – everybody knows that. Chris doesn’t usually let himself dwell too much on how lonely he is there, or how he misses the comforting accents and the real winters of the East Coast. Tonight, though, whether because of the booze in his system or the ghosts of Christmas past, he allows himself to feel the stab of homesickness.
Without conscious input from his brain, Chris finds himself buying the postcard. When the cashier asks him if he’ll be needing he stamp, too, he hesitates. “Yeah, why not,” he decides, on a whim. It’s a Christmas card, after all, and Christmas cards are supposed to be sent.
There’s just one slight issue with his plan, Chris realizes as soon as he puts the borrowed pen to the card.
He’ll need an address to send the card to.
Frowning, he taps the pen against the counter, thinking as hard as his beer-addled brain will allow him, but the only address he can think of off the top of his head is that of his childhood home, back in Concord. But… that would be weird, right? He has no idea who’s been living there, since his parents sold the house after the divorce. Then again, Chris tells himself, this could be his good Christmas deed. Sending a postcard to a total stranger just to wish them happy holidays, that’s totally in the Christmas spirit, isn’t it?
With a decisive nod of his head, Chris puts his pen to paper and starts to write. It’s just a few lines, because there’s only so much you can say to a total stranger, but when he signs off with his initials, he feels good about it. He asks the cashier for the nearest post box, which happens to be just outside the building, so he thanks the guy and heads outside.
Pulling his pea coat tighter around him against the glacial December air, Chris spares the card one last look, and drops into the post box. It feels significant, somehow.
He doesn’t get time to dwell on it though, because the moment his friends spot him, he’s immediately and enthusiastically subsumed back into the group and dragged on to the next boozy destination.
Three drinks on, Chris has forgotten all about the postcard.
***
On the morning of 18 December, Sebastian Stan opens his postbox to find a postcard with a photo of the park near his house on the front, and a hastily scribbled message on the back:
Hey,
I used to live in your house.
I’m drunk in Boston, and it’s the only address I know.
Happy Holidays,
C.E.
Even after re-reading the message three times, Sebastian is none the wiser as to who sent it.
It makes sense other people used to live in the house Sebastian’s been renting, but unsurprisingly, he has no clue who they were. It was only last year that he’d decided to relocate from New York to Concord, craving a change of pace and more peace and quiet than the Big Apple had been able to offer. He’d visited Concord on a research trip for his third novel the year before and had immediately taken a liking to it. So when, after asking his estate agent to put out some feelers in the area, the guy had found him this beautiful place to rent within a day, Sebastian had taken it as a sign.
It’s a big old house – more appropriate for a family than a man living alone, perhaps – but Sebastian can afford it, and it has a lived-in vibe that makes it feel intimate, somehow. Its location on the edge of a large park, peaceful apart from the joggers and young families that frequent it, suits his needs perfectly, too. Despite being a successful author, Sebastian prefers to keep himself to himself. He’s not one for ostentatious book tours or photoshoots, doesn’t believe in social media beyond its promotional potential, and he’s found that he blends in perfectly in this picturesque little town.
In addition to being a private person, however, Sebastian is an inherently curious one.
It’s why he became a writer in the first place, and it’s also why the random, slightly mysterious postcard instantly fascinates him. Someone who decides to send a Christmas card to the stranger living in their childhood home has got to be an interesting person, Sebastian figures.
Unable to resist the temptation, he finds the landlord’s number and presses call.
“The initials C.E.?”
“C.E., that’s right,” Sebastian repeats patiently. “I received a postcard from someone with those initials who said they used to live in this house and wished me Happy Holidays. I’d like to thank them for the card, maybe tell them they’re free to come by the house anytime, if that’s something they’d like.”
“Well,” the landlord says, clear hesitation in his tone. “I wouldn’t usually give out this kind of information, especially not about this particular person. But seeing as he approached you first, I guess it should be alright…”
Chris Evans.
Famous Hollywood actor Chris Evans used to live in Sebastian’s house. The house he’s renting. Whatever.
The point is, Chris Evans sent him a postcard. Sebastian would be lying if he said that knowledge didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. He isn’t one to get star-struck, normally, knowing full well the rich and famous are people just like anyone else, only with an added layer of expensive, sparkly veneer.
Chris Evans, though. Well, let’s just say Chris’s blue eyes, his dazzling smile, and his chest – god, that chest – had helped along Sebastian’s gay awakening considerably, all those years ago.
So even though he realizes what he’s about to do could be considered slightly unethical, the next number Sebastian dials is that of his agent. There’s no harm in asking if there’s any chance she could use her industry connections to pass on a message to Chris Evans, surely?
“Chris Evans?” his agent repeats blankly. “The British radio DJ or the actor?”
Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Actor. Definitely the actor. Why would I want to send a message to a British radio DJ?”
“Why would you want to send a message to the actor?” she shoots back. “Apart from the obvious, of course.” 
Touché.
Once he’s explained the situation to her, his agent hums thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll admit that’s pretty amazing,” she says. “As it happens, I know someone at CAA who owes me a favor. I’ll see what I can do.”
Sebastian thanks her warmly, and then he waits.
***
That afternoon, Chris gets a phone call from his agent.
“Thank you for the postcard,” she reads aloud. “If you're ever in the neighborhood, you’re welcome to stop by the house and have a look around, for old time’s sake. Happy Holidays, Sebastian Stan.”
“Sebastian Stan?” Chris asks, eyebrows shooting up. “The author?”
“Oh, you know him?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. I’ve read one of his books, though, the one that’s shortlisted for the Pulitzer price, I think? He’s very good.”
His agent hums. “If you say so. Do you want me to pass a message back to him?”
Chris opens his mouth to say yes, then closes it again. “Actually,” he says, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, “I’m still in the area so I think I’ll just pay him a visit. Do you think you could you cancel my flight back to LA this afternoon?”
His agent grumbles at him for a bit but eventually concedes, though not before she’s made Chris promise he’ll be back in LA on Tuesday, for the Christmas special he’s due to appear in. Fun.
For a few moments after he’s ended the call, Chris stares out of the window of his hotel room. It’s snowing again, big flakes fluttering down from the sky, slowly turning the grey, slushy roads white again. He wonders if Pulitzer-finalist Sebastian Stan likes to make snow angels in the backyard too, like Chris used to do.
Putting his phone between his shoulder and his ear, Chris starts to put his things in his overnight bag, and calls an Uber.
It’s almost twilight, by the time the cab come to a stop in front of the house. Chris thanks the driver and steps out, booted feet sinking into the freshly fallen snow. It’s piling up quickly, he notices distantly.
It’s odd, being back here, after everything that’s happened since he moved away, so Chris gives himself a moment to just stand there, in the middle of the deserted street, taking in the sight of house he grew up in.
The house that holds countless memories, many of them good, some of them not so much. His first dog and his first kiss. Scraped knees and snowball fights. Raucous laughter and hissed arguments.
The house looks the same but different.
Chris walks up to the front door, snow crunching under his boots, and rings the doorbell.
***
Chris Evans is on Sebastian’s doorstep.
All blue-eyed, bearded, gloriously muscled, six-foot-something of him.
“Uh,” Chris says, blinking at him in something like surprise before his gaze sweeps up and down Sebastian’s body in a blatant once-over. “Sebastian Stan?”
“Oh wow, you actually came,” Sebastian blurts by way of reply.
Chris’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought- ‘cause you said-”  
“No, no, it’s fine,” Sebastian interrupts. “I did say that. I just- I guess I wasn’t expecting you to really turn up – or not this soon, at least. But it’s no trouble at all, I live alone so it’s nice to have a visitor. Especially, y’know. You.” Forcing himself to stop talking, Sebastian runs a hand through his messy hair and wishes he’d worn something better suited to meeting one’s celebrity crush. “Sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “Let’s try that again. Hi, I’m Sebastian Stan.”
“Chris Evans.” Chris smiles back warmly as he shakes Sebastian’s extended hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Lovely,” Sebastian repeats, holding Chris’s gaze. There are tiny flecks of green mixed in with the blue of his eyes, and his lashes would put any Maybelline model to shame. It takes Sebastian longer than it should to remember to let go of Chris’s hand, but fortunately, Chris doesn’t seem to be in any rush either. Huh. Sebastian clears his throat. “Would you- would you like to come in?”
“I’d love to, if you’re putting out,” Chris replies. There’s a beat, and then he freezes, eyes widening in horror. “If I’m not putting you out – not- not if you’re- I wasn’t, I didn’t mean- oh my god, Chris, stop talking you meatball,” Chris groans covering his face with a large hand. His next words come out a little muffled. “I am so sorry. Just ignore me. I have a horrible hangover, I promise I’m not usually this much of a disaster.”
Sebastian laughs, equally charmed by Chris’s helpless chattering as he is by the blush coloring his cheeks, just visible above the line of Chris’s well-groomed beard.
“You’re fine, I’m not easily offended,” he assures him, stepping aside to let Chris into the hallway. “I can take a lot.”
Oh.
This time, it’s Sebastian’s turn to wince at his choice of words, but when he tentatively glances back at his visitor to see if he noticed, he stills. The look on Chris’s face instantly makes him forget all about feeling embarrassed.
Still standing by the door, melting snow forming puddles around his feet, Chris is watching him intently. There’s something curious in his gaze, something sharp and searching.
It makes Sebastian’s breath catch in his throat. He swallows, resisting the impulse to avert his gaze, play it off as a joke. Instead, he makes himself stare right back. Lets the tension build, lets it simmer and crackle as it stretches out between them, growing stronger with every second they spend looking at each other in heavy silence.
“That right?” Chris asks finally, his voice a low rumble that settles in Sebastian’s bones like smoldering embers. Chris takes a careful step forward, slowly, giving him every chance to back away.
Sebastian stays where he is. 
“Mmm,” he hums, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down lightly, experimentally, on the soft, plump flesh. When Chris’s eyes flick down to his mouth instantly, homing in on it like an eagle on its prey, Sebastian decides to take a chance.
“Tell you what,” Sebastian says huskily, stepping closer under Chris’s dark, watchful gaze. “Why don’t you give me a tour and show me which bedroom used to be yours-” he comes to a halt right in front of Chris, looking up at him through his eyelashes, “and maybe you’ll find out just how much I can take, hm?”
For a moment, Sebastian holds his breath, praying he read this thing right and didn’t accidentally sexually harass a virtual stranger – but then Chris growls and surges forward, and Sebastian knows his gamble is about to pay off.
Big time.
Merry Christmas to me, Sebastian thinks wildly, just before Chris claims his mouth in a searing kiss. After that, he stops thinking altogether.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
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silkling · 4 years ago
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Could you please write another “Sierra joins Team Prime” fic? I loved the first one, I’d really like to sea Sierra meet the rest of Team Prime and talk with Jack, Mimi, and Raf.
YES!!!! I would be very happy to! I have ideas for Smokescreen and Sierra shenanigans! Smokescreen is basically a giant puppy because he tries very hard and only wants to make people happy and he doesn’t have the necessary life experience to understand why the things he’s doing may not be the best. But he tries!!! And I love him. :D
———————————————————————————————————
There was a white, blue, and red sports car parked outside the school when Sierra stepped out from the doors. She stopped for a second when she saw it, before she managed to get over her shock and walked over to it. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, she mused. Jack, Esquivel, and Nakadai did get picked up by their guardians everyday. It made sense too, if she thought about it further.
She came up to Smokescreen, running the tips of her fingers along his hood. She was about to call a greeting when she heard someone behind her.
“Smoke- I mean, Sierra, hi!” It was Jack.
She turned to face him, smiling. “Hi Jack.” she greeted. “Is there something you want?”
Jack was shifting. “Uh, no? I mean, yes. I think that car is here for me?”
“So you own a motorcycle and a sports car now, do you? I didn’t know working at KO burger paid enough to earn that much extra cash.” she said dryly. She could see both Esquivel and Nakadai hovering nearby, obviously listening in. They were probably worried she was close to learning their secret.
“No, I mean, it’s not? Not mine, I mean.” Jack fumbled as he spoke.
Oh, poor boy. She could see his brain working in overtime trying to produce a good excuse. She supposed it didn’t help that he still had that crush on her. She’d noticed. Of course she had. She wasn’t blind, thank you very much.
Sierra decided to be merciful. “Actually, Jack, this is my ride. I’m sure your motorcycle will be here soon, though.” she said cheerfully. Then she turned, smoothing a hand over her partner’s hood. “Hey, Smokescreen. Thanks for coming to get me. Do you mind if I get in?” She knew she had to anyway, but it always paid to ask first. Besides, it was only polite to make sure the giant robot you were about to hitch a ride with was okay with you climbing inside them.
“Sure!” The young bot answered. His voice was quiet, but still cheery.
His driver’s door popped open partway, and she pulled it open enough to climb inside. It closed after her, and once she buckled herself in she looked up to see Jack and his two friends gaping at her. She smiled at them, lifting her hand in a wave, and then Smokescreen was backing out of the parking space and driving off. They got further away from the school, and then both of them broke into laughter.
“Oh, the looks on their faces!” Smokescreen gasped, delighted. “Sierra, Sierra that was amazing. Oh Primus Sierra you should have seen how they reacted when you called my name. I’m never going to forget it.” he sounded so giddy. It was adorable.
Sierra giggled, a hand curled over her mouth. “I wish I did, but their faces as you drove off will have to do. God, Smokescreen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teenage boy look that confused by something that wasn’t the opposite sex.” she said, very delighted. Just because she had manners didn’t mean she didn’t like having fun, after all.
Smokescreen made a sound that couldn’t be described as anything other than a giggle. “I really don’t know what that means. But I think I get the idea. Did you see Miko? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her speechless before.”
She smiled, patting his wheel. “I did. I don’t know her as well as you but from what I’ve seen of her I’d have to agree with your sentiment.” she said lightly.
She glanced up to see they were coming up to the base. Mentally, she planned what she’d need to do this evening. She had homework to complete, and she needed to do it because she refused to fall behind in any of her classes. She didn’t care that she was now privy to America’s greatest secret, she had a GPA to maintain and no giant alien robot war was going to stop her. But, after she did her homework, she fully intended to relax and have fun. She was, after all, partnered to a giant alien robot. She had to take advantage of that.
When Smokescreen pulled up into base and popped open his door, she grabbed her back and slid out. “Thanks for the ride, big guy!” She said brightly.
Smokescreen transformed, rising to his full height. “It was my pleasure!” he chirped, his winglets–or doorwings, as he’d told her they were called–wriggling at his back.
Sierra smiled, and was about to say something else when she heard engines, and then Jack came in on his motorcycle, shortly followed by a green SUV and a yellow sports car. The other humans disembarked, and the three other bots transformed. Sierra smiled, waving. She’d met them the night she’d been introduced to all of this, after Agent Fowler had gotten her up to speed on everything. She liked Bumblebee. He was sweet. It made her determined to at least try and learn to understand him.
“So what’s the deal, huh?” Miko demanded, looking irritated and ready to storm over. “This was supposed to be just our thing! How’d you find out about it?”
Sierra snorted, and turned to Smokescreen to find he was already crouching and offering her his palm. She smiled, stepping up and gratefully letting him transfer her to his shoulder. It seemed he liked having her close just as much as she liked being up here. It was cute. He was a sweet bot.
“Calm now, Nakadai.” she said dryly.
“It’s Miko!”
“Fine. Miko.” Sierra rolled her eyes. “I found out because Starscream decided to try and abduct me. Apparently, the Decepticons have been watching you three and have learned that I mean something to Jack. They thought they could use me against you.” She said, directing the last part towards the boy in question.
Jack looked stricken, his face paling and his eyesight blowing wide. “Oh hell, Sierra, I’m so-“
“Save it.” she cut him off. “I’m not mad. It would be wrong to say you’re not allowed to have friends beyond Miko and Esquivel just because you know a secret like this.” he said, making a vague gesture around her.
“Um, you can just call me Raf. Or Raphael. Whatever you prefer.” Esquivel said, sounding a little awkward.
Sierra shot him a warm smile, then turned her attention back to the still irritated Miko. “Anyway, Starscream was about to grab me when Smokescreen stopped him.” she said. “He got me out of there, brought me back here, and now I guess I’m part of this, too.” he shrugged.
Miko huffed, obviously still annoyed that the secret was even a little less exclusive now. Still, she made no more arguments, instead walking to the small deck Smokescreen had described as the “human entertainment nook” and firing up the TV. Raphael stared, looking back and forth between the two girls before sighing and going up to join her. He sat on a separate seat, pulling out his computer and settling back. Jack stared at Sierra, then sagged and sighed.
“I am sorry.” he said after a moment. “But I am glad you’re alright too, and that you’re here. Welcome to the team, Sierra.” he said, then quickly went up to sit next to Miko.
Sierra snorted, arching a brow and glancing at Smokescreen. “I’d say that went quite well, wouldn’t you?”
Her partner snickered, his doorwings fluttering, and even Arcee chuckled as she went off to do…whatever she did in her spare time. Bulkhead looked incredibly awkward and sheepish, shooting Sierra an apologetic look as he moved further into the base. Bumblebee, for his part, just buzzed his amusement and went to sit on the ground by the entertainment hook.
Sierra hummed, then shared one last look with Smokescreen before she settled further on his shoulder and pulled her bag off her shoulder.
‘Well,’ she thought. ‘Time to get to work.’
——————————
Sierra had just finished her homework and was settling down on the couch to read her novel when Smokescreen returned. He’d gone out at some point in the past hour, leaving her in what she’d decided to simply call the Nook, and gone off to do…something. Currently, Raphael was up on a higher platform doing something with the computers, Miko was in another room playing her guitar with Bulkhead, and Jack was curled on the Nook’s armchair watching TV. As far as she could tell, Arcee was off doing…her things, Bumblebee had gone out for a patrol, and Optimus was with Fowler, trying to deal with something. Ratchet was working quietly with Raphael. It was peaceful.
And then Smokescreen came back, and it caught Sierra’s attention because he was walking. He held his hands cupped in a sphere in front of his chest, padding over to the Nook and beaming. Immediately, Sierra started getting a feeling in her gut that Something Was Up.
“Sierra!” her partner greeted cheerfully. His doorwings flapped. “I remember you were telling me about your research for school, about the local wild animals, and I thought I’d help!”
‘Oh no.’
“Help.” Sierra said carefully. “I see. Help how?”
Smokescreen looked like he was going to say something, but then-
“BLAAAAAAAAA!”
Sierra froze. Jack froze. Raphael froze. Ratchet froze and turned to face the scene very, very slowly. The look in his eyes promised doom and destruction. No one said anything.
“Smokescreen.” Sierra said slowly. “Please don’t tell me you caught a wild goat for me.”
The adorable, idiotic giant robot tilted his head. His right doorwing twitched once. “I didn’t? I caught that sheep thing you mentioned.”
“You caught a desert bighorn sheep.”
“Yeah, that’s the one!”
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
“Smokescreen, put it back.”
“What? Why?” And bless him, he looked so confused.
Sierra could see Ratchet losing his patience. She had to diffuse this, fast. “Because it’s very cruel to take a wild animal from its home. It’s terrified, Smokescreen. I can finish my research with stuff from the library. I don’t need an actual bighorn sheep. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Please put it back.”
Smokescreen blinked. “Oh.” he paused. “I guess I shouldn’t bring you that owl you really like, in that case?”
And oh no, he sounded so sad. The poor bot just wanted to make her happy. Oh, oh no. She couldn’t be mad at this. He was trying so hard and she couldn’t fault him for genuinely not knowing any better. He hadn’t been here for years and years like the other bots had. God, he was just excited the have a friend, wasn’t he? It was almost like he didn’t have the type of social connections he so clearly craved with the rest of Team Prime.
‘I will find who hurt him and I will destroy them.’ she vowed to herself. ‘It is going to be slow and painful, and I will make the devil himself fear my fury.’
“Probably not.” she agreed, her expression and tone gentle and kind, showing nothing of how she actually felt. “But how about you can come and get me and bring me to it if you ever see an animal you think I’ll like?” she offered. “And if you know I’m busy, I’ll never say no to a picture.” she gave him a warm grin. “Now, how about you and I both go put that back, and I’ll even tell you more about that species on the way?”
“BLAAAAAA!”
It seemed the sheep agreed.
“Alright.” Smokescreen said, sounding faintly embarrassed.
Sierra put her book down, then took the Nook’s stairs to the floor and looked up at her partner. He set the sheep down and transformed, then popped open his backseat door. Before she sheep could bolt, Sierra scared it back towards her partner and herded it to jump into his backseat. The door slammed shut, and Sierra hopped in to the open driver’s seat. Then, they were driving out of the base.
In the rear view mirror, Sierra could see the shock on Ratchet’s face. Almost like he hadn’t expected her to fix the situation the way she had. It made something angry curl in her gut, as she remembered how tired and resigned her partner had sounded that first day when Ratchet had been scolding him over the comm. line. It made her wonder how the bots usually dealt with Smokescreen making mistakes. She hoped it wasn’t just yelling and berating him.
Sierra sighed, forcing those thoughts to the back of her mind, and refocusing on her partner. “So.” she said. “How’d you even catch it, anyway?”
“Oh that? It was pretty easy, actually. I accidentally scared it off a cliff and I caught it before it could fall.” he said cheerfully.
‘Huh. That’d work.’
“Well, thank you very much for bringing it to show me, Smokescreen. I appreciate the thought and the gesture.” she said.
“You do?”
“Of course! You saw something you thought I’d like and you brought it back for me. That makes me happy. Just, please. No more animals, okay? I won’t say no to plants and flowers, if you really want to bring me something. No cacti, though.” she told him.
She could practically feel him brightening now that he knew what he could bring her instead. “Alright!”
“Now, let’s get this guy home. I’m sure it’ll be very happy to be back where it belongs.” she looked back at the terrified sheep huddled on the backseat. “Right, fella?”
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
———————————————————————————————————
And there it is! I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but there was some of Sierra talking with the others! The idea with the sheep just wouldn’t leave my head though so I had to. I just did. I hope you liked it!
This ‘verse is fun. I like it. But for now, back to my other work!
Until next time, friends!
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masterhandss · 4 years ago
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I'm gonna drop My Next Life as a Villainess... I really wanted the girls to (seriously) confess to katarina but it seems that the author is sadly just yuri baiting. The girls never even had a chance from the beginning. All of the girls will end up in a het relationship. Even mary had some moments with alan in the novel...
I'm really sorry to hear that! :(( I know lots of people came to hamefura for it's bisexual harem and potential for a yuri ending so I was really really nervous about Season 2 (in fact I didn't even expect hamefura to go beyond the first season in the first place :0). I've heard some friends mention that the series kinda does just yuri-bait the audience.
kinda spoilers ahead btw.
Based on the contents of the series' story so far, I wouldn't exactly blame you if you wanted to drop the series right now if you're looking for yuri contents. The next few arcs will focus heavily on Katarina's male love interests, and to be honest the only female that given any focus at all is Maria. Despite the fact that hamefura has a bisexual harem, the series is still marketed as a shoujo series, so the likeliness of Katarina ending up with a male love interest is much bigger.
I don't want you to completely lose hope though. If I'm being honest, I used to mostly favor Katarina with Maria but now I'm split between Maria and Geordo. If we're talking about moments and scenes with Katarina, Maria is definitely the winner in that regard. We spend most of the series with those two and almost every volume of the novel has scenes of Maria falling harder and harder for Katarina each book (granted, it gets kinda repetitive after a while since the formula is kind of the same). When it comes to focus and moments, Maria is given priority. In contrast, Geordo is in the lead because, in the words of a friend, "he's the only one who has brought her back down to Earth with the truth that she is loved romantically". His confession is the only one Katarina has taken seriously so far, but that could change by the upcoming Volume in November.
For Mary and Alan's case, it's safe to assume that they would end up with each other none of them might be with Katarina (unless it's a harem ending). I can already imagine the disappointment of Mary's fans since I lot of them love how much of a hardcore lesbian she is. We're still nowhere at a point where Mary and Alan's romantic focus has shifted away from Katarina to each other in even the slightest so even if we do know(/could speculate) through foresight that they could(/would) be endgame, right now it's still safe grounds for people who love Mary as she was in Season 1.
I guess what I'm saying is that I can't make promises that it'll get any better for the fans who are looking forward to a yuri ending, but there's still numerous yuri scenes with Katarina and the other girls. I know that's still kinda counts as yuri bait, but it's not like the author isn't taking any of the girls' feelings seriously. Whether or not they "never" stood a chance honestly depends on the readers if you ask me, I might not exactly be in favor of the girls personally but I didn't feel like they are completely out of the loop (...maybe just Maria though). I've been told many times and have speculated myself that the series' direction/end-game wise might be affected by the reception of the series, and it's not like the novel has decided a clear winner anyways (I mean I do, but novel readers all have our biases on who is in the lead anyways).
I don't know haha I'm soooo bad at explaining it, I guess I'm saying that even if you don't like the destination, I'd hope you would have at least stuck around to watch the journey qwq
I don't know if I want to agree personally if its yuri-bait or not, but that's mostly because I still haven't fully comprehended what counts and doesn't count as yuri bait. If the contents of the series dictates where is stands then I think hamefura is fine, but if its the ending/end-game then I guess it is bait.
Haha i'm really sorry, my thought are all over the place and this came out really bad. I hope I don't seem like I'm trying too hard to not make you drop the series with false hope and promises or something. Hamefura is a show that I really feel like has something for everybody. You're okay to drop it now if the content doesn't interest you any more though, you can always just turn to fanfiction if you want some Katarina Yuri content. Hamefura has such a huge amount of fanfiction that you'd be surprised to find out how many people shares the same sentiments as you do :'DD
Thank you for the ask :''))
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redsector-a · 3 years ago
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AO3 Ask Game
I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?
46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.
2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?
309662 according to the stats.
3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.
3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.
It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?
4: Loose Lips Launch Ships
Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.
5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...
(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.
I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.
7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?
Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -
The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist*  The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?
9. Do you write smut?
Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.
11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is  it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around.  One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.
12. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).
13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.
14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.
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thatsocialhermitoverthere · 3 years ago
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Found one of my most favourite fics in bsd fandom has just up and vanished after returning after a long period of time and I’m still having trouble accepting it like why????? Who???? How???? Had Author not realised how beloved this fic had been????!? Is this Karma for not commenting on my love for it????? It can’t be gone right??? Right!?
Some part of me is convinced I haven’t searched my bookmarks and AO3 hard enough and that there is no possible way something so wonderful could have been deleted in any way. While the other part of me is calmly pointing out that if it still exists I should have managed to find it by now and I’m torn and holding back tears. Because if it’s really gone I can never experience it again. The general emotional tone of it, the melancholy, the idea of love never given the chance to be said, the Yosano narration, the things left behind the bonding between Dazai, Yosano and Kunikida. The bonding!!!!
(Anyway just in case someone might now where this wonderful work is at all I’ll try to recall everything I can.
So the fic is mostly Yosano pov and starts with an ADA job for searching the remnants of some kind of facility that the fic implies was involved in the experiments involving Chuuya. Yosano, Dazai and I think Kunikida go and search and don’t find much I think but Yosano does notice Dazai sneaking something probably a file onto himself and Yosano doesn’t comment on it because I think she was working on getting his trust?
The three afterwards go drinking and Dazai for once actually opens up slightly talking about love I think it was in response to seeing a couple. Kunikida huffs about them being inappropriate and Dazai says something that conveys the sentiment of how nice it is to be able to freely express love for someone and implies Soukoku referring to a man. Yosano gets it and we get a little flashback that implies lesbian Yosano. We get a mood that’s mourning love that never really had the chance to be expressed and Yosano and Dazai have a toast to it.
Some of the details might’ve gotten mixed up with another fic it’s been a while since I’ve read it. I’ve searched through the tags to do with the fifteen light novel among some searching through the Yosano and Kunikida character tags as well as the Character Study tags and my own bookmarks.)
In all likelihood it’s gone and I’ll never see it again but I’m still hoping for a chance that I’ll be able to read it again even if it might be in vain.
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passionate-reply · 4 years ago
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In this installment of Great Albums, we’re back to talking about albums nobody’s ever heard of! You might not know who Zaine Griff is, but you’ve probably heard of a guy called Hans Zimmer, and Zimmer is the real mastermind of this record: a masterpiece of New Romantic synth-pop made long before he made his name composing for the big screen! Not to mention contributions from Ultravox’s Warren Cann, YMO’s Yukihiro Takahashi, and even Kate Bush. Find out all about it by watching this video, or reading the full transcript below the break!
Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today’s installment is going to feature an album that is most definitely towards the obscure side--but, like most of the more obscure artists and albums I’ve talked about, I think this one is every bit as good as the classics. Zaine Griff’s Figures is not only a forgotten album that I think deserves more acclaim, but also an album that, in many ways, feels like it could have been a huge success in its own time.
Zaine Griff grew up in New Zealand, and moved to Great Britain in the 1970s in the hopes of pursuing a career in music. His debut LP, 1980’s Ashes & Diamonds, would mark him as one of the many artists straddling the musical landscape in the aftermath of glam, in the long shadow of David Bowie. With keen visual panache, a suave way of slurring when he sang, and the requisite killer cheekbones, Griff fit in perfectly with the so-called “New Romantics,” as stylish and sophisticated as Visage, Ultravox, or Japan.
Music: “Ashes & Diamonds”
The real turning point in Griff’s career was his being “discovered,” so to speak, by Hans Zimmer and Warren Cann. Cann had already become a figure of some renown, as the percussionist for the aforementioned Ultravox. Despite his tremendous fame today, Zimmer actually had much less to show for himself at this point, aside from a somewhat dodgy stint in the Buggles. While geniuses in their own ways, neither of them were necessarily natural frontmen, and Zaine Griff seemed like the perfect missing piece to fit into their pop ambitions.
Even setting aside Zimmer and Cann, Figures is actually full of recognizable talent, and I think it may have the single most stacked list of album credits I’ve ever seen in my life! You’ll also hear contributions from Yellow Magic Orchestra’s Yukihiro Takahashi, backing vocals from Linda Jardim, who was also the soprano on the Buggles’ famous “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and a guest appearance by none other than Kate Bush. That’s really a lot of clout going around, which is one of the reasons I’m so surprised this album went nowhere. Anyway, that aside, the most dominant sonic footprint on display here is certainly that of Hans Zimmer. Zimmer is credited with producing the album, and his dynamic, expressive, perhaps “cinematic” work with digital synthesisers is surely the driving force behind Figures’s sound.
Music: “Fahrenheit 451”
It’s easy to imagine “Fahrenheit 451” is the thumping theme to some delightfully 80s adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s classic novel. Its theme of lustful but dangerous romance is a constant throughout the album, most notably on tracks like “Hot” and the haunting closer, “The Beating of Wings.” The song’s tense and dramatic mood is well bolstered by those soaring synths, courtesy of the Fairlight CMI. One of the most distinctive sounds of mid-80s synth-pop, the soft, breathy tones of the Fairlight hadn’t yet reached full saturation when Figures was made--Zimmer was an early adopter of this particular musical revolution. You might be surprised to learn that “Fahrenheit 451” only saw minor distribution as a single, exclusively for the French and Belgian markets. I think that sort of mismanagement on behalf of Polydor really shafted this album. Its lead single was actually its title track.
Music: “Figures”
The title track of Figures isn’t the worst song I’ve ever heard, but I do think it just might be the worst song on this album. With a strident, stabbing synth riff and a somewhat sparse and anemic soundstage, the title track is not particularly exciting, and also not particularly representative of what the rest of the album sounds like, with no indication of the lush and vibrant textures that dominate tracks like “Fahrenheit 451.” It also has less lyrics than the other tracks, and offers Griff little opportunity to demonstrate his pipes. Thematically, though, its imagery of wispy and mysterious personas, flitting in and out of substance in a world where appearance and identity are trifling and ephemeral, is something that resonates strongly with the album as a whole, as one might surmise from its title also being used for the album. “The Vanishing Men,” another song that easily feels like a better single than “Figures,” handles the same sort of subject in a more playful and upbeat manner.
Music: “The Vanishing Men”
The titular “vanishing men” are quite clearly the life of the party here, and in the world of this track, the insignificance of true identity is portrayed as an invitation to experiment and have fun with it--though not without a slight hint of danger as well. Perhaps it’s a good metaphor for the curated aestheticism of the New Romantic movement, decried by some as “style over substance.” New Romanticism really didn’t have much time left by the time *Figures* came out, being so strongly associated with trends in fashion that were on their way out by this point. Even Ultravox would find themselves pivoting towards more of a pop rock-oriented sound for their final classic lineup LP, 1984’s Lament. I can’t help but think that the changing landscape of musical trends is part of the poor reception of Figures, which is such a consummate New Romantic album, which basks in the full flush of the movement’s prior penetration into the mainstream. As stated above, “The Vanishing Men” is all about the glamour of mutable identity, but other tracks on the album seem to assign this theme a bit more weight, as in “The Stranger.”
Music: “The Stranger”
The titular character of “The Stranger” is described as “a stranger to himself,” but also “no stranger to anyone else.” This track seems to be more focused on the negative aspects of fashionable persona-play: losing the dignity and security of a true form, the people around you seeing through your charades, and becoming trapped in an existence defined by arbitrariness and artificiality. I’d also be remiss not to mention this track’s winsome pentatonic synth riff, which helps create a mercurial and ambiguous mood. It might be interpreted as a nod towards the rampant Orientalism of New Romantic music, which ran with the early 80s verve for all things Asian, and wasn’t shy about appropriating “Asiatic” musical motives like pentatonic scales to evoke mystery and wonder. Griff and friends’ use of such here is relatively subtle, though, and perhaps a bit more tactful than how many of their contemporaries approached other musical ideas associated with the East.
The unforgettable cover of Figures is as dramatic and infused with capital-R Romantic sentiment as the music contained within. Above the text relating the artist and title, which uses a V for a U for a touch of the classical, we see Griff splayed dramatically in a pond of lilies. With sharp makeup that emphasizes his lips, and a diaphanous, blousy top that turns translucent in the water, he seems to be the perfect tragic hero of some lost work of Shakespeare’s--complete with another flower stylishly pinned to his chest. As I mentioned before, Figures is an album that rides the wave of New Romanticism particularly hard, and I think its cover is yet another symptom of those sensibilities.
Speaking of Shakespeare, I can’t help but want to compare this image with a famous painting of one of Shakespeare’s best-known characters: Ophelia, by Sir John Everett Millais. Painted in the early 1850s, Millais’s Ophelia depicts the moment where Ophelia, driven mad by Hamlet’s romantic rejection of her, drowns herself in a river. It’s exactly the kind of story of wild, passionate, and doomed love portrayed on tracks like “Fahrenheit 451.” Ophelia is also associated strongly with flowers in the text, and features in a particularly memorable scene where she doles out various symbolic blossoms to members of the royal court. Besides the affinity of subject matter, even the composition of Millais’s work resembles the cover of Figures, contrasting its subject’s pale skin with the dark and murky natural surrounds, and emphasizing the drapery of their wettened attire. Ophelia is often considered the definitive masterpiece of the short-lived art movement, the “Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood,” who, as their name implies, sought to recapture the intuitive, colourful, and emotive power of art created prior to the High Renaissance. Not unlike New Romanticism, the Pre-Raphaelite movement would crumble after only a few years, but not without leaving behind a trail of masterpieces that would continue to inspire future artists and admirers, far removed from their own time.
After the release of Figures, Zaine Griff remained involved with Hans Zimmer and Warren Cann, and, as the supergroup “Helden,” they embarked on an even more ambitious musical opus together: Spies, a sort of synth-pop oratorio about immortal Nazi super-spies falling in love in a futuristic dystopia. Spies is about as out-there as it sounds, and brings the flamboyant musical excess of Figures into a suitably theatrical setting. It’s also got nearly as star-studded of a cast as Figures, featuring not only Zimmer, Cann, and Jardim again, but also Eddie Maelov of Eddie & Sunshine as a mad scientist, and the enigmatic French electro-cabaret chanteuse Ronny, in the role of a super-computer with a sultry female voice. Griff portrays one of the titular immortal spies, known only as “The Stranger”--which, of course, begs comparison to the track of the same name on Figures, and prompts the question, to what extent was Spies already in the works when *Figures* was being written and recorded?
Music: “The Ball”
We all know the rest of the story for Hans Zimmer, who began working with music for film in the mid-1980s, such as the queer cult classic My Beautiful Laundrette. But Zaine Griff obviously never became a household name. Despite being finished in 1983, Spies never got to see an official release, as it was a bit too out there for a label to take a chance on at the time, and it would probably be lost media today if it weren’t for a vinyl bootleg that’s thankfully fairly easy to find online. Griff decided to retire from music shortly after this, and recounts a story of having walked past an extremely talented street musician, and having a sort of epiphany about just how hard it was to make it in music. After all, if a true virtuoso could end up busking on the street, how fair and rewarding could the industry possibly be? Disillusioned with the world of pop, Griff returned to his native New Zealand and got a day job as a golf instructor. More recently, though, he’s also released several new solo albums in the 2010s, surprisingly enough, and attempted to push forward into some very contemporary-sounding pop rock. The world is, of course, a very different place nowadays than it was in the 20th Century, and particularly in the world of music distribution, so perhaps it makes sense that our brave new world has room in it for someone like Zaine Griff to return.
My overall favourite track on Figures is probably “Time Stands Still,” which I think is perhaps the most accessible, pop-friendly track to be had on the album, and the one I would’ve released as the lead single had I worked for Polydor. With a big hook and simple, repetitive lyrics, it’s a true pop song through and through--though, if an artist releases a commercial-sounding album in the woods, and nobody is around to buy it, is it still really “pop?” Anyway, I also love this track’s delightful outro, imitating a skipping record to represent a freeze in the flow of time...though I admit it’s a lot less harrowing to hear when listening digitally! That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening.
Music: “Time Stands Still”
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cosmicjoke · 3 years ago
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Okay, onto chapter 6 of “No Regrets”!
So the first thing I want to jump into here is, once again, something which the manga vastly improved on over the visual novel, and that was the scene following the flashback to Levi and his friends learning about the long-distance scouting formation before the expedition, and then Flagon’s instructions to them in the present.  I don’t think this scene was even included in the visual novel, but it’s indispensable in understanding Levi’s mindset going into the fateful final act.
Isabel gets carried away by Flagon’s speech, and ends up saluting, expressing genuine enthusiasm for the SC’s cause, before realizing what she’s done and turning around, seeing Levi and Furlan looking back at her in silence.  Furlan looks unimpressed, while Levi wears his usual stoic expression. You can’t tell one way or the other what he’s thinking, which is why the next scene is so hugely important, because we get a look into his inner thoughts.
I saw another person say not long ago that in this scene, Isabel expresses a desire to join the SC, and Levi blows her off and ignores her, only thinking about his revenge on Erwin, and to that person, I would like to ask ‘What scene were you reading?’, because that’s pretty much the opposite of what happens here.  This scene reveals so much about Levi’s own, inner conflict, and how he’s beginning HIMSELF to understand and even sympathize with the cause of the SC, and the soldiers who have dedicated themselves to it.  Let’s dissect it here a bit.
The scene takes place at night, before they ride out again, and Levi is sitting up with Furlan and Isabel, and he’s thinking quietly to himself.  The first thing he’s recalling in his contemplation here is Sairam’s words, asking Levi if he knows how many elite soldiers have been eaten by Titans. This plainly shows Levi’s growing concern for Furlan and Isabel.  The longer they spend outside the walls, the higher the risk of something going wrong, and that’s a worry that’s heavy on Levi’s mind here.
He then remembers, in quick succession, all these various interactions and the words of different people throughout his short time up here on the surface.  He recalls Sairam hurling insults at him and his friends, calling them punks, and then Hange’s opposite words of encouragement and appreciation, telling them they’ve given everyone hope.  He recalls Furlan’s words, telling Levi that with him there, they’ll really be able to raise hell, and then Isabel’s words, pointing out that the SC soldiers really believe their cause is worth dying for.  Finally, Levi recalls Flagon’s degrading words, about how Levi and his friends have spent their whole lives in a trash heap, implying they’ll never amount to anything more than garbage, and last, he recalls Erwin’s words, how he’d seen the desire to kill in Levi during their first encounter.  
All of this is hugely important to understanding Levi’s psychology, I think, and understanding his feelings of conflict and confusion, and how it ultimately plays into him making the choice he does.  For Sairam’s and Flagon’s words, it’s the assumption people have made about Levi all his life, that he’s nothing but a worthless criminal who can’t do anything good for anyone, and Levi’s struggle to overcome that perception that people have of him.  In contrast to that, Hange’s words are sending Levi the opposite message, that he isn’t just a worthless criminal, but someone who can actually contribute something positive and important to other people’s lives.  He’s someone who can inspire hope.  Something Levi’s always secretly wished he could do.  And then there’s Furlan’s words, serving as a confirmation to Hange’s, in which he expresses his reliance on Levi to help make his own dreams come true, and Levi seeing himself in that role, of taking care of these two people whom he loves.  And there’s Isabel’s words, a clear admiration and astonishment at the realization that these soldiers really believe in a cause bigger than themselves.
We see all of Levi’s greater hopes, his desire and wish to help other people, coming into conflict here with the way he’s been treated all his life by others, as a worthless, good for nothing criminal, and how that treatment has forced him to become the very thing they accuse him of being, someone ready and willing to kill, someone ready to commit crimes, etc…  It’s Levi’s pride and anger battling with his deeper desire to protect and help others. The thing his life and his environment has FORCED him to become, against his truer nature.  This is such a vital, important scene, and once again, the manga succeeds in explaining and revealing Levi’s complexity as a character, whereas the visual novel just flat out butchered it.
Now getting back to Levi’s interaction with Isabel in this scene, and the woeful misinterpretation I saw another person make one time.  
Furlan is talking about how, given the complexity of the formation, they won’t be able to break ranks without being spotted, and he suggests they should just wait until they’re back behind the walls before trying to steal the documents again. Levi points out that if all three of them leave, then yeah, they’ll likely be spotted, and gives no further opinion.  Already, Levi is thinking that maybe he could go after Erwin and the documents alone, thinking of taking the entire burden of the operation on himself, carrying the hopes and dreams of all of them on his shoulders alone, (which is why he later calls himself conceited and proud, having relied on his own strength entirely, instead of his friends too, ending in failure, which in turn goes back to the very beginning, with Levi’s statement about never knowing what the better option is, to rely on oneself, or on their comrades).  But anyway, he doesn’t protest or try to counter Furlan when he says they should just focus on getting back alive.  Isabel expresses agreement, and then says she knows the documents are important, but she also doesn’t want to get in the way of the SC and what they’re trying to do.  Now here’s where the conversation gets really important in, once more, understanding Levi’s psychology.
He and Furlan look over at her, and while Levi stays silent, Furlan gets annoyed, chastising Isabel for seeming to suddenly care about the other soldiers, accusing her of only caring because Hange’s cookies were good.  Furlan clearly doesn’t understand Isabel’s sentiments here, he doesn’t get why she suddenly seems concerned.  He’s still focused on their own goals, and that’s all that matters to him.  But Isabel begins to explain that it’s just that she’s starting to understand why the SC goes out beyond the walls, and likens it to how they felt living in the Underground, wanting to escape to the world above.  She’s saying she understands that sense of being trapped, of being imprisoned, and the longing for freedom.  And then she talks about seeing lots of her friends dying underground, while dreaming of making it “up there.”, and how seeing that made her feel like she HAD to get up there.  It’s like Isabel is saying here that her dream to make it to the surface was strengthened by the dreams of others who never got to realize it for themselves, and that she wanted to make it to the surface, more than anything, as a way of giving the dreams of those who had died without realizing them, meaning.  By making it to the surface FOR THEM.  She starts to try and explain what she means, saying ‘It’s…” before Levi suddenly speaks for the first time since her monologue, saying “It’s like leaving the walls behind to kill the Titans…”
This is such a huge moment. Because contrary to what I saw this one person claim once, Levi is acknowledging Isabel’s feelings, and expressing empathy with them.  He’s telling Isabel here that he understands what she means, because he feels it too. This desire to fight for freedom as a way to give meaning to the suffering of those who couldn’t escape their imprisonment.  Levi, rather than ignoring or blowing Isabel off here, is relating to her.  Her feelings are his own.  Isabel smiles dreamily and says “Yeah.” Because Levi put her thoughts into words.  She then keeps talking to Levi, starting to ramble about what she wants to do when they get to live in the Capital, how fun she thinks it would be to steal from all the “rich pigs” and use their money to buy useless junk, before she falls asleep.
Furlan then kind of bursts this bubble of reverie that Isabel and Levi have fallen into, and what he says here is, again, so important.  He says “I’ve got to revise our plan.  We’ll need to steal the documents before you and she start seriously talking about dedicating your hearts, or whatever.”  Furlan’s perceived how Levi’s own feelings are beginning to match up with Isabel’s, how he’s starting to feel drawn to and sympathetic towards the SC’s cause, and he’s worried, because that’s not what they’re supposed to be there for.  They’re supposed to be there to steal the documents so they can get a chance to live in the Capital.  This is Furlan’s dream, ultimately, and he doesn’t want to lose sight of it to some unrealistic ideal.  What’s so interesting here is the contrast between Levi and Furlan.  While Levi is so quiet and reserved and hard to read, he’s actually showing himself to be more of the dreamer of the two, while Furlan is much more practical and less prone to fanciful, ideal notions like helping people beyond their own means.  
We get one last shot of Levi gazing at Isable, thoughtfully.  He’s still thinking about her words.
Alright, then comes the next big scene, with all of them outside again, to try Erwin’s new formation.  We see, again, Levi’s gradually shifting opinion of Erwin already, when he remarks that Erwin’s idea is “brilliant”, once he sees how it works, expressing genuine admiration for it and Erwin’s mind.  Levi still hates Erwin, and want to kill him, but we already see this desire in him starting to crack and come apart, replaced by an almost astonished curiosity instead.  Like he isn’t sure what Erwin is, but he’s impressed, in spite of himself.  
Then the storm comes and everything starts to fall apart.
Another, massive and vital change here in the manga from the visual novel is Levi’s reaction to the sudden storm.  In the visual novel, Levi’s first and only response to it is that he can use it as cover to go after and kill Erwin, sparing no thought to the safety of his friends, or the other people in his squad.  It was another instance in which I thought Levi’s characterization in the novel was just horribly butchered, and so once again, I was so glad to see them correct it here.  Levi’s first response, after he, Furlan and Isabel start to lose contact with Flagon and the others, is to scream at his friends to not get separated.  He's only worried about them in this moment, and wants to make sure they don’t lose contact with each other.  He isn’t thinking at all about leaving them here yet.  Just this small addition completely changes Levi’s motivations and priorities, leading into the fateful choice, and it’s immeasurably better characterization for him then what was presented in the visual novel.  I’ll get more into it with the next chapter. So until then, thanks again for reading.
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deathvsthemaiden · 4 years ago
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ok wait after u sent me that ask i have to know ur top books!!! dw if u don't feel like it but i would love to hear them 🌷
This is so sweet and considerate! Thank you Eva, you gave me 5 so I’ll try to keep it to that # as well 💖🐰 off the top of my head:
🌷 The Stormlight Archive series, especially the second book, Words of Radiance. Stormlight is like 4 books + 2 novellas right now, and is projected to be 10 books and ???novellas eventually. And on top of that each main book is 1000+ pages and while you can read Stormlight on its own, most of the other books by the author, Brandon Sanderson, are part of this larger fictional universe called the cosmere. Each series takes place on a different planet, and if you are invested in the whole cosmere, there’s Easter egg references to other series in other series. So like! While I rec these books often, most people understandably don’t take me up on it wgshshh 🤭 Sanderson’s non-Stormlight books are all MUCH shorter but also much more flawed imo. Like I wouldn’t count him among my favorite authors were it not for Stormlight. anyway I’m a die hard fantasy fan so the length didn’t deter me, and I picked these up because a friend told me the world building in these books was genuinely unique instead of the typical very lazy maps composed of like. Fantasy Russia and its hostile mysterious neighbors Fantasy General East Asia and Fantasy Africa lol. and she was right! The world building is exquisite and refreshing and almost every character is canonically of color. They live in a society with an eye color based caste system and it’s.., so hard to sum up this massive series with four main characters and a ridiculous(ly fun) amount of plot lines, so I’ll cut this short and say 1) the first book, The Way of Kings, is highly expository but the ending is so so worth it, and if you enjoy the ending you’ll find merit in continuing with the series 2) Words of Radiance is my favorite book so far partially because I haven’t read the newest, Rhythm of War, yet, and also because it’s the book with the most scenes that solidified Kaladin Stormblessed (one of the main characters) as one of my favorites of all time. Another one of the best things about this series is how Brandon Sanderson portrays mental health in very natural ways, and it makes Kaladin’s growth so incredibly soothing to follow (I MEAN. He has low points that sometimes hit too close to home, but it makes you root for him harder) he really is just. Truly my definition of a hero, if we wanna get cheesy about it, and I had to pick one solid example. I love him so much this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg as to why 😭!
🌷Jane Eyre. Silly frivolous teenaged girl that I am this book swept me off my feet when I first read it and I condone every problematic aspect of it❤️ (I DONT ofc but like! I love drama and being played like a fiddle by narratives and the book delivered on both fronts! And it couldn’t have without its unsavory plot twist soooo 😙💖) (the hate this book and especially one specific character gets is funny to me just because like. Hate for the former (imo) usually stems from people taking the book too seriously while simultaneously missing the point (JE and du Maurier’s Rebecca (highly influenced by the former) are oft considered loose Bluebeard retellings for a reasonnnn!) and hate for the latter is usually just like. Warranted and then taken over the top like... he’s just a fake funny little man you guys :( and the book would’ve been boring if he wasn’t so twisted and out of touch and passionate ): not to mention I do personally in a mean ish way think it’s funny how for some people this character is one of the worst examples of men they can imagine. Like good for Them! I don’t want them to have lower standards for horribleness in people But also omg 🤭 it just reminds me of how... irony of all ironies, I’m semi frequently told I’m too harsh on real life men and then when I love twisted ones in books (for being funny and entertaining and good solid characters) I like. get the most interesting side eyes (whether figurative or literal) bwjswnhshe anyway I have nothing against Austen, I definitely enjoy her, but from what I’ve read so far, I prefer the Brontës a lot more... I need adventure! Show me horror show me rot etc etc❤️ also I’m. A stupid sucker so the fact that the book was Charlotte Brontë’s attempt to write a plain looking lady protagonist and to make her praiseworthy and virtuous and worthy of spellbinding romance makes me... 💗💓💕
🌷Keturah and Lord Death — Martine Leavitt. I haven’t seen it officially stated anywhere but to me it’s p clear this book is a retelling of/highly inspired by Godfather Death (the Grimm tale) Very simple, predictable but effective plot, and the characters are just. So much fun. From my url you can probably tell I love stories in which women (or anyone but you know. Death and the Maiden is its own trope for a reason) outsmart/face off against death. If they also k*ss, when done right, I think that’s swell as well.
🌷A Thousand Splendid Suns — Khalid Hosseini. By far the heaviest book I will mention in this ask, and I don’t rec it willy nilly for that and a few other reasons. It’s a forever fave to me because I read it at the exact right time in my life, where I was like... noticing a ton of things irl and things at home were tumultuous, and when I saw very similar things unfold in this book while I was being silenced and made to feel crazy by the adults around me, it meant so much to me to see reality as I was experiencing it in real time reflected back at me via this novel. The context of the story is wildly different from my own life and the stakes the characters face are far higher, and it is if I remember right mostly a novel about the horrors of war, which isn’t something I pretend to have any firsthand experience with, but! It was legitimately cathartic to read when I read it, and it especially meant a lot to me at the time that the author was a grown man. Not to mention how my mother is not and never has been a reader, and somehow the one and only book I ever managed to get her to read was this. Hilariously she got mad at me for only (“only”) reading depressing things (there’s... a grain of truth to that but she doesn’t need to know! 🤫) but also... she was hooked I could tell! (I got all tmi explaining this one gag I’m so sorry)
🌷A Slight Trick of the Mind — Mitch Cullin. Retirement-era Holmes! Holmes as an old man! A sad old man who keeps bees!! It’s the novel the movie Mr. Holmes was based off of (haven’t seen it yet) and I was not expecting it to get me all sentimental like it did 🤨😪 but anyway it’s like. A prolonged character study and explores some of the most interesting (to me, anyway) parts of Holmes that are only lightly touched upon in canon, like his occasionally huge follies when navigating his few close relationships and how he copes with them afterwards, his fatigue at the random injustice of the world, how he’s often mistaken both by characters that surround him and people irl as a man without feelings, etc etc. like there’s no Dr. Watson or Mrs. Hudson in this book, and the people he interacts with are almost entirely original characters, but as I listened to the audiobook it barely occurred to me to miss Watson and Hudson (I know! 😦) and the author’s original characters interacted with Holmes so believably that I sometimes forgot they weren’t ever Doyle’s. Def recommend to any flexible Holmes fan that’s not a total stickler for canon (though you don’t actually have to know much about Holmes to read this book and enjoy it! 🐝)
🌷Sleepless — Sarah Vaughn + Leila del Luca. I began with the longest book, so let me end with the shortest. It’s a 2 volume long graphic novel series and that it’s so short is the only long standing, legitimate complaint I have of it! Gorgeous art, really effectively written romance, a dark skinned girl who gets to be the proactive, lively protagonist and stunning, pined after love interest at the same time, a cast of characters that is majority of color, the perfect %-age of drama and angst etc etc. if you can find it via your library or online or smth, you can knock it out in one sitting and leave the experience eternally altered in the funnest way 👁👄👁
Honorable mentions: The Botany of Desire — Michael Pollan, Troubling Love — Elena Ferrante, The Girl from the Garden — Parnaz Foroutan
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shuturxface · 5 years ago
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Quarantine has, completely out of no where, compelled me to re-read The Life and Times. I finished three days ago and yes I’m still crying. BUT! to get my emotions out I wrote something of a “review”. It’s really just my thoughts about everything. No one asked but I’m posting it anyway. 
Please enjoy, it’s below. Be warned, there are *spoilers*: 
Thoughts and Musings:
I don’t particularly know why I’ve been so affected by The Life and Times this go around. I’ve always loved it, but I don’t think I’ve ever cried when Alice Griffiths (now Longbottom) tells Lily that she’s spontaneously marrying Frank Longbottom. And I also don’t think that I’ve ever felt more than fondness towards Marlene Price and Adam Mckinnon. And, I’ve always disliked Carlotta Meloni (especially during the summer and 7thyear), but I never actually hated her character. All until now. The first time I read The Life and Times, I really, really enjoyed it and appreciated the characters and the plot and the realism– like, come on, of course they’re not going to make out in the middle of an escape! However, I was, admittedly, disappointed with the lack of James/Lily action. Not that it was scarce, there certainly was a lot! But this time around, I finally realized why Jewels wrote it in that way. Lily disliked James – possibly resented him – for five years, and more strongly much more recently (I expect her unsavory opinions of him were most prominent during 5thyear, what with his excessive exclamations of “go on a date with me, Evans”). Of course, it’s going to take more than a few weeks to erase that! And it’s not like it could take less time, because, realistically, why would Lily want to spend that much more time with James if she wasn’t fond of him, and if they kept fighting. Honestly, their development as friends is much more interesting, and it shows an in-depth thought processes of fleshing out the characters. I am thoroughly moved by the fact that it doesn’t happen over-night or within a few days.
I’ve also read complaints about how James Potter is acting disinterested in Lily. To them I say: did you even read the goddamnstory?! Did you pass over the parts where he watches her when she’s not looking, and the parts where he is upset with himself for how strongly he feels about her?! If James Potter is anything, he is not an idiot (however idiotic he may act sometimes). From what the (actual HP) books show, James was interested in Lily and kept asking her out in their 5thyear. If I recall correctly, it was implied that he may have done so years prior. It is also stated, by Sirius Black, that they got together in 7thyear. Once again, that transformation from enemies to lovers is not going to happen overnight, and is definitely not going to happen if James Potter kept overtly obsessing over her in 6thyear. Also (!) there is a perfectly reasonable explanation Jewels gives us for why he acted this way: he wanted to get over her. Not only does this prove that he liked her deeply, not just superficially, but also that he got the message. He would have been truly, very thick had he not.
But back to the matter at hand. For some reason, this time around (I don’t remember, possibly third), I’ve been thoroughly engrossed and cried at different intervals of the story more so than before. I sobbed at the end of chapter 30, “The Worst Day Ever” in which it followed each character (Carlotta, Marlene, Donna, Mary, and Lily) on September 1st. I cried terribly during the last two chapters with the attack on the M.F.P. conference – the tension and the unknowing, and worst of all, the death of Sam Dearborn. Quickly, a word about Sam. Somehow, through so few chapters, Jewels created such a lovable character (limited in “screen time”) that his death (and Lily and James’ reaction to it) caused me to cry on multiple occasions. Jewels was able to capture the anguish of her characters so well, that for a moment I forgot it was a story at all and felt it myself. I cried when Sirius Black told Lily Evans that she “fit” with the Marauders, after she asked him why he was so sure she and James belonged together. I have absolutely no idea how she managed to utterly take me apart in the span of 3 days and 36 chapters, but no fanfiction has been able to do that.
I am fully in awe of what Jewels has created – The Life and Times is a work of art, capturing the 1970s in the Wizarding World perfectly. Would I like to see how each James and Lily, how Adam and Marlene, Mary and Reginald get together? No, I would love it. Am I still curious of how on earth all those 87 wizards and witches were murdered at the Magic For Peace convention, leaving no survivors? No, I’m haunted by it. And while there are parts that are frustrating to read (some sexist and misogynistic parts, especially from a few Ravenclaws are particularly uncomfortable), I also think she delivers an accurate representation of the 70s, which were much less politically correct that the world is today. She is not even encouraging this behavior because it’s all made by unlikeable “villainous” characters – not particularly evil, but definitely malicious.
Because Jewels created this story so magnificently, only she knew where it was headed and how it would play out. She wrote it so uniquely, using quick dialogue that made me feel that I was actually there. Phrasing her syntax in such a way that her descriptions were musical and poetic and completely relatable. Her chapter structures kept me on my toes, each one with its own unique flavor, yet all of them unified, flowing from one to the other perfectly.
Not only that, she created characters with strong, redeeming qualities as well as true, trying weaknesses. Lily Evans: she created Lily to be a kind individual that always sought to see the good in others, as J.K. Rowling told us she was. But she also made Lily imaginative and contemplative and romantic and strong, and, yes, sorrowful, fearful, angry, and (most importantly, if you ask me) not willing to discuss her real feelings with anyone, thus slightly hypocritical. James Potter: Jewels created James to be loyal, clever, more-than-slightly arrogant, humorous, brave, and even compassionate. But she also made him brooding, impulsive, hot headed, and many times, a prick. I could go on, but the main point is this: Jewels created complex characters. She didn’t make a wondrous, unfailingly kind Lily (if she were, why did she and James butt heads so viciously?), or a comical, lovesick James, a cheeky, brazen Sirius, a quiet, sentimental Remus, a quivering Pettigrew, or a moody, jealous Snape (yes, even he had more to him than this – drive and hunger to prove himself). Jewels created characters with depth! Characters that made mistakes and don’t just immediately learn from them. Hell, she made teenage characters in a fanfiction that didn’t ultimately think with their primary sex organ – characters that were able to see that there were more important things happening besides who’s shagging who. Of course, there were characters that were interested in this, but they’re not the type of people that would go to a protest at the Ministry of Magic (and, obviously, this just strengthens the certainty that James and Lily truly belong together). Essentially, Jewels created characters that are sometimes hard to like. She showed us real emotions and feelings and struggles like a proper novel. She went further than an exploration of two people’s love life and gave contextual reasons to their coming together, and why their relationship was so important in the greater scheme of Harry Potter. She created multiple storylines, intricately woven together, incorporating briefly mentioned characters in the Harry Potter series and giving them backstory and personalities. Jewels created a world within J.K. Rowling’s universe with complex political turmoil.
I fully and strongly admire the work and dedication that Jewels put into The Life and Times. I feel that it’s wishful thinking that she might return to this story after all these years (has it really been seven already?!), but I can’t help but wish all the same. I do understand because life does have a habit of getting in the way and people move on. I’m truly grateful for Jewels and what she gave to the world. No other fanfiction will ever evoke the feelings that The Life and Times does. No matter the emotional strife this story gives me, I will always be grateful, and it will always be my favorite. Thank you, Jewels.
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psychedelictrashpanda · 3 years ago
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It’s been awhile, weird old blog with unspecified direction. How about more of me me me?
I finally did DMT again, and WOW. It’s been at least a full decade since the last time. I still didn’t quite “break through” enough to “meet the entities” again but mein GOTT was it healing. Speaking of God, we’ll get to that soon... But before smoking the dimitri, I was beginning to sustain a mania in slow motion with dissociatives again. Not to any extreme like I did with PCP long ago (btw, glancing at my Eyehategod poster, I realize that horror/metal fest when I was blasted on PCP the entire time was all the way back in 2013! It seems to much more recent, but the way these drugs interact with memory is very peculiar. or maybe it was the traumatizing effect of it and other things at the time that makes me block out and thus distort the time signature of the memory... I digress). And I don’t have the destructive tendencies I did in the past anyway, so I’ve never been apt to push it as far as I was when I was shooting up 3-meo-pcp and blacking out for days at a time. I mean, I did push it I suppose. For the main George Floyd protests I was loading up on a combination of things. Can’t even remember if that was my sober window between methadone detox and the suboxone I’m on now. But, I was combining bits of weird PCP offshoots with opiate offshoots (4-map iirc) and/or kratom with maybe a drop of benzo... straddling the line between going overboard and a “party dose” for lack of a better descriptor; between recreation and desperation. In retrospect, I was summoning the courage to act like my old self used to in these sorts of situations. That is, giving it my all, being novel about it, idk, summoning the spirit of Dr Gonzo I suppose (who, after reading his two books, was more slimey of a jerk than he’s presented in Hunter’s stories. well, I need to finish the Cockroach People book, he started getting into his attraction to underage girls as a young 20-something man himself and ugh, gross). My true wild & adventurous spirit has been hampered, weighed down with anxiety and depression and all manner of undiagnosed mental illness. Who knows if it’s more the drugs or the environmental factors that trigger drug use, but the spirit is tortured like Griffith in the torture dungeon, the heart is wrapped in a black grime guarded by the Beast of Darkness, the will is subordinated to authoritarian capitalist hegemony...
Where was I? Oh so I started suboxone for the second time in my life innnn... February I want to say. Last time I did it I was able to detox myself simply buying subs off the street, but I did it too quick. That’s been one problem, every time I detox rapidly it’s too harsh a push back into reality and I succumb to relapse less then a year into sobriety. The reason reality is harsh is the same reason my stance on anti depressants has been further cemented. I’ve articulated it better lately... Basically I believe it’s a weird solution to depression to force your chemical makeup into the right position to function properly in the same environment that caused it in the first place. “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” One of my conversations with a young college friend really illuminated why many don’t even consider this position. She was insistent there’s no cause of depression, you’re just born with a fucked up mind. Now sure, hereditary disposition is a thing, as a drug addicted child of an addict I should know. But for example she pointed to another friend with hard depression and was like “his life seems fine what explanation could there be?” But I put forth maybe his childhood of having to closet his homosexuality in a hard conservative family that had the possibility of disowning him if they knew about it contributed to that “natural chemical imbalance,” as it’s implied. YES, some people NEED it. But for the most part, it really seems to me to be what I’m gonna call the thyroid phenomenon. That is to say, a medical explanation for a small fraction of severely affected patients is used as a broad brush by the public to diagnose themselves. Forewarning: I am not fat shaming here, forgive the example. Dietary practices are a personal thing so my feelings are stronger as well. Anyway, it seems to me as soon as this thyroid malfunction became a hard biological explanation for obesity beyond the psychological, suddenly everyone was a candidate. It’s fine to think “maybe I have it” but when a growing and significant portion of the obese crowd started screaming they all had thyroid problems and can’t help themselves, when a teensy percentage actually do... well it sort of touches on the “addiction as a disease” narrative that’s never sat well with me. Addicts use the disease reasoning to skirt personal responsibility. I'm not denying it is a disease, but I believe calling it as such in the public discourse isn’t terribly constructive. (Okay, you’re seeing an opinion change in real time here... I changed my mind.) I was vehemently against the narrative, but I need to readjust to simply make people WARY of the narrative. As an addict, I could easily see myself using the excuse of it being a disease as a fatalist function; that is to say giving in, relinquishing personal control over my fate. Hereditary disposition, Rat Park, addiction as a disease... there’s also a severe lack of control it all conjures. Paradoxically, drugs can used to meticulously control your state of mind. I can’t control my desire to control myself?
God where was I going with this... Oh! God! May as well mention I’ve been warming up more and more to the spirit of monotheism beyond it’s structural and institutional dimensions. I could get deep into my recent past of not believing in the idea of a spirit, soul, etc. How the pendulum of my ideology swings between cold rationalism and loose spirituality, especially as I go through phases of rebellion against perceived oppressors. Growing up in a red state with a lot of Christian ideals, society around me was always telling me everything I seemed to like was the work of Satan. Naturally, I started reading into Satanism. I never self identified with occult-esque belief structures, except maybe chaos magick because it’s whole idea is to merge whatever practices work into something of your own, but I did staunchly identify as anti christian. Not a hard thing to do when you’re already a metal head, which definitely fueled the trajectory. Not to mention metal helped goad me into DXM use (thanks Velvet Cacoon ya bunch of goons), the first real psychedelic journeys I had. Because I never gave real consideration to myself having depression, I moulded my personal ideology around the symptoms it causes. Which is why for awhile after coming to terms with depression as a problem I probably have, I was only able to identify it in retrospect. I never felt it in real time because it was so old-coat to me, I adapted to it like an addict adapts to their drug of choice and ti becomes their world. So I would decide to skip social events, let my room get messy, watch only old comfort shows, etc... but only AFTER emerging from that state was I able to immediately look back and think “wait... I was doing all those things because I was depressed.” In the moment, it’s rationalized as “I don’t want to see these people for these reasons” or “I want to watch spongebob because it’s fun and an old favorite.” Rationalization, the concept of the west, serves as a detriment to the individual in a number of manners. This is one. I was a MASTER at rationalizing away my drug use. Statistically, more people die from this this and that, why be worried that I’m on this drug instead? Statistics quelled the perceived danger. It was also a formative tool in my skills of justification. I always felt I had to justify every action I took, but that’s getting back into family matters...
But why not bring that up? it’s a sore spot. I feel like the tables have flipped from my dad always saying “you all just think I’m an asshole!” to me thinking I’m the asshole. It’s too much to get into but I’ll touch on a couple important things... I’ve learned a major source of my anxiety is not being able to draw the boundaries between business and family and myself, because they’re not properly defined. When I’m told by my bossfather after explaining the distress I feel simply thinking about the family company, and he goes typically all-or-nothing when I touch on crucial issue and says “if you want out just tell me you want out”, I can’t separate between whether he’s saying it as a father or as a boss in the moment. He would say, “of course I just mean the company”, but where does company end and family begin? It’s also an intense pressure, maybe shame, simply typing this and thinking in the back of my head about someone who might read and think “what a spoiled brat, has a family company and blah blah.” But who put all that in my head? He says he’s changed from the days of putting immense pressure on me with the sort of sentiments that cause that shit in my head like always telling me how great I have it and all the opportunities, shit, I’m feeling it right now, the frustration and I can’t even identify these emotions. At least I am aware of them, that’s a huge milestone for me. But the only thing that’s changed is he sees me as a the broken mother fucker I am and treats me as such. Sometimes it’s nice, and sincere sympathy, other times his frustration with having to check his language all the time is palpable so it does no good to do so. The immense pressure, the intense urgency, the confusing complexity, all those market pressures haven’t changed. This is evident when we were driving somewhere and I suggested not worrying about the fastest route on the map because one minute isn’t a big deal and he insisted that one minute IS a big deal. Sweating one fucking minute indicates a mountain of reputational pressure. In a way, that one minute is putting business ahead of family, but I feel harsh saying it because as he’s pounded into my head the business is what allows the family to survive. Not to mention why put the crack head of the family above that one minute (not literal crack, but it was obvious as soon as he saw I was “fucking around” on ketamine he decided to not take me as seriously) Still, I’ve made my decision that survival reasoning is fucking bullshit already. He’s the one that wants a mansion and wants enough mailbox money for us not to have to worry ever again, so he’s the one deliberately creating the pressure. Maybe he hasn’t considered how hardened he’s become to those feelings after a lifetime in the street and in prison. I really feel for mom. She’s okay now, but her spirit... It’s part of the reason I can’t relax myself at home. He has always painted her as dead weight in the past, never getting a job, sitting watching TV, but he’s unable to connect the dots psychologically because we’re all layman that part of the reason she’s like that is because her actions have been demonized already so who the fuck she got to prove herself to? Same reason I fell into relapse sometimes. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t sort of deal. The damned if I don’t being the reputation of yourself you have to live with after getting sober. He says “don’t worry about it” but I couldn’t accept that because the reason he doesn’t trust me (never mind respect, that’s even further away) is informed by my past. I can’t complain that he never allowed me to contribute to a crucial decision like choosing the building for the dispensary, talking about whether we want a certain investor or not, etc, is because that’s not something to entrust to a druggie. I’ve always felt he let me play make-believe CEO and gave me an allowance for it, while telling me otherwise. He’d say “this is all for you” but he’s making the decisions that truly move mountains and then putting it on us. Which is why I have a hard time saying “I want out”, he can be a baby about things just as much as I am, and I fear he’d let his entrepreneurial drive be affected by my departure. Sigh, this is already getting to be a headache to think about... He’s tired. I’m tired.
There was also something I wanted to say regarding the role social constructs play in all this, but it’s getting long enough already. Suffice to say I’ve been getting into psychoanalysis lately and it’s scratching the right itch for knowledge and wisdom. I can see why Zizek is enamored with Lacan, and why it’s so important to mix it with Marxism. And not to toot my own horn, but what the hell... There are a lot of lofty ideas I’ve been coming across that are already parallel to ideas I’ve developed through my own life experience, and it makes me think I’m meant for this sort of stuff. If I’m lucky in my pursuits (not to put too much weight on the luck aspect), I’ll be a journalist of some sort. Articles, video essays, whatever. Need to rein in my indecisiveness and dispel FOMO tho.
Back to DMT. But not really. Earlier in the summer I got some straight Ketamine and it was also immensely healing. But it has a great abuse potential, especially for me, so it’s harder to “hang up the phone” after I get the message as TmK would say. It made me feel again, and start to understand what love is. Partly because it conjured all these lost feels I had for Kat. She’s great people though, I think I’d just stress her out too much. Idk. Whatever. My love life is a total mess. Anyway after I ran out I wanted more of course and stumbled on some DCK, a somewhat rare ketamine offshoot. Coupled with my increasing propensity to trip acid more than once a week, they started building on each other. I was happier and happier at home, but at work/fam was getting more and more distressed about my place in that whole show. In his show. Simply thinking about the company, especially after having read that article about procrastination and how much it resonated with me, caused me unnecessary levels of distress. Normally as quickly as I can feel that, my mind will tuck it away and bottle it up somewhere so I can go about my day. The problem with drugs is they cause you to act instead. So he was doing the usual “it’s so easy! you’ll have it made!” and I interrupted with this torrent of shit I’ve been holding back forever, and he would not yield on his “you didn’t let me finish...” Incidentally, has he really never picked up on every time I interrupt I already know what he’s talking about? I said as much, something like “it’s not the labor” and he keeps saying “no you’re not listening” as though a frivolous detail changed the main thrust of the fact he’s always trying to make it easier for me. I wish he could simply let me go off and have the strength to take it a little less seriously, but considering how often I take things personally I shouldn’t be surprised he does to. On top of this, his brother/my uncle was in the hospital for some serious shit. But another reason I picked this time is because I only feel safe even confronting him when non-involved parties are around. He doesn’t care that I don’t feel safe confronting him though, he says “don’t worry about me” so maybe I shouldn’t. I feel like such an asshole about it, but that feeling is conjured by the ideological structure he helped to create. Where does my shame end with him being the causation and start with my personal ideology? How much can a person create their own ideology, truly? It’s about as small a window as free will, I imagine.
SO after feeling awful for going off after having all this stuff build up in my mind, I felt awful and went home to drug up some more. Again, not recklessly to the extent I used to be. But I did a fat line of DCK while on a couple hits of LSD and a smidgen of Zolpidem (a wholly underrated substance). Everything was getting to me all at once. A perfect storm of my problems. All the while another doubt caused by ideology from without (society and family both) was making me think it’s all the drugs. But the developments I’ve made are huge strides, I’ve matured so much from it all. And I realized every time I do this, those developments are wiped clean because the validity of them is rendered null due to both the general social stigma of drugs and my history with them. And maybe that’s a major trigger fo rmy relapse in the past. I’m not suppose to be on drugs, but I dabble, have incredible experiences and make strides of maturity, but because it’s drugs the exact opposite effect is percieved from the outside; the experiences are simple chemical euphoria, the strides of maturity are false delusions. It triggers a sharp roll back down hill. I wish someone respected me for who I am, I feel so alone sometimes.
Drugs as an umbrella term, drugs as a vice for the worst dregs of society. There are so many problems in our world regarding drugs. I could write a book. But how much I’ve written here touches on another pressure I feel. IS it simply him again? When he asks “you’re gonna be gone in a few days right?” is that what’s making me feel like this is a waste of time? I’ve got to get out of here. It’s so hard though. I simply have to be strong. The strength is in me to take the massive cut to pay and benefits when I move. Maybe I’ll get a portion of my strugglers card back and shit heads like Blasey Shomas can’t simply say “why don’t you take care of yourself instead of daddy taking are of you?” anymore. Part of me wants to say he says that because he’s driven by his own emotions and not smart enough to directly debate my claims, his insults should hold no weight. Another part of me is truly trying to be... I don’t know a proper term for it without sounding egotistical, but “enlightened”? This is why monotheism is sounding more interesting to me. Jesus’ position about those dregs of society. I’ve always tried to be a trusting person, understanding of people’s struggles, the ideologies they function under that make them lash out or otherwise act the way they do, etc. I even changed my wording there from “I’ve always been” to “I’ve always tried to be.” Not so much for my usual reasons of dodging a committing claim (which I’m working on -- instead of “I think ___” just say what I believe to give the claim more sense of authority so as to be taken more seriously), but trying to be more humble. And not to think lowly and use myself as a punching bag like I used to... ugh, whatever. This post is messy enough.
So that night after having done DCK every day for a couple weeks and tripping every other night on acid, I was at my wits end on what to do, where to go next, everything. The outside world is crumbling, the inside world is lost. I finally whipped out that DMT I’ve had for a long while, something inside told me it was time. Oh duh it was the wits end part, I had no other chemical recourse. I sat in my bed with a foil sculpture loosely resembling a pipe, repeated to myself “it’s okay, just let it happen to you, it will be okay.” A part of me even had a small fear based on those rare reports of those interdimensional beings mentally raping some people, but I don’t know what to make of those experiences, seem like flukes. I took my three deep hits and set the pipe aside as soon as the rusb began and laid back. It wasn’t enough to break through, so I need to get a proper pipe, but it was enough for a “being” (which I am convinced is a part of your mind, not from another dimension or otherwise external source) to appear before me. At least I think. Whatever it was slowly came closer, reassuring me that I’d be okay. The most profound part was an overwhelming sense of all these puzzle pieces suddenly falling perfectly into place where they should be. As though the answers to all my struggles obvious and within me the whole time. For example as soon as I came back I adjusted my posture, as that’s something that I’ve been wanting to work on, and because I was reminded of that just now I adjusted my posture in my seat while writing this. I felt an overwhelming sense of forgiveness toward myself, I think. Amazingly, the inebriation I felt before the trip was largely dissolved, as though the stuff I was on somehow all lost it’s potency. The distresses melted away. At least, the power behind them was nulled. I’m still facing the same problems, but there’s a zen(?) quality to my thinking when they come up in my mind. No longer will a pin drop trigger everything I’m feeling all at once. When I came-to completely, I started BAWLING. In being overwhelmingly consoled by the trip, I became inconsolable. Tears of joy. Tears of healing. And that was the main takeaway. The loudest words of the experience were “Now the healing can truly begin.” At the same time, now the real work also begins. 
Balance is key
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always-there · 4 years ago
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About romance
I am a helpless sucker for romance.
I consume romance webcomics and manga and dramas and movies. I read romance books. I draw romance webcomics. I write romance novels, I write them so hard the first one's gonna see the public light in September.
And yet, if Romance as much as tries to sneak its way within a perimeter of 100 miles around me... I'll instantly barf on its rosy head.
It's weird. I literally giggle like a schoolgirl when something cheesy happens on TV. I almost died a thousand deaths reading Check! Please, and every time a new chapter of Koikimo came out I would dive into the couch with a hot cup of tea or a bowl of soup or whatever hot beverage that made my guts as warm and fuzzy as my heart.
But when my friends tell me about their Valentine's Day plans, or their anniversary plans, or whatever plan involving a special date and a special person, and the cute little surprises they've prepared for their loved ones... I just cringe so hard I wish I could murder. I would positively end someone's life so they'd stop telling me the details of the heart-shaped fake rose petals they bought to cover their bed or the romantic Couple's Getaway they booked to spend a weekend at a lovely Bed & Breakfast for their anniversary.
Public displays of affection irk me. If the fur of a plushie holding one of those tacky *I love you* felt hearts touches my skin, I have to bathe for three days. Love in real life really, really makes me all kinds of uncomfortable.
Now, unlike the heroes and heroines of this noble genre, I am not oblivious to my own feelings. I'm a survivor of abuse, and the partners I had before and after that cursed relationship were consistently crappy, each in their own way. I can understand why I am reluctant to indulge in sentimental intimacy, to be elegant, and avoid saying I'd rather have one of my legs amputated with a teaspoon before allowing anyone near me again.
It's a whole can of worms that I worked on, I'm working on, and that I'll probably have to work on for the rest of my life. No argument there.
What I sometimes struggle to analyze if I still have this capacity to embrace romance at all.
People who read my content tend to be touched by it. I've learned it's extremely difficult for an amateur to convincingly write about stuff they have no experience with. But somehow, I manage to craft something similar to love. I'm not subtly praising myself, not at all. I'm just trying to understand this mess. Perhaps It's a rationalization. I believe that this should work like that, and I develop a theory of sorts based on that.
Maybe it's the fact that I don't really believe in romantic love, so it's easy for me to manipulate it and enjoy it in fiction. Like a fairytale. I know there's no way in hell a noble would defy the kingdom and marry a plebeian, and that there's no way that the plebeian's legs or chest would be so smooth in that historical context, so that's precisely why I find it so charming.
If you ask me, yeah, indeed, romantic love does not exist. The best I can concede to you is a chemical rush of the brain that makes us bond with a compatible partner, and from then on... the real love starts.
And when I say real love, I mean choices. Constant choices. I choose to wake up next to you today. And I will make the same choice tomorrow, and the day after that, until we both drop dead or until I stop choosing to do it.
I choose to fight with you, I choose to waste time of my brief weekend visiting your relatives, I choose to create new human beings with you, and to have you see my miseries and wonders, and be a witness of yours.
That's why some relationships are so fucked up. If we make bad, terrible choices with our daily nutrition, we can also make bad, terrible choices with the people we choose to date. Let Future Me deal with the consequences of eating this 5000 calories fast food meal. Let Future Me deal with the consequences of ignoring all these red flags.
At the end of the day, that's all; reasonable, sensible choices, made with the head once the heart has grown tired of providing the only fuel needed to go on.
That's the kind of love that endures, and that's the kind of love that is, well, generally ugly.
You can't argüe with this. It is not pretty. Sleepless nights taking turns to clean poopy diapers. Smelling bad breath in the morning, or shit from the bathroom after a heavy dinner. Arguments, annoyance, the pressure of keeping a good sex life, drifting apart, crises, bills.
It reeks of agony. And yet, the sole fact of still choosing the other despite those, the amazing sacrifice of compromising, that's love.
It's just a kind of love that I don't think -No, I'm certain, I won't ever be able to offer, nor I will ever have the need to receive.
And if I don't want that, it makes sense I wouldn't want the fluffy stuff that comes before it.
Anyway. It's kinda thrilling to create content that is attractive to people on a topic to which I am so personally foreign. It's a bit of a stupid inner joke by now. Yeah, I made my characters nuzzle and you fainted from pure joy, but the truth is, I'm dead inside. Lol.
You guys should check Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-San. That's pretty much what I mean to say.
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