#her sunflower module so pretty ^_^

[xxri]

isekaijouchoooo

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 7: C-53

Depending on where he looked, it was still beginning.

“Wow, you really have a thing for organics.”

C-53 hummed innocently. “I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about, Bargie.”

After he and Pleck had cleaned up the medical mess in the kitchen, the tellurian had disappeared in search of his old Zima scrolls, leaving C-53 alone in the common area. Well, as alone as one could be on a sentient ship. The Bargarian Jade’s attention span was selective, so one could never be sure whether they were being actively observed at any time.

“I saw what just happened,” Bargie said. “The tension between you two is - well, let’s just say it’s high. It’s very high.”

“That was a private conversation,” C-53 responded, somewhat defensively.

“If you wanted to have a private conversation, you should’ve had it off the ship,” Bargie said matter-of-factly.

“We’re in space ,” C-53 argued. “And I don’t see how this means I have a thing for organics.”

“Aw, come on,” Bargie’s rough voice insisted on the loudspeaker. “I know what I saw when we accessed each other’s memories a few years ago. You definitely have a type.”

“So do you,” he shot back, deflecting.

“Oh, I have a type?” Bargie exclaimed, affronted. “Do you know who I’ve dated?”

C-53 tuned his audio sensitivity down as the ship launched into a monologue about her exes. Out of courtesy, he uploaded a subroutine to offer various hmm s and ah s as a placeholder for listening while his cube went elsewhere.

Whether he returned Pleck’s feelings was not the priority right now. His friend needed help, and C-53 was going to help him. It was as simple as that; there was no need to complicate things with whatever feelings he may or may not have for the tellurian. So what if he had a type? That didn’t apply to the current situation - Pleck was different. He was vulnerable, and it would be unfair of C-53 to take advantage of that.

He was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with tenderness every time he laid scanners on Pleck, and his loader programming urged him to stick a label on him that read FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE. That particular instinct was easier to bypass than the instinct to lift, and he was left wondering if picking Pleck up had been a good idea after all. His one-eyed stare, aching and exhausted, had stirred something in C-53.

At least it had gotten his message across. I, C-53, am going to care about you. On purpose. Whether you like it or not.

He had to set his romantic notions aside. There were more important things to worry about right now. He dimly registered Bargie still steamrolling overhead with her story, and he broke in respectfully.

“That’s all very interesting, Bargie, but I don’t see how it helps me.”

The ship sighed cantankerously. “I’m just sayin’ you’re gonna have to confront this sooner or later,” she said.

“Hm,” C-53 considered. “I think I’m going to choose later.”

---

“Okay, I brought all the scrolls we got copies of from the library and uh, all the originals I have that Nermut didn’t make into a nest,” Pleck said around the box of papers in his arms.

He carried them over to the dining table, pausing when he saw the pre-existing mess of administrative documents, campaign flyers, and junk mail that already cluttered its surface. Hardly anyone used the table for eating these days.

C-53 watched bemusedly as Pleck nudged the mess aside to make space for his new mess, dumping the contents of the box out. This was not going to be a very organized process. Things involving Pleck rarely were.

“Are these texts all about the Zima religion in general, or you specifically?” he asked.

“Ah, well,” Pleck paused to brush a lock of hair out of his eye, gazing down at his chaotic archive. “The thing is, I don’t really know how to interpret all of them? I mean,” He began to shuffle through the stack, “there’s… here, this one says my actual first and last name,” he extricated a page and held it out for C-53 to read.

“A ticking clock, in which Pleck Decksetter stands, to spin and draw nearer to the void, ” the droid echoed aloud.

Pleck nodded, grimacing. “But then, like, then there’s this one,” he unrolled a tight ream of parchment and recited,

“Whose stick is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite happy though. Full of joy like a rainbow, I watch him laugh. I cry hello.”

C-53 paused. “That sounds… dumb,” he said.

Pleck chuckled, rolling the parchment back up. “A lot of it is pretty dumb,” he admitted. “And I don’t know what all is relevant to, y’know, my whole thing, and what’s just some old Zima getting creative with their meditations on the Space.”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t sort them out,” C-53 said, lowering his frame enough so that he could read the texts from his vantage.

That was their afternoon, reviewing and puzzling over the pile of ancient scrolls. C-53 had never given the Zima religion itself that much thought, but the more they dug into their teachings, the more he was convinced it was mostly just nonsense. He did have to give them some credit, though. A few of the scrolls had predicted Pleck’s life almost exactly. It was… kind of eerie, if he was being honest.

The crew wandered in and out while they worked, checking in on their activities curiously but quickly losing interest once they realized they were essentially just studying. At one point, AJ asked if he could help, and they gave him a flowery poem to slog through until he gave up after about ten minutes.

“You did a good job, AJ,” Pleck smiled as the CLINT left the room to find something else that would hold his attention. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Pleck was looking significantly more relaxed since that morning, C-53 noticed. His shoulders had returned to their usual easy slope and his smile sprang readily to his face. The droid found himself distracted from his task on more than one occasion, choosing instead to fixate on Pleck’s careful hands as he leafed through papers, or his delicate neck as he bent low to decipher some stray scribble. By the time the evening rolled around, they had stopped trying to make sense of the scrolls altogether, and were instead pointing out ridiculous lines to one another.

“Wait wait wait, here, check out this one,” Pleck brandished a photocopy in C-53’s face, barely containing his laughter.

“To pass through the eye, one must first pass through the butt?” C-53 read aloud, incredulous. “Do they mean literally?”

Pleck was fighting to get the words out through his giggling. “Who wrote this? This was a Zima?”

“This is a sacred text .” C-53 insisted. “A sacred religious text. This is your religion, Pleck.”

The tellurian shook his head, still laughing, as he set the paper aside. “Good Rodd.”

“Oh, here’s a good one,” C-53 raised a careful claw to slide one of the documents in Pleck’s direction.

Seeing the grin spread across his friend’s face was like watching a sunflower bloom. “Oh my Rodd,” he exclaimed, “is this a love poem?”

“Heaven hath no elegance like you, my radiant swan,” C-53 recited the first line, his vocal modulator lilting with his own laughter. “I have no idea why this was preserved as an ancient text.”

“We’ll put that one in the ‘dumb’ pile,” Pleck said, cheeks still rosy with mirth. He was smiling wide enough to show off his dimples, and it was a pleasant sight to C-53’s scanners.

They continued to shuffle through papers in companionable silence. Pleck managed to assemble a fairly linear timeline of his own prophecy, and was attempting to piece it together with anything that seemed relevant. He had a better eye for patterns in the texts than C-53 did, something that the droid was surprised by. Perhaps deciphering the ancient words of the Zimas was something that was only inherent to other Zimas.

“C-53, look,” Pleck exclaimed suddenly. “I thought I had lost this one. It’s the scroll you’re mentioned in.” He excitedly uncurled the parchment and held it flat against the table.

C-53’s head tilted with interest. “ I’m in the Zima scrolls?”

“I mean, you’re not mentioned by name,” Pleck admitted. He scooted the scroll toward the droid so he could get a better scan on it. “But I’m pretty sure it’s talking about you. Based on, y’know, context.”

And the humidifier will rise from its slumber Newly untethered, a free soul in a rectangle And the Great One will feel a lump in his throat To wonder if this appliance would entrust his soul to him

“Wow, this is… very specific,” C-53 commented. His coding was already drawing connections for him about the implications this had on his and Peck’s relationship. He was inclined to dismiss it as mindlessness, like so many of the other texts, but a small, irrational part of him clung to the words. Was the tellurian meeting him destined? Better question: did C-53 want it to be?

“Yeah, I thought it was weird that they included that,” Pleck said, pulling the scroll back.

“You were worried I didn’t trust you?”

“Well, I mean-” Pleck’s ears reddened. “Up until that point you’d had your restraining bolt on, so I couldn’t be sure.”

C-53 nodded pensively. “True, I didn’t have a lot of allowance for personal expression back then.”

Pleck gave a small exhale of a laugh. “Yeah, it was like you became a totally different droid after that.”

“It was a punishing part of my life, to be sure.”

Pleck’s eye brightened. “Remember that time Nermut made you pick up that marble over and over again for like, an hour?” he asked, turning his sunny grin on C-53.

“Oh, Rodd, yeah,” the droid sighed, amused at the memory. “And you and Dar asked me to do it all sexy so I’d actually have some fun with it?”

“That was great, I really enjoyed that.”

“Oh, you did?” C-53 prompted, servos humming. “You enjoyed that?”

“No, I mean like-” Pleck went a darker shade of pink. “Not like, sexually, it was - I was just-” he stopped, gathered his thoughts, and restarted. “It was nice to see you having fun, is all,” he said. His smile softened as he reminisced.

C-53’s voice lost its teasing edge. “It was nice,” he agreed. “I’m glad we were able to become friends despite our initial differences.”

“Yeah…” Pleck trailed off, staring up at the droid earnestly. “Yeah, me too.”

Rodd, C-53 felt he was going to combust in that pure sunshine smile. He would fight wars and burn down cities to keep it safe.

Chapter 6 <-----> Chapter 8

[frustratedwritersblog]

Photobooth

Sanemi doesn’t like to have his picture taken. He can’t explain why but he doesn’t like it. Not hate; just doesn’t like it. Every picture of his are either a stoned face or a glare; there are no other expressions made, even his childhood ones.

So when he realised the girl he fell hard for absolutely loves to take pictures, he was seriously contemplating avoiding her for the rest of his life and live a monk life up in the mountains, far, far away from civilisation. But the thought of living a life without her – and he hasn’t even asked her out yet – made him feel lonelier than usual. Sure he has friends, he classifies them into two categories; ‘Idiots’ and 'Assholes’, take your pick.

After much loud cheering and words of encouragement (when his target is nowhere in range) along with numerous hard pats on the back from Mitsuri and too many smirks – that bastard – from Iguro, he gathered whatever mana he had accumulated from his surroundings – I’m playing too much games – and asked the beauty out.

With his luck, he was expecting an outright rejection given how glorious his reputation is in school; just imagine, the cold-hearted, foul-mouthed war freak confessing his feelings to the most sought-after girl in school. Y/N is every guy’s dream girl, except Iguro’s because he chose Mitsuri in his right mind. Sanemi shuddered at the thought of Mitsuri babbling non-stop about her cooking.

“Yes.” Y/N mumbled, blushing like a girl who just confessed to her senpai.

Sanemi was shell-shocked; he was pretty sure he could strike the lottery now but he didn’t want to waste it on money. Instead, he asked the charming girl out on a date this coming Saturday to which she immediately agreed to. He walked her home like a gentleman he think he isn’t but actually is. Just as he was about to head back home, Y/N grabbed his sleeves.

“Can I take a picture of us together? As a memory of today.”

Sanemi was in a dilemma; he couldn’t outright reject her request since he doesn’t want to disappoint her when they are not even two hours together but he really loathes taking pictures. Trying to think of a solution which rubbing his nape, he was in deep shit.

Noticing he was troubled with his request, Y/N told him, “It’s alright if you are uncomfortable with it.”

She knows Sanemi more than he thinks she does; Y/N always sits behind him in classes they have together so that she could admire him, even if it’s just his strong back, broad shoulders and that sexy haircut only he could pull off.

“I’m sorry. I will make it up to you on Saturday. I promise!” He added hastily.

“Well then, I look forward to our date.” Y/N gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before closing the door.

I can die a happy man now….

———————————————————————-

Saturday couldn’t come any quicker for the couple. Sanemi tried his best to wear his best clothes but ended up flinging the hideous tie Iguro suggested him to wear out the window. Settling for a navy button down shirt, black jeans and plain 'ol sneakers, he considered getting a bouquet but he had no idea what language flowers speak in, so he grabbed a bright-looking sunflower with a little ribbon tied on its stem because she’s all bright, just like the sun; my sun.

Y/N was thrilled upon receiving Sunny – she named it before he could apologise for the lack of more. She brought Sunny along on their date and took selfies with it wherever they went, like a photo documentary. Y/N tried to ask Sanemi to take a picture together but she remembered his dislike for the camera so she stopped before she could cause him any discomfort. Sanemi obviously noticed this; he’s more attentive than he is given credit for.

Passing by an arcade, Sanemi spotted one of those old photo booths where you squeeze into it and make ridiculous faces and then decorate the picture whichever way you like once it’s taken; he only knew about this because Mitsuri shoved a few into his face during lunch the other day.

Without wasting another second, Sanemi grabbed Y/N’s wrist gently and lead her into an empty booth. Emptying his coin pocket and stuffing them into the slot, he proceeded to stand behind the line and stroked… a stiff pose – the kind people take for a passport photo. The camera shutter went off and Y/N couldn’t hold back a giggle no matter how hard she tried.

Being the saint she is, she guided Sanemi quickly because there are only nine shots left; adjusting his arms around her waist and shoulders, leaning against his arm, making weird faces and shoving Sunny a little too close to the camera, Y/N thoroughly enjoyed herself and Sanemi could see her radiating with happiness.

At least she’s happy.

Only one shot left and Y/N was feeling cheeky. Tilting her head to kiss Sanemi one centimetre shy of his mouth, Sanemi’s jaw dropped and click!

Sanemi has no sense of art so he left all the decorations and borders and all the artistic stuff to Y/N; he has failed every art module and he definitely does not want to ruin the photos. While waiting patiently for the photos to print, Y/N was fidgety; after all, that kiss was so close and bold of her! So near yet so far!

They heard the photo dropped into the slot and picked it up. Admiring their handiwork, Sanemi was pleased he doesn’t look like a murderer for once and Y/N was beaming away, seeing how cute they look together.

Note to self: Laminate this ASAP.

Y/N turned to Sanemi and said with a smile, “Thank you, Sanemi. This means a lot to me.” Clutching onto Sunny and their precious pictures lightly, she leaned up and kiss him on the lips.

[whowishestowalkwithme]

"When a treatment specialist reinforces concepts of “good” food and “bad” food, of “healthy” food choices and sticking to a “balanced” meal plan, then how might someone in the grips of an eating disorder lower the level of anxiety such that she magically remains anxious about consuming food, but not so much so that she applies maladaptive anxiety modulating techniques such as self-administered starvation, excessive exercise, restriction and reactive eating cycles etc.?

Surely the more suitable approach is to help a patient embrace the fact that food is not something that should trigger fear for anyone? Why is anxiety over food choice and consumption accepted as not only a normative response, but also an ideal response in humans?

The dominant treatment approach for restrictive disorders today is equivalent to attempting to desensitize someone with a severe phobia of sunflowers by telling them a) it’s not about the sunflower at all in any case, b) there are good sunflowers and bad sunflowers and so the sufferer still needs to be vigilant, and c) as long as the sufferer does not flip into becoming a full-blown sunflower lover, then it will be possible to recover from the phobia and live a normal and balanced life where the person neither yearns for, nor overly fears, sunflowers.

In that entire scenario no one thought to suggest that sunflowers are not a threat to anyone and therefore the treatment specialist will set out to provide opportunities to reinforce the inherent benign nature of sunflowers such that the patient is able to recalibrate his or her threat response. If they end up loving sunflowers, then how nice is that? They are pretty cheery flowers after all.

And unlike sunflowers, food is critical for life. None of us can fear what an eating disorder fears.

- On what so many ED recovery practitioners get wrong in continuing to emphasize 'healthy' eating and pathologizing extreme hunger or 'binges'

[jezfletcher]

1000 Albums, 2019: The Top Ten

10. Holly Herndon - PROTO (AI Electronica)

A throughly fascinating outing this one, from experimental electronic producer Holly Herndon, made in collaboration with an AI of her own devising. The AI is trained on live vocal and choral samples (some training, in fact, is included in the album), and can generate new examples of the same in response to stimuli in the music. Herndon layers elements on top of this, occasionally reaching a kind of transcendent operatic height. Excitingly, Herndon is also coming to Sydney Festival in January, and I’m fascinated to see how this pans out live. Standout Track: Eternal.

9. Vampire Weekend - Father of the Bride (indie pop)

For a long time, when I was considering what could be my top album of the year, the one that stuck in my mind was this one. It had an extremely strong lead single in Harmony Hall, and multiple further tracks that I really strongly got into, the likes of Stranger and This Life, and to a lesser extent Sunflower. But I think what I’d forgotten until I started doing full album relistens, was that this is a very long album, and it wavers a lot in style and quality—and much of it didn’t land as much as I wanted it to. It’s not that it doesn’t have those glorious highs (because it does), but because albums ahead of it in this list have a level of consistency that ensure that the whole thing is a joy to listen to. Meanwhile, I’m very happy to put these 3 or 4 tracks from Vampire Weekend on a permanent loop, but it’s not enough to shoot the album into the upper echelons of the list. Standout Track: Harmony Hall.

8. Aurora - A Different Kind of Human (Step II) (dreampop)

Sam’s #1 track of 2016 was from Aurora, and as a result, we’ve collected Aurora tracks and albums as they’ve come out. But 2019 is finally the breakthrough for me when listening to her music—we had at least two lead singles before the album was released, which can often mean that the rest of the album feels like filler. But this maintained its kind of ethereal electropop throughout, combining haunting vocal hooks with swells and dips of synths in continuously compelling ways. A fine album: perhaps not one I was expecting to have this high at the start of the year. But then again, it is the year that dreampop really starts clicking for me. Standout Track: The River.

7. Bang Bang Romeo - A Heartbreaker’s Guide to the Galaxy (blues rock)

Some really solid stuff here. This is full-throated bluesy rock, sold by the powerful vocals of front-woman Anastasia Walker, and backed by a full band complete with horn section. It has moments of shuddering stadium rock, but can dial it back to sultry crooning in an instant. This was honestly a pretty late entry in the year, and often albums like this don’t have the time to percolate in my mind enough to really get them high on this list. So it’s a testament to the quality of Bang Bang Romeo that we see them up in the top ten. Standout Track: Cemetery.

6. Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rockwell (folk pop)

If 2019 was the year I got into dreampop, there’s a reason why it’s also the year I really started appreciating Lana Del Rey. The other reason Normal Fucking Rockwell sees itself so high on this list is because it’s honestly fucking great. It swirls between atmospheric dreampop and a more kind of straight soft pop rock, with elements of psychedelia always in the mix. Del Rey’s vocals are always somewhat hypnotic, but here she layers a more complex lyrical sense to them. It feels as though this is a step up at just the time when I’m most receptive to it, and that makes for a high placing for an artist I wasn’t super enthusiastic about before this year. Standout Track: Venice Bitch.

5. Joseph - Good Luck, Kid (indie folk pop)

Into the top 5 we plunge, and first up is this excellent collection of music from the trio of Portland sisters, Joseph. It’s a thrilling kind of folk tunefulness, put atop a pop rock basis that drives it forward. The fusion is never complicated, and the sweet folk sounds manage to persist in tracks like Revolving Door, while they otherwise sit comfortably above a stronger rock basis in tracks like Fighter and Good Luck, Kid. It’s a smart and attractive combination. I have loads of track on this album that I want to single out in isolation, but the fact is that listening to the whole album itself is a different kind of trip, and it’s the coherence and consistency of the whole collection which ensures this is so high. Standout track: Revolving Door.

4. Sleepwalkers - Ages (indie pop rock)

I’ll be honest with you, I was never at all expecting this to be as high as this on my list—my favourite track from the album, American Nights, is a good bit of pop rock that reminds me a bit of the 90s throwback sound of Cornershop and Supergrass, but it’s not one of the best tracks of the year for me. But the fact is that there are so many tracks here that are of that calibre. If there’s an award for consistency of an album, it has to go for this one, which is sustained in sunny poppy rock throughout, and constantly manages to find a hook to make each song memorable. Other standout tracks include I Can’t Wait, Fault Is Me, Never Enough and Attention. In the end, it’s almost a tidal wave of goodness from this album that makes its place this high inevitable. Standout Track: American Nights.

3. Sundara Karma - Ufilas' Alphabet (art pop)

Another album which overwhelms me with consistency is this adventure from Sundara Karma. There’s a really strong vibe of both later Bowie and the shuffling uncool coolness of David Byrne in this. It’s almost a kind of boundary pushing psychedelic rock at times, only performed with a dance beat and synths, or a deep groove that keeps it moving. But at the same time, it chooses very strongly to tie itself to some pop tropes which make it accessible, and almost anthemic at times. This is another album which was definitely in the conversation about end of the year lists, but which I didn’t realise deserved to be so high until I did relistening at the end of the year. This is genuinely excellent stuff, and a worth 3rd place of the year. Standout Track: Little Smart Houses.

2. Walk Off The Earth - Here We Go! (indie pop)

You may remember Walk Off The Earth for their cover of Somebody That I Used To Know which they performed with four members all playing the same guitar. But step away from the gimmick and the viral videos, and their originals (of which this album is filled full) are joyous little slices of pop. They have a quirkiness with the samples which keeps a sense of humour, and otherwise they have the kind of sunny music that makes even a day trapped in Sydney smoke haze feel like a bright day on a tropical island. Again, this is an album with a huge hit rate. Aside from my Standout Track, I’d also call out Addicted, Here We Go (Overtime), I’ll Be There, and Co-Star, honestly all of which could have been the top track on another album. Most of all, this is the kind of music that I’ve loved so much in the past. It reminds me of previous efforts from MisterWives, Moon Taxi and Jukebox The Ghost. It’s the kind of music which is designed for me. At least that’s the way it feels. Standout Track: Under a Tree.

1. ViVii - ViVii (dreampop)

What would 2019, the Year of Dreampop, be without a dreampop album at the top of the pile. During relistening, I was just swimming in this ethereal music and it just felt right. I wasn’t sure where the top of the list was going to land, but this one just felt right. In some years of the music project, it’s been fairly clear from early on what was going to be my best album of the year (2018 is the obvious example, where The Go! Team felt almost unassailable for most of the year), but this is more a decision like 2016, when I just had an emotional connection with The Space Between from Jamie Smith’s Mabon. I have that same connection here with ViVii. This exemplifies the things I’ve most come to love about dreampop—the harmonic shifts that are both unexpected and yet somehow perfect, the clear, plaintive lyrics which fit so well with the lush backing without getting breathy and whiney. But there are just so many moments in this that send a tingle up my spine, like the minor-to-major modulation in the second lines of the chorus of Savant, the off-kilter beat in the opening to Siv (You And I), which clicks into place once the baseline appears, or the bell-like guitar of Suckerpunch which morphs into a mournful solo section, even as it modulates into places you don’t quite expect. I love this album all up, and it’s the one that I really just want to most embrace and champion from 2019. Shockingly, in the week this was released, this actually only got my Runner Up Award, which was clearly a huge mistake. In my defence, the week we listened to this I had a bad bout of the flu, which can be the only rational explanation for why I didn’t see the transcendence of this album on the first pass. Luckily I rectified it in the end. Standout track: Suckerpunch.

Well, that’s it for albums. Tomorrow, I’ll post a rundown on my top tracks of the year (I have a lot of these). I’ll do those without commentary—it’s more for record keeping purposes that I do it, and so that Sam and I can compare placings of crossover songs. It’s also an opportunity for me to share a bit more of the wider music I’ve enjoyed this year, even when particular albums didn’t percolate to the top.