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jojo-reader-hell · 5 years ago

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This one might need a trigger warning. So this is a really strange one and one that might go unanswered because it's gonna be one of those kinds. Secco and Cioccolata with a kid. Took the kid from one of the women he's killed (be it that he removed her infant from her body or her arms is up to you.) I imagine that he'd give it to Secco to take care of.

Ok but whilst looking for the perfect GIF of both these characters I literally found the most perfect one that exactly captures the face I make when I get a request that begins with “I don’t think you’ll do this one but...”. Bold of y’all to assume I don’t salivate over the most unusual requests and rush to do them. If I’m struck with an idea the writing flows so much easier. By all means, I’m an author, I love a challenge ;) Sorry if this is OOC however, I don’t know too much about these characters so I had to do some research.

Because I know how it goes, this will be put under a cut. But thank you for submitting! I hope this was what you were looking for!

...

“Such a good baby, such a good Sugar...”

You’re special. More special than anyone else in the world, because you’re the only one in the whole wide world that gets to be held by your Papa without his Stand to cover him.

Papa Secco always holds you until you fall asleep, crouched over your bed and rocking you even though you’re already twelve years old and a big kid now according to Cioccolata. You don’t need to be rocked anymore, but that does not matter to your papa, and honestly you don’t know how you’ll be able to function if there’s a night that you’re not coddled and rocked to sleep.

“Made pictures today.” you tell him, absolutely wide awake because you’re being held by your papa.

“Did you?”

“Mmm, made one of Papa, one of my kitty, one of Ciocco...”

He giggles like a school girl. Praising you more than ever, rocking in a manic panic back and forth that only makes you calm as the dizziness hits. This is all you’ve ever known. You don’t know any other kind of love, and the dizziness makes you giddy, almost like being drunk (although you’ll never know that feeling, Cioccolata was adamant that Secco make sure no vice would mar his innocent little pup). Instinct compels you to wrap your legs around your papa’s waist, nuzzling into his neck when the dizziness makes you a little too sick. The effect is instantaneous, and Secco slows himself down in a rare display of self control, patting your back through your pretty star pajamas and kissing your soft neck. He inhales your scent, like he’s huffing paint, exquisitely high on the calming scent of the baby shampoo you’re still using.

You tell him with a bit of a sleepy slur in your voice that you left your pictures on the little table where Secco spends time feeding you for every meal, and you hope that when your Papa wakes you up for breakfast in the morning that he squeals and coos over the drawings, surprisingly detailed for such a young artist. Gifted. That’s what Cioccolata called you as he held you up in bloody hands, watching with morbid fascination as you mimicked your dying mother, sucking in deep breaths and not even crying for the first few moments of your life.

“Bellissima.” Cioccolata had murmured, placing you in Secco’s arms all warm and swaddled in a fleece blanket that he’d stolen from the nursery your father had set up. “Look, such a sweet and calm baby. Already curious about the world. You have a gifted baby. So very smart, already knows who Papa is. When they don’t cry after being separated it means they know they’re safe. Look how happy your new baby is to be in Papa’s arms.”

“My Sugar is such a wonderful artist...” Secco coos, kissing all over your face with sloppy abandon, “So talented. Love you.”

Immediately you perk up, lips splitting into a large smile.

“Loooooove you.” you parrot, drawing out your words.

“Looooooooooooooooove you more.” Secco mirrors your smile, almost unhinged, his pupils dilating.

“No! Loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove you so much more!”

The game continues back and forth, you and Secco trying to outdo each other every single time. It’s a game. A ritual. The most special aspect of the relationship you have with your one and only family that you’ve ever known. Being such an obedient child has earned you lots of rewards, and being coddled by Secco is one of those cherished forms that you’ll never tire of. Not that there would be any doubt that the rewards would continue even if you misbehaved. Secco was of the philosophy that you were a special child, not just for your gift of artistry or your calm demeanor in the face of pure psychosis. Your forced birth, thirty five weeks early, endeared Secco to you. When he had been given the responsibility of caring for you, he never left the side of the incubator that Cioccolata had stolen to put you in. It helped to regulate your body temperature for a few weeks, until you were strong enough to do so without its help. The only times you cried was when you got impatient waiting for Secco to finish making your formula, but that was to be expected.

“Just like me.” Secco would smile at his master.

“Precisely. So impatient when waiting for a sweet treat.” would be the reply.

“My sweet treat.” Secco asserted, nearly melting when he felt Cioccolata stroke the crown of his head.

“Yes. This is your baby. Your very own special treat for being such a very, very good boy and getting that nice shot for me.”

“My Sugar...” Secco had whispered to you in the incubator.

You had smiled, the first one ever in your life.

And so he claimed you for the next twelve years.

You were an experiment to his master, just to see how one exactly went about raising the perfect child. But to Secco, you were perfect already. Every aspect was perfect, from the way you responded so positively to his unhinged love, to the way you behaved now, letting Secco get under the covers with you and putting your thumb in your mouth, murmuring a last protestation of how much you loved him more and sleeping like a baby the minute he calmed himself down to get you to go to bed.

“Such a good baby.” he murmured into your ear, mindful not to disturb your rest. “Such a good, good Sugar...”

#cioccolata and secco #secco #cioccolata #secco jojo #cioccolata jojo #secco x reader #cioccolata x reader #platonic #parenting #gore tw #death tw #tw kidnapping #tw torture #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure vento aureo #jjba #jjba va #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

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TEMPO (racer! reader x sehun, nct and exo) #1

This is a 5 part story of Racer!you x Sehun, however your squad is made up of NCT members.. so this is kinda exo x nct x you!

ENJOYYY I HOPE THIS 5 PART STORY DOESN’T LET YOU DOWN... The parts will be posted every day.. so watch out for Thursday to Sunday

WARNING : WILD RACING, SMOKING (DON’T OKAY PLEASE, EVEN I do not smoke.. ps my reader here uses “hyung” to address men because she is raised like a boy.

NCT boys here are Jaehyun, Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny

*******************************

Sehun dishevels his dark brown locks once again as his fingers constantly press a button on his remote control. The screen in front of him blinks and shows different pictures which fail to grab his attention.

Sehun sighs in agony. It’s Saturday night and he has nothing to do, no one to get laid, and no reasons to sleep yet. Now he realizes how lonely he is after he broke up with his previous girl friend who sneaked behind him to get into his best friend’s (Kai) pants. Yes Sehun dated her for a good two years and in the last three months she slept with Kai. He caught her red handed when he came to Kai’s room; unplanned, to take the homework he left. That day ended his relationship with the girl and his friendship with Kai.

Sehun has been doing well the past few months forgetting the memories, leaving Kai behind, and moving on. He is thankful for Johnny and his friends who accept him nicely into the gang. Sehun does not meet his fellow friends: Chanyeol and Baekhyun as frequent as he did before mainly because Kai shares an apartment with them. Sehun met Johnny from his philosophy class and they happen to have the same hobby, therefore they start to be best friends.

Usually on Saturday nights, Sehun has some fun with Chanyeol and the others; probably catching on with their games, talking about some girls here and there, Baekhyun challenges them for a match in PUBG, Suho annoys them with his dad jokes, Lay and Chanyeol might work on their music, and Kai? He’ll be with Sehun laughing their ass off when Baekhyun lost a game. Hufth he really misses Kai, but at the same time he hates him with all his heart. How could a best friend do that?

But truth is : best friends are the ‘best’ back-stabber right?

Sehun turns his TV off when he heard a knock on the door. Lazily he proceeds to grab the door.

“Yeah-“ he opens the door to see the person disturbing his peaceful night- “Oh, it’s you.”

Sehun steps aside to let the man behind the door in.

“What is it Johnny?” Sehun questions when the tall man makes his way to his cooler and ponders over the glass to pick which drink he wants.

Johnny grabs a can of Carlsberg, pops it open and quenches his thirst. Sehun rolls his eyes then snaps, “If you’re only here for my drinks… put some dollars there and leave.”

Johnny takes his time to finish the last drop and after applying pressure to crumple the can he finally speaks up.

“I see you have no company tonight. The TVs are boring, mind to follow me?” he asks while tossing the unformed can between his hands.

“What? Where?” Sehun deems more explanation.

“Somewhere you might never have been before-“ he glances at his wrist and back to Sehun “the offer’s short. Are you coming or not?”

Sehun looks puzzled. Johnny out of the blue knocked his apartment door, finished a can of beer, and suddenly asked him to join him.

“It will be interesting I promise. At least more interesting than sitting in your dull apartment crying over your ex.” Johnny shrugs his shoulder playfully and tosses the can to the bin.

“Fine. I agree just because I have nothing to do, and seeing you made time to come and pick me up… it better be something good.” Sehun jogs and grabs his denim jacket and jumps into his boots. Judging by Johnny’s fashion he knows a sneaker won’t do good.

“Nice choice. You’re quick in observing eh?” Johnny slaps his back and walks out of the small flat.

“Walk faster please.” With that one sentence, Sehun locks his door and catches up his friend’s long steps.

Sehun finds out that they are not alone. He sees Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Yuta lounging over the basement smoking a stick of cigarette.

“You’re finally here! Took you almost one box of this.” Jaehyun playfully shakes the half empty cigarette box. (The four shares them, duhh)

“Where’s your manner-” Sehun smirks and opens his hand to which Yuta quickly places a bar “-thank you! Now shall we get going?”

Taeyong laughs at his arrogance. “I don’t promise you will like where we’re headed. Note that it’s our job-“ he points at himself then to Yuta and Jaehyun “- Johnny is only accompanying us and we think you’ll be lonely after your drama… so let’s see how this goes.”

Sehun keeps his mouth close and follows them into their car. After an hour drive out of the city, they reach a vast crowded area on the outskirt of the busy streets. There are no tracks or path there, but judging by the numerous two wheeled vehicles and spot lights exposing a route, Sehun knows they are in a wild motor tracking area. He did not know these 4 calm looking guys are into this kind of sport, but that explains their fashion style! Lots of leathers, tight pants, chains, and that smoldering look.

Sehun jumps off the car and looks around for a while; just to realize he is no longer with the gang. He lost them, but before catching up, he decided to look around for a little while.

The brunette is mesmerized by the shining slim bodies of the motors. There are several bikes displayed nicely side by side, each one having their own personal strikes of colors and styles. One motor caught his attention, the simplest one, with just a sticker of 127 in a bold neon green prints. He carefully runs his finger through the neat numbers then quickly pulls them back when a small voice calls him.

“Hey-“ the person taps his shoulder “- I believe we are not to touch any thing used for the race. People might claim it for cheating if something goes wrong later.”

Sehun bashfully keeps his hand together and apologizes “Oh! I’m sorry.” He brings his hand to his neck and slowly makes an eye contact to the girl, who called him off, in front of him.

“No worries, no one saw it except me. Besides you look new here.” She runs her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. She smiles when the flustered man gives out his hand “Sehun. Yes I’m new here. And you? You yourself looks a bit out of place here.”

Sehun clearly lost control of his mouth. How can he made such a blunt comment about this stunning girl across him. Yes she looks young, without her height people will definitely ban her to be here.

Right within his vision is a girl not taller than him, slightly shorter, wrapped in a comfortable ripped skinny black jeans and a white tee shirt with black leather jackets. Her long hair is neat under her cap. Her eyes are calm, her hair is strangely the cute hue of cotton candy, and her cute dimple smile defines the title of “nice cute girls you wish you can date” Sehun envies her eternal young genes. And yes he wonders why the hell is she here.

She seems taken aback by his comment, but plays along quickly “I’m also surprised I’m here. What brings you here?” She smoothly drives the conversation.

“I’m tagging along my friends… and I lost them when we arrived here-“ He cranes his neck over the crowds to look for his squad “-Johnny is over there. The others I don’t see them. No worries.”

She smiles and Sehun melts. “So you really don’t know what’s happening here?” she asks.

Sehun nods then darts his eyes to his surrounding. The crowd is moving to the sides when 10 motors are growling their engines on the starting line. The MC shouts some opening remarks.

Guess the first round is starting in 5 minutes. “I sense it’s some wild racing?” He returns his vision to the girl beside him.

“Right. As clear as a day. They do wild race here. Practically like Moto Gp but without the sponsors, live cam, and rules. It stands to its name. Wild race. No rules, just start from the starting line and find your way to the finish line.” without much emotion she explains it to Sehun.

“I don’t get it.. why are they doing this?” Sehun wonders. The first race started and he saw how dangerous this game is. “How do you determine the winner?” Sehun earlier saw someone walking around the crowds collecting moneys and he puts them under one box and gives it to the judge. Which they did not keep directly. He wonders if that is the betting money.

“The one not under drugs or booster, the one who reaches the finish line, and the one who performs best in the eyes of the judges. There’s some scoring system that I also don’t quite get it. Worry not there are medical team and a professional judge.” She looks into the distance: the dusty and dirty race track.

“What does the winner gets?” Sehun asks.

“Money. They win money and fame maybe. I am also like you. I don’t get this whole thing.” She shrugs her shoulder acting like she also doesn’t get why this thing is allowed.

Sehun secretly smiles at her comment. Funny how the two of them doesn’t like being here and happens to bump into each other. Just as he is about to dive deeper into the conversation, Johnny calls him and walks towards him.

“Looks like your friend is looking for you Sehun, I’ll be going. See you.. somewhere else.. I think you don’t like this thing and won’t be coming back!” she turns around.

“Yeah. It’s not my style… hey you haven’t tell me your name.” Sehun yells a bit. She successfully heard him and turns around her heels, “It’s (y/n)! See you on another chance!” she smiles, walks through the crowd and disappears.

“You’re here! I’ve been looking for you around. Come on let’s get ready the real deal is starting in 7 minutes.” Johnny grabs his hand and drags him to one side of the audience area.

They are simply standing by the opposing sides of the track. Between them are the racers and their motors. Sehun’s surprised when he sees the motor that caught his attention earlier. The 127 motor is there. “Where are Taeyong and the others?” Sehun raises his brow to Johnny.

“Right I forgot to tell you. Taeyong is a manager.. Jaehyun is the mechanic and Yuta-“ Sehun cuts him off “Yuta is the racer?”

“Yes but not for tonight. You’ll be surprised to know our racer.” Johnny speaks a bit louder to match the voice of the crowds and the engines. “They have the best player.. it’s that one.. the one with 127 printed on the jacket.” Johnny points at a person.

Sehun’s eyes widen when he coincidentally exchange gazes with the girl behind the helmet. She shoots him her playful shrugs and after putting on her helmet, she jumps over her seat and roars her engines. “(y/n)?” Sehun accidentally lets her name slips.

“Oh you know? Yeah it’s her. She’s been playing for three month and Taeyong has never been this proud. She’s the best he ever had.” Johnny comments while having his eyes locked on the racers and to the MC who begins to announce tonight’s line up.

“This race is open for all genders. Don’t be surprised. Oh tonight’s opponent is easy Sehun! It’s a real piece of cake.” Johnny claps excitedly on the contrary, Sehun is worried sick. Why must a girl like her compete in something dangerous and dirty like this.

The whistle is blown and the flags are down, the ten motors wildly accelerates through the dark dusty road and 300 meters to the race, three contestants are knocked down. 500 meters into the dark night another two falls. Sehun can’t see which one in the dark is (y/n) but he hopes she is not falling behind. He hopes with all his might she is okay and alright. Sehun knows falling down from a high speed motor cycle is not something small. He knows the danger and he is worried sick (y/n) will end like that.

“Johnny… tell me who are the competitors tonight.” Sehun tries his best to concentrate on the shadows in the dark. The lack of constant lighting made it hard to keep track of the racers. Only under the glowing street light can they see what’s happening. “Majority it’s men who are usually knocking each other down. No worries, (y/n) can easily win tonight.” Johnny seems to smell something from Sehun. He knows Sehun is interested at her. He’s not the type to get worried sick for someone he doesn’t care.

Finally Sehun can let go the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. Just like what Johnny said, he saw (y/n) made it first to the finish line and Taeyong and the rest cheers into a group hug. Johnny is also over the moon. Sehun made a mental note he doesn’t like this and he is not coming back. No! This is so dangerous for his heart. He isn’t in the race but he can feel the adrenaline and he hates that.

On the side next to the judges, Taeyong Jaehyun and Yuta hug each other and collected the money from the judges. He took a small number for his team and hands the rest to the champion.

(y/ n) took off her helmet, placed it on one of the bike hand and she counts her money happily. Her breath is still quick and short. Sehun can see it from the distant how adrenalines must still take over her body. She keeps her money inside her jacket and walks to the side to have a discussion with Taeyong. While Jaehyun takes over the motor to examine the damages, Yuta checks on her condition.

“Some scratches here and there… nothing dangerous.” Yuta smiles in relief.

“Jaehyun I think there’s something missing. Someone kicked me but I managed to keep my body on the jock. But please tell me something is missing coz I heard something drop.” (y/n) goes to bend beside Jaehyun who’s busy examining.

Taeyong pushes a bottle of energy drinks to her lips and she diligently finishes half of it.

“Whoah. Indeed someone managed to kick some parts away.. but worry not I’ll get this fixed. Your next race you’ll be the fastest again.” Jaehyun brings her bike to a carrier truck.

She can’t go home with that dirty bike. Besides the bike is modified for races not for daily use or even used in town.

“Okay. Good bye!” she bows and turns to rejoins her friends. They welcome her nicely and Taeyong Jaehyun Yuta returns to Johnny and Sehun.

“How is it Sehun? Surprised?” Jaehyun interrogates when they are on their way back home. They live in the same unit apartment. Sehun lives alone with his brother while the four shares a big house.

“I did not know these things are happening in real life. I thought I’d only see them in movies.” Sehun snickers.

Yuta laughs “I think you’ve talk a word or two with our Ace racer. What do you think of her?”

Sehun tries to keep his cool image but fails, “She doesn’t look like she belongs there. She’s cute.” He admits that.

The four boos him and teases him.

“Our Sehun will finally move on!” Taeyong screams.

“No! It’s not like that! I just met her.. that’s just my first impression. Besides I’m not returning to that hellish place.”

“Said the man who really gets nervous during the race.. asking me constant questions to ensure she is alright.” Johnny mocks Sehun. This stirs the car to laugh and Sehun quiet in his place. Blushing all the way home.

Sehun gets home with butterflies in his tummy. The short encounter was too short of his liking, but definitely planted deep inside his memory. His brother, Luhan, welcomes him home with tons of questions.

“Where are you from?”

“What makes you this weird?”

“Don’t tell me you found someone new?”

“Sehun you’re not answering me?! You’re not drunk right?”

“Hey Sehun! SEHUN! Come to your senses!”

Luhan upon Sehun’s arrival has bombarded him with questions. Hey Luhan knows the heart break Sehun went through and he knows that earlier he left Sehun for his date and when he returns quiet late, Sehun is not home yet. His mind quickly think where can he be. Probably a club? Or maybe the guys’ house. But seeing how Sehun’s shoes are dirty.. Luhan knows he is not drunk or back from playing PS.

“Hyung. I’m not drunk okay. I’m totally in my right mind and I’m just happy for tonight.”

“What do you do?”

“Fine if you insist. I watched a wild motor racing. Happy? Just because Taeyong is working there.”

“Right. Did you win or lose the bet?” Luhan expects his brother to gamble since he’s there.

To which surprisingly Sehun denies “You know I don’t gamble.”

Luhan rolls his eyes “Who knows something gets into you. Anyways since you’re home.. I’ll be sleeping. Nighty night big baby.”

“Please if you’re doing your business keep the moans low. I want to sleep without nightmares Sehun.” Luhan winks to his pants and closes his door.

Sehun grunts. Gosh why is he even having a tent right now between his tight pants. Gosh Luhan is really teasing him max. Why did he even have this boner right now?!

CONTINUE TO PART 2

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mikkock · 5 years ago

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Uhm??????? Unacceptable?? Please tell me more about your OCs in that last art? I demand it? I want a full report on my desk before morning? Cite your sources please?

Oh no,, you’re asking,,, about my own faves,,, sorry to everyone, but I guess im never going to shut up ever now. (i already don’t shut up ever, what have u done, im now going to speak so much that society will collapse AT LEAST)

But for real. I enjoy pretending I don’t have faves, I love all my kids the same, buT WE ALL KNO THAT’S A LIE, those two my fave bitches (they snatched that title from the last two faves, rip to them, and they also snatched, n I must really make that clear, the title of “the bitches with the most AUs from the previous previous faves. Their power.)

SO. Get ready for a ride, table of content: them, their respective character, their story, and the pLETHORA OF ALTERNATE STORIES I GAVE THEM because i must yell about all the versions of my kids i have (non-exhaustive cause its that serious bro, but ill take extra time for the universe depicted in that art just for u bby). (tbh if clamp is allowed to sprinkle their fave gays in all their universes so am i, except they aint secondary characters there, every story is just theirs. love that concept.)(itll be so long you’re getting a whole novel even if i have to post it in two posts)

So~ Em twos. Dari n Wei-wei as I call em, or Dumbass n Egg if you wanna get friendly.

They’re my proudest instance of “oops i made a squad of characters, and two of them just accidentally were so perfectly compatible and complementary oh no I guess they’re in love now.” And then they became my favourite. Cause I guess their potential was too much (jk its bc they hot)

cuties.

I spent ten minutes wondering which to introduce first cause dang son, I want to talk bout them both so much shefjgfdg

First, as I technically designed him first (like ten minutes before the other), my man weiwei. if u ever saw my art its impossible that you havent seen him at least once. cause i’m legit always drawing him. cause im in love bro.

Demonstration : here are my computer scribbled weiweis of 2020 so far (with a few daris there n there they’re a package deal), that i could find, and they do not include all the paper sketches that i’m too lazy to take pics of. (i just been drawing him with so much hair these days that’s illegal, his brand is baldness)

But anyway, he’s CHEN Chia-Wei, he’s 21, he’s Taiwanese n I love him. Two very important facets of his character when you meet him: he doesn’t talk, and is absolutely, in every single dimension, built to make you fall head over heels for him.

He’s (in the “canon” storyline if i may call it that since it’s def not my most developed one but oh well) an art student, mostly paints but is also great at photography and videography (his vibe is busy hectic pieces with strong bold colours, lots of harsh edges, and very people focused).

Aside from that, he’s also super into fashion, and because he’s part of the rich boy squad (the “im broke so im giving half my characters wealth in compensation) he Can and Does exhibit some quite funky fits when he feels like it. (maybe a reason I draw him a lot, since my fave thing is pretty boys in weird ass clothes)(and then i also draw him in just casual shit cuz tittiful men in plain white tees you know. there’s just something about it.)

Small compilation of outfits. ft me and my band handwriting roasting outfits that id also kill to own but ok u know.

He digs music. (i make playlists for my OCs and i gotta say, his is the best one, i spent so many hours researching it, “arranging” it etc n its still a work in progress but dude. she got many moods my fave part is when it suddenly turns into so many cheesy ballads also she’s enormous cause im as wordy in playlists as I am in writing.) listens to a lot, n also he can play piano n guitar. cause you know. heartthrobs got to win your heart with a song (and if he’s alone he can even mumble some songs, who knows maybe even sing em softly, definitly a sight to stumble on accidentally). Big main artists that have his vibes are Hello Nico, No Party for Cao Dong, n Circa Waves’s “what’s it like over there” album.

He does a lot of sports. He ain’t fit through magic, rip to him. He’s got a serious routine, and it’s a time he likes to use alone, cause nothing like running at the break of dawn, alone with your thoughts, which you can just easily forget through the exhaustion of a workout session afterwards.

he also eats. A lot. Food is just good, bro. (the canon story is def happening some place europe aka his biggest struggle is how expensive food is here. outrageous.)

He secretly loves super cheesy movies. the dramatic romcoms??? the cute shows that are just so cute and worriless?? anything involving soulmates??? yeh dude. he watches it, he reads it, he listens to it, and he may cry about it, but no one will know. That’s the one true guilty pleasure. (and he definitly has a collection of romance dvds, books n manhuas in his old room back at the family home. where no one can see it. perks of studying abroad. no one can see ur hoarding of material that clashes your image. “yes i watch edgy experimental things haha yes i love those smart people movies of course wow the philosophy…” and then immediatly goes to watch the trashiest predictable but oh so sweet dramas all night)

While he doesn’t speak (as in with the mouth) he can communicate in a bunch of language, due to having moved around quite a bit. On top of his native mandarin and hokkien, he’s fluent in English, so he can use those to write, and is also fluent in TSL, and pretty good in HKSL (and from that, other close-in-syntax sign languages). So he doesn’t have trouble getting around, but then he is also overall quiet in public (with close friends and over text though, that’s another story, that’s where he gets chattier, and also where you may get more of his true personality). Also, he can speak with his sister. That’s pretty cool bro.

I was going to say he’s a very “hides his true colours under a shell” type of character but you know, for an egg character, that’s pretty ironic. We love poetic cinema.

He presents himself as a very laid back, chill detached dude, going with the flow and all that great stuff, and masterfully mixes just the right doses of mysterious, flirty and calm to just go around vibing. But ain’t that jUST THE MILLENIAL’S ILLNESS, those dANG KIDS, going around, gettin relationships but never intimacy 👏😢 (there’s more to it dont leave)

First of all, before you see the Drama, the Turmoil, the first thing you notice when you really do befriend him is that he’s c h i l d i s h, he gets sulky when things dont go following the plan, he gets whiny n jealous for not getting attention , he gets competitive over stupid challenges, and way too playful if you start teasing, and when he gets flustered too…you think you get cool stoic dude but actually you get a dude who’s reacting to things with way too much intensity, and boi i thought u were gon be mature what’s that why have you been pouting for three days over losing a bet come on- That’s mostly coming up when he interacts with his sister, but the closest you are to him to more of it you get to see.

He’s also an affectionate dude actually. Like physically. As in you’ll get spontaneous hugs. He’s come nap on your shoulder. That’s a perk of befriending him if you ask me.

Also he tries to look so cool, so tough haha. He’s actually a lil sensitiv boi. he gets fluffy, he gets flustered, he heart eyes. you turn around and he’s gazing at ya as if you were the whole universe. he gets a mini crisis for holding hands with his crush. ya know. he’s secretly a softie.

nerd.

Then in the “what he doesn’t show” (my fave part), where you stock all the anxieties, all the trauma… Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety here (selective muteness being a symptom of it, he hides the other ones very well) mostly fear of inadequacy, of abandonement and of loneliness. mmmmmmmaybe that’s why he was v reticent to continue pursuing that one guy he was into when he realised he was just a tad too into him oh no is that some,, like?? some lovey-love?? cant have that im afraid of gettin heartbroken bro. Aint that sad for a someone who’s one true goal is just findin someone to love and to be with forever, the struggles of yearnin for a soulmate when there’s nothing you fear more than getting attached to a person and letting them see you and your flaws.., delicious.

Now tho (because its so alone speaking about a character on their own and i just wanna get to the part where i can speak bout em together and how they bring out bits of each others ya kno, the good kush….), Dari…

He’s pretty, i must say, and got the funniest hair to draw, and comes from the most opposite background to weiwei’s.

Darian Andriev PARVANOV, also 21, comes from the remote Bulgarian countryside, but i still love him (this makes it sound as if i wouldnt normally love someone from the bulgarian countryside. its not what i meant. by default ud remind me of my son so you’d start being liked if u came from the bulgarian countryside) Now for the first instance of “wow, the complementarity”. The first thing i thought making Dari was that he looked too cool, and that he obviously was a dumbass, and mostly that he was physically unable to shut up. (o fuck he’s me)

best picture i could find of him. He’s got the dilemma of “wow he looked so pretty n cool until he opened his mouth”

He’s ALSO an art student (cause they were initially created for the purpose of filling the gap of “i have ocs in every field except the one i sorta know that’s so stupid”), painting major (def vibes differently than weiwei though, he’s doing those soft pretty landscapes n flowers, everything real pretty and peaceful, we got some impressionism nerd in here folks).

He was/is a real country boy, farm family, he helped tend the fields, he worked in plantations for pocket money, he knows how to take care of cattle and chicken and goats and all the cool babies you can take care of, he can tell whether the soil is good or not, he can drive a tractor, and doesnt fear dirt.

but then also he’s kind of a neat freak, he hates getting paint on himself, so the duality of man, dirt ok but paint? disgostin. his spaces are real neat and spotless, he likes cleaning (its relaxing) and does it nearly too often.

his dumbassery comes from lack of common sense and impulsiveness, aside from that he’s actually what you’d call “mad smart”, dude had em good grades, he can memorise pages upon pages of the most trivial information, he has an accumulation of knowledge beyond limits, and is good at problem solving. so he can recite all the words of the F letter of the dictionnary, but would also put a curling iron in his mouth to see if it would curl his tongue. (side note, he does have a problem with heat n fire, most his “oopsie how i wound up hurting myself on acccident” story involve burning -that stove was just too tempting…)

while he doesnt feel very attached to his home country, he does feel strongly for his family. he’d do anything for his mum (and actually does everything to make her proud already, that’s his one main goal), and he’s ready to sacrifice a lot for her (as in, spend years working non-stop a really uncomfortable job so his mother wouldnt have to pay a cent of his expenses even though she said she could by doing some sacrifices herself,and then being ready to come back as soon as needed if anything happened, and potentially drop his career and dream n go back to the farm life to provide for mama)(also he still does hold onto some parts of his home country’s traditions, and does sometimes feel homesick but more in a ‘i left the most beautiful landscapes n the city feels cramped and claustrophobic and i dont know people and i dont feel in the right place cuz im a forreigner with a thicc accent who doesnt master the language of this place and straight up have different body language communicators due to cultural difference oh lord i wanna be home where a nod means no and a head shake is yes i keep misunderstanding everything”)

if you want background noise he’s the perfect pal to call over, he’s just so chatty, he got hours and hours of non stop speech ready for you. you can shut him up once you’re done listening with the offering of food. works everytime.

he’s definitly not shy. neither in terms of talking to people, nor when it comes to making decisions. he’s quite bold, and rarely hesitates to go towards something he wants. he’s direct in his approach to most everything.

he likes partying. mostly the socialising part, talkin to people is just fun ya feel. and being in the crowd, doing whatever, pressure free? ya can dance n enjoy yourself, and people wont notice? yeah that’s nice. but doesnt do it super often cause broke bitches aint got the party time n budget.

he likes arm. (just an excuse for me to drop this thing here cuz i like it)

While he’s an overall bubbly looking character, with a cheery loud personnality, he does carry some youth trauma that has him more reticent to engage in happiness, he comes from what you could call “not the wokest background” and he may have fallen victim of it : he’s kind of a flashy noticeable character, both physically and in his personnality, and doesnt exactly matches the expectations of dudes in the area he comes from (delicate, emotional and sweet guy? that doesnt exist bro). He went through it, and it has definitly had some impact on his confidence in many aspects. But he’s 100% the type of guy to put on the fake happy front because if feeling bad is sad, making the people you care about sad for you too is Unacceptable Right??? relying on friends?? what???

But then what are we supposed to be doing with such charming characters huh,,,

Make them fall in love obviously.

Their story obviously has to do with falling in love and workin a relationship cause if I dont write romance i literally die, but I make the center pivot of all of it communication, and barriers in communications. Most obvious being them coming from wildly different cultures, having different native languages, and also the ways you adapt to muteness (what i love most bout that part is even then they fucked up given the easiest quickest small body language things to communicate are head nods n then i managed to make one come from the one country that reverses those like iconic how do they even understand each other -through a lot of work and love bro) but also on more “introspective” points, how to say things that you are even afraid to think about, how to open up and share your burdens and trauma with someone, how to say words you’ve been convinced you weren’t allowed to, the inner turmoil of communication in short. And then also communication through art, and through alternative unusual ways. If i were snobbish i could call it something like “a thinkpieces on how humans overcome obstacles in communication, and adapt, all for the sake of pursuing love” but fact is its mostly boys being in love n learning how to speak, figuratively and also quite literally. And also its me having fun with making characters evolve from each other, be able to influence each other for the better, helping each other be more comfortable with themselves and express the true things of their personnality, and discover new aspects. I just wanna write intense and soulful love bro.

So in less concept and more facts, weiwei meets dari, dari being his puppy self just immediatly strikes a conversation and weiwei gets interested cause “oho nice pretty boy? very good. i want some of that”. they get closer because you cant fight off the Power of friendship (and also the power of “what your friend is bestie with my friend?? guess we hanging out”) and then friendship and interest turns into pining, held back by respective dread of what romance with the other would mean (as in “romance?? cant have that we cant feel” and “with him?? cant do that, convince yourself he’s just a friend immediatly what would the family think”) but eventually they do have to just crash into one another cause that’s just the gravitational pull bro, its physics bro. and from then on its all unlearning destructive behaviours, bettering oneself with the help of the other, and getting over trauma to finally live ur best life. and gettin fckin married bro they’re both cheeseballs theyll wanna wed

BUT MAKING EM FALL IN LOVE ONCE ISNT ENOUGH time to make 3894853 alternate universes about em.

Lets speak bout my fave of those for a hot second.

First of all, the one of the art that brought this ask, guess i could call it “Pretty Tribes” AU, bunch of tribes live and do their things, having nature and energy powers. Dari n Weiwei’s tribes are bros, the latter’s powers needing them to move around to get energy from different places, enabling them different abilities. So basically they get to hang at the other’s place while the regenerate energy from there, and in exchange they help them out with various tasks (dari’s tribe is a rly farmer oriented one, with plant magic, while weiwei’s got more poyvalent powers, and have very good healers notably, so it comes in handy). The two boys were born a few months apart in their respective tribes, so naturally, anything the two clans meet, they’re put together to play and all, and from that they became besties, and each time they meet, after the gaps of time separating the two groups, they feel more and more of a little something else~ story is themed round growing up, friendship between clans, their traditions and cultures, and pretty boys in pretty clothes in pretty landscapes interacting with nature.

The superpower AU, i fuckin love it bro. Its an old one, made for other characters, but i just love it so much that i had to inject my faves in it. Its got a grimy ugly setting, bad government, propaganda, and fights between super-people (heavily mediatised for entertainment and reinforcing the idea that “look at these evil villains thank god us the good government protects you from them”), with a side of bad ethics in science. In all that, those two have the role of “those two young enemy warrior and villain, they were so powerful and fought so hard”, public figures, legendary and admired by both sides, everyone followed their fights, til one day they presumably died in one of their showdowns. (haha sike they actually found themselves talking for 5 seconds and realised they lived in a society, n built a plan to run away). The main characters get to find they’re alive because one of em had history with super-warrior-golden-boy and go to seek their help to overthrow the Big Bads. (stealing them from their nice gay cottage hermit life smh so rude)

Mermaids. I like those. Sailor weiwei sees merman dari, they both save each other in different occasions, they grow fascinated with each other, they’re at sea, water romance. Amazing. AU made half cuz i just like water n fish. and shirtless sailors.

(i couldnt find art of it in five minutes so have a link to that lil animatic piece i made of it once)

Indie band AU, where i was listening to songs that vibe so well with those two in general n then my brain was like “what if they’re the ones playing”. They’re (along with the rest of the art squad) a nice little alternative rock band, doing their thing, then one of their songs blows up, and they get quite the attention, to the dismay of dari who wrote that song in a moment of “oh no im so in love with my bandmate but i cant tell him what if i ruin everything we have going on ill just have to love from afar and deal with that” and now has way too many people interested in who he wrote it about and theorising from his every move when performing it (a mix of music, secret crushes and social media) (ft a picture of neither of them but its the least ugly art i found of this AU cuz its old and instruments are the bane of my existence)(also kelana is so pretty i gotta flaunt her around)

in kind of the same vibe, as in we’re in a music world overexposed to social media, i also integrated em to an AU i did for fun, “boyband AU” as its called aka idol based band system cuz you kno, i got a hobby, lets apply it. Band boy Dari and bodyguard Weiwei got a thing going on, but can’t really act on it in any way, because they’d just destroy the whole band if it ever came public. Featuring annoying bandmates, catchy pop songs and people making fanaccounts of that one hot Mr.Bodyguard cause dang he hot.

(all the art of this one so ugly im sorry)

SPY AU, one of my fave brand. They spies, they get assigned on the same mission, they work real nice with each other. spies hot. fights. strategy. i just like the concept. Gays taking down the worst traffics imaginable??? I love that song.(i actually have so much on this cause s p i e s are fuckin great)

Fashion. U kNOW i have an AU for fashion. Supermodel and his private stylist, trying to maintain the line of professionalism. And failing to do so. Lets make out in unpractical designer clothes.

Have an highschool AU for a bunch of characters, injected them as “spinoff”, start chatting online being art buddies, fall in love without meeting (ft. all the iconics of internet friendship like knowing tiny details of their personnalities but not the fact that they have a sister or “waIT ur a GUY i thought u were a girl wow wild good news for my gay ass”)

n those are my faves as far as i remember, i got a fuckton of small other ones that arent fleshed out enough, or some that are more of a guilty pleasure universe, and some that are more like “projects that i can expend on as soon as i run out of daydream material” (like u kno those hospital drama shows with super innacurate medicine n shit like idk scrubs or whatever, yeh i want some of that but im keeping it for later)

#thats way less talk than i thought id do #prolly bc i wrote half of it when it was between midnight and one AM #wait no it was 2 am #but ye #sry if shit messy af #those two are my faves tho n talkin bout em on the spot is hard cuz my brain is screaming about everything bout em at once #if u wanna get more info on em do ask i love them so much n i feel i didnt do em justice here cuz speaking is a fraud words dont exist #im glad they caught ur interest tho #nothin more gratifyin than not being the only bitch who likes his own children

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breeeliss · 6 years ago

Note

One word prompts: Wither; Midnight; Flowing; Soft; Kiss; Sway; Glow; Dawn; Flowing; Blood; Bruises. 💙

allurance

.bloodthere was an old altean law that prohibited those of noble birth from seeing the color of their own blood. it discouraged harm against those of noble birth and helped to maintain the delicate illusion that royals were being above the laws of nature.

invincible. indelible immortal.

it was long considered obsolete when allura was a young girl, but her father would remind her of it whenever she would get injured during training. “shut your eyes,” he’d instruct as he wiped the blood from her skinned knee. “if you don’t see the blood, it’s as if it’s not there.”

it did more than pull the pain and stop her crying. it forced her to focus in battle. there was no time to worry over injuries. there was only time to complete her missions and emerge victorious.

so when allura saw her blood splattered across the inside of her helmet, she shut her eyes tightly and refused. refused to look, refused to feel, refused to succumb.

it wasn’t there. the blood. the pain. the water slowly filling the cockpit of her lion. none of it was there. //

.swaywhen she awoke in the hospital, the entire world shifted, flickered, and floated before sharpening in a burst of pain. a concussion, her doctors said. one that left her quarantined in the dark with blacked out windows and no visitors.

the isolation made her reckless and pulled her from her bed one morning, but the room swiftly tilted to its side and left her swaying with nothing to hold onto. allura resigned herself to the ghastly fall until she collapsed straight into a warm chest and a fervent embrace.

they warned her of the confusion she would suffer. it was likely this body was a doctor. perhaps it was even the floor turned to flesh by her mind in order to save her from the pain of the fall.

for now, it looked and felt like lance.

she clung to him, her dizziness pulling them back and forth into a disjointed waltz as she whispered into his shoulder. “i didn’t think you’d come to catch me.” //

.witherhaving him in bed with her felt like a dream. time became distorted -- constantly blurring, stretching, and compressing. lance told her it was the morphine and the confusion from the head injury. allura was only happy that she could fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat at night.

they were lying together in darkness as he stroked her hair. “i had to beg on my knees for them to let me see you,” lance explained. “i told them someone needed to be here. needed to find you when you woke up.”

he sounded far away, drifting on a plane of thought she was in too much pain to reach for. allura ignored the pounding in her temples and did her best to follow. “why?”

lance’s arms tightened. “because i thought about you alone in your lion. alone in this room. thinking that everything you loved had finished withering away.”

his voice had cracked during his admission, and allura reached up blindly to cradle his cheek. she tried to hold fast to him, but her hand fell as the drugs pulled her under. he slipped away before she could catch the rest of his words. //

.bruiseseventually the haze dissipated and all that was left was the pain.

“battered” was too a weak descriptor. she felt dilapidated -- as if one wrong twist of her body would finish crippling her.

lance helped ice her body twice a day in the hopes that the bruising would begin to fade after a couple of weeks. in return, she helped redress the gnarled, angry wounds across his chest from where his shattered armor had dug into his torso during the crash.

it was usually done in silence, an unspoken decision on their part that made their first aid feel oddly intimate. the shivers she felt when the ice touched her body and when his thumb stroked her neck felt identical -- blooming from the same place hidden deep within her.

her injuries made her feel raw -- a fragile being stripped down to its most basic parts and asked to endure in spite of its weakness. but lance would take those parts, polish them off with his hands, and breathe life back into them as he pressed one kiss to every single mark on her body.

“you are impossibly beautiful,” he told her.

“in spite of the bruises?”

“no. because of them.” //

.midnight“were you afraid?”

they were lying on their sides, staring at each other with only the moonlight illuminating their faces. this late at night, allura didn’t need to elaborate on what she was referring to. lance already knew.

“no. i was ready. lately i feel like when i think it’s coming, i’m always ready.”

“i don’t think i ever could be,” she admitted. “every time it comes im always afraid. i accept it, but im always trembling when i do.”

“there’s this quote from a peruvian writer. it goes, ‘a warrior thinks of death when things become unclear. the idea of death is the only thing that tempers our spirit.’”

allura frowned. “i don’t think i like that at all. there’s too much to lose in death and i have so much i still want to hold onto. alteans had a different philosophy.”

“oh? what was it?”

“‘a warrior does not give up what he loves. he finds the love in what he does.’”

“in fighting?”

“no. in those he fights for.” //

.softthey crossed a line one morning.

allura woke before lance and stood by the edge of the bed to undress, thinking she was safe with his back turned towards her. she was standing in her underwear when she felt a hand brush against the flesh of her hip.

it was a sleep ridden request for her to come back to bed, but he must have belatedly noticed her state of undress because his fingers retracted the moment he blinked to full consciousness. he was in the middle of an apology before allura grabbed his hand and gently placed it back where it had been.

she bit her lip and waited, afraid that the move had been too bold. but then she felt lance’s hand traveling up to the dip of her waist and across her lower back. there were scars and discoloring along its path, but still he muttered under his breath, “so soft...”

allura’s whole body shook, and she was afraid that they were toeing closer to an edge that would engulf them if they allowed themselves to fall. the idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant but she could picture how complicated a fall like that would be. how much more hurt was on the line. how their hearts would have to start breaking for two.

but, oh, to feel his hands on her like this always. to shake around him and let him inside her. it burned a hole of want through her stomach and made her sigh at his touch.

eventually, his hands left her and the spell had melted away. he turned to dress and they both said nothing. //

.flowinglife is too short, allura decided.

she thought a lot about how minuscule human lifetimes were. the fact that lance would die hundreds of years before her was the single most painful reality she could ever hope to accept. but the morbidity floated away when she realized how gorgeous it was to watch lance pack every single second he breathed with meaning.

his days flowed right into one another, never pausing and never stuttering. he couldn’t afford the wasted moments so he made every single one matter. it’s why his generosity was infectious, why his words were sincere, why his smile was blinding, and why his touch stayed bold and steady.

it often made her think of what she wanted and what was worth grabbing. love wasn’t something she felt she could ever be selfish enough to take. there was so much work to be done, so much danger to face, so much more unpredictability that could stand to pull her aspirations out from under her. love could never thrive being suffocated by all that.

but lance found small gaps of freedom amidst his responsibility, and it was those gaps he filled with his love. he showed them to her late at night when they whispered conversations that lasted until the sun came up, and he poured some of it out onto her skin whenever he couldn’t keep his hands away. it warmed her, filled her, made her exhale with hope.

when lance dies, allura knows that his love will be the one thing he takes with him -- blessed in his last moments and immortalized with his spirit.

yes, allura decided. life is indeed too short. //

.kiss allura found him sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling off his boots and preparing to turn in for the night.

she always found time to marvel at how he’d changed -- how his shoulders had broadened, how his jaw had sharpened, how his eyes had softened. she couldn’t quite track the slow progression. rather, it felt like she’d suddenly woken from a sleep and finally found herself able to see clearly for the first time. and lance was so clear before her now. rendered in perfect detail. permanent. stamped in her heart forever. thoroughly inextricable.

she crawled onto the bed behind him. he paused his movement when he heard the mattress creak and calmly waited for her next move. nothing at that point had been planned, so allura followed the pull of her want. she brushed away his hair -- grown out long for forgetting to cut it -- and pressed one soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

lance’s fingers curled into the sheets below him, and her kisses kept traveling. his jaw. his cheek. the corner of his mouth. until finally his head turned, and his eyes were brimming with affection for her.

he met her halfway, and suddenly all allura knew were lance’s lips, lance’s groans, and lance’s hands slowly lowering her onto their bed. //

.glow“wait,” she gasped. “go slower. move slower.”

lance’s hips stilled, lip trembling as he slid his hand up her thigh. “am i hurting you?”

“no.” her body moved with his, urging him forward again. “i want to see your face. watch it change.”

he obliged, shifting against her, pulling out so slowly she could feel every inch of him leave her before rushing back in. “how is it changing?”

allura kissed him, whispering against his lips. “i swear it’s like you’re glowing.” //

.dawn lance still glowed the morning after, face haloed by the warm rush of dawn peeking through their bedroom window.

allura traced his lips with tips of her fingers before licking along the lines they followed. he woke to her kiss and pulled her tight against him, feeling him surround her just as fiercely as he had last night.

their limbs were tangled in the bedsheets and he laughed into her neck when he couldn’t hope to free himself. “i hope i wake up like this every morning until the day i die,” he said.

allura smiled into the kiss she left on his chest, just over the warmth of his heart. “you always will,” she told him. “i swear it.”

#allurance #legitallurance #voltron #allura #lance #vld #allurance fanfiction #voltron fanfiction #my writing #lol sorry i ended up using all of them haha #Anonymous #ask

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destroyyourbinder · 6 years ago

Text

looking at instagram

There are hazy pictures of children having fun in spring-green new grass, the sun or maybe the filter sparkling. A photo of a man laughing, relaxed, he's wearing a soft cotton shirt, and it's not wrinkled. Dynamic black and white photos of people my acquaintance knows, a coworker, herself, their skin texture looks like granite, like muslin, like acrylic sculpting medium, like something under lights that's very "Interesting," to men in glasses holding wine and pontificating like bowerbirds strutting over little pebbles and bits of fur.

I'm angry. I look like dough, like a laundry pile at the end of a week, maybe two. I'm custard piled on itself, dingy men's shorts pulled up way too high over the bottom dollop. Nobody's captivated by my pock marks or my uneven peach fuzz. I look like who my mom was afraid I was going to be, except I'm not even that exciting, I'm a monster made of felt cut out by shaky kindergarten hands and unraveling tape. Dandruff gets under my fingers when I scratch my head. There's no social media where I can post the sensation of my stomach gurgling after I eat fistfuls of mozzarella from the fridge, and nobody would Like it anyway. When I shave my head there is no confident, bold, sharp picture I can take, tattooed and muscular arm curved up over my new haircut to casually hold the phone. There's just tiny bits of hair in the bathroom rug and yellow light that makes my face look puffier than I thought it was.

I feel the bile rise in my throat. So-and-so bought a house, my sister bought a house, friend after friend after friend is having a dinner party, moving to California, getting married at a place with "Estate" in the name. There's pictures, lots of pictures, of breezy nights and big smiles, a colorful world of delight and ease, everything I wanted from life incarnated in the bodies of straight people and lesbians prettier and happier than me. I pull a piece of cat hair out of my teeth and listen to the neighbors shouting at each other on the street, and I imagine what it would be like if my body didn't ache, didn't feel like a jumble of nonsense the consistency of dogshit and balsa wood. My apartment smells like mold. I make nine-sixty-something an hour after taxes. I don't know how to use Instagram because at twenty-whatever I've managed to become both old and out of touch, but I do know how to let Instagram make me feel bad.

In the photo, a guy I know looks rugged, cheeky, like a man with a story to tell but who might pull a quarter out from behind your ear instead. In reality, he's an old gay guy who both lurches and flops about at the same time, his too-large T-shirts hanging off his hunched shoulders. When he's feeling sprightly, he does a little ungainly but joyful Charleston, a grin on his face goofier than his little kicks, which show off the dirty bottoms of his fluorescent Converse shoes. I see him a lot in the back office at work or the break room, which are dim and yellow, making his ruddy face and greying stubble an undifferentiated jowly mass. But this guy also has lots of pictures of his own, that he shows me sometimes, of himself when young, with friends all dressed up in alternative 80s gear, all eyeliner and teased white hair. He smiles when he flips through the pictures. I don't know what he is remembering. I see a lot of cool people I've never met; he tells me this picture was even used in an ad for a local fashion hotspot back in the day. Then, swiping up and down with his fingers, still smiling but using a tone of voice that's a particularly terrifying variety of cheerful sarcasm, he tells me most of the people in these pictures are dead.

He knows I know why.

When I scroll through that woman's Instagram I am angry, maybe, because there's nobody to see me, nobody to remember what I did. The endless dullness that characterizes my days is not something I myself remember; I have the barest sense at all, even, that it is too dull for memory. There is something particularly disgusting to me that this is how most women have lived their lives, a parade of dishes and diapers, the inside of their heads taken up by minutiae about the state of the carpet and lists of birthdays. I've fallen headfirst into it, softly, like a particularly cushy pie on a grandmother's windowsill or the pillowy bosom of a schoolmarm. As a child I was particularly offended I was not noticed for who I was, or who I thought myself to be, at least, and what my mom did manage to notice was a nitpicking ritual of continual impropriety; what was on the floor but shouldn't be, what spot I missed on the counter with a sponge, which hairs were out of place and what crumbs were in the corners of my lips, what smile wasn't on my face and when. In retrospect I don't know if I was more offended on my behalf or hers, and if I was a selfish little shit about it whether I was more enraged by the idea that I was lost under her omnipresent fussing or that my proper development into a woman involved filling my head with such an eye.

I used to scream at her that I would not become like her, and I guess I didn't. I'm gay, for one, and live in a city, full of the types of people she imagines when she neurotically checks and rechecks the locks on her doors. I don't have children, a husband, a credit card, a mortgage, but I do have what I never wanted from the legacy of women, which is enormous spans of time where I fiddle with a sponge, a spoon, tiny meaningless papers, buttons on a cash register. As a child-- and embarrassingly, as an adult ill-prepared for reality-- I screamed because I insisted by the declaration of my lungs that my life would be different, it would be about intensity, perceptiveness, truth, integrity, adventures, journeys, big huge concepts that would bowl me over and spill out of me like a living mystic channeling forces of the universe. I used to read for hours and hours as a child, usually epic fantasy or science fiction I probably shouldn't have been allowed to put into my prepubescent brain; sometimes I used to hang upside down off the couch and read upside down just for the hell of it, to shake my world up a bit. I moved onto philosophy and hours of mopey music through headphones in the dark when I got older. I was delusional about what my life would be like, about what life would make me into. The big huge concept that would end up bowling me over was mediocrity, mundaneness, the stuff men on Reddit call women "vapid" for.

Hannah Arendt was a really smart woman, the kind of woman I thought I might be someday. She said a whole lot of shit that was really deep, and when I was still chasing the highs of thinking that there were neat-o discoveries to be made in this world that made you Somebody to see them, I thought that "the banality of evil" was the most profound thing I ever heard. When I encountered it for real it wasn't profound, just banal indeed. Evil is soul-sucking in a special fucking way, it sucks the life out of you in the way that alcohol shuts off first the part of your brain that lets you know you're drunk. Something's gone and you're all screwed up about it but you're gone in a way that won't let you know what left, there's just rage disguised as irritability and crud on the counter and a bus that doesn't show up. Sometimes you get to look right into the sucking hole, a yawning abyss of multi-generational societal depravity and institutional apathy, when you're sitting next to a homeless woman on a bench downtown with legs so swollen she couldn't go anywhere even if she had someplace to go. I gave her five dollars on most days of my commute because I hoped at least she could eat something, and she deserved the dignity of being seen by somebody, but honestly she needed somewhere to sleep and a bunch of somebodies to do something about her health. A lot of fucking evil had to happen to a lot of people for buildings full of suits to exist on the same block as this lady. A lot of fucking evil had to happen for people to accept this as normal.

What evil has to happen for women to accept their lot, whether it's accepting that the cumulative buzz of your life-inspiration be directed towards holding up a glass in a particularly enrapturing photo on Instagram, or whether it's accepting that you're gonna have to spend another night on the bench? I cry sometimes knowing that no one will remember my mother; all she will leave behind is a gravestone next to a man's and a legacy of psychological scars on her daughters, who nobody will bother to remember either. My mother's life is worth a book or two, but I couldn't get it out of her even if I tried. I don't think my mom even knows she has a story, just petty dramas she tries to escalate into a validation that she hasn't disappeared yet because she can hurt somebody. I don't know the homeless lady's story or how she ended up begging on a bench downtown each day. I hope with all my heart she finds a place to live out her life, a little home where she can use a scooter and have enough to eat, where five dollars isn't the difference between confirmation of the world's cruelty and God's presence. She showed me a video once on her phone of a preacher that she followed, a woman who she said she saw at a big church event in the South; she could go places once, and I don't know how she ended up so she couldn't go anywhere anymore. Maybe she doesn't know-- maybe when you can't go anywhere anymore the point is that you don't think you got there and you don't think you're getting out, you're just there right now, but also always were and somehow forever will be. Maybe you're watching buses go by all damn day and feeling your tongue go numb from saying "spare a dollar", or maybe your finger's getting red from wiping the snot under your kid's nose, time passing only when the tissues are gone. They don't take shots of this shit. There's no filter for "life's over, but not yet."

I wish what I felt could become great art, maybe even just shitty art, that it could mean something, that I was something; dudes have generations of scholarship-worship trailing behind them because they wrote paeans to being existentially bored, because they discovered what it's like to look at a damn soup can and slapped it in a museum. Maybe I'm just jealous, but, you know, I used to stock groceries, and I spent a lot of my time looking at damn soup cans. I think I now know why Val shot him.

#writings

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thebluelemontree · 6 years ago

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What does GRRM mean with this: "Q:[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?] A: Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There's only Alayne Stone". Because what he says doesn't add up in the actual text from AFFC. In the Alayne chapters 'Alayne' still has a lot of 'Sansa thoughts'. I don't see any indication that Sansa is 'dead' no more than that Arya is 'dead'. I know The Hound isn't dead either, but he is supposed to be but his comments about Sansa/ Alayne confuse me a bit.

Don’t we all want to know what that means exactly! It’s a very cheeky answer that GRRM is want to give when he wants to skirt around spoiling something yet to unfold. Very observant reading by the way. More under the cut because this will be long.

Sandor’s part of the quote is a lot easier to understand. The Hound is dead, but Sandor lives. Obviously this isn’t about literal death. His duality and struggle with the Hound persona was already well-established. In hindsight, we can see this end to this persona is coming what with “a hound will die for you…” Later when he’s mortally wounded, all his options to return Arya and find a way back to Sansa have dried up, and not until he’s completely broken and stripped down does he finally confess his regrets and take full responsibility for his moral failings. This is the Hound’s death rattle. This is Sandor getting back in touch with his humanity and noblest self.

His time as the gravedigger is a direct confrontation of and penance for the Hound’s callous attitude toward human life. Remember all that blustering about being a butcher and everyone else is meat? Remember “if you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can?” Oh boy, is he going to eat those words. As the gravedigger he must labor for the innocent victims. He must look them in the face all day long. They were murdered by Rorge and Biter, two men who represent the Hound totally without conscience and gone fully broken man. One is wearing the Hound’s helm while raiding the Saltpans for Pete’s sake. Not only that he must serve food and clear the table for the penitent brothers. These are people the Hound would have mocked as stupid and weak lesser men. They believe in the gods, they openly acknowledge their trauma, and have chosen a life of nonviolence. The villagers and the brothers are the kind of people knights are supposed to protect. Now Sandor has to STFU, be respectful, and serve them on the humblest level. Sandor is being rebuilt from the ground up.

So “Sansa may be dead.” That’s a lot less definitive than his statement about the Hound. Like the Hound, we’re talking about the life and death of an identity, but which one will die in the end? Alayne or Sansa? You are right to notice that she has plenty of Sansa thoughts while being Alayne. Sansa Stark isn’t dead, but she’s not in the driver’s seat either. Hence why George might say “there is only Alayne Stone.” It’s more like she’s dormant or sleeping for the time being. The question is more like “will Sansa sleep for so long that she never wakes up again?”

Think of the snow castle scene in the Eyrie’s godswood where the statue of Alyssa lays broken in two and half-buried in snow. That’s a metaphor for where Sansa is in the story. Split in two with one half gone to ground. As a “Stone,” she is in danger of eventually petrifying into a cold, stone statue if she abandons all of Sansa’s empathy and idealism and adopts Littlefinger’s cynicism and cold-hearted selfishness instead. This also has applications to Catelyn turning into LSH. The Alyssa Arryn of legend was cursed by the gods to never know rest until she could openly weep for her dead family. Specifically, her tears must fall upon the Vale of Arryn below where her loved ones are buried. The waterfall known as Alyssa’s Tears turns to mist and is blown away by the wind before it can touch the valley floor, which is where the Gates of the Moon is located. Sansa does weep for her loved ones, but only when she can’t help it and it’s always in private. She actively tries to suppress thinking of them because it cracks her wide open. Alayne Stone has no family except Petyr and she must be Alayne all the time. Its clear though that Sansa’s tears have a direct relationship to her Stark identity. More on Alyssa’s Tears toward the end.

Before I get into the pitfalls, there is some good to be mined out of Alayne for Sansa’s character growth. Petyr may have given her the name and the backstory, but Sansa has fleshed out Alayne into the person she wants her to be. There’s a lot of fake it ‘til you make it going on here. Alayne is older and more mature. She’s pretty, but more practical and isn’t given to wearing too fine of gowns and jewels. She’s had the bastard’s hard knock life, so she’s got grit and determination to not be crushed by the worlds scorn. Alayne doesn’t take shit from Harry the Heir. She doesn’t cry in embarrassment or blame herself for his rude behavior. She doesn’t blush like a pomegranate over everything. Alayne is clever, more world-wise, and self-confident. Where Sansa was all cool and proper courtesy, Alayne is warm and engaging. Can you picture early Sansa impulsively hugging a shabby sellsword like Lothor Brune? No way. The very idea would have been appalling. Most importantly, Alayne looks straight ahead and unflinching at the path that lay before her.

“Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.” – Alayne II, AFFC.

And as long as Sansa can convince Petyr that she has fully embraced Alayne, it lulls him into trusting her enough to let some of his guard down and trust her with more freedom than she had in KL. By constantly emphasizing their father-daughter relationship, it helps mitigate some of his unwanted sexual advances.

The danger lies in becoming his daughter in her heart, suffocating Sansa out in all but name. Petyr’s philosophy and skill in dealing with adversity is seductively attractive, leading to conflicting feelings within her. She isn’t comfortable with how he operates and she’s constantly pushed past her boundaries by him. Yet “he is so bold. Sansa wished she had his courage.” She mistakes his fearlessness for courage.

And yet the thought of leaving frightened her almost as much as it frightened Robert. She only hid it better. Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. “All men live with fear,” he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave. She would need to be brave down below, where the chance of being unmasked was so much greater. Petyr’s friends at court had sent him word that the queen had men out looking for the Imp and Sansa Stark. It will mean my head if I am found, she reminded herself as she descended a flight of icy stone steps. I must be Alayne all the time, inside and out. – Alayne II, AFFC.

Of course this would seem appealing to girl who has been powerless, afraid, abused, manipulated, and wanted for regicide. Petyr is never afraid. He’s never the victim or helpless. No one hurts him. He deftly handles his enemies before they can strike, leaving them impotent. He always knows what to do. Petyr is the magic man that makes everything go his way and he’s going to show Sansa how to do the same. All she has to do is become as cynical as he and be willing to use other people. He teaches her the world is divided into players and pawns and you do not want to be a pawn. Think of how this is reminiscent of Sandor dividing the world into butchers and meat. Yeah, Sansa is being tempted by the warm, safe blanket of absolute freedom from conscience and all it’s “benefits.” She might as well be handed the Hound’s helm and put it on herself. As Lem Lemoncloak says when he explains why he took up the helm: “the sight of it will make my foes afraid.” If that happens, all of Sansa’s goodness might truly die along with her Stark identity. Now I’m confident Sansa will find her back from the brink, but for the story’s sake, the danger and drama has to feel real and present. As a writer, GRRM has definitely pulled off that feeling as there are many readers who are convinced Sansa has already checked out completely no matter how many of those Sansa thoughts she has. :/

Back to Alyssa’s Tears and bear with me as I go on a tangent. I’m a subscriber to the theory there will be an avalanche on the Giant’s Lance. My gut feeling says Alyssa’s Tears will come into play and here’s how those “tears” might finally reach the valley floor in a very appropriate way for Sansa’s arc. We’ve already established the metaphoric connection between Sansa’s tears, identity, and the statue and legend of Alyssa Arryn. In winter, the waterfall freezes and becomes 20 foot long icicles pointed straight down toward the Gates of the Moon. That seems kinda ominous; however, the passage where they are mentioned is interesting.

The snow-clad summit of the Giant’s Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa’s Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

Like that falcon soaring above the waterfall itself in the glorious light of dawn, I think Sansa will fly away and escape again, just as she did King’s Landing. Icicles are likened to weapons in the Eyrie and we’ve heard the phrase “tears are a woman’s weapon” often enough. Lysa used Tears of Lys as a weapon, but Sansa’s tears may be very different. I think we’re meant to make a connection between those 20 foot icicles and Ned Stark’s longsword Ice, an instrument of justice and her father’s philosophy. Recall that Ned was beheaded with Ice, likely because Littlefinger influenced Joffrey to change the plan from Ned taking the black. If one of those bad boys were to crack and crash to the ground, not only could it cause said avalanche that would effectively “behead” the mountain’s peak, but “Alyssa” would finally be set free from her “curse.” Not that I’m saying Petyr would literally die by getting impaled by an icicle, though that would be nice. I think it means his time as her father is quickly coming to an end. Sansa’s tears, her best weapon against Littlefinger’s psychological hold on her, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She needs to be brave, dispel the web of lies that binds her to him, and openly reclaim her identity despite the risk of capture.

Now I don’t think the Alayne persona really needs to die completely so Sansa can live. It’s possible she synthesizes the two into a newly remade Sansa, one who possesses the best traits of both identities. Sandor isn’t going to take vows and devote himself to quiet and celibate contemplation. Stranger is kicking down the stable walls and refuses to become a gelded plow horse. Some of Sandor’s old ferocity and his moody temperament will still be there, but he’ll definitely be changed by his experience as the gravedigger. It think it will be the same with Sansa. She’ll keep Alayne’s courage, strength, brains, and feminine wiles, but Sansa’s core values will guide her choices and actions.

#sansa stark meta #sandor clegane meta #alayne stone #the gravedigger #the hound #petyr baelish #littlefinger #Alyssa's tears #Alyssa Arryn #twow spec #avalanche theory #grrm quotes

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theclothingtookyears · 4 years ago

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Interview on Sloganeering

Karin: Can you talk me through the concept of sloganeering? Isaac: Sloganeering is the act of writing a slogan or phrase on a surface (bilboarding) or spreading it through other media (radio), mainly for marketing reasons. This has developed to the application of T-shirts. As T-shirts are the most democratic clothing product, they are a great tool for marketing and branding; similar, to bumper stickers, tote bags and key chains. T-shirts are the most popular and affordable item of clothing on the planet. Classless, genderless and cross-cultural, T-shirts are everywhere and here to stay. The contemporary influx of slogan T-shirts comes from a newly frustrated generation, who feel like people in positions of power are not hearing their voices. Citizens feel they have no voice, but they can wear it on a T-shirt and the public can’t not read it. Wearing your rights on your body has resonance. Whatever your “thing” is, there is a clothing piece or accessory that can hep you express that. Karin: What does it mean and what is the history of the phenomenon? Isaac: The easiest way to think of sloganeering is in timeline format. T-shirts were invented in the early 1900’s as an undershirt for men in the military with no laundry capability. They re-emerged in the 1960’s with DIY culture through hands on techniques (Tye dye, silk screening, block printing) as part of a new age philosophy and psychedelic rock. In the 70’s T-shirts became part of punk and grass roots activism, a vehicle for stances on social and political issues. Vivienne Westwood’s “I AM NOT A TERRORIST, Please Don’t Arrest Me”. Or a shirt with a swastika, layered with a crucified Jesus, combined with the word “DESTROY”¬ – a statement against dictatorship; in general statements of solidarity and unity. Katherine Hamnett emerged in the 80’s with bold font T-shirts that you could read from 30 m away. “STOP AND THINK”, “SAVE THE FUTURE”, “CHOOSE LIFE”. Continuing the activism inspired by Westwood, Hamnett stated, “A successful T-shirt has to make you think but then crucially, you have to act”. The end of the century saw Tongue-in-cheek slogans for the fashion world to laugh at itself. Some were funny because they were good jokes, some were funny because they were classics, and a large number were funny simply because someone would actually wear them. The new millennium promoted skanky, sleazy, and vague statements. “Young, willing and eager”, “Hotter than I should be”. Even Paris Hilton was captured by paparazzi wearing a shirt that said “THIS WAS THE ONLY SHIRT I HAD WITH NO CUM ON IT”. Obviously, this was before celebrities had stylists. In this last decade the fourth wave of feminism and “woke” movement used T-shirts that were ethically and morally inspired “This is what a feminist looks like”. “Love trumps hate”. “Poverty is sexist”. Karin: Where does your interest in this topic stem from? What can be deduced from your research? Isaac: What really sparked my interest was when I moved to Europe and saw non-native English speakers wearing English statements across their chests. I understood that these products were available at high volumes,that’s why there were so many popping up – but I was more interested in the motivation for purchase besides the low price point. Why do people voluntary wear text across their chests? Do they understand the statement they are wearing? Does the mass produced T-shirt “Undefeatable” make you feel that way? Do you wear this statement as motivation to feel that way? When you bought it – did you feel undefeatable? Do you feel defeated and want others not to know? There were too many unanswered questions. And once I saw one person wearing a slogan T-shirt I started seeing 20-25 a day, not searching for them, just by getting groceries and riding the train. The role of a fashion designer has always been about making a statement or message. And since the late 1990’s, fashion designers haven’t really considered or been mindful of the complexity of the human form, especially with the evolution of fully verticalized fast fashion retailers. Today, there is less product development in construction and cut and sew techniques and more on decorative elements and graphics, with the emergence of most fashion studios being run by graphic designers. We’ve moved from the idea: “The medium is the message” to “The message is the medium”. Karin: Where do you see the slogan Tee's biggest potential as a social and cultural mobiliser today and in the future? Isaac: I think that irony has dug everyone a hole that is hard to get out of, very comparable to the tone in current politics, where confusion and satire is a commonly adapted tool for manipulation. The new generation of fashion consumers don’t possess much historical knowledge of fashion. To these consumers, whoms knowledge on fashion is quite limited to street wear like, A-Cold-Wall, Alyx and Fear of God, irony seems fresh. This is a bit unnerving and leads me to believe that a slogan T-shirt with just writing and no symbol for context, will just be regarded as a cry for help or nonsensical bullshit. However I do think that, amongst all the nonsense, a return to the roots of smart slogans that Westwood and Hamnett pioneered could evoke curiosity, an emotional response, which could lead to a counter movement. Karin: What social shifts can we see through the evolution of sloganeering? Do you believe words and statements on garments can help bring about social and cultural change? Isaac: I do see that the true investment in clothing is a personal investment in constructing ones self and social identity, and slogan T-shirts can only aid this. Sloganeering is fascinating because if you look at trends in a timeline; they really mirror societal shifts and movements. To not sound overly pessimistic, one can see the decline of slogans mirroring the decline of high quality fashion. There is nothing unique about wearing a shirt that says “Not Normal”, when 100,000 of the same shirts have been mass-produced. Karin: Slogan T-shirts have often been connected to the opposition and worn as an act of activism. However, big fashion houses and established designers have also picked up the trend – what are your thoughts on this? Isaac: I think that the original purpose of wearing a slogan T-shirt has been lost to so many other motivational factors and it’s hard to bring back that authenticity. The motivation for wearing slogan T-shirts has expanded and changed from solely activism to a myriad of arenas. Slogans can be a political voice or statement for social and cultural change, a means of self expression, a way to attract attention to yourself or a way to use your body as a walking billboard. In the era of valorising personal identity, wearing a brand acts as an identity affiliation, even though following a trend is part of something mass market. It can also be an inside joke that unites people and makes a group feel part of something. Karin: What different types of slogans do you see at the moment? Do they follow any specific trends? Isaac: There are a few categories. The designer ones range from vulgar to positive to thought provoking. Designers like Diesel, Dsquared2 and Undercover, have all been experimenting with typeface and iconic terms that become part of their brand identity. The fast fashion slogans are often overly positive or self-critical – sabotaging in a cute way. And the ironic fashion fakes are probably the most interesting in terms of originality and how crude they can be. Karin: Can you tell me about the creative process with stylist Billy Lobos and photographer Spyros Rennt? Isaac: Billy Lobos is a good friend and we always wanted to work together. One day, after reviewing my collection of slogan T-shirts, Billy proposed a concept for an archival photo shoot. The photos were meant to be similar to my way of documenting T-shirts on Instagram, stalker- like pictures where the goal is to get a photo of the text on T-shirts, with little consideration of the wearer. Billy casted and styled models in their everyday clothes and directed Spyros to take very quick, unstaged, subtle photos of essentially pedestrians. Karin: How did the photos by Spyros Rennt translate into sweaters? Isaac: Spyros Rennt did a really good job. He doesn’t work as a typical fashion photographer and Billy and I didn’t see the photos translating into a campaign or lookbook. The photos were bold and simple, which translated well optically into pixelated knit structures. When you’re far away enough from the sweaters, you can read the slogans, which is the often the situational context I find myself in when I see a slogan T-shirt. Karin: What is the point of putting pictures of people wearing garments on a garment? Isaac: This project started with a lot of questions I had for people wearing slogan T-shirts. I think it’s funny to superimpose the two – wearing a person with a specific branded identity. People who wear slogan T-shirts can’t see how they look like to the public. It’s like giving someone a mirror of their own identity and making them be self-reflective of the image they are portraying. Karin: What does wearing statements have to do with "No Shame"? Isaac: I think the people that wear slogan T-shirts, band shirts, sport teams – it’s all a way of showing your pride and alignment with something or being part of a group. When someone catches me staring at their T-shirt in the street, they don’t look down and become insecure with what their wearing and sharing, they look me directly in the eye with confidence. These people have no shame and stand by their beliefs, values and branding. I wanted to document the confidence, esteem and pride of these people. Karin: We've seen high street shops selling T-shirts with statements related to topics like feminism for years. At the same time they are called out for being more interested in profit than activism. Is it possible to avoid that these statements empty out? Isaac: I don’t think buying a mass-market product helps the associated cause, unless a financial portion is allocated to an activist group responsible for change. What Katherine Hamnett did in 1984, making an anti-nuclear protest, was innovative beyond imagination today. She made her “58% DON’T WANT PERSHING” T-shirt for a fashion reception, which Margaret Thatcher was hosting. Margaret Thatcher decided to allow the U.S. perishing missiles to be stationed in Britain, which was very controversial and many decided to boycott this fashion event. Hamnett, however thought of it as a great PR opportunity. She smuggled her T-shirt into the event, wearing a white coat over it and right when she had the opportunity to take a picture with Margaret Thatcher she unveiled her shirt. Thatcher said: “You seem to be wearing a rather strong message on your T-shirt”, and bent down to read it and let out a squawk, like a chicken. This perfect opportunity and the exposure by the media gave power to the slogan T-shirt that mass-produced activist shirts will never be able to surpass.

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spamzineglasgow · 5 years ago

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(REVIEW) The Last Verses of Beccán by Rowan Evans

In this review, Jon Petre explores the poetics of lost language, pilgrimage and magnetic soundscape in Rowan Evans’ The Last Verses of Beccán (Guillemot Press 2019), where fragments of Gaelic meet 'the glinting eschaton’.

> Rowan Evans’ The Last Verses of Beccán, on the outside, looks to me a lot like the guidebooks to Pompeii and Paestum that the Italian Ministero della Pubblica Istruzione published in the 1970s. There is no literal or figurative link between these books. Yet, like any decent Italian guidebook from the 1970s, The Last Verses of Beccán attempts to illustrate a cultural moment that has vanished or nearly vanished: open these pages and we shall journey into a landscape shaped by memory.

> Rùm is one of the Small Isles in the Inner Hebrides. Most of Rùm’s inhabitants were cleared in the 1860s, and nowadays the island is a fief of the Scottish Natural Heritage. Back in the 6th century Rùm was unimaginably more remote and it was the hermitage of Beccán, a much-mythologised Saint who voyaged there in a wicker boat for a life of prayerful solitude. Beccán was also a poet, and what survives of his poetry is a testament to the resilience of the Gaelic language and the toughness of Hebrides people. Taking Beccán’s pilgrimage as a cue, Rowan Evans sends the reader on their own journey to Rùm, setting us adrift in the coracle beside Beccán to cross a sea of language and history.

> The Last Verses exists in two forms. It is both a guidebook-grey physical text, available from Guillemot Press, and a nine-minute ten-second performance that you can listen to here. I read The Last Verses before I listened to Rowan performing the text, so the first striking thing about the poem were the fragments of Gaelic scattered across the page. A language I can’t understand, the bits of pieces of Gaelic suggest the eggshell-shape of the Hebrides themselves:

mbn-

tonn-

-aig

tre-

-bh

mon- -aig

-s

Are these syllables, suffixes, full words, or something else? They are survivors, and when spoken they take on the shape of a chanted litany. BS Johnson used a similar layout in House Mother Normal (1973) to imitate memory loss (though the language there was Welsh, not Gaelic). Here memory loss is cultural, a victim of English’s tendency to colonise and then erase languages the world over. Yet communicating online has given us entirely new ways to express ourselves, in how we type and send memes and use emojis and voice recordings. The Last Verses is similarly double-sided, at once memorialising the lost language of Beccán’s time and bringing it to life in a living, breathing performance that can be shared over Messenger.

> Evans is good at evoking the fundamental strangeness of Rùm’s landscape for a modern reader. Here, ‘in violent excess of Christendom’, where auk bones and sheer cliffs are home to little more than ‘black cormorants’ and ‘diacritic’ wheatears, you start to feel that maybe it’s Beccán with his extreme medieval philosophy who stands the best chance of understanding the island’s strange rhythms. I think the word for this is unseelie – meaning unhappy or misfortunate in Scots, but as the root of the modern word “unseemly” it’s like a more magical form of uncanniness. The Last Verses has a very real sense of moving into a world where the rules of narrative and perspective are not governed by conventional logic.

> Like Beccán, Evans is in dialogue with the non-human landscape, seeking in verse and sound recording to unravel something fundamental but elusive about places which are not our own. The Last Verses is

a whisper

in the ear of the mountains

> Rùm whispers back through Evans’ recording, where the delicate sound of waves washing on sand and the occasional gull’s cry often drown out the speaker’s words. The landscape can speak for itself, it seems, if we suss out the right way of listening to it. The character Beccán can be difficult to follow, but because The Last Verses is a text so interested in listening to the landscape and figuring out how to articulate the non-human this doesn’t feel like a bad thing. A common problem in eco-poetics is that reflective poetry often invites interiority, which can leave a reader deaf to the very real problems of the exterior climate. Poetry is, of course, a verbal medium, and Evans’ soundscape puts the environment front and centre. The poem asks us to focus on Rùm as a magnetic place that draws poets in, rather than the poets that seek it out.

> Evans has great fun playing with the tropes of Northern and Medieval poetry, using kennings like ‘whale shrine’ (the sea) and ‘waste’s wall of sound’ (an empty cave, I think) and cutting between these and original imagery from Beccán’s poetry ‘cechaing tríchait’ (long-haired sea). As an ignorant monoglot I appreciate poetry that teaches me more about the breadth of expression in other languages, and so I was grateful for Evan’s Gaelic glossary at the end of the text.

> The Last Verses dwells on cross-cultural exchange, mixing together language from the different peoples who have colonised Rùm (and Britain): there’s Gaelic, English, Scots, Latin. Caesura and indention mark out different languages or speakers in the text and Roman phrases are in bold. But in performance, without typographical markers, the borders dissolve. Gone are speakers from different times and cultures; Latin is no longer edified in bold; the etchings from Bagh Na h-Uamha are revived as living language. The barriers between people are shown to have always been permeable.

> With the mashup of Gaelic, Latin, and English that made up early Britain, Evans draws heavily on the legacy of David Jones – there’s strong overtones of Jones’ The Anathemata, although The Last Verses is much more fun. We’d do well to remember that our culture and our history has always been about cross-cultural communication, and that listening to the landscape is the only way that we’ll ever understand the Anthropocene era as the ‘lodestone / of the glinting eschaton’.

> The Last Verses of Beccán is open; you can engage with this poetry however you prefer, by listening or reading, and each encounter reveals news overtones and perspectives on Rùm. Human beings have been sensitive to the natural world for centuries before plastic bags and atom bombs, and it is imbas – the Gaelic word for “poetic knowledge” – like this that can help us reconsider how we relate to the environment. This a poem that rewards re-visiting. I want to go to Rùm now, see the cormorants and Bag Na h-Uamha myself. Even the best guidebook can only gesture at the landscape and show you were to start if you want to look and listen for yourself.

You can buy a copy of The Last Verses of Beccán here.

Text: Jon Petre

Picture of Rùm: CC Ian Mitchell (c/o Wikipedia)

Published: 20/1/20

#review #reviews #poetry #poetry review #Ian Mitchell #Jon Petre #Rowan Evans #Guillemot Press

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breakfast-at-anteiku · 8 years ago

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I HAVE WAITED FOR THE HINAMI-AKIRA CONVERSATION FOR THE LONGEST TIME

[Warning: TG:re chap 120 spoilers, picture-heavy content, some incoherent babbling because I’m reacting live]

x Now that I remember, the crux of Akira’s chara in the first TG was her dad’s death, and that arc was 1) the first major arc after Kaneki was ghoulified and 2) a major turning point in the relationship between the main ghouls and the main humans. WE’VE COME SO FAR GUYS.

x OMIGOD SHE JUST WENT AND SAID IT.

x Also Touka is so consistently pretty in :re, like she was cute before but in :re I melt every time she’s in a big panel ahhhh. I dunno if it’s Ishida’s style evolving or Touka just growing into her looks (or both) but I Don’t Care. She’s beautiful.

x I kind of knew she would react like this tho? Akira’s anger over her father’s death is always so palpable but any other emotion thrown in and its instantly muddled. Like how she was angry at Amon until she got to know the man. She knows it, she knows she needs to hone in on her anger if she wants to hold the grudge. Idk if I made sense.

x I wonder if she ever feared for her life here or if she trusted Kaneki enough to know Touka wouldn’t do anything bad.

x SCREAMMMINMIMINNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

x IT’S HEERREEEEE

x Also can I just say the three of them are so pretty here? God. When will I stop being gay for these ladies

x Headcanon that Hinami takes care of the ghoul children confirmed. I knew it. I wonder if they call her “oneechan” or “Hinami-chan”, I want to see the raws coz that would be cute.

x Also, Hinami x reading, present as ever.

x ALSO, she teaches the ghoul kids how to read, right? Like she taught Ayato how to read okay I’ll shut up now

x Exhibit A: Hinami being a precious angel.

x Just... ugh. I remember how much I hated Mado at first, especially how the anime interpreted him. And now after him being fleshed out through Akira... I can’t even hate him especially with how precious he is to her. Dad-daughter bonds get to me.

x The thing is, the moment Akira even considered this moment as Touka trying for her empathy and reacting so angrily, she’s showing that it got under her skin. And that pride for her father’s work is probably hurting right now.

x TOUKA. OMIGOD. She just. SHe went there omigod Touka. When did you become so smart I’mmmm. Akira I’m so sorry. She got you there.

x To be honest I keep forgetting that Touka has it in her to be quite introspective, but that’s my mistake once I recall how she much she shaped Kaneki’s ghoul self with her own life philosophy. Omigod ilusm queen

x This is the part where Touka broke her I think. I’m so sorry Akira.

x This is how Touka remembers the gentle Arata - looking so much like Kaneki. Touka your Oedipus complex is showing.

x I always thought that Touka (and Ayato) had looked at Arata through rose-colored glasses. He was polite, embraced human life, was a pacifist and a scavenger - or so we viewers were led to believe. I’m glad Ishida showed his vengeful side, and that he did it through Touka. There was no way Arata could have become a kakuja and a wanted man if he had only killed one or two Doves before being captured by Mado.

x I wonder if Touka knew about this even as a child or if someone (Yomo?) gave her the talk. Also I wonder if Ayato knows. If not I want him and Touka to talk about it.

x I wonder if Touka hated her father a little bit for this.

x I guess this implies Touka knew even as a child? Or is she saying this in retrospect?

x And this implies things about her life with Ayato after Arata’s death as well. Touka considered her dad a “failure as a parent” for letting his feelings of revenge get in the way of caring for his children. Because Touka was able to come to terms with his death enough to care for Ayato in the aftermath.

x Basically Touka is able to handle grief well and turn it into something positive, while Ayato got his ability to handle grief from Arata.

x Touka is making some extremely bold steps with Akira. Is this some kind of shock therapy or

x I don’t know. After that talk with Ayato, there is some implication that she did hate Mado even a little bit, even if she didn’t want to pursue revenge. Either that or she treats the whole incident like Amon does now - hating the way how the world is but with no real venom towards the players in the game.

x Oh god stop killing me with this fuwafuwa cuteness Ishida.

x Same, Akira. Same.

x Also Touka boobies.

x OMIGOD IM DYING THIS IS TOO MUCH

x THIS. ENTIRE. PAGE. That’s it. I’m dead. Bye. I’m gone.

x Look at how precious Hinami is. Omigod. The way she invited Akira for a hug despite all the angst I’m sure she still feels.

x Also that cute little poncho. Hinami is consistently fashionable tbh. I wonder if it’s Tsukiyama’s influence.

x Hinami invited Akira for a hug. Touka helps them through it. Akira reciprocates. I’m crying so hard rn.

x “She’s warm.” This is so telling. Akira sees Hinami now. She’s not a faceless entity involved in her father’s death. She’s not a ghoul that needs to be exterminated. She is a person to Akira now.

x Obviously they’re not going to be best friends after this though I really would like that but they see each other now as individuals and that’s the first step.

x This chapter was heartwarming and beautiful and I’m so glad the main ladies of TG have somehow worked it out. I’m so proud of the three of them.

x Also. Akira get’s 2 pages of a hug from Hinami and Ayato has two opportunities for an onscreen hug pass by him. I literally cannot.

#tokyo ghoul #tg:re #tokyo ghoul:re #tg:re 120 #tg:re spoilers #hinami fueguchi #akira mado #touka kirishima #cey shut up already #tg:re meta

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fe14fiction-blog · 8 years ago

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hi, mod lilith! :D do you think you could make a post listing the matchup requests you've gotten and will do? just so we know if you've received ours! it can be a hassle though, so please don't feel pressured to >

hi! could i have a matchup? im a gay boy and id like an awakening match please c: im very kind and i like being and caregiver to people. im really shy though, and it kind take time for me to open up. when i do open up however, im very loud and carefree and i like cracking jokes and messing around. i love singing and i have an interest in rapping and song writing, but im also an artist. i work very hard and i can get very serious and competitive. im also really sensitive and i cry alot and easily

I'm 19, male, and straight. INFP and Sagittarius. On the bigger and taller side too. I'm mostly interested in gaming and anime, but I also read quite a number of books. I enjoy debating philosophy and religion, but to be frank, I'll debate anything that I can debate. Personality-wise, I have two outward expressions: stoic and emotionless, and smug half grin. I'm usually pretty antisocial, but I like the company of like-minded people. Basically, those I can battle my wits against, and vice versa. A bit follow up, as I ran out of room. I'd prefer a character from Fates, please. And don't let my profile picture make you feel biased towards Soleil. I just like the picture itself. I wish you luck with these, and I thank you for offering to do them! Keep posting all the great content! Good night for now!

Hi!! Could I get a matchup please, if the mini event is still happening? I was thinking Awakening characters, and I prefer guys. I am an Aquarius and infp; I like people who are very protective, and usually calmer/level headed. I enjoy people who make me feel significant and treat me fairly, and with plenty of attention. Thank you!

Could I have a match for Fates, specifically Conquest; preferably a male character? I'm a shy person around people I don't know; yet I don't show it too much as I feel I need to force myself to be out there to make others feel comfortable. I have a short temper and am a very sarcastic person by nature. I take things seriously if needed but tend to like to be the one cracking jokes to ease serious tension. I get nervous often in public situations etc. I enjoy reading and writing, I'm an Aries!

Could I get awakening male match up? I'm a girl, pretty chill. I'm not the most outwardly social but I like talking to people more one on one and having kind of long conversations to really get to know someone. I do have depression though, and sometimes get days where it's bad, so basically just anyone caring and sweet is what I'd look for, but I'm okay with whatever. Thank you!!!!!!!!!

May I have an Awakening matchup? I'm a female looking for a male. Logically minded, but creative. I like cooking and playing video games and I spend a lot of time taking care of my siblings to help my parents out. Also ridden with anxiety and ADHD, but I work through that by working out (I'm in the gym three times a week). Total cat lady. Happiest when I'm alone, but I dearly love my small circle of friends. Also, if it helps, I'm an INTP and Aquarius. Thank you!

For Match-Up; From the Awakening men, please! As for the person to be matched, he is kind and gentle with a soft, warm smile. Patience and optimism are his strongest points being he is never known to lose heart or give up. He does tend to lose track of his own health due to his diligence in his duties though. His mind is sharp however, and often used to devise new and clever approaches to things. He is also a Mage. ISFP-type personality, falling under the Lawful Good morality.

Sorry if I'm sending this through via the wrong method! I'd like to give your match-ups a try (if that's okay) Game: Fates (I don't care which path) MBTI: INTJ (more turbulent) Astrological Sign: Cancer What I like personality wise: • Someone that I can discuss intellectual (especially history-related things) with • Able to comfort/chill someone out • More "mature" (stoic is even okay) • Determined in one way or another • Doesn't mind cats • Does well with a busy partner • Is a guy Thanks! 😸Oh geez, it didn't occur to me that you wanted more info on us as opposed to what we like in relationships. Terribly sorry! It's probably too late, but here's some info on myself (I submitted my request prior to the deadline, but if it was too little info. too late, I totally understand) I'm quite the worry wart use ten words when two would do honestly. I'm a major "dilettante", I dabble in many things but have mastered none. I don't handle extreme emotions all that well. Sorry, and thanks!

I'd like a match up for an awakening character please. No second gens though and preferably a guy. I'm a girl who likes art, reading, and crafting. I have an INFP personality type and I'm a Leo. I tend to keep to myself mostly so someone else would have to initiate conversation. I love animals but I hate bugs. My favorite genre to read is adventure because I find my real life about as interesting as a stale corn chip. True to my zodiac sign my pride is everything to me.

id like an Awakening matchup! Second gen is fine! im 5'8, pan, virgo, INFJ girl with long af brown hair and freckles around my nose and cheeks. im reserved when you first talk to me and its hard for me to really trust people sometimes even if im already close with them. i also make self deprecating jokes to cope w not liking myself a whole lot. im pretty spacey too and i have a hard time remembering stuff. i draw a lot digitally and traditionally and i write sometimes too. thanks in advance!

Hi~ I'd like to request a matchup please! Game: Conquest (all the guys I want to marry are in Nohr oops). Please skip the 2nd gen. Personality: Pisces, INFP, Gryffindor. Easygoing, affable, humourous, thoughtful, observent, affectionate, ambivert, shy but doing my best to put myself out there, introspective, openminded, I've been told I come across as mysterious and intense by people I don't know well. Preference: open/fair minded, loves to learn and travel, even a little romantic/affectionate.

fates matchup please? 😁 i'm a straight entj girl. i'm an outgoing person and take up a lot of leadership roles, e.g. i’m stuco president. i'm a little shy around people at first but i open up quickly. people say that i'm funny and smart, although i am a little mean and a perfectionist... i'm also actually wildly insecure lmao... i also love reading and writing. i don’t enjoy sports but i like volleyball! going out is fun but i can't be around people for too long and like alone time. thank you!

May I please have match up for a male Fates character! Thank you! You're a doll for doin this! I'm generally a calm, if a bit moody kind of girl who adores cute things and nature! I always aim to please and I act sweet and innocent when really I'm only pretending so that people will like me. In reality I'm much more down to Earth and lonely and can care way to deeply about keeping up appearances when all I really want is for someone to look past my façade.

Can I get an Awakening Match-up please? Female, 5'9", strawberry blonde hair and grey eyes, INTP. Looking for a guy who's more of a sweetheart and would never raise his voice to me, long hair is preferred. I need someone who will be strong for me when I can't, and enjoys being showered with affection in return. I enjoy reading, drawing, and cooking. Please no second gen characters. Thanks a bunch!

Please could I ask a match with somebody from awakening. I do not mind which gender you choose. I'm a happy, bit cheeky, kind and caring person, it takes awhile for me to get angry and I will show sympathy to people who needs it. I like other people showing kindness to others and being friendly. I am a Taraus and I own Awakening, Birthright and Revelation

I'm a Taurus whom has a love for food, music, and poetry, tries to keep things orderly in his life for the most part, and yet also loves to flatter those whom I love with compliments and gifts. No gender preference, Fates character.

fates matchup? male please!! i'm an infp gemini,, i'm p outgoing and try to make friends w everyone (which can also be a bad thing bc rejection is the Worst) but i love making people laugh most of all!! i play sports solely for the team aspect (soccer n softball) so i'm also p athletic. but i also do love to write and am v easy-going!! thank u v much for doing these!

Matchup for Fates! I'm an ace girl with romantic interest in everyone, 21 and only 5'3" and I'm kinda shy due to being Autistic. I love horses and archery though, with more interest in writing and drawing. I'm a Cancer, and my favorite time of day os the mid afternoon. I used to be a sport swimmer and diver, but now I enjoy the pool for fun. I can be a little overprotective of those I care for when new people come around as well!

fates/conquest, preference male (anyone BUT Leo, Xander & Laslow), cancer & INFJ Tiny, quiet girl. Doesn't like war or fighting and just wants to make her friends and everyone around her happy. Enjoys music and can play almost every string instrument (except the viola) including the piano. She's very timid yet enjoys talking, especially about different lands and myths. She's kind of sick though and has medical issues that affect her ability to go out a lot. Has no preference for males.

Match-up please! I'm a male who enjoys creative writing, animals, baking, fashion, and nature. I'm playful and tend to tease those who I'm close to. I'm pretty nerdy and I'm scared pretty easily. I also love terrible puns. I'm a Gemini, and I'd prefer a female from Fates! Children are fine, too!

Hi I'm hoping the matchup are still open, thank you for this!! I'd like someone from awakening and preferably one of the dudes pls :) I'm an istp, gryffindor and a Scorpio, I've been told I'm a bit intimidating as well as bold and a bit blunt, but also funny. I prefer to hang out with people who are honest and have integrity, people who start shit for no reason piss me off to no end. It doesn't matter if I don't share similar interests with people so long as we get along and have a good time c: No Kid Characters

For matchup I'd prefer Fates Second Gen characters except for anyone younger than Kiragi, I have no preference for Gender or Personality. As for my personality I'm a very lazy hermit who likes literature and I have a good memory. I can be shy and my mood changes a lot between pessimistic and optimistic. I'm also someone who likes to try new things a lot as long as it doesn't require much of physical activities. I also get lost a lot in my thoughts.

Matchup if still open! I'm five foot 3 and INTP in personality. i don't mind either BR or CQ guys. I'm somewhat distant at first glance. I'm kinda moody and irrational, but try to hide that with jokes and silliness. I'm a pessimist at heart. Very picky about things too, whether it be food, clothes, friends, etc..

Can I have an Awakening matchup? I'm a bisexual ESTJ 5'1 1/2" Pisces girl with too many things to say. I've been told my best traits were my charisma, imagination, consideration, and articulation but that I was stubborn and feisty and I can't be intimidating due to my height. I love engineering, history, and hands-on projects and people say I can never stop smiling. To my s/o I can offer comfort, humor, and perspective. They'd just have to deal with my strange sense of humor, unorthodox way to do things, and when I'm mad, a sharp tongue. But after any fights if I'm not blinded by my own stubbornness, I'll be the one to give in and ask for forgiveness. In the relationship I need someone as willing to hold it up and be a part of it as I am.

#match up event #y'all so lucky I copied them to a doc as I got them to keep them sorted for myself #Anonymous

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