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thegeminisage · 2 years ago

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liz. please. can we have one tiny tiny tiny crumb of information about the undisclosed project. i really hope it works out for you and i can't help it, i wanna know! <3

bestie 🥺🥺🥺 ty for asking but this whole thing is SUCH a complex issue and

i can't help it, i wanna know! <3

AAAAAGH this is why i tried not to talk about it bc then i'm torturing people or making them excited because they think i am secretly working on a Really Good Fic and it is not like that. i'm sorry mea culpa mea culpa :( i am begging you all to blacklist it!!!

let me try to explain a little better i am putting it under a cut to hide my shame:

so, the thing i am working on is (i finally admitted it awhile back) a fanfic (NOT original work!!! sorry) BUT it's not a fanfic i am planning to post. ever. this is for a few reasons:

the fic is an act of self-indulgence. i am doing whatever the hell i want without thinking about what it will look like when i post it because i am not posting it. and if you are thinking something very kind like "but liz i trust your taste and i would love to read you writing whatever the hell you want" there are still sooo many problems such as:

if i decide to post it, i will become self-conscious about my decisions and spoil the entire thing. i'm ALREADY a little self-conscious about it even though i am only letting a VERY select group of close and trusted friends read it. so if i decide to post it, or even tell anyone online what it is, it will cease to exist. this is maybe the biggest reason. i can't have people getting all excited about it and asking for details about it and then me spiraling into self-doubt because then it will never be finished and i have tried to write it MANY times in the past two decades and i NEED it to be finished

the second biggest reason is that because i am doing whatever the hell i want, the decisions i'm making are objectively bad. i am not fishing for compliments here, i know these decisions are bad and i know they would be deeply unpopular in the fandom in question (unfortunately if i told you what fandom it was you would know immediately what it is, so i'm not going to do that, but it's not s*pernatural if that makes anyone feel better) and I KNOW i would justifiably get stoned to death by onlookers when they read it. you may think "but liz has written good fics in which the decisions made were ones i liked" (this is also very kind) but that just proves my point. i know what a good decision is and i am making bad ones anyway, on purpose, because i want to.

this presents a a huge problem because this story is extremely, extremely close to my heart, probably closer to my heart than any other story i have ever or will ever work on! and if anyone said even one single mean word about it i would simply pass away on the spot. i simply cannot allow that kind of vulnerability to exist on cas-thee-tiel's internet. to give any passing stranger the power to annihilate me? no way bro

but EVEN IF!!! i got over my baggage we have the final problem: the massive fucking size of this thing.

i'm currently averaging about 9k-10k a chapter (though i do have one 11k chapter, yikes, but also one 8k one - my spreadsheet informs me the actual average is 9761 words), and i know without a doubt that the fic is going to be 36 chapters long. this means the end wordcount could be anywhere from 350k to 400k. that is ENORMOUS. that is GARGANTUAN. this fic is a titan among titans!!! even if people who were NOT a very select group of close and trusted friends actually WANTED to read it, how the fuck would i POST it? as one 350-400k chunk? i would find that deeply unrewarding. i'd post it, and then it would take people weeks to get through, at BEST, and i'd be lucky if there was even a handful who'd make it to the end at all. i'm not normally a person who NEEDS comments to function, but the radio silence i'd get on posting an objectively bad fanfiction which could be up to 400k long would be devastating on a personal level.

so then, what, weekly chapter updates? i find that much more satisfying but HOW? each update would be asking people to read and keep up with ten THOUSAND words a week! nobody has that kind of time! AND it has 36 chapters. if i posted one every week that would be a posting cycle of NINE. MONTHS. almost a YEAR. reading 10k per week for nine months is a BREAKNECK pace. i could alter it a little - post one chapter biweekly or two chapters weekly - but then i am either asking people to keep up with the same fic for a year and a half OR i am asking them to read 20k a week for a still-pretty-long 4.5 months when they can't even keep up with dracula daily. like?????

so yeah, there are absolutely people who follow me & my fic who would LOVE to gush at me about this thing (and there might even be people who have listened to me talk enough to have figured out what it is by now, though i really hope not lol) and i am BEYOND humbled and grateful that i even have that kind of audience when i am just out here writing fake shit about other people's ocs, but i am just Totally Stumped as to how to even like. do anything at all with that.

to partially answer your question, though, yes, it is in fact working out for me! like, the ONLY reason i even make posts about it on tumblr (which is normally partially a publicity stunt because i do still LIKE comments) is because i am simply So Excited I Can't Not Talk About It. every minute i spend working on it is a hit of pure undiluted dopamine and According To My Spreadsheets at this rate i'll be writing until at least autumn of next year. it makes me unreasonably happy to sit down and chip away at this thing (i currently have just finished chapter 6 out of 36) and i look forward to being able to do so with a passion and desire heretofore unknown to human kind. it's the first thing i think of when i wake up in the morning and the last thing i think about when i go to sleep at night. it makes me want to be alive. better still it makes me want to get out of BED. i have woken up 2 and 3 hours before my alarm goes off of my own volition MULTIPLE times for the sole purpose of working on this fanfiction. so there is that!

i do wish i knew how to share it with you guys in a way that was feasible!!! cuz i know it must really suck to listen to an author you like talk about a fic you aren't allowed to read. it is not even remotely an ideal situation and i do my best to make it sound as boring as possible when i bring it up because to most people it REALLY would be. but this is where i'm at. perhaps next year when i'm all done with it and don't have to worry about it vanishing into the ether of my own insecurities anymore things will change, but i can't consider that possibility because then it will vanish into the ether of my own insecurities. i hope you can understand :( but thank you for being interested anyway, it really is so sweet that anyone would want to know <3

#liz answers asks #anonymous #liz loves writing #undisclosed project tag #im scheduling this to go up when you sent the ask to make sure you see it #since i answered so late lol #sorry if this wasn't the answer you were hoping for :(

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curioussubjects · 4 years ago

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come be a season 12 truther with me; or what if dean and cas got together offscreen

Originally, I wrote this post to celebrate “Galaxy Brain” airing as Berens & Glynn gave us “The Future.” It’s been a while since that episode aired, and some things have changed about this meta. As such, there are multiple versions of this post floating around, so make sure to go back to the source for the most up to date version. For all intents and purposes, this post functions as a meta manifesto not unlike shipping manifestos from days of LJ past. In keeping with that tradition, this post is a close reading of Dabb Era Destiel in which I argue that by using narrative gaps, queer coding, and romance tropes, Dean and Cas are shown to be in an established relationship. Although beyond the scope of this post, it’s worth pointing out that keeping Destiel mostly off screen was a way for the creatives to bypass network censorship while still remaining true to the characters.

This post is divided into three sections. Section I focuses on giving an overview of why earlier seasons of Supernatural aren’t as compelling as season 12 as a turning point for Dean and Cas’s relationship. That said, special consideration is given to 09.06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” as a potential rest stop in our journey due to it’s significantly placed narrative gap as well as themes in the episode. However, this post isn’t going to examine season 9 trutherism in depth, though it does coexist with and allow for it. Section II analyses season 12 and proposes a timeline and justification for the shifting Destiel dynamic. Finally, Section III will offer an analysis of how Dean and Cas’s relationship has changed dramatically from previous seasons in a way that is most like the shift from a “will they or won’t they” pairing to an established one.

Before I move to Section I, I’d like to note something this post takes for granted: Dean and Cas are the main romantic subplot of Supernatural, and, in fact, their relationship is elevated to main plot for both characters in season 15. This post won’t argue about the canonicity of Dean and Cas’s feelings for each other, therefore, and so won’t spend time looking at many Destiel defining moments. I’d also like to make clear that this post also takes for granted that Destiel is being intentionally developed by the writers starting with Carver’s Era, and more so in Dabb’s.

I. Why Seasons 4 through 11 May Not be It

The tl;dr. here is that while there are many moments throughout these seasons that Dean and Cas could potentially get together, none of those moments are ideal for a bunch of reasons that can be summed up as really bad timing. I also think the narrative is actively pushing them towards a moment that works. We get plenty of stepping stones, especially once we hit seasons 8 through 11 (and 11 most of all).

Seasons 4 & 5:

I know there’s been a lot of get together fics over the years set in this time period, but I just don’t see it. Do I see them being intrigued and drawn to each other? Yes. Do I think either Cas or Dean would act on it? Nope. I’m not arguing anything re: Dean’s feelings, but with everything going at the time I find it hard to believe he’d pursue anything with his angel friend. Most importantly here, though, is that during this time Cas was still very alien and other. There was too much angel in him, and while he obviously came to care about Dean (and Sam) very much, I just can’t see him navigating the realm of human relationships. That said, seeing human!Cas in “The End” is the first we see of potential developments for how Cas could behave without his angelness interfering. Being human changes Cas a lot, beyond even his experience existing among humans, though that of course matters too. This development will be important later /wink.

Seasons 6 & 7:

Before anything else let me just recognize that if we could see some sexual tension in seasons 4 & 5, these two seasons come with our first taste of romantic tension. The pining! Also note the difference between season 4 Cas and season 6 Cas in terms of behaviour. He is much less the angel we saw in that barn in “Lazarus Rising.” In season 6, we have a Cas making misguided decisions guided entirely by his emotions – namely, not wanting to involve Dean with the war in heaven – which is peak human, honestly. Put a pin on how sad Dean is in both seasons with Cas’s absence. Finally, put a pin on this being our first moment of Cas doing things on his own to spare Dean and it not ending well (soulless!Sam, Cas “dying” after Leviathan) because this is *the* hurdle in their relationship (along with Dean’s lashing out and self-worth issues). With all this said, the marked distance between Dean and Cas in these seasons negates the possibility of them entering into any kind of relationship. Much like seasons 4 and 5, there’s too much going on.

Season 8:

Ah, yes, the summer of purgatory. If you thought we had pining before…! I think we’re all very clear on season 8 being a turning point for the show, not only because new showrunner, but we also get the bunker. TFW now has an HQ, which pretty soon becomes home. Yes, Baby will always be home, but the bunker becomes the *unmovable* safe haven that Baby couldn’t be. The bunker is a place to coalesce, and for all the amazing things Baby is, she is not that. The acquisition of the bunker marks a shift in the psychology of the show: with the stable home space we can start to imagine domesticity, a place to come home to, the stuff of ordinary living. Most of all, the bunker is emblematic of security, of safety –keep this in mind, as we go forward.

This season also continues to see Cas go down the path of independently solving his problems instead of asking for help from Sam and Dean (his family in a way heaven never was) – note that the better together issue is at play in different ways with Sam and Dean also, but I digress. I also want to point out disastrous instance #2 of Cas’s insistence on figuring it out on his own: he loses his grace, and the angels fall. As for Dean, season 8’s focus for him has much to do with Sam, and them coming face to face with their issues with codependency, which hit catastrophic levels with the gates of hell and Gadreel plots.

So despite all the deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much distance between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 plus slaughtering angels plus unleashing Leviathan. We do see Dean being more emotionally open with Cas and continue to voicing his wish that Cas would just stay with him and Sam, and let them help. It’s clear as day how much Dean cares. The timing is still bad, though.

Before moving on to next season, let’s take a moment to appreciate that this is the season Dean admits being kinda done with one night stands because “always with the adios.” Remember the bunker as a sign of stability? Yeah. I wouldn’t say Dean is craving a relationship, exactly, but I think we can see that he does want something more (ahem also I’m nodding to Cas refusing to stay put just cause).

Seasons 9 & 10:

The most important thing to happen between this two seasons is Cas’s stint as a human for an extended period of time. There’s been plenty of spec and meta written over the years about the effects of being human on Cas’s grace (a proto-soul now maybe?). What we can say for sure, regardless, is that Cas is much more humanized once he becomes an angel again. The understanding he gets from being human doesn’t go away once he regains his angel powers. You’ll notice that while we still see some of season 4’s characterization, Cas is not the same as he was – he is alien to angels now and is more intelligible to humans. Additionally, in an interesting reversal from previous seasons, we now get to see the depth of Cas’s feelings for Dean (thanks, Metatron) as well as seeing him be more open emotionally, while Dean does most of the pushing away (first because of Gadreel, then because of the Mark of Cain). In short, the timing is still bad as Dean and Cas are largely kept apart both physically and emotionally.

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait

This episode is my white whale, friends. While I’ve come to fully subscribe to the idea that something did happen between Dean and Cas during the fanfic gap, I don’t actually think it’s feasible that it marked the start of a relationship -- be it sexual or romantic. My reasoning here is quite simple: the timing is bad. Were it not for external events (Cas regaining his Grace and Dean taking on the MoC), the course would have likely differed. Furthermore, Dean’s guilt over making Cas leave the bunker as well as Cas’s own hurt and self-loathing pose a significant and as yet insurmountable obstacle, which is easily seen with how Dean and Cas’s character trajectories go separate ways.

YMMV on what exactly happened between them in that Motel, but something definitely did. Perhaps one day I’ll have a proper s9 trutherism post to link to here for more details (likely won’t be written by me, though).

10.16 Paint It Black

From the point Dean gets the MoC until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible due to distancing, to say the least. Again, yes, the fic is really good, but alas. One of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. One, it’s a rare bit of explicit emotional honesty from Dean, and two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the Thing™ between them, it’s still uncharted waters. It’s scary, and murky, and they’re unsure how to navigated it or if they should even try. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6. Anyway, he’s the full confession:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. […] Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. […] Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Can I just say, first, that this confession keeps me up at night because we never actually see anything done with it explicitly? I mean, obviously, I think we do in fact see the effects of this confession in the show, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this behemoth, but still, like. Damn. Ok, so, remember when I brought up that thing in season 7 about Dean being kinda done with hook-ups? Here’s where that led us. We’re seeing a Dean here who wants more than what he has convinced himself he gets to have. He wants more than dying bloody. And when he talks about wanting to experience people and feelings differently, well, that says a lot not just on the queer coding front or the romantic front. I mean, jfc, Dean is accepting the idea that he can have more in life than just hunt until he drops, and he’s specifically talking about experiences at the interpersonal level.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more and maybe he can make himself be open to that (!!!), which all culminates in season 11, so…

Season 11:

The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Lucifer (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems: Cas checks out with Lucifer because he thinks it’s the only way he can help, Dean is caught up in the turmoil of Amara, the emblem of absence and avoidance of struggle. We do get something like an affirmation from the two of them to each other via Dean calling Cas his brother (and I want y’all to consider the historical queering of that statement, and Cas’s “I could go with you.” It feels like we’re headed to them being on the same page. By the end of the season, though, it feels like we’re getting a clean slate: Mary is back, nobody died, no end-of-the-world in sight, no interpersonal crisis. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. We’re gearing up for something, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What this season does that is super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible.

11.04 Baby

Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? That conversation between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development regarding the issues Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That’s awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don’t … Ever want something more? DEAN: I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But … Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

We wouldn’t be talking about this stuff all these years after Sam and Dean had a serious relationship if it wasn’t important, right? Also who else do we meet this season? That’s right! Eileen! And doesn’t that hit different with season 15 hindsight? And who does Dean have that understands the life? Whose stories have been intricately connected to his? Right now, this is all conjecture. A pipe dream Sam is revisiting, and Dean is skeptical about. Except, well. Look at what we get in “Into the Mystic” and “The Chitters.”

11.11 Into The Mystic

I’m bringing up this episode as a cross reference to “Paint It Black” as well as to complement the talk from “Baby,” and to show, again, that, for all the closeness between Dean and Cas, there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. There’s still truths they haven’t told each other. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin’…If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody’s pining for somebody else. […] Oh, don’t try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters

And here we see some validation to Sam’s imagining of a possible future with someone else. We actually see hunters who not only are married, but they both make it out alive. Jesse and Cesar get their happy ending. They make the dream come true. And the reality of it important not just for Dean to see, but Sam too.

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too, that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13.

Alright, now, having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in season 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point, in hindsight, after getting smacked by the domesticity of seasons 13 and 14.

II. Why Season 12

[Out of date section. Update coming soon when spoons. After significant debate, I’ve altered the definitive start of Dean and Cas’s friend-with-benefits-with-mutual-pining relationship to between 12.02 and 12.03. I briefly explained why here, and yes it’s a shitpost--still true tho.]

Finally, the promise land, y’all. Getting right to it: what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. That is, until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker and with the exception of seasons 13 and 14, it’s one of the first times we get to see how Cas might actually fit into the bunker-as-home. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. What we also see this season is Cas trying to prove he is worthy of this family, his family. He’s not fighting for heaven or to right some grievous wrong (a la s8). No, this season he’s fighting to spare the Winchester, to bring them a win. To bring Dean a win. The major disconnect is that Dean (and Sam & Mary) already sees Cas that way, he doesn’t think Cas has anything to prove. And just maybe, Cas starts believing that too – or, at least, believing it enough.

12.10 Lily Sunders Has Some Regrets

This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim).

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it. Oh, and, of course, let’s not forget to point to Dean’s face when Cas says that “I love you,” and how terrified he is that Cas is dying. Might make one rethink some things, hm?

12.19 The Future

This episode is simply hella suspicious, and all the kudos to Berens and Glynn for writing it. It’ll haunt me forever. Consider watching it again and just questioning everything. So. Weird things:

1. Dean’s reaction to Cas no getting in touch as opposed to Sam’s. Dean is pissed, which is Dean-speak for worried out of his mind. Sam is very worried, too, and puzzled, but he’s mostly expressing his relief that Cas is back. But Cas has gone awol before, but this time Dean is much more worked up about it; Sam takes note of this, too. Now, let’s imagine that maybe the events of 12.12 led to something happening between Dean and Cas. Then Cas decided to leave to find a lead on Kelly, but eventually Cas decides to work with Heaven and goes radio silent. For days. Having taken a chance, and something having happened between them, how would Dean react to Cas just going poof and not contacting him – despite Dean having called Cas multiple times.

2. Cas knows about the Colt. Ok, nothing off there. But when he goes to Dean’s room to talk, right after Dean leaves we see Cas looking around briefly. Like he know Dean would keep it in there. Maybe Cas had looked other places already. Who knows. What we do know is that eventually he does find the Colt not only in Dean’s room, but under Dean’s pillow. Sam didn’t even know the Colt wasn’t in the safe. So how did Cas know?

3.“He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But can you see Cas actually doing that if they hadn’t gone there previously? For Dean not to suspect anything and go with it? There’s plenty of plausible deniability here, but the gaps in time in the narrative make me question what is there in those spaces. The scene where Cas tried to give Dean the mixtape back doesn’t read like “playing,” so it’s about a different interaction. Hm. Hmmm.

4. Dean and Cas’s brief conversation in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together – because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth, but also ow.

5.And most importantly: When did Dean give Cas that mixtape??? How did that happen?

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him – Dean is clearly shook by it – Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) – Cas goes awol - Dean acts like he got ghosted by his new bf -?????- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow – "He went into my room and he played me."

What am I supposed to do with that, hm? Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But YMMV, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication.

III. Seasons 13 through 15 As Established Relationship

Regardless of what happened in season 12, exactly, I can’t shake the feeling that something did happen, and something did change. My reasoning here is actually really simple: in comparison to previous seasons, Dean and Cas’s dynamic shifts significantly come season 13. I know some folks have been disappointed with some of season 13 and then season 14 for having dialed back on the destiel side of things. And, hey, maybe there’s truth to that in terms of backstage stuff, but I also want to point out that...well, the dialing back isn’t quite dialing back is it? Let’s look at 13 a little more closely:

Season 13:

So I said the deancas dynamic changed, right? I also think that change caught us unaware because the pivotal turning point that would cue us in never happened on screen as well as being subsumed by Cas’s death and Jack’s birth. But if I ask you about deancas in season 13 what would come to mind? Grief arc? Brokebacknatural? How domestic Dean and Cas are? There’s just something easy about their relationship after Cas returns from the Empty. The tension we’d grown so familiar with over the years is gone. Actually, it feels like we skipped the getting together bit of their relationship and went straight to established relationship and parenting. Some of the most peak married deancas moments we see circulating? Season 13, (and 12.10). It’s a lot, and it’s different, and it’s amazing.

13.01-13.05

Dean’s grief mini-arc. He was acting like a widower. Here’s me vaguely gesturing towards the mapping of Jonh, Mary, Dean, and Sam onto Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack. And the reunion? I can’t help but be giddy at the song choice: “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying.

13.06 Tombstone & 13.16 Scoobynatural

I’m not going at length about these episodes, I just want to point out that they reveal that Dean and Cas have a whole thing going on off screen: they watch movies together, Cas knows about Dean being an angry sleeper, Cas seems to have been aware of the Dean-cave before Sam was. It’s little things like this that are examples of the narrative gaps surrounding Dean and Cas that have cropped up over the years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder what else could be hiding there. And when did the movie nights alluded in “Tombstone” happen? Maybe in season 12 when Cas in hanging around the bunker? The same period when Dean and Cas seem to be coalescing into something safer and more stable? Something that we never see come to a head because plot happens and Cas dies? Something that is immediately taken back up once Cas is alive again?

Season 14:

Overall, this season is more of what we got during 13, but it had two high notes I wanted to single out before ending this already too long post.

14.15 Peace of Mind

Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t couple-y as hell.

14.18-14.20

Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established, and unaddressed, rift between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here: he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? What if Cas died again? And why should Cas put up with Dean’s behavior without knowing the cause? How can any relationship work this way? But notice how caught in the middle Sam was during all this. Notice how Jack is running off and acting out. The whole family is falling apart. Divorce arc, indeed.

Season 15:

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will-they-or-won’t-they because they already have. We’re are watching a getting back together plot! The tension is, instead, will-they-or -won’t-they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. That’s the crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned twelve fucking episodes -- y’all, that’s half a season.

And technically? We’re not even done with yet because Cas never let Dean finish his prayer/confession in purgatory. What’s more, Cas hasn’t grappled with his role in the breakdown of their relationship, either: that he keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. We’re waiting to see what else Dean had to say, and what will happen when Cas’s deal with the Empty comes to light.

Finally, could we still have this plot without Dean and Cas having gotten together off screen? Sure, but I think the stakes are higher if they already did have something between them. If they actually have an established romantic relationship going on. Something real and tangible and as of yet much too fragile.

"...you asked what about all this is real. We are."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #spn meta #this thing is gargantuan yikes #anyway enjoy? let's chat #my writing #this thing is half meta half my adhd unleashed

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silvysartfulness · 3 years ago

Text

There really is some merit to the old adage “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all”.

I... honestly do not understand people who feel the need to go into the comments of a fic only to post a minor essay of complaints? You clearly decided to read through almost 200k, so either you’re a masochist beyond measure, or you actually did like at least parts of it.

So why then only focus on what you didn’t like? What do you hope to accomplish? For the author to pop in and say “Oh! Yikes, sorry! I’ll immediately tailor everything to fit your tastes better!”

I write this gargantuan work, one of the greatest projects I’ve ever undertaken, at great personal cost, spending pretty much all of the very limited energy I have on it, then posting it for people to read for free. It’s a labour of love, and one of the few things giving me joy in these bleak times. But I’m not forcing anyone to read it. If you don’t like it, it’s fine to just walk away.

So honestly, if the only response you can think of is to heap hate on the characters and the way I write them, I would really rather you didn’t read it at all. Clearly it’s not for you.

#angry sad vagueblogging #another reason why the writing is so slow lately #is the amount of character hate and general negativity #in the comments in certain places #of course everyone is entitled to their opinion #but telling an author how much you hate how they write a certain character #is frankly just rude #i'm just so tired #it feels like every time i work up the energy to write again #i get another of these comments and it just sends me crashing again #most of the readers are wonderful #i love you guys' comments #but the comments in that one specific place #break my heart time and again #the happy songxuexiao roadtrip story

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turtleduckscribbles · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write a story of the links helping legend deal with the aftermath of being stuck in a “slime eyes”ish chuchu?

Gotta love your creativity, anon! ;D Thanks for the prompt!!

Warnings: Near suffocation/drowning; icky sticky imagery

~o~o~o~o~o~

It was huge.

It had appeared as if from nowhere, obstructing their path back to camp. It dwarfed the surrounding shrubs and rivaled the nearby treetops. Though its size was certainly conspicuous, it seemed wholly uninterested in them. It rolled languidly over the landscape, absorbing the undergrowth in its endless quest for sustenance. Round, bulbous eyes protruded from the top of its gelatinous head (did it even have a head?), where a gaping maw oozed viscous, green-colored slime.

In other words, it was the most repulsive thing Legend had ever seen.

“Now that’s a looker,” Warrior remarked. The captain rested a hand on his cocked hip as he appraised the gargantuan blob.

“Are they always this giant here?” Four said in a strained voice. “Yikes… and I thought mine were bad. It’s no wonder our wood carver lives in the sky.”

“Speaking of Sky, let’s take the long way around and let him handle this,” Warrior said, readjusting his scarf. “He’ll know the easiest way to dispatch it. Besides, I have no interest in cleaning up buckets of filth today.”

“I’m with you on that. Plus, he can do that downward strike thingy on it.” Four mimed a vertical swing with his sword, as if splitting the creature down the middle.

Legend narrowed his eyes at the offending monster, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. A wave of familiarity washed over him as he recalled his skirmish with a very similar-looking brute on the forbidden island of his dreams. The techniques he’d employed to defeat that one had been simple enough. This one should be no different. He turned to his two fellow heroes, his shoulders squared decisively.

“Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll need to separate it into smaller sections so it can be properly disposed of. Smithy, you distract it. The captain and I will get close so we can slice at its center. Once we’ve weakened it enough, I’ll take my sword and dash attack it through the middle. I’ll be able to cut right through by that point. Then it’s just rinse and repeat.”

“Hylia, strike me down,” Warrior said with a wry smirk. “I never knew our beloved veteran was capable of prime leadership like this. Or is this just you trying to show me up again?”

“Since it appears I’m the only one who’s dealt with a slime monster of this caliber, you’re now under my jurisdiction. So unless you want to run crying back to Sky, I suggest you shut your trap.”

“Guys, quit the yammer already and focus,” Four said as he readied his slingshot. “Warrior, stop antagonizing Legend. And Legend, I hope you know what you’re doing. It’s a whole different ballpark battling something this big, even when it’s a chuchu. Especially when it’s a chuchu.”

Huffing, Legend drew his tempered sword and stepped away from the Hero of Warriors. He didn’t know why he allowed himself to take the captain’s bait sometimes. In any case, they shouldn’t have much to worry about. It was just a blob, after all. Nothing to get worked up over.

“Ready when you are,” Warrior chimed to the smithy. Legend assumed his defensive stance, the wings of his Pegasus boots fluttering in anticipation.

With a stone secured in his sling, Four pulled back the elastic strap and fired on the jelly monster. It struck the surface and disappeared inside its glutinous mass. Alerted, the blob slowly turned toward the little smithy, its expression blank. A lengthy pause elapsed before it began inching its way toward him, leaving behind a thick trail of slime.

Before Legend could take his first step, he found himself locking eyes with Warrior. The captain fixed him with a bored look, his sword lowered to his side in a show of nonchalance. Quick as a flash, his lips turned upward, smiling that infuriatingly coy smile of his. Twirling his blade, he winked at Legend and loped away, his scarf swishing at his heels. Legend rolled his eyes and trotted after him, muttering vague obscenities under his breath.

The vanity of him…

Despite its immense size, the chuchu proved just as feeble as its smaller counterparts. As Four continued flinging rocks, Legend alternated strikes with the captain, cutting down the monster’s center until it was shaped like an hourglass. With his sword in hand, Legend retreated to a respectable distance and faced the misshapen monster, targeting its slim middle portion.

“Once it splits, attack it quickly so it doesn’t merge back,” he called. “I’m going in hot.” He stomped his feet and charged, his blade pointed straight ahead.

He hit the jelly sprinting, forcing it back with the tip of his sword. It stretched like a rubber band, yielding to the power of his winged boots. Legend ran full steam ahead, his brow slick with sweat as he dug into the earth. He grit his teeth, waiting to burst out the other side. Waiting for his sword to tear through at any moment.

It didn’t.

There was a sudden rush of air as the jelly sprung back to its original position. Legend was flung backward, propelled like one of the stones from Four’s slingshot. But instead of repelling him away, the adhesive clung fast to his limbs, preventing his swift escape. In the blink of an eye, Legend found himself encased in slime, trapped within the confines of the overgrown blob monster.

Startled, Legend grappled with the glue, struggling to pull free. It felt as if a suction cup had been applied to his entire body, sucking his skin away from his bones. The slime adhered to every part of his anatomy, and as his skin began to burn, Legend realized with dawning horror that the monster was currently attempting to digest him.

Panicking, he lashed out, kicking and swatting furiously. He abandoned his sword in favor of freeing his hands, fighting to extricate himself from the ball of slime. It rose closer and closer to his face, smothering him like a weighted blanket. As the fluid rose over his chest, he suddenly knew with inexplicable certainty that there was nothing he could do. It was going to swallow him whole. Legend slammed his eyes shut and held his breath—and submerged.

A searing heat immediately bore down on him from all sides. It was as if a pillow had been pressed over his face, stifling his breath and depriving him of his senses. Instinct told him to protect his head, to cover his nose and mouth, but his arms were trapped, stuck in a quagmire of jelly. Powerless, he breathed out, aiming to create a pocket of air, but only succeeded in sucking in more goo. He wheezed, unable to help the involuntary reflex.

He was out of time.

Legend writhed in agony, every cell in his body screaming for air. His eyes burned, his lungs were on fire, his skin was boiling tar. He was frantic. Desperate.

Thrashing and clawing and choking and pleading—

He resurfaced.

Legend gasped, and it was like he was being reborn. He coughed violently as air rushed into his windpipe, trying in vain to dispel the scalding acid. A distant part of his mind acknowledged that all around him, a turbulent wind was raging. It pulled and yanked at the surrounding jelly monster, drawing more and more slime from Legend’s face. The goop was sucked away, and as the whirling winds died down, a heaping pile of gunk remained, leaving Legend sprawled in the middle.

There was a flash of steely metal and a sickening squelch, followed by pounding footsteps. Words were being spoken around him, but Legend couldn’t hear them, couldn’t think through the stinging pain infiltrating his airways. Blurry images swam in his smarting eyes, and he could barely breathe past his congestion. He wrestled against his slime restraints, hacking and spluttering profusely.

Rough hands grabbed at his slick arms. They tugged with all their might, but to no avail; Legend stayed steadfastly stuck. Then, as if on cue, another pair of hands latched onto him. Strong and firm, they hoisted him from the gooey mire, nearly pulling his arms from their sockets. In one fluid motion, both sets of hands took Legend under his arms and hauled him speedily away, carrying him far from the slime pile.

His newfound freedom did little to relieve the intense burning in his eyes. Everything around him existed in a world of hurt, one thing blending into the other. He could feel himself being dragged a great distance, his shins scraping on the rocky ground. Without warning, he was plunged into an icy coldness that washed over his entire body.

It was like all of his internal systems reset. He swallowed a mouthful of water in shock, which mixed with the slime obstructing his respiratory tract. Before he could drown, he was pulled upwards, re-emerging from the frigid depths into the shining light of day.

Legend collapsed onto the damp ground, his clothes cascading water. Face-down in the dirt, he gulped in air, his mouth and nasal passages stinging from residual slime. Though he was relieved he could breathe again, he felt like a drowned rat: wet hair was plastered to his forehead; his drenched tunic stuck to him like glue; and his exposed thighs were raw, tingling painfully. He felt slime in places he never expected—nor wanted—to feel it. Legend swept back his hair, blinking water out of his eyes.

“Well… that could have gone better.”

His head shot up from his place on the ground. There, kneeling in front of him, were Four and Warrior, their arms and legs soaking wet.

“Uh… Legend?” Four tested, his knuckles white against his knees. “You okay?”

The two heroes looked down on him with worry, wide-eyed and panting. Almost as if expecting him to keel over at any second. Legend stared back, his vision hazy.

“How? How did you…?”

“Gust jar,” Four answered straight away. A blue and white ceramic pot suddenly became apparent to Legend, which lay beside the smith on the floor. “Seriously though, are you okay?”

For a moment, all that could be heard was their labored breathing. Legend cleared his throat, instantly all too aware that he was trembling. He made to wipe the vestiges of slime off his face, hoping he didn’t seem as shaken as he felt.

Something nudged his shoulder. An article of clothing was being proffered to him; it struck him that it was the captain’s scarf. Legend blinked at it, barely believing his eyes.

“What?” said Warrior. “I promise it’s not sabotaged or anything. It will help.”

Legend eyed the sash for a while longer before coming to his senses. He took it hesitantly, feeling the plush fabric between his fingers.

It was in pristine condition. The stitching was immaculate; not a single thread was out of place. The Hyrulean crest glinted gold in the corner, contrasting beautifully with the royal blue. It reeked of elegance—surely someone as proud as Warrior wouldn’t let Legend use it as a hand towel. It went against all of Legend’s presumptions about him. Tentative, Legend brought it to his face, cleansing himself of the grime.

“It’s a good thing our smith had that wind vase of his,” Warrior said, casting a hard look at the pile of inert goo in the distance. “That slimeball was about to eat you for breakfast.”

“It’s a good thing it worked at all,” Four clarified. “I’ve used it against big things before, but never… that big.”

Legend wiped his eyes free of gunk, grimacing in distaste. Though he already felt substantially better, his mouth still tasted like mud. He handed the soiled scarf back to the captain, not making eye contact. “Um… thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

A long and awkward silence passed. Legend took in the rumpled state of himself, cringing internally. His hair was a complete rat’s nest, jutting out in a sticky mess. His boots were clogged with muck. His tunic rode up his waist, revealing his stained shorts underneath. It was a mortifying display, and Legend couldn’t help but feel utterly foolish.

Seeing that it was his idea to attack the monster in the first place…

“Can you walk, Legend?” Four asked, brushing away dirt as he stood. “The water seems to have helped, but it’s still quite a ways back to camp. Think you can manage?”

Legend’s stomach dropped. His mind automatically began cycling through excuses, weighing the legitimacy of each one. Even if he was technically capable of walking—which he was—the thought of arriving at camp in his current state was almost too much. It was bad enough that two in their company were witness to his ineptitude, let alone the vain captain. But to have the entire party learn that something as ridiculous as a chuchu had nearly done him in? The idea alone caused him to shrink. He frowned at the ground, the sharp rocks below him digging into his elbows.

A prolonged sigh sounded off somewhere to his side. The dripping veteran glanced up and was met by the sight of Warrior’s hand, outstretched in invitation.

“Look, scruffy, you’re soaked through. The sooner we get back, the sooner you can be out of those foul clothes. Let’s go and clean up, stat.”

Legend bit his lip, mulling over the captain’s offer. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t convince his tongue to form the words that lingered at the back of his throat. As shameful as it was, he knew he couldn’t do it. Sensing his intent, Warrior’s gaze softened, his tone turning mild.

“Come on, man. Who do you take us for? Nobody’s going to make fun of you. We won’t blab.”

…What?

The words were like another language to him. Legend froze, his eyes widening as his brain played catch-up from the simple statement. He observed his comrade’s face and was stunned to find him entirely sincere; a caring look resided where a smug smirk used to be, smoothing out his features. It was a foreign look on him—one that caught Legend completely off guard. The little smithy appeared equally as transparent, his brow creased in genuine concern for his friend.

A rush of feeling surged within Legend, warming him from the inside out. There were no insults, no See?s or I-told-you-so’s; only pure consideration for his well-being. He recalled his humiliating pink rabbit fiasco from recent times, noting the parallels between now and then. Although exposing his vulnerability to his companions had initially terrified him, Legend had soon discovered that it wasn’t the big deal he thought it would be. These people weren’t out to get him. They were honorable, reliable. They always had his back when he most needed them. They were his trusted teammates, his brothers in arms. His friends.

And in his heart, Legend knew any number of embarrassing moments wouldn’t change that.

His mind decided, Legend accepted Warrior’s hand. He allowed the captain to pull him to his feet, even tolerating a few friendly pats on his back.

“That’s the spirit, Vet,” Warrior simpered. “Though on second thought, maybe we should start calling you ‘wet blanket’ instead. You know, all things considering.”

Legend spun around and shot Warrior the dirtiest glare he could muster. “You twit, you said you wouldn’t—!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy champ, I’m just messing around,” Warrior laughed, his palms raised appeasingly. “You’re safe now, so I’d say a little teasing here and there is fair game. At least between us.” He gave Legend a suggestive wink, and never in Legend’s life did he want to smack someone’s grin off their face more than he did Warrior’s in that moment.

“Knock it off, you two,” Four droned, taking them by the elbows and ushering them away. “Warrior, what did I say about antagonizing Legend? You know how sensitive he gets, you’re just inciting chaos at this point. Good Hylia, I can’t believe you’re forcing me to play arbitrator here.”

Legend sputtered like a beached fish. “I wh—I am not—”

“Don’t lie, Legend, you know you are. Save it for when we’re back at camp, okay? I need a nap.”

Legend looked at Four as though the little hero had personally wronged him. Shoving his grievances aside, he blew out a pent-up breath, making a conscious effort to remind himself that these two people had saved his life. He allowed himself to be escorted away, grumbling the entire way back to camp.

Maybe his sensitivity was something he needed to work on after all.

~o~o~o~o~o~

~Requests are Closed, Thank You!~

#turtle scribbles #linked universe #linkeduniverse #loz #legend of zelda #linked universe fanfiction #requests #anon #legend #four #warrior #tw: mentions of drowning/choking

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thetypedwriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Ruin of Kings Book Review

The Ruin of Kings Book Review by Jenn Lyons

Boy, oh, boy, was this a wild ride.

Those of you who have been following me for a while know that I occasionally delve into adult fiction here and there. I mainly stick to my vegetarian course of YA novels, but every once in a while I can’t help but pick up a slice of bacon, or in this case, an adult fiction book.

Or, even more specifically, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that it’s adult fantasy instead of fiction. High fantasy at that, which is characterized by a whole new world with fantastical elements and not just a novel in the known primary world with fantasy elements.

With that literary lesson out of the way, let me get started.

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons came recommended by one of my favorite book bloggers, Paperfury. She counted this as one of her most recent book obsessions she couldn’t stop thinking about and in general I trust her judgement (although she was way way off on The Queen of Nothing, yikes).

This massive installment is definitely not the short and sweet page length I’m used to with YA, and neither does it have the comforting and large font that makes me feel like an accomplished reader after just an hour of skimming.

No, this installment is large and beefy and could probably give someone a concussion if you threw it at them, so just keep that in mind.

The whole fantasy revolves around a boy named Khirin. Khirin is your typical fantasy hero, equipped with the luscious blonde hair and the sparkling blue eyes and most importantly, the wickedly sharp tongue reminiscent of a male character from the Cassandra Clare universe.

He’s sharp, he’s witty, he’s charming, and he also has terrible, terrible luck.

Or does he?

When you first meet Khirin he is being sold as a slave to the highest bidder. He’s cold, he’s injured, he’s starving, and he’s broken. You, as a reader at this point, are completely and irrevocably confused.

You’re thinking: Who is this boy? What is happening to him? Why are people betting so much money for him? What’s with this necklace around his neck? Where did he come from? Where are we? What world is this? Where is he going? What the hell is going on???

To say that Lyons starts out strong would be underhanded hyperbole. You are forcibly drop-kicked into the fantasy world of Qurr and its many raging empires and states, and putting them all together is frankly daunting and largely impossible until a good chunk of the book is devoured.

Frankly, I still have trouble figuring out all the locations and gods and god-kings and factions and lore and people and how they’re all related, Game of Thrones style. But that’s part of the fun.

One of my biggest complaints with YA is that the reader is generally treated like they’re pretty stupid.

Often a YA author feels the need to explain every single iteration and modicum of interaction between their characters or spend too much time describing things, and it leaves very little for interpretation or inference on the side of the reader. Lyons is almost the complete opposite, which is as refreshing as it is frustrating.

As you are introduced to Khirin and this gargantuan universe that Lyons has created, you will feel stupid. To be fair, I enjoyed it most of the time. I relished the challenge of learning to differentiate all the different families of the Court of Gems, of distinguishing the Goddess Thaena from the Goddess Tya.

I liked when I was finally able to smugly look at the map at the beginning and recognize all of the city states like Doltar or Kirpis or Manol. I liked when I understood the different races like the Thriss or the vané and the implications of what that meant.

If that was a whole load of word vomit for you, that’s okay.

Again, it’s part of the fun.

What I do want you to get out of this, however, is the knowledge that Lyons has created an expansive universe with multiple creatures, including dragons and witches, rivaling royal families, gods reminiscent of the Greek Gods and their interference with human affairs, a rivaling world split with so many seams that you’re not even sure who to root for, an emperor, magical jewelry, demons and even a dose of piracy and musical competition.

This book honestly has a little of everything — which, to be fair, it should, considering how damn long it takes to get through it’s never-ending pages.

To make this as simplified as possible, the plot goes like this:

Khirin is sold into slavery and finds himself in the hands of a group called the Black Brotherhood. Over time, Khirin learns about this group and their intentions, learns more about himself and the Stone of Shackles (the necklace he wears around his neck), divulges his past and how he got sold into slavery in the first place-his upbringing, his musical talent, his stay at the Blue Palace, his eventual betrayal at the hands of someone he loves.

You learn over the course of each chapter what brought Khirin to his current fate and more of what he is trying to do now,: which is to return home and save the world from the likes of the two main antagonists (although not all of them by any means), Gadrith and Darzin.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that is the most bare- bones summary I have ever written. But honestly, this book is about a hero named Khirin and his adventure to rid the world of evil as he learns about himself and his past.

Like many, many, other books before it, this book explores what it means to be a hero, what it means to be a god, what it means to be involved with the fight of good vs. evil. This book is not special in that sense regarding these themes.

However, there are some really cool aspects of this novel that I thoroughly enjoyed that I’ll relay now that the summary (as condensed as it is, sorry) is out of the way.

The two things I enjoyed most about this book were the writing itself and the POV. Most high fantasy novels that I’ve attempted to read have this ridiculous notion that every character must speak in some dead medieval language rife with historical inaccuracies and banal, clipped speech. Lyons does nothing of the sort.

Her characters are creative and crass and downright funny. The dialogue is immersive and natural and oftentimes, other than the backdrop of a dragon or lizard-people, it felt like two modern-day people were having a conversation, which I greatly appreciated.

Lyons is also a very big fan of building up her writing and then smacking you down at the pinnacle. For example:

“Before us lay the Mother of Trees.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I couldn’t comprehend. It just seemed like a humongous wall at first, one that had been built up with palaces and verandas, graceful pavilions, and stained-glass windows glittering like jewels. Only when I looked up could I perceive the sweep of branches, the distance velvet of green leaves. This was a tree to hold up the whole world, the sort of place where Galava must live, if any place were consecrated to her. It seemed ageless and immortal, a tree that had always and would always exist.

Naturally, we were setting it on fire.”

I personally found this style of writing hilarious. Lyons often built up the tension, beauty, or conflict, and then would deliver these one-liners that would leave me gasping with laughter. This creative juxtaposition was super enjoyable and one that made the book a big success for me.

Secondly, while this book is told almost entirely (keyword almost -there are some outlier chapters) from Khirin’s perspective, it technically oscillates between present Khirin and past Khirin.

The whole book switches from one timeline to another every other chapter, with the chapter starting with Khirin being sold into slavery being the “present” and told from Khirin’s first-person POV and then switching the next chapter to his “past�� and being told from Khirin’s third-person POV.

I loved this. I thought this was so creative, and up to this point, I have never seen this done in another book. The subtle shift from first to third person every chapter, but still from the perspective of the same character, was so interesting and complex.

I loved that we were simultaneously getting current-day Khirin, but also Khirin from two years ago telling us the events that led up to the present. It was imaginative and intriguing, and I loved trying to fill in the holes before the book presented me with it (which even then was difficult).

In addition, throughout the whole book are also footnotes from another crucial character that offer information, clarification, and also humor. While I’ve primarily read footnotes in academic papers to cite sources or offer commentary, these footnotes were just as fictional as the rest of the story, but offered insight outside of Khirin that was often dripping in sarcasm, irony, or humor.

I thought it was another really creative way for Lyons to get across information without boring everyone half to death or releasing a 100- page guidebook to help you along.

Bottom line, people,: This book isn’t for everyone. High fantasy in general is not for everyone. That’s okay. It’s not usually my taste either, at least not the adult fictional kind, but something about this book really intrigued me.

Moreso than the actual plot, which is confusing, I enjoyed the writing, the suspense, and the act of playing detective. It’s been so long since I’ve read a book that’s made me think this hard, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. That being said, the same praise is a double-edged sword.

If you don’t want to have to think and draw out charts and make graphs on Excel, then perhaps this is not the book for you.

If you don’t like high fantasy or made-up worlds, or very interconnected family dynamics, then this is not the book for you. This book also contains elements that can be triggering to some, like rape, drugs, character death, violence, imprisonment, slavery, etc.

When I say this book has everything, I mean it has everything. And that can be good or bad depending on the person. For me, I liked it. However, I did get frustrated at certain points at the lack of clarification more than once, just for full disclosure.

Recommendation: If you’ve been bereft ever since the Game of Thrones disaster-of-a-finale, then you are not alone. The Ruin of Kings has everything you’ve ever wanted in a high fantasy book: action, kings, queens, palaces, war, dragons, magic and so much more.

This book was creative and funny and complex, and if you’re willing to sink your teeth and time into a universe that demands attention then you’ll find yourself rewarded with a brand-new world to fall in love with and characters that you can’t seem to forget.

Score: 8/10

#the ruin of kings #jenn lyons #popular fiction #books #book blog #book review #fiction #Book Recommendations #booknerd #writing #fantasy #high fantasy

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powerbottomjeremy · 5 years ago

Note

Scream a me. Let’s go. What’s on your mind?

First of all, thank you so so so much to you, and everyone else who reached out, for letting me vent to you! My heart is overflowing with appreciation!!

Secondly, buckle in, because you would not BELIEVE the bullshit I just went through!!! The backstory is that I work as an editor for a niche industry and I’m applying for a job in another company that’s like, tangential to this industry, in that they focus more on marketing than publication, but purportedly their content is the same.

So I made it to the stage of the interview process where they said they were sending me an editorial test to assess my ability to catch errors. Okay, cool, that’s weird for a non-entry-level job but it’s usually just a 1-hr 6-pg thing where they rough up some copy with silly errors and want to make sure you aren’t sloppy with your editing. Nonetheless, getting straight answers re:expectations from this company has been like pulling teeth, so I ask how long the assignment will take, because I’m out of town from the next day until [date] for a major work event, and may not be able to submit it until after I return. ((After all, I work a 9-5, so I’d be doing this in my spare time, of which I have precious little right now, and they know this.)) The guy says “oh it’s short, it’ll take maybe 2 hours, we need it back Monday 10am, just spend a few hours on it and get it back.”

Not encouraging. Like damn, you couldn’t give me even a day of leeway? You’re expecting me to bend over backwards for a job I didn’t ask for that is at least 3 rungs up the career ladder? Yikes. Nonetheless, I open the assignment, still expecting maybe 2 pieces of copy to proof and fact check.

Instead I see 6 files for 4 assignments that require me to read and edit a total of 35 pages of information. And it isn’t, like, content editing or fact checking or anything requiring creativity and expertise; it’s all copyediting and proofreading, essentially a game of “spot the typo.” It’s grunt work. And this is not 2 hours of work. I am a fast editor, and this will still take me at least 4 hours, if I don’t stop to take breaks. Like??? What the f u c k ?

Here’s the thing: I am an accomplished writer and editor. I know this. My content is literally linked in my resume! It’s not an entry-level position; they’ve gotta know I have some proficiency! So to think they need me to spend 4 HOURS proving I can notice errant hyphens and missing colons is...insulting to say the least. Literally any one of these assignments would have sufficed alone.

Anyway I was mostly over it because this in combination with all the other yellow flags about this process means I’m not taking the job offer, but then I talked to my dad this morning, and he was like “you need to stop being so emotional, none of that is concerning, idk why you’re so upset” and I’m annoyed all over again because like ??? Yeah okay maybe it’s unfair of me to have expectations for this job but I think it is reasonable! To be annoyed! That they straight up lied to me! By saying this was a “short” and “easy” test! My dad was like “short could mean 8 hours” but if they want me to do 8 hours of unpaid work FOR AN INTERVIEW? Fuuuuck thaaaaaat. My time is worth more; my labor is worth more. Not to mention, if this is the type of editing they’re expecting of me in this role (which is marketed as a “senior” position)..... that’s a gargantuan yikes. My dad was like “don’t turn them down just because the test took longer than you expected” and I didn’t know how to explain it isn’t about how long it takes, it’s about the complete lack of transparency and the lack of kindness and the fact that this is only the latest yellow flag on a pile of bullshit. Sure maybe this could be a new experience and a good career move; but if this is at all indicative of their work culture? No thanks. I won’t run myself into the ground just for a raise.

#birb speaks #not rtah #personal #hi im salty!!!#thankyourduckystars #ask

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wildgeesedotpdf · 5 years ago

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I just finished reading Jane Eyre

I don’t know if this is a hot take or not, but I don’t like Mr. Rochester. I’m sure it was much more normal at the time it was written, but he seems really possessive, often complains about her and insults her, and he reacts in violence when Jane tells him she doesn’t want to be with him anymore.

On this page he grabs Jane with a painful grip and makes her feel powerless. He then forcefully shakes her and talks about how easy it would be to crush her. This is a massive yikes.

And, in a previous chapter to the one shown, they are shopping for clothes for their upcoming wedding. He often tries to pressure Jane into buying and wearing expensive things, even though she makes it clear that it would make her uncomfortable.

He also, almost as soon as they got engaged, would constantly criticize her. An example being this paragraph from chapter 24:

He not only insults her, he also physically hurts her (though the physical harm isn’t that harsh, it still isn’t okay.)

Throughout the book, emphasis is put on how much smaller Jane is compared to him and also how much younger she is. Mr. Rochester often calls her such things as “my good little girl,” or a “fairy” and I feel like names like these emphasize their size and age difference. The book also acknowledges the fact that he is 20 years older than her, and I think that at one point it someone says that he is old enough to be her father, though I forgot on what page. In chapter 24, Mr. Rochester calls Jane his “girl-bride.”

Big yikes.

Also he treated Adèle like shit even though he was supposed to be a father figure to her. And he locked his mentally ill wife in his attic instead of getting her help?? How was that not illegal?? WHY IS EVERYONE OKAY WITH IT?!?

Massive, enormous, gargantuan, colossal YIKES

I do understand that a lot of these points were way more acceptable in 1847, when the book was written, but when I look at it now, nearly 200 years later, I can’t help but hate Mr. Rochester. Jane deserved better.

#classic lit #classic literature #bookblr #books and literature #jane eyre #charlotte bronte #bronte sisters #literature

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kookceit · 5 years ago

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alright i got this super big long analysis abt why i think that we're gonna go to roman's room after svs pt2

starting off with the general known fact that roman is hella insecure imma just go more in depth with it ig idk

okay so wdwgobm, roman was very defensive during his argument with logan. remember logan's pie chart, and how 0.5% goes to dreams? roman encompasses a massive portion of thomas' hopes and dreams so when he sees that piechart it's telling him this is how little logan values him, and that shit dont feel good. insecurity +1, not feeling good enough and then getting extremely defensive to make up for the insecurity

in crofters the musical, we get More Shit :3c this time roman straight up says that he feels like he's paling in comparison to logan. that he's not popular anymore. bc of that, it's fair to assume that roman may feel there is something wrong with him that would cause his downfall in popularity.

and now! LNTAO! roman actually addresses the fact that he cant feel proud of his work due to logan's harsh critiques. but another thing: remember in incomplete when he sang "im too sad for you fools and i feel like you dont get me" while he was insulting them, he also revealed just then that he feels as though his problems wouldnt be heard or understood by the rest of them (probably why he keeps them to himself) at the end of the ep when logan asks if roman is all better, he responds with maybe not but he wouldnt shy away from it any longer

ep:tnic time! honestly this one is kinda yike. when roman does straight up admit to his insecurities, a very hard thing for him to do as seen in LNTAO, virgil (wanting to make a point and not have his past dismissed) told him "too bad your big admission was dwarfed by your gargantuan failures" damn v way too rub salt in the wound but due to that, roman no longer Straight (gay) Up addresses his problems, rather going for jokes as seen in svs

in svs, he deadass says "the one and lonely, what, freudian slip" and when dee later asks him if he wants that stuff that makes him happy he says, very sincerely, "do i"

dwit is,,, WHEW THIS IS A LOT TO UNPACK OKAY roman and remus were raised with the "good child bad child" and roman is the good child. he has to be perfect, or else he'll be compared to his brother and shunned. that's why he says remus is everything he doesnt wanna be. he doesnt wanna be viewed as the Bad Kid. one mistake could lead to his downfall. here's the thing: perfection is bullshit but also completely exhausting to attain, and maintain. so he tries asking for help. the jokes, or straight up addressing. being the perfect kid is extremely stressful. roman being a perfectionist also harms thomas, as seen in the loosing motivation video

in conclusion, all these parts that were dropped are def pointing towards a roman arc very soon, and i think it'll take place in his room cos not only have we met remus and they most likely share a room, but roman is also thomas' EGO. all this insecurity on roman's part is def not helping thomas in any way shape or form so in order to better address all of it, they take a trip to his Room

#sanders sides #sanders sides analysis #roman sanders #ts roman #why do we get out of bed in the morning #crofters the musical #learning new things about ourselves #embarrassing phases: the nightmare instead of christmas #selfishness vs selflessness #dealing with intrusive thoughts

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dekuplants · 6 years ago

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be alright | TODOROKI

✧ pairing: todoroki x unspecified female character

✧ genre: angst

✧ word count: 2,847

✧ disclaimer: I’m using mostly pronouns rather than names in this piece lmao. ‘he’ refers to todoroki and ‘she’ refers to the female. anyone else should have their name specified ^^

↳ this story is based off the song Be Alright by Dean Lewis, maybe listen to it after reading if you’re expecting feels lmao

yikes my first actual fanfic here, let’s get it

—— ;

Blinking at the descending snowflakes, an ominous feeling crystallized in his gut when she asked him to meet, after days of not seeing each other.

The weather was freezing, a chilly breeze of wind blowing by every so often. If one were to run to the seaside, it was easy to see the sun resting on the horizon, announcing that the end of the day was near. The boulevards were empty and silent, almost resembling an abandoned ghost town.

The truth was, everyone had gone home long ago. After all, it was only paradoxical for anyone to stay out in such glacial temperatures that could potentially nip someone’s skin off. With snow that perpetually fell, it would all have been quite a picturesque scene if it were not for the gloomy vibe that spread through the streets.

Snow. That was the only thing he could think of, even after carefully observing the environment.

It was certainly quite miserable. He swore to his heart that it was only yesterday that he made snow angels and let out laughter he never knew he was capable of emitting. There was a strong refusal to believe that those days of long beach walks and conversations at twilight were probably over. When even time could not interfere if it wanted to, or the moments when despair was something that never existed.

“Shoto?” left her chapped lips.

He looked up, bringing his attention back to her pale complexion and her frail-looking body, both of which were things most would find unpleasant. However, for him, it was different.

Then, she began to cry. He could only watch as tears gathered at the brink, eventually overflowing and running down her cheeks. His eyes followed as he saw the droplets hit the snow-coated pavement, before another one of her sniffles brought him back. As he rested his eyes on her forlorn expression, she instantly stared at the ground. That was probably when he knew for a fact that she was hiding something, or at least simply refusing to speak the truth. Whatever that truth was, he was not aware.

He was never a person who had a way with words, so he could only lunge his arm forward to grasp her hand. If anything, it felt colder than all the ice he had manipulated. It stayed that way for a few moments, but she realised she disliked the warmth that began to coat her hands. She immediately retracted her arm, pulling out of his grip with ease. At that point, it felt like there was absolutely nothing but an empty void filled with her whimpers. He wondered what exactly circulated her mind, but whatever he came up with was obviously not reliable.

“I made a dumb mistake,” she then spoke under her breath. Her hands were trembling. Her voice was raspy and broke a little, which indicated her dry throat. Those subtle little movements she made would be undoubtedly missed by regular people, but he noticed everything. He could only afford to stare, eventually nodding his head in acknowledgement as she continued.

A loud and long sigh of despair left her lips. “Remember the cigarettes you found on the counter last week?” She questioned, shoving her hands into her trench coat pockets. Her knees struggled to support her upper body, barely standing on her two feet with whatever strength she had left.

He nodded slowly, suspiciously eyeing her. She exhaled through her nose this time, before she seemingly forced the words out of her mouth.

“Those weren’t my friends’...it belonged to one of your male seniors.”

The color drained from his face then. Having always been a person who believed in the power of speech, it felt like he underestimated everything. It all made sense, how she would smell like cigarettes even though she never physically took a drag. How she was not the same around him anymore after staying out late for nights.

He pieced two and two together, turning on his heel and walking away. His head tilted towards the stone pavement. The sounds of her sorrowful weeping seemed to mute. He never looked back, refusing to believe that all he smiled about ended in nothing but pure lies and deception.

—— ;

If he had paid enough attention to the accumulating pain at the back of his eyes, he would have looked away ages ago. He didn’t know what drove him that far, but it wasn’t like he bothered anyway. Perhaps it was the feeling of stony desolation in the caverns of his heart. The sudden lack of energy and motivation to do anything at all, or maybe something as trivial as how terrible the weather had been recently.

He never had the best childhood, everybody who spoke to him knew that for a fact. It was written in stars and stone, impossible to reword for anything. The years of pain and abuse were permanently scarred at the back of his head, but he came to accept it eventually as the years went by.

However, he was not certain about the current situation.

It suddenly felt as if the world only had him as the population. He lived in the city, but to him it was close enough to being an uninhabited island. Scattered somewhere far away from any human contact in the deepest of oceans. Somewhere he could yell out into the open space and defrost his frozen heart.

His mind wasn’t in a good state, either. It was as good as a vacant vessel. Some would probably call it one-track, while others would prefer the term brain dead. It was pathetic, really. Even if he tried, he knew he probably could not remember much on what he did on a regular basis.

When was the last time he had a proper meal?

Don’t know.

Wasn’t miserably alone in his unlit room?

Beats him.

Simply had a smile on his face?

Unanswerable.

One thing he could answer, though, was what he had been doing ever since that winter day. It simply consisted of him sitting in the corner of his room, the lights switched off and curtains drawn closed. His legs were folded and his back leaned against the wall. With his phone practically molded into his fingertips at that point, he continued to stare at the words displayed on the blinding screen.

He let out a dry laugh. He found humor in how fragile the relationship was. It was like glass, shattering at the slightest touch, but how much exactly did he know back then?

Undoubtedly, the old messages they sent each other brought a sense of nostalgia and warmth. It was an enjoyable time, but he wished he could just experience it one last time. It was right there in front of him. If he could only grasp those memories with his bare hands and bring it to his chest, he would never hesitate.

Gone were the times when the only thing the both of them thought about was which café to go next, which place to go for a walk and when they would see each other again. It was two years ago when the naive, callow adolescence blossomed within them. Happiness and freedom was all they had. A future together was what they longed for.

Life had different plans, unfortunately.

No one had changed him quite as much as she did. Of course he had his friends for additional moral support, but even that had a limitation. Being with her was a little different. The mere act of staying by her side was enough to bring him a gargantuan amount of comfort, safety and love — all of which were things he never received much as a child. Whenever he acknowledged her presence, it felt for a split second that he could go beyond. Push himself towards the limit. Exceed the limit. Touch the sky. Perhaps travel even further than that.

The cold, empty space next to him only added fuel to the fire. He knew it wasn’t right. He was aware that the messages were messing with his head, but of course he couldn’t control himself. Of course he couldn’t. After all, it was indeed someone who turned his life around, wasn’t it? It had always been her. His ear-to-ear smiles. His unaccustomed laughter. The euphoria that radiated from his heart. He owed it all to her.

However, she owed him nothing.

It was evident on the day she declared her love as a lie. Everything was false. Nothing they felt was true. It was as if she deleted the past just like that with a click of her fingers, the memories buried under layers of thick soil. If he were to stick his arms in and start digging, exactly how much of those precious moments could he unearth? If he were to touch her face one last time, he would definitely tell that she had moved on, wouldn’t he?

She was far ahead of him. In fact, she always had been. She was always more outspoken, outgoing and extroverted. She knew how to speak and was never afraid of expressing herself. She knew many people, mostly boys if he had to be honest. He never made a big deal out of it until that day he questioned her about the cigarettes. It wasn’t like he ever thought about smoking, neither did she.

When she spilt the beans, he was not utterly surprised. He knew it was bound to happen at some point as soon as he realized a change in her behaviour. The slight flinch she would make when he went anywhere near her, or the way she would stiffen whenever he kissed her.

It didn’t come as a shock to him either when another friend told him about her kissing his own senior. If anything, he couldn’t care less about what she did or planned to do with other boys. It was the feeling of betrayal that he just couldn’t seem to shake. The feeling of abandoned loyalty and unmade promises. When their future was so near, yet so far away.

Just walk away already, his friends would tell him countlessly. She’s not worth your time. You don’t deserve her. You’re better off without her. Nothing lasts forever. First love always hurts the most. She’s not worthy. Everything sounded the same to him at that point. It felt like he lost the ability to feel anything. He should be crying and shouting into the void, but he simply couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength or willingness to do any of the above.

All he wanted was a second try, to restart everything right from the beginning. To rewind back to when he met her in the first day of high school. When they were nothing but innocent trainees with developing abilities. He merely wanted to linger in those moments for one last time. Give him a year. A month. A week. A day. Even a minute would mean the world to him.

—— ;

About two weeks later, he found himself being greeted by a wide smile and embraced by a pair of strong arms in a tiny room. Midoriya’s small, yet cozy room never failed to lighten his mood, regardless the situation. It hadn’t changed much according to what he remembered the first time he arrived. The walls were still plastered with All Might posters. The shelves were filled with All Might figurines. Even the bedsheets haven’t altered, either.

As he examined the room, he could see that Midoriya’s computer still had a tab open, playing the video of his idol saving multiple people on loop. Things were still the same in that room, after all. It felt the slightest bit pleasant knowing that certain parts of his memory have remained untouched.

He watched as Midoriya sat on his bed, placing the bag of soda cans on the floor and shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. Then, Midoriya looked at him with a sad glint in his doe eyes. He knew what his friend called him over for, but being ready to discuss the topic was something he wasn’t sure he could do.

“Todoroki, you haven’t been talking at all recently. Tell me what’s on your mind,” Midoriya began. There was an obvious amount of patience being put into his speech. Certainly the last thing Midoriya wanted to do was to upset his already heartbroken friend.

It took him a while to respond. “She left me,” was still all he could afford to say. Anything else would have landed another layer of ice around his throbbing heart.

Midoriya sighed. “I’m not sure what happened exactly, but I think I know how you feel. I understand that she took up most of your memories and it’s hard for you to let go just like that, but-“

“But, what if I don’t want to let go? What if-“ He blurted out, only to trail off as all plausible explanations eluded him. Midoriya proceeded to pat his friend on the shoulder, watching him stare into nothingness with the blankest expression he had seen on him. In truth, he did feel something. It was betrayal. The same feeling of betrayal refused to leave and instead contained itself inside of him. It was slowly killing him, but there was only so much he could do.

Midoriya placed a few fingers under his friend’s jaw, tilting his head up to look at him. “I know you love her, but it’s over, Todoroki.” Upon hearing so, the boy simply shook his head, turning his body to face his friend before him.

“No, maybe it would help if I called one last time to ask how she was doing. Perhaps the feeling of talking to her again would bring the smallest bit of happiness,” He rambled, his voice cracking a little. Midoriya panicked at the sight of that, frantically waving his hands in front of his face.

“Are you out of your mind? No way. Please, it doesn’t matter. Put the phone away. It’s never easy to walk away, but let her go. Believe you can and you will,” Midoriya declared firmly to his delusional friend, straight in the face. It didn’t seem to do much, though. He still looked rather unfazed, the subtle sadness and hope of her return still glimmered in his heterochromatic eyes.

Instead, he exhaled tiredly. “If only I was as positive as you. I wish I never saw things negatively. I wish I never felt all this...I’m just so confused. Lost. I’m exhausted, Midoriya,” he answered, burying his face into his palms as he widened his eyes in frustration while the makeshift darkness enveloped his vision. As he began to notice the small gaps in between his fingers that allowed light from above to seep through, Midoriya spoke again.

“Truthfully, Todoroki...Nothing heals the past like time. We’re all born to love someone eventually. That someone could be anywhere in the world, searching for you. For all you know, you could be searching for them, too. If she left you like you meant nothing, then she obviously isn’t the one. Nobody can steal the love you’re born to find, so keep looking.”

Upon hearing so, the half-and-half boy finally pulled away from his palms, heaving a loud sigh as he gave his friend a curious look. Midoriya only giggled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he reached down for the soda cans with his free arm. Midoriya passed one to his friend before him, who accepted it without much thought.

“What are you implying, Midoriya?”

Midoriya smiled again, popping the soda can open with two fingers and taking a small sip of the beverage as he thought of a response. “It’s going to hurt for a bit of time, that’s all. However, you’ll find another and be just fine. Bottoms up for now, let’s forget whatever you’ve felt tonight.”

The green-haired boy raised his soda can, looking down at the boy on the floor with an empathetic expression. Todoroki knew he was no one to decline, so he elevated his soda can to meet Midoriya’s. The sound of metal against metal rang through the air.

To Midoriya, it was the beginning of his friend’s emotional recovery. To Todoroki, it certainly meant starting from scratch.

Although she tore his skyscrapers down to rubble, he was now ready to build it all back up. With a stronger foundation and a better mindset, he knew he could promise himself a new chapter, with a new beginning and a better ending, without her.

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nickelnumber91-blog · 6 years ago

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Happy Anniversary to Barbecue! Bible

Hot Stuff

By Steven Raichlen

If you happen to visit the Smithsonian Museum of American History, you’ll find an exhibit on a uniquely American institution: the backyard barbecue.

And if you happen to tour that backyard barbecue exhibit, you will see, next to James Beard’s Complete Book of Barbecue & Rotisserie Cooking (published in 1954), and the Sunset Barbecue Cook Book (1958), a book near and dear to my heart: The Barbecue! Bible, written by yours truly and published by Workman in 1998.

Which makes this the 20th anniversary for the book that got me into barbecue. (Yikes—two decades have passed already?!)

And an unexpected but much appreciated honor for a book that wasn’t supposed to be called Barbecue Bible at all.

So in case you’re wondering, here’s the backstory to the book that changed my life—and I hope changed yours.

The year was 1994. I had recently moved to Miami and written my first book for Workman Publishing, Miami Spice. I was also still writing about high flavor-low fat cooking (does anyone remember those books?) in an effort to remedy a cholesterol problem I developed during my decade as the restaurant critic for Boston Magazine.

It was early November—one of those luminescent days in Miami when the summer humidity is finally gone. If memory serves, I was sitting in an Adirondack chair, wearing a white shirt and blue shorts. Time seemed to slow down, as it does at those mysterious turning points in life. I heard a voice, and it commanded me to “follow the fire.”

Steven in Siem Reap, Cambodia, with a temple scene showing a 12th century BBQ

Well, maybe it was less of a voice than a sudden realization. That grilling is the world’s oldest and most universal cooking method. But everywhere people grill differently. My mission would be to travel the world’s barbecue trail and document how people grill in different cultures.

I dashed off a book proposal. My publisher, the late visionary Peter Workman, saw the possibilities. A short time later, I had a contract to embark on the greatest writing adventure of my life.

What started as a relatively modest book—1 year, 10 countries, 100 recipes—became an editorial monster. By the time I turned in the manuscript 4 years later, I had traveled more than 150,000 miles on 6 continents, and my modest 100 recipes grew into a 500+ recipe, 556-page behemoth.

Remarkable stops on that journey? There were so many!

In Indonesia, a babi guling (Balinese barbecued whole hog) master handed me the knife to dispatch the suckling pig that would become our dinner. (Apparently a great honor in these parts.)In India, I learned how to slap circles of dough onto the fiery sides of a tandoor (Indian clay barbecue pit) to make the world’s best grilled flatbread—buttery (Eventually, the hair on my arm grew back.)

In Istanbul, I molded chile- and onion-laced minced lamb onto flat metal skewers to make Turkey’s contribution to the world of barbecue: shish kebab.

In Argentina, I watched a grill master clean his grill grate with a brush dipped in salt water—then grill mojecas (crusty sweetbreads), morcilla (blood sausage), and tira de asado (crosscut short rib steaks) to be served with garlicky vinegary

In Mexico, I woke at dawn to unearth cochinita pebil (whole hog slathered with annatto and chiles, wrapped in banana leaves, and roasted in a fire-heated pit underground.)

Everywhere I went, I experienced time-honored grilling techniques and fascinating new ways to cook with live fire. Above all, I learned a lesson that still holds true today: that in the world of barbecue, there’s no such thing as strangers, just friends who haven’t met.

As I look back on The Barbecue! Bible, I see not only how much it changed my grilling, but the world’s.

Writing the book helped me organize a seemingly chaotic body of techniques, traditions, and superstitions into a coherent system, a “language” of barbecue, with its “vocabulary” (basic rubs, marinades, bastes, sauces, and condiments) and “grammar” (the five fundamental grilling techniques—direct grilling, indirect grilling, smoking, spit-roasting, and caveman grilling in the embers).

And if food seems to stick to the grate less than it did in our parents’ day, well, that’s because more and more Americans have adopted Raichlen’s rules for great grilling: “Keep it hot. Keep it clean. Keep it lubricated.”

Steven in Greece about to eat the strangest dish on Planet Barbecue: kokoretzi — a sheep’s innards wrapped in small intestine and grilled on a spit!

Dishes that once seemed exotic—Brazilian churrasco, Argentinean asado, Italian bistecca alla fiorentina, Indian tandoori, Japanese yakitori, Thai sate—now turn up on restaurant menus and in backyards across America.

And, yes, to the best of my knowledge, The Barbecue! Bible was the first book to chronicle beer can chicken!

The Barbecue! Bible (the exclamation mark was also Peter Workman’s idea) became an international bestseller, and I, quite inadvertently, came to specialize in a field I never quite knew existed: global grilling.

My Public Television shows, like Primal Grill and Project Smoke and Project Fire (plus my French shows in Quebec and new Steven Raichlen Grills Italy show); the barbecuebible.com website, Barbecue University school at the Broadmoor, and my Best of Barbecue grilling accessories and Project Smoke barbecue rubs and sauces—all stemmed from that epiphany I had about grilling in November, 1994. Peter Workman, and my incredible editor, Suzanne Rafer, believed in the project. And here I am today.

One of the paradoxes of being a food writer is that you’re always developing new recipes for future books, rather than returning to old favorites. So as I pause to celebrate this momentous 20th anniversary, I remember some of my favorite dishes from The Barbecue! Bible. Here are my top 10 (although that list may very well change tomorrow):

Catalan grilled tomato bread

Vietnamese basil beef rolls

Uruguayan matambre (sausage- and cheese-stuffed rolled flank steak known as the “hunger killer”)

Poc chuc (Yucatecan brined, grilled pork with pickled onions and fiery salsa)

Onion water lamb chops from Afghanistan

Mustardy chicken yassa from Senegal

Sate lilit (Indonesian fish mousse grilled on lemongrass)

Honey sesame shrimp on the barbie

Dengaku (“tofu on stilts”—Japanese grilled tofu with miso barbecue sauce)

Grilled vegetables in the style of Santa Margherita

Balinese grilled bananas with coconut caramel sauce

I’ll be firing up my grill this month to make them. I hope you will, too!

Steven battling Iron Chef Rokusbura Michiba in Tokyo

This anniversary celebration wouldn’t be complete without lifting the curtain on a few foibles and stumbling blocks we had in the process of bringing my gargantuan book into print.

The title: Peter Workman didn’t like my original title for the book—Barbacoa—the word used by the Taino Indians of Hispanola to describe a wooden grate position high over a smoky fire. (Yes, it gave us our word “barbecue,” and yes, the tradition survives in Jamaican jerk.) Instead, Peter proposed a more accessible title: The Barbecue! Bible. A million plus copies—and translations into more than a dozen languages—proved he was right.

The author photo: If you’re old enough to own the first edition of The Barbecue! Bible, you have the only photo ever taken of me without glasses. (I’m extremely nearsighted.) The photographer complained about the reflection of the lenses. Being new to publishing, I gave in. I looked ridiculous. Happily, that changed with the second printing.

The cover food photo: That photo has changed three times over the years—from grilled shrimp to even better-looking grilled shrimp to the plate of ribs on the current edition. I like the new cover the best.

Photography: Believe it or not, the original Barbecue! Bible contained no color photographs. No step-by-step technique shots. No luscious food beauty shots. These were added 10 years ago with the publication of the “new full color edition.”

It’s been an amazing ride, my friends, and in addition to thanking Workman Publishing and my incredible wife, Barbara, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for making this amazing career in live fire cooking possible. So here’s a solemn promise: I’ll keep writing books to help all of us take our barbecuing and grilling to the next level for as long as I can.

Steven Raichlen Martha’s Vineyard August 15, 2018

Barbecue! Bible, book, Miami Spice, project fire

Source: https://barbecuebible.com/2018/08/17/barbecue-bible-20th-anniversary/

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imagine-darksiders · 8 years ago

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As promised, a continuation from my last post, because for some reason it won't let me post this with it :/ Samael and Watcher. Hope you like it xoxo

Samael: “Sam?!”

“Not. One. Word.”

Your hands fly up to try and hide the enamoured grin that erupts across your face when you spot Samael on his throne.

“Do not laugh at me!” the demon roars, which would have been menacing and might have even been enough to sober you, had it not come out at around 1/20th of its usual volume or if it the one shouting hadn't been around 4 inches tall.

“I’m n- haha, ahem...I’m not laughing,” you assure the tiny demonic prince as you approach him, kneeling down on the hot stone of his throne room as you near. He doesn't look entirely convinced, if anything, he looks downright furious.

“How on Earth did you get yourself into this mess?” you ask him with a sly grin. Samael sends you a heated glare and snorts, the word he utters sending a chill down your spine.

“Lilith,” he spits.

“Can she do that?” you ask incredulously while at the same time, reaching out a single finger to poke at the demon.

Samael snaps his teeth dangerously close to your skin as the hand nears and you jerk your limb back at the threat of tiny, sharp fangs. “Obviously, she can,” he sneers.

The diminutive demon stalks to the edge of the throne and you watch as he peers over the edge, seeming to judge the distance between himself and the hard ground below.

“You want a lift?” you ask with a smile, once again reaching out cautiously to hold your hand palm up before him. The demon only growls low in his throat, tail flicking back and forth in irritation. With a huff, he leapt from the seat of the throne onto your outstretched hand and began clawing his way up your arm. Wincing as his claws dig into your skin, you watch him carefully until he settles himself heavily on your shoulder.

“My my my, how the tables have turned,” you snicker, “I’m usually the one sitting up on your shoulder.”

You feel the being beside your ear rumble as he chuckles, “I wouldn't get too used to me being up here, Lilith’s....hmmm...tantrums tend not to last for long. Doubtless this will wear off before too long,” Samael’s clawed hand grips the lobe of your ear as you begin walking to his chambers, being mindful of the powerful but minuscule prince on your shoulder.

Samael quirks a brow at your slow, deliberate steps and gives your ear a sharp tug, “You're worried I might fall?” he asks teasingly, “Have you forgotten so quickly, that I am a lord of Hell?”

You shake your head slowly, “No, just.....conscious that you might not like to be jostled, that’s all,” you explain. He makes a sound of light surprise that you barely pick up on.

Wilful consideration from somebody is a concept he’s not entirely familiar with...

Upon reaching Samael’s bedchamber, you automatically reach up to grip the demon in a gentle fist, pulling him off your shoulder and holding him out in front of your eyes on a flat palm.

“I am not a toy, Y/n,” he grumpily reminds you as he rights himself in your hand, standing and glaring into one of your curious eyes with his own mix of fascination and inquisitiveness.

You both study each other for a long time, unspeaking.

Due to his gargantuan size, Samael never really noticed the tiny flecks of additional colour that dance across your iris, nor did he really appreciate the tantalising scent of your skin that threatens to overwhelm him now, standing so close to it.

You, on the other hand, are occupied with marvelling at the surreal sensation of holding a near omnipotent being in the very palm of your hand. In this form, he looks so damn delicate, but you know not to be fooled by the illusion of smallness.. Even at this size, you had little doubt that he was the one very much in control.

After a moment, you come back to yourself and shake your head to clear it of the lingering awe. Almost at the same time, Samael also appears to recollect himself and snorts gruffly.

“I think this is something I should really sleep off,” the lilliputian prince grumbles quietly. Nodding in agreement, you scale the stone steps that lead to his large, intricate bed and set Samael down timidly on the silken sheets.

“This is humiliating,” he growls as you heave yourself up onto the bed, “Lilith will be punished for this insult.”

You roll your eyes as he plots his revenge, knowing that the ‘punishment’ would likely be nowhere near as severe as he made out it would be.

“So, why did she shrink you anyway?” you ask casually.

You're surprised when you look down at him to find that Samael is averting his eyes rather purposefully. He mumbles to himself so you settle yourself down on your stomach until your face looms behind him, casting a shadow over the little Lord. Samael turns on his heel and stomps over to you with a frustrated sigh.

“It is.....entirely possible that I called her.........magical prowess into question,” he mutters crossly.

“Yikes,” you hiss through your teeth and chuckle at the sheer humiliation on the prince’s usually malevolent face. With a sigh, you flop back onto the sheets, missing the way the impact makes Samael bounce slightly in place. He snarls half-heartedly when he realises that you're no longer paying attention to him, so he stalks over to your shirt and takes hold of the fabric with both hands, hauling himself up and onto your slowly rising and falling stomach.

You crack an eye open and glance down at Samael as he tries to walk regally up your stomach, but inevitably stumbles, huffs, then plops himself down heavily with a deep scowl. You shoot him a playful wink, earning yourself a devilish sneer.

“Guess there’s nothing to do except wait,” you mutter, letting your head fall back against the pillows. After a moment, you feel something make its way jaggedly up to your neck. You're tempted to look down at Samael, at least until you feel something nip sharply at your lower lip.

“Um, ouch?” you grumble, prompting the Prince to laugh loudly at you. Samael smirks at your pout and presses his tiny, rough hand against the even smaller wound he’d inflicted on your mouth.

“Apologies, dear,” he teases you with a sickly sweet voice, “I was curious.”

When you slept that night, Samael would deny that he studied every inch of your face, finding himself more and more enamoured by the sleeping human beneath him. You would wake in the morning to a regular sized Samael blowing warm breaths over your hair this time and running a clawed finger down your arm.

Watcher: “War! Look out, you almost squashed him!” you scold the heavy footed horseman as he sets his boot on the ground mere inches beside the tiny, writhing black wisp of smoke on the ground.

Hurriedly, you bend down and close your hands gently over it before lifting it slowly up to your face. War watches as you carefully open your hands slightly and peer through the gap between your fingers at the thing inside.

“It’s really him!” you breathe amazedly. War leans over to glare down at your hands and, indeed, there’s the Watcher, spitting and cursing, but safe in the palms of your hands. The horseman raises an eyebrow down at the dead Shadowcaster in the middle of the street. With a grunt, he beckons you to follow after him and mutters to stay close, choosing not to comment on the current state of his hitchhiker.

You trot behind the horseman obediently, all the while trying to soothe the distressed sprite in your hands. The Watcher took one look at your immense face as it suddenly appeared above him and instantly hissed, darting backwards into a solid wall of flesh.

“Hey, easy. It’s me,” you chirrup. The Watcher freezes upon the realisation that it is indeed, you.

“Y/n?” he gasps hesitantly, “What in the nine Hells happened to you!”

“What happened to you, more like!” you laugh softly, scattering wisps of him into a flurry with your breath, “You got zapped buddy; Shadowcaster,” you clarify.

Meanwhile, in front, War narrows his eyes at your frustratingly boundless compassion that extends even to a creature so wretched as the Watcher.

Opening your hands delicately, you allow the Watcher the freedom to hover an inch or so above your laid out palms and take in his new surroundings. If a creature such as him could pale, you're sure he would have in that moment.

“Oh, no....” he mutters as he cranes his slender neck upwards to the city’s skyline, already immense now seemed as though it’s even larger than the large ranges of Hell’s own mountains.

Snapping his head forward, the Watcher barks to the Horseman, “War! Fix me!” Your large companion merely twitches his head to glance over his shoulder at the Watcher and snorts. The outraged, mini Watcher sputtered with rage, but you quickly hush him, promising that you’ll figure out how to get him big again. The sprite shoots you a skeptical glare, “What makes you think that you could help me, human?” he spits, “Or are you secretly well-versed in demon magics?”

You frown at the blatant sarcasm packed into the minute voice but you fix your eyes sternly on his, “I don't know anything about magic, but I want to help,” you chide him gently. If the Watcher had a response to that, he kept it to himself, instead settling into your cupped palm and staring at you with six, round eyes. Ignoring his puzzled expression, you cast your gaze up to the sky and grimace at the sight of Earth’s moon peeking its face over the top of an old skyscraper.

“War?” you call, but he’s already thumping his way over to an underground subway. Chivalrously, the horseman cleans out the whole station of any demons and nudges you towards a maintenance room off to the side of the tracks. You enter, Watcher still in hand and War close behind.

Placing your tiny handful on a metal shelf, you start to gather some materials from around the room and dump them into a pile in the centre, War helpfully ignites the cardboard and paper and you soon bask in the warmth of a cobbled together fire. With a deep sigh, you glance over to the Watcher, blinking when you notice that he’s still staring at you.

“Something on my face?” you grin over at him, startling the poor creature and causing him to smack into a toolbox behind him. “Oh, sorry!” you frown with concern, reaching out to him, “You okay?”

The Watcher aims a dirty glare up into your eyes and he seethes, “Why are you being so kind, human? What could you possibly have to gain from this?”

Setting your hands on either side of his wispy body, you begin to close them softly around him, “I’m not trying to gain anything,” you murmur, “I’m just trying to help.....” The Watcher stiffens, but allows you to gather him up in your hands and pull him close to your chest.

On the other side of the fire, War eyes the Watcher as you slide down the wall and sit comfortably against the cold concrete. The Horseman’s cold gaze meets the sprite’s and one looks nervous while the other gives a look that clearly states, ‘I’m watching you, don't try anything.’

The Watcher is pulled from his silent staring contest with the enormous horseman by the sensation of your forefinger tracing up and down his ebony spine. “Would you stop that,” he snaps, shrugging your finger off and glowering up at you, aggravated to find that you're just smiling down at him kindly.

“Sorry,” you whisper, lowering your hands until they rest comfortably in your lap. For a long while, there’s only silence in that room, save for the crackling of flames. You’d almost fallen asleep, exhausted from the day when you hear a tiny, almost inaudible,

“Thanks.”

Blinking your eyes open, you glance over at War to see if the horseman was trying to get your attention, but he simply stood by the door with his eyes staring intently into the flame. You frown in confusion, ‘surely not......’ you think, but still, you look down at the Watcher, who, despite being free to go where he pleased, had remained folded over in you palm, smoky tendrils floating down over the edge to give the impression of sitting. He shoots a quick look up over his shoulder at you to find you staring at him.

“Yes?” he hisses, “I said it, so what?”

A small smile twitches your lips and you bring the tiny creature up to your mouth. Ignoring him as he recoils in abject horror, you ghost your lips delicately over his wispy ‘hair’, causing the Watcher to clench his fists tightly.

“You're welcome buddy,” you murmur against his cool skin. You fell asleep that night, watched over by not only your colossal horseman, but also your newfound friend who, for some reason, didn't leave your hand. Not even when you awoke hours later and asked if he wanted to be put down.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #imagine darksiders #g/t

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sansaasnark · 6 years ago

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22-32 for oc ask meme >:3c

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME ABOUT MY CHILDREN!!!! I have a lot of OC’s so I just chose the ones that had the most interesting answers otherwise I would have wrote an entire essay on my messy kids lol, ANYWAYS, thanks for giving me a chance to gush abt themmmmm

22- Dean and Val wouldn’t care about someone leaving their door open, they’re very apathetic about tiny stuff like that and very rarely get bothered about their physical privacy- their mental privacy however, is a different story. Laura is a huge princess and probably my only OC that would get irrationally irritated anytime somebody would do that. She has probably yelled at her sister a lot about leaving her door open lmao.

23- Dean’s early memories are really weird (trauma does that to you smh) and their brain switches a lot of stuff around w/o them knowing so what they may have VIVIDLY clear memories of, could be wildly different than how it is remembered in comparison to say, their big bro Alistair (Ali) who was right there with them (her at the time). For example; say there is a time that Ali’s dad comes back to visit their mom and they get into a gargantuan fight, wrecking the entire house + knocking Dean out of a chair- Dean can only remember that they moved furniture around and got ice cream afterwards, not how she got the scar on her arm or why there is a dent in the wall. This happens a lot with kids who are too overwhelmed to cope with what actually happened to them, so their brain makes up a happy alternative and convinces itself that it’s a real memory…

24- Val likes annoying people she hates, she finds it really funny to make her enemies uncomfortable. Thrush would probably do the same but she is more noble and pulls back a little more at really vulgar insults, unlike Val. I don’t like confrontation AT ALL, and avoid it like the plague when I can. I don’t like someone?? I keep it to myself, I’m not one to make waves.

Starling (Star) and Laura are both huge divas and live for drama. They love being the center of attention and have no qualms about making a public spectacle. They’re the types of people who would throw their ex’s shit out of the house while they were gone and make a bonfire in the front yard with their clothes. They’re so messy, I could NEVER.

25- Battle anthem songs!!

Dean: Shake It Out (The Weeknd Remix) by Florence and the Machine or Way Down We Go by Kaleo

Val: Blood // Water by grandson, The Heart it Beats the Thunder Rolls by The Wind and The Wave, and Hands and Faces by The Used

Star: Clubbed to Death from the Matrix Soundtrack or Your Bones by Of Monsters and Men

Crow: Swan Lake Op. 20, Act 2, No. 10, Scene (Moderato) by Tchaikovsky

Thrush: In For the Kill by La Roux and Black Widow by Susanne Sundfor

26- Laura, Val, Danny and Starling have good posture. The rest of my OC’s are absolute heathens.

27- YIKES ASDFGHJKL OKAY, WORST THINGS THEY’VE EVER DONE

Laura: Crushed someone’s spirit to the point that they had no self esteem whatsoever and never apologized. Has no sense of personal fault.

Dean: Inadvertently taken away other people’s autonomy under high stress situations when their powers become uncontrollable.

Val: Been a contract killer for 5+ years of her life.

Star: Was a puppet at his father’s personal whim for over a century.

Thrush: Stood by and watched as terrible things happened to good people and did nothing.

Crow: Didn’t try hard enough when he was alive.

28- Dean is the only conspiracy theorist. Anything that starts with ‘the government is hiding something’ they are automatically on board with. Probably a flat earther, I wouldn’t put it past them lol.

29- Dean and Alistair both internalize any bad shit they witness and never speak of it again, that’s what an alcohol problem is for, right? Val does the same thing unless it goes against her moral code, in which case 🔪🔪🔪Crow and Thrush are pretty altruistic and will speak up if they see something bad happening but Crow isn’t as eloquent or intimidating as Thrush so most of the time people dont take him v seriously even though he is a complete power house.

30- FAVORITE DRINKS

Dean: Hard Liquor CoffeeVal: Water and teaHidaya: JuiceAlistair: His boyfriend’s sweat... wait what Soda waterDanny: Milkshakes

31- Crow likes to sleep warm. Preferably up next to his warm bf.Dean likes to sleep in cool places so that they can bundle up in warm stuff. Next to Val.Val couldn’t care less, in fact she’d say something stupid like, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” okay edgelord. Next to Dean.Hidaya is most used to sleeping in the cold from being in the labs, besides that though, being hot reminds her of having a panic attack.

32- For the most part all of my OC's would be pretty apathetic towards me, they have other things on their mind lol. I’d probably relate best with Hidaya, Crow, or Danny though, they are the biggest sweethearts that I have ever invented. We are all too awkward to function and I think we’d get along well.

#asks #my oc's #thanks for asking about my garbage kids #i have new ones now!!#sorry this took so long to get to i was on a plane all day yesterday and recovering for the past 18 hours #jet lag fuckkkking murdered me #i love asks about music #i love assigning music to my oc's its the absolute best #chloe do you astral project onto your oc's why do they have so many issues?? WHATTT NOOOOOOO WHAT WOULD MAKE YOU SA Y TH A T

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comeonlight · 8 years ago

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For the writing prompt ask meme thing like three ideas came to mind. 48. “Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.” (Faith and Ines along with any of the other Militesi Weirdos), 17. “I have contemplated becoming a hermit.” (Kazusa, Emina, and Kurasame), 15. “That was a perfect example of how not to do things.” (Charon and probably Qator). Don't have to do all of them, just ideas. :)

Yaaaaasss Type-0 side characters are my weakness

Ingenius, outstanding, brilliant. No, more than brilliant. Perfect. Okay, it was a prototype, but still. It was a damn good prototype. “Now, where’s that one-eyed jerk?” Ines murmured to herself. Qator was probably busy working on important Brigadier General stuff. That wasn’t to say her own work wasn’t just as important; she just didn’t get nearly as much recognition. It didn’t matter. The fruits of her efforts were their own reward. It’d still be nice to show off, though…“How’s the progress on that mech coming?” The familiar voice caused Ines to smirk. “Oh, that? Done last night.” She turned and faced her newfound company, aiming her new invention directly at his chest. “But Colonel, check this out!” Faith stiffened. “N-Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute! When did- How…Put that down!” Ines lowered the gun she’d constructed and bit back a laugh. “Relax, it’s not loaded or anything. And I know how to handle a gun. You know that, don’t you?” Faith sighed. “Yes…I’m aware. Now, go draft some blueprints or something.” Ines adjusted her glasses. “Roger that.”

“I have contemplated becoming a hermit,” Emina said. “Isn’t that Kurasame’s line?” Kazusa asked, only half joking. “Although he’s pretty much already there…Can’t blame him.” Kurasame said nothing, handing another piece of candy to his Tonberry. “Anyway,” Emina continued. “It’s not that I don’t like people. The truth is quite the opposite. But it gets tiring, keeping up this façade and having people fawn over me all the time. Do you know how awkward it is when students confess to me?” “Yes, it’s dreadful to go through,” Kazusa mused. Emina gave him a blank stare. “Kazusa, you drug students on a regular basis and the majority of people who even know you exist actively avoid you. I don’t think you can relate much.” Kazusa raised his hands. “Sheesh, you’re the one who asked.”Emina sighed. “Sorry. Sometimes I just really want to vanish for a while. Maybe if I quit smiling and being super friendly, and took lessons from Kurasame on how to give an intimidating look…” “You’ve got it down better than I do,” Kurasame finally chimed in. “There’s few things more terrifying than a pissed off Emina.” Kazusa smirked. “You heard the man. Want to be hermit, Emina? Just channel that angry look and perfect an unapproachable resting bitch face.”

Brionac’s gargantuan arm smashed through the glass of an upper level. “Oops, my bad,” Charon said into the cockpit’s microphone with no hint of remorse in his voice. “Quit fooling around!” Charlot shouted for the fifth or sixth time that day. “Do you have any idea how much funding a project like this takes? Marshal Cid himself is-” He paused his scolding when a hand rested on his shoulder. “Let me take over,” Qator said. Charlot nodded. “Of course, Brigadier General.”Qator tapped the microphone that Charlot had just been yelling into, and then cleared his throat. “Charon. We’ve been through this.” His voice was calm, but quickly became menacing. “That was a perfect example of how not to do things. Such tomfoolery will not be tolerated here or in any other imperial facility. You will carry out your duties as an officer of the Militesi Empire’s military, and you will not disgrace the efforts and sacrifices of your fellow countrymen by treating this weapon as a toy. Do I make myself clear?”“Yikes,” Charon mumbled before speaking into the cockpit microphone once more. “Roger.”

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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Manny Machado unleashed his fury on the Angels

Saturday’s Say Hey, Baseball admires Manny Machado’s amazing performance on Friday night against the Angels.

Baseball isn't normally a game where one player can just take over and change the result based on his actions and his actions alone. It's not like basketball where the team with the best overall player on the court normally wins out, and it's not like football where having a good quarterback alone can lift you into playoff contention in the NFL. In baseball, one player doesn't normally dominate and drag their team to victory by himself. However, Manny Machado tried his very best to buck that trend with the gargantuan performance that he delivered on Friday night.

The Orioles were down 5-0 at one point against the Angels, but they continued to scratch and claw their way out of that hole for the entirety of the game, and Machado played a huge role in that comeback. He started his attack on LA's pitching staff in the third inning by turning a seven-pitch duel into a two-run dinger. His next at-bat only lasted three pitches, but the end result was the same — a home run. By that time, the O's had five runs on the board but the comeback wasn't complete as the Angels still had seven. There was still work to be done, but Machado wasn't done, either.

By the time the bottom of the ninth inning rolled around, the Angels still had their two-run lead, but it was an extremely tenuous lead and things got especially dangerous when the O's loaded the bases with just one out. Manny Machado had an opportunity to turn this into a night that Baltimore fans wouldn't forget for a long time, and he delivered. Keynan Middleton gave Machado a meaty ball right down the middle of the plate to smack, and he smacked it right into Zach Britton's glove in the bullpen. The comeback was complete, the O's had won the game, and Manny Machado had completed one of the most dominating single-game performances by a batter in recent memory.

With the way the AL Wild Card is loooking right now, every game is crucial. It's still a bit early to say whether or not this will be a major moment in the race for either team, but if Baltimore makes the playoffs, they'll have Manny Machado's otherworldly effort on a muggy night in August to thank as part of the effort to get them into October baseball again.

Lost in last night's MachadoMania is the fact that the reigning AL MVP was on the field playing for the other field. They're also in the playoff race and if they do make the postseason, Grant Brisbee believes that Trout needs to be elected MVP yet again.

Byron Buxton was a busy man on Friday night. Not only did he hit a triple, but he also hit an inside-the-park home run in extremely speedy fashion.

The Yankees and Red Sox had another entertaining ending on Friday night, as Boston rallied late to steal one from their rivals.

Aroldis Chapman hasn't looked like himself as of late, and Joel Sherman thinks that this could turn into a "pricey problem" for the Yankees.

The Dodgers pulled off a waiver trade and took Curtis Granderson off of the Mets' hands. Talk about depth!

Max Scherzer has been placed on the DL, and things may get precarious for the Nationals in their quest to finally make it to the NLCS, at least.

The Cardinals led the Pirates 11-3 during the eighth inning of last night's game. They eventually won 11-10. Yikes!

Jay Bruce probably became a fan favorite in Cleveland after his performance played a huge role in bopping the Royals.

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theadmiringbog · 7 years ago

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Three memorable points on coaching: --BE LAZY: Stop working so hard. --BE CURIOUS: Stop giving so much advice. --BE OFTEN: Stop waiting to coach. And how’s this for role reversal? I’m usually reading snippets from books to my wife. She picked this up first and is still reading—and reminding me—on what effective coaching looks like, especially the “stop giving so much advice” poke-in-the-ribs. Ouch. Stanier notes that “Harland Howard said every great country song has three chords and the truth. This book gives you seven questions and the tools to make them an everyday way to work less hard and have more impact.” The seven essential questions: --The Kickstart Question --The AWE Question --The Focus Question --The Foundation Question --The Lazy Question --The Strategic Question --The Learning Question Stanier says the best coaching question in the world is the AWE question: “And What Else?” In a four-minute drill with another board chair, I was instructed to ask four questions displayed on the seminar room screen. Stanier says “the first answer someone gives you is almost never the only answer, and it’s rarely the best answer,” so the AWE question is the perfect follow-up. --Q1: What’s the real challenge here for you? --Q2: And what else? --Q3: And what else? --Q4: So what’s the real challenge here for you? In just four minutes—it was almost magical. I stuck to the bargain (whew—very hard) and just asked questions of my board chair partner. He responded to each question—and increasingly, in response to “And what else?” he dug deeper and deeper and—BINGO!—answered his own question and solved his own challenge. Where was this book when I was pretending to coach team members, clients, my son, my grandkids, and many, many others? Yikes! I’ve underlined gems on almost every page: --Although coaching is listed as one of the six essential leadership styles in Daniel Goleman’s article, “Leadership That Gets Results” (a Harvard Business Review classic), “it was the least-used leadership style.” --“You can build a coaching habit” and “You can coach someone in ten minutes or less. And in today’s busy world, you have to be able to coach in ten minutes or less.” --“Coaching should be a daily, informal act, not an occasional, formal ‘It’s Coaching Time!’ event.” Stanier’s humor sneaks up on you! As you embark on what he calls the “coaching habit,” he suggests you start somewhere easy: “If you’re going to manage someone differently, pick someone who might be up for it and is willing to cut you some slack. Or pick someone with whom it’s all going so badly that you’ve got nothing left to lose.” ANOTHER AHA! The author says there’s a huge difference between coaching for performance—and coaching for development. “Call them forward to learn, improve and grow, rather than to just get something sorted out.” A gargantuan fan of questions—versus answers—he quotes Nancy Willard: “Answers are closed rooms; and questions are open doors that invite us in.” “CUT THE INTRO AND ASK THE QUESTION” is another shot over the bow. He notes, “No James Bond movie starts off slowly. Pow! Within 10 seconds you’re into the action, the adrenaline has jacked and the heart is beating faster”—so “cut the preliminary flim-flam” in your coaching process. In 72-point font on page 52, Stanier shouts: “If you know what question to ask, get to the point and ask it.” TAME THE ADVICE MONSTER! “We’ve all got a deeply ingrained habit of slipping into the advice-giver/expert/answer-it/solve-it/fix-it mode.” (One study revealed that doctors interrupt patients with advice within 18 seconds. Ditto, perhaps, the rest of us.) Slow down and take a breath, says Stanier. “Even though we don’t really know what the issue is, we’re quite sure we’ve got the answer they need.”

(via)

You can coach someone in ten minutes or less. And in today’s busy world, you have to be able to coach in ten minutes or less. Coaching should be a daily, informal act, not an occasional, formal “It’s Coaching Time!”

Sometimes being on the receiving end of someone with a pocketful of questions can be like a moment of Parisian driving. Questions come hurling at you left and right, there’s no time to answer any of them and you’re left feeling dazed and confused. Some call it drive-by questioning. And rather than feeling like a supportive conversation, it has the unpleasant vibe of an interrogation.

Ask one question at a time. Just one question at a time.

WHEN THIS HAPPENS… After I’ve asked a question…

INSTEAD OF… Adding another question. And then maybe another question, and then another, because after all, they’re all good questions and I’m really curious as to what their answers are…

I WILL… Ask just one question. (And then be quiet while I wait for the answer.)

The Kickstart Question: “What’s on Your Mind?”

An almost fail-safe way to start a chat that quickly turns into a real conversation is the question, “What’s on your mind?”

Coaching for performance is about addressing and fixing a specific problem or challenge. It’s putting out the fire or building up the fire or banking the fire. It’s everyday stuff, and it’s important and necessary.

Coaching for development is about turning the focus from the issue to the person dealing with the issue, the person who’s managing the fire.

This conversation is more rare and significantly more powerful. If I ask you to think back to a time when someone coached you in a way that stuck and made a difference, I’ll bet that it was a coaching-for-development conversation. The focus was on calling you forward to learn, improve and grow, rather than on just getting something sorted out.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask.

“The [insert name of thing they’re working on],” they say.

“So there are three different facets of that we could look at,” you offer. “The project side—any challenges around the actual content. The people side—any issues with team members/colleagues/other departments/bosses/customers/clients. And patterns—if there’s a way that you’re getting in your own way, and not showing up in the best possible way. Where should we start?”

It doesn’t matter which one they pick—it will be a strong start to the conversation. And when they’re done discussing that P, you can just take them to one of the other two Ps and ask, “If this was a thing, what would the challenge here be for you?”

“What’s on your mind?” is the Facebook question. Or at least, it was. And then it wasn’t for a while, as it was removed as the prompt. And then, soon after, it was the question again. I’m guessing Mark Zuckerberg and his team figured out that this question was the best they had.

If you know what question to ask, get to the point and ask it. (And if you must have a lead-in phrase, try “Out of curiosity.” It lessens the “heaviness” of any question and makes it easier to ask and answer.)

The AWE Question: “And What Else?”

The first answer someone gives you is almost never the only answer, and it’s rarely the best answer.

He then looked at the success rate of decisions that involved more choices. For instance, what would happen if you added just one more option: Should we do this? Or this? Or not?

The results were startling. Having at least one more option lowered the failure rate by almost half, down to about 30 percent.

When you use “And what else?” you’ll get more options and often better options. Better options lead to better decisions. Better decisions lead to greater success.

As a guideline, I typically ask it at least three times, and rarely more than five.

A strong “wrap it up” variation of “And what else?” is “Is there anything else?” That version of “And what else?” invites closure, while still leaving the door open for whatever else needs to be said.

Science has whittled that number down over time, so now it’s generally assumed that four is actually the ideal number at which we can chunk information. In some ways, it’s as if our unconscious brain counts like this: one, two, three, four… lots.

The Focus Question: What’s the Real Challenge Here for You?

What’s the real challenge here for you? It’s too easy for people to pontificate about the high-level or abstract challenges in a situation. The “for you” is what pins the question to the person you’re talking to. It keeps the question personal and makes the person you’re talking to wrestle with her struggle and what she needs to figure out.

Focus on the real problem, not the first problem.

... the patterns that keep things misty and vague when you’re trying to bring the challenge into focus. At Box of Crayons, we call them the Foggy-fiers, and we call the three most common ones the Proliferation of Challenges, Coaching the Ghost, and Abstractions & Generalizations.

Resist the temptation to do the work and to pick one of the many challenges as the starting point (even though, no doubt, you’ll have an opinion on which one it should be). Instead, ask something like this: “If you had to pick one of these to focus on, which one here would be the real challenge for you?”

Solution to Coaching the Ghost

Bring the focus back to the person you’re talking to. Acknowledge what’s going on, and ask the Focus Question. It will sound something like this: “I think I understand some of what’s going on with [insert name of the person or the situation]. What’s the real challenge here for you?”

Stick to Questions Starting with “What”

instead of “Why did you do that?” ask “What were you hoping for here?”

Instead of “Why did you think this was a good idea?” ask “What made you choose this course of action?”

Instead of “Why are you bothering with this?” ask “What’s important for you here?”

The Foundation Question: “What Do You Want?”

Drawing on the work of economist Manfred Max-Neef, Rosenberg says that there are nine self-explanatory universal needs.

AFFECTION

CREATION

RECREATION

FREEDOM

IDENTITY

UNDERSTANDING

PARTICIPATION

PROTECTION

SUBSISTENCE

When you ask someone, “What do you want?” listen to see if you can guess the need that likely lies behind the person’s request. For example, when someone says, “I want you to talk to the VP for me,” he might really be needing protection.

There are four primary drivers—they spell out the acronym TERA—that influence how the brain reads any situation.

T is for tribe.

The brain is asking, “Are you with me, or are you against me?” If it believes that you’re on its side, it increases the TERA Quotient. If you’re seen as the opposition, the TERA Quotient goes down.

E is for expectation.

The brain is figuring out, “Do I know the future or don’t I?” If what’s going to happen next is clear, the situation feels safe. If not, it feels dangerous.

R is for rank.

It’s a relative thing, and it depends not on your formal title but on how power is being played out in the moment. “Are you more important or less important than I am?” is the question the brain is asking, and if you’ve diminished my status, the situation feels less secure.

A is for autonomy.

Dan Pink talks about the importance of this in his excellent book Drive. “Do I get a say or don’t I?” That’s the question the brain is asking as it gauges the degree of autonomy you have in any situation. If you believe you do have a choice, then this environment is more likely to be a place of reward and therefore engagement.

Your job is to increase the TERA Quotient whenever you can. That’s good for the person you’re speaking with, and it’s good for you. Asking questions in general, and asking “What do you want?” specifically, will do that.

... from a school of therapy known as “solution-based” therapy. They have a go-to question called the miracle question. Several variations exist, but in essence it’s this: “Suppose that tonight, while you’re sleeping, a miracle happens. When you get up in the morning tomorrow, how will you know that things have suddenly got better?”

The miracle question helps people to more courageously imagine what better (and much better) really looks like.

The Drama Triangle starts by assuming that, at least some of the time, we’re playing less-than-fantastic versions of ourselves with most of the people with whom we interact. If you’ve ever found yourself playing one of the Seven Dysfunctional Dwarfs (Sulky, Moany, Shouty, Crabby, Martyr-y, Touchy and Petulant), even when you know you should know better, you get the point. When this happens, Karpman says, we’re bouncing around between three archetypal roles—Victim, Persecutor and Rescuer—each one as unhelpful and dysfunctional as the other. As you read the descriptions of each role below, do two things: bring to mind someone who’s particularly adept at each role, and bring to mind the circumstances in which you most commonly play each role.

The Lazy Question: How Can I Help?

It stops you from thinking that you know how best to help and leaping into action.

A way to soften this question, as with all questions, is to use the phrase “Out of curiosity.” What that does is shift the question from perhaps coming across as an inquisition to being a more noble inquiry. Other phrases that can have a similar softening effect on the question being asked are “Just so I know…” or “To help me understand better…” or even “To make sure that I’m clear…”

WHEN THIS HAPPENS… Someone gives you a call/drops by your cubicle/shouts out across the office/sends you a text message and asks, “How do I [insert query most likely to sucker you in]?”

INSTEAD OF… Giving her the answer…

I WILL… Say, “That’s a great question. I’ve got some ideas, which I’ll share with you. But before I do, what are your first thoughts?” And when she answers, which she will, you’ll nod your head and be engaged and interested, and when she finishes, say, “That’s terrific. What else could you do?” More nodding, more being interested. Then say, “This is all good. Is there anything else you could try here?” And then, and only then, you can add your own idea into the mix if

Of the many definitions of “strategy” that I’ve seen, I think I like Michael Porter’s best, when he said,

“The essence of strategy is choosing what not to do.”

The Strategic Question: If You’re Saying Yes to This, What Are You Saying No To?

So to ask, “Let’s be clear: What exactly are you saying Yes to?” brings the commitment out of the shadows. If you then ask, “What could being fully committed to this idea look like?” it brings things into even sharper, bolder focus. But a Yes is nothing without the No that gives it boundaries and form.

Here are the five questions:

What is our winning aspiration? Framing the choice as “winning” rules out mediocrity as an option. If you want to win, you need to know what game you’re playing and with (and against) whom.

What impact do you want to have in and on the world?

Where will we play? “Boiling the ocean” is rarely successful. Choosing a sector, geography, product, channel and customer allows you to focus your resources.

How will we win?

What’s the defendable difference that will open up the gap between you and the others? What capabilities must be in place? Not just what do you need to do, but how will it become and stay a strength? What management systems are required? It’s easy enough to measure stuff. It’s much harder to figure out what you want to measure that actually matters.

The Learning Question: “What Was Most Useful for You?”

building a habit of curiosity

#The Coaching Habit #book review

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