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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 years

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madeline miller’s ‘the song of achilles’

Achilles Lamenting the Death of Patroclus (1855) by Nikolai Ge

What I loved about The Song of Achilles: this and this and this.

My interest in classics began circa 2005, with Disney’s animated series based off of their rendition of Hercules. Fast forward to several years later, to when I stumbled across one of my grandad’s books; several of my rose-tinted childhood memories would be tainted by the knowledge that the actual Heracles had very little in common with Disney’s adaptation of him.

The historical period that I was really invested in for most of my preteen and early teenage years were the Dark Ages, and Medieval Europe in general; so my Greek mythology phase was short-lived, and my knowledge of it is… well, I know Dionysus fucked himself with a wooden dildo to fulfil a promise he made, and that he’s perhaps the only decent bloke up there on Olympus (I’d tell Zeus to go fuck himself but he’d probably go through with it), and also that Dionysus is BTS’s best song since Boy Meets Evil, and that Stray Kids did a bangin’ cover of it late last year.

In other words: vague and superficial.

But I know enough to tell you that Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles is one of the best books I’ve ever read, hands down.

The story of Achilles and Patroclus and the Trojan War is pretty common knowledge, I’ll warrant, but just in case: SPOILERS AHEAD.

Retelling a story almost everyone knows isn’t easy; you’ve got the plot down and how to get there, but you’ve got to write it in a way that doesn’t read like a middle school book report you scrapped together a night before the assignment was due (… not that I know what that’s like, haha). And Miller does an excellent job of it; her diction? Brilliant. Her prose? Incredible. Her characterizations? Completely not ever been done before.

The Song of Achilles is told in Patroclus’s first-person point of view; most of it is about his early years with Achilles; Patroclus’s banishment to Phthia, meeting Achilles, befriending Achilles, and then both of them being tutored by Chiron (a far cry from Disney’s funny little goat man). The Trojan War takes up less of the book than I thought it would, at first (which, of course, I’m infinitely grateful for- since we all know how THAT ends) (#RIP).

Which brings me to one of the biggest questions I had up to the last few chapters before the end of the book: how will the story go on after Patroclus dies, since it’s in the first person? (The first-person POV threw me off at first; it’s been a while outside of contemporary YA that I’ve read anything in that POV, and it was a bit jarring- but the further I read, I realized that it was the best option for the book; it gave the story a depth, a level of emotion you couldn’t’ve achieved in the third person.)

And call me a masochist, but Patroclus’s death and the aftermath ended up being my favorite parts of the book. I’ve read stories that have given me actual, physical pain (one of my top two Harry Potter ships is Wolfstar, go figure), but this is the first time I’ve actually read something that made me cry (despite the numerous Ao3 comments I’ve left that are variants of ‘omg I’m crying’). Like, actual, physical tears welling up in my eyes.

There’s this particular scene, in the ninth chapter, where Chiron is telling Patroclus and Achilles about Heracles, and how he, unlike Disney’s well-intentioned, bumbling himbo, goes insane and kills his family. Achilles, my sweet summer child, is quite reasonably agitated by this; how it was unfair, how Heracles’ wife and children paid for the gods’ tiff with Heracles with their own lives. And Chiron says:

“… Perhaps it is he greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

Go ahead, Miller; twist the goddamn knife. It’s not like I needed my heart, anyway.

Also, unrelated, but I find it interesting how countries that are continents apart end up having quite similar legends. My roots are from an entirely different continent than Greece, but we have a folktale quite similar to the legend of Aesclepius.

But I digress.

Character-wise: Achilles; half-mortal, hero of the Trojan war, the greatest warrior among men. And despite his demigod status, he remains so human. And this might be controversial, but… he comes off a lot more fleshed-out than Patroclus himself. Which is perhaps my sole gripe with this book.

Patroclus is… well, he exists. He’s the son his father never wanted. He kills a boy. Falls in love with Achilles. Spends a concerning amount of time describing Achilles’ feet.

Honestly, up until the chapters in Troy, he doesn’t have much of a personality. And maybe it’s because Miller wanted to remain as true to the Iliad and Odyssey, and, if my memory serves me correct, neither of them give a lot to Patroclus in the way of character development; but still, he comes off a bit- bland. Of course, towards the end, his character gets a bigger role than ‘loves Achilles’; especially seen in how he defies Achilles to spare Briseis, and then dons the armor and subsequently gets himself killed (#ApolloIsOverParty), but up till then, he’s pretty meh.

Briseis is another one of my favorite characters; it was a bit difficult for me to divorce my perception of her from Emily Hauser’s For the Most Beautiful. Her friendship with Patroclus (and, by extension, Achilles; even if he did screw her over afterwards) was perhaps the only good to come out of the war.

And then we have the obligatory: fuck Thetis and FUCK Agamemnon (thank you, Clytemnestra).

Achilles and Patroclus’ love was wonderfully written, and I love how them being queer wasn’t the central focus of the story (admittedly, the ancient Greeks were markedly more casual about homosexuality than the bible-belt world we live in today). A lot of the (non-fanfiction) queer lit I’ve read tends to make everything revolve around, “bUt I aM bOy,,, aNd I LiKe bOy,,, bUT hOW???”, and homophobia is the biggest obstacle to their relationship. And those stories are realistic and need to be told- but we need literature with more variety.

My final verdict: a work of art. I’m going to read Circe and Galatea.

#achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #madeline miller #greek poetry #iliad #homer's iliad #odysseus #homer's odyssey #odyssey #lgbt #LGBT literature #lgbt fiction #lgbtq #book review #historical fiction #greek myth #greek myth retellings

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tillman · 4 years

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i kinda rly wanna learn more about arthuriana stuff bc of ur posts but i have almost no idea where to start 🥺 do u have any recs or links?

YES ill copy and paste my usual answer under the cut real quick cus its . late and im tired . maybe tomorrow ill make a doc explaining this better actually...

sorry to mobile users fr the read more <3

i think the best two starting options involve the same strategy of “pick a knight you like the most and consume all the content you can find on them until you get bored/think of another knight and repeat” and its as simple as “do you want to start with sir gawain or do you not know who you want to start with.”

sir gawain i think is the best starting knight if you wanna go the route of reading as much as u can about one and moving on, since theres a LOT of varied content and hes just in a lot. hes important! anyways the first recommendation i have to start with is Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. its a wonderful piece of poetry about a homoerotic beheading game, getting a movie this summer! its fucking gorgeous and a really good introduction if youve never read this old of texts before. i have a few different links so you can take your pick of what you prefer :-)

heres it in the original middle english, its beautiful and if you get the beat down sounds fucking gorgeous but i understand how hard it is to get through if youve never read through it before.

lou recomends Raffels translation above all others which i kinda have to agree with. heres part one and heres part two of that.

and the other link i have directly on hand atm is tolkiens translation which ive skimmed before and it seems really solid.

if you dont want to start with a short and tender christmas party, consider another text most arthuriana fans will consider a must read. its a bit more intimidating than sgatgks poetry but like. hey. its Sir Malory’s Le Morte D’arthur.

this is more on the level of most of the story things youll find for arthuriana and a good starting point to get an overview of a lot of major plot points and characters that show up time and time again in the legends, all of the major knights are covered through malory’s own spin on them and he tries to cover a lot of older tales in his weird fanfiction.

the text can be weird ESPECIALLY if you arent used to middle english since he …. used some weird as fuck words? even for the time. but thats malory.

I highly recommend, if you can get a copy, Kieth Baines modern retelling of Le Morte, it rewords things to make more sense to those used to a more modern prose and while it takes out some of the nuance of some scenes, its way easier to pick up and read. were working on a full scan of it atm actually but the book of arthur is up in our shared drive :-) ill shove a link down here for u

heres the first bit of baines rendition. honestly if u can find a copy for cheap grab it is a fun time

heres the pdf i use for the full text, warning for how weird its structured? its long paragraphs with no quotes around text but if you have no problems with that go for it. heres book one and heres book two.

from there, theres a ton of different options you can follow, but again i think the least overwhelming way to go about it is pick a knight you like and read whatever seems fun that has them in it !

best choices include gawain again, the marriage of sir gawain and dame ragnelle is fun, l’atre perilleux is so fucking wild and just a fun time, the turke and sir gawain has gawain playing tennis? like what more do you need

lancelot has a decent collection of old stories including the entire vulgate cycle (my favorite piece of arthurian lit, im working on scanning the entire english translation ;-)), lancelot and the hart with the white foot IS SO FUCKING GOOD and i have scans of most of the lancelot compilation works, if you have like 10 bucks to spare, Lancelot and the lord of the distant isles is on amazon for cheap and retells the book of galehaut section of the vulgate and its . so good. please care about galehaut.

tristan as wild as he is is also a really good choice for how popular the Tristan and Isolde legend was in europe. you can find a ton of versions of it, though i prefer the german one by gottfried von strassburg, another amazing one is the povest o’tryschane which is a slavic take on the legend that weirdly throws sections of the vulgate and some italian romances in? i adore it either way.

uhmmm some more off the cuff recommendations include Troyes four romances and also Perceval. as much as i bully troyes knight of the cart, knight of the lion, and knight of the grail are some of my favorite words. skip cliges if youre doing that though it sucks so bad. troyes hated his version of tristan and isolde so much he wrote cliges. that alone should keep you from it. eric and enide is ok but eric sucks SO HARD. i hate that bitch.

more modern but tennysons Idylls of the king? fucking stellar. i recently got a copy and its really gorgeous poetry. kinda like le morte in having a good overview of key events in the texts and some notable characters so this works as a good jumping off point

and finally one i cant really speak on much due to my preference of the romances, but i have many good friends who say the welsh sources are REALLY REALLY good and worth checking out :-) the mabinogion mainly, but a lot of the scattered poetry is really fun!

for finding pdfs for some of the ones i just named, u can check out my doc of whatever sources i have on hand. im missing quiet a few but i got most of the ones i recommend at least io3hewt. heres the link to that. ill post a link to the vulgate when i can finish up scanning the prose merlin !

anyways mwah feel free to msg me if u have questions im insane and like researching this stuff for hours and am willing to find out any information

#exmeowstic

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 4 years

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Tell me all about :) Nik going insane :)

Fun, fun fun! The progression is here in Bad Touch, Bad Sound.

If Nik wasn’t wearing the cuffs, he could survive in the workshop for much, much, longer than he did. As in, maybe 75-100 years. (Nik is not immortal, but he naturally lives for an incredibly long time.) There’s still magic underground, but he’s too weak to access it as easily.

This cuffs are far, far too restrictive to keep him healthy. It’s mentioned other places, but he gets paler/duller more and more as time goes on. The vivarium helps, but he’s still declining. He gets weaker everyday, but the Sorcerer doesn’t notice/doesn’t really care.

The madness is a combination of practically solitary confinement and a kind of starvation. Nik needs stimulation (like everyone.) He’s spent his entire life studying things, so it’s whiplash to go from spending every spare second trying to digest new information to not getting any new input... at all.

Not to mention sometimes he’s too weak to even move away from the posts he was just tied to and tortured. Lying between them every day definitely does something to your head. He literally can’t get out of the headspace of he’s going to hurt me pain pain pain please stop.

And, I’m not gonna lie, there’s a little bit of like, Flowy’s backstory from Undertale in there somewhere. (don’t @ me lol). Given enough time and lack of input, you do everything. Everything. Even the things you told yourself you would never do.

If it hadn’t affected the magic, the Sorcerer would have 100% left him down there.

I really like the prose right at the end, which is Madness from his broken perspective. Everything has devolved to “touch” and “sound”. However, when he gets put outside and has the cuffs removed, he takes in enough magic to heal himself and his sentence structure goes back to normal.

(Also yes it is cannon that Nik regularly falls off the platforms and had to learn the spell to save himself very, very, early. He’s lost a book or two off it and was v upset. [he got it back but still. Kia thought it was very funny to watch him walk off the edge, nose in a book.])

#nik #thanks!

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sagaballero · 5 years

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FANFICTION world is a truly debrided, uncensored promised land, bastion of freedom and free-style writing. In this baroque puzzle, discovering a variety of gifted (and selfless) writers, that’s an utter comfort.

Ambivalent, Luxurious, Against the current, Organic, Gutsy, Dark, Gray, Transcendent, Outrageous, Extravagant... In the case of REYLOFICs the more I read the more I am tempted to explore the deep-end of this horn of plenty. But, on the journey, say nice things about those dream-machine storytellers is clearly a sane propaganda. Prodigal author without blinking, innate crack, inscrutable wizard or soft/dark underbelly... Whoever they might be, all credit to them for doing what they are doing and doing it so well. @5-cents Less is more. Able to write a play, a screenplay, got an eye for the (implied) obvious so as to preserve what counts. Sense of slangy imagery and naked poetry, science of dialogue, syncopated path and (film) cutting, she also has a thoughtful and mature love for the characters without give in to ease. Richer than rich, the whole thing smells like a melancholic lost perfume BUT not only... Classic and atypical at once because Style is firmly timeless.

Fever of predilection and indivisible pairing:

Hide and Seek - E

Because Tennessee Williams, Sweaty Southern Gothic, Ben Solo is a dark horse (with a riding crop), Rey ain’t just a “Baby Doll”, Volcano Snoke deserves an Oscar (!), Awakening is not a bed of roses, Because fooling around with Tennessee Williams is highly inflammable and SHE’s the man

Candyleg - E

Pulpfic, Black Comedy, Roman noir, Cinematic at all points, Psyche and Eros between the lines, Outlaws everywhere, Supporting roles are being treated like royalty, Ren Solo is a case study and an authentic black horse, this story has many lives as huge zebra stripes, Subliminal Scorsese and Freud at the corner

FULL WORK

@lilia-ula The Holy Grail of sin. On the edge of lyricism, sophistication and decadence. If you start, you’ll be under her writing-perfusion/persuasion. This combo of Opium (or put your own fetish dish here) and Biggerthanlife-words should be felt and experienced. Beware to indelible effects! The guiltiest dose is often the best. 99% dubious Kylo Ren and an artful level of carnality that is second to none.

First meet, Heart stroke in unison:

The Autumnal Hunt of Alderaan - E

Medieval hunt haloed in black and gold (and deep carmine). Ritualistic, animalistic, shimmering fic like an ideal full circle (of sex practice). Need a teacher?

This Way Lies Ruin - E

Because possessive-obsessive, Death and the maiden, hunter and prey, Kylo Ren always has a plan, Sith-style courtship, Epic smut, Iconic chapters, A surprise awaits Rey! (all the time too)

FULL WORK @missbliss12 Multi-talent. Multi-faceted in the likeness of her stories & comics. Irreverent, Witty, Hilarious. Radiant and enchanted-disenchanted, all this together. Impressive fluency and staggering poetic prose at work. Not a wasted word! High wire act.

A dream bubble apart:

The Good Fortune of the Skywalker Family - Teen and Up Audiences *still in progress

To be prescribed durably. Unclassifiable modern tale. Healing and sanely insane. Your line of fortune! When you no longer believe in anything but you still want to believe (and laugh), the Skywalker-Organa-Solo are all here to tell you: “Always look on the bright side of life.”

FULL WORK

@persimonne Positively contagious! Bold, Quirky, Adventurous, Whimsical, Cheeky. This not shy-writer has bountiful ideas and a very skillful pen. Her stories are unexpected and unconventional many times, not forgetting of being peppered with precious finds. Exquisitely funny too!

Latest unorthodox crush:

Just us now - E

Siblings + Starkiller + Snow + Chase + The world crumbling. The equation is simple, blatant, the story is unstoppable and made with love. In the best of taste & in the best spirit

A Victorian Sci-Fi story:

The Hand that feed - E *still in progress

Enveloping, mysteriously intoxicating and deeply appealing. This monster romance has a massive charm on its own and an imaginative freshness. HER daring amorous temperament as much as HIS spellbinding power will not spare the common decency!

FULL WORK

@raevfitta (aka slinden) Fervent praises for this unquestionable storyteller! Prowess of writing, acuteness of senses and judgement, vigilant in choosing the slightest word, TRUTHFULNESS of facts and reactions... That’s why her insights and choices are relevant, deepened (and may become your persistent object of reflection). Addictive style, addictive work. Like a magnet! Trust and listen her discerning pen.

From the heart and the deep:

Storm King - E *still in progress

“Two children are rescued from a kidnapper and murderer after years of torture and abuse.”

“This is a modern-day AU that will follow Ben and Rey as they grow up and deal with what happened, as well as their feelings for one another and how they transform over time.”

A post-traumatic story closely sutured with sharpness. The psychological approach is non-stop remarkable and her attention to characters, inestimable. They comes out of the blackness by carrying unfathomable feelings and wounds with them. Allusive or (most of the time) without filter, this journey into/out of the depths is utterly immersive and empathetic from the outset. Incompressible (painful) beauty. K.for King.

The time of a huis clos:

In Between Memories - E

“Two strangers awaken on a strange world with no memories of who they are or where they come from.”

This perspective of confinement -inside and out- is the promise of an exploration from every angle. A canonverse fic that reads like a rediscovery and where the characters are glaring truth. In this isolated place, filled with echoes and crucial daily deeds, nothing is trivial, everything is gripping, closest to the details. Subtle, hand-stitched work, fascinating to watch! With duality and LUMINOUS dead time

FULL WORK

IN CASE !DON’T FORGET TO CHECK THE TAGS! I’m just a free electron-reader not always aware of all the safeguards.

Also, loving word to these authors whose fics have spurred my greedy reading from the very start (my recollection being a maelstrom, it is merely a sampling).

World Without End by diasterisms @kylorenvevo

Go I know not whither and fetch I know not what by @voicedimplosives

Ashes in our Wake by @aionimica

The Soiled Doves by @fernybranca

Interstellar Transmissions by @ricca-raccoon & LovelyThings @little-scribblers-heart

Our Sentimental Scars by @ricca-raccoon

Whom Hades Seized by @nightsofreylo

Inspiration is Life!

TO BE Continued

#se faire plaisir #propaganda #writers #dream list #fan fiction #reylo fic #madewithlove

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shinneth · 5 years

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6, 1, 7, 5 and 10 for the fic writer meme!

OKAY. Finally got free from the distractions. Let’s see how well I can answer these.

6. Share one of your weaknesses

Oh, I have a good amount of those. I would say my tl;dr curse (I don’t think I’ve EVER written a fic below four-figures, and very rarely does it end up 5k or lower), but I know there’s many out there who’d tell me that’s definitely a strength and that they’d love to be able to churn out six-figure epics in their sleep like I do. So let’s go with a more objective weakness.

I have the redundancy curse. I have this really, really really really really really really really bad habit of somehow reiterating a statement twice within the same sentence. Or at the very least, my verbiage will get repeated more times than it should within the same sentence (enough to the point where the sentence sounds very awkward when you read it out loud). This almost always happens because I’ll establish something at the beginning of my sentence, somehow forget about it midway through, and think I need to add it to the end.

I can’t tell you how many times I fall into that trap. Only through rereading my progress to get back into the groove to continue a chapter is when I’ll really have an opportunity to catch these slip-ups. Since I’ve never used betas and I’m pretty much fine finishing everything in one draft and all that. It’s astounding how many of these errors I’ll catch, really. And despite that, a few will always end up slipping through in the final product anyway!

It’s a very annoying quirk that I’d love to fix, but again, it almost always happens right under my nose. No matter how conscious I try to be about this sort of thing, it’ll pop up when I least expect it. So really, all I can do is just try and catch as many as I can after I’ve written my stuff down, but before I finalize my piece.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

I think the name of the game here is Adaptation Expansion. I focus on a character (or a small group of characters) that I feel

A) Didn’t get as much canon development as they deserved

B) Might have gotten a decently good amount of focus, but I’m seeing many unsolved mysteries/curiosities around said character(s) and many possible routes to explore any headcanons that are raging inside of me.

Or the headcanon itself is just really nagging at me, so I make a whole story dedicated to it.

In your typical Shin fic, the more Shin likes you, the more you should be afraid. Outside of having a wildly creative sadistic streak, my best ideas are usually best suited to my favorite characters, and I happen to be very big on the Earn Your Happy Ending trope. Certain series I feel kind of gave their characters a good conclusion a little too easily, and so I’ve made it my life’s mission to erase any doubt in my readers’ minds about whether or not the characters truly paid their dues to get their reward at the end.

So of course, you add that with the sadism, and that means you’re very likely to get a fic that at least somewhat leans on the dramatic end. I think the vast majority of my Fanfiction.net stories are listed under “Drama”, now that I think about it. But really, drama’s what you go with when you wanna raise the stakes to crazy-high levels. It won’t be melodramatic 100% of the time, nor will it be grimdark or consummately edgy; I do make a point to add some witty humor and even fluff if it’s appropriate. But Shin fics are all about letting you see the kind of hell certain characters could be going through in canon and thankfully aren’t - yet you’re also seeing those same characters achieve a level of greatness canon would have never permitted because they put their all into reaching their goal.

That’s about the gist of it: trying to outdo canon at its own game, giving justice I feel my favorites are due, but only after I put them through the seven circles of hell.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hm, okay. When it comes to pride, I’m typically very reserved in that regard. However, I was very proud of how This is Who I Am Chapter 5 turned out. I had an idea well before writing it about how I wanted to do a twist on the Mirror Match trope with Steven and Peridot - basically, forcing their light sides to fight off the dark sides of each other, rather than themselves. The more accurate terminology for what I actually pulled off was an inversion of Opponent Switch.

I was very happy how I managed to execute this plot, since so much of it was rigged in the dark sides’ favor and almost insured that only Steven or Peridot would come out of this alive; not both. When it came to Light Steven meeting Dark Peridot, I finally had the opportunity to properly write for Pre-Series Peridot, who I established earlier was a bit of an opportunistic sociopath. I was eager for the chance to make my version of Socio-Peri a legit unsettling psychopath and boy did I revel in it. So, without further ado:

Steven desperately tried to find any trace of hope remaining in this situation. "E-Even if you and him are just the worst things about us made into people, like you said, you are still part of Peridot, 5XG! You're linked, me and the other Steven are linked… and you two shouldn't want to shatter your loved ones, either!"

5XG found herself legitimately enjoying this; savoring Steven's agony and dwindling optimism. It had been far too long since she was able to relish in the pain of another; especially when it resulted in her getting rewarded for it.

"If you're attempting to argue that we don't have a single iota of contempt for one another, I suggest you spare us any more of your unacceptable stupidity by jumping off this platform and descend into the abyss where you belong," she said in a sharp tone. "You'll recall I absolutely despised you for quite some time before my weaker self got the better of me. Past-tense or not, it is a fact you cannot deny. Therefore, it is part of me. Consider it as valid as the fact that, regardless of tense and however I changed over time, I am and always will be a murderer."

"NO!"

Steven was completely shaken up, now driven to tears and cowering away from the Peridot who was his adversary long before becoming his soulmate.

"Please, don't!" he urged. "I've forgiven her already! I-I never hated her for–"

"You hate murderers," 5XG stated in a calm, neutral, but very firm tone that was sharp enough to cut Steven off. "Anyone who takes the life of another, you hate on principle. The cause or circumstance is of no concern to you and never has been."

Steven swore his blood ran freezing cold for a moment after taking in those words. He was stunned to the point of being unable to rebuke any of this.

"The Bismuth told me how events played out when you first met her," 5XG added, readily rubbing salt into the wound. "After knowing by this point how the Diamond Authority were responsible for committing multiple acts of global genocide, how this very planet was on that list, and were prone to shattering members of their own court on a misdemeanor or even on a whim. You were aware of all of this."

Steven squinted his eyes, trying his best to shut away any more tears. He tried to turn away from 5XG; his entire body was shivering while his hands balled up into fists. "P-Please, stop…"

"Yet you admonished the Bismuth for daring to create weapons made for wiping out an enemy with lethal force; legitimate ways to justifiably defend yourself against an enemy you know would not hesitate to take your life if they had an opening. You stood there, and you actually labeled her as one who is completely indistinguishable from White, Blue, or Yellow Diamond," 5XG continued; of course she wouldn't honor his request. "A loyal ally of your maternal unit whose focus was always on doing her best to defend her friends and loved ones, who only fought when forced to by the Homeworld gems… to her face, you belittled her convictions and you said there was no difference between her and the maniacal, genocidal dictators that you yourself were defending against along with your loved ones – just as the Bismuth herself. I honestly don't blame her for trying to kill you that day. You should have died."

5. Share one of your strengths.

Phew... this one’s a little awkward for me. I know one thing I’m objectively good at is writing insanely long shit that is at least good enough to compel people to lose sleep or pull all-nighters as they strive to finish it. I can at least safely say that because nearly every goddamn reviewer I’ve ever had has gone out of their way to mention this. Even if they don’t review, if I ever have a chance to talk to them personally, they’re normally gonna let me know they sacrificed many hours of sleep because of me :P

But really, I’m consistently praised for expanding on characters or concepts that canon either could have touched on more or barely touched at all. Some people have gained newfound appreciation for characters they didn’t care about or even hated because of my portrayals, and that’s pretty damn empowering to hear. I’ll often get remarks along the lines of me taking a character and “really making them my own” - in a positive way. Sometimes I have plot twists that are complete and utter batshit on paper, but then I’ll get commended for making it completely believable to the point where readers tell me they wish it was actually canon.

So, that’s enough of a strength, I would say. I can reach really far and still make an AU story sound like it could have easily fit in canon even if my ideas are ones the staff won’t touch with a 10-mile pole.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

rsilgjdgkljdgsjgahhahhhh, that’s not as easy a question as you might think! Every story has given me a hurdle or two.

I think by default, I’m gonna say it’s Peri-dise: The Capitalist Anarchy. Because while I put my own spin on it and added a lot of things to make a proper story out of it, Peridot’s little Citystate session was almost exactly to the letter like a certain one by GrayStillPlays. So a lot of the heavy lifting was already done for me in that regard. Still made sure to add plenty to it just to ensure it wasn’t SOLELY just a retelling of that video with some name changes.

And that takes care of my first big ask! Hopefully those were satisfactory answers. I’ll... TRY and get to another before I pass out. Really wasn’t fair of CN to drop this leak on the same day I’d have to contend with 3 hours of Monday Night RAW...

#answered asks #nobynaga #meme #fanfiction #writing

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scribir · 6 years

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Self Care for NSFW Artists - A Letter to Myself

As the title suggests, I’m writing this mostly for myself hence the term nsfw, but anyone can use this I suppose. It’s just some real life tips that I’ve learned through experience and wanted to write down. Maybe it can help someone.

Let’s go...

1- Get up! It is important to not be by your desk hunched over writing or drawing for extended periods of time. Not only is it unhealthy to be sedentary for that long, it is important for the mind that you walk away from your work and maybe get a little exercise by taking a walk or going for something to eat or drink.

2- Feed and hydrate yo’ body! This point ties in with the first as artists (whether you write, craft or draw) tend to restrict themselves to their work for hours. Personally, I am very guilty of this as I can sit at my desk working for up to 18 (or more) hours, moving only when it’s absolutely necessary, only to return promptly to continue working. Food and water is forgotten and at times, many hours later, I’d realize that I didn’t even have breakfast only when a gnawing hunger threatens to kill me or my heart is racing because it was a hot day and I didn’t drink any water.

3- Eat a balanced diet! So I did say that you should feed and hydrate your body, but I know you *points dramatically* you’ll choose the fastest option which most likely would be fast food for quick calories. But remember!!! Man cannot live by fast food and NSFW Art alone! You need calories from a range of diverse foods, including meat / meat substitute protein, vegetables and some fat and fiber.

Take a multivitamin too if you’re into that. Drink clean fresh water. Eat an assortment of fruits and vegetables everyday (local so it would be cheaper). Prepare your own meals to save money and give yourself healthier options. And if you don’t have the time to prepare meals everyday, do the preparation in advance on a day when you can spare some extra time. What I do is buy sandwich bags and prepare my breakfast, depending on what it is, in advance for the entire week or month. Lunches too I make in advance.

When you make your own meals, you know exactly what’s going into your body and can avoid all the nasties (processed stuff and artificial flavorings) that can be hiding in bought meals. But if you know a local company that makes packaged foods that are healthy, then go right ahead!

Remember that eating a balanced diet that includes a sufficient amount of pesticide-free fruits and vegetables is important to keep your body strong and healthy enough so that you can keep making content.

4- Wear your damn eyeglasses (if you use those)! Personally I suck at this *puts on glasses quickly then continues to type* I would be at the computer writing / drawing for hours and remember only when my eyes start hurting :/ Don’t do that.

5- Clean your damn glasses!! Another thing I’m very guilty of. Eye glasses tend to pick up all sorts of bacteria / other microbes when you rest them down or even by simply touching them. Then you put them on your face. See what I’m talking about?? Acne party.

6- Practise Self care / Have a Self-care Ritual! Eh, so this is something I believe that a lot of people fail at. Move away from the computer / desk and go wash your face, brush + floss your teeth! Take a bath / shower daily. Try to also exfoliate your face and body routinely. Shave / trim too if you’re into that, wash your hair when it’s dirty, moisturize it and keep it up and away from your face while you’re working. This not only makes working on your projects easier but helps prevent acne from dirty hair and keeps your scalp healthy.

If you can, (these tips are for whatever your gender id is), don’t go to sleep without a night cream that’s suitable for your skin type. Wear sunscreen. Keep your hair wrapped with a silk / satin scarf whenever you lie down to avoid split ends, dryness and breakage, wash your pillowcases regularly and use a silk / satin tie when putting your hair up. Also, get a routine trim to manage split ends and hair length. Oh and most importantly, use moisturizers, shower products and treatments FOR YOUR SKIN TYPE. You won’t believe the difference that makes.

Self care also involves mental health and that’s very critical for artists and everyone tbh. Remember to follow any protocol given to you by your healthcare provider and not to neglect it because you were busy cREatiNG ConTEnt *I’m looking at you* Get enough sleep, eat healthy, rest whenever necessary and try to include some meditation and light exercise in the form of yoga / walking/ stretching / pilates. All this is good for the mind. I can go on and on about self care but let’s stop here please.

7- Clean Your Room! Meh. I hate this one the most because I hate folding laundry, especially when I want to do something creative, but sometimes you just need to stop working and do it. Get up and do your chores. Doing them regularly, means that your general environment where you work will always be healthy for your mind, body and spirit and will be conducive to you formulating plots for your art and writing projects! Please leave the vision of the artist (this includes writers) in a dark, dusty room piled high with books, dirty + clean unsorted laundry behind T_T

8- Socialize! EHHHHH....NANI?! Ugh I hate this, but socializing is important for your physical and mental health. I’m an introvert by nature (shoutout to my fellow introverts) and sometimes go to extreme lengths to avoid people but socializing doesn’t mean that you have to go to a big party (an introvert’s nightmare) but simply remembering to respond to your social messages, calling a friend or even taking your mom and or dad out / going to visit them can work.

I hate to admit it but human connection is important (unless you’re a hermit on a mountain or a misanthrope). And look at it this way...interacting with real people is important for your craft! You can read books, look at videos / tutorials to learn about human interaction, but nothing replaces the story a friend would tell you about their day while drunk at 2am or the hot date they had last night, a genuine smile from a loved one, a quirky laugh or the natural movement of people who are unaware that they’re being observed - all things that can help to spark ideas that you can use for the characters in your writing and art. By hanging out with real people and seeing how they move and talk, you tend to create more genuine, believable characters that the people who use your content can identify with.

I should say too that you don’t have to interact with people directly all the time but you can just sit in a coffee shop, walk around the city, sit in the library or travel on the bus (or other public transportation). Just listen and watch and you will be privy to all sorts of gems from real people with real lives, victories and problems that can be used for character study.

9- DON’T Take Yourself Too Seriously! / Stop doubting your talent! Okay, so this one is a work in progress for a lot of people. Feelings of insecurity when it comes to your craft can attack at anytime. You’re steadily progressing but then you look at other people’s work and think that you’re absolute crap. You think their prose and exposition is great, that their art / writing style is awesome and that you’d never be as good as they are within your lifetime because you don’t have as many kudos, favorites, bookmarks or likes / reblogs as they do.

I have one piece of advice for this problem and that’s to MIND YO’ DAMN BUSINESS. This may sound harsh but it’s critical for survival in the creative world. When you’re busy feeling shitty and insecure about someone else’s work, they’re busy practising hard and getting better while you’re busy hampering your own progress. Look at their work, admire it, send that fellow artist a like / comment then give a reblog and let awesome work of art MOTIVATE you to keep working hard on your craft. You can only get better through practice and and you’re only wasting time by doubting yourself / feeling insecure / feeling jealous because of other’s progress.

I should also say that you may see someone’s wonderful writing or art but you don’t know how many hours and effort they may be putting into their craft. Talent is a wonderful thing to have, but it is a tool that needs to be sharpened every single day. A lot of people don’t like to admit it, but getting to expert level with anything takes an insane amount of practice. When you’re sleeping, you have no idea what those talented people are doing in order to get better. You don’t see the moments where they’re falling asleep on themselves while they’re writing / drawing, you don’t see the amount of horrible drafts they churned out before they got “good” and you have no idea that they too feel like they still need to improve as they continue to work hard.

So be grateful for all the kudos, likes, reblogs or favorites you get but don’t let that define you. Keep moving forward. Keep grinding. I believe in you.

10- Make time for Reflection! This may seem biased (because...introvert...), but time spent alone is important. Sure, you spend a lot of time alone writing, drawing, creating, but how much of that time is truly alone and without you doing work?? I personally believe that sometimes one needs to just go off to a quiet place to just think. Thinking about life, sorting the past, the present and the future helps to condition and exercise the mind. And a healthy mind makes for a good, capable artist that doesn’t become consumed and destroyed by their craft.

In this respect, I should also say that having Affirmations and doing Meditation is very important. Personally, I have a pinterest board that I use for that purpose and also a book with meditative quotes, passages etc that I try to read every morning.

11- Make time for Recreation: Whether it is watching your favorite movie, playing a game, watching anime, reading a book or comic, playing a board game or hanging out with friends, make sure to schedule recreational activities that take you away from your desk and work these into your routine. This, like Reflection, will help to keep your mind conditioned and also get you out of artist’s block. It also helps to generate ideas since personally I find that a good movie, action scene or well-crafted plot sends my mind into overdrive and I end up going back to write lol.

12- Organization! Having things organized, whether irl or just your WIPs (through journaling, properly saving / titling files etc) will keep you sane and save time. Believe me!

13 - Support Network! This is self explanatory but having at least one person who is genuine about liking your work and who is like your personal cheerleader is critical. Also, being your own cheer team is important! Don’t depend too heavily on others; love yourself and your work!

14 - Negative Environments: I can go on an on about this as well, but yeah...being in a toxic situation whether it is at home, school, the workplace, a relationship or even one of your own creation is very very bad for your mental health and if it’s bad for your mental health it is bad for your art. Personally, negative situations help push me forward with my writing as I create a lot of vent stuff as a result but over time it is not healthy. It can mess with your head.

Do whatever you can to get out of your situation or if you can’t, then lay the foundations (saving money etc) to get out eventually. And while you’re unable to get out, remember to practise all the tips I mentioned before. Also, talk to a professional or even someone you can trust.

I think I’ll stop here as this post is getting quite long ^^; Anyways, I hope that my blabbering has managed to help someone as I was somehow unconsciously motivated to write and post this. If anyone wants to add anything, please do!

#writer positivity #writer problems #daily reminder #important.#MY POSTTT

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turnertimeline · 7 years

Text

Self Conscious

Collection: Tim and Annie

Year: 1967

Characters: Annie Thompson, Timothy Turner

Content Warnings: Discussion of negative body image, body shaming, weight talk

Rating: T

Style: Prose

Summary: After Danny’s birth, some of the things Kenneth - and her mother - said about her body come back to haunt Annie. Annie struggles with the way her body has changed.

Kenneth used to comment on her body make her feel bad about not having a flat stomach, and her Mother too. After the baby she has even more of a tummy, along with stretch marks and hyper-pigmentation.

Annie had felt self conscious about her body to start with… and then she started dating Tim. She gets so anxious about him touching her stomach in particular. Whatever muscle tone she had is gone, she’s squishier than she was before, as her Mother’s friends used to sneer.

It actually makes her feel a little sick. He kisses her stomach and she tells him to go away.

Tim is so worried and confused. He sits up on the edge of the bed. “I - okay. Do you - did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t even kiss her skin, he’s been lying with his head in her lap and kissed over her pyjamas on impulse.

She didn’t have a problem with it when she was pregnant, and it was the easiest part of her he could reach from his position.

Annie shifts uncomfortably. “Not wrong? Just uncomfortable with that.”

“Oh,” Tim says, expression clearing a little, even though he still looks a little worried. “Um - having my head down there, or the kiss, or…?”

Annie curls up a little, her arms going around her middle.

“I feel gross….?” she shrugs her shoulders a bit.

Tim frowns even more. “Like… sick? You’re not in pain, are you?”

Wondering if she’d developed a hernia or something. It can happen sometimes

She shakes her head.

“I saw myself sideways in a mirror…..Daniel is more than six months old, I should have lost the weight already.”

Tim opens his mouth to respond and then closes it again. He doesn’t even know where to start with that.

“I - What. No. You *shouldn’t have* done anything at all other than recover and enjoy time with your baby.”

Annie looks at him and he can see her walls being placed. “That’s sweet of you to say Tim. But I need lose the weight. Get my body back.”

Her tone tells him she doesn’t want to keep talking about it.

He wants to argue with her, but will respect when she’s telling him she’s done talking about something.

"Do you want me to take the spare room tonight?” He asks her instead. Sometimes she does, when she needs space.

Annie nods and ducks her head.

Tim smiles a little and pats her ankle once before getting up .“Of course. Yell if you need anything.”

He pulls on his dressing gown and slippers to go next door. “See you in the morning.”

“I love you.”. Her voice is quiet

“I love you too. So much.”

He gives her a dorky little wave and slips out of the bedroom. He always hopes asking him to sleep in the guest room isn’t a Big Thing. He doesn’t want to seem upset. He’s not mad. He just wants to give her space if she needs it. It doesn’t have to be some big drama. And he’s adamant that it’s never done in a fight. There have been nights when she needed space initially but ends up waking Tim up when she slips into the spare bed with him.

It’s a few days until her body image issues come up again. She’s rushing around looking for a blouse that she swore was in the closet. So she’s in just her jeans and a bra.

Tim wanders into the bedroom doing up his tie. “Are you sure its not in the laundry bag still? Remember Danny spit up while you brought it in to be put away?”

He stops short, seeing her half undressed does things to his insides.

He doesn’t mean to look but he really can’t help it.

Annie goes pale when sue realizes he’s looking at her and grabs a tshirt to pull on quickly.

Tim frowns and reaches out to take her hand, but let’s his drop when she turns away from him with a short “I’ll go look.”

He stands still when she just brushes past time out of the room. He feels terrible.

They don’t get the chance to talk until later that night. He’s been mulling it over all day, all through his classes and tutorial.

She’s cleaning up the already tidy living room when he snags her hand and pulls her down to the couch with him.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable this morning.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Annie huffs a little and wraps her arms around her middle. Looking a little like she might pick a fight.

“I know, I should have kept my gaze down. I wasn’t thinking. It’s just….you’re gorgeous. I got distracted.” he tries to give her little grin.

Annie makes an upset, angry noise. “Don’t tease. Don’t - lie to me.”

Tim looks at her startled. “ I’m not–what do you think I’m lying about?”

Sure he was exaggerating about the distraction a bit.

“I’m not - gorgeous,” Annie replies, body held tight and tense. “I’m not anything. It’s cruel to make fun.”

“What? Why would you think I’m making fun of you? You absolutely are gorgeous.”

Tim’s just, it’s not in him to think like that.

She finally turns to face him and she’s crying a little and her face is all scrunched up. “Stop /saying/ that! I know you’re trying to be nice but its not *working*. I’m - I have too much of a stomach and stretch marks and marks all over and I need to be *better* than this.”

Tim just looks at her. Not sure what to do.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come with me.”

She eyes him warily

“ Humor me?” He looks at her and wiggles his fingers.

She sighs, exhausted, and lets him take her hands. She just wants to hide.

He leads her up to Danny’s room, where the little boy is sleeping soundly.

He moves her so she’s standing in front of the cot and he moves behind her, wrapping an arm around her and putting his hand on her stomach. When she tries to move away from him he kisses her head and just holds her tighter.

“Tim, please.” Her voice is just a whisper.

“Your body brought this wonderful little boy into the world.” his voice is just as quiet.

“Six months ago,” she counters “More than.” she adds bitterly.

“Only.” he replies. “Your body grew with him, every stretch mark is a sign of that.”

Annie swallows.“He’s out now.”

“He is. And he has a beautiful mummy who focuses her time and energy on him.” Tim kisses her head.

Annie closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“And,” Tim continues, “Your body keeps *you* safe, feeds you and helps you grow, and I love every inch of it. I love all of you so much.”

Annie let’s herself lean into him.

“I don’t.” she whispers, voice breaking.

Tim kisses the side of her face. “Oh love… I do. So much. I wish you did.”

Tim turns them and guides them from Danny’s room. “let’s leave him sleep and go talk.”

Annie wants to protest. But she knows Tim won’t let it rest.

She sighs and lets him lead her to their room.

Tim sits down resting his back against the headboard and Annie does too, pulling the covers up over herself.He turns his head to look at her, sees she’s trying to make herself seem small. Trying to hide.He just wants to pull her close.He wishes he could make her see how he sees her

How much he wants to be with her. All of her. How much he’d still want that even if her belly wasn’t from pregnancy

She’s never been stick thin. Even before she was pregnant. And Tim found her insanely attractive then. He’s in love with her for her. He feels very out of his depth.

He shifts down on the bed so he’s laying down more than sitting up and lifts his arm. “Come cuddle?”

Annie sighs but lies down, her head on his shoulder. Taking the covers with her so they’re between their bodies and she’s still bundled up in them.

Tim wraps his arm around her shoulders and shifts a little bit so he can kiss her head.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And if I have to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives, I will.”

Annie sniffs and presses her face into his shoulder.

“I just… can’t see it,” Annie mumbles into his shirt. “All I can see is… a mess.”

“I wish you could see you through my eyes.” His arm tightens around her.

Annie manages an exhausted chuckle. “Me too,” she admits

She still can’t totally believe him. But she does believe he could love her *despite* it

#ctm #call the midwife #narrative: prose #narrative: tim and annie #1967

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rauliskafan · 7 years

Text

“Come to your senses...”

Author’s Note: Happy SVU Day, one and all!!! So... this story is something a little different for me, a Jon/Reader fic inspired by both a dream and some real life drama. Most importantly, it is dedicated to my amazing writing partner and friend, @vintagemichelle91, who has been a ray of sunshine and so many rainbows during a rough patch and always makes me believe in brighter days ahead!!!

It was hardly an apartment; better to call in an over sized mouse trap where the rodents always won, a sauna with steam in all the wrong places, a loft for your downstairs neighbor who only owned one CD and played the same song in an infinite loop all night long, night after night, until you swore you’d require a strait jacket come morning. But at least it was yours, a place to hang your hat after mornings waitressing, afternoons auditioning, and evenings playing piano in a dive bar between poetry readings and attempts at stand-up comedy. More than once you were almost fired when you laughed at the wordsmiths dealing in prose instead of puns. Better to bite your tongue to pay the bills.

Then the one two punch. The diner changed hands. It was as if your life literally became the Seinfeld episode where Monk’s was suddenly staffed by nothing but the bustiest of waitresses. You weren’t family, and you didn’t fit that bill. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world. If you still had the ivories to tickle.

Next the bar went under.

No laughing matter. No way you could stay in the city any longer. Not even in the closet you called your home. Only thing left to do was pack up and head to Jersey, to stay with your sister who kept insanely fit and taught other people to live the same way. Of course, that meant a domain where carbohydrates were contraband, and if she caught you with so much as a slice of pizza, she had no compunctions about dressing your down in front of her current boyfriend until you felt so small, so worthless, so---

“Hey.”

And Jon kept calling. Over and over again he had offered you his sofa before you crossed the GWB for this alternate reality. The guy was sweet, fun to have a meal with now and then, a few drinks… to watch a movie and fall asleep under the same blanket... It made you want for more. He never gave you any indication he felt anything close to the same way, and the last thing you needed was another complication. Easier to turn him down, to think on what might have been on sleepless nights in your sister’s spare room. Where you had to make do with memories if and when your craved a midnight snack. Or him.

“Are you listening to me?”

Snapped from your reverie by the sound of his voice humming through the other end of the line, you smiled shyly. Why? It wasn’t as if he could see you. Just the effect that he had...

“I’m listening now,” you murmured, lowering your lashes when he laughed, picturing his broad smile under the wide green eyes that always seemed to see neighbors, sidewalks, buses as if for the first time. Always inspiring him. How did he manage that much? How many times had you wanted to borrow some unseen pair of rose-colored glasses crafted in the confines of his heart? Would they fit your face and help your gaze?

“Glad I have your attention,” he said. “I want to see you.”

“I… I don’t know,” you said, realizing you were picking at the pink nail polish already fading from your free hand.

“What don’t you know?” he challenged, almost echoed. “Don’t you miss me?”

“I… sure,” you confessed, one nail now completely devoid of polish. You brought the offending finger to your lips to nibble on the empty, lonely extremity. “Not a whole hell of a lot to do out here.”

“Big sister doesn’t have you running ten miles a day?” he asked.

“Like I can even think about that when I’m wasting away to nothing.”

“Which is something I’m going to correct,” Jon said. “Look, I’m in your neck of the woods to go to this family thing.”

“Please don’t ask me to be your date,” you weakly begged.

“Baby, you’re my excuse to cut out early.”

“So you’re just using me to flee your family,” you teased, unable to even ape angry as you kept listening to his mellifluous tones.

“Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” he said. “Come on. I… I really miss you.”

In the end that was all he had to say. Yes you missed the city, yes you missed your freedom, and yes you missed disco fries and pizza with ham and peppers and onions all at once. But you missed him most of all.

“Fine, Scarecrow,” you said.

“Scarecrow? What do you… oh. I get it.”

Because of course he did. And it made your heart skip a beat or twelve when he read your mind.

“Wear some red shoes for me,” he said.

“I don’t know if I have any,” you shot back.

“Then just be there.”

“Where?” you asked.

“I… I’ll come to your sister’s place or---”

“No,” you said, quickly cutting him off. “I’m not at my best… I… I don’t feel like myself here.”

Jon was silent, your nail threatening to come off between your teeth as you awaited the return of his voice.

“That’s why I wanted you to…”

“Stay?” you whispered.

If he could read your mind, you could finish his sentences. So many people in the world would have called that a reason to take him up on his proposal, to take stock of where you were and where it could have gone. Such was the plot of a show he would someday surely write.

“I’ll say it again; would have been so bad?”

But you were afraid of reaching the last line of text and having the bottom fall out from under you when you were barely standing on such shaky ground.

“It’s a moot point now,” you muttered, finally biting off the nail, painting your pale skin with a burst of blood. No pain; it didn’t even make you wince.

“So you said,” he responded. “Well…”

Shit! Was he going to call the whole thing off, see it as a waste of time and not come around at all? Taking a sharp breath, you were ready to tell him that your refusal to call him roommate never meant that you didn’t care.

Please still come, Johnny.

At least for lunch. To give you something to look forward to at the end of another long and boring and utterly miserable---

“I guess I’ll see you Saturday,”he said. “Wherever you want to meet.”

A wave of relief washed over you.

“I… yeah. There’s like a diner in the center of town.”

“Had to pick a diner, right?” he joked.

“You’ll be in your element.” But not really. Not when he truly belonged among the clouds and the stars in the sky.

“Sounds good. Just let me know the address.”

Jon ended the call. Suddenly your nail hurt. But as you washed and bandaged the cut of your own design, you couldn’t keep from grinning. He was coming. And it allowed you to feel so many things. First and foremost hope.

Until Saturday. Until the late lunch hour came and went, and he was nowhere to be found. Trying to call him got you nothing but his outgoing message, the sound of his voice providing little to no comfort until you couldn’t bear to listen any longer. Finishing your fourth cup of coffee and feeling jittery, you felt certain that you could beat your sister in a footrace and keep running to the ends of the earth. Not necessarily a good thing. Because when the high wore off, as it would, no one would be there to catch you. Especially not Jon. This was why you didn’t agree to live with him. For all his flowery words and declarations that he only wanted to see you smile, the man was not to be counted on. Definitely not in a pinch. Never ever in the day-to-day. The man was like the city, an enticing facade with empty rooms and no thought for the future. Free from that trap, you paid for the coffee and dashed out to the parking lot. Ready to walk away, you were startled by the feel of a set of fingers curling around your elbow.

“Hey! Where are you running away---?”

“Where the hell have you been?” you demanded.

“I… the party.”

“That you never even wanted to fucking go to in the first place,” you practically snarled as you tried to pull away from him. But his hold tightened, and you found yourself pressed so close to his chest. The feel of his heart pounding thrummed against yours, and Jon’s green eyes narrowed, his lips falling into the frown that simply did not suit him as you relaxed in his hold and hung your head.

“Party started late,” he said.

“And you couldn’t call?” you asked, now avoiding his eyes.

“My phone died.”

That made you laugh. You pictured him so consumed with a composition that he neglected to charge the device before leaving the city for parts unknown. And he probably didn’t know your number. Truth be told, you did not know his either. Just his name, his face from a pic in Central Park that you tapped when your nails were in far better shape to hear his voice in the hope that you would see him soon. See him smile…

“You probably didn’t want to come at all.”

“Stop that,” he ordered, forcing your stare to his as your eyes filled with tears. Shaking his head, he brought your chin to his shoulder so you could savor his warmth and the feel of his arms folding around you. Jon let you linger in his embrace for seconds that felt like hours, that felt like home. Then, slowly, he eased you away, never leaving your eyes with his jaw still tight.

“The party was an excuse. I came here to see you. To find you.”

“And you find me a mess,” you said. “Don’t you wish you’d stayed at the party?”

“No, Would you believe it was dry?”

“Come again?” you asked.

“My cousin… she doesn’t drink. So no one can.”

“That’s just cruel,” you said.

“Like your sister,” he replied. Somehow you managed a giggle and mentioned a bar two blocks down.

“Come with me and I’ll…”

Your voice caught in your throat in a mass of hiccups, and you felt yourself ready to break down when he held you again. His fingers trailed up and down your back, and you were weeping out in the open until his lips met your ear.

“Are we getting a drink?” he asked. “We need a drink.”

The bar beckoned. Linking your arm in his, you started to walk. Jon’s eyes sparkled as strollers and bicycles rolled across the pavement.

“What?” he asked.

“I know that look. You’re already writing a song in your head.”

“See you know me so well,” he said. “No reason that we should fight.”

“No. But…”

Not wanting to break the spell, your mind already raced to the fact that every second with him was a second closer to no longer having him this near. Pushing those thoughts from your mind, you kept moving, loving the feel of his arm curling around yours when Jon stopped short.

“Open House,” he said reading the sign before an old Victorian structure painted yellow with pink shutters and a wraparound porch. The only thing missing was a swing and two people…

“Let’s keep going,” you said.

“Why?” he asked. “We could take a look inside.”

“Johnny… why?” you asked. “It’s not like I can buy it.”

“And I’m sweating how I’m going to pay for our drinks. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you let him lead you up the steps to a grand foyer with high ceilings. Stained glass sparkled in the light, and Jon stood in a wave of colors as a woman with a tight blonde bun wearing a blue suit approached.

“Well hello there!” she started. “And who might you be?”

No one special almost trickled off of the tip of your tongue when Jon extended his hand.

“Jon Stephens,” he said, white lying, using his idol’s name while giving you a wink. “Author of Superbia? You know.”

The realtor’s face drew a complete blank, and when you saw her struggling to make the connection, you patted Jon’s cheek and tossed back a lock of your hair.

“Darling, don’t be a boorish snob,” you said, affecting your voice and nuzzling his cheek. “We’re need to focus on finding a summer place, remember?”.

“Quite right; let’s take a look around.”

The poor blonde backed away, and you took hold of Jon’s arm again, moving from the foyer to a room with a grand piano and little else save for the sunshine. Only when you were sure that you were out of anyone’s earshot did you turn back to face him.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“What?” he challenged. “Having some fun.”

“You were pretending.”

“That’s what I do.”

“But I… I can’t do that anymore.”

Leaving his side and slumping on the piano bench, the reality of your situation smacked you across the face. You could never afford a house like this. You couldn’t make keep up with the closet. But maybe you had to start thinking towards something like what your sister had, the modest Cape Cod and the job with benefits, a pension, a---

“Yes, you can.”

Winding one arm under yours, Jon’s arm surrounded your waist as his long fingers reached for the piano keys, and he played a simple tune that did indeed make you smile.

“Over the Rainbow,” you said.

“In my version Dorothy never has to leave the Scarecrow,” he said. “Baby…”

His voice trailed off for a few seconds, and you held your breath as he cupped your chin in his large hand.

“Jon, I---”

“Don’t say pretend like it’s a bad thing,” he started. “It’s hoping. It’s…”

His speech came to a halt as he finished Dorothy’s ode to everything and everywhere she wanted to be. On the last note, he looked into your eyes and pressed his head to yours.

“Don’t shut yourself off from what you want most. I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m not easy.”

“But?” you prompted him, daring to dream, to hope...

“But let go and imagine with me. I’m good company. If you’re game.”

You let your fingers, damaged nail and all, slide over his skin to start the song up again. Only a few notes and you left the bench with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, Jon was at your back, his hands on your arms.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I…”

You swallowed hard. It was scary to say out loud.

“I… I want you to take me home, Johnny,” you said. “Your place. Your world. Can... can we go right now?”

His smile made your knees buckle. Good thing that he lifted you up and spun you around in the room made magical by so many rainbows.

Scary to say out loud. Even scarier to go it alone.

Now you wouldn’t have to know what that felt like.

#raul esparza #tick tick boom #vintagemichelle91 #because she makes me smile

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maneaterwithtail · 5 years

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A lot of people were acquainted with him through his prolific participation in News & Politics, but to me Aaron was always an author, one half of the team behind Hybrid Theory. That fic was a bastion of creativity, drama, and wry humor; a ludicrous and ambitious premise, played gloriously straight. It provided me with much-needed hope and entertainment in years past. His death comes as a punch in the gut, and takes the wind of optimism out of my sails.

I never knew him well, and now I never will. Rest in peace, Aaron. The world is lessened by your absence from it.

-orm Ember

I didn't want to write this.

Not just for the obvious reasons, that nobody likes to say goodbye to a friend like this. I didn't want to make this about me, because it isn't about me. I wanted to say something about him, to tell his story, to express the tiniest part of the loss I feel in a way others could understand.

But I came to realise that it wasn't for me to tell his story. I can't. That story was for him to tell, and unfortunately, he cannot. The only story I have to tell is the story of us. So that's what I'll do.

I met Aaron Peori when we were both new in high school, about twenty-five years ago. Glace Bay High was the tenth of the eleven schools that I attended in my eleven years of schooling, and so by then I was almost as well-practiced in "meet new friends" as I was in "meet the new local pack of bullies". Walking home, I noticed one guy about my age that always walked alone, reading a book. In other words, a fellow nerd, a weirdo, an outcast. Like me. After a couple of days of spotting this lone reading fellow, he happened to be reading a book by Christopher Pike, an author I also had books by. That was, as the saying goes, an opening.

"Hey, isn't that a Christopher Pike book?" I asked this stranger, casually, as if I hadn't already known.

He looked up at me, not even showing any surprise that some weirdo had walked up and asked about the book his nose was in. "Yes," he said, peering at me owlishly from behind his glasses, then after a moment added, "He's a good author."

By the time we reached home that day, we were already good friends. From that point on, in fact, we were virtually inseparable, aided by the fact that he lived almost literally in my backyard.

From the very beginning, we were creative collaborators. At first, we were using GI Joes and a few other toys in elaborate setpiece dioramas that spanned his house's enclosed front porch, and sometimes spilled out to occupy part of the year as well. Factions, sacrifices, betrayals, and no doubt embarassing-in-retrospect dialogue were all a part of those first afternoons and weekends.

I think he first got a copy of the Marvel Super Heroes RPG from his cousin. Before I'd met him, Aaron and his cousin had both been drawing their own comics about a space-based superhero team called Sonis. Now, with a tool that you could use tell stories about superheroes, and rules to arbitrate - our new great dioramas were ones made of words, not toys. I quickly made my own "expanded universe", about a group of mercenary superheroes called Heroes For Hire.

At that point, what turned out to be a very long-lasting pattern was set. Aaron was the GM, and I was the player. Aaron created the worlds, and I lived the characters in them. He did want me to be the GM sometimes (it's more fun being the player!), but I was always uncomfortably aware how much better at it he was than me, and so I felt intimidated to pit my own lesser stories against the epics he created.

As time went on, another pattern that would be long-lasting emerged: Aaron and I's stories became vastly greater in scope. He rewrote the resolution system of the game to account for much higher power levels than the original design used (Ochre feats!), and eventually we dispensed with the rules altogether, playing completely free-form with no set rules and only the occasional dice roll. I learned to handle multiple characters at once, and bored at the success easily reached by my insanely overpowered characters, learned to find more fun in getting them in trouble instead. Aaron learned to handle the narrative challenges faced by trying to craft stories about protagonists who had literal "I win" powers, and weren't very likeable to boot.

Very little of Heroes For Hire would be something I wouldn't be embarassed to show off today, but my former internet nom de guerre "Blade" comes from the most central and overpowered character of those days.

About a year before I left Cape Breton, Aaron and I discovered two things of lasting consequence: anime, via his having a comic adaptation of the movie "Project A-ko" in his huge box of comics that I would regularly raid, and fanfiction, which I had been introduced to via USENET by another friend of mine, Mark MacIsaac. After I left, Aaron had more free time, and thus he started writing a story that combined two of his favourite things: the then-popular anime Ranma 1/2, and Star Wars.

Aaron wrote prolifically, longhand on sheaths of paper, in his inscrutable and typo-laden scrawl. My role in those first stories, for all they were credited under both our names, was just to type these up and edit them - but that wasn't a small task, to be fair. I can type 60wpm despite still pecking with two fingers instead of touch-typing, a skill that dates to those early manuscripts.

That level of collaboration, though, wasn't enough. Soon we took to role-playing games again, and I took on various Ranma characters in lengthy phone conversations where he was once again the DM. Those games formed several of the plots for Ranma: Curse of Darkness, and the entirety of the plot of Kyoto Chronicles (sadly never actually finished), along with other stories both Ranma and non that never made it to the internet. Again, he would write the scripts and I would type them up, now with more creative control and editing.

The time came when we once again lived in the same city, able to really collaborate with both of us writing scenes. All of this finally culminated in Hybrid Theory, our longer-than-Lord-of-the-Rings magnum opus, and something we were both pretty proud of despite the various flaws and that we totally botched poor Rei's character arc.

After writing something like that, we were sure, it would be easy to write something for professional publication. But unfortunately, it never came to be. Circumstances separated us again, several promising projects got stalled after a few chapters, and then the grinding workload he faced at his job hurt his ability to write consistently.

But Aaron never stopped writing fanfiction. His mind never stopped working. Most of what he wrote was "junk" in his words, and he wouldn't even show it to me, but he was still thinking up stories and worlds and his favourite thing of all: elaborate fight scenes. He once told me he could write in any series, no matter how crappy or derivative, "as long as the main characters can run up walls".

It frustrates me that I cannot prove to anyone here how brilliant Aaron was, because that brilliance was hidden behind the various flaws in his prose style. His prospensity for typos never did much improve, though he could at least spellcheck stuff he wrote on a computer rather than longhand. He never got hung up like me searching for the exact right word, and so he often just used the same words over and over. For those that read his last work, I can only explain that I took out a ton of "snaps" - "snapped her head back", "snapped his wrist forward", "the snake snapped out" and yet there are STILL that many in there. I was going to do a much more thorough editing pass when it was finished.

But that is all surface-level. Where Aaron excelled was in his vision for a setting and story. He could take the ridiculous and make it somehow sublime - indeed, he often challenged himself with making ridiculous or cliche concepts work. He could keep track of a million dancing pieces and know precisely which should enter the stage, and from where. It's not that I didn't contribute meaningfully to our collaborative efforts, but I often felt like a child with crayons colouring in the lines of a sketch by Da Vinci. Even if my colouring was good, it wasn't the masterpiece.

His players knew, though. Another habit Aaron kept for the rest of his life was GMing (though he enjoyed playing, when the opportunity was afforded to him), even if he couldn't do it as much in recent years. Aaron was a masterful GM, able to coax out strong story arcs and dramatic moments from players of any skill level, able to make NPCs that the players hated or loved or both, able to coax rambunctious player parties into dramatic clashes and events that never felt railroaded. But perhaps even more than that, he was a master of making game rules work for him instead of against him. Aaron loved role playing game rules: one of his primary hobbies and uses of his spare cash was to buy new gamebooks, even if he never planned to use them for a game. He'd devour them, expertly analyse their strengths and flaws, modify and house-rule them to his liking, and even a notoriously tricky game to GM like Exalted flowed smoothly in his hands.

His set of replacement Dragonblooded charms are still the best and most flavourful charmset ever made for them. And he always maintained that the best game system to run Star Wars with was the pulp action game Adventure! - which was the very last game I'd play with him. He was, as always on these matters, completely correct.

In another world, even with the problems we had, I'm sure Aaron could have been a published author. The problem, if problem it was, was that Aaron's prolificness stemmed from his own joy in writing and creating. Ultimately, if he was more interested in writing about a magical self-insert Sakura than he was in something "professional", then that's what he did. He took note of criticism and changed things if he got it, but ultimately the only critic whose opinion he internalised was himself. He wrote because he enjoyed writing. If somebody else enjoyed what he did, great. If nobody did, he'd write anyway.

Aaron and I were so close that my father asked me if we were gay once. We weren't - I'm straight, and he was (unknowingly at the time) asexual. But we loved each other anyway. We had the kind of easy camraderie and understanding where we could nostalge and talk for hours upon hours, week upon week, and never get bored even when we didn't have really anything to talk about. We were never bored of each other's company. From that very first day we met, we understood each other in ways that nobody else ever did, or ever would. I never pictured my life without Aaron in it. I was going to be a writer, I knew at 15 years old, with Aaron. I was going to move back to Canada someday - and live near Aaron.

There is a hole, and it cannot be filled. It hurts, and it will always hurt. And yet I am greater for having it. It is unthinkable to wish that I didn't have it. My life without Aaron is unthinkable. I'll have to think of it, maybe another day, but not yet.

Aaron's last few years were difficult in some ways. He stuck in a predatory, horrible job that left him perpetually sick and exhausted, the only thing in the 25 years I knew him that actually forced him to stop writing and GMing for any length of time. He was too proud to take help, too tired to look for an alternative. He nearly died of a perforated ulcer a few years ago, and that added "chronic pain" to his ailments, and being him, he would only take painkillers when it became unbearable. It was unsustainable, we knew it, but he was always reaching for that promotion that would finally bring the shorter hours he had been asking for. In the meantime, he'd always say "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." I wish he had been right.

And yet.

In those same years, Aaron discovered himself. He discovered that he wasn't the strange not-wanting-sex freak he had grown up thinking he was, that there were many people like him out there. He got in touch with the emotions he had suppressed within himself due to a traumatic childhood experience, and while he sometimes had difficulty handling his newfound sadness (he was striken by grief like I'd never seen over the death of his grandfather) or anger (political topics were verboten in our conversations over the last few years), I believe that for all the pain and overwork and lack of creative output he was still in some ways never happier than he was these last few years.

He told me once that he wanted to find a partner of either gender, who didn't need or didn't want sex, but could be with him and hold him close when he needed it. I cried, and told him I knew he could find someone once he was out of that job. He deserved it. He deserved that happiness too.

This forum (although not solely) had a lot to do with him discovering himself, and that is why I felt I had to post about him here. You meant more to him than you know, and to some of you, though I don't know your names, I owe a debt I can never repay. Whoever you are, thank you so much. You helped him in a way I couldn't. The joy and hope of his last years came from the help you gave him.

And that's the end of the story of us. Aaron was exhausted, pushing himself beyond what he ever should have - now, at least, he can rest. Aaron was in pain, but now the pain is gone. There was nothing good or right or kind or acceptable about it, but it can't be changed, it can't be helped.

Goodbye, Aaron. I love you. Thank you for writing stories with me.

-Chris Mcneil addressing sufficient velocity forums

#rip #fandom #author of hybrid theory #major custom exalted charm wonker #writer #internet opinion guy

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tillman · 4 years

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what should i read 4 arthurian legend idk where to start

ok hold on lemme find one of my other answers to this ask for u :-) im too tired to write out the whole thing rn

yunder the cut . rip mobile users LOL

heres it in the original middle english, its beautiful and if you get the beat down sounds fucking gorgeous but i understand how hard it is to get through if youve never read through it before.

lou recomends Raffels translation above all others which i kinda have to agree with. heres part one and heres part two of that.

and the other link i have directly on hand atm is tolkiens translation which ive skimmed before and it seems really solid.

the text can be weird ESPECIALLY if you arent used to middle english since he …. used some weird as fuck words? even for the time. but thats malory.

heres the first bit of baines rendition. honestly if u can find a copy for cheap grab it is a fun time

from there, theres a ton of different options you can follow, but again i think the least overwhelming way to go about it is pick a knight you like and read whatever seems fun that has them in it !

lancelot has a decent collection of old stories including the entire vulgate cycle (my favorite piece of arthurian lit, im working on scanning the entire english translation ;-)), lancelot and the hart with the white foot, though i havent been able to find a FULL translation, is wonderful and with that the lancelot collection of old stories is a lot of fun the dutch loved him, if you have like 10 bucks to spare, Lancelot and the lord of the distant isles is on amazon for cheap and retells the book of galehaut section of the vulgate and its . so good. please care about galehaut.

anyways mwah feel free to msg me if u have questions im insane and like researching this stuff for hours and am willing to find out any information

#Anonymous

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doctorwhonews · 6 years

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The Day of the Doctor (BBC Audio)

Latest Review: Written by: Steven Moffat Read by: Nicholas Briggs Cover by: Anthony Dry Duration: 7hrs 26mins Publisher: BBC Audio Originally Released June 2018 There’s a common conception that anywhere there’s a big ‘grown-up’ awards ceremony, there’s a room full of snobs instinctively looking down on anything in the science fiction or fantasy genre. That’s not entirely accurate. After all, Kazou Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go was shortlisted for a Booker Prize and that’s about the discomfiting life experience of being a clone grown for spare parts. Post-apocalyptic novels The Road and The Handmaid’s Tale were both nominated too. Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie is about a telepath discovering that all children born in the same one hour period in human history all have superpowers and it actually won the Booker. Yet, tellingly, all those books are the subjects of hotly debated discussion about whether they’re SF at all. Essentially on the basis of being too good to be SF. Rushdie’s novel has been deemed “magical realism” whatever that means. But all in all, the key thing seems to be that a science fiction novel can be seen as Great Literature (with the capitals audibly intoned) so long as there’s wiggle room to pretend it’s not science fiction at all. So what chance a Target novelization of an hour-long fiftieth birthday party for the children’s science fiction show that adults adore? Well, quite. Which is a crushing shame, because what Steven Moffat has created here is very far from being ‘just’ what fans voted the best ever episode of Doctor Who with a few extra “he saids” added to each page. It’s not even just a playful, engaging and fiercely intelligent science fiction. It’s not even a book which rollerskates backward past the time travel shenanigans of the average Hollywood blockbuster while making encouraging noises as one might at a small child that had made a tower a whole six blocks high. No, The Day of the Doctor is proper Literature. I mean, it’s got not one unreliable narrator but four (at least; I may have miscounted – there is a Time War on) and they all turn out to be the same unreliable narrator. Maybe. It doesn’t get much more Literature than that, frankly. The great bedrock on which the whole novel rests – the one which presumably gave Moffat sleepless nights during the planning stages as he pondered how it was either going to work beautifully or else be an unreadable mess – is the conceit that it’s written in the third person by the Doctor, except when it’s not. And that the Doctor is simply ‘the Doctor’ at all times, no matter the point in his life, yet you’re never in any doubt about which face he’s talking out of, even when the Doctor is talking to the Doctor. Unless it’s cleverer, more telling or more fun for you to not know. It does work beautifully, by the way, and is matched by a plot progression that’s not simply clever for cleverness own sake (but it really is very clever indeed) but by approaching the story from the angle that reveals the Doctor’s hearts layer by layer and exposes who he is and who the Doctor is, and how that’s both the same thing even when he insists it’s not, with scalpel-like precision. There have been many Targets that improve and expand upon their original television script. This is probably the first one that feels like it’s been forensically dismantled, checked over, had half its bits chucked aside and then rebuilt into a shiny new version of itself, held together with new custom-made parts. It looks about as much like a prose version of the TV episode as a ‘deconstructed seared pancetta with toasted brioche’ looks like a fried bacon sarnie in a Masterchef final. The only misstep is perhaps the infamous Chapter 9 (they’ve had complaints). Not only does it indulge in all the worst kinds of fan service (the words ‘Looms’ and ‘River Song’ should be kept at 500 feet’s distance from each other at all times) but you need to wear a special eyepatch to even remember having read it. Which is a bit much. As an audiobook, it’s hard to imagine any reader other than Nicholas Briggs making it work quite so well. Briggs hasn’t. as you might have been expected been hired for his skills with a vocoder. As part of Moffat’s stripping back everything unneeded in his exploration of what it feels like to the be the Doctor, and to be haunted by the gap between that ideal and the reality, the Daleks are reduced to a single line of dialogue – and that’s a flashback to an entirely different story. Briggs also doesn’t try to do impersonations of any of the cast, though his Tennant is surprisingly good. Instead, he more than gets enough of the gist of them across that even the scenes most bewilderingly full of crosstalk by the same man three times over always make perfect sense. Only once in the whole experience does it feel slightly off – in a cameo delivered as a Northerner all the better equipped to hear you, when surely the Doctor’s vocal cords were in an attack eyebrowed Scotsman at the time. Speaking of Scotsmen, though there’s no Paisley tones in evidence Briggs’ narration perfectly captures a certain conversational style, dryly witty and with dark eyebrows audibly undecided between frowning mock-furiously and arching ironically, familiar to anyone who’s ever watched a Doctor Who Behind the Scenes video. It creates a surprisingly intimate feel in contrast to all the epic action and deep emotion of the text and adds hugely to the democratic sense of ‘all fans together’ enjoying this insane thing we love. The Day of the Doctor might never take its place on ‘M’ bookshelves in the Literature section adjacent to Ian McEwan’s story about a guy bumping off his wife by folding her into a pocket dimension and David Mitchell’s multiple dystopian futures. And all those other 'too good to be SF' books. But it sits on ours. And that’s enough. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2018/08/the_day_of_the_doctor_bbc_audio.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

#Target #Steven Moffat #Nicholas Briggs #BBC Audio

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