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impala-dreamer · 4 months

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Temptation & Consequences

A Short Story

~Jensen has been busy all weekend at the convention, leaving little time for fun with his girl. Luckily, Y/N knows how to get his attention... and more...~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader

2,176 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Dom!Jensen, sub!Bratty!Reader, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Kinda rough(ish) sex, Delicious.

A/N: Another block off my @jacklesversebingo board. The prompt was "temptation". Also written for Kym who wanted some hair pulling. Hope you all enjoy!

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His phone buzzed.

He couldn’t hear it, but he felt it vibrating in the front left pocket of his tight jeans.

Ignoring the alert, Jensen stepped up to the mic stand and reached for it, tipping it up slightly so that it was aimed at his lips. He smiled and the crowd swooned. That was all it took- just a flash of a grin and a sweep of green eyes and the whole room fell to its knees. It was too much power, and inevitably fleeting, but he loved it just the same.

Another alert shook against his thigh and Jensen’s attention was pulled away from the purple-haired teen who was timidly inching closer to asking her actual question. He knew who was texting and it was all he could do not to sneak a peek at his screen.

“...And yeah, so I just wanted to say thank you. My mom and I really love Supernatural.”

Jensen smiled and nodded in thanks. “Your mom?”

The girl blushed. “Yeah. She made me watch.”

The cell buzzed again.

Jensen pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze at the girl. “Your mom,” he said again, making the front row snigger. He raised a brow and acted offended. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

He sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I am so old…”

The crowd laughed and the girl hid her face.

“I’m sorry!”

Jensen shook his head. “Fourteen,” he echoed. “Sheesh. Who’s your favorite Winchester?”

The girl chewed her lip and bashfully leaned into the microphone.

“Well?” Jensen grew comically annoyed.

She cleared her throat. “Sam.”

With great flare, Jensen tossed his hands up into the air and spun away.

As the audience enjoyed the theatrics, Jensen’s pocket vibrated twice and he gave in, dragging it free from his jeans. While the room was distracted, he checked the messages and his pulse raced.

‘You look so fucking hot today, J.’

‘that shirt is killing me. The buttons… your huge arms…’

Jensen looked up at the crowd, his cheeks beginning to burn.

‘Need your big cock in my mouth’

‘Or right here…’

He scrolled down to the last message and was met with a close up of Y/N’s bare tits. Her nipples were hard, her skin creamy and begging to be touched.

With a thick swallow, Jensen closed the messages and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

“This is why I don’t do panels alone!” he joked, swinging back toward the mic.

Fans came and went, questions flew around his head. There was nothing that he hadn’t been asked before and he was able to phone it in well, all the while thinking about his own phone. Two more texts came through but he refused to look at them, knowing Y/N was just upping the ante by teasing him some more.

“Who would win in a fight, Soldier Boy or Dean?”

Jensen laughed at the question as if he’d never heard it before. He had.

Another buzz.

He scratched a hand down his cheek and grabbed his phone, looking quickly before jamming it into his back pocket.

‘Hurry. Im starting without you’

A photo of her fingers against her thighs, tips poised and ready to dip into the sweet honey between.

He hissed a breath in and then let it out slowly, pretending to ponder the question. Finally:

“Well, obviously Soldier Boy is a supe, so he’s stronger…”

The crowd was divided, half cheering, half booing. Jensen held up his hands and called for patience.

“That being said,” he growled into the mic, “Dean is a genius and he’s always got a plan. I think he could kick a little ass before goin’ down, don’t you?”

Half a smile from his plump lips pulled the audience back together and everyone, no matter which character they favored, cheered and had Jensen’s back.

He always won them over.

The final message came through and he glanced at the screen while the audience carried on. A photo of her wet fingers pulling at her juicy bottom lip greeted him. Her pink tongue was curled and ready to steal a taste and Jensen could all but hear her intoxicating moan.

He clenched his jaw, shoved the phone back in his pocket and slyly adjusted himself.

She was gonna get it.

He’d make sure of it.

Y/N was backstage when he stepped through the curtain. Phone in hand, she leaned against the wall, eyes heavily painted and staring as if he were the only thing she could see. She was dressed up for the convention, skirt short and boots tall.

Green eyes traipsed down her body, making her pulse quicken.

Jensen shook a few hands, chatted quickly with his assigned volunteer handler, and fake-smiled at everyone around him. He kept one eye on Y/N, glaring his disapproval and offering a stern warning.

She could run if she wanted to, but he knew she wouldn’t.

Pleasantries done, he pushed through the crowd and slowly walked towards her. She stood up straight as if pulled by puppet strings and bit her lip, scared but aglow with anticipation.

He dipped his chin and pointed at her with a solo finger, shooting an invisible bullet at the center of her. She shivered and he motioned quickly to the hallway.

Defiant, she stood frozen on the spot until his thick fingers curled around her upper arm and yanked.

Not a word was spoken.

Not until the door slammed behind him.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, flicking on the light and illuminating the empty conference room. A long, highly polished table sat in the middle of the room, its chairs stacked against the blank back wall.

Jensen took a step toward her and Y/N countered, falling back a pace.

“Well?”

She swallowed hard and smiled. “I mean… I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

He sucked his teeth. “And what, exactly, were you trying to do?”

A tingle of fear soaked arousal ran down her spine and Y/N took another step backwards.

“Um… Just trying to… uh…”

“Get yourself in trouble?” he grit.

She shook her head teasingly slowly. “No…”

He loomed above her. “Get me hard on stage in front of everyone?”

She bit back a grin. “No?”

He lunged forward, grabbing a giant fistful of hair and tugging her around. She spun on the spot, guided by his firm grip, and held in a gasping cry.

“You wanted my blood to boil, didn’t you, little girl?”

She held her breath.

He pulled harder and her back arched.

“You wanted to get me so worked up that I’d have no choice but to take out all my frustrations on you.”

Jensen turned his wrist and wound her hair around his hand. Her neck lengthened and curved backward. He dipped his lips to her ear, growling deeply.

“Was that your plan?” He tugged again and she moaned. “Answer me.”

His breath on her ear sparked goosebumps along her throat. His voice made her tremble. The surge of pain he invoked traveled down to her cunt and she could feel herself drip.

She exhaled her reply. “Yes…”

A tiny smirk played upon his plump lips.

“Did you think you’d get away with it?” he teased, pulling her back to fall against his chest. The hand in her hair dropped to her throat and his fingers curled around the front. He didn’t squeeze, just kept his hand in place, letting her know that he could.

She knew it all too well.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you for all that teasing?”

She swallowed against his palm. “I… I knew you would.”

Jensen snaked his left hand around her waist and up to grab her breast. She whimpered, let her head fall back against him.

“Wanted you to,” she confessed.

He pinched her nipple and snapped his teeth by her ear. She shivered.

“You’re a bad girl, Y/N…”

Helplessly, she nodded. “I am.”

His fingers tightened gently around her pulse points and Y/N’s eyes fluttered. Her heart raced, her head became fuzzy.

“Such a fucking brat,” he hissed. His left hand slid down her front, tucked into the warmth between her thighs. He hummed darkly when his fingers slipped against bare flesh. “No panties, either?” He tapped on her slit. “You are asking for it.”

He teased her pussy, dragging his middle finger back and forth over the sensitive outer lips but never pushing inside. Y/N rolled her hips back and felt his cock, hard and trapped in his jeans.

She chewed her lip and wiggled her ass against him. “You gonna give it to me or do I have to go find someone else to help out?”

His voice deepened. His fingers squeezed a bit more. “Excuse me?”

Y/N laughed teasingly. “I don’t know, Rob’s looking pretty hot today… got that sexy beard going-”

With a shove from behind, the table came up to greet her and Y/N found herself face down on the polished top.

“You think so?” Jensen yanked her skirt up, exposing her ass and wet cunt.

“I always think Rob is hot,” she answered, pressing her luck.

Jensen opened his belt, ripped his zipper down.

“Especially with that stupid little hat…”

He’d had enough.

He clenched his teeth, kicked her feet apart, and grabbed her hips.

“Shut up,” he warned.

Y/N smiled into the cold wood. “The things I would let him do to me…”

“I said, shut up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to expand upon her lustful feelings for his friend, but Jensen forced a choked cry out of her instead.

In one unceremonious thrust, he was buried deep in her slick hole. Her pussy gripped him tight and Jensen inhaled hard and loud, his eyes snapping shut as lust and relief washed over him.

“Fuck…”

Y/N’s eyes rolled as he crushed into her from behind; the warm, solid mass of him pinning her to the table. She managed to push her palms up against her chest and lift her head, but his thrusts were quick and powerful, each forcing her back down onto the table.

“God, Jay-” Her voice crackled. Her breath stuttered.

His nails dug into her sides and Y/N moaned.

“Needed this so fucking bad,” she whimpered.

Jensen clawed at her ass and then slapped her left cheek hard.

She gasped but couldn’t move away. Moaned but couldn’t reach for more. She was desperately captive.

Another crack and she melted. Gentle pain spread like warm honey through her system and she relaxed, falling into his rapid rhythm.

His hips jerked faster, cock jabbed in deeper. She clenched around him, her body pulsing with edging pleasure.

“Please-”

Jensen growled wordlessly, lost in the moment. He bent his knees, dipped down and slowly stroked upwards.

Y/N hissed and clawed helplessly at the table. With nothing to hold onto, nothing to scratch, her nails slid across the smooth top and she shuddered. “Fuck! Please!”

Once more, he grabbed her hair; his palm pushing hard at the base of her skull. He twisted his wrist, yanking up a ponytail into his fist.

“Yeah? You want all this?”

He pulled and her back arched, lifting her chest from the table.

Her voice was shaking. “Y-yes!”

The web of pain mixed with his swift thrusts and Y/N came, her body squeezing him hard. Jensen let out a tight-lipped cry and slammed into her again and again, quickly following along.

“Fucking, fuck!”

When his hand relaxed, Y/N fell back down to the table and struggled to slow her breath. She could feel him stuffed inside, hesitant to back away.

“So good, baby,” she cooed.

Gently, he let himself fall over her and lean close to kiss her cheek. “Was, wasn’t it?” He grinned, toothy and punch drunk.

“Remind me to text you more,” she laughed as he moved away, releasing her from captivity.

He shook his head, tucked himself away. “Don’t even think about it.”

Green eyes were stern, but she knew he’d enjoyed himself too.

Spinning around, Y/N pressed up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. She licked into his mouth while sneaking a hand around to dig in his back pocket. Quickly, she withdrew his ever-present bandana. His cum was beginning to drip down her thigh and she needed to wipe it away before heading back out into the real world.

She took a step back with the kerchief and Jensen grabbed her wrist.

“I don’t think so,” he grunted, ripping the bandana from her hand.

Y/N startled and gaped up at him. “But- I gotta clean up-”

His teeth dug into his lip. He shook his head. “No. Leave it.”

Turning away from her, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and headed to the door.

She gasped as his hand hit the knob. “Jensen! Someone might notice!”

Looking back over his shoulder, he cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it? Maybe next time, you’ll consider the consequences.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #spn #the boys

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rpvlix · 2 years

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14. What’s the best lesson their parent(s) have ever taught them?

15. Do they want to emulate their parent(s) or would they rather take their own path?

16. Has the muse ever said something they regretted to their parent(s)? - kym, sol

14 Kym

Kym and Sol, if answering for themselves, would probably both say about the same thing. Rationality, levelheadedness, a lack of emotion, etc. But I'm answering for them, so I won't say that because it isn't true. The best lesson Kym has learned/is in the process of learning is that she has to define her own path in life. She is never going to be what her father wanted, despite all her efforts, and she's got to live for herself and not some dead piece of shit that never cared about her anyway.

She's still in the first part of this lesson though, she hasn't realized there's even a lesson to be learnt yet. Oblivious to her own suffering.

14 Sol

The most important thing for Sol was absolutely questioning authority. She doesn't really seem the type, I suppose, since he's been very well-behaved in the past. But that is mostly a front. Solinas has a very active and questioning mind. Perhaps they could have achieved complete control over the family, precisely what Kym desires, but Solinas has managed to take a step back and ponder the implications of, like, everything. He is almost constantly questioning something.

15 Kym

She does. She believes that her father knew the correct way to rule, he had everything right, if his own family hadn't betrayed him then his philosophy would have been bulletproof. It is her duty to carry it on in his honor, no one else in her family is qualified. Or cares.

15 Sol

No. He doesn't know yet how much more human he'd like to be, but I know. Right now, Sol is just content to do her own thing and chill on Earth. But he's got some stuff brewing just under the surface. There's a personality in there waiting to get out. And who knows where that'll take them.

16 Kym

Of course! Queen of not thinking hard enough and also queen of overthinking, somehow simultaneously. There have been many times when she felt that something she said, impulsively (though always things she believed to be true) that she felt portrayed her as weak, soft, or otherwise an undesirable child. Plans that she should've thought through more before sharing, assumptions she'd made. Oh yes.

16 Sol

mmm... Logically? Yes. Emotionally? No. I mean, yes you are going to regret saying something that gets you hit. That's natural. But she doesn't feel regret, you know what I mean? Before Sol knew how to... bottle things up? she would often receive backlash for things he said. But he caught on pretty quick, learned to phrase things a little better while still not technically lying. Learned to hold his tongue when need be. Regrets consequences more than actions, I suppose.

#thank you for the ask!#answered #the27percent #q:Kymatix #q:Solinas #my brain funk... i am doing my best to kill it.

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formula-done · 4 years

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Kym Illman’s content in F1 is basically the equivalent of the Daily Mail’s content in publishing...

#kym illman #literally like he just seems as someone that profits off ‘whats popular’ not thinking about the ethics of it #his audience is literally f1wag accounts #that aint good hun #sasha ponders

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dippedanddripped · 4 years

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While research can help us understand our generation’s new morality and its changed consumption habits, the impact that the Covid-19 crisis will have on how our future looks and feels remains the most unclear. While times of crisis are when clothes seem to matter least, the irony is that fashion has been making itself at home with the idea of apocalypse as an aesthetic for quite some time.

“Survivalism” isn’t a word one normally lumps in with others like “glamour” and “style,” but according to the strategist and writer Lucas Mascatello, the idea of braving a dangerous future is one that has been a central pillar to many trends for quite some time (and will continue to be). Here, he explores the myriad ideas of the apocalyptic aesthetic — from dystopian to utopian — in our past, present, and future.

What Is Survivalism?

“Survivalism is a mentality. More than the daily practice of preparing for some unknown disaster, war, famine, or disease, it’s a complete worldview unto itself. Survivalism is a kind of reasoning that invites paranoia in, hammering your senses for warning signs and cranking your adrenaline into hyper-vigilance. In nature, we see the armored hides of armadillos and the scales of fish as practical choices made by mother nature, tactical choices that create an aesthetic. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs introduced the concept of tiered values, saying that at their most base, people first satisfy physiological needs like food, water, and sleep. These needs are followed by safety needs (security and shelter), then belonging and love, followed by self esteem and, finally, self-actualization. As a luxury market, fashion largely considers this top tier need: How can I achieve my full potential and what does that look like? It’s a far cry from where we started, concerned with security and defense ideas that inform military design and created armored organisms like turtles, serpents, and dinosaurs.”

Thirst for Annihilation

“Thinking about the end of the world is a romantic idea. And similarly, believing that you are living in the end of times is a great way to add meaning to one’s life. Fashion trends such as chest-packs, camouflage, and tactical gear all gesture toward survivalism as an aesthetic, one that feels like a rebelling against the classic luxury object (even if it’s just as expensive). There’s a long menu of world ending possibilities, each inspiring designers, authors and artists to consider what it might look like if the ice caps melted, if an asteroid hit, if locusts wiped out the crops and we were forced to live off of dehydrated proteins. The thirst for annihilation has helped propagate an array of disaster-based looks.”

Cyberpunk and Tech Gibberish

“Dystopia has its own aesthetic, one reaching deep into fetish and counterculture, mashing sex against sexlessness, turning nerds into heroes, and flipping the paradigm. The incel-meets-BDSM style of The Matrix was the brainchild of costumer designer Kym Barrett. And now, violent models dressed in spandex at a Burning Man-style orgy is how we imagine dealing with a hostile future. In Hackers, costume designer Roger Burton created the most everlasting pop-cultural reality for cyberpunk, featuring club kids rollerblading through New York City. This idea of a post-apocalyptic youth culture would later be echoed in the work of Alexander McQueen, in particular his FW99 collection for Givenchy, a collection created for the eve of Y2K that explores the possibility of a post-human type of glamour. Even in the face of disaster, there’s optimism.”

Disaster Chic

“Trend forecasting is about predicting the future, or at least making a bet on outcomes. Yet style is almost always about being ahead of the curve. At a citizen level, many of us want to be first: stockpiling, prepping, or wearing a mask before everyone is else wearing one are different ways of signaling a truth to come that most are too stupid to recognize. Crises are always a surprise, and yet they always feel inevitable in a way that hangs over even the quiet times. And it’s not always as straightforward as Diesel’s famous 2007 ads Diesel-ifying global warming. Brands like Acronym, Maharishi, and Stone Island have made their bread and butter by sexing up survivalism as a type of high tech roleplay. The apocalypse is stylish because it communicates pessimism, irony, and indifference — like being a smoker or drinking hard because we’re all going to die anyway. Rather than the classic outsider stance of ‘Fuck the World,’ it’s infinitely cooler to say, ‘The World is Fucked.'”

The Dirty Future

“If you zoom ahead 20 years, it is very unlikely that we will all be Errolson Hugh-style cyber ninjas. For while the future is generally tied to the idea of progress — the notion that things develop over time in some cumulative type of way — the unfortunate thing is that beings tend to decay. Colossal world events create the kind of disruption that upends progress, causing fissures and deltas in place of what was once stable. Films such as Mad Max show a world filled with skin rash, poverty, and violence. Kanye West’s first Yeezy Season collections (despite their flaws) were an example of embracing this kind of back to roots, spartan future. Martin Margiela’s first runway show on a playground in Paris’ 20th arrondissement was arguably the first to propose this dirty future in the context of fashion, an idea that began as something romantic and would later spin out into heroin chic. The idea of fashion role-playing destitution is so seminal that it plays a central role in the most famous fashion parody of all time, Zoolander, whose creative director villain Mugatu is planning a homelessness-inspired runway show called ‘Derelicte.'”

Hypothetical Optimism

“Having spent considerable resources imagining the apocalyptic future in its various manifestations, generations of designers and thinkers have proposed speculative solutions that point toward an apocalyptic brand of optimism. Geniuses like Issey Miyake explored survivalism as a pure function through conceptual brands like Final Home and APOC — both dedicated to innovating adaptive solutions for the barren earth to come. Founded in 1992, by Lica and Masahiro Nakagawa, the label 20471120 epitomized Harajuku maximalism while showcasing a future aesthetic based in recycling old products, fighting industry waste, and setting up studios where fans could donate old clothes to be remade as one-of-a kind pieces. Yet even in their most earnest, these future-facing solutions were at best speculative, never made to scale and living firmly within the realm of academia.”

Conclusion: Predictions About Our Real Future

“In the face of our present global disaster, we find ourselves in a situation that feels as though we’ve skipped the bells and whistles of dystopia and gone straight into decline. Few would imagine that New York City would be enduring a shortage of medical supplies and pondering the creation of mass graves — and, for now, the future looks more like looted Wal-Marts and canned tuna than flying cars and floating cities. Today, we’ve become focused solely on what we know works, turning away from novel aesthetics and how things look and returning to our most basic instincts. The real future involves catering to our physiological needs, making masks from old dish towels, draping ourselves in plastic, and wearing latex gloves. These are the aesthetics of coping, one where many of us are considering our own survival for the first time. Rather than replace the expressive and aspirational elements of style, fashion will likely come to play dual roles — both as the expression of our fantasy self and as the reality of who we are today.”

#q1: highsnobiety's quarterly insights week #fashion blog

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

SKY FERREIRA - DOWNHILL LULLABY

[7.44]

Future internet historians, this is where "abused-girl pop" was coined.

Ashley Bardhan: A "downhill lullaby" is romantic. It's a sweet song to take you lower. It's being ashamed of a bruise you have, but still taking a photo so you remember what it looked like. The chorus of strings that open this track come out like a whimper, they want you to hear them wailing in the daylight so when the drums start to echo, you're ready to descend. Sky Ferreira's first words, sounding red raw in her throat, are "You leave me open when you hit me / No one can hear me." How can the violins cry so prettily when there's violence in the lyrics? How can a love be so tender when there's violence in the relationship? Sometimes I self-deprecatingly call the music I listen to "abused-girl pop," but the feeling of being in a toxic or abusive relationship is so specific and so rarely captured in media in a way that feels honest, that maybe that is the reason I gravitate towards certain music more than others. This song is sexy, and it scares me. Sky sings -- more like prophecies -- about being ripped open, blue lips, "bludgeoned affection" ... and how perfect it is. Towards the end, she sounds like a ghost with layers of vocals both purring and keening about "going downhill." And then the song is over. When it's over, you still remember how it felt. [10]

Ian Mathers: I guess putting this in the new Twin Peaks would have been too on the nose? [8]

Katherine St Asaph: Funny how between Night Time, My Time and this, Sky Ferreira's covered both the alt-rock and the trip-hop halves of the Buffy soundtrack. Between the Ex:Re single and this, 2019 is shaping up to be a phenomenal year for reminders of all the female singer-songwriters I grew up with and rarely saw anyone else rate. "Downhill Lullaby," too, reminds me of many of them: Kym Brown on Pygmalion, Carina Round on "Sit Tight," recently Meg Myers on pretty much anything and more generally 1999-2001. [8]

Claire Biddles: "Downhill Lullaby" is serious, convincing, adult melodrama: luxury strings and a wrecked-out voice; the strange dignity in signing all your options over to chance, or erratic substances, or someone (anyone) else. Like masking the taste of bile with vodka tonics, it's born of nihilistic cliché; but it's still real, and still mortifyingly seductive. [9]

Joshua Copperman: This is impressive, disturbing, and makes me uncomfortable. There are so many pretty things about this song, especially the string arrangement and the chorus ("down... hill...") but the claustrophobic mix drowns them all out - it's hard to be fully immersed when the strings are so harsh and random sound effects appear like cheap jump scares in an otherwise 'elevated' horror film. When the low end drifts off in the last third of the track, the song becomes completely ungrounded, lost in its own atonal misery. When it works, it works, but the song at the core is not worth the sensory overload. [6]

David Moore: Sky Ferreira specializes in deceptively up downers, but here the inertia from the droning Beatles strings (evoking the Ekkehard Ehlers loop of "Good Night") drags the whole song downhill. Maybe it works as a closer -- she brings in a slow-mo Velvet Underground orchestral squall midway through that hints at dark conclusions. [6]

Alfred Soto: Six years after Night Time, My Time limned the terror and frustration of a woman too young to endure the depredations of the record industry, Sky Ferreira returns with a thickly mixed, almost ponderous noise cloud, picking up where the last album's title track left off. It's compelling because like a seasoned actress Ferreira knows how to manipulate her charisma. From anyone else, I'd fidget. [7]

Vikram Joseph: Sky Ferreira's pre-release hype tweets tell us that there will be pop songs on Masochism; this just isn't one of them. "Downhill Lullaby" is certainly a startling choice for a lead single; it has echoes of Lana Del Rey and Madonna's "Frozen", but in its thick, foreboding slide and guttural chug has more in common with the glacial, broken-robot slowcore of Low at their most greyscale. Unfortunately, it forgoes hooks in search of a dramatic heft that it never quite obtains; the strings circle ominously without ever amounting to anything more than a signifier that this is Big and Artistic. The lyrics are dark and hint at the promised Masochism of the forthcoming album, but Ferreira's vocals are lost and ineffective way down at the muddy low-end of the mix. We can but hope that the album folds her more experimental impulses into some better-constructed songs. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "Downhill Lullaby" is a pleasant hell. From that crawling, slow bassline that drags through the entire track to the screeches of strings that are just as pervasive, Sky Ferreira's soundscape is claustrophobic and visceral. To live inside of this track, to carry it around with you in the world, is an exercise in anxiety and fear and the feeling of being trapped. It's a song that simultaneously makes its singer small and makes her the only thing that matters-- the way she growls and mutters out every syllable as if she is singing only to herself, the way the track seems to follow her lead like some organic thing. It's not a song that I can listen to very often, but it's worth it whenever I can. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Sky Ferreira #pop #music #music review #writing

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wineftw · 4 years

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LES GRENACHES DU MONDE (WELL, ALMOST)

Did you know that Grenache used to be one of the world's most-planted grape varieties? Me neither.

I learned this from Jancis Robinson's recent piece about the evolution of grape varieties. Inspired by a study about wine grape statistics* by Kym Anderson and Signe Nelgen of Adelaide university, her article pointed out that the variety known as Garnacha Tinta in its native Spain – or Grenache in France - has lost considerable ground since 1990, when it was the world’s second most-planted variety.

In 2016, it fell to seventh place*, and to add insult to injury, Kym Anderson excludes Grenache from his small group of “premium” (high quality) grape varieties in his report.

However, Jancis counters that Grenache “is now experiencing a re-evaluation by growers and quality-conscious consumers and is on the verge of being considered fashionable thanks to some great examples from the southern Rhône, Spain, South Africa and Australia.”

Buoyed up by her words, I went off to judge at the eighth edition of the Grenaches du Monde competition, held in Montpellier (my home town) from September 15th-16th, 2020. Over two days of blind tasting, 832 wines (pure Grenache or Grenache-dominant blends) were assessed by 68 tasters.

That’s me in the green dress, pondering one of the 54 wines (from Sardinia, Roussillon, Terra Alta, Catalunya, Languedoc and Montsant) scored by my panel.

Or maybe I was triggered by the Terra Alta wines and casting my mind back to 2018, when Garnacha’s Spanish heartland Terra Alta hosted the 6th edition of the Grenaches du Monde competition and we got to visit the amazing Gandesa cooperative winery, designed by César Martinelli.

This year, competition entries came from just five countries, namely France, Italy, Spain, USA and South Africa. The Grenaches du Monde site allows the visitor to search for winning wines from other countries (Australia, Greece, Lebanon, Macedonia) but no doubt the pandemic didn't help in terms of driving entries or shipping samples.

I feel it's a shame to have lost this diversity, which is part of the interest when you’re a judge. Back in 2013 , the very first Grenaches du Monde competition in Perpignan was particularly memorable: I got to taste some outstanding Grenache wines from Australian wineries Seppeltsfield and Kilikanoon and hear an inspiring talk from brand ambassador Nathan Waks.

But I digress.

This year, 260 medals were awarded (you can find all the results here). For what it's worth (the scoring system was... generous, to say the least), there were 188 gold medals and 72 silver. Spain carried off 125 medals, France 78 (Roussillon shone with a total of 54 medals, 31 for dry wines, 23 for fortified), Italy 56 and... the United States, 1.

This singular American triumph was a gold medal given to Lodi's Bokisch Vineyards for their Garnacha, a 95% Garnacha, 5% Graciano blend).

Curious, I went online and learned that its creators Markus and Liz Bokisch have been growing Spanish varietals in California since the early 2000s (apparently they began by directly importing budwood from selected Spanish vineyards).

I like odd details like this.

As it happens, Bokisch was one of only two American participants in this year's Grenache du Monde competition, so I'm pleased for them that their efforts paid off.

And I’m hoping that next year we'll see a return to diversity, with a few more entrants from the USA, Australia, South Africa and the like.

*”Covering 192,455 hectares of vines, Grenache ranks seventh among the most planted grape varieties in the world. Emblematic of Mediterranean countries, it ranks third in Europe (behind Tempranillo and Merlot) with 178,628 hectares. France, Spain and Italy are the top three producing countries: France accounts for 90,000 hectares, i.e. about 50% of the world's Grenache. Spain accounts for 70,000 ha (41% of the world’s Grenache), and Italy has 6,000 ha so 3.6 %.”

Source: CIVR / Concours Grenaches du Monde.

#Grenache wine competition winetasting

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

Text

Nights of Villjamblah

by Wardog

Friday, 24 June 2011

Wardog tries and fails to like Nights of Villjamur.~

I really should have liked Nights of Villjamur more than I did. And that's the sort of line that sets one up for a damning review but I honestly feel quite bad about it. It's full of the sort of things I generally appreciate but for some reason it left me frustrated that it wasn't, with all this promise and potential, somehow better. Without attempting to make uncontrolled, unsupported declarations about a genre as complicated and evolving as fantasy, I'd put Mark Charan Newton on the same team as writers like Abercrombie and Abraham, although if you're into literary genealogy you can certainly trace the influence of Vance and Mieville in there too. But what I'm trying to get at here is that we're talking punchy, modern fantasy; brutal, cynical, self-consciously anti-Tolkeinesque and hopefully weighing in at five hundred pages or less. The problem is, however, that as much as I enjoy this uppity, edgy, fantasy, there's already an extent to which it's becoming stale. Maybe if I'd read Nights of Villjamur two years ago, my tiny mind would have been appropriately blown, but I came away with the distinct impression it was like Abercrombie without the style and Abraham without the sophistication. On the other hand, it is a début novel and it is not by any means totally awful so I'd certainly be at least mildly interested in seeing how Newton develops.

The Jamur Empire is yer typical rich, sprawling, corrupt fantasy Empire, except there's an ice-age coming, and the Emperor has just killed himself in a fit of crazed paranoia. Cue: political shenanigans, and some other stuff. The reason I'm having a hard job summarising the plot effectively is that it's one of those multi-stranded jobbies, but the threads only come together right at the end, if at all, which makes the experience of reading Nights of Villjamur rather disjointed. Some of the involved parties are: Commander Brynd Lathraea, doing soldiery things, Inquisitor Jeryd investigating the murder of a city councillor, and Randur Estevu who hails from some kind of island race of martial artists / sex workers / dancers and has been brought to Villjamur to teach the Emperor's daughter how to dance.

I liked, in abstract terms, nearly all of these characters but their plots arcs were so wildly different in tone and style that, rather than illuminating different aspects of life in Villjamur as I suspect must have been the intention, they interfered with each other. Jeryd, for example, acts like he's in The Maltese Falcon - he's old and weary and tormented by the failures of his personal life. He's also a weird cat-person-creature but let's not go there. I had no idea what was going on with the rumel, and the last time I encountered a cat-based race it was in Green, so I'm still scarred. But his consistent failure to solve the crime, when even I was sitting there able to solve the crime, was infuriating and the the whole “one honest man versus political corruption” theme does not, in this case, co-exist comfortably in a world where you also have Brynd dealing with the brutal slaughter of entire populations. I know the counter-argument to this is “ah, but that's the point” but if it isthe point Newton does not carry it off particularly successfully, especially when Randur's swashbuckling antics are entirely at variance with both. Newton goes to great pains to create a society on the verge of ruin, a city rife with decadence and cruelty, and a world overrun with monsters and yet Randur is able to semi-thwart a massive political uprising, and stage a daring rescue, with a jolly group of peasants, who, despite living in deprivation and povert, are suddenly willing to fight to the death in defence of their oppressors. I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

It doesn't help that the supporting cast is extensive and depressingly one-dimensional. You have a Tuya, the jaded prostitute, Tryst, Jeryd's ambitious Iago-like aid who does, in fact, spend two thirds of the book engaged in acts of motiveless malignancy, Marysa, Jeryd's tediously virtuous and personality devoid wife, Eir the feisty Emperor's daughter who has her eyes opened to the true poverty of her kingdom, the fence with a heart of gold, the scheming councillor, the mad cultist, and so on and so forth. The three main characters are marginally better drawn but they lacked any true psychological depth or complexity.

Jeryd, for example, is manipulated by Tryst into believing his wife has cheated on him. Heading home in a partially drug-fuelled rage, he strikes her. Conveniently she wakes up somewhat confused and Jeryd lets her believe it was a dream. Neither the dimensions or the consequences of this are ever properly explored, nor are we really given opportunity to ponder how much responsibility (if any) Jeryd bears for either the action itself, or lying about it afterwards. Brynd's big secret is that he's gay, in a society where homosexuality is punishable by death, due to a line in one of the scriptures. I actually quite liked Brynd, but being tormented and alienated is still not really a substitute for having a personality. The presentation of his homosexuality wavers between the quite good and the horrendously heavy handed. Something that does come across well is the fact that it would be incidental to his character if not for the world in which he lives. And the chapter in which he meets up with his lover, Kym, struck me as reasonably successful, as the encounter is recounted with neither sentimentality nor sensationalism. But it's the only moment of subtlety in the entire text, and the rest of the time we're treated to reflections like this:

“Where's the big freak?” Apium said, before yawning and stretching with the grace of a tramp, astride his black horse. “I take it you mean Jurro?” Brynd said, after considering for a moment that he himself was the freak, or maybe Kym – men who loved other men, and who'd be killed if discovered. He could never shake off the paranoia.

I understand that this would be something on his mind a lot, but it's the clumsy exposition that really sinks it for me. This exchange takes place on page 331 of my edition – if I haven't got that Brynd is gay, and that being gay is punishable by death, by this point in the book, I don't think there's much more an author can be expected to do for me. Much of the interior life of the major characters is narrated to us in this flat, expository way. I don't want to fall back on trite maxims about writing but I would have liked to see character traits illuminated or demonstrated more through thoughts, interaction and behaviour, rather than simply being told about them.

Randur, for example, comes to the city through a slightly spurious set of circumstances in order to raise enough money for a cultist to bring his mother back from the dead. In order to get the cash, he has his job at the palace, teaching Eir to dance, but he also sleeps with rich, older women and steals their jewellery. He does explain, at one point, that he feels like he owes his mother a debt for all she has sacrificed for him but it never really feels convincing. After all, sense of filial obligation is one thing. Necromancy another. Needless to say, over the course of the book, he and Eir fall for each other and it turns out that resurrecting his mother isn't going to be possible, even with the money in hand. Here is the description of Randur's response:

His world imploded. Lying on Eir's bed later, he felt he wanted to vomit, but instead he cried like a ten-year-old as he told her everything. She sat next to him and waited for him to finish – he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that, he got up and left, walked for two hours across the city bridges, then returned, damp and cold. Then he resumed crying. Eir held his hand. “It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.” She got up and lit lanterns and soothing incense and waited for him to compose himself. He realised he was comfortable being vulnerable in front of her. Soon he began to feel better, until somehow his failings as a son didn't seem to matter quite as much.

Given that this is a significant moment in Randur's personal development, and his relationship with Eir, I felt it was rather over-narrated but I read the ease which he apparently gets over it as evidence that his original goal was immature, and not something we were really expected to take seriously. However, a chapter later we're being narrated at again:

Eir had even given him some jewellery: a plain silver chain to go around his neck, two rings for his fingers. She had supported him so much that he felt he owed her is very soul if only he could give it. Eir's biggest gift to him wasn't monetary but psychological. Perhaps all he'd ever needed was to actually love someone else.

Once more, I can't quite unpack the tone of this. It sounds so ludicrously trite that I was half-tempted to read it as being in some way ironic. And I'm, incidentally, not thrilled with Eir's sudden detour into maternal saviour, although I can't tell whether that's meant to be Randur's distorted perspective, since Eir only has about three personality traits and none of them, thus far, have been even remotely maternal. But ultimately it's just another example of the way that heavy-handed attempts to explain the psychological development of the characters ruins their portrayal.

The other thing you can see from these quoted paragraphs, is the occasional banality of the writing, and its general clumsiness. For example, we have three awkwardly repeated 'thats' far too close to each other in “he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that...” The book is riddled with such unnecessary annoyances, and the style itself is as inconsistent as everything else. Dialogue is generally naturalistic, with a fair few fucks thrown in for good measure, the prose style is plain and expository to the point of tedium, but occasionally Newton struggles towards a Mieville-like excess, which often just falls flat:

A truculunt pain shot through him and he screamed … he stumbled forwards, his hands clutching for wet stones, then began to spit blood on the ground … Sensing his life fluid filling the cracks between the cobbles, the blood beetles came and began to smother him, till his screams could be heard amplified between the high walls of the courtyard. One even scurried into his mouth, scraping eagerly as his gums and tongue. He bit down so he wouldn't choke, split its shell in two, and spat it out, but he could still taste its ichors. Councillor Ghuda was violently febrile.

I honestly have no idea what that means. I understand the individual words but the connection between them, and the the being eaten alive by bugs, not so much. A major component of Newton's Mieville Aspirations is the city of Villjamur itself, which I'm sure is meant to exist as vividly in the narrative as New Crobuzon in Perdido Street Station. I'm honestly not a huge fan of Perdido Street Station and I found the descriptions of the city a little overweening but I will admit that they got the job done. By contrast, Villjamur never became real to me and, if anything, Newton is trying so hard to have it make an impression on the reader that the overall affect is one of artificiality. Devices over conviction. For example, there's a self-conscious weirdness to Villjamur - it has blood beetles and banshees, and garuda – but these just feel like a checklist. And scenes or chapters tend to end with the narrative moving away from the thoughts and actions of the characters to more general statements about the mood of the Villjamur. The contrast, I suspect, is meant to create a sense of distance between the struggles of individuals and the vast intricacies of the city itself:

After that the three of them watched the falling snow in companionable silence. Street fires and lantern lights glared defiantly for another bell, but one by one they fell into shadow. Voices in the streets beyond quietened and soon there was only the sound of the wind probing the city's countless alleyways.

However, the more Newton falls back on this technique, the more transparent it becomes, and the more I resisted his attempts to “sell” me Villjamur. As the book progresses, he takes to refering to the city as if it should now be familiar to us (“Another one of those melancholy nights of Villjamur, in which a pterodette called out across the city's spires so loudly it sounded like a banshee”) but by that stage I was already convinced that Newton had failed to force me into a relationship with the city, and therefore this assumption of familiarity annoyed me and further alienated me from the Villjamur Newton was so desperately trying to evoke.

The thing is, barrage of negativity aside, it's not as bad as all that. I did, after all, read the thing and I was mildly engaged by the plot and some of the characters, even in spite of the heavy-handed narration and my increasingly irritation with having Villjamur forced down my throat. As a personal, rather than general, criticism I realised at about the halfway point that there wasn't a single interesting woman in the entire book. Obviously having diverse and well-rounded female characters isn't a moral necessity and it's perfectly reasonable for any writer to simply not be interested but for me to really enjoy a text I'd probably prefer it wasn't a massive sausage party. The Emperor's eldest daughter seems intriguing but she isn't in it enough for me to be able to judge. Eir is feisty-by-numbers and, consequently, irritating. Tuya starts off promising and then gets drugged and abused by Tryst, in his pursuit of revenge over Jeryd, so she essentially becomes a cipher. Jeryd's wife is so lightly sketched she's barely a character at all. To be fair to Newton, the men aren't that interesting either but they at least get more page time. However, the one thing I did like was what I perceived to be a fairly healthy attitude to sex, both heterosexual and homosexual. There are a few non-explicit but nicely down-to-earth sex scenes. But, like anything else in Villjamur, sex is largely another commodity – and the men trade it as much as the women do. I liked the fact that women, incidental though they are to the text in general, were as active in pursuit of sex as men, just as acquisitive of pretty young things, and seemed to derive as much pleasure from it.

This being so, and because we haven't had one for a while, I present: Fantasy Rape Watch for Nights of Villjamur.

Number of non-straight men: 2

Number of non-straight men killed: 0

Number of non-straight women: 0

Number of men who sell themselves: 3 maybe*

Number of men who sell themselves who are killed: 0

Number of men who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 2

Number of men who sell themselves where the woman obligingly makes herself look hot for them: 1

Number of women who sell themselves: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who are killed: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 0

Number of women who sell themselves who manage to survive a bomb: 0

Number of virtuous, married women who manage to survive the same bomb: 1

*I am including in this category, Randur who sleeps with rich old women in order to pay for necromantic magic, Tryst who sleeps with an old cultist in order to acquire something he needs, and Kym who it seems to be suggesting gets around a bit.

Obviously, I'm being slightly unfair on Newton here. I wasn't actually all that bothered by the fact that Randur manwhores his way around Villjamur and this is sort of portrayed as being vaguely cool, whereas Tuya is stuck in a cycle of loneliness and bitterness. I saw this as being largely down to the fact they are very different people, and Randur is young whereas Tuya is forty. However, I was a bit annoyed by the fact Tuya, who had all the markings of being quite interesting (shock!), was treated the way she was by the narrative - victimised, sidelined and then conveniently killed.

In conclusion I would say that although I have really hammered into Nights of Villjamur, it's not actually as bad as all that. I found it quite frustrating to read but I didn't actively hate it: I liked Brynd, and Newton seems to have quite a good grip on his gender politics. It certainly has some promise and I can only hope that this goes some way to being fulfilled in the later books.Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

Emocakes

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valse de la lune

at 16:05 on 2011-06-24I remember really wanting to read this at one time, then a friend told me it was meh and I wrote it off. To this day I'm still vaguely curious but the fear of terribad racial/cultural appropriation compels me to keep my distance. Alas.

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Wardog

at 16:23 on 2011-06-24Well, as I said in my usual lukewarm fashion I quite liked Brynd... but my dominating response was "meh" over "ick." The novel is so bland that it's quite hard to get really wound up about it. I felt that the social issues, related to the coming ice-age (climate change, ho ho), Brynd's homosexuality and ye typical fantasy racism were pretty shallow, and consequently there wasn't really anything to get a grip on, either to praise or to criticise. I did think the islanders of Folke - they do dancing, swordplay and sex apparently - were a bit dodgy though, but to be honest I dismissed it as typical of the genre. I can see how there would be plenty to bother you though. I guess I was too busy fighting the bored to pay sufficient attention. Oh, and of course, you get the prejudice towards non-human races ... but, come on, cat-people are not a stand-in for people of colour.

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Vermisvere

at 16:48 on 2011-06-24Hmm...this doesn't sound like something I'd be keen to enter into my usual compulsory reading list, although it might be something I could probably sit through some cold winter night when I'm bored out of my mind.

And the way you describe it, Villjamur seems to strike me as being a bit like a fantasy version of Gotham City, minus all the crazy supervillains and Batman running around.

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Wardog

at 17:03 on 2011-06-24It is incredibly well-regarded so it's possible I've just experienced a profound failure of taste.

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Arthur B

at 17:10 on 2011-06-24

I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

This sounds like exactly one of the problems I had with

Steve Cockayne's debut novel

- it tried to fuse the conventions of so many different takes on fantastic material that it ended up tripping over itself. Ah well.

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http://everythingisnice.wordpress.com/

at 17:34 on 2011-06-24Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

I reviewed the book for Strange Horizons and came to a similar view to you. This was against the prevailing view at the time but I wonder if that has changed a bit. I've certainly seen lots of people suggesting Newton has improved as a writer as the series has progressed and have perhaps recalibrated their view of

Villjamur

(which is, after all, a debut novel). I've not read any of his other novels but I will definitely try him again at some point.

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Wardog

at 17:50 on 2011-06-24

Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

That is a good point - I fail at spoilers. But I guess you'd have to be paying attention to notice, or already familiar with the book.

I feel quite bad about not liking this more but since I remember a flurry of "zomg!awesome" at the time it came out I was genuinely a bit shocked. I am quite curious about his other books though, even in spite of my lack of enthusiasm for this one.

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Cammalot

at 22:05 on 2011-06-24Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

But basically with so many things that have been really hyped in the last few years, elements have come out that have made me not only want to avoid the books like the plague, but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

I think I'll still try this one when it comes either to Nook or to trade paper, though.

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Michal

at 03:09 on 2011-06-25

but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

Well, count me as one other person who wasn't so crazy on The Windup Girl (and 'specially not Emiko). I didn't even finish it.

Also, I'm starting to notice our tastes are weirdly similar. Are you sure you're not my doppelganger?

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Cammalot

at 06:31 on 2011-06-25I can neither confirm nor deny. :shifty eyes:

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Wardog

at 14:43 on 2011-06-25

Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

I'm, err, not not recommending it. I didn't like it much, but it certainly has potential and perhaps the series as a whole is better.

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

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Vermisvere

at 15:40 on 2011-06-25

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

*Gasp*

IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!

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Cammalot

at 16:48 on 2011-06-25So I can take credit for Michal's coherence! I am willng to go along with this.

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valse de la lune

at 21:27 on 2011-06-25SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

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Arthur B

at 21:46 on 2011-06-25And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

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Vermisvere

at 05:11 on 2011-06-26

And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

But wait...if I was hypnotised, then nobody exists...but if I was hypnotised, the one who hypnotised me must exist...but wait, if he exists, then my first statement must not be true...but, but...hey, wait a minute, ain't Dickens dead anyway?

Arghh! *goes into Rene Descartes overdrive-mode*

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Arthur B

at 09:05 on 2011-06-26It's all a game in Wilkie Collins' head.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 20:35 on 2011-06-26

SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

Well, everyone except for me. I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

(BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

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Ash

at 20:55 on 2011-06-26

I'm actually an artificial intelligence

Wait, I thought that was me.

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Shim

at 23:46 on 2011-06-26I'm not a sockpuppet, I'm a bot-mediated copy-paste from a less well-known site.

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Arthur B

at 00:38 on 2011-06-27I'm a worm from LulzSec. That time the other week the site was down for hours? Yeah, that was me.

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Vermisvere

at 10:17 on 2011-06-27

So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

Free will? That's SO last century...

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2011-06-28

Alasdair: I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will! (BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

As I recall it was two batches of homemade cookies, a case of premium vodka, and a three-year subscription to the Reader's Digest. I always did wonder about the subscription part.

... Damn, there goes my cover.

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

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Wardog

at 20:45 on 2011-06-28

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

I know :( Not precisely sparkling in Villjamur, is it?

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Shim

at 21:14 on 2011-06-28

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

I just read that along with the

Playpen Freud-Jung film discussion

and absent-mindedly read it as Ayn Rand in some bizarre They Fight Crime scheme.

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Arthur B

at 22:02 on 2011-06-28That'd be a good teamup.

All Freud linking Rand's admiration of architects to phallic symbols implicit in skyscrapers.

All Rand trying to convince Freud that charity and compassion are illnesses that cry out for treatment more than schizophrenia or neurosis.

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Robinson L

at 00:36 on 2011-06-29Cast Liv Tyler as Ayn Rand and you can have Mortensen's Freud desperately attempting to convince Jung that there is not unresolved sexual tension between them whatsoever.

Jung: Sigmund old boy, you just said you wanted to get into Ayn's pants.

Freud: I mean

plans

- get in on her

plans

Jung: But you said

pants

Freud: Sometimes a slip of the tongue is

just

a slip of the tongue!

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Wardog

at 09:42 on 2011-06-29Hahaha!

Robinson is on fire today.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2011-07-01

Kyra: Robinson is on fire today.

Yes, it was touch-and-go for a while there, but they managed to dowse me and get me to a treatment center and the med droids tell me I won't have to spend the rest of my life in a mechanical suit.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2012-02-24

Mark C Newton: "Things I got wrong."

Re-posting from the Playpen (credit Cammalot for the original discovery) because the Playpen is such a transitory space and because this specific post and this sort of authorial self-reflection need a lot more love.

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Wardog

at 15:46 on 2012-02-24Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2012-02-24

Kyra: Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

No reason you should. And yes, this sort of thing should probably be the baseline for authorial self-reflection, but since so many authors fail to reach such basic levels of insight, it's important to point out when they get even this much right. I also like the way he articulates the point that "gritty" doesn't automatically = "mature," and I'm a bit taken with his tone throughout the piece, but that's a personal thing.

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Cammalot

at 22:19 on 2012-02-24Heh -- I'm not even too inclined to *read* him for it, but I've been seeing so much bad authorial behavior in my lurkings lately I felt compelled to point it out. It made me a happy.

I'm still not planning to pick up this one, but with Strange Horizons blurbing his second one as "What Villjamur wished it could be," I wouldn't toss it away if it wound up in my hands, so to speak. The premise is still intriguing, and it would be interesting to see what he's done with this insight.

(I've been hearing it in my head as "Vjillamur" all this time. This is the first I'm noticing how wrong I am!)

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Wardog

at 23:42 on 2012-02-24Hee! Authors Behaving Badly! I am kind of imagining cheap documentary film-making with GRRM and Pat Rothfuss and Joe Abercrombie all wearing skimpy outfits in hot-tubs and making out with each other for the camera... Actually that's basically what they do anyway, isn't it? Except on the Internet.

(also that image hurts my brain)

That's the thing, I think I probably quite like MCN. Like Daniel Abraham (I love you Daniel Abraham, you do not need to put on the bunny tail and go in the hot tub) most of the things I've seen him writing that aren't, y'know, fiction I've quite liked. He seems kind of down-to-earth, not *ragingly* sexist and moderately humble ...

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Arthur B

at 00:02 on 2012-02-25"Authors Behaving Badly" make me think of an overrated sitcom in which R. Scott Bakker and Jay Lake are slovenly flatmates who are constantly taken aback by their inability to convince the feminists living downstairs that they're totally on their side.

#Ferretbrain #Nights of Villjamur #Mark Charan Newton #Fantasy Rape Watch #Wardog #Emocakes

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