#my review: i finished it earlier today it was very good. beautiful beautiful art very wonderful book | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollycas · 3 months

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Special Guest Holly S. Roberts - Author of Breach: A Terrifying Summer Adventure @hollysrobertsauthor - Great Escapes Book Tour #AuthorInterview #Giveaway

Breach: A Terrifying Summer Adventure by Holly S. Roberts I am delighted to welcome Holly S. Roberts to Escape With Dollycas today! Hi Holly, Please tell us a little bit about yourself. I was born dyslexic and read my first complete book at twelve. I turned my love of reading into a career and purchased an independent bookstore in my twenties. I owned the store for twenty years but there was something caused by an experience in my childhood that I needed to do and I was running out of time. At age 45, I went to the police academy and lived my dream a few years later as a homicide and sex crimes detective. I became one of the leading experts in the state on predator behavior. On the advice of a very good therapist, I began writing and I haven’t stopped. I retired from law enforcement in 2014 and turned writing into a fulltime career. What are three things most people don’t know about you? I’ve been hiding my newfound love of Taylor Swift. No embarrassment but its special so I’ve been keeping it to myself. The only other secret I can think of is I haven’t missed a season of Survivor since the first episode. I’m running out of time to apply for the show but I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe. What books/authors have most inspired you? There are so many but back in my bookstore days I was lucky enough to have a parttime gig for some major publishing houses and drive authors around the Phoenix area. Amazingly they paid me to do this. Three authors I spent time with inspired me to write: Lee Child, Jeffery Deaver, and Iris Johansen. I can’t thank them enough and I learned so much. What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book? Research is one of the best parts of being a writer and I like to challenge myself by learning more than I could possibly ever write in a book. My research can start as far back as a year before I write a word but it always continues through the first draft. Do you ever suffer from Writer’s Block? I really don’t. There are so many stories floating in my head if one isn’t working I can switch to something that does. What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer? Write until you become great at it. I’m still working on that part and I will until I write my last word. Study the best, find your own techniques. Listen to other authors but throw away what doesn’t work for you and grab what does. Write bad stuff, write silly stuff, write good stuff. Just write! When you are not writing what do you like to do? I’ve been involved in martial arts for many years and I love Sinawali sticks and practice religiously. I also love gardening which keeps me busy during the spring, summer, and fall. Then there are my two big goofy dogs who keep me company and give me slobber kisses when I’m down. If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go and why? We own 100 acres off grid and it’s where I go to recharge. No phone service or internet but incredibly silent in its beauty. Oh and I hunt for rocks there, a small obsession of mine. What is next on the horizon for you? Before Covid, I owned a martial arts gym and taught self-defense to women. Sadly the gym didn’t survive. I’m looking forward to teaching again in someone else’s gym. I’m at a point in my writing career that I’m working on books I’ve wanted to write for years. That will continue and there’s a special book that may take a decade to finish but I won’t know until I put the first word on paper. Thank you Holly for visiting today. __________ Keep reading for more information about Holly's new book Breach. I read the book earlier this week and I can't wait to share my review with you. Be sure to come back Tuesday for it. I will tell you the story has stuck with me and I have pushed my husband to read the book too so we can discuss it. About Breach Breach: A Terrifying Summer Adventure Psychological Thriller Setting - Off the coast of California Publisher ‏ : ‎Independently Published (March 22, 2024) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 202 pages ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8320606989 Digital: Wicked Story Telling (June 20, 2024) ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CQYXJ3T1 Craving the vastness of the open sea, Kate and her family set out on a journey of forgiveness and healing aboard Ryan's Gift, their newly remodeled yacht. After a tragic accident, it’s imperative that Kate returns to the ocean, the place she once called home, in an attempt to restore her spirit. In the middle of their idyllic voyage, the nightmare begins. With no power or communication, a monster lurks below the surface and the family must find a way to defeat the darkness before it destroys them. Experience this gripping story of a family's fight for survival and a terrifying reckoning from the deep. Excerpt "Eighteen months had passed since the accident that left Kate with an incomplete spinal cord injury, taking away the use of her legs. The rehabilitation center staff had believed her fortunate for retaining some sensation below the waist, but Kate had never felt unluckier" . "Kate examined the water looking for a dorsal fin. Slight waves from the Sea Doo rocked the yacht. She wheeled herself frantically toward the stern, her pulse hammering as the real threat lurked unseen below". "Kate's voice was a whisper, her hands tense on the wheels of her chair. 'Ryan, hold on,' she breathed as the shark's massive silhouette darted beneath the yacht toward her daughter". "With every ounce of her being, Kate focused on the rolling waves. 'This ends today,' she declared, determination lining her features as she prepared to defend her family from a terrifying nightmare". About Holly S. Roberts Holly S Roberts is the USA TODAY bestselling author of thrillers, mysteries, and romance. Her Detective Eve Bennet crime series is a #1 Amazon bestseller. She’s a retired homicide detective who worked high-profile cases in Arizona. Holly lives high in the mountains with her husband and two spoiled dogs. Author Links Website Facebook Instagram TikTok YouTube Goodreads Purchase Links Amazon/Kindle Unlimited Also written by Holly S. Roberts TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. June 20 – The Mystery of Writing – SPOTLIGHT June 20 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT June 20 – Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT June 21 – Baroness Book Trove – SPOTLIGHT June 21 – Novels Alive – REVIEW June 21 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews - SPOTLIGHT June 22 – StoreyBook Reviews – SPOTLIGHT June 22 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT June 22 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – AUTHOR INTERVIEW June 23 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT June 23 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT June 24 – Christy's Cozy Corners – REVIEW June 24 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT June 25 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW June 25 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT June 25 – Rosepoint Publishing – REVIEW June 26 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT June 26 – Elizabeth McKenna - Author – SPOTLIGHT June 26 – Boys' Mom Reads! – SPOTLIGHT CLICK HERE TO ENTER A GIVEAWAY FOR A SHARK PLUSHIE! Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Read the full article

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decamarks · 2 years

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FINALLY got this book earlier today and as soon as i put it down on my bed to read it, a rainbow started refracting off my glass of water and directly onto it. gay people are REAL!

#my review: i finished it earlier today it was very good. beautiful beautiful art very wonderful book #it is literally 500 pages of gorgeous art and design and holding it in my hands makes me happy #that alone is good enough for me but the characters ARE very cute and compelling.#despite the dark storyline and imagery it's VERY lighthearted overall. which i enjoyed!#it was also uhhhh approximately 10 times hornier than i thought it would be. i was honestly not expecting that.#let it be known however. that this is NOT a complaint #it's nice knowing that an artist whose work i greatly appreciate and admire‚#has a very specific set of interests which happen to be nigh indistinguishable from my own. ANYWAY #highly recommend it if it seems like a thing you would enjoy =)

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Victor’s Exhibition Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

NOTE: @redqueen-hypothesis did the translation for this! All I did was proofread and format! It’s on my blog because Red says so and I have to comply :<

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

MC: According to the map, it should be… right ahead!

Victor: ...you don’t need to look at the map. Just watch where you’re going.

Victor: Turn at this corner and we’ll be there. There’s no need to keep looking at your phone.

A few days ago, when I was agonising over what television program to produce for the theme ‘Heart’s Whisper While Going into the New Year’, a notification about an exhibition popped up on my phone.

The exhibition hall next to New Light Mall was going to hold a ‘Speak Up’ exhibition. I saw a few recommendations for the exhibit, and thought that it was meaningful, and also felt that it was in line with the New Year atmosphere.

Since the opportunity presented itself, I quickly booked Victor’s Sunday afternoon.

MC: CEO Victor’s rare time off has been taken over by me to do overtime - do you have any complaints?

After hearing what I’ve said, Victor raises an eyebrow, a slight laugh escaping him.

Victor: What if I do?

MC: If that’s the case…

MC: Since I don’t think I could afford your overtime wages, how about I treat you to a cup of coffee later? I’ll look for the nearest cafe in the area…

When I lower my head to look at my phone, searching for a list of cafes in the vicinity, Victor lets out a sigh and grabs my hand, pulling me to turn a right at the corner.

MC: Ahh, the nearest cafe is located right outside the exhibition hall!

MC: Online reviews say that their croissants taste good. From the pictures they’ve posted… it seems to be true.

Victor: And here I was, thinking that you’d really come with the intention of figuring out the plan for your television program.

MC: I do intend to! But right now, I’m missing the… spark of inspiration.

MC: If the afternoon turns out to be fruitless, I’ll simply treat it as a day out! It’s not too bad.

MC: Besides, don’t you think the two of us have very few opportunities to look at these sorts of exhibitions together?

Victor: … yes, it’s my fault for being too busy.

MC: That’s not true. You already take out so much time to accompany me, and I always drag you to all sorts of noisy places.

MC: It’s time to let art nurture my soul, and help me attain a gentler disposition.

Victor’s hand, which had been holding mine earlier, slides down my palm, warm fingertips stroking the back of my hand gently, before lacing his fingers with mine.

Victor: Then, let’s go.

Cafe owner: So the both of you haven’t planned the overall route to view the exhibition?

The cafe is located right at the entrance. After securing the tickets to the exhibition, I pull Victor to the cafe first.

However, today’s exhibition hall seems a little deserted, and the cafe has very few customers.

The bespectacled middle-aged owner seems refined and gentle and is a good host. Before long, he’s already started a conversation with the two of us.

MC: Is the exhibition very big?

Cafe owner: There are three floors in total. If you browse every exhibit once, it should take quite a while.

Cafe owner: This is why many visitors choose a single floor to focus their attention on, and give less time to the other two.

When Victor takes his coffee, he nods politely at the cafe owner.

Victor: Do you have any recommendations?

Cafe owner: Haha, if you’re talking about recommendations, I’d suggest the second floor. It’s most popular with visitors, since the main theme of the floor is ‘Love’.

As the cafe owner says this, he places both hands on the bar counter and chuckles at the two of us.

Cafe owner: Stories on the second floor and those related to the exhibits are real. So instead of saying that you’re looking at the exhibits, it’s more of you looking at authentic stories.

I steal a glance at Victor.

Victor: It’s your choice.

MC: Then let’s go to the second floor first!

MC: Coincidentally, most of the exhibits I’m interested in happen to be on the second floor as well.

Happily, I pick up my latte and tuck the exhibition brochure into my bag, determined to explore the second floor.

Victor is one step ahead of me and pushes open the door of the cafe for both of us, giving the cafe owner a slight nod before we leave.

When I turn back to look behind me, he has already taken my hand, pulling me towards the second floor.

After stepping up the last flight of stairs, the large exhibition hall appears before my eyes.

It’s not at all like what I had expected. There aren’t any mundane objects put on display here such as handwritten letters or small gifts. Instead, these are real pieces of artwork.

All sorts of beautiful sculptures, paintings, and musical instruments have been set up. Even the lighting is so beautiful that if I were to use exquisite words to praise it, it would still sound modest.

MC: It really is an art exhibition…

Victor: There are a few works from some of the best artists of their time. You should be careful not to miss any of them.

Even though the silence in this large exhibition hall is only broken by the sound of our footsteps, one lighter and one heavier, the interior decor of the exhibit is very cozy, lacking the coldness that keeps one at bay.

Pure white stone pillars, warm yellow lights, the lack of the usual glass coverings separating exhibits, and every placard for each exhibit seems as though it’s been handwritten by the person who contributed it.

Walking between the exhibits, the feeling I get is one of warmth, and the volume that I had been suppressing since I walked into the exhibition hall steadily grows.

MC: Victor, look at this!

I take out my phone and snap a picture of the oil painting hanging on a wall.

MC: The placard says that the artist’s girlfriend is known as ‘Mouse’. So in every piece of artwork, there’s an adorable mouse subtly hidden somewhere.

After pressing down on the shutter, I look up once again to search the artwork for a little mouse.

MC: Wow, he’s really creative! The mouse in every piece looks completely different!

MC: This chubby little one looks really cute, this one seems really sharp and intelligent… they all suit the theme of each artwork. If you don’t look very carefully, it’s difficult to notice them, and they don’t ruin the art at all.

With a hand stuffed into his pocket, Victor lifts his eyes to stare at these paintings, a look of contemplation surfacing on his face.

Victor: This exhibit is called “Marks”.

MC: Yeah… it’s a title which lets others easily understand what it’s about.

Victor turns around to give me a low chuckle.

Victor: If that’s the case, tell me what you understand from it.

MC: Are you testing me again?

I think about this for a moment, then rush to stop him before he can tell me the answer, shaking my head.

MC: I’ll tell you my answer later! But first, come with me to see another exhibit!

I pull Victor along with me to the walkway, deeper into the exhibition, following my memory of the exhibition brochure I had looked at earlier, and come to a stop in front of several thick diaries.

MC: This exhibit is called ‘Today’s Weather’. It’s the exhibit I wanted to center my program around.

MC: These are the diaries of a woman who wrote down everything about her life for a full ten years. In these diaries, she often mentions “Mr A”, the person she likes very much.

Victor nods, flipping open one of the books silently.

Victor: From what I can see of her personality from her writings, she seems to be quite similar to you.

MC: Do you know what’s written on the last page of her diary? ...‘Congratulations on your marriage’.

MC: The “Mr A” she liked so much rejected her confessions several times, and he later moved overseas, causing them to lose contact with each other. The next time she heard of him, it was an announcement of his marriage, and that’s where her diary stopped.

Victor’s hand pauses in flipping a page, his expression slightly dumbfounded.

Victor: So what was the point of her writing this diary?

I look at the yellowing pages of the diary, and think back to what the brochure had mentioned about it.

MC: There was no reason.

MC: She later said that this was her true life story - a simple and calm one. During these ten years, she studied hard and moved to the city, becoming a person in charge, a manager, and then a director… and never once gave up on herself.

MC: Although the entrance test she took back then was exceptionally difficult, she persevered with the thought that the school was rather close to the high school Mr A had once studied at.

MC: She felt that by attending a school near to his, she could bring their lives closer together.

MC: There were no waves of joy or anguish - only trivial sentiments.

Even though there were some incidents which made her feel sad, from the cute and excitable way she described everything in her diary, she lived rather well despite feeling some regret.

However, after saying so much, Victor doesn’t respond. I walk to his side and tug on his sleeve.

MC: We’ve finished looking at this exhibit. Do you want to leave?

Victor: Since this is the exhibit you wanted to use for your program, shouldn’t you take a few more photos before leaving?

MC: I planned to, but I thought you might find it pointless.

Under his questioning gaze, I answer honestly.

MC: I’m sure in CEO Victor’s mind, there are many more important things going on every day… you wouldn’t be interested in trivial things such as romantic sentiments. And even then, you’d be able to understand them easily.

Victor gives a small laugh.

Victor: If I weren’t interested in such things, why would I be accompanying you here over the weekend?

He glances back at the diaries, his expression one of deep contemplation.

Victor: In truth, the same emotions can be felt by different people. I can understand her feelings.

I never thought Victor would answer in such a manner.

MC: Do you think that it was a waste of her time to write these diaries?

Victor: No.

Victor’s gaze rests on a page.

Victor: The writer wrote it down herself - “The time I spent loving someone, not a single second of it was wasted.”

I rarely hear such words leave Victor’s mouth, and it makes me feel a little surreal. In my memory, we very rarely talk about the topic of ‘love’. Maybe it’s because he rarely says what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s because I’m used to being thick-skinned. We never have the opportunity to seriously understand the meaning in these words.

When he looks at these exhibits, do we feel the same emotions?

I contemplate this for a moment, before looking at him once more.

Victor: What do you want to say?

MC: I was thinking about what you asked me earlier.

I take two steps towards him. Even though the distance between us is small, he doesn’t step backwards. Instead, he simply turns towards me.

MC: I think a love like this is very interesting. You meet a person and feel such emotions.

MC: From that day onwards, you’re never the same person again, and are completely changed. Like some sort of… mark.

MC: It’s a sort of mark that can be left in literature or in a photograph… and I can feel it.

Victor’s eyes are lowered. In his clear and tranquil eyes, there are ripples of light and shadows.

Victor: Such as?

The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is clear, and I ponder this seriously.

MC: For example, the way I write proposals has changed.

MC: The format of my proposals has changed. The indent of the first line, font size 15, 1.5 spacing between lines... it’s the format you find most pleasing to the eye!

Victor’s eyebrow quirks.

Victor: That’s all?

MC: There’s more! I’ve become so much more picky with food. I never used to complain that food tastes bad, but eating at Souvenir has cultivated my palate. Now, when I eat even Michelin meals, I feel as if something’s lacking…

Victor smiles slightly and shakes his head, taking my hand.

Victor: Come with me.

In the innermost room of the exhibition floor on the second floor is a display board. On it depicts the entire process of how the exhibition first began and how it expanded.

Above all the pictures of the people who’ve helped to plan this exhibition…

MC: It’s the cafe owner from earlier!

Victor: You made preparations before coming here, yet couldn’t recognise him?

MC: I was saying that he seemed very familiar!

MC: If that’s the case… the story of this exhibition - it should be his, isn’t it?

He fell in love with a girl’s literature and art secretly in his youth, yet didn’t know how to confess, and much time passed without progress. When he finally mustered up his courage to confess, the girl passed away from cancer.

Those are all the words written on a whiteboard, and they seem a little simple and stereotypical. But when I think about how a person experienced this, my heart can’t help but feel sad for him.

Victor: That’s why the name of this exhibition is ‘Speak Up’. The existence of these marks is how these feelings are being conveyed.

MC: No matter whether it’s from a tiny mouse hidden in each artwork, the longing written down in a diary, or a sculpture carved in the image of their lover - all of them bear their own longing in some way. Even this exhibition is a voice for the cafe owner to speak up about his past regrets.

All these fragments come together in my mind, moving my heart.

MC: Victor, even though this is a little old-fashioned… if I want to make a program about entering the New Year and about this ‘Speak Up’ exhibition, will you reject my proposal?

Victor’s gaze sweeps over me, his brows smoothening.

Victor: I’ll decide after I see the quality of the proposal.

After we finish viewing the exhibition, cold rain and freezing wind come the moment we step out of the exhibition hall. It was so sunny earlier… Why is it raining all of a sudden?

Victor: I’ll get Goldman to pick us up.

MC: Huh? That’s not needed-

I pull out the tickets for the exhibition in my bag.

MC: I remember that the complimentary gift with this exhibition is an umbrella! All we need to do is exchange the tickets at the counter.

Victor casually takes the tickets from my hand.

Victor: Wait here for me.

MC: Alright.

While waiting, I glance over at the cafe and happen to see the cafe owner closing up his cafe for the day. He turns the sign from OPEN to CLOSE, before locking the door and dropping the key into his pocket.

This seems to be his usual, everyday life.

He notices my gaze on him and gives me a quick wave in greeting, before heading into the exhibition hall.

This world has many people who can’t say what is most important to them… but I’m different.

When I snap out of my thoughts, Victor is already heading back to me, umbrella in hand. In the dark and gloomy night, the lights of the street lamps flicker, silhouetting him in light and shadow as he walks slowly towards me.

I see tiny droplets of water clinging to his hair, the hazy light shining in his eyes.

The marks that I have must be conveyed in the most direct way.

MC: Victor, do you hear the music being played in the exhibition hall?

Victor doesn’t catch the underlying meaning in my tone, and instead begins to explain it to me.

Victor: It’s to alert the people in the exhibition hall that it’s about to close.

I can’t help but give him another hint.

MC: That’s all you thought about? You don’t find the music somewhat familiar?

Victor falls silent, his brow furrowed, as if he’s really thinking hard about this.

Not giving him a second more to think, I run ahead of him with small steps, wearing a smile as I turn back to extend my hand to him.

MC: Would this gentleman honour me with a dance?

Victor’s eyes widen slightly.

MC: The first time you taught me dancing was to this song.

The world around us is silent, and all I can hear is the wild beating of my own heart, pounding with anticipation.

MC: This is how you’ve given me marks of my own… and changed me.

Warm fingers brush my palm. Before I can register what’s happening, he’s already pulled me into his embrace. Along with the violin’s melody, I move my feet to dance with Victor, and the two of us turn in a circle fluidly. Even though night is quickly falling, everything before me is filled with shining light.

Joy blooms in my heart with a thump, like a resplendent firework soaring into the night sky, exchanging greetings with the sky full of starlight.

There are no words to describe the happiness I feel in this moment.

MC: What about you?

Victor: Me?

MC: Don’t you have anything to say to me? After this afternoon of visiting the exhibition, I thought it would have left some sort of impression on you.

Victor pauses in his footsteps, holding me a little tighter. The light and hurried rain droplets are blown over by the gentle wind. He tilts the umbrella, blocking the drizzle completely.

Victor: Dummy.

Raindrops patter down on the umbrella, paired with the sound of his low voice; it’s as if all surrounding noises have faded away to nothing, and he’s the only one who exists in the world.

Victor: Because a certain greedy cat always says she wants to eat something sweet after dinner, I made pudding before leaving the house.

Victor: Do you think this is a mark of how I’ve been changed?

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

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thevodkadidthis · 5 years

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VLOG Update.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Youtuber!Reader Warnings: light amount of cursing, other than that-- NONE. This is just a fic about domestic stuff with Evans. Word Count: 1.8K Summary: Viewers wants to know about how you do your make-up as well as the cosmetic products that you use/recommend, but you’ve thought about spicing things up by letting your boyfriend Chris do your make-up. Everything’s going to be fine… right? Note: Okay ya girl really made a fic about make-up despite NOT KNOWING anything about it, dumb bitch alert. Anyway, hope you like this bit. Requests are open!!!

“If I mess it up, don’t blame me, alright?” Chris uttered defensively since he already know what you were up to because you informed him beforehand with a text message. He just came home from a short walk with Dodger and he also grabbed you a coffee on his way home.

You giggled, “Relax, I think you’ll do well. You always stare at me when I apply make-up, so..” you replied to him, “Take it easy, it’s just make-up. It’s not like I’m going to meet your parents afterwards.” You tried to calm him down but he just laughed it off.

He stared at the make-up products that are laying on top of kitchen counter where you plan to shoot your vlog, “Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.” He exhaled, as if he was holding his breath the whole time. You laughed at him and caressed his cheek, “Wait, you’re allowed to tell me where it is for, right? This isn’t like one of those challenges where I guess the product and just apply it anywhere.” He asked.

You gave him a peck on the cheek, you appreciate how Chris supports you in what you do, he was always there for you along the journey of being a Youtuber. You also appreciate how he plugs your new video upload on his Twitter account, even though he wasn’t there in the clip itself. “All I’m saying is the name of the make-up, that’s all. You’ll have to figure out where it is for, and like, how much you need to apply.”

“Alright, I’m down.” He agreed, as he reach for the concealer and inspected it. You headed to where the camera is and clicked on the button to start recording.

“Ready?” you asked him and he nodded with a smile on his face.

“Heywhat’supeveryoneit’smeagain, your girl, Y/N.” you started right off the bat with your usual introduction which always made Chris giggle, “Today, I’m here with Chris Evans and we’re going to do a make-up vlog today.”

You motioned to him and he looked at the camera to wave, “Hello, I don’t know why she introduced me like that, she can just simply call me her boyfriend or whatever.” You playfully smacked his arm right after he said that, which made the both of you laugh, “Also, I’m being held as a hostage—send help.” He continued and you only shook your head sideways as you chuckle. Vlogs with Chris will never be serious since he will always try to crack some jokes.

“So a lot of you kept on asking about my make-up, like the products I use and what I would recommend. Honestly,” you glanced at the products laid on the counter, “I think I use the usual products, like the really common stuff. But let’s get started!”

You sat down on the bar stool and Chris mirrored your movement, grabbing a chair for his own as well. You are now facing each other, Chris couldn’t wipe away the smirk from his face, “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing right now, how do I even start this shit?” he kept on laughing to himself.

“I usually apply a primer first but since I will be washing the make-up off right after, I’ll just skip to foundation. Right there, babe.” You pointed at the small bottle of foundation, he picked it up and showed it to the camera/audience expertly, copying the ones that he usually sees on make-up videos.

“That’s a lot of brush, babe. Can I just use my hands?” he asked and you shook your head, you pointed at the beauty sponge that’s sitting beside the brushes, “Use that.”

“Okay, this is very liquid-y. Is this like a forehead make-up, or specific on the cheeks—oh wait, you use this on your whole face. Got it.” He started talking to himself by that point and you were close to questioning if this is a great idea for a video, but you trusted him anyways. You closed your eyes when his hand started to approach your face, you felt the gentle touch of the sponge as well as the cold liquid foundation. He covered all of your face with it so you started to relax and thought that maybe he really knows what to do now.

However, when you opened your eyes and stared at your appearance on the camera, your eyes literally grew wide in shock. The foundation was the same shade as your skin tone but it was applied unevenly, some spots on your face has a heavier amount of foundation while the rest are light. “Babe!” you exclaimed right after having a full inspection.

“What? You look good, don’t worry I got this.” His words were definitely laced with confidence now, far from his fearful look earlier, thinking he could mess it up and you’ll get mad. “Okay, how about this, what if,” he places the sponge and the bottle of foundation on the table and faced you, “what if you close your eyes for the whole time while I apply your make-up? Judge it right after.” He suggested.

Your mouth fell open and you stared at the camera, looking dumbfounded, “Wow, this vlog really took a turn.” You could only say.

He laughed at that, a full belly laugh, the ones where his eyes are closed shut and his mouth were wide open, “What? That could work. Come on, close your eyes.”

You did close your eyes, then you started hearing him picking up some products from the counter.

“This one’s a small make-up, like it has small rectangles. See that?” he muttered, your eyes were still shut but you could imagine him talking to the camera, trying to give a review or opinion on your make-up. “So I’m guessing this is for the eyes, like an eye make-up. And for that,” he stayed quiet for a second, “it needs a small brush. I still don’t know if this is right but it’s okay, Y/N will judge afterwards.”

You felt a brush lightly touching your eyelids and you could only pray silently about the color he picked for your eyes. “Wow, lookin’ good!” he praised, you don’t know whether it was you who looks good, or his skills.

“This is a huge circle for a make-up, so I’m guessing this goes on the cheeks…. right?”

“Since it’s for the cheeks, this needs a huge, huge brush.”

He continued talking to himself, and you could only scrunch your nose when the large brush touched your nostrils. You felt ticklish but he still continued, he did say it was only for the cheeks but then he also tapped on your forehead and on the bridge of your nose.

“I think that’s it? Yeah, I had it all covered, right?” he started talking again as you heard a palette being placed back on the counter.

You heard him sigh, feeling his breath on the top of your head as you felt him near you. “I think I did a good job! She’ll love this look, I swear. And for the lipstick..” his trail went off again so you only imagined him looking at the lip products that you own.

“Y/N looks good every damn time with this lipstick, so I guess this is what I’ll be using.” He said and you immediately know that it was the lipstick that he loves. “Open your mouth, babe.” He instructed and then your mouth parted, with the way the lipstick was stroking on your lips says that he doesn’t really know how to apply lipstick, you let him finish his work anyway.

“God, I can’t wait to kiss you after filming this. You look really good with this stuff, I’m amazed.” You only smirked on his comment, thinking of showering his face with kisses since you’re wearing the lipstick that he likes the most.

“All done!” he announced, and you were really scared to open your eyes, to see your appearance on the camera.

“Babe.” He was laughing.

You opened your eyes and slowly turned your head to where the camera was, checking your face and the make-up that Chris did. “Jesus Christ.”

Chris started to laugh really loud at your reaction. You didn’t know if you should laugh it off or cry in the corner. Your eyelids were violet, the way it was applied is that it reached right beneath your eyebrows. Your blush, contour and highlight is a mixture of dark pink and dark brown that was topped off with glitters. It covered your whole cheeks which made you look like someone picked up a fight with you and managed to punch you both on the cheeks.

“Chris! What have you done!” there was a shock and mixed emotions in your voice but Chris only laughed even more at it.

“Babe, that’s art! It’s a masterpiece. My masterpiece.” He kept on praising himself as he continues to laugh, as tears slowly form on the side of his eyes, his face were all red now and he tried to wipe his eyes.

“It looked like someone punched me right on the face!” you exclaimed and moved away from the camera, attempting to throw the bar stool on him.

“Oh, my god. You’re right!” he laughed even harder at your annoyed expression, making it look like you really had a fist fight.

You faced the camera again, “Okay, as you can see already. This is the result of Chris’ masterpiece.” You emphasized on the masterpiece by quoting mid-air with your index and middle finger.

“That would be all for 50$, miss.” Chris told you when he stood by your side to properly end the video.

You gave him a disgusted look which only made him smirk, “That’s the end of the video, make sure to like and subscribe to my channel, guys!” you made a thumbs up hand sign and Chris did the same thing.

“For the next video, I’ll do a make-up vlog again but this time, I’m doing Chris’ make-up, along with acrylics and even a bonnet, and also hoop earrings. Like the ones in Twitter.” You tried to joke but then Chris turned his head immediately to you but your gaze remained on the camera.

“What?”

“What?” you mimicked him, “Alright! That’s all for today, thank you for watching I’m going to shave my boyfriend’s head now I swear to God.”

You approached the camera again and pressed on the stop button, and then you got right back on the counter to tidy things up and clean your brushes and the sponge. Chris was only staring at you as he stands on the door, crossed arms.

You gave him a look, “What?”

“Babe..” he called out, looking like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing since he just recovered from the last one. “… who hurt you?” that was when he snapped and started laughing all over again.

“CHRISTOPHER I SWEAR YOU’LL SLEEP ON THE COUCH TONIGHT.” You shouted at him but it did nothing on him, as he kept laughing even more.

#Chris Evans #imagine #imagines #avenger imagine #chris evans imagines #Steve Rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evan fanfic #one shot #drabble #scribbles #youtuber #reader x chris evans #captain america

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years

Photo

Author: Overpraised Lasagna

Prompt: Aphrodisiac; room full of chests

Group: A

A/N: This is a continuation of my Round One fic, The Book's the Thing

The Legend of the Dark One’s Dagger

“You wanted to see me?”

Weaver looked up at the police officer peering in at him from his office door. “Yes, come in.”

Rogers entered the room, his nerves on full display despite his best effort to hide them.

“Get rid of that uniform. We have work to do,” Weaver growled.

“What?”

The look of pure confusion on Rogers’ face put Weaver at his ease for the first time that morning. He hadn’t been himself since the previous afternoon when he’d met Belle French, or rather, when his murder investigation had intensified.

“You’ve been promoted to detective,” Weaver informed him. “At my request.”

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say.” Rogers stood shell-shocked by the news. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This job’s about to take us into some very dark places… Now let’s get moving.”

Rogers hesitated before replying. “I was just on my way to the Pirate Cove Amusement Park. They were vandalized overnight.”

Weaver rolled his eyes. “Well, unless there are occult books involved, I don’t want you wasting a lot of time there. Get that squared away and get back here. I have an appointment with Miss French this morning to review photos of the usual suspects. I expect to see you by the time I’m done.” He felt the heat rising up his neck when he mentioned Belle by name.

“Yes, sir.” Rogers replied without moving. “The librarian?”

“Yes, the librarian,” Weaver answered curtly without looking up.

As Rogers started to leave after what seemed an eternity, he suddenly stopped. “Is that a new shirt you’re wearing?”

Weaver glared at him. “Is there a point to your question, detective?”

“Uh, no… just an observation.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.

“Then go use those observational skills of yours to solve a case.”

“Yes, sir,” Rogers replied and left without further ado.

Weaver sighed. It was pointless to be irked by the very skillset that made Rogers such excellent detective material. So what if he was wearing a new shirt? It was practically a replica of every other white shirt that he owned. He’d purchased it over a year ago and it had been sitting unused in his closet. It’s not as if he’d been influenced by the thought of seeing the lovely librarian again today or by the fact that he’d fallen asleep to visions of her and awakened this morning to the same.

The memory of the morning jolted him back to reality. He almost blushed at the state in which he’d found his mind and body. Desires that he’d successfully subverted for years had resurfaced. He’d been convinced that the tea he’d shared with Miss French the previous afternoon had acted as an aphrodisiac on him. There was no other explanation for the desires that had overwhelmed him and the urgency with which he’d had to attend to them. Just thinking back on the pleasure he’d felt at his release made his body twitch with desire again.

Weaver pushed back from his desk and rose abruptly. He needed to concentrate on the case right now and nothing else. Once the librarian had reviewed the photos, he would have no reason to see her again and that was for the best.

He put on his leather jacket, grabbed the mugshot photo albums and headed out the door.

_________________________________________________________

Weaver cleared his throat as he approached Belle French’s office.

“Detective Weaver! Good morning!” He turned to his side to find the librarian waving to him from the acquisition room.

“Good morning, Miss French,” he said, relieved that the sight of her was not triggering his body to react in any unwelcome ways. In fact, the warmth that seemed to engulf him was more of a balm than a stimulant.

“I just finished taking inventory and I have something to show you.” She beckoned him toward her with a smile that seemed to exert an unmistakable pull on him.

Weaver shook his head to clear it. Obviously the pull was his impatience to see what she had uncovered. This could be the very evidence he needed to crack the case.

“Were you able to identify any missing books?” he asked.

“Unfortunately not. Everything is accounted for…” She bit down on her lower lip and looked at him with a hint of shyness in her eyes. “But I did find something that might be connected to your case.”

Weaver was immediately interested. “As I mentioned yesterday, sometimes the least obvious detail can be the most helpful.”

“Oh, I remembered,” Belle replied. “That’s why I thought this might be important.”

The detective noted the slight blush that had risen to her cheeks reminding him of just how attracted he was to this beautiful woman. He smiled to encourage her to continue while attempting to squash his attraction.

“There was one book that I recognized immediately because I’d read it many years ago. It ends with a mystery and a poem that I wanted to read again, but when I turned to the last page of the book, it was missing. Someone had torn it out.” She looked at him to gauge his reaction.

Weaver’s senses were on high alert. “This could be a mere coincidence, but in my experience that’s quite unlikely. May I see the book?”

Belle appeared pleased with herself as she retrieved the volume and handed it to him.

“The Legend of the Dark One’s Dagger,” Weaver read aloud before raising his eyes to hers. “Do you have an interest in the Dark Arts, Miss French?” Every one of his instincts told him she wasn’t a suspect, but he had to consider everything to do his job thoroughly.

“Not if you’re referring to practicing something that’s truly evil! But I do like myths and magic and legends and fairy tales. The book is about the legend of the dagger that controls the Dark One, a being who’s cursed with extremely powerful dark magic. It’s just a legend of course, but the story is so real that it gives you pause.”

“Do you have any recollection of what was written on the last page?” He knew the question was a long shot.

“I do. The book is about the various people who were the Dark Ones over the centuries, but the book ends after mentioning the last Dark One. He was supposedly a very poor spinner who took on the curse to save his young teenage son from the certain death that would come from fighting in the Ogre Wars.”

Belle giggled when she saw the incredulous expression on Detective Weaver’s face. “Yes, I know this is all far-fetched.”

Weaver laughed at her observation.

“But, anyway,” Belle continued, “the last page contained a poem about the whereabouts of the dagger.”

Weaver was once again on high alert. There was no doubt in his mind that the thieves were looking for this dagger. God only knew why. “You wouldn’t remember anything about the poem, would you?”

“I remember every word of it. I wrote it out for you.” Belle gave him a sheet of blue paper with the words to the poem written in beautiful script.

Once again he read aloud:

Deep within a room of chests

the dagger can be found

To she who holds it in her hand

the Dark One shall be bound

A cold draft passed through him, making his whole body shudder.

“H-How did you remember this?” he asked in an attempt to shake the unsettling feeling that had gripped him.

“The poem was a mystery beckoning to be solved. Something about it fascinated me and I read it over and over again. I always wondered if the dagger itself really existed even if there was no Dark One. There’s always some grain of truth to these legends.”

As he’d expected, her voice and words soothed his nerves. He attributed the chill that had gripped him to the realization that his case was even darker than he’d anticipated. The thieves most certainly believed that the dagger existed and they wanted it enough to commit a murder to find it.

“Thank you, Miss French. I can’t tell you how helpful this is. Would you allow me to take the book with me as evidence or do I have to sign up for a library card and check it out?” He grinned at her even as he admonished himself for his pathetic attempt at flirting.

Belle beamed. “Well, I can allow you to take it, but I’d much prefer it if you’d sign up for a card. There are many other good books in the library that may be of interest to you. I’d be happy to recommend some.”

Weaver’s heart stuttered when she chewed on her lower lip again. Was she flirting with him?

A harsh buzzing sound shattered the mood. It took Weaver several seconds to realize that it was his phone. He fished it out of his pocket.

“Excuse me, Miss French, I have to take this call.” He held the phone to his ear and turned the other way. “What is it, Rogers?”

“I’m going to be delayed. The vandals destroyed all of the treasure chests in the hull of the pirate ship at the amusement park and it looks like the same gang also vandalized all of the caskets in the showroom at the Sunset Funeral Home.”

Weaver’s heart almost stopped beating. These weren’t vandals; they were murderers looking for the dagger in rooms full of chests - just as it stated in the poem.

“Don’t move until I get there!” Weaver barked. “Both incidents are related to our case.”

“They are?” Rogers sounded as confused as he’d looked earlier that day.

“Yes, I’ll fill you in when I see you.” With that he hung up and turned back to the librarian.

“I’m afraid I have to leave, Miss French. There are new developments in my case that need my immediate attention.”

“Oh, I understand, detective. I’m just sorry we didn’t get a chance to fulfill our deal. Maybe we can share a cup of tea and I can tell you my story another time?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Of course. I was looking forward to it,” he admitted to both her and himself. “I can come by tomorrow at the same time.”

“That would be perfect! And you can sign up for a library card while you’re here and I can review the suspect photos.” She rewarded him with a smile that was like a beacon of light amidst all of this darkness.

His heart, which was already beating rapidly from the break in his case, seemed to threaten to burst from his chest. He thanked her again for her help and abruptly took his leave.

He drove recklessly to the amusement park, anxious to try to tie these events together. But even in his urgency to get to the scene of the crime and gather new clues, he couldn’t stop thinking about Belle French. There was no doubt that the woman had bewitched him - and she’d done it all without the aid of magic or a spell or a crazy dark curse.

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #Round Two entry #author: Overpraised Lasagna #rumbelle fic #woven beauty fic

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sultrysirens · 4 years

Text

Story Time

Out of nowhere I decided to share a bit of my story as a fanfiction writer, starting with my original introduction into the profession. It’s going to be a long one, but hopefully, and inspiring one. Skip if you’re not interested.

NOTE: This includes spoilers for certain anime and fandoms. If you don’t know Dragonball Z or Inuyasha, specifically, you’ll be quite lost.

The Beginning

How everything started was just through surfing the net. Back then my interest was Dragonball Z. I was 14. I had only had the internet for a few months, so everything about it was new. This was 20 years ago, now, back in 2000. I used Yahoo! for all my searches. Google had not yet been born. Fanfiction.net was the main hub where all these amazing stories were birthed, and yet at this point I had not yet found it.

What I found, first, was a fanfiction writer who had a website. Geocities, I believe. I can’t recall how I found it, exactly, except that I had only just learned about Bulma and Vegeta getting together and thought they were an amazing couple. I looked up art, and it led me to this site. I can’t recall the site’s name anymore, but I remember the tagline for it was something like, “Bulma and Vegeta’s Cove.”

One thing I can distinctly recall is a small gif in one corner of the main page, displaying a chibi Vegeta with a microphone in one hand, going between 2 or 3 singing poses. It was cute.

This site was coded in such a way that it linked directly to fanfiction.net, displaying the owner’s many, many, many fanfictions in an embedded window. The stories were largely explicit, included sex and, in a few stories, rape, all of them AUs from all the rest. But each had a singular goal: Bulma and Vegeta’s romance, how they ended up getting together.

Some of the stories I remember very clearly. Others have faded. Some were modern AUs, one included dimension-hopping via a magical device Bulma created and recharged every 24 hours (sound familiar, anyone?), and some were painfully OOC but in very sweet ways.

I devoured these stories. There must have been two dozen, with most of them multi-chapter works. And, eventually, I started to notice the format with these stories, how it seemed to be a miniature explorer window within the website. Eventually, I clicked on the mini website and was given a full introduction to fanfiction.net and its massive breadth.

Back in those days, fanfiction.net (or FF.net, as it was usually called) allowed explicit content. And this I looked for very directly. I enjoyed the “lemons” more than anything, easily reading the most ridiculous stories just for the porn therein.

Eventually, I figured it out. I understood fanfiction and what it meant. And though I’d only been using a computer for a few months, I started writing.

It was a painful process at first. Think back to your first months with a keyboard and how difficult it was to get used to the format, how to move your fingers. I had to stare directly at the keyboard to write anything and it was a pain, a slow-going endeavor of passion.

My first fanfictions were Dragonball Z, unsurprisingly. I made a few silly ones, a few serious ones, a few sexual ones. At 14, with no grasp of the anatomy of sex, I was writing porn, using the porn I’d already read as resources. I didn’t know what a clitoris was, but I knew ladies apparently went nuts when men tongued them, so that’s what I wrote.

Eventually I got my first hit: Temptation. It was a Bulma/Vegeta story. I don’t remember it very clearly, and this is probably for the best. The plot, as I recall, was Bulma getting sick and Vegeta having to be her nurse for a time. Eventually she got worse and worse, until she recognized why she was sick: she’d cut herself one night with a device that’d had a compound on it. I can’t recall what the compound was designed to do, but the short version is it made you feel weaker and sicker until you increased your physical activity to burn it out.

This led to wild sex. Like, very wild sex. For hours. My lack of experience evidently was not a consideration; I was given compliments by the dozens. I’d done good.

And now I was addicted.

The Second Hit

I was 16 now. We’d be moving out of my childhood home soon, but I didn’t know this yet. I’d been spending a lot of time with my sister, who was 26, and soaking up Adult Swim shows on her cable. Inuyasha was my new obsession, as well as a liberal amount of Trigun. I lived, slept, ate, and breathed these shows. My head was constantly alight with ideas, concepts, and desires. I wrote near-constantly.

Through this, I managed my second big hit: Transformations.

It’s been a long time, now, and I can’t recall the beginning as much as the ending. I think perhaps I called it something else at the start.

The premise was simple: Kagome, the main character, suddenly transforms into a half-demon, a hanyou, after a demon bites her in battle. I remember that initially I was just writing bullshit; I had no filter and didn’t edit or delete anything. What I wrote got posted verbatim. And, at first, it was cringe-worthy.

I can distinctly recall two things: first, Sesshomaru -- Inuyasha’s full-demon elder brother -- caught Kagome’s scent and investigated and had difficulty resisting her. She was a half-wolf demon, and he was attracted to that. Earlier she and Inuyasha were together in a cave, and her transformation had given her a tail -- which she didn’t like. She chased it, trying to catch it and rip it off.

That’s when the accusations started coming in.

Out of nowhere, and totally unexpectedly, I was getting a slew of comments accusing me of copying another popular fanfiction. I’d legitimately never heard of it, and I had to search it out. I remember reading the first chapter or two and feeling surprised; they were very similar, to the point where I couldn’t blame anyone for thinking I’d copied it.

This was a case of great minds thinking alike, or so I said at the time. I was amused more than anything, but it was clear the accusations weren’t going to stop. Eventually I deleted the story and started over. I’d learned a bit in those few chapters I’d posted and decided that I didn’t really want the events to unfold the way they had, so starting over sounded like a great idea.

And it was.

Now came Transformations as it remains today. The beginning is the same -- Kagome is bitten by a demon and transforms into a half-wolf demon -- but the events following take a different turn from the original.

It was a monster of a hit. I got multiple comments and reviews on every chapter, and I can remember doing this thing for a long time in which I threaten the readers at the end of each chapter with various weapons, only to have the weapon backfire somehow and hurt and/or kill me. The readers seemed to enjoy it, and soon they were suggesting new weapons for me to use.

I loved it.

Eventually the story ended at 64 chapter, but back then my chapters weren’t nearly as long as I write them now, and the final chapter was just a family tree of sorts leading the characters from Feudal Japan to modern day. It was a great, beautiful monster and I had drawn dozens of pictures to go along with it.

It was actually through this that I decided I needed a better place to post my art and thus discovered DeviantART.com. That’s been my main art gallery ever since, around 16 years now (I believe I created it in 2004, a year after I started the fic). If you go there and head all the way back to the first images I posted, you’ll find all of that art remaining even today.

It’s...pretty bad. X’D

But the story doesn’t end there. I wanted my fic to have a greater reach, so I started looking for more websites. I found MediaMiner.org, which was appealing because it hosted both written works and art. And once Transformation was finished, the story concluded, I found I couldn’t quite let it go.

So I did something I’ve not done since: I created an alternate ending.

Titled Changing Lives, this story picked up after chapter 28 of Transformations and went a different way. It treated the story of Transformations as just that: a story, written by Kagome, which Inuyasha read while she was gone one day. He was thunderstruck by it, given it so clearly screamed “I love you” and was full of romance -- and sex.

This led to them getting together, but soon thereafter, tragedy struck.

Kagome was kidnapped on her way home from school. By the time Inuyasha found her, she’d been gang-raped and discarded.

The story very deeply included time travel and revenge aspects from that point on, and I can also recall giving the character Miroku a reincarnation as a detective. He was put on the case, and with Inuyasha’s help, had all the men arrested -- there were seven of them.

Then they started dying.

Inuyasha wasn’t doing this, but he was happy to allow it to happen. The detective did his job per the law, trying to keep the criminals safe as they started dropping like flies. The killer left notes written on the cell walls in the criminal’s own blood, though I can’t quite recall the sequence anymore.

What I do remember is this: the first one read, “He touched her first.” The rest followed that sequence, killing the men in order -- second, third, fourth, etc. I remember one said “hurt her”, one said “made her cry”, and so on.

Eventually, the truth was discovered: Inuyasha was killing them, but not “young” Inuyasha. “Old” Inuyasha. The one who’d lived through the centuries. And his story was the most tragic of all.

In his time, Kagome had been raped and her rapists arrested, as normal. Then, years later, they were freed, having served their time, and immediately they tried to track her down. She was pregnant at the time with Inuyasha’s child. When she saw she was being chased, she jumped down the well back to his time, and the men followed her.

They traveled through time with her but had no idea. They killed her there, then climbed out, and Inuyasha arrived too late to help. But the men were there, confused and lost, and the blood of his wife and child were on them. He slaughtered them all.

But now the well had ceased functioning. He couldn’t return to her time. And, at first, he was just...sad. He mourned. Then, with time, he began to plan. For five centuries, he planned.

His plan was to keep Kagome from ever getting raped. Alas, he failed in this, so instead he decided to get pre-revenge and kill the men while they were imprisoned. He succeeded, but along the way grew...exhausted. By the time he murdered the last man, he had little will left to do so.

But he finished it. For her.

Then he showed himself to Kagome and Inuyasha, explaining what had happened. And he wished them well.

Changing Lives was significantly shorter than its predecessor, only 35 chapters, but I felt it was the better story, overall. I never made art for it, I don’t think, but it was more emotional.

To Present Day

I kept writing, on and off, ever since. Any time I got sufficiently involved in a story, my mind immediately began making my own stories for it. Movies, shows, video games; nothing remained untouched by my mind. I made stories for Labyrinth, Dragon Age, Trigun, Spyro, Jak & Daxter, Naruto...the list went on. I started posted on a third site, adultfanfiction.net (comprised specifically of explicit stories), and I started existing solely on my stories and the feedback I received from them.

I got better. And better. And better. I started looking back on my first stories, my first “hits”, and cringed at the horrendous grammar and articulation of my youth. But it was nostalgic as well, bringing back fond memories of writing on my home computer before we had internet and then rushing to my sister’s with a 3.5″ disc to post them via her internet.

I had a friend around this time, named Leila (Lee-lah), and drew and wrote together. We came up with original stories and though we never really posted them, we had so much fun it didn’t matter. Mostly we talked and drew together, and while I considered myself the better artist, I considered her far better at clothes designs.

Then...a dry spell. I went into college at age 20 and there I met my husband, Eric. He was 17 at the time. And he introduced me to so many more worlds than I’d known before, including the aforementioned Jak & Daxter series and the Sims 2.

Years passed. I still wrote from time to time, but it wasn’t such an obsession as it’d been before. If I had a good enough idea, I’d write it, but I tried to keep my things to oneshots. I posted many such stories on adultfanfiction.net, and I generally got positive reviews and ratings. In the meantime we were more addicted to World of Warcraft, us two and a few friends, and we played that often.

Eventually I slowed down. Time blurred together. I had a lot of good stories, but no major hits. Then came Megamind, and with it, an interesting idea that a lot of people took a liking to: Megamind as the indirect hero, and Metro Man as an abusive spouse of Roxanne. I titled it Bad to be Good, and it was an incredible story.

I started counting words with this one, only posting chapters when they reached around 6,000 words.

The story was a very serious one. It struck cords with a lot of readers, one in particular saying it helped her through some similar times with her abusive husband. We eventually became friends and remain to this day. (She since divorced him, so don’t worry about her. ♥)

Ultimately I never truly completed that story. I remember getting up to 12 chapters and then having difficulty figuring out how to proceed. I used to open the Word document from time to time, check what I’d written, and try to edit things or continue it, but it never really took. Eventually I abandoned it, but luckily the 12th chapter was a softer ending of sorts, so my readers were satisfied.

Then came the Marvel films and, with it, a resurgence in an activity I’d long since stopped participating: roleplaying.

The Crazy Train

It started simple enough. The Avengers just came out, and I was starting to see Facebook RPs popping up between the characters. Curious, I tried to find the pages in question but couldn’t locate them. I did, however, come to find out that there were dozens of pages dedicated to the main characters, alone, with dozens more popping up by the month.

Eventually I stepped in. I’d grown to love Loki’s character and subsequently found he had a canonical wife, Sigyn, but hadn’t found any pages for her. So I made one. Without checking with the other RPer, I just threw myself into a Loki page and, thankfully, that Loki accepted his “wife’s” presence.

We had fun. And our group steadily grew. A Thor, another Loki, and Odin, a Sleipnir, and a whole slew of original characters joined the ranks. I, too, began adding more pages to my roleplays, starting with Narfi and Vali -- Loki and Sigyn’s twin sons.

At the start, these two shared a page. Then, when it became increasingly obvious that people had their favorite of the two boys, I separated them. Funny enough, Vali started off as the clear favorite (he was flirty AF), but Narfi steadily became more so.

Their relationships grew. They both fell in love. They were both tricked by a succubus, giving each an unwanted child at different intervals. Narfi soon had a family of his own, as his lover had an adopted daughter and he was given a daughter of his own.

We spent years here, six or seven I think, just roleplaying with one another. Our group grew and shrank as people joined our circles or left it. There was drama in and out of the roleplay setting. Friendships were forged and abandoned. At one point a Thor page (titled Fatty Thor) targeted me for my roleplay choices and tried to get his followers to harass me. Eventually he left, deleting his page, and our RPs continued without him, never addressing his disappearance.

Then Ragnarok struck -- but not the film’s Rangarok. No, this was worse. We were impatient to have the event occur, me in large part because the mythology says that Vali slays Narfi during the sequence and I couldn’t wait to put all that pain into writing. But what really kicked this off was a friend’s page getting repeatedly deleted.

Sleipnir.

In this RP setting, Sleipnir was a fully intelligent horse capable of speech and even transforming for short periods of time into a humanoid form. He fell in love with a half-demon woman and they had a son together, a centaur named Grani. And then his page kept vanishing.

Initially, we believed the page was reported because there was a rape sequence between his character and the half-demon, though -- and this is imperative -- the two RPers had discussed this in detail before agreeing to the RP. A great deal of thought went into it before they started the roleplay.

And yet, Sleipnir’s page went down.

The RPer made a new one, and that too, went down a short time later. This was disheartening for her, and though we all did our best to help, even creating the page for her in case it was her account getting it flagged, the pages kept getting deleted. The only cause we could work out was that Microsoft just came out with a Sleipnir program of some form and were removing all other pages with that name regardless of content.

So we kicked off Ragnarok and wrecked our Facebook RP world, killing off some of the characters and leaving others behind. We moved platforms, taking our remaining world to Gaia Online, but it wasn’t to be.

Though the RPs increased in quality while there and we created avatars for each of our characters and it definitely helped the process, we just couldn’t keep it up. We were too disheartened for our friend and how things had ended on Facebook.

Slowly but surely, our RPs died. We tried just once more by moving to a new forum called Valucre, but we couldn’t quite get steam going there, either. Eventually all of the RPs died, most of them without conclusions. In some ways, we mourned the loss.

But our remaining group, a total of four of us, remained friends for a great while longer. Three of us, in particular created this very blog some years later with the purpose of posting all of our NSFW works here.

Art, writing, roleplays, etc; this blog was meant to be a joint page to display all of our wicked wiles.

For several months we didn’t post much. Kyone did the most posting during this time, art for her favorite yaoi couple of the time, both NSFW and SFW, and it was moderately popular. Then came my contribution: The Dancer.

The Resurgence

To this day, I’m not sure what really got me back into TMNT. I know I was tired of RPs but wanted the stories to continue, and thus did I begin writing fanfictions again after years of never touching them -- or, at least, never posting them.

The Bayverse movies kicked this off. I’d always loved TMNT, since I was a kid, but the Bayverse films put them in a new light. They weren’t anthropomorphic turtles under 5′ tall anymore, naked 100% of the time. They were tall, big bois, more humanoid, and more like hybrids. I loved them. I wanted them.

I wanted them to be loved.

At the start, I was under the false belief that they didn’t get much love -- i.e., no romance. I especially believed Raphael didn’t get much affection, being such an angry and brash character. Oh, how wrong I was, lol.

Thus did I start with Raphael.

At the beginning I was inspired by a story written by another page, @teradoration, featuring a merman. I wasn’t too interested in the story, personally, as it’s m|m and I’ve never enjoyed those types of stories, but the inspiration came from the fact that it was a multi-chapter work -- on Tumblr.

So I decided to write some porn.

Initially, the idea was to make a short story, something like 10 chapters. I put thought into it, into the character I wanted to create and introduce, into her appearance and history and passions. I considered Raphael, his personality, and crafted a character designed to intrigue and challenge him. Then I looked at both popular and unique character tropes and the kinds of characters I’d made and turned in another direction.

Thus was Jocelyn born, a half-black, half-Polynesian ballet dancer with blonde hair and freckles. And, at first...it was a dead story. No one saw it. No one liked it. No one took a chance on Jocelyn.

For nearly a year, I wrote chapters to an empty audience. I tried not to let it get me down, but the consensus seemed clear: no one was interested in reading it. Still, I’d started it and come to love the characters very dearly, and so I continued. For my sake, for their sake, I continued.

Then came my first big break: tmnttrashcan. If you’re wondering why I didn’t @ that one, it’s because it’s been deactivated. But this amazing woman found my story, loved it, and began sharing it. And because her blog was one driven by reblogs and gifsets, it was far more popular than this one despite its younger age.

And thus did The Dancer begin drawing attention, fans, and feedback. Thus did I finally feel as if this labor of love was validated, that I wasn’t posting just for me anymore. People were enjoying the story, and in return, I poured more effort and love into it.

This is how I thanked my readers: with better content. More drama, more emotion, more love, more heartache, more sex, more everything.

Even before this happened, however, my head had continued the story far into the future. I made a sequel -- The Dragon -- before I’d even had a concept of The DJ. But in this sequel I’d begun laying the groundwork for something in between the two, and through this I began creating Lisa.

With Lisa, I wanted to create a character that fit more securely with the next turtle on my list: Michelangelo. Rather than opposing the turtle in many ways, as Jocelyn does with Raphael, I wanted Lisa to mesh very easily with him.

The DJ had begun.

For a time, tmnttrashcan’s admin and I were fantastic friends. We talked often, over text and over voice chatting. I told her ideas I had for the future, plans going years down the line both in and out of the story, and even let her read what I’d written of The Dragon thus far. She loved it, every last word, and heaped praise at me.

I loved this woman very deeply. I’d tell her as much from time to time, and she echoed the sentiment.

Then she simply...vanished. She stopped talking to me, stopped responding. Eventually I asked her if we were no longer friends. She never answered.

It was heartbreaking.

Soon thereafter, I was also left behind by Kyone. She unfriended me. And then Tumblr decided to ban all NSFW content, so in order to preserve this blog, I was forced to delete all her NSFW art. And when she went further and removed herself from the blog, I went further too and removed all of her posts. But it wasn’t easy.

It’s been a few years since then and I remain heartbroken. We’d been friends for over a decade. I saw her grow up (we met when she was 16), saw her graduate, saw her go through schooling and jobs and hard times. Between her, myself, and Fluxx, we’d amassed a mountain of great times and greater stories. We’d been a sisterhood in all but blood. We’d even called ourselves such.

To this day there remains a hollow place in me. In short, I’ve been jaded. My whole life, I’d seen this pattern repeated: I make a friend, we become close, then they abandon me, usually within a year or two. But with Fluxx and Kyone, I’d truly believed this pattern had finally been broken. I’d believed I finally had friends for life.

Between the loss of tmnttrashcan and Kyone, however, I learned a hard lesson: not to trust so deeply.

This was repeated twice more before I gave up on sharing. With Blue Blood, twice I made a close friend, got to the point of talking near-constantly and voice chatting. Twice I shared previews of what was to come. Once I even told the entire story, everything, every last detail I have planned to the end of the series. And twice, after hearing so much of the tale, the friend vanished from me. They stopped responding. I was talking to air.

It hurt.

By now you may be wondering why this is included in my fanfiction autobiography. Well, because it spurred me on. If I can’t keep friends for long, then I’ll keep my own company. I won’t let myself down. I decided to focus on my stories, for in this I am always the most important person. I am the one who will never be abandoned. I am the creator, the god, of the worlds I shape for the entertainment of others. Readers may come and go, as much a slave to their interests as I am, but I remain. For those who stay and those who arrive later, I remain.

There is a power in this which cannot be matched, but more so, there’s an enjoyment and responsibility. My stories are unfinished but demand an ending from a slew of followers. And so I keep writing, even though the stories are largely complete in my own mind. I know how they end. I know how they intertwine, how they connect. I know the backstage dancers, how the plot lines link together, where each thread is leading; my readers do not.

And so I continue writing, even as I remain cautious about how much I share.

To The Future

What comes next is largely unknown, even to me. I have many, many, many stories, both in original settings and fandoms. I work on some of them from time to time, in between trying to focus on my bigger hits. Sometimes I just open one and begin reading what I’d already written, refreshing my memory and contemplating where I want the story to go.

I’ve considered other forms of storytelling as well. Otome games have my interest, specifically, because of the nature of them; a single protagonist and multiple love interests with their own unique tales to tell. I love that format and have tried crafting numerous stories for them, but they’ve yet to gain any real ground.

This is partly because it’s a huge undertaking. It’d require more than myself to get them made. I can do art and writing, but I know little to nothing of coding. I’m unsure how I would turn words and images into a novella-type game. Originally I wanted Fluxx and Kyone’s help -- Kyone because I felt her art is better than mine, and Fluxx because she has experience coding. I tried to get them involved. They did not get involved.

As far as otome games are concerned, I am alone.

But this is fine. I am a better writer than anything else -- better than I am an artist, a gamer, or a friend, based on my history. So I’ll continue to write. And if I never truly create an original story, if I never get published, if I never receive royalties for my years of painstaking effort, then so be it.

I made people happy. I made people gush and scream and keyboard-smash. I made people laugh and cry. I made people fall in love with that which I love.

That’s enough.

I’ll see you soon with more updates. My stories are not yet finished.

- Nightshade

#siren nightshade #autobiography #sfw #written #personal

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

Text

Pluralistic: 13 Mar 2020 (The third Little Brother book, Where I write, stream global news, AT&T's CEO gets millions for his failures, Chelsea Manning freed, Katie Porter vs CDC, Trump's scientific nihilism, Covid-malware co-evolution, Siennese solidarity)

Today's links

Announcing the third Little Brother book, Attack Surface: And a new Little Brother/Homeland reissue, with an intro by Ed Snowden!

Where I Write: A column for the CBC that's really about how I write.

Stream 200+ global news channels: Each hand-picked, no registration required.

AT&T's CEO fired 23,000 workers and gave himself a 10% raise: Life on the easiest setting.

Chelsea Manning is free: But she's been fined $256K for refusing to testify to the Grand Jury.

Rep Katie Porter forces CDC boss to commit to free testing: Literally the most effective questioner in Congress.

Trump's unfitness in a plague: It's not because he's an ignoramus, it's because he's a nihilist.

Malware that hides behind a realtime Covid-19 map: Peter Watts' prophecy comes true.

Locked-down Siennese sing their city's hymn: A cause for hope in the dark.

This day in history: 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

Announcing the third Little Brother book, Attack Surface (permalink)

Attack Surface is the third Little Brother book, coming out next October.

It's told from the point of view of Masha, the young woman who is Marcus Yallow's frenemy who works first for the DHS and then for a private spook outfit. It's a book about how good people talk themselves into doing bad things, and how they redeem themselves. It ranges from Iraq to the color revolutions of the former USSR, to Oakland and the Movement for Black Lives.

The story turns on cutting-edge surveillance and counter-surveillance: self-driving cars, over-the-air baseband radio malware, IMSI catchers, CV dazzle and adversarial examples, binary transparency and warrant canaries.

This week, I did a wide-ranging and deep interview with Andrew Liptak for Polygon about the book, the Little Brother series, the techlash, the tech workers' uprising (and #TechWontBuildIt), and the future of technological self-determination.

We also revealed the cover for Attack Surface, which was designed by the incomparable Will Staehle (who is eligible for a Best Artist Hugo – nominations close today!).

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

Not only that, but Staehle has also designed a cover for a new omnibus edition of Little Brother and Homeland that comes out this July, and as you can see from that cover, the book has an all-new introduction by none other than Ed Snowden!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

(In 2017, Staehle also designed all-new covers for my adult backlist)

https://www.tor.com/2017/10/18/cory-doctorow-will-staehle-covers/

The Little Brother books are neither optimistic nor pessimistic about technology: instead, they are hopeful. Hope is the belief that you can materially improve your life if you take action. A belief in human agency and the power of self-determination.

The message of Little Brother is neither "Things will all be fine" nor "We are all doomed."

It's: "This will be so great…if we don't screw it up."

Where I Write (permalink)

I learned to be a writer while my life was in total chaos. Decades later, I have a beautiful office to work in, but I still do my best writing typing hurriedly on subway trains, in taxi-cabs, and airport lounges.

https://www.cbc.ca/arts/finding-comfort-in-the-chaos-how-cory-doctorow-learned-to-write-from-literally-anywhere-1.5489363

My CBC column on where I write is really a primer on how I write: what it takes to be able to write when you're sad, or anxious, or wracked with self-doubt.

Unquestionably the most important skill I've acquired as a writer.

"Even though there were days when the writing felt unbearably awful, and some when it felt like I was mainlining some kind of powdered genius and sweating it out through my fingertips, there was no relation between the way I felt about the words I was writing and their objective quality, assessed in the cold light of day at a safe distance from the day I wrote them. The biggest predictor of how I felt about my writing was how I felt about me. If I was stressed, underslept, insecure, sad, hungry or hungover, my writing felt terrible. If I was brimming over with joy, the writing felt brilliant."

Stream 200+ global news channels (permalink)

TV News is an Android app that pulls like Youtube streams from 200+ global news channels in 50 languages, each manually selected by the app's creator, Steven Clift, whose work I've previously admired.

http://tvnewsapp.com/

You can filter the feeds by country and language and watch them as floating windows that let you continue to use your device while you watch. No registration required, either.

They're shooting for 1000+ channels soon.

AT&T's CEO fired 23,000 workers and gave himself a 10% raise (permalink)

Randall Stephenson is CEO of AT&T. Ajit Pai killed Net Neutrality so that Stephenson could legally slow down the services we requested to extort bribes from us. Then, Trump gave his company a $20B tax cut.

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/nepxeg/atandt-preps-for-new-layoffs-despite-billions-in-tax-breaks-and-regulatory-favors

Stephenson used that money to raise exec pay, buy back his company's stock to juice its price and to pay off debts from earlier, disastrous mergers. He cut 23,000 jobs and slashed capital spending (America has the worst broadband of any rich country).

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/05/att-promised-7000-new-jobs-to-get-tax-break-it-cut-23000-jobs-instead/

After all that, Stephenson congratulated himself on a job well done by giving himself a 10% raise in 2019, bringing his total compensation up to 32 million dollars.

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2020/03/att-ceo-pay-rose-to-32-million-in-2019-while-he-cut-20000-jobs/

I mean the guy earned it. He blew billions of dollars buying Warner and Directv, and then lost billions more on the failed aftermath. If that doesn't warrant a raise, what does?

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/10/att-loses-another-1-3-million-tv-customers-as-directv-freefall-continues/

Chelsea Manning is free (permalink)

A judge has ordered that Chelsea Manning be released from jail, a day after her latest suicide attempt. She was jailed last March for refusing to testify before a grand jury, held in solitary for two months, then jailed again a few days later, in May, She's been inside ever since.

The judge ordered her release because the Grand Jury had finished its work.

https://www.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.vaed.412520/gov.uscourts.vaed.412520.41.0.pdf

It's fantastic to that Manning got her freedom back, but she has been fined $256,000 for her noncompliance. I just donated to her fund:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-chelsea-pay-her-court-fines

(Image: Tim Travers Hawkins, CC BY-SA)

Rep Katie Porter forces CDC boss to commit to free testing (permalink)

I am a huge fan of Rep Katie Porter. Her outstanding questioning techniques and unwillingness to countenance bullshit from the people she questions are such a delight to watch.

Here she is demolishing billionaire finance criminal Jamie Dimon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WLuuCM6Ej0

Oh, Ben Carson, you never stood a chance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVWy3q2kmNM

Steve Mnuchin always looks like a colossal asshole, but rarely this comprehensively:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78zpa0hQ1aw

I almost feel sorry for this Trumpkin from the Consumer Finance Protection Board as she faces Porter's withering fire.

Almost.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBaCc5VUHS8

Porter – an Elizabeth Warren protege – doesn't do this to grandstand. Like AOC, she uses her spectacular skills to elicit admissions and get them on the record, and to hold Congressional witnesses to account.

Today, Porter attained a new peak in a short, illustrious career. That's because today was the day she questioned CDC assistant secretary for preparedness and response Robert Kadlec, asking him to clarify Trump's televised lie last night that insurers would pay for Covid-19 testing.

https://twitter.com/RepKatiePorter/status/1238147835859779584

Porter doggedly held Kadlec to account, forcing him to acknowledge that the cost of a Covid-19 test – $1,331 – was so high that many would forego it, and then to admit that these Americans could go on to transmit the disease to others, making it a matter of public concern.

Then she forced CDC Director Robert Redfield to admit – as she had informed him in writing the week before – that the CDC had the authority to simply pay those fees, universally, for any American seeking testing, under 42 CFR 71.30:

https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/CFR-2019-title42-vol1/xml/CFR-2019-title42-vol1-part71.xml#seqnum71.30

Having laid this factual record, Porter insisted that Redfield commit to using that authority. Not to consider it, study it, or consult on it. To use it to help save the country. Whenever Redfield waffled, she reclaimed her time and forced him back on point.

KP: Dr. Redfield, will you commit to the CDC, right now, using that existing authority to pay for diagnostic testing, free to every American, regardless of insurance?

RR: Well, I can say that we're going to do everything to make sure everybody can get the care they need –"

KP: Nope, not good enough. Yes or no?

RR: What I'm going to say is, I'm going to review it in detail with CDC and the department —

KP: No, reclaiming my time [repeats the question]

RR: What I was trying to say is that CDC is working with HHS now to see how we operationalize that

KP: Dr. Redfield, I hope that that answer weighs heavily on you, because it is going to weigh very heavily on me and on every American family

RR: Our intent is to make sure that every American family gets the care and treatment they need at this time in this major epidemic and I am currently working with HHS to see how to best operationalize it.

KP: Excellent! Everybody in America hear that — you are eligible to go get tested for coronavirus and have that covered, regardless of insurance

[Curtain]

Trump's unfitness in a plague (permalink)

In this editorial, Science editor-in-chief H Holden Thorp makes a compelling case that Trump is not capable of leading the American response to Covid-19.

https://science.sciencemag.org/content/367/6483/1169

Trump has spent years denigrating and ignoring science before taking office, and it's only gotten worse, since.

As Thorp writes, "You can't insult science when you don't like it and then suddenly insist on something that science can't give on demand."

His policy track-record is even worse: "deep cuts to science, including cuts to funding for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the NIH…nearly 4 years of harming and ignoring science."

This reminds me of an argument I often have with digital rights activists who attribute bad technology policy to the inability of clueless lawmakers to understand the technical nuance. I think that's wrong. The fact that we're not all dead of cholera, even though there are no microbiologists in Congress proves that you don't need to be a domain expert to make good policy.

Good policy comes from truth-seeking exercises in which experts with different views present their best evidence to neutral adjudicators who make determinations in public, showing their work in explicit, written, public reasoning. These processes are made legitimate – and hence robust and reliable – by procedural rules. The adjudicators – regulators, staffers, etc – are not allowed to have conflicts of interest. Their conclusions are subject to the rule of law, with mandatory transparency and a process for appeal.

It has to be this way: there's no way that – say – a president could be an expert on all the different issues that might arise during their tenure.

This, then, is the problem with inequality and market concentration: it merges the referees with the players. When an industry only has a handful of players, they all end up with common lobbying positions – a common position on what is truth. That's because the C-suites of these five companies are filled with people who've worked at two, three or four of the competitors, and are married to others who've worked at the remainder. They're godparents to one anothers' kids, executors of each others' wills.

There's no way for there NOT to be collusion in these circumstances.

And when an industry is that concentrated, the only people who understand it well enough are those same execs, so inevitably the regulators are drawn from the industry.

That's why Obama's "good" FCC Chair, Tom Wheeler, was a former Comcast lobbyist, and why Ajit Pai, Trump's "bad" FCC chair, is a former Verizon lawyer. Apart from Susan Crawford, there's not really anyone who's not from the top ranks of Big Telco qualified to regulate them.

So many of us saw the photo of Trump meeting with all the tech leaders and were dismayed that they were throwing their lot in with him.

But we should also be aghast that all the leaders of the industry fit around one modest board-room table.

https://techcrunch.com/2016/12/14/donald-trump-meets-with-tech-leaders/

The problem with Trump's Covid-19 response is that he does not believe in a legitimate process with neutral referees. The refereeship, in trumpland, is an open-field auction, a transactional process that works best when it enriches Trump and his party.

The problem of Trump taking charge of the epidemiological crisis of Covid-19 isn't that he doesn't understand science: it's that he doesn't believe in evidence-based policy.

He is part of the cult of "Public Choice Theory," the belief that there is no one who can serve as referee without eventually colluding with the players for their mutual enrichment, a cynical, nihilistic philosophy that holds that there's no point in seeking to govern well. These people project their own moral vacuum onto all of humanity, a kind of cartoon Homo Economicus who is incapable of anything except maximizing personal utility.

For these people, the existence of bridges that don't fall down and water that doesn't give you cholera are lucky accidents, not results of sound policy and careful truth-seeking. They reason that since they would take bribes to poison the water of Flint, so would everyone.

Trump isn't just a non-expert, he's an ignoranamus, but that's not the problem. The problem is that he is a nihilist, someone who doesn't believe that truth-seeking is even possible.

Malware that hides behind a realtime Covid-19 map (permalink)

Hackers have developed a malware-as-a-service that packages up realtime Covid-19 maps with malware droppers that infect people who load them.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2020/03/live-coronavirus-map-used-to-spread-malware/

This reminds me intensely of Peter Watts's 2002 novel Maelstrom, in which Watts uses his background as an evolutionary biologist to posit an eerily plausible and devilishly clever way that a digital and a human virus could co-evolve.

https://rifters.com/real/MAELSTROM.htm

This has stuck with me! In May 2018, I wrote about it in Locus Magazine:

http://locusmag.com/2018/05/cory-doctorow-the-engagement-maximization-presidency/

Maelstrom is concerned with a pandemic that is started by its protagonist, Lenie Clark, who returns from a deep ocean rift bearing an ancient, devastating pathogen that burns its way through the human race, felling people by the millions.

As Clark walks across the world on a mission of her own, her presence in a message or news story becomes a signal of the utmost urgency. The filters are firewalls that give priority to some packets and suppress others as potentially malicious are programmed to give highest priority to any news that might pertain to Lenie Clark, as the authorities try to stop her from bringing death wherever she goes.

Here's where Watt's evolutionary biology shines: he posits a piece of self-modifying malicious software – something that really exists in the world today – that automatically generates variations on its tactics to find computers to run on and reproduce itself. The more computers it colonizes, the more strategies it can try and the more computational power it can devote to analyzing these experiments and directing its randomwalk through the space of all possible messages to find the strategies that penetrate more firewalls and give it more computational power to devote to its task.

Through the kind of blind evolution that produces predator-fooling false eyes on the tails of tropical fish, the virus begins to pretend that it is Lenie Clark, sending messages of increasing convincingness as it learns to impersonate patient zero. The better it gets at this, the more welcoming it finds the firewalls and the more computers it infects.

At the same time, the actual pathogen that Lenie Clark brought up from the deeps is finding more and more hospitable hosts to reproduce in: thanks to the computer virus, which is directing public health authorities to take countermeasures in all the wrong places. The more effective the computer virus is at neutralizing public health authorities, the more the biological virus spreads. The more the biological virus spreads, the more anxious the public health authorities become for news of its progress, and the more computers there are trying to suck in any intelligence that seems to emanate from Lenie Clark, supercharging the computer virus.

Together, this computer virus and biological virus co-evolve, symbiotes who cooperate without ever intending to, like the predator that kills the prey that feeds the scavenging pathogen that weakens other prey to make it easier for predators to catch them.

Locked-down Siennese sing their city's hymn (permalink)

In times of crisis, we typically pull together, but elite panic's pervasive mythology holds that these moments are when the poors reveal their inner beast and attack their social betters. That libel on humanity is disproved regularly by our everyday experience. As common as these incidents of solidarity are, they still warrant our notice.

The Song of the Verbena is the hymn of the Italian city of Sienna, currently on lockdown.

https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canto_della_Verbena

This video of Siennese people singing their hymn from the windows of their houses, into their empty street, is one of the most beautiful, hopeful things I've seen this week.

Truly, it is a tonic.

https://twitter.com/valemercurii/status/1238234518508777473

This day in history (permalink)

#5yrsago NYPD caught wikiwashing Wikipedia entries on police brutality https://web.archive.org/web/20150313150951/http://www.capitalnewyork.com/article/city-hall/2015/03/8563947/edits-wikipedia-pages-bell-garner-diallo-traced-1-police-plaza

#1yrago Gimlet staff announce unionization plan following Spotify acquisition https://www.theverge.com/2019/3/13/18263957/gimlet-media-union-spotify-recognition-podcasts

#1yrago With days to go until the #CopyrightDirective vote, #Article13's father admits it requires filters and says he's OK with killing Youtube https://www.golem.de/news/uploadfilter-voss-stellt-existenz-von-youtube-infrage-1903-139992.html

#1yrago Spotify's antitrust complaint against Apple is a neat parable about Big Tech's monopoly https://www.wired.com/story/spotify-apple-complaint-warren-antitrust-issue/

#1yrago A critical flaw in Switzerland's e-voting system is a microcosm of everything wrong with e-voting, security practice, and auditing firms https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/zmakk3/researchers-find-critical-backdoor-in-swiss-online-voting-system

#1yrago McMansion Hell tours the homes of the "meritocratic" one-percenters who allegedly bought their thickwitted kids' way into top universities in the college admissions scandal https://mcmansionhell.com/post/183417051691/in-honor-of-the-college-admissions-scandal

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Empty Wheel (https://www.emptywheel.net/), CNN (https://cnn.com), Memex 1.1 (https://memex.naughtons.org/), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Currently writing: I've just finished rewrites on a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I've also just completed "Baby Twitter," a piece of design fiction also set in The Lost Cause's prehistory, for a British think-tank. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel next.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330_-_A_Lever_Without_a_Fulcrum_Is_Just_a_Stick.mp3

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020. https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a new introduction by Edward Snowden: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

#pluralistic

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sunshinexlollipops · 5 years

Note

ooh do you have time to share some headcanons for an acw modern au where arthur is an art professor and wolf is a new professor and they catch each other’s eye ...

Uh, YES I DO ANON.

OKay so I did start typing this earlier and my phone geeked and crashed tumblr so LETS TRY AND DO THIS AGAIN SHALL WE?

Arthur, as mentioned in the ask, is a popular art professor. Not only is he good at his job, he is known as the heartthrob of the school.

Most online reviews of his course not only compliment his class, but also his ass. And everything else ofc.

One review used the golden ratio about the proportions of his shoulders and hips and since then the staff jokingly calls Arthur “Ponyboy.”

One day, during a staff meeting, Dutch, the dean of the school, informs Arthur and his coworkers that they are getting a new Animal Sciences teacher.

Apart from needing space, the best open location for this new teacher is in the building beside Arthur.

It’s spacious, and Arthur asks why this new professor needs so much space (as he takes up a lot with kilns and other things like drying racks or weaving stations.)

Turns out this new professor has some animals that she is bringing, and so she needs the space for the pets she is bringing into her classroom. Which— oh. Okay.

Arthur doesn’t think anything more of it until the day the animal sciences teacher arrives.

He’s outside, having his class throw paint at canvases to create abstract outlines by using stencils to cover up areas. It’s messy.

Arthur is covered in paint, his denim jeans and shirt splattered all over, and because of the heat, he has some of his shirt’s top buttons undone on his chest, as well as his sleeves rolled up.

(One girl almost faints. Arthur fears heatstroke but in reality it’s Arthur who is too hot.)

Still, he’s in the process of throwing a balloon for a student with an arm cast when Wolf arrives.

Students notice her and they immediately go: wtf are all of our professors gonna be fucking hot or????

He doesn’t see her at first, but he notices that a woman dressed in blouse and fancy dress pants is looking at him.

She’s beautiful. So much so that Arthur drops a balloon without throwing it and gets even more paint all over himself.

The woman chuckles at him and says, “So is this the art course I keep hearing so much about?”

And Arthur be like:

Wolf goes to shake his hand, uncaring for the paint on his palm as she touches him, introducing herself.

She then points to her building and says, “I’m the new Animal Science teacher, the one taking over the neighboring building?”

And Arthur is just like oh yes right right, Dutch mentioned this.

He’s very awkward, flushed and stuttering and rubbing at his neck. But Wolf doesn’t react or judge his nerves.

She smiles at him and tells him “well, I’m getting a look at the place, and I’m moving most of the stuff in tomorrow...” and she pauses, looking Arthur over, “And you know, I think you’d be perfect for helping me, if you could.”

And Arthur’s thirst now be like:

Ofc he agrees to assist Wolf with her move, and she bids him goodbye.

While some are jealous, the students notice Arthur’s reaction and they are IMMEDIATELY invested.

Arthur tries to ignore them, but he can’t get helping Wolf out of his head.

The following day Arthur doesn’t exactly have classes. In fact, it’s supposed to be his day off, but your word is your word and it really isn’t a bad incentive to have someone like Wolf being the one you owe it to.

Still, when he shows up in a worn Johnny Cash shirt and jeans, Wolf is happy to see him.

She’s dressed in sweats and a v-neck and OOF she looks like art in anything.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” she says, “I have a ton of tanks to set up and I need the extra arms.”

“Tanks?” Arthur questions.

“Yes. I have a few animals that I brought here for my class. I have u-haul behind the building— I would be grateful if you helped me unload!”

Arthur, internally: there is another load I could give you but alas I am gentleman first and awkward man second.

Nevertheless, Arthur helps Wolf get her items. He see some vivariums and other enclosures, and he scowls at her supplies, not recognizing any of it for what it is.

“Uh, what’s all this stuff for?” he slides one tank that’s taller than it is wide onto a counter, and he looks inside, taking in the sight of the bromeliads and moss, “You grow plants?”

“That’s my crested gecko’s enclosure!” Wolf chirps, and to Arthur’s surprise, he finds Wolf coming close to him, their shoulders brushing as she unlocked her phone, showing the art professor her lock screen of some lizard, “This is her! This is D’or!”

“D-D’or?” Arthur fucking BUTCHERS the name and almost slaps himself in the face.

Wolf chuckles, “It’s French for golden. She was my first reptile, and she’s the reason I went into animal science as a profession.”

Arthur blinks, “... first reptile?”

“I own others. Another crestie, a leopard gecko, a beardie, a ball python—“

“A python???”

Wolf laughs, “scared of snakes?”

“N-No, just... ain’t big, is it?”

“No. It’s a boy, so he’s smaller. Just a regular too, nothing fancy. Didn’t want to risk getting a morph and end up with something akin to the spider wobble.”

Blinking, Arthur hums, “I’m gonna pretend I just understood what you said...”

“You’re cute,” Wolf tells him, and Arthur??

He be like:

“Come on, there’s a few more things to grab,” Wolf ushers them to the door, and Arthur just follows after her.

While offloading a few more tanks, Wolf makes small talk. She asks about Arthur and his course, and she seems interested.

“I took IB art in high school,” she mentions casually, “Just didn’t pursue anything with it.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, shocked.

“Yeah, animals are more of my thing... but you seem to really love it.”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I do...”

Arthur gets to tell Wolf about what his kids are currently studying— from watercolor techniques to pottery glazes and masking making in Africa.

Wolf seems genuinely interested as they finish emptying her u-haul, and as she closed the tailgate, she smiles at him.

“You know, I need to check your building out. See what you have going on over there. Sounds so cool!”

Arthur blushes, “Y-Yeah... I need to learn more about what you do. Not just for the sake of offerin’ up better conversation, just that... seems cool too.”

Wolf beams at him, “Well, you’re welcome any time... But, I couldn’t have gotten my room set up today without you. You’re a life saver!”

Arthur smirks, ducking his head, “I dunno ‘bout that...”

“Well, I owe you,” Wolf tilts her head at him, smiling ruefully, “What do you say about having dinner together?”

Arthur blinks. Dinner?

We hydratin’ now bitches—

“Oh... I’d... I’d love that.”

“Me too,” Wolf hums, “Do you have any classes later today?”

Shaking his head, Arthur replies, “No. it’s my off day.”

Lightly striking his bicep, Wolf gapes, “Arthur Morgan! Don’t tell me you came on your off day to help me out!”

“Well, when a pretty woman asks you for your help, you don’t say no.”

Wolf smiles with some heat his way, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Well, guess I owe you something more than just a dinner.”

Feeling brave, Arthur comes a step closer, “And what would that be, miss? Got another idea of a meal for me?”

“You ass!” Wolf playfully hits his bicep again, but they both laugh.

However... she doesn’t deny it.

“Well, since you’ve been so kind to me today, where would you like to go?”

Smiling, Arthur replies: “With you on my arm, sweetheart? Really don’t matter to me.”

They have dinner and maybe SOME OTHER THINGS and it quickly becomes known that the art and animal science professor have a thing.

Wolf heard about the Ponyboy nickname but Arthur cannot fess up to why it’s a thing. Karen, the business professor, tells her and Wolf can’t stop laughing.

At one point, Arthur uses D’or for a live reference in an art project.

Wolf also catches a wild corn snake that was enjoying the warmth of his kiln in his art room and helped to properly relocate it. (Arthur did not scream, he yelled, okay?)

Arthur may or may not have sketched Wolf a couple of times. (He has. They’re in his sketchbook at home.)

Wolf may or may not have gotten him the new set of paintbrushes he uses during lessons. (She totally did. He didn’t want to spend any of the class’ budget on himself.)

Either way, they’re a package deal, and everyone ships that shit like UPS baby. ;)

#luffy asks #acw #amidst a clash of worlds #acw headcanons #acw ask #wolf acw #arthur acw

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foxwatchesanime · 4 years

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How I stopped caring about comments: A rambly post by me

This is rambly so hold onto your seats, I apologies.

I’ve been thinking a lot about comment/review culture in the last few months, particularly after returning to a brand new fandom as a writer and regular content creator. Maybe this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, maybe not, but I wanted to share my thoughts on the way I perceive comments, how it’s changed for me since I’ve been in fandom and I’d love to hear from other people what their opinion is and how they relate to comments on their work.

I’ve been creating content in fandom spaces for about eleven years now. I started out on YouTube when I joined my first fandom, Merlin, and I made my first fanvideos in 2009. In December of 2009, I published my first fanfiction, plus one sequel which remains unfinished as well as a few other smaller projects. In October of 2010, I published my first podfic and would go on to publish two more. My focus in fandom had always been YouTube, where I regularly created fanvideos. My schedule was never consistent, as with most vidders back in the day, but I’d be comfortable in saying I posted regularly discounting three unintentional hiatuses, one in 2013 following the Merlin finale, one in 2015 probably due to a lack of inspiration and one in 2017 after what I was sure was going to be my permanent comeback to YouTube, only for my hard drive to break and delete all my footage yeeeeeey.

I’ve now made an actual, official return to my original platform, this time creating videos for my new passion and fandom: anime. Since February of 2020 I’ve also been regularly publishing fic and have no desire to stop doing so. I’m thoroughly invested in new fandom spaces again and am engaging with its fans and the content.

But the one thing I have seen change drastically in my approach to things is commenting, following and general engagement.

Let’s take a step back.

When I first started posting content, comments were not something I even had in my consciousness. I think I knew YouTube comments existed, but I didn’t really pay attention to it. I didn’t even know what subscribers were until I started hearing other people talk about them and then I suddenly felt like it’s something I should be keeping an eye on myself.

In a centuries old vlog of mine that is now private on my channel, I noticed that when I hit 100 subscribers, I made a video thanking everyone because I was so excited that with more subscribers, I was going to “make more friends.” Oh dear xD

But the truth is, I have been consistently and chronically bad at keeping up with or caring about the analytics of my various platforms. It wasn’t till writing this post today that I went to check my FF.net account to see how many comments my first two Merlin fics ever got. I still couldn’t tell you my exact number of YouTube or Ao3 subscribers, how many hits or kudos my fic have and I don’t think I’ve ever checked my bookmarks for notes, or whatever you’re able to leave on there.

Commenting culture on YouTube, for all my joking earlier, was primarily about connection, at least back then. Most of the old guard have moved on and those who have remained are now vidding in other fandoms. The social aspect of YouTube in my opinion has changed dramatically since I was at my peak output on there, but I remember how interactive the comments sections used to be. They literally were, where you made friends.

A couple of years ago, me and a friend of mine started a Merlin podcast called Merlisten. We created it for fun and without many expectations of what might come out of it. And it was this that changed my relationship with commenting for good.

Doing Merlisten felt, for the first time in a long time, like pure creativity and passion without anyone’s permission. We always encouraged people to leave feedback as one does, but I don’t think either of us expected to get much, if any. Even considering the incredible support we’ve received with feedback coming in almost every single episode now, there is still a clear and overwhelming gap between the amount of comments given to an episode of Merlisten, to one of my old fanvids or fics. It’s even more interesting when one considers how much more effort and time went into creating Merlisten compared to say, editing or writing, at least for me personally. The amount of man hours spent on creating one 2.5 hour episode from pre-production to final posting often outweighs any other video or chapter I’ve created. Not always, but often.

What struck me as interesting, however, was that even though comments weren’t always consistent and I always love and continue to love reading them, it’s not what was fuelling me to work hard on this project. I was doing it because I adored it and I knew it was something I was proud to put into the world.

And that literally changed everything.

I think for a long time, I was always trying to cater my art to what might get the most attention or please the widest demographic of people. It’s how you think when you’re young and you don’t know any better. But for the first time, I was creating something on my own terms that I had no idea if anyone would even listen to and the actual creative process of making said art was ten times more rewarding than any single comment I could ever read. Which really, what I realised, is what art is supposed to be. I can safely say that if Merlisten didn’t get a single comment from here on in, I would still want to see it to its conclusion for one very simple reason: Because I had something to share.

This brings me to my recent return to writing fic in fandom and it’s not a decision I’ve regretted for a second. More than anything, I’ve realised how personal art can really be, especially when it’s in writing. I’ve found it revealing and cathartic and fascinating in a way that I didn’t ever imagine.

But more importantly, I’ve realised that the real beauty for me in engaging in art is the ability to get an emotional response from it or to relate to it. And that goes for both other people’s work and my own. I can feel just as invested in my own work as someone else’s and that’s not because I think my work is amazing, it’s because I know it’s come from something that was living in me. When I put something out there that I made with my own two hands, that feeling now trumps any sort of feedback I could possibly get and that’s the endorphin I live off.

Don’t mistake this for me not liking comments, that’s obviously not true. My brain gets the same dopamine hit as anyone’s when I get a notification for something or other, but I’ve realised that I have a very specific relationship with comments that I definitely didn’t have before, if my requests for review on FF.net is anything to go by.

Now, what I find exciting and thrilling is the thought that, if writing this fic got this sort of emotional response out of me, the writer, I wonder if there are other people out there who think the same way I do? Who have a similar way of experiencing joy or suffering or humour or who like the same things as me? That, is an insanely invigorating feeling. And then when someone chooses to take time out of their day to tell you that what came from your head is the same sort of way they feel about life? That’s not a comment, that’s not feedback, that’s a connection you have with another person. And that’s where I start to get excited. And it’s taken me this fucking long to realise it.

Honestly, I was really worried upon returning to writing and vidding this year that my experience working in digital marketing, where everything is about numbers and social media is all about engagement and nothing else, that I would be overwhelmed and not be able to switch off the part of my brain that’s been trained to think like that. I’m so relieved that that’s not the case.

As previously mentioned, I suck at giving a shit about analytics and looking at my own stats. I couldn’t give a flying fuck. But I did just go and check my YouTube videos since returning back to vidding. Not a single one of them has views over 200 at this point. Most have less than 100. My most viewed video on YouTube has 57,000 views. And the thing is, there might have been a time when I looked at that and thought, well, this means I suck. This means I can’t make art. This means there’s no point to it.

But no, that's not true.

The point is not how many people see it, how many people like it, how many people comment on it. The point is that I made it. I’m going to continue making YouTube videos despite the fact that the algorithm will destroy any chances they have at getting engagement or views. Even if not one single person comments on them. Because when I’ve finally rendered a new video, or finished proof reading a new chapter, I feel so fucking happy that everything else is just window dressing to me now.

Because not only is online engagement and following such a stab in the dark these days anyway with algorithms changing and trends moving constantly, but this is the real truth about comments, following and feedback:

The truth is, I don’t need a stranger on the internet to praise me so that I can feel good about my art. The day that I start doing that, I’ve already lost. I used to think that way on a regular basis. Guess what, it didn’t make me produce better art. It didn’t make my life better. Because being validated by others never does. It doesn’t matter how many keysmashes I might get or how many sonnets or kind words, because If I don’t like what I create, there isn’t a single human being on the planet who will make me like it, no matter what they say or how they say it. For others, this might not be the case. But this is my reality.

I know this, because I recently speed-wrote and published a fic for a fanweek. I wrote 13k in about 8hrs. So far, it’s received nothing but positive words. But it doesn’t matter. After I published it, I had a crisis about how it wasn’t good enough, that there should have been an extra arc, that it ended too quickly, that there wasn’t a climax. Even as the comments came in, it didn’t change my mind. Because other people’s comments will never really lead to fulfilment.

I want you all to know that I get emotional over every single comment that is sent to me. Every personal story, ever keysmash and heartfelt thoughtful message that took the time to analyse my work. Connecting with you guys has been one of the biggest joys of entering this fandom. But it’s not going to be what fuels me to create and to carry on doing the best work I can. All I can do is treat it as the wonderful privilege that it is, and not any part of the reason I do it.

In conclusion:

Finally, at age 27 and in the midst of enjoying fandom after a very long period of being either meh about it or lurking, I finally feel content with the fact that I want to create in order to put things out into the world that I worked hard on, that I’m passionate about and that hopefully, in whatever way it might be, it might have touched someone who feels the same things too. It makes me feel accomplished, it makes me feel like I might be contributing something small to the world and it makes me feel like maybe one other person was made happy by it. And even if they never tell me that and if no one else ever comments on what I create, or even if they comment on it in spaces that I never see; private servers, chats between friends or blogs that I don’t follow, that’s also fine. Because there’s always at least one person who is going to feel happy that she made something. And that’s me.

The short version: I never used to care about comments, then I did, and now I no longer do.

Sorry for the ramble, but I wanted this here for myself to look back upon in case my opinion ever changes on this or I ever start to lose my way again and feel overwhelmed. I’d love to hear your guys’ experiences with this sort of thing and whether you’ve ever felt bogged down by the need for feedback.

#writing #fandom #vidding #essay #personal

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subtextures · 5 years

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Narcissus Talks to Echo

The Interview apologies to The Paris Review

Context: Why poetry?

Subtext: (Laughs) What else is there? No, really I don’t know. It is what has come to me. I have tried to write fiction and I don’t seem to have the attention span for a sustained narrative. Not that poetry doesn’t require precise attention, because it does. But it requires a different type of attention: attention to the moment. Fiction requires attention to the end, the resolution. Everything is focused on how the story will end. Poetry’s focus is in the word by word movement; the unfolding of the moment, which is what makes it so hard to read and write well. It requires one to attend to everything, all the possibilities in a very intense focus, knowing all the while that one is missing most of what is happening: kind of like life. That kind of attention is hard to maintain in fiction: maybe a Proust, or Melville, could pull it off. I think one almost has to be ADHD to follow the leaps and psychic shifts when writing poetry. You know: Look! A chicken!

C: But you also write essays.

S: Yes, but essays are as Virginia Wolfe said, “the mind tracking itself.” Much like poetry. I find myself leaping along after my thoughts in both poetry and the essay. Neither, initially requires plotting out what I am going to say. I can rely more on the moment to moment flow of my thinking. In both forms discovering what I have to say as I write and focus on the play of words and ideas is part of what makes writing exciting to me. Not to sound Romantic, but it is as if I am possessed by something greater than me that is leading me toward some revelation. Eratos, I guess.

C: You just said you don’t have to plot out what you are going to say, yet in several of your long series you have fairly complex writing structures. I am thinking here of “My Book of Changes,” “115 Missing Days,” “Primogenitive Folly,” and in your most recent, “Sonnet.”

S: True, but in all of those poems, I used a number system to either create a limitation, either small or large, to help me, or maybe better to say, force me to either write very tightly in the case of “Book of Changes,” and “Sonnet” or to expand on my thinking as in “115 Missing Days.” I did not have a direction, or even some kind of idea in regards to what I was going to say, I simply wrote. Again it is more of a chasing after an idea, or image that is just out of reach constantly. Kind of like Robert Browning’s pursuit of love, in “Life in Love:” where the speaker is always, like a hunter, in pursuit of his love, but never quite capturing his prey. Browning is more interested in the pursuit than the capture, it seems to me, and I see that now as analogous to how I write when I first sit down to write a poem. As I said earlier, I am much more interested in where the poem will take me as I am writing it, rather than having a set idea of what I want to say and then figuring out how to say it.

C: So, if you don’t know what you are going to write about, how do you start?S: I start with a phrase, a word sometimes, or an image, then go from there. I don’t mean to sound so willy-nilly. I write all the time. Or I, at least, get out my notebook and stare at the page. Sometimes I will re-read snatches of writing which led nowhere at the time they were written and find something there to salvage or something to prod me on in another direction. Somedays, I just write badly, but other days I can re-read the bad writing I abandoned weeks or months before and find something, some fragment of an idea, which leads me into a larger world. Last year I even found several partial poems in notebooks I abandonded at least ten years ago. I have learned over time that anything can start a poem; so I have tried to enable that by making a conscience effort to pay attention to everything: the short arc of a bird from one branch to another, trash caught in a whirl of wind, the beauty in the everyday occurrence. Of course, for the most part that is a failure, but I do try.

C: Do you write everyday? Do you have a routine?

S: I try to write everyday, but I rarely ever do. Even when I was writing “My Book of Changes,” I didn’t write everyday, although that was the intention when I started it, to cast the I Ching then write a six line poem using the hexagram I cast as a palimpsest through which to read my life in that day, and to do that every day for a year. But that fell apart quickly because of work and having three children under the age of 5 in the house. However, it made sense to try to write one everyday but to let chance operate allowing for some days where I just didn’t have time to write. I wound up with 250 poems over the course of the year, and that led to the next series of poems, “115 Missing Days.” But I am not really answering your question, am I? There goes that chicken again; one thought distracts me from my original intention. No I don’t have a routine. No I don’t write everyday. There, that is the short answer. I used to worry about not writing, the actual putting pen to paper kind of writing, but over time, I guess as I’ve gotten older I don’t worry so much about that anymore. I think that as I go through my day, trying to pay attention to stuff, I am writing. I am filtering out the ephemera, collecting images and thoughts, which I will later use. Not necessarily consciously, but I find when I finally find time to write that often these thoughts and ideas flow back into my thinking sometimes from a few days before, other times from years in the past, in a non-temporal flood of memories. I do carry a notebook with me at all times. I have done that for more than twenty years. I like unlined sketchbooks. I write in the book whenever I can catch a few minutes, or if I have an idea all of a sudden. Once on the way home from dropping my oldest off at college, I wrote an entire sonnet as I made the eight hour drive. I stopped finally at a truck stop and wrote it down. So I guess my routine is to write whenever I can, but not on a schedule. Does that still qualify as a routine, if it is not in a routine manner?

C: Yes, I think that would qualify. Let’s talk about your “training,” as it were, how important do you think poetry classes are, or MFA programs?

S: I don’t really have anything to say about MFA programs, since I have not been in one. The two people I know who went through a MFA program, one at Iowa and the other at the New School in New York, seemed to get a lot out of the programs. How much they learned to write in the programs, I am unsure. At least one of them was a fine writer before he went through his MFA program. I think like any school, a person gets as much as she puts into the program. I found the poetry workshops I took as an undergraduate and in graduate school allowed me a unique environment to write and talk about poetry with a very diverse group of people with different aesthetic visions. It is rare, at least for me, to have that kind of environment after school. I have written and thought about poetry on my own since I finished at Bread Loaf almost twenty years ago. I was lucky from the very beginning to have several people who took the time to read and talk about my work with a kind attentive eye. It helped me learn to write on my own.

C: Talk about these people.

S: Well, in high school when I first started thinking of myself as a poet, I had the good fortune to come into contact with two teachers, one a writer, the other a visual artist, Cliff Berkman and Ann Lockstedt, who took my poems seriously, or at least pretended to well enough to make me believe they took me seriously. Berkman gave me books of poetry to read, probably the best thing any young poet can do; read voraciously, as Dylan Thomas said, “until my eyes fell out.” Lockstedt introduced me to Art with a big A. Something that was out of the realm of the milieu of small town south Texas, she took a bus load of kids to see the Cezanne exhibit in Houston, as well as several buses to Dallas and Ft. Worth to see the Kimball and several other art museums. That kind of trip with today’s lack of funding for the arts in the public school system would be unheard of now.As an undergraduate at the University of Texas, I was lucky to be in several workshops run by Albert Goldbarth. In the late 70’s and early 80’s, he taught there before moving to Kansas. Again he talked to us as if we were poets, not as dumb-ass students, which we were. He was sarcastic and cutting, but he also found something good to say about everybody’s poems. What Katherine Bomer calls the hidden gems in students writing. It takes a very patient mind to do this well, and Goldbarth made us want to write better, or at least made me want to write better.As a graduate student in English literature at the Bread Loaf School of English, I had one poetry workshop with Carol Oles, but just being at Bread Loaf was a writing workshop. The conversations about literature and writing with the professors and students that I had over the course of the four summers I was in Vermont were life altering, as far as my thinking about poetry was concerned. Lunch conversations with David Huddle, Robert Pack, Ken Macrorie and others over everything from the weather to literature, to politics is indescribable in its influence on my literary life.

C: What about your own teaching, how does that affect your poetry?

S: I would say in an indirect manner. When talking to my students about the “great” works of English literature I have come to see it in deeper more meaningful ways, not just because I have to explain the poem in ways the students can understand, but also because of the ways of knowing a poem the students bring to the work. Also as I try to teach my students how to write, I garner insights into my own writing processes. Teaching has deepened the initial training I had through the university, and taken my understanding of poetry further, I believe, than if I had gone off to sell insurance. But that is because I am able to think about poetry on an ongoing basis, and have discussions with fellow teachers about writing and poetry.

C: How important is having a community of writers?

S: Very important. Writing is such a solitary activity. So much of the time is spent in your own head, wrestling with your own demons, caught up in self-evisceration that just being able to talk to others who have some common understanding of what it means to write becomes a balm to the doubt and insecurity that comes with being a writer. Even if all you talk about most of the is how the local sports team is doing, or how crappy your job is. You also have the love of words and writing, which brought you together in the first place.

C: Do you think about your readers when you write?

S: Yes, in the very real sense that I am one of my readers. That makes me think of a line from Tom Raworth when he said he started to write because he liked reading what wrote. But as for making it easy for my readers, not really. I write what I write. I like it when someone says they have read and liked what I wrote. I often wish they would be more specific about what they liked, but any kind of positive response is welcome. I think any writer who tells you she doesn’t care what people think of her writing is lying to you. As human beings we all want to belong, and writer’s want people to read what they write. I think that is why so many writers seek out workshops, so they can have someone read their work. The danger becomes that you change your vision to better conform to others’ view of the world. That is also the horror of writing that no one can see the way you do, and you wind up screaming into the wind. I haven’t sent out anything for more than 20 years, but I post on my blog in hopes that someone will read my poems, and maybe even respond.

(March 2012)

#poetics #poets on tumblr #essay as interview #spilled ink #poetry #repost from 7 years ago

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violetsforkino · 6 years

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v live ☾ 181208 ( translated by huiiiiing )

you can watch his broadcast here

kino said recently he wrote a song that hui recorded a guide for... and he said the song is for universe. he thought of universe while writing it. something like, “we were really happy then right? just like that time, shall we dance again?”

he said he’s been writing 3 songs with hui recently. 1 is completed, 1 is still in the making, and the last one is put on hold because it’s a bit hard.

what kino did today:

dance > arranging > composing > ate > did cue sheet for japan concert with hui > went back to dorm > back for vlive

( translated by withyeo )

kino said that his most favorite genre to listen to is r&b. other than that he also listens to hip hop a lot. he said that since 2 years ago (?) he's also been listening to jazz a lot, and since a few months ago he listens to rock a lot too.

kino talked about jinho posting a cover of 'shallow' a bit, and then talked about a star is born. he said that the movie is really good. he also mentioned bohemian rhapsody. he likes both movies.

kino said that he likes songs with good lyrics so he recommended the carpenters 'close to you' because he likes the lyrics of the song

kino said that he really likes christmas. he said that it's a dream-like day. he said that christmas is one of the days that he looks forward to the most. he's also been listening to carols a lot these days.

kino's recommended movies: midnight in paris, rebel in the rye, bohemian rhapsody, a star is born , you don't mess with the zohan, yves saint laurent, my tomorrow your yesterday, momento, inception

kino talked about happiness. he said that he's on the road of finding happiness and how to become even happier. he said it's not that he's unhappy now, but he wants to become happier in the future.

kino: i hope you have a day filled with joy. the same goes for universe, but these days i've been searching for real happiness. of course, i'm living a happy life that i'm thankful for, but these days i've been thinking a lot about happiness, and i'm working hard to become happier. certainly, i'm really happy now but because i want to be happier. i think about what is happiness for real. during this month, i've finished up to 4 songs, and 3 of them are about happiness. earlier, the song that hui hyung did the guide, that song was written for universe. i'm working hard to become happier, so there's this thing that makes me happier. for me it's fine if i'm not happy all the time. of course, there are times when you're having a hard time and sick and tired, but you get more happiness by overcoming it. these days, happiness is good.

these clothes [i'm wearing] were gifted to me by shinwon hyung. he sometimes gives clothes to me as a present. they're clothes that'd suit me more than him or ones that i'd like. he gave me a lot. i've worn his clothes a lot since long time ago. jackets. he also gave me pants.

the weather is cold. 'the weather is really cold right?' i miss you so much. 'be careful of the cold everyone. i miss you too.' it's going so fast. 'hing, you're so pretty. you don't know how beautiful you are, right? you're so lovely, i'm dying.' you can't die.

( translated by letsgohui )

songs recommended by kino #1: needs (ft. mac ayres) - zach berro #2: midnight blues - oenn #3: magic by. sekai no owari #4: shallow (a star is born) by. lady gaga, bradley cooper #5: cosmic, album by. bazzi #6: close to you by. carpenters #7: meri kuri by. boa #8: dead! by. my chemical romance #9: sincerity is scary by. the 1975 #10: mine by. the 1975 #11: it's not living by. the 1975 #12: give yourself a try by. the 1975 #13: tootimetootimetootime by. the 1975 #14. runaway by. kanye west #15. all of queen's songs #16: 옛날거 (used) by. 기리보이 (giriboy) #17. sicko mode ft. drake by. travis scott #18. come thru by. joji #19: attention by. joji #20: paranoid by. lauv

movies recommended by kino #1: yves saint laurent #2: bohemian rhapsody #3: a star is born #4: you don't mess with the zohan #5: my tomorrow, your yesterday #6: memento #7: inception #8: rebel in the rye #9: midnight in paris

kino: shinwon hyung gifts me clothes from time to time... hyung bought it but... clothes that suit me better than hyung or... or... that kind of clothes... or clothes that i would like, he really gives me a lot of those. other than this, he also gave me another expensive shirt with printing... i think i used to wear a lot of hyung's clothes last time. like jacket... he also gave me pants. it was gray pants... but anyway...

kino read a comment "i love you." yes, me too... i haven't said, "i love you" in a long time. i'm always loving universe.

kino: to me... last time, when i'm asked what's my number 1 treasure, i would be like, "ah! they're all precious to me." but ever since i started composing, i think my recording equipment have become [my] number 1 treasure. together with my hard disk. for a few years, really... even though i did dance and singing for a few years, my body's an instrument. but these... i can live if all these disappear. i don't know what i'm saying but anyway... yes, so this is my work studio which has become my number 1 treasure.

kino: being a singer that's good at performing is actually my dream. it's still a dream for me. and so, now, i/we worry/think a lot about our performances. what would make [the audience] want to come back the next round? even though i don't have much experience, but in the 2 years that i've performed in front of everyone, the things that i've felt, as well as the times when universe reacted well [to something]... we can feel it with our bodies. we remember those times and for the next cue sheet that we'll work on we'll think about it a little more. but then, for this round's cue sheet... i don't think we've worried too much about it. [because] before that, obviously, if we focused more on the quality of the performances, then the performances this round would, of course, different/unique performances, really... for those who have come the last round, [for them to think], "oh? i came the last round but it's so different this round. it was so fun" or... the next... no, even for the people who are seeing our performances for the first time, "wow, pentagon's performances are really interesting", in order to make fun performances so that it would be interesting enough for people to share it with their friends, not just this round's but also for future performances... we have been paying much attention to these areas. they are really important things but i've been missing this out. so when we were reviewing the cue sheet again, we... the choreography, things that we need to prepare, and the things that we have to prepare again for the future, and the new things that we need to make... and, for example, either a remix or there's also areas where we rearranged the song... yes.

kino: kino shared how he ended up eating alone. hui said he's already eaten. kino also called jinho but jinho said he ate a late lunch after waking up late. wooseok ate with shinwon. after making rounds of calls, he thought that he should just eat alone so he ordered curry.

kino said he's been listening to a variety of songs recently. he said even though he isn't sure and isn't able to objectively judge how much his songs are able to connect with people, while working on good music, he still wants to let people hear lots (a variety) from him. he said although he may not be able to pull off that many music [styles] at this moment, if he does [music] consistently, someday he thinks he would be able to let us hear variety of music. so he's been thinking about such stuff lately... just the day before yesterday, #kino thought to himself... next time, when he gets a chance to perform, he wishes to do a big scale one - in a concert format that's never been done before. the title of it is, "sense of reality." kino said he likes to [imagine] about these things; for example, he wants to bring ideas onto the set, like from a fairytale chapter and with music of that vibe... and to also share stories about reality vs. ideal. and the chapter after... about the future, and the last performance, he would like to do something related to art.

kino: i've listened to r&b for almost my whole life. hip-hop and r&b are [genres] that cannot be separated. i think i've listened to hip-hop and r&b for all my life. and recently... since about 2 years ago i liked jazz. jazz... i listen a lot to jazz. recently... recently, about 6 or 8 months? around the time when 'aquatic talks' was out, i thought a lot about reggae. i'm also listening to a lot to rock. there are many genres to rock as well.so, i listen to rock too. i also listen to bossa. hmmm. i also listen to disney music. edm... honestly... i think it's still not very close to me. but someday... even though there are many good edm music, it's still a little difficult for me to [embrace] it.

kino said he used to play starcraft a lot with his dad. kino and hui were both saying that their fathers were really good at the game. kino said he really liked starcraft when he was in elementary school.

kino: to be honest, other than the ones that i find myself or receive recommendations from people around me, fans do recommend a lot in reality. [fans] recommend a lot of books, and if they [share about] what movie they've watched and what was interesting, i capture everything and later on when i have to select a movie, book or song... i have a folder that consolidates everything that our fans recommend. i go through it like this and would be like, "oh! i should read this book today.", "oh! i should watch this movie today.", "i should listen to this music today." i receive lots of recommendations [from fans], thankfully, so i think my range's expanded and i think it's fun and nice to share [such stuff].

#pentagon #kino #translation #181208 #v app #important #happiness #family

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low-budget-korra · 6 years

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The legend Of Korra : Book 02-Philosophy Everywhere

I'm going to divide this one into two parts, talking about the episodes before the episodes 07 and 08 and after them. Due to this first half, I consider the 02 book the weakest of all and here are some of the why.

Beginning 6 months after the events of Book 01, after all that dark shit that happened, everything is great. Right away we had a significant change that was the change with respect to animation, previously made by Studio Mir and that in book 2 began to be made by the studios Pierrot. Nothing against the work of the studios Pierrot , after I started studying digital art I saw that it is something way more laborious than I already thought it would be, but Studio Mir's work was so good in Book 1 that this change is a "down" for the season.

We are presented with the danger of this season, evil spirits and the reality of our dear Fire Ferrets. Bolin is the only one who continues in Pro's Bending while Mako became a cop and Korra is just being the Avatar, and Asami is trying to deal with the CEO’s stuff of the Future Industries.

Now something that bothered me a lot in the first half of season. I felt that everything that Korra went through in Book 01 was for nothing, as there is no development in the character. She remains the same spoiled, arrogant from Book 1

The relationship between Mako and Korra is appalling, especially because of Korra's unbearable and inexplicable behavior earlier this season.

We are also introduced to Unalaq, uncle of Korra and soon we see that his relation with Tonraq is, at least ,troubled. Also we met Tony Stark .... cof sorry, Varrick and what a good surprise this character was.

Returning to Korra, this second season she is even more childish than the first. It's inexplicable, I dont know what happened. Like, I can understand her sense of frustration of still being treated as someone who is incapable of making choices, but what does she do? She goes there and shows that she is incapable of making choices.

Like all the building of partnership and trust that was made in book 01 between Tenzin and Korra, something that I unfortunately forgot to mention in my review of book 01, was thrown in the trash because in the first "fight" she exchanged the Tenzin that literally hugged her in the worst moments of her life until then, by an uncle she barely know

I think that when, soon in the first episode Korra dispenses the Tenzin, Unalaq must have thought : "Man, that was easy"

Then we have Korra with unnecessary anger for her father for him not told he was banished from the Northern WaterTribe and why. Like, girl, this is certainly something your father is not proud of, maybe even blaming himself for the inexperience and arrogance in which he acted when, after chasing the barbarians who attack the city , ended up destroying a sacred place. I'm sure you did not tell him about how "cool" the first conversation you had with Amon was.

Okay, I'll take it easy with Korra, maybe this "Stop Protecting Me" it is her trying to reaffirm herself as Avatar after all she suffered in Book 01. Then this almost desperation for not wanting to be seen as a child and wanting to be considered a capable person, made her, ironically, act like a child and show herself unable , after make some wrong choices.

You guys remember that when the NorthTribe invaded the SouthTribe, she chose to stay with her uncle and not her father. Even Tonraq being an incredible father.

(Look at this? This person is trustworthy right. The guy is sitting in a dark room, alone doing a bunch of nothing. IN THE DARK!)

Unalaq was another one that I did not like since the moment I saw it. He is by far the worst villain even more that Ozai's greatest megalomaniac style, worse yet, Ozai wanted his Nation to rule the world while Unalaq wants evil to dominate simply because he wants to. But I give him something, he was good to see that moment of “wanting approval” that Korra and exploits it in his favor.

When Korra discovers that his uncle was responsible for the unjust sentence of his father when Unalaq underwent an attempt of kidnapping and that he also was responsible for the banishment his father years ago. First of all I can not blame her for the violent way she approached the judge for the conversation because I think it would do the same. (Dont mess with the people i love)

Something very interesting to note was that this season was where everyone was further away from each other. And the frozen scenery of the northern watertribe helped amplify this feeling. The soundtrack of this season is also incredible, all of the seasons are actually.

Another thing I liked was the interaction between the sons of Aang. It was a bit sad to know that despite being a great Avatar, Aang was a bit flawed as a parent. Paying more attention to his duty to the world than with his family. And clearly having a favorite son, Tenzin. I can understand why, but is sucks anyway

But I also think the character who was best explored this season was Tenzin. We can connect with his concerns. The burden of being responsible for the survival of the airbender culture, the fear of failure, and the quest to be a reflection of his father.

We know more about Bumi, and dude, the scene in ep.04 where he talks to his father's statue, apologizing for not being an airbender, and besides that , he did what he can to keep the world . And Kya is kind of a more lesbian cooler version of Katara in terms of personality.

One more “down” to this Book in the beginning was to make fun with the Bolin being clearly in an abusive relationship with Eska. This is not fun people, people die because of it.

Poor Mako in the first half, his only getting slapped by Korra . Later on I understand, but I dont agree with his position of delivering Korra's plans to get help for the southern tribe to Raiko. Episode 06 was focused on Mako, Bolin and Asami. We can see Asami, in a moment of weakness that I dont understand until today, kissing Mako. Bolin pursuing film career and Mako showing a certain ability as a detective. This I found cool because it gains another layer to the character , it is no longer just the romantic interest of Korra. It also had virtually the revelation of Varrick as a secondary villain for this arc of them

Bolin also has something nice, If in the first episode, he was shown was someone who only can fight with The Krew, later in book 2 he and we see that he is capable to fight alone for himself.

And Asami, this babe was her own “up and fall and up again” arc as CEO of her dad company. And she shows that she has what its need to take control of the business.

I really dont know what happened to the writers in this first half of book 02, way below the expected But Raava inspired them to make the wonder that is the second half of the season. And so I finish my analysis of the first half of book 02

Beginnings part 1 and 2 are my favorite episodes of the entire AVATAR series. Seriously, everything in these episodes is incredible, from the differentiated animation (Studio Mir is back baby!!!)to the soundtrack, and of course, the script.

In Beginnings we are introduced to the first avatar, Avatar Wan. And so, we are presented as the cycle began. From real, every time I see these two episodes I cry like a baby.

"Return to the beginning. Find Raava "

Lets talk about Wan, he was a young thief trying to survive, in a dangerous and authoritarian era of what might be considered the beginnings of the Fire Nation, a city that lay on the back of a Giant Turtle, protected them from the spirits -dominated forests.

I will not say much about these two episodes because even if you dont remember , go watch, seriously, it's incredible. And because if I start talking about them I will not finish.

In short. Wan receives the power of fire from the Giant Lion Turtle and go into the forest. Then he return home before entering the forest, and thus steals the fire power ,which was forbidden to use in the city.What is worth mentioning is that the bendinds there were not developed , dont expect martial arts movements.

Here ,even with power, Wan is merciful and selfless. He did not think only of himself, he did not exposed who participated in the rebellion with him and still spared the life of a guard. He is then banished to the forest and .... aaa did not say, I cant not speak of these episodes man

Anyway, after going through "trouble" on his first night out in the woods. He seeks the help of a spirit who simply says "it's not my problem", so Wan tries to fantasize as spirit to be able to enter the oasis of the same spirit that denied him help. Then he discovers that there are other LionTurtles, and consequently, other cities.

And in his journey, even with hunger he decides to release an animal, which turns his animal partner. And so, seeing the altruistic action of Wan, the same spirit that denied him help, helps him to escape the hunters. And so he decides to stay and learn from the spirits.

And so, Wan learns the dragon dance, protecting the oasis and his friends spirits. My baby Wan <3

Back in town, Wan's old friend decides to lead a group of people who believe that only with the power of fire, it is possible to live in the forests. Needless to say that shit happens right ?!

Then Wan decides to travel the world with his pet, Mula. The music in these parts is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, really.

Then Wan discovers Raava and Vaatu fighting and, unknowingly, helps Vaatu to escape. With the help of Raava ,who at first dont like the ideat of joining with Wan to fight Vaatu), Wan finds the other lions turtles and is given the other bendings.

Raava is light and peace. Literally, the good. Vaatu is evil.

However, Wan can only change elements, when the spirit of Raava passes through his body. Wan is an example of a good person, he literally made the biggest shit in the world but instead of running away, as many would do, he took responsibility and face it.

And it is on this journey that he begins to train heavy, the elements, and learn about the balance of the world.

"He can not destroy light any more than i cant destroy darkess. One can not exist without the other "_Raava

"Most humans think only about themselves" _Raava

Man, this is so true, worse, it's a direct truth. There is no metaphor here.

There we see humans using the power of fire to clear the forest, nothing new really. The same group as that friend of Wan. And so, these people attack anything (spirits) they see, not knowing whether it is good or bad, just by their own ignorance. What unfortunately happens in various parts of the world with minority groups that are attacked only by the ignorance of the aggressors.

In this 5-minute scene, we see all the power of ignorance and violence. Humans have invaded and destroyed the forest, and still set fire to any spirit that appears. In Brazil we have farmers doing exactly the same thing with the natives, with the moral help of the president. But we are not here to talk about the shit hole that is Brazil right now....

The stronger Vaatu gets, the smaller and weaker Raava gets.

(I'm almost crying because I'm writing while I'm watching this wonderful episode.)

It is then that Wan touch’s on the energy that comes out of one of the portals and this scene happens

(This scene gives me so many chills. Its simple epic)

Now officially as Avatar, Wan and Raava succeed together defeating Vaatu, imprisoning for the next 10 thousand years. It is also Wan who makes the decision to close the portal, separating spirits and humans.

We then see the Lion Turtles talking that a new era has begun, and we will no longer be given the power of the elements to the people. Then shows Wan's narration as he separates two armies, because it seems that war is what a human being does best.

Then we think the episode ends there. With the message of the duty of the avatar and all but ...oh boy we are wrong . We see a much older Wan, mortally wounded in battle. Regretting that he had not fulfilled his duty to bring peace, that darkness still surrounds humanity, he did not have enough time.

"Do not worry, we will be together for all your lifetimes and we will never give up" _Raava

Soon after this talk of Raava, Wan dies and the cycle of avatars begins.

(im not crying... you are)

Something I think is very important to mention is that these two episodes, as well as this season of The Legend Of Korra, use something that I hate, that is the megalomaniac villain and the megalomaniac consequences. Only, especially in these two episodes of the Wan, we are not focused on this but on the learning of the character and all the wisdom of Raava(the hero).

Vaatu can be evil, he has to be evil because he is evil. Now, Unalaq? "Urrr I will release the spirit of darkness to become an evil avatar because I want, even if it destroys the world."

If Vaatu was the villain alone, trying to lead Korra to the dark side, I think it would have been better, or if Unalaq had been better worked for us to believe in his ambitions ... All the Korra villains have a very cool ideology be it equality, freedom or prosperity. Unalaq is only a classic religious fanatic, and a forgettable villain.

Moreover, the rest is just Korra and his friends preparing for Harmonic Convergence to beat Vaatu. And the end of the arc’s of Asami, Bolin and Mako.

Now, on this journey of Korra in the spirit world, when she misses Jinora and meets Iroh. Their interaction is wonderful.

I'll separate some quotes from Iroh to Korra, who at the moment is in the shape of a child.

Iroh says: "Even in material world you will find it, if you look for the light you can often find it. But if you look at the dark, heres what you will see "

Several things can be compared to this speech, but the first thing that came to mind was depression and its power to catastrophize everything. As depressive girl, I think I have the property to speak at least of my experience with it.

As depressive, I often see things on the more negative side and thus, "I search for darkness" and so, it is only her that I see. And as much as the search for light is arduous and tiresome, it compensates. It's a daily struggle. Even in the worst of times, look for the light in the dark and you'll be fine. Even if the path is dark and scary, we all have light and we can all walk that path, whether alone or with help.

And Iroh was also right in another speech, helping others is one of the best things you can do. I can not describe the good feeling that takes care of you when you help someone. I think if we all did that, the world would not be in such a mess.

Now let's talk about the shocking and sad scene of the loss of connections.

Honestly I think it's something that can be reversed, and if I did it in a fanfic the creators can do in HQ u.u

About the fanfic, ~propaganda moment here~, I swear that I will continue translate it a and post at least once a month on Wattpad with the link here on Tumblr.Who was interested, here is the link of the chapters already translated. I still do not consider myself fluent in English, so I accept any corrections.

Link for the chapters in English: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/117030440-the-legend-of-korra-book-5-legacy

(This is just to say how much i love Korra with loose and messy hair, my god how I find it sexy. And for you guys to see this gorgeus image and forgive me for the “propaganda time”)

Returning...

Anyway, at first, I found it very heavy and unnecessary but after analyzing the series as a whole and not just Book 2, I think I understood.

Korra is the avatar in a world practically totally different from the world of Aang and the previous avatars. A world where technology grows every day, a world each more similar to ours. That is, a new era. And this new age, perhaps it did not need other avatars.

Dont slap me please. But like, for example, what am I going to ask a 19th-century person how she communicated, if we have the cell phone today? Things have changed, the experiences and how to deal with the things too. Perhaps Avatar Kyoshi does not have adequate advice for the Avatar in an increasingly political and complicated world.

The breaking of the cycle was literally the end of an era of Avatars, the avatars that will come after Korra, in theory, will be more apt to deal with these problems so similar to what we experience.

But yes, I wanted her to somehow reconnect.

As you can see, although I love reading philosophical, political, social, historical, and psychological things, I do not quote any specific author in my interpretations, but I certainly use the knowledge I learned in what I write. "Lara, why dont you quote this guys here?" Cause my memory is terrible in memorising words, which means that I would have to reread, to know who exactly said what, and my college dont let me have this much time

Another thing I forgot to mention, the Gifs are not mine, more talented people than I've done them, and I just picked it up from the internet. Ican tag you in the comments if you are the author of those

Although it is not the book that most focuses on psychological issues, it does so through philosophical questions of "Who I am" and "What is my duty in the world"

Overall, book 2 of The Legend Of Korra is the most nostalgic of all, in my opinion. And in my view, the theme that stands out is that of "Search for own identity".

We see this in Wan,Bolin, Korra, Tenzin, and Jinora in a more prominent way.

Wan on his quest for Avatar's identity, even if it is unconscious. Korra for the exact opposite, her quest is for herself. Who is Korra? And would Korra be limited to just been The Avatar?

Who is Tenzin? He finally detaches himself from his father's image. As he says in the fog of the lost souls: "Im not a refletion of my father. Im Tenzin " Bolin who discovers his is not just a sidekick to his brother, he is more than that

And Jinora discovering and embracing without question her full potential with the spiritual side.

And besides, i hate it the all giant final fight. I simple dont like it.

#the legend of korra #avatar korra #team avatar #Asami Sato #tenzin #mako #bolin #avatar #korrasami #raava #avatar wan

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modernart2012 · 7 years

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I Look at You (And See the Rest of My Life In Front of My Eyes)

for @clrac0 Happy (belated) birthday gift, I hope you like it. Ily <3

Bakugou has feelings. They get completely out of hand. He can't say he really minds.

On AO3

Note: This is in the same Universe as “How Todoroki Enji Died”. It actually starts the three days prior to that fic (aka, the day Izuku and Shouto are caught kissing), and this fic clears up what Shouto was in a hurry to attend to.... [THIS IS THE WEDDING IZUKU MENTIONS AT THE END OF THAT FIC]

Many many thanks to @istehlurvz for letting me borrow her long haired! Post grad! Kirishima for a character design reference. Please go check them out, her art is so beautiful.

Many thanks to @sofour for the beta <3

Title from quote (same title) from unknown.

Those unmitigated fuckers. TOP HEROES DEKU AND SHOUTO CAUGHT KISSING. Bakugou set off a controlled explosion to incinerate the newspaper crumpled in his hand, then grabbed the nearest packet of gum and tossed a handful of pieces into his mouth because if he ground his teeth anymore his dentist would get pissed off and then Ei would be disappointed and fuck that shit it wasn’t to be borne.

“Aww, babe,” Eijirou smoothed a kiss to his furiously working jaw, soft affection that dulled the edge of Bakugou’s irritation. His hair was smoothed into a ponytail, his usual black tank exchanged for a more appropriate button up, and fuck everything ever Eijirou still looked hot. “Think of it this way, they’re going to be hounded by paparazzi nonstop now.” Well. That - that served Deku and Half-n-Half right. Eijirou beamed at him from over the back of the couch, and whatever he saw made him dip back in for a quick kiss, still smiling. The hair framing Eijirou’s face, too short to go back in his ponytail too long to be anything but a stylistic choice, tickled Bakugou’s cheeks like the edge of a soft crimson curtain. He scowled and Eijirou laughed, lighting up like he’d just discovered something new.

“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair.” Another kiss, to his nose, and even after so long it was disorienting to be the recipient of such unwavering affection. He chewed the wad of gum in his mouth harder, working off the ansty jangle of his nerves because there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing to be anxious about (yet).

“I love you too Blasty.” Eijirou checked the clock, before jogging towards the door, “I gotta go, I’m gonna be late! See you after my shift!”

“You’re always late, Hair-for-Brains.” Bakugou muttered. “Oi, hold up.” He grabbed the bento he had made earlier, then shoved it into Eijirou’s hands. “Come back safe, Ei.”

There was that damned smile again, so damn warm. Fucking hell. “Will do, Katsuki!” Another kiss, and Bakugou cupped Eijirou’s face between his hands and lingered, knowing the feel of Eijirou in his bones after so long. They parted slowly, and Eijirou rubbed their foreheads together, brushed noses before disengaging. Bakugou clamped down on the need to go chasing after more, trail after and lick into Eijirou’s mouth, keep him here until the snarling, possessive, feral thing in Bakugou’s chest calmed and settled. “I’ll be home for dinner, promise.” Then he was out the door, ponytail waving behind him like a vermillion flag. He chewed his gum harder, discomfited and exposed, and tried not to think of the feel of that hair twined around his fingers like scarlet rope.

He grabbed his jacket and bag, fired off a text to Round Face. Then he strode out of their house, purposefully, trying to leave his feelings in the dust.

“You know, Bakugou, of all the people you could have called, I’d never have expected you to contact me.” Uraraka was a fucking menace, why the fuck did he call her again. He glared at the storefront, felt as she squared up beside him like it was another team up and the store was the villain. Oh right, that.

“Shut the fuck up, Round Face. You’re back up.” Uraraka smiled dagger sharp and knowing, and Bakugou snarled since he knew that face and it meant whatever the fuck next happened it’d end up in the ear of everyone in the hero course before midnight. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and marched into the store, Uraraka right behind.

It was immediately clear that he should never have trusted Yao-bitch on this, because this was an old school joint with it’s bright lights and velvet cases and customers wearing designer clothes that were worth more than his paycheck. He was about to turn on his heel and nope the fuck out of there, but the doorman stopped him, “Mr. McSplode. Welcome. We have your items ready for review. If you and Ms. Uravity would come this way.” The man gestured to a private alcove, and Bakugou had no choice but to follow the directive. He was going to give Yao-bitch a fucking piece of his mind when he was done here, fucking hell. “Haruhi will be right out with your items.” With a bow the doorman was gone and Uraraka was sparkling determinedly.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t.”

Uraraka simpered at him, “Don’t what, Bakugou? Talk about the fact that you asked Momo for jewelry store recommendations, and have a special order ready?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “I wonder whatever you could have gotten?”

He opened his mouth to fire back, who the hell was Round Face to play coy, but the shopgirl was coming and he didn’t need to make a scene in front a civilian. Uraraka leaned close as the shopgirl set out the display mat and her materials, whispered, “Let me be your Best Woman and we’ll call it even.” He itched to explode her face off, but old school store, civilians, and Ei would be pissed held his flaring temper in check. Also the fact he was sweating like he had just finished training and a miscontrolled explosion would send them all to kingdom come.

“Here you go. Ms. Yaoyozoru was very firm that we follow the instructions exactly. It was very difficult to work with the meteorite, but the final effect is quite beautiful.” It better be, he wasn’t paying for crushed diamond and opal shards for it to look bad.

Uraraka gasped as the rings were set down onto the velvet, the dark metal peeking through clusters and clumps of stone pressed into the surface. “Oh, they look like the night sky!”

“Of course they do, Round Face.” He had designed them to be such, to sparkle like a thousand stars and planets, streaking across the surface like a million points in the galaxy. Bakugou picked up the closest ring, twisting and turning it under the jewelers loupe and watching the edges catch and reflect the light back in a riot of color, shot through with a dark grey betraying the metal beneath. Damn. He swallowed around his heartbeat, thundering in his throat. He was moving to check the engraving when the front doors of the shop blew in with a massive cloud of smoke.

The screaming started immediately, all the posh civilian ladies screeching. “God dammit,” he growled as he automatically moved towards the entrance. Fucking civilians screaming, he could barely think with such shrill shitbags around. Uraraka was matching him scanning their smoke-filled surroundings, hands up, when twin clicks of guns made them both pause.

With a dramatic whoosh the heavy smoke cleared unnaturally - shit-fucking Quirk - and a gun muzzle appeared not even 6 inches in front of his face. “Oh ho ho, what do we have here?” The robber smirked savagely, “Blasty McSplode and Uravity. We’re in luck, men. We’ve got bona fide heroes here as hostages.” This was the leader then. Fucking dick on a stick.

“Fuck off dickheads, before we make you.” Bakugou snarled, mentally noting that even with Uraraka there he’d have trouble taking out 7 robbers, especially given the guns they were sporting. Two were already herding the customers, removing purses and jewelery by force, two smashing cases and dumping contents into bags, the final two blowing the safe doors with practiced ease. Bakugou shifted, only to have the leader firmly press the gun against his head. His other hand kept the other gun trained on Uraraka.

“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. McSplode. See, we found a stash of those Quirk-erasing bullets from way back when, and I’ve been itching to try one out. Just to see if they work.” His voice dropped low, a sickly sweet coo,“One more wrong move and you’ll get the distinct honor of being my first test subject.”

A glance at Uraraka showed she had heard too, and they both slowly put their hands up. “Good, good, we wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents now would we.” The masks made it hard to pinpoint any major distinguishing characteristics, another point that made his fingers itch to grab their faces and detonate. At least the huddled mass of satin and pearls had quieted into subdued whimpers and sobs, but that was small comfort since it was only 10 in the fucking morning and this was already a shitshow. He had other things to get done today, and this was throwing off his whole timetable.

“Ehhh, Blasty, this was supposed to be a secret right?” Uraraka murmured through the corner of her mouth, eyes locked on the barrel of the gun.

“What the - ,” Bakugou began, only to be cut off by Uraraka nodding at the plate glass window at the front of the shop.

“‘CauseRiotishere.” She let out in a rush, her discomfort slurring her back to her country accent. Bakugou risked a glance out the window. Eijirou was there, and while he looked calm and steady while talking with the police, Bakugou knew that look. Dammit, he didn’t need this too. He frowned significantly, then pointedly moved his eyes to the guns and grimaced.

“Both of you! Shut up! Now!” The leader, who'd been yelling at the others to hurry up, turned back to knock them both across the face with the butt of the pistol. Bakugou rocked back, more from the force of the blow than actual hurt before whirling and tackling Uraraka to the floor. Just in time, as the plate window shattered inward; Ei had clearly gotten his message and was already at a higher than normal hardness, a midpoint between his regular and ultimate.

There was a sudden outburst of gunfire, but the bullets bounced off Eijirou’s hardened skin ineffectively into a tinkle of metal against the marble floors in counterpoint to the return of the shrieking ladies. Bakugou knew this even if he didn’t look - there was a reason that Eijirou was called to deal with gun runners and it wasn’t his personality. He rolled to his back and aimed a kick at the knee of whom-the-fuck-ever was standing near - it wasn’t Ei and he gave zero shits after that to figure out who the fuck it was. When that shitwad went down he exploded their face to be extra sure they stayed out.

Uraraka had done her job and had a few bodies floating on the ceiling, and Ei was dealing with the last three dickrags jsut fine. Bakugou took a moment to admire the sharp points of Ei’s shoulders and elbows , the plates that jutted out and promised pain to whomever was on the wrong side of them. Or right, in the case of the wicked claws on his hands, as they rake through a semi-automatic and shear the thing in two.

The remaining two-bit thieves give up after that.

This has pros and cons. Pro: the shitty sheep stop squealing. Con: Ei can now afford to keep sending him Looks. Pro: The shopgirl is now fucking free to take payment. Con: He and Uraraka have to give statements to the police, plus paperwork. Pro: The shop is giving him a generous discount on top of the Yao-bitch discount. Con: They’re being Very Fucking Loud and Ei is Suspicious. Pro: He’s got Ei right there. Con: Ei is right there. ... And he’s gotten a little busted up, superficially. The vaguest tingle of an idea molds, and he’s moving before he can think twice.

“Oi, Riot.” Bakugou stomps over to where Ei is talking to some shit-for-brains detective. He’s got zero fucks to give that he’s interrupting, and minus infinity fucks that he’s pretty sure he’s about to do something majorly fucking stupid. Or not so stupid since Uraraka’s shot him a double thumbs up and discretely passed him a ring box on his way past. Fucking hell, he is going to have to make her his fucking Best Woman. “They were using fucking anti-Quirk bullets.” He ignores the way the detective swears, and keeps soldiering on cause if he stops then his heart may just give the fuck out. Whomever the fuck said his nitroglycerin sweat would keep him from having a heart attack was a fucking liar. “Even with Quirk, you gotta go see Recovery Girl.”

Ei eyes him conflicted, that Look where he knows that Bakugou is saying something different under what he’s saying out loud and while Ei’s spent over a decade becoming fluent in Bakugou-ian, it’s failing Ei now and he’d appreciate a helping hand in deciphering things. “She’s at U.A. right now, and since we both need to get checked - “

The detective waved them away. “Red Riot, Blasty, we’ve got everything under control and know where to find you for follow up and paperwork. We’ll send Uravity once we have all the villains in custody.” Right. The idiots still floating.

“Ttch. Whatever. Come on Riot.” He stomped off, hoping Uraraka takes the other box, credit card, and his receipt. It's now or never, and if he sweats any fucking harder he's going to spontaneously combust, shit. He can hear Ei call his farewells, his clunky boots thumping against the sidewalk as he caught up to Bakugou, but he’s otherwise silent and it grates.

The minute they’re completely out of sight and there are no witnesses, Bakugou pushes Eijirou into an alley. “Blasty - .”

Bakugou throws up his hand, knowing that it won’t do much to pause Ei if he really wanted to know. He is not fucking prepared for this, and if what comes out of his mouth is Japanese it’ll be a goddamned miracle. “Ei. Fuck, I don’t know how to say this - “ his hands fired off a few small pops, and he snarled internally at the unconscious display of nerves. Ei might have had trouble earlier, but that was always a dead giveaway to his feelings. And fucking damn shit, wasn’t he supposed to be on one knee and presenting the ring? Bakugou fumbled out the box from his pants pocket and thrust it at Ei, trusting him to catch the fucking airborne box when it slipped from his sweat-slick hands and tumbled. His heart was thundering in his ears and his mouth was dry and time was going too fast. “Fuck.”

He watched in terror as Ei opened the box, the way Ei’s brow furrowed then smoothed into surprised delight as he gazed into the little velvet box, and Bakugou explicitly wanted to flee screaming obscenities into the wilderness and never come back to civilization. He was pretty sure he could cut it as a warrior monk.

“Katsuki. Katsuki - I- ,” Ei cuts himself off by fisting his hands in Bakugou’s shirt and kissing him wetly. Bakugou wanted to get lost in this, the feel of razor sharp teeth fitting into the scars on the inside of his lower lip and calloused hands fisted in hair, but he was going to fucking do this shit right if it killed him.

He pulled back, control wavering as he pushed all his conviction into his voice. “Ei, Ei, marry me. Marry me.”

If Eijirou had looked happy before, he was incandescent with it now. However sharp and animalistic his hero costume - fangs and all - made him, he was always so soft with Bakugou and it ached. If this is what it meant to love and be loved, then he could understand why people searched the world over for it. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times. Yes.” Ei choked out between gulping sobs, cradling Bakugou’s head close to his own, lips brushing.

The ensuring kiss, chaste and soft and wanting was like landing a textbook perfect punch against a villain, the high of a excellent fight. Bakugou wanted to sink into Ei and hollow out a space there, stay warm and close and let Ei do the same to him, bind them both together until there was no discernable difference in where the edges of their souls met, bleeding and blending into one another in a continuous pool of them. He wanted more than anything to stay caught in this moment, to keep exchanging breath and kisses and this feeling of surety, of a compass pointing North and of home. It was broken by the shutter snap of a camera. Or rather, Bakugou snapped out of it but Ei kept kissing him and he was fucking sidetracked okay. Which is the only fucking reason Uraraka gets to chirp, “Annnnnd sent,” without him blowing her to kingdom come.

Almost in the same instant both their phones began ringing, and if Bakugou’s phone insurance wasn’t exorbitant, it would have exploded the damn things and gone back to making out with Ei, company be damned. But, he’d exploded one too many phones and replacing them put a sizable dent in his pocket, so he kept mashing the end call button. Fuck Iida and fuck Shitty Nerd and fuck Yao-bitch, Pervert, and the rest of them with flaming pikes. He ground his teeth together and tried to recite that fucking sutra the damned monks had drilled into his head second year. It sorta helped, but fuck if he ever actually told anyone that.

“Hey, Kastuki.” Ei brushed his nose against Bakugou’s cheek, whisper soft like the way he nuzzled close in his sleep, “Marry me?”

“I already asked you that Hair-for-Brains, isn’t the answer obvious,” Bakugou sneered, but meant yes. It didn’t matter Ei would know.

Ei was unfazed and pressed a sharp kiss, more grin than finesse to his mouth before returning to his phone. “Can you really get that done Yaomomo? Then, consider us on board!”

“What are you getting into, Shitty Hair?”

Ei smiled at him mischievously, “You’ll see, Blasty. Uraraka, can you get him to follow the directions Yaomomo is sending you? Thanks!” Then he ran off, chattering into his phone, leaving poleaxed Bakugou to a maniacally smiling Uraraka.

By the time Uraraka had finished dragging him around town, it was past dusk and settling into true night. Bakugou was fuming, because he’d planned on a nice dinner, some of that shitty mood lighting Pinkie was always going on about, and maybe enough slow sex that they’d both be sore in the morning. This was not anything like that fucking plan. Also, who the fuck cares about the difference between eggshell and pure ivory in stationary? No one sane could tell the difference and no one sane would notice. It shouldn’t take that long to pick one and move the fuck on.

Then he came home and Ei was missing, just a note and a cold plate of curry and rice on the counter. He gave a cursory glance over the note - to the point, that Ei would be dealing with some things until the day after tomorrow evening, but warm, using his given name like this was them paired like parenthesis under the kotatsu in the winter and Ei was fuzzy warm and solid beside him. Bakugou sent him a return mail while he warmed up the curry, a thin and sore ‘I’m home’ that didn’t encompass the way that he wanted Ei here to light up the kitchen, to kiss his cheek in welcome and to chide him about his teeth grinding habit. There’s also message on the answering machine where a harried Ei tells him - between bouts of yelling about cake - that due to circumstances he’ll be at Yao-bitch’s and to call her or Uraraka for anything that comes up.

It doesn’t hit until the next afternoon when he’s juggling filling out paperwork at his agency and talking to his mother on the phone - who wants to know if she ought to wear a kimono or a western dress to the wedding, the invitations were gorgeous and so fancy but the date is so soon, everything must be so stressful, do they need any help with planning? - when it finally clicks that everything adds up to a single answer. He tells his old hag to wear something nice and look proud or whatever, and hangs up to call Yao-bitch for confirmation.

They must be venue-hunting (and it sounds like everyone is fucking tripping over themselves for the Yao-bitch name) from the way a man in the background keeps pointing out perfectly normal features like ‘the finest floors’ and ‘windows! We have windows!’ like they’re going to make or break the choice. “Yao-bitch,” he snarled into the reciever when she picked up, “Is this wedding western dress only or should the old hag wear a kimono?”

The lack of negation to the idea that there’s a wedding in the works tells Bakugou everything he needs to know, plus some. He lets Yao-bitch babble about clothes - he’s pretty sure she and Uraraka have conspired to get him into a tux fitting in an hour, given the timing - and then cuts her off, “What the fuck ever. Just, coordinate that shit or something.” He slammed the end call button, then stalked his way to the gym to go hand-to-hand against Uraraka. If he was gonna have to mannequin in some god-forsaken tailor shop for fancy clothes he’s only ever going to need once in his fucking life, he was gonna do so rank. Fuck if he’s gonna let people think he’s someone they can boss around like a shitty Deku.

He woke up the morning of the wedding - it didn’t feel quite real, that it was his wedding, he was marrying Ei today and that the old hag and Uraraka had the audacity to wake him up at god-awful o’clock in the morning to answer the phone to talk to well meaning relatives offering blessings and good wishes. And he had to be fucking polite, all while Yao-bitch and Pinkie and Lightning Idiot and that other one in their class. What the fuck ever was his name?

Uraraka thrust a mug of near-boiling coffee into his grip. “Have your coffee Bakugou, you’re grouchy without it.” Her smile made it clear that was an order not a suggestion, and Bakugou flipped her the bird before taking a long draught of the near tar-consistency substance. Whomsoever had tried to mess with his gourmet coffee maker and broken her bad enough she was spitting sludge had better be getting him a new one, fucks sake. He could stick one in the gift registry - did they even have a gift registry? Fucking shit on a duck, where was Yao-bitch or Glasses when you needed them? Who was even in charge of this shitshow anyways?

“ONE HOUR UNTIL SHOWTIME PEOPLE.” Oh fucking hell, that one[1] . “Mon Dieu, Bakugou! This will not do! Come with me.” Bakugou was very much not going to go with Frenchy- that was hella suspect, alright. He had learned the whole “strangers-candy” thing early in his life and it had never failed him.

Yao-bitch stuck her head in. “Bakugou, Aoyama is the one who’s going to help you get ready. The tailor had very specific instructions, and Uraraka has to get ready too as your Best Woman.” His Old Hag leveled a competitive smug glare from her perch, her black kimono pressed perfect and laying neatly and hair neatly styled, and Bakugou complied. The unspoken, I cleaned up nicely, but you can’t? was clear. It’d waste too much energy to fight with her now, plus, they only had one hour. His stomach was a ball of nerves, though he’d fight anyone who called him on it. He chugs back the partially-congealed contents on his mug, then slams down the cup and follows after that blonde one.

“Let’s do this.”

Miracle of miracles, Sparkly Frenchie got his hair to not look so unruly. There hadn’t been much to work with, undercut and all, but Bakugou had to admit he looked good. His hair was slicked back like the magazine campaign he’d done for a charity, the one where he was wearing a thin-enough-to-be-see-through white tank top and jeans and snarling into the camera, hands raised in explosive threat. The day that magazine had dropped he’d come home to a very enthusiastic Ei. Perhaps not the best memory for the occasion at hand, but still pleasing to recall.

His charcoal suit fitted perfectly, as did the crimson red tie. He remembered how much his UA tie had felt like a collar, chafing and fucking choking him and this one sort of did too but he’d wear it just this once. For Ei.

Uraraka poked her face in, hair done up in a fancy crown of braids and face smiling diabolically, “15 minutes, Bakugou. Time to go.” Fucking Sparkles swooned and sang out something in French. Why the fucker didn’t ever just use regular Japanese like the rest of the population was beyond Bakugou, but he breathed in deep instead. He wasn’t going to explode anyone before the ceremony was over.

Yao-bitch and Iida were both there, prepared with headsets and clipboards and directing people like this was their day job, not heroics. Bakugou ignored the way his hands were sweating profusely, like he was about to storm a villain hideout not - not. Fucking shit, he was a grown ass man, he could say it -

“Bakugou, you and Kirishima will enter from opposite sides after your respective parents and your Best Men - And Best Woman, I hope you’ve prepared vows, because Mic-sensei has informed me he’s ready to ad lib. All Might is here, but due to his current condition, we’ve placed the handicap access spot near the exit so he can leave if he starts feeling worse.” Yao-bitch checked her clipboard, then nodded firmly, “Of the invited, only Endeavor failed to respond and hasn’t come, Todoroki has no clue why, but he just got a phone call from his father’s agency and should know more shortly. But otherwise, everyone is seated and waiting, let’s get started.” Which. Fuck Endeavor, the self-important prick. This was the wedding of the century and he wasn’t going to come, even as courtesy. The unmitigated ass[2] . Whatever, Bakugou would just make sure to fuck up Endeavor’s shit accidentally-on-purpose whenever he got the chance.

“Okay, Uraraka and Kaminari, go.” Oh, fuck. Nearly time. Yao-bitch’s voice swam in his ears. “Remember, slow steps. This isn’t a race.” Then a firm hand between his shoulders and he was being propelled down the red and gold candlelit path.

If you asked him later how he ended up at the altar in front of Mic-sensei, hand-in-hand with Ei, and his parents and Ei’s parents and easily the top 100 of the heroes in Japan (give or take a retired 20 or so) in attendance, he’d have no clue. Nor would he have any clue what Mic-sensei is saying. Mostly he’s trying to pull his attention away from Ei, from that deep buttery grey and sharp red, from the low tie of his ponytail, the brilliant shine of his eyes, and the way Ei looked radiant. Why couldn’t this have been a traditional Japanese wedding, with the sake and the cups? Bakugou would put up with hakama for knowing he didn’t have words to say. But also, Ei was smiling at him like that, beaming like he would never be happier, and Bakugou knows from the bottom of his soul that’s what he wants to see everyday for the rest of his life. No matter that he was probably going to break his heart with the amount of wild nerves going on in his body. Bakugou was sure he was probably flushed red, but he didn’t care.

Ei leaned close when it became abundantly clear that Mic-sensei was done - apparently Mic-sensei was on the “short and sweet” end of wedding officiants instead of the expected long-winded end, which was a surprise, but given the way he had been attempting to hide his tears this whole time, it might have been expected.

Oh, shit shit. Vows time, fuck. At least they didn’t have to talk loud enough for everyone to hear, given the way Ei is whispering. “Katsuki, I had a whole speech prepared, but I woke up this morning and even though it’s been a rush to get everything together in time and it seemed like everything was about to fall apart, the only thing I could think of was you, and me, and that we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. So, I promise, I’ll reach for you when you’re in need and stay by your side as your ultimate support, to journey with you in all the adventures that are to be had. I can’t wait to start this adventure with you.” And fucking Lightning Idiot and Uraraka have heard, going by the way they’re both fighting back tears. Mic-sensei is outright crying, fucks sake.

He has to take a deep breath before he begins, because fuuuuck. He knows there’s tears pricking his eyes, and Ei has turned into a slightly blurry red and grey blur and fuuuuck. “Eijirou. Ei. When I think about the person I want to spend eternity with, it’s you that comes to mind. The person I would reach for first, lift up and carry, take on the world with. It’s you. It’s always been you.” It had to be you. He knows it’s short, too short, but what words are there to encompass the fact that there’s no other hand he’d ever reach back for beside Ei’s? No one else he’ll always run to first, no one else he wants to wake him from a nightmare and no one else he’d hold after one of their own. No one else he’d want to cuddle late into mornings when neither of them are on call, no one else he’d wake up early to prepare homemade lunches for. Ei’s his best friend bar none, but there aren’t words - or at least words he needs, because Ei, Ei knows. From the way Ei’s bottom lip is twitching, his eyes are sparkling and the softening corners of his eyes, Ei knows and it doesn’t matter he doesn’t have words to speak in front of people, Ei knows.

Mic-sensei sobs something, and Uraraka is stabbing him in the kidney with her fucking hand, and oh right. Rings. Bakugou smooths a finger inside it just to be sure, and yeah, there’s the engraving. It’s easy enough to let Ei slip on it’s mate, return the favor and wait for Mic-sensei to collect himself. Attempt to collect himself. Blubber something. Fuck that noise, it’s close enough and will have to do.

Kissing Ei has always felt like coming home, but this one feels new but also like forever. It’s not fair, to have crowds of people watching and cheering when Bakugou could conceivably stay here forever in this moment and go deeper, longer, if not for said company. The not so subtle kick from Uraraka tells him that’s it’s been too long for polite society anyways, and reluctantly Bakugou surfaces enough to flip her the bird over his shoulder. It mean taking his hands off Ei, but that’s easily rectified.

The reception drags on and on and on. First the photos in this and that pose, with these people and not those people and just why. Then, the fucking reception line. Whomever invented reception lines ought to have been shot before the idea took off - who needs to thank everyone who came for coming? That’s what the hundreds of thank you notes he’d ordered were for. It’s all worth it when - due to Kaminari having butchered the electrical systems for the sound - Headphones, who volunteered, ends up skipping any performative dances. Ei only knows street dancing styles and Bakugou will never let anyone else live with the damned knowledge he knows how to properly ballroom dance. There’s no way they would have managed anything close to a “first dance” worthy of watching without practice. The only thing still moderately “traditional” is the fact there’s an open bar and an open dance floor. The rest of it - well, there’s a station near the buffet where you can record a speech, but Bakugou can’t care about that, not when Ei’s sparkling like a million fireworks have gone off inside him and set him alight permanently from the inside out. Still, all the conversations drag on and fucking on for a small eternity, all PR smiles and pleasantries, until suddenly Bakugou realizes there’s no one left he absolutely had to speak to for whatever reason.

This means all the fucking shitty old fogeys have retired, and the only people remaining are around their age and completely fucking blitzed. It sounds like there’s a fucking fight starting, Uraraka shouting and Mineta shrieking and Shitty Deku trying and failing at stopping things from going to blows. Bakugou couldn’t care less. Headphones has taken back control of the tables from the pre-selected playlist, and is playing sappy sappy shit. “Hey, Katsuki, dance with me?” As if he’d ever refuse Ei anything.

They’re swaying in place, the room a wreck and getting even more wrecked, and he can’t put any other word to his feelings but happy. It’s almost foreign, but this is also good, a new sort of steady Bakugou can find his footing on, bask in and grow in. Ei is singing along with the song, off key and smiling, and their bodies are entwined like two parenthesis smushed together, “I somehow find, You and I collide.”

“Ei, are you happy?” He speaks without thinking, interspersed by explosions and crashing and he sees the way Ei’s brow furrows then smooths as he understands the question.

“I’m incandescent.” Ei punctates his comment with a quick peck, smile smug and satisfied with mischief. “I get forever with you after all.”

It hadn’t struck Bakugou quite until then, that weddings and vows and shit all boiled down to forever, but it feels right, to have a forever with Ei. A fucking lifetime of waking up next to one another, eating together, growing together, stumbling together. It sounds like something he’s only just now realized, but always known, or some other paradox. He doesn’t know where it comes from but he murmurs over the chorus softly, “It had to be you.”

Ei softens, then tugs him off the dancefloor, carnage still being wreaked, “Come on Katsuki, let’s go home.” Bakugou lets him, willingly follows him out the doors and into the early morning stars and pale hint of dawn, and thinks that yes, this is a forever he could get used to.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #obligatory wedding fic #fluff #art writes #vichan ily #<3

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