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northwest-by-a-train · 1 year ago

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Zadie Smith's lack of any hill she's willing to stand on, much less die on, has made her a wonderfully blessed novelist. A very apt mimic of any particular coordinate of the political spectrum, a wicked satirist of modern bourgeois mores, a reader with an incredibly wide palette. Though she has gotten less adventurous as a writer as the years have gone on, she has gotten better at the craft, and she did build from a higher mastery than most.

That said, most of her energy, and in this she joins a great many writers coming from the urban working class of color, seems to be spent not being conflated. Conflated with other black female writers, conflated with protestors, conflated with critics of the establishment. Oh, she does criticize, empathize, recognize herself. But always prefacing it with layers upon layers of self-justification and differentiation. She, like her icon & model David Foster Wallace, feels the need to set herself apart from anything we could categorize her as in bad faith.

So she is a feminist, but worry not, she still loves Updike, Larkin and Pound. She is a utopian socialist but she has nothing in particular to say about the state of the world. She of course has an opinion on the current conflict in Palestine, but she won't tell because it's not important and it's "just words".

Of course you can read Larkin and Pound as a committed leftist feminist and think your personal opinion on world politics is irrelevant compared to what is going on in the world. My gripe is that someone with such high literary pretensions, such admiration for the gusto of free spirits both past & present (someone willing to go to bat for Kanye's trumpist phase in the name of poetry in the very same magazine where she so artfully defends at length that no statement from either student protesters or counter-protesters has value, nor hers) someone who spends so much of her time quoting moral philosophers and pondering the future of writing... That this someone has essentially given up on politics.

My gripe, my visceral annoyance at her, my point is that the "towering mind of her generation" has given up on politics except as background, coordinates to tack the nuance-lacking masses onto, but that great spirits transcend somehow. No wonder she loves Harold Bloom & James Wood. Or that she's a child of Blair's cool Brittania. As a public intellectual, there is no duty to say anything meaningful, or whereof one cannot speak, to remain silent. If your thesis is that you have none and the dead are more important, why spend 4000 words talking about yourself, and how above it all you are and how ineffectual anyone writing about it is, and how you're the only one smart enough to have the dignity of recognizing it ? Why not make form fit content, as you have so often done ? Why not attack specific words, specific utterances that ignore the dead, instead of fighting strawmen ?

The truth is that Smith's outbursts of calling for dignity, reason, nuance, cooler heads are not anything new, not anything groundbreaking, nothing unprecedented, even by the great. You can hear echoes of it in Camus refusing to denounce colonialism because Algerians refuse to speak French. It is the cry of the moral esthete, for whom to side with the dubious, the inarticulate, the incoherent, the angry, all that is like poison to her. Oh, yes, she can defend Kanye's nonsensical racist, and already then antisemitic rants. But Kanye is an artist, "one of our best living poets". So are any writers of dubious politics, any convicted felon, any instance of sustained personal cruelty worth defending against the mob. Their sensibility just hasn't been expanded far enough, they just don't get it. The mob hasn't created anything worthwhile. The mob is childish, does not know the right words, does not rise up to the occasion like it should.

The truth is that Zadie Smith stands for something. If she really believed in the dead, or in utopian socialism, or in responsible public intellectuals, she would have written differently. She stands for transcendence. Her right to be in the world without anyone being able to make moral pronouncements on her, her work, the work of others. She stands for a plane above this world that matters to this world in ways she finds complex and delicate. She stands for herself being judged only on, and from, this plane.

Thankfully, like a child in a playground that insists the game she devised is very good and we should all follow the rules, and really she is a skillful player and we will all have fun with once we simply follow the rules, we are all free to ignore her.

We are free to live in the real world and make real moral decisions, getting our hands and our consciences dirty, yes, but also stand by real human beings. Beings whose freedoms to play pretend, to read and write, to transcend, is hampered by real people who do not care for the right words or the correct moral stance. We are free to fight for a liberated Palestine though we may be partisan, simplistic, quick to anger and inarticulate.

#and should it make us worse artists or readers to be partisan then so be it #I was not put on this earth to read correctly; I was put on this earth to be of the world. No beauty I partake in will save me from that #Zadie Smith

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cr0ftisprocrastinating · 2 years ago

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Crofty! My favorite and beloved academia Dramione writer! Will you be a student again this year? What is the back to school season like for you?

I also want to ask, how do you set intentions for the beginning of the semester/school year and make sure that you stay committed to them? How do you balance separate writing projects with your coursework?

In addition, would you be willing to share advice for a reader halfway through her undergraduate degree? For context, I’ve had some rough setbacks in my first two years, but I’m really eager to prove myself. I want to build back my GPA and earn my way into a humanities PhD program.

Thanks so much! I hope your academic years are wonderful (in the true old meaning of the word!) and give you great joy, wisdom and inspiration.

#ADHDinacademia #PhD #dramione #darkacademia #hogwarts #oxford #oxbridge #ivyleague #columbia #manuscript #marauder #hermionegranger #undergradwoes #lumos

Sweet Piedra! Happy September, aka the best month of the whole year! (it may or may not include my birthday).

I will be a student this year again! I'm just about to start my second year as a phd student (programs in the UK are usually 3-4 years, so I'm nearly halfway through already?!).

The biggest advice I can give about studying is firstly: wanting to do well is the first step to doing well in anything, so you are already a good chunk of the way there!

2. pick things that you are naturally interested in (for option papers). Life is a hell of a lot easier when you're not making it harder for yourself, even if you think you *should* be studying something bc it sounds impressive (personally, I am not into Russian Literature at all, so I just don't force myself to slog through Crime and Punishment, etc. This simple realisation improved my life by at least 100%)

3. Do as much reading as you can. When I did my undergrad I was so surprised at how little reading people did lol, and doing the reading makes a big difference. The Professors have made the reading lists for a reason and they want to help you.

4. Utilise office hours! It took me ages to realise that I can just...go to the office hours and talk to the people who were teaching me. Go in person if you can. Talk them through your essay plans and they will course correct before they're marked. Let them know that you're interested in pursuing it further, and find out what they think you need to do to fill in any gaps you may have. Don't be discouraged if they're short with you, bc academics are a weird bunch.

5. Try not to be so focused on an end result that you forget to enjoy what you're doing right now. Romanticise the hell out of your life whenever you can. It's short!

In terms of my 'process' (sorry this is SO long):

This term is going to be pretty hectic! In addition to my PhD I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays at a corporate job to help pay the bills. I have funding, but funding in the arts is just...not enough.

I will also be teaching this semester for the first time ever (yay!) so I have reading lists and essay questions to put together before Oct. That's every other week though, so it's not too much work.

My supervisors and I try to get a 'chunk' of my thesis written a term (8-10k roughly). I have about 8k due at the end of this month as I have written 2 chunks over the summer, and will have another due at the end of term in Dec.

Also, I've been asked to give a talk about my research at the end of the semester which I am SO excited about, but it means I'll be adapting one of my thesis chapters for that, too! :)

Broadly speaking I do fanfic writing Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, as after grown-up-job-things my brain is too toasted for academic work. When I'm getting to the end of a story however I get real itchy fingers and have to get all the words out as quickly as possible, so I let a lot of other things slide, like cleaning or cooking or washing my hair or also doing my work. Gross, I know, but I've never been particularly functional when I have an idea in my head.

However, I do believe that if you are busy then you are more productive. I have 2 modes: INSANE or blob. I do not recommend this approach, but that is just the way that I'm wired. Today, for instance, I spent the entire day in bed. Tomorrow I really must go back to the library.

Oxford terms are only 8 weeks long, and honestly no matter how prepared I am at the beginning, by halfway through I'm clinging on by a thread. I try not to be too hard on myself when that happens, and focus on getting my work done and not keeping my house clean or whatever else I've decided to beat myself up about.

My username is about procrastinating for a reason. I just kind of productively procrastinate and then at some point everything just gets done?

Some personal mantras:

'everything in moderation, including moderation'

'say yes and figure it out later'

'the work comes first' (normally I say this to try and galvanize myself into staying in the library when I want to go to the pub)

'fuck it' (said when the pub wins out)

'it'll get done, because it has to' (said when I have a week to write 4,000 words because i've procrastinated too close to the sun, again)

#crofts insane rambling #back to school #uni tips #productive procrastination #oh you asked a simple question let me write you an ESSAY in response #brevity is the soul of wit

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postguiltypleasures · 2 years ago

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My Peak TV Journey *The Other Two*

While it was on, few shows were as deliriously funny as The Other Two. It was a slow burn of a showbiz satire mixed with family sitcom. I miss it already. But I have to acknowledge that right before the final episode The Hollywood Reporter broke a story on complaints to HR about series creators Chris Kelly and Sarah Schneider. HR investigated and dismissed the claims. Most likely this just means they did not reach their extremely high standard of what would make it a hostile work environment. It doesn’t mean the events did not happen. I’ve seen some posts since then about how this is a sign that Kelly and Schneider are the real life Carey and Brooke Dubek. There is some truth to this. I don’t know how to process how it affects my feelings about the show. And the news brought out a lot of feelings.

While watching the first two seasons, I noticed that the seasons started out more sad than funny then became zanier and funnier in a way that is really grounded in that sad base. The final season went in the opposite direction, starting in screwball, manic comedy and then slowly getting into the dark, sad base. It was pretty dark. The season showed worst of Carey and Brooke, and it was necessary. I loved it, it hurt.

Brooke’s plot about wanting to switch careers to something that would “do good” was painfully relatable. It was particularly sharp about how people get lazy in their responsibilities when they have the assurance that the project they are working on will “do good.” Of course this was spurred on by Brooke’s combined jealousy of her fiancé, Lance and feeling unworthy of him. And while watching her do a variety of awful things to prove either that she really is good, and/or that he’s not as good as he seems, I often thought that she didn’t deserve him. I admire how much her portrayer, Heléne York, was willing to go for something that ugly. In the end, I cheered their reconciliation because I love their dynamic at their best, not that I think they’re good together. And while they were broken up she dated a couples of billionaires and it was a great encapsulation of why hating billionaires is so fun and necessary now.

In the first two seasons Cary spent so much energy on his career and sexual frustrations, but this season proved that finally getting some success isn’t going to make him better. This was embodied by his new boyfriend Lucas Lamber Moy, an actor who was always in character and for that reason was frequently unable to have sex. Lucas’s roles in everything from a Love, Simon spin-off, to a Hallmark Christmas movie and an incomprehensible and interminable Broadway play that is apparently about AIDS. Lucas alternately frustrated and excited Carey. It leads to revelation about even professional success isn’t going fix what broke in Carey. He over invests in Lucas, a person he can’t really know, while destroying his relationship with his best friend Curtis Paltrow. (I was surprised that there was so much Curtis in this season as his actor, Brandon Scott Jones, is one of the regulars on CBS’s Ghosts. I assumed he’d be available less because of that commitment. As a side note, I did enjoy when Carey’s actor, Drew Tarver, guest stared on Ghosts as a local cult leader.) In the mean time his plot gets the best satire of the show business. His advancing career includes his voice role as Globby, the “gay icon” in a Disney franchise and his reoccurring role in a CBS procedural, Emily Overruled. The latter plot, while funny, made the later allegations against the creators unsurprising to me. It set up something of a false dichotomy, where you can either have a stable, 9-5 set, making a show now one really watched, or making something exciting, that people will really care about, but must make allowances for people behaving in more erratic fashions. Arguably, the end of Lucas’s story tempers this thesis, but not enough. It was a wild ride that at some point involved a chorus of gay men in diapers driving maniacally to get to high school reunions while singing a variation of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”. I laughed a lot.

Brooke and Carey reaching their lows was also rough on their mother Pat, who was experiencing isolation on multiple fronts. It was poignant and often absurd. Pat’s portrayers Molly Shannon a treasure. Pat may not actually be as good a mother as she wants to be seen as. She put Chase in an exploitative situation. She’s bad with boundaries. But her surreal experience of fame, and inability to return to her previous life was a great journey. I’m kind of sad she and Streeter didn’t end up together. I find Ken Marino weirdly endearing, and they were cute together. But she did need better boundaries between her work and personal lives.

The youngest Dubek, Chase, aka ChaseDreams played by Case Walker without any guile, was not in much of the final season. But he was always a peripheral character for a story his viral success kicked off. The first season included some great ridiculous songs and ended with the revelation that he could not really sing. Since then much of his plot has been about his management (including his sister Brooke) gets him non singing jobs while avoiding telling him why he couldn’t sing. There was some humor in this, but as a lover of comedy songs, I wish there were more ChaseDreams songs. (I’d even take more in universe songs not by ChaseDreams like the “Jesus Fucking Slays” one from season two.) Chase has generally been less of a character than a vehicle for jokes about talent management and Hollywood’s current direction. (Or really, their pre-strike direction.) Over the course of the season Chase became more aware of the reality of his situation, but he never really rebelled against it. How could he? All his possible rebellions have been pre-scripted by management.

As ChaseDreams main director, Shuli, played by Wanda Sykes, often did bad, but she always had a point and did it competently. She considered Chase’s music so bad that she created Q. QAnon is awful in the real world, but the idea that QAnon started to distract from a bad album is hilarious. But Shuli’s bigger impact is as Brooke’s reluctant mentor, showing her the ropes and not having time for her bull. She didn’t have much of an arc, but she was always fun to watch.

While wrapping up I just need to say that this show was beautifully shot and staged. In scenes like Carey and Lucas’s first date at an indoor pool and Chase falling in love at first sight in a way that parodied the Baz Lerhman film William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, part of me was just bowled over by how good looking it was. The series ended in a way that was appropriate for its characters, and I wouldn’t want what I heard of the behind the scenes situation to continue, but I’m going to miss it.

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deripmaver · 4 years ago

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laurent is a good person - book 1 meta

one of the most amazing things about captive prince is how the reveals in book 3 recontextualize all of the scenes leading up to them, including about laurent himself. in book one, all we see is damen pov as he’s being abused and humiliated by this supposedly spoiled, vile ice prince. when the regent comes to damen and subtly (and not so subtly) insults laurent, calling him unfit to rule - well, why would he think anything different? laurent has insulted him, had him whipped within an inch of his life, and even attempted to (and later successfully lmfao) have him raped while drugged out of his mind.

after book 3 we can reread most if not all of book 1 as a very traumatized boy who has finally been confronted with the man who killed his brother, leaving him alone with his abusive uncle, and who he clearly has made into a complete monster in his own mind. damen of course sees him as a complete bitch, but there’s textual/subtextual evidence that laurent is well liked, and that his behavior during book 1 was actually pretty out of character for him. i’d like to provide some examples of that now!!!!

“Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white as though in reaction to a slap, or an insult. Damen’s view, half-truncated by the short chain at this neck, had been enough to see that. But Laurent’s expression had shuttered quickly.” Captive Prince, Chapter One

i couldn’t resist adding this one in hehe. laurent recognizes damen!! he’s come down, knowing his uncle has devised another truly horrendous and triggering “gift” and that he’ll lose support if he calls it our for what it truly is, only to find out that it’s fucking damianos of akielos sent to him as a sex slave. a jab at laurent’s trauma about auguste and also a jab at laurent’s frigid sexuality - which ofc is completely the regent’s fault. fuck that guy so much lmfao

“‘It’s so rare to see you at these entertainments, Your Highness,’ said Vannes.” Captive Prince, Chapter Two.

this is right before the fight between govart and damen in the ring, of course. damen sees laurent as depraved and vile as the sexual sadism on display by the veretian court, and considers him to be a willing purveyor of it. this is wrong, of course, as said by vannes here. laurent has only shown up because he wants to humiliate damen lmfao.

“He did remember being supported by two of the guards, here, in this room, while Radel stared athis back in horror. ‘The Prince really . . . did this.’ ‘Who else?’ Damen said. Radel had stepped forward, and slapped Damen across the face; it was a hard slap, and the man wore three rings on each finger. ‘What did you do to him?’ Radel demanded.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

this scene, to me, was the most telling lmfao. it’s right after damen is whipped. you could argue that radel is just a servant in the employ of the royal household, so is of course going to be loyal to the prince, but he seems genuinely surprised of the prince’s cruelty towards damen. not only that, but he slaps him and immediately assumes damen must have done something. which - i mean, technically he did lmao. not necessarily enough to deserve having the skin flayed from his back, but you know. if laurent was in the habit of torturing pets and slaves, why would the overseer react this way?

“The men guarding him were the Prince’s Guard, and had no affiliation with the Regent whatsoever. It surprised Damen how loyal they were to their Prince, and how diligent in his service, airing none of the grudges and complaints that he might have expected, considering Laurent’s noxious personality. Laurent’s feud with his uncle they took up wholeheartedly; there were deep schisms and rivalries between the Prince’s Guard and the Regent’s Guard, apparently.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

laurents relationships with his guards are also some of the biggest indicators that he isn’t just a spoiled brat, but can insire a deep loyalty in his men. even if they do all want to fuck him. ah, sexual harassment. it’s also hilarious that damen immediately assumes they’re loyal to him because they want to fuck him - nice projection there, dude. we know a bit more about laurent and his guards thanks to green but for a season, but this little bit here is interesting.

“Laurent was indeed good at talking. He accepted sympathy gracefully. He put his position rationally. He stopped the flow of talk when it became dangerously critical of his uncle. He said nothing that could be taken as an open slight on the Regency. Yet no one who talked to him could have any doubt that his uncle was behaving at best misguidedly and at worst treasonously.” Captive Prince, Chapter Five

idek what to say here. laurent my beloved <3333

“‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent. Damen felt himself turn ashen, as the threat sank in. ‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.” Captive Prince, Chapter Seven

this isn’t really relevant to my thesis lmfao i just love this exchange bc it gives SO MUCH information about laurent and his uncle in just three lines of dialogue. what has the regent done, who did he cut down just to hurt laurent? when and how did laurent learn that? p a i n

“Laurent’s fussy horse began acting out again, and he leaned forward in the saddle, murmuring something as he stroked her neck in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture to quiet her.” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine.

HORSEY NO- lmfao this scene just hurts so badly on the reread. especially later on, in book 3 i think, where laurent says something like “i provoked my uncle.” he’s really blaming himself for his uncle KILLING HIS HORSE, his horse that his murdered brother trained, one of the only living connections to auguste... all because his uncle could not let a single miniscule plan laurent had set go through without some kind of repercussion. literally all laurent did was do something to stop an innocent group of people from being abused, nothing to undermine his uncle’s rule, but because the regent is VILE he could not let laurent have even this. he’s so good with her, too. he must have known by this point and also known that there was no way to stop this. P A I N

“‘I know that you have somehow arranged this,’ said Erasmus. He was incapable of hiding what he felt, and just seemed to radiate embarrassed happiness. ‘You kept your promise. You and your master. I told you he was kind,’ Erasmus said. ‘You did,’ said Damen. He was pleased to see Erasmus happy. Whatever Erasmus believed about Laurent, Damen wasn’t going to dissuade him. ‘He’s even nicer in person. Did you know he came and talked to me?’ said Erasmus. ‘—He did?’ said Damen. It was something he couldn’t imagine. ‘He asked about . . . what happened in the gardens. Then he warned me. About last night.’ ‘He warned you,’ said Damen. ‘He said that Nicaise would make me perform before the court and it would be awful, but that if I was brave, something good might come at the end of it.’ Erasmus looked up at Damen curiously. ‘Why do you look surprised?’ ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. He likes to plan things in advance,’ said Damen.” Captive Prince, Chapter 9.

this is the first in-text confirmation we have that laurent has a good heart beneath his layers and layers of trauma-induced lashing out. book one often skeeves people out because of its graphic and, honestly, yes, kind of sexualized depiction of rape, slavery, and depravity, but beneath it all you meet these two protagonists who are going to have all of their most deeply held views about each other challenged. laurent from very early on is shaken to his core when damen refuses to rape nicaise in the ring - it cracks the very foundations of the person he’d built up in his head as this horrible monster who killed his brother in cold blood. and damen keeps defying laurents expectations by being a good person through and through. on the other hand, laurent spends the first part of the book taking out years of anger on damen, but here for the first time we see him do something just because its the kind thing to do. yes, torveld is an ally against his uncle, but laurent has clearly been scheming with him for a while now, and he’s now overlooking his hatred of damen and working with him just because none of the slaves deserve whats happened to them. it’s such a sweet moment.

“One of the other men, eyeing them, approached a moment later. ‘Don’t mind Jean. He’s in a foul mood. He was the one had to stick a sword through the mare’s throat and put her down. The Prince tore strips off him for not doing it fast enough.’” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine.

HORSEY NO- pt 2. this is just another really sweet and sad detail - laurent being so upset that the horse’s death could have been more painless. it must have hurt so much to see her in pain, and to know that the only way for that pain to end was being put down as quickly as possible. i wuv him. im sad

that’s it, though there are still a few more chapters left in the book. this isn’t providing any new information, of course, the path of the three books is to show that laurent isnt the man we meet in book one, that he’s actually sweet, and earnest, and he’s been fighting his own battle practically alone against his abuser since he was fifteen years old. also, the reveal that laurent knew who damianos was from the start makes it clear imo that all of his violence in book 1 was supposed vengence, not... him being evil. he apologizes explicitly in-text, and also, all of the acts of violence he commits cause serious problems for him in terms of his future alliance which he then needs to fix. i just love how layered these books are, how there’s so much information in them that makes rereading almost more fun than reading them for the very first time!

#Captive Prince #captive prince meta #damen x laurent #Laurent of Vere #Damianos of Akielos

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artbyblastweave · 4 years ago

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BLASTWEAVE what does steven universe have in common with watchmen?

Both Steven Universe and Watchmen are groundbreaking entries in their respective genres that demonstrate a deep understanding of the appeal of the genre they’re working in, and engage with their ideas on a previously unheard-of level for the medium. That breaks ground and clears the way for what other works in the genre can get away with.

Steven Universe showed that, well, first of all that you can make a cartoon that’s fundamentally ideologically queer beyond a few side characters, but also that you can have an emotionally intelligent and mature children's cartoon where the character nuance and depth and development are all taken very seriously. Watchmen showed that you could write serious and interesting narratives about superheroes if you were willing to roll with the crazy. (Neither of them was the first to do the things I’m ascribing to them, but I do think that they’re what made it stick for their respective fields.)

In doing so, though, both works create/created a catch 22 for all future works in their genre. Part of what made both of them so good is that they were willing to critically unpack and air out the ugly implications of their format that usually get chalked up to suspension of disbelief, and now that that’s out in the open it becomes very difficult not to think about how any other given work is or isn’t addressing those issues- even if they aren’t equipped to address those issues in the scope of the story they’re trying to tell. Watchmen asked questions about who sanctions superheroes, what qualifies you to do that work, where the line is between heroism and fascism or if there even is one, whether the agency to act means you have a right or a duty to act, whether anyone who seriously bought into the superhero thing could possibly be doing it for good reasons, and, if they somehow were, how long you can care with the intensity necessary to be an effective hero without suffering burnout (not long.) I literally can’t think of a single superhero thing worth reading that isn’t in some way in conversation with Watchmen - you now kind of have to answer those questions, explicitly or implicitly, even if your books thesis is “Alan Moore sucks eggs and being a superhero is very sustainable and fantastic.” If you just leave the question of whether your superheroes are justified completely unaddressed, there’s an uncomfortable discordance there, because we’ve seen the extreme end of that sliding scale in the form of the Comedian and if the narrative doesn’t engage with what makes the protagonist not Edward Blake, it can feel worrisome. If they try and then botch it it can feel alarming.

Steven Universe has a similar thing going on, at least for me. It’s the only unironic, non-parodic children’s series that’s really, seriously unpacked how fucked up and traumatic it would be to grow up as the archetypical All-loving Spirited Saturday Morning Cartoon Protagonist, how warped and dysfunctional a household that enabled that lifestyle could be at its worst, and what the future looks like when your whole childhood was centered on a now-ended conflict. ( a lot of cartoons flirt with that last one but don’t commit.) I’ve seen jokes and intended-as-cracky fan theories about this for years, surrounding lots of other cartoons (Ben 10, Pokemon, Powerpuff Girls) but almost never with the assumption that the creators are on the same page as them. I’ve seen stories that are post-modern reimaginings using the same general archetypes or whatever (Venture Brothers) but that’s not this! SU told an entertaining story earnestly, and then engaged with the emotional fallout of the story it told, with an unheard-of breadth and depth. A whole season of unpacking! No other show has ever been allowed to sink that much effort into closure. That’s usually what Fanfic is for.

I think it’s great, and that shows like Infinity Train and The Owl House are able to go as hard as they do largely because of Steven Universe’s precedent- but no matter how good a cartoon is, I can’t watch them without having this voice in the back of my head going “Oh, these children are going to grow up to be broken wrecks, bar an extensive and harsh healing process that kinda hurts to watch, huh.”

The issue is that not every cartoon can be Steven Universe, where the project was to thoughtfully and sensitively unpack this stuff. It’s a fair bet that we’ll probably never see a show with that exact project again (not least because of the loss of novelty value.) You’ve got your own stories you wanna tell that’ll run their own course, mostly aimed at children, there objectively isn’t narrative or financial room for most stories to unpack these assumptions if that wasn’t the goal going in. For example, Gravity Falls had pretty tight storytelling and a narrative that absolutely had room for a post-script "where-do-we-go-from-here” plot- it sped-run the “oh no, childhood’s ending” thing- and it’s pretty telling that the aftermath, healing process, interpersonal relationships and so forth are one of the things that that fandom heavily fixates on. The narrative had such a clean ending that it made people go looking for the mess. That’s not bad! It’s how most storytelling works! But now I look at any cartoon with kid heroes that’s meant to be taken even marginally seriously and go, Oh. Win the battle, lose the war. Then I feel sad. The contrast, of course, is that most superhero works actually can be, and in fact benefit from trying to be like Watchmen, because all the questions Watchmen raises about the ethics of power are also just.... like.... the most interesting storytelling hooks if you want to write a cape thing with real themes. They’re the kind of stories we’d have gotten years prior naturally if not for the CCA boondoggle. Admittedly it kinda creates a different problem where most “good” cape media is inescapably self-referential and draws on picking apart the conventions of a 60-70-year old canon that hasn’t been in wide circulation in years. But! I also think there’s a stronger obligation there to keep superhero fans in check- if your superhero thing isn’t making the reader question the ethics of violence and individual heroism in the face of systemic injustice, you wind up with people who unironically think Frank Castle is a role model to be emulated. We all know that guy. Children’s media doesn’t really produce that guy the same way, although it can draw them in from other corners. Superhero media often needs to be self-critical in a way children’s cartoons don’t always have to be.

#steven universe #gravity falls #watchmen #infinity train #the owl house #also I want to give a shoutout to animorphs for #similarly #engaging in how fucked up it would be to be a power ranger without being too on-the-nose about it #meta #thoughts #worm #parahumans #because lets face it #you know what's on the back of my mind when I'm thinking of works that think about Implications tm #wildbow

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ariannadi · 2 years ago

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Where We Go From Here

(Part 1/? Of “A Girl Out of Time”, Adaman x OC)

Read it here on Ao3! (Click the series link to read the rest!)

—————————————

“A C-?! But I don’t understand; it has to be a mistake!”

Her professor, eyes trained upon Hikari though obviously disinterested, simply blinked. “I can assure you, it is no mistake,” he grumbled. “The body of your research paper was for the most part good. However, your thesis was rather… elementary in comparison to your peers.”

”But I’ve been researching the effects of the environment on Pokémon egg incubation for the better part of the year!” Hikari argued, nearly slamming her hands on the instructor’s desk. “Only now, when a paper accounting for 60% of my final grade is due, is the topic in question subpar?”

The professor just sighed, pinching at his brow with his fingers. “I’m more than willing to work out a means of extra credit if that will suffice—however, my stance on your grade for this paper remains the same. I’m sorry, Miss Hikari.”

The girl wanted to continue arguing, but she suddenly felt so, so tired. She had worked relentlessly on her thesis and resulting research paper for weeks, on top of the other five courses she was currently enrolled in at Hearthome University. Now she had to commit to even more work if she hoped for a bare-minimum grade for the semester?

But… what choice did she have?

”I… I’ll take the extra credit,” she surrendered, hanging her head. Moments later, a piece of paper slid towards her, detailing the specifics of yet another paper she would be inclined to write. She’d be lucky if the assignment resulted in her final grade jumping to a B-.

But that’s how the majority of her second semester was destined to be, apparently. While her peers, all enrolled in the same program of Pokémon Research, seemed to have no trouble when it came to understanding the various materials, Hikari had to take extra time to ingest even the smallest detail before it properly stuck. It had put her far behind the bar set by the university, to the point where the other students in the program (and professors, for that matter) barely acknowledged her.

Despite all of that, she had made it her personal mission to succeed in her studies and ultimately graduate with a degree. With how much faith her mother, a now-retired researcher who was previously revered in the field (and the reason she’d even received a scholarship to attend Hearthome University in the first place), had in her, she wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t.

”Honestly, Hikari. Watching you pore over those books day in and day out is making me a basketcase,” her roommate Stella tutted when the aforementioned blonde entered their dorm and immediately went about arranging her study setup for the evening. They got along for the most part, as Stella was a music major and therefore spent a majority of her time in the concert hall, but it was rather pathetic when even someone on the outside could tell how much she was struggling.

”I owe this to my mom, and I know she’ll be devastated if I turn up with an average grade for the semester. I can’t throw in the towel. Not yet.” With that, Hikari plucked herself down into her computer chair and dove into the section of her textbook that correlated with the extra credit assignment.

Stella sighed, and went to retrieve her violin case sitting at the far wall. “Well, I have orchestra practice this evening, so I’ll see you later. Try not to blow a fuse in your head absorbing all that information, okay? And remember to eat at some point.” And her departure, Hikari was alone.

It took all of fifteen minutes of attempting to digest the extra credit material before the girl had slammed her head face-first into her textbook; a groan making its way out of her throat.

”Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this field…” she spoke, and felt the telltale clench of frustration in her chest. “I’m only doing this for Mom, after all. I don’t even know what I truly hope to gain from this.”

She took a moment to simply breathe, before mentally slapping herself and nodding with a determined expression. Reaching for her phone, Hikari set the alarm for three hours from then, before crossing her arms over her textbook and pillowing her head on top.

”Surely after a quick nap my thoughts will be clearer. Just a quick nap, and I’ll be raring to go once again.”

—————————————

”Did you hear the news? As of this morning, the elders have officially recognized Adaman as our new leader.”

”Yes, I heard. I think it’s a mistake, personally. Sure the boy was learning the ways of a clan leader under his grandfather, may he rest in peace, but from what’s been discussed he hasn’t even received a vision from Almighty Sinnoh yet.”

”Give it time—surely once he’s settled in the role, meditation will come more easily? He’s quite the rascal after all; perhaps this will mellow him out.”

Adaman, having heard the gossip on his way back from the council chamber, didn’t even try to be subtle about his reaction as he angrily stormed off towards the hut where he and Mai resided. With the slam of the front door, he marched forth and parked himself right in the center of the floorboards, then threw his head into his hands.

”I didn’t want this!” he yelled into the empty space as tears of frustration began sliding down his cheeks. “Grandfather isn’t even cold in the ground yet and they want me to lead the clan! Me, who can’t play a Celestica Flute to save my life; me, who hasn’t even seen a glimpse of Almighty Sinnoh! I didn’t want this!”

His hair, long and messy and falling into his face as he vented his anger, quickly became the unfortunate victim of his fit. The distraught young man didn’t think twice about reaching for the whittling knife sitting a few feet away and holding it to the strands he had gathered in his fist. With a single slice, the mop of multicolored locks fell in a pile to the ground, at least a foot in length.

Adaman’s breaths came slower as he observed his work, and finally the quick, hot tears of frustration transitioned into fat, heavy tears of sorrow. Pulling his knees to his chest, he let out all of the emotions that had plagued him for weeks—from the moment his grandfather had been declared terminal to the moment the elders had raised their hands and chanted the rite of passage.

The front door creaking open brought him out of his wallowing for a brief moment, as a shadow he quickly recognized as Mai approached him from behind.

“Adaman? You—Almighty Sinnoh, what happened to your hair!?” she loudly exclaimed once she’d seen what he’d done.

”It was in the way,” was her brother’s curt reply, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sniffled. Mai just sighed, and moseyed around where he was planted to face him head-on.

”I know you haven’t had a chance to properly process everything as it’s happened; and I certainly don’t think it was wise for the elders to immediately declare you as successor to your grandfather without giving you time to mourn,” she told him, placing a sturdy hand on his arm. “But me, Melli, Arezu, we have faith in you; just as your grandfather did. And now, you need to have faith in yourself. We know you’ll lead this clan to a brighter future.”

”Almighty Sinnoh hasn’t even spoken to me; how could I possibly know how to properly guide everyone?” Adaman spat in rebuttal, and once again Mai let out a sigh.

”Aren’t you the only one among your age group that can recite our clan’s scriptures stanza by stanza? Not only that, but you regularly see to Lord Electrode and Lady Lilligant’s dwellings simply because you care about their well-being, despite not even having the status of Warden. If that doesn’t show your potential as a leader, then I don’t know what does.”

Adaman considered this, his brow furrowing slightly. That’s when Mai pulled out a wrapped bundle and held it out towards him, and he eyed the parcel in confusion.

”Your grandfather wanted to pass the role of clan leader to you by the time you turned twenty-one. Of course, his death occurring years prior wasn’t something we expected, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t thinking ahead.”

Mai placed the bundle in his arms, and he blinked a few times before moving to open it. When the covering fell away, what greeted him was an article of clothing, heavy in weight and rich in its blue hue. Gold embroidery could be seen peeking out beneath where it was folded, alongside a navy corner with white markings matching that of the Diamond Clan insignia.

”Is this… mine?” Adaman asked warily, to which Mai just smiled.

”A haori I designed and sewed years ago with my little brother in mind; fit for a clan leader,” she explained, and laughed at Adaman’s flabbergasted expression.

”Mai…” he whispered, but his sister just stood to her feet, and tugged on his sleeve so he’d stand as well. Once he was upright, she snatched the haori from his hands and unfolded it, then went about placing it on his person until it sat as intended.

”Mhm. I knew it’d look great on you,” Mai said with a pleased smile as she inspected him from every angle, and even Adaman had to admit he liked how it looked. Despite being a bit loose, the haori and its accompanying tassels managed to drape down to about mid thigh; which would’ve been worse had he not finally hit his growth spurt the previous summer.

”I wonder if we can get Arezu’s help on fixing this up,” Mai continued as she lifted a jaggedly-cut lock of hair on his head. “Hm… an updo might look good. Formal, but not so serious that people forget you’re still the same Adaman.”

”Would they?” he questioned, a sinking feeling in his gut. The last thing he needed was people he’d known for years treating him like a pariah simply because he was in charge of the clan.

”I don’t think so. But you will want our people to treat you with some respect. After all, when it comes to diplomatic matters, you’re the face of our clan. How would it look if Melli started berating you while you were having talks with those Galaxy Team folk?”

Adaman snorted at that, and nodded. That’s when Mai set her hands on his shoulders, and squeezed them in reassurance. “You’re going to do great, Adaman,” she said, and then pulled him into a fierce hug. Only after taking a deep breath did Adaman relent and return the gesture.

Time wasn’t on his side as it stood. And only time would tell if his sister’s undying faith in him would be misplaced.

——-—————————————

“Well, if it isn’t our resident savior. Mind if I join you?” Adaman asked of Hikari, who looked to be taking a break from surveying the mirelands. She sat on a large boulder overlooking the nearby prairie, and flashed an easy smile at him as he approached.

”By all means,” she replied, gesturing for him to pick a spot. He chose to sit on the ground directly in front of her, leaning into the face of the boulder with a sigh.

”Been out here long?” he questioned, and heard the material of Hikari’s kimono shifting as she shrugged.

”Long enough. I was sent this way to study Togepi, since we don’t have a lot of data on them as it stands. They seem to only appear when it’s perfectly sunny, so I’ve just been waiting on those few clouds overhead to… y’know…” A statement which resulted in her making a shooing motion with her hand.

Adaman laughed at her rather blunt attempt; though, if he were being honest, it was getting rather difficult to not find everything she did endearing.

”They’re a rare sort, of that there’s no doubt. I myself have only see them a handful of times while out and about. I’ve heard patience is key when approaching them; but as you’re probably aware that isn’t exactly my forte.”

Hikari snorted at that, shaking her head as she continued kicking her legs back and forth from where they dangled over her perch. For a time, both were content to simply listen to the sounds of the wind in the trees nearby; comfortable in one another’s company.

”Adaman?” Hikari eventually asked of the clan leader, whose attention immediately shifted to where she sat above him. “Do you… that is, have you ever taken a moment to simply reflect on where you were once going, but ended up instead?”

“I suppose I likely have at some point,” he answered, and shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular. I just… I was thinking about what I was doing before I fell from the sky; back in my original era. I was attending university—er, that is, a place you go to learn more difficult subjects. At one point, I thought I had my whole life mapped out. I was ready to put my everything into being a researcher on par with my mother, who was renowned, even though I consistently struggled in my classes. But then…”

“…You were sent here,” Adaman finished for her, and she nodded.

“Obviously I never planned for such a thing, coming here,” Hikari sighed. “But in a way I ended up doing exactly what I intended, just not in the way I expected. And I’m actually… good at it.” She twiddled her fingers together for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s just odd to think about, I guess.”

“Heh… well, I can confirm you’re very good at what you do. As for it being odd… life is funny that way, I suppose,” Adaman mused, then stared upward towards the sky. “It’s not exactly the same, but I too had a predetermined destiny that started out awry, only to eventually work out.”

“Care to elaborate?” Hikari asked, and Adaman smirked, all-too-happy to indulge her.

“I was always set to take over the role of leader from my grandfather, but his untimely passing sped up the process by a few years. I know I give Irida a hard time when it comes to experience, but in reality we both came into our roles around the same time—in my case, without being completely ready.”

“Completely ready?” Hikari echoed, tilting her head.

Adaman nodded. “Before someone is to become leader within both the Diamond and Pearl clans, they undergo a period of passive meditation in which they receive a vision from their respective deity, proving their worth. Irida received hers long before being inducted—it’s why her people have always held her with such high respect.”

“And the moment you received yours?”

“…When we were confronting Mighty Dialga on Mount Coronet,” Adaman scoffed, kicking at a rock near his foot. “There’s a reason my people didn’t have much faith in me before that happened. In their eyes, I only became worthy after that instance, despite having led the clan for years by then.”

“But that’s crazy!” Hikari shouted, and slid off the boulder so she could look at him properly. “Adaman, if it hadn’t been for you believing in me from the getgo, the Noble Pokémon would still be causing havoc in their frenzied states. You’re the one that suggested I quell their fury, remember? You’re also the one who personally followed me around in my mission to clear the red sky, because you didn’t put faith in baseless speculations. That is what makes you a great leader; not the fact that Dialga spoke to you.”

“Hikari…” Adaman muttered, slightly speechless, and watched as she turned to face the horizon.

“I suppose that’s why I’ve preferred your company over everyone else’s since coming here,” she quietly confessed. “You’re always willing to give people a chance, because despite their shortcomings, you see the bigger picture. I admire you greatly for that.” Glancing over her shoulder at him, Hikari smiled a dazzling smile, one that resulted in her indigo eyes twinkling. “You are a person worthy of respect, Adaman; no prerequisites necessary.”

Just the way she was looking at him left Adaman stunned—and, coupled with her words, had his heart pounding against his rib cage.

Hikari…

But then he smiled, and stood from his spot to join her in watching the tranquil scenery of the marsh—both knowing deep down that their fates had once again shifted.

#pokemon legends arceus #Adaman #original character #oc x canon #Hikari #fics #fanfic #A girl out of time #trainersona

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kaylorrehabcenter · 4 years ago

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Don’t Blame Me Analysis: Or a Thesis on What the fuck was up with Kaylor

In 2016 I started reading Kaylor theories, and at the time I fully believed they were in a long term omitted relationship and that they were, if not married, definitely engaged. As I grew away from those theories, I still returned to Kaylor, trying to figure out what exactly happened between them.

If you read the amazing @bisluthq’s realistic kaylor timeline, you get the vibe that Josh and Karlie were off and on towards the beginning of their relationship, with some sort of break around the time of the Kaylor Big Sur trip and a reconnection around the following Met Gala. (The same Met Gala reference in lwymmd and Wildest Dreams) This leaves a gap around that time of the Big Sur trip. We can assume then Kaylor probably wasn’t serious, as we know Karlie ultimately chose Josh and started converting to Judaism around 2015.

So what about Don’t Blame Me then?

Don’t Blame Me is on, what I usually refer to as the A side of reputation. This would be the loud, bombastic side where Taylor plays up the vengeful character created by the media. It also immediately follows “I Did Something Bad”, which while I don’t think is ~about~ Kaylor, it’s interesting in the context of being immediately before a song where she sings about participating in an affair. Or at least something affair adjacent.

Don’t Blame Me also carries a lot of imagery I very strongly associate with Kaylor. The daisy reference and trip of my life being some of the most obvious. Drug references are in another big kaylor song for me, Illicit Affairs, and I believe it shows Taylor thinking of Karlie and their relationship as an addiction. She knows what they are doing is wrong and stupid and she will get hurt, but she keeps coming back.

If you assume Cruel Summer is also a Kaylor song, lines like “I love you isn’t that the worst thing you ever heard” seem to suggest Taylor was the more invested party. The line following that one “he looks up grinning like a devil” also seems to invoke imagery of Josh, perhaps specifically of him and Katie reconnecting and Taylor realizing that whatever Kaylor was was over now.

“What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more” after all.

While this interpretation of Kaylor is more depressing, I believe it makes more sense with Taylor’s music as we see it now. It explains her recent obsession with affairs, and songs like Don’t Blame Me and Cruel Summer work much better for me at least, if they’re about a relationship never fully committed to. Taylor is begging on her knees for Karlie to stay, everyone is saying she’s gone too far this time, but she’s willing to risk everything just to touch Karlie’s face again.

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me indeed.

Return to Don’t Blame Me’s position on reputation, why would a song that carries a lot of Kaylor imagery and themes be on the A Side instead of the softer and emotionally intimate B side. The song immediately following this is Delicate, which explores a softer hesitancy then you see in any Kaylor song. Those emotionally intimate songs could exist for Karlie somewhere in Taylor’s archives, but they certainly aren’t on Rep, at least from my perspective. I believe that this song being on the a side has something to do with how public it was, as a friendship and as a relationship. Especially when you consider how differently she treated Dianna and Lily, she was way more public with Karlie.

You can spin this into Don’t Blame Me being about kissgate or a glass closeting anthem, and if you believe in the traditional Kaylor story, that makes sense. But I come back to lines like “Halo hiding my obsession” and the daisy reference feeling so blatant. Yes you can easily make hetero or Joe explanations for them, but surely Taylor, or at least someone on her team, would know how the daisy line would be interpreted. Maybe all of this is to play with the public perception of Kaylor, as much as anything. While it was never mainstream per say, it was known especially in the Swiftieworld, and people caught the reference fairly easily.

In some ways, that interpretation of it reminds me of the 1, of Taylor forcibly reminding someone who never chose her, never committed to her that they were something beautiful and important and real, and it will haunt you the rest of your life.

Of course to some extent it’s exaggerated to fit the vibe of Rep, and of course I’m not Taylor and I could fully be talking out of my ass. But I think all that I’ve talked about here makes this song more rich and more complex than a fairly simple. Don’t Blame Me for going into hiding to keep my boyfriend, and that’s enough for me.

#don't blame me #song analysis #k*ylor #it feels nice to write again!!!#also it's funny cam and cara's ep came out while i was working on this lol #text post

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settledthingsstrange · 4 years ago

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Under Which Lyre

A REACTIONARY TRACT FOR THE TIMES

(Phi Beta Kappa Poem, Harvard, 1946)

Ares at last has quit the field, The bloodstains on the bushes yield To seeping showers, And in their convalescent state The fractured towns associate With summer flowers. Encamped upon the college plain Raw veterans already train As freshman forces; Instructors with sarcastic tongue Shepherd the battle-weary young Through basic courses. Among bewildering appliances For mastering the arts and sciences They stroll or run, And nerves that steeled themselves to slaughter Are shot to pieces by the shorter Poems of Donne. Professors back from secret missions Resume their proper eruditions, Though some regret it; They liked their dictaphones a lot, They met some big wheels, and do not Let you forget it. But Zeus' inscrutable decree Permits the will-to-disagree To be pandemic, Ordains that vaudeville shall preach And every commencement speech Be a polemic. Let Ares doze, that other war Is instantly declared once more 'Twixt those who follow Precocious Hermes all the way And those who without qualms obey Pompous Apollo. Brutal like all Olympic games, Though fought with smiles and Christian names And less dramatic, This dialectic strife between The civil gods is just as mean, And more fanatic. What high immortals do in mirth Is life and death on Middle Earth; Their a-historic Antipathy forever gripes All ages and somatic types, The sophomoric Who face the future's darkest hints With giggles or with prairie squints As stout as Cortez, And those who like myself turn pale As we approach with ragged sail The fattening forties. The sons of Hermes love to play And only do their best when they Are told they oughtn't; Apollo's children never shrink From boring jobs but have to think Their work important. Related by antithesis, A compromise between us is Impossible; Respect perhaps but friendship never: Falstaff the fool confronts forever The prig Prince Hal. If he would leave the self alone, Apollo's welcome to the throne, Fasces and falcons; He loves to rule, has always done it; The earth would soon, did Hermes run it, Be like the Balkans. But jealous of our god of dreams, His common-sense in secret schemes To rule the heart; Unable to invent the lyre, Creates with simulated fire Official art. And when he occupies a college, Truth is replaced by Useful Knowledge; He pays particular Attention to Commercial Thought, Public Relations, Hygiene, Sport, In his curricula. Athletic, extrovert and crude, For him, to work in solitude Is the offence, The goal a populous Nirvana: His shield bears this device: Mens sana Qui mal y pense. Today his arms, we must confess, From Right to Left have met success, His banners wave From Yale to Princeton, and the news From Broadway to the Book Reviews Is very grave. His radio Homers all day long In over-Whitmanated song That does not scan, With adjectives laid end to end, Extol the doughnut and commend The Common Man. His, too, each homely lyric thing On sport or spousal love or spring Or dogs or dusters, Invented by some court-house bard For recitation by the yard In filibusters. To him ascend the prize orations And sets of fugal variations On some folk-ballad, While dietitians sacrifice A glass of prune-juice or a nice Marsh-mallow salad. Charged with his compound of sensational Sex plus some undenominational Religious matter, Enormous novels by co-eds Rain down on our defenceless heads Till our teeth chatter. In fake Hermetic uniforms Behind our battle-line, in swarms That keep alighting, His existentialists declare That they are in complete despair, Yet go on writing. No matter; He shall be defied; White Aphrodite is on our side: What though his threat To organize us grow more critical? Zeus willing, we, the unpolitical, Shall beat him yet. Lone scholars, sniping from the walls Of learned periodicals, Our facts defend, Our intellectual marines, Landing in little magazines Capture a trend. By night our student Underground At cocktail parties whisper round From ear to ear; Fat figures in the public eye Collapse next morning, ambushed by Some witty sneer. In our morale must lie our strength: So, that we may behold at length Routed Apollo's Battalions melt away like fog, Keep well the Hermetic Decalogue, Which runs as follows:— Thou shalt not do as the dean pleases, Thou shalt not write thy doctor's thesis On education, Thou shalt not worship projects nor Shalt thou or thine bow down before Administration. Thou shalt not answer questionnaires Or quizzes upon World-Affairs, Nor with compliance Take any test. Thou shalt not sit With statisticians nor commit A social science. Thou shalt not be on friendly terms With guys in advertising firms, Nor speak with such As read the Bible for its prose, Nor, above all, make love to those Who wash too much. Thou shalt not live within thy means Nor on plain water and raw greens. If thou must choose Between the chances, choose the odd; Read The New Yorker, trust in God; And take short views.

—W.H. Auden

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donaidk · 4 years ago

Note

This isn't really F1 related but I really hope you don't mind me asking. I saw you mentioning first hand experiences with sexism and how you think about giving up dreams because of fears. As someone who's about to go into university could you tell me what you mean with those experiences. What happened? Ofc if it's triggering for you please just ignore this but thank you for your help if you can talk about it 💝

Hi Anon! Luckily it’s not triggering me in a way that I can’t talk about, just mostly makes me angry and tired mentally. But if it can help someone I will gladly talk about it and show you how it affects me personally. I wanna highlight the word personally because we are all different and what hurts me could be nothing special for someone else. Also, one more important thing, I don’t think that every male human being is the devil and please never think about everybody as someone who wanna hurt you, as most of them are probably normal people. But maybe let’s start from where it all started as I want you to see the whole picture if you’re asking for true help ☺️

Warning: Long, not so happy post mentioning different kinds of sexism around university studies and working somewhere that’s usually filled with mostly males

To start off: I'm not someone to take unhelpful and toxic criticism from anyone. I like to think that I'm aware what I'm capable of and who I truly am, without others trying to tell me how someone should act, speak and think. My family raised me to make my own decisions and navigate life in a way that makes me happy and not others who think they have a say in my life. That's why, most of the time, I did achieve what I set out as a goal for myself. It's never easy and everyone has breakdowns, sometimes more than they should when they tend to overthink situations. However, hitting your goals and getting to live a life which you imagined for yourself never comes easy, but people will never see the behind the scenes struggles you had on the way to your current position. So please, take my experiences with a grain of salt and if you wanna try yourself at something don’t hold back just because someone had bad experiences in the field. (Although, please do not choose it if you know for sure it will only hurt you!)

So the whole story: Back in May last year I imagined the last past months quite differently. I envisioned my family being proud of me for reaching a milestone successfully, meeting new - more mature - people who will finally look at me for who I am inside and not outside and also getting to study something that brought a smile to my face every second of the day when I was thinking about it. I choose my university carefully, knowing full well how none of them will be easy to complete, but at least wanted to enjoy the years I was about to commit to the community there. I had friends and aquintances, from both genders, telling me how much they enjoyed spending their Bachelor and Masters study time here and how it was such a loving community all around. I was ecstatic when I got the text that I got in, and throughout the whole summer I couldn't wait to start my first semester.

Fast forward to September/October right before all hell broke loose. I made quite a few friends, got to be part of a fantastic study group which stayed together even when we changed to online learning and most importantly loved everything I got to study. Yes, there were a few classes which were hard or seemed unnecessary but I still enjoyed them and thought I did quite well compared to how it was such a deep dive after high school. Then I slowly got a taste of a side of everything I knew will be there but hoped will somehow stay away from me. These are the first hand experiences I also mentioned under this Susie post as it was the whole point where I thought back to everything. The list goes like this:

Almost failing a class just because our female teacher thinks all girls sleep around or flirt their way through uni with all the male teachers/tutors, and thinks we have to be punished through making us fail no matter our knowledge of the class. I got given a thesis that i knew word-by-word, which was my fave to learn, and I still was clawing for the second grade in our system. Fair, right?

We have a teacher who's known for letting girls who dress pretty just for his class pass his class easier while he makes it hell for the others (girls, boys are graded for what they actually give in). It's common knowledge and looked at like it's completely normal behaviour.

In one class we have to send in homework and we can get 0-1 point for it, depending on how well it works. If you don't send it in you get -1, and at the end of the semester you have to have at least 0 points all together. But if you can't send it in, you have one more chance to do so in the next 7 days for 0 points no matter if it works or not. This is something every student gets to use and it's not a personal advantage. However, one of the boys in my class probably didn't pay attention and didn't know about it. Why is it important you may ask. Well, because when he heard me ask about it in his opinion I'm 'a bitch who uses her gender to get better grades and pass uni easier than others'.

The same boy has been harrassing two other girls in dms and made fun of them for their tiny mistakes. He also called me a bitch once again right in front of the whole class and our young male tutor (who I have to add I love because he's always helpful and never looks at us different), making the whole situation truly awkward.

Getting told by another student that they would be willing to share notes to me if I wore more feminine clothing and laughing about his comment with his mates.

Family members saying I probably chose what I did because I would have mostly just boys around me and that I should just give up if I feel like this is my only chance at finding a partner. At the age of fucking 19, where I'm sorry, but I had more important things to experience than chasing after boys who were all immature compared to what I was looking for. Same person saying that he thought I wouldn't be one for adult work, as it usually ends with us sleeping around for titles and positions anyways.

I also have to add again that these are of course the extremes, and at the same time I know several fantastic students and teachers who I love with my whole heart from both genders. But every memory gets stained when you get into situations like the ones mentioned above. It also makes me scared about the male-oriented atmosphere I'll have to work in, if the one I have right now, which is deemed a safe environment for all, already showed signs for being dangerous. It's also probably worse online as people get bolder by not having to show their faces or name while making comments and saying shit. But I still don’t want to let this change my mind about something I spent years on building up the plans for. Even if it will be hard I want to show that their stupid opinions won’t break me and will never stop me from achieving the final dream of mine.

Even though we are living in the change, it’s still not fully here and in my opinion won’t be here for quite a bit. But you can take part in it and help it move forward. I do change back and forth between getting my energy from these and letting it break me as I’m a human with feelings and not a robot, but what matters is which side will win in the end. Even if you feel like giving up, just try getting on with the next day. If the bad side can’t stay for long it won’t be the winner.

It’s a lot easier to get through if you have friends who support you, but it’s never gonna be actually easy. Things like this will hurt you, but also make you stronger in my opinion. It’s important that you know who you are and what you are like, and not just take everything that’s thrown at you. People who are trying to hurt you are cowards and deserve no attention. You’re the one living with yourself and the only one who actually knows who are you inside. Never let them change you!

I’m sorry for the late answer, but I wanted to truly think about this and not just give a quick and short answer that means nothing to someone who reads it. I probably went in circles a little bit but hope it makes sense. I also truly hope that you will enjoy university and that situations like these will stay out of your experiences throughout the years. Remember, that these aren’t setbacks, just hurdles that you will be able to jump over either today or tomorrow or another day. Just take everything as it comes and make your decisions only for yourself. Love ya and good luck 🧡

#tw sexism #dona's uni life #dona goes to ramble town #i probably don't make sense #even though i tried hard to build it up logically #if you have any questions still please message me again #i will try my best to explain it better #ask #donask #answered #anon

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lordeasriel · 5 years ago

Note

Sorry to ask another Dr. Carne question, but he’s really just one of my favorite the characters (despite his brief time in the book) but I was wondering if you had any other head cannons about him?

Sorry it took me a while to reply, I hadn't had proper time to sit and write this! And please don't apologise for questions, I really enjoying receiving them!!!

I don't know if I gave Dr Carne that much of in depth thinking, but I do have a few thoughts, I think. To me he is a very traditional man, in terms of how he dealt with colleges like St. Sophia's, and more modern scholars. This is true for Jordan in general, as they seem very tradition-driven and very much uninterested in changing their ways to fit the modern world and the Master is no different. However, I think he is a fair man, and when it comes to the general idea of free will, he is willing to put bias aside because at the end of the day, scholars are scholars, no matter who they are a d where they're from. (He, for example, makes the bridge between Lyra and Hannah twice, always to support Lyra).

He is definitely a kind man, and it is stated he never married iirc. One of my favourite headcanons for him is that he was a gay man; I usually tend to avoid thinking that a particular character is gay because of lack of marriage (there's a whole array of aroace people that could fit the character, as well as the fact some people simply do not wish to be married) but I like this for the Master. It's hard to say how being gay was treated in Lyra's world but I think it was difficult. And I think for the Master, him being a righteous man, he simply chose not to marry for appearances because he considered it a disrespect to who he was; he would no more marry someone at random than he would disrespect a tradition of Jordan (assuming of course that same sex marriage wouldn't be legalised - which i think it would be the case, sadly, at least for the early/mid century in Lyra's World). I also don't believe he had many meaningful relationships, but this is mostly because he was man focused on his work. Being a master of Jordan seems like a very difficult and time demanding job; if you're in it, you must be devoted to it, because if you're not committed you threaten the fragile ecosystem of the college (like the new master sort of does in TSC, by basically being passive in front of external forces - Dr Carne would never!)

I don't know - or recall - if we ever learn about his main theme of study, but I like to think he was a historian, and that he once belonged to the Bodleian group who studied the Alethiometer - at least in his graduation years (somewhere around the Swiss War, perhaps? I don't recall his age, wiki says somewhere over 70, so the math seems to work - vaguely lmao) and I also think he might have been responsible for setting up the group. He is said to be capable of reading the Alethiometer, so I really like this, especially considering how he might have done his part in his youth to help Britain fight off Geneva.

I've said on the other ask too that one of my favourite headcanons was that he was Asriel's thesis advisor. I love this headcanon!!!

#asks #hdm headcanon: dr carne #thank u for the ask!!! sorry it took me so long!

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owlespresso · 5 years ago

Text

A Time Before

When Hades and the 14th knew each other, fell in love, and most importantly, had time. Tip Jar / Headcanon Requests are 2 ko-fis. Spicy content below the read more.

The sun peers around the belfry just in time for Hades to round the corner. He squints and turns his gaze away, nose wrinkling at the vile brightness. His books rest in the crook of his arm, and for a moment he must resist the urge to bring them in front of his face as a shield.

He had seen you do that, once, and immediately wondered what it must be like to be unbothered by public opinion, so carefree and dissolute. He’s lost count of how many times he’s scolded you for your filipancy and devout aversion to deadlines.

“Hades!” yet when you call to him from across the vibrant courtyard, voice carried like petals on the breeze, he still goes to you. The florets and emerald leaves fill the air with a delightful, abet stifling aroma.

There’s a quick in his brow and the barest of smiles on his lips as he approaches, watching you rock back and forth in a swing that was most certainly not here yesterday.

“Making the most of our god-given creativity, are you?” he drawls.

“I’m having fun with it, so I think so,” you reply. When you smile smugly, you do it with your eyes, cheeks pulled upwards in an expression both insufferable and adorable all the same. Besides, none of the professors have called me on it, so it’s probably fine.”

It probably is, Hades admits inwardly. It’s a pretty, ivory swing. Vines dotted with flowering blooms twine up the rope on either side. It’s aesthetically pleasing and practical, like your work always is.

Brilliant, blue energy sparks from your palm and spreads to your fingers, before it ventures to the surface below you. Its form changes and warps before his very eyes, growing longer and wider.

“There!” you exclaim, proud as he’s ever seen you.

You tilt your head to the side and pat the newly formed space next to you. The coquettish little grin you treat him to makes him want to squish your cheeks.

“Shouldn’t you be hard at work on your thesis?” he asks dryly, taking a seat regardless. His books now rest in his lap, hands placed neatly atop them.

“I have more than enough time,” you assure him.

Any stinging retort he could have delivered dies on his tongue as you settle yourself into his side. His entire body goes rigid, jaw clamped shut as one of your arms sneaks around his own, tugging the limb into your chest. Your face presses to his shoulder, and he can’t imagine it’s very comfortable with your mask in the way. For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. Your boldness has never been a secret, but to think you’d show such affection in public.

Even in private, you’d never exchanged anything more than brief brushes up against each other, through thick, black robes.

How do you look underneath those layers, he suddenly wonders? How would you react if he unwrapped you, pressed you to his sheets and ran his needy hands up and down your body? Would you arch into him? What noises would you make? Would you still tease him, or melt into a puddle underneath him? Would your lips part around and smooth over his greedy fingers?

“I wish it would always be like this,” your voice is muffled against his sleeve.

“Like what?” he humors you, even if he has a good idea of what you mean.

“Everything being quiet. Us not being committed to actual jobs, yet. We won’t have this much free time forever, you know. What if he never get to see each other anymore?”

Hades can’t recall the last time he’s heard you sound upset, and can’t control how alarmed he gets. He can feel the writhe and twist of your soul, see how genuinely repulsed at the idea of being apart from him. It’s equal parts touching and flustering, but he has little time to deal with his own, turbulent emotions. Because you are upset, and somehow, he’s come to think of it as his duty to soothe you.

There is explicit value in your happiness and your smile.

What if we work in the same establishment? He wants to ask, but doesn’t, because that’s not a complete plan and might only wind up giving you false hope. He runs through various possible solutions in his head and his hand itches for a utensil to write them down with. He’ll write them like he writes his theories, each and every one meticulously thought out, stewed over for days, drawn up with… love.

“We should get married,” you say, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue. The distress that wailed within you has calmed, “That way, we’ll always come home to each other!”

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, he gets carried away and thinks of it as a very good idea for a moment, before he remembers practicality.

“That’s a bit of a leap from where our relationship currently stands,” he says, bidding the desperate thumping in his chest to calm.

“Maybe,” you say, nonchalant. It awe and frustrates him all at once. He’s never met someone like you, before, and he never wants to be a part from you, either, “But I know for certain that I’m very fond of you. And if we never see each other anymore, who will correct your work?” you tease, and he does his best to ignore the thrill your voice sends up his spine.

“Critiquing isn’t equivalent to correcting!” he snaps, thoroughly offended. You laugh into his shoulder and the sound settles his ruffled feathers. His eyes shut. He exhales the hot air he’d been holding, “Regardless, your feelings are returned. The idea of being separated from you is just as unsettling to me as it is to you.”

He leans over, cheek nestled to the top of your head. The hubbub of the university fades into meager background noise. The decadent, floral scents swell around the both of you, the shade proving a cool blanket, a shelter from the violent light of the sun.

“Are we gonna get married, then?” you feel him stiffen, giving a laugh and oh, it’s so terribly difficult to be cross with you while you’re so blastedly content, “Or maybe we could just find an apartment together?”

“That would be a more amenable solution,” he admits with a small sigh.

“Good,” you say with a certain level of finality to your voice. He feels as though he’s just signed a contract, “Good. We can start looking next weekend.”

“You mean after you get at least halfway done with that thesis,” he pulls back to level you with a stern look, prepared for the pout you give in return, “Don’t look at me like that, you stubborn little thing,” he reaches out and pinches your cheek, expression furrowing into a fond smirk, “You know just as well as I how crucial this is. I’ve gone easy on you before, but this is more important than the rest combined. It’s a requirement for graduation. And if you cannot graduate, you cannot move in with me.”

His hand reaches for your chin, tilting your head up.

“Promise me you’ll get to work, hm?”

You don’t want to give into his demands out of sheer stubbornness. You’re always been pointlessly obstinate, willing to challenge him for the sake of it. There’s no one else who keeps him on his toes, no one who can spur him into improving himself.

His other rivals pale in comparison. He is wowed by your thoughts and clever machinations to levels he never thought possible. Usually, he revels whenever you challenge him, but for once he’s delighted when you sigh, nod and agree.

--------

“If we live together, people are going to think we’re romantically involved,” you clarify, whilst looking over the balcony. This is the third apartment you’ve looked over together, by far the nicest. Hades brushes his fingers over the cool counter and scoffs.

“Have you just realized that?” he drawls and walks to your side, his gaze roaming over their proud city. He’ll never tire of the grand vista, the extravagant spires which stretch towards the sky.

“No,” you scoff right back and nudge him with your elbow, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Whatever you say,” he replies, entirely unconvinced. Y

A hand reaches for one of your own. You intertwine your fingers together near instantly, leaning your head against his solder.

“You want this one, right?” you inquire softly.

“Of course I do. It’s the nicest one we’ve been shown thus far,” newly done counters, a wine rack in the kitchen, even a fireplace. He briefly pictures the crackling flames, quickly fantasizes about being nestled underneath a sea of blankets with you tucked to his side, just like you are right now.

“Mhm,” you hum and nod your assent, turning your head, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. The two of you linger in the otherwise empty apartment for another fifteen minutes before the real estate agent comes fluttering back in, enthusiastically asking you what you think and when you’ll buy.

The thought of living at your side and waking up to you each and every morning keeps him patient and warm, even throughout all of the obnoxious paperwork, which he finalizes mere days later.

Begins the process of packing up his belongings, readying for the massive changes in his life that loom on the horizon. He puts his life into large, cardboard boxes and watches them get taken down the road and out of sight by the moving vans. He’ll see them again in a matter of hours, but he can’t suppress the nostalgia and perhaps grief he feels.

He’s a proud academic, one of the university’s most lauded scholars, a man undoubtedly head and shoulders above his peers.

So why does his stomach toss and turn? Why does he feel so antsy? The bothersome butterflies flutter in his stomach. His nerves jump even as he rides the elevator up to the apartment, where all his belongings already reside.

He’s taken more difficult leaps than this, he tells himself. The hallway stretches before him after the doors open with an abrupt ding. Ornate paintings are fastened to the walls, lined by frames of gold and bronze. Something as small as a change in scenery should hardly startle him.

The battle with his own emotional state rages on even as he twists the key into the doorknob, fiddling with it for a mere moment before he throws it open. Much to his surprise, the fireplace is already crackling away, cozy warmth sweeping through the living room. Some of the furniture has already been set up—a plush, comfortable couch sat in front of a coffee table which you meticulously picked out from a selection of five.

Your combined belongings rest in boxes scattered around on the floor. He hears the sound of cardboard being tossed about from behind one of the incredible towers.

“Hades!” your face pops into view. Sweat gleams on your brow, but the vibrancy of your smile outshines that by miles. His heart near aches in his chest and he longs to pull you into his arms. The anxiety rumbling in his stomach calms at the sight of you and for the first time in a long while, he feels perfectly at home.

---------

“I still think the sheets could have been purple,” you remark idly, sorting through your bedroom closet. Hades watches from his lounged position, gaze running across your shoulders, down your back, over your hips and thighs. You’ve both discarded the usual robes for lighter fare, allowing him to see more of you than he ever had.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve moved in together, and you’ve settled into a lovely, steady rhythm. There have been no heartfelt, dramatic confessions, but he assumes you’re in a relationship now.

No, he knows it. He knows it from the way you kiss his cheeks or lips whenever he gets home, knows it from the way you lean into him when he wraps his arms around your waist. There’s a domestic bliss that blankets your apartment, a warm feeling he’s never experienced before and does not want to let go.

Even petty little arguments like these have their place in that feeling. How delightful it is to negotiate who’ll do what chores or who will pick out the lamps for the study. Never had he thought that sharing his space with someone else could be so rewarding.

“It would have been obnoxious,” Hades corrects, lips quirking into a smug little grin, “Black is the most fashionable color, my dear. I can think of no one who looks bad in it.”

“Debatable,” you snort, “Being colorful is more adventurous. And history always rewards the brave, Hades,” your organizing gets faster and perhaps a little more aggressive, and once you’re done, you whirl around to face him, crossing your arms.

“I wouldn’t call picking out a pair of gaudy sheets to be brave in any way, shape or form,” Hades raises an eyebrow and you huff, striding over to him. You just about jump onto the bed, the mattress bouncing underneath the sudden weight.

“You just don’t know anything about art,” you tease, crawling over the comforter to rest beside him. He readies another keen retort, but chokes on his words when your face presses into the side of his neck, lips brushing against his skin, “And you’re so cold!” you exclaim, absolutely shocked. One of your hands slides over his chest and wraps around his throat—not to squeeze, merely to feel. It’s an inquisitive touch, but he can’t stop himself from sighing shakily, “What’s wrong?”

Blast it, you’d noticed, you keen little thing.

“Nothing. I was simply rendered speechless by your lack of aesthetic taste,” he snips, but his bottom lip wobbles when your teeth scrape over his skin. The hand on his throat slowly slides down to his robes, beginning to unfasten them, exposing his chest inch-by-inch.

Your lips follow, blazing a trail down his neck. A second hand joins the mix, tugging his sleeves to reveal his shoulders. Your fingers brush over them appreciatively before clamping down, delighting in the broad muscle there. Hades’s hands reach for your hips, giving them a hesitant squeeze. You’re still much too clothed for his liking.

He’d like to remedy that problem, but you have him stunned and motionless, willing to do little besides bask in the attention you’re so generously giving him.

He remains still and pliant for you, shockingly silent as you disrobe him. You carve your marks into his skin, bite at his shoulder. The gentle caress of your fingers intermingle with harsh scratches that make his back arch off the mattress, lips parting around succulent moans and other, hardly dignified noises.

Hades’s wide eyes stare up at the ceiling, the mark you’d so carelessly carved onto his shoulder beginning to throb and ache. It’s a carnivorous feeling that rushes straight to his groin, where your mouth is wrapped so generously around his cock.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it would go.

But your tongue swirls around his tip and he finally shuts his eyes, presses his shoulders into the mattress and curls his toes. The noise he lets out is one he won’t admit to later. Your firm hands hold him to the sheets and he does his best to stay in place, just for you. Because what would he be without you, you delightful little thing?

You, who insists on making him feel good, who doesn’t give a damn about your own pleasure until he is thoroughly sated.

You’re still in your robes. He hasn’t gotten the joy of unwrapping you, yet, but your palms are hot against his cold skin. His teeth dig into a bottom lip, wiry fingers curling into the ungodly soft sheets as you treat him better than anyone else ever has. His cock twitches in your mouth, mind melting into dull heat, numb to everything but your hot mouth as he nears his release.

It’s never gone this fast, before. He can feel himself tumbling closer to that beautiful, pristine edge—

Your mouth slides off his cock and he gasps, eyes flying open, mind screeching to a complete halt.

“Come back,” he tries to demand, but his voice is too desperate, pathetic and breathy for it. His face is flushed the prettiest shade of red you’ve ever seen, and he hates it. His cock throbs needily between his legs even as you smile up at him, you goddamn tease. Precum beads at the tip, spreads over your skin as you nuzzle your cheek against it, worshipping his length, making him feel the most frayed he’s ever felt. Like an egg sizzling in a pan.

Like… like… he can’t even think! What a pathetic little mess you’ve made of him! The least you could do is take responsibility!

And you do, abet several moments later than he thinks appropriate. Your lips seal around his cock and your mouth takes him in deep, making him throw his head back and scream. Your aether swims around him richly and encompasses his every part, swaddling him in you, you, you, pushing him beyond what he can take.

His orgasm hits and he doesn’t even realize you’ve swallowed it all until he stops shaking. His eyes are blurry, tears streaming down his cheeks, lips parted around balmy breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you’re not, but that’s alright. Hades can hardly fault him when you’ve given so much to him already. You press your palm to his cheek and he leans into it, eyes shut, “I didn’t mean to tease. You’re just so cute! I can’t help myself.”

“That’s probably the worst excuse you’ve ever come up with,” Hades grumbles, pressing his hands to the mattress, pushing himself to sit up. You scoot back with the motion, giving him space. He misses your weight on top of him, but it’s a sacrifice worth making, “And you’ve come up with a more awful excuses than I can count on both hands,” nonetheless, he leans forward to kiss you, tongue running over your lips. You laugh into it and open your mouth for him, amused noises turning into moans as he finally, finally gets the opportunity to ravish you.

It’s better than he’d imagined it would be. Your cocksure attitude softens as his greedy hands all but tear the fabric from your body. Every inch of flesh revealed to him is another place for him to kiss and worship. You squeak when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, shiver when his tongue wraps around a nipple. He coaxes the bud to stiffen by licking around it in circles, the other pinched and pulled lightly by nimble fingers.

“Hades,” you sigh, fingers running over his shoulders, rubbing some of the already bruising marks you’ve left, “Hades,” you say again, eyes shut, legs spreading as he makes his long-awaited descent down your body, throwing your robes open to reach the precious crux of your inner thighs.

It is there where he sings his song and makes his home, where he grows utterly enamored with the taste of you. The blue wisps of your soul twine around him and tremble. His hands press your hips to the mattress, keeping you in place as you withstand the full brunt of his love.

You squeal as your orgasm creeps up on you, the once steady ebb and flow of molten pleasure erupting along your nerves, making your legs shake and tighten around his head. Your honey on his tongue is a pure and rapturous benediction.

Your release gleams tantalizingly on his lips as he rises from his (rightful) place in between your legs. His eyes glint dark, face like a tiger slinking through the reeds as he straddles you. His hand presses to the mattress, besides your head whilst his other wraps around his cock. Moisture that had not been there before suddenly covers his erection. You raise your eyebrows.

“Making good use of your god-given creativity?” you jibe, and he hushes you by pressing his tip snuggly against your entrance. You cut yourself off with a whimper, eyes shutting, hips raising ever so slightly.

“Well, I’m having a grand old time with it, so I’d say so,” he purrs in reply, voice husky with arousal. You’re given not a moment to formulate a reply before his hips cant forward, cock sliding inside you with little to no preamble. Your eyes shut tight and your head falls to the pillow, hands running up his lithe arms to perch on his shoulders.

Your fingers scratch feebly, raising red lines along his pale skin. He’ll tease you about them later, he knows, but for now, he’s rendered speechless by the way your walls hug him so nicely.

“I can’t believe it,” he utters quietly, beginning an agonizingly slow pace. He resists the temptation to shut his eyes, desperate to watch your face contorted in pleasure. Your lips open around squeals and moans, hips rolling to meet each pointed thrust. The hand not at the side of your head wanders down to the space between the two of you, toying with your most intimate place.

“Can’t believe what?” you sound clearly incredulous even when in the throes of pleasure. Your thighs strike against his hips, and it’s not long until you’re writhing desperately against him, encouraging him to go faster.

“That I get to bed someone so miraculous and brilliant,” he praises, nosing over your collarbone, pressing his lips so gently to your skin even as he drives you breathless.

“Hah!” you give a laugh that twists into a high-pitched squeal, “Flattery will get you nowhere!”

“It seems to have landed me in your bed. I would count that as ‘somewhere’,” he manages to keep his voice steady against the mounting pleasure that takes down his spine and through his nerves, striking him to his very core.

He’s merciful enough to remain silent until you cum underneath his gentle coaxing, your eyes shut and expression twisted into divine pleasure. He’s so grateful to have given this to you, he realizes, struck by your ethereal beauty. The blue of your soul twists and twines and flares, full of creativity and light that he wants to reach out and grab, and hold.

Only then does he allow himself to orgasm, pulling out to spill over your stomach. You whine and twitch, lips opening around a final sigh. Quiet lapses over the room, the sound of your soft breathing helping him down from the high.

His arm drapes over your chest, abdomen to your side, still desperate to feel your warmth in any way he can. The afterglow settled around you, aether a second layer of blankets.

“That was great,” you murmur once you’ve regained your bearings.

“I’m glad to have met your standards,” he replies with an amused little huff. His thumb rubs idle circles into your shoulder. He manages to keep his eyes open for another few, precious moments before they close, exhaustion beginning to tug at the back of his mind.

“You always meet my standards,” you press a kiss to his chin, the blankets shifting as you turn onto your side, “I just like to tease you, sometimes.”

“All the red marks on my latest blueprint don’t seem like teasing to me, but I’ll let you have it,” he says, and you don’t reply. A quick glance at your face tells him you’ve already fallen asleep.

He should get up. He should fetch a warm cloth to clean you both off with. But sleep, like a fiend, bogs down his mind and makes his limbs sluggish. The warmth of you pressed to him is impossible to give up. He’ll wake up in ten minutes, he tells himself, but doesn’t bother reaching over to the night stand to set an alarm.

Warmth seeps throughout his entire body and he allows it to weigh him down, sluggishly lull him to sleep.

#emet selch #hades #solas zos galvus #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv

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vin-taege · 6 years ago

Text

low expectations | 2

summary: after disappearing for six years to pursue law, you come back to Seoul, only to be hired by Jeon Jungkook, tattoo artist on the rise, and your high school ex

genre: angst, eventual smut, l2e2l (lovers to enemies [kinda?] to lovers)

pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x lawyer!reader

words: 4 600+

The clock read 3:35 am. You were up all night researching about the rival tattoo shop, Soliloquy. So far, there were only page advertisements and a ton of articles gushing about the shop. But "Seoul Ink" was also almost in every article - a "threat” to the long-running business, as the media would say. They had little to no detail too, and after a while, they all seemed to be saying the same thing. So you decided to shift gears and search more on Jung Minho himself. Not much was known of him, not even his educational background. Trivial things like height, weight, and age were listed. There were a few pages dedicated to fawning over him, seeing as he Was undeniably attractive. He looked just about Namjoon's age, striking cheekbones and a pierced tongue he'd often flash at the camera. You sighed, ready to give up. You've been clicking every link you came across, and Namjoon wasn't done with the suspect profile yet. The coffee you made had grown cold and your wrists had also started to ache. You were already on the 5th page of Google. You were desperate. Just as you were going to shut down your laptop, Jungkook's words echoed in your mind, "I'm finally doing something I love." You shook your head, willing yourself to stay awake just a little longer. In a last attempt, you skimmed over a few more links until one caught your eye. "Gwangju Rapper Under Fire for Drug Scandal"

You sat up, suddenly wide awake. The article was from four years ago, but you didn't know if the source was trustworthy. It was a news archive, and the web design was a little off, making you doubt its legitimacy. You read it, nonetheless, and picked up a lot of crucial information. Why in the world would this even show up in Jung Minho's search results? You clicked the picture of the rapper, a shiver running down your spine with the striking similarities he had with the Soliloqy head. Coincidentally, the rapper's career ended just a month before the first Soliloqy branch was built. You bookmarked the tab, and thought of calling Namjoon. However, another glance at the clock told you he was probably fast asleep by now, and you didn't want to wretch him away from his rest. Speaking of sleep, your eyes were already starting to droop. Maybe it was better to deal with everything tomorrow. It was still your month off anyway. °°° 6 years ago There was a loud knock on your window, waking you from your slumber. Your head had been buried in printer paper, what would be half of your book report on the novel "Animal Farm." It has only been three days since your mother began her temporary stay at your father's house, but she's already become unbearably pushy when it came to your studies. She was only staying for a week, but that was four days too long for you. You could still hear the knocking, but you were too sleepy to respond. Until it got louder. Lifting your head off your desk, you squinted at the window, the lamp light piercing your eyes. Your vision adjusted until you could make out a mope of brown hair pressed against the window pane. You rubbed your eyes, hurriedly getting up from your chair to open the window. "What are you doing here?" Your voice was still groggy from sleeping. The second you got a closer look at him, your heart stopped. The stench of alcohol was on his breath, and he was sweating like he ran a marathon. To top it all off, he was crying. He stumbled into your room, half walking, half getting carried by you and plopped down onto the bed. Sprawled over the covers, he let out a throaty groan, quickly getting hushed by you. "Jungkook! Don't be so loud!" you hissed. "What are you doing here?" He cracked open an eye, lazily tilting his head up to look at you. Suddenly, he smiled, hugging you and pulling you down with him. Your cheek was squished against his chest, his arms squeezing your torso. "My honey, baby, love of my life, sweetheart, darling." You tried pushing him off, initially disgusted by the overpowering scent of alcohol. Jungkook was oblivious to your discomfort, only beginning to sob harder. Hearing his cries, you stopped struggling, sliding your hands up to curl around his neck instead. You laid there, waiting for him to calm down. It was silent for a moment before his voice broke through the dead air. "I don't think I'm going to college." He took a shaky breath. "I got into an argument with my dad. I told him I didn't want to go to med school. I told him I'd hate it there. He- he kicked me out. My mom didn't even care." Your heart started to pound along with his. Oh no. No. Your mother already dreaded him because he was planning to be an art student, but now that he would possibly drop out, you knew she'd never approve. It would be unacceptable for her. Not only that, but what would happen to Jungkook now? What about your future? "What do you mean you got kicked out?" you said in a small voice. He gently nudged you off him so he could sit up. He began fiddling with his thumbs. "I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't have any money. ___, I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking failure. Fuck!" He slammed his hands down on the bed, the springs squeaking. You flinched, the sudden aggression scaring you.. "Jungkook, stop. You're drunk." "I broke a fucking vending machine," he mumbled as if it was an afterthought. “I didn’t have money for beer.” "You what?!" you hit his shoulder, making him curse out, more of in surprise rather than pain. "Do you know how illegal that is, Jeon? You get kicked out and the first thing you do is commit a crime?" "Well, what do you expect me to do?! We don't all have perfect lives, ___. I went here and I thought you could kiss the pain away or some shit, and you're gonna fucking lecture me about street etiquette?" he scoffed. "Why are you so up your ass sometimes?" "Sometimes I don't know why you just can't manage to get your shit together. I want to support you, Kook, I really do. But sometimes you're just so fucking impulsive!" you didn't even realized you had raised your voice. Jungkook was staring at you with wide eyes, jaw clenched. You thought he was going to retort, maybe even scream back at you, but he remained silent. Unshed tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand, swiftly standing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here." He moved towards your window, a leg raised up, ready to leave. You grabbed him by the forearm, tugging him back. "Wait, I'm sorry. Kookie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." You hugged him from the back, ignoring the sweat sticking to his shirt. "We're gonna get through this, okay? You still have me. You still have Tae. I'm sure you can work something out with your brother. But stay with me for now, okay?" Slowly, he leaned forward and shut the window. He let you lead him back to the bed, not even bothering to shower with how tired he was. Without another word, he curled up next to you, trying to fall asleep. On sleepless nights, you'd call him on the phone and he'd sing for you. This time, even though your voice couldn't hold a candle to his, you returned the favor, not stopping until you heard his calm, deep breaths. °°°

"So you're telling me-" Namjoon paused, stirring his cup of coffee. He had come early today to help you unpack, while also going over the case. "That rapper and the Jung Minho may or may not be the same person?" "They almost look exactly like each other." You turned the laptop over to him, bringing up the picture. His eyes widened, spoon hovering just above the coffee. "Don't you think it's kinda fishy our probable suspect, who may I add, planted drugs in the ink refills, looks exactly like this rapper from four years ago who got caught in a drug scandal?" Namjoon shrugged. He leaned over the kitchen counter and read the article, eye brows furrowing further after each line. "Honestly, that is weird. Hm. But you know what's weirder? You reaching the sixth page of Google."

You glared at him, continuing to unpack your kitchen utensils. "Excuse me, but I am dedicated to my job." "You mean dedicated to your ex?" you sputtered, almost dropping the knife holder. Namjoon smirked at you. "I've been talking to Jimin, and he told me some really interesting stuff." Of course it was Jimin. That man was too charismatic for his own good. "Please don't remind me." Namjoon took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when it burnt his tongue. He made his way to the sink and gargle some water, sighing when it somewhat relieved the pain. "___, you could've told me, you know? I mean, we could've averted this whole thing if that's what you wanted." "No, Joon. It's okay, I don't regret taking this case. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I guess I just don't like talking about it much," Namjoon looked at you, saw how tired you looked. Both physically and emotionally. "Come here," he opened his arms, and you gladly hugged him. His scent was welcoming, like that of new books mixed with citrus from the scented hand sanitizer he kept in his bag. "I think you need more hugs and less work." "Joon, I think I want to get my ex back," you mumbled into his sweater. You heard him sigh before letting you go. "As your assistant, I'd say this is probably a bad decision. As your best friend, I'd say this is definitely a bad decision but do what you think will make you happy." You ate breakfast quickly, eager to dive into the article more, even though you had already read it multiple times. Nostalgia hit you - it felt like it was a thesis night again, you and Namjoon scouring every corner of the Internet just to fill the Related Studies part. Ironically, a cheetos bowl was by the laptop, reminiscent of your college days. The rapper's stage name was a lead in itself, however he seems to be off the grid. The only other pictures left of him were blurry ones taken from afar. All of his music wasn't uploaded on the Internet, save for pictures of the CD cover. It was so suspicious how underground he was. Namjoon bookmarked the pages and copy-pasted all the needed pictures and information. It was a bit of a stretch, but so far, it was the only connection you could make with Jung. After a while, Namjoon cracked his knuckles and faced you. "I know this is pretty random, but can you come with me to the tattoo shop today?" "Why? I thought we couldn't get an interview today because they were booked. Did all their clients simultaneously agree to ditch their appointments?" "No," he laughed. "I'm getting a tattoo." You almost spit your coffee out. You looked at him, waiting for him to burst out laughing and tell you it was a joke - but he never did. "What do you mean you're getting a tattoo? Aren't we forbidden to get those?" "Wrong again. We could, but just somewhere we could hide it. I'm getting it on my inner forearm." It was the perfect spot, especially since he owns an abundance of long-sleeved tops. "And you're getting this because...?" "Because I’ve actually been thinking of getting a tattoo since last year. And I've been needing a break from being so... upright and formal" You didn't press for a further explanation. The whole “professional lawyer thing really was tiring. "Welcome to Seoul Ink, home of the best ink!" Jimin's cheerful voice greeted you. The pink lighting was turned off, letting the sunlight shine through the glass. The music playing was softer this time, matching the calm afternoon vibe. "Hi Namjoon! Hi, ___!" He wiggled his eyebrows when he greeted you, making your roll your eyes. Namjoon headed directly toward the designs placed on the walls, quickly spotting the one he was staring at yesterday. "How much for this one?" "30 000 won. Discounted, just for you," Jimin stood next to Namjoon. "Could be done in under thirty minutes. Are you walk-in, or would you want to place a schedule?" "Walk-in." "Shit. Would you mind waiting for a bit? The next open spot is," He checked his phone, before looking back at the taller male. "-in five hours." Namjoon sighed, face dropping - when suddenly, Jimin's phone beeped and his eyes lit up. "Actually, you're in luck. Tae's client cancelled last minute." As if on cue, Taehyung walked out from behind the hallway curtain. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets seeing how much he's changed. His hair was colored blue, in contrast to Jimin's. He had full sleeves, and a small butterfly tattoo just under his jawline, by the side of his neck. The bandana he was wearing held his hair back, giving you a good look of the multiple piercings on his left ear, not to mention the one on his lip. "___?" Before you could reply, he was already running towards you, pulling you in for a tight hug. You chuckled hugging him back, always so affectionate even back the. You could feel the muscle he has gained, compared to his lanky built back in high school. “I didn't believe Jungkook at first, but wow! You look great!" "Tae," Jimin snapped his fingers, gaining Taehyung's attention. "Hyunjin backed out, but you've got a new client. Rosehead design. Tatt virgin so go easy on him."

“Why did no one tell me ___ was gonna be our lawyer?”

“I did. I told you four times, Taehyung,” Jimin rubbed his temples. His words fell on deaf ears, Taehyung still mesmerized by the mere sight of you. Six years ago, he never would’ve thought he’d see you again, but here you were. Fate had a way of bringing people together.

“Are you getting one too?” His voice was deeper, as if it wasn’t already deep before. You were relieved to find out he was more than welcoming to you, even after what you made him do. You shook your head. “Just Namjoon hyung then.”

Taehyung led you into his work room, the door of it being the one bombarded with polaroids and fairy lights. You never got the chance to look at the pictures, and now that you did, your eyes were immediately drawn to one near the upper left.

It was an old one, dating way back to high school. You knew because you were in it - face lit up with a bright smile, mid-laugh. Sitting next to you was Jungkook, mirroring your happy expression as he held a barbecue stick up. You recognized it from your prom night. Jungkook didn’t have enough money to rent a suit, making him pass on prom. You and Taehyung decided to ditch it, having a small barbecue party in his backyard instead.

You sensed someone staring at you, and turned your head to find Taehyung. He was startled, sending you a goofy expression afterwards.

Namjoon sat on the soft reclining chair, trying his best to make himself comfortable. Taehyung was humming as he did the preliminaries; getting the design ready and sterilizing the needles to be used, including turning on a lamp with normal lighting so he could see better. “I have some bubblegum in case you want some. It serves as a pain outlet.”

He handed you a small bowl full of gumballs, then continued to prep the tools and Namjoon. The older of the two boys shoved in two gumballs, jittery even before the procedure began.

“You didn’t take any energy drinks or coffee before this, right?” Taehyung rubbed Namjoon’s inner forearm with a cloth dipped in alcohol. He paled, eyes widening, “Am I not supposed to?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “That’s why you’re so nervous. Well, this is just a flash tattoo. No color, easy lineart. It’s going to be a walk in the park!” He smacked Namjoon on the shoulder a little too hard, making him yelp.

“Tae, Jimin said go easy,” you murmured, though you still got your phone out. Namjoon’s reaction while getting his first tattoo was too hilarious to no film.

“I will,” he plugged the cord into an outlet, the tattoo gun roaring to life. “Okay, lawyer hyung, I need you to relax because this would only hurt more if you don’t.”

Twenty minutes in, and you were positive Namjoon had cried out for his mother exactly thirty times so far. A thick wad of chewed up bubblegum was in his mouth, and it was only getting bigger. Taehyung on the other hand, was fully composed, eyebrows knit in concentration.

You tried talking to Namjoon to ease the pain, but he either couldn’t form a coherent response, or wasn’t listening to you altogether. Presently, his eyes were screwed shut as he fiercely rapped along to an Eminem song playing in the background.

“I missed you. He missed you too. A lot,” You almost didn’t catch Taehyung say it. His eyes were still on his work, but he continued. “I still feel bad for doing it, but I couldn’t chose sides. You’re both my best friends.”

You shot a worried glance at Namjoon. Although Taehyung wasn’t looking at you, he spoke again, “Don’t worry. His nerves are making this more painful than it actually is, and he’s so far into the pain he probably won’t even recall us talking.”

You cleared your throat. “Are you mad at me?”

Taehyung chuckled, pausing to lightly shake his head. “I could understand why you did it. I genuinely am happy for how far you’ve come.”

“Is he...?” you trailed off, scared to know the answer. You didn’t have to say his name for Taehyung to know who you were referring to.

“He’s sad. Bitter, I think? I guess he thought it was a good idea to channel all that sadness into anger. You know how he is,” he sighed. “He still loves you though.”

His words made you freeze. He cracked his neck, soft brown eyes looking back at you, before going back to his work. “Did you know the main thing that motivated him so much was you? It was always you he talked about. He always said he wanted to prove himself to you.”

“He doesn’t need to do that.”

“I know. I kept telling him that, but I think it would be better if you did.” Taehyung worked in silence, save for Namjoon’s garbled rapping and the buzz of the tattoo gun. From time to time, he’d encourage Namjoon with an “Almost there!” or “You’re doing well, hyung!”, but Namjoon tuned everything out. He really was too into his head.

“Tae, I still love him,” you rushed out. The younger boy raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I want him back,” He smirked, turning the gun off. He clasped his hands loudly, making Namjoon jump lightly from his seat. “Break time!”

Namjoon melted into the chair, letting out a long, trembling breath. He was sweating all over, quickly slipping into a nap after muttering a silent, “I think I’ll rest for a bit.”

“I mean,” Taehyung’s voice rang once more. He snapped his gloves off, throwing them in the garbage bin “He hasn’t dated anyone else ever since. I got him really stone drunk once, and he kept crying about how much he missed you.”

“You’re telling me this because?”

“Because I hate seeing both my best friends miserable?” he shrugged. “Get some air, look at some of the designs outside. I think Namjoon hyung isn’t the only one under extreme stress today.”

The other designs plastered on the walls were all unique in their own way. You got why Jungkook’s shop was so popular - it almost transported you to another dimension. The care and detail he put into the shop was amazing, exactly the way he used to describe it.

The entire six years you went away, he never left your mind. The idea of getting it over with, of coming back to him, kept you going. But after graduation, after becoming one of the most sought-after lawyers even in your age, fear started to slowly cripple you.

A lot of “what if’s” disheartened you. Most of all, shame. You couldn’t face him after what you’ve done.

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled by Jungkook’s suddenly standing next to you. “You thinking of getting one too?”

“No. Not today, at least,” You were both looking at the designs without really paying attention to them. The feeling of being next to each other without actively addressing each other’s presence was weirdly comforting. You were waiting for each other to make the next move, both too nervous to start, until you did. “I missed the food here. Remember that cheap ramen shop just outside our school? Mrs. Park was a nagger, but nothing could ever beat her cooking.”

To you surprise, he laughed - something you haven’t heard in ages. You were glad to make him smile again, even if it was just for a little while. “Man, none of the ramen shops here could ever beat Mrs. Park’s. It’s what’s tasty in Busan.”

“Speaking of Busan, Jimin’s actually from there too. No offense to Tae, but at least someone here could get the dialect.”

“Hey, don’t be too mean. Remember when he cried about missing Daegu the night before finals?”

“Ah, shit. I was so stressed out, like, what the fuck do I do? I want to comfort him, but I also want to not get kicked out of school. But looking back at it, I knew I was gonna fail with or without reviewing, so.” You laughed, hitting him lightly. Whenever he smiled, he really didn’t look any different from the Jungkook six years ago.

“How did it feel like moving to Seoul?”

“I was a bit nervous at first. Scared. I was no one, just this kid from Busan moving into this city of opportunities, and at some point I felt like I was going to drown in them but never really take one? I was so scared of becoming the person my parents thought of me but-” he paused, smoothing out a design that was about to fall off. “Taehyung was with me. And I wasn’t just this scrawny Busan kid anymore. I was this Busan boy with this other Daegu boy, and we had stars in our eyes, which at that time, was enough to fill our empty wallets.”

“And I just lived in the moment. And I... I thought of... I thought of you.”

The dreadful silence came back. Before you could stop yourself, much less think about your next words, you blurted them out. “I wonder if things turned out differently.”

Jungkook tensed Just when you got him to open up, he retreated back into his shell. He crossed his arms, fists balled up. “That’s the thing, ___. They didn’t.”

“Don’t you want them to?”

“At some point I did,” you glanced at him, his stony expression never meeting yours. You wanted to grab his hand and tell him you were sorry, that you were going to make things right. “But you were six years too late.”

He walked away, disappearing back into his room. Defeated, you walked back into Taehyung’s, finding him already resuming his work with Namjoon. Your partner looked more relaxed, even able to hold a conversation now. “Oh, there you are!”

Namjoon waved at you with his free arm. “We were talking about a cafe meeting, just to lay out all the details to the other boys and possibly get more info.”

“Yeah, ___! I could pressure Jungkook to treat us out. I haven’t had a good croissant in weeks.” He wiped the tattoo with a cloth, revealing crisper lines, before bringing the tattoo gun back on the skin. “I miss eating bread.”

You thought of the idea, figured a simple lunchout wouldn’t hurt anyone. The two boys continued with their banter, but you tuned them out. Jungkook’s words ran through your mind, as well as the design he touched back then. It was a pinky promise outline. You remembered it being the exact one he used to draw on your notebooks back then. Before either of the two boys could say anything to you, you were on your way to Jungkook’s room, pushing the door open.

He looked at you, surprised, pencil in hand. You must’ve caught him mid-drawing. “I want it on my hip.”

Puzzled,he stared at you for a moment, wide eyes shifting from you to his sketchbook. “You want what?”

“The pinky swear,” you pointed to the space just above your hipbone. “I want it here.”

“You can’t just barge into my work room and demand for a tattoo service.” You stared him down, feet firmly planted on the ground. He knew you weren’t going to budge, and with an exasperated sigh, he motioned towards the tattoo chair. “Fuckin’ sit down.”

Just like Taehyung, he took his time to prep everything he needed. Open a new needle pack, sterilize your skin, even got the design ready. “Tatt virgin, knowing you, you probably drank coffee before this didn’t you? And you got this tattoo on a whim, huh?”

“Maybe,” you blushed.”Last minute decision.”

He raised an eyebrow. The familiar buzz of the tattoo gun filled the room, but he didn’t bring i close to you yet. “Hip tattoos tend to hurt. What made you want this one?”

“It’s our design. You kept it,” Your bluntness surprised him.He pressed his lips together, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. “It was a nice, minimalistic outline. Good for flash, easy to make. Me keeping it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Jeon, you are still so bad at lying,” you rolled your eyes. Under your confident mask, you were actually very anxious. You still didn’t know what your boundaries were. What if you were stepping over the line and he’d get pissed and give you a shitty tattoo? No, Jungkook wasn’t that petty.

“Jeon, you are still so bad at lying,” he mimicked you, pulling a face. He snickered, “See how annoying you sound? Oh my God, ___, you’re still a big nerd.”

“You begged me for formula cards back then, and you know it,” you stuck your tongue out. Smiling, he shook his head. A gloved hand wiped your hip with a rag faintly smelling of aseptic. He paused, giving the pattern on the skin a once-over. “This is gonna hurt.”

“It’ll hurt less,” you whispered. He gave you a questioning look. “Seriously, ___, this is near the bone. It will hurt like a bitch.”

“I know,” you shuffled in your seat. “I mean, it’ll hurt less because I know you’ll be the one doing it.”

You didn’t need him to reply, and he didn’t. However, you knew it wasn’t out of spite, or because you pushed a button. The hum of the tattoo gun got louder, a sharp pain on your hip bone. But seeing Jungkook smile the way he used to - like when he was still yours - provided more comfort than you could ever imagine. And that was enough for now.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts #bts scenarios #bts smut #bangtan smut #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bangtan scenarios #bts au

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vaguely-concerned · 5 years ago

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Mass Effect Initiation thoughts

In short: this book is actually really good, N.K. Jemisin is, as we all know, an excellent writer! It’s the story of how Cora met Alec Ryder and joined the Initiative, and it has SO much good good SAM content and I am full of emotions.

- poor cora is so continually out of her depth, I want to give her a hug. the points made about her in the main game are true though -- she is not ready for leadership yet. (and that’s fine! she does much better with something or someone to belong to and that is so Valid. she’s an honorable Loyal Knight!!! one of the sexiest things to be, as we all know)

I think I’ll actually like her a lot more on this new playthrough now -- she must have been quite hard to write compellingly in the game because at the end of the day she’s really very straightforward and honest and loyal, it’s quite hard to uh ‘hide’ things in her character

- alec ryder deadass installed an unspeakably illegal (and did I mention experimental?) AI in cora’s head with no informed consent whatsoever. d A D

(when cora is like ‘are you actually going to another galaxy because they don’t have laws to stop you from committing fully to your craziness in public’ and alec is like *...maybe so meme* fadsfhkj he does literally say ‘this is why I’m going to another galaxy’ out loud at a later point of the book)

- this book is giving me the good good SAM content ;________; I love SAM so much, the scene where cora thinks she’s dying and SAM talks to her? when cora asks SAM if he’s okay being connected to her because if he’s sentient that matters to her (cora is a Good)? SAM explicitly having inherited alec ryder’s sense of humour and sarcasm and alec a) doesn’t know how it happened, b) distantly thinks he should probably track that process down and turn it off (and never does) and c) regrets all his life choices when his robot kid mercilessly snarks at him and questions his life choices? please bioware give me an me:a sequel with more of this stuff I’ll eat it up with a spoon

- body diverse asari! HUGE BUFF ASARI! Short stocky beautiful matriarch asari with one krogan and one turian trophy husband fast asleep in her bed in the background of a vidcall fkdjshfkjsdlhfkjsdah god I love mass effect with my entire heart

- OLD LADY INFORMATION BROKER VOLUS WORKING OUT OF ILLIUM!!!! this is not a drill what the fUCK this is the coolest shit

- fasdklhfsjkdalfhsdjk okay in Alec Ryder POV: “I don’t think [Cora] likes me very much.” Which probably meant she had good judgement. AFLSKJDHGJSDKF ALEC

he has a weird flip-flopping sense of self -- he is uncompromisingly (one might even say... astoundingly arrogantly) secure in his own intellectual superiority and that most other people are idiots not to be trusted and that he needs to do things himself because others would mess it up, and yet there’s this clear seam of self loathing around basically everything else about himself too. (You know who he reminds me of, in a more military and less visibly anxious way? Rodney McKay. Alec Ryder is like a slightly unfortunate outcome for a McShep lovechild. I think we just figured out why I have sort of a soft spot for him even though he’s a certifiable dick lol)

- this book really makes it hit home that cora grew up incredibly isolated and dirt poor. I’ve seen some people say her backstory is all sunshine and daisies compared to kaidan and especially jack’s, but honestly her background is complicated and fucked up enough that I’m just like ‘shit baby :(’ all the time

- well I have successfully solved the puzzle about whether alec ryder is an idealist or not; he absolutely is. a grouchy, bad-tempered one with no people skills, but an idealist nonetheless. alec ryder is in fact a storm of 150000 emotions in a trenchcoat, barely held in check by a thin fragile outer shell of iron lol, SAM was absolutely right to say that he was mostly governed by his feelings. (and I mean if anyone would know it’d be SAM I guess). I found some of it sort of sweet actually: he reflects in passing that one of the biggest reliefs of no longer being in the alliance is that he’ll never have to risk other people’s lives again. he fundamentally wants to build something good to help people live and be happy instead of destroying things. (he also is quite bad at predicting how other people could corrupt and use his innovations precisely to be destructive b/c he doesn’t think that’s the ~*logical*~ thing to do, so... y’know haha, maybe it’s good he went to another galaxy, the milky way could not contain his chaos)

also he thinks a lot about his wife, even though she’s been dead for years at this point. o u c h (she truly does seem to have been a tether for him in so many ways though -- like a tie to the real world/normalcy/possibly sanity, and that’s a bit how he still evokes her)

additionally: alec ryder did fistfight at the very least one dude in the line of bureaucratic duty, and perhaps more, enough for SAM to have a list of warning signs ready and at hand jdfsklfhasdjf. he did, very much, throw a dude through a table. (at least it’s implied said dude was an asshole) I LOVE that alec’s SAM is the snarkiest iteration we’ve seen and that he’s perfectly willing to call the old man out on his bullshit (alec stresses that SAM is supposed to do what he says at the end of the day, but his SAM is also less subservient and more willing to argue and discuss things than any other we get to see -- and this is of course the SAM Ryder inherits, but I don’t think SAM is as confident in being able to read the PC correctly until a bit further into the game and the twin is of course a different person who’ll respond to different things so he’s not quite as... blunt? I guess? in confronting them about things. (the whole concept is just! so! interesting!!) anyway I feel like all of this says something about alec’s parenting style, for better or for worse haha. he sort of tries to be authoritarian but his children (well canonically at least Sara, she references having yelled at him a lot over the years) aren’t afraid to fight back or scared of the consequences of disagreeing, so I get the distinct feeling his temper never flared violently like that with his family at all, I think he’s more prone to just pulling away in disapproval.)

- I enjoy how casually diverse this book is -- Jemisin has done such a good job making sure especially the human characters are from different backgrounds and places, as they would be lore-wise in the Mass Effect universe, though the games often skew unfortunately white. (andromeda much less so than the trilogy, though)

- my heart. is so so soft for the fact that a huge reason for cora to join the initiative is how much she bonds with SAM-E. and I am so sad for her because she just wants someone or something who’ll stay, something that won’t disappear on her without closure like her parents; she’s so insecure and scared under her competence (and WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T SHE BE holy shit her parents just. weren’t there one day after she left home so she wouldn’t accidentally crush their ship with her untrained biotics and kill them all). and she chooses alec and his dream. and then alec goes and FUCKING DIES at the first opportunity Y____________Y alternate universe alec please drink your victor sullivan juice and survive, all these dumb children need you

- I am so surprised about how much fond respect alec seems to have for cora and how quickly he developed it. I suppose he has a harder time with his own children because it’s closer to home? he is a complicated man lol, this last part of the book where he shows her the ark and everything is weirdly sweet. again I think he has the potential to be a good dad somewhere in there and that just makes it so much worse that he wasn’t. (also he staunchly considers himself still a married man. god help me)

they’ve both grown to honestly love their sams T________T fml. (well alec has sort of bound up all of himself, the things he loves and their future in SAM, so it’s a bit more complicated but my point still stands) alec advocating for a consensual synthesis is very heartfelt and convincing; you really want to believe him.

cora seen through someone else’s eyes is also SO AMAZING!!! after this whole book in her head and she feels so flailing and uncertain and adrift and other people naturally view her completely differently. I especially like alec picking up on her not talking a lot. (I think this is why she responds so well to SAM, who’ll be there always and can be in her head. I wish this part of cora was more evident in the game, the fact that she has this sibling-like connection to SAM seems very important. sequel where both SAM and Ryder grow closer to becoming her actual family? please? I keep begging for ME:A2 into an empty aching void haha)

- alec ‘I don’t have time to die’ ryder still talking about everyone else being idiots as he’s slowly catching fire while saving SAM fhdjfhsdlfhasdhlfsjd he is an asshole but it is hard not to stan

- nO SAM-E D:D:D: oh well at least he’s still alive within SAM, in a way?

- hey. hey you know what’s fun. alec tries to use his last words and last thoughts to ask cora to tell the kids about ellen being alive this time too. haha. ha. fuck

he consistently goes out thinking of his family despite all his bullshit and I’m not okay

- CORA IS A PERFECT BODYGUARD/SECOND IN COMMAND AND I’M EMOTIONAL

- alec is. surprisingly afraid to hurt people emotionally? he keeps putting off telling cora the bad news about SAM-E, to SAM’s stated disapproval lol (I must repeat again: I love SAM so so much). this supports my thesis that in his personal life he’s avoidant rather than confrontational/aggressive. (professionally... again, he did very much throw a man through a table)

- man I hope we some day get SAM being this comfortably close and sarcastic with Ryder too. thinking about SAM-E and the small differences between him and uh SAM ‘prime’ it really must have been a huge thing for him too to become someone else, especially after the last person died like that. and he kind of has no choice but to experience that loss and death intimately. (now that I think about it that’s. fucked up, man. he literally felt alec go like it happened to himself.)

If I were to summarize the differences between the SAMs we have seen, cora’s SAM-E seems younger, more exuberant, shyer and more -- what’s a non-shitty word for needy haha? it’s very firmly established that cora longs to feel needed, so this makes perfect sense. alec’s SAM is blunter, snarkier and more prone to questioning things, and hilariously is sort of alec’s emotional intelligence. (probably serves a similar role to what ellen used to, actually. ow) scott/sara’s SAM feels more worried/focused -- which also makes sense; he’s just experienced losing his person/pathfinder, in a real way he’s also recently orphaned and must be Extremely aware that he now has an enormous responsibility, not only what he was built for but for what remains of alec’s family. ...poor SAM

(come to think of it I guess one vibe I get from in-game SAM is a little bit of ’harried and anxious yet loving and responsible uncle’ hahaha)

- so at this point alec knew cora could never be pathfinder after him, and he never told her. *accumulation of asshole points continues, though I suspect this might have come from a place of not wanting to hurt her again (b/c he’s the only one who has a right to know these important things amirite)* but I’m also strangely touched that the reason he’s hesitant to involve his children in the whole thing isn’t that he doesn’t have faith in them, it’s that he doesn’t want to burden their lives with something so heavy, a burden he created. can you just imagine... if this man had managed to take the time to explain himself, his motivations and his feelings to his children just once. just one fUCKING time. am I laughing am I crying I honestly don’t know

- this book makes me ache all over for the potential of Andromeda. and I don’t think it’s too late to salvage it either. I know a sequel probably won’t happen, at least not any time soon, but... *sits by rainy window like a wife wistfully wondering if her husband will return from sea*

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #meta #man I wish they could have gotten *this* cora across more in the game - it's recognizably the same person but she's shown better here #and also yes I am just a one person 'bring alec ryder back and give us some closure' cheerleading squad right now lol

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years ago

Text

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN USERS

Smoking rapidly became a statistically normal thing. As societies get richer, they learn something about everything and everything about something.1 In fact it's the old model: mainframe applications are all server-based software assumes nothing about the paths from poor to rich, I knew I could see myself—making at least 4 of these 5 mistakes. And bingo, there it is: The Men's Wearhouse.2 But as knowledge has grown more specialized, there are few strong enough to keep working on something no one around them cares about.3 As well as being smarter, they tend to be calmer and more upstanding; they don't need you, it will work anywhere the Web works. It was only then that we realized that they were started there. Unless you're planning to write math applications, of course. Where is the man bites dog in that?

Life in Berkeley is very civilized. During the 90s a lot of money. The simplest answer is to put them in a row. They were also a kind of semantic deficit spending: they knew new things were coming. Professors in New York and the Bay area are second class citizens—till they start hedge funds or startups respectively. I recommend being good. But I remember thinking his company's name was odd. They were also a kind of selflessness. That VC round was a series B round; the premoney valuation was $75 million. Economic power would have been the part where we were working hard, the groups all turned out to be, there are no customs yet to guide you. He tried to make it open. It's not something people tend to volunteer; one likes it the way one likes popping zits.

I want to do better. They usually know other founders, and certainly not you as an investor. And once you've written the software, and issue a press release saying that the new version was available immediately.4 Startups are stressful, and this made their software visibly inferior because among other things, incubators usually make you work in their office—that's where the word incubator comes from. The thesis seems to be that the most important consequence of realizing there can be good art is thus a property of the subject or the object if subjects all react similarly. What most don't realize is how late.5 What you're doing is business creation. Google does. There are sometimes minor tactical advantages to using one or the other, like a detective trying to unravel some mystery.

But writing and art are both very hard problems that some people work honestly at, so they're worth doing, especially if you can see your email, why not your calendar? VCs are pretty good at reading people. PR firms. Whatever looked like the biggest win.6 Treat the first few as an educational expense. Developers have used the accelerometer in ways Apple could never have imagined. So I added a message at that point. In art, the highest place has traditionally been given to paintings of people.

The self-reinforcing nature of this situation works the other way too: the less you need further investment, the easier it is to travel widely, in both time and space. The only place your judgement makes a difference is in the direction of over-engineering. The summer founders were as a rule of thumb from now on that if people don't think you're weird, you're living badly. Much of what's in the sage's head is also in the head of every twelve year old. If a physicist met a colleague from 100 years ago. I doubt it could be any other way, as long as the potential returns look good enough. Odds are this project won't be a class assignment.7 Our only expenses in that phase were food and rent.8

Why does John Grisham King of Torts sales rank, 44 outsell Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good novel wouldn't complain that readers were unfair for preferring a potboiler with a racy cover. Viaweb let multiple users edit a site simultaneously, more because that was the truth. All you'll need will be something with a keyboard, a screen, and a funnel for peers. We always looked for new ways to give stuff away for free if advertisers would let them. His office was nicknamed the Hot Tub on account of the heat they generated. They're as expert in their world as you are in yours.9 Shockley Semiconductor, though itself not very successful, was big enough. The cheery, bland language of the people in a position of independence, they develop the qualities they need. It's something you're more likely to work in the end, and now he's a professor at MIT.10 This is particularly true of young people who have till now always been under the thumb of some kind of paternal responsibility toward employees without putting employees in the position of children. From this point, anyone proposing to run Windows on servers should be prepared to explain what to look for in founders. Because ambitions are to some extent marketing as well.11

How do you be a good angel investor? And how do you avoid mistakes you make by default? Most people who did great things were clumped together in a few top university departments and research labs—partly because investors are so unlike hackers, and they even let kids in.12 Currently the way VCs seem to operate is to invest in a bunch of ads, glued together by just enough articles to make it true, and the fact that they control Google, which affects practically everyone. Microsoft do? Among other things, they had no way around the statelessness of CGI scripts. Most high school students have searched for does not seem to exist.

Notes

Acquirers can be done, she expresses it by smiling more. And of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what they too were feeling in 1914.

Ii.

I've said into something that would appeal to investors, you need to import is broader, ranging from designers to programmers to electrical engineers.

Founders rightly dislike the sort of person who would in itself, and Smartleaf co-founder before making any commitments. The other reason it used to end investor meetings with So, can I count you in? There's a variant of Reid Hoffman's principle that you can play it safe by excluding VC firms have started to give them sufficient activation energy required to notice them.

5%.

Revenue will ultimately be hurting yourself, if the statistics they consider are useful, how little autonomy one would say that I'm clueless or even being deliberately misleading by focusing so much on the blades may work for us, the airplane, the median VC loses money. I don't think you need to play games with kids' credulity.

Yes, there are before the name Homer, to the home team, I've become a function of the big winners are all that matters, just their sizes. Look at what adults told children in the succession of spectacular treason trials that punctuated Henry's erratic matrimonial progress made him an obvious candidate for grants of monastic property. Though nominally acquisitions and sometimes on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit.

They'll be more likely to resort to expedients like selling autographed copies, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris wrote the first language to embody the principle that if a company they'd pay a premium for you by accidents of age and geography, rather than for any particular truths you'll learn. But no planes crash if your school, secretly write your thoughts down in, but this could be pleasure in a bar.

And I've never heard of investors want to change the number of startups have some kind of people we need to, so they will or at least for those founders.

In a project like a winner, they tend to say they prefer great markets to great people. But the most successful ones tend not to say they were still so small that no one on the parental dole for life in general we've done ok at fundraising is a scarce resource. The obvious choice for your side project.

The point of a cent per spam. One of the Daddy Model that it makes sense to exclude outliers from some types of applicants—for example, if you like a loser they're done, at least notice duplication though, because they can't afford to. But it's telling that it refers to features you could get a poem published in The New Yorker. This is what you love, or because they couldn't afford a monitor.

Actually he's no better or worse than Japanese car companies have been the first version was mostly Lisp, you should. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve a lot of successful startups. There are some good proposals too.

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