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baurbiediv · 2 years

Text

nights like this

this is continuation of grass ain’t greener!

a/n: yall asked and so you should receive!

cw: toxic!jack, cursing

you’d had enough of the constant nights where you were up crying due to jack’s insensitive comments and behavior. you were done with allowing yourself to continue to be treated the way you were. as each day passed by, more and more of your belongings were packed away into suitcases. each day the apartment became more and more empty. jack obviously didn’t notice that since he was too busy being an egotistical narcissistic.

you’d been looking at plane tickets so you could go back to your hometown. you were sick of putting up with the bullshit that he had put you through. there was no use to it anymore. he got what he wanted so what was the need of keeping you hostage to his games anymore. you thought to yourself if jack’s friends had known about all the things that he had done. little did you know that they were fully aware of his games.

—

even urban and neelam were calling jack out on his bullshit. at some point in time he slipped up and the two even noticed he was up to no good. neelam started questioning everything, he obviously wouldn’t give up the truth so he gave up a bullshit answer. neelam questioned him on why you had never shown up to the studio or any events with him anymore and he gave her a shrug and the classic, ‘she didn’t feel like going.’

you, urban, and neelam had been really close to each other. so when you suddenly disappeared from jack’s side they knew something wasn’t right. you continued to pack as much as you could. before you could figure out what to pack up next, your phone was ringing. it was face down on the nightstand. you picked it up and flipped it over seeing a familiar name pop up on the screen; it was neelam. you debated even bothering to answer the call. you took a deep breath before sliding the phone icon and putting the phone up to your ear.

“hello?” you speak as you chewed on your bottom lip. you heard a sigh of relief from her on the other end of the phone. “y/n thank god, i was afraid you wouldn’t pick up.” neelam stated, sounding concerned. you paused for a second in confusion trying to determine what she meant by that. “yeah neelam i’m okay, what do you mean?” you stated.

“y/n, me and urban know about what jack has been doing to you.”

in that moment, the entire room froze. you felt your heart dropped to your stomach and you felt a lump forming in your throat. you didn’t believe the words that you had just heard. you took a deep breath and sat down on the bed before you managed to get another word out. “neelam .. what?” you began tapping your foot on the ground nervously awaiting her response.

“me and urban had our suspicions as to why you never came around anymore. jack always gave us some simple excuse. he’d always say ‘oh she didn’t feel well’ or ‘she just didn’t feel like it.” you could hear the concern expressed in her voice. you looked up and sighed. you’d told her everything, including what jack had said to you just a few nights ago. much to your surprise neelam told you more than what was needed. neelam even told you that jack had brought multiple girls into the studio although she had thought you had two had still been together.

this wasn’t a call that you were expecting, ever. you thanked neelam for calling you and that you’d call her whenever you could. you hung up and buried your face into your hands. taking a deep breath and getting back up, you went back to your suitcases and zipped them up. you’d be gone by the morning and you made sure of it. you made sure that you had everything you needed. you wrote jack a note;

‘i’m not sure how to start this off but here it is. i’ll keep it plain and simple, we’ve lost connection between each other. i don’t know who you are anymore and i can’t keep hanging onto this relationship. you don’t treat me like i deserve to be treated. i’m at the point where i can’t look at you the same way i did when we first got together, every time i see you all i can do is cry and i can’t continue to do this to myself any longer. you don’t love me jack and you know that you don’t. you’ve used me as much as you could and look where we are now. this isn’t how relationships work and you know that. goodbye jack’

- y/n. ᥫ᭡

putting the pencil down you felt a huge weight being lifted up off your shoulders. you couldn’t help but cry tears of relief. quickly wiping your face you got up to get in the shower to relax.

—

6:36 am

you were gone. you finally did it. you left jack like you said you would. you sat on the plane looking at the window looking at the clouds that lie below the plane and taking in the view as if it were the last thing you would ever see.

after getting off the plane and getting the rest of your luggage back. you grabbed a taxi and headed off back to your apartment that you owned before you and jacks relationship had taken off. arriving to the apartment door you took your keys out of your backpack and unlocked the door. after pushing all the luggage into the doorway you finally took a deep breath and entered while closing and locking the door behind you. you entered the living room and laid down on the couch before falling asleep.

—

2:30 pm

jack stood before the kitchen table reading the note. he felt his jaw clench as he read the last line of the note, ‘this isn’t how relationships work and you know that.’ he knew that what you said was right, but as before, he was too much of a egotistical narcissist to ever admit that you were right. he immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket and called you. much to his dismay you didn’t answer. if went to voicemail, all he could do was listen to your voice. “hey! it’s y/n i’m sorry i can’t pick up the phone right now, leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

he groaned out loud and immediately went to blowing up your phone in hopes that you would respond

to: y/n. 🤍

where the fuck are you at?

to: y/n. 🤍

answer your phone

to: y/n. 🤍

you think this shit is some kind of game, don’t you?

to: y/n. 🤍

you better not be messing around with some other dudes. i will fuck them up.

to: y/n. 🤍

pick up the fucking phone.

he was obviously getting frustrated at the thought of you not bothering to respond to anything. he was losing his mind at the though of not being able to manipulate you and have you feed into the ‘you’re the only one who belongs to me’ mindset. it made him sick to his stomach. he was so close to truly having you wrapped around his finger.

seeing the empty apartment made him think this was some kind of stupid prank. he knew you wouldn’t leave him right? or so he thought.

—

you never picked up the phone. you never responded to his texts. you knew this was his way of trying to get back at you and make you feel like you were doing something wrong. you made the decision to leave and it was his problem to deal with. you said it yourself, you couldn’t continue to put yourself through that and you stood by your every word.

it had been nearly three days since you left. you were doing good, great even. it had been a while since you were actually on your own. jack on the other hand wasn’t coping too well with the situation. he started lashing out at his friends over the smallest mistake, he was checking his phone non stop every two seconds seeing if you had texted him back or called him back. it was bad, he had never panicked like this ever in his life.

he fucked up and he should have never did what he chose to do in the first place. he finally felt what you felt like. he was getting a taste of his own medicine and it was horrible to him. he got what he deserved and that’s all there was to it. feeling his phone buzz, he nearly had a heart attack pulling his phone from his pocket. to his surprise it was you. you texted him, but it wasn’t the text that he was expecting.

from: y/n. 🤍

do not ever text my phone again jack. there’s no way you could ever apologize enough to me for the shit that you did to me. nothing that you could ever say or do will ever mean anything to me again. you treated me like i was nothing. i gave you nothing but endless love and support, i got nothing back but heartbreak and misery time and time again. you didn’t even have the heart to send me a fucking apology or anything. you are a piece of shit jack. nobody should ever be treated the way you did me. you’re sick.

from: y/n. 🤍

goodbye jack.

—

#jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #bf!jack #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

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Pale 2.9

So excited to see the Forest Ribbon Trail.

oh gods i love this opossum. do the animal companions always talk, or that a opossum-specific trait

It was a kid, no older than eight, possibly younger, with messy blond hair, a jacket, a top, and bare feet.

oh no. Do boon companions always appear as humans, you'd think someone would note that on the instructions! Is that part of why you're supposed to ask not remember?

she wore an adult-sized t-shirt that came to her knees, black. It was printed with ‘I have class, I have sass, I scream at own ass’.

I love this opossum

“In the practitioner and Other sense, not the ordinary sense. You’ve never bled or tasted blood?” “I have. Both,” the girl said.

welp. don't think we have any details on what that means

“What story is this? All things Other have some roots in the annals of man,” the baby opossum said. “Fairy tales, fantasy stories, myths, religions, and urban religions. There are no original stories. So I ask you… what kind of story is this? Don’t jump to the obvious answer. Give me a good answer and I’ll tell you something you should know.”

Hmm. My first thought is Little Red Riding Hood (traveling through forest with a wolf at the end). But also, in more general terms, classic fairy tale story: you go on a journey, have an animal companion to aid you, pick up strange tools that will help you later, and face down a monster at the end. I'm also reminded of the Babylon sequence from Diana Wynne Jones's book Deep Secret, but I don't think that's what they're going for.

It's also really hard to tell how much of what's going on is normal for the Forest Ribbon Trail, and how much is about the animal blood fuckup (I checked the instructions and there were no notes about what happens in that case). I do not trust the roadside opossum though.

I thought it would be more cut and dry but it’s only constant confusion, a strange place with strange people.

well now I am thinking Alice in Wonderland

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Avery said. “That’s it, right?” “A bit of Wizard of Oz, with the yellow brick road, or the Path. A lot of Alice in Wonderland,” Avery said.

hey!

There was a giant doll head, the girl who carried the other opossum, the normal man, and the whispering cat.

Cat... cheshire cat? or maybe cowardly lion? who else is in Alice in Wonderland: Mad Hatter, March Hare, Dormouse, Caterpillar, Queen? Or is the thing that isn't supposed to be here whatever's causing the thumping?

This is the second reality you have to face, as part of your journey along this trail. The world is bleak, terrible things happen, and you cannot fix it, whether you are a thirteen year old girl or a master practitioner in her seventies.

hmmm. People keep talking as if the coin is the object that lets you bring some of the Lost back, but the instructions in the Extra Materials say that's the skull. Not sure if this is authorial error, or if Avery is misremembering and the Others are cuing off of her.

She was supposed to come to terms with something about herself, like Alice and growing up, or Dorothy and the idea of home. Every single trap so far had been marked by indecision. Hesitation. Even her boon companion evoked it.

yeah! character development

A glamour, to bring out her best self. But to capture it, she needed to chase it first. Mark it like warpaint, worn after the battle. After she was sweaty from a game well played. After she was brave. After she was noble. It stressed that she had to decide who and what she wanted to be, then solidify it.

brave and noble...

“Nicolette Belanger?” Avery asked.

oh shit

“The gimmick. The opossum. It plays dead even when it doesn’t mean to, fainting. Deceives when it doesn’t mean to. It says the opposite of what it means to, but it can deceive well enough to bring a token item into the Wolf’s negotiation.”

oh... so when she said she didn't like the name Avery gave her...

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow #this one got long

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sroloc--elbisivni · 1 year

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"ghosts of boston" is delightfully vague

that one's an original fic story! i've got some ideas kicking around my head for an urban fantasy series grounded very much in Boston and interweaving a lot with...ghosts, travel, history, presence, the way Boston is very much a come-and-go city for businessmen and students and travelers but you never hear much about the people who live and die there, and also how the MBTA is so fucking haunted. Older/younger protagonist duo, who I will explain below:

Zady: -narrator -obligatory newbie -nice jewish boy (sarcastic) -eighteen? nineteen? -going to community college at his mother’s insistence -grieving his dad but good fucking luck getting him to admit that -short for Isaiah. In both senses of the word George (? name potentially subject to change): -obligatory old hand, mid/late-forties -old boston irish -psychopomp. kind of works for minor god Charlie. kind of works for the MBTA. kind of symbolically married to minor god Charlie. don’t ask, especially when Charlie’s around. -went to Catholic seminary and maybe made it as far as being a priest before deciding she’d had enough and leaving -but i mean the realizing she was a woman thing didn’t help either

I've got more 'hey that would be cool' concepts than actual plot, so for now it's just a couple scenes and a pipe dream and some weird emails to the Peabody Essex Museum.

“Can a service dog be haunted?” I asked as soon as George picked up the phone.

“I’m going to need more context,” she said, after a long pause.

“There’s someone with a dog here and the dog looks…” I squinted. “Wrong.”

“Like one of those chihuahuas?”

“No, like...spooky stuff wrong.” The girl with the service dog seemed to notice I was staring, so I quickly averted my gaze to the wall and talked quieter. “There’s a glow.”

“Trust your instincts,” George said, completely unhelpfully. “But you realize glowing isn’t necessarily any of our business, right?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, even though I felt like someone whose side job consisted of wandering into weird stuff just to see what it was ought to have a little more investigative spirit. “But can a service dog be haunted.”

“Anything can be haunted if something wants to haunt it,” she said, which was another classic Georgeism to go in the list living on my phone’s Notes app. “I personally have never met a haunted service dog. Let me know if it tries to dig up a bone.”

“You think this is funny,” I accused her in a hiss.

“Maybe a little. Have fun at class.”

#talky talk #original fic #kapuchino357 #ask game

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golden-pickaxe · 3 years

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Hi, you could do: Fem! Reader x Eric (or neutral gender) where the reader is temperamentally similar to Eric and is not afraid to challenge him, this intigrates him, and leads him to flirt with the reader (possible smut);

Closer

Reader Gender: Female

Fandom: Divergent

Pairing: Eric x Reader

Warnings: Violence, (slightly rough) smut

Word Count: ~5.000

A/N: I should actually study for my master’s exam, but well… here I am. I rewrote a draft I had on my computer for 6 years, and I hope this is kind of what you wanted! It is also past 1 am now, so.. yea.

Also thanks for my first request :D Also, pro-tip: don’t write smut while continuing to listen to your classical music study playlist, that really does not convey the mood! (even though Johann Strauss slaps!)

“Alright, listen up!” Eric’s loud voice echoed through the training halls, strong and confident as usually, attracting the attention of the initiates around him. The teenagers stopped their various exercises, looking over to the leader, some curious, some with a worried expression on their faces. Eric was standing by the door, next to you and Four.

You stepped forward slightly, as the initiates jogged over to the three of you, gathering around you. You raised your voice.

“My name is Y/N! I’m head of the weapon development and weapon repair team here at Dauntless, and for the next few days I will be your instructor for correct weapon handling and weapon training. Of course, you already had some shooting lessons since your arrival, but frankly, they are not.. to my standards.” You crossed your arms behind your back, ignoring the low snort of Four behind you.

“I’d suggest you lot pay close attention, because incorrect handling of some of the weapons we use will lead to injury, and in the worst-case death.”

There was a murmur going through the initiates, but it stopped when you glared at the few who had dared to talk to each other. You knew how you appeared to them, what impression you made on them, and used it to your advantage.

“Over the course of the next week I will show you how to use, dismantle, reload, clean and repair the different kind of guns and firearms we use here at Dauntless. Don’t underestimate the importance of these lessons, they will be crucial in your later life. If you have any problems or questions, never hesitate to ask.”

You paused for a moment, mustering the faces of the initiates in front of you, most of them staring back with curious and interested expressions. You still remembered being one of them, although you had been a Dauntless born.

“In the future, if you have any troubles with your rifles, our workshop is where you drop by to get it fixed. If you make it through initiation, that is.” Your eyes wandered over to the ranking board, and you noticed how the group in front of you visibly tensed up. You turned around to Eric and Four, nodding at them before facing the teenagers again. “We will soon all go up to the shooting range, to start your training. But first we will go over theory.”

You walked towards the door, picking up two large cases standing next to it, returning to the initiates where you put them on a large Table the other instructors had carried into the training halls earlier.

With trained fingers you opened the cases, revealing an array of different types of handguns.

“Today we will work with pistols. Good for close combat and handy in urban situations. Best choice if you find yourself in the ruins, dealing with factionless.” You started, taking one of the weapons out of the case.

“Do we really need to know all that?” someone of the group suddenly asked after you had started to explain the mechanisms of the weapon, and you looked up, your eyes fixating him. He flinched, raising his shoulders a bit defensively.

“Step forward.” You said, quickly loading two pistols with munition. The boy was pale as a corpse, when he slowly came forward, the rest of the group holding their breath.

You took one of the pistols, you knew this model very well, purposely inserting the magazine in a way, you knew it always jammed. You pushed the weapon into the boy’s hand, taking the other pistol and aiming it directly at the initiate’s head.

“You are out, patrolling. You get separated from your group, and are faced with a bunch of factionless who have nothing to lose. One point a gun at you, ready to fire, because believe it or not, they get their hands on firearms. You did not pay attention when you learned how to handle weapons properly, and your handgun jams. What do you do now?” you asked, tilting your head. The boy was shaking. “Ten..”

Panic appeared in the initiate’s eyes, and he looked down, trying to un-jam it, trying anything. The magazine was not moving and he could not pull the trigger either.

“Nine.”

“I can’t, oh god, I’m sorry.” He looked as if he was about to cry.

“Eight.”

He continued to struggle and you continued to count down, taking a step forward, the cold metal of your gun now touching his forehead.

None of the other initiates was talking, although you saw pure panic in their eyes. One almost looked as if she was about to say something stupid, but a raised eyebrow from you and an intervening friend apparently stopped her from opening her mouth.

“Three. Two. One.” You raised your gun at the ceiling, firing a shot. The boy in front of you flinched and fell to the floor, apparently half thinking you actually shot him.

“See, without ‘all that’, you’d be dead. So pay attention.” You took the gun from his hand, showing everyone a quick trick to unjam it, before returning to the table. You noticed how the other instructors looked at you, Four with supressed shock, and Eric with not so supressed amusement. He seemed almost impressed.

“Where were I..?” You asked rhetorically, before resuming your theoretical instruction.

As you continued to explain the different models you had brought with you to the group in front of you, telling them how to load, unload and dismantle them, the other instructors were standing behind you in silence.

“And always, always, at least five times, check if your gun is unloaded before you clean it!” you said, glaring at a brown haired boy, called Peter if you remembered correctly, who snorted at your remark.

“You laugh, but I had a fair share of stupid friends who shot themselves because they were too lazy to check, completely sure it was unloaded. You might survive a pistol, but if it happens to be a shotgun and, say, you shoot yourself here..” you pointed at your hip. “Trust me, you won’t have any children in the future.”

The boy turned a bit pale, and others around him started to giggle. You smirked, turning back to the table.

“Please build teams of two, we’re going to go up to the shooting range now. Take turns in shooting, and every fifteen minutes or so we will swap guns, so everyone gets at least one shot out of every different type. You will unload, reload and shoot. If a weapon jams, you tell me, and I will demonstrate for the group how to deal with that. Any questions?”

No one seemed to have any questions, so you packed up the guns, while Eric and Four lead the group up to the shooting range. You followed them, handing out the guns at the roof top, while Eric and Four distributed the ammunition among the initiates.

You usually were not the person to do the weapon training, but Max had politely forced you to do it this year. You were one, if not the best in handling the firearms used in Dauntless, able to repair every single gun your faction used in your sleep.

It was your passion and your hobby, and you were glad that you had been good enough at initiation to work as what you wanted. Your mother had also been a weapon tech, and you always wanted to do the same.

You watched the other two instructors oversee the shooting. They had been in the same year as you, both transfers while you were Dauntless born. They were right at the top, and you right behind, being fourth in the ranking. Involuntary your eyes stuck onto Eric, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, while mustering one of the transfers loading a handgun.

You had to admit, Eric was one of a kind. Incredibly handsome, strong, dominant and rough, also often cruel and arrogant. Dauntless though and through, although he still had some Erudite inside of him. He looked very different now, from the blue-clad boy who had arrived at Dauntless years ago.

He had something fascinating about him. His strong arms and muscular legs were also quite nice to look at. Eye candy, one could say.

Shortly before lunch every group had fired every kind of weapon, and you packed up, checking if the guns really were unloaded, before putting them back in their cases.

“How are they holding up?” you looked up, seeing Eric standing next to you, his hands casually on his hips, while looking at the group of initiates, who slowly dissolved, and headed for the stairs leading down back into the building.

“They’re not too bad.” You admitted, closing the case in front of you. “Some are actually quite good.” Then you thought about that one girl, Tris her name was if you remembered correctly, who manage to hit the target only once. “Others maybe not so.”

Eric chuckled looking back at you, and you noticed his eyes wander over your body.

“Yea, but they will get cut anyways.” He shrugged.

“Still don’t really get the ‘cut’ thing.” You sighed, pricking up the cases from the table, one in each hand. “If that’s the new way of handling the weaklings, we will soon run out of janitors and kitchen staff, not to mention be overflown by angry factionless. There are enough of those poor sods as it is.”

“Well, we are not Abnegation to hand out charity. If they want to be in Dauntless, they have to be good enough.” Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“They chose our way of life. They chose to be here. I think that is proof enough. And some take longer to be their best.” You shrugged. “I think changing the rules is a stupid arse decision, and we will have to face the consequences sooner than later.”

You turned away, making your way down to the arsenal, located right next to your workshop, to put the guns away. Eric just stared after you, a frown on his face.

The next week was full of tutoring the transfers in handling everything from standard rifles to flame throwers and shotguns. Once you had made Peter shoot an apple off of the head of one of his friends, as he had been too cocky about his abilities for your taste.

“You really think you’re the best shot? Proof it!”

After that he had kept his big mouth shut, and the initiates were now completely sure that you were not to be fucked with. It was the perfect balance of them having respect for you to not act foolishly, but also having enough trust to ask you if something was unclear, or if they had any problems. You also helped the ones low in ranking, empathising a bit more what they had to do, to give them a better chance at making it. The cut really was a shit decision, but Max had refused to change the rules, even when you had yelled at him.

There were also many weird and casual after-work conversations with Eric while you packed up. Before this week you had never really talked, and only ever seen each other a few times while he had been training to be an instructor and leader.

You sometimes even thought he tried to.. flirt? Complimenting you handling the weapons and initiates. He wasn’t very good at it, though.

Still, he was intelligent and quite interesting, and the conversations were never boring.

----

“Is there something going on between Y/N and Eric?” Christina asked frowning, turningher head to Tris, who mustered the two instructors standing at the table. Over the past week they had always seemed to talk to each other after training, and most of them had noticed how Eric stared at her, when he thought no-one was looking.

“I don’t know, but he seems to like her?” Tris shrugged.

----

It was about two weeks later, quite late, and you had just returned from the wall, where you had overseen the installation of a kind of gatling gun, after a few factionless had attacked an Amity caravan. It only shot non-lethal ammunition, like the nerve agents used for training, mimicking the pain of a real gun shot.

The government had decided that you should not aim to kill the factionless, but scare them away. Pointless, you thought, as you knew if they were desperate enough they would go there anyways.

You were sitting in the mess hall, eating a late dinner, when you noticed the door open. Eric entered, wearing just a t-shirt and combat trousers, smiling when he spotted you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but continued to eat.

Eric came over to your table, sitting down in front of you casually.

“Heard you were back.” He said.

“Seems so.” Was everything you answered.

“How did it go?” he asked, grabbing your glass and taking a sip of your water, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You blinked a few times at him, but he just chuckled. “You want to grab a drink, or are you too tired?”

Was he.. asking you out? It was hard to tell with him. But his smile seemed sincere, not like the one his initiates received.

“If you’re buying. Sure, why not.” You smirked. “Wait in the pit, I’ll join you in a bit.”

“And how do I know you’ll come?” Eric leaned forward a bit, his eyes fixed on yours. There was a provocative smile on his lips.

“Well, you have to take the risk, no?” you quickly raised your eyebrows once, before breaking eye contact and resuming your dinner. Eric chuckled again.

“Ok.” He said, before he got up, leaving the mess hall, not looking back at you.

You had to grin and bite your tongue. You had not really thought that you were Eric’s type. You had thought that he would be into women he could easily handle, that were just pretty and would hang on his arm while he was in the pit. But it seemed more as if he wanted someone who was his equal in ability, skill and intelligence, someone he could always compete with. Something like a fun, sexy rivalry. And if you were honest, that sounded really, really fun.

You certainly didn’t hurry to finish your dinner, and bringing the dishes back to the kitchen. You also headed back to your apartment for a quick shower and to change your clothes, putting on a tank top and combat trousers which looked really good on you, and styling yourself up a bit.

Finally, you made your way to the pit, which was filled with people. Dauntless members and initiates mingled together, it was noisy and as always full of life. You waved a friend you spotted a bit to the side, but made your way to the bar at the bottom, hoping to find Eric there. It was a bit hard to see him in the mass of moving bodies, even with his tall height.

You leaned against the bar, letting your eyes wander through the crowd. Had you taken too long? Had he already gone? Maybe he hadn’t been that interested after all.

But your worries were blown away jut a moment later, when you noticed Eric approach you, making his way through the crowd of people. He had not changed, but he also had already looked great.

A smirk was on his handsome face, and he leaned against the bar next to you, so close that your arm was touching his.

“You look good.” He said into your ear, having to bend down a bit.

“Worth the wait?” you shot back.

“Worth the wait!” he chuckled. “What do you like to drink?”

----

Eric ordered drinks from the man at the bar, leaning against it sideways so that his front was facing Y/N. He was very obviously flirting with her, but she seemed to also enjoy it a lot.

“I don’t know why, but seeing them together like this makes me super uneasy.” Christina shuddered a bit.

“Why?” Will frowned at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know they are both so.. scary.” The girl looked at her friends. “Don’t you think? The meanest people in Dauntless being all flirty.” She obviously had not forgotten Eric throwing her down the chasm, or Y/N pretending to shoot an initiate.

Tris chewed her lips.

“Even scary people should be happy.” She finally said, causing the others to laugh.

“Seriously? Can you imagine them together? The next round of initiates will all either die or end up factionless.” Chris looked over to them again, seeing Y/N sipping her drink, and Eric laughing. His arm was positioned behind her on the bar now. “Yuck.”

----

“I tried to hit him, but he shot me in the leg first, hurt like a bitch.” Eric shook his head, and you noticed his fingers carefully stroking your back. A shiver ran down your spine, the good kind.

“Maybe I should teach you how to shoot then. Didn’t know you were so bad at it.” You bit your tongue, before downing the rest of you drink.

Eric gaped for a moment, probably unsure if he should be mad or not. Finally, he just chuckled, nodding.

“Yea, maybe a private lesson is what I need.” He grinned. He raised his glass, taking a sip.

“If you need instructions how to use your weapon properly, we can start tonight, my place.”

Eric choked on his drink, turning away when it shot out of his nose. He put the glass down onto the bar, grabbing a napkin from behind it to wipe his face, all the while unable to stop laughing.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he growled. You had to laugh too, pushing yourself away from the bar.

“The offer stands.” You winked, making your way through the crowd and towards the corridors, leading to the living area of Dauntless.

You had just entered the corridor, when suddenly a hand grabbed your arm and turned you around. Before you could really react, Eric pressed you against a wall, his hands on your waist, his lips on yours.

You immediately returned the kiss, opening your mouth a bit to deepen it, exploring Eric’s mouth with your tongue. You honestly didn’t give a shit that you were still kind of in the pit, with everyone able to see you. Both of you were known and quite prominent figures in Dauntless, so you already knew that there would be a lot of gossip, but you didn’t really care.

Everything that was important now was Eric, and the kiss you shared. It was a pity that his hair was so short, you really would’ve liked to pull it. You ran your hands over his broad chest, before pushing him away.

He looked a bit startled, but relaxed seeing your grin.

“I said my place. Not any place, Eric.” With that you turned around again, walking on and towards your apartment. Eric was right beside you, his hands snaking around your hips.

Even though you made sure that he would not see it, you were very excited in this moment. Eric was not only insanely attractive, but you also grew to like him a lot. You would not even mind for this to.. become more. More than just a hook up.

You finally reached your apartment door, and you tipped your personal code into the pad next to the door. As soon as you were in and the door was shut behind you, Eric was on you again, his hands wrapped around your waist, kissing you passionately.

With uncoordinated hands you grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head in a swift move. The tattoos on his neck stood in stark contrast to his skin, and you could not hold back but to kiss them, before strongly biting into it.

Eric growled, lifting you up with his arms, and you wrapped your legs around his hip. Apparently he had seen the open door to your bedroom, as he started to slowly walk over there, while you still attacked his neck.

He pushed you off of him, right onto your bed. Instead of following you though, he got down onto his knees, opening your boots and pulling them off. You just let him go to work, interested what he was planning. Your shoes were followed by your socks, and he also made quick work of his own. Then he climbed onto the bed, looming over you, before kissing you again.

“How thoughtful.” You murmured against his lips. He did not answer, only bit you into your bottom lip, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break skin. You moaned against his mouth, hands running over his exposed chest. Eric’s hands ran underneath your tank top, taking it off quickly, his hands running over your torso.

The kiss was passionately and intense. Literally breath-taking , and you had to push Eric away to get some air. He only used the break to kiss your neck, moving downwards your body. Your nails dragged along his back, when you felt his fingers move underneath your sports-bra, pulling it off just like your tank top.

Eric leaned back, taking a moment to muster you. Lust was in his eyes, and he licked his lips as he looked at your exposed skin.

“Like what you see?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Oh, Y/N, you have no idea.” And with that he was over you again, one hand supporting himself on the bed while the other one moved to your breasts. You gasped against his mouth as he kissed you once more, his taste intoxicating. Maybe that was also the whiskey he had ordered at the bar, you were not quite sure.

Your hands moved own his chest and stomach, opening the fly of his trousers. You were really glad he wasn’t wearing a blet, you were really not in the mood to fiddle with that.

Eric groaned when you pushed your hand into his underwear, a grin appearing on your face when you found his member already fully erect.

“Oh you really like what you see, eh?” you laughed, and Eric growled.

Eric’s hand now moved down your body, opening your trousers with a way too skilled hand. He moved back, grabbing the waistband your trousers and your pants, pulling them down together, leaving you lying on the bed completely naked. You sat up, pulling him back onto the bed, turning the two of you so you were now on top of him.

Eric seemed a bit surprised at that, but rolled with it, a smile on his face as he bit his lip in expectation. Just as he had done with you, you pulled his remaining clothes off, and just had to take a moment to look at him.

Eric was incredibly muscular, and there were tattoos on his stomach and right leg that you had never seen before. They had the same style as the rest, in stark contrast to his skin. He was incredibly attractive, and the piercings above his brow shimmered lightly in the faint light inside of your apartment. You straddled him, moving your head down to kiss him again, your hands finding his hair. It was short, yes, but not too short.

You pulled hard, making him groan, but at the same time buck his hips up. Yea, you could tell he liked it a bit more rough.

“I’m going to make you scream, before I’m done with you..” he almost hissed against your mouth. You bit his lower lip, unable to supress a grin.

“Let’s see who’ll scream first.”

With that you moved your lips to his neck, sucking and biting his skin, moving downwards, over his chest and stomach. You bit his hip, so hard that he actually almost shouted, but the twitch of his cock against your chest told you that he enjoyed it.

“If you bite down there, I swear Y/N, I’ll kill you!” Eric growled and you moved down even further, and you had to laugh.

“I’m mean, but not that mean.” You said, before lowering your head and licking over his erection, enticing a moan out of his mouth. He looked down at you with hungry eyes, clenching his jaw.

Suddenly he sat up, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you onto the mattress, before he rolled over you, his lips finding yours again. His hand moved down and between your legs, the moisture he found there making him groan.

“How are you so hot, damn.” You barely understood what he was saying, but it didn’t even matter, because his fingers quickly found your clit, circling it. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. Eric growled, his fingers moving more quickly, before they suddenly dipped down, pressing into you.

A loud moan left your lips and you rolled your eyes, your hips bucking to meet his fingers.

“Eric!” it came out of your mouth, and you moaning his name seemed to turn him on even more. He quickly moved his fingers in and out of you, causing you to clench around him. His thumb was in a position to hit your clit with every thrust, and your nails now were so deep in his shoulders, you knew that even if you didn’t draw blood, you would surly leave marks.

Eric kissed and bit your neck, his hand not slowing down.

“Do you have..” he started to murmur into your ear, and you nodded quickly.

“Bed.. oh my.. bedside table.” You barely managed to bring out.

“Good.” Eric stopped his movements, his hand gone, and this time it was you who groaned.

Eric laughed, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, which was such a contrast to the otherwise rough actions that you had to raise an eyebrow.

But Eric didn’t even notice that, as he had sat up, and opened the drawer of your bedside table, quickly finding what he was looking for.

He opened the shiny package of the condom with his teeth, putting it onto himself. Just as he wanted to crawl over you, you pushed him, so he fell onto his back, climbing on top of him again. This whole thing kind of felt like a battle for dominance, and you really liked that.

Eric just looked at you with hungry eyes, his hands finding your thighs as you straddled him. You bit your lip as you grabbed his cock, guiding it to your entrance, slowly, very slowly lowering yourself onto him.

You closed your eyes, breathing steadily. Eric was.. thick. And stretched you a bit more than you had expected. You had almost expected him to push his hips up, but he kept steady, not moving until you were all the way down. You opened your eyes again, looking down at the man, who started to grin when your eyes met. You grinned back, lifting your hips again, and moving down, this time a bit quicker.

Your started up a hard, even if not so fast pace, and the sound of both of your moans filled the bedroom. You were sure the person in the apartment next to yours was probably able to hear you, but you didn’t really care about that.

You leaned back a bit, throwing your head into your neck, your hands on Eric’s strong thighs, supporting yourself. You felt Erics hand run down your torso, before his thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tandem with your movements. You felt yourself edging more and more towards the end, the feeling of him inside of you and his hands on you was just.. amazing.

“Eric..” you moaned again, and just as last time this seamed to turn him on even more. Eric sat up, wrapping an arm around your torso, and supporting your movements, quickening them while his mouth found your neck again.

“Y/N!” his voice was coarse and deep and so god damn sexy it drove you insane.

Your hands wandered into his neck, and one into his hair, pulling it strongly, so his head was back in his neck. You moved your head to kiss him, all tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but extremely erotic.

When you let go of his hair he rolled the two of you over once more, him now over you again. Eric sat up a hard and quick pace, his hand automatically finding your clit and rubbing it just as fast. You moaned loudly, arching your back as you felt your orgasm draw nearer and nearer.

Eric’s face was next to your ear, and you heard him moan and that was what finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard, your legs wrapping around Eric’s waist and you clenching around his cock. Your moan was loud, but nothing compared to Eric. One, two more thrusts, and he collapsed on top of you, breathing hard and fast.

“Shit.” He murmured, before rolling off of you.

“I won. You screamed.” You laughed breathlessly, and he chimed in.

“Oh fuck off.”

#eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric divergent #divergent imagine #eric divergent imagine #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter x reader #divergent

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Any thoughts on Darkman, the Liam Neeson movie? I heard it was originally going to be a Shadow movie.

I love Darkman very much, but I've realized recently that this love comes with some pretty bittersweet feelings at the story behind it.

Michael Uslan: I was going to produce a Shadow feature film with Sam Raimi, but Sam got consumed by back-to-back movies and we ran out of time. We were headed in a good, period piece direction and managed to do so without relying on yet another bout with Shiwan Khan. I later had another major director passionate to do The Shadow, but a person at the company wanted to do a modern day TV series instead, which ultimately did not go... - comment saved from a post in The Shadow Knows Facebook group

For those of you who only now got into The Shadow or don't remember, for much of the early 00s, when The Shadow basically had no current projects and Conde Nast was taking down webpages and fan content left and right, the only things that kept this "fandom" alive were occasional fanfics (many of which are gone now), and the dim light in the horizon that was the rumors that Sam Raimi was finally going to make his Shadow film. Dig back on The Wayback Machine for Shadow web page and you're gonna see this as consistently the only thing they had to look forward to in regards to the character. These rumors floated around for over a decade, at one point Tarantino was even supposed to direct it, but he confirmed in 2013 that it wasn't going to happen. At least, not with him at the helm.

The project has been dead for a while now, and Conde Nast seems to be shuffling around plans for the character, and I deleted my Facebook months ago so I haven't kept up with any news, although it seems the James Patterson novel wasn't received too well, so I'm not sure what other plans they have in the pipeline.

Back in the 1970s, after the release of Richard Donner's Superman and in line with The Shadow's pop culture resurgence, thanks to the paperback reprints and the 70s DC run, there were plans to make a Shadow feature film, and there were quite a handful of scripts being tossed around for the following years (Will Murray states most of them were horrible), several names attached to the project at one point or another. The plans died down a bit following Gibson's death and only really picked up again after the 90s, and of course we all know that the 1994 movie came out with spectacularly bad timing. From what I recall, it seems Sam Raimi wanted to make his Shadow film in the 80s, was unable to secure the rights, and then just made his own version, which would go on to be his first major motion picture.

Even after making Darkman, Sam Raimi still wanted to make The Shadow. I guess that's ultimately the bittersweet part for me. I imagine the current state of Shadow media would be significantly better if Sam Raimi, who was a fan of the character and the pulp version (and even knows of The Shadow's connection to Houdini and stage magic), got to make his Shadow film, years before Blood & Judgment, years before Burton's Batman made it impossible for a Shadow film not to be compared to it, in a time period where it wouldn't have had to compete with The Lion King and The Mask for box office. And second, I have been drawing up my plans for Shadow projects for, what, 5 years now? And I have just barely got my foot off the door as a filmmaker. Sam Raimi had a decade-long career as a cult filmmaker before he got turned down, and decades later, after becoming a household name in charge of Marvel's biggest icon, the project still fell through. It doesn't exactly get my hopes up, y'know.

I love Darkman, it's the best Shadow film that doesn't technically star the real Shadow, and it works pretty well on it's own regardless of that association, but I do get pretty sad looking at it from the outside, because I just can't help but think on what it could have been.

In some aspects I do think the film benefits from not being about The Shadow proper, because it means Raimi got the freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted. The character of Darkman already existed separately from Sam Raimi's plans for a Shadow film, already carrying off the Phantom / Universal Monster influence, and what Raimi did was basically combine the two ideas together.

He took the basic iconography of The Shadow, a terrifying urban crimefighter in coat and slouch hat, and add in other Shadow traits like his mastery of disguise, his disfigurement, and that wonderful scene where he's invisibly running circles around a panicky triggerman while laughing maniacally, a moment which definitely feels like Raimi taking a second to indulge himself to do what you can call The Classic Shadow Scene with a character he's, for the most part, succesfully convinced us (and Conde Nast's lawyers, most importantly) isn't supposed to be The Shadow.

But then he filters these through his own influences and style to make him a new character, so instead of a mysterious mastermind with lots of resources and a enigmatic background, instead he's a disfigured and psychotic scientist with a vengeance against those who made him that way. He's like Night Raven, in the sense that he's built off traits that The Shadow has, but develops them differently to the point he stands on his own as a character. It's The Shadow combined with The Phantom of the Opera, filtered through a 1930s Universal Horror lens, played for greater tragedy and a dash of Evil Dead 2 wackyness.

He hides away in trashed up ruins and bickers with a cat, he has fits of rage that make him endanger innocents, he has a doomed love affair, and sometimes he gets so batshit he gives us hilarious moments like "TAKE THE FUCKING ELEPHANT" and "SEE THE DANCING FREAK! PAY - FIVE - BUCKS! TO SEE THE DANCING FREAK!". Moments that really show why he was such a good fit for Spider-Man despite the liberties he took with the source material.

I think the big thing that helps to make Darkman works as a property in it's own right is also that, ultimately, these influences are ultimately at the forefront of it, and the core of it works on it's own. Darkman is a believable, engaging character in his own right, one who tells a story that would be more at odds with The Shadow proper.

In some aspects, Darkman tries to be The Shadow, he is forced to become The Shadow by literally picking the clothes off a dumpster after he escapes the hospital, and it's a miserable, wretched existence, in a way rather befitting his status as a legally safe knock-off. He is a creature of nightmare who lost his face and takes on a dozen others to fight crime by turning terror against them, except he is still just a man in the end, and no man was ever supposed to live like this.

Raimi was also inspired by the Universal horror films of the 1930s and 1940s because "they made me fear the hideous nature of the hero and at the same time drew me to him. I went back to that idea of the man who is noble and turns into a monster".

He originally wrote a 30-page short story, titled "The Darkman", and then developed into a 40-page treatment. At this point, according to Raimi, "it became the story of a man who had lost his face and had to take on other faces, a man who battled criminals using this power"

A non-superpowered man who, here, is a hideous thing who fights crime. As he became that hideous thing, it became more like The Phantom of the Opera, the creature who wants the girl but who was too much of a beast to have her

I decided to explore a man's soul. In the beginning, a sympathetic, sincere man. In the middle, a vengeful man committing heinous acts against his enemies. And in the end, a man full of self-hatred for what he's become, who must drift off into the night, into a world apart from everyone he knows and all the things he loves.

For the role, Raimi was looking for someone who could suggest "a monster with the soul of a man"

It's the fact that Darkman is ultimately played for vulnerability and tragedy that really sets him apart. While I wouldn't go far enough to say The Shadow is a man with the soul of a monster, still, the difference in presentation is still there when it comes to these two. The Shadow is The Other, Darkman is You. Darkman is the victim of extraordinary circumstance that affects his life, The Shadow is the extraordinary circumstance that affects the lives of others. People react to The Shadow, Darkman reacts to people (and rather poorly).

One is the man who takes off his skin (or yours, staring back at you) to reveal the weird creature of the night ready to prowl and pounce and cackle at those who think they hold power over it's domain, and the other is the monster who falls apart bit by bit until you are left staring at the broken man within who has no choice but to be something he was never supposed to be.

The Shadow is The Master of Darkness. Darkman weaponizes the dark, but in the end, he's still just a man, lost within it. Not everyone can be The Shadow, and you would most likely turn into Darkman if you tried.

#replies tag #darkman #sam raimi #the shadow #pulp heroes #universal monsters

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realife-mermaid · 3 years

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Reading Log for May/June

We are GETTING INTO THIS SHIT lmao I was behind in my goodreads goal and slacking on some of my reading goals so I tried to read more for May and June. Here is that effort, I think I did a fantastic job, and also I read a lot of books that I fOcking LOVED which was a nice change from the “mostly eh” pattern I’ve been stuck in.

I also bought a bunch of books (mostly starring queer and/or characters of color bc I realized my books feature way too many cishets) then inventoried all my books and redid my counts. And in June I ONLY read queer books as a “this is a gays only event go home!” power move on all the heterosexuals currently on my bookshelves. Can’t let those dudes get too cocky, they gotta know they’re on a Bisexual Bookshelf and they can’t be embarrassing me. So books 7 on are all queer in some way, and most of them were written by queer authors as well.

New Total Books Count: 184

New Unread Books Count: 94

Goodreads Goal: 49

This Place: 150 Years Retold Anthology - 3.5 stars. Eh. To be honest the summary was really misleading. I thought it would be more post apocalyptic takes on colonialism but instead it was mostly just straight history. Some of them did not have enough story for the pages they got and some of them had far too much story for the pages they got, or told them in a really awkward way. Still, seeing history centered from an Indigenous perspective was interesting and there’s some beautiful art here. Standouts include Red Clouds (read that one during daylight hours for my peace of mind if no one else’s lol), Rosie (BEST art by far), and Migwite’tmeg: We Remember It.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie - 5 stars. I know he’s a grade A creep but I bought this several years ago before I knew that and I wanted to at least read it once. I both understand why it’s considered a classic (the stories about Norma, Samuel Builds-the-Fire, and James Many Horses really stuck me with specifically) but I can also Really pick up on Alexie’s opinions of women lol.

Clockwork Prince by Cassie Clare - 4.5 Stars. So much better than the first one. Felt like there was more going on, the romantic scenes are SO beautifully romantic, the character arcs more well defined, and the writing really improved. Still too long, and idc what she says, Jem should have gotten a POV chapter and the fact that he didn’t bc ~plot reasons~ is just laziness, so I knocked half a star off. Also, the audiobook I listened to was AWESOME, the male voice did such a good job, and the female voice improved as well.

Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones - 5 stars. This was a solid, 4 star horror urban fantasy/coming of age story and then the last two chapters just punched me in the chest and took it into “absolute favorites” category. Told from the point of view of the nameless nephew who may or may not be a werewolf, raised by his werewolf aunt and uncle, who have been on the move since his grandfather died, it’s a fantastic horror book and a fresh take on werewolves and also just a great book.

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee - 5 stars. Historical fiction about a Chinese aspiring acrobat who boards the titanic in the hopes of reconnecting with her twin brother. It’s SO GOOD, so engaging, with characters that feel so alive and painfully real. Loved it and loved being emotionally destroyed by the ending. The injustice of what happened to the lower class passengers really STUCK with me, I had to sit with my feelings after.

Among Others by Jo Walton - 5 stars. I don’t even know how to describe how much I loved it. I think The Book Thief might have a rival for my affections. It’s magic realism about a girl named Mor in, as she puts it, the Scouring of the Shire section of the story. Evil has been defeated, so what do you do next? It’s about grief, disability, abuse, and the power of connection and love and LIFE and I cried reading it. Everyone should read it.

Nature Poem by Tommy Pico - 4 stars. This was an audiobook listen and I loved hearing his narration. Very animated and fun. The poem itself is very interesting and there’s quite a few bits that really stuck with me about like Indigenous Experience and also about being gay and Indigenous. Excited to read more of his work.

Space Opera by Catherynne Valente - 5 stars. I would like to formally apologize to my friend Addi @monstersandheartache who recommended this to me like a year ago and I dragged my feet on reading it because I’m a dumbass holy shit. So funny, so witty, so zany, and yet so ripe with emotion. It’s Eurovision in Space and pays homage to sci-fi and glam rock, and the general overreaching theme reminds me a lot, of all things, Pacific Rim - it’s a humanist ballad of queer rockstars singing to (and often fucking and flirting with) aliens and it’s so damn good.

Beast by Brie Spangler - 3 stars. The writing was solid, I liked how Jamie as a trans girl was written to be very Aware of how others perceive her but just ignoring it bc she’s here to Have Fun, and the beginning was very good but the characters went from lovably dumb to plain annoying around the 70% mark. There comes a point when there has to be more to the plot than “I say something dumb, we argue, don’t talk, and then make up” ya know. Disappointing bc I was looking forward to this one.

Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsburg - 3 stars. I think every teenager should read howl because that’s when it’s most gonna resonate, when it’s the first time you’ve read something like this, because the Beat Generation WAS the first time they were doing this. Now though, there’s so many poems that say similar things that the moment of “I didn’t know other people felt like this” won’t ring as true. I did really like A Supermarket in California.

Fortitude Smashed by Taylor Brooke - 3 stars. This is one of those “clock runs out when you meet your soulmate” stories and it was really boring. There were also a lot of PoV switches, like multiple in one chapter and I found it distracting and annoying.

No Man of Woman Born by Ana Mardoll - 5 stars. It’s a short story compilation about trans characters subverting gendered prophecies. Really smart, interesting world building and it also juggled giving characters personalities with very little time to do it incredibly well. I liked the third story about Nociem (awesome world building) and the sweet wish dragon story at the ending.

Selected Poems of Oscar Wilde by Oscar Wilde - 4 stars. I wasn’t like, exactly sure how to rate this because the prose is beautiful, Ballad of Reading Gaol is just amazing, and several other poems really spoke to me and then BAM anti-semitic reference to the merchant of Venice. It was a lot, but also, I liked it enough I might finally read his other stuff.

Cinnamon Blade by Shira Glassman - 3 stars. It’s sort of urban fantasy esque erotic short and tbh, I think if it had been a full length novel I might have liked it more. Just too much going on in the background, and Soledad didn’t really have a personality beyond “quirky.”

Girls Made of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan - 5 stars. This is a heavy book. It’s centered around a girl named Lei from the paper caste, the lowest caste, who is forced to be a concubine for the demon king. While there, she comes to grips with the oppression her people face and falls in love with another concubine, Wren. The love story is sweet and well developed but this is a difficult book. I was unsettled and panicked the whole time I read, just like Lei is forced to be. The rough, vivid, and fascinating world building makes this an awesome, but disturbing read. I’m so excited to be deeply unsettled when I read the sequel.

Marriage of Unconvenience by Chelsea M. Cameron - 3.5 stars. Sweet, cute, and funny but it reads more like fanfic than a novel in a bad way. Like, it really needed a round of edits and also the backgrounds characters change personalities a few times. But still a fun and cute story about a lesbian who marries her best friend for the money, only for the two women to fall in love.

Our Bloody Pearl by DN Bryn - 3 stars. The concept is great but the dialogue was weird and preachy and the narrative voice was sooooo boring. It’s cute but forgettable and a lot to get through.

The Cursebreaker Countess by Sasha L. Miller - 4 stars. Kas breaks a curse on a sleeping woman named Anika mostly because the curse freaks her out, only to get dragged into a political feud involving magic that she barely understands. This was slow moving, more adventure fantasy than high fantasy, but I liked the slow pace. It was like unraveling a knot. Also Kas and Anika are awesome characters separately and as a couple they’re adorable.

Heart and Hand by Rebel Carter - 4.5 stars. Julie answers an ad for a mail order bride, packing up from her high society life to move to the Montana terrifies - except she will be marrying not one man, but a pair of best friends. I thought this was MMF bc it was on a bunch of “Bi love interests” and MMF lists but it is in fact MFM, which was slightly annoying bc the relationship between Will and Forest was incredibly romantic and it felt like a waste of a great dynamic. So I knocked off half a star. Otherwise this was a really solid read. Incredibly well written with a town that is well developed as it’s own entity, and three characters that all have lovely arcs. It’s steamy, romantic, and sugar sweet and I loved it (also WoC in a historical AND a triad romance? Bro sign me UP).

Peter Darling by Austin Chant - 5 stars. Once again I should never doubt Addi ever because holy crap this was so good. Peter Pan goes back to Neverland only to find that since he’s grown up, Neverland doesn’t appeal like it used to, but neither can he go home, to where he would never be accepted as Peter, but forced to live as his assigned gender at birth. This is like. Immaculate. Beautifully written, fast paced, romantic, heartbreaking, but with an ending that feels so full of hope. Not wrapped up with a neat bow, but instead looking to the future.

New Books Read: 19

Rereads: 1

Total of Books Read: 14/94; 19/184

Goodreads Goal: 30/49

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things2mustdo · 3 years

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When I ask myself what films in recent years have been my favorites, I find that the answers all seem to have a few things in common. One, the movie must tell a compelling story; two, it must rise above its genre to make a larger statement about life or some universal idea; and three, it must be technically well made. All great art—including film—can serve as a vehicle for the presentation of ideas, and the promotion of a certain virtue. Although the mainstream American film industry has become more and more a sad repository of feminist cant and lowest-common-denominator commercial pandering, the foreign film world has undergone something of a renaissance in the past fifteen years.

The best films of France, Germany, Spain, and the UK are edgier, more intelligent, and more masculine than anything found in the US. It was not always so. But the work of great European directors like Jacques Audiard, Gaspar Noe, Nicolas Winding Refn, and Shane Meadows leaves little room for doubt that the true cutting-edge work is being done in Europe. (Argentina deserves honorable mention here as having an excellent film industry). The mainstream, corporate-driven US film industry has effectively smothered independent voices under an avalanche of political correctness, girl-power horseshit, chick-flickism, and mind-numbing CGI escapist dreck.

Movies that deal with masculine themes in a compelling way are not easy to come by these days. Honest explorations of masculine virtues are repressed, marginalized, or trivialized. One needs to scour the globe to cherry-pick the best here and there, and in some cases you have to go back decades in time. Luckily, the availability of Netflix and other subscription services has made this task much easier than it used to be. Access to the best cinema of Europe, South America, and Asia can be a great way for us to catch as glimpse at a foreign culture, as well as reflect on serious ideas.

I want to offer my recommendations on some films that I believe are an important part of the modern masculine experience, in all its wide variety and expression. Out of the scores of possible choices, I decided to pick the handful of films that are perhaps not as well known to readers. My opinions will not be shared by all. I encourage readers to draw up their own lists of films dealing with masculine themes, and hope they will reflect on the reasons behind their choices. Below are mine, in no particular order. In italics is a brief plot synopsis, followed by my own comments.

1. Straw Dogs (1971).

A mild-mannered American academic (Dustin Hoffman) living in rural Cornwall with his beautiful wife becomes the target of harassment by the local toughs. Things escalate to a sexual assault on his wife, and eventually to a brutal and protracted fight to the death when a local man takes refuge on their property.

Dustin Hoffman reaches his breaking point in “Straw Dogs”

This is a classic example of the type of movie that could never be made today. Arguably Sam Peckinpah’s most daring film, it contains a controversial rape scene that seems to leave open the question whether Hoffman’s wife (played by Susan George) was a victim or a willing participant. Faced with his wife’s betrayal, and continuing harassment from local miscreants, Hoffman’s character finds himself completely isolated and must learn to stand his ground and fight.

A chance incident later in the film sets the stage for a blood-soaked confrontation which is as inevitable as it is necessary. Peckinpah presents a compelling case for the cathartic power of violence, and the achievement of masculine identity through man-on-man combat. It is a theme I find myself strongly drawn to. Controversial, powerful, and unforgettable, Peckinpah proves himself an unapologetic and strident advocate of old-school martial virtue. We would do well to listen. His voice is sorely missed today. (Note: avoid the pathetic recent remake of this movie). Honorable mention: Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969) and Bring Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974).

2. Sorcerer (1977).

A group of international renegades find themselves down and out in Nicaragua, and volunteer for a job transporting unstable dynamite across the country to quell an oil rig fire.

Due to inept marketing when this movie was first released, it never achieved the credit it so fully deserved. A motley group of international riff-raff (including the always appealing Roy Scheider) seeks redemption through a harrowing trial. But will they get it? Is it even desirable to escape one’s dark past? The answers are complex, and director William Friedkin refuses to supply easy ones. The characters in this film are doomed, and they know it, but they still hold true to their own code. Which is itself honorable. Consequences must be paid for everything we do in life, and often the price comes in a way never expect. Dark, brooding, and humming with a pulse-pounding electronic score by Tangerine Dream, this film has deservedly become a cult classic. The ending is a shocker you’ll never see coming.

Roy Scheider undertakes the most perilous journey of his life in William Friedkin’s 1977 masterpiece “Sorcerer”

3. The Lives of Others (2006).

A coldly efficient Stasi (East German security service) officer (Ulrich Muhe) is enlisted by a Communist party hack in a surveillance program against a supposed subversive writer and his girlfriend. But monitoring the writer’s life awakens sparks of nascent humanity in the Stasi man, and he eventually must decide whether to follow orders and destroy the writer, or to sacrifice himself to save him.

This German masterpiece was made with great fidelity to the look and feel of 1980s East Germany, and the results are evident in every frame. It belongs on any list of the greatest films ever made. The masculine virtue here is of a different type than viewers may be used to: it is a quiet, understated heroism, the type of heroism that probably happens every day but is hardly noticed. There is no bragging here, no chest-beating, no big-mouthed bravado. (In short, none of the wooden-headed caricatures that pass for masculinity in the US). The ethic here is about love and self-sacrifice, the noblest and greatest virtues of all.

The ethos of self-sacrifice is now considered old-fashioned and almost a punch-line, but historically it was valued very highly. It features in nearly all the old literary epics and dramas of Europe and Asia. Actor Ulrich Muhe pulls off a minor miracle of characterization here with his portrayal of a Stasi man named Weisler, whose special wiretapping assignment against a playwright transforms him from heartless automaton into awe-inspiring hero. The movie made me wonder just how many quiet, unassuming men there must be out there, whose toil, heroism, and sacrifice has never been, and never will be, acknowledged. The ending is transcendently beautiful, and moving beyond words.

4. Homicide (1991).

A police detective (Joe Mantegna) is assigned to investigate a murder case. The case awakens in him stirrings of his long-suppressed ethnic identity. Unfortunately, he will eventually be forced to choose between conflicting loyalties. And the consequences will be devastating.

No modern American director has probed the meaning of masculine identity more than David Mamet, and all of his films are meditations on themes related to illusion, reality, masculinity, and struggle. Homicide, a nearly unknown gem from the early 1990s, is perhaps his profoundest. Mamet knows that a man must make choices in his life, and for those choices, consequences must be paid. And very often, we find ourselves derailed by the mental edifices we construct for ourselves. The Mantegna character is led through a complex and increasingly ambiguous chain of events, only to find that at the heart of one mystery lies an even more inscrutable one. Beware the things you seek. You may not like what you find.

Joe Mantegna deals with the fatal consequences of his decisions in David Mamet’s “Homicide”

5. A Prophet (2009).

An Algerian Arab is incarcerated in a French jail, and is drawn into the savage world of Corsican gangsters. Forced to kill or be killed, he is drawn into a pitiless world that recognizes only cunning and brutality. He finds himself straddling two realities: the world of his own nationality, and that of the Corsicans. And to survive and emerge triumphant, he must learn to play all sides against each other.

This film must be counted among the greatest crime dramas ever made. You simply can’t take your eyes off the screen. The lesson here is that a man must learn to survive on his wits, and do whatever is necessary to stay alive. The Corsican boss whom Al Djebena (Tahar Rahim) works for is just about the most malevolent presence in recent screen memory. Part of France’s continuing internal dialogue about its immigrant population, A Prophet is not to be missed.

Tahar Rahim learns a thing or two about Corsica in “A Prophet”

6. The Beat That My Heart Skipped (2005).

An intense young man (Romain Duris) works for his father as a real estate shark in urban Paris. His “job” consists of intimidating deadbeat immigrant tenants, vandalizing apartments, and forcibly collecting loans. He also plays the piano. Eventually, he is forced to decide which life he wants: the path laid out by his shady father, or the idealistic path of his own choosing. He’s seeking redemption, but will he find it? And at what cost?

Again, we have here the themes of redemption and moral choice. Romain Duris has a screen presence and intensity that rivals anything done by Pacino in his prime, and some of the scenes here are fantastic. (His seduction of his friend’s wife, Aure Atika, is one of many great scenes). All men will be confronted and tested by crises and situations beyond their control. How they respond to those situations will define who they are as men. Duris’s character proves that redemption can be achieved, if wanted badly enough.

Romain Duris embodying screen intensity

7. Red Belt (2008).

Martial arts instructor Mike Terry is forced, against his principles, to consider entering a prize bout. He is abandoned and betrayed by his wife and friends, and must confront his challenges alone with only his code and his pride.

Another great meditation on masculine virtue and individualism by David Mamet. In his own unique dialogue style, Mamet showcases his belief that, in the end, all men stand alone. At the moment of truth, it is you, and only you, who will be staring into the abyss. Our trials by fire will not come in the time and at the place of our own choosing. But when they do come, a man must be prepared to hold his ground and fight his corner. Watch for Brazilian actress Alice Braga in a supporting role here. We hope to see more of her on American screens in the future.

8. Fear X (2003).

A repressed security guard (John Turturro) is searching for answers to who killed his wife. His strange behavior and ticking time-bomb manner begin to alarm friends and co-workers. One day he finds some information that may be a lead to solving the mystery. This discovery sets him on the path to realization. Or does it?

I am a big fan of the films of Nicolas Winding Refn (The Pusher trilogy, and Valhalla Rising), and this one is perhaps his most penetrating examination of a wounded psyche. It failed commercially when it first appeared, as many viewers were put off by his artistic flourishes and opaque ending. For me, this film is the deepest study of grief and repressed rage ever committed to film. All men will be confronted by tragedy, grief, and inexplicable loss during their lives. How we handle it will define who we are. The greatness of this film is that it explores Turturro’s claustrophobic, neurotic world in a deeply personal way, and at the same time suggests that he may actually be on to something. This film covers the same philosophical ground as Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation, in that it hints at the ultimate ambiguity of all things.

John Turturro confronts the unrelenting darkness of his own psyche in “Fear X”

If you are a Netflix subscriber and watch movies frequently, as I do, you may find it useful to keep a notebook near your television and jot down the titles of movies you see, and a few notes about what you liked or didn’t like. You’d be surprised how much you can learn from movies. There are just so many good and bad ones out there that having some system for keeping track of them will be time well spent.

#movies #films

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thatbanjobusiness · 3 years

Audio

Salty Dog Blues Before Flatt & Scruggs

Old Salty Dog Blues is a Flatt & Scruggs classic and today the song is considered a staple of bluegrass music. However, bluegrass itself is a recent genre, with its inception typically dated 1945. Many songs from its early repertoire came from other sources, both popular and folk.

Above you will hear a compilation of Salty Dog Blues from recordings between 1924 and 1950 (ending with the Flatt & Scruggs version). Below the cut I will provide more details of each selection you hear. This is not a comprehensive compilation; for instance, I don’t have Lead Belly’s 1948 audio here. However, what’s incredibly fun about this recording is how DIVERSE the music is. And how incredibly NOT bluegrass it is.

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Like many people, I became familiar with Salty Dog Blues through the Flatt & Scruggs version recorded in 1950. The song was catchy enough for me to love it as it was, but listening to the lyrics further piqued my interest. I realized I was assuming what a “salty dog” was through the lyrics rather than comprehending a precise meaning. But looking at the lyrics for clues was hard. There’s a narrative, but it feels just off-kilter enough I suspected the song had folk origin. Some folk tune variations can sound like the verses were sewn together haphazardly like patches of different fabrics on a quilt. It makes sense, when you consider how people would’ve gotten the words. Passing lyrics through oral tradition can create curious, wonky results and fascinating variations and divergences. It’s a game of generational telephone. Clearly, I had to go beyond the Flatt & Scruggs version in order to decipher my term.

And so. I found myself. Deep-diving this tune’s origin.

There hasn’t been a second wasted in my life fishing through this. Holy wow have I run into a jackpot of wildly fun things! I still have so much more I could look into. I had suspicions of what I’d find, but the following lyrics posted into a forum went way beyond expectations:

Two old maids laying in the grass, One had her finger up the other one's ass Honey, let me be your salty dog!

Welp. If I hadn’t been interested already, I would have been THEN. And the sexual explicitness... and other fun times... just kept COMING (wordplay intended here).

So! Below cut, I want to go further into the meaning of “salty dog” and listen to how the song developed from a blues tune to the 1950 Flatt & Scruggs country song. It would require a whole other post to go past 1950, so that’s why I’ve restricted my range from the earliest recorded tunes to the moment it entered bluegrass.

1. What *IS* a Salty Dog?

The first entertainment I got was seeking a definition for “salty dog.” The OED gave nothing to me, sadly, so I was left to peruse other sources. Reading forums, interviews, articles, and more, I encountered a hilariously diverse array of proposed definitions. I got peeps saying:

It’s a type of soft drink.

It’s a type of cocktail using grapefruit juice and gin or vodka. It’s served in a glass with a salted rim.

It’s the name of a specific bar in North Carolina.

It’s a medicinal solution from early frontier communities, especially in eastern Appalachia. A sausage soaked in brine solution was placed under people’s clothes during winter as a counter to pneumonia and flu.

It’s an ornery sailor, mariner, or pirate who’s spent a large portion of their life at sea. Just like a sea dog or an old salt.

It’s any person who’s really good with their work. A tough fellow, since salty can mean “full of spirit and fight.”

It’s a sweetheart, someone you love, or a favorite person. Applying salt to hunting dogs was believed to keep ticks away, and because salt was a rare commodity in those times, you’d only apply it to your favorite and most valuable dog.

It’s an illicit lover or libidinous man or woman, someone getting sex the wrong way.

It’s a pimp.

It’s a reference to oral sex. Have sex with one individual, then shortly later have someone perform oral on you.

The last one, which was embellished by Urban Dictionary (thanks, Urban Dictionary) could likely be an instance of linguistic pejoration, in which a word’s meaning “worsens” semantically over time. That said, I’ve seen everyday people in forums comment that in the 1940s and 50s in their communities, it did refer to oral sex. I’ll believe their testimony. So, contemporary to the time Flatt & Scruggs recorded, the more crude sexual sides appear to have been in vernacular use. It’s likely most if not all of the definitions proposed are real meanings of “salty dog,” but clearly the song Salty Dog Blues isn’t referring to all simultaneously.

Bluegrass musicians have not always been helpful providing a definition. For instance, Curly Seckler, one member of Flatt & Scruggs, proposed the benign soft drink suggestion. He said in this moment onstage in 1985:

Curly Seckler: I found out what a salty dog was. I think I was down here before I didn’t know, but I do now. I went home here, I believe it was last year, they had a big day down there. And, course I went over through the Smokies over there, and I stopped over there at Wiley Morris’s garage. . . . And we sang Salty Dog Blues and some of the old numbers together. But I asked him, I said, “Wiley, I’d like to know before I pass on, what in the world is a salty dog?” See, they wrote the Salty Dog Blues, him and Zeke. He said, “Well, North Carolina, years and years ago, had a drink they called salty dog. Now that’s a pop, a soda. And I said, “Well, I’m from North Carolina, but I don’t remember that.” But he said that’s why that got them the idea of writing a song called—”

And then, hilariously, Curly is distracted by his band, who’ve been whispering to each other the entire time and grinning, and calls out, “What am I hearing?” I’d like to imagine they were talking about the real meaning and Curly picked up the chatter’s more scandalous side.

After all, Zeke and Wiley Morris did not write Salty Dog Blues, and their story seems to be a coverup to defend their writer’s credit (which for the record is legitimate... a novel arrangement was given writer’s credit frequently in these times) and a polite way to get around the meaning of what a “salty dog” was. An article written by Wayne Erbsen shows that the brothers themselves gave varying definitions of the term:

Wiley explained that “I have a different definition of a salty dog than Zeke has. Back when we were kids down in Old Fort we would see a girl we liked and say “I’d like to be her salty dog.” There also used to be a drink you could get up in Michigan. All you had to do was say “Let me have a Salty Dog,” and they’d pour you one.” Zeke remembers that “I got the idea when we went to a little old honky tonk just outside of Canton which is in North Carolina. We went to play at a school out beyond Waynesville somewhere and we stopped at this place. They sold beer and had slot machines. At that time they were legal in North Carolina. We got in there after the show and got to drinking that beer and playing the slot machines with nickels, dimes and quarters. I think we hit three or four jackpots. Boy, here it would come! You know you had a pile of money when you had two handfuls of change. The name of that place was the “Salty Dog,” and that’s where I got the idea for the song. There’s actually more verses to it than me and Wiley sing, a lot more verses.”

As I and others who’ve read the article noticed, the fact that the Morris Brothers admitted there were many more verses... is indirect admittance of folk origin. The Morris Brothers were professional musicians in the 1930s, their recording of Salty Dog Blues was recorded September 29, 1938... and our earliest audio versions of the song come from the 1920s. There are many recordings of this song that predate the Morris Brothers. Still, even in a documentary from the 1970s, they maintained their story they wrote it.

But the song’s true origin outside the Morris Brothers allowed me to expand the scope of my investigation. It was time to peep into the alternate lyrics from earlier versions, and hope that those gave me a better understanding of the song and what a salty dog in this context meant.

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2. The Lyrics of Salty Dog Blues

What the Morris Brothers and Flatt & Scruggs sang were fairly tame. However, the lyrics still involved a gun being shot and a person singing the following lines:

Looky here Sal, I know you Run down stocking and a worn out shoe Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

Let me be your Salty Dog Or I won't be your man at all Honey, let me be your Salty Dog

“I won’t be your man at all” in the chorus is a good hint of what a salty dog is supposed to be. It wouldn’t make sense to replace the term “salty dog” with mariner. I suspected from the start this song’s meaning veered toward the concept of a lover, and alternate versions of the lyrics prove that the case, oftentimes in wonderfully blunt or creative verses.

As I was investigating these recordings and their artists, I ran into information discussing the early years recording Salty Dog Blues, including times from before it was recorded. Jazz musician Bill Johnson (1872-1972) had his band playing this song circa or prior to the 1910s, and in an excerpt from the book Early Blues: The First Stars of Blues Guitar, I read:

Papa Charlie’s follow-up release, the ragtimey, eight-bar “Salty Dog Blues,” made him a recording star. . . . Old-time New Orleans musicians from Buddy Bolden’s era recalled hearing far filthier versions of “Salty Dog Blues” long before Papa Charlie’s recording.

Papa Charlie Jackson recorded his version of Salty Dog Blues in 1924 and Buddy Bolden (1877-1931) was popular with his band in New Orleans from 1900-1907. So... what were these filthier lyrics from the early twentieth century?

I want to go back to the lyrics I quoted at the beginning of this post... “Two old maids laying in the grass / One had her finger up the other one's ass. Honey, let me be your salty dog!” The individual who shared these lyrics on a forum said they heard Sam Bush sing that at Rockygrass in 2002. Maybe that was a recent permutation. However, I found variations on this lyric submitted independently by others, indicating this wouldn’t have been Sam creating lyrics out of nothing. Some posts, I don’t know if they were serious or not... “Two necrophiliacs lying in a bed / Each one a-wishin' that the other was dead,” but there’s too many similarities across what I’m seeing. Other individuals said they sang lyrics like these in college parties: “Two old maids, laying in bed / One rolled over to the other and said / Honey, let me be your salty dog.” And the Kingston Trio, whose music was folk-oriented and part of the Folk Revival movement, in 1964 sang in their version of Salty Dog Blues, “There were two old ladies sitting in the sand / Each one wishing the other was a man.”

Digging deeper, I found other folk songs contained variations on the “Two old maids laying in a bed / sand” concept. This discovery is in line with authentic folk lyrics. Remember that folk music is a game of telephone, and sometimes the same verses are found in two or more songs. I found several variations of Brown’s Ferry Blues with this couplet, some of them coming from Folk Revival musicians.

These lyrics give a starting point both to how Salty Dog Blues can contain bawdier concepts, and what a salty dog is.

But lyrics from Salty Dog Blues recordings in the 1920s and 1930s give even more reliable indication. Clara Smith’s 1926 version includes:

Oh, won't you let me be your salty dog? I don't want to be your gal at all. You salty dog, you salty dog.

Oh honey babe, let me be your salty dog, Salty dog, oh, you salty dog.

It's just like looking for a needle there in the sand Trying to find a woman that hasn't got a man. Salty Dog oh you salty dog.

Her lyrics also include a couplet I found in many of the early versions:

God made a woman, he made her kinda funny Lips around her mouth sweet as any honey, Oh, you salty dog, oh, you salty dog.

It says a lot: a verse about romantic love was one of the most oft repeated couplets across Salty Dog Blues variations. Papa Charlie Jackson included that verse, as well as these others:

Lord, it ain't but the one thing grieve my mind, All these women and none is mine.

Now, scaredest I ever been in my life, Uncle Bud like to caught me kissing his wife.

And for those of you who aren’t familiar with the sentential construction, “liked to” means “almost.” Uncle Bud almost caught me kissing his wife. This is a song about a lover, and in one of these verses, the lover’s doing something taboo.

Some forum dudes claimed Mississippi John Hurt and his friends sang a line like this one below, even though they also said it didn’t make any recordings:

Well, your salty dog, he comes around When your sugar daddy's outta town Baby, let me be your salty dog

And there’s yet more elaboration about what a salty dog is in verses in Afro-Creole singer Lizzie Miles’s 1952 recording, which we do have:

Mardi Gras is a dream You can meet all those Creole queens They’re salty dogs, yes, salty dogs

If you want to blow your cares away Just walk on in the Vieux Carré You’ll find salty dogs, yes, salty dogs

Never had no name, never went to school But when it comes to loving, I ain’t no fool I’m a salty dog, yes, a salty dog

I’ve got sixteen men in love with me But the man I love ain’t legally free He’s a salty dog, yes, he’s a salty dog

Granted, I *am* sifting through a huge storm of verses and intentionally picking ones that match this narrative. But these are all lyrics that show a wonderfully off-color, sexual side to Salty Dog Blues. This song sure as hell ain’t singing about soda pop or sailing.

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3. The Earliest Recordings of Salty Dog Blues

So. In my compilation you’re listening to, what is it you’re hearing?

Between the 1920s and 1940s, “race records” were records from African-American musicians. The term would be used to describe the blues, gospel, etc. that these musicians performed. OKeh Records was the first company to use that term in 1922. Also during the 1920s, another line of records, “hillbilly” records, began; this was used to describe what was perceived as rural white musician fiddle and string band music.

These record companies, however, were separating music by race somewhat artificially. There were plenty of Black musicians playing string band music, for instance, during these times. The early history of American country music involves an amalgamation of musical ideas from many demographics sharing and adopting ideas from one to another and back again. When you listen to the compilation I made of early versions of Salty Dog Blues, you may hear a difference between the white and Black musicians, likely because of that artificial distinction I mentioned.

Still, there’s a fascinating amount of overlap. I think it’s particularly interesting to pay attention to how the melodic material varies; it’s the same core melody, but there’s certainly differences. Listening to the variations can get you a sense of how folk music is a wild world of branching versions. There’s different strains, with both the melody morphing as it gets passed person to person, and the lyrics morphing as it gets passed person to person.

Specifically, I took my samples from the following recordings:

Charlie Jackson - Released 29 Nov 1924. Papa Charlie Jackson was the first commercially successful male blues artist who played both fingerstyle and with a flatpick on his guitjo. He was born in 1887 in New Orleans. Even when he was producing his records in the early twentieth century, his music would have been old-fashioned to listeners and given people an ear to what African American music sounded like before the turn of the century. He’s similar to Lead Belly in this regard, whose 1948 recording of Salty Dog Blues I did not include in the audio compilation. Jackson’s music was also in that vague area that leaned toward hillbilly in the early days before the race records / hillbilly records division became distinct.

Lem Fowler’s Washboard Wonders - Released 30 Dec 1925. Between 1922 and 1932 this jazz musician recorded 57 songs and 23 player piano rolls in New York and Chicago. A composer, most of his recordings feature his own work; Salty Dog Blues is one of three pieces recorded with his band that is not his own. I love this recording.

Clara Smith - Dated 26 May 1926. The first commercially successful blues singers were women. Clara Blues was an early classic female blues singer, a genre sometimes also referred to as vaudeville blues that combined traditional folk blues and urban theater music. This native of South Carolina excelled at emotional slow drag blues.

Freddie Keppard and His Jazz Cardinals - recorded July 1926. Freddie Keppard was a New Orleans musician. Interestingly enough, Papa Charlie Jackson is in this version as well, this time played with a full band, and you can hear someone declare “Papa Charlie done sung that song!” at the end.

Allen Brothers - Recorded 7 April 1927. I think this is the first recording of Salty Dog Blues by white musicians we have. Born and raised in Tennessee, Austin and Lee Allen were an early hillbilly duo popular in the 1920s and 1930s. Austin played banjo; Lee played guitar and kazoo. They were influenced by local jazz and blues artists as they were growing up. It’s interesting to note that Salty Dog Blues came out of their first recording session and became a hit, selling over 18,000 copies. And this band, the first white hokum blues musicians (so I’ve seen claimed), were accidentally issued first as a race record by mistake.

McGee Brothers - Recorded 11 May 1927; released Jul 1927. Sam and Kirk McGee were white old-time / hillbilly musicians from Tennessee who performed on the Grand Ole Opry starting in 1926. Sam learned blues techniques from Black railroad workers and street musicians, and the duo would adapt blues and ragtime pieces into string band music. I LOVE this version of Salty Dog Blues; while it squarely hits the “hillbilly” genre, some of the minor melodic fragments mirror what Black blues musician Kokomo Arnold sang.

Stripling Brothers - Recorded 10 Sep 1934. Fiddler Charlie Stripling and guitarist Ira Stripling were born in the 1890s in Alabama. They’re an old-time hillbilly music duo and Charlie Stripling is considered an important old-time fiddler. Their earliest recordings reflect what they learned at home; later recordings contained increasing pop influences. Salty Dog Blues is one of their later recordings; their last release was from 1936. I would love to know more about where they got this version of the song, as I feel its melody is diverges more than the others recordings in this time period.

Kokomo Arnold - 1937. Mentioned above. Kokomo Arnold was a left-handed slide blues guitarist from Georgia.

Morris Brothers - First recorded 29 Sep 1938; released 21 Dec 1938. Second version recorded 1945. I’ve already mentioned the Morris Brothers, but there’s more information you need to know. Zeke, Wiley, and George Morris were hillbilly musicians from North Carolina popular in the 1930s. The Morris Brothers was also the band in which now-famed banjo picker Earl Scruggs had his first professional job. Scruggs played with them about eight months in the late 1930s or early 1940s. If you listen to the full Morris Brothers, it’s obvious Earl learned it from them; Flatt & Scruggs keep everything from the lyrics, harmony choices, and instrumental break points the same as what you hear here. But the Morris Brothers’s version of the song is rather original compared to everything else in this compilation, which is probably why they managed a writer’s credit for it.

Flatt & Scruggs - Recorded 20 Oct 1950; released 1 May 1952. Earl Scruggs would have brought Salty Dog Blues to the band he was now heading, Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys. This song was often sung as a trio in concerts when their usual lead vocalist, Lester Flatt, was taking a break. Their band rotated singers, performers, and other forms of variety in their radio, television, and stage shows, but such repertoire never made it onto official Flatt & Scruggs records. This record is, as far as I remember, the only instance in which another musician besides Lester Flatt sings both the verses and lead. That singer is their fiddler, Benny Sims. In later performances and recordings of Salty Dog Blues by Flatt & Scruggs, Lester Flatt took his usual role singing.

I find it interesting to also note the early musicians’ origins. Everyone came from the South. New Orleans especially appeared to have old widespread use of the song. I haven’t had time to listen to see if the musicians’ home location correlates to similarity in lyrics and melodic structure, but that would be hella fun to do sometime, too.

But! I have already fished through the song enough and given you a giant essay. Maybe at a later point I’ll have to entertain myself more and keep digging into Salty Dog Blues.

#hopefully I didn't make a link mistake or some obvious type #typo #I've written on this long enough #hope it's fun!#music #Americana Deep Dive #thatbanjobusiness #that banjo business #long post #Song Showcase #Tuning In #Haddock Deep Dives #General Banjo Business #audio #audio compilations #those old songs

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badger-the-autistic-ghost · 3 years

Text

Hi...

I’m autistic, not really sure how to make friends. I mean, I have a few, but we don’t get to see each other very often. Kinda wanting to make more???

I’m 25, a girl. I’m stuck in Atlanta, GA, and hate it here. I was born in November, Scorpio baby. (Technically, it’s Sagittarius, but it’s right on the cusp, and Sagittarius doesn’t fit me at all, so we’ll go with Scorpio.) I’m autistic. I swear a lot, I’m not always aware of how loud my voice is or if I sound rude. I’m not trying to be yelly and rude, so sorry if I am. Please just kindly let me know, like, “Hey, let’s turn the volume down a little bit,” or “Hey, that sounded a little off.” I’ll appreciate it and apologize if you let me know that I’m loud or if something came off as rude or snappy without bringing much attention to it.

I’m learning how to skateboard. I like rock music the most, but also some hip hop and electronic and some pop. I could come up with a whole list of artists and bands that I do and don’t like. (I do like Nirvana, Mudhoney, Scratch Acid. Don’t like Green Day, Guns N Roses, AC/DC. Just to name a few.)

I’m gay. I’m interested in history, a little bit interested in baseball, interested in shortwave radio and numbers stations. Interested in true crime.

I like to read and write, I have a bunch of books and notebooks. I like to journal. I’m working on a few stories. I also have lots of CD’s, mostly rock. I’m not good at singing or guitar, but I enjoy both anyways. I’m also not the best at visual art, but enjoy that too, and am a little better at it than singing and playing guitar.

I’m always looking to learn and be openminded about different people and cultures. I want to learn more about racism and what I should avoid. I’m a Black Likes Matter supporter.

Some of my favourite authors are Mark Z. Danielewski, Jack Kerouac, and William S. Burroughs. (I really like Beat writers, and yes, I know that Mark Z. Danielewski isn’t one.)

Currently unemployed but hoping to get a job soon. My favourite animal is horses, but I also adore dogs and cats. I’m interested in classic cars and computers, but don’t know much about either. I like photography as well and like to shoot film.

Recently quit smoking cigarettes. May pick it up again, but probably not any time soon.

I like getting drunk lol. I like wandering through graveyards. (Wouldn’t mind wandering through a graveyard at night, getting drunk, but probably shouldn’t do that alone.) I want to like video games, but I’m not as into them as I’d like to be. I keep a blog (besides this one). I kinda want writing to be a full time career, y’know?

I’d like friends I could do rebellious stuff with, since I’ve never really had many friends like that. But also, friends where we could sit around and talk and just hang out, even if there’s nothing to do. We could go out of town together, if we ever get enough money. Urban exploration sounds fun.

I’m picky about movies and TV shows. I’ve wanted to train hop for a while and have contemplated hitch hiking, but I know that neither one is super safe. I like hanging out in Decatur and Little 5 Points.

I’m a really picky eater. I’ll literally only eat cheese pizza and no other kind of pizza. I don’t eat meat, I love junk food, but I don’t like popcorn. It tastes good, but the texture is horrible. I can’t be a vegan - I love cheese too much. I’m not great at saving money.

I’ll post more about myself when I think of it, and I’d love to get to know other people too.

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papermajesty · 4 years

Text

redmancy

— the act of loving in return.

“A boy born of myth, against every instinct, travels to the metaphorical ends of the earth, hoping to catch and preserve a love he never thought he could have.”

Verse: Spiritborne

Characters: Seamus Frost, Selina Calabrese

Rating: T

Word count: 4433

Let it be known, there were very few things that Seamus would go to the ends of the world for.

After living for as long as he had, one eventually learnt to keep few things close to the heart. Everything was temporary, after all — words, promises, even his very memories. Try as he might, they all eventually slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. What was the point of devoting his heart and mind to things that were destined to break them?

This was what he told himself, every time he was tempted to break his invisible code. He whispered it to himself in the silence of a golden twilight, looking on as his mother was lowered into the earth, followed far too closely by the first girl he’d ever loved. He gasped it as he gripped a fallen brother in arms’ hand against his chest, blood and grief tasting bitter on his tongue. He bit it out as Manhattan’s Upper East Side’s moon painted whorls of silver on skin barely covered by silk sheets, ripping his suit jacket from the floor and turning his back, eyes flinty in the dark. “Everything was temporary.” He had made an arse of himself in the name of his code, sacrificing kindness and cheer for brusqueness and snark in the face of anything remotely resembling the possibility of comfort. He shrank away from light, from love, from peace, and told himself that at least he was protected, at least he was safe.

And yet.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

If he were typical, a puff of white steam would have billowed from his lips as he sighed, turning his cheek up to the moonless sky that domed this backwater city, sprinkling snowflakes that drifted down and rested on the black wool of his coat. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, one of them gently brushing a slip of paper that detailed exactly how unwanted he was in his current location, complete with a death threat and an announcement that she didn’t need him for anything, thank you very much. His eyes swept past the urban scenery, watching as the wraiths of city nightlife dawdled on street corners and sped down alleyways, leaving him the lone idiot foreigner standing stock still under a lamppost, looking remarkably innocent and very pickpocketable. Of course, to catch the mouse — hah — he wanted, looking that way was probably beneficial, but that was only if she didn’t know his face.

She did know his face. Very well. She’d probably say too well, knowing her.

God, he missed her. He missed her laugh, her smile, her face first thing in the morning, her awful way with jokes and her utter lack of comedic timing. She was cheek and mischief personified into copper corkscrew curls and glinting hazel eyes, and for the longest time she’d seemed like just another blip in the eons long timeline of his life. She was to be another strange character he’d had the pleasure to meet, a random American thief with too much time on her hands and nothing worthwhile to spend it on.

Until he started seeing her everywhere he went. Until she started to inexplicably worm her way into his everyday life. Until he found her only two steps behind him on some London rooftop, gripping onto his coat with a smile like diamonds and lips that whispered like a secret and a declaration all at once: “Gotcha.”

She was nothing. Then, suddenly, she was everything.

And here he was, having crossed to the metaphorical ends of the world for her. His fingers crumpled the paper in his pocket, and he tried valiantly to resist temptation, before succumbing with a sigh and pulling her last note to him out. It was written in an almost unreadable scrawl, with ink that looked suspiciously like it came from his favourite fountain pen. Despite its contents, he huffed a laugh, gazing fondly at the messy writing, bare fingers brushing the angrily written warnings and accusations.

Seamus,

I never wanted this. Don’t come looking for me.

Whatever happened between us, all of it, it doesn’t matter. It never did.

If you find me, you’ll wish you’d have left me alone.

I hate

You’re the worst.

Selina.

Seamus closed his eyes, imagining how she would have looked writing the words in his hand. She would have probably been all scrunched up, expression furious and limbs tensed, ready to fly off into the night. She had probably wanted to write down more, but that would have revealed that she actually did care about him, and heaven forbid she let him know anything like that.

Or... maybe she didn’t. And this was all for nothing.

The thought brought a wry smile to his face. Classic Selina. He would never be able to predict her. Her actions were incomplete and erratic, with no real pattern other than her own whims and fancies. When they’d first met in the back of a London alley, he had originally thought her to be an oversized alley cat. The way she had tried to rob him was remarkably strange. He had not expected a girl instead from the quick slashes and scratches at his coat, but, well, she had never failed to surprise him, even from the get go.

Frost had speckled the leather of her jacket, blindingly white against the black. Her arm had been trapped against the wall by a chunk of ice that flared out unnaturally in jagged strokes, following the strike of his arm. Her eyes had flashed dangerously in the moonless night.

“You should’ve picked on someone your own size,” he had growled, eyes flashing blue in the glow of his ice.

She had bared her teeth. Alley cat. “What are you, some kind of freak?”

He had cocked his head. So recklessly brave. “You could say so.”

He had wanted to leave her there — the sun was beginning to rise, and the ice would have melted eventually. But there was something in the way she glowered at him, the way she beat the heels of her boots against the wall in frustration, the curl of her fists. A certain franticness and fear. Not of him, but of the city around them.

His fingers had curled into his palm. I should leave her. If she had the gall to rob a man blind in an alley, she could handle the London underbelly. He didn’t owe her a thing.

Her gaze had snapped to his. His breath had caught.

… He’d fractured her arm, anyway.

He wanted to believe that he had just felt bad for injuring her, but when she ripped her freshly bandaged arm away from him, eyes trained to the floor with a grumbled out ‘thanks’, he had let his fingers hover over the leather of her jacket sleeve a couple seconds too long before pulling away.

Sighing, Seamus folded the note. So she’d had him since the beginning. What else was new? A wave of frustration crested over him at the thought. If everything was temporary, why had the feelings remained when he’d ripped the note from its innocuous perch on his bedside table? Everything he felt for her: joy, irritation, guilt, affection — they’d stuck to his mind like wads of cotton on Velcro, refusing to fade, as luminescent and bright as the day they had sprouted.

She’d somehow had her claws stuck in him from day one, and now, he’d be damned before he gave up on her.

How could he? She had dragged him back from hell. She’d snapped and snarled and slapped him back to his senses whenever he got caught on the dangerous precipice that led to damnation. He still remembered the smell of her hair when she gripped at his back one chilly night on some obscure rooftop, her face hidden in his chest as she heaved out a breath that sounded too big for her body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He’d asked. His voice had felt dead in his mouth, ashy on his tongue.

“Saving you,” she had bit out from her hiding place. “Because you’re too stupid to save yourself.”

Seamus’ eyes fluttered closed against the scene in his mind’s eye. The paper felt thin in his fingers, scarily thin — like at any moment, the smallest spark might set it aflame and crumble it to ashes. For all of winter’s might he possessed in his veins, he felt powerless to stop it, should it happen. He would have probably deserved it.

Which was stupid, once he considered it. There hadn’t been anything wrong between them. If anything, things had been going great. She’d finally stopped visiting exclusively in the night. She would have breakfast with him and Jamie every once in a while. Sometimes, she’d even use the front door. Her note and departure had felt like a kick to the chest, because he had never seen it coming.

The shock had propelled him here, he guessed. Even if she had abandoned him, even if he’d done something wrong, he couldn’t believe that she would want nothing to do with him ever again. He couldn’t believe that whatever was between them, tenacious and fragile as it was, had broken without him trying to fix it first.

Everything was temporary, but just this once, he didn’t want it to be.

His fingers tightened on the note as he exhaled. He moved to slip it back into his pocket, before abruptly, its presence disappeared. His fingers clutched at empty air as they stuttered halfway to his pocket, and his eyes snapped open, flashing blue in the night as his power pushed beneath his skin, ready to strike. But there was no target to hit.

For a moment, he deliriously applauded himself for jinxing it. The paper must have actually caught aflame and crumbled in his fingers, just as he had predicted. Bloody good job on his part. Likely, too, considering his rotten luck.

But then, clumps of snow pelted his hair, and automatically, he looked up. The light of the streetlamp blinded anything above it, but he didn’t have to see her to know she was there. Silent as she was, he could still recognise the subtle way she shifted on her perch, little clumps of snow dotting the pavement around his feet as they fell from the streetlamp’s arm, disturbed by her weight.

The city seemed to fall silent around them, the distant sounds of car horns and roadside chatter softening to nothing as they appraised each other. He could feel her eyes travelling up and down his body, and felt almost cheated at how he couldn’t make out a single feature on her. But he reckoned that was how she wanted it.

It felt like ages before she broke the silence. “I told you not to come,” she said, her voice rolling effortlessly over his shoulders, unlocking them and miraculously relaxing his entire posture. Mentally, he scoffed. She was probably about to berate him, yet his body still responded to her voice like a balm.

Her statement hung in the air for a couple seconds, before he exhaled. “You did,” he admitted.

Her boot made a squeaky noise against the metal as she shifted. “Then what the hell are you doing here?” She asked, harsher than any ice he could ever conjure. He suppressed a wince.

Seamus cleared his throat, shrugging one shoulder. “This city’s tourist attractions are something else,” he said. “Maybe I’m just sightseeing.”

“Sure,” she said, scoffing. “I’ve heard raving reviews about this particular lamppost from tourists all over.”

Seamus bit down on his lower lip. “I’ve heard it’s a favourite meeting spot for alley cats,” he said, forcing nonchalance into his words. “Miraculously, I’ve become a cat person in recent years.”

Silence stretched between them. For a moment, he wondered if he had overstepped, before realising that he had passed that line a few hours ago when he got on the train from Manhattan to here. Head first, eyes closed, he supposed. There was no going back now.

Selina seemed to have gone stock still above him. “I don’t know where you heard that from,” she said stiffly. “Someone’s lying to you.”

He huffed a disbelieving breath. “Then why are you here?” He asked. He knew the answer he wanted to hear. He wanted her to swing down from her roost and tell him that she was here to see him, that she didn’t really want to go, and that there was a reason behind all of this. Even if she had wanted to go, he thought he’d earned an explanation as to why this had gone wrong: how he’d messed this temporary good thing up and had it ripped away from him before he could truly appreciate it. He felt alone and too young again, vulnerable against the chilly London winds as Alice was lowered into her grave, and he wanted her to block those winds and tell him that things were going to be alright, that she’d protect him, that he’d be okay.

But everything was temporary, wasn’t it?

Selina was silent, and he could almost hear the cogs working in her brain, weighing each option, deciding on what to say to him. Her fingers flashed in the light as she adjusted her grip on the lamppost. His own twitched, anticipating a fall to catch her from, though he knew that she would never fall, and even if she did, she’d always land on her feet.

“... I don’t know,” she said finally. He had to blink a couple times before he fully registered her answer. Her voice was impossibly quiet. “I know what I wrote on this thing, and I know I meant it, but I’m still here.” With a crinkle, the paper fell to his feet, floating to rest on a small mound of fallen snow. “I can’t… deal, with the way you make me feel, but… I can’t seem to cut you off.”

He couldn’t help it. He felt hope prickle at his heart. His heart usually rested at a beat so slow it could barely be detected, but at her words, it jumped to hyperspeed. His fingers almost felt warm. “How do I make you feel?” He tested the waters, balling his fists in his pockets.

She huffed something unsavoury under her breath. “I shouldn’t be saying anything,” she said. “I don’t even want to see you.” But she didn’t move from her perch.

He chanced a ghost of a smile. “Cat,” he said. “How do I make you feel?”

He heard her frustrated grumble all the way to his toes. “Good!” She said, her sudden volume startling him into taking a step back. “Happy! Content! I don’t know!” The lamppost creaked with her weight as she shifted. “I’m not used to it!” Her voice cracked on the last word. “I don’t know what to do with it, with any of it. I just…” Her voice trailed off with a desperate air, like she was dying to finish her train of thought, but couldn’t put it together well enough to say out loud. His heart palpitated in his chest. How could he respond? He longed to push off the ground and come eye-to-eye with her, to see the emotions flickering in her unfathomable eyes and find some way to comfort her, but she stayed blended in the shadows, intangible and untouchable. All he could do was wait.

“I just… I don’t want to feel like this,” she said finally, voice small and unfamiliarly weak in the night air. “I just want my old life back, Seamus. The one where I… I didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone, because they’d always hurt me first.”

And suddenly, it clicked. Selina was an alley cat, a pickpocket, an orphan with very few she could truly call friend. She had never had a place to visit during the day, never had anyone to have breakfast with, never had the chance to ring the front door. Her life existed in the shadows, and it was only when he’d brought her home to bandage her arm that she’d stepped out. Maybe he had done something wrong to scare her off, but in the end, she hadn’t run because of him. She’d run because of herself, because she was scared that if she stayed with him and the world he came from, she’d have somewhere or call home, somewhere she could feel happy, somewhere she was…

“Safe,” he murmured. He heard her go still above him.

“What?” She asked.

He blinked, before looking up at the space he assumed was her perch. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He asked. “Why you didn’t want to stay.”

“I don’t—“

“It’s because I— we make you feel safe,” he fumbled, bending down to snatch up the note. “You didn’t have that. But we gave it to you. And now that you could have it, you’re scared. Scared because—“

He could practically feel her hackles rising. “I’m not scared—“

“Scared,” he said, firmly, “because you could lose it.” He barked a short laugh. “Selina, that’s the point! That’s what having a home feels like!”

More snow pelted him from above. “What the hell are you even talking about, Frost?” She asked, tone gruff.

“Maybe I’m completely off base,” he said, feeling a grin stretching his lips as he smoothed out her note. “But I think that you wanted to run away not because you didn’t want this, but because you’re afraid of wanting it. Because if you want it, you’ll have something to call your own. You’ll have people who care about you and who you’ll care about in return. You’ll have a place to stay and come home to after a hard day. You’ll have something that matters.” He scanned the words in his palm. “‘Whatever happened between us, all of it, it doesn’t matter. It never did.’ ”

He heard Selina shift above him. “Stop that,” she muttered. If he didn’t know her so well, he’d have thought she was angry at him. But he knew that tone. She was feeling shocked, maybe even guilty.

“‘If you find me, you’ll wish you’d have left me alone.’,” he continued. “Except it did matter, and I did find you, but you haven’t told me to get lost yet.” He looked up at her again, folding the note neatly in his hands. “You want this, Selina. You want to come home.” His fingers felt so warm. “Don’t you?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, he thought she’d somehow dematerialised from the spot above him. He felt a foreign kind of anxiousness creep in over the hope, a kind he hadn’t felt in a long time. “... Or, maybe—”

A shadow blocked the streetlamp’s light, making him blink rapidly, before he felt cool fingers brush his hand. His vision refocused on Selina, in the flesh, her hood barely containing the copper corkscrew curls he’d missed so much that barely brushed his chin. Her head was lowered, gaze focused on the space between their feet, but her fingers poked out of her jacket sleeve to grip at the hand still holding the note. Snowflakes continued to dot her hair and jacket, stark white against the black. He felt a surge of nostalgia.

She didn’t speak for a moment, though her jaw worked rapidly. He felt his lungs tighten with a held breath. It seemed unlikely, even now, that she would come home with him. After all, he could never predict her. But he hoped beyond hope that for once in his life, he’d done something right, and that for once he didn’t have to watch as something precious slipped through his fingers.

He hoped that for once, he could have something permanent.

Her throat cleared. “I…” She murmured. “I don’t know... if I could ever… you know.” Hazel eyes glinted at him beneath her hood. “I don’t know if I could call this, whatever this is, mine.” Her fingers tightened their grip. “But I… you’re… you’re right.” She looked up, catching his gaze and his breath. A thousand emotions flashed by in them, too quick for him to catch, but he felt a tremendous pressure press in on him, feeling the weight of each one nonetheless. He knew how hard it was for her to admit what she was saying. “I never had a home. I never had a family. It’s always been me against the world.” She chuckled. “Even when I met Donnie, I couldn’t… fully relax around him, and he was—is—my best friend. I ran away from that too. But you…” she made an incoherent noise. “You tried to kill me, but then you saved me. You took a look at a random street girl and opened your door to her, even though you owed her nothing. You let me meet your sister, your friends, your family… then you gave me a chance to be a part of that family.” She laughed something soft.

“I ran away because when I saw you, I could let myself relax. I didn’t have to fight. You…” Her gaze flickered from their linked hands to his eyes. “You’re right. I felt safe.”

He couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “And you were scared of that.”

She snorted. “Can you blame me?” She asked, picking the note from his hands with her free hand. “I'm what you like to say so much: an alley cat. Alley cats don’t have homes.”

“This one does,” he said, and he nearly startled himself with how confidently he said it. There was no hint of doubt in his voice. He couldn’t imagine his London apartment without her window escapades and her lounging on the kitchen counter anymore. Gently, he interlaced their fingers, feeling his own warmth seep into her hand. “That is,” he hedged, “if she wants it.”

A sliver of a smile ghosted her lips as she watched their fingers clasp each other. Something felt right about that image. “She does,” she admitted, running a thumb along the side of his palm. Her free hand crushed the note in its palm. “She… really does.”

A weight lifted off his chest, and he felt his shoulders sag with obvious relief. “Good,” he sighed, tipping his head back, “if not travelling here would have been incredibly painful.”

Selina raised a brow, looking up at him with a small grin. “What, you can’t handle this city?” She asked. He couldn’t even be mad at her insinuation. The grin on her lips was far too blinding to detest.

“The tourism here is decrepit,” he raised a brow of his own, mirroring her expression, “and I would rather die than stay a night at the ‘Rochester Abyss’.”

“What? That doesn’t exist. Someone is seriously lying to you,” she said, then paused. “... Why would you stay? You could have just left if I had told you to scram. You don’t owe me anything.”

He huffed a laugh, bringing his free hand up to smooth a snowflake from her cheek. “I wouldn’t have given up,” he admitted, watching as her cheeks flushed a delightful red. “I’d have stayed a week, or a month, or longer, if I needed to. Even if you didn’t want to come home with me, I’d have wanted to make sure you were okay before heading back, and… if I’d done something wrong, I’d want to know what.”

Her gaze flitted to the side, a grumble escaping her throat. “You’d never,” she said, sounding almost petulant. “You’ve always been good to me, even when you were being stupid.” She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to hate you, you know, but you didn’t give me enough ammo to.”

He grinned then, a real, big one, feeling the last vestiges of anxiety break away from his heart. “I’m glad I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t want this to be temporary.”

She looked back at him then, a disbelieving laugh on her tongue. “Temporary?” She asked, looking almost amused. “Seamus, you do a lot of things half-assedly, but you’ve never made me feel like my place was temporary.” She pressed his palm to her cheek. “I want to stay with you and everyone else for as long as I can. Does that sound temporary to you?”

He felt like he could fly him and her home in one shot then. He feared his face might get stuck in a ridiculous smile for the rest of his life. “No,” he said softly. “It doesn’t.”

Her grin burned bright into his mind, searing into his eyelids. “Good,” she said, sounding delightfully satisfied. Her feet shuffled a step forward, the hood of her jacket falling back with the movement. He got a face full of grinning, copper and hazel warmth, and his stomach swooped, like he was a kid again and his crush had just smiled at him from across the room. It was giddying. Terrifying in its intensity, but oh so exciting in its reality. This was real, and it was good, and most importantly, it was here. Was it permanent? With his lifespan, hah, but he’d be damned if he let it slip through his fingers now.

Everything was temporary. He was beginning to realise this. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t defy it. But… he could learn from it. Selina was another blip on his eons long timeline, but she was a very real, very loud blip, and she made his heart go insane and his gut drop from beneath him, and even if it would hurt him in the end… he was beginning to think that he didn’t care anymore.

No, not that he didn’t care… he was beginning to accept it.

There were very few reasons he’d go to the ends of the world for. Selina Calabrese, with her unkempt hair and diamond smile and cat like eyes, would always be one of them.

His cheeks flushed red as he realised this. He caught her eyes widening at the sight, but before she could marvel at it, he swept an arm around her waist, pressing her to his chest. “Let’s go home,” he said softly, and the smile that unfurled across her lips proved time to be a bitch who didn’t matter in the slightest, because it’d never steal that image from his mind.

Her fingers tightened in his coat, melting the snowflakes that dotted the material. He had never felt warmer in his life. “Yeah,” she breathed, white steam billowing into the sky. “Bring me home, Seams.”

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yinxiong · 4 years

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do u have any anime recs?? ive only watched the popular ones like haikyuu, bnha and aot but its kinda overwhelming to look for new ones so im asking u since i know & trust that u have good taste

ooohhhhhh boyyyy im vibrating bc 1) you’re asking me for anime recs 2) yOU SAID I HAVE GOOD TASTE HDJK THANK 🥺💞

okay but being serious here ,,, i’m not sure exactly what genres you’re looking for so i’ll put a list of my favorites + other ones similar to those 3 you might enjoy :))) if you have anything specific in mind lmk !!! i recently compiled a list of everything i’ve watched / tried to watch (it’s quite embarrassing actually) so hopefully there’s something you’ll like on there 😊

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood

genre: shounen, action, fantasy, women characters being badass

very brief summary: two boys learn alchemy and try to get their bodies back, ends up unravelling government conspiracy in the process

this is my all time favorite uhdfdjks

top tier, a masterpiece truly

i'd rate it 100/10 but it surpasses that honestly

it's just really REALLY good

might be a little bit slow in the beginning but trust me it picks up quickly

if you’re interested it’s originally a manga and has some more details the anime left out !!!

assassination classroom / ansatsu kyoushitsu

genre: shounen, school, action, kids being kids but with knives and guns

brief summary: a class of kids are assigned to kill a super monster before he blows up the earth in exactly one year - the catch is that he’s their homeroom teacher :D

basically kids learning how to be assassins but also trying to pass school and it's all very heartfelt and you WILL adopt them all

10/10 i cry every time

honestly watch this first it’s very easy to follow

also a manga with a few storylines the anime left out, not crucial but i recommend anyways since i read it first before the anime even came out and it just has a special place in my heart

noragami

genre: shounen, urban fantasy, gods being literal disasters someone pls help them

brief summary: a girl accidentally meets an unknown god and asks him for his help, slowly learns more about his world (i’m so sorry this is really vague but it’ll all be covered in the first episode trust me)

the gods can find spirits (dead people) and turn them into weapons if that’s cool

sexy animation !!!!!

only big flaw with the anime is that they mess up the main character’s characterization a little bit so you might want to read the manga? also only has two seasons and the manga is further along ,,, but everyone is currently stressed tf out over the plot ohmygod ,,,

gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun

genre: romantic comedy but heavy emphasis on comedy, slice of life, literal chaos

brief summary: a girl has a crush on a guy who turns out to be a manga artist, she winds up being his assistant (this barely covers it though)

a bunch of high school kids being chaotic and oblivious

just watch it i can’t really explain it in words you’ll be laughing a lot

only one season so if you enjoy there’s also more chaos in the manga

your lie in april / shigatsu wa kimi no uso

genre: shoujo, classical music !!!!

brief summary: a former piano prodigy who no longer plays because he can’t hear music meets a violinist that brings color into his life once again

look

this is top tier

so beautiful hhdjfdks

i watched this on my new tv and shed real tears

as a pianist/musician i adore it a lot hhhhh the pieces they chose to play are all the favs (i performed a medley with my violinist friend for a show once hahahah)

a little sad tho beware of feels

the opening song is like . so freaking well known omg

akame ga kill!

genre: shounen, action, lots of fighting and blood, war

brief summary: a boy joins a group of assassins who are working to overthrow the shithole government (yea sounds kind of basic but there’s more to it)

mainly just girls with weapons

i mean there’s guys too but the girls are the best characters

the weapons are lowkey magical too

yea this is where my nickname came from lol

the anime gets a 7/10 but the manga probably 8/10

manga is darker, more graphic but better plotwise

no game no life

genre: shounen, a bit of ecchi ugh, lots of mind games

brief summary: two genius gamer siblings get transported to a world where everything is decided by games, they decide they want to beat god

very colorful and pretty animation!!!!

there’s some questionable “fanservice” moments but ignoring that the plot is legit

only one season tho :(( pls it was so popular when it came out where is s2

there is a movie prequel, a lot more angsty but still vv good

ao haru ride

genre: shoujo, the usual high school romance, slice of life

brief summary: a girl meets the guy she used to have a crush on, only to find that his personality has completely changed (she has too though)

insert falling back in love

one of the shoujo classics haha

i binged this in one night a few weeks ago

not sure if it was worth it but i had fun lmao

just a low stakes cute anime

also very pretty

only 12 eps, the manga finishes later

given

genre: just music boys being gay lol (jk it’s kind of sad)

brief summary: a boy learns to move on from his ex by joining a band (this is possibly the shittiest summary ever but i dont wanna give anything away hdjhkjs)

just watch it lmao it’ll make sense

idiot boys

band boys !!!

feels but not overwhelming

the comedy is top notch though

i adore given so much hhjkdf waiting for the movie to come out

THE MUSIC IS SO GOOD

all the songs are on spotify i listen to them way too much

yuri on ice

genre: figure skaters being gay that’s all you need to know

brief summary: a figure skater falls into a slump, somehow winds up with the top skater as his coach (yet another shitty summary sorry)

hmm this isn’t actually one of my favorites but it’s popular enough so why not

i just really love figure skating hfjdks

it’s pretty accurate i’d say! there are even easter eggs of top men skaters irl hahah

definitely dramatized lol

but still pretty fun

bungou stray dogs

genre: shounen, urban fantasy, very dapper mafia / detectives

brief summary: a kid on the run after getting kicked out of his orphanage accidentally saves a detective, shit goes down from there

pretty fun as you learn about their powers, watch them solve mysteries

the fighting is cool too

until the machine guns appear ugh i just tune that part out

oh yea all the characters are named for actual literary figures and i didnt realize until s2 💀

fairy tail

genre: shounen, magic/fantasy, action, friends !!!!!

brief summary: just mages in guilds going on quests lolol what more do you want

fr it’s honestly quite chill

like there’s definitely an ongoing plot and lots of subplots / arcs

but it’s very character driven

so many cool character designs

was OBSESSED w this in middle school ,,, highkey embarrassing omg

one of the big anime/manga, if you like bnha i’m sure you’ll have fun with fairy tail

this was a stupidly long list and im clearly way too excited ,,, if you have any questions or just want to scream about any of these, my inbox is always open ;)))

#ask #anon #anime recs #plsss im a weeb #ive definitely lost followers over it #but idc anymore #tysm for this ask ily

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

963

Who will you be spending Christmas with this year? I will be with immediate family, that I’m sure of. Whether we’ll be celebrating with extended family is still undecided on, and unpredictable tbh, obviously because of Covid. Our situation is super delayed compared to most countries’ and we’re still on a very strict lockdown so it’s hard to tell where we’ll be in two months.

What time do you usually go to sleep at night? Lately I’m able to doze off by 9 or 10 on weeknights because work wipes me tf out. On weekends, I’m able to stick to my usual bedtime of midnight.

Did you go to high school with your current best friend? I went to the same high school with both of them, yes. The three of us were even classmates in junior year, but that’s the only time it happened.

Have you ever wanted to be vegetarian or vegan? I’ve wanted to give it a try, yes. But I live in such a vegetarian/vegan-unfriendly country in terms of cuisine that such a lifestyle is nearly impossible to keep up. There are very few resources to help you get started, the few vegetarian places tend to be really expensive and only based in urban areas, and actually being able to spot a vegan place is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Do you park your car in a garage, carport or just in a driveway? Carport.

Have you ever been a passenger in a semi-trailer truck? I don’t think I’ve ever been on one, no.

Have you felt sick today? Not sick per se, but I was quite melancholic today and my stomach got affected by that a bit so I guess a little.

Whose was the last funeral you attended? I’ve never attended a funeral, just wakes. The last one I attended was Nacho’s, almost exactly a year ago. Fuck man. I miss him. I still really really do.

Have you read The Hunger Games trilogy? No. I grew out of reading at that point. I did watch the first movie because they showed it so many times on TV...

How many times a week do you wash your hair? 5-7 times a week. I wash it every time I shower. If I don’t wash it long enough it starts to feel greasy, and I hate that feeling.

Do you need to wash your hair right now? No, I already did this morning.

Do you avoid using public restrooms? As much as I can. I only ever go in emergency cases, if I can no longer hold it in; or if my period suddenly arrives while I’m out.

What is your boss’ (or school principal’s) name? I’m an intern so I don’t really work for any boss...but I’ve noticed that the associates I work with usually show pitches to one of the directors, whose name starts with E. I don’t want to give away their name.

Have you seen any extended relatives in the last month? Yes. Last month I went to my uncle’s house to pick up the revel bars that my mom ordered from him. He was sleeping though so it was my aunt (his cousin who lives with him) who greeted me.

Do you like eggnog? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before. < Same. It sounds SO good though??? I’ve always wanted to try it. It’s just not a very common drink here at all.

Is there anything important you need to do today? No. It’s a Saturday evening and I only plan to take surveys, eat pizza rolls, and watch videos until I pass out.

Who is the person you dislike the most? I don’t think I feel that strongly for anyone at the moment. I haven’t seen anyone other than my family in months, so there’s really no reason for me to develop a sense of dislike for any certain person.

Girls, how old were you when you first got your period? I had just turned 10. I was definitely one of the early birds.

Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? Not yet but I plan to, once I get my cut from this internship.

Have you ever properly listened to classical music? Did you like it? I don’t know what you mean by ‘properly,’ but like I don’t analyze classical music or think too hard about it. It’s just nice music to keep around if I need to focus on a task or whatever.

Do your parents know how to text? Yeah they both have their own phones. They’re not that old, lol.

Do you text your parents often? Well definitely not these days, since I’m always at home and there’s nothing to text them for. Before Covid, I always texted my mom whenever I was staying out late on a school night just so she’d know of my whereabouts.

Do you watch Youtube videos often? Everyday. I have one on right now.

What’s your favourite type of cookie? Chocolate chip, or the dark chocolate macadamia nut cookie from Starbucks.

Do you enjoy embracing the Christmas spirit or are you more of a scrooge? I wouldn’t say scrooge but I’m definitely more depressed whenever December rolls around. Celebrating and spending time with extended family always lessens the sad, though. I look forward to only those moments.

In your town, what’s your favourite place to get takeout? Not a lot of cool, indie joints where I live, so sorry I’m about to give a plain ass answer lol. McDonald’s.

What letter does your middle name begin with? A.

Do your initials spell an actual word? It does not.

What will you do when this survey is over? Take another one. Or maybe write on my journal, idk.

Do you know anyone with celiac disease? I don’t think so.

What’s the weather like today? It was cloudy and rainy, but also humid ugh. I hate how my favorite weather usually comes at a price.

Have you ever eaten a cinnamon donut? I’m sure I have.

What is the longest relationship you’ve ever been in? 4 years, 7 months.

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once.

How do you usually celebrate New Years? Family comes over, we have dinner, and then my cousins and I band together and we’ll wait for midnight by playing a shit ton of video games, then we go up the rooftop around 11:50 to watch the fireworks and wait for the new year. Once the fireworks shows are over we go back to the living room to continue playing until we all start to get sleepy one by one.

Is the place that you’re in right now quiet or loud? What can you hear? It’s a bit loud but only because I have the noisiest aircon in the house HAHA. I now own the same aircon that used to be my parents’ even before I was born, so it definitely doesn’t have the technology to be a quieter aircon.

Do you currently have any alarms set? No. I don’t need to set any.

How many cars can fit in your driveway? I’d say around 2-3.

Do you like whiskey? Fuck no. Tastes like death to me.

When was the last time you ate, and what did you have? Like 2 minutes ago? I took a bite from my pizza roll.

#survey #surveys

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lechevaliermalfet · 5 years

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West Across the Sand: A Look Back at Kazan

When I first got into anime and manga, I was in my mid-teens, and it was the mid- to late 90s. And at least in my part of the world, it was a little like joining a secret society. You practically had to already know someone on The Inside, and it was like getting initiated. Whoever had been into it longer than you would want to show you the classics of the era: Ranma ½, Tenchi Muyo! (Which one? All of them), Akira, Vampire Hunter D, or any number of choice others. Soundtracks (if you were into that sort of thing) were hard to come by, and most of the ones I found locally came courtesy of either Son May or EverAnime – companies I later found out were Taiwanese bootleggers. You could tell the discs were bootlegs because the prices were reasonable.

In those days, getting fansubs meant sending blank VHS tapes to total strangers you’d found online, and waiting weeks (or longer) to get them back with anime on them, and everybody had the Anime Web Turnpike bookmarked. There’s still a website at its URL, though Wikipedia states it’s been offline as of 2014.

If you want to know where anime got its reputation for violence and sex, this particular era is where you want to look. The market for anime was small in those days, and the licensors and distributors really had no idea how to expand it. So a lot of them (in particular Streamline, Urban Visions, and U.S. Manga Corps; now all defunct) catered to the exploitation-flick market – the gore-hounds and the porn junkies, and the people we would have called edgelords if the term had been invented yet.

This was a time when you could use the word “Japanimation” utterly without irony, and there was a good chance that nobody hearing it would cringe.

Manga, meanwhile, was a total wilderness. You couldn’t find it in bookstores back then. That you can today is thanks to Tokyopop. Whatever their numerous and varied sins, they can claim to have done that bit of good, at least. And Amazon and Ebay were somewhere off over the horizon. So you had to go to your local comic book shop, and then you had to look around for yourself, because chances were that even the people who worked there didn’t know what in the hell you were talking about.

Most of the manga that was available came through Viz and Dark Horse (and maybe other avenues I’ve forgotten). But mostly Viz. Dark Horse got their hands on some great stuff (Ghost in the Shell and Blade of the Immortal, just to name two), but Viz got more stuff, and a wider variety of it.

At the tail-end of the 90s, there was the beginning of an anime boom that lasted until about the mid-aughts. I was at one of Crispin Freeman’s Q&A panels at Anime Central a couple of years ago, and he likened it to a tide rolling in about every decade. The tide comes in, hits a high-water mark, and recedes. Then it comes in again, a little higher this time, and recedes. In the late 90s, the tide came in and largely stayed in.

A large part of this, I think, was Toonami, which took a crowbar (part Dragon Ball Z and part Gundam Wing at the start, followed by others later) to the whole situation and forced the door wide open. A lot of what they showed was very commercial and fairly “safe” (or at least, could be made safe), but it accomplished what Astro Boy and Speed Racer and Starblazers and Robotech before had never managed, which was to make anime into a minor phenomenon.

In the wake of that sudden explosion, there were a ton of smaller and less established entities who got into the business. More of these, so far as I can remember, went into manga rather than anime (though there were a few new anime companies, like SynchPoint). It was probably cheaper than trying to get in on the anime side of things. Suddenly, we had Tokyopop (first under their Mixx Manga label, then later their own name), and DrMaster, and ComicsOne (whose publications were later taken over by DrMaster when ComicsOne vanished into the ether in 2005; DrMaster would follow suit themselves, just four years later), and Yen Press, and Studio Ironcat, and Seven Seas… Even reputable publishers like Del Rey got in on the act after a while.

It was an exciting time to be a fan, to have so many new avenues available through which to explore the hobby, each trying to find new and exciting material in order to carve out their own niche. Today, a lot of these publishers don’t exist. The market was growing, but didn’t ultimately grow enough to allow room for them all.

A certain part of me actually misses the bad old days. Like any rational person, I’m happy that one of my major interests is now at least sort of mainstream, easy to access, and at least somewhat cheaper (nowadays, companies like Aniplex only want an arm and a leg for a boxed set of Kara no Kyoukai; back in the day, they’d have demanded your firstborn). If nothing else, the release schedules are infinitely better. But there was something about being a fan back then that made me feel like I was a part of something, some group, some tribe. There was a feeling of having some hidden, secret knowledge, of knowing a whole language of fandom that other people didn’t understand, of having a line on something other people didn’t know about and didn’t get.

Really, though, I think what I miss most is the newness of my hobby. I miss it being strange and wonderful and full mostly of unknowns, of things yet to be seen and experienced. I miss knowing that twenty years ago, if I’d come across a copy of Beast King GoLion in a vendor’s stall, I would have lost my damn mind. Now, I just go “Huh. Neat,” and put it on my Amazon wishlist.

A few months ago, I was going through my old manga, and came across the three volumes of Kazan I owned, out of a seven-volume run. They were some of the first manga I’d bought in what was, at the time, the newer (smaller) size format that’s now standard for manga. Mirror-imaging, or “flopping” the artwork was still common at the time, although that practice was on its way out. If there’s one other thing we can all thank Tokyopop for, it’s normalizing the right-to-left format for manga in the U.S.

Kazan was written and drawn by Gaku Miyao, who was probably most famous for his character design work on the Devil Hunter Yohko OVA from the mid-90s. It was published in the U.S. by ComicsOne from 2001 to 2005. It’s out of print now, and it was never enough of a thing that anybody else cared to pick up the license after they vanished into the ether.

It doesn’t shock me that ComicsOne went under, really. They didn’t only release total unknowns, mind. They got Onegai Teacher and Onegai Twins. There was also Tsukihime: Lunar Legend (though that franchise has played second fiddle to its younger sibling Fate for a long while now). On the other hand, they also published Jesus, and the prophet from Nazareth has never really been what you’d call a favorite character in the anime fandom. Then as now, almost nobody in the fandom stans Christ. Except maybe Vic Mignogna, and, well...

I remember it being new and exciting when I was reading it. Now, looking back, it’s very much a relic of its times. Given that ComicsOne began U.S. publication of it in 2001, I’m guessing the manga was probably published in the mid- to late 90s in Japan. The artwork is a lot closer in style to what you’d see back then, as well as the character tropes and archetypes.

I’d always meant to pick up the remaining volumes – certainly I’d liked what I’d read – but I’d fallen behind on collecting them as they came out, and they were hard to find later on. Kazan was never a major item on anybody’s radar. It’s so minor that even danbooru has no images of it. At least, none tagged. Fucking danbooru.

My curiosity about the later events of the series had been going strong for close to two decades, so I finally broke down and bought the remaining volumes in an Ebay auction… and then didn’t read them, I guess because now that I had them, I could take my time.

I finally got around to re-reading the series just recently, and it’s been an interesting slice of nostalgia.

Kazan is a desert-punk story named after its protagonist. Kazan looks about eight years old, is actually closer to eighteen, and is about ten-thousand percent done with everyone’s shit. “Surly” doesn’t quite do it justice. He’s searching for his childhood friend, a girl named Elsie.

Back when he actually was eight years old, he was approached by a water demon who told him that his father Sheeroc had, in desperation at the prospect of dying alone in the desert, sold Kazan for just a cup of water. Sheeroc, leader of the nomad clan known as the Red Sand, was at that time questing about for a way to give his people a more grounded way of life. However, instead of Kazan, the water demon decided to kidnap his childhood friend Elsie, for reasons that go unexplained for most of the story. The demon also decided to wreck Kazan’s entire village just for good measure, and Kazan winds up the only survivor that he knows of.

Since that moment, he has not physically aged a day. The reason for this is also left unexplained for most of the manga’s run.

Suffice it to say that some of his surliness comes from having to constantly prove to people that, despite all appearances, he really is not a child. A lot of the rest of it comes from the whole “being sold to a water demon” thing.

His only traveling companion in the beginning is a giant white eagle with a red crest, named Kamushin. The eagle is so large and strong (or Kazan is so small), that he can actually carry Kazan at least for brief periods. Kamushin seems to be sentient at times, and whether he is or not, he tends to be the most level-headed one in the room.

Aside from the eagle, Kazan’s most easily distinguishable features are his shounen-hero hair, his tall red hat, and his knife, which he wields and throws with frightening accuracy.

It’s not long at all before he gains two additional companions on his journey. One is Fawna, a young girl capable of manifesting water at will. This power is a double-edged sword in a desert environment. It’s helpful while traveling, but the things people might do to have control of her power – and of course, by extension, Fawna herself – mean she has to use the power sparingly. She and Kazan initially come to blows once her ability is revealed, or rather, Kazan comes to blows. Fawna comes to bewilderment and confusion in the face of Kazan’s accusations that she must be the water demon who stole Elsie years ago. Why would she have the same power, otherwise? Eventually, though, he calms down. As he (and we) get to know Fawna, the idea of her kidnapping anybody seems laughable.

Fawna is making her way west across the desert to a country called Goldene. She has been summoned there, as Water People (this is the manga’s translation, and we’ll come to that in a bit) frequently are, as they are necessary for the control and upkeep of Goldene’s water supply. She’s around seventeen, and spends most of the story unaware of Kazan’s actual age. She seems to not really take his claims of adulthood very seriously. In fairness, “My name’s Kazan. I’m not a kid,” – practically his catchphrase, and usually a good sign that someone has a beating on the way – is pretty much exactly what you’d expect a kid to say.

With Fawna having the same water powers as the entity that kidnapped Elsie, and Goldene seemingly a place where people of that sort are gathered, Kazan decides that his quest is pointing him in that direction. Despite some misgivings, he decides to accompany her. Luckily, the two of them happen across another companion, an old woman named Arbey who has a talent for making explosives. She claims to know the way there, having been a citizen of the country herself at some point in her past.

So they go.

Along the way, they are beset by monsters and difficult situations with other travelers, as well as occasional tussles with Messengers, fierce and deadly agents of Goldene out kill Fawna (their reasons are initially unclear) and capture Kamushin, who turns out to be the White Eagle of Goldene, making him an item of high significance.

Part of what initially caught my attention about Kazan was that it reminded me in a vague way of Eden’s Bowy. This was a show I’d first seen fansubbed at AnimeIowa in 2000. If you want another really good example of just how different things were back then, there it is: Conventions would show fansubs, because the industry had virtually no presence at any of them except maybe the absolute biggest, so they could get away with it. I was nursing a minor obsession with Eden’s Bowy at the time. The three or four episodes I’d seen at the convention had grabbed my attention for reasons I’m not entirely sure I understand. Part of it was the creeping doubt over whether the show would ever get picked up for U.S. release (it did, in fact), and I figured I was unlikely ever to see it again. So anything that put me in mind of it got my attention.

As it happens, the similarities between Kazan and Eden’s Bowy run no deeper than the surface. There are the common elements of a boy in (mostly) white crossing the desert with a mystically empowered young girl and an older adult as companions, and in both stories, they’re seeking out a city that in some fashion lords it over the rest of the setting. Beyond that, they couldn’t be more different. For starters, Yorn, the hero of Eden’s Bowy, is kind of the quintessential Idiot Hero of shounen manga and anime: naïve, trusting, and ultimately kind of helpless on his own. Kazan, meanwhile, is intelligent, self-reliant, and aggressively independent. Cynical and deeply distrustful, he resists all attempts at friendship or other emotional connection with other characters, and the vulnerability that goes with it.

Kazan isn’t the most likeable character, but his attitude at least makes sense, given his background. He’s a very (understandably) angry young man trapped in a child’s body, and a lot of his problems come about as a result of his hardening himself against a world that seems destined by turns to betray him and refuse to take him seriously. When we see him in flashbacks, he’s a sweet kid. A bit of a crybaby, even.

Still, in the present of the story, he can sometimes be an unlikeable little shit. His early relationship with Fawna is rocky, and gets violent once or twice throughout the story, which makes me cringe a lot more in 2019 than it did in 2001 or 2002. In the interests of fairness, I should point out that he gets violent with quite a number of people, and all for the same reason as Fawna, which is that he feels what they are doing is either very wrong or dangerously stupid, or else he sees them as enemies. He’s an equal-opportunity asshole, I guess. So I want to say there’s nothing inherently sexist going on there. Still, it’s not a good look, and please understand I’m not justifying it by any means. But I do want to lend context.

The story does wring a lot of natural tension out of the relationship between Kazan and Fawna as natural foils to each other. Where Kazan trusts nobody and prefers to operate alone, Fawna is naïve and occasionally trusting of the wrong sorts, which gets her into trouble more than once. And she has a tendency, early on, to lash out with her power in anger or to harm others. This is sometimes for self-defense, but sometimes also motivated by anger. Kazan is – oddly, given that he’s otherwise the one more comfortable with the occasional necessity of violence – adamant that she not do this. Memorably, one of the times he’s violent with her is to stop her from doing something of that sort.

The manga doesn’t ever really spell out Kazan’s hangup about Fawna misusing her water powers, but I have a guess. I imagine that it has a lot to do with his initial association of Fawna’s water power with the water demon that kidnapped Elsie ten years prior. He has a strong (but never quite articulated) belief that in a desert world, anyone with the power to create water – in practical terms, the power to support and sustain life – should not use that power for evil ends. Fawna using her power only for good helps to mark a clear distinction between her innate goodness and the wickedness of the water demon.

Kazan himself, perhaps surprisingly given his anger and foul attitude for much of the story, tends to pull his punches. He’s not above beating his attackers silly and occasionally dishing out pain to those he feels are deserving. But he goes out of his way to spare people on a number of occasions, and when someone sharpens his knife to such an edge that it can cut stones, he actually requests that it be dulled again so that he doesn’t kill someone by mistake.

Refreshingly, there’s no will-they-won’t-they pseudo-romance between Kazan and Fawna. I don’t object to a romance angle in a story in principle, but it often gets teased in a story like this, where the two leads are each other’s foils and love interests both, and it’s just done to death. It tends to get shoehorned in because the creators of these stories (perhaps egged on by their publishers) feel that it’s necessary. Broadening the demographics, maybe? But there’s a sort of obligatory feeling to it a lot of the time, as if it’s clearly being done because, well, that’s just what we do with stories like this, right? It gets to the point where you wonder why anyone bothers teasing it. We all know from long experience how things are going to end up. But Kazan is clearly fixed on Elsie and Elsie alone. He and Fawna are simply friends and partners who, by the end of the story, understand each other, and work together, very well.

Another thing that’s nice about Kazan is the refreshing absence of much cheesecake fanservice. A few characters are dressed in provocative outfits here and there, but even when that’s the case, the “camera” doesn’t really leer like you might expect. There are one or two moments that had me sighing and shaking my head – a couple instances of the sadly typical Faux Sexual Assault As Comedy – but at this point I like to think I’m an old vet when it comes to this. It’s disappointing, but it’s the kind of thing you learn to resign yourself to if you’re going read much manga or watch much anime at all.

The final chapters of Kazan rely on a lot of last-minute revelations to explain everything. It’s not really a matter of deus ex machina exactly so much as it is a matter of insufficient foreshadowing. It would go down a little easier if some of these ideas had been set up maybe a little earlier in the story. But it’s hard to complain too much. Even as it clanks a bit toward the end, it never quite feels like the creator is pulling it out of his ass. The ideas are sound; it’s their tardiness that’s the problem. But even if it stumbles a little toward the finish line, Kazan’s ending is ultimately satisfying, and earned. The last few panels are pretty much perfect, and exactly what I spent most of the manga’s run hoping for. And of course, there’s still the entire rest of the manga before it, which is certainly worth the read.

If there’s one place where Kazan actually falls flat, it’s the translation. And that, at least, you can’t blame on the original creator.

You could most charitably describe ComicsOne’s English translation of Kazan as workmanlike. It’s not really a machine translation, but it does seem at times to veer awfully close to that territory. It’s there, and things basically make sense; that’s about the best you can say for it. Ultimately, though, it’s just lacking something. There are places all over Kazan’s seven-volume run where the phrasing seems bland or off, where it lacks real punch and personality, and where it seems just plain awkward and stilted. There are times when it seems like the characters lack a distinct voice. Spelling is also inconsistent. The name of Kazan’s father is spelled Sheeroc in the earlier volumes, but Shiroc in later ones. And there are placement issues as well, where sometimes lines that are clearly meant to be spoken by one character are lumped in with the dialogue in another character’s word balloon. Overall, the translation is some real amateur-hour work. This seems to be a trait of ComicsOne; the one volume of the Tsukihime manga I own has some of these same issues.

But this isn’t a problem I can really hold against the manga, since it’s a problem that (to the best of my knowledge) wouldn’t really have existed in the Japanese version. And it’s hard to fault the original creator for how translators handled his work after the fact.

There’s not much like Kazan out there that I’ve seen. I don’t have a lot of recommendations in the vein of “If you like X, Y, or Z, then try Kazan.”

Part of the reason I enjoyed Kazan as much as I did is nostalgia. Not for the story itself, but for the times it puts me in mind of. The kind of story it tells; the specific way it handles its characters, and manifests their archetypes and tropes; the way it’s drawn; all of it is intensely reminiscent of its time. There is a certain Look or Aesthetic I’m fond of in anime, and it tends a little toward the particular stylization and combination of traits that was very stereotypical at the time I was getting into it. But even as that’s a stereotype, there’s something about it that I actually find visually appealing. I suppose it goes back to my nostalgia. When this was a new hobby for me, that look was practically shorthand for everything anime stood for.

More than that, it’s a time capsule, a snapshot of how things looked when I was first getting into my hobby. I’ll probably never again have that feeling of things yet to be seen and done, mysteries yet to be uncovered and explored, at least not with this particular hobby. But reading something like Kazan, I’m reminded of those times with great intensity.

There’s also the setting. I have a soft spot for huge, wasteland vistas. As much as I can recognize that, say, The Weathering Continent is not really a good movie, I still find myself drawn to its world. This extends into video games as well. One of the things I loved most about Shadow of the Colossus (either version) was simply wandering its world. Something about characters surviving in such a hostile, sometimes even decaying environment just grabs my imagination and runs with it. But I’m picky about these kinds of stories, too. I prefer my environments and my characters to look and sound and act a certain way.

Despite the inescapable influence of personal appeal, though, I still honestly think Kazan holds up, and is very much worth a read. It’s not going to be the easiest thing to find, but on the flipside, Kazan was a manga published by a company that never really achieved notability and stayed in business for a grand total of maybe six years at most. So while the supply has never been very great, neither has the demand. The prices haven’t gotten exorbitant, and I don’t see that changing in the near future.

In all, it’s worth the effort to track down if you can.

#kazan manga #manga #anime #anime nostalgia

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pumpkincentaur · 5 years

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Get to Know Me Tag Game

I was tagged by @radiowrites! Thanks for the tag owo (can’t believe I just used the owo emote unironically)

what genres do you write?

Generally I stick to things that are supernatural in some way--the Maybridge trilogy is a dark urban fantasy, and the I Will Repay quartet is a supernatural horror with some subgenres thrown in in the individual books (The Bodies We Bury is also a murder mystery, and The Secrets We Share has some 80s/90s teen movie flavour... but more in a ‘Heathers’ way than a ‘Ferris Bueller’ way). I’ve also got some concepts for a high fantasy WIP floating around, and a little bit of Sci-Fi... basically, I do a lot of things, but things without any fantastical elements are not on the list.

what’s on your reading wishlist?

I’ve been meaning to read A Darker Shade of Magic... it’s on my shelf, but I haven’t gotten around to finishing it. I’ve also been planning on picking up some Stephen King classics like Carrie to familiarize myself with the horror genre a bit more now that I’ve found myself writing a horror series and not just a single murder mystery with shades of supernatural fear.

who is your favourite character from your current wip?

In How to Break a Deadly Curse (Maybridge Book One), it’s Katsurou, the protagonist. He is small and angry and very bisexual, and I project onto him a little bit too much. In The Bodies We Bury (I Will Repay Book Four)... it’s a tougher call. I like all the characters, but as far as writing goes... I’d have to say Johnathan McCreary is the most fun to write, just because he’s so nuanced and conflicted. In The Secrets We Share (I Will Repay Book Three), it’s definitely Lenore, because of reasons that are spoilers. Big spoilers. Lenore is dead in TBB, and that’s not a spoiler at all, but in TSS, she’s very much alive and very... spicy.

what writing tropes do you like?

I’m a big fan of “girl with an improbable amount of very large older brothers,” as well as the inverse “boy with an improbably amount of very large older sisters,” “small towns full of feuding families and dark secrets,” “great-grandpa stole from a witch so now we’ve been cursed for the last four generations”...

what is the story behind your wip’s name?

There aren’t really any stories about any of them. I just sort of came up with them. I also really like alliteration. The titles in the Maybridge trilogy are pretty much just descriptive of what happens in the book, and the titles in the I Will Repay quartet are the same, except in a slightly more thematic literary way. The titles for the two series themselves aren’t fancy, either--Maybridge is the name of the city the Maybridge trilogy takes place in, and I Will Repay is the latter half of a Bible verse (Vengeance is mine, I will repay - Romans something) that pretty much perfectly encapsulates the whole series.

are you a pantser or a plotter?

I plot by the seat of my pants. My outlines, when I make them, are always very free-form and... chaotic.

do you post your work somewhere?

I’ve posted tiny snippets on this blog, and a few last and first lines, but other than that, my work isn’t available to read publicly... yet.

do you also read/write fanfic? if yes, for the same genres as what you write?

I read fanfic, but I don’t write it. I’ve never had the guts to play with characters another creator has already established--props to y’all that do. Contrary to what I write, most of what I read is pretty much just contemporary romance shit--like most fanfic is.

what is your favourite dessert? because why not.

Hit me up with rhubarb crisp any day, my guy.

Tagging anyone who wants to do this, as usual--because I’m never comfortable with tagging people in the event that they don’t actually want to be tagged. But, hey, do it if you wanna.

#tag games #about me #i love these ones because i have more hubris than a sixteenth century european monarch and dearly enjoy talking about myself

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years

Text

Survey #153

“i may be easy - easy to hate, but you’re so fucking easy, easy to break.”

Do you think age matters in friendship? Nah. One of my closest friends is in his 30s. Now of course I believe a parent should monitor a friendship of a minor and adult, but, I still believe friendship is certainly possible. What was the last essay/assignment you wrote about? It was only the rough draft, but I helped Colleen with her assessment of "Female" by Keith Urban. When do you usually put your Christmas decorations up? Usually start in early December. Are you more likely to eat when you’re bored or depressed? When I'm bored, I'd say. When I'm depressed, I'm more keen on sleeping. I've gotten better about not eating when I'm bored, thankfully. Do you have a case/cover for your phone? Describe it. No, I want one tho. Do you take good care of your skin? I've been making a decent effort lately. I HATE the bumps I have on my arms from dry skin, so I've been moisturizing them as well as my face. What was your dream job when you were a kid? Paleontologist. I would still pursue it if I wasn't turned off by a career with loads of travel, nor do I think I have the patience to obtain a PhD. Is there any music you listen to that was influenced by your parents? Oh yeah, Mom especially. She's all about heavy metal, especially the classics. Dad too, but I'd say he's more hard rock. Do you use tampons or pads? Or both? Tampons, pads gross me out afsdjafjw. I started with them though. Is your internet wireless or do you need a cable? Wireless. What is something you’re behind the times on? Ummm idk. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. List a great $1 store find: Idk. List a great garage sale find: *shrugs* Who is one YouTuber you would like to meet? m a r k Do you have your own website? I have my own photography one. Do you like candy corn? Omg demons stay back. Were you happy as a kid? Yep. What is your favorite Queen song? If your answer isn't "Bohemian Rhapsody," I don't want you in my life. Who was the last person you blocked on social media? Why? Colleen, 'cuz I was kicking her out of my life and know that woman too well that she would try sending me a novel of hate, and I wasn't having it. Turns out she shared our drama over Facebook afterwards to make me the bad guy, and I still have trouble believing I forgave something that petty. She apologized for it, eh. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? The old woman my mom had watched. I knew enough about her to know she was a super sweet woman, so I barely held it together in there. She died the very next morning. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? Ha, no. He doesn't deserve my friendship. You never know what you have until you’ve lost it, true or false? Nah. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done? I dunno, possibly something sexual. When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language? Back in high school when I was doing a German test over the phone. Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something? Omg, so I had this habit of when I was thinking deeply or nervous, I would pull my eyebrows out. It got to the point it would sometimes look like I almost had none. Super embarrassing, especially because I did this a lot in school. As for a fear, it was never a big one, but going to see Sara broke my mild fear of flying. I like it now. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? For when I finish college, I'm probably just picking up my diploma. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record? No. Do you know how to read music? I recall some notes. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it? Ha ha, I got that "I was there" shirt for the Back to the Future date. Do you have any scratches on your cell phone? No. Is your skin tone lighter or darker than your mom’s? Lighter. Have you ever done another person’s make-up? I gave Jason a makeover. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Honestly still hope I have that picture somewhere. Regardless of what happened, that is damn good memory, he hated it so much. Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname? Sara, Ashley, Nicole, and Mom. When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin? 'Bout two weeks back to get my tongue pierced. Who is the youngest gay person you know? Dunno. Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal? Yeah, our old cats with mice 'n such. Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not? If you don't push it on me, certainly. Respect my theism, I'll respect your whatever. Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Well, there's too much variety in this question. I'll fear a wolf spider more than a bumblebee, but a hornet more than daddy long leg. Has your best friend ever seen you naked? No. Do you get mad when your current bf/gf talks about an ex? Not at all. Do you know anybody who was abused? Yes. Would you prefer a baby boy or girl? If I was to have kids, y'know, I don't know. Perhaps a girl, but I know boys are generally easier, and feeling the bond between a mother and her son would be amazing. I'unno. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded? I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. If you were a different religion from your current one, what would it be? Why? Wiccan, because their beliefs (that I know of) are interesting. Have you ever had your phone taken away at school? No. How old were you the first time you dyed your hair? Idk. I think first year of high school; I don't believe dyed hair was allowed in middle. Do you talk the same way you do in person as you do online? For the most part. How would you react if a doctor told you that you were infertile? I'd be like, irrationally happy. I don't want kids, and I have a considerably large fear of being raped and thus get pregnant, so. Do you get along with your best friend’s parents? Her mom's a bitch, and her dad's... different. Have you ever been in a relationship where you didn’t get along with the person’s parents? No. How many people of the opposite sex have you said ‘I love you’ to? One, romantically. Do you put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? No. What is the best thing you can draw? Meerkats are like the only thing I can draw decently without a reference. What band did you see for your first concert? Alice Cooper. Do you think people with legitimate addictions are pathetic, or do you understand them? Oh fuck off. I obviously can't "understand" because I've never endured one, but addictions are serious. Addiction is not a choice, and from meeting so many druggies during my psych hospital visits as well as having a friend who got clean, it's fucking hard. Has anyone you know ever had serious surgery before? Yeah, Mom had kidney cancer. The tumor was bigger than the kidney itself. When was the last time you had butterflies? When Sara was here, we had these few moments where we were just staring at each other smiling and asjdfawjij. Do you think Gatorade tastes refreshing or just gross? I don't like it. Do you own a pet fish? What kind of fish are they? No. Do you have a porch swing? No. How many area codes would you recognize? My own and childhood town's. Who has the best taste in music in your family? Besides myself obviously, Mom. What animal did you last pet or hold? My cat. If you were a different gender, what name would you want to have? Maybe like. Dakota. Probs my favorite unisex name. If you had to have one feature on your body changed to a canine version of said feature, what would you choose? Gimme dem teefs. What product or service do you find ridiculously overpriced? Some fast food, QUALITY MAKEUP, gas, uhhhh. How many people, outside of your immediate family, do you know the birthdays of by heart? Six, or seven if you count my dog. Maybe forgetting some. Shot of whiskey, or a bottle of Smirnoff? The latter, I love Smirnoff's. Have you ever been afraid of being underwater? No. Would you ever scuba dive in shark infested waters if you had the chance? In a cage, sure. Otherwise, no. Sharks are very much villainized, but I respect their capabilities, rare as an attack is. Have you ever hit a parked car with your car? Not yet, boy will I when I learn how to park around others lmao. What band/group have the most lyrics that represent you? Hmmm, not sure. How many times have you been on a plane? Four times that I remember, but I was on one as a baby, too. What do you wish were different about your hair? I wish it was eASIER TO DYE- What’s a personality type that you do not like? Overly talkative is draining for me. I also dislike the kinds of people who aim to make every "conversation" almost exclusively about themselves/leave no room for you to really express your own thoughts. That's not a convo. What’s a personality type that you do like? Deep thinkers. Those open to many possibilities, even if wild. Nature-adoring people and/or ones who feel heavily connected to the earth. Which of your friends is the least like you and in what way? Colleen. My best friend somehow, ha ha. She's extremely straightforward and isn't afraid to hurt feelings if she feels it's important for you to see truth, she gets shit done quick/doesn't procrastinate, she can be quite argumentative, she's completely independent, our religious and some political views are different, our music taste is totally inverted, and I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting. We're a prime example of opposites attract. Love her to death. How about the most like you and in what way? Sara, and I could write a novel here lmao. Separated at birth kinda shit. What’s something you do daily and is this a habit of yours? Sit on the computer, and yeeaah it's just about all I do. What was the last thing to frustrate you and is it still frustrating you now? Hm. Dunno. Probably something like Roman being so intent on lying on the keyboard. What helps you fall asleep? Nothing lol. Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason? Anti-depressants. Learned from my current psychiatrist that taking them only amps up bipolarity symptoms if you have that as well, which I do. Do you like designer bags with the logo stamped all over them? No. Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you? Native American. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why? British, 'cuz it's hot. Have you ever missed a flight? Omg yes. O'Hare after visiting Sara was absolutely impossible. It was so. Busy. That and I didn't know what I was doing through half of it. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do? "The" ex would lose his balls, the others I'd push back. Are you a virgin? P sure no but my story is complicated so aojsdfaow. What is one feature that you don’t like? I'm guessing you mean on myself personally, and that would easily be weight. I'd be relatively fine with myself if that was where I want it to be. What’s the genre of the current song you’re listening to? Metal ballad. What would you do if you were stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean? I don't really know. A part of me says I'd be so hopeless and terrified I'd drown myself. The odds of being found are minuscule. Who is the funniest person you know? Girt. When sitting on the floor, in what position do you normally sit? Kinda with my legs turned to the same side. Do you like being kissed spontaneously or asked? Spontaneously is way less awkward for me. But only if you're pretty sure through my display of comfort that I'm fine with it. Have you ever tried to break someone up? I thought about it out of spite. I considered messaging her over Facebook and telling her what she was in for, and I wished her dead, and I'm not joking. Turns out he broke up with her for the same reason as me, according to Mom being a FB stalker apparently. Are you a bad influence? I am in some areas. Shouldn't be even remotely lazy as me, and you shouldn't illegally download shit. Would you ever get a tattoo? I already have five, and six is probably coming next year with holiday + birthday money. Do you get nervous before going to doctor appointments? Not really, no. The only thing that makes me anxious is having to get weighed lmao. Do you call anyone "baby?" Sara, but more frequently "babygirl." What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? Off the top of my head, I think A Raisin in the Sun. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? No. What time do you usually have a shower? Night. What do you want to do after high school? I immediately went to a community college but dropped out in like a month. My depression was so bad and I just couldn't handle the difficulty, responsibility, and independence leap. Do you know anybody that is pregnant right now? Not off the top of my head. My acquaintance had a baby girl less than a week ago, though.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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