(no subject)

Jul. 27th, 2017 10:33 pm
green: (mcu: winter soldier)
[personal profile] green
I just saw someone on Tumblr call Guns N Roses 'classic rock'.

An auspicious start to any post:

Jul. 26th, 2017 08:34 pm
moetushie: (drink: "standard" radium)
[personal profile] moetushie
So, I was having a minor crisis on Twitter, re: Dreamwidth and the soul-crushing inadequacy I feel every Reading Wednesday because I am not reading ... well, novels anyway. I used to be a hopelessly devoted reader, but sadly college cured me of the habit. My local library, alas, is also not that great when it comes to books -- I sigh daily for the great and beautiful Minneapolis Central Library! Even thought that ledge was extremely dangerous, re: falling icicles.

ANYWAY, I WENT OUT AND BOUGHT TWO (2) used books -- The Complete Short Stories of Flannery O'Conner and Jane Fairfax by Joan Aiken. Usually I've got no time for published Jane Austen fanfiction, but it is Joan Aiken, so we'll see.

This afternoon I got two very nice comments on some old, old Stucky fic (like, written before Winter Soldier came out Stucky fics) and I got to wondering how I'd tackle this pairing now, in the year of our Lord 2017, and if it'd be different than how I did it it back in 2011/2012. They say every cell of our body changes in seven years...

I might just try it out to get out of my sports anime rut. I think the Cap side of the MCU is the only part I'm actually caught up on. I don't really follow anything else, although I'm looking forward to Black Panther and also RIDICULOUS BEARD STEVE AHAHA (CEvans finally did it! He finally got to wear a beard to work!)

Also d'you think I'd be able to watch Thor 3 if I skipped Thor 2?

Summer Pictures, 2017

Jul. 23rd, 2017 06:22 pm
moetushie: Beaton cartoon - a sexy revolution. (Default)
[personal profile] moetushie
I know, I know, summer still has a bit of life on in it yet. But I thought y'all might enjoy a few pictures of how my summer is going! It's pretty busy here and I haven't been able to really leave the city, save for some weekend day trips, however, it's still been fun! (And also a reminder of this country's nightmarish history.)

Anyway, play on!

Sorry for the length ... )

Anyway, that's my summer so far. Hope you enjoyed this picspam! Have a good night!
elaineofshalott: Violet from the Lemony Snicket stories, tying her dark hair back with a ribbon. (ribbon)
[personal profile] elaineofshalott
(I wrote this post in a Word doc awhile ago; I think it's still relevant.)

I’ve been thinking about excessive empathy lately, and whether it might be leveraged as an asset, rather than smothered for being a liability. What can one do, what progress can one make, when one is incapacitated by compassion? When one’s only capacity is for grief, of what use can one be?

Related passages from fiction occurred to me, of course. Upon reviewing them I realize they have to do with empathy for one’s specially beloved human, rather than empathy for humanity in general--humanity in the abstract and then frighteningly in the no-longer-abstract. One hears news headlines. One watches a movie character and knows that real people have similarly suffered. So the following passages perhaps only glancingly apply to my own struggles, since I am unespoused. But often a glancing relation is still a telling one.

BBC Sherlock’s John, after a drug overdose:

John holds a hand out, pointedly. And then Sherlock is up and they are leaving. Sherlock is too thin, he's too cold, he's a tower of strength drained completely empty. It could make a grown man cry, this sort of waste, this level of senselessness. Why should a priceless work of art dash itself against the concrete purposefully? The whole story is a tragedy. It could break John's heart if he let it.

But he isn't going to.

wordstrings, Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name


Original-canon Holmes, during World War I:
It was a calculated war waged against my own mind. My mind was my bitterest foe. My soaringly imaginative, tactically brilliant, ever-practical mind. Had I been able to exchange my brain with that of a half-witted factory girl, during the four years Watson was in France, I should have done so. I should have traded it for a Dorset cow's in an instant. Could I have slipped into a coma entirely, I should have chosen that, save that then I would not have been working every waking moment to end the War quickly.

And God, how desperately I needed to end that bloody War.

At the beginning, I could see everything. Too much. And there the information was, all at my disposal on my brother's desk. Guns. Troops movements. Chemical weaponry. Mustard gas. God in Heaven, it drew and quartered me daily. At the beginning, when I was less strict with myself and allowing flights of vividly pictured deductions, anything could tip my heart into a blind panic. I glimpsed a wire in concert with a coded list, a grain manifest, a series of numerals, and a map on my brother's oak desk and nearly sent myself to the hospital. I knew generally, within thirty miles, perhaps, where my friend was at any given time. My brother saw to that. And according to those seemingly innocuous papers in 1914, he would be dead in a week. The odds were for a simple gunshot wound, but exploding debris was also possible.

Looking up from the mad scratches in his commonplace war journal, Mycroft frowned at me from across the length of his entire office.

"Stop."

I made no answer.

"Sherlock," he said clearly, "I have seen what you have seen, but you have not seen all that I have. In addition, I do not allow myself to actually see it. Stop your mind's eye, and at once."

"How can I help but see it? I've always seen it. All my life," I answered miserably, leaning back against his bookshelves and shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Well, you are through now," my brother commanded, tidying papers. "This is not you staring at carriage tracks in our drive and predicting the events of the next six hours verbatim. I can allow you to know things, to employ your tireless energies on our behalf, but not to see them. Do you mark me? I will retrain your mind myself if I have to. You are Sherlock Holmes, not Cassandra of ancient myth. We shall unravel the work of sixty years."

"I can't. My mind doesn't work that way," I whispered in despair.

"It's going to have to." Rising, my brother approached me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He left it there until I looked back at him, seeing my own eyes in a huge, sagging face of sixty-seven years.

"He should not have done it," I said through a clenched jaw. It was the only time I said it. Ever.

"No, but now he has," Mycroft said softly. "Be logical. You are not getting him back for a period of months or possibly even years. You are thus presented with exactly two options. Either stay as you are and see how long you can live like this before you break--I give it three months, myself, and if the War grows worse as swiftly as I think it will, no longer than two and a half--or stop seeing things. Think them in the abstract, for I need you, but do not see them, petit frère. Please stop seeing them. Try for me."

"All right," I gasped. I had not been aware of how shallowly I was breathing, for I was watching him perish over and over again in a spray of gore and crossfire. The moment I agreed, my brother slid back into his usual distant inertia.

"Good man," he said absently, going back to his desk.

Katie Forsythe, The Presbury Letters


These passages speak of the necessity of closing one’s heart, fortifying the doors against the onslaught of an unrelentingly brutal world, and the immense, hardly bearable anxiety and sorrow that would be engendered in the collision of that brutality with one’s own empathy. No human metaphor-heart can take in all the suffering of humanity, and continue to function.

Or can it?

What if Katie--my trusted pet favorite author, my guru of the ugly sides of love--is not entirely right on this count? What if this metaphor is faulty, or at least does not encompass all possibilities? That is the weakness of all metaphors, of course. Each one is only a lens, and not the thing itself. And the human brain, which is what we are really talking about here, is complex beyond our feeble attempts at description and measurement. So: what if the alternative to closing the door to empathy, and carrying on with trying to fix the mess, is also a viable possibility? What would that look like?

Using “we” to mean “I, and others with a seeming excess of compassion”: we could be in a waiting room where they have the tv news on, and not frantically try to divert our own attention.

What if a significant part of the horror of a horrific thought lies in our own panicked urge to look away, to not let it affect us?

What if we just sat with the reality that the world is brutal and merciless, that many many people are in unbearable pain at any given minute? And that we’re partly to blame? What if we just sat and let that be true? What if that didn’t have to mean us curling up in too much shame and rage and sorrow even to suicide ourselves out of this train wreck?

Would that lead to us taking less, and less effective, action to fix the world? Or more?

Consider: you can see the horrible thing in your mind’s eye, but you don’t have to be in the scene. You can just watch and be still. That’s all you can do in that moment, since it’s your mind’s eye; you’re not really there, able to throw your body in front of the cannon or whatever. And when the mind’s cinema screen flickers to darkness for the time being--perhaps, sometimes, even while it’s still running, if you can get the knack--you can plot ways to make it better.

It also strikes me that the rationally plotted, stiff-upper-lip approach is tied to toxic masculinity. What if I consult some female and/or non-Western heroes? How do they deal with their unbearable feelings? What does "Cassandra of ancient myth" have to say on the matter?

I do recall some tale of Theseus with lamenting women kneeling in the road before his procession, begging him to stop some deadly action. And, in the story, he did. Maybe the mere display of the full force of our distress, in front of the right persons, would be a force for good?

What can one do while in profound distress, other than displaying it? What action, in that moment, can be taken, that might be useful to the hemorrhaging world? Or must one wait until the moment passes, and act while in a calmer state?

Thoughts and fiction recs welcome.
moetushie: Beaton cartoon - a sexy revolution. (Default)
[personal profile] moetushie
So, there's this fandom secret (it's the seventh down -- sorry, I'd link directly to it, but I'm on mobile and it's more trouble than it's worth) about Sirius' ~canonical sexuality. I mean, canonically? He doesn't have one. If Remus/Sirius shippers take their ship as near canon, who cares? It's not changing anything. You can take JKR's words about Tonks being Remus' only love and forget it or keep it. But that's not really how people work, it is? They fall in love, they fall out.

I honestly have an annoying time with JKR's extra-canonical additions -- like Dumbledore and Wizard Hitler being the only gays in the magical village, etc -- but there's no point in fighting with other fans about it. (Unless you want to, then you can. If you want to wank about Harry Potter right now in the year of our Lord (Voldemort) 2017, sound off on the comments below. We can fight with knives.)

Personally, with no illusions about it being canon or w/e, I think Sirius was in love with James and transferred some of that obsession (but not the attraction) over to Harry. In that way, he's a lot like Dave from The Charioteer. I was thinking this when fixing my hair this morning and realized that. Wait, don't I find Dave creepy and controlling? (Yes.) Shouldn't I ...? Of course, the difference is that Andrew was raised by Dave whilst Harry only saw Sirius a few times before the latter's death.

Now if Sirius had raised Harry... I'm trying to think of how to describe the exact opposite of pacifist Quakers but coming up blank. But um, yeah. That. With magic.

Automation

Jul. 20th, 2017 11:37 pm
[syndicated profile] questionable_content_feed




Ads by Project Wonderful! Your ad could be here, right now.

Alice Grove is finished. I'm going to take some time to just do QC for a while and then start another side project sometime in the fall. Patreon subscribers will get sneak peeks, advance previews, and other stuff as it develops. Thank you for reading my comics.

fic: dog pics xxx

Jul. 20th, 2017 09:46 pm
moetushie: Beaton cartoon - a sexy revolution. (Default)
[personal profile] moetushie
dog pics xxx (556 words) by havisham
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice), Phichit Chulanont, Phichit Chulanont's Hamsters
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Social Media, Dogs, send dog pics not dick pics
Series: Part 50 of havisham's SASO 2017 works collection
Summary:

From out of the blue, Victor gets a message asking him for pictures of his dog.



Um.

fic: the fighter

Jul. 18th, 2017 09:23 pm
moetushie: Beaton cartoon - a sexy revolution. (Default)
[personal profile] moetushie
I had a lot of long, loving posts written out in my head. But you get bullet points instead.

- I've been meaning to post. I have selfies to post! Profound meditations on life and fandom to postulate! (No, I don't.) But in then end, eh. My life's been pretty peaceful so far. Work stresses me out.

- I was sleeping on the bus and someone said I looked pretty which was weird but nice because she was a motherly older woman than a creepy dude. Is this sexist?

- I wonder if the movie Dunkirk will prompt people to read The Charioteer? A friend on Twitter said she checked it out to she can read my fic and I am alternately delighted and dismayed. Not to worry, I have told her that there is a lot better fic than mine out there and will be reccing when she's finished with the book.

- Also, the Doctor will be a woman and not a moment too soon! I am a little disappointed that the Doctor isn't going to be played by a person of color, but I also remember how shit the fandom was to Mickey and Martha, so.... (Not just the fandom, but the writers too. Honestly, that's one of the reasons I'm not particularly nostalgic about LJ-based/'old' fandom -- it was incredibly hostile place for POC.)

Anyway, Jodie Whittaker was excellent in Broadchurch, even during the shaky second season. (Haven't seen the third.) But the reason she looked so familiar is of course because she was in Cranford! Ah, the period drama industrial complex, what would I do without you? I'm think I should probably see season 10 (I wanna see Bill!) and then the 13th Doctor soonish. Maybe once it's available to stream and I can do it with one go.

- Also, I have been driving my AO3 subscribers away by posting nothing but SASO fills for months. I really need to take a break from it and post something else. But what? Why?

Anyway, I posted something that might be relevant to y'alls.

the fighter (628 words) by havisham
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Characters: Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Noir, Organized Crime, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Mafia Yuri Plisetsky, Serious Injuries, Assassin Katsuki Yuuri, Bagman Otabek Altin, ok i'll stahp
Series: Part 47 of havisham's SASO 2017 works collection
Summary:

Otabek's always looked out for Yuri, no matter what, but he can't help but wish he'd make different choices.

Otayuri, mafia/noir AU.



My first time writing Otabek/Yuri and it's a AU because I lack imagination. Okay, byyyyyye.

The InGretable Hulk

Jul. 16th, 2017 04:11 pm
cyprinella: Picture of my dog Greta with a big doggie grin and her tongue hanging out (Greta yay)
[personal profile] cyprinella

I was cleaning off a memory card the other day and realized I never posted Greta’s Halloween costume from 2015.

The mild mannered Greta Banner. Greta in a white lab coat with a name tag that says Banner and wearing glasses.

The mild mannered Greta Banner. Greta in a white lab coat with a name tag that says Banner and wearing glasses.

The mild-mannered Greta Banner was just engaging in some research, as Gretas do. Her glasses didn’t fit very well.

Then she went outside and there were PEOPLE JOGGING. OMG, PEOPLE WERE JOGGING.

Oh no, she got angry! Greta mid bark and jumping.

Oh no, she got angry! Greta mid bark and jumping.

Oh no, she got angry! Greta mid bark and jumping.
And the InGretable Hulk was released!

The InGretable Hulk. Greta painted green and wearing a purple harness.

She was so mad she rampaged on Stark Industries and Embassy of Sokovia.

The InGretable Hulk on top of a box with the sign Stark Industries on it.

The InGretable Hulk on top of a box with the sign Embassy of Sokovia on it

She even got into it with Captain America but then they decided to work together against the Canada Geese.

The InGretable Hulk boxes with Captain America. Greta on her back legs next to me in a Captain America dress

The InGretable Hulk sitting and looking at me

The InGretable Hulk and Captain America looking out and up

The end.

The InGretable Hulk. Greta painted green and sitting on the porch with a doggie smile.

Profile

perilous: (Default)
Peri L. Hades

October 2014

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
192021222324 25
262728293031 

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 28th, 2017 06:49 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios