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#author stuff I get
thebibliosphere · 8 months
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I was already on a hair trigger today trying not to snap at a mutual for reblogging a "fuck authors who use Amazon" post, but, like, this shit is why some authors can only afford to use Amazon.
They don't have the $75+ to distribute through Ingram Spark. They don't have the $25 it takes to change your files if you need to update them after they've been accepted. They can't afford to take the cost of printing hit to their sales. They can't afford to lose an additional 40% of their income to retailer discounts.
And just so we're clear, Ingram isn't a vanity publisher. They're one of the largest print monopolies in the world. They're used by most mainstream traditional publishers and indie and self-pub authors alike. Amazon uses them when their print demand is too high.
My friend, whose work is published by Gollancz, is printed through Ingram, the same as mine. The difference is their publisher takes the hit for them. In theory. We won't get into dwindling advances here or how publishers are increasingly putting the onus of marketing and sales onto their authors or the fact that their editors can't afford rent or food while the executives get richer and richer.
So what do you do when the mainstream doesn't want you? What do you do when you're told if you can't keep up with the rat race, that you don't deserve to have your work published? What do you do if all you have is the ability to tell stories for a living, and no one wants you?
Well, you could die of starvation. I'm sure there are several people on here who'd be happy if that happened to me. (I know. Because they tell me. Often.) Or, you can shake hands with the devil, knowing it's a bum deal, knowing everything is fucked, but also knowing that every other aspect of this fucking industry is just as fucking bad.
There's no escape. It's relentless.
And you've got people out there posting things like, "Actually, I think authors who charge for their books are part of the problem."
And yeah, in an ideal world, I'd be making art for art's sake.
But we're not in that world. We're in the bad place, and you're actively making it worse. You're encouraging people to steal from people who are struggling just like you and calling it activism against billionaires or putting them in the same moral category as said billionaires as though we're not trapped in this system, same as you. Some of you are fellow fucking authors. And, like, my mind boggles at what it would take to stab a fellow creative in the back like that, but here we are.
Hell world.
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amphibianaday · 8 months
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day 1398
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k4r4ss · 7 months
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< drag me down into your basement, i’ve done nothing wrong >
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goodluckclove · 24 days
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Man, you're thinking, I'm struggling with writing. But this stranger on the internet can't possibly want to personally cheer me on and talk me through my creative problems for free and for nothing in return.
Listen. Let me tell you about my day.
Wife has what is, to me, a Big Important Job. Because of that, and with her support, I get to try my shot at being a full-time writer. So about six days a week, I get up and write for five hours and market for three. Every day. It's all I do.
This is cool and a problem - a cool problem, so to speak. I need other things to do with my time and for the sake of my carpal tunnel. And it has always been a dream of mine to support other artists, just because I feel like if you want to do art you should do it. And if the art is so hard you can't figure out how to start, maybe you're thinking about it the wrong way.
If I do nothing else substantial with my day it will be a rousing success because last night I asked a friend to write me three sentences and they came back with seven. That's the most amazing thing in the world to me.
So if you think you'd be taking up my time or burdening me by talking about your writing, you're not. I've decided to consider this part of my job.
Asks are open. Chat is open. Email address is [email protected]. Send me what you're working on, send me what you're struggling with, tell me why you're struggling and I swear to god I will leap through the screen and help.
Try me.
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fuctacles · 10 months
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Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/
I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess
[Part II] [Part III]
Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.
“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.
He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.
“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”
Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.
“Yeah?”
The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.
“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.
Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.
“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.
Eddie gawked at him.
“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”
“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”
“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.
“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.
Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.
“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”
Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.
“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”
He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.
“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”
Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.
“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”
Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.
The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.
“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.
A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.
“How long he has been living here?”
Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.
“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”
“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.
“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”
Eddie hummed, cocking his head.
“Your mom is very smart.”
Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.
“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”
Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.
“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”
“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.
This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.
“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”
Eddie raised his hands again.
“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”
That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.
Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.
Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.
*
“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break. 
“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.
“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”
“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.
“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”
The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.
“I am just saying-”
“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.
“No, I’m just-”
“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.
‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”
“Lure in.”
“Lull into a fake sense of security.”
“Cast charm person.”
“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”
“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.
*
Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.
“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.
Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.
“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”
There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.
“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”
“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently. 
The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.
“You guys finishing up?”
“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”
Steve frowned.
“That’s what I said.”
“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.
To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.
*
“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.
“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.
“I did not”
“You totally did.”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.
“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”
He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.
“Spare us the imagery, please.”
Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.
“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”
And he was gone.
Gareth sighed.
“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head. 
“Yeah.”
*
Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.
Some very, very humiliating calls.
Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.
He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-
“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”
Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?
“Hello?”
“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”
“... Eddie? Is that you?”
Busted.
“What gave me away?”
“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice. 
“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.
“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”
Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.
“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”
“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.
“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”
Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.
After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.
“What's up?”  
The man braced himself for what he was about to request.
“I need your help with an assignment.”
*
The door opened before he could even knock. Again.
“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”
“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.
“The likes of- Excuse me?!”
Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.
“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.
“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting. 
“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.
“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.
“Normies.”
“Pop listeners.”
“Mom friends.”
“Conformists.”
“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.
Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.
“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.
“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.
“He is!”
Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.
“I believe we have some physics to cover?”
Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.
[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]
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senselessalchemist · 4 months
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The Beheaded makes a pitch
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bucephaly · 6 months
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It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.
People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.
And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.
If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.
#and ive heard even dumber origins of the cherokee family myth#such as an ancestor having a silly sounding name so the descendents just go 'oh she mustve been an indian!!!'#i was one of the few people who had my ancestry done on the facebook and had genuine cherokee ancestry#[though i had found it before it was just really validating to get it double checked and i started finding cousins (:]#like. i was told once when i was a kid by my grandma that my dad had cherokee ancestry and i didnt believe her. its wild that so many peopl#will make it a Fixture of their identity [or even just smth they bring up ever] with Zero proof#at least for cherokees from what ive seen its usually considered really disrespectful to claim to have cherokee ancestry without#actually having the documentation [like ancestors on the rolls]#and no a dna test doesnt count. nor does 'my dad is Clearly not white!' or 'high cheekbones' or old family photos or anything#i had this discussion with someone recently whose dad had been calling himself 3/4 native but didnt know exactly what nation ???? hello?#and its like... sorry but ur dad is like. italian lol.#[and blood quantum is bullshit anyway im tired of the 'im 1/16 cherokee' comments its dumb#cherokee nation does not have a blood quantum requirement. its pointless bringing it up in the discussion of who is or isnt cherokee]#also mandatory disclaimer that im reconnecting. i didnt grow up connected to the culture of even knowing my ancestry#this is all from my looking into this stuff over the past year or so. i cant claim to be an authority over anything regarding this#this is p much all my repeating things ive heard said by people who know a lot more than i do haha#man. and this isnt even starting to get into the fake tribe stuff. the only legit cherokee groups are the 3 federally recognized bands#cherokee nation of oklahoma. united keetoowah band. and the eastern band of cherokee indians.#any others that are state recognized or not at all arent acknowledged as legitimate by any of the legit cherokee groups#anyway. my final message goodb.ye#cherokee#tsalagi
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pearlcaddy · 1 year
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LOCKWOOD & CO. 1.03
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code-dy · 1 year
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Holy shit i have the capability to draw things for my favourite fanfic authors!!!
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Here’s a quick sketch for that lovely author who wrote that absolutely lovely vampire thorin fanfic inspired by wwdits
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chiropteracupola · 2 months
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I remember, I swear - I was eighteen at the time / Time to spare - far from the wind and rain / And blueness reaching into every corner...
[a perceval for @mortiscausa's 'march to camelot,' for the prompt 'fool']
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thelonelyshore-if · 2 months
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update today c:
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gotogull · 1 year
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Cover Art for Chapter 27 of @post-it-notes7 fanfic In Your Dreams
(go read it ( this is a direct threat ) ) 
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lord-squiggletits · 11 months
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The thing about Prowl is I don't really think canon was ever trying to frame him as a "necessary evil" or anything along the lines of "he's a shitty person but his work was necessary" like mmm.... That feels very much like something Prowl wants to believe about himself, not something that's actually factually true in reality.
I can't really make a good argument about it because I only remember like a handful of standout Prowl Moments in IDW1 but like... Prowl dropping a bomb on a neutral city and blaming it on the Decepticons is not "a necessary evil," that's a war crime. Prowl trying to destroy the space bridge to Caminus to keep Starscream from getting power over it, dooming the entire planet and its inhabitants to extinction by starvation, is not "a necessary evil," it's a fucking war crime. I feel like trying to frame such drastic measures as him "doing the dirty work of the Autobots" feels way too much like an excuse for actions that actually aren't justifiable. Especially since Prowl himself is far from being the 100% rational guy he thinks he is, considering how often he bases his decisions on things like his anti-Decepticon bias and his general refusal to follow any orders that contradict what he thinks is The Right Thing To Do (TM).
But also I think this is kind of the fault of the narrative of IDW1, since very few Autobots besides Prowl are given the chance to actually be morally gray even when the worldbuilding implicates them in some very morally gray things. Like, for example, JRO adding in the existence of MTOs which implies that the normally squeaky-clean leader Optimus was willing to approve the creation of new soldiers just to throw them into combat (and even the attempts to humanize the MTOs by giving them "an education" were eventually cut down to nothing but combat optimizations). And there's also the fact that Optimus knows about the Wreckers and has been known to call them on missions at least once (Stormbringer), meaning he's very much aware of the Wreckers and their tactics and is willing to call them in for fights when it's necessary.
I don't think you need to use Prowl as a crutch to make the Autobots morally gray. I think the Autobot leadership (or at least, Optimus, since few people besides him or Prowl seem to have major tactical command over the army as a whole) is plenty morally gray enough on its own, because the nature of war is inherently morally gray no matter how righteous your cause is. Reducing the lives of your own people into numbers on maps, harvesting resources, bringing MTOs to life just to die in a war they practically have no stake in, those things are enough.
And tbh it kind of bothers me when people try to saddle Prowl with the "dirty work of the Autobots", not just because it frames Prowl's blatantly evil actions as some sort of savior act taking the blame from the rest of the Autobots (which isn't even accurate, because the blame for war crimes falls on the entire army as an institution rather than one person), but because it downplays the moral grayness of the Autobots and pretends that no Autobot BESIDES Prowl ever participated in morally gray actions, which simply isn't true.
TLDR: Prowl isn't as much of a hero as he thinks he is because committing atrocities in the name of your cause doesn't change the fact that they're atrocities (and may not have even been justified). However, painting Prowl as the "token evil teammate" of sorts also places too much blame for the atrocities of war on him in particular, when in reality that's a burden shared by Optimus Prime and any other members of the Autobot military command structure.
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canisalbus · 10 months
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I realize this might be a slightly odd ask, but… Out of curiosity, what sort of foods do you think Machete would be fond of? And do you think they’d differ noticeably from when he was young vs once he’d grown older?
He's a fussy eater. He rarely eats for pleasure and dislikes being seen dining in company, but attends formal dinners and banquets if invited, since declining without a very good reason would be at best rude and at worst a devastating faux pas. He prefers fowl dishes over red meat and greatly dislikes sea food (which is just peachy since this is the Mediterranean). Pasta seems to be already a well established part of the cuisine at that point, maybe he's into that. For the most of his life he's eaten rather simple foods so he finds bland soups and broths very safe and comforting. Pomegranates are his fruit of choice, he doesn't have much of a sweet tooth but enjoys candied apricots and figs on occasion.
He's exceptionally bad at holding his liquor, and he can't stand the feelings of unpredictability, disorientation, unsafeness and potential loss of control that being intoxicated causes in him. Unfortunately, drinking plain water was very risky and uncommon, it was contaminated and unsanitary more often than not, especially in population centers. Generally the main drinks you'd consume through the day were diluted wine and beer/ale (this was the case for children as well). Machete tends to prefer wine, which he waters down heavily, and sometimes has it flavored with spices, herbs, honey or sugar. Having even a little bit of alcohol in the mix would kill at least a portion of the bacteria (not that the concept was known at the time, people believed many illnesses were caused by tainted air and foul smells, I mean fair enough, if your water is filthy it probably smells bad too).
(Fun fact, apparently Ancient Romans had more or less perfected the art of winemaking but by the Middle Ages a lot of the techniques had been lost. During the Renaissance wine was generally very low quality and the way it was fermented and stored (making the switch from sealed ceramic amphora of the Antiquity to those iconic wooden barrels) meant it would only stay good for a year at best and the taste would start to deteriorate within the first couple of months. Vintage wines weren't a thing, the best stuff was fresh. Apparently European wine was pretty bad for hundreds of years and would only start to improve again around 1800s. Or at least that's what I've gathered, I could be wrong, I'm not a wine expert).
Europe hadn't quite adopted tea yet and he narrowly missed the time coffee began to spread to his corner of the world (I bet he would've loved both of those, with the help of caffeine he could've been twice as much of a jittery sleepless wreck). I've read that people would distill sage and drink the resulting concoction with hot water to create this very tea-like minty drink, that sounds like something he'd like.
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................ he 
#i feel like I posted this already but I also can't find it in any recent posts so...#......he#cats#EVEN if I did post it.. why not poast himb again? it's he#I'm like halfway through actually editing aforementioned costumes and stuff and i WANT to work on sculptures again and I have video#s and that worldbuilding slideshow and all of these things so hopefully like.. more usual stuff soon maybe.. to be posted#for now though yeah.. just cats#The end of the year is also when I panic about the passage of time and how little I've gotten done and how I will never actually be a#sucessful game maker slash author slash cat cafe owner slash set designer slash costume designer slash psychologist#who lives in like Scotland or somehting and also owns my own candle company or something ghbjhb#and will probably just be a mentally ill hermit recluse all my life who dies early of mysterious health issues with 5000 projects left#undone and blah blah the crushing weight of chronic illness and capitalism and so on and so forth#So then I scramble to get projects done to try and meet some goals but usually that means I scatter between projects#so it takes longer to finish all of them. Like instead of dedicating 8 hours to one thing and finishing it one sitting. I'll do 2 hours on#this then 2 hours on that then 2 hours on another things. so they all get done slower even though I'm still technically making progress on#them all. This is also a very poo poo pee pee stink brain way to work and is not like. the most efficent thing but it's just how my brain#organizes tasks sometimes lol#***#(<ignore this its part of an OCD compulsion lol. anytime you see me type three asterisks I'm not bleeping out a curse word#it's just a Special Secret Foolish Thing I Have To Do At Specific Uncontrolable Times When Brain Says So gbjhhj)#ANYWAY... eeeee#Still haven't resolved my mystery chest injury though so being at te computer for too long is also kind of achey-inducing#Better get over it though because I have like 30+ hours of slideshow vidoe to edit hahaha hee hee hoo!!!!!
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up-in-flames-writing · 4 months
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In lieu of Stuff Your Kindle day, can we talk about the issue of how the m/m genre of books, romance or not, is almost entirely dominated by women? Can we talk about how the most recognisable gay couples in media are written by women? Can we talk about how queer men can't even write about ourselves, how we are only allowed to exist when it's from the point of view of a straight woman sexualising us?
Can we talk about that? Or am I going to get called misogynistic for pointing out the disparity between who gets the writing deals, & who gets their books turned into movies, & whose shit gets popular versus whose doesn't? Can we talk about how m/m fiction is only allowed when it appeals to a cishet gaze, or is that too much for tumblr to take?
Can we also talk about how trans queer men are even more hated by publishing? Can we talk about how we get shit from both sides? Can we talk about how books about the experiences of being a queer man, written by queer men, never get the same recognition as books written by women on this subject (barring academia which has its own problems)?
Can we talk about that? Can we?
#booker speaks#no bloody clue how to tag this#this is for the tags only but#people would get up in arms if the f/f book scene was dominated by cismen only#why are we not extending this same energy to ciswomen writers of m/m?#why did we forget about the original meaning of own voices?#why are queer men pushed out of publishing in the way that we are?#& im not just talking about romance here#like there are fantasy & scifi & contemporary novels about men loving men that are written by ciswomen who have a very narrow view of what#m/m relationships are like. & this extends towards stuff like manga too but im not gonna get into that cause i dont read mangs/comics#can we talk about how hard it is to find queer masc authors nowadays?#saying this both as a reader & as a writer#can we also talk about how lists of queer & especially trans novels almost always forget to include anything by transmascs & gay transmascs#or if they do include us its 1 transmasc book to 1 enby book to 8 transfem books or books about the 'trans experience' in nebulous terms#can we stop reccing detransition baby & start reccing the spirit bares its teeth?#can we look at works written by queer masc people that arent just red white royal blue & stone butch blues?#go read cemetary boys#read alexis hall & max turner#read bloom if you like comics. or nimona#read my shit too!#im gonna be focusing on my writing blog way more this year#& im working on some projects that may or may not end up being published in physical form#read more queer masc stories by queer masc authors!
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