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sinceileftyoublog · 1 year

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Avey Tare Interview: Making Sound And Putting It Together

Photo by Amy Grace

BY JORDAN MAINZER

When you’re listening to Avey Tare solo or even his work with Animal Collective, you’re waiting for that moment: a scream, a jittery melody, chaotic percussion that pans throughout the speakers like ping-pong balls. His latest album, 7s (Domino), has almost none of that. A subdued, reflective affair, 7s was born out of a desire to collaborate. In 2020, Animal Collective had just finished making Time Skiffs remotely, and Dave Portner wanted to channel his creative energy into in-person collaboration. Of course, during the early stages of the pandemic, the inability to (wisely) be in the same room as many others disrupted just about every facet of life, let alone every line of work. Portner, ironically situated in the musical mecca of Asheville, where he’d have a murderer’s row of collaborative choices any other time, felt depressed, and a bit lost. Luckily, he did have Adam McDaniel and Drop of Sun.

Unlike on his past records, Portner went into 7s with very little ideas of how his songs, casually written during 2020, would take shape. During the first week of 2021, he and McDaniel spent three days with achievable goals--a guitar part here, percussion there--and emerged happy even if they only got half done what they set out to do. It’s these initial sketches that inform the aesthetic and ultimate vibe of 7s. The first song Portner had for it was the 9-and-a-half-minute centerpiece “Hey Bog”, originally written to play on his 2019 tour for Cows on Hourglass Pond. Ambient and rubbery, it’s easy to get lost in before strumming and thumping percussion enter, his ethereal, yet outwardly emotive singing combining with the instrumentation to make a sort of New Age acid house. The rest of the songs were sculpted around “Hey Bog”, from the trilling tribute to essential workers and good deeds, “Invisible Darlings”, to the ever-anxious shuffle “Sweeper’s Grin”. Though Portner’s words are devotional and grateful, they’re also extremely uncertain. On “The Musical”, he converses with himself, questioning how he came to be as a musician. The woozy closer “Cloud Stop Rest Start” seems to be one of many moments where he questions humanity’s motives, referring to the impersonal nature of COVID data and inherent, yet unavoidable selfishness of living during a pandemic. “Oh American stranger, is it always like this? Losing things to spikes and the ups and downs?” he sings.

Those ups and downs, albeit of a different type, have continued ever since for Portner. Of course, live music would return about a year and a half later thanks to an unprecedented, life-saving vaccine, but the still volatile nature of COVID would mean Animal Collective had to cancel their EU/UK tour as recently as last October. Time Skiffs and 7s were released last year and this February to critical acclaim, and Portner still finds time to work with McDaniel. “We’ll...just get together and make something and record,” he told me over the phone from his home last month. “He’s always down.” Portner knows that there will be trials and tribulations, but just like his and Animal Collective’s approach to playing live, it seems as though he’s starting to look at everything--studio albums, careers, life, and everything in between--with a sense of wondrous improvisation and honesty, no matter how messy.

Read my conversation with Portner below, edited for length and clarity. Catch Avey Tare at Sleeping Village tomorrow night. Lipsticism, the solo project of local musician and producer Alana Schachtel, opens.

Since I Left You: Animal Collective finished Time Skiffs remotely, and it led to a creative streak for you at a time when people were working by themselves. What specifically for you led to this period of being prolific?

Dave Portner: When I have time around the house or time off from touring, I try to write songs. It’s a big part of my day, my time in the studio, my work. During the transition from 2020 to 2021 in particular, I was getting more and more depressed about being cut off from collaborating musically with people. It’s such a big part of my life. We had planned to record Time Skiffs together in the studio, and that couldn’t happen. [It] isn’t a bad thing in terms of process, but quarantine and 2020 and the pandemic, having me shut in so much and not able to do anything beyond going outside of my studio, led to a lot of cabin fever. I was craving musical collaboration with somebody.

It worked out that Adam McDaniel, my friend, had this studio called Drop of Sun. We just decided to be really relaxed about it. I had a lot of time around the house, so I started writing these songs. [We blocked] off three days at the beginning of January [2021], because I had to get out of my house and into another musical environment. At that time, Drop of Sun was one nice studio room in his basement, and the whole Drop of Sun team was working on building this new studio, which was done by the time we started the mixing stage. But even starting in his basement, it was nice and crucial to be able to bounce ideas off somebody. I didn’t have a huge game plan, just basic structures of songs I wanted to start working on and see where they would go.

SILY: After this time period of less collaboration or remote collaboration, it seems like the journey from the demos to the finished product was pretty seamless. It that true, or were there bumps in the road?

DP: No, it felt really good. We started with three days, and when they ended, we wished we had more time. We had to do other things here and there. Allowing myself to step away from things and go in every day with a goal of, [for instance, “ finish] this guitar part” or a few ideas I wanted to accomplish, [felt] really good. We started wanting to do more and more.

At the beginning, I didn’t know what 7s was. It was just me recording some songs. As we got towards the end, I was still working on “Invisible Darlings” and wanted to get that in the fold. I had “Hey Bog” already, which I wrote in 2019 when I had solo shows and wanted to put new songs into the set. I wanted to record that one for a while. Since I knew it would be a centerpiece, or at least on the record, it was a matter of fitting other songs around it. I think that’s why 7s feels like it has one foot in the past and one foot in the present and future. I wanted everything to feel cohesive and not too random; it was just a matter of building it from the bottom up in Drop of Sun. That’s not usually how I do my solo records. Typically, I’m planning them beforehand when I’m off from Animal Collective, and I know what I want to do. This one was created as we went, even though the songs were kind of written.

SILY: Do you think the casual vibe of the recording made its way into the quality of the songs? “Hey Bog” and “Sweeper’s Grin” are relaxed, reflective, melancholy songs. In other words, did the anomaly in process allow the songs to breathe more?

DP: Definitely. Having a lot of time at home to work on stuff and play them, it was a very introspective time. There were melancholy thoughts that went along with that, and there were happy thoughts, joyous thoughts, anger. Music and making and recording music is often a very cathartic process, especially when I’m doing stuff at my home studio. I’m working through a lot. The same is the case with 7s. I [was] working through the emotions when recording and doing the vocal parts. Some of the vocal parts were written and created as I was recording them. It’s really relaxed working with Adam, because we’re good friends, and at the time, there was nobody else around, so we set our own limits and time and let it feel good. “The Musical” and “Invisible Darlings” had a couple different versions we tried, and having the time to not feel rushed about it helped them because we took the time to really find the place for them.

SILY: This all reminds me of when you sing on “Sweeper’s Grin”, “Happy to be carefree / Do tell.”

DP: It’s kind of a cynical question. Some interpret that as me saying I’m happy to be carefree, but it’s really somebody else saying they’re happy to be carefree, and I’m like, “Oh, really? Do tell.” What’s there to be happy about? The world is crumbling. That’s not my typical worldview or outlook on life, but it comes into my mind sometimes. That side is there, so I want it to be there.

SILY: Is that also why you decided to end the record with “Cloud Stop Rest Start”, a bit more of an uneasy track?

DP: For sure. I also didn’t see that song going anywhere else.

SILY: On “The Musical”, you sing, “I wonder, how is it explained that a person comes into the field of making sound and putting it together.” Was that something you were wondering especially when making 7s? Is that a question you get asked a lot?

DP: I feel like I’ve [lately] been a lot more interested in conversational songwriting. That’s me starting to mess around with that, which isn’t something I’ve done before. I haven’t been so personal about my process of making music and my place in music. Asheville is a musical place. I’m around a lot of musicians, and there’s a lot of history of music with Appalachia, people doing all kinds of stuff. Being in this environment, I have friends that play music for the joy of making music, and they’re not so interested in a record contract.

There are a lot of people in the music industry frustrated or trying to figure it out for themselves. It’s been a transitional period, which I was feeling at the time. I had a lot of thoughts about Animal Collective and 2020 and the pandemic. It was a big shift for us. This wasn’t an attempt to answer those questions, just saying what’s on my mind.

SILY: Last October, Animal Collective cancelled their European tour. It seemed like a reality check for people not in the music industry, to see this very successful band unable to tour for financial reasons. Do you still sort of feel like you’re in that transitional phase?

DP: There were a lot of factors that went into cancelling that tour. In some ways, the band is always in a transitional phase because there are so many things we want to do alone and together. It gets complicated to map out. There’s a need these days to really map out your future in the music industry, and probably in a lot of other fields of work and life. People need to plan far in advance, which is difficult for us, being so spread apart. There’s a lot of complicated things that go into setting up a tour and getting together to practice. There were a lot more hurdles, the fact that COVID was still peaking pretty hard during the tour, and having gone through cancelling shows because two of the band members got COVID, myself being one of them. The risks were just too high. It wasn’t fully because we were in transition, but beyond that, the music industry is in transition. Musicians need to get on the same plane and same field and work together a bit more. I think we can work through the transition to make tours happen and not have these kind of worries, and make everyone who wants to tour able to tour. There are so many musicians and bands out there that want to tour, and because we’re such a name already and people know us, it’s fairly easy for us to get shows. I feel like stepping back and letting newer musicians [step up] is the right thing to do, to let people have their chance. It’s tough these days.

SILY: Do you think something like the Union of Musicians & Allied Workers is a step in achieving more equitable touring?

DP: I think so. There’s a certain state of being and frame of mind. A lot of musicians have different goals. For some, it’s not all about making money. There are many different reasons to do it. That kind of thing is helpful, but I don’t think you’re going to get everybody on the same page. It’s a little bit more than just getting everybody in the same union.

SILY: You just mentioned that you feel like other industries are also in flux, which reminds me to ask: On “Invisible Darlings”, are you singing about essential workers during the pandemic?

DP: I am, yeah. I’m trying to sing about anybody that would go unnoticed in your regular day. It could be an essential worker. There are people in the music industry that do a lot for a band that take a lot of crap, too, or are overlooked when they make the night go as smoothly as the music does. It’s also about people that do simple, good deeds, like holding the door open for someone else or pick up a fallen bag of groceries.

SILY: Is the album title simply a reference to the number of songs on the album?

DP: It is, but 7 is an important number for me. I wanted to have that energy be part of the record once it seemed like 7 songs is the way to go. I usually run with stuff like that on my solo records and Animal Collective records.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

DP: I’m really into collage and trying to take my own visual art in different directions. It’s some sort of landscape, for me, the psychological landscape of the record. You could call it dreamlike, and I’ve referred to it as surreal, even though that’s pretty vague. I’m influenced by the surrealists and [André] Breton’s work.

SILY: Do you think the music on this record is equally influenced by surreal visual artists?

DP: I’m very influenced by visual mediums, film, art that I see that affects me. During the writing and recording of Time Skiffs, I had been reading a lot of surrealist essays, diving deep into the short stories and essays of surrealist writers.

SILY: During recording, do you ever have images projected or displayed to inspire you?

DP: I do. We’ve done that with Animal Collective since Feels. Projections, visual accompaniments. In my own studio, maybe not when recording, but when writing or jamming, I’ll put something from my computer on and let it play. Old cartoons--I was in a real Rocky and Bullwinkle phase. He-Man. Any 50′s/60′s abstract avant-garde stuff. It’s all over the place for me.

SILY: How are you adapting these tracks to a live show as compared to how you’ve adapted past material?

DP: I’m trying to keep the set pretty diverse. I’m playing from all my records. In terms of playing live, I’m never trying to recreate the record. That’s not very interesting to me. A live experience, as a performer, and I hope for the audience, too, should be something different. If you want to listen to the record, you can stay home and listen to the record. There are strengths to [7s], though, that I can’t look past. [I want to keep] pretty true to the vibe of the record. It’s just gonna be me on stage, using sequencers and playing guitar, mostly. I’ll do some acoustic songs. I want it to also feel organic and like a live experience. It’s a balance between finding the strength of the record and feeling like I’m making something as I go.

SILY: What else is next for you and the band?

DP: We’re finishing up a new Animal Collective record. We hope we can put it out this year, but that will depend on our label. I’m finishing the artwork now.

SILY: How did you find the experience scoring The Inspection? Would you do it again in the future?

DP: Definitely. That’s something else we’re trying to wade into more and more and get deep into, being able to do scores and have a reputation as musicians who would like to do that. The Inspection was a positive step in that direction. It got some good attention. It was tough work. It was a challenge to step out of our Animal Collective comfort zone, which is how doing scores is gonna be. It’s a driving factor in our creative communications: We look for challenges, for things outside of ourselves to instigate a change for us. Having a cool film to score is just what we need in that regard. It’s an added creative outlet for us. [We made] a long format video, ODDSAC, with our friend Danny Perez. We’ve always loved psychedelic, horror, and sci-fi films, which is why The Inspection, [a drama based on a true story,] was [even more of] a challenge.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

DP: Right now, I’m reading a collection of short stories called Terminal Boredom by Izumi Suzuki. I’m a big sci-fi fan. Music-wise, it’s all over the place. I’ve been listening to a lot of stuff from my vinyl collection, a lot of older stuff, since I’ve been working on artwork and [that’s] where my turntable is. I listen to a lot of jazz, Chico Hamilton, Eric Dolphy, Sun Ra. When I’m making visual art, I listen to less cohesive, more improvised stuff to get in that zone. I like the record that Eric Copeland and Josh Diamond made last year, Riders on the Storm. Good electronic grooves. I like a record called Felicita by Anadol. It’s a little more out-there, [an] experimental record. A lot of the bands that I have opening for me on tour, Paradot and Anastasia Coope, have music they’ve just put out or [that’s] coming out that I’ve been listening to a lot. That’s why they’re opening up for me.

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kinfriday · 1 year

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Lighthouses

2022 began with me emerging from a period of injury that made it very difficult to move.

Four months prior to the new year, what appears to have been a vaccine reaction triggered a severe case of rhabdomyolysis and inflammation which was exacerbated by an extreme cramping in my lower legs that saw many muscles torn or damaged.

This ended my year on the Pacific Crest trail 400 miles from the terminus.

It was soul crushing on multiple levels. My recovery led me to a period of being sedentary that I hadn’t encountered in years, resetting my fitness progress to essentially zero.

Still, I resolved to set ambitious goals, hoped to lose about thirty pounds and return to the level of fitness I had achieved at the peak of 2020 before another bout of injury sidelined me.

There has been an evolving trend these last few years that I hope I am on the verge of breaking of going hard only to wind up injured, with long spans of recovery.

I like to push, but so many of my endeavors seem to end inconclusively, if not as outright failures. Ambition and effort do not always lead to success, and I am living proof of that, but I’ve come to understand that it is that lack of success that has pushed me to find greater meaning in my work.

It seems a contradiction but having tried and failed as much as I have has pushed me towards a type of success. Elements that have remained glow as beacons, calling me to try again and push forward.

The fact that they still persist, attempt after attempt, only causes them to shine brighter on my horizons. My writing, my fitness, my path... No matter how much I sometimes feel a failure, they always remain. Somehow the road seems to curve, and I seem to find myself back again, chasing those pursuits.

Purpose outshines achievement, persistence outshines motivation. One of the greatest lessons of 2022 for me is, I feel, that after a lifetime of knowing my calling on some level, I’m beginning to understand it more and more as a deep and inseparable part of myself.

My purpose is found in my doing, in what I cannot help but be, and this truth, from my perspective is fundamental to all.

It’s what you can’t escape no matter how far you run, it’s what remains monolithic within yourself when the forest of your life has burned down around that is the core of who you are.

And throughout this year, I have strived to live that, with limited amounts of success, but here I am, still moving down the path.

It has been a year of goodbyes too. My Aunt Karen lost her battle with cancer in the first part of the year. She always believed in me, was one of my earliest champions and helped my family accept me when I transitioned. Then in August, my cat Charlie crossed that far horizon.

In loss I have learned why love is precious, and just how fleeting time is. In my last email to her I wrote on the great conceit that there always seems to be more time until there isn’t.

I was in the midst of writing another email to her when the notice of her death arrived.

Persistence, change, new beginnings and endings, 2022 has had all of these. It has taught me profound lessons in moments of soaring victories, crushing defeats, and near unfathomable losses.

It has, in short, been one hell of a year, and through its struggles I’ve gained a greater clarity as I look towards 2023.

Goals have been set, strategies have been devised, and who knows how far I’ll go?

In the fall, my Dragon Edit Team began work on Farthest Star. After three years, and a worldwide pandemic, we are finally returning to the business of publishing with the goal of releasing my next novel this coming June.

Meanwhile, I’m still working towards my first marathon, and dreaming of attempting the continental divide trail.

Some people have called me ambitious or driven, but these goals are reflections of those monoliths. The lighthouses on my horizon. As hard as it gets sometimes, as miserable as I can feel sometimes, or frustrated in those pursuits there is something natural about running each day, writing each day, and pursuing the ascetic path that I’ve been blogging about here.

My nature lends myself towards these things, no matter how imperfectly I may achieve them in a given moment.

They are what is left when all else has failed, the annunciation of my deepest inner truths, which is where I find the strength to haul myself up, time and time again, no matter how much I falter or fail.

Not without despair, not without moments of kicking and screaming, never without doubts, but even my Lady Eostre, in the fragments of legend that have survived has struggled.

She, the embodiment of hope, wrestled with despair, and only found her way through connection and resolve. Though she could not find the strength to bring the Spring she still tried, she still hoped, she still strove, until finally the moment came when hope triumphed over the night.

And there it is, another beacon calling me towards persistence, a week after our celebration of the triumph of the light.

May your 2023 be full of bright blessings and every good thing!

Onward, towards the dawn!

-Sister Snow Hare

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xsoldier · 3 months

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Trigger warning: Medical things & loss

Friday, I got a particular vibe from Niles, so we just hung out. I got him his favourite little turtle and brought it over to him, hand fed him some food and water so he didn't need to get up, and just sat with him letting him know he was loved and took some pictures with him.

Saturday, I spent the day in the hospital because of post-COVID muscle stuff making it excruciatingly painful to breathe or cough, and got a bunch of blood work as well as a contrast scan to make sure my lungs were ok (they are). Got sent home and had a prescription for pain meds to pick up the next day, so I rested to dull the pain, got up to microwave some food as I hadn't really eaten, visited Niles and pet him resting on the bathroom rug as usual, checked on my food and then heard something and came around to see him vomiting up a massive amount of blood.

Adrenaline instantly managed the pain (since I couldn't get meds until the morning), called someone to get a ride to the emergency vet, called the vet to make sure we were coming, cleaned Niles up calmly, grabbed his blanket from my bed, and the travel carrier for him rather than the vet carrier. Unlike other times, he wasn't panicked and hyperventilating when we got there. His pain meds and my change of context for transport all just had him totally calm.

With his multiple ongoing health things (hyperthyroidism, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, and bladder stones), I knew he had an extremely low chance of making it out of any surgery. The x-rays showed contrast issues of a potential tumor (matching his rapid weight loss the last few weeks), as well as internal bleeding, and his bloodwork was also worrying. I was already well-aware and prepared that he wasn't going to make it out, and my priority was him being at peace.

He hung out on my lap, and crawled into the blanket where he'd sleep beside me in bed. He got to pick how he wanted to be snuggled up in his safe spot. I'd also had fluid pumped into my veins a few hours earlier, so I knew what he'd experience and exactly how to make sure he felt nothing but safe and calm as he drifted off to sleep for the last time in my arms.

Every chapter has to close some day, and my time with Niles was all I could have hoped for. Of all the ways things could have gone, it was ideal. I didn't have to come home to find things had gone horribly while I was away, when we had to take the emergency trip he wasn't at all panicked, and he managed to feel comfortable, safe, and calm in his final moments which is all I ever wanted for my friend of the last 13 years.

It was a rough weekend, and it's weird being without him and being totally alone for the first time essentially ever now, but I don't feel an emptiness at all. I don't have to worry for him now and along with the relief that brings, it just feels like he curled up in my heart and went to sleep so he's always with me.

There's an endless amount more I could ramble on about every little thing and moment we had together, since the little copy cat meant the world and took such good care of me. But more than anything, we always communicated one thing to each other with perfect clarity that was never ONCE in question — love.

And that memory is still as bright & warm as ever.

#personal #Niles #cats #loss #feels #friendship

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nickerson-insurance-agency · 3 months

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Nickerson Insurance Agency

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To get clarity on your insurance requirements, it's best to speak with an expert. We are confident that this strategy will yield the desired outcomes insurance agency near me There is absolutely no room for dishonesty in the corporate world. After thirty years of service, your eligibility for benefits will be removed.

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Financial responsibilities may go unmet if there is a wide disparity in family income. Nickerson signed the papers in a rush. They will certainly create a great deal of noise as they search for you. Retaining the skills of current staff members is less expensive than finding and training new ones. The unfathomable impact you had on our accomplishments is something for which we will be eternally grateful. This serene environment should make it easy for anyone to obtain a decent night's rest. Much of the insurance sector thinks Nickerson's group is the most pessimistic bunch they've ever met. The moment they made the decision to cease fighting, they started to scatter. Assistance was only provided in the most serious instances. Numerous problems necessitate immediate attention. At first light, a whole new day starts. Some people's scars may fade with time, while others may see an escalation in their appearance. Only in an extreme emergency should you ask for assistance. According to my therapist, going shopping is a terrific way to de-stress. We have faith in our capacity to deliver outstanding service given the resources we have. Whether the film does well or badly at the box office is irrelevant to me. To me, it served no purpose.

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That may be too much to ask of certain companies. To win, we need everyone's support. Everyone should read this exceptional work if they get the chance. The quick expansion of the corporation has drained its internal resources.

After suffering an injury on the job, no employer has the right to make an injured person choose between paying their bills or getting the medical treatment they need. Costs associated with repairs and maintenance are likely to increase. As soon as you have an approximate idea of how much the repairs will cost, contact your insurance provider. A Connecticut resident who sustains injuries as a result of another driver's carelessness may file a personal injury claim with the insurance company of the negligent driver in order to get compensation for their medical bills. Sunshine insurance is subject to stringent regulations in Florida.

The Nickerson family owns and operates Nickerson Insurance. It is common practice to abbreviate or initialize other people's given names. The only way to tell these identical twins apart is by their given names. There was a rebranding by Nicholas when the deal closed.

Perhaps today's sunrise will be later than anticipated. The insurance company has the authority to issue the order whenever it deems fit. Now, how about a set of guidelines? Patients who have received the treatment in the past have nothing but appreciation for its effectiveness and thoroughness. It may come as a surprise, but applying pressure can really help you relax.

Making sure our customers are happy is our top concern. Only in an extreme emergency should you ask for assistance.

We will review your application as soon as it is received.

At all costs, stay away from those who are too focused on money. If you know what to look for, the internet is a veritable treasure chamber of information. If your business has adequate insurance, natural disasters will not be able to bring it down. Over the weekend, your doctor may have prescribed this medication to you. If you follow our advice, growing your company will be easy as pie.

#insurance agency near me

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prepguruu · 2 years

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CUET Last Minute Preparation Tips 2022

Tests are what each wannabe ought to stress over, particularly selection tests like Common University Entrance Test (CUET), the second-biggest test in the country.

NTA reported that the CUET test is being held from 15 July 2022 to 10 August 2022. With more than 20 lakh understudies expected to step through the examination, the opposition will be in high contrast with other public-level selection tests.

Nonetheless, with appropriate preparation, using time effectively, devotion, hardwood, and legitimate assets, you can undoubtedly break the test and get admission to your fantasy school.

Likewise, keeping an uplifting outlook and faith in yourself all through your planning is an unquestionable necessity to succeed better in the impending test.

To make it simpler, we have given a couple of CUET last-minute readiness tips for 2022, a segment-wise system, and more here.

Somewhat late Preparation Strategy for CUET 2022

However long you have been reliable in your arrangement, there is a compelling reason to need to take tension during the last moment of the CUET Exam preparation.

Without a second to spare of your readiness, don’t attempt to learn or change any new points which were indistinct because it might make disarray, and you can lose center.

Change the points or notes that you had arranged during your planning. This can help in recollecting the ideas for quite a while.

Take a lot of false tests without a second to spare to get to know sectional using time effectively in the CUET selection test.

All through the readiness stage, you likewise need to monitor your assets and shortcomings, as it will assist you with creating solid regions and comprehending feeble regions that require more clarity of mind.

Coming up next are probably the main CUET tips for 2022 that you can follow to score well in the forthcoming test.

Put forth a Goal While contemplating, usually the majority of you will move occupied effectively away from your concentration. Thus, remembering an objective will continually remind you what you want to accomplish and zero in on it.

Ask yourself “For what reason do I want to break CUET Entrance Exam?” Either you need to get owned up to the highest level school or you need a specific stream.

Anything that might be the response assuming you are clear about your objectives will be more straightforward for you to emerge decisively. Take a gander at your objective consistently, envision it, and maintain your emphasis plainly on it.

Figure out Strong and Weak Areas It is exceptionally fundamental to spend at least 30–40 minutes breaking down serious areas of strength for your flimsy spots. Under the solid focuses segment, note the subjects you are extremely certain about.

Under the flimsy spot segment, note down the points that have some degree of development.

Presently when you are finished, with the sections you are solid at, do

Understand more: Short deceives to upgrade your CUET Geography arrangement

Reexamine ideas for every single point

Work on tackling questions

Learn short deceives to recall significant focuses or recipes

Furthermore, with the parts you are frail at, you can begin

Watching addresses/going to classes and explaining every single subject

Attempt and cover significant subjects first

Practice MCQ-based questions

Tackle mock tests routinely

Go to uncertainty clearing meetings

Change Notes During your underlying arrangement, it is great if you have arranged notes or stamped significant ideas.

Correction notes generally assume an essential part to perform better in any test. It will provide you with a speedy outline of the multitude of significant subjects, central issues, and equations according to the CUET Syllabus.

There are various amendment methods including mindmaps and streak cards you can follow to assist with helping your arrangements for the impending test.

Settle Mock Tests Alongside updating, it is fundamental that you ought to zero in on dissecting your arrangement levels by tackling somewhere around one to two false tests day to day.

Mock tests are the imitation of the genuine placement test. Subsequently, endeavoring CUET Mock Tests will assist you with finding out about the trouble level and the kind of inquiries posed in the test.

Additionally, it will assist with improving your critical thinking abilities and speed in the last, most important test.

Kick-off Set the clock before taking any CUET mock test or test paper. Along these lines, you can examine how long you are required for each segment or question.

Dispense a decent chance to each segment and attempt to finish it inside the endorsed time. Try not to squander more energy on a solitary inquiry if you can’t recognize the right response. Move to the following inquiry assuming that you feel the inquiry is interesting and tedious.

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tomorrow-and-tomorrows · 3 years

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SNK 139.5: Towards the Final Pages with no Final Answers

The final pages of the updated ending are bold, but I think ultimately more evocative than the original preliminary ending.

Even after the intensely polarized reader reception that took issue with the lack of storytelling precision and clarity when it was most needed, SNK chose to end with a decisively ambiguous symbol. In literature, a symbol is something that clearly means something -- but with the most "literary" symbols, their meaning cannot be absolutely defined; any attempted answer as to what a symbol represents has no finality or certainty, and interpretation will remain ever open to debate. A symbol both invites and resists interpretation.

Naturally, the immediate response to the symbolic tree on the final page is to try answering the invitation to the question, "What does it mean?"

One prominent answer I've seen is that it symbolizes the continuation of the cycle of war and violence either because a) of the symbolic parallel to Ymir or b) on a more literal level, that it implies the actual potential revival of new era of Titans. A reasonable interpretation either way, but also, I think, an incomplete one.

The first reason for this is that "the endless cycle of war" was already clearly and powerful represented in the preceding panels:

The cycle of war was already continuing in the decades or centuries before the child arrived at the tree. A culminating image symbolizing the persistence or resurgence of an era of war as the final panel would thus arguably be redundant and unnecessary.

Furthermore, the chapter is entitled "Toward the Tree on That Hill." If the tree were simply a symbol of war, by implication the chapter could equally be called 'toward the endless cycle of war'. But such a relentlessly bleak and tonally flat ending sentiment would be firmly incongruous with the story's recurrent conviction in the equal cruelty and beauty of the world -- a conviction that I believe it has been faithful to all the way to its end.

The Long Defeat

But while on this topic of war, let's linger a moment on the "cruelty" side and the consequence of this wordless construction and subsequent destruction of a city -- the most bold and possibly controversial additional panels that are also my personal favourite additions.

One objection that has emerged against this brief sequence of Paradis' apparent destruction is that it renders the entire story to be "pointless". Eren's 80% Rumbling, Armin's diplomatic peace talks between the remnants of the Allied Nations and Paradis, and before that, the proposal of the 50-year plan and Zeke's euthanasia plan... everything, to the very beginning to the Survey Corps' dreams of some kind of freedom; was it all for nothing? All that striving, that hope, that final promise bestowed upon Armin: was it all a pointless story? Even more radically, is the story suggesting that Eren might as well have continued the Rumbling to 100% of the earth? Was Zeke's euthanasia plan the cruel but correct choice all along? What was the point of rejecting the 50-year plan if that had a greater chance of success at preventing this outcome?

I think Isayama suddenly pulling back to such a long-term view of history to the scale of decades or even centuries into the future calls for a reorientation in attitude towards exactly what kind of story we have been reading. Yes, if the metric is Paradis' survival, maybe it was indeed all "pointless". But that's also to say that, on the broadest scale, SNK is a story about futility, that it is a deliberate representation of the struggle to make one's actions historically meaningful.

In the long view of history, all the events, from Grisha running beyond the wall to see the airships and the first breaking of Wall Maria to Erwin's sacrifices, Paradis' discovery of the outside world, and finally to the Battle of Heaven and Earth, it would all merely be a handful of chapters in the history textbooks of the future. A future in which war and geopolitical conflict will continue even without Titans. That does not mean that all paths to the future are equal -- the 50-year plan would not have put an end to Titans, and Zeke's euthanasia plan distorts utilitarian ethics into just another form of oppression; there are better and worse decisions that lead to more and less degrees of suffering, but no decision can ever be the final one.

The additional panels remind us that in history, there never exists a singular "Final Solution". The reason there are readers who vehemently support Eren to have flattened 100% of the world, and the reason the Paradisians supported the oppressive, authoritarian, proto-fascist Jaegar Faction under Floch and even after the Rumbling, is that because they want to believe that a Final Solution to end conflict exists and will work. They resist the fundamental uncertainty and complexity of the situation, instead preferring a singular, unified, and coherent Answer to Paradis' struggle to survive. I'm reminded of the scholar Erich Auerbach's theorization of why fascism appealed to many people during periods of political and social crisis, change, and uncertainty. Writing in exile after fleeing Nazi Germany, he observed that:

"The temptation to entrust oneself to a sect which solved all problems with a single formula, whose power of suggestion imposed solidarity, and which ostracized everything which would not fit in and submit - this temptation was so great that, with many people, fascism hardly had to employ force when the time came for it to spread through the countries of old European culture." (from Mimesis p. 550)

This acutely describes the Jaegar Faction's rise to power and continued dominance in Paradis. But their promise of unity, of a single formula to wipe out the rest of the world either literally through the Rumbling, or to dominate them with military force, is a false one. Even if Eren had Rumbled 100% of the world instead of 80%, history would still go on. The external threat of the world may have been eliminated, but internal conflict and violence would still continue onward throughout the generations born on top of the blood of the rest of the world. Needless to say, out of all the options, Eren's 80% Rumbling is the very epitome of perpetuating the cycle of violence as it creates tens of thousands of war orphans like Eren once was, and it would justify employing violence for one's own self-interest to an extreme degree. For the generations to come that would valourize Eren as a hero, it would set a dangerous precedent for what degree of destruction is acceptable for self-defence -- nothing short of the attempt to flatten the entire world. It is no surprise that Paradis would meet a violent end when its founding one-party rule of the Jaegar Faction has their roots in such unapologetically bloody foundations.

Neither the 80% Rumbling nor the militaristic, ultra-nationalistic Jaegar faction that come to govern Paradis are glamourized as the "correct" solution to ensuring Paradis' future. (This can also put to rest any accusations of SNK's ending as "fascist" or "imperialist" propaganda, since the island's modern nation that they founded ends in war. All nations must fall eventually, but not all do in such blatant destruction). Importantly, neither is Armin's diplomatic mission naively idealized as that which permanently achieves world peace. No singular or unifying formula can work because reality is complicated. Entrusting oneself to seemingly simple Answers is simply insufficient, even if they are ideals of peaceful negotiation; that method may work given the right conditions, but the world will always eventually complicate its feasibility.

After all in the real world, there's the absurd irony that some in the West had called the First World War "The War to End all Wars". These days, WWI is merely one long chapter in our textbooks just a few pages away from the even longer chapter of the Second World War that is followed by all the rest of the conflicts that have followed since then even with the establishment of diplomatic organizations like the United Nations. In this sense, showing Paradis' eventual downfall is perhaps the only way to end such a series that is so concerned with history, from King Fritz's tribal expansion into empire, the rise and fall of Marleyan ascendency, and finally of the survival and apparent shattering of Paradis.

From its beginning to its end, SNK has poignantly evoked J.R.R. Tolkien's conception of history as The Long Defeat. In one character's words, "together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat". That is to say, "no victory is complete, that evil rises again, and that even victory brings loss".

No heroes, only humans

Eren's desperate, fatalistic resignation to committing the Rumbling, along with the characters' rejection of all the rest of the earlier plans to ensure Paradis a future, are merely the actions of human beings to that began with the need to find not even necessarily a Final Answer, but at least an acceptable and feasible one for the time being. But the characterization of Eren's confusion, childishness, and regret in the final chapter is startlingly real in how it demonstrates how, all along, we have been dealing not with grand heroes, but simply people who have no answers at all. SNK has always been about failures - and often ironic failures; it has always been a story about painful and frequently futile struggle.

People make mistakes, they can be short-sighted, selfish, biased, immature, petty, and irrational, and I think the ending follows through with depicting the consequences of that.

Erwin's self-sacrifice before being able to reach the basement (and his regression to a childhood state in the moments before his death), Kenny's futile chasing after that universal compassion he had seen in Uri, Shadis never being acknowledged by history despite his final heroic action, and so on -- these stories of ironic, futile failures are still meaningful in their mere striving. Eren's ending and Paradis' demise despite Armin's endeavour to ensure them a peaceful future are entirely consistent with this.

SNK certainly follows the shounen trope in which young individuals are bestowed great power and correspondingly great responsibility, and must then reconcile the burden of possessing that greatness on which the fate of the world depends. Yet it is equally defined by its representation of the state that us normal human beings confront everyday: the struggle against the apparent powerlessness to enact any meaningful or lasting change at all. Simultaneously, this helpless state does not exempt us from the responsibility to act in whatever small capacity we are able to resist oppression, ideological extremism, and the perpetuation of violence.

Towards That Symbol

That was a rather long but vital digression about the additional "construction and destruction" pages. To return to the issue of the symbolism in the final panel, here I will turn from seemingly affirming the tree as symbolizing the cycle of violence, towards what I think is the greater complexity of what the tree might "actually" symbolize.

As I've said above, I don't believe that the final chapter title is synonymous with 'toward the endless cycle of war'. In tone, theme, and characterization, SNK has always been defined by the tension between cruelty and beauty, the will to violence and the underlying desire for peace, and the rest of the contradictory impulses that all simultaneously coexist. The end of SNK as a whole commits to a similar lack of closure, ambiguity, and interpretive openness.

So far I have rambled on about only a view of the perpetual "cruelty" of history. Where, then, is the "beauty"?

In short, the "tree = cycle of violence" interpretation is obviously based on how that this tree recalls the original tree in which the spine creature, as the source of the power of the Titans, resided. But it's worth first considering, what exactly is this creature? We seem to get our answer in the chapter that most precisely crystallizes the dual "cruelty and beauty" of the world:

The spine creature might be said to be life itself. Or more specifically, the will of life to perpetuate itself, for no reason at all but for the fleeting moments in which we feel distinctly glad to have existed in the world.

The creature at the source of the Titans, and in extension the Titans themselves, is neither inherently a positive or negative, "good" or "evil", creative or destructive force. It's both and all of those at once. As with any power, the Titans were merely a tool that was put to use to oppressive ends.

So as I now suggest that the tree at the end is symbolically a "Tree of Life", I don't at all mean "life" in the typically celebratory or optimistic sense: rather, I mean it in the ambiguous, ambivalent, uncertain, and complex sense that has been evoked throughout the above discussion of the inevitable continuation of war.

The title "Toward The Tree on That Hill" is derived from its associations with Eren and Mikasa, but more specifically of course, from Armin's affirmation of existence. However, the tree as a symbol of existential affirmation is undercut with the revelation that, despite Armin's diplomatic mediation between the Allied Nations and Paradis, the island nation never escapes war just as no nation in the history of the earth has ever fully escaped war.

The image of Armin running toward that life-affirming tree by the end becomes twisted and complicated, as the image of the anonymous child approaching the Tree of Life evokes both awe at its beauty and grandeur, and a deep dread at the foreboding of its cyclical return to Ymir's tree that signalled the beginning of a bloody era.

And I think that is precisely it: Life is not some idealized, beautiful vision that we always want to run toward; it is also ironic, complicated, and dreadful. It is ambivalent. Like a literary symbol, the meaning of life cannot be pinned down absolutely. The tree therefore becomes itself a symbol of uncertainty, of an open future that is cyclical both in its beauty and war.

As a final observation, it is surely no coincidence that, the small, black, birdlike silhouettes of the war planes destroying the city from the sky is replaced by the similarly small black silhouettes of birds in the final panel.

If the birds represent freedom from war, the irony is that the immediately surrounding land appears to be one completely empty of people save for the exploring child; it is a freedom attained only without people's presence. Yet at the same time, a child from some existing civilization has reached it; perhaps it is freedom that they have reached, perhaps it is something else that they see in the tree. What is it that they were looking for? What does the tree and its history represent for the child, and what does it mean for their future? Alternatively, does the child-in-the-forest imagery negatively recall the warning that the world is one huge forest of predator and prey that we need to protect children from entering?

Rather than providing answers, this tree embodies all of the potential questions, and all of the potential answers. These possibilities will unfold themselves into an uncertain future beyond the chapters of history that Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Zeke, Erwin, and all the rest of the characters were part of and left their mark on; and whatever future this child will witness or create, it will similarly be one of the struggle against futility, as the journey begins anew with each generation in every new era. Neither - or both - hopeful or despairing, the final image of this tree, just like life itself, contains those innumerable irresolvable tensions as it gestures towards all possibilities, both oppressive and free.

#snk 139 #snk ending #snk extra pages #snk meta #snk #snk spoilers #brain dump #this is a pretty personal interpretation so if there are any logical inconsistencies i don't know what to do with them #yes the execution of the final arc/chapter is flawed but it's still very conceptually interesting #i still have my disappointments but overall i've made my peace with it #translating my tangled thoughts into words however imperfectly: i think that's what freedom is all about #snk manga #aot #aot 139 #aot ending

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strawberrybabydog · 2 years

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explanation why ask box was closed under cut

post-writing comment: now that im reading all of this i think i will close it again actually. sorry for the false hope LOL

TLDR, i have an unhealthy relationship with the blog. i developed OCD & an addiction over it and i need to Not Do That, among other reasons

my week and a half without this blog was peaceful but the main reason it was closed is because i had a Moment one night & during the Moment i realized that my words are having significant impact on delusional spaces online

its fun and cool to have a popular blog, but it’s terrifying to have that much pressure, even if i know im doing the right thing. im already seeing a lot of the internet’s typical unforgiveness when i’ve made mistakes in the past, but as my blog grows more there wil only be more of that, with the opposite side taking my word as holy. neither of which i want obviously LOL. that paired with my notice of many people misinterpreting the things i’m saying, not totally listening to my words, etc etc - communication issues - its much worse!

i dont think it really matters how much i encourage yall to do your own research, i know full well it won’t happen (/npa) and i also dont want to try to force anyone into reading academic papers, the academic jargon is sometimes even hard to get through for me and im privileged enough to have minimal trouble with reading

i just fear when new research emerges in the next few years some of the posts here (which although are currently up to date/correct based on current research) will age poorly, even though when new research emerges i will do my best to debunk my old posts and other misinformation. this is a hypothetical, i guess its possible that everything i say here is correct, but thats also not likely because thats just The Way Things Are. i just dont think im prepared for the harassment which comes with “well, you said THIS two years ago, and i see you have not deleted this specific post which i have severely misinterpreted, because you obviously still fully agree with it and not because you forgot it existed. care to explain yourself.” very annoying and i just dont want to deal with it

i also put a lot of Myself into this blog and many of the posts i make. i’m sure although many of you havent seen me in real life, if you lined my body up with other people you’d easily be able to pick me out regardless just based on my physical mannerisms and clothing. i view this blog as an extension of myself when in Reality that’s not at all what this has to be, im just unsure of how to pull back really

i feel a very strong responsibility to this blog, i feel like i owe everyone who interacts with it something. which is also obviously not very cool. basically TLDR i have an unhealthy relationship with this blog, partially by fault of myself and partially by fault of the internet just being the internet. i just may not be cut out to emotionally handle that in the end which will result in my askbox being closed indefinitely, should i make that decision

aaand to top it all off i became extremely OCD about checking the inbox. seeing the little notification that someone asked me something is a good source of dopemine but addictive and - when i say i developed OCD over it, im not using hyperbole i mean it very literally. i still get dopemine to see the little notification! but it’s not really worth the obsession-compulsion of refreshing my tumblr every 2 minutes for hours every day, constantly having tumblr open incase i got a message, etc. since closing the ask box my OCD in reference to other things i normally have OC-intrusive thoughts with has also gotten better

it wasnt closed because i got a specific rude anonymous message i didnt like or anything. like i said i just had an episode and had some post-episode clarity over things i’d been stressed out about for months. quite a few posts from my blog disappeared because i was fighting the urge to not wipe the entire blog mid-episode so i just settled on some posts which were argumentative/discoursey/too personal

#personal #pupdates

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radiosandrecordings · 3 years

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Crossposting my @summer-in-the-archives-event fic here too. [AO3] [Accompanying beautiful art]

He’d never get used to the rolling fields of quiet.

Miles behind and miles to go, not that he could see any of it through the thick blanket of fog that clung to his ankles, and his wrists, and his eyes. Miles to go before I sleep…

It was hard to describe the rain that fell, because even ‘fell’ felt like too active a descriptor. It didn’t pour, it didn’t ‘beat down’, it didn’t pelt, because those all required a sense of agency that the landscape just felt too apathetic to muster. It simply existed, and just happened to be moving downwards by coincidence.

Jon wasn’t sure if he knew or Knew that it seeped into his clothes, coating his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the droplets landing, even pinpricks of touch creating too much of a sensation for this place. He briefly wondered that, if he still had need for his glasses, would the rain even make the effort to trickle down and cloud the lenses.

The last Lonely domain he’d passed through, he’d never seen the avatar that lorded over it. He didn’t have any real interest in finding out, not like the personal vendettas that lead him to seeking out Jude, or Jared. Because with Peter dead he wasn’t left with any Lonely avatars left to chase, save the vague notions of the Lukas extended family. He was simply going to keep his head down and keep trudging, hopefully emerging through the thick banks of mist before he lost his mind to the monotony. If there was ever something to make you miss muffled cries from beneath the earth…

“Why are you here?”

The sound was accusatory, and may as well have been a shotgun in the silence. The damped chill was nothing in comparison to the ice that shot up his spine. The voice had no clear origin, no figures even silhouetted in shadow against the overgrown grass, but it came in close, delivered on the gentle, numbing breeze. Despite this, though, never in a thousand domains could he forget the sound of it. Of course it was his. Of course. Of course. “Martin?”

“No! ”

The voice sounded… Angry. But hurt, like it flinched away from the word. Like something that had been left to sit in the dark too long, that recoiled back from a stinging source of light.

“... I’m going to assume no one has called you that in a long time.” He tried to keep his voice light, as much as the stifling atmosphere would allow it.

“No one is anything here. It’s easier that way. If you’re somebody, you can be hurt. If you have too much personality, too many little facets and cracks, things start to snag and catch on it, and it drags you down to where things ache. But if you’re nothing, then they don’t have anything to cling onto. You can just slip away unharmed.” The voice sounded like it was moving, curling around him and moving from ear to ear, forward and back as it droned on in that echoing monotone that Jon had hoped he would never hear again, and at the same time, had longed to.

“And what about the good things?”

“There isn’t anything good, not anymore. You saw to that.”

Jon snorted. “Low blow, but fair.” He hesitated for a moment, trying to summon the words.

He’d had time, after he left the Lonely, to consider his actions. Regret pooled like acid in his stomach at the memory, and somehow it hurt more than ending the world. He wouldn’t say it was more important. He knew whatever he felt, and moreso, knew that one human life, was not paramount to the suffering of every creature great and small, but it felt more tangible. When he walked through the hellscapes, they were dreamlike, hazy, information in such clarity but to an extreme where it still felt nonsensical to perceive it as reality. He knew the fundamental truths that surrounded him but it still felt hard to accept them even as he lived them.

Yet despite having lived without it for eight months prior, the space beside him that failed to solidify into Martin still stung with his absence. And Jon regretted it every not-day he spent walking the hellscape, both in knowing he doomed a good man to suffering, or worse, revelry, in this new world, and in the far more personal, and far more selfish, part of him that missed him so goddamn much.

“But- But Martin, I think I made a mistake.”

“Obviously.”

“Not- Not that. I mean, when we were in the Lonely. The- The first time. With Peter Lukas.” The silence droned on, and Jon took that as his cue to continue. “Do you remember what I said? That maybe you were safer here? And that’s… That’s why I let you stay. I didn’t push you to, to leave with me because I thought you wanted to be here, that you’d be safer here than you’d be with me. But I don’t think that was entirely true.”

“I am safe here.”

“Maybe so. It doesn’t mean it’s better though, does it. Martin, I saw those people, in the last Lonely domain. I know it’s different, they were victims and you’re… You’re an avatar, here, you’re feeding off of all of this, but I promise you they were not happy. They were so alone and it didn’t protect them, it just made it worse. Think about it, the logic of this world. There are threats out there of unimaginable horror, and yet they were still assigned here, it’s their worst nightmare. And you were assigned here too. You’re all suffering, just in different ways, but all calculated to be your personal worst.”

“The Martin Blackwood you thought you knew doesn’t exist anymore. He had to be filed down, too many breaks and tears in him that grew and grew, any time someone raised a harsh word. The best way for him to be protected, is for him to go away entirely. You cannot hurt something that doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you just said ‘I’.”

“What? ” That anger reemerged again, and as staunched as it was it was beautiful, a return to form amongst the dull monotone, reminiscent of the few times Jon had been privileged enough to witness a truly pissed off Martin Blackwood.

Jon found himself grinning. “You said ‘I am safe here’. Emphasis on the ‘I’. Ergo, you still have some form of identity left, and thus I would wager that the part of you left is Martin. Unless I’ve wandered across some other avatar of the Lonely who sounds like him, of course.”

“You’re always so fucking smug, you know that?”

The voice is coming from behind him. Actually, physically, presently behind him and Jon spins around so fast he’s almost dizzy.

And as much as it made his heart soar, and much as he was glad to finally, finally , see him again when he’d thought he never would, Martin looked… Bad.

His skin had darkened, mottled and blotchy with large swathes of a bruise-like blue or sickly green cropping up across his face and neck, or the parts of his forearms visible where his cable knit sleeves rolled back. It was like frostbite from the cold, or some disturbing onset of trench-foot from the damp, corpselike and unsettling. What was worse, though, were the parts that simply ceased. His hair didn’t even reach the tips, simply fading out into a grey static that merged with the mist, and it consumed his eyes whole, tear tracks streaking down his face in patterns of fuzzy, crackling grey that snapped and popped in the silence, far too reminiscent of a tape.

The sight made Jon’s heart clench like a fist, the combination of relief and horror, and in that moment he understood Jane Prentiss more completely than he ever had before. It would’ve felt like a rude comparison to consciously make, the person he cared for most equated to a pulped and writhing mass that churned out creatures that made your skin crawl before tearing into it. But he knew what she had seen in it, that call towards the thing that fascinated you, despite the turning it causes in your stomach.

Despite this, however, Jon steeled himself. This was rapidly becoming a battle, and he couldn’t afford the cost of emotions. He had to keep Martin, well… Martin. Draw out the emotion. In short, be a bit of a bastard. So instead, he cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you liked that about me?”

He could see Martin’s fists clench, the colour of his extremities dyed black from frostbite. The irritation was still clear as he started into “Fucking hell J-” but they both appeared taken aback as he dissolved into a choking, hacking cough.

It took everything in him for Jon to tamp down the need to surge forward, put a hand on his back and ask if he was okay. It was a strangely mundane thing; the man was made out of static and fog and despite seeming to have an on-and-off-again relationship with his corporeal form, this was the first recognisably human thing to adversely affect him. Why, though? What had Martin done to trigger- Oh. Oh .

“That- That priest from the statement… 0113005? Father Burroughs. He couldn’t say the name of god. Anything related to it, really. And you… You couldn’t say my…”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Martin spat. “You’re not a god or thee god, whatever your new eye magic might imply. It’s just…” He let out a breath that turned into a grumble. While his eyes had always been cloudy, he was now refusing to meet Jon’s gaze.

Regardless, it still drew a breathy laugh out of him. “No, I’m not that far gone into my own self importance yet. But… It’s about the connection, isn’t it?” Something in the conversation had changed, it’s tone or it’s flow, that felt contradicting. Tension coiling up to spring, or they’re barrelling towards a culmination, but at the same time, Jon felt like the wind had been kicked right out of him. He lowered himself to the ground, slowly, settling among the grass and trying to ignore the unpleasant dampness under him. Hey, he could feel the damp again. That was something.

“That’s more flattering, actually, I would say… The Lonely, it thinks if you acknowledge me directly, that would loosen it’s hold on you.” Jon huffed out a breath. “You know I listened to all the tapes. What was it that Daisy said to you, when I was on the run? ‘People say you two are close’? Well, the Lonely appears to agree.” He took a minute before adding, “I would, as well. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was too… Too in my own head, before, to admit it. Too much of a coward to do it before that, even. But you need to know I love you. And I know that you… Cared for me, at least? Even if I stuck my head in the sand to ignore it. But the Lonely seems to think you do, still. So will you please come back to me? I know it’s not- I know it won’t be much better, travelling through the domains, but it’s all I can offer and it has to be better than this. I can’t promise anything kind will be waiting for us in London, but you’d be yourself again, and I can’t… Martin, I can’t lose you again. To leave here, again, without you, I’d be losing you. Please.”

“No.”

There wasn’t even a delay to his response, stating it in monotone the second Jon had finished speaking. It felt like ice, lancing through his heart.

“Martin. Martin, please -”

“I said no. I thought you would’ve learned by now; I’m not exactly amenable when you come crawling to me with half baked plans of escape. Because you don’t love me, you love the idea of me. You are quite literally the only free man left in the world and you’re lonely . So you’re looking for a familiar face. Kind Martin, caring Martin, always there with tea and taking your side in every argument. Defending you to Tim when you’d just as soon slag him off behind his back, or on tape. Pretty appealing when everyone else is trying to kill you. At least he treated you like a god before this even started.”

Each sentence felt like another dagger to the chest, and it took him a moment to compose himself, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Eventually, though, Jon spoke. “That’s not true, though. I- Martin I can’t apologise enough that that’s what it’s felt like, for you. But I need you to know, that isn’t true. A-At the start, maybe, I can’t deny I was stupid and spiteful, but you didn’t deserve any of it. And after that… I didn’t do a one-eighty and decide you were a doormat. I liked you because you were secretly enough of a prick as well. Any time you’d pull me out for lunch when I dragged my heels, or argued back when I said something shitty, that was… It felt like I was seeing the real you. The one you didn’t want to let people think of you as, but the one you were, because despite wanting to appear like the picture of innocence, you are a bitch, Martin Blackwood. And that’s my favourite thing about you. Maybe time is sweetening my memory, slightly, but I truly don’t believe there’s rose coloured glasses here. If we walk out of here, I’m not under any sort of illusion that it’ll be a honeymoon. We will doubtless find something to argue over, if not several, but I want that. I want you at my side to, to disagree and point out all my blind spots. We’re both stubborn bastards but I’m stupidly fallible, and I need you to keep me balanced. I don’t want a yes-man, I want you, Martin, and I’m asking for that knowing full well what it entails.”

When the words stopped flowing, he found himself gasping for breath, sobs building in his chest and threatening to spill over. But Martin was standing closer.

“That’s- I don’t- Fuck.” As Jon looked up, wiping at his own eyes, he could see fog starting to trickle from Martin’s mouth, coming in short bursts as his nostrils flared and chest rose and fell noticeably for the first time that Jon had seen since he stepped foot onto the moors. This caused a conflict of emotion in Jon, because while it seemed to be another step towards humanity, Martin letting the Lonely fall to the wayside in favour of reclaiming himself, it also looked far too close to a panic attack to be something worth celebrating.

“I don’t understand,” he finally settled on, voice cracking on the words. He slowly let himself sink to the ground opposite Jon, knees pulled up to his chest. “I left you. Time and again I left you. I left you to work with Lukas, and I left you when you tried to get me to run away, and I left you when I stayed on the beach.” His palms were pressed into his eyes, mist seeping from between his knuckles as he dragged them across his face, though Jon couldn’t be sure if he was attempting to wipe the fog away, or if he was stalling while he faltered, trying to summon the words. Both, maybe. Jon took the silence from him.

“You didn’t really choose that, though. You didn’t feel like you even had a choice. So Martin if… If you’re worried that I think badly of you for that, I don’t. Martin, I’ve done so many terrible things, so to- No, no, actually I don’t mean it like that. I don’t mean that you’re a good person, compared with me. I think you’re a good person full stop. And I just want you to be able to see that. I know the Lonely is quite literally clouding your judgement right now but… Please, just, just make me a deal?”

Martin’s palms were resting on his chin now, cupping his cheeks and curving around his neck. He nodded once, wearily, for Jon to continue.

Jon drew in a breath “I think I’m in some sort of… Bubble. Like a miniature domain, when I’m travelling. I think, if you agree to come with me, even for a little bit, that might dissolve some of the Lonely’s more adverse effects. Make it easier to think, to, to be yourself without its influence. If that is what happens, and you want to return… I’ll bring you back. But please, just… Try? For me?”

Martin sighed, hands dropping from his face. “...Fine.”

“You- Really?”

“Yes. I… Look, J-” Martin bit back another coughing fit. “Look. I am… There is a lot of me right now that wants to leave. The fog is… It’s in my head, figuratively, probably even literally, but… I remember something Basira said. When she got back, from, from The Unknowing . Melanie wanted to know how she got out, when the other three… When you, and Daisy, and Tim, didn’t. She said she reasoned her way out. So I’m going to listen to reason for a minute, as much as it’s paining me.”

Despite those final words, Jon felt his face crack into a smile. “That’s… Yes, you’re right. Well that’s… That’s a very reasonable connection to make.”

And for the first time in a long time, Martin smiled.

“Uhm, so how does this work then?” He eventually said, hand coming up again to scratch the back of his neck in an old nervous habit Jon could not be more happy to see.

“Well”, Jon said, taking a moment to brush sodden grass from his trousers as he got to his feet, “I would say, based on the dream logic that everything here seems to run on here, it should be rather simple.” He held out a hand to tug Martin up after him.

Martin took it.

It was almost cliché, how the Lonely fell away from him. It only took a few seconds, all in all, for the bruising to fade, receding their colourful splotches until his skin lay clear again. His frostbitten fingers healing themselves, sewing broken skin back together and returning to a healthy colour. His face, too, was returning to its original pallor, the change creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and leaving rich brown in its wake. Dark eyes stared down at Jon from behind long lashes, blinking away the last of the fog. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” Jon managed to choke out.

“Hi,” Martin said, and pulled him into his arms.

Jon just let himself be held in the pressure of the embrace for a moment, before bringing a hand up to card his fingers through Martin’s hair. While it had solidified into soft curls, the colour had stayed the same, bleaching it white under his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if Martin had noticed or not, but that was a conversation for another time. They were both a little preoccupied for the moment.

“How do you feel?” Jon eventually said, words pressed into the side of Martin’s neck.

“Uhm. Strange?” Martin eventually settled on. “It’s… I can remember what my thought process was, what the Lonely was pushing me to believe, but it’s like… It’s like the camera panned out, and now I can see it all clearly, and it looks… It looks stupid. Thank you, Jon. For coming to get me.”

“Of course,” Jon whispered, “Of course.”

Another moment passed before Martin spoke up again. “...Did you mean what you said, though? Or was that… Was that just to try and get me to leave? I- I won’t be angry, if it was, that- that’s very clever, I just want to know.”

Jon furrowed his brow. “Which part do you mean?”

Martin let out an agitated sigh. “You- You know which one I mean, Jon. The- The part where that you said that you…”

“That I love you?” Jon said, picking up where Martin trailed off.

Martin’s face flushed, and just the sight of colour spreading across it made Jon’s heart soar, let alone the implications of why . “Of course I did. I- I’m sorry that you would think I would lie about that, even for something like this. No, Martin, I love you. So very much. And I know you might not feel that way anymore, in which case I am very much embarrassing myself here, but I know that you did at one stage so I hope it won’t make things too awkward between us.” “I do, Jon.”

“What?”

“I do. Still feel that way. I love you too, of course I do. My hero.”

It was Jon’s turn to feel his face flush, pleasant warmth bubbling to the surface. “Oh,” was all he managed to stutter out.

“Can I- Jon do you mind if I…” Martin trailed off again, and Jon began to think this might be a recurring theme between them. He’d make it work. He was pretty good at reading Martin, and the eyeline pointed directly at his lips made intentions quite clear.

“Is- Would just the cheek be okay?” He replied. It didn’t really feel like the time for a full run down on where boundaries lay, but he figured it was a start.

“More than,” Martin said, leaning down to press his lips softly against Jon’s cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, skin largely healed but still chapped from the cold, and it was one of the most beautiful things Jon had ever felt. He slipped one hand into Martin’s, and he felt their fingers twine together.

Martin leaned back, clearly trying to calm his grin into something more close-lipped and calm. “Where to now then?”

“Uhm. Forward, really, is just how I’ve been going. There isn’t any real sense of geography to it, we’ll just…. Get there when we get there.”

“Right. Because nothing can be simple these days.”

Jon missed this. He missed him. But he didn’t have to miss him anymore, did he? He was right there.

He squeezed his hand once, and started leading the way.

#My Post #Jonmartin #The Magnus Archives #I'm maybe pushing this one a little hard but I just. crave validation okay #And I want to see what the difference is between how a fic does as a tumblr post vs ao3 #lets call it science #My Writing #Martin Blackwood #Jonathan Sims

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yarpharp · 2 years

Text

The world of the Walking Dead is honestly kinda... Ridiculous?

Like yeah, we live in America where you'd be surprised how many people own guns and knives and all sorts of collectible weaponry, but also we live in an America that has—by and large—long since gotten out of touch with any survival knowledge?

For instance, Daryl Dixon as a character is extremely interesting for most of the series not just because he's got a lot of layers and angst in terms of character personality, but also he's one of the few people we encounter who actually has applicable skills in straight-up survival. The man grew up in the mountains of Georgia, staying out of his abusive home and learning how to rough it in the wild unknown. The dude is shown as skilled in bolt crafting, some herbal knowledge, animal husbandry (specifically huntable creatures), and seasonal knowledge. He's also got plenty of mechanical knowledge to jerry-rig cars, motorized machinery, etc. He can, I assume (my memories of the show are not that clear) tan hides, make some basic leather, and probably make himself a replacement bowstring from animal sinew.

Meanwhile, what the fuck does Rick have for a good portion of the series? A gun? Many guns? A supposed killer instinct? It takes Hershel to teach him anything about farming, and even that is a skill for when you manage to maintain a long-term settlement. Maybe I'm too much of an anthropologist here, but establishing a farm culture is a societal evolution that happens after a band or group of people manage to find a safe place and devise a way to store food for longer than two weeks.

And yeah, I know in the later seasons there are moments of like, abrupt survivalist clarity, but they're very randomized and used as plot points to thrust the characters into yet another violent gun-shooting altercation. And even then, like... Electricity and such wouldn't be able to stick around for long without modern infrastructure. There's all these episodes of solar-powered homes and Negan's expansive warehouse network and all that shit, but they are depending on technologies with parts that cannot be easily replicated within the United States. So many of those industries have been outsourced to other countries. America does not produce a lot of it's own technology. Eventually a few more years down the line, all of that tech is gonna be scrap. And in the few instances where we come upon settlements that look and vaguely function like old pioneer towns, they still clearly suffer from the issue of barely any of these survivors seem to know how to survive without modern means.

I don't know, I feel like there could have been a shit ton of narrative potential if they had more episodes focusing on just learning survival or puzzling out ways of ensuring sustainability for their tiny settlements/communities. Yeah, sure, let's go get violent, but what about afterwards? Where will these people go? Are they perpetually doomed to failure because NONE OF THEM EXCEPT MAYBE DARYL KNOW HOW TO LIVE IN A WORLD WITHOUT MODERNITY?

Stop with that macho-centric highway drifter thinking. Daryl gets a pass because he kinda exists as a forest-mountain man who sometimes emerges from it to ride a motorcycle. What I want to know is what happened on the Native reservations and in Native communities. You cannot tell me they all got chewed up by the zombies, and you can't tell me they wouldn't be able to survive. We still have SO MANY TRADITIONS to fall back on. Herb lore that my grandmother passed down to me from her mom, my great-grandfather's knowledge of hunting and forestry he got from his father.

I also wanna know what happened to all the wierdos, because it's the arts-and-crafts kids and the Renaissance fair nerds and the goddamn furries that might very well end up surviving... And prove to be vital individuals in society.

The Walking Dead was a cool comic, but the show feels almost mocking. At the end of the day, it reads to me like a popular parody of the American gun-toting drifters and badasses with lost causes, intermixed with bizarre extremes that do little to explain themselves. It... Honestly is just a very pro-gun fantasy made entertaining with largely hetero drama.

It's exhausting.

#the walking dead #mini rant #World War Z had better plot points and concepts than this piece of zombie media #and the movie was kinda bad!#Daryl is the only character I like #sorry #i tried to rewatch the show and all i got out of it was salt

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trentsleatherboots · 3 years

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Carach Angren, interview translation Dutch > English

Published in the magazine Rock Tribune, edition June 2020, nr. 192.

Text by Morbid Geert. Fotos: Stefan Heileman.

WILL THE REAL FRANKENSTEIN STAND UP NOW?

At the end of last year you could already read about how we kept close watch on Carach Angren. Back when they were still heavy in the production process, on Halloween Day we went over to Ardeks homebase and studio to see the first glimpse of their new work and later Rock Tribune got invited to listen to the album in Germany. Now it's almost time for 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus' to be shown to the world and that's why we wanted to take an even deeper look. Weaponed with an oil lamp and shovel we went onwards towards the graveyard to uncover the soul stirrings of Ardek. (Text: Morbid Geert)

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Ardek, the last time I talked to you the songs were still in a very early stage and what we heard was more of a pre production. Did you tinker more afterwards to come to an end result or did you purposely keep your hands off to avoid overproduction?

"In terms of song structures and lyrics not much changed on the premature songs that you heard. What followed however was another production-finish, where especially the mix and mastering made a big change. That last stadia really lifted it all to another plane and you can really hear that."

A FRESH LOOK.

As far as I knew, Patrick Damiani was still fully onboard working on the songs at Tidal Wave Studio in Germany. How important was it for you to pull an extra producer into the process? After all, you are very much at home with that as well? Or maybe not as much as you'd like?

"Back then he worked on drumediting and played the basslines, but his role is way bigger than that. We've worked together a lot and now we're doing something for L'Âme Immortelle, where we vibe together perfectly and know exactly how to handle such a project. When he takes on production for Carach Angren however, I notice how much better he controls it. He has so much knowledge about drum sounds, mixing,... and he's really specialised in it. It is nice to add that knowledge, it brings a lot of added value. These days a lot of bands record at home and that all makes it a lot cheaper, but a good producer brings a lot of experience and equipment, it ends up with a whole different result. Besides, we left the mix and mastering to Robert Carranza."

That last one is a pretty big name, who among others worked with Marilyn Manson. I can imagine that has a big impact on your budget, but was it worth it?

"I think so. When I listened to 'Killing Strangers' by Marilyn Manson on headphones and heard the bassline, it went so deep that it turned me upside down. Apparently Robert Carranza mixed that album. Furthermore he does a lot of different things such as make latin music and win grammy's, but in the extreme metal scene he is totally unknown. However, he wanted to help himself to our record and yes, the price was steep, but I managed to convince both the band and the label… even though that wasn't without some doubts, since all eyes were on me for a bit. I had a good feeling about it and shared it, with the result being having a record now that doesn't sound like the others. He had a fresh look on our work and thus we could avoid the recognisability of the average metal producer. There are too many records that when you hear them you know exactly who had their hands on them and in which studio they were recorded. Contrary to what you might think, there was constant contact with him (Robert) and a lot of talking about how we wanted it to sound. In particular the clarity of the sound is massive and gives it a bit more of a cinematic effect. There was no compression applied where everything sounds constantly loud and where as a listener you'd get easily tired, but the dynamics were preserved."

DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT ANYMORE.

To refer back to Patrick Damiani: if he does so much and even plays the basslines, do you see him as sort of a 4th band member or is that just a bit too much credit?

"That's not how we see him. He's an amazing producer and musician, who gives us his opinion and helps us out. On the other hand he is not part of the creative process and he isn't on stage with us… but it is a relationship that's been going on for 12 years and something we get a lot out of."

Now I'm saying '4th band member', but after the recordings of your new record ended, your brother and drummer Namtar left the band. Can I ask what happened and if you saw this coming, or whether it was a bolt from the blue?

“In November he recorded his drum tracks and back then everything went fine, but then there came an offer to play at '70000TONS OF METAL'. Since we always looked at the financial side of the band together, we talked about the offer and he was immediately against it. I thought that was strange and to me it seemed better to sit around the table with three to talk about it. Then it became apparent that he'd been wrestling with it for sometime and in brief didn't feel like it anymore. We offered him to take a break of a few months instead of just throwing away what we've worked for the last 20 years, but that wasn't a solution. It wasn't an easy decision, but afterwards we saw it had been an issue for a long time and at that point you rather put a stop to it. That hit us hard, but you can never force somebody to stay in a band. To keep our motivation high we played '70000TONS OF METAL' after all with Michiel van der Plicht of God Dethroned as replacement. That pleased us all and he's willing to help us out in the future."

Michiel van der Plicht in indeed an amazing drummer. Are there any plans to keep him in the band permanently or is this an emergency solution and is there an offer still standing?

"I discussed that extensively with Seregor, but together the two of us stay the core of the band. We already have an extra guitarist live and in the studio we will definitely have those people join again, but all decisions will be made by us two in the end. We want to avoid that other people leave a mark on the band, causing us to lose our individuality (personality). It's about so much more than just making music: the stage decor, our own stage outfits,... for us it is very clear and it's going well, so we only need help to fill in with the music in the studio and during lives."

MILKED OUT?

Let's get to the core of business. At the end of this month is the release of your 6th album, 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. Now lends the Frankenstein story itself perfectly for a horror metal band, but I wondered if the story isn't too milked out by other bands… unless you do it with a completely new vision. After all, that's what you did with 'This Is No Fairytale', where Hans and Gretel were transported to the now and the horror became bigger than ever.

"When we started, I had the same feelings about the Frankenstein story, but there's a twist to it. Everything started for me as a dream, where I flew through an old house. There, I heard dissonant piano tunes and I got sucked into a room where a portrait of an old man hung on the wall. Later I made a drawing of that portrait and it got stuck in my head. When I began doing research for the album months later and even read Mary Shelley's amazing book 'Frankenstein', I found out that there is a theory that when she wrote her book she was influenced by Johann Konrad Dippel, an 18th century alchemist. Then when I looked him up, he turned out to look like what I had seen in my dream, which personally motivated me to dig deeper. Dippel is an unknown figure for the masses and that's why it seemed fascinating to us to do something with it. There is fiction and truth mixed in our story. By the way, Dippel lived in Frankenstein Castle near Darmstadt, where he was looking for the elixir to eternal life. He was also a theologist, but he clashed with the church and was therefore cast away. Because he also did experiments on cadavers and sought life extending resources, he would've inspired Mary Shelley for her story. What we did was make a concept around the source of her story instead of following the clichés. That monster with screws in his head, we've seen it already before…"

Yet it doesn't seem like a concept album, because I notice that you address very diverse subjects.

"It is definitely a concept, since all stories are connected to one another, even if it's not noticeable. 'Operation Compass' is about the North-African desert war between the Brits and Italians. In official documents the Brits were ordered that if there were to be a fallback, to make all sources unusable for the enemy with 'Dippel's oil' (a nasty substance that made water undrinkable but did not poison it, so it was in battle with the Geneva protocols). In our story it leads to a demonic outburst that went towards the soldiers. So you see, Dippel comes back throughout different moments in history. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' is about a real figure that is still alive. He committed necrophilia, killed people and drank their blood, … but is now at large. In our story he lost his ways after reading Dippel's books, which once again links it with the core story. 'Here In German Woodland.', the opening song, is about a boy that gets lost and dies in the forest surrounding Darmstadt, but later comes back and eats his parents. In the closing song 'Like A Conscious Parasite I Roam' it all comes full circle: Dippels life elixir only works for his soul, and his body rots away, so he searches for a guest body and his spirit creeps into that little boy."

In a few songs, some German lyrics show up. Is that besides the concept also because of the grim sound of the language or is it simply because you live so close to Germany and it has a certain impact?

"The subject lends itself to it of course and Seregor speaks German very well, which made things easier. And yes, the sound does play a certain role. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' sounds way better than the English translation, it immediately sets the right tone."

Some of these stories are the result of reality, but are often at least as gruesome as many fantasy stories: such is the bonus song 'Frederick's Experiments' about the sick science experiments of emperor Frederick II, a man who apparently was not inferior to the Nazi doctors?

"Yes, you can say that he set a good example! Seregor came with the idea and somewhere the story did fit within the total picture, even though we couldn't fit it into the big story. Our label Season Of Mist however asked for a bonus track and that's how we managed to include the song after all."

CROSS-POLLINATION.

What I noticed with the first sneak preview, but what has become clear now, is that Carach Angren this time worked very innovative musically. Watch out, it is immediately clear that it is from Carach Angren, since you already have your own sound, but at the same time there are noticable things we haven't heard from you before. The title track has a considerable industrial touch and we also hear something from Laibach in it, just like 'Monster'. Is that something you've only recently been getting into or have you maybe secretly been an industrial fan for years?

"It is more recent, even though I've always been appreciative of it. By also collaborating with Till Lindemann for his project Lindemann, I also came into contact with it more and started taking it up unconsciously. Afterwards I got to experiment with it for my solo project and that's how I came up with the song 'Monster'. Seregor tested some things out for singing for that song and it just made sense. It was very cool to experiment like that, which you should when you're making a record based on Frankenstein…"

It became a musical experiment instead of scientific experiment, but you do create a parallel, yes.

"Inside Carach Angren we like to put a lot of variety in the songs and if you can also give that a different look, then that is something you should try. We ourselves are absolutely crazy about it! Some fans will have to swallow when they hear those songs, but for them there are plenty of old school songs on it."

To come back to Lindemann: he and Peter Tägtgren got you involved since you are so good with classical orchestras and arrangements, but in the end it seems to have become two-way traffic, doesn't it? Have you learned a lot from it and developed other visions?

"We worked together in a very awesome way and you do learn a lot from that. You grow as a componist, as musician and as producer. It made me compose more compactly and I sometimes pursue slightly less complex songs, like the two more industrial based songs. Always great to be able to take a different approach."

Both those songs have an easier buildup, but in the other songs you go back to the complexity that you left out purposefully 'Dance And Laugh Amongst The Rotten'. Is it a way to generate more contrast?

"In some ways yes, but it depends on how it works out in a song. We tried to make the title track a bit longer, but then the effect fell away and it didn't feel right anymore. But strangely enough I write a complex song like 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' easier than a less complex piece like 'Monster'. With less arrangements it quickly becomes hard to keep it exciting(engaging), but seeing as you want to keep the concept to level, you need to have enough variation. The industrial songs sound a bit less complex, but there is a lot happening in the background and they are full of tiny details that make the difference."

MIXING COLOURS.

With the new approach you have opened some doors to maybe do more experimenting in the future. Is that actually your goal or is there nothing reasoned behind it and do such new influences pop up sooner when they seem to be able to improve the song?

"It all almost comes down to what the concept of the album requires. Back when we wrote 'Death Came Through A Phantom Ship' we added swirling waves and custom/adapted sounds to it. With the new record the 'marching' of the pulsing industrial beat seemed to work the best with our Frankenstein theme. You have to see it like a painter who is mixing colours to make a new colour to fit his vision. We don't do any different and we would love to experiment more in the future. If we see what we've already tried with singing now … in the long run we were completely out of control trying to do crazy things."

The singing is indeed a very remarkable part of 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. We always thought Seregor had a good black metal voice, but we were very impressed by the way he twisted his voice this time around and helped set the mood.

"We are very happy about that ourselves. He delivered an excellent job and we really pushed everything to get to that point. We actually took several weeks to make sure my home studio was in perfect condition and sometimes Seregor had to redo a certain part up to 10 times to get the result we wanted, but he did it without struggling. A lot of singers that ask so much from their vocal chords are dead on their feet after an hour, but then there is Seregor who gets through the day without complaining, even while screaming his lungs out. While recording 'Operation Compass' we did however find out it is better to record a deep grunt in the early morning, since your voice is still a bit slow and heavier from sleep.”

MUSIC AS A BOOST.

The whole corona crisis made it so that as a band it is way more difficult to promote an album now, since all concerts got cancelled. Did that have a big impact on Carach Angren or can you make it?

"I myself am very concerned with the people who are really affected by the disease and that is why I can partially ignore the inconveniences for ourselves. Nevertheless, it has a serious effect on the music industry, although that is secondary to me. We are dealing with a pandemic, people are dying and we all have to work to keep everything under control. In addition, it is strange to release an album in a full crisis, but we decided to go for it anyway. It's a cool record and we already started the promotion, so we just keep going. For now, tours are not planned, but that does not mean that we will now stream all kinds of performances to attract attention. We are not that type of band… what is a shame is that our plans for a very cool video clip are now also being abandoned. We had to go to Germany and there are also the social distancing rules, which make such a recording impossible. But should we really want that and turn it into drama? Of course it sucks to have to promote the release like this, but the whole world is just not what it was a few months ago."

Do you have any alternative ideas to bridge that gap? I know that you guys always have enough visual ideas and there already is a lyric video for 'Monster', but I can imagine that there is more to come.

"We are working on that yes, because last month we made one for 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' and next month we might take another song in hand. We will keep doing those sorts of things together with some 'making of-' videos that we recorded in the studio, that way we can give the album some extra promotion. Nothing for us to worry about so… by the way, there is something about releasing a record in times like these. The people have been stuck at home for months and have nothing to do, so if we can give them a new piece of music to listen to to get through the day, then that is awesome too. It would be disappointing for the fans if we just put our new work on the shelf because of this pandemic. Every band should do what they think is best, but we had already started our press campaign anyway and we would also be a lot less driven if we only had to arrive 'with old stuff' within six months or later."

Carach Angren already has a few beautiful video clips which are build up with a real story and don't only have something musical to offer. In addition, there are also the lyric videos, where certainly those for the complete album 'This Is No Fairytale' with comic images by Costin Chioreanu stand out from the crowd. Have you never thought of bundling everything on a DVD?

"We've honestly never thought about that, but that's actually a really great idea! I think it would be nice to bundle everything together and that way we immediately remove some (away) from youtube. That can always be a good idea for the future."

LEARNING SCHOOL.

As songwriter of Carach Angren you may have previously absorbed a lot of influences that shaped you into the musician and songwriter you are today. Can you list the five most essential records or artists that shaped you personally and what exactly were their interests?

"That is a good question that doesn't let itself be answered very easily. In the classical field and orchestras I think Tchaikovsky and Stravinski are very important. They both had a lot of influence on me as a componist. Another important inspiration to me in that respect is John Williams (modern componist famous for his film scores for Star Wars, Jaws, Jurassic Park..) They helped shape me even more when it comes to layered composing, although I don't come close to what they do. As a child I followed keyboard lessons for 8 years, I did a year of conservatory and studied a year of music and media, as well as cinematic orchestration. Those last two were online, but on a serious level and you really had to write pieces for an orchestra. I learned a lot there, but ever since then I kept learning by actually doing it myself, looking through books and analyzing musical pieces. But if I hadn't gotten the theoretical basis I had as a child, I would've never been able to do this today. On production level I have to mention Nine Inch Nails and, something you'd might find strange, Michael Jackson! If you see how well their albums are produced, and how many layers are incorporated, it's amazingly well done! You can say about Michael Jackson's music what you want, but the way the songs are built up and how much dynamics are in there thanks to the arrangements by Quincy Jones, it is absolutely astounding. There is no lack of bells and whistles and sometimes, for example, the snare drum comes in in four layers, something you don't hear so loudly even in extreme metal. I mainly listen to those albums as an audiophile to analyze them and see what I can get out of it as a producer. Last week I checked the solo record of Roger Waters, in which I heard effects that seemed to be situated outside the loudspeaker field. Then I want to know how that is done and whether I can integrate it with Carach Angren. That kind of thing is the reverse of the compression they use too often today and you wonder why we don't all go in that direction anymore."

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Translated by Jeordie/Trentsfishnets.

(For the record, if this interview already exists in English, I will just see this as translating practice C:)

#carach angren #metal #death metal #black metal #european metal #carach angren interview #carach angren 2020 #corpse paint #new black metal #Dennis Droomers #Dennis Seregor Droomers #Clemens Ardek Wijers #Clemens Wijers #Seregor #Ardek #Ivo Namtar Wijers #Ivo Wijers

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine: Trouble In Paradise

Series Masterlist

Plot: The Resistance has been chasing information across the galaxy to confirm the identity of the voice behind the mysterious radio broadcast. Meanwhile, Y/n has been keeping secrets from her loved ones that could have catastrophic consequences...

Warnings: language, intrusive violent thoughts, talk of the death of a parent, no beta reader because we die like men...

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: GAH we’ve made it to TROS. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end of this series...Nope, I’m not getting emotional today lol. Thanks for patiently waiting for this chapter, I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated. Hopefully I don’t disappoint :) --------

I’d joked as a kid that I’d always wanted to float. The concept of hovering above the ground suspended in midair had tickled me, but the reality of physics had crushed that dream quickly.

So naturally, my inner child was giddy to learn it was indeed possible.

I sat crossed legged, hands resting on my knees, eyes shut, more at ease than I’d been in a long time from seven feet in the air. Meditation had always brought me a deep sense of peace, but diving deeper into a Jedi’s way of performing the act had taken the whole thing to a new level.

“Be with me…” came a voice from the body that sat adjacent to me. The corners of my mouth lifted up slightly as I listened to Rey try her hardest while still attempting to remain relaxed and open. It was a blessing and a curse to be a perfectionist and a Jedi, you were wildly driven but also would beat yourself up generously if you couldn’t get something. That was Rey to a t. Not that I wasn’t just as devout, but I’d trained myself long enough to know that you couldn’t perfect something overnight.

“They’re not with me,” she declared with a scoff, “Ugh…”

Rey effectively called an end to our session as I opened my eyes to see her gracefully flip through the air and meet the ground. Her half of the rocks we’d been keeping in the air with us fell while I eased mine down with me, landing in a crouched position. “You’re going to get it.” “I’m not so sure I agree,” she sighed. “I haven’t figured it out either if it makes you feel any better,” I offered with a shrug, brushing the dirt from my leggings.

Rey made an objective noise, “That’s not true, you can hear your grandfather.”

“Only because he reaches out to me, I’m still not able to hear or see him by my own doing. And believe me, I’m trying…”

“It comes with time and a healthy dose of patience…” said the warming presence I sensed just a few feet away from us. “I’m starting to think it isn’t possible,” Rey stated as we walked toward my mother, “To hear the voices of the Jedi who came before.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Mom replied simply, she had drilled that phrase into our brains so many times over the past few months that I swore it was tattooed somewhere in my skull.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Rey echoed, a small smile spreading across her face at the encouragement, “I’m going to run the training course. Are you coming?” “No, I ran it earlier,” I said, elbowing her lightly in the arm, “One day I’ll beat you but today was not that day.” Rey was such a humble person, which made it all the more entertaining to watch her try not to take delight in being the best at something. She slyly grinned at me before accepting Uncle Luke’s lightsaber from Mom and heading off towards the start of the course.

Can I go with her? Unless you need me? “No, Bee,” I smiled down at the droid, left in my custody till Poe returned, “You can go with Rey.” He happily rolled his way through the jungle, in search of his friend.

“Any word from the Falcon?” I asked hopefully as Mom and I slowly strolled back towards base.

“Not yet,” she answered, trying her hardest to sound unworried, “It may be too risky to send a comm back. I wouldn’t worry yet.”

“Telling me not to worry only makes me worry more,” I returned, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in my body.

Only a handful of Resistance personnel knew the details of Finn and Poe’s mission. Those who did understood the weight and magnitude of the information they were potentially retrieving. But as with every high-risk mission, bringing back intel meant bringing themselves back, which was a big if…

“Mom, what if it really is what we think it is?” I asked, sounding more like a curious child than a concerned commander, “Worse, what if it’s who we think it is?”

“I wish I had an answer for you,” she sighed, “But the truth is that we don’t know for certain what we’re up against. We’re anticipating and planning in the dark. We can only pray that Poe and Finn return with something that could shed even a little light on the matter.”

Light versus dark, an age old battle with a new enemy for each generation to face. But the same enemy coming back twice? Nobody could have predicted it. And while it was true, we had no official confirmation that the broadcast across the galaxy had been who we believed it to be, those who had lived through the rebellion had no doubts.

“Do me a favor and let me know when they’re back if I’m not around,” I requested, breaking away from my mother who was heading back towards the command center. I needed a few minutes to myself to attend to matters I couldn’t concern her or Rey with.

“Y/n,” she called and waited for me to face her, “I know you’re scared, but don’t feel like you need to fight your battles on your own.” If only she knew the battles I was fighting and just how important it was that nobody find them out. I hated secrets, I’d spent my entire life keeping them from those who meant the most to me. But the ones I kept now were in a new category of extreme, they were the kind that when all was exposed could ruin every relationship I had.

So I simply nodded, gave a tight lipped smile and turned back on my way.

I ended up deep in the opposite side of the jungle, far away from the training course and far enough away from base that nobody would stumble upon me. I scaled one of the large trees with ease, landing on a sturdy top branch and settling onto it. Like D’Qar, I kept a secret corner of Ajan Kloss for myself for when I needed quiet or clarity. But both places where were I faced my demons, only the ones I had now couldn’t be combatted with a lightsaber. Not yet, at least…

I took a deep breath and looked out to the beautiful horizon, inwardly beating myself up for what I was about to do.

“Ren, are you there?”

Silence.

“Ren, I know you’re there somewhere,” I pushed, trying to open the connection between us once again, “You’ve got to tell me if you know anything about what’s been going on.”

Nothing.

“This isn’t a matter of First Order or Resistance, it’s not about you or I. If this is what we think it is, both of us are fucked so if you know something, I need to know it too.” We hadn’t spoken since the evening of the broadcast, I knew him better than I wished to and knew that any threat to his rule would send him frantically searching for the culprit. Since he’d gone silent on me, I’d reached out often to try and get any information out of him I could. It wasn’t so I could use it against him, it was simply to figure out what we’d be up against. He was the only person I knew close to the dark side of the force, meaning he was the closest to answers I could get. I was toeing a dangerous line and I knew it.

As always, he didn’t answer. Once I’d served my usefulness to him, he’d dropped our frequent communication without so much as a warning. I’d spent so long trying to get as far from him as possible and now that I needed something from him, he was nowhere to be found.

Thoroughly done with myself, I groaned and leaned my head against the tree. “Resistance commander trying to strike conversation with the leader of the First Order…Well done, Solo.” Then suddenly, my mind was struck with an overwhelming pain. I was having another attack.

I stood amongst the familiar flames.

Bodies were scattered around me, their screams echoing through the air.

My usual y/e/c turned yellow as I stared down at the carnage.

Ren stood near me.

Obi-Wan did not.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ren said in an eerily soft voice, “This is who you were always meant to be.” Another scream, but it wasn’t in the dream.

I clung to the tree with one arm, the other was clutching my head to try and make the pain stop. Taking frantic whimpering breaths, I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It was just my nightmare, the one I’d lived through my entire life. It was nothing more.

But then, my grandfather had never not been there.

And I’d never seen myself as a Sith.

I decided that was enough for one day, I didn’t know if there was anything else on my agenda but I’d find something. Anything to keep me out of my own head, which was becoming a more dangerous place to be with every passing day…

————

It was a few hours later, while tucked away with Rey in her corner of the base, that the day took another turn. We were going through the old Jedi texts when Nimi shouted for both of us, “Falcon’s back!”

I groaned in relief, setting my book down and leaping from my seat. Rey and Bee followed close behind as we made our way through the base, but the smoke trail leading back to the ship’s landing area wasn’t a good sign.

Sure enough, the Falcon was in flames. I stopped short at the sight, my beloved ship, my home, burning up. People were flocking to it, some to watch but most to help extinguish the fire. The Falcon was a Resistance symbol and people felt protective over it, it was a legacy.

“It’s on the fire, the whole thing’s on fire! All of it is on fire!” The figure emerging from the chaos typically sparked joy in me, but at the moment of his appearance I found little comfort in his presence. Sensing my anger, Rey stepped forward while I turned my back away from the Falcon and ran my hands over my face trying to keep calm.

“Hey.” “Hey,” Poe greeted.

“There’s a spy?” she asked, I’d admit that I forgot all about the mission in the moment.

“Really could’ve used your help out there,” Poe said loudly over the noise that surrounded us.

“How’d it go?” “Really bad actually…Really bad.”

I inhaled deeply and spun on my heels, my resolve to remain calm fizzling with every word my boyfriend said. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” Poe’s hands readjusted themselves on his hips, “Look, you don’t understand-“ “No, Poe,” I raised a finger towards him before pointing to the Falcon, “You clearly don’t understand. What was the one rule I had for taking the Falcon? Don’t do anything dangerous!” “And you don’t understand that I had no choice,” Poe raised his voice, gesturing to the Falcon, “We had First Order on our tails, I did what had to be done.” “And pray tell, what needed to be done to my ship?” I asked, flattening my palms together and pressing my lips together in a faux smile. Poe breathed in to explain before he caught sight of Bee resting in between mine and Rey’s feet. “What’d you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” Rey countered.

“The Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is.” “I beg to differ,” I interjected, my voice raising an octave. “BB-8’s not on fire,” Rey gestured toward the still flaming ship.

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire,” Poe’s eyes widened as he looked down at his droid.

Growing tired of the exchange, Rey cut to the chase, “Tell us what happened.” “You tell me first,” Poe demanded stubbornly.

“I asked you first and you still haven’t given me an answer,” I argued, throwing my hands out to their sides in frustration.

“You know what you are?” Rey began, a sarcastic smile plastered on her face as she stared down Poe.

“What?” “You’re difficult. Really difficult, you’re a difficult man.” “You, you are…” Poe started, letting his sentence end with a growl as he stalked off to examine Bee. Rey went to greet Finn who swept her in up in a hug

I crossed my arms and rotated my posture to speak in his direction, “She’s not wrong.” “You two aren’t exactly easy to deal with all the time either,” he fought back, not even bothering to face me as he examined Bee, “Buddy, look at you. You’re a mess.”

“I’d be a whole lot easier to deal with if you would tell me what the hell happened to my ship,” I raised a finger to him as he began to inhale, “Do not say one thing about Bee, he lost one part and Rey and I were going to fix him up before you got back.” A roar from Chewbacca, hard at work trying to help fix the Falcon gave me the answer I’d been asking for. We’d officially graduated from anger to rage…

“You lightspeed skipped?!” I shouted.

“Yeah, well, it got us back here, didn’t it?” Poe countered.

“Poe, the compressor’s down,” Rey explained, her face exposing her shock.

“Oh, I know, I was there.”

“Every time…” Finn mumbled to himself as he stood to the side of us. “You can’t lightspeed skip the Falcon.”

Poe sprung to his feet, “Actually, turns out you can.” “Does that mean you should?” I scolded. Finn, ever the peacemaker, tried to calm the three of us down. “All right, guys, we just landed, okay?” “Poe, you are never allowed to fly the Falcon again,” I seethed, “Ever.” “You can’t make that call, she’s a Resistance ship,” Poe objected, coming to stand in front of me.

“She’s my ship that I allow select Resistance members to use, of which you are no longer one.” “Okay, guys,” Finn interjected as gently as he could, “Can you two deal with your issues later and actually discuss the mission?”

Looking like a child who had just had a toy taken away, Poe silently stalked away from me with no more than a steely glare. The argument was far from over on both our ends.

“What happened on the mission?” Rey asked, changing the subject for all of our sakes as we followed Poe.

“Bad news, that’s what happened,” Poe explained with his back to us.

“No spy?”

“No, spy.”

“Can we please communicate like adults for five seconds?” I asked, pressing m hands against my mouth in an attempt to not let my fury fly free. “Did we make contact with the spy or not?” Rey asked, leaving no room for interpretation.

“There’s a mole in the First Order, and they sent us a message,” Finn explained, but Bee decided to interrupt with his own retelling of how he’d gotten his injury which caused Poe to stop in his tracks.

“You dropped a tree on him?” he asked Rey.

“You blew both sub-alternators?” she retaliated.

“No, he did more than that,” I spoke up with a humorless laugh, “He may have caused permanent damage to the Falcon, you could’ve torn the whole damn thing apart.” “Well, you know what, maybe you two should’ve been out there with us!” Poe finally exclaimed, we’d gotten to the heart of the matter at last. “You know I want to be out there with you,” Rey cried, “We both do!” “Yeah, but you’re not. You’re here training, for what?” Poe continued, sighing in disappointment afterwards as he looked between us both, “You two are the best fighters we have. We need you, out there, not here.” Silence had fallen and Poe had successfully gotten in the last word, Rey couldn’t fight any more and Finn didn’t want to. I however had plenty more to say on all subjects discussed and as Poe left us, ordering someone to get R2 into reconditioning, I went after him.

“Did you think that conversation was over?”

“Hoped, yes,” he replied, not slowing down to accommodate me. “It’s like talking to a wall,” I growled, walking double time to catch up to him, “I have told you at least ten times why I’m not on missions right now and yet you still give me shit for it.” “Y/n, you know as well as I do that things are dicey right now and we need our best out on the frontlines,” he stated as we argued through the base, “You and Rey are our best and you’re here training for something and you can’t even tell me what it is.” “How am I supposed to tell you when I don’t know what it is?” I asked, waving a hand between the two of us, “I can sense things that you can’t, you have to trust that what I’m doing is best for the long term.” “Well, then maybe don’t give me so much shit next time something happens to the Falcon on my watch when you’re not there and I’m doing what’s best for the long term.” My feet stopped but Poe’s didn’t, causing me to have to speak louder. “You really don’t understand why I’m upset, do you?” He swung a foot around and pivoted, he was visibly tired but still willing to listen. If only the sight of him didn’t fill me with so much anger…This wasn’t how his returns usually went.

“That ship is the last piece of my dad that I have,” I began, willing my voice not to crack, “I don’t have his wedding ring, his jacket, I don’t even have a picture of the two of us. I have the Falcon,” I pointed back in its direction, smoke still rising high above the trees surrounding it, “That’s it. So when it comes back in pieces, you’re right, I’m going to be upset and I’m not going to apologize for it. Because I know if you still had your mother’s A-Wing and someone so much as got a scratch on it, you’d never forget it.”

Poe kept quiet, his softening eyes betraying his hardened stare. I’d won, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. “I’m gonna go try and save what’s left of my father’s ship,” I finished, breaking into a jog back towards the Falcon before Poe could see the tears in my eyes.

————

Grease stained, sweaty and reeking of oil, I finally emerged from under the Falcon with Chewie at my side. She’d be fine, but it had taken a lot of hands to get everything repaired. Poe had done more damage than I’d ever seen done to her, it truly was a miracle they’d made it back alive.

“Can you tell me something?” I asked Chewie as I rubbed furiously at a splotch of grease on my palm, “Was lightspeed skipping really the only way to get out of whatever was going on?”

Chewie groaned his response, telling me that while he didn’t like it at all, he hadn’t come up with any other ideas as to how to survive the TIE attack.

I sighed, partially from exhaustion but also from lingering frustrations, “So do you think I’m being too hard on Poe? I mean, I’m pissed that he did this to Dad’s ship but…if it was the only way to stay alive then…”

My honorary uncle agreed that Poe had probably done the right thing, but by no means was he pleased about what happened to the Falcon. Chewie was just as protective of the Solo family ship as I was.

I hummed in reply as I thought the day’s events over, wondering how much worse it was going to get at the briefing that was only moments away. The intel Poe and Finn had brought back had been being decoded all afternoon and now we were finally going to find out what had been discovered. If the rest of the day had been any indication of how the briefing was going to go, it wasn’t going to be good.

I weaved my way through the growing crowd underneath Tantive IV, scanning faces till I found my mother. When I spotted her, there was no way to get to her. I also was in no condition to stand at the front of the entire Resistance, I’d probably have black oil stains on my skin for days. I slipped in between Connix and Snap, patting the pilot on the shoulder as I took my place.

Poe stepped forward once everyone had assembled, he’d been tucked away in the command center all day during the decoding process. Just before he started speaking, his eyes sought me out for the first time since our argument. All anger had drained from his face, replaced with concern and confusion. I furrowed my brows, silently asking what was wrong from across the crowd, whatever he’d heard had been troublesome…

“We’ve decoded the intel from the First Order spy and it confirms the worst,” he paused to look down and sigh, “Somehow, Palpatine returned.” I wished I could have said I was surprised.

Mom and I caught each other’s eye, our worst suspicions having been confirmed. It was another moment where I realized fairness didn’t exist for some people, one of them being her. My mother had already fought a war against the Emperor, she’d lost her home in the crossfire, and somehow he lived to give her more sorrow. My heart ached at the hardened, yet vulnerable, look that flashed across her face.

“Wait, do we believe this?” Rose asked from her position near me.

“It cannot be, the Emperor’s dead,” Admiral Aftab exclaimed. “Dark science,” Beaumont explained, his eyes widened with shock, “Cloning. Secrets only the Sith knew.” “He’s been planning his revenge. His followers have been building something for years,” Poe continued, “The largest fleet the galaxy has ever known. He calls it the Final Order. In 16 hours, attacks on all free worlds begin. The Emperor and his fleet have been hiding in the Unknown Regions. On a world called Exegol.”

R2 started chirping frantically from behind me.

“Exegol does not appear on any star chart, but legend describes it as a hidden world of the Sith,” 3PO translated to the group.

“There were always whispers of his hunger to cheat death,” Beaumont said with a shake of his head. I hadn’t heard of cloning having been done since the formation of the clone army decades before. It all seemed like an explanation you’d find in a children’s storybook, but it was our reality.

Mom had gone to stand next to Poe, conversing on how Palpatine had been pulling the strings since the very start of our problems, as we swallowed the information amongst ourselves. I didn’t know where I fit into any of what was going on around me, all I knew was that I needed to be at the helm of the fight. The something that I’d been training for was upon us and after hearing the details, I knew it would be uglier than I’d imagined.

“If we want to stop him, we must find him,” Maz said to the group, “We must find Exegol.” “General, Commander Solo?” Rey interrupted, I hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped away and returned, now carrying a book under her arm, “Can I speak with you both?” I nodded before snaking my way through the crowd, me and Mom followed her back to her station where she laid out one of the Jedi texts for us to see. “I know how to get to Exegol,” she said confidently.

“Tell me,” Mom urged as my eyes skimmed the pages of the dusty book Rey had poured over. “Luke searched for it, for a long time. He nearly found it. There are ciphers here I can’t read but he said to get there, you need one of these,” she pointed to a small triangular object, “A Sith wayfinder. They’re compasses that lead the way to Exegol. To stop what we both know is coming…I need to finish what Luke started. Find Exegol. Find the Emperor.” “She’s right,” I endorsed my friend’s idea wholeheartedly, “If Uncle Luke made it this far, he’s already done half the work for us. Look, it says the last place he’d been when searching for one was on Pasaana. This is our shot at stopping this.” Mom regretfully shook her head and shot us down with a single syllable, “No.”

“We don’t exactly have any other options,” I said confusedly, “We’ve got a set course right in front of us, we need to chart it.” “I don’t want to go without your blessing, I can’t speak for Y/n, but I will,” Rey said with conviction in her eyes, “I will. It’s what you would do.”

I watched expectantly as we awaited Mom’s answer, knowing that we both made too much sense for her to say no again. The good news was if she did, we didn’t technically need her permission. I owned my own ship and I didn’t need to order Rey to come with, one way or another we were getting to Pasaana.

“You two can go,” Mom finally relented, “But I hope you both understand just how critical this mission is. There’s no room for error, we have a little over one day to stop the attack.” “And we will,” I quickly assured her, “There’s nobody more suited for this task than us.” “I can’t argue there,” Mom admitted with a sigh, looking up proudly at her two Padawans, “Get what you need, you’ll leave immediately.”

--------

A/N: And we’re off once again...Hope everybody enjoyed this one, we’ve got a lot in store for these last few chapters. Hopefully I can still surprise you all a little lol. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

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BeeTober 2020 Day 28

Guardian - Decay

Day 28 of BeeTober brings an AU where Mingcheng are already established, but Jiang Cheng went to some pretty extremes to keep his soul safe. That he turned into a stone statue really is the least of it.

Nie Mingjue wakes up well rested and ready to tackle the day. It’s a strange enough occurrence that it gives him pause immediately, and he stays quiet and unmoving to figure out what’s going on.

There’s no sound but some trees rustling and birds singing, and that alone tips him off to the fact that he can’t be in Qinghe nor Lotus Pier. Nie Mingjue opens his eyes to look around and he frowns when he sees where he is.

He’s inside something that looks like a temple, except it’s falling apart around him.

Nie Mingjue looks down on himself, checking if he’s restrained and about to be sacrificed to whoever resides in this temple and his frown deepens when he sees talismans all over himself.

But instead of subduing him or keeping him chained to the table he’s laying on, they are for healing and freezing him in time. And one by one they start to go up in flames, telling him that there is no more need for either.

Nie Mingjue shakes his head slightly as he swings his legs over the table, and it’s only then that he realizes it’s not really a table but more of a bed.

“What the fuck happened,” Nie Mingjue mutters, his mind foggy and memory elusive but he trusts that someone will be around to tell him what the hell is going on.

He cocks his head slightly when he notices the faint chiming of a bell in the air, and even though he doesn’t know why it’s ringing he can feel that it gradually works to clear his mind.

Nie Mingjue is a bit wobbly for the first few steps but soon enough he regains his equilibrium and Nie Mingjue walks up to the only door of the temple. There are multiple windows, turning everything into a soft gold with the sunlight, but there’s only one door.

A door that is unlocked but so damaged by time that it takes Nie Mingjue a few moments to get it open.

When he finally steps outside, he only sees green for a moment before he realizes that the temple is overgrown almost completely.

And then his eyes fall on a statue in front of the door, and Nie Mingjue freezes when he sees it.

He knows that back.

“My heart?” Nie Mingjue whispers, and he’s quick to walk around the statue.

Except, it’s not a statue at all, Nie Mingjue comes to realize when he looks at Jiang Cheng.

“Oh, my heart,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and cups Jiang Cheng’s stone cheek in his hand.

Nie Mingjue suddenly remembers his last qi deviation; not everything but enough to remember that it should have killed him. But he also remembers Jiang Cheng’s pleading voice, telling him to hold on, begging him to not die, promising him that he’ll find a way to heal him if only Nie Mingjue doesn’t die immediately.

Well, Jiang Cheng certainly held that last promise, Nie Mingjue thinks with a small smile, but when his eyes fall back onto the temple, it turns bitter. It must have been one hell of a healing sleep, because the temple is nearly falling apart behind Jiang Cheng, the touch of time even eating away at the stone and decay all around them. And yet it still holds.

Nie Mingjue looks closer at the supporting structure and he sees arrays upon arrays melded into the stone; it’s Jiang Cheng’s handiwork—Nie Mingjue would recognize that anywhere—so he must not only have put Nie Mingjue into a healing sleep and protected him from aging while he’s recuperating, he also tirelessly channelled qi into the Clarity Bell and he built a whole-ass temple around Nie Mingjue as well.

Nie Mingjue turns his gaze back to Jiang Cheng. His heart has turned into stone so completely that Nie Mingjue doesn’t even want to contemplate for how many centuries he’s been sitting outside of Nie Mingjue’s resting place.

It’s not completely unheard of; there have been a few stories of immortal cultivators who stopped moving at one point, and who turned into stone but Nie Mingjue has never witnessed it before.

Nie Mingjue feels a belated stab of worry. Cultivators have died long before they turned to stone this completely. The key to this is to keep the qi circulating but for that one needs to concentrate. And it's so very hard to keep the mind moving when the body is not. Its too easy to loose oneself inside ones own mind and just the thought that Jiang Cheng could have suffered the same fate makes Nie Mingjue feel vaguely sick.

But he can still feel Jiang Cheng's qi circulating, can still hear the soft chiming of his clarity bell, and he knows that his beloved didn't suffer that same fate as countless others had.

Jiang Cheng never only attempted the impossible; he always achieved it and then some.

“My heart, it’s time for you to wake up again,” Nie Mingjue whispers as he leans forward to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s cold and hard cheek.

It’s a long process, petrification, but reversing it takes slightly less time. It will be weeks, maybe even months, before Jiang Cheng will return to him.

But Nie Mingjue isn’t worried; Jiang Cheng kept himself alive and focused for centuries, he will not fail to come back to Nie Mingjue, now that he is healed.

And healed he is; he can feel it. His qi is circulating in a way it hasn’t since his first qi deviation, his meridians completely unharmed and undamaged despite the violent nature of the last qi deviation, and Nie Mingjue knows that it’s all due to Jiang Cheng and his stubborn will.

Nie Mingjue cups his cheek again, carefully brushing his own qi against Jiang Cheng’s to let him know that it’s time for him to come back now, and Nie Mingjue can’t believe that he ever got so lucky as to be loved by an amazing man like him.

It’s certainly more than he deserves, that much Nie Mingjue is sure of.

Before Nie Mingjue can get lost in his own mind, there’s a rustling sound behind him and Nie Mingjue spins around, desperately missing Baxia in his hands right about now.

It doesn’t matter. If whatever or whoever comes out of the woods is a threat to Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue will fight them with his bare hands if he has to.

What does eventually emerge from the underbrush is a kid.

A kid that seems strangely familiar, down to the stubborn move of his jaw when his eyes fall on Nie Mingjue.

“What are you doing here?” the kid demands to know and Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow at him. “This is private property and you’re trespassing.”

“I doubt I can trespass on my own temple,” Nie Mingjue gives back, more amused than anything and the boy glares at him.

“It’s not your temple. The temple belongs to the guardian,” he says with a nod to Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue bites back a smile.

“The guardian, huh?” he asks. “And what is he guarding?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and watches at the boy stutters.

“No one knows, because no one is allowed to go into the temple!” he eventually yells and Jiang Cheng will love to wake up to his yelling nephew, Nie Mingjue just knows it.

“What if I come from inside the temple?” Nie Mingjue asks and very pointedly looks down at himself.

The robes he’s wearing hold no resemblance at all to the clothes the boy is wearing and clearly that must register with him as well.

“You can’t be,” the boy still says, jutting his chin out. “If you would be, then the guardian would come back. But he will only come back when his soul returns to him!”

“Ah,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and turns towards Jiang Cheng. He leans down to rest his forehead against Jiang Cheng’s stone one and then he says “But your soul already returned. And you should hurry, because what am I going to do without my heart?”

“Oh,” the boy behind him says breathlessly and he’s staring wide-eyed at Nie Mingjue when he turns back around to him. “How do you know that?” he then demands to know and Nie Mingjue frowns at him.

“Know what?”

“To say that!”

“I—it’s just what I call him,” Nie Mingjue gives back, now thoroughly confused and the boy frowns at him.

Jiang Cheng can’t have been an influence in his life, with how he is petrified and most definitely did not reincarnate, but that frown is all Jiang Cheng anyway.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Nie Mingjue,” Nie Mingjue tells him and watches as the boy’s eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers but before Nie Mingjue can scold him for using foul language, the boy bounded up to him, excitement twinkling in his eyes. “This is your temple!”

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue gives back and then indulgently follows the boy when he tugs on his hand. “Hey, what’s your name?” he asks, even though me most definitely knows, but he has to keep up appearances.

“Jiang Ling,” the boy says and Nie Mingjue smiles.

Good to hear that he’s a proper Jiang this time around.

Jiang Ling brings Nie Mingjue to what is presumably his own home, though Nie Mingjue has never seen a house like that.

It seems like a lot of time passed.

“Mom! Dad!” Jiang Ling starts yelling as soon as they get close to the house and Nie Mingjue is not surprised at all to see Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan come running out of it.

His eyes burn when he sees their familiar faces—it has been so long since they died, at least for Nie Mingjue—and he can’t wait for Jiang Cheng to wake up.

“A-Ling!” Jiang Yanli says, clearly surprised to see her son drag a towering man behind him, and she motions for him to come to her side immediately.

Jiang Ling, predictably, does not obey her.

“It’s him!” Jiang Ling excitedly tells his parents, who keep a wary eye on Nie Mingjue.

He does his best to make himself small and unthreatening, but he’s a tall man and he knows that he carries quite the presence with him.

“It’s who?” Jin Zixuan asks and Jiang Ling almost bounces in his excitement.

“The one from inside the temple!”

“What?” Jiang Yanli breathes out, clearly surprised, but her face turns a little bit softer. “Really?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue says and bows to them.

When he comes up to them staring at him, he realizes that maybe greetings changed as well, over the time. He’ll need to learn a whole lot before Jiang Cheng wakes up, it seems.

“What’s your name?” Jin Zixuan demands to know and Nie Mingjue keeps his head bowed.

“Nie Mingjue,” he answers but Jiang Ling shakes his head.

“No, no, tell them what you said to the guardian!”

“A-Ling, calm down,” Jiang Yanli gently chides her son but then she looks at Nie Mingjue, clearly expecting an answer.

“I told him that his soul already returned and that he should come back as well, because I am nothing without my heart,” Nie Mingjue truthfully says and he’s entirely unprepared for the tears that gather in Jiang Yanli’s eyes.

“Welcome back, Chifeng-zun,” she warmly says and Nie Mingjue is entirely unprepared when she hugs him, before she tugs him inside the house.

“You must be hungry, and confused,” she says, and Nie Mingjue has to admit that he is both.

Jiang Yanli gets him some food and all the while she explains. Nie Mingjue’s head spins a little bit with how much time passed since Jiang Cheng put him into a healing sleep, how much time passed since Jiang Cheng built a whole temple around him and made sure that they will always be protected, and he’s not entirely sure he can process it correctly.

Those really are an awful lot of years.

Years, during everything changed, that much Nie Mingjue can tell, and he is taken aback when he realizes that cultivation is not really a thing anymore. This will be a lot to adjust to, and he’s already looking forward to having Jiang Cheng bitch about the smallest of changes.

“When will he return?” Jiang Yanli suddenly asks and Nie Mingjue clears his head.

“Jiang Cheng?” he asks, just to make sure and Jiang Yanli nods. “It will take time; weeks, maybe even months. His body is completely turned to stone. Reversing the process is delicate work, but I’m sure he already got started on it. He never did like being separated for too long,” Nie Mingjue lowly says, a small smile playing around his mouth.

“You must miss him terribly,” Jiang Yanli sympathetically says but Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“It’s not been that long for me,” he admits. “One moment I had a qi deviation and the next I woke up in the temple. There wasn’t much time to miss him yet.”

“And there won’t be, because I’m sure he’ll come back to you quickly,” Jiang Yanli says.

“So when do you want us to move out?” Jin Zixuan suddenly asks, and Nie Mingjue startles.

He kind of forgot that he was still in the room as well, with how quiet he has been all this time.

“What?”

“This is your house. Well, technically it’s Sandu Shengshou’s house, but I guess you’ll want it back.”

“What do you mean, this is Jiang Cheng’s house?”

“He means that he built it, when he constructed the temple as well. There is always to be a Jiang around, to tend to the temple,” Jiang Yanli explains. “Since you’re back, I guess we’ll have to move.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Nie Mingjue blurts out, but he is fairly certain that Jiang Cheng is going to yell at him a lot should he come back only to hear that Nie Mingjue kicked out his sister and nephew. “You’re going to stay right were you are. We’ll just take a room if you have one free. Besides, everything is different. We’ll need someone around to introduce us to the world again.”

“So that means we can stay?” Jiang Ling suddenly pipes up and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“Of course you can stay,” he tells him and everything is a lot more relaxed after that.

~*~*~

The days pass quickly. There is so much to learn about this strange new world that Nie Mingjue feels like his head is going to split open on a good day but Jiang Yanli is careful not to overwhelm him completely.

If it does get too much, Nie Mingjue finds his way back to Jiang Cheng, who is still more petrified than not, but Nie Mingjue can tell that the process is in reverse.

His cheek almost feels warm under his hand already.

“I wish you would come back to me soon,” Nie Mingjue whispers and leans against Jiang Cheng’s back. “Your sister and your nephew are here, too, and they are dying to meet you. They might have been reincarnated into a world so completely different than ours, but they are still the same. I think. I never knew your sister well enough before, but Jiang Ling is certainly his usually bratty self. You’re going to adore him,” Nie Mingjue tells Jiang Cheng and sighs when no response comes.

But of course there wouldn’t be.

Jiang Cheng is still weeks away from coming back to Nie Mingjue.

That evening Nie Mingjue is strangely melancholic, because he misses Jiang Cheng’s frowns and his biting remarks and his beautiful laugh and his soft skin under his hands.

“He will come back,” Jiang Yanli says with certainty and pats Nie Mingjue’s hands. “He has been waiting for you all this time, I doubt he’s going to wait any longer if he can help it.”

Nie Mingjue is just about to agree when Jiang Ling comes barrelling into the kitchen.

“Mom, there’s a strange man outside!” he shouts, and Nie Mingjue is immediately on the alert.

No one ever gets lost enough to stumble upon this little house and if someone did then it might spell trouble.

“Stay inside,” he instructs Jiang Yanli, who nods with big eyes and Nie Mingjue walks outside.

He can see the figure stumbling towards him already, though it’s hard to make out anything in the dark. But if that person is drunk, maybe they really did just get lost.

“You asshole,” Jiang Cheng suddenly seethes and Nie Mingjue’s stomach drops before the biggest smile breaks out on his face.

“My heart,” he whispers and walks forward, sweeping Jiang Cheng up and crushing him to his chest.

“You asshole,” Jiang Cheng repeats and slaps Nie Mingjue’s shoulder, though he does press close enough to hide his face against his neck. “You can’t just say that Yanli and A-Ling are around and that you’re impatient for me to get back and then leave without waiting for me to come back!”

“My heart, my heart, it’s too soon for you to be back,” Nie Mingjue says and puts Jiang Cheng down on the ground again.

A critical look reveals that he seems to be completely de-petrified and Nie Mingjue is so in awe of Jiang Cheng he doesn’t even know how to express it.

“To soon, please,” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “I waited centuries for you to stop your sleeping act.”

“You are incredible,” Nie Mingjue mutters, because it should have been weeks before Jiang Cheng returned to him.

“Stop with the flattery and kiss me, dammit,” Jiang Cheng demands and Nie Mingjue is more than happy to oblige him with that.

One kiss turns into two turns into many, and in the end it’s Jiang Yanli who breaks them apart.

“I see that he found his way back to you sooner than anticipated,” she says, laughter in her voice and Nie Mingjue blushes.

“Yanli,” Jiang Cheng breathes and even though Nie Mingjue hates to let him go he pushes Jiang Cheng towards his sister.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t hesitate to sweep her up in a hug as well, much to Jiang Yanli’s astonishment it seems, and Nie Mingjue chuckles.

“Who is that?” Jiang Ling suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng’s smile gets even bigger.

“A-Ling!” he exclaims but Jiang Ling hides inside the house when he starts to walk towards him.

Nie Mingjue is at his side before his face falls.

“They are reincarnated,” he whispers. “They don’t remember.”

“Ah,” Jiang Cheng says, clearly heartbroken, but then he smiles again. “Might be better that way, anyway.”

And with that he turns around to Jiang Yanli and bows deeply to her.

“I apologize for my improper behaviour.”

“No need,” she softly says and puts a hand on his arm. “There’s clearly something your husband didn’t mention to us.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes go big at the word husband, because he and Jiang Cheng never did quite get around to that, but when Jiang Cheng smiles at him, he shrugs it off.

Jiang Cheng is his heart, and Nie Mingjue is his soul; husbands seems a little bit redundant with that.

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue allows and pulls Jiang Cheng into his side, simply glad to have his heart back.

“And we will explain,” Jiang Cheng promises as he threads Nie Mingjue’s and his fingers together. “But reversing the petrification is a lot more draining than simply turning to stone and I think I need to sleep now,” he says, and he sways on his feet.

“Of course,” Jiang Yanli says with one last smile before she vanishes inside the house and Nie Mingjue is more than happy to bring Jiang Cheng to their room.

He missed sleeping with Jiang Cheng in his bed, missed his steady weight against him, and Nie Mingjue can already tell that he’ll be a bit more clingy than before.

But Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to mind, because he keeps one hand on Nie Mingjue at all times and when he has to stop touching him eventually, he makes sure to keep his eyes on Nie Mingjue.

“I missed you,” Jiang Cheng suddenly says and Nie Mingjue realizes that while it was only a few weeks for him, it must have been much, much longer for Jiang Cheng.

“I’m here,” Nie Mingjue reassures him. “And I’m not going anywhere, because whatever you did healed me. So there’s nothing that can take me from your side again anymore.”

“There better not be,” Jiang Cheng says and leans up for a kiss that Nie Mingjue happily gives him.

Nie Mingjue really has no intention of leaving Jiang Cheng ever again, but even if there was something that could take Nie Mingjue from him, he doubts that Jiang Cheng would allow it.

Jiang Cheng already turned to stone for him; if need be Nie Mingjue doesn’t doubt that Jiang Cheng would turn into a god just to get him back, or personally drag him back from hell.

It seems like exactly the kind of thing Jiang Cheng would be capable of.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #au #immortality #reincarnation #hurt/comfort #petrification #fluff

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sapphireplums · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥 -𝟐-

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader / Child!reader

Description: When Bucky Barnes is captured by HYDRA, his life has one meaning: being a weapon. But what happens when HYDRA kidnaps a little girl for them to experiment on? Will he grow fond on the child? Or will he just ignore her and follow his handlers orders?

A/n: hey babes! i hope you guys enjoy chapter 2. i have a lot of ideas waiting to put in this story so wait and see :). TAGLISTS ARE OPEN AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN TOO❤️

December 16, 1991

Bucky, well now the winter soldier, felt the warmth of the air that surrounded him. He noticed a few things once his eyes fluttered open. There were new agents and also noticed how Zola wasn’t in sight. He figured that since Zola was getting old, he would have a new handler the next time he came out of cryo, and he was right.

Waking up, his eyes fluttered to gain more clarity in his vision. He looked around the room and noticed one thing right away.

Y/N wasn’t in the room.

Noticing this, the winter soldier started to get angsty not knowing where she was.

Despite getting wiped, he still somehow remembered the tiny young girl and how he was her “Papa”.

The soldier started to get angry not seeing Y/N in sight, punching soldiers that got too close to him.

Сэр, я думаю, он ищет девушку, которая тоже была в заморозке

Sir, I think he is looking for the girl that was also in cryofreeze

One of the agents then brought in the young girl who was basically being dragged by him. At this action, the soldier tensed up and made his way towards her.

Though he had to push a few guards, risking guns being pointed at him, he just wanted to hug the little girl that he hasn’t seen for who knows how long.

“Papa!” Y/N said with a smile on her face. She didn’t care if there were intimidating guards there. she was just really happy to see Bucky.

Bucky was too, he hugged her back tightly and whispered something in her ear.

“ I missed you, babydoll.”

“I missed you too Papa,” Y/N said with tears running down her cheek.

Bucky put his thumbs on her cheek to wipe away the tears.

“ Don’t cry, don’t cry doll. It’s okay I’m here now.”

The pair seemed to forget that there were still agents pointing their guns at them. Bucky held Y/N in a protective hold and got up on his feet glaring at the guards who had their guns pointed at them.

A man who seemed to be wearing a red beret walked in. The soldier knew this man would be his new handler when he told the agents to lower their guns, and they listened.

Ах солдат, ты проснулся

Ah, soldier, you're awake

Bucky kept an intimidating stance since he didn’t know what his intentions were at the moment. He could have taken Y/N away or worse, wanted to hurt her.

Не волнуйся, солдат, я здесь не для того, чтобы причинить вред тебе или твоему ребенку. Меня зовут Василий Карпов. Я твой новый куратор.

Don't worry soldier, I'm not here to hurt you or your child. My name is Vasily Karpov. I am your new handler.

Wait. Did he just call Y/N his child? The soldier never really had a lot of time to fully process that he has a child now and his child was Y/N. He is the father to this beautiful human being.

Of course, the soldier knew nothing about being a father, hell, even being a decent human being in general. For Bucky, he was just considered a weapon, and with the brainwashing that HYDRA did to him, he thought that too. So having to take care of this little girl can be a extreme change.

Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts when Karpov spoke again.

У нас для тебя новая миссия, солдат

We have a new mission for you, soldier

The soldier turned to face him, no emotions coming out of his face, but he nodded in understanding. He didn’t know what his mission was, but he had to comply or else he or even his little girl would get punished.

“Papa where are we going?” Y/n asked while following Bucky in his footsteps.

“ I don’t know yet doll” is all Bucky said. But right after he said that, they walked into a room with the dreaded familiar chair.

At this moment Y/N knew Bucky was going to get wiped. She feared that for him knowing that he would be releasing blood curdling screams again.

Bucky noticed the uneasiness in Y/N, but reassured her with a rub on the back.

“Don’t worry doll, I’m going to protect you I promise. i won’t let them do anything to you” Bucky said with a small smile.

“But they are going to do things to you Papa.” Y/N almost had tears coming out of her eyes knowing that her Papa is going to be in pain soon.

“It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.” Bucky said with a reassuring smile.

Bucky headed towards the dreaded chair and sat in it. He mentally prepared himself while Y/N sat on his lap trying to comfort her papa.

A scientist was about to take Y/N off of Bucky’s lap, but the soldier gave him a death stare saying ‘don’t touch her or I will kill you’.

The man backed away and continued with putting the clamps onto Bucky’s arms.

The soldier made it known the the agents that Y/N goes with him wherever he goes.

Y/N put a reassuring hand on Bucky’s bare chest and started to draw little hearts and circles around his abs with her fingers. Bucky slightly laughed at what she was doing and it was also comforting to him.

Bucky licked his lips before the man put a mouth guard in the soldiers mouth. Y/N now knew that the pain was going to happen now.

The pain Bucky was releasing made Y/N eardrums suffer. She tried to comfort Bucky by leaning onto his chest and she swore for a second that he eased up a little bit.

After the dreaded two minutes, Y/N knew that Bucky was gone. The winter soldier has emerged out of him.

“Papa?” Y/N said wondering if the soldier remembers her.

Привет, кукла

Hello, babydoll.

Y/N was relieved that he remembered her, but was also sad that he didn’t speak English to her. He only spoke English to her when he was Bucky, but when he was the winter soldier, he spoke Russian.

Солдат?

Soldier?

Karpov questioned Bucky to see if he was ready to comply, and he was right.

Готовы подчиниться.

Ready to comply.

Karpov then spoke to the winter soldier handing him a thick file.

Солдат, у тебя новая миссия.

Soldier, you have a new mission.

Bucky stared at the file Karpov handed him. When he opened it, it showed a picture of an older man and woman. Howard and Maria Stark.

Karpov then spoke to the newly wiped soldier.

Убей их. Извлечь. Без свидетелей

Kill them. Extract. No witnesses

The soldier nodded slightly. He picked up Y/N and made his way to a room where they got ready in their gear.

The soldier had his regular uniform with the bullet proof vest. Y/N had a thin black leather jacket so she wouldn’t be cold while riding on the motorcycle.

The pair went outside of the HYDRA base and Y/N was trying to hop on the motorcycle seat, but she was too short.

The soldier then picked up Y/N and gently placed her on the seat. His fatherly instincts came out of him and he gave Y/N a helmet for protection.

Then they were off into the night air.

After arriving to the location Karpov told him to go, the soldier parked the motorcycle behind a tree, waiting for the Stark’s car to come by.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A/N: hey babes! i’m so sorry for the slow updates! i hope you guys liked this chapter!❤️

My Doll Taglist;OPEN

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you

@lunaticbarnes @mo-onstarrs @tvckerlance @wastefulsushi @peachyprincessss

Permanent Taglist; OPEN

@tvckerlance @lozzypoz321 @princess-evans-addict

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lligkv · 3 years

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what the world will look like when it’s over

Can’t Get You Out of My Head is the first Adam Curtis documentary I’ve seen. I gather it’s not the most successful demonstration of his method; it sounds like Hypernormalization or The Century of the Self are tighter in their construction, less effortful (count how many times Curtis says something like “But then it started to run out of control” in this one), and perhaps less frustrating in their narration. In the early episodes of this documentary in particular, it feels like Curtis is constantly presenting what’s being covered as the turn, the decisive shift in his narrative—the emergence of the American counterculture, the revolution of the “unit of One” led by Mao Zedong’s wife Jiang Qing to help her break the stalemate with the other revolutionaries in China into which Zedong had fallen in the 1960s, George Boole’s development of Boolean logic to describe human thought. And the whole thing feels longer and baggier than it needs to be. The early episodes devote much time to interesting individual narratives, like that of the Trinidadian British activist or sorts named Michael Freitas (or Michael X) or a trans woman named Julie in 1960s Britain; they also sprawl in a way that makes the overall argument a bit hard to divine. It’s not until the fourth episode that the shape of Curtis’s narrative becomes clear—that our age is the product of a struggle between a new, broadly liberal-democratic and capitalist image of individualism, a dying era of collectivist struggle, and older, more vicious systems of power, derived from the control of capital and expressed through the middle classes’ suspicion and viciousness toward the subaltern and toward each other, even as they remain subject to the power of oligarchs and billionaires.

Curtis also seems to play fast and loose with the facts sometimes. When he presents Médecins Sans Frontières’s founder Bernard Kouchner as an avatar of a theory of the “one world” of liberal democracy—the idea that we’re basically one world of individuals, enjoying certain human rights regardless of political orientations or ideologies, and that Western nations are duty-bound by virtue of their prosperity to intervene when other nations violate people’s rights—it seems a distortion of what Kouchner actually says in the footage Curtis includes: “We don’t care on leftist or rightist countries [sic]; there is no leftist and rightist suffering, and there is no possibility to split the world in[to] ‘good’ people or ‘bad’ people, ‘good’ dead and ‘bad’ dead.” Which isn’t to say Kouchner didn’t believe in liberal-democratic ideas—he may well have—but what he’s shown as saying has to do with the consideration of suffering as suffering regardless of a person’s identity or allegiance, which is a different matter.

This is just one of several moments when I stopped to wonder how secure I actually was in Curtis’s hands. But ultimately, I find the emotional history he lays out resonant. The age we’re living through now, in the 2020s, is indeed the product of certain fantasies of individualism and of a post-end-of-history, neoliberal “one world”—with no ideologies but capitalism and putative democracy—meeting age-old systems of power, acquisition, and control, and age-old features of the human mind and heart: resentment, prejudice, betrayal, jealousy, the need to be prosperous, the need to be free.

And Curtis’s work appeals to me for the same reason the writer Pankaj Mishra’s work does. He historicizes our underhistoricized time. What’s more, he does so in a way that’s especially rare to see in any mainstream media venue. Usually, when you want to understand the connections between, say, colonial-era empires and post-war welfare states, or if you want to understand what happened to turn Western societies as they were post-war to Western societies as they are post-financialization, you have to seek the information out on your own. It’s valuable to have someone in a place like the BBC willing to put the pieces of these narratives together. And willing to remind us of the events that are so incredibly easy to forget even in one’s own lifetime. Abu Ghraib, for instance, which pops up in part 6 of the documentary. That shit happened while I was alive. How often do I remember it? How many American sins get drowned out in the new ones that emerge every day of every month of every year? Or in the stasis that sets in when what was once novel, like the War on Terror or the invasion into our privacy represented by the Patriot Act, fades into regular life?

I was jotting down copious notes while watching the doc, as is my wont. The questions and thoughts that came up, in no particular order:

How do the elites of a given era impose their preferred ideologies? How are the structures of power we grow up with constructed, and how do those go on to shape our behavior?

Control, as it’s practiced by societies in the 21st century, often comes down to the recognition of patterns in human behavior—and their manipulation.

The loss of power, like that which was suffered after the collapse of Britain’s empire or in the slow hollowing-out of America’s manufacturing industry in the 20th century, leads to anger and melancholy that people can’t be expected to abandon. Does doing what you’re supposed to do bring you the happiness you were promised—or anything even resembling that happiness? When we’re living in a historical moment in which the answer is no, as is often the case today, we’ll need to watch out. It’s a sign people are being manipulated and abused.

Over time, the tech industry has come to understand that you can manage people en masse by collecting their data and manipulating the messages they receive in social media activity feeds and advertising—and you can make them feel like sovereign individuals at the same time through the very same means. In light of all this, will there ever be a revolution that actually changes the structure of power we’re currently stuck in? Is there a chance to alter this extreme individualism. on the part of people who are surrounded by political systems so enervated, by the supra-governmental system that is global finance capital—which politicians can’t control, and must appease and palliate—that they can’t respond to phenomena like climate change or meaningfully punish atrocities like wars prosecuted on false pretenses? Or are we stuck where we are, in a world that’s corrupt and exhausted? In nations whose governments depend on technologies of surveillance and myths of consumerist abundance or nationalist glory to maintain power, in the absence of any real vision for the future?

It all leads to some interesting takeaways. For one, the way culture reacts to politics and vice versa. As I was watching Can’t Get You Out of My Head, I was reminded of a conversation folks on the Discord server for the Relentless Picnic podcast had had recently about the strange things Richard Dawkins posts on his Twitter account. And it led me to think: when religious “caring conservatism” was in the White House, Richard Dawkins and his New Atheism, this brash repudiation of religion and its pieties, grew as a counterweight. When Obama and his technocratic regime were in power, with social media bringing on a wave of progressivism in popular culture and algorithms presenting us a fantasy of endless choice—much of which was a thin veneer over the same old shit: banks getting bailed out, forever wars going on, productivity rising while wages stagnated—we also got Jordan Peterson-types who claimed to speak to a human need for narrative, even in this point of stability we had seemed to reach, this recovery of sanity after the chaos that was the Iraq War and the financial crisis; who claimed we needed ideas and myths to animate and drive our lives, because they sensed there was something hollow and mendacious driving all this consumer choice, for all it seemed a symbol of our freedom and progress.

Of course, both Peterson and Dawkins are provocateurs, not intellectuals; I don’t mean to dignify the movements they led much, since in both the appearance of intellectual rigor or moral clarity often covered the indulgence of the worst instincts: immaturity, obstinacy, provocation for provocation’s sake, contempt for women and trans people. The New Atheists had a point, and could be absolute assholes about it; they ultimately could be as fundamentalist and dogmatic as any religious people. As for Jordan Peterson, his actual work, in the way of so many grand theorists, uses the appearance of profundity to cover something ultimately pretty banal. And he’s most known for grandstanding in the public sphere—refusing to use people’s pronouns, the usual conservative shit. But these movements do seem to reflect a countercultural response no less than 1960s counterculture reflects a reaction to the staid culture of 1950s America and the sins it covered up.

Which leads me to the question: what was the culture’s response to Trump’s administration? Maybe QAnon and Russiagate, as conspiracies—that is, actual narratives people inhabit to explain the world’s evils, and not just a vague need for them that they satisfied with Jordan Peterson’s light form of Stoicism or his theories of Light and Dark or whatever the fuck. And in that way, perhaps, once a countercultural movement—namely nationalism and Trumpian populism—actually seemed to have overthrown a regime, of Obama-era liberal technocratic management, culture and politics came to mirror each other, rather than standing in opposition to each other. Both became equally conspiratorial and unhinged; in fact, they merged. All the ruling myths and conspiracies mutate in kind these days: Trump’s garbage about draining the swamp, a cover for Trump and his family enriching themselves and Stephen Miller’s like getting to fashion the state they wanted, becomes QAnon’s garbage about rings of child trafficking and pedophilia and Trump, of all people, being their savior—all while actual trafficking and abuse perpetuated by Jeffrey Epstein and his ilk goes unpunished, Epstein’s death swallowed up by the state without a sound—becomes the liberal pundit class’s screaming about Russia: connections between Trump and Putin that were always conjectural to me, because no one who pled them seemed to feel much need to substantiate them.

Here again I feel like what were once centrifugal forces in our culture—between mainstream and the independent media, for example; between people in power and their critics, either in the media or at society’s margins—have collapsed into a single morass. We’re all in hell and there’s no way out.

In all this, what does Biden’s administration represent? Little more than an interregnum, to my mind. How disappointing to see not even a gesture toward forgiving student debt or raising the minimum wage in these first 100 days of his presidency. There’s been some progress in climate legislation, and progress in putting Stephen Miller’s deportation machine to a halt (though they’re also reopening several emergency shelters to accommodate more minors already being held past the mandated limits for keeping them in the custody of the Department of Health and Human Services’s Office of Refugee Resettlement). But there’s also been such triangulation on policy by the administration and its supporters and such complacency on the part of the media covering the administration, refusing to call them out on or even cover this. And how can the average voter respond but with resignation?

Ever since I read Thomas Mann’s Doctor Faustus near the start of lockdown, absorbing the picture of the world pre-World War II that’s presented in that book, I’ve thought we’re in the same sort of moment that Mann’s protagonist Zeitblom was in. There’s a crisis that’s passing over this whole planet like a wave or a seismic event, and no human intervention can interrupt it. We can only wait for it to pass—holding on to whatever’s to hand, waiting to see what the world will look like when it’s over.

#adam curtis #documentaries #thomas mann #jordan peterson #richard dawkins #pankaj mishra #the relentless picnic #conspiracy

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