Nothing Left For Us - Alice Oseman
Nothing Left For Us – Alice Oseman
Die deutsche Ausgabe des Erfolgsromans Radio SilenceVon der Heartstopper-Autorin Alice Oseman„Hallo. Hoffentlich hört mir jemand zu …“Frances hat nur ein Ziel: Cambridge. Um es auf die Eliteuni zu schaffen, lernt sie Tag und Nacht. Nichts soll ihr im Weg stehen – weder Freunde noch ihre Leidenschaft fürs Zeichnen.Da begegnet Frances Aled, dem schüchternen Genie hinter ihrem Lieblingspodcast. Mit…
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I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them
People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human
“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”
“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”
“Yeah!!”
“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”
“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“
“How illogical”
“That’s what I’m saying!!!”
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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getting emotional over footage of an amateur scuba diver interacting with a coelacanth. they are hunted by large deepwater predators, and here comes a large creature bearing the brightest lights it's ever seen, making strange noises, but it does not shy away. it hovers, calmly, as the diver reaches out and trails a hand down its back. im strongly against the anthropomorphizing of real life animals but the stupid emotional part of me loudly insists this is because it recognizes us, the alternating movements of its four paired limbs matching the diver's four paired limbs, & it is thinking, "hello, cousins, we missed you these 66 million years, it's so good to see you again. welcome back, welcome home."
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Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.
"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."
translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"
It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!
very this
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Bare skin, bare feelings.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.
Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.
And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.
Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.
They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.
When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.
Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.
When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.
"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.
"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.
Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.
Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.
Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.
When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.
Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.
because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far
when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)
danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.
and god help him, he's going to help people.
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Radiosilence by Alice Oseman
« I wonder sometimes whether you've exploded already, like a star, and what I'm seeing is you three million years into the past, and you're not here anyore. I'm shouting so loudly, but you never turn around to see me. Perhaps it is I who have already exploded. Either way, we are going to bring beautiful things into the universe »
💜🖤
I might as well make this a series at this point! Kind of like a collection of some of my favorite stand-alone book.
I've read Radiosilence more recently (last fall lol) and I have so many clear memories of it! The characters & themes it covered are very dear and important to me! I love the platonic relationships, the academic-themes and slight representation of demisexuality so so much!
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Inner moms tea party! Say “thank you Pluto”!🫖☕️
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"Penelope should have chosen Debling!"
My sister in Christ. . .he literally dumped her???
Like just before Colin Bridgerton was on his knees after outrunning her carriage to profess how he can't stop thinking about her in his love me, choose me, I'm yours speech, Debling did the Regency equivalent of calling her a floozy who would undoubtedly cheat on him when he abandoned her for several years to chase his passions (because she would never be one of said passions since she asked outright if he could ever come to care for her and he went 'hmmmm seems unlikely! good thing you have solitary hobbies to occupy you instead!') when he has been given 0 evidence of such other than realizing she liked to look out the window because she had a crush on the boy across the street. I was ready to challenge that man to a duel for Pen's honor
His feelings for her were middling at best, I mean Christ on a Pogostick, after he asked her mum for permission to propose he isn't even happy when he opens the door and Pen is there? She's looking like a snack- nay, a whole ass MEAL, and he can't even smile? He just nods at her and dips the fuck out? You don't think it would kill Penelope to know that both her sisters have husbands who absolutely adore them and she's out here with an absent dude who likely won't even write to her?
Portia's 'Love is make believe!' speech is so transparently full of shit when you realize that we've got Dankworth who is so obsessed with Prudence that he makes heart eyes at her every waking moment and considers her his little bonbon and Albion who loves Phillipa so much that he was waiting for her to consent to sex (not realizing she didn't know what it was) for two entire years because he would never pressure her and so he was content with finishing in his pants when he kissed her to make sure she was comfortable. And you want Penelope to settle for a life of loneliness? When Colin is so besotted with her that he dreams of her and breaks every societal expectation in the book as a notorious People Pleaser to run after her and cannot even wait for the morning after being intimate with her to introduce her as his wife to his family in the middle of the night? You want her to turn down Mr "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" Bridgerton? For LORD PENGUIN?
Be so serious right now
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the bit in HtN in the canaan house dream bubble where harrow says something along the lines of, "this is unsustainable, you are all in danger, we need to find a way for you to escape" and abigail responds, "we know how. we already did it for the kids. we all could have left at any time and we all chose to stay, for you". and then harrow is like, "ok but at least ortus should leave. he isn't a fighter, he never was, he deserves to leave" and abigail just shuts her down. she's like, "i already tried, and he can't be convinced. he wants to stay for you". i am unwell about it. harrow can't even really try to convince the remaining souls to leave her because they have already sent away the ones who needed to be protected and they have already tried to convince each other, and failed. there's nothing left for her to use as ammunition against herself. there's nothing left but evidence that she is cared for. forgive me but i just want characters who have spent their life drowning in self loating to be forced to reckon with the fact that they are loved.
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Harry's world/Bad end
Inspired by Christina's world by Andrew Wyeth
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day in the life as a strawhat pirate
-> very messy, very cute, very fluffy.
-> i don't think any pronouns are used except for "you" but i had a male reader in mind when i was writing it...SHOUTOUT
you wake up - luffy's foot is in your mouth, but also at the same time, his other foot is wrapped around your legs??? he stretched in his sleep and has trapped you in some very odd body trap...it takes you yelling at him to even wake him up.
sanji is the first to wake up, usually, and when you get to the kitchen the breakfast is waiting for you. now you have to sleepily fight for your share of the food because luffy is hangry (his default mood when he wakes up is hangry because he hasn't eaten yet...since he just woke up...) and then also there are 9 other hands that are fiending for all the dishes on the table.
after surviving a war in the dining room, you hope to take some time to relax. but that doesn't exist on the thousand sunny since chopper and usopp are quick to get into their shenanigans. they call you over, wanting to show you a creation that the sniper made, only for you to get a pie of whip cream to the face. they called you over so that they could prank you and now were rolling on the deck laughing about it.
instead of skewering them alive, you decide to take the peaceful route in going to the bathroom to wash your face off. oh, but franky is already in the bathroom taking his morning shower.
you get a face full of cyborg and a very girlish scream escapes his mouth when he realizes that you are standing at the entrance, watching him sing into the shower bottles - naked and all. he then screams out for how he can get no privacy, but you're just too determined to clean your face of the whip cream that you don't really pay him any mind.
when you get out of the bathroom, now having peace in mind, there is a rabid sanji and zoro fighting each other. they're at each other's throats for whatver reason and when they catch you walking down the hallway, they involve you in their fight...for whatever reason.
they're asking you to take a side, who was right in their idiotic fight, but they're both shouting so loud and at the same time you can't even process what either of them are saying. you can only blanky stare back at them as their huffing and puffying to regain their breaths from their nonstop yelling.
and then their expressions go back to being angry, but not at each other - at you, for seemingly being too neutral and not staking a claim to one of their sides. it's all just their adrenaline ramped up to a thousand (even though it's barely been an hour since they've woken up) and now they're trying to make your reaction the same.
you can only sigh, shoving your palms into their faces, and making them clear a path for you to leave the hallway. this makes their bickering turn back to each other instead, their shouts echoing all over the thousand sunny.
just when you finally think, maybe robin or jinbe could offer you comfort in peace, no! brook and nami are actually fighting about something on deck. as you listen in you hear about how brook is the one stealing their undergarments at night - that's enough for you to step in and deal with the perverted skeleton. a punch to his skull is enough to knock some sense into him (nami laid out a couple of her own on his head before you arrived)
nami thanks you in a sigh of exasperation. she offers you a slice of the tnagerine she had peeled, which she gingerly feeds you when you accept. and her face mimics that of an angel, eyes closed as she smiles kindly at you...before she barks at brook to make up for his odd, perverted actions by playing her her favorite song.
and even though you do enjoy brook's violin playing, that is just not your definition of peace right now. maybe any other day, but just not right now.
so you go below deck and finally find your favorite people: robin and jinbe. you practically collapse on jinbe, murmuring about how tired you were despite the day just starting, and robin laughs at your fatigue. she begins to read aloud for the three of you whilst jinbe's hand comfortingly goes up and down your back. she looks at your figure, observing your peaceful expression, before fluidly going back to reading aloud the history book she picked up.
jinbe is laid out against the cushioned seats so really, he's acting as a big bed for you and you definitely do not pass up the chance to catch a quick cat nap. and hopefully this time when you wake up, your captain's foot won't be in your mouth <3
(tags are platonic - its just to reach the audiences)
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