#the other ship section looks a bit chaotic but I wanted to organize it by ship first then alphabetically
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List of Dj’s on This Page
[Btw I will block you if you look like a p/rn bot]
[Last updated mid June]
[Currently organized in this order: GerIta, SuFin, RoChu, FrUK, Other Ships, Non Ship]
GerIta/Hretaly:
A Day On The Planet (85 pgs; dark)
Becoming Friends (17 pgs; dark, gun; nudity but nothing shown)
Beginning's Tone/Hajimari no Onshoku (27 pgs; dark)
BMMB Winter Comiket Issue (5 pgs; cute)
Canal Grande (14 pgs; somber; censored nsfw)
Catharsis When The Country Awakes (74 pgs; dark)
Cherry Boy Blues (21 pgs; dark)
Diamante (multi-ship; 59 pgs; only the gerita one is sad)
Dream Draws A Dream (33 pgs; light drama; censored nsfw)
Eternita (32 pgs; neutral-somber)
Gift (25 pgs; light drama; censored nsfw)
Goodbye My Little Girl (53 pgs; dark)
Hiraite Musunde Isshuukan/Red Shoelaces (28 pgs; light)
I-Logik (32 pgs; light)
I Won’t Let You Call Me Gattino (32 pgs; comedy)
La Sposa de Adria (51 pgs; somber)
Lei Chi Sono Dolce pt 1 (59 pgs; bit dark)
Lei Chi Sono Dolce pt 2 (49 pgs; dark)
Lettera D’Amore (37 pgs; cute)
Life Is So Beautiful (30 pgs; dark, tw)
Little Sheep/Counting Sheep (44 pgs; dark)
Marriage Press Conference (34 pgs; comedy)
Messenger Of Happiness (39 pgs; bit somber)
Night Watch (48 pgs; dark; censored nsfw)
Oggi Sposi (19 pgs; comedy)
Passato Ed Ora (32 pgs; dark)
Passwort Sirup (14 pgs; dark)
Playing House/Futari Gokko (120 pgs; dark, war)
Siamo Felici (24 pgs; comedy)
Sweet Home (30 pgs; dark)
The Defeat Of A Certain Man (60 pgs; drama; censored nsfw)
The Windowsill That Loved Him (30 pgs; sweet)
What If (12 pgs; dark)
***
SuFin:
Ai Suru Hito (27; light)
Diamond, Diamond, Diamond (30; mostly light)
Good Night, Good Dreams (14; cute)
Happy School Days (14; cute)
Kemuri wa Doko e Iku no Kara/Where Does The Smoke Go (22; dark, smoking)
Oh Family (18; cute)
Pihatonttu (75; cute)
Second Stage (20; somber)
***
RoChu:
Bloom Of Flower (18; dark)
Da Small Town (39; light drama)
Drowned Prince/Oboreta Ou (24; neutral)
Eternal Happiness (28; light drama; censored nsfw)
Guo Jie/Border (28; somber/neutral)
Little Song Maker (15; comedy)
***
FrUK:
Deus Ex Machine (25; neutralish)
Diamante (multi-ship; 59; only the gerita part is sad)
Drive Me Crazy (58; light drama; censored)
Fairy In My Mind (43; light; censored)
My Dearest, The British Empire (19; light)
Shiki/Fuyu (45, dark)
Yoru no Mori, Anata to Futari (37, darkish?)
***
Other Ships:
Fubin 2 (Gakuen PruHun; 20; light; censored)
Gap Moe (PruHun; 30; comedy)
Omoide Jenga (PruHun; 27; dark)
Always By Your Side (Giripan; 33; light drama)
Neko Netsu (Giripan; 22; dark, war)
Do You Remember Me? (RusPrus; 78; somber; censored)
My Name Is Your Night (RusPrus; 57; somber; censored)
Diamante (LietPol, RusAme, etc; 59; only the gerita part is sad)
Koi To Wa Donna Mono Kashira/What Is It Like To Be In Love? (AusHun; 18; light drama)
Million Lies (DenNor; 72; dark, violence)
The Nation And The Maiden (FraJoan; 33; dark)
***
Non-Ship:
A Happy Friendship Day (Hungary & Poland; 14; light)
Cradle Voice/Yurikago no Koe (Italy & Austria; 14; light)
Dreaming (Child America &Canada; 17; light)
Fubin 1 (Gakuen England, Japan; 14; comedy; censored nsfw)
Heart Ni Hyoutai (Russia; hints of LietBel and RusLiet; 14; somber; censored)
Hide, Hide, Hide! (Child America & Canada; 29; cute)
I Am Here, It Is A Very Wonderful Day/Sayonara Sankaku, Matakite Shikaku (Belarus; hints of LietBel; 47; dark)
Moon For You/Anata e no Tsuki (censored v) (Japan & China; 28; war)
Moon For You/Anata e no Tsuki (uncensored v) (Japan & China; 28; dark, blood, war)
My Dearest, The British Empire (tech FrUK bnr; 19; light)
Nihonchi (axis vs ame & uk; tech gerita & itapan bnr; 25; comedy)
Passwort Sirup (hints of hretaly/gerita; 14; dark)
Summer Apparition/Natsu no Mamono (axis; 14; somber yet wholesome)
The Golden Age of Sea and Sky (Turkey & Greece; 25; neutral)
There Is No End (nordics; 27; dark)
The Sound Of A Heart Falling/Shinzou No Orihiru No (Belarus & Russia; 17; dark, tw)
Tomato! Tomato! Tomato! (tech spamano bnr; 20; cute)
World Wide Love (main cast, mcdonald, miku, shinatty; 21; comedy)
#numbers are for pages ofc#censored = censored by me#tech bnr = technically but not really#meaning it could be easily interpreted as non romantic#the other ship section looks a bit chaotic but I wanted to organize it by ship first then alphabetically#specific tws and cws are listed on the post#I'm not including any I've reblogged from another account but you can still find them through tags
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Chapter Six: “Iceberg! Right Ahead!”
Hello all! I’m afraid that chapters have been slow because six weeks on from me going to work at camp and thinking "ugh my throat and chest feel scratchy", I'm STILL ill. Today has literally been me going to the doctor first thing, going to the pharmacy to get antibiotics, going to a health clinic for a chest x-ray, and then going home to nap before watching television. I am, in short, VERY sick, which is why I had to take a break writing this chapter because all of last week was me battling sinusitis and a chest infection. I'm still not well at all but I wanted to get this down because, hey ho, I love writing it!
As of the end of this chapter, there's about an hour left of the film to cover - plus deleted scenes and my own additions. I'm hoping this fic will be about ten chapters, but we'll have to see how it goes.
A lot of the first two sections of this chapter are lifted heavily from Jonathan Mayo's book "Titanic: Minute by Minute" - it feels very jumpy and chaotic, and it's for a reason. In the film, the time between Fleet calling out the iceberg warning and the actual impact is something like two minutes - in real life, it was barely forty seconds. The Titanic really did not stand a chance sadly. As I saw it once so adequately described online (on Quora I think - I still have the screenshot of it saved to my phone), "the sinking was a 'perfect storm' (in calm seas) of COCK-UPS" - the crew not being trained on evacuation procedures, the missing binoculars for the look-outs, the lack of lifeboats, the fact the iceberg warnings from other ships were ignored etc.
Potential warnings for this chapter include a man hitting a woman, same man also slut-shaming her, swearing (let Newt/Tina/Theseus/Lally swear, goddammit!), people being idiots, passengers panicking because they've been locked on the lower decks, a very sad Thomas Andrews, and my un-beta'd writing.
The soundtrack that corresponds with the scene(s) at the beginning of this chapter (and the last bit of the one before it) is called "Hard to Starboard" and I highly recommend listening to it (or watching the scene if you haven't already seen the film) to get into the mood!
#newtina#newt scamander#tina goldstein#porpentina goldstein#theseus scamander#newtina au#newtina titanic au#my fanfiction#newtina fanfiction#my writing#titanic#rms titanic#fantastic beasts#fantastic beasts and where to find them#fbawtft#fantastic beasts fanfiction#percival graves#just peddling my little 58k+ fic don't mind me#newt x tina
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How exactly do you keep track of all your ideas when brainstorming and writing? Cause I can't imagine making it otherwise than with a giant corckboard and a ton of word documents, and in your writing all just goes together so smoothly. Do you have any methods/tools you're using?
um
okay so i have AN answer but it’s not a very good one if you’re looking for like, advice. because every time i have an idea i write it down but i use… ulysses, google docs, and the ios notes app and there is no rhyme or reason to which one i write any given idea IN and there’s no organization just three big messy stacks of notes and a half-finished world anvil and rambles to a couple friends on discord and rambles on this blog that i search through whenever i need to refresh my memory gbfjcjdbsh i have “a system” in that there are notes but the system is just
and then for the stories themselves my planning stages go kinda
1. ruminating on plot points
2. jotting down notes like this:
0 - xaviers big book of lore
1 - vardaros / the baron & stalyan / kiera & catalina
3. think about the structure of the narrative and how best to arrange plot points along that structure
4. start writing synopses of each basic section like this (you can see how much vardaros changed from my early thoughts!):
Bounce from Alcorsīa, heading east to Eldora and Vardaros. Things are weird between Cass and Rapunzel and Cass feels weird about it. She sticks close to Varian, glad to see that the flying ship has pulled him out of his funk a little bit, and he thanks her for trying to find him at Ghisa. Eugene and Lance are excited about Vardaros; Eugene is hoping to show Rapunzel the sights and hopefully get her to talk about Janus Point a bit. Moira testily reminds them that this is not a vacation, which makes Rapunzel dig in her heels a bit. When they get to Vardaros Moira flatly is like if you’re not back by nightfall I’m leaving without you.
Cass opts to stick with Rapunzel, Eugene, Varian, and Lance (henceforth Team Corona) while Moira and crew members set out to take care of business/buy up supplies (Vardaros is right on the border of Marne, so they land in a Marnese lake near the border and walk into the city). Cassandra is keenly aware of the risks here: she’s a Coronan traitor walking around in a city of one of Corona’s closest allies. Eugene and Lance try to entertain Raps and Varian with a tale of youthful misadventures in Vardaros.
They are, of course, ambushed by the Baron’s goons. Eugene and Lance are captured, Cass and Rapunzel get pretty banged up, Varian (at Cass’s command) bolts back to the ship to get help.
Rapunzel and Cass reconvene at the Zampermin. Moira is pretty unsympathetic and kind of like rules are rules, we’re leaving at sundown, but Rapunzel loses. her. shit. Screams that they are going after Eugene and Lance and Moira is going to help because we don’t leave the people we love behind!! Moira sneers but Cass steps in and is like, Moira, they got kidnapped, it’s not like they’re off being irresponsible, come on. So Moira is like fine. Twenty-four hours.
Rapunzel is like we should go to the police and Moira just laughs. Asks for a description of the muggers, says they sound like the Baron’s boys and the watch isn’t gonna do a damn thing. He’s a crooked noble and Rodolfo loves him. Nobody messes with the Baron; even Moira is wary of him. Cass remembers Lance mentioning him before and is like oh shit. They agree to sniff around town in the morning; Moira theorizes that the Baron is gonna use his authority to have Eugene and Lance executed.
5. junk draft! this is just a speed write a la nanowrimo of a kind of hybrid very rough first draft / very detailed final outline. a lot of narrative troubleshooting happens here (this was the stage where i went ‘oh cass should go with moira instead’ for myriad reasons and also decided to toss abraham into the mix)
6. and then the revision/full writing stage is when i go through and separate everything into chapters and write it out as like. a real story. sometimes troubleshooting continues to happen (eg the lance pov scene in uh. 6 was originally planned to be eugene pov but when i went to write it i was like ‘…this section is a lot more about lance so let’s write it through his perspective actually’)
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
it’s all a bit chaotic and kind of about…slowly feeling out what ‘works’ for the story.
i will say that imo thinking about ✨narrative structure✨ is extremely important - HOW am i telling this story. i have these blocks of characters, plot points, settings. and i have certain plot and character arcs i want to build. what is the best way to put the blocks together to achieve the shape i want in the sturdiest, most coherent way? what is the core purpose of this scene and what other functionality can be layered into it, what other jobs can it do? how are these events being framed, through whose eyes, and why? etc. narrative structure will make or break a story so it’s good to keep it in mind as u plan and write 👍
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More Than Meets the Eye #12- Gay Rights: the Movie
Finally finished with our franchise obligations! Let’s get back to the main story.
Those are some ominous ellipses. Almost like something bad is going to happen!
Let’s take a look at Cover A for this issue.
When this was released to the general public, alongside the synopsis that stated the Lost Lighters were going to run into a group of Decepticons, a lot of people thought we’d be seeing them meet the Scavengers. This isn’t the case, and that’s not Fulcrum. It’s some other K-Con, one that has purple in his color scheme.
Our story opens up with a narrative framing device:
Welcome to “Before & After”, one of the more ambitious issues of MTMTE in terms of storytelling. Roberts really likes bouncing between scenes and POVs, and he’s really indulging that here.
Rodimus and crew have loaded up on one of the Lost Light’s scouting ships to check in on a planet called Temptoria. Whirl’s leading all the guys in the front in a war cry that wouldn’t be out of place in Hollywood’s version of the Vietnam war, while Brawn demonstrates how to not properly handle a gun. Rodimus tries to explain what exactly they’ll be doing, but no one’s listening, feeding off of the chaotic energy. The back seat isn’t quite as rowdy.
Oh, Ambulon’s here? That’s got to be awkward. And Perceptor’s looking mighty cross about having to pick up a gun again. Isn’t he supposed to be retired from being a science sniper?
Rodimus finally gets everyone to settle down long enough to explain the situation, though not without a little jargon mixup.
Basically, Ultra Magnus went down to Temptoria while the “Shadowplay” story was being told, and found out that the organic populace had been enslaved by a group of Decepticons, and, more importantly, the sovereign agreement that the planet had with Cybertron’s been violated. Also, these guys might have been the one’s who kidnapped the Circle of Light. You remember those guys, right? The guys who were supposed to be in the 2012 Annual, but they weren’t, and Drift got really mad about it.
Rodimus wraps up the briefing with a “’Til all are one!” And we cut over to see what Swerve and Tailgate are up to. Tailgate seems to be a little nervous, not the type to enjoy waiting, but Swerve seems to be doing just fine. Why is that, exactly?
Even if Rung’s still a steamed side dish of a vegetable, he’s still here, in a way. And good on Swerve for not assuming Tailgate can visualize in the same way he can. Aphantasia is more common than one might think.
Escapism is an interesting way of dealing with your problems, but I don’t know enough about wartime psychiatry to know if this is something that would actually be considered a viable solution or not.
Oh, now that I’ve said it, I’ve got the research itch.
Later, later.
Anyway, Tailgate gives it a spin, and his happy place is surprisingly domestic for such a seasoned professional.
Pipes, it’s a clear glass, it’s not hiding anything from you.
Speaking of Pipes, he’s seated next to Hound, as they discuss what happened to Red Alert. Or, rather, the cover story that’s been fed to the rest of the crew by Rodimus, which is that the engine room pretty much attacked him. This is how ghost stories get started.
Trailcutter’s gotten some guns installed in his legs, because he’s a hypocrite.
Over with Chromedome and Rewind, there’s trouble in paradise, as they’re having a lovers’ spat. Chromedome’s giving Rewind the silent treatment, and Rewind’s having none of it. What exactly are they fighting about? We don’t get to know about that yet, but it’s digging up other issues, like Chromedome going back on his promise to stop injecting. The only thing keeping this from becoming a total meltdown is Whirl can-canning through the door to kidnap Rewind, so he can film Whirl getting in the zone before the fight. Whirl’s having a great time. This is probably the first time they’ve gotten to fight something since the Lost Light took off, and he’s all about it.
Rewind’s dragged away, and Chromedome just lets it happen, because he’s feeling cross. It’s good to take a moment to cool off, but I’m not quite sure this was the best time or way for it to happen.
Meanwhile, on the Temptorian surface, Blip the Decepticon, who is likely the dirtiest son of a gun we’ve run into so far, is asked to take a look at the monitor by a guy who sounds exactly like Megatron. It doesn’t particularly matter which Megatron, because comics are not an audio-based medium, so you can pick whichever one you like best. What’s on the monitor does not please Blip in the slightest.
I feel like maybe having guys who don’t turn into flying machines jump out of the bottom of the shuttlecraft isn’t the greatest tactical thinking, but I’m sure everything will be okay. Brawn’s got a gun, maybe he’ll figure out how to rocket-jump before he hits terminal velocity.
Then the narrative jumps to after the fight, as the ship flies away from the scene, and Chromedome isn’t happy. It’s for a different reason than earlier, though.
Man, Pipes just can’t win, can he?
Ambulon remembers that he is, in fact, a medical professional, and starts working on Rewind, while Chromedome tries to ask Swerve just what the hell happened. Swerve’s having his own issues, however.
I’d nearly forgotten they had skeletons.
On the production side of this issue, we’ve got two artists: there’s our usual guy, Alex Milne on the “Before” sections, and Brandon Cahill on the “After”. Cahill’s other Transformers work includes The Transformers (2009) and the sister series to MTMTE, Robots in Disguise. Outside of the franchise, he’s worked on several Marvel pieces, including writing Sable & Fortune and Legion of Monsters. Unlike a lot of the alternate artists we’ve seen for the series, Cahill won’t be a one-and-done; we’ll see his art again in Dark Cybertron, Season 2 of MTMTE, and even Lost Light.
Getting back to the story, we’ve jumped back to the point in the battle where everyone’s hit the ground and are just wailing on each other. Tailgate and Swerve watch the chaos unfold, as Ultra Magnus more or less takes on a platoon of Decepticons.
Drift’s having a great time, as he Naruto runs through the enemy, slashing as he goes with a big ol’ smile on his face. He stabs a guy in the back of the head who was trying to grapple with Rodimus, thus interrupting the little dialogue they had going on. Rodimus is vaguely upset that his moment was cut short.
In the “After”, the shuttle’s landed back on the Lost Light, and Chromedome rushes out with Rewind in his arms to find First Aid with a motorized stretcher. He was hoping for Ratchet- he wants only the best for his shnookums. As they run Rewind down to the medibay, Chromedome starts listing off his allergies- which include ultraviolet light, something we know reveals mnemosurgery scars. This is a holdover from a dropped plot point I’ll cover at a later time; as it stands in the canon narrative, Rewind’s just got an allergy to the friggin’ sun.
Back at the shuttle, Tailgate starts dragging Cyclonus down the gangplank. Oh, hell. You know it’s a bad situation when the guy who literally couldn’t die for six million years is out of commission.
Spoke and Lockstock are a bit of a gag- they always manage to get their asses kicked, but everyone on the ship really likes them. They will never be seen on-panel, and have no character designs.
Over in the medibay, history is being made.
Esteemed members of the jury, I present to you: canon gay robots. The first in a long line of them. This is the starting point of the queer community being handed the Transformers franchise on a silver platter.
Up to this point, Roberts hadn’t gotten any further than implied attraction and affection between robots, in either his fanworks or professional credits. Pretty heavy-handed implication in some cases-
-but implication nonetheless. Here is the first, honest-to-god direct confirmation of two male-coded robots in love.
In love and space-married and recognized by the authority in power, in a comic written in 2012, as a part of a major franchise owned by a massive American company, three years before same-sex marriage would be legalized on a federal level.
As part of the story, it’s great. Within the context of the time during which it was published, it’s a whole other level. This wasn’t just good writing, it was important.
Let me part the kimono a little here, with some personal backstory- I grew up in Buttfuck Nowhere, NC, and went to a high school that was so homogeneous, they were threatening to bus students in after I graduated. I didn’t know what a gay person even was until I was 12. “Lesbian” was used as an insult, and it was one I was subjected to because I had cut my hair short in middle school and wore cargo shorts on occasion. It was something I really pushed against, because that’s how a lot of people react to being forcibly given a label.
Not the best environment for a little queer kid, clearly.
It wasn’t until well after I’d gone to college that I really started understanding who I was. Hell, I’m still figuring some things out, but at least I’m getting somewhere.
I remember reading this for the first time in 2015- yes, I got into the comics sort of late- and then having to reread it. I needed a moment just to process what had happened. As a person who had only recently come to terms with their sexuality at the time, it was kind of mind-blowing to have that sort of representation, especially since I was also watching Transformers Prime at around the same time. Talk about the duality of man, am I right?
These days, there’s a lot more representation in many different forms of media. Things are getting better. Which, y’know, yay! I’m glad. I just can’t help but wonder if things would have been a little different if this sort of representation had been available earlier on.
Anyway, so yes, Chromedome’s got a difficult choice to make for Rewind- either let his body try to sort itself out, or let First Aid break out the clamps and try to jumpstart him. Rewind’s got a relatively rare spark type, but luckily Chromedome’s the same type. Looks like everything’s coming up roses for our boys!
Tailgate and Cyclonus aren’t getting nearly as good a break.
My god, he’s filled with grape soda!
Back in the “Before”, things are getting a little silly.
Chromedome, what POSSIBLE tactical advantage could you be gaining from riding the giant, fire-breathing robot dinosaur? This is why they threw you in Kimia, isn’t it? Because you’re a dumbass.
While this bullshit is happening, Rewind and Tailgate are stacked on top of each other to look through a window, because I guess that’s just how things turn out when the resident couple on the ship is upset with one another. Rewind’s found something, but it isn’t the Circle of Light. Rather, it seems the Decepticons are dabbling in Pink Alchemy- a rather inefficient process that allows organic creatures to be turned into energon for consumption.
The good guy thing to do would be to save all the organics, but there’s a bit of a problem- the door is wired to a massive bomb. Good thing Tailgate was in Bomb Disposal, and is just generally an impressive and well-established dude. He gets to work.
Getting back to a point I made during Chaos Theory, Whirl can’t make a fist. Punching himself in the face is probably more akin to slashing it.
Tailgate’s got a weird approach to bombs, taking the time to teach Rewind how to do it, by way of student-led learning. They decide to poke a hole in the bottom of the bomb to drain all the explosive fluid out, which Tailgate does with little robot tears streaming down his face. Fear is a great motivator.
Oof, not a “Domey” in sight. That’s how you know things are rough.
Outside of this little scene, Whirl and Cyclonus are handling Decepticons. Whirl’s got a hold on that guy who’s voiced by Frank Welker, and we get a nice shot of his sad cat face before Whirl turns his head into a memory.
Swerve- who is also here- asks Whirl to loan him a gun.
GODDAMMIT SWERVE.
Not a single one of you bastards know proper gun safety! Between all the severe depression and reckless weapon-handling, I genuinely have no idea how the hell are any of you are still alive.
In the “After”, Chromedome’s just finished jumpstarting Rewind, and it’ll take a bit to see if it worked, so he’s left alone with his thoughts.
Just kidding, Tailgate’s come over to check in. Seems like Cyclonus is gonna pull through, something Chromedome’s not terribly thrilled about. Chromedome’s still miffed about the whole Kimia thing.
We finally learn why Chromedome and Rewind were fighting; it was because Rewind, as a walking historical database, has been deemed too important to die, and can opt out of any fight he choose to, but he doesn’t, thereby putting himself in harm’s way unnecessarily. Maybe he just worries about you when you go out there on the battlefield alone, Chromedome, you ever think of that? Maybe he doesn’t want to wonder when his husband will return home from the war.
Tailgate asks about all the little vials that are scattered around Rewind’s hospital bed, and we get a little Cybertronian tradition thrown at us.
The vials are filled with innermost energon, the stuff that surrounds the spark casing and never changes, no matter how much you modify or upgrade your body. Leaving a little of the stuff for someone in an offering signifies that you care very much for that person. Chromedome can’t give Rewind any, because he was “born dry”, but I think being space-married to the guy more than makes up for it.
Tailgate asks how the two of them met, and unlike in issue #6, Chromedome is feeling vulnerable enough to indulge the question this time.
But first we need to establish that Chromedome is insanely insecure.
So, Rewind is fucking old. He’s older than the Cybertronian civil war, he’s older than the calendar system, and he’s old enough to have been affected by Functionist society’s categorization system. Due to being a memory stick- something that there were millions of back in the day- Ratioism dictated that Rewind as an individual was worth very little, and made him and his like into slaves. Because he was a slave, he needed a master, and that master was none other than Dominus Ambus, also known as Cybertron’s Mech of the Year for 40,000 consecutive years.
Even on Cybertron, there’s a weird stigma about breastfeeding.
Rewind and Dominus quickly became friends, because that’s just the sort of guy Rewind is, and it made Dominus realize that maybe these slaves Cybertron had been working to death were sentient creatures worthy of respect too. He even developed a test to prove that all the slave classes were on the same level of functionality as everyone else.
On their quest to find a cure for the horrible disease Cybercrosis, Rewind and Dominus fucked off into space, on a wild goose chase to try and find Luna 1, the Cybertronian moon that just disappeared one day. Weird, that. They didn’t find it, and by the time they’d come back home, the war was well underway. They immediately became Autobots, and that was it for a while.
Then we move on to how Chromedome and Rewind met, and boy is it a doozy.
Chromedome had decided he wanted to kill himself, so he moseyed on over to the nearest relinquishment clinic- they did assisted suicides instead of body-swaps at this point- to do the deed. He was sitting in the waiting room, when he heard someone screaming. He wandered into the back to find Rewind weeping over a coffin, and he thought to himself “Maybe I don’t need to die after all” as he offered his future conjunx a shoulder to cry on.
What a fucking dark start to a relationship.
Rewind wasn’t upset about anyone who was dead though, but rather missing- Dominus had disappeared into thin air months ago, and Rewind was getting desperate to find him, looking in more and more awful places in the hope of recovering what he’d lost.
As it turns out, he’s still doing that. The reason the two of them are on the Lost Light is because Rewind needs to find Dominus- alive or dead, it doesn’t seem to particularly matter at this point. That’s why he buys snuff films in dark alleys.
See, Tailgate gets it.
Guys, bad news.
Chromedome’s spark is too weak to jumpstart Rewind. Unless they find another compatible donor, Rewind’s gonna be in big trouble. There’s nothing to do but wait.
Later, in their room, Chromedome is sitting on the floor and very much not following doctor’s orders to get some sleep. Someone on the opposite side of the door he’s leaning up against starts talking to him. Chromedome doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it, until he does.
Given who the basement dweller is, this probably won’t turn out so hot.
Chromedome gets a call from the medibay, and fortunately the universe has decided to play nice this go around, because someone came forward as a match.
But it’s not like Whirl cares about anyone, right? Not in the slightest, nuh-uh, not him!
While Chromedome gives Whirl what is probably an uncomfortably long hug, and they both most likely ignore the fact that Chromedome would be actively suicidal without Rewind, Tailgate’s off in the corner, having taken his hand off and begun pouring cartoon toxic waste into a vial. It’s actually his innermost energon. Boy’s making an offering, but it isn’t to Rewind.
It’s to this ungrateful fuck.
Cyclonus stalks away from Tailgate’s kindness, until he’s stopped by witnessing the power of love.
Everyone likes Rewind, and these displays of affection seems to have reminded Cyclonus that he’s horrifically lonely. Feeling some remorse over his actions- not that he’ll ever admit it out loud- he goes back to help Tailgate pick up the pieces of the vial he broke.
Wrapping up our story, we go back to the “Before”, right before the bomb is set to go off. Whirl and Cyclonus have more or less taken care of the Decepticons, Whirl suggests they set aside their differences and agree to stop trying to murder each other, in a surprising show of reason and, perhaps, self-preservation. Cyclonus doesn’t seem to agree with the idea.
I genuinely think that’s the most he’s said all series up to this point.
Rewind calls the two idiots over for help, because Tailgate’s about to pull a self-sacrifice to get this bomb emptied, and he just isn’t listening to reason. Cyclonus assists.
Once Tailgate’s been fastball-specialed out of the room, Whirl decides to get back to being a bastard, and locks Cyclonus and Rewind in with the bomb with 10 seconds left on the clock. Ah, so the donation was out of guilt, I see. Still a form of caring, in its own way.
With no way to escape, all Cyclonus can do is attempt to shield Rewind with his body as the bomb goes off.
That’s the end of the issue but it’s the middle of the story, and despite what Cyclonus says, dynamics are changing. Slowly, but surely, things are shifting. He’s headed for a lot of character development, and he’ll be kicking and screaming the whole way.
#transformers#jro#mtmte#issue 12#maccadam#Hannzreads#text post#long post#overthinking about robots#incoming analysis#comic script writing
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How Ty and Zane Adopted a Fully Grown Child
TW for mild blood and non graphic torture
***
“Ugh, he’s half an hour late. At this rate, we’re both gonna be asleep by the time he gets here.”
“Relax, Ty. We know how chaotic missions can get, don’t we?”
Ty grumbled in response. They were expecting a special guest at their backdoor to pick up a somewhat delicate package. The contact was supposed to arrive at 11:00 pm, but it was already a few minutes after midnight.
“Do you think he ran into some kind of trouble?” Ty asked his husband.
Zane didn’t look up from his book. “Maybe. Give him ten more minutes before you call in the cavalry.”
Ty rolled his eyes. As he was about to deliver a witty comeback, there came an insistent rap on the back door. Both Ty and Zane were immediately on the alert. With a quick nod, both men approached the door slowly, weapons in hand.
Ty pressed the intercom by the door. “Who is it?” he called.
“My callsign is Harpy. Umm...black market orchids?”
After shooting Zane a small glance, Ty opened the door.
“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for like, two minutes.”
“Excuse me?” Ty looked at Zane, who wore the same expression of disbelief.
“So, you got my package or what?”
“Listen here you little shit—“ Ty was cut off by a hand on his shoulder.
“What my husband meant to say was that we’ve been waiting almost forty-five minutes for you, so you have no right to criticize us, son.”
“Whatever, Gramps.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “Listen here you little shit—“
“Here’s you stupid package, now get the fuck out of my store,” Ty growled. “And if you ever speak like that to my husband again, I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”
“Whatever. See ya later.”
With that, the agent turned and left.
“God, I hope that’s the last we see of him,” Zane muttered.
“You can say that again, Lone Star.”
“God, I hope that’s—“
“Oh my god! I’m going to bed.” Zane’s laugh followed Ty as he marched towards the bedroom.
***
“Hey, we might have a visitor later. Apparently there was a little scuffle involving an agent on the other side of the city,” Zane informed his husband.
Ty was busy arranging new books, taking them all down, and putting them back up in a different order. After the fifth new shelving set up, Ty grinned triumphantly.
“Sure looks good!”
Zane sighed. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yadda yadda, agents, guns, visitors, blah blah blah,” Ty replied.
“Keep that up and you won’t be laid for a month,” Zane warned.
A few minutes later, there came a faint knocking on the backdoor.
Following the same protocol as they did earlier in the month, Ty and Zane approached the door.
“Hello?” Ty asked through the intercom.
“Black...market...orchids...help...”
Ty shoved his gun back in its holster and wrenched the door open.
There in the darkness stood the same rude kid from a few weeks ago. This time however, he was pale and shaking. Ty soon saw why, his left shoulder was bleeding heavily.
The young agent stumbled in and promptly fainted into Zane’s arms. Using their combined strength, Ty and Zane were able to maneuver the kid into their safe house. Their home was equipped with a variety of medical supplies, and the two men quickly began treating the wound.
Ty let himself examine the agent’s face as Zane finished stitching the wound shut. He was much younger than Ty had originally thought. Their first meeting, in the dark of the night, had masked a boyish face and light brown curls.
“Look at him, Zane, he could still be in high school with a face like that!” Ty said.
“Yeah, poor kid looks exhausted. Let’s let him get some rest.”
Ty and Zane shuffled into the adjacent room in case their patient needed help. Both men sat silently, enjoying the other’s calming presence.
About an hour passed before the young agent stirred. Ty and Zane went back to look at their charge.
“What...happened?”
“You showed up at our door covered in blood and passed out in my husbands arms,” Ty answered.
“Oh...at least he’s hot.”
“That sure is a step up from being called ‘Gramps’. What’s your name, son?” Zane said.
“I’m Harpy.”
“You’re real name, not that stupid shit,” Ty responded.
“Miles. Umm, thanks for, you know, helping me and shit,” Miles said without making eye contact.
“It’s what we do. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re a bit young to be doing this kind of thing. How old are you?” Zane asked.
“I’m twenty-five. And I’m plenty capable of doing this job! Better than some old farts anyway,” Miles snapped.
“Okay, I can see you’re grumpy. We’ll let you get some shut eye, but if you’re still acting like a bitch when you wake up, you’re toast.”
“Whatever.”
***
After that encounter, Miles began stopping by more regularly. Sometimes for medical care, sometimes it seemed he just wanted company. He was always eager to tell Ty and Zane about his successful
missions and visibly brightened when they complimented him.
One day, Miles came to the store right after closing time. Zane was organizing the register and Ty was doing a bit of cleaning. Miles walked among the children’s section shelves, looking a titles and scoffing.
“The Little Engine That Could ? What kind of dumb name is that?”
“That’s a very popular book,” Zane responded, frowning.
“What, your mama never read you that one, Miles?” Ty teased.
“My parents died when I was five. Fuck you! Sorry that I didn’t have a happy childhood!” Miles stormed out of the shop before Ty or Zane could respond.
***
The next time they saw Miles was when Ty and Zane were called in to rescue him from hostiles. They had received word that Miles was being held in a shipping container near the water.
Though it had been a few months since Ty and Zane were out in the field, they were still deadly. In perfect synchronism, they crept towards the spot where they had calculated Miles to be. Any enemies that saw them were quickly taken care of.
As they moved along the side of the container, they could hear voices, one was clearly in pain.
“If they so much as touched him, they’re dead,” Ty hissed.
Ty then led Zane to the opening of the container and burst through the door. The three masked men within raised their weapons, but Ty and Zane dropped them before they could fire.
“You guys...came for me,” Miles whispered. He was tied to a chair with cuts across his torso.
“Of course we did. You’re our responsibility,” Zane said as he used one of his trusted knives to free Miles.
Supported between the only two people that had ever cared for him, Miles sighed happily.
“Can we go home now?”
Ty and Zane looked at each other. Ty gave Zane a small grin.
“Of course, son.”
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Miri Marshall | protagonist of Glassbreaker | made using this dollmaker | before the quest/during the quest
B A S I C S
full name: Mirianel Runninghorse Marshall
gender: female
sexuality: pan
pronouns: she/her
O T H E R S
family: her parents are dead lol. but her best friend is Shay Weaver and his mum, Cara Weaver, looked after Miri a lot after her mum died. so they’re her family, really. also, her horse, Sunrise!
birthplace: the village of Airnian in the Northern Province of the Human Kingdoms
job: horse breeder and sometimes trainer. it’s a family business which she runs with the help of a few others from her village, but she’s the primary owner and makes all the decisions (or, well, she was about to take up that mantle fully when the Fire Nation attacked a messenger arrived from the Capitol...)
phobias: uhh idk about phobias per se but she definitely has a Thing about being called by her full name and about being lied to/having information kept from her. After Everything, she’s afraid of the dark.
guilty pleasures: fucking off for a day to just go ride her horse and ignore her responsibilities, climbing trees, Cara’s pies, hugs from Shay (though that’s not exactly a guilty pleasure), making snarky commentary on obnoxious Easterners in the markets at Maloree when she’s there for the summer bazaar
hobbies: riding and otherwise hanging out with the herd, making thread bracelets, bugging Shay when he’s supposed to be helping his mum dye wool
M O R A L S
morality alignment? let’s call her Chaotic Good
sins: Desire / Despair / Envy / Fear / Hunger / Pride / Rage / Sloth
virtues: Charity / Chastity / Diligence / Humility / Justice / Kindness / Patience
T H I S - O R - T H A T
introvert/extrovert: extrovert!
organized/disorganized: organized, actually, which is probably a surprise to people who don’t know her well. but she’s been on her own a long time.
close minded/open-minded: hm, i think fairly close-minded but can be convinced.
calm/anxious: calm
disagreeable/agreeable: disagreeable but like, in a “will bitch endlessly but will still do the thing” sort of way
cautious/reckless: reckless
patient/impatient: impatient with people, patient with animals
outspoken/reserved: O U T S P O K E N
leader/follower: leader, but she hasn’t figured out that she is yet
empathetic/unempathic: empathetic
optimistic/pessimistic: pessimistic but as with being open-minded, she can be convinced
traditional/modern: traditional, i think, or she wants to be. her people are clinging to their culture and miri doesn’t know enough to be able to live in a fully traditional way (also it’s illegal) but if she could she’d definitely go back to her roots more than she’s currently able.
hard-working/lazy: hard-working
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
otp: eventually, miri/shay, but that’s Hella down the line and well outside the bounds of what happens in her canon. within the bounds of canon she is Not Interested.
Acceptable ships: miri x people leaving her the fuck alone? but she’s also one to sow her wild oats as it were once she’s free of the burden of the quest.
ot3: don’t really have one? there just are not enough characters in this book with whom she’s remotely romantically compatible, which, uh, i did on purpose.
brotp: miri and the boys (that is: kriss and el). rocky start but these three are best.
notp: hilariously, miri/kriss OR miri/el. ... please no.
I WANTED SO BADLY TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT ERON IN THIS SECTION BUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO AMBIGUOUS. it’s one of those like, i guess it’s acceptable but also No, sort of situations. for a NUMBER of reasons.
anyway thanks @foxnonny for tagging me in this fun meme! i was working on my novel a bit today and saw the tag in my activity feed from a while ago and was like fuck yeah so that was super well timed! anyway i love her and have missed writing her, she’s great
tagging, uh, anyone who wants to do it because idk who has OCs that they’re wiling to talk about, whoops
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hello! back abt ford! i love this city! what are the pests there?? pigeons? cats? rodents? laughing doves? mourning doves? peacocks? tiny elephants? giraffes with short necks? soda can-sized bumblebees? are there gangs or mafia or any sort of organized crime? is it a super clean & peaceful city? does it have any problems re: infrastructure? do peaches grow on some of the trees there? are there cranes or storks or herons?
💕💕💕i love YOU, random citizen!
1. what are the pests there?? pigeons? cats? rodents? laughing doves? mourning doves? peacocks? tiny elephants? giraffes with short necks? soda can-sized bumblebees?
pests change throughout the city depending on where u are, for sure. for example, in some of the wetter areas there are dragonflies & mites & gnats that buzz around. the wyrms like borders of the city, down low in the waterfalls or far on the outskirts of the city. they’ll sometimes come into the city if there’s not much food & depending on the breed they’ll go pretty much anywhere. the shimmering coral scales sluicing down through main river in shoals, green scales like pebbles catch the morning light on the wyrms sunning themselves on high shale rooftops, the deep indigo wyrms curled into the shadows by the temples that flare their wings in fright when the first sacreds of the day come up to worship, spreading wings w frightening designs—great yellow eyes in the dark—and scampering away into the alleys. most households keep chickens so there are definitely a few rogue clutches. they’re sorta like pigeons in big towns in our world, they scratch around & ppl think some are pretty or they catch them & race them, that sort of thing. there are grooming shows too, people showing off their chickens. stray cats & dogs, they like the temples. always bright & warm & there’s always offerings they can snap up. the wyrms can be a little territorial but they get in a scrap seemingly just to put up a token effort, the wyrms will skitter away up columns & out of sight to sulk & skulk. if a crog gets away from its family, it’ll slink into the water, the sewers.
down in the pipes, in the tunnels & the alleys, the most common pests are mimics. they’re little creatures that grow in blues & greens & purples. they commonly look like small people but wider & slim as though they jumped out of a book. they can take absolutely any shape they want. they enjoy copying a cell, or a bag, or something that will mean a person picks them up & takes them somewhere else. they’re mischievous mostly but sometimes they bite & their bite can be toxic. not enough to kill, just raised welts mostly. the mimics are small & not dangerous on their own but they tend to grow in what most people call “mucks” so there’s rarely just one of them. they like to steal things, they don’t understand the morals of it they just like the way people screech & make big noises & throw things they think it’s fun.
there’s also the plants & while not pests rly, some areas of the city enforce pruning & designed plants whereas in other areas it’s like POOF ivy, POOF moss, POOF sprawling hanging gardens
2. are there gangs or mafia or any sort of organized crime?
in ford,,,, it’s a tough question. technically, yes. but also LEGALLY since no one can pin anything to them, no. there’s a group of people who work for the betterment of all citizens, who believe in freedom above order, & they’re led by a ringleader known as “Captain Kig” (kig being a name for a muckraker, someone who stirs up mud & muck to find trash & treasure. also someone who causes trouble). these people aren’t organised crime though they do steal & sometimes break into houses but that’s usually for safety purposes. for actual crime, there’s criminals ofc but they are very careful to be careful. it’s hard to be a criminal in ford; much easier to go to hyetol & see what pans out there.
that being said, there’s definitely smuggling going on, there’s definitely some suspect magical business. there are those people who dabble in gambling houses & races & fights & duels. there are for those of intellect certain places where certain items or acts can be purchased. very very difficult to find. murder being the most basic of the services they provide.
3. is it a super clean & peaceful city? does it have any problems re: infrastructure?
overall yeah it’s a pretty clean city. the places closer to the citadel are nicer, thats where most of the traffic from out of the city comes in via air ships. also down the main river, that’s rly nice there’s a lot of travel down it, sight seeing, visitors from towns upriver. there are sector that’s a bit less nice, mostly due to lots more people squished in there & it also has started to flood recently in the wet season. people also think badly abt it because it’s noisy & a bit chaotic & the trees haven’t been pruned & the street art hasn’t been painted over. there’s some problems beyond flooding with water pipes to a few sections of the city, people getting sick, people not having water at all, that sort of thing. peaceful well there are the queens guard, who patrol & keep general peace & there are specialised inspectors who work in teams of two or three & they solve crimes that need solving.
4. do peaches grow on some of the trees there?
im sure they do lol yes. the streets are divided into different types of fruit trees so they have very inventive names like peach place & apple way (healers keep out for own safety!!) is painted beneath that street sign
5. are there cranes or storks or herons?
yeah so where some of the rivers slow & pool out into small lakes there are definitely wading birds. if u imagine a bird of paradise, that’s what they look like. they look pretty in one simple colour usually white or grey or black, monochrome yknow, & then when they’re doing whatever they’ll lift their feathers & the coloured ones run down the back of their long long neck like hackles & they lift & they shake it
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Part 3
Today, I was a lazy bum. Shocker. But I did do some good things, and I did have good times, so I should be more grateful. And more happy. I read a really nifty quote on here the other day about how shaming yourself will not help you improve, and how trying to do so is cruel to yourself. It said to love yourself instead, and I think I am going to try that tactic and see how it works for me.
Today, I went through a gazzilion old photos. Some years back, I made an entire wall of my room into a picture wall and it was awesome. I took Mickey Mouse wrapping paper and taped it up onto my wall, along with a Mickey Mouse poster and covered them with photos. I printed out so many that they couldn’t all fit on the makeshift background and they spilled out onto the wall above and below. I still remember balancing on some pretty precarious ledges to put them all on display. It was crazy, but beautiful, and organized in my own chaotic way. I had different sections dedicated to different areas of my life and memory, such as family, friends, cats, places,trips, etc.. It was my then recent life in pictures, and as time passed, I was always happy to put new photos up.
A little over a year ago now, our family moved out of our old place, and into a new one. Naturally, the picture wall had to come down. With great care, the whole set-up was taken down and folded for transport. As a side note, Dad, I am still sorry for all the paint I took off the walls. I really did not mean to do that at all, and I had no idea that the adhesive strips were so op.
Well, we brought them over to the new place, and due to their dangerous nature towards paint, they stayed down. My Dad was awesome and bought me this large, black paperboard for me to put them on, but I never used it. It was big, but I doubted it could handle alllll of the photos, and I had some interesting ideas on how to put the pictures so I held off.
Time passed, as it is apt to do, and the folded holder of my memories stayed just as it was in a box in the corner of my new room behind a decorative screen I had been given. They all stayed there, hidden away from the light of day and the shine of the moon until this very day. One year and thirteen days after the day we moved. All those beautiful memories shunned, ignored, and I am still trying to figure out my motives as to why.
My first thought is pure, unadulterated laziness. I seem to be attempting to become the physical embodiment of laziness, so it isn’t a far fetched conclusion. It seems like an answer that is just too easy, however. My life, the really happy moments, most joyous occasions, sweetest memories, were in those pictures. Laziness is too weak of an excuse to use to hide away pieces of myself like that. I think that, maybe, it was shame.
I have this wonderfully disgusting, extremely intimate relationship with shame. I feed it a gluttonous diet of all my fears, and thusly it grows to Jabba-worthy sizes. Its two favorite dishes seem to be my fear of not being good enough as I am now (which I feel deeply now), and my fear of not being good enough If I were to be who I truly want to be. With such rich delicacies before it, it grows fatter every stinking day. It is one of the many facets of fear, and one of its most horrifying faces.
It is to shame, hiding under the guise of sloth, as to add even more to my shame, that I attribute my hiding my own life away. If I had kept them out, had put them up again, where I would have had to look upon them everyday, I would have had to face them. I would have had to face my past self, with all my steadfast hopes and sky high dreams, with my present self. I would have to look at my past self and tell it that I was failing. I was trying, but lost, caught in a rip tide, with all sense of direction constantly changing. I was simply waiting to be let go of its deadly grasp. I would have to face my past self, my wasted sand scattered at my own feet, thrown away in heaps by my own hand. I would have to face the smiling features of those dearest to me, who believed in me so much and expected great things of me, with less than nothing to show.
I guess I had hoped that it would be easier to hide from myself if I could not look into the eyes of others and see myself reflected in them. I can’t say whether or not that really worked, as I have been trying to find myself for so long, and I have only found bits and pieces. To be totally honest, I wonder for how long I will call those found pieces mine. Change is upon me, and I am hopeful of it.
But today, or rather yesterday now, I brought them out of confinement. I unfolded the great sheet and peeled off every cherished memory that had claimed its place upon it. Not every picture had made it out unscathed, thanks to the new loves of my life who love boxes, as it is in their very nature to do so. I in no way blame them. I should have taken better care of what is precious to me. It was my fault, but no bend or curve or fold could ever take away from the value of what they are. In a way, it makes me appreciate them more.
After I had taken every photo and any other memory I had put up, of all things to do, I stuck them in another box! I know it makes no sense, but I am not sure what to do with them. I want to display them in a truly fitting way. They deserve a place of honor, and the effort and time to do so. Perhaps I shall make it a goal of mine to have them set up by this time next month. I like it. Alright internet- hold me to it!
It was Friday night, and I had a date to keep, so I put the new box in my closet and got down to business. It was a girls date with my Mom, so I went downstairs and together we made a fabulous dinner and watched a fun movie. My Dad had gone out with some friends, so it was just the two of us. It has been a particularly trying week at work for her, even more so than usual which is saying something. We had a good time and she seemed happier, which is good. She needed a fun night, and I am glad I was able to help her relax.
After our movie had finished, she went off to bed, but I waited up. I had made a second movie date with my Dad. We were going to have another anime all-nighter. I know he is stressed too, and it’s a way to spend time together on a common ground. I am very close with my Mom, but my relationship with my Dad is very different. In some ways, we are spookily alike, and in other areas there is such a severe disconnect that it can be hard to get along. Stories for another time.
Well, as I waited up, I got a jump on this. I like writing this out. Before I started, I really worried that I would not enjoy it as much as I do. It’s like having someone to talk to openly. I don’t really know how to do that, so maybe this can teach me.
He made it home, and we hopped right in. We started our favorite anime from the beginning and got through eight episodes before we pooped out. I laughed way too hard and enjoyed myself almost too much, if there is such a thing. I wanted to finish this out, but I was done, and it did not take me long before I sacked out on the couch.
It may have been a lazy day, but it was still a very good one. I am grateful for the time spent with my family, and the memories new and old that I get to be keeper of. I have much to reflect on that is so wholly good, that I need to quit my sinking ship attitude. I am well equipped to stay afloat, and I have much reason to. Time to stop sinking my own ship.
I will catch you all later. Be good to each other, and look for the joy in your life. Be seekers, and you may just be surprised by what you find.
Love,
-M
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Hyperallergic: An Experimental Book Tests Our Ability to Perceive Multiple Mediums Simultaneously
Pages from Nicolas Jaar’s Network (courtesy Nicolas Jaar/Printed Matter)
Living up to its name, the book Network, a project by Chilean electronic musician Nicolas Jaar co-published by Printed Matter and Other People, can be opened at pretty much any point and read — if reading is even what you call it. Upon opening the book I saw a series of onomatopoeias, several pages featuring blocky text about wealth, a full-page spread of two hand-drawn Xs, some already filled out crosswords, multiple internet windows, and words arranged like numbers on a spreadsheet. Whatever you want call this, reading with Jaar is more akin to a cross between an art experience and solving a book of logic puzzles. Or seeing, hearing and reading simultaneously.
Or failing to do so entirely.
That failure defines the central structure of the book, which is a series of experiments that test our ability to simultaneously perceive more than one medium, or to interpret more than one ambiguous image. In addition to the hundreds of pages of free-verse text, Jaar includes black-and-white posters advertising shows from his series of semi-fictional online radio stations along with three short, text-based works from graphic designer Linda van Deursen, artist and provocateur Lydia Lunch, and the musician himself.
Together, the puzzles, rhythms, and words of Network read as a meditation on the success and failure of our current social, political, and economic structures. How Jaar got to that point, though, involves a bit of backstory. Jaar began the project as a radio play for a BBC commission, but when the play turned into an experiment making alien sound energy for a fake DJ, the network jumped ship. Jaar decided to finish the project on his own; in the end, it took the form of a book and a website hosting 111 radio stations with fixed loops of his own DJing and mock talk radio. Graphic designers Jena Myung and Maziyar Pahlevan worked with Jaar to draw text from show transcripts and use it in the book.
The result feels a bit like browsing an analog Internet, where memes mutate into free-verse poetry, while simultaneously channel-surfing noise radio stations. Catching a wave of thought can feel exhilarating and powerful, but just as often the organization of the book feels too chaotic to make sense of anything. It was several days before I even realized the three essays in the book were each only a few pages long, rather than making up entire sections.
As a reflection of the current mood, the book can feel eerily accurate. Columns and fonts of varying size and weight add a level of anxiety and confusion to even flipping through its pages. So do the anti-Trump, anti-income-inequality themes. In one spread, we see a play on the Trump/Pence “Make America Great Again” logo that transforms the words into the shape of a flag with the slogan “Jump the Fence.” Another consists of a list of billionaires that did not make the Forbes 100 list because their net worth was too low. Still another reads simply: “I feel a little helpless.”
As confusing as all this sounds, the book also offers ways to opt out of the culture. Don’t like what you see? There’s an “x” in the corner of some pages suggesting you can simply close the window. Or you can skip to another page. You won’t miss anything, and — unlike the Internet’s unreliable archives — the text will still be there when you return.
Pages fromNetwork (image courtesy Nicolas Jaar/Printed Matter)
For me, the most compelling aspects of the book were those that used optical illusions and text puns like the Trump/Pence logo. They read like the kind of secret messages people once thought you could find on records if you played them backwards. In one instance the words “Don’t you wish you could listen to both at the exact same time” alert the reader to a construction on the following page. That page consists of a poster, advertising one of Jaar’s radio stations, that features the stacked words “LIVE GAZA.” Each letter of the word is made by repeating the letter in the word above or beneath it, thus creating “GAZA LIVE.” As with the famous “vase or face” perception puzzle, it’s impossible to read “LIVE GAZA” and “GAZA LIVE” at the same time: the brain can see both, but it can’t process them simultaneously.
But “Don’t you wish you could listen to both at the exact same time?” also alludes to the radio station itself. When I visited the station online (#219), I found a series of short news items about a Gaza zoo that painted their donkeys to look like zebras after they died of neglect in the Israel/Palestine conflict. “Children treat the donkeys with less respect than an actual zebra,” reported one journalist. I switched channels.
Station #69. The sound of a flag in the wind. Station #153. Beatles songs, but with a LOL ticker running above. Station #93. A long documentary on how economy of “the self” lead to pervasive belief that satisfaction of our individual needs and desires should be our highest priority.
There’s a corresponding poster for each of these stations peppered throughout the book, but it remains unclear what text was drawn from which poster, and mapping that out seems beside the point. It’s just one piece of a network that doesn’t rely on any single page in order to work.
Even Jaar’s three-page essay midway through the book could have been removed, and the book would still stand on its own. It would have suffered without that essay, though, as it does the best job of expressing the book’s core concept. Jaar writes, “When and if human “x” looked into the eyes of human “y” then x with two eyes saw only one eye of y.”
The essay goes on to tie this relationship to rhythm, (and visual relationships), but the base point is this: we only have the ability to perceive one thing at a time — an idea significant enough that it’s repeated throughout Network and even gets a nod on the book’s cover (“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII see eee eee too”). That phrase is drawn from text later in the essay and is part of a larger imagined conversation. “What if we just had one eye?” it reads, “It’s surely good to have two eyes. One eye says to the other: eye, I see too.” As I understand it, the message is an address from one eye to the other, informing it that there are two eyes seeing. Spoken, though, it could mean any number of things beyond the original reading. “Yes, I see two” or “Yes, I see too”, or “Eye, I see too.”
All this resembles wordplay, but for me, it illustrates how much more mutable words are when they are said aloud versus written down. In the context of business, this slippery definition might have me decide that written communication is more reliable. In the world of sound, I might conclude that there’s far more room for creativity. In the world of politics, it reads “Watch your back.”
Network doesn’t offer solutions for synthesizing these worlds, but it does suggest that we might be able to draw meaning from pre-existing relationships. For example, Linda van Deursen’s visual essay uses two side-by-side columns with images, captions, and text to focus on linguistic play as it pertains to agriculture, radio communication and its relationship to authoritarian rule. On one side, we read about how broadcasting is considered the most economical method of applying seed to large areas of land. On another we read about how, in the mid 1920s the USSR started producing street radio speakers that anyone could use for the purpose of broadcasting. Ideas need tending to grow.
As an exercise, van Deursen took enough pains to make sure her narratives never completed themselves too easily that I could write an entire piece on her essay alone. It was thoughtful. Lydia Lunch, the book’s final contributor, did not manage this, offering only a long, stream-of-consciousness rant. Everything is terrible: the offense of Kim Kardashian’s selfies, the constant surveillance of citizens, an election that gave us no one to vote for last November because Hillary Clinton is friends with Henry Kissinger. Lunch’s tirade was clearly written prior to Trump’s inauguration, but it would have been just as unmoored then. Unlike Donald Trump, Clinton isn’t friends with Russian President Vladimir Putin, who continues to undermine the electoral process and destabilize the NATO alliance. But potato potahto, right?
Pages from Network (photo by Paddy Johnson for Hyperallergic)
Eh. I immediately worried that complaining about politics is petty in a book as thoughtful as Jaar’s. I didn’t need to go there. But, such is the nature of our present political climate, where no differing opinion goes unrefuted. No one is immune: not me, not Lydia Lunch, and not Jaar. And there are real reasons for this. Vast income inequality, widespread corruption, and weakened democracies threaten everyone’s well-being. We’re scared, we’re tired and we don’t have the patience to hear any more bad ideas. The book seems to implicitly acknowledge this unpleasant physiological peculiarity through pages of splintered text. “Listen. So many arguments not worth having,” reads a blurb of text early on — only to later have Lunch dive in. There’s always someone who can’t resist.
Which may be why the rant is followed by spreads of quietly undulating single-color pages. At first, this section seemed out of place and superfluous, but every time I needed a break, I’d end up back there. It’s the one place in the book where every sense a reader has isn’t being taxed, and it’s a relief. “I see a color or two,” I thought as I paged through the book. That felt like more than enough.
The post An Experimental Book Tests Our Ability to Perceive Multiple Mediums Simultaneously appeared first on Hyperallergic.
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