#sometimes ART seems so smart and wise and composed

[scificrows]

I am going over Murderbot's and ART's first interactions again and it's driving me crazy, so I really need to yell into the void about it.

Alright, so we have ART:

ART, a highly advanced deep space research vessel, who is very attached to its crew and seems to generally do what it's supposed to, especially when not doing so could endanger its mission - but ends up accepting a suspicious looking SecUnit that is lying about being a bot aboard itself. ART is evidently aware that it is directly breaking the rules in doing so. (Aside: How often does ART break the rules?) Why? All for that tempting media package that the SecUnit has to offer?

No.

It was sent off to do some work all alone and got bored and lonely. (I think there are different ways to intepret this, but looking at our super social raised-by-humans loving-its-crew never-shutting-up research vessel, I choose to think that is exactly what it was!)

Anyway, what does ART do now that it has this lying, potentially dangerous rogue SecUnit aboard? It

lets it know that it saw right through its lies and knows exactly what it is

intimidates and threatens it by showing off its own ridiculously extensive superiority (just to be on the safe side ofc)

gets bored after the SecUnit gets too scared to do anything interesting

asks the SecUnit to "stop sulking"

learns that the SecUnit has been through A Lot and seemingly understands how it made it feel and apologizes

gets bored again and starts lurking and harasses convinces the SecUnit to watch media about ships and their crews with it

[gets way too invested and agitated by the media, probably going through its first media-induced emotional crises (but gets through them with the support of the very patient SecUnit)]

tries to have a conversation with the SecUnit to get to know it better

gets offended that the SecUnit is not answering truthfully and won't share sensitive and very private information about itself

lets the SecUnit know it can see through its lies, calling it "inherently inferior" to itself and causing the SecUnit to sulkily shut down for four hours (lol)

immediately calls the SecUnit "unnecessarily childish" upon its awakening four hours later (referring to its own extensive experience with children to really get the point across)

And apparently all of this seemed to be a perfectly pleasant and normal interaction to ART, because:

That's how you make friends, isn't it?!

God, I love ART so so so much and this is SO funny to me! To be fair, I don't think anyone ever really prepared it for an interaction like this. (Probably because its crew did not expect it to pick up a stray rogue SecUnit and try to befriend it).

Bonus:

[pearlprincess02]

scorpio sun, aries moon, virgo rising, libra mercury, libra venus, aquarius mars

scorpio sun: these people are intuitive, mysterious and very passionate. they absorb everything that’s around them and they’re pretty good at reading others. scorpio suns may seem cold at first, but once they trust someone they are very protective and loyal. undeveloped scorpio suns can be overly possessive, jealous and even obsessive with their loved ones. these are quiet individuals… but once you mess with them, you will wish you never did. scorpios are vengeful and once you betray them, they will be your biggest enemies forever. they say what no one dares to say and they also love to talk about taboo topics. they can also have a very black-or-white mentality and they feel things in a very intense way. as I said before, scorpios are quiet and they reveal very little about themselves, since they don’t want to get hurt; it takes time to gain their trust. when these individuals want to achieve something, they will fight so hard until they reach it. scorpio suns are wise, sensual and even intimidating.

aries moon: protective/loyal, authentic/heart on sleeve, attempts to learn from past mistakes, emotional recklessness, allows people who have hurt/angered them to live rent-free in their inner life, seeks justice for past betrayals in present relationships

virgo rising: the "i'm better than you" look; they actually may be annoying sometimes with how they focused on doing things "the right way"; people usually think that their smart; may actually be very smart.

libra mercury: like to think of the pro’s and con’s (essentially think about all the options before making a decision), they can also be indecisive or tend to make a decision and may change it later on, with the venus influence; they can have either beautiful speaking voices or speak in a composed, balanced , almost poetic way, can have an interest in learning topics of art, justice, law, marriage, divorce, business contracts, relationships in general, they are social and charming with their words and the way they think, can be persuasive and be good mediators

libra venus: you can't miss her when she walks into a room, candlelight and wine, charm, beauty, and brains, falls easily, likely has a line of admirers, elegance and grace, now you know why lust and love are seen as magic.

aquarius mars: visionary wizard with enticing charisma, pushing boundaries, special aurora and bedroom moves, erratic and strong-willed, sees the best in you, channeling passion into each other's minds and bodies.

(@gothicoddity)

ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Star Wars: The Mandalorian (Season 1)

For the longest time, the beloved Star Wars franchise was left in an uncertain spot of where it would go after the current and divisive Sequel trilogy. This new era of the franchise began in a strong and familiar place, went down a bumpy and different path, then ended on such a sour note that it seemed that there was no hope of recovery. The franchise was stained with too many mistakes with the wrong people in charge of the creative storytelling. Even the most hardcore of fans would agree that this was a new dark age for the franchise. That age of darkness came swiftly to an end once the gate keepers gave the keys to a team that studied what George Lucas had created and learned from it. This team knew that to make Star Wars great again, it would mean not doing something familiar, but rather something that is unexpected, new and expanding of the things that inspired the original creator. Jon Favreau got together with Lucas’ apprentice, Dave Filoni, and they got to work in creating the greatness that this series has become. Their love for this universe and the knowledge they've obtained over the years has culminated into this amazing achievement in storytelling. The spaghetti western, sci-fi fantasy and scaled down tones were expertly portrayed throughout the season and you feel the love and respect for what has come before it in every frame. From the first badass bar fight scene to the last shot of the season, this show is the shining example of what happens when you let the right hands take over the reins.

The cast across the entire season was top notch and fantastic all around. Pedro Pascal stars as The Mandalorian and he is every bit the Clint Eastwood "Man With No Name" type of hero I love. I love his determination, cold and almost humorless take on such a dangerous part of the galaxy. Even though his face is covered, he still emotes in the subtle art of body language and vocal tones. Every head tilt or change in speed or tone in his voice made you pay attention to every choice he was about to make. Carl Weathers was cool and commanding as the leader of the Bounty Hunter's Guild Greef Karga. Carl's charm and wit is on full display and he was a welcomed jovial spirit. The scenes between him and the Mandalorian carry so much weight and lighten the mood for a time. Nick Nolte voices the character Kuiil and he brings such wisdom and warmth to the screen. I liked that we delve into his history of indentured service to the Galactic Empire and how he got his freedom. Gina Carano was awesome and stunning as the former Rebel Shocktrooper Cara Dune. She has greatly improved as an actress and she is truly in her element. She natural plays Cara with such confidence and doesn't come off as arrogant as other would be female heroines. I loved seeing her fight and there is so much more to explore with her. Taika Waititi is always been a talented and hilarious actor and storyteller. As IG-11, he brings to life one of the most dangerous and terrifying hunter droids in Star Wars lore with such gusto. His dry and sometimes lifeless vocal performance gives such off an ominous tone, but by the end he penetrates your heart. I had more of an emotional attachment to this droid in one episode, then any of the other droids that have been introduced in the Sequel trilogy.

The villains and scoundrels of the series were on par with heroes as far talent goes. Werner Herzog was truly outstanding and chilling as an ex-imperial officer that goes by the name The Client. The amount of gravitas Werner brings to a scene is beyond understated and his scenes with the Mandalorian are the most tense and tonally satisfying. You feel the looming power of the Empire and the history of oppression behind his every word. Bill Burr joins the franchise as fellow bounty hunter and rogue as Migs Mayfeld. I loved his wise cracks, sarcastic and smart ass attitude. He was a perfect addition to the show and I want more of him. Natalia Tena was cool as an evil Twi'lek and I liked that there was a history between her and the Mandalorian. There's always a brute in every team and Clancy Brown was just that as the Devaronian Burg. It’s always good to see Clancy on screen and he was so much fun. Ming-Na Wen plays the assassin Fennec Shand and she was as deadly as she is beautiful. There is a mystery behind her eyes and I really wanted to explore her more. The main antagonist of the season was proof that this series is dealing with the remnants of the Empire that are still spread across the galaxy. Giancarlo Esposito was brilliant and intimidating as Moff Gideon. There is a level regalness and intelligence once he steps on screen. He is the face of the Empire and I can't wait to see more of his cunning plans come to life.

John Williams will always be the blueprint of how Star Wars music should sound. I was delighted to see that one of my new favorite composers, Ludwig Goransson, was behind the music. This series required a new and original sound that didn't sound like anything of the past. Ludwig brought his magic to the score and every bit of it is now iconic and beloved. I liked that it was somewhat tribal and electronic while still keeping the classical elements intact. Ludwig's score throughout the series is now up there with Williams as the best music Star Wars has ever had. Visually this show is stunning in every way. From the molten landscape of Nevarro to the lushes greens of Sorgan, every location has something to marvel at. The use of more practical effects and makeup are always appreciated and it makes each character and world all the more tangible. Jon Favearu and Dave Filoni have come together and crafted such a great story that is filled to the brim with exploration, adaptation and surprises that will blow the doors off to what is possible in this franchise. They are the hand that reached out and saved Star Wars from the Sarlacc pit it was being swallowed into. If you are a hardcore, moderate or even casual fan of Star Wars and you feel that the franchise is dead, fear not! There is still life to be had. This is the best Star Wars story to date and a must watch for all! Season 1 is currently streaming on Disney+ and if you liked the show or my review, let me know in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[clareisa]

Ateez In Hogwarts

- I added a couple of random facts about their life in Hogwarts in this post. Do you like it? Should I add it to other Harry Potter posts in the future as well?

- gifs and pics are not mine, credits to rightful owners

- English is not my first language, so please let me kindly know if I did a mistake

Hongjoong:

House: Hufflepuff

Blood Status: Pure-blood

Personality: loyal, helpful, friendly, smart, hardworking, determined, emotional, bright

Pet: ferret

Wand (WOOD): Alder wood -  Alder is an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is often helpful, considerate and most likeable. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards

(CORE): Phoenix feather core -  Learns most varied magic, hard to be chosen

Patronus: Dolphin

Favourite Classes: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms

How Amortentia smells to him: Fresh flowers, Chocolate, Cherries, An ocean breeze

After Hogwarts working as: Auror - He became Auror because of his protective nature and sense for justice. He wants to destroy and punish those who could endanger those who are innocent and protect his loved ones 

Random:

head boy

always helps the new students with anything and everything

Hufflepuff won a house cup couple of times mainly thanks to him

music is always coming from the Hufflepuff’s common room when Hongjoong is composing on his piano

his ferret is always on his shoulder, even he is trying to hide her in classes

Seonghwa:

House: Ravenclaw

Blood Status: Pure-blood

Personality: Intelligent, curious, mom-like, polite, sassy, honest, ambitious, dependable

Pet: Birman cat

Wand (WOOD): Vine wood - Vine wands are among the less common types, and their ideal owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths

(CORE): Thunderbird tail feather - Powerful, but difficult to master. Can sense danger and cast curses on their own

Patronus: Orca

Favourite Classes: Potions, Herbology

How Amortentia smells to him: Pancakes, Jasmine, Petrichor, Vanilla

After Hogwarts working as: Healer and alchemist - Combination with his intellect, curious nature and the need to helping others he will be the head of St. Mungo’s. In the future, he will be known for creating lots of new medicine 

Random:

almost everyone has a crush on him

protective of his best friends group “Ateez”, no one want to cross him

with Yeosang, helping to Madam Pomfrey with sick students in Hospital Wing

scolding his friends for dirty or unironed robes

number one student in the whole school

Yunho:

House: Hufflepuff

Blood Status: Half-blood

Personality: cheerful, lively, friendly, loving, peaceful, diligent, warmhearted, daring, charming

Pet: Golden Retriever

Wand (WOOD): Cherry wood -This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power. For cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind

(CORE): Horned Serpent horn core - Exceptionally powerful and sensitive. Can warn its owner of danger by emitting a low musical tone

Patronus: Dragon

Favourite Classes: Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration

How Amortentia smells to him: Cinnamon Rolls, Apple pie, MOrning breeze, Honeysuckle

After Hogwarts working as: Dragonologist - He always aspired to be one. He admired and was fascinated by them since he was a little kid. After he found out his Patronus is a dragon as well, Yunho knew he was destined to work with those dangerous but awe-inspiring creatures

Random:

best keeper Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team ever had

often secretly going to Forbidden forest, curious about creatures living there

classes are never boring when Yunho is in... if San is around is a mess

always brings a yummy food to his friends from the kitchen elves

often seen chasing after his golden retriever who is as energised as him 

Yeosang:

House: Slytherin

Blood Status: Pure-blood

Personality: cunning, passionate, savage, charming, bold, perfectionist, clever, humane, kind, tolerant

Pet: Serval

Wand (WOOD): Elm wood -  Elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, they produce the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands

(CORE): Phoenix feather core -  Learns most varied magic, hard to be chosen

Patronus: Black Swan

Favourite Classes: Astrology, Potions

How Amortentia smells to him: Mango, Gardenia, The beach, Wine

After Hogwarts working as: Hogwarts Potions professor - Actually started with Seonghwa at St. Mungo’s. After he received a letter from the headmaster he immediately agreed and quickly became a favourite teacher at Hogwarts

Random:

new students are often afraid since his gaze is sharp and quite intense 

not the teachers' favourite thanks to his straight forward nature

rumoured to be half-siren thanks to his angel-like appearance and voice

love the wintertime when he can snowboard on the hills in the Hogwarts area

always with Seonghwa in Hospital wing

San:

House: Hufflepuff

Blood Status: Muggle-born

Personality: creative, happy virus, caring, crazy, warm, humble, easily fooled by fake sincerity, skilled

Pet: Slow Loris

Wand: Red Oak wood- The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are among the most handsome

(CORE): Dragon heartstring core -  Powerful, easy to learn spells though can easily be committed to another owner

Patronus: Capuchin Monkey

Favourite Classes: Herbology, Charms

How Amortentia smells to him: Orange, Chocolate Cosmos, New Books, The Moment Before It Rains

After Hogwarts working as: Curse-Breaker - Employed by the Ministry of Magic, but doing lots of work for the Gringotts.  Almost the equivalent of archaeologists, San loves the travelling included when he is tasked with bringing back gold from tombs and often have to break curses to enter them

Random:

messing around in classes with Yunho

with Wooyoung, they have the cutest Hufflepuff-Slytherin friendship in the school 

often the victim of pranks cuz of his sweet and naive persona

has his own little garden in common room with exotic flowers

often gets detention for causing everyone to laugh in class

Mingi:

House: Gryffindor

Blood Status: Muggle-born

Personality: passionate, optimistic, jolly, enthusiastic, heroic, reckless, gallant, lovely, sweet

Pet: pink pygmy puff

Wand: Ash wood - Ash wands cling to its one true master. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant

(CORE): Dragon heartstring core -  Powerful, easy to learn spells though can easily be committed to another owner

Patronus: Lion

Favourite Classes: Flying, Charms

How Amortentia smells to him: Cakes baking in the oven, Bacon, Freshly washed hair, Lemon

After Hogwarts working as: Quidditch player (Seeker and captain) - Is not the safest job in the world but the euphoric feeling of soaring through the air on a state-of-the-art broom surely just can’t be beaten for Mingi. He has natural talent and can make his teammates always ready for anything

Random:

too soft for his little pink pygmy puff, but always loses her somewhere

sometimes clumsy in casting spells

Yunho is his best friend but in Quidditch he is his biggest enemy

always late to classes thanks to his love for sleeping

supporting his friends no matter what, often cheering for them in Quidditch games if they don’t play against Gryffindor 

Wooyoung:

House: Slytherin

Blood Status: Pure-blood

Personality: ambitious, gracious, smiley, driven, fair, cultured, observant, sociable, keen

Pet: Russian Blue cat

Wand: Hawthorn wood -  Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic. Hawthorn is not easy to master, however, and one should only ever consider placing a hawthorn wand in the hands of a witch or wizard of proven talent

(CORE): Unicorn hair core - Consistent magic, bonds strongly to the first user

Patronus: Black Mamba

Favourite Classes: History of Magic, Ghoul Studies

How Amortentia smells to him: Wisteria, Clothes Fresh Out of the Drier, Morning dew, Pumpkin pie

After Hogwarts working as: Ministry of Magic official - started his journey at Department of Magical Law Enforcement in lower positions. But Wooyoung thanks to his talent, ambitions, manners and skills quickly became head of this department

Random:

pulls pranks on San very often, but he always takes care of him

always get what he wants

in Hogwarts, he can enjoy the muggle music and art dancing that his pure family hate and judge

always makes girls around blush

a charming gentleman with best manners

Jongho:

House: Gryffindor

Blood Status: Half-blood

Personality: strong, energetic, athletic, observant, bold, spontaneous, principled, gentle

Pet: Sugar Glider

Wand: Beech wood - The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry not seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation

(CORE): Veela hair core - very individualistic and temperamental 

Patronus: Shark

Favourite Classes: Ghoul Studies, Defence Against the Dark Arts

How Amortentia smells to him: Wood, Fresh Waffle Cones, Lemon Grass, Coffee

After Hogwarts working as: Auror - working alone with Hongjoong.With Jongho’s power and talent, no one was surprised that he became a one. One of the best Aurors out there, feared by many dark wizards

Random:

MIngi’s most trusted team-mate and beater in Gryffindor team

often hanging out with Hongjoong and training for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class 

best in duelling club along with Hongjoong

often asking Yunho to teach him more about magical creatures and how to defend against them

Part of the frog choir, angel voice along with Yeosang

[thestarkerisobvious]

    this amazing art is by @von--gelmini   aka @starker-stories inspired by the divine art of @starker-sorbet.

                                      Chapter Two:  Fifteen

3.  The Dream

But when Tony sat upon the bed Peter pulled back a little, startled by a shiver of fear.  He hadn’t noticed, up until that moment, what his friend had been wearing, and found himself unnerved at the sight.  There was nothing frightening about the shirt itself, it was ivory white, the same color as the roses (the same color as the bedcover) with billowing sleeves and a frilly collar that was currently open, exposing his pale white chest.  Peter couldn’t say why he was suddenly afraid. Only that Tony had reminded him of something just now, something that had made him very nervous…

“They all have one motion; all jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours upon the poles of the world.  Or so the wise men said.  But the wisest of men spoke in freshmen’s suppositions -- none were so wise as Master Peter.  Lie beside me and tell me more.  Hath every sphere a dominion?  An intelligentia?”  

Peter stood, silently. This was a bad dream, only Peter couldn’t remember exactly why.  Something about the shirt that Tony was wearing.  Something about the windows in the stone wall that looked out onto the nightsky, because this castle was on a terrible precipice, and if he were to look out of those windows he’d be looking down at a sea of green tree tops with silver threads where the rivers ran through the forest… they ran across the forest… it was across the forest that was the problem, he was sure of it.

“Be brave, Peter.” Tony was whispered again.  And when Peter looked into Tony’s dark eyes, he knew that he could.

Or at least he would try.

He wasn’t sure he would succeed, but when he looked into Tony’s eyes, he also knew he couldn’t say ‘no.’

But it didn’t comfort him at all to find, as he toed off his shoes before climbing onto the bed, that he was wearing the exact same outfit as Tony; tight black pants and a billowing white shirt and a collar that was opening up, exposing his throat, his shoulder, his chest.   He was trying to remember why that was a bad thing even as Tony pulled him into strong, solid arms.  He leaned his head to rest on Tony’s shoulder, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm.  Tony smelled of burned incense and warm earth.  He tried to be brave.

Then Anthony slipped one hand into the open collar of his shirt and Peter gasped in surprise.

“No!  This is a bad dream!  We’re in Transylvania! This is Castle Dracula, Tony look!”  He grabbed the man by shoulders in terror, his heart pounding in his chest, his head jerking around frantically, taking it all in.  Oh course… it was all so obvious.  The tall black windows.  The battlements, jagged against the sky.  The many shadows.  

“I know this dream, I’ve had this dream before, this is going turn into a nightmare and I’m going to lose you.”  He buried his head in Tony’s embrace, afraid to look around the room anymore, knowing he would see something terrible.  Somewhere very close he could feel it, the much younger boy that had stayed up passed his bedtime reading that book until VERY late at night alone in his house, afraid to shut the book, afraid to close his eyes, afraid to move from that spot until Aunt May and Uncle Ben returned.

But Tony’s arms were solid and unmoving.  He held Peter against chest and murmured to him, stroking his hair and arguing with him gently.  “Hold to me Peter.  Hold fast. Hold close.  Stay with me.  I conjure Master Peter and do not release him.  Fear not, Master Peter, but be resolute.  By the uttermost magic I bind you to me…”  

“But that’s not real,” Peter scolded.  “That’s not even in Dracula.  Even if it were real in this dream it won’t stay real for long.  Because dreams turn into… I told you Tony…”

“Look to me, look to me,” Tony crooned, stroking Peter’s back with strong hands, finally resting his head against Peter’s hair, shushing him, almost rocking him, until he allowed himself to be gentled.  Peter leaned into the warm embrace.  It was a wonderful feeling.  Even if this moment faded into something else, it was a moment he would remember.

“Whatever you want to tell me, tell me quick.  I can’t make it last.  Please Tony.”

Tony lay his mouth against Peter’s ear, scraping his beard across Peter’s cheek.  Peter shivered at the touch.

“You need not fear.  I am the master of this place.  We can speak, dispute, have discourse one with another here.  We spoke so little in the dreams when you first called unto me, for then I was so weak, and you were a magician unskilled.  Do you not see that we are stronger now?”

“I’m not a magician at all,” Peter whispered.  He wiggled a little and Tony loosened his arm a little, looking down into Peter’s face.  

“But you are the Master Doctor, master of all arts, the one who named me.  Who feeds me his light, but does not know of it.  I will instruct you now.”

He guided Peter into a sitting position (Peter had been laying back in Tony’s arm, looking up at his face, thinking that he was wrong, this was in fact the best dream in the world) and looked closely into his face.

“Do you fear?”

Peter thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“I must feed of your light.  ‘Light’ is not a fit word.  Likewise is not ‘feed’ the fit word.”  Gently he scraped the pad of his thumb across Peter’s lips.  “There are no fit words.”  

“But I can show you…”

Gently Tony slipped a hand into Peter’s open-necked shirt and moved it aside and, just as gently, pulled Peter against his chest.  Breathing against Peter’s throat for just an instant, he covered the pulsing vein with his mouth and began to suck.  Peter’s heart pounded against Tony’s chest.  He tried to remember to breathe.

Soon then were laying together on the bed, Tony moaning and stroking Peter’s back with strong hands.  His back, his waist, sometimes down the sides of his legs.  Peter clung to him, trying not to moan as well. Sometimes he would push Tony away and Tony would always comply, (eventually) laying back against the white pillow, panting.  At those times Peter’s hand would fly to his shoulder to look for blood, but he never found it.  Sometimes Tony’s mouth seemed to be wine-stained, sometimes it seemed to Peter that there were wine-stains too, upon his shirt, upon his fingertips, but at other times there were none.  Sometimes Peter’s head spun, sometimes he feared he would fall asleep (but he was asleep. Could he fall asleep in a dream?) Then Tony would move toward him again, whimpering, nuzzling against his cheek, his nose, wordlessly asking for more. And every time, Peter obeyed.

Finally Tony pulled away, sated.  He stroked Peter’s hair and thanked him repeatedly, touching their foreheads together and caressing his face.

“What that… have you… fed?”

“After a fashion.  It is a dream of feeding.  It gives me nourishment. In your bedroom, when night falls on the morrow, you will feed me again.  You will make me strong.”

“And is this…” once again Peter reached up to finger the wet place on his neck, surprised once again that there was no wound there.  “Is that ‘light?’”

“Your light made me strong enough to speak,” he said, tracing one finger over Peter’s lips. “Your light made me strong enough to touch your dreams.  Your light gave me form enough to touch you.  When you lay on your bed and wept tears, I fed from your loneliness.  When you read your books that made you laugh, I fed from your joy.”

“But… that’s not ‘light.’ Loneliness and joy aren’t light. Those are feelings.”

“And when you sit on your bed and read to learn?  And when you make your scholars drawings of plans and schemes of clever instruments? What is the fit word for this?”

“Is it… curiosity? Or… wait…”  Peter pulled away from Tony’s touch enough to think.  He turned his head and considered the old-fashioned words that he knew.

“Is it… passions?”  

He moved back closer, please with himself.  Tony seemed pleased too.  He took Peter’s hands and wove their fingers as he spoke.

“If you were a painter, I would feed upon your light when your landscape was complete.  If you did compose, I would feed upon your light as the ink dried upon your opus. If you were a sculptor, you would feed me when the statue stood completed in your studio.  Not before, for fear you would never finish it.”

“But you learn, Peter.  Daily.  Hourly. You never finish.  And you question.  Even your questions feed me.  I’ve never tasted the like.”  

Peter lowered his eyes and tried not to grin.  It wasn’t easy.  He was sometimes praised for being ‘smart’ but he wasn’t often praised for learning constantly (and he certainly was NOT praised for constantly asking questions.)  He hid his smile by moving his forehead closer to Tony’s chin.

“If… wait… if you are old enough to remember when scientists thought the sun revolved around the Earth, instead of the other way around… that was before the 1600’s.  How old are you, Tony?”

Tony moved away enough to look into Peter’s eyes.  He traced gentle fingers across his jaw, his lips, his chin. Peter moved his fingers to touch the line of Tony’s beard, but wasn’t brave enough to do more.

Then Tony pulled away completely and tucked one arm under his head, staring at the top of the canopy bed, contemplating.  Finally he spoke.

“I was first conjured and tasked to vex the stylite Simeon the Elder before I killed him.  I believe.  Do you know the date of the death of Simeon the Elder?”

“No, but I can look it up in the library.”

“But here are spirits far older than I.  I knew of a demon tasked by Eratosthenes to take messages Alexandria to Syene.  He was a great deal older.  It is hard to tell.  When I am not fed I must sleep.  When I sleep I forget.”

He turned back to Peter and gathered him up in his arms again.  “You are the Scholar Peter, you will consult this vast library you travel to, the one so far away from your dwelling place…”

Peter snuggled in and described the tiny, disappointing library that he visited weekly in Devil’s Holler, and how he could only get his Uncle Bed to drive him to the slightly superior library in the next town over, and how all of them paled in comparison to the libraries he visited in New York City. As he spoke Tony’s hands began a delicious journey up and down his back, the back to his waist, then back to his back again.  

Once, that hand rested in the small of his waist for a moment, then began moving further downward, causing Peter to gasp and jump a little. He couldn’t help it.  He reached for the hand and squeezed it in apology.

Embarrassed, he started talking again.  “But everything is better in New York City.  The schools are better.  The museums are better.  There are more movie theaters.  There aren’t even any museums here at all…” and so on.

They fell into silence and Peter felt himself dozing.  It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.  It made him feel that the dream was changing.  He was hearing strange voices intoning solemn words outside the room.  He jolted awake and looked up at Tony, to see if he had spoken, but Tony only smiled. Then his eyes drifted closed again.

When he jolted awake the second time Tony pulled him closer, rubbing his back through his shirt and calling his name.  Peter’s hand flew to his neck… he had dreamed he was bleeding and staining the sheets… then grinned in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.  I keep thinking you really bit me.”

Tony smiled and took one hand in his.  “Wherefore?  I did not bite you the first time I fed from you,” he said with a wicked grin, lowering his mouth to Peter’s wrist and sucking gently at the pulse.

Peter was confused.  “You… what?”

Tony moved a little and fished for Peter’s left hand, that had been laying between them.  He pulled it gently to his face and touched Peter’s fourth finger.

“Do you know what this is, my scholar?”

“That’s my ring finger… Tony…” Peter scolded, scandalized when Tony fit the entire finger into his mouth and sucked on it vigorously, finally pulling it away from his lips in a gesture that felt slightly obscene.  

“That finger carries the vein that leads directly to your heart, a perfect place to feed.”

“But it doesn’t really have a vein that… eww gross….” Peter giggled as Tony went down on his last two fingers, sucking on them.  It felt ridiculous (but it felt something else, too. Something Peter didn’t really have a word for.)  

“And yet I can feed this way.  I need not hurt you.  I did not hurt you when you fed me sorrow the first time, when Wagner did not come to your celebration.”

“What… what?”  Peter pulled his hands away and sat up suddenly.  “What are you talking about?”

Tony lay his head back on the white pillow and looked up sadly. “When your schoolfellow agreed to come to your celebration.  You came to your room and told me all about the joy of it.  But then the message came upon the telephone that he would not attend. His father conveyed the message to your Uncle.  You wished to contact your other schoolmate in New York City in consolation, but your Uncle angered you when he said the cost was too dear.  You came to your bed and cried, and then you came to the floor to speak to me.  You gave me your tears.  Then you gave me your hand,” he touched Peter’s left hand, but didn’t take it.  

“Tony that doesn’t… no.  That doesn’t make sense.  I don’t know anyone named Wagner.”

Tony closed his eyes and sighed.  Peter was suddenly worried and reached for him, and soon he had Tony’s head laying against his chest, and he was the one with his face nuzzling Tony’s hair. Tony wrapped strong arms around his back and held him close.

“Forgive me Master Peter, my scholar, my novice magician.  My pilgrim of great libraries.  Forgive me. Grant me pardon.

“I was so hungered.  I had hungered for so long.  I fed poorly. I fed too deeply.  I drank up all the sorrow and loneliness of the moment, and left none behind.  Without the light of the moment you no longer carry the memory.  Forgive me my clumsiness.  I will not injure you thus again.”

He planted a kiss upon the center of Peter’s chest.

Then he whispered “Unless you ask me to.”

Peter wasn’t sure what it meant, and wasn’t sure he was ready to. So he did what he knew how to do. He held on.  He didn’t speak anymore.  He held on until he fell asleep.

When he woke he was cold and achy and laying on the floor.  He crawled up into his bed and under the covers and tried to tell himself it was all a dream.  He hadn’t really spent the night in the arms of a demon, who could be sent out to kill people.  Or take away the memory of his only friend in town.

-----------------------------

MORE TOMORROW

---------------------------

From now on, as promised, the tagged list has a new name.  From now on you are named

MY FEELS:

@mrstarksbaby

@starkerprince – @starkeristheendgame – @dizziestofdaydreams – @twokinkybeans – @fleet-of-ships – @flush-styx  – @mrstarksbaby – @starker-sorbet – 

@castiruth – @starkerthanreality

If you would like to be added to the dinnertable, let me know.

[sassyduckqueen]

30 Days of Lukanette- Songbird

Only one more chapter to go now! I hope you guys like!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what do you think?" Luka asked as he looked up from his guitar. Marc and Nathaniel were looking at him like he was playing music from heaven or something and Max was grinning. Luka had played him the piece of music he had composed for his game. 

 "Perfect!" He grinned as Markov floated around him. "I knew you were the right person to capture what I wanted. Thank you, Luka,"

 "No worries," Luka smiled, stretching as Marc and Nathaniel came over excited. "You two ok?"

 "We just wanted to show you our latest comic," Marc smiled as Nathaniel handed him the book. Luka took it and flicked through it. It was their take on the battle between Basilisk and the heroes. Luka couldn't help but smile at how well drawn it was. "Basilisk was terrifyingly awesome but we added some context as to why Viperion was akumatized,"

 "We wrote it so Viperion had no other choice. If he didn't get akumatized, Hawkmoth got the miraculous," Nathaniel explained.

 "So to make sure that never happened, he used his second chance to bring him back and allowed himself to be taking over instead," Marc added in. "He is defeated by the hero trio of Silencer, The Illustrator and Reverser after his fearsome glare petrifies all the miraculous holders! What do you think?"

 "That's awesome," Luka grinned, handing it back to them. If only they knew how close to the truth they were. "But why did you make Viperion sacrifice himself?"

 "It seems like something he would do," Nathaniel replied as Marc nodded.

 "Yeah, Viperion comes across very caring. When I met him after I was devilized, he seemed very concerned about my well being. He even caught me when I fell. You know he reminds me of you, Luka. Very cool, very caring, extremely selfless," Marc mused, blushing a little. Sometimes, Luka wondered if Marc and Nathaniel knew more about the heroes then they let on.

 "Maybe he is Viperion?" Nathaniel laughed. "If he changed his hair to green, he would look exactly like him!"

 "Nah!" Alix butted in. "I met Viperion and Luka is way more chill! Besides, Viperion has green eyes and Luka has blue!"

 "Hmm I don't know there's similarities," Marc continued. "Both Luka and Viperion are older then everyone else, both are very kind and both are musicians,"

 "But an he actually play the lyre?" Max pointed out. "All I've seen is him throwing it. A surprisingly effective weapon though,"

 "Umm I look nothing like Viperion... right?" Luka asked, wanting to change the subject. Everyone was way too close to working out he actually was Viperion. Fortunately for him, Rose and Alya had perfect timing and rushed into the art area with Nino. All three of them looked like they had just downed a lot of sugar. "Um... Rose? You ok?"

 "I'm fine but we're just heard the greatest thing ever!" She gasped excitedly as she practically bounced.

 "Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale are filming a new music video!" Alya gasped, looking at everyone in excitement. "And they're holding auditions for extras and the heroes of Paris at the Louvre today! Now!"

 "We must go!" Marc declared.

 "Yes!" Alix joined in. "A chance to meet both Jagged Stone and Clare Nightingale! I'm not missing this!"

 "Our chances of actually meeting the two stars are very slim," Max pointed out, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Less then 10% and our chances of been in the video are even lower!"

 "Don't worry, Max," Alya grinned. "Marinette does Jagged's designs. She's already there!"

 "That does increase our chances to 21%," Max replied. Luka wondered if he should tell them about his mum's past with Jagged. 

 ~At the Louvre~

 "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sass asked as Luka splashed water on his face. "Our magic disguises you but even so..."

 "Don't worry," He smiled as he adjusted his guitar on his back. "I'm not going to compromise my identity and we'll just be extras. I doubt Jagged and Clara will remember me anyway,"

 "Alright," Sass hissed as he curled up in Luka's pocket. "I trust you,"

 "I know," He smiled as he walked out of the bathroom before joining the others in one of the huge lines. It seemed everyone in France came out to audition. He looked around and frowned as he couldn't see Marinette. He walked over to Juleka and the others, who looked like they were about to explore with excitement. "Hey, where's Mari?"

 Juleka pointed to the stage, where he saw Marinette, Adrien and Kagami all dressed in superhero costumes. He could have face palmed as they were all dressed as their superhero identities. If only people knew but as he looked around, he noticed people seemed completely oblivious to the fact that they all looked like the heroes. He remembered Sass explaining that while their magic causes people to look the other way, it would be wise to avoid something like this. 

 "So how did Marinette get on stage?" He asked. 

 "Oh, Clara insisted on her been Ladybug since she almost got the role last time," Alya explained as Marinette just grinned nervously. "And Adrien's father got him the role again. As for Kagami, I think her mother pressured her into been Ryuko but look how close they look! It's so perfect!"

 "They do look like Ladybug, Cat Noir and Ryuko," Luka commented, hoping no one put two and two together. Marinette's eyes were looking at the auidence. She spotted him and instantly relaxed as she waved a little. He smiled and waved back before Clara came onto the stage, followed by Jagged. The crowd cheered and roared in excitement as she spun around and grinned.

 "Thank you for coming all of you!" Clara declared as Jagged stood next to her. "Now let's work on making this dream come true!"

 "Yeah! Time to rock and roll!" Jagged grinned. "As you can see we have three of our heroes! Allow me to introduce them! You all know Adrien Agreste!"

 The amount of girls that roared made Luka jump a little. 

 "He's gonna be playing Cat Noir!" Jagged declared. "And our Ladybug is my album designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

 "And last but certainly not least! Our dragon girl without a leash!" Clara rhymed.

 "Kagami Tsurugi, daughter of Tomoe Tsurugi, the legendary dragon fencer of Japan!" Jagged called out. Luka was surprised by the yells that some boys gave out. Kagami merely bowed a little and stood up straight.

 "However, we are still missing our snake!" Clara declared. "We need a Viperion, make no mistake!"

 "Luka, you should totally try out for him," Marc hissed, giving him a thumbs up but Luka shook his head.

 "Let the auditions begin!" Jagged declared before he grabbed a seat. Clara sat next to him and watched as people walked on and tried to play the role of Viperion. Luka frowned as neither of them seem satisfied. A few people came close to looking like him but to both Jagged and Clara, they lacked something.

 "This is hopeless! We're never find our Viperion!" Jagged wailed as the que came to an end.

 "What seems to be the problem?" The voice of Gabriel Agreste asked as his assistant Nathalie came over, holding a tablet that had a video call on it. Luka watched with interest. "No Viperion yet? That is a shame,"

 "We need someone who is wise, kind and smart! Someone who truly loves their art!" Clara sighed before she looked towards the crowd. Her eyes suddenly lit up as she grinned. "Of course, how could I not see? The answer is right in front of me!"

 "I take you have been inspired, Clara. Very good," Gabriel replied, nodding.

 "I have to make sure my thought is true," She replied. "About a dear friend in the color blue,"

 She grabbed a tray of cakes and walked over to the line.

 "You all must be hungry from all this waiting," She declared, walking over with a tray of cakes. "Please, help yourselves,"

 A rush of people caused the gang to get squashed against the barrier. Marc instantly felt panicked. However, it subsided as Luka carefully pushed back people, protecting his friends and Juleka. Clara noticed and smiled to herself as the idea evolved.

 "Oh no, you're all get squashed!" She gasped before un-clipping the barrier rope. Her security gasped as the swamp of fans was unleashed, causing her to drop the cakes and knocking her down. She gasped, overwhelmed but the sound of a guitar caught the attentions of the fans, giving Alix a chance to help her up. She looked over and saw Luka playing his guitar, drawing the attention to him. She stood and instantly squealed before rushing over to him. "Luka Couffaine! I knew it was you. As soon as I saw the color blue!"

 "W-What?" He gasped, ceasing his playing as she rushed over before pulling him over to her. He was completely surprised at the fact that she remembered him. 

 "Sweet Luka, as beautiful as the music you make," She grinned, dancing with him. "Will you do the honor of been our snake?"

 "M-Me?" He gasped, surprised. "Oh, I'm nothing like Viperion! Really, someone else sho-"

 "Luka, your heart is pure and true," She sang, spinning him around before she looked at him. "I think this would be a perfect role for you,"

 He looked over at Marinette, Adrien and Kagami. He did come to be with his friends and they were his friends. After all, Marinette was his girlfriend. He looked over at the others, who gave him thumbs up and grinned. He looked back at Clara before looking at Marinette again. She gave him a thumbs , meaning

 "My sweet kind boy, please say yes!" She sang. "You really would be the very best!"

 However before he could answer, XY and Bob Roth stormed in, looking very confident. To his surprise, XY was wearing a cheap Viperion outfit. He instantly shoved Luka out of the way and grinned at Clara.

 "No need to use such a loser," He declared as he bowed. "Your Viperion is here,"

 "Ummm," Clara frowned as she looked over at XY. She sighed softly and turned to the tablet. "Gab, what do you think? I don't mind XY been in the video-"

 "The boy in blue would be preferrable. He looks like he would fix in with our heroes and I'm sure he's a friend of my son," He mumbled, looking at him. "Boy, what's your name?"

 "Luka, sir," He mumbled, feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

 "You're friends with my son, correct?" 

 "Y-yes, sir," 

 "And you know the girls?"

 "Yes, sir. Kagami is a friend and Marinette is my girlfriend," He replied.

 "Knowing the other 'heroes' is perfect and you're the correct height and build but if you do not wish to play our Viperion, I won't make you," He replied, giving Luka a glare never the less. Though Luka felt that this was Gabriel Agreste's natural expression. He made a mental note to ask Adrien later. Bob Roth cleared his throat.

 "This punk is no where near as talented as my son-"

 "I'll do it," Luka blurted out, shocking XY and Bob Roth as Clara squealed in happiness.

 "Oh, Luka! You've made my day!" She sang, spinning around. "Now off the the changing room that way!"

 She pointed to them as a member of the tech team lead him to the changing room. They gave him the outfit and he went inside before getting changed. Sass flew up and sat on the vanity case. Luka moved around.

 "Wow, this is a perfect fit," He mumbled as he looked around. Sass checked out the outfit as Luka put on the mask. "How do I look?"

 "Like Viperion," Sass replied, admiring the details on the outfit. "This is made so well. The craftman ship, the material. It's perfect,"

 "Do you think people will work out that I'm Viperion?"

 "No," Sass replied. "No one has even battered at eyelid at the other three despite the fact that they look like their heroes selves. Besides, your hair is currently blue and your eyes are blue. When you're Viperion, they all turn green. Even if you look like the real deal, people will think otherwise because of those features,"

 "Clever," He replied. "Hey, why are my eyes and hair green when I transform?"

 "The look is what you desire," Sass answered. "I would guess on a subconscious level you want to define yourself from Viperion,"

 "So I make myself as different as I can,"

 "That or you just really like the color green," Sass shrugged, making Luka smile before someone knocked on the door. Sass hid as Luka opened the door.

 "You ready, Luka?" The techie asked.

 "Yeah," Luka replied, coming out of the trailer and walking over. He waved at his friends as they cheered out and stood next to Marinette, who looked more nervous then before. "You ok?"

 "Y-yeah... just freaking out inside," She gasped. "I think I have stage fright,"

 "Don't worry. You'll be fine," He smiled, making her relax as Clara span over. Luka noticed that Bob Roth and XY had gone. He felt a little more relieved.

 "You four are perfect so let's begin!" She called out. "It's time to have fun, dance and sing!"

 "Not so fast, Miss Nightingale," Bob Roth appeared with Mayor Bourgeois. Both men looked annoyed as they walked over. "Sorry, kids but this video is cancelled. No filming will be done today,"

 "W-what?" Marinette gasped.

 "Mr Roth, you can't just walk in here and shut us down. Miss Nightingale and Jagged don't work for you-"

 "You're right there, Miss Rolling but they need certain permission to-"

 "We got the permission, Bob!" Jagged called out. "Penny made sure we had it. Didn't you Penny?"

 "Yes I did,"

 "Ah but you see as the mayor of Paris, it goes to my office and I'm afraid I have no such paperwork," Mayor Bourgeois grinned, smugly. Luka frowned deeply. "Since you have no paperwork, you can't have your video filmed here until you filed it,"

 "But I did file it!" Penny gasped.

 "Clearly not," Bob Roth laughed. Luka gripped his hand into a fist. 

 "It's obvious that you had it destroyed because your son isn't in the video!" He gasped but Bob laughed.

 "I destroyed nothing and you can't prove I did," He grinned. "Too bad. I was looking forward to you failing, Mr Couffaine. You better clear up. The mayor wants the musem back to open in an hour,"

 With that, he laughed and walked off. Clara sank onto her knees as Penny and Jagged moved over to her. Luka frowned deeply and moved across to them but before he could, Clara ran off and Jagged followed. Marinette walked over as Penny began to clear out people and the tech team started to take down the set.

 "Something similar happened last time she tried to do a song about the heroes," She mumbled, taking his hand before whispering. "Maybe we're just cursed,"

 "I refuse to believe that," He whispered back as Adrien and Kagami walked over.

 "We should all get changed. Father will want the costumes back until they can start filming again," Adrien replied, looking over at where Clara had ran off too. Luka nodded and they all began to walk off towards the changing rooms but the room were suddenly destroyed by a sound wave. The four of them gasped as they looked up and saw both Clara and Jagged on top of a trailer, only they were their akumatized selves. 

 "I don't where you all think you're going but we're making this video today!" Guitar Villain declared before beginning to play his guitar.

 "Get back!" Luka called out, rushing over with Marinette to pull people back from the falling bricks as Guitar Villain trapped everyone inside. Luka looked around and started to direct other people to answer exit. As people started to escape, he began to sneak away.

 "You two, don't you dare go!" Frightingale sang as she jumped in front of Kagami and Luka. He had noticed Adrien and Marinette had managed to slip away. "You're the stars of my video!"

 She then hit the two of them and others with her whip before laugh. 

 "Sing, dance or rhythm! Or you're be frozen in no time!" She declared as people started to turn into crimson statues.

 "We have to sing, rhythm or dance," Kagami frowned as she moved her body to a slightly rhythm. "Or we'll be frozen like the rest of France,"

 "Not an issue for me," Luka grinned. "Music and art is second nature to me,"

 "Oh a natural bravo," Fighteningale grinned as the four of them danced. "You even have the right tempo,"

 She jumped away as Cat Noir and Ladybug jumped through the window and began to fight her. Guitar Villain joined in as Luka looked around. 

 "We need a plan, we need to fight," Kagami growled. "We can't just dance for the rest of the night,"

 "Agreed, my friend," He stated. "But to no end,"

 He noticed the stage production and the two of them rushed over there. He looked around as he kept up the dance before noticing the smoke machine.

 "I have an idea. That smoke machine," He sang. "It was cause quite the scene,"

 "Good thinking, Snake," She grinned as he turned it on and put it on the highest setting. "Trouble is ours to make,"

 "Yes but the heroes need to come to play," He stated as the smoke covered them. "It's time for Viperion and Ryuko to save the day,"

 The two of them ran to a place for cover, even though the fog machine was thick enough to hide them. Ryuko frowned to herself before she clicked.

 "I've been hit in my civilian form," She sang. "So Longg, bring the storm!"

 She transformed as Cat Noir and Ladybug got hit. She joined the battle as Sass popped out, doing a little dance of his own. Luka rose an eyebrow but didn't question it.

 "If I don't sing or dance, then I'll wither," He sang to himself. "Time to say. Sass, scales slither!"

 He transformed into Viperion and joined the battle. Frightingale went to lash out another person so he dived in the way and took the hit before jumping up and landed a kick. It worked perfectly because then people would thinking he got hit as Viperion. She stumbled back but laughed.

 "Sing, dance or rhythm! Or you'll be frozen in no time!" She cackled as he back flipped away.

 "I hope you have a plan," He stated, dancing. Ladybug frowned and shrugged.

 "Last time, we defeated her by been chained together," Cat Noir sang. "But she has guitar Villain with her, she's more powerful then ever,"

 "If we are to win and save France, then I better activate my..." Viperion sang as he flicked back the head of the snake. "Second Chance!"

 "Awesome solo!" Guitar Villain cried out, causing the heroes to jump out the way.

 "The only way to get the upper arm is for me to summon my.... Lucky Charm!" Ladybug called out as she threw up her yoyo as the other three danced. She frowned to herself as a cable appeared out of thin air.

 "A cable? Great, that's our only hope. I guess it's better then a rope," Cat Noir stated as she looked around. The guitar resting against the wall lit up as did the speakers and Viperion. She grinned before turning to Viperion. 

 "I know what to do," She grinned. "We need a guitar player and that has to be you,"

 "She wants a world full of song," He grinned. "Guess I have to play along,"

 "Cat Noir, use your power on the guitar to bring harm," Ladybug grinned. "You know the opposite to my Lucky charm,"

 "And what of me? What can I do?"

 "Help me destroy the mic of you know who,"

 Viperion rushed over to the guitar and plugged it in before he started to play, getting the attention of Guitar Villain and Frighteningale. Cat Noir landed a kick to Guitar Villain and destroyed his guitar using his power as Ryuko and Ladybug took out Frighteningale's microphone. The little butterfly escaped just as Viperion turned into a crimson statue. Ladybug purified it then grabbed the cable and threw them into the air.

 "Miraculous Ladybug!" She shouted, restoring everything before the four of them fist bumped each other before going off their separate ways. Luka came back into the studio as Marinette and the others rushed over to him.

 "Are you ok?!" Marinette gasped, knowing full well he was but she hugged him anyway. Clara and Jagged walked over.

 "We've decided not to make the video," She sighed, causing everyone to frown. "However, onward with the show,"

 "Both me and Clara are working a song called Songbird and we need a guitarist to play since Vivica is on holiday," Jagged started before looking at Luka. "Would you like to be our guitarist on this song?"

 "Me?" He gasped, surprised as everyone gave him words of encouragement. He looked over at Marinette, who grinned. "Yeah.. I'd love to!"

 "Awesome!" Jagged grinned. "Marinette will be doing the designs for the album it will be released on, right Marinette?"

 "Of course!"

[louisweasleyy]

[ & ; * - matt daddario / homosexual / he/him ] isn’t it weird how close { sebastian 'bash' monroe } resembles { matt daddario }? damn, i heard they are a { twenty three } year old { undergraduate } and a member of { delta sigma chi } studying { music composition }. outside of class { bash } participates in { art } and their party anthem is { colors } by { halsey }.

hi guys! i’m madison and sorry for posting this so late. i have family visiting so my activity is gonna be a little spotty until after this weekend. i’m also playing rory (the kristine froseth fc!) anyways like this if you’d like to plot with bash and i’ll message you!

tw: child abuse, death

There he is, the Dean’s son and a Yale Legacy!

For as long as he could remember, it’s unfortunately always been him and his father. His mom died while giving birth to Bash and his Dad has never ever forgiven him for it.

Their grandparents are never really around except for when they need Bash and his father for publicity but mainly they benefit off of the school’s wages and go on extravagant vacations and want nothing to do with the Monroe boys.

His father is abusive though he hides it well because…he’s the Dean of the school. Both physically, emotionally and verbally. Since he’s been dealing with it his entire life, he’s sort of accepted it as something that he deserves so he doesn’t really fight it. After all, if it weren’t for him his mother would still be alive. And his father isn’t hurting anyone other than him so Bash has never…really seen the problem. A complete victim’s mindset.

So due to this he thinks he’s a worthless piece of shit that won’t amount to anything and who doesn’t deserve love or happiness. As his father constantly reminds him, he’s just a burden on the world and all around him, feeding to the country’s overpopulation. He was the biggest mistake of his Dad’s life.

Even though Sebastian is a MAN now, a whole 23 years, he hasn’t gravitated away from his Dad. Again, he thinks he deserves it and he believes he needs his father. Dean Monroe has convinced him that he wouldn’t survive a minute in the world without him. Bash is just…delusional and as much as he hates his Dad, he grossly respects and values his opinion. After all he doesn’t know better and doesn’t know anything more.

On the frequent occasions where his father beats him to where it’s visible, Bash will usually go to a bar and elicit a fight to get more flesh wounds apparent so that he has an alibi. So basically everyone at Yale just thinks he’s a drunken troublemaker who gets into a shit ton of fights. Which like…isn’t wrong. He is drunk or high 99% of the time and he’s getting into fights.

At least when he gets hit, he feels something. Whereas he’s gotten so good at numbing and shoving down any sort of feelings. Shout out to liquor!

He’s always loved music, it’s his sole happy place and when his fingers are gracing that of a piano it’s like…he’s transported away from the bullshit. As lame as it sounds, he feels like his piano is his only and last connection to his Mom. She used to play and when he plays, he feels like he’s playing for her and to her like…spiritually. He can feel her when he’s writing, composing and playing. She gives him the music and he puts it to paper.

Also gay af.

ALSO DO NOT CALL HIM SEBASTIAN. it’s a massive fucking trigger for him! it’s what his dad always calls him before he’s about to beat the shit out of him. i mean you can but he won’t react great.

His ex-boyfriend is Grayson and his father forced him to break up with him

Also Bash got into Julliard with a full ride scholarship but his dad is...possessive so he fucked with his admissions and made it so Bash could not get accepted into any other school.

PERSONALITY WISE:

He’s a sarcastic asshole who tries to act all tough but who is severely craving human intimacy and companionship. When people start to get close and he starts to trust them, he panics, literal panic attacks that cause him to just snap and do everything he can to push that person FAR away and out of his life. He’s really smart but he doesn’t think so which means he doesn’t apply himself. Doesn’t really trust anyone. Will party and sometimes when he’s really high he’ll like…relax and cut loose and be real with people but then the next day he’ll deny it ever happened.

PLOTS:

In simple terms: FWB, Exes that he probably cheated on or pushed away, Hook ups, Friends, Study buddies, party buddies, smoking buddies, reckless shithead buddies etc.

MORE DETAILED PLOTS:

ROMANTIC/PHYSICAL:

[ current | fwb ] muse a and muse b met through mutual friends and quickly hit it off as friends. offhandedly one day, muse a mentioned something one day that muse b quickly turned sexual. they locked eyes and the next minute they were in a room, locked away, undressing each other. after exiting the room, the two agreed that it would never happen again…until a few days later, when it did. they keep saying they won’t come back for more.

[ current | just do it already ] muse a and muse b have been in love with each other for like, ever. neither of them are willing to admit it though, even to themselves. their friends are constantly joking about it and they both wave it off – but when one isn’t looking, anyone could see the adoration in the other’s face with ease.

[ past | dating ] muse a and muse b were the kind of people that immediately rejected each other, going to other people instead. then muse a found themselves in a room with their ex and pulled muse b aside to ask them to fake being their significant other for the night. over the next few hours, their fake date became a real one and soon things progressed into a relationship.

[ previous | friends…i guess? ] muse a and muse b were friends prior to their spontaneous hook-up and their world turned upside down. dazed, they decided to start dating that moment and to their credit, tried to make it work for a few weeks. muse a finally ( and nervously ) let out that they weren’t feeling it. to their relief, muse b admitted they were feeling the same. they decided to stay friends, but now have the added “i’ve seen you naked” awkwardness.

[ previous/current | on again, off again ] muse a and muse b love each other, but their relationship is toxic so they are constantly on and off. they always get along as friends, but the second they became lovers something always changes. they care a lot about each other, but something always goes awry.

[ your choice | hook up ] muse a recently broke up with their significant other, and in their post-breakup state got some revenge by hooking up with their ex’s best friend, muse b. neither expected the night to be so…memorable. your choice on what they do about it.

PLATONIC:

[ positive | two way street ] muse a and muse b frequent the same coffee shop and often made casual hellos to each other until the coffee shop raised their prices. muse a went to order their usual drink and lifted their eyes in surprise at the new price, hand helplessly prepared to hand over exact change. muse b quickly swooped in and saved the day, buying both of their coffees. next time they were both in the shop, muse a paid for muse b’s drink. they flip who pays each time as some sort of game now, but they’ve only had minor conversation as one or the other always seems to be in a rush.

[ positive | friends ] when muse a moved in, they didn’t expect to see muse b climbing up/standing on the fire escape right outside their living room window. they went to confront muse b and scared them, making both fear for the life of muse b for a moment. apologetic, muse a invited muse b in and the two connected almost immediately. ( muse b may or may not have explained their presence on the fire escape during this conversation // reason could have been that they knew who lived in muse a’s apartment before but didn’t know that they moved )

[ current | platonic or romantic ] *tw: alcohol. muse a and muse b met at a bar. throughout the night, muse b got more and more inebriated. being the good ( or bad ) samaritan they are, muse a decides to take muse b back to their house before they end up on the floor. when they arrive at muse a’s building/house, muse b ( loudly ) asks muse a how the heck ! muse a knew where they lived. turns out – they live a mere few floors/doors/houses away from each other.

[ current | platonic ] muse a is an extrovert – so much so that when muse b started moving in, they didn’t even wait for the moving truck to pull away before introducing themselves. in fact, muse a even started helping unload the truck without being asked. ( BONUS: muse b was super grateful for the help and their relationship is great // muse b is Grumpy™ and was annoyed that muse a started helping without asking and their relationship is tense. )

[glenngaylord]

NATURAL ELECTION - My Review of BAD EDUCATION (4 Stars)

A classic satire comes along every so often to remind me, more than other film genres, that great art can come with a sucker punch to the frontal lobes.  Movies such as Network, Nightcrawler, Heathers, and The Lobster remind us that when humans go bad, it’s tragic yet devastatingly entertaining.  In 1999, Alexander Payne brought us Election, which on the surface brought us a High School Student Council race, but really showed us how the war between ruthless ambition and morality could destroy the very fabric of society.  I consider it a masterpiece and have hungered for more films like it ever since.  I’ve waited and waited.  Yes, Jojo Rabbit wowed me, but a great satire grounded in the mundane reality of a high school setting has proven elusive. The genre often spells box office poison in this cut and dry storytelling era in which we often find ourselves.   Finally, Cory Finley, who brought us the impressive, tonally distinct Thoroughbreds in 2017, has followed it up with Bad Education. It oozes Election’s DNA and announce itself as one of the best films of 2020 along with a career-best performance by Hugh Jackman.  

He stars as Frank Tassone, a real life Long Island High School Superintendent, who in 2002 when we first meet him, has brought Rosyln High School into the number 4 position in the country.  Everybody loves Frank.  He remembers everyone’s names, takes part in an otherwise women’s only book club, pays attention to his students, and eases complaining parents’ worries by allowing their children to take tests again.  This, coupled with the fact that so many students get into Ivy League schools and that property values have gone sky high because of his school’s desirability, and no wonder Frank gets a virtual standing ovation wherever he goes.  His loyal partner-in-crime, Pam Gluckin (Allison Janney) acts as his Business Administrator, and presides over the development of a multi-million dollar Skybridge for the school, which will add to the prestige.  Frank and Pam work hard, banter effortlessly, and have the world at their fingertips. Pay close attention, however, and you’ll notice little cracks here and there.  It’s called Bad Education for a reason.  Things go real bad.  

Screenwriter Mike Makowsky, who attended Rosyln High around the time of the film’s events, impressively peels back the onion layers of the story.  He beautifully mines suspense out of each little reveal and twist, giving the film a fantastic forward momentum.  I knew nothing about the story going in, and won’t spoil those details here, but I haven’t felt this confident in a storyteller’s abilities since Vince Gilligan blazed a trail with Breaking Bad.  

Additionally, he has written for a large cast of characters, all of whom have distinctive voices and a chance to pop.  While Jackman and Janney do stellar work, (more on them later), Geradline Viswanathan (a hilarious standout from Blockers) beautifully switches gears by giving a smart, tamped down performance as a student journalist with a great B.S. Detector.  She answers to Alex Wolff’s Nick, the newspaper editor who only cares about getting into a great college.  Wolff, who shined in Hereditary, also surprised me with his ability to inhabit his soul- deprived character.  Tony Winner Annaleigh Ashford broke my heart as Gluckin’s naive niece and co-worker, a person who thinks her tiny issues have caused so much trouble while neglecting to see the big picture problems right in front of her.  Ray Romano knocks it out of the park as the head of the school board, a man who has had his own financial success but can’t or won’t acknowledge the nefarious schemes because his school has excelled so much.  Rafael Casal plays a former student of Frank’s who didn’t quite live up to his potential.  If you think you know Casal from his street-smart writing and acting in Blindspotting, think again.  Here’s an actor with true range, making himself nearly unrecognizable from before by changing his voice and demeanor to effortlessly slip into the skin of this sensitive gay bartender/dancer.  Jeremy Shamos stands out as the put upon accountant who Frank plays like a fiddle to keep him from figuring out what’s really happening.  I wish Allison Janney had more to do in the second half of the film, but she galvanizes the first half with her fearless characterization of a woman who knows how to bulldoze a conversation to her liking.  The accents may be broad, but she, like the rest of the cast, find the specifics of their humanity.  

The film, of course, belongs to Jackman.  With slicked-back hair and sharp suits, he commands any room he enters.  Sure he’s relatable lamenting the perpetual charcoal smoothies he drinks for his diet and smooth as he expertly bats off adoring single parents, but there’s also something tightly wound and off about him.  His early conversations with Pam feel like romantic comedy banter but the details fly by so fast you’re not really sure what they’re talking about.  Stick with it, because Makowsky and Finley know exactly what they’re doing to rope you in and make you hold on tight.  As it progresses we see more and more of the real Frank emerging.  We experience a touching scene in which Frank awkwardly lets down his guard to share a dance with someone.  Moments later, we meet the real Frank and it’s the most  naked and raw Jackman has ever been. Another late scene gives Frank the opportunity to bare his true feelings and intentions on an unsuspecting parent, giving us a glimpse into Frank’s motivations, truly ugly but also understandable.  It’s clear that Frank has had to perform for people his entire life, as he expertly navigates his image. It’s a wonderfully modulated, scary, yet humane performance.  We may not like what Frank does, but it’s easy to put yourself in the shoes of an underpaid, overworked servant to the community.  

Finlay and his cinematographer Lyle Vincent keep the film grounded with a realistic, fluorescent, dull sheen.  The events may be extraordinary, but they, like Alexander Payne, know how to find life in the ordinary.  Composer Michael Abels, who wrote the brilliant scores for Get Out and Us, brings a sense of grandeur to his symphonic cues and the right type of melancholy to the piano pieces.  It adds up to a score which supports the dichotomy of Frank’s  public persona versus the really troubled man underneath.  

Janney’s first line says so much about the themes of this film, “A wise woman once said, it’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you got”.  We all want nice things in life whether it be a nice place, a comfortable car, exotic travels, a healthy and happy family, to name a few.  Sometimes we may ask ourselves what we would compromise in order to have our riches.  Are we entitled to them?  Do they make us happy?  Bad Education, a perfect microcosm of our world today, seems to be saying that it doesn’t matter.  Maybe wanting is everything.  

[blackkpoppers101]

Hey darling can you ship me with bts?i am 5'4,18 years old,ISFJ personality im am lazy,quiet,funny,a little sarcastic,a little clingy,emotive(i get hurt easily) friendly,caring,smart, pervert,creative,i have a big hearth,sometimes i say very random things,a good listener, understending,wise,i am Young but sometimes i act very mature,things that i like is video games,listen to music, drawing,i love to eat alot,art in general,watching movies,stay home,Parks,dogs and kids(they are adorable).

Hi! Sorry for making you wait so long, but I ship you with Taehyung (V)! You two are a nice match and have much in common. You sound like a nice person and despite your sarcasm you seem to have a big heart and your love for kids further matches Taehyun (V) perfectly especially since you both like pets (especially dogs) there will be much to talk about. You will always hold each others interest and a little bit of silence at times has never hurt anyone either. Your playful yet composed personality is the perfect match. 💟💗❤😇🤗 - Admin Z

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

WARNINGS: This novel will contain Swearing, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Death of a Main Character,  Vulgar and Dark Humor, Adorable Weasels, and a healthy dose of Random Shirtless People.

Jack’s Note: Looky at who gets an early release on tumblr? ;P

 One: Percy

The Triumvirate of Awesome is Back in Action… to Climb Some Stairs

 After climbing the 360th step of a Mesoamerican temple, Percy decided something: if the Mayans were so smart, they should have invented the elevator. He may have been a demigod with super strength and endurance, but he figured he deserved a lift after saving the world a couple dozen times.

At least it was a beautiful day to die from exhaustion. There was a warm breeze drifting in from the San Francisco Bay, keeping the December air comfortable… unlike the freezing chill they left in his hometown, Manhattan. He had half a mind to travel to Canada to punch Boreas in the face and demand summer back. But the God of Winter probably wouldn’t take kindly to some surprise sock ‘em bop ‘em from a rogue demigod.

As they approached the boxlike top of the temple, Percy was impressed Annabeth wasn’t winded, especially since she hadn’t stopped talking since they got to Berkeley Hills. She was too giddy about the architecture.

The mortals walking by on their lunch breaks must have thought she was crazy, gesturing towards a supposed warehouse and talking about Mayan stelea. However, it was California. They might have just thought she was an art student.  

Mortals had a hard time seeing through the Mist, a magical camouflage that kept them from panicking every time a wild minotaur grazed through their backyard. While those mortals might have thought his blonde, grey-eyed girlfriend was crazy, he thought she was wonderful.

Annabeth kept a few paces ahead of him the whole time, going on about the nine tiers in the temple, the jaws of Xibalba, and something about corn. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that last one right.

As much as Percy hated climbing this temple, he had to give it a fair chance. Anything that made Annabeth smile like that and made the sunlight sparkle along the curls of her ponytail was worth giving a fair chance. Except homework. Especially when she tricked him into thinking they were doing something fun outside and “fun” really meant “study session.”

At the last tier of the temple, they were greeted with a familiar face.

“You two are so slow,” Grover said. He had his hands on his hips. He tried to smile about getting to the top first, but his lips twitched with worry. His horns—oh yea, Grover was a satyr and had horns—peeked out of his curly brown hair, casting shadows on his goatee. He wore a Rastafarian hat and a shirt that said Pick Flowers, Not Fights, though Percy was pretty sure the nymphs said that was the same thing.

Annabeth gave Grover a half-grin. “We’re not exactly built for climbing mountains like you are.”

“Not without proper snacks,” Percy agreed. “Do you think you can magic us up some blueberries and a coke with your reed pipes?”

Grover sighed and touched the instrument in his pocket. “I wish. A tin can does sound delicious right now. But we shouldn’t relax here. That new grove is under our feet and Rosen was right—it feels weird.”

Some of the nature spirits in the area—or traveling to the area in Rosen’s case—had reported sensing a new grove. Normally, Percy might shrug it off, but he’d seen how dangerous trees could be. Both in the Battle of Manhattan and one of the times he ticked off a Camp Half-Blood nymph named Olive. She could throw a platter of brisket with precision.

Along with his dislike of getting whacked in the head with dinner trays, the nature spirits said there was another reason to investigate this grove. They sensed it sprouted up overnight about three weeks ago. Around the same time the seven new members from Camp Half-Blood had gone missing.

Chiron, their camp counselor, thought it must be connected. Plus, a friend of one of the missing campers, a child of Hephaestus named Mathias, put a tracker in their Donkeymobile—yea, Percy didn’t ask about that part of the story—and the last coordinates before it broke were located here.

Percy took a deep breath. He was going to have nightmares of climbing stairs for weeks. “Lead on Goat Boy.” He motioned Grover towards a rectangular window in this tier. It must have been some kind of dome that dropped into the room below.

“Ba!” Grover bleated. “I’m not going down first. What if there’s another jaguar? That girl bullied me!”

For being a Lord of the Wild, Grover was surprisingly startled by the animal they met by the caved-in front entrance. Percy thought he might have been acting overdramatic. Juana—the jaguar’s name according to Grover—had only tried to rip out Percy’s throat once before Grover gave her the satyrs sanctuary blessing and released her into Berkeley Hills.

Don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time they’d released a wild animal into the city. Last time it was a lion in Las Vegas and that seemed to work out okay for the locals.

Annabeth strode past Grover. She took off her backpack and fished a grappling hook out. After testing one of the rocks on the edge of the window, she hooked it on and tossed a rope into the opening.  

“Are you two coming along or are you going to have a picnic up here?”

If Percy ever forgot he loved Annabeth—which he couldn’t, even with godly intervention—he’d remember after seconds of watching her. She looked awesome while disappearing into the void.

But after his moment of awe, he had a moment of panic. He scrambled to the edge to make sure her descent was steady, controlled, and had an end to it.

Annabeth gripped the rope to pause, glanced up, and gave him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Seaweed Brain,” she said shakily.

He tapped his pen and nodded for her to continue. “Be safe, Wise Girl.”

They both hated falling now. Even the rock and lava wall at Camp Half-Blood sometimes made him hesitate, and he could forget any of Jason’s “free fall” tricks that the son of Zeus occasionally did if the younger campers begged him long enough.

That past summer, Percy and Annabeth had an unfortunate vacation to Tartarus, complete with complimentary monsters, a continental breakfast composed of fire river, and angry gods. The whole thing had started with a fall into darkness.

Let’s just say Percy was happy when he heard Annabeth’s feet hit the floor below and he calculated it to be the specific distance of not-very-far.

Percy slid down seconds after.

Weird is the word all the nature spirits used. Creepy is what Percy would call this place. But at least it was no Tartarus.

There wasn’t any light in the room, only the dim rays that crept down from the rectangular ceiling dome. The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees, way colder than it should have been, even with those openings. Other than his feet brushing against the stone floor, the room was unearthly silent, like the descent had shifted them out of a busy metropolitan town and into the middle of the woods. As a New Yorker, he found it a crime against nature if he couldn’t hear at least one car horn every ten minutes.

They’d landed on a fallen tree. Percy had always found the California decoration style a little hippie, but he’d have to ask the Romans about fallen foliage decor. Annabeth had already stepped off the tree, narrowly avoiding some kind of pit buried underneath the rotting branches.

There were a lot of other trees. Again with the new age décor. A dozen of them were clustered against the far wall, around a long oak table and a smaller one beside it. Those and the upturned chairs around them looked like they’d been abandoned for years, not weeks. The branches of the trees smashed up to the lower portion of the ceiling, seeming to support it more than the walls themselves.

On the other side of the room, there was a throne made from bones. Percy wanted to groan. He hated thrones made from bones. They usually entailed some jerk who thought those kind of thrones were the best way to pick up ladies and henchmen. Percy really needed to ask his friend Piper, a daughter of Aphrodite, to give seminars on The Myths of Being a Villain to dispel such nonsense.

Dust trickled through the little light they had. The corners were completely dark. He’d have to warn Grover that mean jaguars could be lurking anywhere.

As Percy went to check out the throne and Annabeth went to investigate the tables, Grover crashed from the roof opening into the fallen tree. Hooves: great for climbing temples, not for scaling ropes.

There was a single portrait on the wall to the side of the throne, in between some extinguished torches. Percy went to take a closer look as Grover clopped up behind him.

“Oooh! Percy! This isn’t good. These trees don’t feel natural,” he said.

Percy had been trying to calculate exactly how long it took Grover to eat furniture when he got nervous. Now would be a good time to start counting.

“Aren’t all trees natural?” Annabeth mused.

Grover whined, “You know what I mean!”

Percy wanted to tease him, but he knew what Grover meant. Maybe it was their empathy link, but Percy could tell these trees were more the Die Intruder! type.

Once Percy got close enough, he realized the picture on the wall was a family portrait: a father and five children. Percy couldn’t imagine that big a family. He only had one infant sister and he was still trying to figure out the big brother thing. Although anyone forced into a photography studio had a right to look unhappy, these smiles looked particularly fake. There was something else a little weird about the photo. All the children seemed to be different ethnicities from the Hispanic father, except one: Ajax Pax. One of the campers who went missing.

Percy had only seen the unclaimed kid a few times—mostly while Ajax… or did he go by Pax? But mostly while Pax was helping the Stoll brothers terrorize the Ares cabin. That earned him a gold star in Percy’s book.

Another missing camper was in the photo beside the Stoll minion: Axel Pax, Ajax’s older half-brother. Annabeth and he suspected they were ex-members of Kronos’s army. But their group had convened and decided: just because the Pax brothers tried to destroy all of Western culture, didn’t mean they didn’t deserve a second chance.

Percy didn’t recognize the other children or the father, but something felt off about the photo.

“I found something!” Annabeth called.

He and Grover stepped, and clopped (respectively,) back towards the oak table and whatever Annabeth had there.

As they passed the fallen tree, Percy felt something crunch under his shoe.

He withdrew his foot to find a human jaw bone. Great. Exactly what he needed. More bones. He’d stepped on bones before, but that didn’t mean he was excited about it.  

“Di Immortalis!” Grover cried. “That looks like a satyr’s jawbone!”

Percy wanted to argue, but realized he didn’t actually know the difference between satyr and human dentistry and didn’t care to learn. After a quick scan of the room, he could tell there were bones littered around the grove, like the world’s most unnerving fallen leaves.

“Let’s stay away from the man eating trees?” Percy suggested, giving this one a wide birth the rest of the way to Annabeth. Yea, they’d landed on it, but maybe that meant it would have a taste for some demigod milkshake and a satyr salad, since satyrs were probably on the healthier side of things for monsters trying to watch their figure.

When Percy got to Annabeth’s side, she was flipping through a notebook with one hand and holding her iPhone up with the other. There was another smartphone on the table, though that one was an older model. The screen was locked, presenting a number pad for password entry.

“Did you find out this grove was into ancient technology?” Percy asked. “What model is this? The Clunky Brick 9,000? I’ll bet it can’t Snapchat.”

“I don’t think the trees are interested in Snapchatting, Percy,” Annabeth said as she flipped to the front of the notebook.

Percy gave Grover a grin. “I don’t know. I think some nymphs are pretty into it.”

Grover’s face went bright red. “Percy! You promised never to talk about that!”

And the Stoll brothers had promised never to steal anyone’s phone again, print out conversations and embarrassing images, and hang them all over the forest, but Percy could guarantee they would repeat the actions faster than you could cry, “For Hermes!”

Percy grinned and wrapped an arm around Annabeth’s shoulder. “So, what did you find?”

The journal in her hands was covered with vertical columns depicting birds, odd half-circles, and tiny people. With Percy’s dyslexia, he was lucky if he could read English, let alone other languages. He wasn’t well versed in Avian Script, but he recognized it from one of their friends.

“It’s a journal in Egyptian. I think this first page has the number code for this phone. I recognize them as numbers, but I can’t remember what they mean.” Her brow furrowed. She sighed and shrugged. “I sent a picture over to Sadie to see if she can give us a general idea what this is.”

“Is Sadie someone who works at your dad’s university?” Grover asked.

Both Annabeth and Percy bit back smiles. They’d promised to keep the Greeks half-bloods and Egyptian magicians separate, but they’d have to let Grover in on it at some point.

“No,” Annabeth said calmly. “She’s a friend.”

“Who… reads Egyptian?” Grover asked skeptically.

“Let’s just say she was born with it,” Annabeth said.

“If we’re going to be waiting for a translation, I guess that means we’ll be missing that tour group. Darn,” Percy said.

That was the real reason they went to Cali. Yea, Chiron needed someone to look into the missing campers, but—as soon as the child of Hephaestus pinpointed it to Berkeley—Annabeth and Percy were the natural pick.

They were supposed to be doing a tour of the University of New Rome. But you know how it is when you’re a demigod, Percy thought. One minute you’re on a bus to try some cafeteria cheese and wieners and the next minute you’re looking at an Egyptian journal in a Mayan temple, searching for Greek half-bloods. He was just shocked he hadn’t almost died yet. The jaguar didn’t count.

Normally, Percy would have been excited to visit his friends in New Rome. But Reyna had assured Annabeth that the University wouldn’t take Percy unless he actually passed his exams. No slack for saving the world or anything like that.

Fortunately, Rome did their test in Latin, to decrease dyslexia problems, but it didn’t come as naturally to him as Ancient Greek did. Strangely, a lot of Romans didn’t want their entrance exam translated into Camp Half-Blood’s home tongue. Something about not wanting “that Greek life” on their campus.

He wanted to study and do well. It made Annabeth and his mom happy. But it could also make a guy wanna scream when the excuse, “but monsters ate my homework” didn’t work.

Annabeth scowled at him. “Percy,” she snapped in a voice that said she wouldn’t bring him a surprise blue Slurpee after his next swim meet. She knew how to wait for it to hurt the most.

Fortunately, that’s when Annabeth’s phone pinged back.

In proper Sadie fashion, the girl had attached a picture of her brother, Carter Kane, with a shabti attacking his hair. Shabti were little people made out of clay… yea, Percy thought they were weird too. But Percy could totally see her using clay people for sibling warfare. If they ever found Leo, one of Percy’s good friends, he’d have to introduce the two. Leo would fall head over heels.

Percy tried not to frown at the thought of Leo as Annabeth punched in the number code. Leo had gone missing after the war against Gaea. Gone missing, Percy thought. Not dead.

“Sadie says it’s some kind of tracking journal on two people named Wheel and Peace,” Annabeth reported, a slight grin forming at the edge of her lips. The picture must have distracted her from her prior irritation. Percy would owe Sadie a stick of gum.

Annabeth punched in the numbers for the phone.

“Axel and Pax,” Percy said. He might not have been as smart as Annabeth, but he could figure out the basics.

“So, this grove does have to do with the missing campers,” Grover said. He nibbled nervously at the ends of his shirt. His eyes darted around the ominous trees. “That’s great, but can we learn more about them outside? These trees make me anxious.”

Normally, Percy might point out that everything made Grover anxious, but he did have a particular dislike for places that felt underground. And apparently for unfriendly foliage.

“Oh my gods! Percy!” Annabeth shouted and grabbed his arm.

Percy gripped the fountain pen in his pocket, scanning the room for what Annabeth saw. “What?!”

“The video—there’s two of them—this can’t be a fake—it looks like it’s—”

Percy glanced down at the old phone’s screen. His eyes widened. “That’s Leo! He’s alive!”

Sure enough, on the tiny, unlocked phone screen, Percy could make out the unmistakable elfish features of their Latino friend. As per usual, the son of Hephaestus was dusted with soot and in workman’s clothing. Unlike usual, his face was twisted in a grimace. He looked exhausted and worried in the freeze frame. There was some kind of sword half-slipping out of a beach towel in his hands.

“Where is he? Do you think—”

“Let’s see,” she cut him off.

Annabeth pressed play eagerly.

Leo took several steps diagonally away from the camera, towards a forge in the distance. He looked like he was shouting angrily over his shoulder, but there was no sound from the video. A person clad head to toe in a silver mesh suit rapidly approached him from behind. The scene felt bizarre and made Percy want to shout out, “Look out, Leo! You’re about to be attacked by the Tin Man!”

But the next part wasn’t funny. The silver figure wrapped an arm around Leo’s neck, picking him up in a chokehold. Although Percy wasn’t sure from the awkward angle, the figure seemed to break the hand Leo had on the sword.

The image went white as Leo erupted into flames. That part wasn’t the scary part. Leo had a tendency to explode into hot stuff.  Really, Percy figured that would be the end of the video, with a so long to that sucker to the man in silver.

But as the flames died down, Leo wasn’t the one left standing.

The camera trembled and blurred. When it came back into focus, some other girl knelt beside Leo. The silvery figure appeared unmarred beside her and Leo. He’d taken off his jump suit, revealing the stoic face of Axel Pax.

Rage boiled inside Percy. He’d trusted that ex-Kronos jerk and his slimy little brother. He and Annabeth had defended their right to Camp Half-Blood. Hades, he’d even told Connor to sneak in some proper Coca-Cola for them and you never scorned fresh, outside Coca-Cola.

By this point, Grover had nibbled off the bottom corner of his shirt.

Annabeth’s lips were pressed in a firm line as the image froze on the three.

Over his time as hero, Percy had heard some pretty creative cusswords from Coach Hedge, various gods, and unsettled guidance counselors. He was about to combine them all. “That—”

“There’s another one,” Annabeth cut him off. She flicked the image away to pull up another video.

Leo wasn’t in this one. Neither was Axel, or if he was, he was intermixed with a party of people. At first glance, Percy thought it was some kind of celebration at a banquet hall. When Percy noticed the particular bone throne, he realized this was security surveillance footage from the room they were standing in, pre-killer grove. The camera must have been somewhere above the bone throne.

In the video, there was a fire pit—where the fallen tree was now—roaring with turquoise flames. Since that was the only lighting and the angle was awkward, Percy couldn’t make out much more than the dim figures of party guests at the tables, where he, Annabeth, and Grover were standing now.

Facing away from the camera, there was a man in a suit standing by the fire pit, leaning heavily on a cane. Before him were three figures. Without any motion from Annabeth, the image zoomed. Despite the pixilation, Percy could make out the faces of three of their missing campers: Kalypso Cassand, daughter of Apollo, Euna Song, daughter of Demeter, and the slimy dirt bag, Ajax Pax, who had yet to be claimed.

They were all armed, looking ready to attack the seemingly feeble man; though, Percy had learned that seemingly feeble men could be shockingly spry. Then he noticed the weapon in the daughter of Demeter’s hands. One of Percy’s old scars burned.

“That’s Backbiter!” he cried.

“They must have tricked Leo into reforging it,” Annabeth said.

“Oh! I don’t like this,” Grover moaned, halfway through eating his shirt now.

The image zoomed back out. As it did, the daughter of Demeter raised Kronos’s scythe and the room devolved into chaos. Sound kicked in, startling all three of them.

Screams. They were quiet in the recording, but at least a dozen people wailed in agony. Percy felt his mouth drop as tree saplings burst through the guests’ chests, shoulders, and heads.

The man with the cane was the worst. The others were out of focus and darkened in the background. The man was closer, in fancy HD that Percy didn’t want, so he could see the man tear leaves from his face.

When Euna Song slammed the scythe into the ground, a walnut tree exploded into existence, growing out from inside him and literally tearing the man limb from limb.

Once done, the video stopped and the smartphone shut down.

Annabeth, Percy, and Grover stared at the blank screen.

Annabeth tried to restart the phone. “I’ve never seen a child of Demeter do something like that before,” she whispered. Her voice shook.

The smartphone wouldn’t turn back on. Percy had a feeling it never would. He hoped not. Regardless of why Annabeth would want to rewatch that, he never wanted to see that extended version of Planet Earth again.

“They—they can’t,” Grover stuttered. “That was some expert level nature magic. She shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

Percy had to admit, he’d seen Grover do some amazing things, but he’d never seen him grow so many trees at once, out of people no less.

“They tricked Leo into reforging Kronos’s scythe, and attacked him,” Annabeth muttered to herself. She tapped her finger against the Egyptian notebook, probably mad each tap didn’t give her another clue.

Percy stared at the trees. They were once people. Not monsters. Probably not even demigods. “And recycled a bunch of people into compost for trees,” he finished summarizing.

“But why?” Annabeth said. She stood up and shook her head. “This doesn’t add up.”

He, Grover, and Annabeth exchanged a glance. Percy gripped his fountain pen. “I don’t know what they’re up to,” he said. “But we need to find the new Seven and stop them before they hurt anyone else.”

Thanks for reading the first chapter of Attrition of Peace, the third volume in the Traitors of Olympus series! For those of you who are new readers, welcome! To those of you that are my veterans and put up with all of my nonsense, welcome back! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue the adventure with me, the Heroes of Olympus, and the "traitorous" seven!

I normally only update once a week but there's going to be a double release this weekend with Leo's Chapter: Movie Night is On Me. I hope you stay tuned!

[zephyrthejester]

Reflecting on Season 2

Season 1 was an introspective look at what drove our main characters. It established the setting, told us what is what. Season 2 up-heaved everything; it was a maelstrom of horror and intrigue, plunging both the main characters and the viewers alike into a realm of emotional highs and lows. There's a thousand thousand things to say about the legendary quality of this season, and it pains me that I won't be able to express every thought I have. So in writing this, I'll take it one step at a time, as before.

I will begin by getting the negatives out of the way: I am a bit disappointed that long-standing plot points weren't addressed in any way this season. Corrupted Gems, Triangles™, The Crystal Heart/Temple, Lion (and the contents of its mane), Lars & Sadie, and even Malachite got pushed to the side. However, I am giving the show the benefit of the doubt here. Season 2's pacing was lightning fast, and gave us absolutely fascinating and bold plot developments. Fusion Experiments, Sardonyx, and Peridot were all sublime. If Season 3 starts handing out answers for the oldest questions, I'll be content. And... I suppose that's it, really. That's my one small, petty complaint. Hot dang.

Now. Let's talk characters.

Steven Quartz Universe took the back seat this season. Upon thinking it over, I've realized that Steven didn't really change in any obvious way. This season, Steven seemed to exist as a catalyst for the development of other characters, or only served as the viewer's window into the world. But that's not to say he didn't change at all. It was subtle-- extremely subtle. Steven has developed insecurities of his own that, in stark contrast to Amethyst, he keeps well hidden. We learned he wonders if the Gems blame him in some way for Rose being gone. We learned he's self-conscious about not fully belonging with either Humans or Gems. And even more so than in Season 1b, Steven has become far more mellow and low-key. He's still got that child-like sense of fun and that delightful earnest hope that all people and things can be redeemed. But there is a weight pressing down on him, burdening his journey into discovering who he is. This season, Steven has witnessed and discovered terrible things, from within the Crystal Gems and beyond. In the near future, with resolutions for the Cluster and Malachite on the horizon, it's likely that trend will continue. How long before he breaks? Which straw will be the last? I would also like to acknowledge that he has become far more competent. The off-screen training sessions with Pearl have allowed him true mastery over his Shield, and he's pulling off a few magic powers with ease. I'm excited to see this aspect of Steven's growth continue.

Pearl has been cracked wide open, her past raw and bare for all to see. Created to be a slave, she was freed in the process of the Rebellion and became the embodiment of everything the Crystal Gems fought for. Pearl is now an able fighter, intelligent and strong in ways she never could have been before. But despite the epic feat of her rebirth, Pearl allows herself to be haunted by the ghost of her past. She fooled herself into thinking she couldn't stand on her own. Without Rose Quartz, Pearl fell into a disoriented state. She's afraid to be alone. And in trying to deal with the loss of Rose, she exploited Garnet's security to leech that feeling of strength. It's tragic, but sympathetic. I understand why Pearl does what she does. But new information casts a disturbing shadow over many things. How much of Pearl's devotion to Rose was honest, and not a remnant of the way Pearls are designed to serve? How could Pearl not stop herself and realize she was trying to impose Homeworld's view on the worthlessness of Pearls on Connie? It all leads me to believe that Pearl is not done freeing herself from Homeworld's grip on her mind. There's still progress to made in this regard. Pearl lives in the past, and needs to learn to keep her gaze forward.

Amethyst has taken huge strides forward. Much like Steven, she's mellower and more serious. She shape-shifts much less, and is no longer playing at lone wolf. She has embraced being part of the team, and eagerly helps out where she can. Starting with Reformed, Amethyst has begun respecting herself, too. Indeed, when Amethyst learned that she's a runt, she took it surprisingly well. Season 1 Amethyst would have flown into a rage, and attacked Peridot. Season 2 Amethyst took the news hard, yes, but she displayed restraint and apparently let it go. I also appreciate Amethyst's quick interjection when the Sardonyx folly was revealed; She earnestly tried to take some blame herself to help out Pearl. Pearl, the person Amethyst butted heads so much with in the earlier season. Much like Steven, Amethyst's development here was subdued. I look forward to what lies in store for her. *cough Amedot cough cough*

Garnet, as I expected, was overshadowed by exploration into who her components are. Ruby and Sapphire make for convincing halves of Garnet's whole. At every turn, we can detect the undiluted traits that compose her. Ruby is emotional, and genuine. She's fierce, and proud, and willing to do what it takes to do what she thinks is right. Sapphire is restrained, and concise. She's calm, and smart, and wise. They truly complete each other, and this season made Garnet's existence very convincing. It also humanized her; She has moments of weakness and self-doubts, just like all the other Gems. Sometimes, Ruby and Sapphire don't see eyes to eye, and sometimes Garnet is at a loss for what to do, Future Vision be damned. And on top of all these things, Garnet has continued learning to express her emotions and open herself up to those she loves. And perhaps it is this very trust and openness that made the Sardonyx incident all the more bitter. Indeed, there were two separate moments this season where the very concept Garnet holds most dear was defiled in revolting ways. Fusion Experiments and Pearl's betrayal were both stunning moments that shook Garnet to her cores... literally. But these challenges to her existence served to reinforce her, not deter her. Garnet won't back down from being what she is, and is going to fight with everything she has to justify herself. All said, I am unsure what comes next for the three of them. I sure know I'm excited to find out.

Connie has taken big steps forward in both halves of her life. She's become a proficient swordswoman under the tutelage of Pearl, and an asset to the Crystal Gems. She has also bonded closer with her mother, including her in the magical life she's kept hidden, and eased the strict rules of the household. But... There's something that's really bothering me about Connie. The whole deal with her mother is, like, the one bit of agency Connie has. Everything else Connie does, says, or has happen to her is a plot device for Steven's sake. Greg at least has his own history predating Steven. Connie... is Steven's best friend and now combat ally. Can't she be something else? Maybe this is a petty complaint, but all I know is that I hope Connie becomes a bit more unique and self-sufficient eventually. That said, Connie is an engaging character, and I love it every time she appears on screen, and quite enjoy everything she does. Connie is fun, and I love watching her. I just want better for her, ya know?

I would be remiss not to talk at length about the MVP of the season. She's loud, proud, lean, mean, green, and smol: Peridot's arc was a tour de force invasion of my heart. Her transformation from thoughtless Homeworld drone, to terrified refugee on the run, to curious and analytical gremlin, to defiant Crystal Gem willing to speak against her Goddess was masterfully written. Organic and believable, the whole way through. Peridot's personality fills a hole in the Crystal Gems I had no idea was there; I am excited beyond words to see how the show will change with her permanent presence! Her every word and gesture was an insight into the mysterious ways of Homeworld.

To be honest, I struggle to say things about Peridot that I haven't already said across the season, or on Discord. So... please know that I freakin' adore this little green treasure, and fully appreciate every bit of nuance in her development. It's some Grade A+ writing, and I loved every second of it. And in case it wasn't clear, yes, she really is my favorite character on the show now.

All that said, we can now have some closing thoughts.

Homeworld is monstrous. We've learned so many things about its culture now, and I struggle to think of even one redeeming fact. They keep Pearls as slaves, they destroy planets, they callously kill any who dare step out of line, they torture the dead with unimaginable pain in the form of Fusion Experiments. So when the day comes that Steven, pure, innocent Steven, must fully understand that horrid way of life and fight back, well... There's just no way that Yellow Diamond's going to be swayed. There's no way that Steven's purity and innocence will survive against Homeworld's crushing presence. It's going to be horrifying to watch.

I think that about wraps it up. Perhaps a look forward is in order: In the near future, I expect the Cluster and then Malachite to be dealt with. From there, Lapis Lazuli and Jasper can be expanded upon. Old plot threads can be picked back up. And in the far future, I'd imagine the Diamonds await.

Finally. It is done. That is all I have to say about this legendary work of art. I calculate the score of Season 2 to be 86/100! Wait... That's exactly the same as Season 1b! If it were up to me, I'd rate this one a 100/100!

Oh well. I look forward to more Steven Universe, and I thank you for continuing this wonderful journey with me.

[pluiethewolf]

TIP TOP STUFF FROM 2017

This post has been written in an ever-shortening sliver of the end of the year so there may be many typos, half-sentences, oddly expressed feelings and extreme over-sharing. BEWARE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE! (the rules are if I’ve seen/read it this year it counts as this year, hence some stuff from last year/the 1960s)

Dollywould

If I have too much time to think and am not in a great mood I end up worrying a lot about how quickly time goes past and then we die and then no one remembers us. I am not very good at dealing with these worries and mostly when I see shows which look at these themes I don’t generally appreciate the layered approaches and interesting comments, I mainly just get stressed out. Yet coming out of Dollywould, a show at least in part about death and legacy and I didn’t feel any of my normal worries. In fact if anything I felt really good – not just buoyed by the FANTASTIC music and HILARIOUS costumes and I mean it’s Sh!t Theatre I don’t need to describe why it could make you happy. But it also felt like it said something to me about these themes that made me feel a little bit okay. Obviously I can’t just write down what that was otherwise I’d no longer ever feel that way and I definitely still do. For me it was one of those beautiful pieces of art where you feel what it’s saying to you rather than think it. I want to keep it in my pocket for when I’m sad. It is my favourite Sh!t Theatre show so far and anyone who wants to argue about that can go away.

Our Best Guess

This was another show where it was more about talking around a theme than making a point (or if it was about making a point I definitely missed it). It’s about missed chances and avoided tragedies and the turn of prediction to regret&. It was a fantastic mosaic of stories and when I sometimes look around and cynically think that, amongst all the remakes and reboots and ‘original’ stories that may as well be one of the former, all the stories have been told before, it was amazing to find so many sharing space in the same show.

Kin

My possible dissolutionment (which is definitely an actual word) with narrative means a lot of stuff on this list is non-narrative – most is live-art-y or dance-based and one that was circus! I can be very hot and cold with circus – one or two shows have been some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen (especially Ockham’s Razor’s Not Until We Are Lost) but I’m often on a weird line where I don’t want it to just be tricks but feel like narrative almost always feels weirdly forced in. Kin was the perfect balance – suggestions and nods towards meaning coming from heart-in-mouth, skilful, silly, absolutely sincere, risky (sometimes a bit too much) movement. Also I think the song ‘Starry, starry Night’ was in about 5 shows I saw in Edinburgh and this version definitely won.

With Force and Noise

While Kin was filled with massive movement, what was striking in With Force and Noise was the restraint and small-ness. Like many of the shows in this list it feels really difficult to talk about without just listing everything that happened in it, and standing back and going ‘isn’t that great!’. I’ve already written a teeny bit about why I love the show+ so I’m going to focus on one really specific element. When the show started Sullivan walked with painstaking slowness towards the audience – this was joined by lights on the floor really slowly turning on as she walked forward. So slowly that you wouldn’t realise what was happening until another light had been turning on for minutes. I’ve been paying a lot more attention to lighting designs recently due to my friends doing that and honestly I think this was my favourite of the year. Sullivan then stand still for a long time and some of the other beautiful parts of the show happen, which I loved and were fantastic but which for now I’m going to skip over. That’s because after all these parts, where Sullivan stays completely still and we are all totally focused on the one still point she inhabits. Then she gently starts to shake. I hear clanking sounds and I think they may be off stage – I thought I’d heard some while she was entering. The shaking builds and so does the sound and I realise they are connected – spittle starts to fall from Sullivans mouth. Shaking quite violently ��now she turns and we see that sewn into her costume – along with the intricate embroidery – are kettles and pots and bells, now clashing against one another. That was why she had to walk so carefully at the beginning. She had to remain completely composed to stop her rage from spilling out. God I love theatre.

Alba

Alba is another show which lies in small movements. It’s also a show that I think has been around for quite a while but I went in knowing almost nothing about it. This is a show that I definitely could describe moment for moment because I did just that when I got home, filling in a friend who couldn’t go. I’m so glad because now I can relive the show. It felt like magic, transforming everyday objects with a sense of mystery, but also humour, a wink to the audience. It was almost completely wordless, with recordings of Bannon’s mother speaking occasionally adding to the sight onstage. It was beautiful.

Foley Explosion

Another show that was about transforming objects before us was Foley Explosion – like a magician showing us how the trick is done (which tbh is the best kind of magic). It was incredibly dream-like, slipping from one sliver of story to another, sounds transmuting to have one meaning or another. It was slow, allowing itself the time to build what it needed. The outcome was bizarre and beautiful.

Locus Amoenus

I saw Atresbandes perform All In last year and really liked it, after being really annoyed at missing Locus Amoenus. I’m so glad I managed to catch it because where I liked All In I absolutely LOVE Locus Amoenus – the slightly off dialogue, the knowledge that nothing that happens on the train really matters, and the occasional slip away from the scene in front of us to descriptions of other scenesF. It was the kind of play that I wish TV was more like – how great would it be if halfway through a scene in Breaking Bad we saw a random scene that would never be referenced again. Also it was absolutely HILARIOUS. Also there was an extended reference to Zidane’s headbut which is pretty much the only football reference I understand so that made me happy.

Lilith, The Jungle Queen

This show isn’t just on here cause it has the same name as me. Absolutely not. It probably was a large part of why I went to see it though and I am so glad for that because it was one of the most surprising joys of the Fringe, and probably my whole year. It used the ‘human raised by animals’ (in this case lions) story to look at gender, race and colonialism. It had be absolutely roaring$ with laughter, both due to the dry wit of the dialogue and the fact that the pink gunge steadily spread around the stage left the performers slipping around and dragging each other across. Message-wise it was a tough one – the political opinions of the show seemed as slippery as the set, and it was a wonderful example of how you can seriously delve into issues and still be hilarious.

Vs.

It felt like the moments in youth theatre at the end of the warm-ups where you wish you could make an entire show out of games, but they somehow managed to make it beautiful and vulnerable and stressful and fantastic. Watching it I found my reaction ranging from thinking about the apocalypse to just thinking ‘just look how HIGH they can jump. I wish I could jump that high. That is so cool.’

Room For All Our Tomorrows

I have found this really difficult. It is hard summing up why you love something in such a small amount of words and time (especially when you saw it so long ago). I’ve already tried to write a bit about it for Exeunt but couldn’t sum up how I felt about it or why. I think part of it was the magic that I mentioned above – created both by the set (the table turning into a piano and the way-too-much liquid endlessly pouring from the coffee machine) and the bodies on stage in front of us. Maybe it felt a bit like a ritual, maybe it felt a bit like a speeded up daily routine, maybe a timelapse of years going by.

 Right it is now 3pm on New Years Eve and I absolutely refuse to publish this in January but I also want to write a bit about other things that I liked in 2017 so it is time to KICK THE PACE UP!

Student Theatre

This isn’t in a separate list because I think student theatre is some kind of lower category than ‘proper theatre’ but I do think about them in different ways and am very biased over a lot of it and anyway it would have just made the first list way, way too long. A lot of this stuff that I loved was at NSDF last year – after having gone the year before and not particularly enjoyed it I loved the festival and so much of the work in it. Thick Skin was a complete surprise, not knowing anything about it until we went in and I thought it was such a smart way to approach racism on stage in a useful way – we don’t necessarily need to be shown another depiction of an obvious racist, but see how jokes and unthinking behaviour can cause harm. I’d been looking forward to seeing Nothing is Coming, The Pixels Are Huge since I saw it had applied for the festival (and desperately hoping it got in)% and it did not disappoint At All – it used hugely impressive technical wizardry to create metaphor and imagery which felt like it could be chewed over for as long as you wanted, pulling out different meanings around how we remember things and what makes us us, and what is missing in the gaps in between. It felt like it was throwing down the gauntlet for what science fiction theatre can be. By the time Celebration was at NSDF I had seen it many times, and I have seen it many times since but for me nothing will beat that first performance in that massive room – I love that show so much and I love the people in it and I cried from joy.

The rest of the shows here are from Warwick. Seeking Intimacy by Eve Allin was a gorgeous use of the campus’ space, wandering one of the mammoth buildings, the white stone and massive windows providing the futuristic yet not setting of the play. It was another wonderful use of science fiction – one of the latest episodes reminded me of it a little, but the play contained much more ambiguity, introducing different interesting facets to the tale of an ever changing dating service. The next piece I can’t actually remember the name of - it was the dissertation piece of three people in my year – but similarly looked at how the internet changed our relationships with each other, but through a completely modern rather than science fiction lens. I often think plays fail to present the internet in a interesting or engaging way – both the need for drama and speed of change means it is all too easy to demonise the net as destroying relationships and communication. I knew that I was going to like this piece as soon as Rosie made a speech defending what great art can be made, even if you could easily text someone. It used a clever mix of live filming, audience interaction, games and monologue to explore different aspects of the internet. My favourite moment was two performers stuffing their faces with marshmallows as they repeated the phrase ‘Anything, even water, can be toxic when too much is consumed’o.

These last two shows I am both very biased on and had very similar reactions to, even though in form they were very different. Those were Portents and Speed Death of the Radiant Child. They are both quite sad shows, built around breakdowns of communication, but they both made me incredibly, incredibly happy. Part of that was the beauty of both shows, from the writing to the lighting, but also I feel that while they may be pessimistic about the outcome, they put a lot of hope in people. The characters are always grasping out to communicate, trying to understand, and even if that attempt leads to their failure the attempt is beautiful.

Books

The feeling that I mentioned just above I think was possibly helped not only by the shows themselves but by what I was reading when I saw them, which was Franny and Zooey and Raise High The Roof Beams, Carpenters both part of JD Salinger’s series of stories about the Glass family. They create in me the exact same feeling and the beauty in them makes me happier, inspires me in what I do, and makes me more accepting of pretention, and of people in general. I honestly kind of think they make me a better person, and I have decided to ration out the rest of Salinger’s 8 stories about the family for when I’m feeling down.

Everything else in this list is science fiction because that’s just the kind of person that I am, and three of the four utopian because of the same reason. The Dispossessed by Ursula Le Guin (which I have been trying to write a blog about since JULY) feels like an amazingly detailed attempt to imagine how another society really could exist. I didn’t love it all – there were a couple of scenes which if it had been written by a man I probably would have hated the book for, which I’m not sure is a good way to approach books but nevermind. However it did contain some beautiful words about hope and community and work and progress which really landed with me. Oddly I also had some uncomfortable ‘would I forgive a man for this’ moments in Too Like the Lighting by Ada Palmer – to be completely honest I’m not entirely sure I LIKED the book, it frequently disturbed me, but I was undeniably hooked, the constant dual mysteries of trying to figure out the actual world of the plot at the same time as the enigma at its heart meant there was a giddy surprise behind every corner and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so much plot per page. On top of that the use of form and references – a book about the future written in the style of an 18th century novel – made me feel like I was reading something completely unique.

A much more down-to-earth utopia was Malka Older’s Infomocracy. One of the quotes on the back basically describes it as the West Wing for sci-fi nerds so I obviously loved it. It was a neat idea with cool characters and a zippy story. What I found really nice about both this and the previous book is the expertise that the authors brought to the plot – the fact that Palmer teaches 18th century history and Older disaster management meant it felt like I was allowed a glimpse at how different experts saw the world.

My absolute favourite book of the year was Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson. Written in the early days of the internet the world it describes is odd – half super-familiar and prescient and half hilariously dated. I read the entire book with absolute glee; it was perfectly paced, sweeping along the reader so that they were at the extract same point as the characters. It managed to have whole sweeps of the story ruled by connections to Sumerian myth and language theory and be neither patronising nor pretentious (and make a history lesson as exciting as the drug deal it was intercut with). It managed to create a cruel world that still contained a massive amount of love, and good, interesting and exciting characters. It managed to be an exhilarating adventure story which spoke about human communication and the power of language (in an interestingly linked way to Frannie). All this while making jokes about pizza delivery – it was fantastic.

Other things

The NYE party really is starting quite soon and I still have half-finished sentences in the earlier sections which I should go back to so the rest is going to be a bit of a hodge-podge list that is mostly made up of films and cool stuff on the internet.

Patrick by Adam Blampied (https://adamblampied.com/2017/03/27/patrick/) – Is this erotic fan fiction about Patrick Marber? Is it a witty and surprisingly insightful critique of modern theatre? The answer to both of these questions is yes

The Handmaiden – *mild spoilers* I stopped watching the BBC adaptation of the source text for this halfway through cause it made me sad and I’m pathetic. I’m completely glad I did because it made the twist SO SO MUCH SWEETER.

Your Name – Combining a whole load of body-swap comedy and anime tropes and making a really lovely, intricate, original plot.

17776 by Jon Bois (https://www.sbnation.com/a/17776-football) – The other half of the blog post I’ve been writing since July. Everything I want from utopian fiction and stuff on the internet at the same time.

The First Half of Baby Driver – I mean the second half is okay too but in the first half I literally thought it could become one of my favourite ever films – feel like there was a moment on the edge where it could have stepped away from what was expected by instead went back to a more conventional storyline.

The Second Half of Magnolia – I have absolutely no problems with the first half of this film but I watched it over a year before the second half and I gots to stick to the rules. So gorgeous, and with random non-naturalistic bits I wish were in more films.

Spiderman: Homecoming – saw this the day after Baby Driver and really surprisingly enjoyed it more. Fascinating idea of how the crazy Marvel Universe would affect real life, just the right levels of funny, silly and sincere.  

The Last Jedi – I JUST LOVE IT AND HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

I have probably missed out a load of stuff I loved this year but it’s time to go sort out some of those half-sentences, so have a good year everybody, can’t wait to see some more great stuff J

***

& I’m realising now (and possibly at the time, who knows) how much it also speaks to my neuroses – how I’m constantly jealous of everything because I want to have achieved what every possible version of me making every possible decision could have done, all at the same time. I think maybe the emerging here is that I like shows that really gently prod at what troubles me.

+ http://exeuntmagazine.com/features/exeunts-most-memorable-regional-theatre-2017/

F Writing this makes me really wish I kept better notes (or any notes at all) on the shows I see.

$ I’m hilarious

% This year the show I’m feeling that towards is ‘Lights Over Tesco Carpark’ – I’m just a sucker for sci-fi with long names

o Disclaimer: this was almost definitely not what they said I just can’t remember the actual phrase

[readbookywooks]

'I demand to see the wizard,' she announced. 'Pray admit me this instant.' 'He's rather busy at present,' said the face. 'Were you after a love potion?' 'A what?' 'I've – we've got a special on Cutwell's Shield of Passion ointment,' said the face, and winked in a startling fashion. 'Provides your wild oats while guaranteeing a crop failure, if you know what I mean.' Keli bridled. 'No,' she lied coldly, 'I do not.' 'Ramrub? Maidens' Longstop? Belladonna eyedrops?' 'I demand —' 'Sorry, we're closed,' said the face, and shut the door. Keli withdrew her foot just in time. She muttered some words that would have amazed and shocked her tutors, and thumped on the woodwork. The tattoo of her hammering suddenly slowed as realisation dawned. He'd seen her! He'd heard her! She beat on the door with renewed vigour, yelling with all the power in her lungs. A voice by her ear said, 'It won't work. He 'eef very fstubborn.' She looked around slowly and met the impertinent gaze of the doorknocker. It waggled its metal eyebrows at her and spoke indistinctly through its wrought-iron ring. 'I am Princess Keli, heir to the throne of Sto Lat,' she said haughtily, holding down the lid on her terror. 'And I don't talk to door furniture.' 'Fwell, I'm just a doorknocker and I can talk to fwhoever I please,' said the gargoyle pleasantly. 'And I can ftell you the fmaster iff having a trying day and duff fnot fwant to be disturbed. But you could ftry to use the magic word,' it added. 'Coming from an attractiff fwoman it works nine times out of eight.' 'Magic word? What's the magic word?' The knocker perceptibly sneered. 'Haff you been taught nothing, miss?' She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't really worth the effort. She felt she'd had a trying day too. Her father had personally executed a hundred enemies in battle. She should be able to manage a doorknocker. 'I have been educated,' she informed it with icy precision, 'by some of the finest scholars in the land.' The doorknocker did not appear to be impressed. 'Iff they didn't teach you the magic word,' it said calmly, 'they couldn't haff fbeen all that fine.' Keli reached out, grabbed the heavy ring, and pounded it on the door. The knocker leered at her. 'Ftreat me rough,' it lisped. 'That'f the way I like it!' 'You're disgusting!' 'Yeff. Ooo, that waff nife, do it again. . . .' The door opened a crack. There was a shadowy glimpse of curly hair. 'Madam, I said we're cl —' Keli sagged. 'Please help me,' she said. 'Please!' 'See?' said the doorknocker triumphantly. 'Sooner or later everyone remembers the magic word!' Keli had been to official functions in Ankh-Morpork and had met senior wizards from Unseen University, the Disc's premier college of magic. Some of them had been tall, and most of them had been fat, and nearly all of them had been richly dressed, or at least thought they were richly dressed. In fact there are fashions in wizardry as in more mundane arts, and this tendency to look like elderly aldermen was only temporary. Previous generations had gone in for looking pale and interesting, or druidical and grubby, or mysterious and saturnine. But Keli was used to wizards as a sort of fur-trimmed small mountain with a wheezy voice, and Igneous Cutwell didn't quite fit the mage image. He was young. Well, that couldn't be helped; presumably even wizards had to start off young. He didn't have a beard, and the only thing his rather grubby robe was trimmed with was frayed edges. 'Would you like a drink or something?' he said, surreptitiously kicking a discarded vest under the table. Keli looked around for somewhere to sit that wasn't occupied with laundry or used crockery, and shook her head. Cutwell noticed her expression. 'It's a bit alfresco, I'm afraid,' he added hurriedly, elbowing the remains of a garlic sausage on to the floor. 'Mrs Nugent usually comes in twice a week and does for me but she's gone to see her sister who's had one of her turns. Are you sure? It's no trouble. I saw a spare cup here only yesterday.' 'I have a problem, Mr Cutwell,' said Keli. 'Hang on a moment.' He reached up to a hook over the fireplace and took down a pointy hat that had seen better days, although from the look of it they hadn't been very much better, and then said, 'Right. Fire away.' 'What's so important about the hat?' 'Oh, it's very 'essential. You've got to have the proper hat for wizarding. We wizards know about this sort of thing.' 'If you say so. Look, can you see me?' He peered at her. 'Yes. Yes, I would definitely say I can see you.' 'And hear me? You can hear me, can you?' 'Loud and clear. Yes. Every syllable tinkling into place. No problems.' 'Then would you be surprised if I told you that no-one else in this city can?' 'Except me?' Keli snorted. 'And your doorknocker.' Cutwell pulled out a chair and sat down. He squirmed a little. A thoughtful expression passed over his face. He stood up, reached behind him and produced a flat reddish mass which might have once been half a pizza[2]. He stared at it sorrowfully. 'I've been looking for that all morning, would you believe?' he said. 'It was an Ail-On with extra peppers, too.' He picked sadly at the squashed shape, and suddenly remembered Keli. 'Gosh, sorry,' he said, 'where's my manners? Whatever will you think of me? Here. Have an anchovy. Please.' 'Have you been listening to me?' snapped Keli. 'Do you feel invisible? In yourself, I mean?' said Gutwell, indistinctly. 'Of course not. I just feel angry. So I want you to tell my fortune.' 'Well, I don't know about that, it all sounds rather medical to me and —' 'I can pay.' 'It's illegal, you see,' said Cutwell wretchedly. 'The old king expressly forbade fortune telling in Sto Lat. He didn't like wizards much.' 'I can pay a lot.' 'Mrs Nugent was telling me this new girl is likely to be worse. A right haughty one, she said. Not the sort to look kindly on practitioners of the subtle arts, I fear.' Keli smiled. Members of the court who had seen that smile before would have hastened to drag Gutwell out of the way and into a place of safety, like the next continent, but he just sat there trying to pick bits of mushroom out of his robe. 'I understand she's got a foul temper on her,' said Keli. 'I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't turn you out of the city anyway.' 'Oh dear,' said Cutwell, 'do you really think so?' 'Look,' said Keli, 'you don't have to tell my future, just my present. Even she couldn't object to that. I'll have a word with her if you like,' she added magnanimously. Cutwell brightened. 'Oh, do you know her?' he said. 'Yes. But sometimes, I think, not very well.' Cutwell sighed and burrowed around in the debris on the table, dislodging cascades of elderly plates and the long-mummified remains of several meals. Eventually he unearthed a fat leather wallet, stuck to a cheese slice. 'Well,' he said doubtfully, 'these are Caroc cards. Distilled wisdom of the Ancients and all that. Or there's the Ching Aling of the Hublandish. It's all the rage in the smart set. I don't do tealeaves.' 'I'll try the Ching thing.' 'You throw these yarrow stalks in the air, then.' She did. They looked at the ensuing pattern. 'Hmm,' said Cutwell after a while. 'Well, that's one in the fireplace, one in the cocoa mug, one in the street, shame about the window, one on the table, and one, no, two behind the dresser. I expect Mrs Nugent will be able to find the rest.' 'You didn't say how hard. Shall I do it again?' 'No-ooo, I don't think so.' Cutwell thumbed through the pages of a yellowed book that had previously been supporting the table leg. 'The pattern seems to make sense. Yes, here we are, Octogram 8,887: Illegality, the Unatoning Goose. Which we cross reference here . . . hold on . . . hold on . . . yes. Got it.' 'Well?' 'Without vertically, wisely the cochineal emperor goes forth at teatime; at evening the mollusc is silent among the almond blossom.' 'Yes?' said Keli, respectfully. 'What does that mean?' 'Unless you're a mollusc, probably not a lot,' said Cutwell. 'I think perhaps it lost something in translation.' 'Are you sure you know how to do this?' 'Let's try the cards,' said Cutwell hurriedly, fanning them out. 'Pick a card. Any card.' 'It's Death,'said Keli. 'Ah. Well. Of course, the Death card doesn't actually mean death in all circumstances,' Cutwell said quickly. 'You mean, it doesn't mean death in those circumstances where the subject is getting over-excited and you're too embarrassed to tell the truth, hmm?' 'Look, take another card.' 'This one's Death as well,' said Keli. 'Did you put the other one back?' 'No. Shall I take another card?' 'May as well.' 'Well, there's a coincidence!' 'Death number three?' 'Right. Is this a special pack for conjuring tricks?' Keli tried to sound composed, but even she could detect the faint tinkle of hysteria in her voice. Cutwell frowned at her and carefully put the cards back in the pack, shuffled it, and dealt them out on to the table. There was only one Death. 'Oh dear,' he said, 'I think this is going to be serious. May I see the palm of your hand, please?' He examined it for a long time. Alter a while he went to the dresser, took a jeweller's eyeglass out of a drawer, wiped the porridge off it with the sleeve of his robe, and spent another few minutes examining her hand in minutest detail. Eventually he sat back, removed the glass, and stared at her. 'You're dead,' he said. Keli waited. She couldn't think of any suitable reply. 'I'm not' lacked a certain style, while 'Is it serious?' seemed somehow too frivolous. 'Did I say I thought this was going to be serious?' said Cutwell. 'I think you did,' said Keli carefully, keeping her tone totally level. 'I was right.' 'Oh.' 'It could be fatal.' 'How much more fatal,' said Keli, 'than being dead?' 'I didn't mean for you.' 'Oh.' 'Something very fundamental seems to have gone wrong, you see. You're dead in every sense but the, er, actual. I mean, the cards think you're dead. Your lifeline thinks you're dead. Everything and everyone thinks you're dead.' 'I don't,' said Keli, but her voice was less than confident. 'I'm afraid your opinion doesn't count.' 'But people can see and hear me!' The first thing you learn when you enroll at Unseen University, I'm afraid, is that people don't pay much attention to that sort of thing. It's what their minds tell them that's important.' 'You mean people don't see me because their minds tell them not to?' ' 'Fraid so. It's called predestination, or something.' Cutwell looked at her wretchedly. 'I'm a wizard. We know about these things.' 'Actually it's not the first thing you learn when you enroll,' he added, 'I mean, you learn where the lavatories are and all that sort of thing before that. But after all that, it's the first thing.' 'You can see me, though.' 'Ah. Well. Wizards are specially trained to see things that are there and not to see things that aren't. You get these special exercises —' Keli drummed her fingers on the table, or tried to. It turned out to be difficult. She stared down in vague horror. Cutwell hurried forward and wiped the table with his sleeve. 'Sorry,' he muttered, 'I had treacle sandwiches for supper last night.' 'What can I do?' 'Nothing.' 'Nothing?' 'Well, you could certainly become a very successful burglar . . . sorry. That was tasteless of me.'

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Essential books for writers

By The Center for Fiction

Options and inspiration on your path to writing success

Maybe calling our list "Essential Books for Writers" is a bit of a stretch. We know that there are many opinions on what makes great writing, and what works for one person may not work for the next. Can you imagine Ernest Hemingway, Flannery O'Connor, and Charles Dickens debating about the right way to write? But we wanted to give you some options and inspiration on your path to whatever a successful life as a writer looks like to you. We hope you'll find your essential guide in our list.

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On Writing, by Stephen King

Leave it to the literary rock star to compose a craft book that's as entertaining as a good novel. "This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit," King writes. What follows is a witty, practical, and sometimes poignant guide that is refreshingly devoid of the aforementioned BS. King relates his personal story of becoming a writer, then offers a "toolkit" of clear advice about everything from dialogue and descriptive passages to revisions and the head game. And there's more: tips for beginning writers on submitting work for publication, a mark-up of one of King's own manuscripts, and a reading list. You might not be awake at 3 a.m. turning these pages, but we promise On Writing will open your eyes to essential tricks of the trade.

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Still Writing, by Dani Shapiro

Dani Shapiro's book, Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life, is a perfect walk through an imperfect process. She shares the tried and true rules that some aspiring writers may want to hear, like using the five senses, sticking to a work schedule, and avoiding clichéd characters; but it is the places where Shapiro acknowledges the ambiguity of the process that stand out. Peppered with personal history and insight into how and where she created novels like Black and White as well as acclaimed memoirs Devotion and Slow Motion, Shapiro gives us a road map to writing with one simple direction at its heart: Keep writing. The rules she lays out are meant to be broken; no life-story is more worthy of being written than any other; no process (unless it involves surfing the Web instead of actually writing) is wrong. Yes, Dani Shapiro is still writing, and because she possesses that all-important need to create, it seems she will be doing so for quite some time.

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On Moral Fiction, by John Gardner

John Gardner’s On Moral Fiction, by now a well-known classic, is as relevant in its exploration of the obligations of literature as when it was first published in 1979. Gardner discusses art and criticism, concluding that the artist has a responsibility to produce “moral” works for the sake of society. “Art discovers, generation after generation, what is necessary to humanness,” says Gardner. By linking literature to such elemental ideas as immortality and death, entropy and truth, Gardner dramatizes the act of writing itself, coloring literature and criticism with such vitality and excitement that it is hard not to become exhilarated. “Art gropes,” Gardner says. “It stalks like a hunter lost in the woods, listening to itself and to everything around it, unsure of itself, waiting to pounce.” You might say that some of his ideas are outrageous or unconventional, but none of them lack the ability to provoke us.

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First You Write, by Joni Rodgers

It’s fitting that Joni Rodgers’s First You Write: The Worst Way to Become an Almost Famous Author and the Best Advice I Got While Doing It is available only as an e-book. Rodgers’s writes with wit and candor not only about her circuitous route to becoming a New York Times bestselling memoirist (Bald in the Land of Big Hair, a searingly funny account of her journey through cancer) and a critically acclaimed small-press novelist (Crazy for Trying; Sugar Land), but also about her pioneering adventures in self-publishing on Kindle. Rodgers’s willingness to experiment (isn’t that what artists do?) and to turn preconceived publishing notions on their ear is wonderfully refreshing, and her whip-smart observations will keep you turning (virtual) pages.

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The Forest for the Trees, by Betsy Lerner

Betsy Lerner’s The Forest For The Trees begins as a psychological compendium of the writer’s life; written to the writer, with love. Lerner diagnoses writers: the ambivalent, the natural, the neurotic, and as we relate to aspects of each, we are delivered through an embarrassing adolescence of our own writerly growth, discovering who we were, are, and might better be. Through humorous and often moving anecdotes and a wealth of quotable quotes, we sweep through the personal and into the political landscape of the literary industry. Like all good books, Lerner’s reflects the reader (as writer) back to herself at every moment. She morphs between midwife and editor, weaving stories that teach us how best to birth our own.

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The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard

In the years since its original publication, Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life has become a must-read for aspiring writers of all walks. Perhaps this is because her approach to the creative process manages a kind of golden ratio, a balance of magic and pragmatism that continues to reveal its depths to writers of the 21st century. Plainly, this is not a field guide. Dillard does not draw a tidy map. She does the opposite, acknowledging the unknown and unknowable wilderness that every writer must face. “The line of words is a miner's pick, a wood carver's gouge, a surgeon's probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year.” A master in the art of illumination, she focuses on the edges of big ideas. The resulting work is as mystifying as it is enduring.

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Writing Past Dark, by Bonnie Friedman

In Writing Past Dark, Bonnie Friedman shines a light on the hidden ways we mess ourselves up—with envy, fear, distraction, and other self-defeating habits of mind. “Successful writers are not the ones who write the best sentences. They are the ones who keep writing,” she says. “They are the ones who discover what is most important and strangest and most pleasurable in themselves, and keep believing in the value of their work, despite the difficulties.” With warmth and candor, Friedman offers insights into surmounting those tricky obstacles.

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The Elements of Style, by William Strunk and E.B. White

Of the hundreds of volumes written about the art and craft of writing, The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White is the elegant granddad. This slim volume offers no touchy-feely solutions for writer's block, no inspirational exercises, and no musings on the writing life. Instead, it contains clear, concise rules for writing well, delivered with panache. Whether you strive for formal excellence or stylistic innovation, whether you're a first-time author or have a string of publications to your name, there's something here to learn—or gladly rediscover.

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Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting, by Robert McKee

Robert McKee (the renowned screenwriting guru whose real-life teaching persona was portrayed by Brian Cox in the film Adaptation) is required reading, but not just for screenwriters. He illustrates good plotting and structure that can make your novels or short stories as gripping as your favorite film. In Story, McKee structures his advice by first broadly stating a principle of writing, then expounding on different ways it can be applied, with examples from all kinds of scripts. His pearls of wisdom have been legendary in the Hollywood world, and they'll certainly stick in your head after you're through this book. Whether you're writing for the screen or the page, this fantastic book will help you break your work down to the core of why we write fiction in the first place: the story.

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Making Shapely Fiction, by Jerome Stern

It's easy, when one is far enough along in the "writing life," to assume that a manual won't have much to offer beyond technical guidance and fluffy prompts. But Stern's wise and thorough little book should be as indispensable to the master of the form as the student. Like Stern himself, who was the head of the Creative Writing Program at Florida State University for many years, it takes a brass tacks approach to fiction, one that can be read straight through if you want to bone up on the basics or in bits and pieces as inspiration is needed. The "shapes" in question are sixteen storytelling archetypes which Stern breaks down in the book's first section, followed by a tongue-in-cheek section on whether or not to write what you know, and finally a glossary of terms "from Accuracy to Zig-Zag." This may all sound like stuff you already know, but to read them again in Stern's irreverent voice is like revisiting fairy tales from your childhood and discovering all the dirty parts that went over your head. You'll want to dig back into your own discarded ideas box and sculpt something new.

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Steering the Craft and The Language of the Night, by Ursula K. Le Guin

Le Guin has published two books about writing. The more recent of these, Steering the Craft (1998), is intended for experienced writers, the ones, she says, who “blow all Rules of Writing to bits.” It offers exercises and advice on storytelling, point of view, and grammar. For the younger author, there is her 1979 volume, The Language of the Night, filled with inspirational essays on science fiction and fantasy, that are no less rigorous than the later book. “In art,” she observes, “‘good enough’ is not good enough.”

This article originally appeared at The Center for Fiction.