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fanfic-inator795 · 5 months

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Why I love the Jeoffs in "The Ghost and Molly McGee"

(Warning, VERY long essay ahead)

There’s a lot to love about “The Ghost and Molly McGee” - from its lovable characters and fantastic animation, to its hilarious jokes and incredibly catchy songs, to its morals on kindness and spreading positivity. But while I admire all of these elements, one of my personal favorite things from TGAMM is the relationship between Geoff and Jeff.

To me, Geoff and Jeff seem to stand above a lot of the rest in terms of mlm rep. They aren’t just used for comedy relief, nor do they rely on cliches, and they aren’t just the dads of a side character that we hardly see - though they're still a middle-aged queer couple, which is pretty rare and just nice to see. They’re recurring characters who help out with plots and who actually FEEL like actual characters. To fully explain this, let’s take a deeper dive into these two and what makes them so great both as individuals and as a pair.

Meet Geoff

While he only appears in a handful of episodes throughout the series, I can appreciate that - much like characters such as Libby and Andrea - Geoff was introduced and established early on in the show. Voiced by Eric Edelstein, who some may recognize as Grizz from We Bare Bears, Geoff is the happy-go-lucky and somewhat ditzy ghost-best friend of Scratch. While Scratch may not always appreciate him (ESPECIALLY in the early half of the 1st Season), Geoff is always there to lend a hand or a hug, often letting whatever insults or cold-shoulders that Scratch throws at him just slide off his back.

It would have been INCREDIBLY easy to just make Geoff the brainless comedy relief character ala Patrick Star, but much like with Grizz, there’s a lot of genuine heart put into this character, even if he isn’t always the sharpest crayon in the box. Given that his first appearance shows him altering his calendar so he can hang out with Scratch and then playing dumb about it when Scratch tries to call him out, we’re able to get the feeling pretty early on that there’s more to this ghost than it seems.

Something similar happens in the Sart Duan Sib episode when Geoff takes advantage of Scratch’s poor grammar to invite a bunch of other ghosts to the dinner. We then see him help save Scratch’s butt by talking up Scratch’s ‘unique scaring technique’ in the episode “Scare Tactics” - so we know that even if he doesn’t know stuff like basic history facts about Lincoln, Geoff is still just a bit more clever than he looks.

It should also be noted that Geoff knew Scratch before the McGees moved into his house - in other words, he likely noticed that for as grumpy and anti-social as Scratch was, he was also probably very lonely. So, much like Molly, Geoff was willing to do what he could to help pull Scratch out of his shell, seeing the good in him and - as such - being able to ignore the fact that Scratch was a pretty crappy friend in the early stages of their relationship. The show makes it clear that Geoff isn’t oblivious to Scratch’s obvious flaws, even acknowledging them in some instances (see him nodding along to Scratch’s points about how he can be lazy and selfish at the end of “Jinx VS the Human World”), he just chooses to easily forgive them in favor of seeing and believing in the best in his buddy.

So yeah, while there are small instances of Scratch manipulating him, it never outright feels like Geoff is a full-on doormat for Scratch - and, once Scratch is able to let down some of his walls, they’re even able to have fun together! Geoff also gets to show off his loyalty in episodes like “The Turnip Twist” and the season 1 finale, with these instances also showing how much of a power-house he’s able to be when he’s determined or when one of his loved ones is in danger through him destroying the festival or fighting off the SobGoblins.

By the end of season 1, we pretty much have a full grasp on Geoff’s character. He’s a bit dopey and is often seen spacing out, but he can also be observant and clever when he wants to be. He’s friendly, genuine, loyal and incredibly supportive towards others - and in that sense, he's less Patrick Star and more Olaf the Snowman in terms of goofy side characters. All in all, he’s a simple but still fully realized character - and, while he may not get as much overall screen time as his after-life partner, the same could be said for Jeff.

Meet Jeff

Funnily enough, while Jeff doesn’t get a proper introduction until s2, the show actually hints at him pretty early on. In “Not So Honest Abe” when Scratch and Geoff are at their favorite coffee house, the barista calls out an order, and Geoff immediately knows that it’s his partner’s order, not his.

On the surface, it just seems like Geoff just supernaturally knows whenever someone is saying J-E-F-F instead of G-E-O-F-F - which, knowing him, he probably does have that ability… somehow. But, interestingly, the order that the barista calls out is a Misery Mocha with extra whip. While it’s not the cookie frightaccino that we see Jeff drinking in s2, he does take both drinks with extra whipped cream (or rather, whipped screams, because ghosts). So yeah, that’s a nice little easter egg there.

Then, in the Sart Duan Sib episode, we get to fully see Jeff for the first time. The two Jeoffs sit together at the table, and there’s actually a quick shot of the two of them in the background where Geoff is feeding something to Jeff, all while just giving him this absolutely adoring look (love it).

Finally, during the s2 premiere, we see Jeff standing next to Geoff during Scratch’s big Chairman ceremony. So yeah, while it’s unclear WHEN exactly the creators decided on this relationship, it was at the very least established by mid-s1.

Voiced by Vincent Rodriguez III, who previously voiced Ansel Beauregard in Netflix’s “Arlo the Alligator Boy” - though others may know him for his work in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Jeff finally gets his proper introduction in “The (After)Life of the Party”, and actually gets to appear in several episodes afterwards. Again, it’s just nice to see this character - and his relationship with Geoff - actually get to stick around instead of being shunted to the background/void. What’s more, while Jeff obviously loves Geoff a ton and would most likely kill for his man, him being happily in love is not his only character trait.

Both Jeoffs are sociable extroverts and are incredibly friendly guys, but while Geoff tends to be friendly almost to a fault at some points, Jeff is willing to be just a bit mean when he needs to be. This, of course, is shown when he point-blank tells Scratch that if he ever does something to seriously hurt his partner, he’s gonna have to answer to him. Thankfully, Jeff doesn’t hold TOO much of a grudge once he lays down the law. Still, that connects to another similarity between the Jeoffs, as they can both be supportive and incredibly protective of the ones they love.

As for differences, Jeff is shown to subtly be just a bit of a humble bragger - like when he talks about how the guest list at his and Geoff’s anniversary party is going to include “the best of the best” or when he points out how he’s “classically trained” when he shows off his tap dancing skills during the “This House is Haunted” song.

Speaking of that episode, I really love the bit during the scare-off between Geoff and Howlin' Harriet where Jeff just blatantly chooses Geoff as the winner, all while claiming that he’s a 'non-bias judge'. Honestly, it’s both hilarious and adorable, if also just a bit petty.

Moving on, we see that while both Jeoffs are pretty openly honest guys, Geoff will often try to sugarcoat things while Jeff can be incredibly blunt and more than a little snarky, as seen when he got annoyed with Jinx during their fake Wheel of Fortune game in the episode “Jinx!” or with his “soft rock personality” comment towards Scratch in “Davenport’s in Demise”. Although, with the latter, I have to wonder if that was just Jeff being petty again, given that Scratch very clearly interrupted their coffee date just to get some shallow validation - and, yeah, I’d be just a bit annoyed too.

We should also acknowledge his “terrible chairman” comments in “Jinx VS the Human World” - as, while these comments definitely aren’t quite accurate, given that Scratch did quite a few good things as chairman, namely getting rid of the Flow of Failed Phantoms permanently - they do speak to Jeff having just a bit of a temper leading to him occasionally being harsher than necessary, showing that BOTH Jeoffs can be pretty emotional, just on different sides of the spectrum.

It really is an amazing feat just how much character the TGAMM crew was able to put into Jeff despite him only really being prominently featured in the last third or so of the series. Again, they could have taken the lazy route and made him JUST Geoff’s love interest, likely making Jeff a near-carbon copy of his partner instead of the two of them having a good amount of similarities and differences. But because BOTH characters are decently fleshed out, we’re able to get a really good grasp on their incredibly sweet and enjoyable relationship.

Time to gush about Jeoff

There really is just sooooooo much to praise about this pairing - right down to their character designs having a sort of yin-yang aspect to them, with Geoff’s bottom-heavy design and Jeff’s top-heavy design allowing them to fit together perfectly! Their colors also go together incredibly well.

Honestly, you could mute their dialogue and still be able to tell how much they love each other, just because they’re constantly giving each other loving looks and being physically affectionate with each other - hugging, holding hands, holding each other, Geoff hanging off Jeff’s arm, giving each other looks that just SCREAM “I love you” all that great stuff. We only get one actual kiss on the lips between them - and a quick one at that - but it’s one of those cases where I don’t mind too much, given that they really aren’t subtle or lacking when it comes to other examples of physical affection so it never feels like the TGAMM crew is trying to hide their romance like other shows might. Heck, just the fact that they’ve canonically been together for a full 100 years speaks to the strength of their relationship.

Episodes like “(After)Life of the Party”, “Frightmares on Main Street” and “Dance Dad Revolution” show how much they enjoy dancing with each other - which, seeing this, now I kinda want to see a 2-V-2 dance off between the Jeoffs, Pete and Sonia AKA the Ice Princess. I feel like that’d be both super fun and incredibly entertaining.

(just look at how happy they are. It's so cute, I can't- My heart-! *also I still find it hilarious that these two just foiled Scratch's whole scheme in Dance Dad completely on accident, haha*)

We also learn that they make each other homemade gifts - like Jeff apparently making Geoff a sweater for his Death Day, and Geoff talking about how all his holiday gifts for Jeff are always homemade so that they always come from the heart.

But beyond the cute visuals, what really sells these two for me is their dynamic. When you think about Geoff and all we saw of him during s1, he is very much the type of guy who not only supports those he loves, but is willing to sacrifice them as well. After all, Geoff literally got himself thrown into the Flow of Failed Phantoms for the sake of trying to protect Molly and Scratch in the s1 finale. Again, much like Molly, he just naturally cares a ton and he’ll fight for those he cares about, even when it’s at detriment to himself - and what’s more, people like Scratch sometimes take advantage of that.

In that sense, it’s incredibly sweet that for as supportive and loyal as Geoff is towards others, Jeff is able to be that sort of person for him. While Geoff can sometimes disregard his own needs or concerns in favor of helping others, Jeff is the only one consistently looking out for Geoff and protecting him, such as when he outright refuses to leave Geoff behind in the Halloween episode - even after Geoff worries about slowing him down - or when he makes it clear to Scratch that he isn’t going to stand by and let him be a bad friend to his partner. Heck, even more joke-y moments like Jeff giving Geoff the win in the scare-off shows that he always has his partner’s back.

And of course, Geoff is just as supportive and affectionate in return, referring to Jeff as “amazing” and “awesome” and declaring how he’s happy to spend the rest of his after-life with him at their anniversary party. When he thinks he’s about to die from poisoned candy in the Halloween ep, his so-called last words are “tell Jeff I love him!” When Jeff is playing the host of their fake Wheel of Fortune show, Geoff is right there supporting him as his ‘lovely assistant’, even using his explanation of one of the show’s prizes (the foam finger) as an excuse to flirt with him.

(One of my fave moments between them ngl)

Additionally - and this is getting a bit into headcanon territory but - when you look at Jeff, he has a very traditionally strong and masculine look to him, which likely caused other people to likely have certain expectations of him back when he was alive. As such, I sort of get the vibe that, when it came to Geoff and Jeff falling in love with him, the main thing that Jeff appreciated about him was Geoff’s unconditional love - and, from that, the ability to just feel comfortable and ‘soft’ around him. To dance and be snarky and sappy and lovey-dovey without ever being judged for it.

You truly feel like these two are ride-or-die for each other, even when they might not always be on the same page… which brings us to the Dana Synder-voiced blue blob in the room.

While these two aren’t really shown bickering or arguing at all, any time there IS any sort of tension, it usually involves Scratch - which makes sense, given that he and Jeff didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. Sometimes they’re able to work together fine and be friendly enough with each other, and other times Jeff is understandably annoyed or frustrated by Scratch’s antics.

As for Geoff, it’s made very clear that he’s the type of guy who holds friendly and platonic relationships with just as much importance as romantic ones - which, as an ace/aro person, I can definitely appreciate. This does cause him to be more than a little forgiving towards Scratch’s follies - but while he won’t go so far as to let Jeff call Scratch the “worst chairman ever”, he also won’t force Jeff to hide his feelings/not call Scratch out or take back his other less-than-nice comments regarding Scratch and seems to understand and accept that his partner doesn’t necessarily hold Scratch in as high regard as he does.

In that sense, it almost feels like a typical sitcom dynamic where one character is constantly getting into little squabbles with their spouse’s friend or family member - but in this case, Geoff thankfully never tries to force the two of them to constantly get along, being fine with their dynamic as is while, naturally, still being thrilled when Jeff and Scratch DO improve their relationship.

Really, the only time where Geoff maaaaaybe went a bit too far regarding Scratch was when, after he and Jeff were captured by the Chens in the halloween episode, he told Molly that they were fine and to go save “his precious Scratch” instead, with this leading to Jeff saying how they needed to have a talk about Geoff’s obsession with him.

In Geoff’s defense, Scratch was all alone and the Jeoffs at least had each other, plus the Chens were distracted at the time, meaning that they weren’t in immediate danger while Scratch potentially was. I should also mention that while the line itself is more of a quick joke than anything else, I do appreciate it sort of hinting at the Jeoffs being good communicators who are willing to actually talk things out whenever they have a disagreement or concern with one another.

It’s a small thing, but given how many fictional long-term couples we’ve seen bottle things up, miscommunicate constantly and argue nearly half the time they’re on screen to the point of their relationship consistently being on the rocks, it’s nice to see a more healthy and realistic dynamic between an older couple - because hey, you don’t make it to your 100th year anniversary without knowing how to properly communicate with your partner.

I’m also glad that while Jeff and Scratch had their own sort of tensions between them, Jeff was never shown being jealous, possessive or insecure about Geoff being friends with or being affectionate with Scratch. Sure, he called his partner out for putting Scratch’s safety above his/their own - which I’d say is fairly reasonable, even if I can also understand Geoff’s side - and I’m sure he didn’t fully get WHY exactly Geoff cared about Scratch so much given how much of a jerk and nuisance Scratch could be, but he never went so far as to tell Geoff he couldn’t be friends with Scratch, leading to Jeff himself eventually warm up to the little guy by the end of “Jinx VS the Human World” after Scratch made up for his big mistake, which was admittedly really nice to see.

All in all, the relationship between the Jeoffs is cute, wholesome, healthy and just really enjoyable to watch whenever it comes up. Both characters are not only great as a pair but also great on their own. Even if we don’t know every little detail about their relationship and history together, it’s made clear over and over again following Jeff’s introduction that these two are still incredibly in love with each other and there are plenty of reasons why this is both clearly-shown and implied.

In terms of LGBTQ+ rep and especially mlm rep, I’d say they’re a really great example! The Jeoffs aren’t just tokens nor do they rely on cliches. They’re fully fleshed out characters that work just as well together as they do apart, assuring that they aren’t defined by just their relationship, and they’re actually shown helping out or participating in the plot in certain episodes instead of just being stuck in the background. They have their jokes, sure, but the relationship is never only used for comedy relief, and while it’s a shame that we never got more than one kiss between them, it’s still great seeing just how physically, emotionally and verbally affectionate they are with each other, proudly making their love for one another clear as day. They’re literally shown being each other’s joy during the “Give Them Joy” song - you can’t get much more blatant than that!

In a show full of just amazing relationships - whether they be based on friendship, familial ties, found family, or romance - I’m just so satisfied that one of the main pairs regarding the latter category got to be Geoff and Jeff. So kudos to the TGAMM crew for doing just an absolutely fantastic job with these two.

#tgamm #tgamm geoff #tgamm jeff #my thoughts #jeoff #geff #love these two sm #making up for the fact that I can't make video essays by writing super long text essays lol

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filthy-mudeoki · 11 months

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Surprise

Sang Zhi plans a little surprise for Duan Jiaxu … but it doesn’t exactly go to plan.

Tagging @kairadiamond We had fun with this one! I hope it lives up to the expectation! ☺️

Also ... it's a lil steamy ....

Sang Zhi is quite certain she has never done anything so outrageous. For a moment she thinks about calling it off, but then she remembers … or at least tries to remember the last time she has seen Jiaxu for more than 10 minutes at a time.

With a new but still somewhat shaky confidence, she lets herself into Jiaxu’s office. The office space is both dark and empty but that is no surprise to her. Jiaxu had mentioned – on what was once again another brief call – that they were meeting with another client.

She steps into his private office. It’s a good space that has little touches of her everywhere. There’s a large desk in the middle and a couch at one end of the room. The throw she had bought him last winter is neatly folded and placed at one end of the couch.

Sang Zhi calls him as she sheds her winter coat. He picks up on the third ring.

“Wéi, Zhizhi,” Jiaxu answers. His voice is soft and suddenly she can’t bear how much she misses him. But he also sounds like he’s in the middle of something.

“Wéi, Jiaxu. Have I disturbed you?” she immediately asks worrying she that she has not thought through the finer details of this plan. She tries not to fidget with her outfit.

“No. We were done.”

“Hhm, are you still heading back to the office?” She asks even though she knows the answer.

He sighs sounding upset with himself. “Yes.” She can hear the distant rumble of cars and wonders if he’s already driving back. “Sang Zhi, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s work and it’s very important,” she tries to soothe. This much she can understand. It is work and Jiaxu has always been understanding of her hectic schedule. The least she could do was afford him the same.

Still, they’ve hated when their schedules got to this point of disarray. It makes her heart leap a little more, knowing he craves her presence as she does him.

“I promise things will go back to normal soon,” he says regardless.

“Did you at least have a good dinner?” His silence causes her to frown a little. “Jiaxu.”

“Yeah … yeah. We ate.”

“You’re lying,” she scolds. Picking up the picture frame on his desk, she narrows her eyes at it as if he were in front of her now.

“I ate … earlier. But once I get back to the office, I’ll order something,” he promises.

Sang Zhi smiles. “Don’t worry about that. I ordered something for you.”

“Thank you, Zhizhi,” he says and she smirks glancing down at her outfit.

It’s a little (or a lot) more daring than she is usually used to. But Ning Wei said it would be the perfect thing. It had taken more coaxing before Sang Zhi pulled the little dress on. Thank goodness for the winter coat that she had worn.

“It’s a treat,” Ning Wei had said with a wink.

“For who?” Sang Zhi had questioned.

But in the end, she can’t help the temptation to try it one. And she had to admit, she liked how it felt on her. Even more, she liked how it looked on her.

She’s still got the phone to her ear as she hoists herself up onto his desk. It’s immaculately clean, free of all nick-nack’s save for the picture frame that houses a photo of the two of them. He’s got a few more photos around his office – on the shelf and the little table beside the couch.

“What are you doing?” he asks diverting her attention once more.

“Hhm, nothing really. Just … waiting for you.”

She bites her lips wondering if he will catch on and end their fun all too quickly. But his heavy sigh tells her she is safe for now.

“I’ll make it up to you, Zhizhi.” His voice goes low and she has to cross her legs because she is very much going to see that he makes good on that.

She taps her heel-clad feet in the air as she decides to tease him a little more. “How?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Be careful, Duan Jiaxu. You might regret that.”

He laughs and she’s thrilled to hear it. “With you? Never.”

“Hhm, right answer.”

Jiaxu laughs again but a sudden thought makes her panic.

“Are you heading back to the office alone?”

“Yes. They’ve all done their best. I just have to put the finishing touches on the contract,” he tells her.

Sang Zhi breathes a sigh of relief. And no sooner too as she hears the rustle of movement in the background on the other end of the line. Was he here already? A moment later, she hears the distant sound of the front door opening.

“You work yourself too hard, Jiaxu.” She keeps her voice low so not to be overheard by him.

Sang Zhi hasn’t turned on any of the lights. So she waits, listening with baited breath as he walks through the office space, heading straight for his office.

“Maybe you need to take a break?” she suggests coyly.

“That’s a good idea,” he says. “Shall I come fetch you? We can get something to eat.”

She wants to panic but manages to keep her cool as she hears his footsteps echo against the floor. A light goes on in the distance as he pauses on his trek.

“You don’t think I’ll be a distraction?” She tips her head to the side even though he can’t see her.

He’s fiddling with something just outside the office. She’s not sure how she knows, but she does. “You’re always a distraction, Zhizhi.” He laughs and she hears his footsteps pick up again. “So what do you say?”

“Hhm … I think you’ll like the surprise I got you much better,” she says with as much confidence as she can.

He pauses just outside the door. With the little light thrown under gap of the door, she can make out his shadow. He pauses once more and she’s almost tempted to just tell him.

“Really?”

At first she doesn’t say anything but then so quietly he almost misses it, Sang Zhi whispers, “I promise.”

Sang Zhi is not sure if he’s made the connection or not but it doesn’t matter because a moment later, the door to his office swings open and Jiaxu turns the light on.

She manages not to squint in the new light as she catches sight of him. Phone to his ear, she knows the exact moment he sees her. His eyes grow wide with surprise as he steps into the office.

“Sang Zhi,” he whispers.

She playfully wiggles her brows at him, “What do you think?” she asks into the phone. “Do you like your surprise?”

“Uh… Zhizhi let me call you back. I have to inspect this surprise a little more closely first,” he cheekily responds and then cuts the call.

She’s vaguely aware of him throwing his phone onto the couch as he shucks his coat off too. Sang Zhi’s still giggling as he approaches the desk. She has just enough mind to uncross her legs before he reaches for her. His hands settle on her thighs, that are so visible thanks to the very short dress Ning Wei picked. He drags her closer a little more, until she is perfectly perched on the edge of his desk.

She loops her hands around his neck and even with her sitting on his desk, he looms over her. She’s never minded though.

“Surprise,” she barely manages to whisper before he closes the space between them.

It’s soft kiss at first, almost like he is testing to see if she is really there. But when he pulls away and she chases him, hungry for more, he gives in.

His hand comes up to grasp her face, tipping her head up a little more as he kisses her. She’s rooted to the spot, as she matches his vigour. There’s a giddy feeling that grows in the pit of her stomach. Jiaxu pulls back just enough so their foreheads press together.

She wonders if he can hear the loud beating of her heart. Instead she asks, “Like your surprise?”

“I love it,” he says. “What … why…”

Sang Zhi grins. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s a simple enough answer. And more importantly, it is the whole truth. She has missed him. The long hours they’ve kept at work have become unbearable and the very last thing she wants is to spend another night waiting at home in their quiet apartment.

It doesn’t feel the same without him.

“I missed you too,” Jiaxu tells her.

“Really?” she asked and he nods. “I don’t think you do.”

He raises a brow, a smirk on his lips. “Should I show you instead?”

She nods too and wants to say yes but he kisses her and that steals her answer and her breath. Sang Zhi pulls him closer and Jiaxu cups the back of her head as he pushes her back onto the desk. He’s completely got the height advantage on her now, as he hovers over her, one hand pressed flat on the desk beside her head.

She can see a question lurking in his eyes but for the moment, she just wants to enjoy it being them. So she settles her hands on his waist, tugging him closer. Her fingers grab the soft material of his shirt and he starts kissing along her jaw. Her breathing hitches when she feels his lips dance over that spot. She can feel his smile against her flushed skin and urgently starts tugging the material of his shirt up. Jiaxu doesn’t stop her as she bunches it further up. She feels his fingers dance along the hem of her dress and it’s enough to cause the already startling flush on her face to go a shade deeper. She gasps when she feels him bit down on that spot. He knows what he is doing and she’s got no intentions of stopping him.

Sang Zhi is fiddling with the buttons on his shirt when they both hear something that makes them freeze.

The front door opening.

“Jiaxu!” Someone calls. It echoes across the office.

All Sang Zhi can hear is their heavy breathing and the sudden absurdly loud footsteps. Sang Zhi is certain she hears Jiaxu mumbling a curse under his breath. He doesn’t move off her though. Not yet. Perhaps hoping whoever it is will just go away. No such luck.

“Duan Jiaxu!” the voice calls again. It sounds much closer this time. “You still here?”

She glances up at Jiaxu, eyes wide in fear. He doesn’t move for a beat before pulling himself upright. He takes her by the hand, righting her on his desk too.

“Boss?”

It’s one of his programmers. Jiaxu was certain he had sent everyone home. He looks at Sang Zhi taking in her dishevelled appearance. There is no hiding what they had just been doing. Her usually pale face is flushed. She’s got the beginnings of a love bite on her neck and Jiaxu is sure he’s in a state no less telling.

There is no way out. Not without Zou Yong seeing Sang Zhi. He knows she’s dressed up only for him and Jiaxu is not about to let her feel embarrassed for what she’s done.

“Jiaxu …” she whispers urgently.

Sang Zhi looks at him helplessly for a second long before jumping off the desk. She rushes to grab her coat and turns to Jiaxu once more.

“Hide me.”

“W-what?”

“Hide me,” she repeats and he immediately looks around the office space for a place but there is none.

None but one. His desk.

They look back at each other as though having the same idea. Jiaxu grabs her hand, leading her around the desk. He stops for a moment, silently asking if she’s okay with this but Sang Zhi is already getting down and under the desk.

Just in time too as a knock comes from the other side of his office door. Haphazardly, he runs his fingers through his hair and manages to barely tuck his shirt back into his pants. He remains standing at his desk, a few random pages in hand. There is a second knock and Jiaxu feelings only minutely calmer.

“Come in,” he calls.

“You still here boss?” Zou Yong says as he enters. “I thought you would be long gone by now.”

Jiaxu appreciates the concern from his younger employee but he also really hates what he interrupted.

“Just had to go over a few details,” Jiaxu says. “Why did you come back?”

“Ah, forgot my keys.”

Jiaxu nods and chances a glance down. He can barely see Sang Zhi, which he supposes is a good thing.

Zou Yong moves closer to the desk and Jiaxu panics. He sits down and then wonders if that was such a good idea. He’s lost his height advantage on Zou Yong and he’s not sure how much space Sang Zhi has now.

“Oh boss, I suppose now that you’re here I can ask you about this error message I keep getting,” Zou Yong goes on.

Jiaxu gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watches Zou Yong pull out his laptop from his bag. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels Sang Zhi grab his leg. He can feel the bite of her nails through his pants and he quickly moves his chair to cover more of the space.

“Why don’t we sit with it tomorrow?” Jiaxu asks instead. Zou Yong, has his laptop in hand and is already making his way around the desk. He bites down on his tongue when he feels her touch against his leg again. Except now its inching up. He barely covers a cough as she does it again. She is going to be the death of him.

“You okay, boss?” Zou Yong asks looking at him a little more intently for a moment.

Jiaxu makes a show of rotating his shoulders back and forth. “Hhm, just stiff from sitting here all night.”

His remark is met with another lingering touch beneath the table. She’s more confident this time and he almost reaches down to snatch her hand in his.

Jiaxu leans forward, bracing himself on his arms. “Don’t worry too much about the errors,” he says trying to keep a straight face. “I’ll need to have a meeting with everyone anyway to discuss the revisions we need to make so it would be a good time to sort through all the errors we keep coming across.”

Zou Yong nods and for a moment, he looks relieved. That worries on Jiaxu for a bit. Had it not been for the guest he is currently hiding under the desk, he would have given it more attention. For the time being he settles for reassuring his employee.

“Zou Yong, if you’re having trouble with these things, don’t be afraid to ask. We’re all here to help each other.”

“I will … I just don’t want you to think I can’t do it.”

Jiaxu smiles, remembering that feeling all too well. “I won’t. I was an intern once. You don’t get better without learning to ask for help.” He’s glad to see Zou Yong nod and slips his laptop back into his backpack. “You should head home. I’m almost done here.”

“You want me to stay and help you?”

“No!” Jiaxu answers a bit more harshly than he intends too. “I mean … it’s already late and I’m going to head out it a bit. There is no point, really.”

Zou Yong, bless his heart doesn’t question it further. He waves goodbye and is calling out good wishes to his boss as he leaves.

Jiaxu doesn’t breath until he hears the front door close again. Exhaling he all but collapses into his chair, before pushing away from the desk. He finally looks under his desk and sees his Zhizhi, blushing and grinning. They both laugh a moment later.

She’s got a sort of coy smile that is absolutely driving him mad and he knows without a doubt he’s done here for the night.

It’s time to head home.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he asks, holding his hand out for her to take.

She does and he helps her up. Before she can say otherwise, he tugs her closer to him, and shifts his chair so she ends up in his lap.

“Oh, I’m trouble?” she asks raising a brow. “I must learn it from you, Duan Jiaxu.”

He guffaws. “Liar,” he teases, pulling her closer. He places a quick kiss to her lips.

“That was very close.” She fiddles with his collar, as she asks, “Can we go home now?”

Jiaxu grins. “Absolutely.”

They both rise from his chair and Jiaxu picks up his coat and phone from where he had thrown them earlier. He’s tugging his coat on when he turns back to her. She’s buttoning up her own winter coat, concealing the little surprise she had brought for him.

“Zhizhi,” he calls. When she looks at him, he’s got the softest look in hie eyes. “I liked this surprise. A lot.”

Her cheeks are still tinged pink and he loves that look. “Good,” she says and then takes his outstretched hand.

They head out together, Jiaxu falling behind just a step as they lock up.

“Do I get to see it again, at home?” he asks. She glances at him over her shoulder. He shrugs almost too nonchalantly. She can see the barest of there smirks on his lips.

“Hhm, I don’t know.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know he’s frowning now. She feels him squeeze her hand, tugging her back slightly.

“Why not? I didn’t get to appreciate like I wanted too this time around.”

“And whose fault is that?” she teases.

“Not mine! Of all the times to be interrupted!” He shakes his head in clear aggrievance.

“Well that’s a good point. Let’s see if we can rectify that,” Sang Zhi says and giggles when Jiaxu rushes them to his car.

It’s a blur of a ride home, but doesn’t matter because she’s hardly got her shoes off before he’s backing her up against the door. They leave a trail of clothing from the door to their bed. As far as surprises go, this one is the best yet.

Wéi – hi

#hidden love #hidden love fanfic #duan jiaxu #sang zhi #duan jiaxu x sang zhi #jiaxu and his zhizhi #duan Jiaxu has moves #and he may or may not use them here #it gets a lil steamy #cdrama #romance cdrama #must watch cdrama #chen zheyuan #zhao lusi #fanfic cdrama #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #also on ao3

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vague-humanoid · 10 months

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youtube

Ericka “Rikki” Payne: My biggest issue with that is – Okay, okay, this is me from the heart – My biggest issue is they send us to school to learn law and justice. They make us do this Pledge of Allegiance and they promise us these rights and all these things but with my uncle, none of that has been followed. He’s basically been proven innocent because the person that they said made the 911 call wasn’t the person who made the 911 call. They made us get a voice analysis person and he said that wasn’t Duane Peak on the 911 call. The judge got red as a beet and didn’t say anything. But they had promised my grandma that they would give him a new trial if they proved that that was not Duane Peak on the 911 call.

Also, in that same trial, they said that he had explosive chemicals in his pocket. It’s the same thing that’s in laundry detergent. So we had a specialist say that whatever that chemical is, it’s also found in laundry detergent. Then at that same trial, this police officer leaned over my grandma and said, you will not get out over my dead body. I don’t care what these people say. I couldn’t believe it. I told the reporter, did you hear that? Did you write that down? Did you record that? Her name was Carol Schrader. She ignored me.

#Youtube

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foxghost · 1 year

Text

Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

A Bird’s Eye View of the Realm2

“Duan Ling! Duan Ling —!”

Riding on Wanlibenxiao, Wu Du charges all the way out of the capital of Jiangzhou. He stares at Duan Ling with an exasperated look on his face. On a side road just beyond the capital’s walls, Duan Ling turns his horse around unhurriedly beneath the star-studded night sky with a brilliant Silver River cutting through the background. Edged with starlight, Duan Ling smiles at Wu Du.

“Let’s go?” Duan Ling says.

“Let’s go? Your emperor uncle is going to skin your lord and master!” Wu Du’s not sure if he should laugh or cry.

Duan Ling heaves a sigh and nods with a frown, ready to head back to the city with Wu Du. But seeing him like this, Wu Du just can’t bear to make him go back to the palace. It’s almost like if he could wipe that frown off Duan Ling’s face, it’s worth getting himself skinned.

“Come on then … Where’d you want to go?” Wu Du says, “Come on over here.”

Duan Ling’s frown disappears, turning into a smile. “Seriously?”

“Where to?” Wu Du asks. “The sun’s going to come up soon. What could be so important that you couldn’t forget it by the time you wake up again anyway?”

“To the ends of the earth,” Duan Ling says, slowly approaching Wu Du on horseback.

Wu Du shoots a glance at Duan Ling. “Let’s go then. I’ll let you go wherever you want, even to the ends of the earth.”

Duan Ling puts his foot into Wu Du’s stirrup, and with a swing of his leg over Benxiao’s back, he’s sitting in front of Wu Du. Now that they’re sharing a horse, Wu Du shakes the reins and shouts, “Gup!”

Benxiao runs on four hooves as though stepping on clouds, onto a Jiangzhou highway swirling with mist, kicking up a great trail of dust. The humidity of morning mist brushes them by, and the stars of the Silver River above gradually fade away until they all vanish in a flash of morning sunlight. A red sun surges above the horizon at the end of the Yangtze, bestowing this world new life.

“Whatever happened last night?” Wu Du whispers, putting his arms around Duan Ling so that he’s encircled, and protected.

“Last night’s stars and last night’s wind, west of the painted tower east of the hall …” Duan Ling recites smilingly.3

“We lack a butterfly’s wings and thus cannot fly as one, but my heart and yours will sing as one —” Wu Du follows by reciting the next line.

“We play pass the hook and drink warm spring wine, the shell game is fun and the candles are especially red …”

His memories gradually take him back to a time in the Illustrious Hall, and the voices of children reciting poetry join him in unison.

“Ah, I hear the nightwatchman’s clapper signalling roll-call — I spur my horse onwards but my heart only spins in place.”

Curled up in Wu Du’s arms, Duan Ling slowly nods off. Upon exiting the Jiangzhou highway, the ponds to the left and right of the road are blanketed with the remnants of lotus leaves. The morning breeze sends a ripple through the water, its crystalline lines reflecting the boundless blue sky.

Wu Du brings him all the way north, fording the Yangtze, turning into a gust of wind as they gallop past golden rice paddies, past the wide open prairies with the returning geese flying overhead, through puddles big and small left behind by the autumn rain, kicking up the fresh scent of the earth as they continue north. The mountains and clouds above them and the fields and forests they travel past are no longer black and white like an ink-brush painting but have gradually filled in with colour.

This sky, this earth, they seem to become a fast-moving painted scroll, multicoloured, fresh and elegant. Duan Ling slowly wakes from his sleep, and he looks up from Wu Du’s embrace to feel as though he’s travelled from early spring to midsummer, then through the cries of cicada and lush greenery, into gold-foiled late autumn.

Spring weeds grow lush in a land now vanquished; summer palace ruins lie buried beneath mounds of dirt.4

“Is this where you wanted to go?”

“No.”

— Thus they cross the Southern Chen border and pass through Runan.

The geese fly south but no letter came; the bamboo by the River Xiang is stained with tears.5

“How about here?”

“Not here either.”

— Thus they leave Luoyang without stopping to rest.

Finally, tracing the path he took north many years ago, Wu Du takes Duan Ling all the way to the outskirts of Shangjing. Whatever wounds that war had given this capital of Great Liao had healed long ago, and the biggest city in the north is also populated again.

The sun is beginning to set. Bells toll in the distant mountains, and the autumn wind rustling through the yellowing leaves already feels a bit chilly. A pale full moon hangs at the horizon, seemingly blending into the dark red sky. Wu Du stops halfway up a mountain, quietly watching Shangjing from above. Lights flicker in the city as every household hangs its lanterns.

It’s the fifteenth of the Eighth Month, the day of the Mid-Autumn festival. The Mongolians don’t celebrate this holiday; many years ago, the Han passed slips of paper in their mooncakes, and in the name of “resisting the barbarians” had risen up in rebellion, commencing a fierce battle beneath Mount Jiangjun.

Of course, the Mongolians don’t eat mooncakes, and they don’t celebrate this Han festival either, but the Khitans do. They say that at every Mid-Autumn Festival, Yelü Zongzhen’s seasonal palace in Zhongjing would be hung full of decorated lanterns so that he may reminisce fondly about old friends.

“Do you want to go take a look inside?” Wu Du crouches before the cliff’s edge in his white martial artist robes, looking into the distance like a white tiger in the night staring at the excitement and hubbub of the mortal world beneath the mountains.

They already came all the way so of course they ought to go inside and have a look around, but knowing Duan Ling as he does, Wu Du thinks sometimes all Duan Ling wants to do is to see it from a distance.

And as expected, Duan Ling says, “Never mind, let’s just leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Wu Du says, turning to Duan Ling with a smile.

Duan Ling suddenly finds the sight of Wu Du’s back extraordinarily reliable, so much so that he decides to throw himself on there, and sprawls over his back. Wu Du smiles, saying, “Let’s go home.”

A gush of warmth rises from Duan Ling’s heart unbidden. Carrying Duan Ling on his back, Wu Du looks around him before slowly approaching the city via a small footpath. Shangjing is no longer the strictly defended stronghold it used to be, and it’s no longer the most important city in the north either; when Wu Du gets to the city gates, he takes Duan Ling’s hand, and when Duan Ling tells the soldiers at the gates in Khitan that they’ve come to visit relatives, the soldiers don’t press him for more details before letting them through.

“It’s reunion night,” Duan Ling says, standing at the city gate, facing the city of Shangjing in the midst of a festival. On either side of the main street are maple trees with leaves as red as blood, and underneath the lanterns, the street is bustling. A bright moon sits on the horizon.

This is clearly the Shangjing he remembers, and it has never changed; he takes Wu Du’s big hand and crosses the main street with him, walking towards his home. When they pass by an apothecary, the two of them stop automatically.

“I’ve been here before,” Wu Du says.

“I’ve been before as well,” Duan Ling replies.

Wu Du picks up the apothecary’s door and shoves it aside. Duan Ling goes behind the counter and notices that the place has been in a state of disrepair for a long time already — the drawers that used to hold herbs and medicinal ingredients are lying all over the place, whatever used to be in them long gone. Duan Ling picks up a half stick of candle left on the counter and lights it. When he stands it back up on the counter, the room is immediately suffused in a warm glow, casting their shadows onto the window lattice.

“Let’s go out this way,” Duan Ling says, taking Wu Du out of the apothecary through the rear courtyard. Just before leaving, he takes a glance behind him. The entire apothecary looks to him like a giant magic lantern, reflecting all the mortal world’s joys and sorrows, its many partings and reunions.

After the calamity that befell this city, people haven’t moved back in to fill all of its houses yet. Duan Ling walks through the alley that leads to his house and pushes open the two redwood doors that have almost rotted off their hinges to find the courtyard covered in lichen. A water bowl sits on the table still, left behind by Cai Yan just before they departed. It’s filled by half with rainwater.

I’m not a very good cook. I don’t have Zheng Yan’s skills. Someday when you taste better food than this you won’t think much about this table full of food, but for now you’ll have to make do.

It feels like Lang Junxia is still busying himself in the kitchen. Duan Ling sticks his head in for a look and asks smilingly, “Lang Junxia, where’s my dad?”

Lang Junxia looks up, glances at Duan Ling, and replies, “Your dad should be here by the time the peach blossoms bloom.”

Duan Ling turns around and walks into the courtyard. Wu Du is lying on a lounger Li Jianhong once used. He says to Duan Ling, “Come over here and look at the moon.”

And so Duan Ling goes to Wu Du and leans back against him. They lie there without a word.

“Mud all over your hands, and you wipe them all over your dad’s face.” Li Jianhong says, smiling at Duan Ling as he passes through the gallery.

Duan Ling thus quickly gets back on his feet, but all he hears is a gust of wind moving through the gallery, setting the rusted wind chines clanging.

Wu Du asks, “Are you hungry yet?”

“I’m hungry,” Duan Ling says. “Let’s have a walk around. I remember a shaobing place around here that was pretty tasty.”

Wu Du puts away his sword and leaves the house with Duan Ling. When they get to the main street, Duan Ling walks along the city wall. As they cross the river in the middle of the city, Wu Du can’t help but keep staring at the water. Duan Ling knows he’s remembering how he’d had to jump into the frozen river years ago, and teases him about it.

Soon, Wu Du picks up Duan Ling and leaps onto the roof. Stepping along the roof tiles, he jumps from roof to roof for an entire street, then he lands and buys them two pieces of shaobing, two catty of beef, and four taels of wine. Holding all that with one hand, he leaps onto the roof again and heads down to another street.

As they arrive at the Illustrious Hall, Duan Ling is surprised to find that the place has been renovated, and school is in session again. Right now though, the children have already gone home for the holidays. The gatekeeper is someone new as well; an old man, tipsy from drink, who left rather early.

“I’ve been to this stable,” Wu Du says as they walk in through the back door.

Duan Ling is chewing on a shaobing, and upon hearing this he almost spits it out. “You also crashed through the roof of the main hall.”

Wu Du laughs so hard that he doubles over. He grabs Duan Ling and takes a running leap onto the roof. The two of them lie down on the roof, and facing the bright harvest moon at the horizon, they drink and gaze at the moon.

“Milord,” Duan Ling says.

“Yeah,” Wu Du replies, drinking his wine. “The moon is particularly round in the north. I’ll take you to Shangzi next year.”

“Sure. There are still lots of tall mountains and great rivers still, and I want to see them all.”

“There’s plenty of time. Did you leave a message for your uncle?”

This concerns Wu Du’s skin after all. Duan Ling smiles as he says, “I left one when I left the palace that day.”

They look up at the sky, and as the moon rises to its zenith, there is a sudden squeak from the back gates as someone pushes them open. The sound is followed by a familiar voice.

“I never thought I’d run into you here,” Batu says.

“Jiangzhou … couldn’t go there,” Helian Bo says as he waves his sabre around fancily. “So I thought I’d … keep His Majesty … company. Have a walk … around.”

“Let’s call a temporary truce on my account,” says Yelü Zongzhen’s voice. “Borjigin, it’s not like you can come all this way here all the time, and you don’t have many guards with you either. Starting a fight inside the city won’t do you any good.”

Batu turns his nose up at the idea. “If you people hadn’t ambushed me I wasn’t planning to show my face anyway.”

“This trip is a trip down memory lane, so let’s just say we’re having a reunion dinner. See? We were meant to see each other again,” says Yelü Zongzhen. “Get someone to bring us a couple of catty of wine, and we’ll drink it here. We will raise our cups to Duan Ling in the far south — the moon is full and our table is full, and no matter the distance, we’re looking at the same moon.”

Duan Ling stares at them without a word.

Wu Du takes one look at Duan Ling, and as he’s just about to jump down there, Duan Ling grabs him and puts a finger in front of his lips, letting him know that he shouldn’t act without thinking. Then, while Yelü Zongzhen’s guards go around to secure the Illustrious Hall, Wu Du picks Duan Ling up sideways and walks to the end of the flying eaves like a great big cat. The two of them conceal themselves in the shadows of the next building over, quietly watching those in the courtyard as they gaze at the moon and drink their wine.

Helian Bo, Yelu Zongzhen and Borjigin Batu drink to each other beneath the moon, while Duan Ling and Wu Du sit still against each other on the roof. Time passes, and the silver disc moves across the sky, shining its bright light into the world. Three rounds of drinks later, Batu suddenly starts singing a bold, heroic tune.

His voice is forceful and unruly, startling the crows that have been sitting still on this moonlit night so that they fly off towards the horizon. Helian Bo and Yelü Zongzhen beat their cups with chopsticks, making a rhythmic clanging.

It’s a Mongolian pastoral song, and Duan Ling can understand the lyrics; with a full moon above the prairies, the wind blows through a sea of grass, sending waves in every direction, and yearning, like south-flying geese, has returned again.

Batu lets out a long sigh at the end of the song, but then they hear a flute start to play. It comes from above them, faint and barely there, lingering from the rafters to the horizon. All three are startled by the sound and look up together. All they can see is a young man’s pitch-black silhouette against a bright, clear moon, sharp like a paper cutout, while another man stands on the flying eaves protectively at his side.

The guards make to step up, but Yelü Zongzhen raises a hand to stop them. Slowly, Batu stands incredulously and walks to the centre of the courtyard to look up at that silhouette.

Duan Ling’s flute playing is melodic and bright, and through the years he has spent with Wu Du, he has finally learned how to play this song. It may be a bit shaky, but the music is more or less piercing with a wintry air.

Compared to Wu Du’s way of turning his tempered, steel-like strength, into the softness of a feather touch, Duan Ling plays with a lot of power, and the song inevitably takes on a strong resonating tone. The music sounds like a farewell, and it also sounds like regret; and finally, beneath the moon, it fades away until it can no longer be heard.

“Duan Ling?” Batu says, his voice trembling.

Wu Du becomes a black shadow, and with Duan Ling in his arms, he leaps from one uneven rooftop to another, leaving Shangjing behind. They get on Wanlibenxiao and gallop away from the city.

Just before he leaves, Duan Ling looks up at the bright, clear harvest moon above.

“Let’s go home!” Duan Ling says.

“Let’s go home. Gup!” Wu Du urges Wanlibenxiao on and takes Duan Ling away from there as though riding on the wind, looking down at ten thousand miles of the realm.

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

The title is from a poem by Xin Qiji, and like many of Xin Qiji’s poems, may sound like it’s about yearning for someone while being a poem that yearns for a lost homeland, as it was written during the Southern Song dynasty. The whole line that the title came from would read: I wish to ride on the wind and get a bird’s eye view of the realm. ↩︎

A poem by the Tang dynasty poet Li Shangyin. The second line that Wu Du recites is so famous that it’s essentially an idiom. ↩︎

This poem opened chapter 1. ↩︎

Another poem by Li Shangyin. This one is about yearning for someone far away. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things #LAST UPDATE #!!!!!

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railwayhistorical · 1 year

Photo

The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys

Let me say something out of the blue—the original, studio version of “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” is one the best musical recordings ever made. Winwood is on piano, of course, but also the Hammond. The congas, drums, and bass move things along while we listen to Steve’s distinctive voice. (He wrote it along with band mate Jim Capaldi.) The far off, eerie sax, perhaps distorted by some newfangled, for the time, electronic device, is mesmerizing. And that final discordant note! This stuff, this intellectual and aural material, nourishes me.

[Update: while there is a sax in the mix here, the long solos in the 2nd half of the tune are apparently Winwood’s organ but piped through a fuzzbox.]

Of course, I may feel this way, assured of the recording’s greatness, because I listened to the wonderful, long, piece many, many times while at a certain age. Most often, perhaps, while I drove around rural southern Indiana in a large second-hand automobile with my friends. We may have consumed beer and/or weed, but that’s not certain.

Beyond any of that, however, I believe I feel so strongly about this piece due to my brain. The cells of that organ, being at a certain stage of development, absorbed the notes and words and sounds and rhythms and wove it in with my dreams and deep-seated feelings. And then all of that wonder was stored, saved in a special place, deep in the center of my cerebral matter. I’m not special—most people love the music of their youth.

But how was it that I purchased and listened to this particular album rather than some other, more mainstream, pop music of the era (circa 1980)? Perhaps it was due to the fact that Bloomington was a university town, and I ran around with sons and daughters of professors, or that the famous music school may have been an influence on our burg in some kind of micro-climate fashion. My range of LPs included Mingus, Coltrane, Miles Davis but also Blind Faith, Led Zeppelin, and Peter Frampton (due to the live album no doubt). I also had an affinity for Duane Alman’s artistry.

Whatever it was that led me to this music—something contingent on my surroundings, or found within my acquaintances, passed like a gift, or due to some other unperceived, random combination of things or influences that cannot possibly be perceived let alone calculated—I’m grateful for it.

Final thought—put this piece of music on the next intergalactic space probe, burned into an LP made of gold, and launch it into space. We should do this if we want extraterrestrials, those ultimate others, to have a decent opinion of our race. You can listen to it here.

#lowsparkofhighheeledboys #stevewinwood #traffic #jimcapaldi #1971 #1970s #low spark of high heeled boys #traffictheband

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kitspindles · 2 years

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Some Will-Centric Tidbits

since my Nico post is doing pretty well

He basically saved Annabeth's life in The Last Olympian by healing the poisoned stab wound in her shoulder

He's not fond of theft ("There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal--"/"I would," Travis volunteered./Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency..." (The Last Olympian, p. 197).

He became head counselor pretty young, basically during the war with Kronos since Michael Yew, the former head of the Apollo cabin, died in the battle on Williamsburg Bridge

He's friendly with Annabeth and even lent her the Apollo cabin's chariot ("'Annabeth!' A guy with a bow and quiver on his back pushed through the crowd. 'I said you could borrow the chariot, not destroy it!'" (The Lost Hero, p. 36).

He's the one who showed Leo around camp in The Lost Hero

Will has a sort of calming presence ("'She's right.' Will Solace, head counselor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse's wrist. Not many campers could've done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people's anger. He got her to lower her dagger" (The Blood of Olympus, p. 135).

Nico described him as "a lanky cat stretched out in the sunshine" but also noted that Will was brave under fire despite his lax appearence, having personally seen him in action healing people during the Battle of Manhatten

He's a fan of sci-fi films, most notably the og Star Wars trilogy and Star Trek ("Will whistled appreciatively. 'I bet many Bothans died to bring us this information'" (The Tower of Nero, p. 126) and ("'Come on, Mr. Spock, I'll explain everything.' Will put a hand on his shoulder and steered him off toward the cabins" (The Lost Hero, p. 39).

His full name is William Andrew Solace (thanks, Nico)

His mother is Naomi Solace, an alt-country singer, and he was born in Autsin, Texas. Yeehaw.

His magical Apollo ability is being a human glowstick

He's an adept healer, but claims to suck at Apollo's other gifts-- archery, music, poems, etc.

Alluded to the fact that he's seen/spoken to Nico before their joint appearence in The Blood of Olympus, recognizing him on sight (Nico was about to attempt it when a voice behind him said, 'Nico?'/He spun, his sword instantly in his hand, and almost decapiatated Will Solace" (p. 417).

Will "flip-flops and jeans/scrubs" Solace

Poor guy delivered a satyr baby all on his own

He's a year-round camper

He's beyond proud of Apollo for accomplishing what he did as Lester. He loves his dad. Similarly, Apollo is just as proud of Will and his other children.

His one musical talent is an ear-splitting New York taxi cab whistle

He cares for Nico and his wellbeing (since they're bfs, and Will is in training to be a doctor), but Nico reciprocates these feelings and supports Will in the same ways. It's not one-sided ("Will changed his surgical gloves and glared at the woods. 'We will find them. We have to.'/Nico di Angelo gave him a canteen. 'Drink. Right now, this is where you need to be'" (The Hidden Oracle, p. 179).

He managed to stop a collision between the Greeks and Romans with his horrible taxi cab whistle ("Will Solace saved the day./He put his fingers to his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering./'DON'T BE STUPID!' Will yelled. 'LOOK!'" (The Blood of Olympus, p. 433).

Will and Rachel (and Nico) are buds

There's probably more. Feel free to add more. And hopefully we get more insight on his character in the Solangelo book.

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aspenmissing · 11 months

Text

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚗 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

Sam, who is lying on the floor beside a motel bed and coming out of having a vision. The door opens and Dean enters, chewing on jerky and carrying a six-pack of beer. Sam sits up, panting.

"Sam?" Y/N asks, worried laced in her voice.

"No..."

Y/N is driving, Sam navigating with a GPS device which speaks directions and Dean sat in the back, leaning forwards.

"Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West"

"There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove" Sam says.

"How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?" Dean asks. Sam has a flashback to the vision- the Oregon poster is on the wall.

"There was a picture. Crater Lake"

"Okay, what else?" Y/N asks.

"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair"

"And I ventilated him?" She asks, looking to Sam.

"Yeah. You thought there was something inside him"'"

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?"

"I don't know"

"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow...so was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?"

"No. Nothing, Y/N just plugged him, that's it"

"Well, I'm sure she had a good reason"

"I sure hope so"

"What does that mean?" Y/N asks, slightly hurt "I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man" Dean raises his eyebrows "I wouldn't!"

"We never said you would!" Dean says.

"Fine!"

"Fine! Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So, let's find him and see what's what.

"Fine" Y/N says, leaning back into her seat more.

"Fine" Dean and Sam share a look.

The Winchesters pull into town past a large billboard advertising Crater Lake. They pull up in front of a wooden shop; out front stands an older man, who is cleaning a rifle; he wears a short-sleeved blue shirt with a multi-pocket brown vest. Sam, Dean and Y/N get out and approach him.

"Morning" Dean says.

"Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Yeah" Y/N pulls out a badge "Uh, Kate Dawson, Billy Gibbson, Frank Beard" She says and Dean and Sam nod at their names "U.S. Marshals"

"What's this about?"

"We're looking for someone"

"A young man, early twenties. He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline" Sam describes.

"What'd he do?" The man asks.

"Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us"

"Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, no yet" Dean glances down at the man's left arm, which shows a distinctive tattoo "I think maybe you know who he is...Master Sergeant" Dean smiles "My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal"

"What company?"

"Echo-2-1" Y/N answers, with a smile. The man looks to her "My Dad worked alongside his. Good friends" The man nods.

"So can you help us?" Sam asks. The man seems hesitant.

"Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean"

"Oh, I'm sure he does. Um. You know where he lives?"

"With his family, up Aspen Way"

"Thank you" They leave; the man frows as he watches them go. Across the street, Sam bumps into a telephone pole and glances at it in passing. He stops; carved into the wood is a single wood: Croatoan. They approach the pole and Sam points at the word with a significant look.

"Hey" The twins look at the pole.

"Croatoan?" Dean asks.

"Yeah" Dean looks at him blankly "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"

"Yeah! Shots heard 'round the word, how bulls become laws..."

"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock" Y/N says.

"You know I blame you for Sammy's smartass talk"

"Roanoke was one of the first English colones in America, late 1500s?" Sam says.

"And the brains" He says to Y/N, he then looks back to Sam "And Yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan"

"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories-Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight"

"You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean..." Y/N says.

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you two thinks could do that?"

"Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..."

"We should get help. Bobby, uh Ellen maybe?" Sam suggests.

"Yeah, that's a good idea" Y/N pulls out her cell phone, then frowns at it "I don't have a signal" Dean and Sam does the same, shaking their heads.

"I don't either"

"Same" They walk to the pay phone, which Y/N picks up; it starts beeping, and she clicks the receiver several times.

"Line's dead" She hangs up "I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step"

The Impala is parked outside a cabin-like house in the middle of nowhere, and Sam, Dean and Y/N approach the front. By the door is a small, tacky plaque that reads 'Born to fish; Forced to work'. Sam knocks on the door, and a teenager boy with dark spiked hair opens it.

"Yeah?" Dean flashed his badge.

"We're looking for Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?"

"Yeah, he's my brother

"Can we talk to him?" Y/N asks.

"Oh, he's not here right now"

"Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake"

"Your parents’ home?"

"Yeah, they're inside"

"Jake? Who is it?" A voice says from inside.

"Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane" Y/N says as the owner of the voice comes into view.

"Wh-why? He's not in trouble, is he?"

"No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all"

"When's he due back from his trip?" Sam asks.

"I'm not sure"

"Well, maybe your wife knows"

"No, I don't know, she's not here right now" Mr. Tanner says.

"Your son said she was" Y/N says.

"Did I?"

"She's getting groceries. So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?"

"Oh no, we'll just check in with you later" They turn and walk down the steps as the Tanners shut the door behind them.

"That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?" Dean says.

"Big time" Looking furtively about, they sneak around to the back of the house, crouching below a window. Inside, A woman is tied to a chair and gagged; Jake comes around behind her, hands on her shoulders.

"It's okay, Mom. It's not gonna hurt" Mr. Tanner comes out of the next room with a kitchen knife. Jake stands in front of his mother and casually rolls up one sleeve; his father cuts into his arm and lets the blood drop onto a wound in the woman's shoulder. Outside, Sam, Dean and Y/N arm themselves and kick down the back door. As they rush in, handguns raised, Mr. Tanner rushes at them with a knife; Y/N shoots him thrice in the chest. Jake jumps out the window, shattering glass, and darts off into the woods. Sam aims at him through the window but hesitates, giving him time to get away.

Mrs. Tanner is in the back seat of the Impala; as they pull up in front of the clinic Sam helps her out and leads her to the door. Dean and Y/N open the trunk and look around furtively. Sam leads Mrs. Tanner inside; the clinic is quiet, dim, and empty.

"Hello? Hello? We need a doctor here" A young blond woman rushes out, concerned.

"Mrs. Tanner, what happened?" She asks.

"She's been attacked"

"Doctor Lee?" The woman calls and another woman rushes in.

"Bring her in" Mrs. Tanner looks close to tears.

"Okay" The woman leads Sam and Mrs. Tanner into a back room, and Dr. Lee follows. Dean and Y/N enter, carrying the body of Mr. Tanner, who is covered.

"Is that-"

"Mr. Tanner?" Y/N questions.

"Was he attacked too?"

"Uh..." Dean and Y/N share a look "no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot"

"Shot?" Dr. Lee asks.

"Yeah"

"And who are you two?"

"U.S. Marshals. I'd show you our badges, but uh..."

"Oh. Sorry. Bring him back here"

Mrs. Tanner is seated on a stool with her shirt off; Dr. Lee sits across from her, treating the wound on her left shoulder.

"Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?" Mrs. Tanner nods.

"They beat me. Tied me up"

"I don't believe it" The blond woman says.

"Pam. Beverly...do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?" Dr. Lee asks.

"No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them" Sam, Dean, and Y/N are listening to this, and they share a look at her last words.

"We gotta talk" The three exit the lab "Those guys were wacked out of their gourds"

"What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?"

"If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be a friggin' Shriner convention" Y/N says.

"Great"

"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside"

"I don't know, guys. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs"

"Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know if you would have taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about"

"I'm sorry, all right? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!"

"No, it was an 'it'. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam"

"Guys come on, don't start fighting now" Dr. Lee stalks out of the lab, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

"How's the patient?" Sam asks.

"Terrible! What the hell happened out there?"

"We don't know"

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next-door neighbor"

"We didn't have a choice" Y/N says.

"Maybe so, but we need the county, Sheriff. I need the coroner..."

"Phones are down"

"I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?" Dr. Lee asks.

"Yeah, we do. But it crapped out just like everything else"

"I don't understand what is happening"

"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asks.

"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder"

"All right, we're gonna go down there, see if we can find some help" Y/N taps Sam on the shoulder "Our partner'll stick around, keep you guys safe" Y/N and Dean start to walk out.

"Safe from what?"

"We'll get back to you on that"

Dean and Y/N pull up behind a wrecked car with Oregon plates that read 'WTF 4C7'; they stop to investigate, both carrying a gun. The windows on the car are smashed and blood covers the seats; on the ground by the driver's side is a large bloody knife. He picks it up and looks to Y/N, who is looking in the back, which has a car seat for a baby, she then looks up to Dean with a serious expression.

Sam is leaning against a counter, staring at the body of Mr. Tanner. He begins pacing; Dr. Lee is nearby, looking at something in a microscope.

"Huh" she says.

"What?"

"His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection"

"Really? What kind of virus?" Sam asks.

"Can't say for sure"

"Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?"

"None that I've ever heard off. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides, I've never heard of one that did this to the blood"

"Did what?"

"There's this...weird residue. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Sulphur" Sam looks to Mr. Tanner's body then back to Dr. Lee.

"Sulphur"

Dean and Y/N drive along the road to a bridge, which is blocked by a roadblock consisting of several cars and a half-dozen locals with guns. One is Jake. Dean stops the car, frowning then looks to Y/N who has a similar expression. Something bangs down on the roof of the car and they jump; a man leans over.

"Oh-ho-ho. Hey"

"Sorry. Road's closed"

"Yeah, we can see that. What's up?" Y/N asks.

"Quarantine"

"Quarantine? What is it?"

"Don't know. Something going around out there"

"Uh-huh. Who told you that?"

"County Sheriff" The man answers.

"Is he here?"

"No. He called. Say, why don't you two get out of the car and we'll talk a little" Dean laughs nervously.

"Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way and my friend here is shy, sorry" Dean jokes.

"I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute"

"Yeah, I'll bet you would" Y/N says. Dean puts the car into a quick reverse; the man grabs his collar and is dragged along. The men at the roadblock begin firing, and Dean wings the car around, shaking the man off and zooming away.

"You okay!?" He asks, looking to Y/N "Are you hit?"

"No, no, I'm fine. You?" He nods.

"I'm fine"

Sam is staring intently at Beverly, still huddled on the stool in the lab.

"I don't understand. Are you saying my husband and Jake had a disease?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Now, during the attack, do you remember...did you have any direct contact with their blood?"

"Oh my God. You don't think I've got this virus, do you?"

"Beverly, I don't know what to think. But with your permission, we'll take a blood sample" Beverly nods and lays her hand gently on Dr. Lee's. Suddenly she grabs Dr. Lee's wrist and yells in rage, lashing out with her other hand. Sam advances on her and she tosses him against a glass cabinet, which shatters. She picks up a scalpel as he takes a fire extinguisher from the wall; she advances on him, still yelling. He knocks her out.

#Supernatural #older sister winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #reader insert

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atlinmerrick · 7 months

Text

Spark: How Fanfiction and Fandom Can Set Your Creativity On Fire

Y'know, sometimes you have to wait longer than expected to receive the books you're publishing so pardon my all caps screaming:

THEY ARRIVED! EEEEEE! ORDER NOW! 20% OFF SALE ENDS END OF DAY TOMORROW (21 November 2023)!

Spark: How Fanfiction and Fandom Can Set Your Creativity On Fire hopes to help you believe that your fandom writing, drawing, podficcing – whatever you're creating right now – is, was, and ever shall be legitimate, important, and a fantastic way to expand your community, develop your skills, and above all help you find your voice in the world.

Spark's more than forty essays and interviews from best-selling writers Anne Jamison, Claire O'Dell, Diane Duane, Henry Jenkins, KJ Charles, Lyndsay Faye, Sara Dobie Bauer and many others discuss, encourage, and shout about how fic and fandom in all their glories can absolutely inspire you, set your creativity on fire – and change your world.

Click through to see the entire table of contents — who's in the book and the wonders about which they've written in Spark!

#Spark: How Fanfiction and Fandom Can Set Your Creativity On Fire #Fandom #Fanfiction #Improbable Press #Atlin Merrick

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dduane · 2 years

Note

Hello there Ms. Duane!

Since you’re a published author of both original fiction and of fiction based upon existing fandom universes, I was wondering if you could answer a question for unpublished writers out there.

How do publishers select an author to write a story based on an existing fandom universe? I’m thinking of course of Star Trek, Star Wars… any of the stars, all of the stars… and even non-star-focused expanded universe stories. ;) Are new authors ever selected for those sorts of things? Or do publishers reach into their lists of their own authors? How does that work, in your experience?

Thanks so much!

Sure! A pleasure to assist.

First of all, let's shift the terminology a little. There's too much possible misunderstanding inherent in the term "fandom universe". To describe the works we’re talking about I’d rather use the name the owners of the big ones (and people negotiating with them) use in discussing them: “licensed properties”. This term means that some corporate entity—could be small,* could be big—owns the (copy)rights to the intellectual property on/in which the storytelling is based, in whatever format, and licenses people to come and work in/with it.

I started working in other people’s universes in the early 1980s, when the concept was beginning to ooze more energetically out of film and TV, where it was born (and where I first ran into it), and into other media such as prose and comics. For the moment, let’s stick to dealing with Star Trek, as it’s not only one of the older licensors, but the one I have the longest affiliation with and know the best.

Bantam Books acquired the license from Paramount Pictures to publish Star Trek prose works in in 1966. Having initially commissioned the well-known SF writer James Blish to adapt the individual scripts of Star Trek’s original series into prose, Bantam then began commissioning original works of novel-length fiction in the Trek universe.

What the Bantam editors would have done was look around the SF field for writers who they thought would work well with the franchise (in terms of tone, voice, style, and availability), and approach them to find out whether they’d be interested in writing for a licensor. (Some of them might have been writers the editors had previously worked with in other fiction-publishing venues.) Alternately, writers might approach the editors through their agents (once they heard that the publisher was interested in commissioning work of this kind) and pitch novel projects to them. I got in through the door the second way, having been profoundly annoyed by one of the Bantam-published books and feeling pretty sure I could do better.

The salient point to note is that whether one was being approached by the publisher, or doing the approaching—even at that relatively early state of affairs—at least 95% of the time, the writer in question had previous credential in published fiction. This makes sense because when you’re writing for a licensor, they need proof that you (a) can come up with a strong enough idea to support the weight and length of a novel, (b) will be able to finish a novel once commissioned, (c) will be able to cope professionally with accepting and correctly implementing notes you’re given on needed revisions, and (d) have demonstrable strengths of writing skill that have been concretely confirmed by previous sales figures.

In my case, I came into the Bantam offices (virtually speaking) with all four of the above, as well as various award nominations and other prizes for my first two books. Paramount looked at the outline and initial three chapters I’d submitted to Bantam through my agent, and more or less immediately gave me the go-ahead (though there was a brief pause while Paramount changed licensed publishers, withdrawing their license from Bantam and passing it to Simon & Schuster / Pocket Books). The deal then went ahead, leading to the publication of The Wounded Sky in December 1983.

The main issue here, though, would have been one of previous credential... and what having that says about the writer’s ability to complete work as expected, hit scheduled turn-in and revision dates, and not screw up the rest of what can be a complex publication schedule with (sometimes) significant money riding on advertising and promotion. Even then, there was very minimal presence on the Bantam roster of writers without previous credential in published fiction. Later on, there would be almost none.

You see where this is going, I suspect. These days, right across the field, increasingly large amounts of money are at stake in the publication of licensed works… and as a result things have tightened up a great deal. It seems likely to me that there are almost no writers for major licensed properties who don’t have previous published-fiction credential. So the answer to “are new authors ever selected?” would have been “Absolutely!” I mean, I was. “...But new never-previously-published ones? Highly, highly unlikely.” (I’m not saying impossible, mind you. If some major name in Star Wars publishing ran into their commissioning editor’s office one morning shouting, “Wow, you need to see this fanfic, we need to solicit this person...!!”, then... who knows? But this isn’t exactly going to be a commonplace occurrence.)

There is only one possibly-effective way around (or through) this situation: get out there and publish something else, something of your own, in a universe that is not the (licensed) one you’re interested in pitching to**… and something that will generate sales figures. This is fortunately easier than it used to be, because even self-publication can serve a purpose here. Either self-publication or traditional publication (if you can make it over that bar, which admittedly is not easy) can serve to prove to an editor that you can plan and outline a book, that you can not just start a novel but finish it, and that (afterwards) someone will buy it and read it.

But most to the point, either form of publication will display to a potential publisher that most difficult of things to convey in shorter works: the sound of your unique voice, the tone of your storytelling at novel length, and the quality of your prose. If you can put something of sufficient quality to demonstrate these into an editor’s hand, your odds of a successful pitch suddenly escalate from almost-zero to “Hmm...”. And a whole lot can come out of something that makes the editor say “Hmm...”. 😄

So my advice to you: get out there and write something in your world. Because anybody can write for Star Trek (or Star Wars, or all the other stars...). But right now only you can write the You-iverse... and until you do, we’ll never have the pleasure of experiencing it.

...Hope this helps!

*For example, the Young Wizards universe is an IP, with one owner: me. If I decided I felt like inviting people or companies into the universe to play there officially—anybody from individual authors to big companies—then (depending on the contractual situation) they would be my licensees, and their works in-universe would be licensed properties.

**Or any other.

#writing #writing advice #licensed properties #Star Trek novels #and others

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dycefic · 3 years

Note

Hello, I recently read some of your work and I really really like your writing style! I’ve loved everything I’ve read so far and if it is not a burden to you and you are okay with doing so, I was hoping you could answer a few questions?

I was wondering if you had any formal writing education? Any advice for writing? Also wondered what kinds of books and authors you read, if you read?

I am sorry for all the questions, and if they’ve been asked before (I tried to find any answers you may have given to these or ones similar and I’m sorry if I missed them but direct me if need be).

I am also a writer and I’m always very curious about writers I look up to/ really like- most of them just happen to not be among the living so I do t really get to ask them any questions. Thank you for your time! It’s a pleasure to be able to read your writing!!

Thank you!

I am blushing extensively, thank you for all your kind words!

As for writing, I have had no formal education in it. I tried - and might not have dropped out of university if I'd succeeded - but creative writing required higher general scores than I got in school. I've read a lot of books on writing... like, a LOT... and always taken an interest in plot structure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who walked out of House Of Flying Daggers (I saw it in theatres, I'm that old) rhapsodizing about the way they visually represented traditional storytelling metaphors (ie 'a rain of spears').

I will note that while it seems that absolutely everyone recommends Stephen King's 'On Writing', I've never read it because a) I found the little bit I read wordy and self-indulgent, and b) the very mention of that man's name enrages me because my partner once got into a serious hyperfixation and we didn't have a single conversation in which King's name was not mentioned for OVER A YEAR. This is not King's fault, but the name still fills me with intense fury.

Books on writing I would recommend:

K. M. Weiland's 'Structuring Your Novel': I like her 'voice', and her chosen examples, and pacing longer stories is one of the things I have the most trouble with.

J. Michael Straczynski's 'Complete Book Of Scriptwriting': It's an old book now, but it's still one of the best I've ever read, and my long-standing favourite. There's a ton of fascinating history about the evolution of screenwriting, and a lot of very pithy advice that applies just as well to novels and short fiction as it does to movies and television.

Chris Baty's 'No Plot? No Problem!': I haven't reread this in quite a while, but I remember it as being really helpful as well as fun to read. I also recommend NaNoWriMo in general. I've been participating since 2002 - this year will be my twentieth anniversary of NaNo - and my writing has improved enormously in that time. Writing is like everything else, insofar as the more you practice, the better you get. I've hit 50K every year since the beginning, so even if I never got a novel I wanted to finish, polish, and put out there (and a couple of them are promising), that's still 950,000 words I've written.

Also? Fanfiction. Fanfiction is a GREAT way to practice the craft. Because the characters and universe are pre-built, you can focus on the writing itself, on things like examining nuances of character, identifying and using tropes, and building a compelling story. Between NaNo and fanfiction, over the last 24 years, I have written over 2,000,000 words, and you can't do ANYTHING two million times without getting better at it.

As for who I like to read, I can't recommend Diane Duane, Tamora Pierce, and Georgette Heyer too highly. Not only do they write good stories, they were/are very, very technically skilled. Reading their work is an education in itself. I also recommend consuming narratives from other cultures - I learned a lot about different narrative conventions from things like reading translated novels, myths, and fairy tales, reading manga, and watching Chinese and Korean movies and dramas. It really gives you a different perspective on the mechanics of storytelling, and shows you how many 'default' or 'obvious' plot tropes are actually really culturally specific. (I have consumed every re-telling, re-imagining, or re-translation of Journey To The West, including the old tv show AND the Hallmark movie. I really recommend this, as it is FASCINATING how many ways different people interpret the same story. The Korean 'Korean Odyssey' and Netflix's 'New Adventures Of Monkey' are my favourites)

Bonus reading: When Books Went To War, by Molly Guptil Manning. It's not about writing, but it's about why stories are important, the lifeline a novelist can throw to someone experiencing the darkest of times, and what I believe may have been publishing's finest hour. I cry every time I read it, and it makes me proud to count myself a writer. If you ever wonder why you're slogging away so hard at learning so fickle and difficult a craft, this book will remind you.

“The therapeutic effect of reading was not a new concept to the librarians running the VBC (Victory Book Campaign). In the editorial Warren published on the eve of commencing her tenure as director, she discussed how books could soothe pain, diminish boredom or loneliness, and take the mind on a vacation far from where the body was stationed. Whatever a man's need—a temporary escape, a comforting memory of home, balm for a broken spirit, or an infusion of courage—the librarians running the VBC were dedicated to ensuring that each man found a book to meet it.” ― Molly Guptill Manning, When Books Went to War: The Stories that Helped Us Win World War II

#writing

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endlessfics · 7 years

Text

feelings

jongtae | nc-17 | 715 words | cw: sex

taemin feels like he can’t breathe. it’s good.

taemin feels like he can't breathe. it's good.

they're in the kitchen, him and jonghyun.

warmth wraps around him, jonghyun’ arms tight around him. him, tight around jonghyun.

never, never did taemin expect to find himself in such a compromising position. his pants down his thighs, warm lips against the back of his neck and his rim, stretched around jonghyun’s cock. never. but it's different now, he loves it.

the stroke of jonghyun’s cock into him is slow, teasing almost and taemin can't help the small protests that slips past his lips, begging, pleading jonghyun to speed up. his cheeks flush red, redder if possible upon hearing jonghyun tell him he's adorable, gorgeous like this. calls him babe and taemin melts.

it's nice, it's so nice - he doesn't know how to explain it but he feels full, his breath catches in his throat and he presses back against jonghyun in pure desperation. he needs more but he can't have it because jonghyun grabs his hips, holds him tightly and fucks him in whatever pace he wants to. now it's slow, it allows taemin to focus on everything - the pulsating, how far out jonghyun pulls only to press back in again.

taemin's knuckles are white from gripping around the edges of the kitchen counter. he focuses on the stretch, the slide, how good it feels to jonghyun’ cock spread him apart and how good he feels to have jonghyun take him however he wants.

he stutters out a moan, eyes falling shut and he’s caught off guard with a sudden increase in pace. he was so focused, so focused on the slowness of it all. he lowers his head and gives in to the new pace, to the words whispered into his ears and as much as it isn’t new for them, they’ve done this before – he’s still learning, getting accustomed to letting jonghyun have this control over him.

”jonghyun– soon.” he breathes out, a keen following his voice and he feels, hears, how jonghyun too is close. his hand come around his own cock and he too, works himself towards a climax. it doesn’t help, feeling jonghyun’s breath against his ear, the words that only bring him closer and closer and he’s going to–

as he bends further over the counter with breathy curses spilling past his lips, his hand milking the rest of his orgsasm out as jonghyun rushes for the same type of relief taemin just had. he lets him use him, listens to the words, the curses that come from jonghyun and he feels it when it happens.

and he’s sated. he’s happy and doesn’t it feel good? he feels amazing. a soft groan slips past his lips upon feeling empty, his fist landing on the counter again and he bites down on his lower lip. white runs along his palm and he knows that if he wasn’t recovering from the sex, he would be disgusted. instead, he shivers feeling how strong palms run along his thighs and grabs a stray tissue from the counter to wipe his hand clean.

when soft presses of lips trail over his shoulder, he lets out a soft hum. he expression twists into then into further disgust when he notices the tied up condom flopped onto the counter and he looks over his shoulder, meeting eyes with jonghyun.

”really?”

when jonghyun grins, taemin turns his gaze away only to roll his eyes yet a dumb, fond smile comes onto his lips and he straightens up. clearing his throat, he tugs his pants back up again. neither can he help the smile that stays on his lips when strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him close.

there’s something about being in seoul. he’s comfortable, he’s happy. he’s good here. he doesn’t feel like a–

his gaze lands on the dreaded condom and he sighs. the counter of all places. okay, it annoys him – it annoys him a lot and he reaches over to grab it, his nose scrunching together as he slides away to throw it into the bin instead.

”don’t ever do that again.” he says with a huff.

he will have to clean the counter later, probably give it three rounds before he can be sure everything will be clean again.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #nc17 #i just wanted to write some bottom taemin #he's not from seoul in this au #whateveer this au is #maybe he's a daegu boy like the kibum he doesn't know #[[duane voice]] whatever #jjong put a condom on the counter and taemin will never let him forget it #dettol is taemin's best friend #shinee fic #shinee

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galaxysessions · 3 years

Text

You two are dancing in a snow globe round & round / and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown…

Amanda looked at her reflection in the cloudy mirror hanging from the interior of her locker door. The pads of her fingers swiped expertly beneath blue eyes, hoping to catch any mascara that had strayed through out her day. She fluffed the hair at the crown of her head, wanting to bring life back to her blonde waves, and in a brief moment of psychosis she contemplated running to Duane Reade to purchase a spray or even a hot tool that could save her. Amanda let out an audible groan - at the horrifying fact that she was becoming her mother, at her disappointment in her subpar hair - and slammed her locker door shut. At least the outfit she had tossed together after her shift was cute: dark jeans and a black top with fluttering sleeves that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath.

She was due at One Hogan Place in 20 minutes.

Sonny had insisted that he owed her dinner. How many dinners had he made for her and the girls? Hundreds, it felt like. How many times had they sat around at bars together after cases? Too many to count. How many empty take-out boxes had they shared? A lifetime’s worth. But this, this was different.

This was a date.

Familiar with the DA’s office, Amanda hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew there. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was hanging out so late and she was too nervous for small talk. Most of all she didn’t want to have to lie, not tonight. Keeping her head down, she flitted up staircases and down hallways until she was in front of Sonny’s office. She pulled in a deep breath, reminded herself that this man had seen her at her very worst, so her flat hair wouldn’t be the end of the world, then gently knocked on the door. It was cracked open, so she waited a beat before she slipped inside.

Sonny was sitting at his desk, leaned over some paperwork. For the brief moment she was able to, she admired the stretch of his shoulders. When he heard her enter, he looked up. The smile that immediately tugged at his mouth when he met her eyes made Amanda’s heart squeeze in her chest out of overwhelming adoration. “Hi,” she exhaled, somehow both more and less anxious at the sight of him.

“‘Manda, hey,” Sonny greeted her. He stood up and waved her further into his office, coming out from behind his desk. “Come in, come in.”

“You still working?”

He heaved a sigh, returning a file to its rightful cabinet before turning back to her. “It never ends.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk as she so often did, setting her purse down on the surface beside her. “Hey, c’mere,” she said when she noticed something: his tie was crooked, collar rumpled, his hair out of place. He had probably had a long day. She reached out a hand to him, nose scrunched as she smiled. “Your tie, you… well, like my grandma used to tell me and Kim after a long day of school, when we’d come home all roughed up: ‘you look like you’ve been shot out of a cannon.’”

Another grin broke across his face as he took a step forward, then stood in front of her, still, obedient. Amanda could feel his warm gaze looking down at her while her manicured fingers reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She knew her cheeks were turning pink; God, she hated that. What happened to her poker face? Her eyes flickered up to meet his as her hands drifted up toward his collar. Then she was smiling like a lovestruck teenager, as if no man had ever complimented her before this exact moment. Maybe she just needed to hear it from the right one. “Thanks,” she murmured as she smoothed the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t try to fix his hair - she liked the little strand that had escaped its style.

Sonny was standing so close to her that his legs bumped hers, silently asking her to make room for him. So she did: she parted her knees so she could playfully trap him, lower limbs snaking around his tall figure until her feet hooked loosely around the other side. A huff of laughter escaped Sonny as she felt his warm palms slide up the sides of her thighs to find her waist. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she could feel his thumbs moving back and forth, back and forth, and Amanda suddenly no longer cared about their dinner reservations.

Amanda carefully set the heels of her palms back on the edge of the desk, fingertips dangling. Collarbone prominently displayed, she gave her head a languid shake to move her hair away from her face. She gazed up at Sonny, still caught between her legs, playing against her side. Anticipation was beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach. “Anything else I can help you with, Counselor?”

Desire had darkened Sonny’s features and now he appeared mischievous as his eyes flickered over her thighs, her chest, her mouth. “Ah…” he started to answer her, but then he leaned in and kissed her instead of completing his thought. There was nothing gentle or cautious about the way his lips found hers: it stole the air from her lungs and his mouth felt searing hot. Her hands lifted from the desk, one cradling his elbow, another reaching up to his jaw. She loved the prickly feeling of newly formed stubble on his face, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue. The long line of his body angled itself closer to hers, and as she leaned back, she felt him let out a rough exhale at the way their forms aligned.

Amanda had sworn to herself that she would not fuck this up - whatever this was that she was doing with Sonny - by having sex with him too soon, but in that moment she was so dizzy with want that his incredibly nerdy desk blotter was looking hotter and hotter. The hand at his elbow dropped blindly to the shiny metal of his belt buckle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t help but toy with it even though she knew it was a bad idea for more than one reason.

“‘Manda…” Sonny growled her name against her mouth, half in a warning, half in encouragement. One of his hands had wandered up the front of her shirt to ghost over her breast, so whatever he was trying to get her to stop doing, he had rendered his own message ineffective.

“I won’t,” she breathed against his lips insincerely, fingertips trailing down the line of his fly, teasing, testing, “we won’t…”

“Mr. Carisi, sorry I’m so late. I’ve got those -“ The voice of a young girl accompanied by the office door swinging open broke them both violently from their heated reveries. They separated from one another like they had been electrocuted: Sonny launched himself backward into his file cabinet, appearing to slam his funny bone in the process. Amanda scrambled off of the desk and on to her two feet, loose paperwork flying, hastily wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood at attention. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with unruly curly hair wearing an ill-fitting sweater, but most importantly her eyes were wide in complete confusion. A large manila folder hung from her fingers.

“Lindsey!” Sonny yelped, carding his fingers through his hair. “Lindsey, hi. Hey. I just, you can put those on my desk,” he went on, pointing to the space he and Amanda were just occupying. “Thank you.”

Lindsey cautiously, wordlessly, placed the folder where she was told, then stepped back toward the doorway.

“This is, uh… do you know Rollins? Amanda? Detective Rollins?” Sonny asked Lindsey awkwardly, unnecessarily. His eyes shifted over to Amanda as he explained, “Lindsey is a law school intern here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amanda offered, arms crossed over her chest to indicate that she was not interested in prolonging this painful interaction.

“Nice to meet you,” the student echoed, tone hollow. Turning away from them both, she let her hand linger on the door handle as she asked, “should I close this?”

“Yeah, please,” Sonny mumbled before his intern disappeared into the hallway.

Alone again in the office, Amanda raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look. “Real smooth, Carisi.” Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, partly because they were almost caught, partly because she didn’t know how Sonny was going to handle something like this. He was so nervous about keeping secrets, whereas Amanda felt like her life had been a series of little untruths for as long as she could remember. She kept her arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

Sonny leaned back against the file cabinet as if he was deflating. After what seemed like forever, he let out an exhale, then reached out a hand to her. “So… how about that dinner?”

note - idk just a lil one shot xoxox

#amanda rollins #sonny carisi #rollisi #law and order svu #svu #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #amanda rollins x sonny carisi

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foxghost · 2 years

Text

Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 5, Chapter 47 (Part 2)

Lang Junxia walks over to the entrance of the secret passage. Soon enough, they can hear a conversation going on outside.

Mu Kuangda and Han Bin are walking towards the room along the path, with Chang Liujun and Wu Du trailing behind them, their figures casting shadows before the gallery. Meanwhile, to either side of the gallery, it’s pitch black, so dark that it’s entirely impossible to see anything.

This scene is so familiar to the eye that it imparts a tremendous sense of deja vu — only that Zhao Kui’s place has now been taken by another military officer, and the two following at their backs remain Wu Du and Chang Liujun.

“I said whatever ought to be said,” Mu Kuangda says, “And what I ought not to have said, I couldn’t help myself and said them anyway.”

“There’s no such thing on earth as things that ought not to be said, to begin with,” Han Bin says, smiling, “Some things need to be laid out in front of everyone eventually.”

“Su Fa isn’t the one I’m really worried about. A scent of decay radiates out of the secretariat from top to bottom; the whole place is filled to the core with termites. Give it some time and it’s sure to collapse on its own. What I’m worried about isn’t the secretariat but that particular person. If he wants to pull something, it could lead to any amount of trouble. The Fifth Princess is also nearby, so dealing with him may be rather difficult.”

Han Bin replies, “All Marquess Yao is leaning on is this bit of inheritance passed down from his ancestors. Once this is over with, judging by what Fifth Princess intends, she’s actually hoping to stay behind to act as regent, so if we don’t make them leave as soon as possible it’s going to make things difficult. Chancellor Mu, I really wouldn’t want to clash with Yao Fu.”

“That is precisely it,” Mu Kuangda replies. “But before this is over, we can neither let him return to Huaiyin nor act against him. We must keep him in Jiangzhou.”

If they hold the funeral first and send Yao Fu back, then when they overthrow Cai Yan, Yao Fu will surely rush back with an army in the name of serving his ruler, thus adding an unnecessary confrontation; if they get rid of Yao Fu while they’re at it, Huaiyin will doubtlessly turn against the government, and as they still don’t know which side Xie You is going to take, when the time comes they’ll have enemies on both sides.

Mu Kuangda has no cards in his hand except for a pregnant younger sister who’s expecting a child whose gender is still uncertain, as well as the Xichuan gentry who currently occupies Jiangzhou. With so little under his control, he’s actually daring to try to contend with Yao Fu, Xie You, and Han Bin, who all have control over major armies — it is no different than trying to trap a wolf barehanded.

At the sound of their muffled conversation, Lang Junxia holds his breath. Duan Ling tries to pick up the long copper casket, but it’s too heavy for him.

“Never mind. Let’s go.” Duan Ling stuffs the letters in his pockets.

“We can’t leave anymore,” Lang Junxia replies.

Duan Ling looks up, turning his gaze towards the entrance to the passageway. There’s a light click as a door opens, and a spoken order from Mu Kuangda.

“Chang Liujun, go check on Qing’er and Wang Shan.”

Suddenly, everything goes quiet.

On top of their heads, Han Bin’s voice is asking, “What is it?”

Mu Kuangda doesn’t say anything, but Duan Ling is thinking, oh no.

“It’s nothing,” Mu Kuangda replies.

Above them, everything had gone completely silent, and Duan Ling feels a chill through his chest. But it’s only the briefest of pauses before Mu Kuangda continues the conversation.

“I had thought that with Fei Hongde here, he would be competent enough to take Chang Pin’s place, but I still can’t trust him completely …”

That moment’s pause makes Duan Ling come to an almost instinctive assessment —

Looks like Mu Kuangda has discovered them after all; when Lang Junxia opened the secret passage, they’d disturbed the bedding. It isn’t difficult for Mu Kuangda to notice that knowing how careful he is, and not to mention he may even have left some sort of marker.

He knows, Duan Ling writes in Lang Junxia’s palm with a finger.

Lang Junxia shakes his head gently. Duan Ling adds — trust me.

He knows Mu Kuangda’s manner of speech far too well, and can almost predict that Mu Kuangda is doing the exact thing he is doing himself at this very moment — he’s trying to give Han Bin some silent hint. If someone were to come to the door right now …

In the next instant, someone knocks on the door.

Mu Kuangda’s room falls into a brief moment of calm, and Han Bin walks outside to call for a guard he’s brought with him.

He’s mustering his forces and getting ready to capture us, Duan Ling writes.

Stay here. Don’t move, Lang Junxia writes.

Then with a shake of the Qingfengjian, Lang Junxia charges at the door to the secret passageway in a single step. With a tremendous bang, he crashes through the door and charges out of the hidden chamber!

“Someone help, quickly!” Mu Kuangda shouts.

Wu Du, who had been waiting outside, turns around abruptly and comes into the room at his voice, and Han Bin also returns. Lang Junxia didn’t bother covering his face again this time, as he’s dressed in the clothes he was wearing to the banquet so there isn’t any point in masking his face. He thrusts his sword towards Mu Kuangda, and anticipating the attack, Mu Kuangda backs away.

Qingfengjian follows him like a shadow. Wu Du draws the Lieguangjian, instinctively running in to stop Lang Junxia, but then an idea occurs to him.

“Who’s there!” Wu Du shouts but doesn’t make a move; holding his sword out in front of him. It is Han Bin who shouts and draws the sword he wears at his waist to block the Qingfengjian heading for Mu Kuangda’s chest.

“Wuluohou Mu, how dare you!” Han Bin bellows.

Han Bin parries Lang Junxia’s Qingfengjing and deviates it from its path, yet Lang Junxia’s sword show no mercy, and its tip slides forward almost gently to run right through Mu Kuangda as easily as cutting through paper!

Mu Kuangda stares almost incredulously at his predicament, his eyes wide open, his fingers reaching out to wrap around the blade. Lang Junxia then withdraws his sword to turn his blade against Han Bin’s throat. That’s when Han Bin’s men arrive, charging into the room weapons in hand; realising that he won’t be able to kill Han Bin, Lang Junxia can only abandon the battle and retreat.

But just then, Wu Du is turning as though he’s about to go after Lang Junxia, putting himself right into the way of the path of the soldiers trying to rush into the room. Lang Junxia spins around and crashes towards Han Bin, his momentum pushing them both through the wooden window and out into the courtyard.

“Protect Chancellor Mu!”

The soldiers rush in, getting Mu Kuangda out. Wu Du doesn’t have time to finish the kill; he immediately turns around to head to the secret entryway Lang Junxia had charged out of, turning to his side so he can slide into it.

About to peek out of the room himself, Duan Ling ends up smashing into Wu Du instead. Wu Du grabs him right away, and Duan Ling whispers, “Hurry, take this with you!”

Duan Ling holds up the copper casket in his arms with great difficulty, but Wu Du simply picks it up with one hand and flips it around to carry it on his shoulder.

The study is in utter chaos by then. Han Bin had taken his men to go chase down Lang Junxia, and Mu Kuangda may or may not be dead. Wu Du opens the window and leaps out with Duan Ling.

“Over this way!” Duan Ling says. “Let’s head to Master Fei’s courtyard, and then come over with Mu Qing. That way they won’t suspect anything!”

“Chancellor Mu is dead!” Wu Du says.

Duan Ling is stunned within an instant. “Dead? Really?”

“I didn’t see him die with my own eyes, but Wuluohou Mu ran him through with a sword.”

Duan Ling thinks to himself, Damn it, Lang Junxia really is too rash. If Han Bin is still alive, then Mu Kuangda’s death is only going to force him to revolt. After all, Lang Junxia’s appearance already signifies that the Eastern Palace had obtained evidence that Han Bin and Mu Kuangda are working with each other!

“What is this?” Wu Du halts his steps and asks.

Duan Ling runs his fingers over the copper casket on Wu Du’s back, and as he gasps for breath, says, “I don’t know. Could it be …”

At the same time, the two of them think of the only thing it can possibly be. Their eyes meet.

The long gallery is well-lit, and the Mu estate is in chaos. From a long way away, they can hear the distant sound of people wailing.

Duan Ling is still worrying about Lang Junxia’s safety. He wonders if Lang Junxia can escape successfully with Han Bin and so many men chasing him down, but they can’t go back there anymore.

“Let’s go!” Wu Du grabs Duan Ling’s hand. On this pitch black night, in a brightly lit long gallery, they run towards the unknown.

In the side wing where Fei Hongde is staying, Mu Qing had already fallen asleep on the bamboo recliner. Chang Liujun is driving off mosquitos and other bugs for him with a fan while conversing with Fei Hongde in hushed tones.

Duan Ling and Wu Du charge into the courtyard and stop abruptly.

This place is rather far from the garden and the main house, so the noises haven’t made it this far. Duan Ling walks over to check on Mu Qing, but Chang Liujun is saying, “What did you guys put in the wine? He’s so drunk.”

“Nothing harmful,” Wu Du says. “He’ll be awake soon enough. Something huge happened in the estate, and people will be coming by to check on us soon. I’m going back to my room for a bit. You should go check on the front courtyard and find some way to help Wuluohou Mu escape to the palace.”

Duan Ling says, “Just make sure he gets away and then come back here to keep Mu Qing company. Do not leave his side.”

Chang Liujun’s eyes narrow. Duan Ling hurries him, “Come on, Master Fei and I will take care of the rest.”

As long as Han Bin can’t catch Lang Junxia, then this won’t be that much of a problem. Wu Du and Chang Liujun split up, leaving in opposite directions; Wu Du takes the Zhenshanhe so he can hide it, while Fei Hongde hasn’t been told what happened yet, so Duan Ling leans in close to his ear and tells him what happened.

Fei Hongde says, “Oh how fortunate. Han Bin is going to make his move now.”

Duan Ling meditates on this a moment before turning to look at Fei Hongde.

“You believe Han Bin will stage a coup, Master Fei?”

“If Han Bin knows that his letters have fallen into the hands of the Eastern Palace, there’s no doubt he will do so this very night,” Fei Hongde says.

A deep furrow appears between Duan Ling’s brows. It is right at this moment that he hatches an audacious plan. If he’s successful, the winner of this match may be decided right away.

“I’m going to go check on things,” Duan Ling says.

Someone tried to assassinate Mu Kuangda, so the estate is in a state of pandemonium. As soon as Duan Ling makes his way into the garden, he walks right into Huang Jian’s chest.

“What happened?” Huang Jian says, “Where’s Mu Qing?”

“He’s drunk!” Duan Ling replies. “Let’s not worry about him for now. What happened to Master?”

“He’s been stabbed! Some assassin came out of nowhere, and everyone’s saying that it’s Wuluohou Mu!”

Duan Ling had thought Lang Junxia rash at first, but after some careful deliberation, he realises that this one stab is downright a brilliant stroke of the brush. Mu Kuangda had only just hinted that the crown prince may not be real earlier in the evening, and the Eastern Palace’s already sent someone over to assassinate him. Anyone would tie this assassination to an order from Cai Yan, yet Cai yan’s real purpose was nothing more than to send Lang Junxia over to eavesdrop!

“I’m going to go take a look at Master,” Huang Jian says. “You go see General Han. He must still be here in the estate.”

Duan Ling grabs Huang Jian’s sleeve. “Please be careful.”

Duan Ling doesn’t want Huang Jian to get dragged into this. Huang Jian nods before leaving hurriedly.

Once Huang Jian is gone, Duan Ling spends a long time contemplating his next move before taking a letter out of his pocket. It is, just so, one of the letters between Han Bin and Mu Kuangda.

“What’s going on?” Zheng Yan’s voice rings out next to him, scaring Duan Ling half to death.

“What are you doing here?” Duan Ling asks.

“I took a detour on my way back to report to him. And he asked me to come over to see what’s going on,” Zheng Yan replies.

Duan Ling understands that Zheng Yan had told Li Yanqiu what transpired earlier this evening, and since he can’t stop worrying about Duan Ling, Li Yanqiu asked Zheng Yan to come back to see if he can be of any help.

“Go inform Marquess Yao,” Duan Ling says. “Make sure he and Fifth Princess move out of the palace immediately and rendezvous with General Xie. Tell Xie You not to stop Han Bin no matter what happens. Go now! Hurry!”

Zheng Yan seems to hesitate. Duan Ling pulls up the corner of his robe to show him the White Tiger armour he’s wearing underneath, and only then does Zheng Yan stops hesitating and turn to go. As soon as Zheng Yan is gone, Chang Liujun is approaching him through the gallery.

“Wuluohou Mu is gone,” Chang Liujun says. “He said he won’t be going back to the Eastern Palace, and told you not to worry.”

Finally, Duan Ling can stop holding his breath. He orders, “Go stay with Mu Qing then. I’ll call for you if we need you for anything.”

#queued #相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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greenishbucket · 3 years

Photo

💞🚢 A Ford/Lardo Manifesto! 💞🚢

It’s them :)

Plain text version below the cut!

Larissa “Lardo” P. Duan

From Boston, now lives in Cambridge, MA.

Art major (probably), did a semester in Kenya, class of 2016

SMH manager 2013ish - 2016

Acts chill, actually has significantly less chill

Still waters run deep

‘the bro-iest person at Samwell under 5'5"’

Likes sculpture/installation art/modernishy art, beer pong, ducks, eyeliner, hockey, smoking weed

Dislikes repetitive questions, thinking about the future, skating [but she does learn by the end of the comic!]

Denice “Foxtrot” Ford

From Buffalo, ‘currently’ lives in San Diego when not at Samwell [has two brothers who play American football]

Drama/theatre major, class of 2020

(A)SMing since middle school, SMH manager 2016 - 2020

Has got this and will yell really loud

‘She gets it’

Likes (musical) theatre, knitting and sewing, foxes, having a collection of headbands, emotional jocks. American Football? Hockey?

Dislikes the smell of used hockey gear, the thanklessness of stage managing, skating

Some handy word of god

The table, created by Ngozi, indicates characters’ Hogwarts house and element alignments. Both Ford and Lardo are categorised as Gryffindors (meaning ‘values bravado’). For the elements, Lardo is earth (meaning ‘stable but stubborn’) and Ford is water (meaning ‘graceful but pliant’).

My notes at the time:

Lardo: earth (‘stable but stubborn’) - someone that can be relied on and has it together(ish) through practice but sticks to that tried and tested routine/approach/etc to her own detriment?

Ford: water (‘graceful but pliant’) - someone that can adapt easily and elegantly to new situations and people but can sometimes be a little too amenable rather than sticking to her guns (if she knows what her guns are to start with)?

Both: Gryffindor (‘values bravado’) - presenting a lot more whatever-they-need-to-be than actual, confidence and boldness

Outcome: Lardo grounds Ford, Ford reminds Lardo that change/alternatives aren’t always a threat. Getting to see through each other’s bravados and support each other! With some banter.

Canonical interactions

Year 3, Comic 16 - Help Wanted and the associated notes/blog

They’re in the same frame in the first page of this manifesto!

Search here for ‘Ford’, ‘Lardo’ or ‘manager’

Bitty briefly talks to Ford about Lardo and Co. in Year 4, Comic 8 - Haus 2.0

Some things I filled in from a ship meme I saw going round

Favorite non-sexual activity: just getting to hang out and talk/share space, they’re always Doing so much and having to Be A Particular Kind of Person with the rest of the world. other than that, going to the park to feed the ducks.

Who uses all the hot water: Ford!!! she really doesn’t mean to but somehow always does :/

What has a season pass on their dvr/who controls the netflix queue: this is what they actually argue over most. Ford is a Theatre Kid (enough said) and Lardo likes some of that but sometimes she wants to get high and into her Angsty Art Kid Groove (which Ford can watch and appreciate but doesn’t enjoy) so they have separate accounts under the same payment, then they agree as and when to watch comedies/documentaries/more general stuff on either account bc they share taste there. it gets confusing because they watch series across their accounts so it’s always a struggle to figure out what ep they got up to

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: either of them can get their I’m the Manager Don’t Fuck Around voice on easy enough

Who leaves their stuff around: they’re both immensely guilty of this, though Ford doesn’t leave her shoes in the way of where people walk, Lardo

How often do they fight?: not often for real, but neither of them are that good at Bringing Actual Stuff Up so little things build up and then blow up when it’s been a bad day, then it’s all aired out until it’s building up again and the cycle continues. they’re working on it!

What do they do when they’re away from each other?: use things like snapchat/generally send small pics and snippets - if they’re away from each other either one or both of them is probs busy so there’s not much time to videocall, and Lardo loves things like snapchat bc you dont have to word [in hindsight, does this question mean what do they get up to? they do their lives as usual! but miss the other being around in the small moments]

Why They Are GOOD

The potential of their shared bravado vs graceful+pliant/stable+stubborn

Art kid and theatre kid both with some jock tendencies/sympathies is hilarious

Mentor/mentee. Not sure how into this I am but STILL.

Litcherally why not

ford and lardo: problematising the false binaries of 1) girls that say hiiii vs girls that say bruh 2) jock vs theatre/art kid 3) gender 4) hello they are in love 5) thanks for listening

🎺 the comic may be over, but the fun isn’t! all aboard the finest omgcp ship there is!! 🚢

#check please #fordo #omgcp #made this in liiiiiiike. 2018? 2019? and now here it is!!#and i must say:#MOTHER I STILL LOVE THEMMMMMMMMMMMM

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